by Tracy Falbe
19 ~ A King to Fight For ~
With the mysterious visitors hidden from view, the Temu returned to their preparations for the evening’s celebration. In a recently harvested field many tables and benches were set up and laden with a bountiful variety of foods. Several pigs roasted nearby along with a whole steer and numerous kegs of beer and wine rolled out of storage, some of which got tapped ahead of schedule. Musicians tuned their instruments, and women gathered flowers to adorn their hair.
Inside the royal tent King Taischek listened to Dreibrand describe his distant homeland. Dreibrand spoke of his military career as if it had come to a normal completion. He regretted the necessity of the deceit, but he knew he could not forge a new name in a new land by admitting to his rash abandonment of his duty.
Instinctively, Taischek sensed the omissions in his guest’s story but forgave them, understanding a man that crossed the world would leave some things behind. And Shan seemed to sanction the young man, and that counted for much with Taischek.
“And Queen Onja has no say in this Atrophane Empire?” Taischek pressed, requiring clarification on this detail because it shook his perception of the world’s power structure.
Dreibrand nodded emphatically. “It is true, King Taischek. Onja is not known in the east.”
“It is good to know not all men have to tolerate her,” concluded the King.
Xander spoke. “May I see your sword?”
“Certainly,” Dreibrand said and unbuckled his swordbelt. He eased the blade partway out of the scabbard and handed the weapon over to the Temu General.
Taischek and Xander bent over the sharp heavy blade, admiring the workmanship in their own language. Although the King possessed many fine weapons, this sword did not lack in appeal. When Taischek returned the sword, he tapped Dreibrand’s armor, impressed by the metal plate.
“You must be a wealthy man in your world,” Taischek commented.
“No King,” Dreibrand said. “My gear may be of high quality, but it is all I own. I am not a wealthy man, especially in my country.”
“A poor man generally would not possess such a beautiful woman,” Xander noted in the Temu language.
By the responding expression on Taischek’s face, Dreibrand wondered what the General had said. Dreibrand glanced at Shan, hoping the rys would interpret if it had been important, but Shan was renowned for his tact.
Clearing his throat, Taischek said, “And where is your woman from? Is it the custom of your people to go exploring the Wilderness with a woman?”
“Her name is Miranda,” Dreibrand said while trying to conceal his discomfort. He worried information about Miranda might jeopardize his carefully edited story. His circumstances did look strange.
She knows the truth. I should have told her what not to talk about. Where is she? I need to see her, he thought.
“And what is her story?” the King prompted with as much patience as a king could offer.
“King Taischek, you declared that this day was for pleasure, and Miranda’s story is not a happy one—and perhaps hers to tell,” Dreibrand responded. When he actually thought about it, he did not know much about her.
Taischek chuckled at the way Dreibrand sidestepped the question. “Thank you for obeying my edict. Which reminds me, we should start the festivities. A fine feast and much drinking await us.”
Shan said, “If you would allow Dreibrand and me to wash up, we will join you shortly.”
Standing, Taischek summoned a servant and ordered a wash basin. “When you are ready, come out and sit with us,” Taischek instructed as he exited with Xander.
For the sake of privacy, Dreibrand used Miranda’s language. “Taischek showed little desire to talk about your business,” he commented.
Wiping his hands, Shan said, “Oh, he has his party, like he said. Taischek guesses what I will ask him, and he does not like it.”
“Then why are you so sure he will support you?” Dreibrand worried.
“He already agreed to support me against Onja whenever I asked, just as you have done,” the rys explained.
“You saved him too,” Dreibrand surmised and wondered if other people owed Shan allegiance.
Shan nodded. “I saved him from worse than a dungeon. In his youth Taischek was a hostage in the royal household of the Sabuto Tribe as part of a peace agreement with the Temu. But these tribes are traditional rivals and hostilities started after a season or two. I went to the Sabuto when the peace ended, but they had already tortured Taischek and meant to burn him alive, but I could not see the boy die. I cut him free of the stake before the flames went too far. Still, he was terribly injured and did not walk for a year. But he was young and grew to be a strong man.”
The gruesome story contrasted with the jovial king, but Dreibrand now understood better Taischek’s zest for life.
Before they left the tent, Dreibrand asked quietly, “What did the General say when Taischek gave him that look?”
“Nothing,” Shan said breezily.
“Come on, Shan,” Dreibrand urged.
“Really, it was nothing,” Shan insisted. “He just did not think you were poor.”
Dreibrand frowned but he dropped the subject. It probably was nothing, and he admitted that he often became annoyed when he did not know what was being said.
They exited the tent and found themselves in a festive atmosphere. Music played and torches were being lit in the approaching dusk. Although Dreibrand had been eager to start Shan’s business, he decided to follow Taischek’s order and enjoy himself.
While walking through the crowd, Dreibrand scanned over the heads of people trying to spot Miranda. Apparently a male/female segregation organized the seating with a broad length of field separating the ladies’ tables from the men’s tables. He strayed toward the women’s section but Shan grabbed his elbow and steered him back.
“Men and women do not mix at Temu social gatherings,” Shan informed him.
“I thought you said they threw good parties,” Dreibrand grumbled, still trying to locate Miranda.
Shan hushed him because they had reached Taischek’s table. Two seats had been saved to the right of the King, and Shan and Dreibrand sat in the honored place. Immediately servants poured wine for the newly arrived guests, while a musical performance in front of the table absorbed Taischek. When the harps and flutes concluded their rousing tune, Taischek applauded exuberantly, delighting his loyal musicians.
A clear note from a horn sounded, and the musicians withdrew, clearing the field before the King. An empty table in the women’s area was across from the King’s table and the horn signaled the entrance of the Temu Queen and her entourage.
“Vua is always late,” complained Taischek as he stood up.
All the men rose as Queen Vua flowed across the grass, leading her co-wives and daughters. Wreaths of flowers crowned all the women in the entourage, and they all wore fluttering red robes over soft white gowns. The spectacle of their beauty hushed the men respectfully as the King and Queen bowed to each other. With the simple formality completed, everyone sat down.
Beside the plump gray-haired Queen, Dreibrand finally saw Miranda. Dressed like the other women, her lovely raiment impressed him. She kept her bandaged arm hidden in the folds of her red robe, but in the flattering gown and crowned with flowers, she was easily the center of attention. Dreibrand had often dreamed of her adorned in fine clothes and the result pleased him greatly. Miranda looked directly at Dreibrand, and he hated the distance between them.
“What a treasure you have brought us from the east,” declared King Taischek after he saw Miranda.
“Eyes of pure jade,” Xander interjected fondly in the Temu language. “Sire, you should see her up close. She is a wonder.”
“Be careful of your manners, Xander,” warned the King softly and he checked to see if Dreibrand had understood.
Servants dished out the main courses of tender and savory meats and more wine flowed into cups. Taischek dug into his feast with aba
ndon and bade the musicians to play again.
Between mouthfuls of food, the King said, “It is good to have you back, Shan. You have stayed away too long. And your visit gave me a wonderful opportunity to piss off Nebeck. I gave you his seat and put the rysmavda at that table.”
He pointed to an empty table behind him. “I don’t think they are going to come,” Taischek said with insincere disappointment.
“It will probably take Nebeck a day to work up his courage to actually confront me. He fears my presence will soil him in Onja’s eyes,” Shan said.
“He’d soil his presence in Onja’s eyes,” Taischek joked.
