by Duncan Lay
‘And what will we face in Tenoch?’ she asked them.
Nerrin cleared his throat.
‘Tenoch is not like Norstalos. It is not even one country—it is many. Or, at least, it was. This is a bit of a confused story but, from what I can piece together, it seems Tenoch has a massive river that runs through much of the continent. As well as providing water for crops, high up in the mountains its tributaries wash down gold—so much gold that they pick it out of streams. The continent took its name from the river but now the river itself has been overshadowed by the city that took its name. Rather than defined countries, as we have on this continent, there was a series of city-states. Tenoch was the first, was always the largest and most powerful of those and, when the Fearpriests took over, every other city-state was either crushed or forced to swear obedience to Tenoch. Soon it had control of the entire continent, which is far bigger than Albiona. At first it had used its army to control its conquests but then had the problem of too many cities to hold and not enough men. There was also the thought that the army’s leaders would want more power than the Fearpriests were prepared to share. So while they kept one army to crush any rebellions, they changed tactics. The ruling classes of each city were basically kidnapped and brought to Tenoch. Fearpriests rule each city, aided by a small guard but, with every nobleman and their families hostage, there is nothing and nobody for a rebellion of the common people to rally around. And, of course, Fearpriests keep a tight rein on the people. Anyone who speaks out ends up with their heart cut out. Fear rules the continent. But now they have no army. It was destroyed by High Chief Sacrax outside the capital. They have a company or two in each city but they will be unable to concentrate them at Tenoch before we get there. All we shall face is Gello’s men and the few hundred they have in the city. And even those are likely to be the old, or inexperienced men. Their best warriors are dead.’
‘And if they try to raise a city against us, we shall slaughter them. A shield wall, backed by archers, will destroy a rabble,’ Martil said harshly. ‘This is the heart of the evil. We must cut it out.’
That brought no response, so Nerrin continued.
‘The River Tenoch opens to the sea, so we can sail most of the way up to the city. It should help our surprise. By the time they realise we are there, we shall be only ten miles from the city.’
‘So far so good. But there must be some bad news in this,’ Merren commented.
Nerrin sighed. ‘Aye. The city walls are said to be massive. More than sixty feet high, with towers every one hundred paces, and walls wide enough that wagons can run along the inside. They can move men rapidly from one point to another. Your majesty, if the walls are as big as the prisoners claimed—and I do not think they lied—I do not know how we can get into such a city with the men we have.’
‘We shall find a way!’ Martil vowed. ‘There is no choice! There is always a way inside!’
Again, nobody had anything to say to that.
‘Does anyone know anything else about Tenoch? Havell?’
‘We have not gone there in centuries. Since the Fearpriests came to power, they do not use natural magic. They have no mages. The only magic used is the one Zorva gives them in exchange for blood sacrifice.’
‘So there is a difference—the magic from the gods and the magic we use from the world around us are not the same?’ Barrett asked thoughtfully. ‘For centuries great wizards have wondered about that.’
‘Not only wizards,’ Milly added. ‘The Church has struggled with this question. We are taught that everything comes from Aroaril, that the magic was created by Him. It is a fundamental question of the Church. What came first? Were the dragons and the magic created by Aroaril or did the magic come first? Did life begin then and the Gods grow out of people’s need for spirituality, a reflection of the good and evil within us all? Are wizards just unusually gifted people, able to use the magic Aroaril put into the world? Do we use the power of a God, or is it just natural magic, somehow changed by Aroaril into a form we can use, when we cannot access the natural magic?’
‘It is a fascinating question that has consumed even the dragons,’ Havell agreed. ‘But I cannot answer it. Perhaps at the end, when the magic goes with the last dragon, the answer will reveal itself. If you and the Fearpriests can still use magic, then we know that Aroaril was the one who created everything, and the natural magic is a device of the Gods. If not…’
‘I think we have more pressing concerns now,’ Merren said firmly. ‘What of our ships’ captains? Do they know anything of Tenoch?’
