Andalon Awakens

by T B Phillips

  “My virginity was stolen from me before I’d even bled as a woman. I was taken only moments after I watched the same demon brutalize my mother, leaving her for dead. And you want to talk to me about the trauma from finding her dead? I watched her die.”

  Shon’s heart raced and he dared not move. The wolf had crept closer and lunged, standing with its forepaws on his shoulder, snarling and panting a breath so hot that the foul smell turned to frozen mist in the cold air. “I’m sorry! You’re right. I’ll never know how that felt, will never know the damage that they did to you. But I’m here now. Let me be your family, Eusari. Let me protect you!”

  “I know a hundred ways to kill a man, Shon Wembley, and a thousand ways to make him suffer and beg for death. What could you possibly do to protect me?”

  Shon was speechless. He couldn’t truthfully answer and so he stood quietly, terrified, as his sister’s daughter held a knife to his groin and her wolf stood snarling in his ear. He tore his eyes from her and looked up as the little man from the north walked with the devil who had killed Franque Thorinson.

  Braen and Sippen emerged from the building. It was noticeably colder than it had been when they’d carried him into the house a few days before. Shivering, he pulled his furs closer. Far down the pier he saw that Eusari talking to the man with whom she had returned. Shon Wembley, Sippen had said that his name was. The name meant nothing to Braen, but he watched closely as Eusari pulled one of her knives and placed it against the man’s groin.

  Her anger did not surprise him, rather he smiled at the thought that the stranger had met his match. Braen knew firsthand she was a dangerous woman to slight. She could also carry a grudge for decades. What surprised him was the huge black wolf that stood beside Eusari as if she had raised it as a pup. When the animal stood up to growl in Wembley’s face, Braston increased the speed at which he walked, suddenly worried that she or it would kill the man.

  “Eusari,” he called out in a cheery voice, as if he would invite the stranger to tea, “please introduce me to your new friend.”

  She withdrew the knife and stepped back. Her wolf did the same. The man, visibly shaken, just stood on the pier staring at Braen. He appeared too terrified to move a single step. Without looking away, Eusari said, “This is my Uncle Shon, Braen.”

  Now that is more surprising than the wolf, he thought. He smiled and reached out his hand in a greeting. It was ignored. “Well then, bring your uncle inside where it’s warmer. I’m sure that we’ve a lot to talk about.” He started to return to the building, but paused to circle around with a smile. “Please leave the dog outside. We don’t know if it’s housebroken.” Angling his head toward Sippen, he added in a whisper, “Hell, I don’t think she’s housebroken. The little man smiled as they returned inside to wait.

  Samani Kernigan was already seated at the kitchen table when they walked in, and Braen chose a chair next to him. Sippen cleared the table of the old mugs and grabbed several new ones and a pitcher of ale, setting them on the table. A few moments later Eusari and Shon joined them, taking seats across from the two men. The wolf casually strolled in and took its place next to Eusari on the floor. Braen glanced at the animal and then raised an eyebrow toward its master. She shrugged.

  Braen looked at the newcomer, his eyes staring with obvious disdain. “Sippen tells me that you’re not a fan of Northmen.”

  “You can say that, Braen Braston. That’s your name, isn’t it? The son of Krist Braston.”

  “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. And yes, it is I. We both know you’ve several very good reasons to hate me, especially given that my family has not been kind to your people. Can we get this behind us and move on to business?”

  Shon placed his hands up in a shrug. “What is it that you would like to know?”

  “What I want to know is are you really her uncle? Also, how did you two meet up?”

  Eusari answered for him. “He is my uncle. I was young, but I remember him. Also, he knows specifics about my family from Brentway.”

  Braen’s perked at the sound of the town. “You’re from Brentway?”

  “Yes. My father was the constable there. Shon was his deputy.”

  Shock flashed through Braen like a sudden kick to the stomach. He remembered the town very clearly, events about Eusari’s past suddenly coming into focus. It must have shown on his face, because Wembley smiled and sat up straighter.