Shan ate sparingly, like any rys, and listened with pleasure to the reports of the Temu King. With increasing intoxication Taischek described every thing that had happened to him since Shan’s last visit. The Temu royal household had been blessed with two more daughters and one more son.
“Two more daughters!” Shan exclaimed. “Every man in the Confederation will end up married to a Temu.”
Taischek laughed and drained another goblet of wine. “I hope so. The other tribes will wish I made war on them instead of sending my daughters. Except the Sabuto scum. They get only my sword.”
Lifting his right hand, Taischek showed off a large emerald ring on his thumb. “Look at that Shan. I took that rock from the Sabuto last year and had my jeweler make this ring over the winter. He did a good job.”
Shan admired the wondrous green gem. The lands of the Sabuto Tribe possessed the best jewel mines.
An uncharacteristic grin broke Shan’s blue face as he said, “Shall you be wearing this to Jingten?”
Such a question made even in jest actually startled Taischek. With a frown the King withdrew the sparkling hand.
Shan tapped Dreibrand on the shoulder and said, “You should see our great King Taischek when he pays his tribute to Onja. He wears barely more than a hermit’s rag and only brings his skinny wives.”
Taischek now had to chuckle at the duplicity he shared with Shan. The King had put his act of poverty on for so long, he had almost taken offense when Shan joked about it.
“I do what I must so that the Temu prosper,” Taischek said humbly.
Dreibrand eased away his finished plate and decided to enter the conversation. “King Taischek, you say you go to war in three days against the Sabuto Tribe. I would like to join you.”
“Oh really?” Taischek rumbled. He shoved some pork into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully.
“Looking for work are you, Dreibrand Veta?” the King finally determined. “What kind of pay do you think you are worth?”
Dreibrand smiled, encouraged by the question. He answered, “I think that I am worth quite a bit. But for now all I ask is that the Temu provide Miranda refuge. She has injuries and needs a home to rest in.”
The King cast a concerned look in Miranda’s direction. “She looks healthy to me,” he said gruffly.
“Onja hurt her more than it shows,” Shan explained softly.
“Onja hurt her…” the King trailed off. He did not want to know tonight. This news had to be connected to Shan’s business, which he wanted to live without for one more merry night.
Shan continued, “But Dreibrand does not need to work for her refuge. I ask this of you Taischek, as a favor.”
“This is my concern, Shan,” Dreibrand insisted.
Taischek studied the young man. He respected him for wanting to take care of his woman.
And if he wants to work for so little, I should defer to his pride, Taischek thought, but he said, “Of course she can stay. I would never turn out an injured woman. Now what pay do you want, Dreibrand?”
“Her safety is all that I require,” Dreibrand answered. “You may reward my efforts as you see fit, King Taischek.”
Taischek laughed. “He IS brave.” Nudging Xander with an elbow, he said, “What do you think, General? Should I take on this mercenary?”
“If he’s worthy, I have no objession,” Xander slurred.
“Yes, yes, of course. We will see to that,” the King agreed. “I would be glad to have you along, Dreibrand. Look at you! You will scare the balls off the Sabuto. They will think you are some rys demon.”
Dreibrand was not sure if the last comment was a compliment, but he was glad to have a king to fight for.
“But you must prove yourself, man from Atrophane,” Taischek added. He turned to Xander and gave instructions in the Temu language.
Obediently, Xander rose but swayed drunkenly. Remembering that he was a general, he plopped back into his seat and gave the orders to someone else.
Wary of the methods by which he would prove himself, Dreibrand looked questioningly at Shan. The rys sipped his wine and offered no details.
Finally, Dreibrand asked, “What will I have to do?”
Shan replied breezily, “Do not worry. They are not planning to kill you.”
Dreibrand frowned at the statement, but he did not have time to contemplate the meaning because several Temu warriors arrived behind him.
“Remove your armor and weapon,” a Temu commanded in the common tongue.
Reluctantly, Dreibrand complied. He would have to follow through on what he had started.
Across the field, Miranda noticed Dreibrand giving his gear to the warriors, and she feared the Temu had turned against them.
“What is happening?” she cried, looking at her hostess the Queen.
“It looks like our warriors wish to test him,” Vua replied, but then she saw her guest’s apprehension and added, “This will be fun.”
Miranda wanted to be reassured by the comment, but it looked like Dreibrand was going to fight someone. The servants and musicians cleared a wide space between the tables of the King and Queen, and the rest of the Temu, murmuring with excitement, crowded around on all sides. Warriors began lining up in front of the crowd, and they led Dreibrand into the ring. He was given a quarterstaff, and Miranda watched him test its weight and balance.
Now the Temu challenger came forward. His armor was also removed, and he wielded a quarterstaff. Grinning broadly and enjoying the cheers from his friends, the young warrior took off his shirt to display his supple physique. He bowed to an unmarried section of ladies, who appreciated his attention, and then held his staff high and pranced before the whole crowd.
Dreibrand examined the situation and relaxed. His test appeared to be a sporting competition on fair terms. Eyeing his opponent, he deemed the youth fast and clever, but perhaps overly proud to represent his tribe. With a confident grin, Dreibrand strode to the center of the impromptu arena and felt his heart quicken with excitement.
At this point King Taischek climbed on top of his table and addressed his tribe in the common tongue for the sake of his guests.
“Great Temu, I introduce Dreibrand Veta. He comes from a land called Atrophane in the distant east. He has asked for the honor of serving me and riding with Temu warriors. Now for all to see, the warriors shall test him and judge his worth.”
The Temu cheered, happy with the quality of the spectacle. Dreibrand took the opportunity to approach Miranda and regarded his opponent casually while he spoke to her.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered to her.
She had to smile, but her concern could not be suppressed. “Dreibrand! This looks dangerous.”
“I can handle him,” he answered as if her worry was absurd.
Drums began to pulse in a low rhythm to herald the combat. Dreibrand left her table and faced his opponent. Because it was their test Dreibrand decided to let the warrior make the first move. They circled each other cautiously and the torchlight gleamed on the metal tips of their staves.
“Are you finished saying goodbye to your woman?” the warrior taunted.
With the practiced superiority of an Atrophaney commander, Dreibrand said, “Actually, I told her you were nothing to worry about.”
The fight started.
With a battle cry the Temu planted his q
uarterstaff in the ground and vaulted into the air. Dreibrand blocked too high and too late and the man’s feet slammed into his stomach. The unexpected blow knocked Dreibrand onto the field. The Temu landed and swung his staff, but Dreibrand managed to roll aside from the strike and swing his own staff. The hard wood snapped across both shins of the warrior. Springing to his feet, Dreibrand got in another good blow across the jaw. The Temu now took his turn hitting the dirt, where he received a few more whacks to the ribs and thighs before he could raise his staff to block the relentless attack.
Taischek frowned and accepted that the young warrior was losing. The King signaled to another warrior, who gladly jumped into the ring. This tribal member grinned with eagerness to avenge his younger cousin, and a whip uncoiled from his expert hand.
Pleased by the contest’s approaching conclusion, Dreibrand did not see his new opponent. The whip cracked, and his staff flew from unsuspecting hands. He looked at his empty palms with puzzlement, but the urgency of battle could not allow him to ponder the rude disappearance of the weapon. Dreibrand whirled and met the gaze of his new attacker and saw that his staff had sailed far out of reach. The whip circled over the Temu’s head, winding for another strike.
