Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Oh, how jaded you’ve become, Gibben Nemesio.

  Cormag ushered them through a rickety gate. “Please, come inside.”

  Passing through a thick slab of timber that served as the front door, the mayor led them down a corridor that opened into a great hall meant for parties and other social gatherings. The room was sparsely furnished; one lengthy table made from coarse ironwood sat in the center of the space atop a shabby red carpet. The stone walls were cold and bare—Lady Mrifa would have surely gone into a tizzy at the sight, demanding fine paintings and tapestries be hung—and the extravagance Gib had grown accustomed to was absent, replaced by stony practicality.

  “You’ll find two bedchambers at the end of the hall,” explained Cormag. He motioned down a second corridor across the room. “If you find you need additional quarters, my wife and I can set up cots in the study so you may also have our bed.”

  Koal dismissed the offer with a shake of his head. “You needn’t do that. Two chambers will be sufficient.”

  With a firm nod, Cormag set a hand on the tabletop. “I’ve ordered a boar be slain so you may feast tonight. This hall is yours to use as a command post while you’re here. I employ no servants, but you’ll find the villagers ready and willing to assist you, should you need help. Anything you may require, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Do you have a map?” Koal asked.

  “Of course, milord. I keep a map of Arden in my study. I’ll fetch it now.” Cormag bowed and left the room.

  Gib took a seat at the table only after the others had. With Hasain and Koal on either side, he felt like a dwarf sitting between giants.

  “While we’re here, we should help them rebuild the wall,” Deegan said. “We should also assign a group of soldiers to stay in Perth, to train the villagers so they can better defend themselves.”

  Morathi issued a crass snort. “And take valuable manpower from our army? In the middle of a campaign, nonetheless? No offense, Highness, but I believe it’s best the logistics of warfare be left to grown men.”

  Deegan raised his chin, as stubborn and defiant as King Rishi had ever been. “Correct me if I’m wrong, General, but under the old draft law you and my uncle fought so hard to retain, would I not be considered grown?”

  Gib’s mouth fell open, caught somewhere between gaping in horror and an inane grin.

  Careful, Deegan.

  “Duty and compassion command me to aid these people,” Deegan continued without pause. “I won’t abandon Perth to an unknown fate.”

  Morathi’s face darkened with rage, and his large hands twitched like he might want to settle them around Deegan’s neck. Natori and Tular watched the movement with wary eyes.

  Before the general had time to voice a response, Cormag whisked back into the room, a sheet of rolled parchment nestled in the crook of his arm. “This here is the most detailed account I possess of Arden’s eastern and southern provinces.”

  He spread the map wide across the tabletop. Gib reached to hold one end in place while Joel took the other.

  “Here we are.” Koal placed his index finger on a blot of ink near the center of the map. “And this must be Ashvale.” He moved the same digit two inches lower.

  “Aye,” Cormag confirmed.

  “And the bridge?”

  Cormag tapped the parchment. “Sits not even three dozen furlongs north of the hamlet. Kaleth’s Crossing is the only bridge within a hundred leagues in either direction. When your army proceeds into enemy territory, you’ll want to cross the river there.”

  Koal’s face hardened, but he didn’t look up from the map. “If the army proceeds. You claim there have been no recent skirmishes in Perth. If that holds true elsewhere, I see no reason why we can’t focus our attention on strengthening security along our border.”

  Morathi scowled so viciously he might have passed for a snarling dog. “We’re ten thousand soldiers strong, well-fed, armed, and only twelve leagues outside Shiraz. Now is the most opportune time to attack. And once we’ve obliterated every hovel between here and Tahir, they’ll dare not set foot on Ardenian soil ever again.”

  “I will not endorse reckless violence,” Koal said through gritted teeth. “Not if a peaceful solution exists.”

  Morathi slammed a fist on the table. “So you’d have us lie belly up, waiting for those savages to cut out our throats? Foolish! We must be the first to act.”

  “That decision lies with the High Council. I will send them my report.”

