A Kingdom Under Siege

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  He dropped his axe and scrambled forward, putting his hand beneath her arm and helping her to her feet. “You should come in and sit down.”

  4

  Dire News

  Ikonis Eldarro picked at his food, the crab on his plate eyeing him. Somehow, Iko fought the urge to use the side dish of boiled seaweed to cover the crab’s face. His mother loved seafood. He did not. However, Sol Polis was a seaside city and seafood was common. Worse, beef, lamb, and farm-raised crops had become rare and expensive, with much of the supply reserved for the Imperial Army. He suspected the situation would only grow worse as they prepared for war.

  He glanced toward his mother, Archon Meryl Varius, to see if she was watching. Her dark hair was now streaked with gray and the lines on her face more apparent, but little else about her had changed since their day of freedom six years past. Even while they were in prison, Iko knew his mother as a leader – someone others respected. Nothing surprised him about her rising to become the most powerful ruler in Issalia.

  General Kardan sat beside Iko’s mother. The man’s hair had lightened over the years, from brown to gray, and it was trimmed short enough to stand on end. Despite his advancing age, Kardan had retained the build of a warrior – muscular with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. His dark blue uniform made him appear more formal, and his appearance remained fearsome. The three of them were alone in Kardan’s office, discussing a report that had arrived that morning.

  “It was a chance worth taking, Leo,” Varius said. “The attempt cost us nothing.”

  “Not exactly true.” Kardan wiped his face with a napkin and sat back in his chair. “We had a full squad hidden in the Kantar Citadel. Other than the two men who arrived this morning, those soldiers are dead and the opportunity to use them, lost.”

  Iko’s mother sat back with her fingers tented and pressed against her lips. A moment of silence passed before she spoke. “When Filbert reached out to us, I found the chance to gain Kantar without a siege too compelling to ignore. At the same time, I know Ashland well. She is smart and has the will of a survivor. That she foiled Filbert’s scheme is not surprising. Yet, two dozen guards is a pittance to pay for taking the city. We had to take the chance, even if Filbert did not succeed.”

  Kardan nodded slowly. “I forgot that Ashland was your assistant.”

  Iko’s mother turned toward the window and she stared toward the bay with a distant look in her eyes. “I had much hope for the girl back then. In her, I had foreseen a powerful ecclesiast. Ironically, the only person who was stronger in channeling Order was Brock. I had hoped to bring both into the fold as members of The Hand. That was before I knew of their true nature. Discovering they were both Unchosen, tainted by Chaos, cut me to the quick. That particular betrayal still stings today, decades later.”

  Kardan put his hand on hers, drawing her attention. “At least we no longer need worry about Brock. Of the two, he was always the more dangerous.”

  “True,” she agreed.

  Proceeded by a brief knock, Sculdin stepped into the room with a scowl on his face that made Iko alarmed.

  “Captain Sculdin,” Varius said with a growl. “I assume you have good reason for barging in on our meal.”

  Sculdin dipped his head. “I apologize, Archon. However, I have dire news to share.”

  With a furrowed brow and her lips pressed together, the Archon gave Sculdin a nod.

  The tall captain ran a hand through his hair, a gesture reeking of exhaustion. Iko noted the bags under Sculdin’s eyes and a button uncharacteristically missing on his uniform coat. He is pushing himself too hard, Iko thought.

  “The messenger I sent to Corvichi just returned. When she arrived there, she found the castle destroyed with only a portion of the wall still standing. The rest was nothing but charred rubble.”

  Iko stared at Sculdin, stunned. He turned and found shock on his mother’s face, her jaw dropped open. Kardan recovered before she did.

  “What of the troops stationed there?”

  “Only seven survived. She found them camped just outside the wall, preparing to leave for Yarth. With what remains…there is little need to hold it.”

  “Seven? The castle housed two hundred soldiers and almost as many workers.” Kardan clenched his eyes closed, his tone shifting from denial to acceptance. “Did they say what happened?”