Dreibrand accepted that he would have to take another lick and charged the warrior. The whip sang and wrapped around his ankles this time. His boots protected him from the whip’s bite, and he lunged for the warrior before the whip jerked his feet away. Tackling his opponent, Dreibrand was already punching him as he hit the ground. The Temu had to release the whip to defend his face with both hands, pushing and slapping and pulling hair.
Dreibrand grimaced through his efforts, but he kept the warrior pinned. With a brutal grasp Dreibrand seized his throat and began to slam the warrior’s head into the ground repeatedly.
As the choking abuse subdued the man, Dreibrand glanced back at his first opponent, who was rising painfully to resume the fight. Giving the second opponent’s head one more good bounce, Dreibrand kicked free of the tangling whip and scrambled after his distant quarterstaff. He retrieved his weapon and struck the whip-bearing warrior in the back of the head just as he sat up. The first warrior engaged Dreibrand again, and their staves cracked against each other furiously. Again Dreibrand beat him back.
Taischek gestured to a third warrior to join the fight. This time a glance from the young warrior warned Dreibrand that another attacker approached from behind, and he turned just in time to block the staff of the third warrior. Struggling between two opponents, Dreibrand recalled the day Hydax and Gennor had captured him, and the sting of that defeat filled him with a furious determination. The old familiar battle rage flowed through his veins, and he remembered the Dreibrand Veta that could kill a man defending his home and whose mercy had been slavery.
Dreibrand kept moving to prevent being pinned between two warriors. His senses were keen with adrenaline, and with his skill he blocked both of their attacks, and the metal-tipped ends of his staff danced inside their defenses.
The youngest Temu got some ribs cracked and sank to one knee. Without hesitation Dreibrand finished the original opponent with a blow upside the head that knocked him out. This victory had a price, and the third and freshest warrior hit Dreibrand in the head. His brow split and bleeding, Dreibrand staggered back in significant pain.
Now the warrior with the whip had recovered enough to regain his feet, and the whip hissed through the air. The heartless leather danced across Dreibrand’s back and he gasped. He continued to parry the attacks from the third warrior and the whip cut his flesh again. Dreibrand decided he really disliked the Temu with the whip and at any cost that man had to go. Roaring angrily, Dreibrand attacked his current opponent with enough force to drive him back, and then he turned to assault the whip-wielding warrior. The lash flew around his feet again, but Dreibrand swung his staff like a club and hit the hand holding the whip. The offending weapon slid from broken fingers. Dreibrand jumped closer and beat him down with several blows.
The third warrior leaped on Dreibrand’s back and got his staff under his chin. Dreibrand had to drop his own weapon to grab the choking pole. The Temu pulled him backward, bending him uncomfortably. Dripping blood and sweat from his face, Dreibrand hauled forward and raised the Temu slightly off his feet.
They struggled back and forth, entering a stalemate. Dreibrand could prevent himself from being choked but could not remove the warrior.
“Hold!” cried Taischek, deciding things had gone far enough.
The Temu warrior released Dreibrand. Turning to face his opponent, Dreibrand rested a moment and then sucker punched the Temu. The men resumed their fight, both grasping the remaining staff and swinging fists at each other. Taischek jumped down from his table and broke them up himself, actually laughing.
“Do we want Dreibrand Veta on our side, Temu?” the King bellowed.
The warriors roared with unanimous approval. The foreigner was worthy.
With a sigh of relief Miranda sat back. She hated seeing him get hurt but his skill and strength had thrilled her. To have the devotion of such a man was lucky, and Miranda wished she could go to him. However, his place tonight was with the Temu men, who now introduced themselves individually to Dreibrand and welcomed him into their warrior brotherhood. Miranda saw King Taischek guide his guest back to his table.
With the trial of combat over, Miranda realized her head throbbed. Fatigued and uncomfortable, she asked the Queen to excuse her. Vua agreed readily, knowing of Miranda’s injuries, and summoned a servant to escort her guest back to the guesthouse.
Even with a throng of warriors around him, Dreibrand noticed Miranda’s departure, but he was clearly expected to stay at the party. He returned to his seat, and Shan had a towel ready to clean his forehead.
“You fought very well,” Shan complimented as he dabbed his friend’s swollen cut.
“If I am not shot with a sho dart, I can be dangerous. How is my back?” Dreibrand asked.
Shan glanced at the welts bleeding through the fabric and said, “You needed a new shirt anyway.”
Dreibrand chuckled at Shan’s annoying answer. He watched the injured Temu warriors being helped away by their comrades, and it soothed his stinging back.
“Get him some wine, Shan!” King Taischek barked.
“I thought I would bandage his head first,” Shan said.
“Ah, it’s nothing for a strong warrior like him. Let’s drink!” Taischek poured Dreibrand a goblet.
Thirsty from his ordeal, Dreibrand gratefully quaffed the wine, refilled his cup and toasted the King.
“Good job, Atrophane warrior,” Taischek said. “Now save your battle lust for the Sabuto and we shall be good friends. Shan, thank you for bringing him to me.”
Shan inclined his head in acceptance of the gratitude.
Taischek continued, “I have just the thing that will make your head feel better, Dreibrand.” The King removed a pouch from his vest pocket. Out of it he retrieved a pipe and a bundle of dried plant material.
Shan saw this and shared a laugh with the King.
“What is that?” Dreibrand asked, truly intrigued.
“Don’t they smoke in your great eastern empire?” Taischek asked contemptuously.
“Smoke?” Dreibrand was honestly baffled.
His confusion made the King laugh harder and comment, “No wonder you left home. Xander, this man does not even…” Taischek stopped when he realized the General was unconscious. Quietly he added, “Xander is always the first to go.”
With genuine fascination, Dreibrand watched the King light the filled pipe and inhale the smoke. Completely accustomed to the activity, Taischek did not cough and exhaled with a slow sigh. He handed the pipe to Shan, who puffed happily.
“This will shut up our smart rys friend,” Taischek said. “He’ll think he is five hasas away.”
“Watching you drink is not the only thing that amuses me,” Shan countered while he handed the pipe to an empty area nea
r Dreibrand.
“You probably can’t find your butt already,” Taischek joked, but Shan ignored him easily.
Now Dreibrand received the pipe and regarded it curiously, unsure how to proceed.
“Don’t let it go out,” Taischek ordered.
Curiosity and an aching skull made Dreibrand comply. His virgin lungs protested with much hacking and coughing, which entertained everybody thoroughly. Once his coughing subsided, Dreibrand gulped down the rest of his wine. Despite his burning chest, he began to feel an immediate pleasantness seep through his system. He nodded appreciatively, noticing the sweet smell of the smoke. His subsequent turns with the pipe caused him no discomfort, and his pain drifted away. He felt absolutely wonderful and thanked Taischek exuberantly with a slight slur.
Taischek lovingly tucked his pipe away and said, “Just a little Temu medicine.”
Shan stood and without a word wandered off.
The King chuckled and explained, “It affects Shan more than us. Sends him into some rys dreamland or something.”
This was interesting, but Dreibrand felt too good at the moment to give any thought to where Shan had gone. Dreibrand found himself sharing many toasts with the Temu King and the surrounding warriors. He had a wonderful time and consumed much more wine than was his habit. Despite repeatedly slipping into his native language, he made a few friends and, with a mildly comprehensible speech, personally forgave the warrior who had split his head. Taischek rallied his men late into the night, and being the true king of his tribe, saw them all pass out first.
