Farindian Summer (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 4)

by Loren K. Jones

  “Kar, get Stavin to the rear,” Dahvin shouted as he and the rest of the Royal Guardsmen surrounded their prince.

  Karvik and Stavin turned their horses around at once and rode back down the line at a canter as the Fifth Cavalry rode forward to aid the Warriors. Close on their heels jogged a thousand infantrymen, running forward to place a barrier between their prince and any attackers.

  Gavlin soon joined them. “Only one dead. I don’t know him. Kahn got an arrow through the right thigh. The rest of the injuries are minor.”

  “Good. Any sign of the attackers?”

  Gavlin was silent for a moment. “Mercenaries. Not very good ones, though. The Warriors accounted for seven dead and had one prisoner. None of my men made contact at all.”

  Stavin nodded. “Please keep me informed. I knew the Traders wouldn’t give up without a fight.”

  Gavlin shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”

  Camp was set and the evening meal served before Barvil joined them. “We have a problem,” he said simply as he sat down to eat.

  “What is it, Warmaster?” Stavin asked as he took a bite of bread.

  “According to the prisoner, the Traders’ Guild has hired the Kel’Portan Guards. All of them.”

  Karvik asked, “How many are there, Dad?”

  “Five hundred as far as the man knew.”

  Stavin shook his head slowly. “Do they know what this is going to mean for them? King Kalin almost disbanded them last time. What can they think to accomplish?”

  Barvil looked Stavin in the eye and said, “The Traders think killing you will stop the annexation.”

  Gavlin shook his head. “Killing Stavin wouldn’t change anything. King Kalin would order Trade Town leveled, and then he’d order the total slaughter of the Kel’Portan Guards and the enslavement of their families. As good as they are, they would still lose. The Army can and would field sixty thousand men against them if that’s what it took.”

  “Unless they moved their base of operations out of Evandia,” Dahvin pointed out.

  Barvil shook his head. “There is also bad blood between Stavin and the Kel’Portan Guards. He’s killed seven of them over the years.”

  “Seven?” Stavin asked, as his eyebrows drew down in concentration. “I only remember four our second season.”

  “And three the first. Your first three kills were Kel’Portan Guards, Stavin.”

  Stavin and Karvik were both staring at Barvil. “The first three?” Stavin asked in a stunned whisper. That can’t be right.

  “Yes. I didn’t mention it then because it wouldn’t have meant anything to you, but those four men we faced were Kel’Portan Guards. That’s why I was so shocked by how quickly you dealt with them.”

  Stavin was silent for a moment. “Colonel Zel’Fordal,” he finally said, “arrange for a messenger to be sent to Trade Town. I’m going to offer them a choice of surrender or be killed.”

  “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Dahvin asked.

  Stavin shook his head. “No, it’s realistic. The Kel’Portan Guards are almost as good as the Royal Guards of Kel’Kavin, and there are five hundred of them to our fifty. You and your men place the odds in our favor, but not by very much. I will not send thousands of our men forward to die in a useless battle. If we have to fight for Trade Town, I want it destroyed.”

  *

  Darak took the message to Trade Town himself. He rode under a flag of peace, and was allowed to pass unhindered to the Traders’ Guild. He was met by all three members of the Traders’ Council in their full formal regalia.

  Darak looked at the Traders and remained silent until the fat man in the center demanded, “What do you want?”

  Darak focused his eyes on the man and said, “Peace.”

  “You have a strange way of showing it,” a thin, rat-faced man snapped. “You invaded our kingdom with an army.”

  Darak shook his head. “No, Trader. Farindia is no longer a kingdom. It hasn’t been for a long time. We requested that Evandia annex this portion of Farindia. Our force is here to make this as orderly a transition as possible.”

  The third man spoke now, leaning forward with both hands on the table to glare at Darak. “You Kavinston warriors had no right to do that.”

  “We have the right of blood. The old Royal Blood flows through our veins.”

  “Faugh!” the man in the middle spat. “You have nothing but some old memories. The Traders’ Guild controls Farindia, and we say what will happen to it.”

  Darak looked him in the eye and said, “Prince Stavin feels otherwise.”

  “He’s facing more than he can handle this time,” the man to the right said with a satisfied smile. He leaned back a little, as if puffing his chest out, but the effort was wasted.

  “You mean the Kel’Portan Guards?” Darak asked and was pleased to see the shock on the Traders’ faces. “We know about them. We have six thousand men at our backs. As good as the Kel’Portan Guards are, they aren’t that good. And even if you succeeded, King Kalin would simply send more soldiers up here. Evandia can field sixty thousand men, and you are already fielding all the men you can muster. Prince Stavin is offering you this bargain: Surrender, or die. He’s in no mood to play games with you. If you haven’t surrendered by mid day tomorrow, Trade Town will be destroyed.”

  “He wouldn’t dare!” the man to the left shouted.

  “He doesn’t like you,” Darak said in a matter of fact tone. “He hasn’t liked you for several years. And this has been a rough campaign. If you don’t surrender, he’ll simply take up the Sword of Zel’Hallan and slaughter everyone.”

