Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And he wants to you be on bodyguard detail if I come through?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  I muttered something and Firebrand chuckled.

  “Fine. Please convey to him my compliments and ask him to attend me in my council chamber. Wait—do I still have a council chamber in the mountain?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good. Do I still have a scrying room, too?”

  I get tired of hearing the same affirmative so much. I let them follow me while Bronze trotted off to her coal bin. I wonder, sometimes, if she likes her room or if she has some sort of conversation with the mountain. I’ll ask, sometime, when I think of it.

  Once in my scrying chamber, I called up Torvil, Kammen, and Seldar. It was awkward, having a three-way call when they couldn’t talk to each other—an oversight on my part. I told them I’d call them back and started fiddling with the enchantment on a mirror. It would take more than one mirror, I decided. One for each participant, placed behind me, and a single mirror in front of me. I could address them through a split-screen on the forward mirror and they could address each other by looking into the mirrors behind me.

  Conference calling, scrying-mirror style.

  I’m sure there’s a better way to do it, but how escapes me. Specialized conference-call mirrors? Maybe something like a leaded window, with a central mirror and added mirrors all around the center? Enchanting a whole new batch of specialized communications devices doesn’t seem a better idea to me.

  “Gentlemen.”

  “Sire.”

  “Sire.”

  “Yes, Master of Inconvenient Timing?”

  I sighed. Seldar will be the death of me.

  “Why is my timing inconvenient?”

  “There is a war to get underway, Sire,” he informed me.

  “So, it’s official? Karvalen is declaring war and heading for the southern kingdoms?”

  “Indeed. Is that not why you are here?”

  “Lissette doesn’t seem to want my help.”

  The composite image in the main mirror revealed the glances behind me.

  “What?” I asked. Torvil and Kammen looked at Seldar. His lips pressed into a thin line at being nominated.

  “Sire,” he began, “the Queen does desire your assistance in the war to come.”

  “She hasn’t told me. Hell, she hasn’t even given me the vague impression she wants anything to do with me.”

  “Sire,” Kammen rumbled, “you don’t know much about women.”

  Torvil and Seldar nodded.

  “Granted,” I agreed. “Maybe you should explain it to me.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Can’t?”

  “There’s no way to explain. You get ’em or you don’t.”

  “He would know,” Torvil muttered.

  “Ain’t my fault,” Kammen countered, grinning.

  “Gentlemen,” Seldar interrupted. “His Majesty is, I feel, less interested in the ways of the vicious sex and more interested in the direct troubles of the war.”

  “I always thought it was ‘the fairer sex’.”

  “Fairer?” Seldar said, giving it some thought. “No, that doesn’t seem right. They are no more fair than men, and often less so, at least in my experience. The common phrase is as I have said, although I admit there are exceptions. You must admit their venom and vitriol when provoked.”

  “Uh, yes. I wasn’t aware of the common phrase.”

  “A bit of a cliché, of course,” he admitted. It made me wonder even more about Rethven and Karvalen culture. I knew it was patriarchal, but there is so much about the place I still don’t understand. Maybe I should get a better disguise, roll into town as a traveler, buy a house, get a job, and learn from the ground up. The king’s-eye view doesn’t go into much detail.

  “Of course. So, about this war…?”

  “Yes, Sire. Troops are mustering from all over the kingdom. Ships have been built, more have been commandeered, and we anticipate a full invasion fleet setting sail within the month.”

  “I presume the internal situation is such that Lissette isn’t going to have any trouble?”

  “For the most part, I believe so,” Seldar agreed, with Torvil and Kammen nodding. “There may be one or two who might use the opportunity, but the nobles are being surprisingly supportive. The example made of Seracteyn during the rebellion of the coastal cities has had quite the salubrious effect.”

  “Is that the one with the skull around the doorway?”

  “That is Calisheyn, not Seracteyn.”

  “Oh. Do I want to know?” I asked.

  “No.”

