In the end, they chose the great banks of the Byrver. It was ideal, for the steep and muddy slopes would prevent fire from reaching any part of the city that may again be used or rebuilt. As callous as it seemed, it became much easier work to toss the bodies from the wagons down the riverbanks, even if it required some extra time and labor to get them there. They sprinkled the first few hundred corpses with oil, though Thyss claimed she needed no help to make them burn, and the fire began to rage steadily as they brought more for the burning. A cold wind blew from the north, taking the smoke and stench with it so that only those immediately near the great pyre had to endure the smells of burning hair and flesh.
After several days of this, it became clear that they needed more hands and able bodies.
“There are thousands of troops out their somewhere,” Cor told Rederick. “Those I brought were Lord Paton’s forces, but he had sent messages to lords all over Aquis, even the other Western kingdoms. The rally point was Martherus.”
“One way or the other, we need them,” Rederick agreed.
He penned a message, which he had copied two dozen times, requiring any hosts or armies loyal to the King of Aquis to immediately march for Byrverus. The Loszian invasion had been repulsed, though the invaders still held some ground, and a consolidation of forces was needed in order to complete the reconquest. Over a score men were pulled from their duties to take horses and ride. They were each given courses across Aquis that should intersect the most obvious tracks an army would take, and they were told to ride until they found friends or the end of Aquis.
“I hope you are right,” Rederick said to Cor.
“I am. They’re out there, and when they come, you must be King.”
32.
It was pitch black in Nadav’s hall as he sat in his platinum throne, alone with his thoughts. No one attended him, for he had left all of his servants and slaves behind, and he had yet to make the effort of finding more. All he had was his steward and the few servants that served the man, and Nadav rarely needed them for anything. He sat perfectly still, making no movement and no sound at all, and the silence itself seemed to be louder than any sound that may dare to break it.
It all was so surreal as to be impossible. Before he prostrated himself before his gods, he was already the most powerful Loszian sorcerer in the empire, and his gods had made him the most powerful ever. He had destroyed armies and laid waste to cities, and he had captured, raped and slain a king as easily as any peasant. And yet, here he sat in his platinum throne – alone, defeated and unheeded by his nobles, with no one to pleasure him. How could it have happened?
What was it about this Dahken that made him so indomitable, so impossible to slay? Taraq’Nok was a weakling, a second rate sorcerer, but surely Queen Erella had been powerful. It surprised Nadav that she had been unable to restrain the Dahken, for he was barely out of boyhood, but it was wholly unthinkable that Nadav himself could not end Lord Dahken Cor. His power, the power of his gods, had begun to take hold, and then it was suddenly repulsed by some other power, a strength unknown to the Dahken based on everything Nadav knew of them.
No it was as if, for one brief moment, that Nadav found himself facing all of the power of Garod, but that was impossible. Wasn’t it? Garod had no love for the Dahken, and He would never have endowed such an aberration with His power. But even if it were so, Garod was nothing compared to the Loszians, and Nadav’s ability to crush every Westerner that had stood in his way was proof of that. Perhaps he had simply been too tired, exhausted with his strength and attention spread too thinly to properly overcome whatever Cor had within him.
What was this young Dahken? What would it take to destroy him? Nadav was sure that was the only option, for he had no sense that Cor could be corrupted.
What did Nadav have at his command?
He had lost everything he’d taken to Aquis, except for his own intellect. All of his slaves, servants and soldiers were gone, either slain or imprisoned. The great armies he had raised would be gone before he could return to the West, for the Westerners would surely destroy them somehow. Many of his lords had not yet returned to their own towers and castles, choosing to march their way home through Aquis and the Spine, rather than abandon their forces in an enemy country.
Those that teleported to their homes, as he had, refused to attend him. Nadav called for them, demanded that they come to Ghal to begin plans for a new invasion into the Shining West, and they ignored him. They did not come, nor did they even deign to answer. For that matter, only a half dozen even answered his demand at contact, and they showed no interest in further designs on the Shining West. Even his ever loyal dog Menak seemed perfectly happy to study quietly in his holdfast, declaring that the entire war was folly to begin with.
That had caused Nadav to scream furiously over Ghal for hours.
Nadav had made mistakes, he knew, and he promised that he would not make the same mistakes again. He held his mangled hand before him, thinking he could see it despite the total absence of light in his hall, and it would be his long reminder of his strategic errors. He had allowed his temper to get the better of him, and he turned about to crush Cor and that infernal priest. In his arrogance and anger, he commanded his dead to swarm the city, leaving nothing behind to guard his rear. In his arrogance and anger, he had allowed Lord Dahken Cor to challenge him directly. Nadav should have simply had the Dahken killed. Actually, Nadav should have marched on every city in the Shining West and annihilated every single one as he had Byrverus and Martherus. His missing fingers would always remind him of that.
His gods’ power still coursed through him. They still believed in him, and he would not betray Their trust.
