Verna’s face was purple when she woke her; she smiled and drooled at her sister, and Mia cried, because she knew her sister was now mad. Unfortunately, for the sisters, Soroth was not as drunk as he made out and had followed Mia. She was about to unlock the padlock on the chain when she heard Soroth behind her.
He roared, pulling her by the hair, and threw her on the banqueting table. He called her a whore and struck her in the stomach and face for disobeying his orders, and then he started to rape her. He entered her forcibly and she screamed in pain; she felt herself bleed. She looked over to her sister, but Verna was gone. The keys were in the padlock and the chain piled up on the floor.
Soroth grunted and his red face screwed up in pleasure. He then jerked forward, gave a strange choking sound, and then stopped. A fine mist of blood sprayed on Mia’s face; she was shocked to see a sharp red knife tip sticking out of his throat. Red tinged drool trickled from his mouth.
His head jerked back and the point disappeared. Mia moved away from the stumbling captain as he tried to hold the blood flow, which gushed onto his hands; she stood in shock and disbelief as she helplessly watched Verna plunge the blade of a kitchen knife into the falling captain again, and again.
In the warm glow of the fire that sat in the middle of the king’s lodge, all eyes were on Ness Ri as he recounted his story.
He told them all of the treachery of Saltyn Ri and his fall into the abyss; he had managed to defend himself from the fireball that had engulfed him, but his clothes were burnt to black tatters. The fall did the most damage. He had used the wind element to soften the landing, but his body still broke on the rocks. He healed himself, but it took hours and it left him very weak for hours. Once mended, he climbed for days up the sheer cliff wall, and, when he reached the top, he could see the view of the battlefield.
The marshland marred with strewn bodies for miles in every direction, crows and ravens fed on the dead, and they circled around the battlefield like a black cloud. The stench was unbearable. Lord Ness searched among the dead and found King Hagan’s body, but his sword and head were missing, so he carried the corpse to the same hill that he had watched the battle from and built a cairn of stones around Hagan. He turned the stones into crystal and fused them together to seal the grave.
In time, he had learnt of Vanduke’s escape to the Sky Mountains and the invasion of Aln-Tiss. He found General Balaan through his captain, Jericho, and together they went to the Tower of Sooth in disguise.
“Sooth... Why did you go there?” asked Vanduke.
The Tower of Sooth sat on the west cost just north-west of the Aliniani tribal lands. It was the main library of the Ri Order.
“There will not be any Ris there, will there?” asked Lord Rett.
“No, most of the Ris are scattered around the island anyway, and it is very rare for us to be in the same place at once. No, I went to see Soneros Ri,” said Lord Ness.
“The chief librarian?” asked Vanduke.
“Yes, but he had departed for places unknown.”
“Wasted trip, then,” said Vanduke, drinking deeply from a mug of ale.
“Not necessarily; the Royal Tables were also gone.”
The mug clattered on the table.
“Don’t tell me Kasan has them.” He was red with anger.
“No, Sire, not from the look of the place; it had been ransacked by the Vallkytes more than once. In fact, more came as we left.”
“And the tower is now their tomb,” said Balaan. “Before they died, they mentioned that the tables were already missing.”
“Good, so we can assume that Soneros will keep them safe,” said the king, sitting again.
Havoc and Magnus were not following this conversation at all.
“What are the Royal Tables?” asked Havoc.
“They are proof documents, signed by all the nobility on the island, accepting the triple entity of the House of Cromme. Without the tables, Kasan has no legal right in the eyes of all nobility to own Rogun lands or titles, so long as the highest authority still exists, which, incidentally, is you and your father,” said Ness Ri.
“But it is just a bit of paper,” said Magnus.
“True, son, but it is what is written in the minds of men that matters,” said the king.
Later that same day, Ness Ri took Havoc to one side to speak to him alone. “I’m concerned for you, my prince,” he said.
“How is that so, master?” Havoc knew the answer anyway.