  Sculdin opened the letter in his hand, his eyes scanning it for a moment. “Apparently, someone infiltrated the grounds. Jarlish alerted the guards, who stormed the foundry. Moments later, the castle exploded. In the light of the fire, the guards stationed on the wall detected enemies just outside the compound. They gave chase, but the invaders were able to escape.”

  Iko’s mother leaned forward, her face like stone. “What of the weapons? The flash powder?”

  “We’ve been continually receiving shipments with most going to Hipoint or to the garrison outside of Yarth. However, half of our supply was still untapped according to my last report. We can assume that supply has now expired in the fire.”

  The room fell quiet save for the gentle beat of Iko’s mother tapping the arm of her chair. He knew the sound well, a habit that arose when she was deep in thought.

  Finally, she spoke and broke the spell. “We will receive no more weapons,” she stated it as fact. “And we are unlikely to recruit more fighters. There is nothing to be gained by waiting, so I suggest we accelerate our plans.”

  Kardan shook his head. “Spring is not yet upon us. A march up the Greenway through snow will cost us lives.”

  “True,” she responded. “However, our unseen enemy continues to move game pieces while we bide our time. If we wait another month, what else might occur that damages our plans?”

  The general stared at Iko’s mother with eyes narrowed in thought. The silence in the room was thick, matching the tension. Kardan then took a breath and turned toward Sculdin.

  “Send a missive to Olvaria. I need more Ri Starian ships as soon as possible. Continue everything else as planned. We won’t move quite yet, but we must be ready to advance as soon as I give the word.”

  5

  Holiday

  Brandt Talenz held the wooden staff before him and stared into Quinn’s eyes, normally a deep blue. Now, he found them a steely gray. She is serious, he thought.

  Quick as a flash, she lunged with a sword. He spun his staff and blocked her strike, dancing aside to avoid her other sword. She twirled around with a low swing, a sword coming toward his ankles while her tail of blond hair sliced through the air. When Brandt leaped over her strike, he found Quinn’s other sword trailing the first but in a higher arc. An urgent twist allowed him to block the strike, sending a loud clack throughout the stable yard behind Pintalli’s Inn. He landed off balance and stumbled. Quinn drove forward, pressing until he tripped over the hitching post and fell on his back. The breath shot from his lungs in a grunt. He rolled onto his side and gasped for air that refused to obey.

  Quinn lowered her wooden practice swords and stood over him with a furrowed brow. “Are you all right?”

  Finally, sweet air refilled his lungs, coming in deep breaths. The shock of pain in his back eased and he sat up, nodding. “I’ll be fine.”

  The clapping of hands caused Brandt to turn toward their audience – Mason and Hinn, the two stable hands. Mason, a thick-bodied teen with brown eyes and dark curls, stood and walked toward them with Hinn a step behind.

  “Where did you learn to spar, Quinn?” Mason asked.

  Hinn, a thin boy who stood a half-head taller than Mason, ran his hand through his long, dark hair and smiled. “I wish I could learn to use a sword.”

  Quinn shot a questioning look at Brandt as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. The two stable hands seemed innocent enough, as did their line of conversation. However, Brandt and Quinn had secrets to protect.

  Brandt shrugged but remained silent. She frowned at him before turning toward the boys.

  “I spent some time at the m
ilitary academy in Fallbrandt,” Quinn said. “Among other things, I trained with swords while I was there.”

  Mason’s large eyes grew even wider. “TACT? You were accepted to TACT?”

  Quinn shrugged and tossed her wooden swords aside. “Yes.”

  Hinn grinned. “How did you get in? Did you have to know your way around a sword first?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I had never used a weapon before my trial, so I opted for a fist fight.” She flashed a wry grin. “I was overmatched, and it was a bloody affair, but my determination convinced the recruiter to extend me an invitation.”

  Brandt found himself grinning as he imagined what it must have been like for the recruiter who had faced her. Quinn’s bold nature and tenacity made her unexpectedly dangerous. The man had likely anticipated an easy bout and then discovered a fierce warrior beneath her pretty exterior.

