Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  Rhen nodded in agreement. The stories he had read of the Karzark Expansion told of great victories won by the valiant Khasari who smashed the Euphyrian legions. However, Rhen was learned enough to know that these stories were intended for the audience back home. Published first-hand accounts were carefully controlled to prevent any alternative retellings. He had, nevertheless, grown up on the east side of the Desari, and spent a lot of time amongst Euphyrians, who understandably sung a different tune. Their story was of a pack of hungry wolves who came from nowhere and attacked before Euphyria could muster a defence. Propaganda, they all said. Rhen knew it was the only way they could take the Citadels such as Rulven without a prolonged campaign. The situation the Sons faced was of such a campaign, and Kiern was right.

  The Princess’ Sons quietened down, sobered up by reality. They looked towards her, expecting a response that would assuage their concerns. She straightened up in her chair and took in everyone’s eyes in the room. “But of course,” she said, “we have yet to atone for our sins, and Yelia shall not do us any favours. No, this war must be won by our hand, with steel. Steel, and cunning. My captain here, Arys Tullis, who upon commencement of our next operation shall be made a Legatus, will fill you in on the details.”

  The Euphyrian knight rose from his seat, pride evidently swelling inside him. “Your Highness,” he began, before being interrupted by Reisch. “Sorry to interrupt, Legatus Arys, but if I may, I would like to council the new Commander of the Elsgard and Rhenias here.”

  The Euphyrian knight paused and looked to his princess, who gave no indication as to what he should do. He looked back to Reisch with some suspicion and nodded. “Very well. We will wait.”

  “It won’t take long. Rhen, Commander, come.” He opened the door for them and closed it after them. He led them to the end of the corridor before addressing Kiern.

  “From this point on, the war changes. The stakes are higher and so to the danger. As Commander, your loyalty is to the Sons. You will be asked to assist one way or another, and that is your duty. Remember our talk last night.”

  “I know this,” Kiern replied.

  “Good. But you shall refuse their request.”

  “I’m sorry?” Kiern stared blankly at Reisch, this time Rhen matching his expression.

  “Refuse?” Rhen questioned askance, “I’ve killed my own countrymen to save the lives of these people. And now you ask to betray them?”

  “A master blacksmith is not asked to make spurs and horseshoes, governors are not asked to till fields. We serve the Sons, but there is a way we can help them greater than what they could know.”

  “In a way they cannot be allowed to know,” Kiern said, seemingly having understood what Reisch was asking of him. Rhen caught on but said nothing. He was certain their ideals did not overlap completely, yet he was unsure what his own were presently, his world view having been questioned at the point of swords and spears belonging to everyone but a Euphyrian. He had tried to think about where he stood several times, but he always ended up telling himself that there was no point. Even if he decided that Yalea and the Elsgard were in fact his enemy, he was a captive. The end was the same. So here he was, mixed up in a Yalean plot, a leaf free of its branch caught up in the wind of fate.

  “As the Commander, you serve as an auxiliary force to the Sons and are under the command of any Legatus. However, as you know, we are generally given autonomy and go our own way. I would suggest you prepare a way of avoiding being enlisted in the advance on Rulven or whatever this new Legatus asks.”

  “I shall. Now come, we best head back.” They walked back into the room and reconvened the meeting.

  “My apologies, Legatus Arys.” Kiern bowed his head.

  “May we begin?”

  “Of course.”

  The Euphyrian unfurled a map and lay it on his table. Rhen stood up and observed the map. Much of the world still eluded his knowledge, and he figured any information he could learn here could only help him in his future – however long that may be. He sat back down as several of the Sons eyed the Karzarki suspiciously.