“I’m the one who offered to cure Baron Telmar of his affliction,” said Ness Ri quietly.
Havoc had not expected that.
“I was voted down by the Ri Order in favour of more traditional methods.”
“What traditional methods?” Havoc frowned.
“They would try to burn it out of him by putting him in a locked, thick stone room until he was too weak to expel the heat. Then they planned to use mind control to curb his volatile emotions. The Ri sighed. “Pyromancy may weaken the body when it is first used, but…” He waved his hands, trying to find the right word.
“It learns to adapt,” Havoc finished for him.
“Exactly,” said Lord Ness. “It’s the whole process of adaptation that means we can manipulate the Pyromantic energy and transfer it to the other Rawn Arts; it can make you into a powerful Rawn.”
“Or it can make me go mad.”
“Not if you listen to me and focus.” His smile was encouraging. “We will meditate together tomorrow.”
Later that day they held a grand feast to celebrate his birthday; Wild boar and deer had been roasting on spits for hours. Large kegs of beer opened for people to dip their mugs into the frothy liquid. Magnus was drunk for the first time in his young life and started singing battle songs with his father. Havoc laughed to see them with arms over the other’s shoulders like old friends.
He danced with some of the soldiers’ wives. They made whooping noises as they twirled around him; several of the camp whores were after him for other reasons, but Eleana chased them off.
As the night wore on and the warm air cooled, they all sat around the campfire surrounded by the darkening forest and told stories of battles. Lord Rett and his battle with the champion at Dragorsloth got mentioned and everyone cheered; a very sober Ness Ri acknowledged that he had never seen anyone move so fast with a blade before.
“There is one other faster, and it’s birthday boy there,” said Lord Rett.
Everyone voiced his or her agreement. Havoc was slightly embarrassed; the Red Duke did not look drunk, but he could see his dark eyes had a glassy sheen to them.
“Well, I’m glad I’m sleeping with you tonight, then,” said the whore sitting on the duke’s lap, and everyone laughed.
Vara sobered the mood and asked Vanduke how Hagan had died. The king paused at first, and then told the story in a style of such dramatic prose that everyone was enthralled. His father was a good storyteller, and the humour he injected into it made everyone smile. He mentioned the dead that Hagan had piled up around him and everyone nodded; he mentioned his bravery and the final act of death in front of Kasan, and everyone sneered at the mention of the Vallkyte King’s name. Then the king went silent and the group all looked thoughtfully into the flames of the fire, which cast deep shadows on all their faces.
Magnus started singing in a rich, deep tenor, a slow melodic battle song that changed tempo with every line until it reached a fast, thrilling finale. He had changed the hero’s name to Hagan’s and Vara added her high voice to Magnus’, which seemed to entwine together perfectly. Others joined in and everyone sang the final two verses into a rousing crescendo.
The drinking went on for a while after that. Havoc was drunk, but not badly so. Magnus had fallen off his log he was sharing with his father, and Vanduke gave the prone body of his unconscious son a surprised look, and then carried on singing.
No one saw Havoc leave for bed; he had planned to meditate before sleep.
He just had his shirt off when so
meone walked into his tent; the smell of honeysuckle and wood smoke filled his nostrils. Eleana looked beautiful in the low light of the oil lamp. Havoc smiled.
“I have come to give you your present, My Lord.” She looked at him coyly.
Havoc looked at her empty hands.
“Where is it?” he asked, with a confused look on his face.
She untied the leather thong that fastened her top and exposed her pert, round breasts to him. “It is here, my handsome prince.”
Letti had Hagan strapped to her chest with a large silk scarf her mother had once given to her. She nagged Tilly until she got up; the girl was lethargic and still in a depression after giving birth to the baby a month ago. She did not eat much these days, and was pale and thin from lack of food.
The young blond-haired guard with the crooked nose knocked on the door and Letti answered it; they talked for a while on the threshold in hushed tones. Tilly guessed he was the father of Letti’s unborn child.
