Maelstrom
Page 24
Trevn knelt beside Wilek and grabbed his own handful of snow.
“We thank you, Arman, for this land,” Wilek said, “and dedicate it to you. Our people will honor you here.” He glanced at Trevn. “We vow to you they will, as long as it is in our power to lead them. Vow it, Trevn.”
“I vow it,” Trevn said.
Wilek bowed down and kissed the cold, gritty rocks. Trevn mirrored him. Heat grew within Wilek’s chest, and words came from inside his head.
“WELCOME, LITTLE KINGS. WITH YOU BOTH I AM WELL PLEASED. TAKE THIS LAND AS YOUR OWN AND MAKE A PLACE FOR MY PEOPLE. FOLLOW MY COMMANDS AND YOU WILL PROSPER. DO NOT HARDEN YOUR HEARTS AS YOUR FOREFATHERS DID IN THE DESERT OF ARMANIA, WHERE THEY TESTED AND TRIED ME. THEIR HEARTS WENT ASTRAY FROM MY WAYS, AND THEY SHALL NEVER ENTER MY REST.”
Wilek gasped, overcome by warmth and love. He glanced at Trevn and found his brother’s face amazed and streaked in tears.
“We will not harden our hearts, Arman,” Wilek said. “We will follow your commands as they are written in your book.”
“I HAVE SET ASIDE FOR MY CHOSEN PEOPLE A GIFT,” the God said. “FOR THOSE IN WHICH THE BLOOD OF KINGS RUNS TRUE, IF USED WELL, THIS GIFT WILL SAVE YOU FROM THE EVIL YOU BROUGHT TO THIS LAND. USE IT NOW. SPEAK TO YOUR BROTHER IN SILENCE, WITH YOUR MIND. THINK AND HE WILL HEAR YOU.”
Wilek glanced at Trevn, who shrugged. “What did the God mean?”
Trevn grabbed his arm. “He means think to me and I will hear you. I just did! You thought, ‘What did the God mean?’”
“You heard that?”
“Yes.” Trevn’s voice in his mind. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes!”
“It’s like the soul-binding,” Wilek said, wary.
Trevn nodded. “But no mantic cast a spell. Arman spoke to us, Wil.”
Wilek could not deny that the voice was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
“Is it just for us?” Trevn asked.
“He said it was for his chosen people. For those in which the blood of kings runs true.”
“So . . . royalty?” Trevn asked. “See if you can talk to Sârah Zeroah.”
“Zeroah?” Wilek thought.
He heard no answer.
Perhaps he needed to concentrate or be closer. “I don’t want to frighten her,” Wilek said. “Let’s move ahead cautiously. Tell no one of this for now, at least until we understand it better.”
“A solid plan,” Trevn said. “Let’s post the flag and get a fire built. I can’t feel my feet. It would be a shame to freeze to death after coming so far.”
“A person can freeze to death?” Wilek asked.
Trevn pushed off Wilek’s shoulder and stood. “You really should read more, brother.”
“Wait!” Wilek pulled Trevn back down beside him. “We must thank Arman for this gift.”
The first night came with no sign of pirates, Rogedoth, Magonians, or natives, or dangerous beasts. Wilek and Trevn shared a tent and built up a strong fire in their brazier, but it remained so cold in their beds that they dragged their mattresses over by the fire. Despite being warmer, Wilek couldn’t sleep. Everything felt too still without the constant rocking of the ship. The waves crashing on the shore and strange birdcalls kept him alert. From the sounds of Trevn’s thrashing about, it was the same for him.
In the morning, once Wilek realized they were still alone, he sent messages to the Seffynaw, Kaloday, and Gillsmore to announce his plans to stay. King Loran came ashore at once and set up his own camp, but Emperor Ulrik sent back a message that he wanted to settle his own land apart from Armania and would take the remainder of his ships up the western coast.
Wilek and King Loran met, and several plans were put in motion. Three groups of explorers set out to survey the land. Wilek sent Rost Keppel and his team up the eastern coast. King Loran sent his explorers to the west. And Wilek allowed Trevn to take a group of soldiers inland to search the immediate area for signs of life and to determine the best means for building shelters.
“Do not go far,” Wilek reminded his brother. “I need you to bring me answers with haste. We have to accommodate a hundred thousand people coming ashore.”
Trevn looked out to sea and the ships that had anchored along the coastline. “I don’t think we have near that many left, brother. I doubt we have half what we came with.”
Surely not.
“It will take time to gain an accurate count,” Wilek admitted. “But we can’t have lost that many. Now, I want you back before midday. No drawing maps today. We must organize or we’ll have a disaster on our hands. Plus I need some time with you to figure out how this blood gift works.”
“I need to find Mielle.”
Wilek sighed. “Please don’t do that until we can practice. It unnerves me.”