  Brandt, his sister’s voice rang in his head.

  Hi, Cassie, he replied over their telepathic link.

  Delvin just stopped by, pressing me for information. Her frustration carried through the connection. It’s been over a week and they are eager for an update.

  A sigh slipped from his lips, and Quinn looked at him with one brow cocked.

  Tell them to gather at sunset. We will give an update then.

  Thank you, Cassie sent. I’ll talk to you soon.

  Brandt realized that Quinn and the two boys were staring at him, her with her brow still raised in question, them with confused expressions.

  “I received a note from my sister,” Brandt said, constructing his message carefully. “We are to meet her and the others for dinner. They are interested to hear about our journey to Yarth.”

  Quinn nodded. The two boys glanced toward each other and shrugged.

  Brandt gestured to Quinn. “If you are finished beating me with those sticks,” a grin crossed his face, “I thought you might like to go for a walk.”

  She put a finger to her lips and looked toward the sky, as if contemplating his request. After a moment, she smiled. “I suppose I could join you.”

  He chuckled. “I feel so honored, oh great warrior.”

  The comment earned him an elbow in the gut.

  “If you boys could watch our practice weapons, I would appreciate it,” Quinn said.

  Mason eyed the swords and bit his lip. “Do you think we could give it a try?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Suit yourself. However, don’t beat each other too hard or you’ll find yourself at the local temple, seeking a healer.”

  Brandt snorted. “Not that you would know anything about that.”

  She grinned in response. “Yes…well. Sorry about your ribs.”

  “I’m sure you are. While it was painful, the required donation of silver piece still hurts. It’s no wonder the temple here looks like a palace.” He turned toward the stable hands. “Take care, boys. Store the weapons when you’re finished.”

  “See you tomorrow, boys.” Quinn said.

  Brandt took Quinn’s hand and led her from the stable yard, taking an alley leading to a wider street. They paused as a farmer’s wagon rolled past, the workhorse pulling it at a slow, methodical pace. The wagon was empty save for a few potatoes that wobbled around the wagon bed. Following in the wagon’s wake as it forced foot traffic aside, Brandt and Quinn headed west, passing shops that had become familiar sights.

  The past week had been cathartic for them both. While Brandt enjoyed action and sometimes even sought danger, he couldn’t deny that his time of living as a spy in Sol Polis had worn on him. Living under the enemy’s roof, hidden behind a false identity required constant vigilance accompanied by an overdose of anxiety. When he looked at Quinn, she noticed and shared a smile. Since their arrival at Yarth, her smiles were far more frequent, as was the amount of time they were able to spend together. It was clear to him how much she enjoyed their respite. He felt the same way.

  The smell of freshly baked bread stirred the hunger in his stomach. He pulled Quinn toward the open bakery door.

  “Time for a snack,” he said, smiling.

  She smiled in return. “You read my mind.”

  Once inside, the smell grew thick and left Brandt feeling as if he could eat the air itself. An overweight, middle-aged woman stood behind the counter, kneading a hefty chunk of dough. Her brown hair was tied in a bun, her cheek, smock, and hands covered with flour. She looked up, smiled, and dusted her hands off on her skirts.

  “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite new customers.”

  “Good afternoon, Pyrene,” Brandt said. “We tried to pass by, but our stomachs forced us in, demanding a taste of whatever was teasing our noses.”

  A hurt look crossed her face. “You would pass by without saying hello?”

  Quinn chuckled. “Saying hello isn’t the issue. Our funds continue to dwindle and a fair share ends up here.”

  Pyrene shrugged. “I would apologize, but your weakness is how I pay my bills.”

  “We completely understand. What do you have for us today?”

  She grabbed two small towels, turned toward the warming racks above the oven, and spun back with a baked roll in each.

  “They are filled with custard – a new recipe I think you’ll enjoy.” She held them out. “Careful. They’re hot inside, so you had better exercise patience.”