  “That’s right, Prince Braston. Her father was the constable.” Grinning as he spoke, he pressed, “Why don’t you tell Eusari how her father died.”

  Kernigan set his drink on the table and watched Braen very closely. All eyes waited. The bearded man stared at the table, too embarrassed to look at Eusari. The details of that night were blurred, but certain details were still clear. Yes, he remembered the constable. He remembered him very well.

  Eusari broke the silence with one word, “Braen?”

  Staring at the table, Braen answered softly, “I’m sorry. I knew that my family had hurt yours, but I didn’t realize how much until just now.”

  “Realized what, Braen?”

  “Eusari. I killed your father.”

  She looked at Shon, eyes begging confirmation from her uncle. “Is this true? Are you sure?”

  Her uncle nodded. “I’ll never forget the face of the demon who diced up my mentor.”

  Eusari went silent. She swallowed and stared straight ahead, not looking at Braen. “Tell me the details.”

  Shon began, “He came at us…”

  “Not from you.” She silenced the man with a fierce look and turned toward Braen. “You. You will tell me everything.”

  “We attacked Brentway at dawn. The town slept and Skander took teams door to door, killing many of the men in their beds. I followed Father to the tavern. The constable, your father, had a contingent of ten or so men with him, many of whom were archers. My father asked them to lay down their weapons and come outside. He meant to spare them, thinking that they would just bribe us to leave like most other towns and villages.”

  Tears began slowly dripping down Braen’s face. “One of them fired a crossbow at my father, striking him in the chest. He nearly died from that bolt.” He looked directly at Eusari when he said the rest. “I lost my temper. Just like I did the other day. I went berserk and began killing.”

  Shon spoke up, “First, you hurled your axe at the man who fired the bolt.” He removed his from his belt and set it on the table. Braen stared for a moment, then reached down and removed his own. Two identical partners lay on the table. Eusari gasped at the sight.

  Braen narrowed his eyes at Shon. “I killed that man. I know because that was my first kill.”

  “No, Braston.” He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a large horizontal scar just right of center in his chest. “You missed the vital organs. Just barely.”

  “Then I guess we’ve no more quarrel, Wembley.” Braen retrieved his axe and returned it to his belt. He left the matching axe on the table. “You may keep that one. It seems to be a good luck charm for you.”

  “You were possessed, the way that you killed my friends.” Shon pointed at Eusari and added, “The way that you killed her father.”

  “Yes. Yes, I was.” Braen remembered charging the men, slashing and chopping them into pieces. He had never been proud of his actions. “I was an animal.”

  “No. You were a demon. I wake at night, remembering the way you cut them apart like a butcher.”

  “I do too, Wembley. Not a night goes by that I don’t remember the first night I killed.” Looking at Eusari, he added, “I’m so sorry. If I’d known that I had killed your father, then I would’ve told you. Sincerely, I would have.”

  “The sad thing is that I believe you.” She shook her head, turning hateful eyes downward. “This makes us even, Braston. I’ve no more debt to you.”

  “There is not now, nor
has there ever been a debt, Sari. It’s I who am indebted to you for the sins of my brother.”

  “The brother you refuse to overthrow?” Her green eyes, filled with anger, finally met his. “Where do your allegiances lie?”

  “Actually, Samani and I discussed that earlier before you both arrived. He’s convinced me to take Pirate’s Cove from Stefan Nevra. After that I’ll stage an attack on my brother. Would you like to join me in this endeavor?”

  Eusari thought for several moments. “It’s the only home I remember.” She softened. “Yes. I’ll help.”

  Looking at Wembley, Braen inquired, “How many men do you have hiding in the forest, ready to attack when you give the signal?”

  Shocked, the man went pale.

  “This forest is the border between Loganshire and Fjorik, home of escaped slaves from the north and outlaws from the Empire. No one hunts in the Black Forest of Diaph, not with all of the outlaws who roam its trails. Not unless you’re one of them.”