20 ~ The First Ripple of Rebellion ~
Shan was kind to visit me as my days come to their end. He listened patiently as I recalled the adventures of my youth. He was at my side then, but he does not seem a day older now. I know that he has changed but the changes have taken a lifetime to see, like watching a tree grow or noticing the course of a river shifting after many seasons. He is becoming powerful and some day he will stop the evil that festers in the mountains. I can die believing this—Chendoaser, Nuram ruler, year 1882 of the Age of Onja.
The fuzzy blackness emerged into a painful grayness. Dreibrand opened his eyes slightly, but even the overcast day provided a vengeful glare. His skull felt like a year old walnut shell, and he ached like a teenager after his first bender. Close dark shapes hovered him, and Dreibrand squinted at them. Several smiling Temu children kneeled around him, closely examining the immobile foreigner. His arrival into hurtful consciousness made them all comment with excitement, and their chatter pierced his eardrums like breaking dishes. He implored them to hush, but his furry tongue and dry lips hindered his speech and made them laugh harder.
Escape would be the only chance for relief.
A cool drizzle started and the merciful wet soothed him slightly. Groaning, he sat up. His vision swam and a wave of nausea passed lazily. Apparently he had dropped on the field in a stupor and been left on the ground. The only people present besides the curious children were a few villagers, who were cleaning up the mess from the banquet.
Willpower helped Dreibrand to his feet, and he shuffled to his gear that had been set under the table. He buckled his sword back on and was vaguely pleased to see that his dagger remained in its place. After a brief rest, he reached for his armor. The chestplate slid from his fumbling hands and banged on the table on the way back to the ground. The resulting clang assaulted his abused head and made him shudder. Thoroughly reminded of why he avoided heavy drinking, Dreibrand grabbed his armor and plodded into Fata Nor, searching for a well.
Shan found him kneeling at a basin by a village well literally soaking his head. After drinking and washing, Dreibrand had dozed off with the injured half of his head lying in the shallow water.
“There you are,” Shan declared, easing his friend’s head out of the basin. “I thought I better get you when we heard children were poking you with sticks.”
“Were they?” Dreibrand muttered.
“Get up, Dreibrand. It is time for us to have our talk with Taischek,” Shan said.
Trying not to actually move his head, Dreibrand carefully climbed the basin until he stood up. Smoothing back his wet hair, he moaned, “I think I should throw myself on my sword.”
Shan scolded, “Nonsense. This will pass. We will get you some food—”
“No,” Dreibrand cut him off with an adamant whisper. “I—I am not hungry.”
“Perhaps not,” Shan reconsidered. “But you know how important our business is. Can you make it?”
“Of course,” Dreibrand replied. “But can we walk slowly?”
The rys smiled. “I assumed that.”
As they headed for the King’s tent, Dreibrand was painfully aware of his shabby appearance. His shirt had long since ceased to be anything worthy of pride, and he was rumpled, battered and dirty. But he had not looked much better before the banquet, and Taischek had been impressed with him then.
Is he still impressed with me? Dreibrand wondered nervously. The last half of the evening laughed at his attempts to remember it.
“Where did you go last night?” Dreibrand asked.
Waving a blue hand, Shan answered, “I did not notice.”
“What was that smoke?” Dreibrand said.
Shan explained, “It is a flower that grows in the lowlands. Humans use it for medicine and pleasure. But its effect on rys goes beyond the human experience. It makes me unable to entirely control my awareness. My mind is set adrift. It is very pleasurable, but it leaves me very vulnerable. I rarely indulge, and I suspect last night was my last opportunity to be so frivolous.”
Rubbing his head, Dreibrand said, “I could use some right now.”
“I am sure you could,” Shan agreed. “But your mind must be clear. This will be my first council of war.”
Dreibrand reflected on the task ahead, realizing that it had not been that long since his last war council, but much had happened in between. He was not even the same person anymore.
“Where is Miranda?” he said.
“At the guest house. Taischek went to speak with her earlier,” Shan answered.
What did she tell him? Dreibrand worried, which made his head throb. But he had no way to ask Shan without seeming suspicious.
Shan interrupted his secret fretting. “This will not be pleasant.”
Dreibrand lifted his aching eyes and saw Rysmavda Nebeck and the two younger priests waiting between them and the King’s tent at the edge of the village.
“Lord Shan, we must speak,” Nebeck announced with authority.
“What makes you so bold with me, rysmavda?” Shan demanded.
Nebeck’s narrow lips twitched as the intimidation washed over him, but his purpose did not diminish from his eyes. A pale warding crystal hung over his chest on a silver chain, but there seemed to be no heart behind it. His stringent expression advertised his cold outlook, and his white skullcap made his thin face look even hungrier.
“What is your purpose in Fata Nor?” Nebeck said.
“How dare you ask my business?” Shan hissed.
“I no longer have to show you respect. I know you are cast out of Jingten,” Nebeck said. “Now I demand to know your business among these good subjects of the Queen, our Goddess.”
“Go hide in your temple,” Shan snapped.
Nebeck did not waver and his temerity surprised Shan. “You are an enemy of the Queen. I will not let you be in my templesphere. I will not let your blasphemous treachery put the citizens of Fata Nor at risk.”
“The only risk is that these people will soon see that you have no power to back up your greedy and controlling ways,” Shan said.
The younger rysmavda gasped, and Nebeck gaped in shock.
Villagers had gathered a modest distance from the rys and the rysmavda, and they hung on every hot word.
“Onja has no power here. She cannot strike us down from Jingten as in days of old,” Shan announced. “If Onja is a Goddess, I invite her to strike me down because I say she is n
ot.” He raised his arms as if beckoning the legendary wrath of the Queen.
Dreibrand sensed the tension from all of the nearby Temu, and he shared some himself. But dealing with Onja was Shan’s role, and he focused on those things he could cope with. Through his hangover, he monitored the three rysmavda as Shan had told him to do.
“Well, Rysmavda Nebeck, where is the power of Onja?” Shan demanded impatiently.
Nebeck cringed, convinced that a killing spell from his Goddess was surely on its way. Clutching his warding crystal, he retreated with his associates.
“Onja, take this rogue from us!” he pleaded.
Shan laughed as if a fool had irritated him for too long. Blue light flared in his eyes and he pointed at Nebeck. The rysmavda cried out in pain and released the warding crystal that now blazed on the end of its chain. The charm then burst into pieces that fell to the path like plain broken glass.
Nebeck wailed in dismay. “You are cursed!”
The crowd had thickened quickly, and the King and General Xander emerged from the tent. If Shan’s confrontation with the rysmavda distressed Taischek, it did not show. Taischek stormed through the crowd that parted for him automatically.
“Rysmavda Nebeck, why do you anger my guest?” Taischek rumbled.
“Temu King, Shan has been banished by the Queen, our Goddess, and we must not harbor him. She commanded me so last night,” Nebeck answered with extra emphasis on the last sentence for the benefit of the crowd.
“Shan is my friend and is permanently welcome among our tribe—no matter what. Why don’t you go count our gold and leave us alone,” Taischek sneered, referring to the tribute collecting function of the temple.
“Temu King, I warn you. Shan will bring Onja’s wrath to our tribe,” Nebeck insisted.
“You act like Onja treats us well now,” the King countered. “Now leave us. I wish to visit with my friends.”
“Prime Rysmavda Arshen in Dengar Nor will hear of this,” Nebeck warned, but the King was already ignoring him. Taischek signaled for the crowd to be dispersed and waved Shan and Dreibrand into the tent.