  “Please, gather round. We know that Karzark has sent several legions to Yukone via the southern coast. There are more Karzarki legions in Euphyre now than there were in the Invasion itself. We cannot match them. This is the context in which the Sons have operated until now and in which we will continue. We will still wage our war on supplies, raids and ambushes, maintaining the support of the people by providing for them when and where we can. They cannot garrison every town, nor colonise, and we will endeavour to keep this state of affairs. What has changed, however, is Karzark’s planned assault on Yukone. As you can see on this map, at the time of their departure from Rulven, they essentially control all of the north west. They have left one legion in Rulven to deal with the regular pushes the Sons make while they press the south and head towards Yukone. They do not expect the Sons to go on the offensive.”

  Kiern interrupted the Legatus once more, keen on wearing in his new boots. “Offence is the best defence. I imagine once you have finished, you will explain the plan to win Rulven in more detail, but I must ask you how you are going to deal with the main Karzarki force heading towards Yukone.”

  “Of course. Our informants in Rulven initially warned us of reinforcements coming from Karzark. We expected it would take months through the Desari Desert, even with taking advantage of the cooler weather. However, with winter coming earlier than expected, it seems they were pressed for time and risked crossing the Bay of Storms. Perhaps they lost some ships, I do not know. But they crossed successfully and began marching to Rulven, following the Togris. The second mistake our intelligence made was that only one legion continued to Rulven, which we mistook for all the reinforcements. The other two legions turned towards Braest where the Togris branches off. Hammer and anvil. While they hold the northern territories, they will pin us in the south and rout us with superior numbers and training. Once they have destroyed the Yukonian Alliance, they will head north from Yukone and encircle what is left of the east,” Arys stated, as he rolled up the map, “That is, what they expect.”

  A bald Sons of the Phoenix leader asked a question that Rhen did not think needed to be asked, for Arys would have certainly continued anyway. “And what do we expect?”

  It seemed to Rhen that Arys also knew a redundant question was coming, because he continued, barely breaking stride. “We, however, have made our own arrangements. The two legions will have stopped at Lyreport to resupply themselves. We recently lost control of Lyreport and the surrounding mines, but that is only a temporary setback. Winter’s embrace will have yet to grip the Yukone peninsula. The Khasari host will be marching as quickly as they can, expecting to capture Lera and garrison themselves before winter sets. Perhaps they thought autumn would last longer, I again do not know. But time is against them. What this means for us is that a protracted siege – yes, a siege is inevitable at this stage - will work in our favour. And Lera will be well supplied. We have set up trade routes along the coast from –”

  He suddenly looked at Rhen, remembering who he was speaking in front of, and then to Reisch.

  “He’s a dead man if he returns to Karzark. He is one of us now.” Arys nodded, acknowledging Rhen’s improved status.

  “We have set up trade routes along the coast from Lepcis and Vinrael. We have sent food, weapons and all the soldiers we could spare after committing most of our forces to Vinrael. They are currently being led by Legatus Weymar. He has been instructed to harry their advance.

  Lastly, the Citadel of Jakkenmarch has fallen to our soldiers. The Sons made sure no word was sent to Karzark. While they may not know of the situation yet, they have not received word and will soon understand the situation is either dire or lost. If the siege at Lera is looking poorly, we will spread word that the Khasari still hold it but are about to fall. The Karzarki generals would have to either move to help or let their soldiers lose morale hearing of their fellow soldiers’ abandonmen
t at the hands of their generals. If they send some to alleviate the suspected siege, we will ambush them along the way. If they do not, the Sons from Jakkenmarch can be deployed to attack the siege camp at Lera. Now, are there any questions?” asked the Euphyrian Legatus.

  When Rhen had left Mhir, it seemed that the war would be winding down and that Karzark’s control was more or less solidified over Euphyria. Either the situation had drastically changed or Karzark had been reluctant convey the true state of the war. Unsure of where he stood in all of this, he thought it was at the very least an interesting development to his ears.

  Another Son, whose tattoos covered both his arms and head was still in a bloodied bandage, stepped forward. “Legatus Arys, Karzark’s decision to travel through the Bay of Storms instead of overland took Legatus Weymar by surprise. The Yukonians were supposed to have sent a messenger to you several days ago. We were told his men were a few days march from Lyreport when they themselves were surrounded by the Khasari. It seems that one legion was a few days march, but the other had pressed onwards, and caught them offguard.”