  When Seldar gives me a flat answer, especially without the usual honorifics, I take him at his word. Whatever Lissette did to Seracteyn, it was something I didn’t want to know. But, darn it, I’m curious.

  “Why don’t I want to know?”

  “Is the phrase ‘Hung by their own intestines to strangle to death’ of interest you?”

  The vicious sex, indeed. Maybe I’m not as curious as I thought.

  “All right, if I don’t have rebellious nobles to put down, how do I help?”

  “That would be for Her Majesty to say.”

  “Damn it, I’m asking you.”

  “The fleet must travel around the Pillars of the Sea, more commonly known as the Dragon’s Teeth. These are towering stones which rise from the waters, ranging in size from a few feet in diameter to a few hundred. Some are half again as high as the tallest mast. They are impassable to any but small vessels, save through a single strait where even great ships may travel. The fleet must sail around these rocks, going well out of its way, or navigate this channel.

  “If it goes around,” he continued, “the defenders will have that much more time prepare. They may also assume the fleet is bound for the coast north of Ynar, and therefore increase the fortification of Iyner. It would then be pointless to sail past Iyner on the way to assault Salacia, in Praeteyn. If the fleet goes through the strait, it may then choose anywhere along the coast of Ynar and Praeteyn equally, forcing the enemy to spread its troops in an attempt to prevent any landing, or pull them back in reserve to respond quickly when one is established.

  “To pass through the straits, however, will force the fleet to contend with those who live upon the Pillars of the Sea.”

  “And these people are…?”

  “Savages and pirates, for the most part. They live on the bounty of the sea, but the occasional ship is attacked in the Strait for both goods and slaves. Rumor has it some travelers become food.”

  “So, if the way through the Dragon’s Teeth or Pillars of the Sea—whatever they’re called—was cleared, it would help the war effort?”

  “It was my thought, yes. Not the whole of the Dragon’s Teeth, of course. Only the Strait of the Fang Rocks. Her Majesty is attempting negotiations with those who hold the Strait, but if those should fail…”

  “I’ll give it some thought. If negotiation fails, let me know. What else?”

  “The Knights of Shadow have not been called,” Torvil said. “Her Majesty has requested the forces of those faiths who love our kingdom, but the majority of their aid is less martial and more priestly. Your temples have the largest body of men under arms, but she has pointedly failed to ask the Lord of Shadow. When Beltar sent his offer, volunteering service, she did not deign to reply.”

  “Hmm. Well, she’s within her rights to accept or not. I’m not going to go against her, if that’s her decision.”

  Torvil and Kammen were unhappy. Seldar merely smiled slightly and said nothing. I made a mental note to ask him, later, what he found amusing.

  “I can find the rock-pillar-things on my sand table, but I’ll need a map of the safe-ish passage through the rocks. I want to look at it before I decide how to tackle it.”

  “I will send word to Dantos,” Seldar assured me.

  “Anything else I should know about?”

  “Liam
,” Kammen said. “He’s going.”

  “Going? You mean going with the troops?”

  “He wants to command them. He has generals, and Her Majesty is allowing him to be her representative. She knows she can’t go herself.”

  “Why not?—no, I remember. She’s in charge, so she can’t be allowed to risk herself. Got it. But she’s letting Liam go? The heir?”

  “He’s got a younger brother,” Kammen pointed out, “and he’s gotta face battle sometime.” He shrugged. “Besides, the younger one ain’t a twat.”

  “Kammen!” Torvil snapped.

  “Well, not so much as Liam is,” Kammen amended.

  Torvil rolled his eyes. Seldar chuckled.

  “Kammen is not wrong. Tactless, perhaps, but not wrong,” Seldar told me. “I think Liam has the makings of a good king, but despite his youth, Terrel might be a better one. It is not my place to say.”

  “But you have an opinion?”

  “All men have opinions. Who can judge the future of a boy so young? Liam is the elder and the pattern of his life is more set. I think he will do well, given time and seasoning.”

  “I trust your judgment. We’ll see.”

