by B. K. Boes
“I wouldn’t go too far in that direction,” Lord Nondrum said before he bit a chunk of meat off the bone.
Moloch cleared his throat but couldn’t think of an answer. Instead he poked at some steamed mountain vegetable he didn’t recognize, small orange spheres which gave off a sickeningly sweet smell.
“I don’t appreciate awkward talk while I’m eating,” King Gonnoss said, raising his eyebrows at Lord Nondrum.
“I have something pleasant,” Baron Morrwin interjected.
“Oh?” King Gonnoss smiled at his nephew.
“A new shipment of Roshleth Histories should be here soon,” Morrwin said.
“That is pleasant news,” King Gonnoss laughed. He spoke to Moloch. “My nephew has quite the knack for finding rare artifacts. Because of him, I happen to have the largest collection of Roshleth Histories in all of Leyumin.”
Moloch tried to keep the confusion from his voice. “Undiscovered Roshleth Histories? Those are quite rare. My own mother acquired one once. She used to read them to us as bedtime stories.”
“They’re more than that,” the king said.
Prince Durand looked at his father’s displeased expression and then at Moloch. “My father follows the religious practices of the tribes of Erem.”
“How… interesting,” Moloch said, trying to sound genuine. He didn’t even believe the teachings of the Oracles. All he knew of the tribes of Erem was that they kept verbal histories, supposedly from even before The Schism. He tried to add something intelligent. “So, these texts are religious texts of sorts?”
“No,” the king said. “They are histories that inform our beliefs, guide us. The Holy Book is the only religious text we need, but it does not address many of our more specific life experiences. The histories and legends give us a lens with which to view our future, to avoid making the same mistakes as our ancestors. Through our history, we can see the paths the Sustainer has blessed or cursed. Every story a Roshleth tells teaches a lesson.”
Moloch nodded as though he understood. The Roshleth Histories were indeed incredibly rare. A Roshleth of the Eremites normally passed down her histories and legends to her daughters and granddaughters; it was only when a Roshleth bore no daughters that she wrote down all she knew. “How many of these histories do you have?” Moloch asked.
“Thirteen at the moment,” the king said.
“Fourteen once the new shipment arrives,” Baron Morrwin said, a smile on his face. “I believe the Temple of the Sustainer only carries six Histories.”
The king shook his head and stabbed a piece of meat with his knife. “Because they don’t treasure the past. Eikonians only want to control the future. It’s one of the things that worries me about this deal you’ve come to make.” He bit off the meat from the tip of the knife and chewed with a frown. When he swallowed he waved the knife as if to dismiss his comment. “But, we shan’t go into those particular scruples, not during dinner.” He looked at Moloch as if he had brought the controversy to light.
An hour of discomfort followed. There was some small talk at awkward intervals, but all it did was serve to prick at Moloch’s nerves. He tried to pay attention, tried to pick up on any significant signals. Anything he could say to align himself with their opinions. He made several observations, unsure of how helpful any of them were.
Prince Durand is open-minded, but ill. His health is failing him.
Lord Nondrum’s dislike for me hasn’t softened. At all.
Baron Morrwin is bull-headed and opinionated.
The king is slow to speak, but well thought out when he does so. Observant.
Finally, the meal came to a close. The king sat back with his hands on his belly and looked at Moloch. “All right, then,” he said. “This is your first chance to convince me. I’ve instructed the others not to speak during this part of our engagement. I want to hear you out completely and then speak with them later.”
Moloch took a drink and steeled himself. “That’s a wise course of action, Your Majesty.”
“No flattery, Lord Sarrem. It won’t help you.”
“Of course not,” Moloch said. He took another drink and formulated his thoughts. “How long have the Adikeans plagued you, King Gonnoss?”
“My entire reign.”
“And, how long before that have they plagued your nation?”
“Generations.”
Moloch took a deep breath. “Traditional forms of securing your borders haven’t worked, from what I understand. In times of strength, Ergon has secured all three bridges and the western coast. But even in those times it has been difficult, has it not?”