Once inside the tent, Taischek showed his emotion. “By the great Tartarlan, you have really gone and done it, Shan.”
The rys made no reply. Shan knew that Taischek would fuss until he accepted things. Shan had told him this day could come.
Taischek flopped into his place and brooded deeply. Xander motioned for them to sit and they waited in silence, not wishing to intrude upon the King’s thoughts.
Dreibrand tried to interpret what had just happened. He had not expected the confrontation with the rysmavda or Shan to be so aggressive. He had not caught all of the words, but he had gathered that Shan had just publicly declared Onja’s religion false.
The King heaved a great sigh and his eyes rounded the gathering. He seemed to take some comfort from those present.
On a tremendously light note that dismissed his heavy mood, Taischek said, “Don’t I have a fine crew. My General is the first to pass out, and my new warrior, Dreibrand, is the last to wake up.”
Everybody chuckled and felt a little relieved.
Turning exclusively to Dreibrand, the King continued, “I spoke with your companion, Miranda. Her news was hard to hear.”
Dreibrand’s stomach tightened.
“The captivity of her children breaks my heart. I have never heard of Onja doing such a thing. This strange behavior from the Queen does not please the Temu,” Taischek said.
His sincerity was apparent. Taischek also knew the horror of torture and he sympathized with the foreign woman who had endured the hateful touch of the Queen. Most of all, Onja’s sudden desire to possess children worried him.
Will she begin to demand children from us? he wondered.
“You see that we must tolerate Onja no longer,” Shan said. “The time has come for me to put aside my fear, and free the world from her tyranny and claim the throne of my kind. Taischek, King of the Temu Tribe, on this day I ask you to fulfill your promise. Help me overthrow Onja.” When Shan spoke her name, his voice was almost a snarl.
Xander cast anxious eyes upon his lord. He would do and die by his King’s orders, but would his King really commit to this mad venture? Every human knew rys were superior, and Onja was invincible.
Finally, Taischek said with a resigned tone, “Shan, you are the prince of favors. You pull a boy from the fire and he would say anything out of gratitude. But Shan, I have come to know you well, and I know you act first out of compassion, not ambition. Still, you control your generosity, recognizing the value of your good deeds.
“The years did pass though, and I came to think you would not defy the Queen in my lifetime. Your plots could easily outlive one man. Now in my old age you ask me to help change the world.”
Shan frowned. “Do not plead old age with me Taischek. You could kill an ox.”
Taischek raised a hand to prevent Shan from lecturing him. “I only meant that you waited so long to ask your favor, I had come to hope I was free of the obligation. Shan, my sword is at your service as I promised it would be long ago. My ancestors bowed to Onja, and it became our way.” The King gestured to Dreibrand. “He comes from a place where Onja has no dominion. If she truly were a Goddess, every person in Gyhwen would serve her as we have. Therefore, I, Taischek, have the courage to free my people, so that my heirs will prosper even more than I.
“I understand that humans can only hope to defeat Onja with the aid of a rys, and we must not miss our opportunity. Perhaps together we can prevail.”
“Yes we shall!” Shan cried with excitement. Setting his plans in motion bolstered his confidence. It was one thing to plot and whisper, but there was power in the freedom of actually moving toward his goal. He could not convey the depth of his hate for Onja to his friends. No human could quite understand how she had wronged him by lingering in this world, continually denying him his rightful place as leader of the rys. She kept him forever in a voiceless limbo, and he could only have a furtive respect from his own kind.
With an eerie potency in his voice, Shan continued, “Onja is old, very old. Older than any rys has ever been. Since my last challenge, I have grown into the prime of my life, whereas Onja has only aged more beyond a natural life. I can feel the strain inside her mind and body, and she will not withstand my second challenge. With your help, we will aggravate that strain, until I can strike her down.”
“What part could the Temu possibly play in this rys thing?” Xander suddenly demanded.
“Please, Xander do not become upset,” Taischek soothed his general. “Shan will explain.”
Respectfully, Shan nodded to Xander, reading the reluctance on the Temu’s face. “Good General, many humans will unfortunately remain loyal to Onja—out of fear. Onja knows well that I wish to cast her down, and it is only a matter of time before she sends her allies to kill me. Threats from rysmavda are only the beginning. Therefore, I will need protection. I will need an army to return to Jingten because she will set her allies to protect her. And of equal importance, the fact that an entire army has risen in opposition to her will devastate her confidence. The defiance of so many humans will make her nervous because it will demonstrate that her power cannot reach the lowlands anymore.”
“Has she really become so weak? Are we actually safe from her in the lowlands?” Taischek asked eagerly.
Shan nodded. “Her magic can still reach us, but it has become limited. She can see and hear us, and communicate with the rysmavda of course, and other minor things, but she cannot kill. Onja is no longer the Queen that your ancestors had to bow to.”
Although Xander accepted the Temu were now committed to this cause, he would still voice his concerns in council. “And when we face rys soldiers, what can you do for us?” he asked.
“The rys forces are the least of my concern,” Shan responded. “They will stand aside when we reach Jingten. I have a right to challenge Onja, and it is not the way of rys to interfere in the challen
ges of others. If combat does occur with rys soldiers, my magic will even the odds for you. The soldiers of Jingten know how powerful I am and they will not be willing to confront me.”
“It is true,” Dreibrand supported. “I have seen it. The soldiers have no power over Shan.”
The rys restrained Dreibrand’s eagerness. Humbly he said, “Do not say that. I am flesh, and anyone, rys or human, could conceivable hurt me. That is why I need my friends to guard me from those that would try. I regret that I involve you in war, but Onja has wronged the humans even more than her own kind. I suggest that the Temu not pay their tribute to Jingten this year. It will reveal Onja’s weakness to the other tribes, and the rys have no need for your treasures. We are brilliant and gifted on our own, except Onja has made the rys into lazy overlords. When I am King, there will be no tribute. Humans and rys can trade and do business as it pleases them, but I need no dominance over humans. The Rysamand will be for the rys, but that is all.”
These words appealed to Taischek and even placated Xander. The King knew his trust in Shan’s goodness had not been misguided, and he imagined the glory of marching on Jingten. Onja’s seemingly eternal tyranny had become a part of the short lives of men, but Taischek realized that Shan had watched generations of Temu bow to Onja and give up the labors of the tribe. Now Shan offered a chance to stop the exploitation, if only they had the courage to oppose Jingten’s ruthless Queen.
Taischek was no longer reluctant to say the words, and when he did, it felt good. But he knew that in all of his days of war and intrigue he had never done such a dangerous thing. “You are right. The Temu will not pay tribute,” he said.
Shan continued, “You know that I am not a hasty being, but too many centuries have given themselves to history, and the time for action has arrived. Taischek take me before the Confederation when it convenes next month so that I may invite your allies to join us in the denial of tribute. The more tribes that oppose her, the better. For once Onja will feel insecurity. Let her hear the voice of rebellion across the icy peaks all winter long!”
Thinking of Onja, Shan’s ebony eyes became unfocused, and the others wondered what far off place he looked upon. No one spoke, and the air quivered as if some power quickened around the rys. A brilliant blue flared from the rys’s eyes before Shan shut them and drew a shuddering breath.
Tentatively, Dreibrand said, “Shan…what is it?”
Shan opened his eyes and seemed himself again. Slowly he replied, “I suddenly felt so confident and great power surged inside me.” Sweeping his gaze over the three men, he added, “I will not fail you my friends.”