  Privately, I wished I had different circumstances. It would be nice to have been anything besides an absentee father. I’m doing this family thing totally wrong.

  The sand table shifted, forming patterns and shapes in the dust. The Dragon’s Teeth, as they are commonly known, or the Pillars of the Sea, if you’re reading a maritime chart, are columns of stone projecting out of the water. They look natural in the sense they are not assembled or carved, but they strike me as weird, at the very least. There are thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands. They run in a general east-west pattern, between the northern and southern shores of the inner and outer continents, for a thousand miles or more. The body of them is only a couple hundred miles across at the widest point, making the Straits of the Fang Rocks about that long.

  Most of these rocky pillars are fairly close to one another and usually covered in plants. The natives of the region have developed rope bridges to a high art. They also move from pillar to pillar—or island to island—via small boats reminiscent of kayaks or by standing on paddleboards. Most of the time, they’re fishing in the relatively shallow waters between the islands or doing the whole hunter-gatherer thing. The people put me in mind of some tourist pictures of Polynesia.

  There are some areas of… I don’t want to say “civilization,” but perhaps “technological advancement.” Mostly near the Strait, there are island-pillars with more citified communities. These pillars are mostly covered in wooden structures, clinging like ugly hats to the surface of the rock. The residents are, pretty obviously, pirates. Most of the time, they put up their feet and enjoy life, but they do have some small ships tucked away in a few deep-water dead-ends between the pillars. Sometimes they set sail, take a merchant vessel or two, sell anything they don’t need, and return home to their towers of rock and wood with the things they want. Mostly, it appears they want wine, women, and any food that isn’t seaweed or fish.

  I can’t say it’s not a romantic sort of life, but it’s also not one with a future. I didn’t see anyone past the age of fifty. My guess is the successful pirates use the maze of the Dragon’s Teeth as the perfect place to dodge pursuers, then retire to a more law-abiding life when they feel their age creeping up on them—assuming they live so long.

  The natives weren’t going to be a problem. The pirates were.

  I examined the Straits with some care. As far as I could tell, there were six places where the pirates had prepared defenses or ambush points, depending on who was coming through the Straits and why. There were pillar-top fortifications at both ends, of course, and at four more places along the route. Catapults, nets, a variety of grapples and chains—they didn’t need much firepower, being so far above the decks. A hefty rock simply tossed far enough over the side of a pillar would kill a man and possibly go right through the deck.

  Three things leaped to mind. First, I could attempt to negotiate with them. I might be able to simply give them money or goods to pay for safe passage. Second, I could try to intimidate them. People don’t call me the Demon King for no reason. Third, I could burn their emplacements and their ships.

  Pros and cons. Pros and cons.

  The trouble, as I saw it, with bribing them—or paying for passage—was they couldn’t be trusted. They didn’t seem to have a central leadership. Give any bunch of them a thousand gold coins and they’ll say, “Oh, but it wasn’t us. It was those untrustworthy bastards at the next stop. We abide by the terms of our agreement.”

  The second option had similar problems. If I wanted to intimidate them into leaving the Karvalen ships alone, I probably could. I could visit every island, every community-like dwelling on the rocks, scare the bejeezus out of everyone, then go around again, making sure everyone remembered to be scared of me. Eventually, if I did it enough, I would be the Demon King of the Dragon’s Teeth as well as Karvalen. Then the ships could pass unmolested.

  My guess was it would take a month, two to be sure. Anything short of that and someone would get greedy. And, if I wasn’t there to stop it instantly, others would see it as a clear opportunity to get the goods while I wasn’t watching, then blame everybody else.

  Pirates. They’re dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly.

  Burning everything to ash and sailing past the smoking wreckage, on the other hand…

  I’m for it, Boss.

  “I knew you would be.”