The king nodded once. “Get on with it, Lord Sarrem. I don’t need a history lecture.”
Moloch bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something uncouth. Then, he met the king’s gaze. “Adikeans have always managed to worm their way in. Get lost in the mountains and re-emerge to kidnap your daughters, steal your food, and ransack your villages. They’ve now maintained almost constant control of your western coastline, pushing your own people inland and cutting off much of your sea dependent economy. In the last war, you lost much of your army, and with so many of your daughters captured, your population has begun to dwindle. Am I right?”
The king’s cheeks reddened and his eyes narrowed.
Moloch continued, trying to get in as much information as possible before he was cut off. “This is why I want to do something nontraditional. It’s bold, and if you agree, we will be able to help you completely secure your borders. Permanently.”
“Lofty claims,” the king said. “Before you get into this bold plan, tell me, what will my fealty to King Shamylle cost? Have my requests been made known to you?”
Moloch nodded. “They have, your highness. And they will be met. Our conditions are these: Eikon will absorb the Ergonian army, though you may keep your Fortress Guard and a small contingent for local matters. The tribute previously discussed will be paid annually to Eikon. And an Eikonian Advisor will be your right hand. Your request that rule of local matters remain in your hands will be granted as long as they do not directly contradict Eikonian goals. And we will also promise to keep your own blood in the line of Ergonian rulers. The Pinnacle Fortress will remain under your control. However, we maintain the right to remove any Ergonian ruler that rebels against Eikonian rule or breaks the agreement of submission you’ve made to us.”
“Brother—” Lord Nondrum began, but the king held up a hand and shot his brother a deathly stare.
The king then turned to Moloch. “For this to occur, you must first rid us of the Adikeans. And for it to continue, peace must reign across our lands.”
“Agreed,” Moloch said.
“Then, how do you plan to make this security permanent?”
The muscles in Moloch’s neck twitched as he looked around the table. He took a drink of water and closed his eyes for a second.
This is your chance, he thought. It’s a good plan.
He opened his eyes and his body relaxed. He met the eye of the king. “I want to destroy the Western Pass and the Radelle’s Heart Bridges. Purge the land of Adikeans, and then focus on the remaining entry point — the western coast.” Moloch let it fall out of his mouth and saw it hit each man at the table like a punch to the gut. They all stared at Moloch for a long time.
Finally, the king spoke. “You want to destroy the Ancient Bridges?”
“Not the Pytarian Bridge.” Moloch held up a hand to lower their defenses. “But the others… yes. They are only a burden to the North.”
“Those bridges are the only way for central and western Ergonians to get to Erem for trade,” Baron Morrwin said in a rush of anger. “This is insane!”
“Morrwin!” Prince Durand warned. “We are not to speak.”
“Not to speak?” The baron stared at the king. “How could I not speak on behalf of my father and future generations of my family?”
“I understand,” the king said. “But your thoughts will be heard la
ter. Speak again, and I will have you escorted out.”
The baron clenched his mouth shut and glared at Moloch, but he kept quiet.
“My nephew is right,” the king said. “How could I cut off those avenues? Not to mention the thought of destroying the gifts the Sustainer bestowed upon my people.”
“Your Majesty,” Moloch said. “Those Bridges haven’t been gifts since before The Schism. With them gone, the Mavyem Valley would prevent any Adikean from crossing into the Northern Radelle Mountains. We would have one line to defend, and it would be done in the open, instead of in the shadows of the mountains where evil men can so easily hide.”
“This is disturbing, to say the least. I can see the military advantage… but those Bridges are sacred. The thought of destroying them seems sacrilege.” King Gonnoss shook his head.
“But, Your Majesty, let me—”
“No!” King Gonnoss shouted and pounded his fist on the table. “I can’t discuss this with you any further. Not now. The Sustainer would surely strike me where I stand if I agreed to this. I must think. I must pray and seek advice. We will meet again in seven days. I want you and your man to leave my dining hall at once.”
Moloch looked around the table, trying to get a glimpse of how the others felt. His stomach sank. No one at the table seemed intrigued. Or even interested. They were disgusted. He could see it in the way they were staring at him, the way they smacked their lips as though trying to rid themselves of something distasteful.