  Brandt accepted one while Quinn did the same. He gave Quinn a sidelong glance. “Hmm. Quinn may be in trouble. She has many wonderful qualities, but patience is not among them.”

  The comment earned him an elbow, but the chuckle from Pyrene made the price worth it. It’s funny what I’m willing to pay for a laugh, Brandt thought in a moment of self-awareness.

  “What do we owe you?” Quinn asked.

  “Nothing. They are my gift to you.”

  “What?” Brandt frowned. “Why?”

  “Three times in the past week, I have had new customers come in and make sizable purchases. All three mentioned hearing of my bakery from a young couple dressed in black.” Pyrene gave them a smile of adoration. “You are my only customers who fit the description. I thank you for the added business.”

  “No need to thank us, Pyrene,” Quinn said. “We were only telling them the truth. Your bread and pastries are amazing.”

  “True,” Brandt added. “We talk about them because we can’t help ourselves.”

  The woman laughed. “All the same, take the pastries. They are a gift.”

  Brandt stepped toward the door. “Thank you. Have a good evening.”

  “Bye, Pyrene,” Quinn added, following Brandt outside.

  The couple ate as they meandered the streets of Yarth, chatting and laughing and enjoying being together. At some point, Brandt led Quinn down an unfamiliar street that opened to a square. Beyond the square was the north gate, bracketed by two towers.

  “It was your idea to come here.” Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. “I assume there is a reason behind it.”

  He grinned. “I tell you you’re beautiful, and you know I love your spirit. However, you continually impress me with your cleverness. It’s rare for anything to slip past you, and I find that as attractive as anything else.”

  Quinn’s hand went to her hip, her head tilting. “I feel like you are flattering me for a reason. What did you do?”

  He laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “I’ve done nothing. At least, not this time.”

  “What is it, then?”

  Watching the gate, he sighed, his voice lowering in volume. “Despite my desire to continue our little holiday here, we are wardens, and we have responsibilities. When we meet tonight, our friends in Fallbrandt will expect more from our stay here than stories of pastries, afternoon strolls, and wine.” His grin reappeared. “Unless they are interested in our recent evening adventures after the wine.”

  Quinn’s eyes grew wide and she punched him in the shoulder. “You had better not.”

  “Ouch.” He rubbed his arm, but the grin remained. “I was only joking.
”

  “All right. What do you suggest?”

  “We have seen a fair number of Imperial troops in town.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you noticed that they always head north when they leave?”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “What do you say about a little scouting?”

  Quinn looked toward the open gate as a wagon rolled in, pausing while the guards on duty inspected it. “All right. I am interested, but won’t it look strange if we head out and return an hour later?”

  “I have a better idea. It’s a bit more dangerous, which means it’s also more fun.”

  She smiled. “That’s the Brandt I love.”

  His smile fell away and his stomach quivered nervously. “Love?”

  Quinn blinked and stammered. “Well…I…it’s a saying, you know?”

  He stepped closer, touching her cheek with his fingers. His hand shifted, and he cupped her chin as he leaned in for a kiss. The surrounding world and all the problems that came with it ceased for a moment – a moment he poured his heart into before his lips pulled away.

  “I’m not afraid to say it, Quinn. I’ve always been bold, but I was never the person I could be until I met you.” He stared into her eyes, deep blue like the ocean, full of life and energy and spirit. “I love you.”

  The words hung in the air, lingering, waiting for a response. He didn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, not until he knew if he had opened a door or poisoned a well.

  Finally, she smiled. Her whisper was for him alone. “I love you as well, Brandt Talenz.”

  Breath returned to his lungs, his heart leaping in his chest. “Those are the sweetest words I have ever heard. However, please be careful using my name. I am famous after all.”

  She snorted. “No. Your parents are famous. You are just vain enough to think you deserve the same adoration.”

  He laughed. “Perhaps I am. The difference between me and who I was when we first met is that I am now satisfied with the adoration of just one person.”