One man stood up, a man who looked vaguely familiar to Martil, although when he had met a Norstaline ship’s captain, he did not know.
‘I am Lavrick, your majesty,’ he said in a deep voice. ‘I have been to Tenoch, once, on the orders of Duke Gello. I received good prices for my goods but dared not go back there again—I felt I was lucky to escape with my life. I can guide you up the river, past the defences they will have there.’
Merren opened her mouth to demand more information, only for Martil to interrupt.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked harshly.
Lavrick looked at him. ‘We have never met,’ he said coolly. ‘But I believe you knew my younger brother, Havrick.’
Martil was on his feet, Dragon Sword in hand in an instant.
‘I knew him—and killed him with this! If you are here for revenge, then you will find more than you bargained for!’
Lavrick shook his head. ‘My brother was a fool. And he destroyed my family’s honour with his behaviour in the north. I am here because I am a loyal Norstaline and because I do not believe in kidnapping children. I am here to help you.’
Martil turned to Merren. ‘This man has been to Tenoch on Gello’s orders. And he’s the brother of a murderer! It’s obvious this is a trap! I say we either kill him now, or at least leave him behind!’
‘Without me, you’ll never find your way up the River Tenoch! I understand you are upset but…’
Kesbury managed to get to Martil in mid-leap.
‘You dare to tell me I am upset!’ Martil raged as Kesbury had to use all his considerable strength to hold his former captain back.
‘Captain! Sit down! This is not helping! Do you want to rescue Karia or not?’ Merren shouted.
Martil stared at her. ‘What sort of question is that?’
‘Then you need to take whatever help is offered! Captain Lavrick, you shall command the ship carrying myself and Captain Martil. Is that going to be a problem?’
‘Not at all,’ Lavrick replied. ‘I shall show you I can be trusted.’
‘And what was your order from Gello?’
‘It was near ten years ago. Gello had heard Berellian ships were returning from there laden with gold. He wanted me to find out why, because I had the best ship in his Duchy. The Tenochs bought my goods but told me never to come back if I valued my life. I believed them, so never returned but I made secret charts. I can get you in there, when no others can.’
Martil said nothing, but knew he would be keeping a very close eye on the man. If he was planning some sort of trap, he would not survive it.
22
Merren made sure both Sendric and Martil were on board her ship. Ideally she would have liked to split them up but she felt it was better to have them both where she could keep an eye on them.
The men had been loaded as fast as possible, bringing with them just weapons, armour and a little food. Merren had used the time to quickly tour the rebuilding work under way at Cessor, as well as talk to the many people who packed the jetties and surrounds to wave them off.
Work was proceeding well and, better yet, the people were eager to meet and cheer Merren. What they had seen and gone through in their town, and at the capital, had forever changed this place.
She would have almost liked to stay longer but the ships were ready and, with the dragon Argurium circling overhead, they quickly eased out of Cessor’s wrecked harbour and into the open water. Sai
ling with magic seemed to be an easy business—the sails were put up and, next moment, the ship was moving rapidly through the water, waves foaming at the bow. The oars were not even needed.
With Barrett’s Magicians’ Guild turning barrels of seawater into fresh water or making schools of fish leap out of the ocean and onto the deck, food and drink did not seem to be a problem. But she worried about how they would manage to take Tenoch. Even though it sounded as though the city was stuffed with captives who would be highly reluctant to fight for the Fearpriests, even a few hundred defenders armed with clubs and rocks would make it almost impossible to take its walls. And then there was Martil. The mood he was in, the mood he had many of the men and Derthals in, she could see another Bellic happening if they got inside the walls. She had to act before then.
So she sent for Sendric once they were out of sight of land, which took less than a turn of the hourglass thanks to the work of Argurium, who flew lazily overhead.
‘Have you reconsidered your plan to wait until we have returned to Norstalos to marry?’ Sendric asked, as soon as he sat down.