  “I was scouting. I lead no one.”

  “No. I doubt you’re a mere scout. I think you’re the leader of a band of men, and I’m asking you to help us. What do we need to do for you before you’ll lend aid?”

  Shon Wembley picked up the axe from the table, turning it over and over in his hands while he thought. Finally, after a long, deep breath, he said, “I’ve approximately two hundred archer and crossbowmen surrounding this camp.”

  Braen did not outwardly flinch but watched as Eusari and Sippen turned ghostly pale. “And your demand?”

  “We need to free about twenty-five of my men from the jail in Diaph and break into the Diaph Rookery. They have something of immense value to me.” He looked at Braston and held out his hand to the Northman. “Get me into Diaph and I’ll help you win your revenge.”

  Braen and Wembley shook hands and Kernigan cleared his throat. Both men turned to look at him expectantly, since he had been largely quiet during the exchange. “Where can we get our hands on a lot of steel or iron for my genius friend, here.” He gestured at Sippen.

  All eyes turned to the little man whose face reddened at the sudden attention. Braen explained, “They need materials to develop a new type of weapon, Shon.”

  Samani reached down and removed the hand cannon from his belt. Placing it on the table, he explained, “This gadget is the sole reason that he and I escaped The Cove. He needs iron to make more. Lots more, and I have an idea to make them more effective at range. Sippen needs materials to crank out enough for a small army.”

  Wembley frowned. “How is that little thing better than a bow?”

  Samani picked it up off the table, cocked back the lever and pointed it at an empty wine bottle on the counter. He winked at Sippen, who had placed his fingers into his ears, smiling as he did. With a single motion of Kernigan’s finger, fire exploded from the barrel and the wine glass exploded into bits of broken glass. The deafening sound rocked the little room and everyone else at the table fell from their chairs to the floor. All except Sippen, still smiling with his fingers in his ears. The wolf whined and ran from the room at the sudden blast.

  Dazed, Shon rose from the ground along with Braen and Eusari. Eyes wide, he looked at Sippen with amazement. “You made that?”

  Taking his fingers out and lowering his hands, he nodded. “Yes.”

  “What do you need to make more?”

  “Iron and charcoal.”

  Wembley smiled. “Well, this is your lucky day. As a matter of fact, I recently took a large amount of food, raw iron, and weapons from the Diaph army.”

  “Then we need a plan, gentlemen.” Samani held up his mug and toasted the air before downing the contents.

  Braen picked his chair up off the ground and dusted himself before sitting. “Tell me about Diaph. I haven’t been there in over a decade.”

  Shon nodded and started marking on a piece of parchment that Sippen handed him. “The city is about five miles upriver from the mouth of the Logan. The fort is a half star with the longest side facing the water. A land assault is nearly impossible, given the angles of the walls.”

  “How so?” Eusari looked intently at the drawing.

  Indicating with his pencil he explained. “There are only two batteries facing the forest, but a small contingent of archers can pick off many foot soldiers from murder holes, essentially from any angle. That severely impacts my ability to get ground troops in. I’ve no artillery, so I can’t soften the walls.”

  Braen pointed at the batteries that Shon had drawn atop the palisades. “How many guns are facing the harbor?”

  “The harbor is huge. There are four batteries here, here, here and here. They’re pointed at the river and each cover an overlapping radius. Not to mention, there’re usually between five or eight imperial ships in the harbor.” Shon sat back in his chair as if to emphasize the difficulty of the raid.

  Samani spoke, “Sippen, can you make some more carcass rounds? Something smaller that can be handheld and thrown by a man?”

  The little man’s eyes grew with understanding. “I… I have twenty rounds uh… aboard Ice Prince. I cuh... can repack those. Guh… give you about thuh… thirty, total.” After some thought, he added, “Buh… but the fuse will be tricky.”

