Dreams

by James Erich

  Koreh frowned. “And you think you’re going to be able to do it with me sitting on your back?”

  “I was carrying your weight when we flew, you big ox.” It was an empty insult—both of them were about the same size.

  Koreh still looked skeptical, but Geilin interjected, “We don’t have time to debate it. Sael, move your pack around to your front, and we’ll see if Koreh can climb onto your back.”

  Sael did as he was instructed, and for once Koreh helped without harassing him. He might be contrary, but he was no fool. They could bicker when they were out of danger.

  When the pack was secure, Sael bent forward, allowing his friend to climb onto his back. It was immensely uncomfortable. With Koreh wearing a pack of his own, the weight was nearly unbearable. Sael had to brace himself with his arms against his thighs, breathing heavily, while Geilin ran what was left of the linen sash through Koreh’s belt and looped it up under Sael’s armpits in a makeshift harness.

  “This is ridiculous,” Koreh muttered when it was done. “You’re already about to collapse.”

  Sael ignored him and began to murmur an incantation. Thankfully, Koreh knew enough about magic to stay silent during it.

  Then, with a sudden movement that caused Koreh to gasp, Sael leapt forward. He didn’t just move forward—he leapt, arcing about fifteen feet through the air before striking the ground again.

  And then he was running, almost flying across the fields, feet barely touching here and there as he leapt over small hillocks, rocks, valleys. Koreh, arms wrapped tightly around Sael’s chest, felt light now under the influence of the spell.

  As the long grass whipped at his legs, Sael felt exhilarated. The Eye of Atnu was rising in a clear blue sky; the cool morning air bit at his lungs. It was beautiful. He came to a small crevasse, carved into the field by a fast-moving stream, and bounded over it with ease.

  “Where’s Geilin?” Koreh shouted into his ear.

  It was difficult to hear over the sound of the wind blowing past his ears, but once he’d pieced together what Koreh said, Sael pointed up above their heads. He couldn’t tell whether Koreh understood him or not, but Geilin would be keeping pace with them, flying high overhead. Sael knew his master found running undignified, but Sael loved it. Back in the capital city, he’d once raced his friend Tahna—him running and her on horseback—and won. This was his element.

  Suddenly he was jarred by an explosion, a blast of fire nearby, off to his left. Koreh swore as Sael instinctively bounded away from it.

  The emperor’s vönan had caught up to them.

  Sael didn’t bother looking up. He knew they were there and seeing them wouldn’t make it any easier to avoid their fireballs. It would just trip him up.

  Another one exploded to his right, spraying him and Koreh with dirt and burnt grass, and he dodged again. This one had been close enough for him to feel the heat.

  “Faster!” Koreh shouted uselessly. Sael had already sped up as fast as he could. He knew better than Koreh that all it would take to send them sprawling was one loose stone or patch of mud. Then they would be easy targets.

  He did his best to vary his path, zigzagging back and forth at random and even doubling back now and then, though he didn’t dare waste much time backtracking. He could see the white towers of his brother’s keep looming ever larger on the horizon, and he knew that was their only hope of finding refuge.

  He had no idea where Geilin was, but he could hear the sounds of explosions from far off. His mentor was under attack as well. That meant there were at least two mages pursuing them.

  Another near miss brought Sael’s focus sharply back to his own predicament.

  Beneath the towers, the city wall came into view, but he couldn’t tell if there were any guardsmen in the parapets or walking the walls. If he and Koreh were lucky, a bowman might see them coming and be able to shoot their attacker out of the sky.

  But that was assuming the bowman didn’t shoot at them first. Sael hadn’t been to the castle since he was a boy, and he doubted any of the guards would recognize him. Especially dressed as a peasant, running faster than any normal man could. What they would think, he couldn’t imagine, but he doubted it would be “Here’s the vek’s son—let’s rescue him!”

  He saw Geilin fly ahead, soaring in an arc that took him down out of sight, behind the town walls. Then a few moments later, one of the large double gates to the town swung open, pushed by three guardsmen.