‘Quite the opposite,’ Merren said grimly. ‘I am not only doubting the need for it at all but I am questioning the nature of the reports, and the information you brought before me.’
Sendric stiffened in his chair. ‘I have done nothing but my best for the country! You have toured the south, seen the scale of destruction, the task waiting for us even now. It will take years, if not generations, to heal the scars left by the Berellian and Tenoch invasions. It needs gold, far more gold than we can hope to mine in ten years! Cessor and Worick may never fully recover. Did I overstate the way in which our industries are reduced, the way our farmland is slighted, the livestock scattered? Have I somehow—’
‘No, that was all correct. But I cannot help but contrast what you said with the way the people reacted to Martil’s return, and the way the entire country seems willing to do anything to help Karia’s rescue…’
‘With respect, your majesty, there is a big difference between feeling sympathy for a man’s missing child, and embracing him as their Prince Consort! If you had married Martil, as you planned, who knew what would have happened?’
Merren locked eyes with him. ‘I would have been happy,’ she said simply.
Sendric’s eyes widened in horror.
‘He is a base-born Ralloran! No matter what state the country is in, the people deserve better than him! He is not good enough for you! And to think of a half-Ralloran as a future king! Your majesty, the people are grateful for everything Martil has done to save this country. But you can be grateful to a dog for scaring away thieves. It does not mean you want to see it marry your daughter and bow to its pups!’
‘That is enough!’ she stormed, jumping to her feet. ‘I warn you, Count, you go too far!’
He glared at her, breathing just as hard.
‘My country is always uppermost in my thoughts. I had hoped it was also in yours. I would remind you that I never asked for this—you ordered me to marry you to cover up the scandal that you created—’
‘I was wrong,’ she interrupted him. ‘And you are right in one respect—this is my problem and it is up to me to solve it. If I can do so, I shall no longer need you to marry me. If you are unable to accept this, I suggest you renounce your position and retire to your country estate.’
Sendric’s mouth sagged open. He gazed at her for long moments before slowly rising.
‘I have always been a loyal servant of the crown. I will do everything possible to see Gello dead and my daughter avenged. But if you persist in marrying that Ralloran, I shall spend my remaining years protecting the people from the ill effects of your foolish decision.’
‘Then you shall have little to do, for there will be no ill effects, as you call them,’ she said coolly. ‘That will be all.’
Sendric bowed stiffly. ‘As your majesty wishes.’
Merren sighed when he had left. The Count had been her fervent supporter and she had as good as turned him into an opponent. But she had made her choices—now she would have to live with the consequences. Perhaps it would be better if he did not return from Tenoch…She stopped that thought and went to find Martil. She knew sending Jaret and Wilsen to bring him to her would not do any good.
Martil just sat at the bow of the ship, looking into the distance as the ships surged forwards. The wind of their passage did not seem to bother him, nor did the spray coming from the waves they skipped across.
She walked across the deck, holding carefully to the various ropes and rails placed for that purpose. Even though the dragon was using magic to aid and smooth the ships’ passage, there was still a fair bit of movement. She let go of the last rail and staggered a few steps before sinking gratefully onto a coil of rope next to Martil.
‘Why don’t you come back, get something to eat?’ she asked gently.
‘No. I shall wait here,’ he replied, staring out across the sea.
‘There are things we need to say. It would be better to say them in private,’ she tried again.
Martil did not want to look at her. He wanted to keep his focus on Karia. Merren had made her choice. Karia was everything now. Besides, she obviously had something she wanted to say. After what she had done to him before, he was happy to let her suffer now. It was petty but the memory of that walk out of her office, and the flight to Dragonara Isle was still raw. If he could hurt her now, then he might feel a little better.
‘You said all you needed to say before. I have nothing more to add,’ he replied harshly.
She felt the stab of those words but kept her voice gentle. ‘I thought you might like to talk to someone about what happened, and how you are coping.’
