by CJ Brightley
I dismounted to calm the mare, but Rihol’s enthusiasm was unchecked, and finally I hoisted him to my shoulders to keep him from being kicked. Lifting him hurt, but carrying him was easy enough, though I nearly dropped him once when the heel of his flailing foot grazed my ribs. He hugged my head in apology and managed to restrain himself thereafter.
We made our way into town and someone took the horse’s bridle from me as Hakan greeted me in the street. I lifted Rihol down and sent him off to his sister, who was giving me a very strange look. Twilling ushered us into the dining room and closed the door after us so we could speak in relative peace.
Hakan’s first words though were not about my mission. “I didn’t know you liked children.” He was smiling as if I had done something very funny.
“Should I not?” I’ve never understood why some men seem to abhor the company of children. They’re something of a fascinating and exotic species to me since I cannot remember being so innocent. They are pleasant, rather baffling at times, but certainly nothing to fear as many men seem to fear them. I’d always wanted children of my own. Most people got a little edgy if I even looked at their children, not to mention the sting when children shied away from me. Rihol’s friendly smiles were a rare gift.
He laughed. “I just never expected it, Kemen. You do look rather fierce, you know.”
I shrugged. “Your message was very well received. The leader of the raiding party here commands many of the raids down the border. His name is Zuzay Tafari, and he’s the younger brother of the king Ashmu Tafari. He promised to deliver your letter to the king, and he will send one of his men with the answer in some fourteen days. He also promised no raids until the answer was received.”
“Good! I didn’t know you were a diplomat as well, but you seem to have made quite an impression. I didn’t expect such good news.” He smiled warmly and called for Twilling to bring me some dinner. “You look tired. How was your travel?”
“I had no problems.” But pain is tiring and I was glad to be back in town with a bed waiting for me, though normally I’d consider it an unnecessary luxury.
He studied me a moment as Twilling brought the food. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I smelled the rich bread and meat.
“I would like more of your impressions of them, but I’ll not prevent you from eating now.” He spoke quietly as I ate. “Priven’s son returned the day after you left. Rysling and Fairsky have sworn their allegiance to me as well.”
I nodded. Good. It was a good start, though far from enough. The population of Erdem is some four hundred thousand people, with some fifty thousand of those in and around Stonehaven. The others are scattered about in various smaller towns, with the port city of Pirketa being the next largest at around twenty thousand. Farming and herding towns like Rysling and Fairsky often have no more than a thousand, with those spread loosely about a town center which may only have a few hundred people. Some twenty five thousand men served in the army then, with perhaps half of those being foundlings or orphans and half volunteers. The allegiance of two or three little towns was hopeful, but hardly likely to sway the outcome of any fight for the crown.
Twilling opened the door after a hasty knock. “There is someone here to see you.”
Hayato pushed past him with a quick nod, and Twilling closed the door when we stood to greet him.
“Hayato! I didn’t expect you so soon.” I smiled.
He smiled tightly. “I have news, and not all of it good.” Then he looked closer at me. “Phraa, what happened to you? You look like death!”
“Come, sit. I’m having dinner and I don’t intend to stop while you talk.”
He bowed to Hakan and pulled out a chair, looking me over critically.
“Fight with a raiding party. I think we’re on our way to an agreement with Tafari. What’s your news?” I asked.
“I bet it was a fight! You’re fine then?”
I smiled and nodded at his concern. I hadn’t thought we were close enough for him to notice or care.
“I’ve left word with a few men I trust where I am, in case they find out anything else. Last week, Katzu Itxaro, you remember he’s in charge of the kedani out of Rivensworth. Well, last week Itxaro received orders to march east to secure the border from the northeastern corner south to Tarman’s Pass. They’re leaving today.”
What did that mean? Simple border security? War? A threat of war to secure a peace arrangement? Simply an excuse to get the kedani away from Stonehaven?
Hakan leaned forward, his eyes bright. “Who gave the order? Vidar or Taisto?”