  The murmuring began between the Sons. It seemed this Weymar was a name that everyone knew. Rhen wondered how many Euphyrians had the title of Legatus.

  “Did he die?” the Legatus asked.

  “The messenger did not say so, though he sustained wounds before they were able to retreat. She said she was instructed to ride straight for Arden, and then on towards Salence, where Weymar thought you would be. She told our camp that the rest of them rode for Lera, hoping to get ahead of the legions and make it to safety and warn them.”

  Rhen questioned himself at what point he began to analyse people to the extent that he found himself doing lately. He figured Weymar and Arys must have been close, because Arys’ voice wavered ever so slightly, only momentarily. That told Rhen that he was not amongst known company, here in Mayswood, and his recent appointment to Legatus meant that he needed to maintain his image of authority as a wartime general. Rhen didn’t recall reading into peoples’ reactions nearly as much when he was back in Mhir, and he wondered whether he was becoming wiser, or just more untrustworthy of people, a symptom of having his friend die or being tortured or held captive. Regardless, he surmised that it was a skill worth having.

  “Then may Yelia guard him. It does not, fortunately, affect our plans. Yalea Aranth has provided us with a regiment of archers, three hundred to be exact.”

  Reisch, with less enthusiasm than the last time he heard of these archers, responded when a number of eyes turned to him expectedly. “I heard they were volunteers. I would love to be proven wrong.”

  The Euphyrian only shook his head. “I’m afraid you heard correctly. These are three hundred individuals who are here for personal reasons, having allegedly stolen boats and defected to the Euphyrian cause at Vinrael. Of course, this is not the way of things, but Yalea still has yet to show a backbone.” Reisch sat back down in his chair, his eyes sullen.

  Arys continued, “I would have liked them to have accompanied the Sons to Mayswood and assist in the battle, but I feared giving away their identity too soon would cause problems for Yalea. Instead, they are at the siege of Theran’s Lake. We sent them by trading ships after we established a trading post on Rasteg Island. I will send word for them to travel to Arden, where they can meet the Elsgard Commander. There, you will take control of your new Elsgard members and resume what Weymar started.”

  Rhen knew exactly what Kiern was going to say, and he hid his smile with his hand. The perfect way out. “Legatus Arys, may I suggest instead that the previous Commander, Reisch Elestan, lead these Yaleans. After all, this is a serious war, and he is of invaluable experience.”

  “Whoever leads is an Elsgard internal affair. I only ask that a Yalean lead those archers.”

  Kiern bowed again. “I thank you. Secondly, that Yalea has, to be frank, offered us three hundred archers is unprecedented. Perhaps it won’t be long before we can count on further assistance. As Commander of the Elsgard, I believe I might make a suitable dignitary to a Yalean audience. If Yalean ships reached Vinrael, then perhaps I could travel and embark on a vessel to Yalea from there.”

  Kiern surprised Rhen. Rhen had guessed that Kiern would request Reisch lead the Yalean troops in the south, but he hadn’t anticipated providing a justifiable reason to head towards Tannis. He knew Vinrael must be in that direction. He would have to praise Kiern later. But first, he needed to add his own piece while the audience was amicable.

  “I would also request that I accompany Commander Kiern to Vinrael. I believe that I am perhaps the most useful Karzarki to Yalea. My knowledge could perhaps be used as leverage in any negotiation.”

  Legatus Arys looked unsure whether this fell under his authority to permit or deny, so naturally he turned to his princess.

  “An excellent idea. In fact, Rhenias Tallesen, I would speak with you privately. Legatus Arys, if you would explain our strategy on taking Rulven in the meantime…”

  “Uh, yes, Your Highness.”

  She smiled at him. “Legatus Vaelynna. Now, please follow me, Rhenias.”

  Like the vast majority of people, Rhen had never had a private audience with royalty. Especially those whose line was supposed to have died out during the invasion. While she had a polite demeanour, Rhen doubted that she had invited him to spill all of Euphyria’s secrets.