‘I just want to get there fast, and then kill them until they give Karia back.’
Merren sighed. He was still not looking at her. There was nothing for it but the truth.
‘I made a mistake when I sent you away—’
‘Don’t tell me that! Not now!’ He whipped around.
‘You don’t think I can admit to a mistake?’
‘I can’t deal with this now, I have to concentrate on Karia. We are on different paths now, you and I.’
‘You don’t think we could—’
‘No!’ Martil felt the temptation there. It would be so easy to look at her, to hold her, to kiss her, to…He shook himself. How could he even think of such things, when Karia was in the hands of Fearpriests? He had promised never to leave her—everything else had to be put aside.
‘If you care for me, you will leave me alone,’ he managed to say.
Merren stared at him, seeing the rigid set to his jaw. In the past she had used physical contact to break the walls that he put up—but, with a pang, she worried that would not work here. He was like a spring, wound up to the point of breaking. What could she do?
‘Well if you do ever need anyone to speak to…’ she offered. There was a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. Had she turned away both men? What would she do if they both refused to marry her?
She hesitated, torn between leaving him alone and trying one more time to talk to him, when a shout made her look up.
Barrett was rushing towards them both.
‘Your majesty! Martil! We have a bird from Karia!’
Onzalez had called upon his God to ensure fair winds and fast sailing. As well as the sails, the men were working hard on the oars, driving the ships forwards at a great speed. Magic was also needed to keep all the ships together, especially at night. When Gello had been saving Tenochs, he had chosen the best warriors, rather than the ones that knew how to sail these ships. Keeping them together was no easy task.
But the various soldiers, while initially distrustful of the ships, were growing used to their demands now. Hands were growing calloused working on the oars, while most crews seemed able to set sails without knocking their fellows into the water or falling from the rigging.
‘We are making far better time than o
n the trip over,’ one of the surviving Tenochs declared.
‘We shall be back in Tenoch swiftly,’ Onzalez agreed. ‘The sooner the better. We must understand how this Egg works, and use its power.’
‘The sooner we are off these ships, the better,’ Gello grunted. There was no entertainment on board, no way of relieving the boredom of seeing the same piece of ship, the same monotonous sky and waves. All his pleasure at watching the sea was over—he just wanted to get back to Tenoch and begin using the Dragon Egg to gain his revenge on Merren. He had been working on his sketch of Mother, been trying to talk to her but she was no help. She had not come up with one useful idea to get him out of this mess. Sometimes he felt himself seized by melancholy, unable to get out of his bunk. How could it all have gone so wrong? He’d had everything—three times now his dream was within reach and each time it had slipped away. At times like this he almost felt like giving up, killing Onzalez, throwing the Dragon Egg and child overboard and going away, far from Norstalos, finding a place where he could carve out a new legend for himself. But each time that happened, his eyes were drawn back to his crude portrait of Mother, and how he had promised her she would see him as King. He could not let her down—and he could not give up. Victory could still be his.
‘Let’s see what Ezok has learned so far. Feld, fetch him!’
Ezok sat with Karia in her cabin.
‘There must be something I can do to impress them! We need them to think we are making progress,’ Ezok complained.
Karia sighed. How silly was this man? She had explained things to him so many times, and still he did not understand! Honestly, sometimes she wondered why she bothered with grown-ups like this. He seemed nice enough compared to the others, but that was not saying much. She missed Martil terribly. She had managed to attract a seabird to her small cabin window, and sent it off in search of Barrett. By now she was sure Martil would have got Barrett, and Merren, and all the others and found some way to be chasing after her. She was sure of it—but she still needed to know where they were. Barrett’s exercises to control the mind and calm fears were fine up to a point but the nights were getting very hard. She wanted a bedtime story, she wanted her dolls—she wanted a hug. At least during the day Ezok sat with her and talked. He had even told her a couple of traditional Berellian sagas, which weren’t nearly as fun as the Norstaline ones, but at least they were better than nothing.