  Eusari nodded. Her men had been training hard and picked up quickly on the idea. “Shon, my team is smaller than it should be, and I need you to choose some of your most elite men to help us. If we go in with six teams of five, we can clear the forest facing guns and most of the murder holes.”

  Shon nodded. “Ok. But what are carcass rounds?” He appeared confused.

  Samani and Sippen smiled from ear to ear and Kernigan spoke, “You’re going to love those things.”

  Yurik took out another piece of parchment and handed it to Braen, who listed items and gear that they’d need for the assault. They planned throughout the evening and well into the night.

  Chapter Thirty

  Marcus nervously waited in The Room for the council to complete their vote. He had already downed an entire bottle of bad wine, completely ignoring the flavor. Tired of pacing, he settled down to play cards with Matteas. He had already lost several hands, but hardly noticed. He focused more on the door than on his hand.

  “Relax, Your Highness. I assure you it’s going as planned.”

  “How can you be sure? So calm?”

  “Experience my liege.”

  Laying down his cards, he rose up and decided to try pacing again. “What if they don’t choose Campton? What will the Falconers do to me?”

  “Trust in the process, Marcus.” The Captain General leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table and fingers laced together behind his head. “This Empire is way older than you, and those cursed bird-men have been running things the entire time. Besides, what you did at the trial was genius. There’s no way that anybody will dare to oppose your claim.”

  “We need to find my brother before I can relax completely.” Pouring another glass of wine, Marcus looked at the soldier. “Are you sure about that report? Is it really accurate?”

  “Yes. Weston opened the doors to the Pescari, and your idiot brother was humiliated. Now he’s hiding out, afraid to leave but afraid to show his face.”

  “I want him found. Both him AND that General Reeves must be killed.”

  Matteas closed his eyes. “Trust in the process, son.”

  “I’ve told you not to call me that.” Marcus shot him eyes full of daggers. “I told you never to say that out loud.”

  “Well, it’s true. Your mother married a king who couldn’t knock her up, and she visited me whenever the fancy took her. You’d do well to remember that, boy. You’re half me and half your mother. Why do you think I am so damned loyal to you?”

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t want that information known.”

  “It won’t be.”

 
“What will happen in Weston? Should I send troops to force out the Pescari?”

  “If you do, then you’ll face a civil war. Those horse lovers out west will raise an army and blame you for starting it. No, I recommend that you send troops to Eskera, cutting off Robert’s escape and trapping Reeves’ troops out in the open.”

  “Make it happen.”

  “I already did, my liege.” A sarcastic smile lit up Brohn’s face as he lay with eyes closed. “I sent a team of assassins to Weston to find and kill your brother. I also dispatched an additional five thousand troops to Eskera. That makes a total of seventy-five hundred against two thousand, in case your brother challenges.”

  “What if the northern king attacks?”

  “He won’t. He’s a coward who likes to carve up women and kill babies. No, he isn’t a general like his brother. Braen is the military genius in that family.” He opened an eye and rested it on Marcus. “We should be more worried about that one if he ever defeats Skander.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  Matteas closed his eyes again. “Focus on your kingdom, find and kill Robert and let Nevra take care of Braston for you. He’s one man and only has a couple of ships at his disposal. Honestly, it’s not like he has an army or an entire fleet.” Noises at the door caught the captain general’s attention. He snapped alert and jumped to his feet. One hand touched the hilt of his sword and he moved between Marcus and the door.

  The heavy door opened slowly, and Lord Campton Shol strode in with a smile on his face. In a single bow, he was kneeling before the Esterling boy. “I, Campton Shol, High Chancellor of Eston, swear my undying fealty to you, my liege. The council is ready to name you Marcus Esterling, King of the Eston Empire.”

  A smile broadened on the boy’s face, “So it’s done?”

  Matteas nodded. “It’s done.”

  Lord Shol regained his feet and gestured to the door. The council wants to see their new king.” Marcus regained his composure and left the room with head held high and the captain general at his heels.