  Morathi’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “Yes. And I will send mine.”

  Shaking his head, Koal turned back to Cormag, who was terrified and sweating. “Lord Barclay, have any recent reports of trouble come out of Ashvale?”

  “No, milord.” The mayor paused, licking his lips. “That is, no news at all has come, I’m afraid.”

  Koal’s shoulders tensed. “No news? You mean you haven’t had any contact with the village? How long?”

  “Not in three sennights now, Seneschal. We sent a rider. Must be going on a fortnight now since he left. Ashvale is only a two-day trek by horseback. He should have returned days ago.”

  Gib’s stomach flopped. Did this mean something was wrong? Was Ashvale in some kind of trouble? What other explanation could there be?

  Koal did a good job masking his concern, but Gib wasn’t fooled. He could see apprehension written in the lines across his mentor’s face.

  How serious is this?

  A smirk flickered on Morathi’s mouth. “Rethinking your stance yet, Seneschal?”

  Koal sighed, but Gib could tell he was anxious. “Let’s not rush to any conclusions. We don’t know if anything is actually wrong. We’ll send a party to Ashvale. If anything is amiss, we’ll know in four days’ time. In the meantime, there are reports to write and a war camp to oversee.”

  Morathi gave a firm nod. “Very well. I’ll have a troop assembled and ready to leave for Ashvale within a mark.” He pushed his chair away and rose. “Mayor Barclay, fetch my horse.” Not awaiting a response, Morathi stormed down the long corridor, leaving Cormag to chase behind the trail of the general’s cape.

  Koal looked around the room. “Deegan, I want you to stay here while I compile my report. I suppose the rest of you are free to go, if you wish. We’ll assemble here on the eventide.”

  “I’m staying with Deegan,” Hasain replied at once. Tular echoed his brother’s words with a simple nod. Natori didn’t need to say anything. Gib knew she wouldn’t leave. She hadn’t once left Deegan’s side since departing Silver.

  “Is there anything you need me to do, sir?” Gib asked.

  “No. Go be with your friends. I imagine they could use some help around camp.”

  “You’re probably right.” Gib climbed to his feet. “Guess I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

  Koal chuckled. “I know you wouldn’t miss that.”

  Joel stood as well. “I doubt I’ll be of any use here, so I’m going to the Healers’ pavilion. It’s likely Nawaz will have chores for me.”

  Gib followed behind Joel as they left the manor and went back into the blazing afternoon heat. Thick, dry air sat heavy on the ground, making it hard to take a deep breath. Gib shielded his eyes from the sun and grimaced. A breeze would have been nice, anything to chase the stale air away.

  Morathi was nowhere to be seen, though he’d departed only moments before. Gib held back the urge to roll his eyes, certain the general had ridden back to the war camp at a full gallop, eager to escape the “deplorable hovel.”

  “Shall we go find the horses?” Joel asked.

  Gib nodded. “I could see the roof of the stable from the town square.”

  “Good. You lead the way.”

  They walked in silence, content to observe the village and its inhabitants and therefore avoid conversation with one another.

  The townsfolk bustled about their lives as if the summer heat didn’t faze them. Then again, maybe it didn’t. After all, they’d spent their entire existences survivi
ng these wastelands. Maybe the visitors from the north were the odd ones here, sweating like cattle and falling ill to sunstroke.

  “Does it remind you of Willowdale?” Joel asked at length.

  “Willowdale wasn’t so dusty,” Gib replied, winning a soft chuckle from the mage.

  “I guess I never truly understood how hard life was for you. I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t all bad. Honestly, I miss it sometimes.”

  “Really?”

  Gib brushed damp curls off his forehead. “I miss the simplicity. Life was hard, yes, but we never had time for cutthroat politics or devising schemes to overthrow our foes. Everyone helped one another without expecting anything in return. I guess that’s what I miss most.”

  “I imagine I’d miss that, too.”