“It was given in Vidar’s name, but I haven’t heard anything sure.” Hayato addressed the prince for the first time, and I felt a little guilty. If he was to be king, I supposed I would have to let him take the lead occasionally. “The bodies have finally been taken down in Stonehaven as well, so that’s some relief.”
“What?” Hakan glanced at me and then back at Hayato.
“The bodies. The people from the palace, you know.”
“What? What do you mean?” Hakan’s voice rose.
Hayato glanced at me. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew already. It’s been nearly a month.” He spoke very quietly. “The royal tutor Tibon Rusta, his wife, the head groom Greso Torna, several menservants, a stable boy, and one of the cooks were accused of being part of an assassination plot. One which was presumed successful. They found a young man dead outside the walls of Stonehaven. He was disfigured, but wearing your clothes and carried your bootknife. The body was presumed to be yours. They were beheaded and the bodies have been on display in Stonehaven for over three weeks.”
Hakan looked like he might be sick. “Who ordered the executions?”
“Vidar. Or Taisto. No one can be sure now.”
“Who was the boy?”
Hayato shrugged slightly. “There are many young men of your age and build in Stonehaven. It could have been any of them.”
Especially since those who knew him best were conveniently executed.
14
That night I stripped off my shirt and loosened the binding around my ribs. I tried to keep my breathing steady; breathing faster at the pain only made it worse. Hakan inspected me with a frown.
“How is it?”
“Could be worse.” Could have been better, too. I carefully lay back on the bed and tried not to groan.
“Question for you.”
I nodded.
“Were you ever going to tell me about these?” He held up the strip of cloth with my medals pinned to it.
I shrugged. “Why?”
“The Golden Eagle Regnant? The Iron Shield and the King’s Silver Eagle? In the same year? The Emerald Heart? Six bronze stars?” He was almost laughing. “That’s incredible, Kemen. You might have told me about these at first. I was terrified of you.”
I grunted. “Maybe you should have been. You were whiny and annoying.” I was joking. Mostly. By then he knew me well enough to realize it, and he grinned.
“I was. I’m surprised you put up with me.”
“So am I.” I took another deep breath, which hurt immensely but also felt refreshing after the tightness of the strap.
He laid the cloth down on the table, inspecting each medal. “The army didn’t offer to keep you on? The Iron Shield is a command award. There should have been a place for you, even if you were crippled, and obviously you weren’t.”
“No.”
I’d wondered about that as well, sometimes in bitter frustration and sometimes only in hurt confusion. I’d given so much for my country, loved Erdem with everything I had. But I wasn’t even allowed to continue my service.
When I’d walked out of the infirmary at Fort Kardu still unsteady on my feet, I’d been so dazed by my injury and so heartsick I hadn’t even asked for my pension. Later when I could think a bit more clearly, it seemed stupid and greedy to request it, and I’d never pursued the matter. I began my civilian life with a few golden eagles in my pocket, two weeks�
�� worth of dried venison, a long line of medals pinned to a strip of cloth with officer’s stripes cut from the breast of my uniform, my sword, my bootknife, and nothing else to show for my service except the scars.
15
I wondered how we were to fulfill the promises we had made to Tafari, even though we had not yet received his answer. But Hakan was not worried, saying that he knew several noblemen who would be glad to lend him money to buy the grain we had promised to deliver. Hayato left early the next morning with some dozen letters from Hakan to the nobles he trusted. Hakan gave Hayato the authority to accept the money on his behalf and Hayato promised to send word to us about the nobles’ responses.
The days until we received word from Tafari were restful and my aching ribs began to heal, but my mind was not peaceful. Four days passed easily in the clear warmth of late spring in the mountains. I watched the men practice their moves. They would be of little use against trained warriors, of course; there was no time for true training. In truth, I didn’t expect they would need to fight, but they coveted knowledge. It gave them courage and confidence, and more than that gave them pride because they didn’t feel so helpless. I hoped they would never have to use what I taught them, and while we awaited Hayato’s news I hoped that peace would come.
