“The winner, Tolu Tem, now had an army of unsurpassed power, filled with conscripted soldiers from every land under his control: most of the Sogand tribes, the remaining warriors of Palahey, an allied army from Shila, and even soldiers conscripted from of the western provinces of Sakhat and Zelkat. With this massive force, he laid siege to the cities of the Water Kingdom, one after the other.
“Too late, the Water Kingdom realized its folly. Too late, the wise men woke to their danger. In its final death throes, the Water Kingdom fought with no little courage, and they introduced new, powerful weapons, including lopor or ‘thunder powder,’ which I used at Wheat Town.
“But Tolu Tem was perhaps the greatest of the Sogand leaders, at least in his early years. Unusually for a Kitran, he gathered men of talent to him, from all of his subject peoples. When the Water Kingdom developed lopor as a weapon, it was only a few years before Tolu’s armies were using that same weapon against the Water Kingdom.
“No walls built by man are able to stand against massed barrels of lopor set against them. So the Water Kingdom was, in the end, betrayed by its own invention. The capital of the Water Kingdom, Naduva, was taken after a terrible siege. With that victory, Tolu Tem was now the undisputed ruler over all of Serica, and much more besides. He styled himself Emperor Tolu Tem, Ruler of the World.
“Many men of Serica now joined Emperor Tolu, thinking that he was wise enough to rule, that he would be the first of many kings who would rule as the kings of Serica had ruled before him. They were wrong.”
Here Valo Peli stopped, and it was clear from the pained expression on his face that he had no wish to continue the story. That evening, with Ashala’s assistance, Sandun related Valo Peli’s tale to the Keltens.
Several days passed before Sandun could persuade Valo Peli to continue the history, bringing them up to the present.
The expedition was now very close to the great river called the Mur. The land was marshy, with many small lakes. They had joined a main road, and news of their victory over the Sogands had gone ahead of them. How this had happened was unknown to Sandun, but at every town they arrived in, people greeted them with open arms, or at least with respect. Some people recognized Sandun’s description, and he was called Sword Breaker, which made him feel quite odd.
“You must tell us your part in all this, since you clearly played a role,” Sandun said for third time to Valo Peli as they were riding through a dense forest, the trees tall on either side of the road and forming a vault of green above their heads.
“All right, all right, this one will tell you. Since you must know these things, and despite the shame the telling brings.”
And so Valo Peli told Sandun his own story:
“My family is from the tea hills, which you traveled through on your way from Gipu. This one was selected at an early age to study at a good school down in the flatlands. Having mastered the basic learning, this one moved to a better school in Sasuvi. Again, this one mastered the material and passed their tests. Eventually, I was sponsored to Daka by the master of Sasuvi academy. Daka was and is the capital city that the Kitran had seized from Palahey and made their own. Emperor Tolu was dead many years before I arrived, but there were still traces of his ideas to be found amid the rot, the decadence, the wanton cruelty, and yes, the splendor of the city. That was thirty years ago.”
He sighed. His eyes were lost in a vision of past.
“I kept out of trouble. I did the tasks that were assigned to me. I read reports. I forwarded recommendations to my superiors. In those days, the administration still limped along—perhaps on a broken leg and without shoes, but it moved. I was sent to run a small district near the capital. Looking back on it, a plum assignment, though I took no pleasure in being close to the capital. Year after year, I saw it change for the worse, more desperate men willing to do anything for food: steal, rob, even murder. And women, young, poor, willing to sleep with any Kitran for a chance to birth a Kitran child and be given official status and a small stipend. But with so many women flooding into the city, most just ended up in brothels or begging on the streets.