  “The Sword of Zel’Hallan is back in Andaria,” the man on the right said.

  “No,” Darak answered softly. “The Heir of Zel’Hallan cut Prince Stavin’s cheek with the sword when he returned it. The dragon magic flared, and when it faded all that was left was the sword.”

  “I don’t believe you,” the man in the center snapped as his chin rose.

  “Then believe when Stavin Dragon Blessed takes up the sword and slaughters your army of mercenaries. I have delivered his message. Now it’s time for me to go.”

  Darak turned away and was reaching for the door when three crossbow bolts pierced his back. He stumbled and turned to look back at the Traders in shock. They had shot him in the back, and violated the flag of peace. Honorless slugs— His knees buckled and he pitched forward onto his face, already dead.

  “Tie that body to its horse and send it back where it came from,” Senior Master Trader Jallan said to his subordinates in a tone that expressed his satisfaction at the outcome. “That will be our answer to Prince Stavin.”

  Chapter 49

  WHEN DARAK’S HORSE RETURNED TO THE Pacification Force, Stavin and Barvil were sent for along with Gavlin and Dahvin. “They murdered him,” Stavin said as he looked up at Darak’s lifeless face. And the crossbow bolts that pinned the flag of peace to his body. Turning, he held out his hand and growled, “Give me that sword.”

  “Stavin, no!” Karvik cried out. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Give it to him, Kar,” Barvil said softly as he looked at Darak’s body.

  “Dad, you know what it’ll do!” Karvik argued.

  “Yes, and so do you,” Barvil said as he looked his son in the eyes. “And so does he. But this can’t be allowed to go unpunished.”

  “Colonel,” Stavin said as he put his helmet on, “follow as well as you can. Trade Town is to be leveled and burnt. But try to let the common people flee with their lives.”

  Gavlin bowed and said, “Yes, Prince Stavin.”

  Stavin took the sword from Karvik and hooked it to his baldric. “Clear a path,” he commanded, then grasped the hilt and drew the blade. Light once again engulfed him as he walked forward. When he was in front of his army, he bellowed, “Traders of Trade Town,” and his voice rolled across the valley that held Skykon and the Trade Town, “I am Dragon Blessed Senior Warmaster Prince Stavin Markan Karvan Do’Kalin
Ne’Aniston Zel’Andral. You violated the sanctity of the flag of peace! You stand condemned by your own actions. Flee if you wish, or stay and die. Trade Town shall no longer stand by nightfall.”

  The wind carried sound from down in the valley. He heard people shouting in panic. He heard women screaming in grief. He heard the terror his announcement had engendered, and reveled in the feeling it evoked in him. Then movement closer to their lines drew his attention, and he became the hunter. He ran, blowing across the intervening distance like the wind, and the sword in his hand cleaved through a tree and the man hiding behind it.

  “Will you all die?” Stavin asked in the dragon’s voice, and saw many men break cover to run away. But he sensed others remaining where they were, so he attacked. Arrows burst into flame before they reached him. Slung stones, war-hammers, javelins, and throwing axes shattered against the nimbus of magic that surrounded him, but had no effect. Stavin hardly noticed. The magic made him invulnerable to attack. Or concern.

  Stavin didn’t keep count of the men he killed. He just ran, cutting men in half as he passed, until he reached the edge of Trade Town proper. Wagons and carts were loaded with as much as they could hold, and often more on top of that. Stavin ran through the fleeing people, knocking many from their feet, but never drawing blood with the sword.

  At last he stood in front of the Farindian Traders’ Guild, and the joy of destruction coursed through his veins. His off hand was clenching into a fist, then relaxing, only to clench again moments later. Rage and the desire for greater destruction burned through his blood, and he roared like a dragon as he attacked the building.

  Timbers were cut through, leading to the collapse of parts of the building. Walls and corner posts split like dry twigs, then splintered as they twisted and fell. Then Stavin kicked over a lamp and set the place on fire.

  There was movement from the side of one room, and Stavin investigated as his remaining human part fought to control the dragon within. He looked at a fat man he felt he should know, and said, “You are condemned.” Then, as Senior Master Trader Jallan Bel’Terstan begged for his life, Stavin calmly beheaded him.

  Karvik and Barvil, along with thirty valley warriors, finally caught up with him. He was standing calmly in the center of the burning Traders’ Guild building, untouched by the flames that were licking at the timbers all around him.

  Karvik shouted, “Stavin, you need to come out of there and let go of the sword,” as he cautiously approached his prince and friend.

  “It’s not yet time,” Stavin said in an echoing voice.

  “Yes, Stavin, it is,” Barvil said as he looked at Stavin.

  “They must be destroyed,” Stavin said in that terrifying, echoing voice.

  “No, Stavin. That would be dishonorable,” Barvil said. As he looked around, he shook his head in sorrow.

  “They must be destroyed,” Stavin said again as he left the burning building.

  Karvik looked at Stavin for a moment, then walked right up to him and held out his hand. “Stave, give me the sword.”

