The Sworn Knight by Robert Ryan (romance book recommendations TXT) 📗

Asana said made sense, and she had considered itbefore. But her pondering of the idea had never gone beyond the idea itself.She was not sure how to make it actually happen.

“I’ve heard stories of how armies were raised in the past,but it seems to me that it would nearly be as hard as fighting the king’s armysingle-handedly.”

Asana inclined his head sagely. “It must seem that way, butthat is not how I advise you to think of it.”

“How then would you advise me?”

“Simply this. You are in for a fight, but blades are not theonly weapons you have.”

“You mean magic?”

“That too,” Asana agreed. “But there is a weapon sharperthan any blade and more potent than any magic.”

Ferla knew what he meant now. “Words?”

“Words indeed. Ideas. And in this case, emotion too. Or ifyou prefer to wrap it up into one simple word itself, propaganda. It is, Ithink, what you will need in the days ahead.”

It was not something that came naturally to Ferla, but sheunderstood exactly what Asana meant. Words triggered emotion, and emotion couldmove the world. If she found the right ones, and let them spread before her,she could raise an army ready to strike at her direction. But it seemed still onlya little less daunting than taking on the king’s army all by herself.

“Propaganda isn’t something that we’ve discussed. It’s astrategy of generals rather than the swordsman or swordswoman,” Asana said. “Iwonder if your training with Aranloth touched on it.”

“We did talk about it, and he gave us several examples fromhistory. But it was more in the way of vitalizing an existing army, ordemoralizing an enemy force or city. We didn’t discuss it in the context ofraising an army.”

“Nevertheless, what he taught you will be valuable. What wasthe essence of it?”

Ferla thought back. Her mind went to days in the valley bythe lake, and their training sessions there and the conversations afterwardwhen a clean breeze came off the water and cooled them down. Her heart leapedback to those days as well, and suddenly she missed Faran.

“This was the essential training,” she told Asana.“Propaganda should never seek to change people’s minds. That’s a near-impossibletask, and the harder you try the more people resist. No. Propaganda shouldnever try to convince anyone of anything. Rather, it should build on whatalready exists and flare it to life. Emotion is the secret here. Emotion is thelanguage of propaganda, not rational argument. Find a fear, and flare it tolife. Find a desire, and make it burn hotter. Invoke that, and people willdecide of their own accord to side with you. Men have started revolutions thatway, like a single spark that can lead to a mighty forest fire destroying allin its path.”

“Very good,” Asana replied. “It’s no surprise that thelòhrens know such lore. They’ve long shaped the whole of Alithoras with theirquiet counsels. That knowledge is power, so how will you set it to your use inwhat you must do?”

“That,” Ferla said, “I have to think on. But you’ve set meon the right path. I cannot do this alone. I need to rouse Faladir, indeed, tosmithy it like a weapon that I can take to my hand and wield.”

It all seemed a cold business to her, and others would diefor her ideas. But neither of those things meant it was wrong. Especially giventhat she was likely to die for the same ideas and with the same people.

“It may be that I’ll need to signal my coming to Faladir.That’ll give time for emotion to build. When they discover the seventh knightis no mere story, but real, then the fires of rebellion will roar to life. Ican use that.”

Kubodin spoke on the matter for the first time. “That wouldbe a dangerous game,” he said. “It’ll help the enemy to find you. It’ll makethem try all the harder to kill you.”

Ferla knew the little man was right, but she shrugged hiswarning off.

“For myself, I’d rather stay safe. For Faladir, there’s norisk I wouldn’t take.”

13. The Spirit Trail

Savanest and his men followed the were-hound. Often, hehad to use the influence of the stone around its neck to hold it back. Theystruggled to keep up with it. At this, the creature howled in dismay. Savanestknew why. It thirsted for the blood of the quarry it scented.

But that desire was not likely to be fulfilled. More andmore, Savanest considered the advantages of capturing Ferla, and taking herback to Faladir as a prisoner. There, she could be induced to serve the MorlethStone. He did not doubt that, and that would become the final stroke of victory.

If the seventh knight, prophesied in legend, came out insupport of the king, then who would be left to fight the new order that wascoming? No one.

More and more, Savanest liked this new strategy. He wouldhave to gain approval from the king, but he was sure that would not be anissue. The king was displeased with the way things were going in the city. Themore he tried to intimidate the people, the more it seemed they plotted againsthim. This new plan would solve that problem. The morale of those who rebelledwould be dealt a death blow. They would never recover from the seventh knightgoing over to their opposition.

Through the stone on his own neck, he felt the suddenchagrin of the were-hound. It was in a frenzy, and he was not sure why.

He signaled the men into a run, and he ran himself. It wasno easy task in armor, but he was fit and strong. Discomfort and pain were tobe endured. Hardship made a knight stronger, and right now he felt as strong ashe ever had.

The frenzy of the were-hound grew. Was it under attack? Wasthe enemy so close?

It was none of those things. Savanest came to where the dog howled.It was a small hollow, clustered with bushes. Here, the enemy had camped. Thatmuch Savanest could divine from the creature’s thoughts, but little else.

He went over to it, and slowly stroked the fur of its shaggyhead.

“Maldurn that was,” he whispered. “Calm down. Breatheslowly. Think of what you have found.”

The