“I didn’t mean to do it that time,” Trevn said, grinning. “But it is rather easy.” And he started to sing a song in his head about the first king of Armania.
Wilek scowled at his little brother. “There must be some way I can block your thoughts if I don’t want to hear them.”
Trevn shrugged. “Concentration, perhaps?”
“I don’t have time for this. Prepare your team. And find someone else who can mind-speak and practice with them.”
“Can I try Hinck?”
“Excellent idea,” Wilek said. “I would like to know where he is. If he made it to Rogedoth’s ship.”
“If he’s alive?” Trevn added.
“That too. Investigate this mind-speaking quietly, please. I want to know who has this ability, and I want them to keep it private for now. It might frighten people.”
“Did you talk to your wife?” Trevn asked.
“I have yet to see her today,” Wilek said. “I will ask her tonight. Right now we have a settlement to build.”
By the end of the first full day, the new settlement consisted of nothing more than several dozen military tents. Wilek wanted to build a watchtower fortress, but Trevn pointed out that Armanian builders were mostly masons, so they would need to apprentice with some of King Loran’s carpenters if they were to build anything worthwhile out of wood.
Just after dinner Wilek met with the Wisean Council, King Loran and his advisors, and another two dozen staff from both realms. For now, Rosâr Echad remained bedridden on the Seffynaw, in no condition to be moved in this cold until they had a safe place to put him.
Initial reports from all the explorers confirmed that the land was vast. They had encountered no natives on their brief tour but had found signs of life in several abandoned settlements, some with brush shelters, others with pit houses. Master Keppel believed the natives to be nomads who likely followed a herd of animals.
This worried King Loran that the winter would be hard if large game was scarce, but Rayim was optimistic over rabbit tracks he’d seen. He felt that smaller animals were usually more prevalent than big game. This started a long discussion over food. Trevn volunteered to take Maleen, the pale, exploring to see if the young man knew anything of this land.
The topic shifted to housing. Wilek didn’t want to see tens of thousands of commoners homeless and wandering the frozen land. The brush shelters and pit houses could be used, temporarily, at least. The ships could continue to be lived in as well, though each needed to be beached for repairs and for cleaning the hulls.
King Loran volunteered his carpenters to train the Armanian masons to log trees, mill the wood into lumber, and assemble simple wooden structures. It was also decided that they would build a fortress that both Armanian and Sarikarian royalty would share for the time being. Once warmer temperatures came, King Loran wanted to explore farther west.
The discussion ended on the topic of how to let people off the ships. Each captain would be responsible for communicating with his passengers and crew to determine who would continue to live on board and who would move ashore. Once all the captains’ reports came in, Wilek and King Loran would have some idea of how many people would need shelter and cou
ld be put to work building or hunting.
When Wilek lay in bed that night in his tent with Zeroah beside him, he told her about hearing Arman’s voice and the mind-speaking gift the God had given to him and Trevn.
“He said the gift was for his people, for those with the blood of kings. I wondered if you might have it too.”
“How would I know?” she asked.
“Send me a thought.”
“You sound crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, my dear.”
She gasped and touched her temples. “I heard your voice in my mind.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
“What does it mean?”
“Arman said it would save us from the evil we brought to this land.”
“What evil?” Zeroah asked
Wilek took a deep breath. “I wish I knew.”
“What do we call this place?” she asked. “The New Five Realms?”
“Tenma is practically extinct. The Five Realms are no more.” A word came to Wilek then. It was the ancient word for land and seemed somehow appropriate. “Others may choose whatever name they please, but I will call this new land Er’Rets.”
Hinck
Rogedoth had demanded Hinck, Lady Lilou, and several others serve as malleants while the mantics wielded magic to survive the storm. Hinck had tried to fake a drink from the evenroot bottle that Timmons had forced on him, but a tiny swallow had seeped in and made him sick enough to fall into a delusion. When he’d finally awakened, he found himself in bed in his cabin. He’d refused the shadir that came to him, which had made Lady Mattenelle so nervous she’d cast a spell to heal him herself.
“You must be more careful,” she’d said. “If the king finds out you refuse the milk of Gâzar and the healing of shadir, he will be very upset.”
Hinck had seen what Rosârah Laviel did when she was angry. He had no desire to find out what her father might do.
The Amarnath had continued on for three more weeks in search of an island chain that Rogedoth’s shadir was supposedly leading them to. But when they finally reached land one rainy morning, it turned out to be no more than three islands.
The Amarnath dropped anchor, as did the twenty-some other ships Rogedoth had pirated in the past few months. An army of dinghies carrying Rogedoth and his mantics stormed the beach. Despite the pouring rain they attacked a village of pales, subdued the leaders, and enslaved them all. By the time Hinck came to shore with Lady Eudora and her retinue of maidens, the worst of the evils had ended.