“Years passed. I moved up in the ranks. I developed an unusual interest in lopor—what was once key to Tolu Tem’s victory was now frowned upon, considered sorcerer’s art by the new Kitran emperor and his advisors, the Council of Eagles as they call themselves. Lopor was viewed as a product of ‘decayed’ Serice thinkers. I believed it could be used for more than war: to clear boulders out of roads, perhaps even to build dams made not of trees and dirt but of rock. But lopor was only used for war. Only used for destruction. I was given command of a small group of men, and I trained them to use the powder in the form of large ‘bombs.’ It was effective. Rebel strongholds fell to us in days, where before Sogand forces had sat fruitlessly outside the walls for months.
“I was given more men, more money. It seemed I was the only man the rulers in Daka trusted to use lopor. I made it better, put it in smaller containers that still had the power to knock a man down or kill him.
“Ten years passed, and great revolts broke out all across the country. Everywhere, people were painting their swords red or tying red cloth to their weapons. I don’t know how it started, and no one in the government knew. So many people were arrested, tortured, but no one knew. It just seemed to appear out of nowhere.”
Sandun dared to ask a question “Why ‘red swords’ or ‘red cloth’? You told us there once was a Fire Kingdom—was it related to that?”
Valo Peli nodded. “A very perceptive guess, Master Sandun. It was related, but in an odd way. We believe in cycles. We are taught that everything around us is in a state of flux and change. I’m sure you know this also. By convention, we start with fire, and it produces ash or earth. Earth generates metal, and the prime metal is, naturally, gold. Metal produces water, which generates trees. Trees burn and create fire. As so the cycle continues.
“One hundred years ago, Serica was ruled by the Water Kingdom, which is associated with the color blue. The next element in the cycle is wood, associated with the color green, but Emperor Tolu choose to break the cycle. Instead he called his empire the ‘First Empire’—ignoring the previous millennia of Serice history. Outside of Daka, everyone calls it the Kitran Empire. Many Serice now say the days of the Kitran Empire are ending and the next kingdom will soon take its place. After wood comes fire, which is represented by the color red. So the Red Swords are saying they are supporters of the next kingdom, the successor to the Kitran Empire’s undeclared Green Kingdom.
“To continue my tale of regrets: for seven years, this one was assigned to military duties, fighting against the Red Swords. Suppressing bandits in the name of the emperor in Daka. In those days, my name was Arno Boethy. But this one—I became sick of my deeds. The government I had once served had vanished like a dragon into a cloud. All that was left was hate, and killing, and evil. There is no one good left in Daka. Not one! All the good men I knew have been executed. All the corrupt but harmless men are dead as well, their wealth confiscated and their women enslaved. The only people left in Daka are the most ruthless, most brutal, most depraved. How many emperors have there been in the last five years? Three? Four? Who can keep track any longer?
“Filled with bitterness, consumed by sorrow, I quit three years ago and retired to my home village. I should have resigned ten years ago. In fact, it would be better for Serica if I had been drowned at birth! No! It’s true. No less than the truth now. I have served evil for nearly thirty years, and I only hope to make some amends and serve good with what little time remains to me. That is why I am going to Tokolas. All that I have heard tells me that the ruler of that city is the best man ruling any part of Serica today. If the stories are true, I will offer my head to him, and perhaps he will take me up on my offer.”
Here Lathe could restrain himself no longer. “Master, you served the government with honor. You were called ‘incorruptible.’ You
were respected even by your enemies. I’ve seen your home; you have no great wealth. Everyone in your village venerates you.”
Lathe’s voice dropped as he said, “Your children love you.”
Valo Peli straightened his shoulders and mastered his emotions. “That is but little consolation. My last hope now in this life is that the Lord of Tokolas will see past the evil men that this one served and will consider my reputation for honesty and my veneration for the Great Teacher. If not, then not.”
Sandun asked Valo Peli what he knew of Serica today.
“This servant, a native of Serica, was never part of the grand strategy meetings in Daka. This one was but an instrument, not the architect. You know that Serica is now split apart. Many provinces are independent, while others pretend loyalty to the government in Daka but send no taxes and never have soldiers to spare for fighting beyond their borders.