  They found the stables easily; surrounded by wattle and daub huts on either side, the large, open-sided structure was hard to miss. A youngling scurried to fetch Astora and Ivory. At first, it startled Gib to see a child so small had been trusted to oversee the horses, but then he remembered how fast children in poor communities were expected to grow up. Hadn’t he himself been left in charge of an entire farmstead at the age of twelve?

  As they waited for their horses’ tack to be assembled, Gib leaned against the broad-planked gate and allowed his mind to wander.

  So we’ve reached Perth. Now what? How long will it be before we learn our fate? If there’s been trouble in Ashvale, will we invade Shiraz?

  He dared seek out Joel’s gaze. “What do you suppose the High Council’s decision will be, when they read Koal’s and Morathi’s reports?”

  “I really don’t know. Father has his supporters on the council, but so does the general. It’s no secret Neetra and the new High Councilor have both aligned with him—not to mention my own brother. It won’t take much to convince them the only solution is to invade Shiraz.

  “Horseshit. They’re just going to get Ardenian soldiers killed for no reason.”

  “I agree. Let’s hope no other villages along the border have reported recent attacks. It’s the only chance we have of the High Council siding with Father. If the Shirites have pulled back, then maybe we can avoid this war altogether.” Joel’s frown deepened. “I must admit, I’m a little concerned about Ashvale though. Did you see the look on Mayor Barclay’s face? He’s worried. I could tell.”

  “Do you think Ashvale is in trouble?”

  “I suppose we’ll know once the scouting party returns. Pray to The Two there’s just been a miscommunication, or else my uncle will have his way.”

  “The fact that our fate lies in Neetra’s hands makes me ill.”

  A remorseful smile flashed across Joel’s face, but any response he might have had died on his lips as the stable girl returned, leading the horses through the open gate. It was almost comical the way she commanded the two beasts; had either mare decided to fuss, surely the child wouldn’t be able to maintain control over them.

  “Yer horses, milords,” she said, curtsying and handing over the reins. “I fed and watered ’em and gave ’em a good brushin’ m’self.”

  “Thank you.” Joel fished through a pocket inside his robe and pulled out three silver coins. “Here, for your kind service.”

  The girl’s eyes went wide. “M–milord, I–I–can’t—”

  Joel practically had to shove the coinage into her tiny hand to get the girl to take it. “I insist.”

  She gaped down at the silvers, mouth hanging open in shock for several moments, before reality finally seemed to settle. Letting out an elated gasp, the youngling all but threw herself at Joel’s feet. “Thank ye, milord! Thank ye!”

  “No, thank you.”

  Gib stared fondly at his former companion.

  Bless his heart. He has absolutely no idea. He doesn’t know how much he just changed that poor girl’s life.

  The two men climbed into their saddles and began the trek back up the hill. Already, tents loomed against the horizon and supply wagons were being unloaded. On the outskirts of the encampment, soldiers with buckets tromped to and from the banks of the Nishika, collecting water for horses and cooking. More foraged for tinder; Gib imagined they’d have to settle for brushwood and dried reeds. He hadn’t seen more than a handful of actual trees within leagues of here.

  Near the camp’s center stood the Healers’ pavilion, its cerulean apex reaching toward the cloudless sky. The brightly painted canvas was easily discernible, surrounded by the drab shades of the other tents—as was intended. If a soldier suffered an injury, finding the pavilion swiftly was imperative.

  Joel directed his filly toward it. “I’m going to help the Healers. I suppose I’ll see you for dinner, if Nawaz doesn’t have me sorting salves all night. Enjoy the company of your friends.”

  Gib bit the inside of his lip. “Yeah. I’ll see you later. Tell Nawaz I said hello.”

  They parted ways, leaving Gib to roam the encampment in search of his friends.

  He stumbled across them along the camp’s eastern edge. Kezra and Nage were both hard at work raising a tent, while Zandi tended the fire pit nearby.

  “All right, I’m here!” Gib announced as he slid from Astora’s saddle.