Little Rihol scampered about my feet and imitated my every move, much to the embarrassment of his sister. The other girls and women were warmer toward me, though always cautious and carefully aloof. I supposed I couldn’t blame them. The men they knew, fathers, brothers, and sons, were farmers and blacksmiths, shepherds, men of the soil. Despite their gratitude, which I confess warmed me, they never knew quite what to make of me.
I saw Bethla several times as she was drawing water, and she smiled at me. I didn’t expect her to speak to me much. There was little to say and it wasn’t entirely proper for a girl of her age to speak with a soldier, especially not a Dari soldier. But it was kind of her to smile as she did.
I did wonder why Rihol’s sister was so cool towards me. Perhaps I hadn’t been fair to her; maybe she feared Rihol’s admiration of me. Though I’d never experienced it, I imagined that a sister’s fear for a little brother is protective and sheltering. Maybe it was not that she feared me but that she feared that Rihol might choose to follow my path as a soldier.
Perhaps a week after I’d returned from the parley, I leaned against the edge of the low wall surrounding the well and watched Adin practice with his staff. The afternoon sun was warm on my shoulders.
I hurt. The ends of my broken ribs ground against each other with every breath. Earlier, before I’d moved upwind, I’d inhaled a bit of dust Adin kicked up and coughed, the pain searing across my chest.
Nevertheless, I was happy. Hakan was off helping Mullin with something, and I’d seen Rihol and his sister that morning. His sister smiled cautiously and Rihol pulled away from her to run to me. I knelt to speak with him face to face and he grinned. I was more than shocked when he wrapped his arms around my neck in a sudden laughing hug. He smiled like hay, dusty and fresh. I showed him how to clasp elbows as soldiers do. My forearm was more than twice as long as his and far too large for him to really hold, but he’d nodded seriously before grinning again.
A child’s laugh can brighten a whole day.
Adin was doing something wrong with his feet and I was about to correct him when I realized the girl off to the side was approaching me. I bowed slightly to her, and she smiled tentatively.
“Sir?” She held out a basket with a cloth covering something in it. “My mother and I baked these for you.”
“Thank you. What are they?” I took the basket and set it on the edge of the well. I was trying to remember if I should know her name, and finally decided that I hadn’t ever heard it, though I’d seen her speaking with Bethla a few times at the well.
“Nut cakes with cinnamon and honey.” She bit her lip. “Aren’t you going to try one?”
I smiled. When I pushed the cloth back, the smell was sweet, spicy, and warm. “Would you share it with me?”
She licked her lips and glanced away for a moment, then she nodded. I broke off a bit of one flat loaf and offered her the basket. She leaned on the wall an arm’s length away, as I were some dangerous animal she didn’t quite trust.
“My grandda said green eyes aren’t natural.” She didn’t look at me.
I took a bite of the sweet honeyed cake. I didn’t really know what to say, so I watched Adin mangling the form for the strike I had taught him earlier.
Finally, after the silence had become uncomfortably long, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t choose the color.”
She glanced at me. “Bethla’s my friend.” There was another long silence, and finally she said quietly, “Thank you.”
The eleventh day after I returned, the twelfth after my parley with Zuzay Tafari, was bright in the morning, the air glowing in brilliance sunshine. But the afternoon brought clouds roiling from the west, ready to drop their rain as they flung themselves headlong into the sharp peaks of the mountains. The rain arrived just before the messenger did, spattered with mud clear to his dripping hair, having ridden in the downpour all the way from the garrison at Rysig. Twilling opened the door at his knock with an exclamation of surprise and a kindly hand on his elbow as the young man stumbled inside.
“I bring a message for Kemen Sendoa from Commander Hayato Jalo.” Twilling pointed him toward the table where Hakan and I were standing, and the young man dropped to one knee in a bow deeper than he would have bowed even to a king at his coronation.