Taischek nodded solemnly. “Of course, Shan. I would never doubt you. But I cannot guarantee that the other four tribes of the Confederation will follow the example of the Temu. An end to tribute is very appealing, but people will be afraid. Shan, it is hard for some to change. Not everyone is a Temu.”
“When we meet with the Confederates, your influence will guide their decisions,” Shan said. “And I once advised King Ejan of the Tacus when the wild Zandas harassed his kingdom. He will heed my call for support.”
“I will make sure you address the Confederation,” Taischek promised. “But Shan, please understand that I cannot neglect the Sabuto. My warriors are counting on the plunder from the raids I have planned. And well, this is me. I attack the Sabuto every year. They would lose track of the calendar if I didn’t show up.”
Shan laughed. “Taischek, I would never deny you your annual revenge on the Sabuto. In fact, this year I intend to join you on the warpath, if you will have me.”
Taischek blinked with surprise. He knew Shan abhorred the wanton violence of war. “Of course you are welcome, Shan,” he said while imagining the fear of the Sabuto when they saw that the powerful rys lord accompanied him.
“And if I could indulge your generosity in one more thing, Taischek. I need a sword,” Shan said.
“A sword?” Taischek laughed. “Do you intend to fight like a man?”
Shan’s face became drawn with regret and he inwardly reproached himself for what he had chosen to do. He had tried in his life to do the right thing. He had tried to foster peace, but the world seemed to resist his efforts as if they were contrary to Nature.
“As you know, my hand has never been used in violence. But such a trait only makes me weak before Onja. I must learn the strength of a warrior, and I can no longer hide from this fact. Therefore, I request to fight with the Temu. I will fight, and I will kill,” Shan said.
A bit flustered by these words from his kindly friend, Taischek said, “Shan, do you even know how to use a sword?”
Shan smiled. “I have never bragged about that skill, but I do possess it. I will admit I have not picked up a weapon in three hundred years. Do you recall the great warrior king of the Nuram Tribe, Chendoaser?”
Begrudgingly, Taischek said that he did, although it was not his habit to consider the kings of other tribes as great warriors.
Shan continued, “Chendoaser and I were friends as we are, and he taught me the use of swords so that I might spar with him. Chendoaser reasoned that if he could match a rys, no man could best him. And I suppose he was right. The Nuram were never greater than when he was king, and Chendoaser never lost. He died old and at home. I assumed you would have heard the story, Taischek. Back then we made quite a spectacle of ourselves.”
Taischek shrugged. “Chendoaser was a great king, but only of a little tribe. The Temu do not concern themselves with old stories about the Nuram.”
“Well, the Nuram still talk about it,” Shan muttered. “But at any rate, I am sure my use of the sword will be quite satisfactory.”
“I look forward to seeing it,” Taischek said. “Until the meeting of the Confederation, let us enjoy the pleasure of a simple warpath against the Sabuto. Then we will tackle Jingten.”
Much to Dreibrand’s distress, the King immediately called for wine to toast his agreement with Shan. Politely, Dreibrand sipped the wine. His stomach lurched when the wine hit it, but its protests dwindled as the alcohol eased his hangover. Sternly he ordered himself not to get caught up in another bout of drinking so soon after the last.
“King Taischek, may I be excused?” he asked, hoping it was not too rude. “I would like to see Miranda and inform her I go to war in two days.”
“Have to tell your woman you are going to war, eh?” Taischek slapped Xander on the shoulder and joked, “You know what that means.”
Xander made no comment.
Guessing Dreibrand wanted to dodge the drinking, which would probably continue for most of the day, Shan supported his friend’s request. “Let him go, Taischek,” he said with a kindly glance toward Dreibrand.
Taischek waved one hand while his other hand lifted his wine cup. Smacking his lips, the King said, “Do as you please for the next two days, Dreibrand Veta. Those Sabuto bastards will occupy you soon enough.”
“Thank you, King Taischek,” Dreibrand said.
When he bowed his way out of the tent, he was pleased that his head did not start spinning. Outside the rain had increased, and he hurried into the village. He did not know where the guesthouse was, but he assumed a building fit to house the Temu Queen would not be too difficult to spot.
He found a large timber building, painted red and gold, with guards outside. A warrior stepped forward, barring Dreibrand from standing on the sheltered steps to the door, and the rain tumbled from the eaves onto his head. Dreibrand was informed that access to Queen Vua’s residence was not easy, and the King’s personal permission was required.
Frustrated and soaked by the rain, Dreibrand stared at the unobliging warrior and did not appreciate the inconvenience. He was about to slosh back to Taischek’s tent and let the King enjoy his little joke, when a Temu woman stuck her head out a window and contradicted the warrior with an abrupt tone.
“Aren’t you special,” the warrior grumbled but stepped aside.
A little smugly Dreibrand smiled to the
surly Temu and passed inside out of the wet. A servant girl handed him a towel to dry his hair and promptly conveyed him to the great room. Three sets of doors opened from the great room to an inner courtyard where the summer rain pattered. Women filled the room, seated at looms, spinning wheels or over embroidery hoops, but no needles pierced fabric and the clacking of looms had stopped. All of the women stared at him and exchanged hushed comments and a few giggles. Dreibrand felt thoroughly appreciated.
He scanned the room for Miranda, but she was not there. He did see Queen Vua surrounded by her co-wives and daughters, and he bowed to the Queen.
“Thank you for admitting me, Queen of the Temu, and please forgive my intrusion. I wish only to see how Miranda fares. She left the party early.”
“And you stayed late,” Vua stated sarcastically.
“I could not refuse Temu hospitality,” he explained and added a charming smile.
“No. Of course not,” Vua agreed. “Now Dreibrand Veta, I would not normally allow a strange man into my home, but Miranda has asked for you all day. So I indulge my guest…and maybe myself because you are an especially strange man. Still, do not make a habit of coming to my door. It is not the Temu way.”
He nodded respectfully and tried not to glance at all of the women staring at him. “Yes, Queen Vua. I meant no insult, and I thank you for your patience.”
Vua studied him a moment longer. He believed she wanted to ask him many questions and talk with him as the King had, but she refrained.
“The King has told me of your arrangement, and I am pleased to have Miranda in my household while she recuperates,” Vua said. “As the Queen of the Temu, I assure you of her comfort and safety.”
Dreibrand bowed deeply. He was truly grateful to the Queen, and he was glad Miranda would be cared for. He thanked the Queen again.
“Show him upstairs,” Vua ordered the servant.
Dismissed, Dreibrand followed his guide onto the second level, where he was shown into a small room. Miranda slept peacefully on a bed in the warm light of an oil lamp. Her freshly bound arm lay across her bosom, and Dreibrand sat on the edge of the bed as the servant closed the door.
Her eyes opened promptly. “I heard you come in,” she whispered.
He leaned over and kissed her passionately. When his lips were slightly satisfied, he said, “I hated not being able to sit with you. To talk with you.”
“I disliked it too, but they are nice people,” she said.
“Nice to you,” he joked, fingering the lump on his head.
Miranda scolded playfully, “King Taischek told me you asked for that.”
“He talked to you this morning,” Dreibrand said uncomfortably.
“Oh, he did. Dreibrand, he is a real king. I can just tell. I don’t know how, but I can just tell. He has this way about him. Like no one can tell him what to do,” Miranda commented with excitement.