  Another explosion just behind Sael informed him his pursuer was still keeping pace with him. He knew the mage would concentrate his fire at the gate and try to hit Sael at the one place he was sure to go… which meant Sael would have to avoid being there when the mage expected him to be.

  He hopped back and forth as he approached the city walls, navigating a maze of wooden shacks and narrow alleyways that bordered the wide cobblestone road leading to the gate. Men and women and children screamed and scurried out of his way as he leapfrogged over them, and he prayed none of them would be hit by the explosions.

  Suddenly there was a barrage of explosions at the gate, just as he was about to run through them. At the last moment, he leapt up into the air, over the wall to the right of the gate, hoping he wouldn’t get shot or skewer himself on a fence post inside.

  “Fire!” he heard someone shout as he began falling, and his heart skipped a beat at the sound. But the bowmen weren’t aiming at him. They let loose a volley of arrows at his pursuer.

  Whether they hit the mage or not, Sael couldn’t tell. He was too busy striking the ground in a stable yard and rolling through the dirt and dung-covered hay with Koreh still wrapped around his body. They came to rest against a water trough, striking it hard. Rank-smelling water splashed over both of them.

  Sael had the wind knocked out of him, but he wasn’t injured, so far as he could tell. Koreh was laughing in his ear. They were still tied together around the middle, but somehow Koreh had slipped around to Sael’s right side. He pushed himself up on one elbow so his sparkling blue eyes were looking down into Sael’s.

  “That was great!” Koreh said, still laughing as guardsmen rushed to surround them. “You’re amazing!”

  Without thinking, he kissed Sael quickly on the mouth.

  Sael smiled back at him, basking in the affection for just a moment until he was jolted by a man’s deep voice barking out, “Sael!”

  He knew that voice, even after seven years. It was Vek Worlen—his father.

  “Help them up.”

  Several hands untied the sash binding them together and then hoisted Sael and Koreh to their feet.

  Sael was both pleased and a bit intimidated by the sight of his father. The man hadn’t changed much in five years. A bit grayer around the temples, perhaps. But he was still an imposing figure, tall and handsome with a strong jaw and heavy aquiline nose, both of which Sael had failed to inherit. In a richly embroidered black tunic and deep-blue cloak with a heavy soldier’s broadsword at his side—no flimsy fencing blade for him!—the vek presented a striking figure.

  Sael brushed the dirt and hay off his robes as best he could, relieved to see Geilin come out of the crowd to stand at his father’s side.

  “Greetings, Father,” Sael said, bowing formally.

  The vek looked him up and down critically and said, “You’ve grown.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Worlen spared a brief glance for Koreh, but apparently didn’t consider him to be very significant. Koreh received no more than a curt nod.

  Worlen turned and walked toward a waiting carriage. “Come. There is much to discuss.”

  But Sael was already aware that something was very wrong. Why was the vek here, instead of at his own castle? And where was Sael’s brother?

  “Sir,” Sael said, taking a step forward. “Where is Seffni—the dekan?”

  Worlen stopped and turned back to his youngest son, his face dark.

  “Your brother is dead.”

  Chapter 19

&nbs
p; HARLEH was a fortress. Four great crenulated circular walls, growing progressively higher as they neared the center, surrounded a massive keep. The village existed both outside and within the walls, and Koreh noted that for all Sael talked about the vek being a friend to the lower classes, the inner circles were still occupied by the wealthier citizens.

  He couldn’t see that at once, of course. But the gate of each wall was offset by a quarter turn, so it was necessary to navigate through the entire city in a spiral in order to reach the keep. While this provided a large degree of safety from invaders, it necessitated a time-consuming tour of nearly the entire city every time someone wanted to leave the keep or return to it. The carriage that took the vek and his guests back to the keep was more than just a luxury, if they wished to make the trip in a reasonable amount of time.

  Koreh had to wonder what would happen if a fire broke out. The walls would no doubt contain the fire to one ring, but those in that ring would have only two gates to escape through—one leading outward and one leading deeper into the fortress.