“The Red Swords have taken much of central Serica. Up and down the great river Mur, the Red Swords hold sway, but they are divided among themselves. The largest territory is called the Red Lake Kingdom, comprising the province of Zelkat and some of Sakhat. The Lord of Tokolas controls the ancient province of Kunhalvar. He used to be an ally of the Red Lake King, but he now runs his province in accord with the old ways.
“Beyond Daka, the greatest power is found in the province of Dombovar, with its capital of Naduva, where the Iron King sits on his golden throne. Naduva was the last capital of the Water Kingdom, and the province of Dombovar is still the richest in Serica. Ten years past, the Iron King gathered together an army of common laborers from the hill towns around his home. With his army, he drove the Kitran out of Dombovar. He crowned himself king and has ruled for several years from his rebuilt palace. Although his court is said to be magnificent, he is a man of little learning, and the great wealth of his territory seems to have corrupted his spirit. He seems to have no connection to the Red Swords, but whether that is a good thing or bad is unclear to me. What does he believe in other than himself?
“The Red Lake Kingdom is unappealing. I don’t believe in their Radiant Prince or their prophet and his vision of the goddess coming to cleanse the land of evil. I would swallow my misgivings and offer my services to the Iron King of Dombovar, but why not see if the Lord of Tokolas lives up to his reputation? It is most likely that I will be reviled no matter where I go. I have little hope for the future, but I must make the attempt.”
After hearing his story, Sandun found he had a great deal of sympathy for Valo Peli. He knew many people in Tebispoli who had worked for the evil King Oniktes. Some few, like Master Eulogo, had just done their jobs quietly, harming no one. “Keeping the wheels of government spinning,” as Master Eulogo put it dryly. But others—shire reeves, bailiffs, tax collectors—had followed King Oniktes’s orders, and upon his death and King Pandion’s accession to the throne, they had lost everything. Most had lost their positions, some had been hounded from office by mobs of angry peasants, a few had even been killed.
Perhaps it had been unwise to accept Valo Peli’s offer to accompany them. But that was water under the bridge. He was one of them now. In Sandun’s experience, you didn’t often pick the men you fought beside, but loyalty proved by battle was treated like a sworn oath in Kelten. Sometimes, this loyalty was given to a bad man, as King Oniktes undoubtedly had been. But it was their tradition.
Part Six
Kunhalvar
Around midday, at the Kunhalvar border, the Archives Expedition caught up to a line of carts. At the end of the line was a gate and soldiers. Without doubt, this was a border crossing.
To the north, several large tents were set up in a clearing. About thirty men were practicing for war in the field. Sandun had seen this before outside of towns and cities in Kelten: men with spears, running forward and then pulling together and stepping backward while keeping in formation. Hoisting the spears into the air and turning to face the opposite direction and then bringing the spears down again. All done to the cadence of shouted orders from a barrel-chested, red-faced man—the universal sergeant who is always in charge of training young men for war in every land under the sun. Other men were doing chores: chopping wood, sawing, carrying water. The soldiers went through their exercises with vigor, punctuated with loud shouts; the officers moved about the camp with speed.
The road at this frontier outpost was surrounded by tall willow trees, and sitting in the shade was pleasant. However, after fifteen minutes’ rest, Sandun walked up to the head of the line to observe. An officer, about Sandun’s age and wearing leather armor, was asking questions of a young farmer standing beside a loaded cart. Sandun heard him ask where the farmer was going. The farmer said that he was looking for a place to settle where it would be safe. His wife stayed on the cart; two small children next to her were silent.
“If you don’t want to go far, there is good land south of here. Several men like you have chosen to go there this week already. If you want to be on the other side of the river, then you may go down to the ferry, and it can take you across the river. An official there can give you further directions.” The officer had certainly said the same thing to lots of people, but he seemed to care.
“How much will it cost? We are very poor.”