“No one can,” Dreibrand noted, but his worries pressed on his mind. “Miranda, did you tell him about—about how I left the military?”
After shaking her head, she said, “Did you tell him I was a slave?”
“No, no, I told him nothing,” Dreibrand assured her. “I don’t know that much to tell.”
Looking away, Miranda said, “What I have told you is enough. The rest is not pleasant.”
He took her hand. “Thanks for keeping my secret. No one must know that I left the military so inappropriately. It is very important.”
“And no one must know that I was a slave,” Miranda added.
They embraced, pleased that they had automatically known what the other did not want revealed.
“What did you tell him?” Dreibrand asked.
Miranda shrugged and explained that she had recollected for the King events pretty much as they had happened. Miranda paused thoughtfully before she added, “Shan was with him, so he knows the same, but do you suppose Shan can tell if someone does not say everything?”
“Maybe,” Dreibrand replied, wrinkling his brow, but then he changed the subject. “How do you feel?” he inquired.
“Better. Their medicine woman put a fresh cast on my arm, but she said I needed more rest,” Miranda reported.
“And you will have it. I have arranged your lodging with King Taischek. I will go fight for him while you recover,” Dreibrand said.
Miranda sat up quickly. “Go fight? Where?” she demanded.
“The Temu are raiding a tribe called the Sabuto. I will only be gone two or three weeks, I think,” Dreibrand explained.
“You’re leaving!” she cried.
“Miranda, I am trying to take care of us. I need to make money. And Shan is going, and I need to stay with him. He is our chance to get your children back and I said I would serve him,” Dreibrand said, perplexed by her attitude.
“You will not come back,” she moaned and pushed him away. Miranda struggled with her depression. Dreibrand’s companionship helped her tolerate the absence of her children, and the news of his departure filled her with fearful desolation. The attachment she felt for him suddenly seemed a wasted emotion.
Pausing to see things her way, Dreibrand soothed her. “I am sorry. I know you must be scared to be alone with these strange people. It is hard for me too. But I promise to come back. There is no other way. I have to do this. I need to earn our way, and I need Taischek’s favor. I know what I am doing. I will come back with a share of plunder and I will give it to you.”
Miranda studied his sincere face, still amazed that he cared for her. As always his generosity moved her, but she felt troubled.
“Dreibrand, you talk like it is right to kill people and steal from them.”
Her words sounded strange to his Atrophaney educated mind, and his mouth hung open without a reply. Dreibrand contemplated her statement, knowing that he had not led the most virtuous life. Even if his family was censured, he had grown up in a privileged class and it was a ruthless world that had bred him.
He tried to explain himself. “Miranda, is it right that your father sold you into slavery? Is it right that a beautiful woman like you wore rags? A few more years in the fields and you would have started to turn into a wizened peasant that nobody would notice. You say that you will not be a slave again. Well, this is what it takes. There are rewards in this life for those who are stronger than others.” Seeing the weakness of his argument, he finally admitted, “Maybe it is not right, like you say, but it is what I must do. I believe a lot of people will die before Shan is King in Jingten. Would you kill to get your children back?”
“That is different,” Miranda protested.
Emphatically, Dreibrand shook his head. “No! Killing is killing. Just think of my joining the war with the Temu as part of our greater goal. By serving Taischek I can gain a home for us. When the children are back with us, we will need a home, right? I admit that not all things I do are good, but I will always do good by you. That I can promise.”
He took her hand and she no longer pushed him away.
“You are right,” she conceded with forced pragmatism. “I should not have judged you. Now tell me what you and Shan plotted in your meeting with the King.”
Dreibrand related the few plans that had been settled. Shan’s confident declaration to defeat the Queen gave Miranda hope.
She considered what she had heard and said, “You must promise to come get me before you go to the Confederate gathering. This war is as much mine as anyone else’s, and I will not be kept separate from it. I have told Shan I wish to play a part in his plans, and he has accepted me.”
Dreibrand suggested, “When the time comes, we will see how your arm is.”
“My arm should be out of the splint before a month has passed. The medicine woman said so. I will be ready and fit to ride to this meeting where Shan will seek allies.” Miranda would not be deterred.
“And what of your headaches that you try so hard to hide from me?” he persisted.
“I get a little better every day,” she
defended. “I will not let you ride off and forget me. I intend to go.”
“I would not forget you,” Dreibrand relented with a smile. “If I can, I will come get you.”
“You must promise,” she insisted.
“I promise. I will want to see you anyway,” he said and kissed her again.
She lingered in his embrace, but wondered if it would infringe on Queen Vua’s hospitality to let herself get carried away with her man.
“Where are you staying?” she asked breathlessly, pulling away from him.
“Can I stay here?” Dreibrand asked, not terribly concerned about it at that moment.
Miranda laughed, realizing he probably had not been issued any guest quarters yet. “That’s right. You slept outside,” she teased. “Well, I do not think you can stay here. I will ask Queen Vua to get you a place to stay.”
“She seems to like you,” Dreibrand commented.
Miranda tilted her head thoughtfully. “She is probably just being polite.”
“No. I think she likes you. And you should make sure she likes you. That would be a good thing,” Dreibrand suggested.
It was still a little hard for Miranda to believe that she associated with kings and queens, but she would try to do as he said. Miranda liked Vua and she did need a friend.
“I leave in two days,” Dreibrand said.
Her face fell with disappointment. She did not want to accept that he would really leave her.
Dreibrand coiled his strong arms around her body. “Let us enjoy these two days as much as we can,” he proposed hungrily, and she was distracted by his passion.
21 ~ The Tatatook Bears a Gift ~
With the blessings of midsummer upon the land, I will make an expedition into the Wilderness. I have no information regarding any sort of population in the far west of Ektren, but the local people speak of the place with superstition. I attribute their fear to their ignorance and lack of initiative. By all appearances the Wilderness should offer many resources to the Empire and fertile land for expansion—Lord General Kwan Chenomet, Hordemaster, excerpt from dispatch to Darmar Zemthute II, year 779 Atrophane calendar.
“Must you go?” Elendra asked.
Queen Onja set the girl down on a couch and explained, “A Queen has many responsibilities, and I cannot give you all of my time, my sweet little dear. Until I come back, you keep your little brother company and behave yourself with Zanah.”
Elendra obediently nodded as her rys nanny approached.
Onja donned a floor length cloak that swished faintly when she turned away. On her way to the door, the Queen paused by Esseldan who played on the thick carpet. She squatted and put a hand on his plump cheek. The boy stopped rolling around when she touched him and stared at the Queen with wide eyes. He had come to accept the strange blue faces that had abruptly replaced his mother’s face, but he had spent many days wailing his disapproval.
“It is good to be friends now, Esseldan,” Onja said.
The boy’s expression remained neutral, but he intrigued Onja for a moment before she hurried out the door. The Queen went to her dock on Lake Nin, where Hefshul, mute as ever, waited patiently in a skiff.
Onja boarded the skiff and Hefshul pushed off. Oars dipping into tranquil waters sent ripples across the surface. Onja watched the tower slowly get closer. The Tomb of Dacian was the only structure in Jingten older than herself and equally resistant to ruin.
With his usual efficiency, Hefshul grounded the boat in front of the tower. He would wait for Queen Onja in the boat no matter how long she spent in the tower. Sometimes she would stay day and night.
Onja levitated out of the skiff and her skirts hung just over the cold water. She walked up the smooth cobbled path to the great doors of the tower.