  Kezra raised her face. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, and her dampened sentinel uniform clung to her body like a second skin. “Typical. You show up after all the hard labor has already been done.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” Gib groaned, leading Astora to a pole where the other horses had already been bound. “Koal asked me to ride into Perth, alongside Morathi and the prince. I came back as soon as I was dismissed.”

  Dust flew up around Nage’s boots as he pounded the last tent post into the ground. “How did that go?”

  “About how you might imagine,” Gib replied. He looped Astora’s reins around the pole, twisting the braided leather strap into a loose knot. “We met with the mayor. Morathi insulted him, and Koal had to scramble to make amends. Same story, different day.”

  Zandi flashed a grin, though he didn’t glance up from the fire. “Have we even left Silver? You’re complaining just the same as you do after returning from any given council meeting.”

  “Apparently it doesn’t matter how far I go,” Gib muttered under his breath. “I can’t escape that damn chamber.” Kezra wordlessly offered him a wineskin and he took a long drink. The warm, bitter water was unsatisfying but helped moisten his throat. “Thanks,” he croaked, before passing the wineskin onto Nage. “Where’s Gara?”

  “You just missed her.” Nage tipped his head back and took a swig from the container. “She had to go on patrol duty. Morathi’s orders—something about a scouting mission.”

  And just like that, Gib’s mood deflated again. “Ashvale,” he said without thinking.

  “What’s that?”

  Gib could have kicked himself in the arse. Why? Why had he even brought it up? As if his friends needed more to worry about. Why couldn’t he keep his fat mouth shut for once in his life?

  He scrambled for something to say. “Oh, uh, nothing. I just overheard Koal and Morathi saying they were going to send soldiers there.”

  Nage’s brow creased. Damn it. He was already concerned. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

  Gib twisted his hands together, busying himself. “Uh, no? I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think so. They didn’t really say much else about the matter.” He could feel Kezra’s glare without even looking at her. Gib held back the urge to groan. He knew he was a bad liar. Of course they didn’t believe him.

  He made a point to turn his back to Nage and Kezra and, instead, focused his attention on Zandi. If Gib couldn’t fool his friends, he could at least pretend they weren’t standing there judging him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “As a matter of fact—” Zandi’s emerald eyes sparkled as he tossed an empty bucket at Gib’s feet. “Go fill that. We need water for cooking.”

  Gib took the pail without a single complaint and trudged toward the riverbank
. He would gladly haul water until dusk if it kept him from having to explain what he’d overheard.

  By the time Gib reached the edge of the Nishika, however, he’d all but convinced himself he was overreacting. Yes, the fact that no one had heard from Ashvale in entire sennights was troubling, but it wasn’t cause for panic just yet. There were a dozen logical explanations why Ashvale wasn’t returning correspondences that had nothing to do with a possible Shiraz attack. Koal had been right to send a scouting party, but it didn’t necessarily mean the soldiers were walking into disaster.

  Gib set the gnarled wooden bucket into the river, watching as murky water flooded its interior.

  For the love of The Two, calm down. You can fret when you have actual reason to.

  “Gib?”

  His head shot up. He’d recognize his sister’s gentle voice anywhere.

  Liza stood on the ridge of the riverbank, looking valiant in leather armor and knee-high riding boots. Rebellious, frizzled curls escaped the ponytail at the nape of her neck and dust glazed her square face. Despite it all, she smiled as brightly as ever. Gib couldn’t recall a time when his sister had allowed an ill-favored circumstance to deter her spirit. Even when their father died—at their family’s darkest hour—she’d never lost hope for a better tomorrow.

  “Hello, stranger,” Liza teased. She trotted forward, loose gravel catching her boots and causing her to waver just slightly as she closed the space between them. “I must have just missed you. Your friends said you’d gone to fetch water.”

  Gib hoisted the bucket into an upright position and set it by his feet. “Liza! I was going to find you later, I swear. But Koal asked me to ride into Perth, and then my friends needed help—”

  “Relax. I’m not here to give a scolding. I have something for you.” Without further elaboration, she pulled a small object, wrapped and hidden by coarse linen, from behind her back and offered it to Gib.