The island was covered in woodlands, though barren trees and bushes and yellow grass spoke of a winter season. The place reminded Hinck of the forest east of Faynor back in Sarikar, where the trees met the fog of The Gray. Though it had stopped raining by the time Hinck stepped ashore, the air itself seemed heavy with cool moisture. On the horizon forested hills rolled into the distance. The village itself consisted of several dozen stilted, reed-walled houses with steep, thickly pitched grass roofs. Mosquitoes were everywhere, and their bites itched madly.
In all there were eight mantics: Lady Zenobia, Zithel Lau, Filkin Yohthehreth, Sârah Jemesha, Rosârah Laviel, Rogedoth himself, Harton Sonber, and Lady Mattenelle, who, at her request, Hinck now called Nellie. Each mantic commandeered a stilted house. Hinck was to live in Nellie’s, Eudora told him as they made their way from the beach to the largest house in the village—the one Rogedoth had claimed for himself.
“Nellie gets a house but I don’t?” Hinck asked. “How does a concubine rank higher than an earl?”
“Your status in this kingdom has nothing to do with your birth or rank,” Eudora said. “It’s about loyalty. Lady Mattenelle is to keep an eye on you, because your loyalty remains in question to the king.”
Wonderful. “How can I prove my loyalty?” he asked.
“Stay out of the way for now. And if you are called upon, obey and be polite.”
Hinck was always polite. “So I’m to be a slave like the pales?”
“We all must obey our king,” she said, sneering.
But Rogedoth was not Hinck’s king. He met Eudora’s dark eyes, wondering how he would ever find his way back to the Armanians.
They reached the biggest house and climbed a short ladder to enter. The place seemed to be built of sticks, though inside, the floor was sturdy. Thin rods lashed together created walls that let the moist, cool air flow through the room. The inside was one large, rectangular space with several glassless windows on every wall. Grass mats covered the floor and some of the windows. Ladders on each end of the room led up to separate lofts.
Already Rogedoth had set up the thrones. He and his daughter were seated. Eudora left Hinck at the door and claimed her spot beside the king.
“I sense a new magic here, my queen,” Rogedoth said. “I first believed it to be an enhancement of our mantic abilities, but now I think it is something different.”
“What kind of magic?” Eudora asked.
“A form of mind-speak,” he said. “I am able to do it, as are Sârah Jemesha and Rosârah Laviel. But none of the others. I think it shall prove most useful to my plans.”
“It sounds awful,” Eudora said.
Rogedoth frowned at his bride, then looked away, his shrewd gaze scanning the room. He spotted Hinck and seemed to snarl like a fang cat about to pounce. “I see you brought Lord Dacre.”
“As you commanded,” Eudora said.
“Come forward, Lord Dacre,” Rogedoth said.
Hinck made his way to the front of the room. He glanced from Eudora to Rogedoth to Rosârah Laviel. He was still looking at Sâr Janek’s mother when he heard Rogedoth’s voice in his head.
“Do you hear me, Lord Dacre? I think you a traitor.”
Panic seized Hinck’s nerves. He kept his gaze steady, his thoughts blank, then slowly looked to Rogedoth, determined not to let the man know he could hear this new magic.
“I would have you swear fealty to me, Lord Dacre, and serve House Rogedoth as I see fit,” he said, then added silently, “Or you can die.”
Hinck bowed his head, trying to look honored and not completely terrified, though his hands were trembling. The words of such a vow meant nothing to Hinck, but to swear fealty meant that he would be Rogedoth’s man. He would have to take evenroot and worship the King of Magic and obey whatever insane command the man gave him.
Or die, apparently.
“I . . . am honored to swear loyalty to my king, Your Highness,” he said, thinking of Rosâr Echad and Sâr Wilek as he dropped to his knees.
Hinck had gone from being a pawn of princes to being the slave of a tyrant who wanted to kill him.
“Very good,” Rogedoth said, though Hinck could hear the mistrust in the man’s voice. “You, Lord Dacre, will join me as we begin our preparations. Already evenroot is being sowed in the ground, and soon we will have power enough to claim all the kingdoms as our own. Sarikar will fall. Armania will fall. And we shall rule.”
Hinck forced himself to keep from trembling, from picturing the terrible future the man claimed. He knew only two things: First, he would do all he could to stop Rogedoth’s plans.
Second, freedom was a long way off.
About the Author
Jill Williamson writes fantasy and science fiction for teens and adults. Jill grew up in Alaska, staying up and reading by the summer daylight that wouldn’t go away. This led to a love of books and writing, and her debut novel, By Darkness Hid, won several awards and was named a Best Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror novel of 2009 by VOYA magazine. She loves giving writing workshops and blogs for teen writers at www.GoTeenWriters.com. She now lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, two children, and a whole lot of deer. Visit her online at www.jillwilliamson.com.
THE KINSMAN CHRONICLES
Darkness Reigns
The Heir War
The End of All Things
Kingdom at Sea
Maelstrom
Voices of Blood
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