Once known as the Jingten Tower, the Tomb of Dacian was wholly mysterious to all inhabitants of Jingten. Onja wrapped the tower in powerful and confusing wardings that she knew had never been properly penetrated by even the most determined rys minds. The tower housed all of Onja’s secrets in its safe chambers oblivious to time.
Onja entered the Tomb of Dacian. The glowing crystals in the walls cast her shadow along both sides of the hallway. Flanked by her dark silent attendants, she walked into the throne room. Opposite the entrance rose the dusty bulks of two thrones, where Jingten’s King had sat by his Queen in the last age. Onja passed between the golden chairs and entered a dark alcove in the stone wall. Marvelous tapestries had once covered this special spot, but Onja had transported the tapestries to the new Keep, where they had long since disintegrated.
Energy flowed along the spine of the Rysamand, originating deep inside the world, where the incredible mountains had been conceived. This energy rose through the very fabric of the land toward the heavens, and the masters of antiquity had designed the entire tower to focus a line of the potent force. The alcove Onja entered connected with a shaft that rose through every level, and it was here that the energy had been focused. Almost any rys could link with the harnessed energy and levitate quickly to upper levels, but the privilege had been reserved for royalty and ranking guests. Any others could use the many many stairs.
Grasping the line of energy was a trivial skill to Onja, but she loved the sensation of flying upward. She passed the lower levels that had once housed guests and bureaucrats and servants. Above these levels were the chambers where Onja and Dacian had once lived. Gliding to a soft stop, Onja hovered over the shaft briefly than stepped onto the top level, known as the observatory. Daylight poured through many skylights, and the bright observatory contrasted with the many dark levels below.
The center of the observatory opened to the throne room below, and a beautifully carved stone wall guarded the precipice. The relief carvings on the stone depicted rys among their beloved mountains and forests. Near the levitation portal sat a crystal sarcophagus where Dacian had been interred for twenty-two centuries.
Onja approached his resting place and put her slender hands on the edge of the sarcophagus. Inside the crystal, Dacian’s eyes were open as if forever contemplating his cruel destruction of his cousins in Nufal.
Onja had come to this refuge to meditate. Initially in her pride she had disregarded Shan’s recent threat to overthrow her, but his words had lingered stubbornly in her mind. And his conduct with the Rysmavda Nebeck in Fata Nor four days ago had not escaped her attention. Shan had publicly dared her to strike him with her magic and she had to respond. Onja knew her killing magic could not reach him in the foothills, but she could still watch him. She had not expected him to reveal her waning power to the humans, and she regretted not attacking him while he was still in the Rysamand. His protests had to be stopped before the rysmavda could no longer enforce the faith.
Looking now upon Jingten’s fallen King, Onja admitted that Shan was perhaps the equal of Dacian. She had always known Shan was powerful. When she had held Shan as a tiny rysling, new to the world, she had known he was extraordinary, a rys of rare quality that only came along once in an age. And Onja had known that he would have to be controlled.
Onja had tried ensnaring Shan to her will as she had Dacian, but even in his youth Shan had been difficult to dominate. He was not her contemporary as Dacian had been, and the gulf of time that separated her from Shan had made it difficult to cultivate his trust. Since winning their battle when Shan had turned one hundred, Onja had been able to intimidate him at least, but now Shan had matured and his strength made him more dangerous to her than ever.
I should have killed him, and damn your law, Onja thought.
Aloud she said, “Dacian, let us survey our realm and find the pretentious Shan.”
Swiftly Onja’s awareness radiated westward through the mountain pass, flying down the slopes to the lowlands where the human tribes dwelled. Her mind easily spotted Shan. The rys rode at the front of a column of warriors, and Onja recognized King Taischek by Shan’s side. Briefly she wondered why Shan valued human friendship so much. To Onja, humans were u
seful resources, but little else.
That skinflint Taischek will regret the company he keeps, Onja thought.
The Temu force moved in the opposite direction from Jingten, making Onja surmise that Taischek currently pursued one of his petty rivalries. This created no concern for the Queen, but she longed to pick Taischek’s mind and know what Shan had been saying to him. However, the proximity of Shan and his warding crystals blocked Onja’s probing awareness. Mindreading through a warding at this distance would take considerably more effort.
She saw Shan look upward with a suspicious expression on his blue face, and Onja withdrew her mind, trying to elude his alerted perception. While retreating she noticed the light haired easterner among the warriors and quickly tried to probe his mind. But a warding crystal protected him as well, which displeased her. It would require much patience on her part to catch Shan conversing with his friends about his intentions, so she could listen. She preferred reading the minds of her enemies at her convenience.
Thwarted from gaining any useful knowledge, Onja ended her observations with disgust. Blue light faded from her eyes and her awareness returned to her body, which was now leaning on Dacian’s sarcophagus. Even without reading any minds, she had learned enough from Rysmavda Nebeck to know Shan meant war. Although it stung her pride, Onja decided to strike first. She had supreme confidence in her powers, of course, but avoiding a dangerous confrontation with Shan would be the prudent alternative.
Even if Shan survives to reach Jingten, being hunted will wear on his mind, she thought. She would send instructions to her human servants to begin dealing with him.
“Nufal.” The thin thought of Dacian’s voice surfaced in Onja’s mind.
Blue light pulsed through the crystal sarcophagus and startled her. It had been a long time since he had tried to communicate.
With disinterest she started to disconnect her mind. She did not want to hear his regret about destroying Nufal again.
“Look!” His plea had a surprising note of command in it that convinced her to pay attention.
Onja settled into another meditation and followed Dacian’s mind into the Wilderness. She passed over the desolate Quinsanomar where thousands of imprisoned spirits stirred beneath the mind of their heartless mistress, expecting to be released on some vicious errand. But Onja ignored them and continued east. The prairie rolled onward toward the Tabren Mountains, where the chatter of a beautiful civilization had been replaced by the lonely moan of wind through crumbled buildings.
Arriving at a disintegrated Nufalese town upon the prairie, Onja understood Dacian’s insistence that she inspect her eastern domain. More humans had entered the Wilderness, and this time it was a large force of soldiers.
Onja inspected them freely without fear of detection. The eastern world was a wasteland of humanity that had no grasp of magic, and these soldiers clearly came from an eastern kingdom. She saw that they were richly accoutered with fine weapons and armor and good horses. Onja admired the military force and recognized that it was the product of an advanced and flourishing civilization.
The children of the east appear to be prospering. They have come far since I closed the Wilderness. Who would have guessed those enclaves of savages could make so much progress in two thousands years? Onja thought. Perhaps the time has come for the east to know their Goddess.
She watched the soldiers dismount and roam the ruins, puzzling at the city barely visible after centuries of decay. Onja quickly determined the leader among them by his splendid gear and the attention focused on him by the others. The leader’s white hair accentuated his tan and he stroked his goatee while pondering the surroundings. The winged creature holding two spears emblazoned upon his armor seized Onja’s attention.
How perfect, she thought pleasantly.
This time the Deamedron would not consume the intruders with mad slaughter. If she could dominate these well-armed men, it would begin her influence over the eastern peoples, whose servitude she had ignored too long.
Having seen enough, Onja returned her mind to Jingten. The long distances she had covered had made her weary, but she had plans to set in motion. She rubbed her temple while organizing her thoughts. Rebellion on the horizon and a small army of foreigners in the Wilderness shocked Onja after so many changeless years, but she was the Queen of Jingten and would adapt.