Moloch silently slid his chair out and stood. He bowed to the king, and to the other men at the table, and then retreated at what he hoped was a dignified pace. Bram followed him out. When the heavy doors shut behind them, muffled shouts erupted within the dining hall. No one was watching now, so Moloch all but fled the highest level of the Pinnacle Fortress.
His entire future, and the future of his nation, was being weighed, and the balance had just tipped out of his favor.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kaela
Hodda Nomadic Tribe
Ogche, A Lone Mountain
Desert of Eidolon, Erem
8th Cycle of Chenack
989 Post Schism
The Adikeans had offered far more than even Roshleth Vyad had anticipated. A thousand gold coins to take specific wares to the Adikean border to the north. It would have been more if Patriarch Gavril hadn’t put his foot down, refusing to take the goods all the way to Sydor. They would have had to pass the Kelda Canyons and risk rousing the attention of a therbak. Instead, they would deliver the goods via Gamod’s Way, a road that led straight to the northernmost Adikean outpost on their border.
A thousand gold coins is twice what we make in a year, Kaela thought as the sandsled had made its way back to the Hodda camp. Twilight was approaching, the sun low on the horizon. Even if I speak up about the legend of Yaan, even if I cast doubt on the wisdom of the trade deal, will that be enough to outweigh a thousand coins?
When the sandsled had stopped at the edge of camp, Kaela hopped down without saying a word to the others. The smell of the evening fire beginning to burn wasn’t as welcoming as usual. The Hodda gathered every night around a bonfire to celebrate life, to eat and dance together. Kaela didn’t feel much like celebrating.
“See you around the fire, Kaela,” Orlin said as he hopped down behind her.
“Yeah. I guess so,” Kaela said.
“You should be happier,” Roshleth Vyad said from her seat in the sandsled. She was waiting for Sion to come around and help her down. “We’ve done a wonderful thing today. The Hodda will benefit greatly.”
Kaela nodded, but kept her mouth shut. The Roshleth didn’t want to hear how she actually felt about the trade deal. And besides, Kaela would be expressing her opinion at the meeting when she told the true story of Yaan.
Then, she heard someone call her name from the camp. She turned, welcoming the sight of Rinn coming toward her. But her smile faded as Rinn came closer and a burst of fear barreled over Kaela’s walls. It was a shock to her body, as she hadn’t re-fortified her walls. Usually, she had some time before the effects of the mountain began to wear off. But, fear was a stronger emotion than almost any other besides perhaps anger or hatred; though she tried to block it, the emotion radiated from her friend like heat from a blazing fire. Rinn’s expression was contorted, her eyes puffy. Something was terribly wrong.
“What is it?” Kaela asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s your mother,” Rinn said. “She went into labor while you were gone.”
Kaela felt the blood drain from her face. “Is Healer Raz with her?”
Rinn bit her lower lip. “Yes, but… it isn’t looking good.”
Kaela turned to face the Roshleth and Patriarch, who had heard every word. “Go on, child,” Roshleth Vyad said. “We send our prayers with you.”
“Thank you,” Kaela said, her previous worries now pushed aside. “I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow if all goes well.” She turned and began to run through the maze of tents, Rinn on her heels. As she approached her family’s tent, she slowed at a scream coming from within. Her stomach dropped, the sound freezing her feet in place for a moment. Rinn nearly ran into her.
Tanni was sitting outside the tent with her own mother, and they were boiling water, stirring a pot of rags. Kaela took a deep breath and walked up to them, eyeing the entrance to the tent.
“What’s going on?” Kaela asked, her voice feeling distant in her own ears. Fear saturated the air, penetrated Kaela’s skin, and rammed against her walls.
“It’ll be all right,” Tanni’s mother said, a poor excuse for a smile on her face. “Healer Raz is with her. She’s the best healer this side of the Radelle Mountains.”