  It might be safe from attack, he thought, but it felt like a prison.

  Koreh was fascinated by the sights of this new city, watching them drift by outside the carriage window. Compared to the capital, the citizenry seemed relatively well off. Certainly the city was cleaner. As the vek’s carriage traversed the narrow cobblestone streets, people stood and gaped at them, smiling and waving. The vek even waved back occasionally. Koreh couldn’t imagine that happening in the capital. The emperor was convinced his subjects were determined to kill him—an assumption that wasn’t altogether incorrect—and he rarely set foot outside the castle walls. When he did, he surrounded himself with his private bodyguard.

  Geilin and the vek discussed trivial matters while they traveled, such as the local weather and the coming harvest festival. Neither seemed to feel that the carriage was the place to discuss the dekan’s death, the impending war, or even the events of Geilin’s and Sael’s journey to Harleh.

  Sael, Koreh noticed, stared blankly at a spot on the upholstery during the entire ride. Seffni’s death appeared to be hitting him hard. The vek had revealed it to be the work of one of the samöt, presumably employed by the emperor. That was all he would say for the time being. Koreh wished he could comfort Sael, but the vek was an intimidating man. Koreh wasn’t sure he dared reach out to Sael in Worlen’s presence. And what could Koreh do? Hold him? He knew Sael wouldn’t allow that in front of others.

  Eventually Harleh Keep towered above them, white and magnificent, several stories high, with an array of turrets bristling from its top. The carriage took them through the main arched gate into a wide cobblestone courtyard.

  Several grooms, in what Koreh assumed was the dekan’s livery, rushed up the moment the carriage came to a stop. The vek was the first to get out, but even though Geilin was closer to the door than Sael, Koreh noticed the old man waited for Sael to get out next. Only then did Geilin get up. Koreh suspected that protocol was going to prove a challenge for him as long as he remained in Harleh.

  When he stepped out of the carriage, one of the grooms offered a gloved hand to help him down, and all the servants in the courtyard bowed low to him. It was the first time in his life Koreh had been treated like nobility, and he found it disturbing.

  The vek led the three of them through a massive archway, above which hung an iron portcullis suspended on large chains. Then a large wooden double door opened inward, guided by more liveried servants. Beyond was a cavernous entrance hall, with huge fireplaces on either side, currently cold and dark. Along both sidewalls hung tapestries depicting heroic battles against vast armies and frightening monsters, and the dekan’s coat of arms hung above the far doorway.

  In the center of the room was a coffin.

  It was raised a few feet above the floor on a platform draped in black velvet with gold trim. The coffin itself was black and draped with the dekan’s coat of arms embroidered in gold against red. Seffni’s face could be seen through a pane of glass embedded in the lid of the coffin.

  Koreh didn’t particularly want to look at it, but the vek stopped alongside the coffin and they were all forced to do so as well.

  “I’m not particularly fond of the practice of displaying the dead,” Worlen said, his face grim as he regarded the corpse of his eldest son. “But Tanum insisted his people would want to pay their respects. He was laid out in the temple for two days before I had him brought here.

  “I thought you,” he added, looking pointedly at Sael, “might wish to… say good-bye.”

  Sael nodded, looking pale. He stared at his brother’s face, seemingly unable to look away. Seffni had been handsome, Koreh observed, but he was clearly his father’s son, with a strong nose and jaw. Only his pale curls marked him as Sael’s brother. Koreh wondered where Sael’s mother was. Sael had never once mentioned her.

  “Seffni was a great man, Your Grace,” Geilin said. “And he brought honor to your household. May he be honored in the Great Hall.”

  The vek was silent for a long moment, and then he nodded.

  “I hope you realize, Sael,” Worlen said, taking a step toward his son, “that Seffni’s death is more than just the loss of a son and a brother. He was the Dekan of Harleh and the commander of my forces here. Now you are now my only surviving son. My only heir.”