“Nothing. The Lord of Kunhalvar has unoccupied land and wishes for it to be farmed. All he asks is that you pay your taxes at the next harvest and that you obey the laws. Simple, yes?”
The farmer’s relief was palpable; a big smile broke over his face, and he got down on his knees and pressed his hands together in front of the officer. The soldier had clearly seen this reaction before and gently lifted the man back to his feet.
By now, some of the other soldiers had noticed Sandun and the Kelten expedition. One came over to the officer, said something, and then went over to the biggest tent, nearly running.
Half an hour later, about twenty soldiers came across the clearing, escorting an older man who wore a colorful green robe with a modest-sized animal embroidered above his heart. As the man came closer, Sandun realized the animal depicted was a raccoon, looking to its left.
Sandun stepped forward, with Basil at his side, and at a command from Sir Ako, the rest of expedition came and stood in a line behind them. The officer waited till the man in the green robe arrived, and then he said, “Who are you, and what do you seek in the province of Kunhalvar?”
Sandun replied, “I am Sandun Eiger, and we are an embassy from King Pandion the Third of Kelten, to the Lord of Kunhalvar. Our king desires both friendship and trade.”
At this reply, the old man in the green robe advanced toward them and said, “News of emissaries from distant Kelten has reached this outpost. And it takes no great insight to see that you and your companions are not from this land. Yet, should we let you go on to our capital of Tokolas simply based on your words? Do you bring some proof that you are who you say you are?” The green-robed man spoke like Valo Peli, though he sometimes used words that Sandun had never heard before.
Fortunately, two weeks on the road listening to Valo Peli’s history of Serica had given Sandun a fighting chance at understanding this official. “I have a document from my king.” Sandun went to his pack and took out everything before finding the tube with the rolled-up parchment at the bottom of the bag. He carefully unrolled it and showed it to the green-robed official.
The old man looked at the document and then said, “I can tell you have been carrying this a long time. Though I cannot read it, this seems sufficient proof to me. Allow me to send my report with an aide on your journey to the capital. The next boat that sails directly to Tokolas will not arrive for two days. If you do not wish to wait, you could cross the river and ride the rest of the way. Will you allow me to offer you some tea while you consider?”
“We are anxious to reach the end of our journey, and we have ridden long enough to think sixty miles more is but a child’s distance. However, we will gladly sh
are some tea with you before we continue,” replied Sandun.
Valo Peli and Lathe elicited no comment from the official; they said little and gave every impression of being little more than servants or guides found on the road.
The official in the green robe introduced himself as Scribe Jelesik and showed them back to his tent. There they drank tea for an hour while he made small talk. “Rumors of a group of strangers from Kelten reached us yesterday. These were intermixed with stories about a battle at Wheat Town, where a company of Sogand raiders was utterly destroyed. I gave little credence to the two stories but looking at you now, I can see you are mighty warriors with striking bows. I would have thought they were fighting sticks until I observed the notches at the end and the long arrows that all of your men carry.”
“We did have a role to play in the battle of Wheat Town,” Sandun replied. “But doubtless the rumors exaggerate the numbers we faced. We fought a small force. Our victory was fortunate.” Sandun had learned from Valo Peli’s style of conversation that modesty was prized as a virtue in Serica.
Jelesik’s assistant produced a document, which his master signed using an elaborate design; it took at least a minute for Jelesik to create the intricate mark at the end of the document. He handed it to Sandun.
“This letter of safe conduct relates to your expedition’s journey to Tokolas. In these troubled times, one can hardly say any place is safe, but I urge you to be slow in resorting to your weapons. The army of Kunhalvar patrols the roads and does its best to keep the bandits and lawless subdued. I doubt you would be mistaken as bandits by our soldiers, but I urge caution.”
Sandun gave the letter to Ashala to read. She read it and then nodded, and Sandun thanked Master Jelesik for his hospitality and his letter.
They rode away from the post, joining the stream of people that had passed through the border crossing and now were heading down to the river.
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