Kaela swallowed the lump in her throat. Another scream emanated from the tent. A wave of terror hit her square in the chest, and Kaela fell to her knees beside the fire. Her inner emotions matched those emanating from the tent, from her mother and father, from her friends. She couldn’t hold it back, not when it came at her from the inside as well.
“I’ve got a fresh blanket!” Fey came running up one of the aisles between tents and handed the blanket to Tanni’s mother, who took it inside the tent immediately.
Kaela looked at Tanni, a prickling sensation beginning at the symbol on the back of her neck, slowly spreading over her shoulder blades. “Do you know how bad it is?” she asked. She knew Tanni would give her the truth.
Tanni looked up from poking at the boiling rags. “Healer Raz said your mother’s lost a lot of lifeblood, that the baby was turned the wrong way, and that she might have to… cut open her belly to get the baby out.”
“Tanni!” Fey whispered sharply. She came to sit next to Kaela and put a hand on her shoulder. “It will be fine,” Fey said, trying to comfort Kaela.
“You don’t know that,” Kaela said. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t often that a woman had to be cut open during labor, but when she was, everyone knew death was likely. The prickling, like that of a thousand needles, spread over her whole body. It felt as though her body was shutting down.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” Rinn said, her quiet voice lined with worry. “Are you hungry? Have you eaten?”
Kaela shook her head as her body turned numb. “I can’t eat now.”
Poppa pushed aside the flap entrance to the tent and stepped out. He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. Tears began to run down his cheeks, but he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, wiped the tears away, and a look of determination spread across his face when he opened his eyes again. He looked at Kaela.
“How was the Adikean trade deal?” Poppa said, his voice hoarse. He came to squat before Kaela. “How much did they offer?”
Kaela’s brow furrowed. “What does that matter, Poppa?”
“How much?” Poppa shouted, a spurt of frustration weaving into the fabric of dread that wrapped itself around Kaela. Then, he ran his fingers through his hair, and more softly he said, “If they offered eno
ugh, Healer Raz said she can convince the Roshleth to allot her enough money for the medicine your mother needs to survive cutting open her womb. It would keep the wound from infection.”
“What would happen without it?” Kaela asked.
Poppa ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s very possible that Momma won’t be with us for much longer.” He placed gentle hands on Kaela’s shoulders. “How much did they offer?” he asked again.
“A thousand gold coins,” Kaela said, welcoming the sheer numbness that seemed to make the overwhelming horror more bearable.
Poppa closed his eyes and a shaky sigh escaped his lips. “I never thought I would say this, but, thank the Sustainer for the Adikeans.” He stood up straight. “Healer Raz has enough medicine to last a few days, but your mother will need more of it over the next span.”
Kaela swallowed, thinking about what she’d agreed to do. The part she’d agreed to play in stopping the trade deal. Her hand trembled as she rubbed at the nape of her neck, numb fingers barely recognizing the feel of the mark there. “And what if the trade deal doesn’t get approved by the Elders?”
“That cannot happen. If the Adikeans have offered us that much, I don’t think we need to worry.” Poppa looked at Tanni’s mother. “Do you have any ambrosia, Rita? The Roshleth has a medicine to make Faen fall asleep, but she said it will work faster with a little ambrosia.”
Tanni’s mother nodded. “Yes, of course. We have a fresh batch of it,” she said as she looked at Tanni. “Go. Hurry. The bottle is in the trunk with the leather straps.”
“Yes, Momma.” Tanni sprang to her feet and began to run.
Rita fished out a few of the rags and draped them over a little rack. “These rags should be ready.”
Poppa bent over to pick them up, nodded his thanks, and went back inside. Tanni returned moments later with the bottle of ambrosia and a lantern, and her mother brought the bottle inside to Healer Raz. Tanni lit the lantern, and they settled under the ever-brightening stars, waiting. In the near distance, the sound of the Hodda tribe around the fire drifted on the air. Her walls had been destroyed, and she didn’t have the strength to put them back up. There was music and happy voices; joy in the air, canceling out some of the fear. It felt so wrong in that moment as Kaela’s mother fought for her life. She embraced the numbness, refusing to be warmed by nearby joy.