They were to go to the hall and tidy it up. Letti hushed the squealing child as they walked to the entrance, which they found open. Letti stayed outside trying to hush the baby while Tilly went in. She found Mia on the floor hugging her knees; her legs were covered in blood and she had miscarried. The blood had seeped into the floorboards.
Verna was gone. Tilly went to comfort Mia and saw the keys next to the discarded shackle. She heard a sickening squelching sound behind her near the banquet table and turned to look. Her mouth fell open at what she saw.
Two guards confronted Letti as she ran around the corner. They asked her if she had seen Captain Soroth or her sister; she said no. They asked her where her sister was and she pointed a quivering finger at the hall entrance.
The guards found Mia shivering on the floor, but not with the cold. They saw a shocked Tilly holding a set of keys in her hand and, behind the table, they found a blood-soaked Verna hunched over what was left of the captain.
His eye sockets were just pools of blood. His trousers were down by his ankles, and Verna had cut off his genitalia and stuffed them into his mouth. His chest and stomach looked like a patchwork of minced meat. Verna mumbled to herself as she continued to stab with the blood-slick knife.
Lord Ness had gone into the therapy, as he liked to call it, with enthusiasm. He described the process in detail and left Havoc in no doubts of the difficulty he would face. First, he would have to meditate into a trance while his master placed his hands on his head and probed his mind. This invasion of his mind worried him and he voiced his concerns.
“Rest assured, I will not be probing into areas I shouldn’t, but, if you have something to hide, build an imaginary wall around it and lock the door; it works for me,” said his master.
Havoc shook his head and said that he trusted the Ri.
The sensation was not as disturbing as he had first thought. It only felt like a soft tickling and gentle probing. Ness Ri told him that it would be painful if he just forced his way in. Mind reading, or, as it was more commonly known, thought linking, was a crude process, and not many Rawns had the ability, or the subtle complacency, to perform it.
The Ri’s task was to find out which volatile emotions the Pyromantic energy was hiding in, and find a way of linking these energies to the Rawn Arts. That was the easy part; Havoc had to do the linking and his master could only guide him.
However, Havoc found it difficult to fall into a trance while meditating, and his master was trying not to show his impatience.
“Never mind, it will take a while at first.” He sighed.
“Can I make a suggestion?” asked Havoc.
“Go on.”
“I find it easier to go into a trance when I study the Orrinn on Tragenn.”
His master’s eyes lighted up. “That is an excellent idea. We can study the Orrinn and, at the same time, meditate. You are a genius, Highness.”
After that, they made progress. The Ri showed him techniques on how to link to his Rawn powers and to channel the Pyromantic energy to them. His first task was to use the earth element and channel the energies to make it stronger. Lord Ness took him to a sandstone cliff and instructed him on how to sculpt a large face into the rock.
“This is very intricate, so you will need to concentrate on moulding the chemical elements inside the structure of the rock,” he informed the prince.
Havoc took a moment to calm his mind and find the right emotional link. He tried to make a face of Eleana on the rock face because it reminded him of the sandstone cove where she had first held his hand. Unfortunately, all the energy just seemed to spill out of him and he ended up tuning the cliff into pure iron oxide, complete with rust streaks.
He screwed up his face; Lord Ness just gasped in astonishment.
“Even a Ri would find difficulty in turning the entire cliff into another element,” he said, which pleased Havoc immensely.
He felt weak, but not as bad as before. Lord Ness explained that, in time, the Pyromantic power would eventually adapt and the weakness would abate.
The following week, the Rogun camp moved to another area to the south, close to the River Mali that flowed into the citadel. They called it Camp Six. Most of the camps were numbered, but this one had a small pointed crag next to it and it and known as Cone Camp.
Havoc and Lord Ness walked a short way from camp and stopped at the Mali just before it went underground near a waterfall pool. The sky was bright and the first signs of autumn showed on the leaves. Havoc waded out to the river centre until the rushing water was up to his knees. It was a narrow river with uneven pebbles underfoot.