“Stand up! Come, sit, and give me the message.” I bowed in return, though more properly, and pulled out a chair for him as I sat again. He was a young recruit, some two or three years older than Hakan, well built, fairskinned and blondhaired under the grime of the road. His uniform proclaimed him a suvari. He dropped into the chair with a sigh of utter weariness, inclining his head toward me in another gesture of respect, but pushed himself up to sit straight and formally, as if he were still in training before a high commanding officer.
He scarcely glanced at the prince, addressing himself to me. “Sir, I am Eskarne Desta.”
Mercy Joy. A very odd name for a warrior, for clearly he was one, but the name made me warm towards whoever had given it to him. Mercy. There should be more that in the world. And Joy. Never enough of that either.
“Your fame has spread all the way to Stonehaven, and I am honored to be chosen to bring you this message from Commander Hayato Jalo. He gives you greatest respect and honor, and - “
I interrupted him. “Wait. What? Fame? What are you talking about?”
He bowed his head again. “Your fame, the tale of your great battle with the army of Rikuto. How you defeated so many, all alone against their champions! I am honored to meet you, sir.”
I groaned and leaned forward to put my head in my hands, my side stretching uncomfortably. It was absurd. When we needed people to support Hakan they talked of my skirmish? Courage and skill in battle, though valuable and necessary, do not qualify one to be king.
“It was a raiding party, not an army.” I sat up to stare at him, though I let myself rub my aching ribs. “It was nothing more than a raid, and there were no champions there on either side. Just a few Rikutan warriors and me. It was no great battle.”
He inclined his head, speaking quietly as if he thought I would be angry at him. “Be that as it may, sir, the tale has spread rapidly, and reached Stonehaven some five or six days ago. It spread like wildfire. You are exceedingly popular there, a great hero of the people. The message from Commander Jalo is this: Because of your prowess and courage, and your unwavering support of the prince, the suvari has firmly cast its support behind the prince as well. They count you one of their own despite your years of service in the kedani, and they trust your judgment. This has not yet been made known to Nekane Vidar or Ryuu Taisto, who still believe they have the entire army at their command.
“Commander Jalo says also that his friend Kat
zu Itxaro has sent him news of much division among the ranks of the kedani, some casting their support behind Vidar and Taisto, some behind the prince. He has had some difficulty in keeping peace among the men. The word of your great battle has swayed the balance toward the prince. Though you are respected by all without exception, not all have extended that trust and respect to the prince. Yet. Rumors of his death are still spreading, and many do not know what to think. They are already marching toward the border, and their news has been limited. Jalo’s personal friendship with you availed much in the suvari, and he believes that a similar personal connection to Itxaro might assist in gaining the support of those in the kedani yet undecided.” He bowed again.
I sat back to think.
Hakan’s soft laughter startled me. The young soldier and I both turned to stare at him, and he grinned. “Kemen, really, you have to laugh. Did you ever think that one battle, gallant and heroic as it was, would sway the entire nation? As if I deserve the trust of the army more because of your heroism.”
He smiled at Desta without affectation. “Kemen Sendoa is as noble a warrior as you will ever have the honor to meet. I’ll do my best to live up to his trust and the honor of his esteem.” His tone had turned quite royal to go along with his words, and he turned to meet my gaze seriously. “I’ll be the best king I can, because you have trusted me to do so. I would not disappoint you, for I respect you more than anyone else in this world. I would not fail you after you’ve made such sacrifices for me.”
I opened my mouth in surprise, but I could think of nothing to say.
Desta hesitated a moment, looking back and forth between us with wide eyes. “There is more to the message. Commander Jalo says that he has received affirmative responses from six of the men you sent messages to, as well as more than enough money. They are Vellorn, Kalyano, Tiniam, Rilhoma, Chastin, and Worthenson. He has not spoken to the others because he thought it wise to keep word that you were alive as quiet as possible. Those six send word that they are firmly with you and if you have need of anything, they are entirely at your service.