The nobles thought they could ignore him. They thought they could mind their own lands and refuse to answer his summons, but they were wrong. They had no idea how wrong they were. There were thousands of peasants around him even now – commoners, servants and slaves that would offer him the greatest of loyalty if they only knew what he had to offer them. They would become the new nobility in exchange for their undying loyalty. Nadav would bathe them in the power of the gods, change their essence and make them into Loszians. He would teach them of themselves and how to use their power. It would not take long, for they would discover much of it on their own.
With this new breed of sorcerers at his back, Nadav would crush the Shining West. But first, he would enslave his own errant nobles. He would go to each and every one of their towers and castles and demand their fealty. Those who give it would serve him in chains, and those who do not would die. He’ll divide their towers, wealth and lands among his true servants according to who is most worthy.
He would raise all the dead in Losz, even if it meant destroying his empire’s own cities. They could be rebuilt after all. His new horde would march through the Spine into Aquis, and Nadav would destroy every city in the Shining West the way he had Byrverus and Martherus – the way he should have the first time. Nothing Cor or anyone else in the West could do would anger him or distract him from his purpose. Garod’s people would drown in a sea of dead flesh.
Then would follow the Northern Kingdoms, Tigol and the lands of Dulkur. Once he had rid the world of Their peoples, the gods Themselves would fall before him. His own gods, the Loszian gods demanded it of him.
33.
It was almost as if Byrverus was a living city again. Hosts large and small arrived almost daily, and with them came hundreds if not thousands of commoners, displaced by the invading Loszians. Some were citizens of Byrverus, Martherus or any number of villages in between, but many others came from whatever lands their lords hailed from. It took some time, but about a month after the riders dispersed, the first thousands began to arrive. A month after that, Byrverus population had swelled by over sixty thousand, most of them soldiers and their commanders and lords. Banners and standards of houses, counties and dukedoms hung in various parts of the city to show whose soldiers occupied each area. They still awaited another twe
nty thousand.
It was a reprieve for those who had fought for Byrverus twice or even three times, for they were allowed to finally rest. The incoming armies brought strong backs that, while tired from marching hundreds of miles, had not experience the hardships of the war. The burning of the dead and cleansing of the city’s streets had not yet finished, and they took on the work. Also began in earnest the work of finding food in and around the city. Soldiers sheathed their swords to man bakeries, tend destroyed fields and gather the livestock that roamed aimlessly throughout the city streets and miles around. Byrverus began to function again.
A dozen lords, each with an entourage of at least a dozen servants, roamed the halls of the palace, and there were a few more yet to arrive. They had all heard in detail everything that had happened in the last few months, and some found it impossible to believe that so much had come to pass in such a short span. They eyed Cor with suspicion, as they all were aware of the loss of Fort Haldon, and some even knew of some dark circumstances surrounding the queen’s death. Cor allowed them their thoughts and whispers, talking with those who would when they chose to.
The last three lords arrived together, having merged their small armies on the march, and once they had settled, Rederick called all together to meet in their makeshift war room, the throne room. Cor recognized each and every one of them, having met them as they arrived, but sitting toward the middle of the long table was a small man he did not know. The man’s head was shaved smooth, and he wore robes like a priest, though they were the brown of burlap.
“My lords, I thank you for coming,” Rederick said. “We have much that must be done for our nation. The enemy still holds Fort Haldon, controlling the Spine, thousands of dead litter the countryside in need of destruction, and we must take back Martherus.”
“Such as it is,” grumbled an armored lord who sat well away from Rederick. His name, as well as his hair, was Red, and he was a boy of fifteen when his father Rederick handed the northern lands over to him. Red was the spitting image of his father, though he appeared to be about the same age – the gift of longer youth was common among Garod’s priests. “We already would have freed Martherus if you had not called us here. The longer we wait, the more fortified it will become.”
“Martherus will wait, Lord Red,” Rederick said. There was a pleading look in his eyes as he faced his son. “The most important problem at hand is that Aquis is without ruler. Queen Erella is dead and King Aidan after her. I was selected as Steward of Byrverus, but a Steward cannot rule.”
“Nor protect his people, it would seem,” Red’s response brought a mixed response from the other lords. Angry words grumbled his way, but others nodded their agreement.
Cor, his helm on the table next to him so that all could see his face, or rather the gray of it, raised his voice to break through the noise. “Lord Rederick defended Byrverus bravely against a magick that none could have defeated. The Loszians brought the power of their gods against the Shining West. Without Lord Rederick, none of us would be here now.”
Rederick looked at the table as Cor spoke, and the words sounded as lies in his ears. He still felt a coward and a useless one at that, but Cor had made clear that he would have the Dahken’s support throughout these matters. Cor trusted Rederick to do the right thing once made King, and in the end, they wanted the same thing – an end to Losz.
“And, besides being the one who ran from Fort Haldon, who are you, gray one?” Red asked with a mild sneer.
“Lord Dahken Cor,” interjected Rederick, “is the man responsible for driving the Loszians and their emperor back into Losz. He is the bravest man I have ever known, and I will not allow his honor to be questioned.”
“Says a man who ran from his own responsibilities to don robes,” shot back Red, but after that he was silent. He did not even further lock eyes with his father.
“There must be a king, or a queen, and that’s why I have called Master Acolyte Brenan here,” concluded Rederick.