“Feel the energy and summon the water to rise around you,” said his master.
Havoc took a few minutes to concentrate and he could feel the water start to move around him.
“Very good, this it. Now lift, and hold.”
The water spiralled into a silent vortex. Havoc pushed a little more, and then it shot up, surrounding him so he was inside a column of water.
“Yes, yes, now hold it there!” he heard the Ri shout.
It was as if gravity had just disappeared. The water stopped moving and hung in the air around him. He could see minnows swimming from one body of water, falling out and landing in another.
He summoned the wind element and it lifted him up and through the water column, but the strain of controlling two elements at once was becoming too much and he lost control. He, and the water, fell back into the river.
Lord Ness was laughing as he hauled the drenched and weakened prince from the water.
“Very well done. With a bit more practice, you will be able to hold it for longer. Did you feel how easily you could use the wind element?”
Havoc spluttered and nodded.
“That’s because the third element can be used in conjunction with the other elements, especially water; why, we don’t quite know. Nevertheless, what you did with the two was very advanced summoning. To merge two or more elements is called Blending and takes a bit of practice even for a Rawn Master.”
As he dried himself off with a blanket, his attention drew to an opening by the pool. It was a manmade arch, but it had collapsed long ago.
“What is that?”
“Ahh... wondered if you noticed that,” said Lord Ness. “It’s called the Lovers Arch. Your great grandfather, Valient the Third, had an illicit affair with a girl from a local village not far from here, so he built a tunnel from somewhere in the palace to here so he could visit her in secret.”
Havoc’s heart leapt. “Master, if there is a route to the palace, we can...”
“No, unfortunately not; you see Valient’s father found out about the lovers and collapsed the tunnel; it will probably be under water by now.”
Havoc looked and, sure enough, the entrance was blocked. “What happened to his lover?” he asked.
“Oh... when the king died, she became your great-grandmother.”
“What, she was a commoner, no?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, but fr
om a noble house. Her father was chief, but they were poor.”
“We can’t marry beneath us, can we?” Havoc looked sadly at Lord Ness.
“Not now; the Royal Tables state that you cannot... You are thinking of Eleana, are you not?”
“You have been reading my mind,” cried Havoc in amazement.
“I’m not a fool, young prince. I can see the look you give each other. You do not get to my age and have to rely on guess work.” He looked at his student sternly.
“Sorry, I…”
“It is quite all right.” He sighed. “For what it’s worth, My Lord, I do care for your feelings, in more ways than one, now.” He stood up from the bank and picked up his sword-staff. “I hope you have not scared all the fish away, because I’m hungry.”
Chapter 10
An Unkindness of Ravens
History recorded the incident as the Red Roasting.
Of all the stories that were brought down to us from the second civil war, no matter the stories of tragedy or valour, the Red Roasting was one of the most famous.
It had started as the brainchild of General Plysov, who wanted to find a stronghold for a larger contingent of soldiers in the Sky Mountains. His aim was to slowly push the Roguns into one corner of the mountains so he could strike hard and destroy them all at the same time. To accomplish this, he had to have a base that could be easily defended and the manpower to pull it off.
On the first month of winter, when the mountain passes closed due to snow and ice, he sent a huge force under his most able commander, Captain Leask, to march his way to the Rouge.
The many Rogun scouts, who by this time had eyes everywhere, saw them enter the eastern passes.
Captain Leask and his army moved cautiously through the many valleys, sometimes finding other routes, as most were impassable. No exiles assailed them, but hidden Rogun scouts watched them and the captain knew it. He factored this knowledge into his route so he never went into an area that was vulnerable to ambush, and he put a good portion of his men on guard at night. The nights were the most dangerous time for his host in this hostile land. It took them three weeks to get to the Rouge. They occupied it without resistance from the villagers and built up its defences, then settled down for the winter.
The Rawn Chronicles Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword: Unabridged (The Rawn Chronicles Series 1) Page 12