  Let me see… The main launching points for pirate attacks are, for the most part, built of masonry or carved into the rock. Behind those fortifications, however, the structures are wood. So, six main points of attack, thirteen pillars—most only use two, on opposite sides. The exception has a big pillar and two smaller ones, totaling thirteen. Not counting any ships at sea hunting for merchants, there are nine ships of the two-masted variety. All in all, twenty-two major fires should do it.

  On the other hand, what about the pillars? Could I damage the pillars enough near the bases to topple them? Yes, certainly. The drawback is, how do you tell for certain which way the pillar topples? The Straits are narrow. Even turning a ship around is tricky and time-consuming. One mistake with a falling pillar and the Straits are blocked until it goes away. If the fleet is even partway through the Straits, they have to turn around and single-file their way back before going around anyway.

  No, carving a better aquatic highway through the rocks would have to wait.

  So, fires. I predict many small gates and a slew of incendiary devices.

  “You know, this would be much easier if you were still a dragon,” I noted.

  I agree. I don’t suppose you can grow me a dragon body like you do with those elves?

  “I’d need a sample to copy. Sorry.”

  Where’s my old scabbard? The leather one, made of dragonhide?

  “I… you know, I don’t know.”

  Would it work?

  “I’m not sure. I’d have to let Diogenes look at it. Do you think you could occupy a dragon body?”

  No. I’m bound in here like a soul in a meatsack. You could transfer me, though, couldn’t you?

  “Again, I’m not sure. You’re enchanted to be in the sword, not bound there by normal life processes. I’m not entirely sure how it works.”

  Fat lot of help you are.

  “I was young and didn’t know how ignorant I was back then. Now I’m older and know I’m ignorant. What do you want?”

  Better.

  “Oh, you’re funny. On the other hand, Bronze can possess cars, statues, and the Blacks. She might be able to leap into an empty dragon-shell.”

  Oh, that’s nice, Firebrand huffed. I come up with the idea and she gets all the fun!

  “I’m so sorry. Would it help if we visited an island fortress and tackled it personally?”

  …maybe.

 
“And there’s a war coming up. If I can dodge bodyguards, we might slaughter our way through an enemy line.”

  I… could cope with that, yes.

  “In the meantime, if you want to hang out with Bob, you can go back to burning people sentenced to death.”

  No, that’s okay. It’s nice, in a way, but I’ve had enough of it for a while. It gets a little monotonous.

  “As you say. I’m more concerned with these pillars and how to hit the emplacements.”

  Why?

  “I sink. I’m not sure how deep the water is.”

  So?

  “So? At night, it’s not so much of a problem. I have to surface and clear my lungs before dawn or I drown.”

  So, what you’re saying is, you would rather not personally tackle a ship or a pillar or whatever because you can’t swim?

  “If anything goes wrong, I’m in the soup with no way to float.”

  Boss, you know how you’ve observed you’re a bit dense?

  “On par with aluminum, I think.”

  If you say so. The point is, you can’t swim?

  “Not even with water wings. I need a life raft, minimum.”

  Can you climb?

  “Climb?”

  These pillars—they go all the way to the bottom, right?

  I refrained from using language that might scorch Firebrand. Instead, I called up Seldar and asked him to find my old dragonhide scabbard, or, failing that, some dragon bits and pieces.

  Beltar arrived while I was mulling over the logistics of gate-based firebombing. Firebrand was hungry for a little carnage and butchery, so the pillars were going to be personal, hand-to-hand work. The ships still needed to be dealt with, but they also lacked the fortresses’ advantage of height. I made mention of this to Seldar, to make sure they were ready for ship attacks. I won’t repeat his reply since it made me sound like an idiot.

  I reviewed my incendiary plans. Setting fire to a ship is harder than you think. The things are made of wood, sure, but it’s usually thick, tough, and damp. You might as well pick any fresh-cut log and try to light it. It can be done, but it takes work. Ideally, the ship should have a chance to burn for a bit, undetected, before the fire-fighting begins. Simply dumping a few gallons of gasoline on the deck and applying a match might do it—the rigging would be toast, certainly—but the structure of the ship might not be materially damaged.