“Steward, we cannot call a Convocation,” the acolyte responded. “Not all of the priests are assembled in Byrverus, and we have no way to call them. We must wait until such a time presents itself.”
“No such time may,” Rederick argued. “Aquis cannot continue without a ruler, for this lot will never come to agreement. You all know this to be true. Brenan, unless you have some power of which I am unaware, there is know way to know how many priests yet live. We cannot wait for a census.”
“You know that I am an acolyte, not a priest. Garod grants me no powers,” Brenan said, nodding slowly. “It is not proper.”
“It is necessary,” said a lord whose name Cor did not remember. “Aye,” said another.
“Very well,” Brenan conceded. “The Convocation shall begin tomorrow.”
“And it shall end tomorrow,” Rederick pushed himself away from the table and stood. “We have heard all the arguments mere months before, and there is no time to waste repeating them.
“My lords, I know this was an oddly short assembly, but is it agreed that we should adjourn until our new ruler is chosen?” asked Rederick, and receiving subdued nods or no answer at all, he continued, “Very well then. I suggest that whomever the Convocation selects be crowned the day after tomorrow, and then we shall continue as our new ruler commands.”
All stood and muttered goodbyes as Rederick left the hall, headed for his chambers with long strides. Cor picked up his helm and very nearly had to run to chase the man down.
“Lord Rederick,” Cor said, working hard to match the man’s pace, “I’m concerned that you called for another Convocation.”
“It’s nothing my friend.”
“But, you’ve put the matter back into the hands of Garod’s priests,” Cor said, huffing slightly. “Do you mind if we stop for a moment?”
Rederick halted his strides and turned to face Cor. “It’s the way it must be done. Aquis has never had a king such as you suggest, and to decide against a Convocation, to ask the lords to choose a rightful heir could take forever at the least. At the worst, it might be war. The lords know the Convocation is a farce, that what few priests we have left will choose me. I have met with a number of them already and promised a new way for Aquis, but for now, the Convocation is the only legitimate way to choose a ruler.”
“I didn’t think you a politician,” Cor said with a slight laugh.
“Once, I didn’t think you a good man,” replied Rederick.
* * *
“The priests will no longer choose Aquis’ ruler,” said King Rederick, sitting upon the throne. The hall had been cleaned thoroughly and the damaged carpets and tapestries removed, but the table remained. There were hundreds present, mostly priests and lords of various ranks, and Rederick’s edict sent waves through them. He continued, “The priesthood, while attempting to be good in all of the things it does, does not always represent what is best for the people of Aquis. A Grand Council shall be formed to help the king rule and select a new king or queen from its ranks should the reigning ruler die. The Grand Council shall consist of eight seats total – two chosen from the ranks of the Dahken as their Lord Dahken sees fit, two priests as chosen by the Convocation and four lords who are not priests whose lands are the most populous. Should I die, the Grand Council shall select one of its own to rule Aquis by no less than a three quarters majority.
“Lord Dahken Cor and Dahken Keth, please step forward. I have recognized the Dahken’s place in saving Aquis from the Loszian invaders, and I will come to rely upon your support in the future. I assume that you will be the first two Dahken to serve on my council?”
“Yes Majesty,” Cor said, and both men kneeled.
“Very well. Lords Trey, Paulk, Joth and Red,” Rederick paused before calling the name of his son, and the four men came forward. “You four hold the most populous lands within Aquis. You all assume the responsibility of sitting on my council. You may deny this, but only at the expense of passing your lands to your heir. Do any of you exercis
e this right?”
All but Paulk had come wearing full plate armor, though weapons had been left behind. Red and Joth were the only true fighting men among the four with Trey having learned the arts but regularly practiced them. Red was the most experienced among them, having held the north for years after Rederick. One at a time, each man said, “No, Majesty.”
“Then it is done,” Rederick intoned softly. “Acolyte Brenan?”
“Yes Majesty?” The small man stepped forward, and his face was completely inscrutable. Somehow, Cor thought that the man’s face masked an inner turmoil.
“Call forth the Convocation and select two members for my council by tomorrow. The rest of the council shall meet today to discuss finishing this war.
“I’m afraid that I’m not much for niceties, but there is one more matter I wish to announce before we disperse. I intend to marry Mora of Martherus, priestess and paladin,” Rederick announced, and whispers were heard throughout the hall.
“Your Majesty,” Brenan said softly, “it is not proper for the King of Aquis to have a wife. You belong to Garod, and a wife will only take your allegiance from Him.”
“As I said before,” Rederick said with a voice of made of stone, “the priesthood no longer rules Aquis. I believe that Garod would not resent me for taking a wife, for he has not struck me down for taking comfort in her arms. Only Mora may refuse me this.”
“Allow me Majesty,” Mora called as she came forward to stand at the base of the dais, “to think on it.”
“Of course,” Rederick said, bowing his head. He then lifted his great frame from the throne, which had dwarfed Erella and nearly screamed for help under Aidan. “I am not one for long affairs. We all have much to do, so let us disperse. I would see my council now.”
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