  Sael tore his gaze away from the corpse and looked up at his father, his eyes glistening.

  “Moreover,” Worlen added pointedly, “you are now the Dekan of Harleh.”

  SAEL knew many men would be honored and excited to have a tondekan suddenly handed to them. But he wasn’t. He was horrified.

  For ten years he’d studied to be a vönan—more than half his life. He liked being a mage. It was all he’d ever dreamed of being. Certainly he knew how to swordfight, but he knew nothing of battlefield strategy, or leading an army, or administering a city.

  And he didn’t want to know.

  “Your Grace,” Geilin said cautiously, “while there is some logic to this, surely you recognize that Sael is completely unprepared for such a role.”

  The vek ignored him, glaring at his son. “The first thing a dekan must learn is to speak for himself.”

  Geilin nodded acquiescence and effectively bowed out of the conversation.

  Sael had never been able to stand up to his father as a boy, but that had been five years ago. He did his best now to meet the vek’s gaze. “Master Geilin is right, Father. I don’t know how to be a dekan.”

  “You’ll learn. You’ve no choice.”

  The vek frowned at both Sael and his mentor before spinning on his heels and striding away toward the inner castle. “This is not the place to have this discussion. Come inside. Both of you.”

  He hesitated at the door and looked back at Koreh, who seemed extremely uncomfortable and out of place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Koreh,” the young man answered nervously, quickly adding, “Your Grace.”

  He made an awkward little half bow, obviously uncertain about how he was expected to behave. A mere week ago, Sael might have been irritated by Koreh’s awkward manners, but now he found it endearing and had to restrain himself from smiling.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Koreh,” Worlen said formally. “I understand that we are indebted to you for escorting the dekan safely to Harleh. Diven—” He shot a look at one of the servants standing nearby, a stiff older gentleman with thin strands of hair combed over a bald pate. “—will take you to the dining room for whatever you’d like to eat. Then you may take your rest in the staff quarters for as long as you like. I’ll see that you are suitably rewarded for your service.”

  Clearly dismissed, Koreh had no choice but to follow the elderly servant out of the entry hall. He glanced at Sael on the way out, and their eyes met briefly. For the first time since meeting Koreh, Sael felt he truly wanted him at his side to help him face the vek, particularly when he was still reeling from the loss of Seffni.
r />   But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Sael and Geilin followed the vek into the library, where a tray had been laid out with brandy. Worlen poured glasses for all three of them and then went to stand by a set of floor-length glass-paned doors that opened upon a garden in an inner courtyard.

  “The emperor’s army is less than five days’ march behind you,” he said, watching a pair of red birds fighting over the birdfeeder outside. “Our ömem tell us that there are over five thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry. They also report fifty vönan and a handful of ömem.”

  “Fifty!” Geilin nearly choked on his brandy.

  “Well,” Worlen corrected, “forty-eight, now.” His smile was cold.

  “Make no mistake,” he went on, “Seffni and I have been preparing for this battle for a very long time. We had hoped to get you two out of the capital before it came to war, but the guard betrayed us and forced us to step up our preparations. I’ve brought a thousand cavalry to join the four hundred here at Harleh. And our combined infantry is nearly three thousand. We’re outmatched, but we have some advantages, including Harleh itself. No army has breached these walls in over six hundred years.”

  Sael’s hand was shaking, so he put his glass down for fear he’d drop it. “Sir, you clearly know how you intend the battle to go. I don’t understand why you don’t just lead the army yourself.”

  Worlen turned to face his son. “Of course, I’ll be leading my men. And you’ll be leading yours. I can’t be in two places at once.” He sighed. “Sael, I’m well aware that you’re ill-suited to take charge of Harleh at the present time. But we’ve been thrust into these circumstances, and we have precious little time to organize.”

  “I understand that, Father,” Sael replied, trying to remain calm, “and I’ve been expecting to fight alongside everybody else—”

  “As you will!”

  “But as a mage! Or perhaps as a swordsman. Certainly not as a military commander! I have no experience in that.”