  She led him down to the largest room in the Oaken Vine which was guarded by two Sons of the Phoenix who both had faces that Rhen would hate to encounter in almost every situation he could imagine. They opened the door and shut it behind them.

  When they were alone, Vaelynna IV pointed to a chair and Rhen accepted the invitation and sat.

  “Your hand. When I healed your wounds, I knew it wasn’t an injury that happened that night. Tell me, how did you maim your hand?”

  Rhen was going to reply with a long dormant, adolescent bitter angst, but remembered he was talking to the princess of Euphyria and thought better of it. He didn’t want those guards coming in and checking on the princess’ safety.

  “Early in my captivity by the Elsgard, I tried leaving a letter for any Karzarki to find and rescue me. I was caught and punished for it. I sometimes wonder if I’m still only here because I fear escaping, or whether what I’ve seen and heard has changed who I was back then.”

  “May I take a closer look? Please, lie down on the bed.” Rhen obliged. Never refuse royalty if you want to live, he thought.

  “You suffered at the hands of the Elsgard, and the Elsgard operate under my authority. Therefore, I must take responsibility for this.”

  “Your Highness, you don’t need to –”

  “Shut up.” He had never spoken to royalty before, but he had always assumed they spoke more dignified. He didn’t know what to say in response.

  “Though you are a Karzarki, I trust the judgement of the Elsgard and consider you trustworthy. You would not be in a private audience with me if you weren’t. But before you get any ideas, if you pull a knife on me, I will gut you where you stand.”

  “Believe me, I wouldn’t even dream it…”

  “Good. Now, do you have a knife? Oh, of course you don’t. I’ll just use my sword instead. No, lie still, I am not going to harm you. If I did, I would have let those guards. They seem like they would enjoy it. They’re already pissed that they were too late for the battle. No, I am going to heal your hand.”

  The conversation was moving faster than Rhen’s brain considered appropriate and socially acceptable. Swords did not mean healing, last time he checked. “A sword? I don’t understand.”

  The princess put her hands on her hips and sighed. “For as long as I live, if I ever hear even a rumour about what I’m going to show you, I will know it was you, and I will hunt your miserable Karzarki arse to the ends of the earth.”

  Royalty definitely did not talk like this. He was in a room with an assassin, an imposter, he was sure of it.

  “I have a gift, Rhen. Yelia has giv
en me a great gift. Allow me to demonstrate. Close your eyes. I said close!”

  Rhen had no choice but to trust this mad woman, for there was no escaping this room. He had to cling on to hope, and so though he was more afraid of this madwoman committing more terrible crimes, he focussed on only being afraid for the pain his arm was about to go through, that she was going to heal him. He closed his eyes and thought of happier times. Several heart pounding moments passed. The princess’ voice broke the permeating silence.

  “Now, when I tell you to open your eyes, might I suggest you refrain from falling off the bed or making any loud noises. Those guards are not my own, however I judge them the type who would be unlikely to waste a second in jumping to my defence and killing you before asking if I have come to harm.”

  Several more silent moments passed, then the princess took a deep breath and said he could open his eyes.

  “Don’t give in to the temptation and stretch your hand. You will tear the tendons and muscles no sooner than I healed it. Give it time.”

  Rhen looked at his hand, and to his astonishment, his hand was no longer crippled. It was ghostly pale, as though his blood had fled up to his arm. Remembering the pain, he dared not stretch his fingers, instead trying to move them in the smallest of motions. And they moved. Rhen opened his mouth to voice his amazement when he suddenly had the wind knocked out of him, a result from Vaelynna’s fist hitting his stomach. He gasped for breath. She looked unamused, having expected his reaction.

  “I said no sudden outbursts. It’s for your own good. And…sorry. But I had to.”

  Rhen was curled up on the bed, waiting for his body to recall how to breathe again, yet he still was mesmerised by his hand. It was a miracle. It was Magick. “How did…my hand…”