  Stavin’s anger and desire for destruction flared, and he almost stuck Karvik down, but some tiny bit of sanity prevailed, and he sheathed the sword. The light went out like a snuffed candle, and he crossed his arms.

  He whispered, “It was so easy,” as he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see Karvik take the sword.

  Karvik took the sword from Stavin’s side, and stepped back. “Look at me, Stave,” he commanded, and his friend and prince obeyed. He whispered, “Gods Below,” when he saw Stavin’s eyes. “It’s a good thing Shari can’t see what has happened to you.”

  Barvil moved closer to his son and hissed in surprise. Stavin’s eyes no longer had flecks of gold in them. The entire iris of both eyes was now solid gold, glinting in the sun like part of his armor.

  There was still sporadic fighting behind them and around the town, but Gavlin had committed all six thousand of his troops. For the common mercenaries, men who were little better than bandits themselves, it was a sight that turned their bowels to water and their feet to wings. Hundreds of them fled away from the Army, headed to Kavadia or Coravia or anywhere that the Evandian Army wasn’t. Even the vaunted Kel’Portan Guards threw down their weapons and fell to their knees in surrender when faced with twelve-to-one odds. They were disarmed and tied, but Gavlin had ordered that anyone who surrendered was to be granted quarter.

  It was nightfall before Gavlin approached Stavin. “We’re ready to torch the town, Your Highness.”

  Stavin was staring intently into the flames of his fire and whispered, “No.”

  “No?” Gavlin asked cautiously. He’d seen what had happened to Stavin, and was more than a little shaken by it.

  “No. I made that decision in haste and anger, Gav. Locate everything that belonged to the Traders’ Guild and their officials and burn it, but leave the common people their homes and shops. I wasn’t sent here to create refugees. I was sent here to bring these people into Evandia.”

  “Gods Above I’m glad you said that,” Gavlin said as he sagged in relief.

  Stavin sighed and said, “I’m glad I said it too.” Then he walked away with his guardsmen in close attendance. He went to Barvil and bowed his head. “You have to send it away. I want it so badly.”

  Barvil looked at him and moved closer, putting a comforting arm around his slender shoulders. “Kahn and a bunch of the walking-wounded took the sword north several spans ago. They will be staying in Kavinston.”

  Stavin simply nodded his acknowledgement of Barvil’s statement, then moved away toward where Karvik had set up their tent. He found Kar sitting in front of the tent with his armor in his lap and a pot of paint beside him. Stavin chuckled and asked, “Got one?”

  “Got two,” Karvik replied. “Warleader Third, Stave.”

  “Congratulations,” Stavin said as he slapped Karvik’s shoulder. “Your dad said Kahn already took the sword north. You know, just knowing that it’s out of reach makes me feel better. More human.”

  Karvik looked at him and shook his head. “You scared me today, Stave. I thought you were lost.”

  “I was. For a moment today, I was a dragon.” He chuckled. “I was trying to figure out why I couldn’t breathe fire.”

  “You had better be making that up,” Karvik said as he looked at Stavin through narrowed eyelids.

  “Partially,” Stavin admitted. “But not entirely.”

  Karvik was looking at his friend with wide eyes. “You’re scaring me, Stave.”

  “I scared myself. For a moment I let the magic take control, and in that moment I felt more alive than I’ve ever felt before. But I wasn’t me. I was something else, something terrifying and powerful and—and female.”

  Karvik snorted. “Female?”

  “I think the dragon on the mountain is a female,” Stavin admitted. “It’s just an impression I got when I stopped resisting the magic, and I’m not sure, but that’s how it felt.”

  Karvik was staring at him in silence. He finally shook his head and said, “Maybe that’s why it—she—didn’t kill you in the cave. Maternal instinct.”

  Stavin shrugged. “That makes as much sense as anything.”

  Karvik nodded and looked at his armor with a smile. Then he looked back at Stavin. “I noticed something else.”

  “What?” Stavin asked as his head tilted to the side.

  “You didn’t collapse, in spite of how much you used the sword. When you let go of the sword, you were still standing, almost like you are now. Maybe the exhaustion came from not embracing the power fully, like you did this time.”

  Stavin looked at Karvik and shrugged. “Maybe so. But I don’t ever want to test that theory.”

  Chapter 50

  THE NEXT MORNING A DELEGATION OF people from Trade Town approached the army.

  Stavin was sent for because they were asking for the Dragon Blessed. He invited Gavlin and the senior officers to join him in the command tent before allowing the people to be bro
ught in. Dahvin and Barvil moved Stavin to the back, just to be cautious.

  Gavlin said, “Yes, good people? Why have you come seeking Prince Stavin?

  “We, um, we wish to know your intentions, lord,” the leader asked.

  Gavlin remained silent as he looked at the people. Three men and three women stood with their felt and leather hats in their hands, and if the gyrations they were putting their hats through were any indication, they were all very nervous. He finally looked at the leader and answered.

  “Prince Stavin has graciously decided to leave your town standing.” He gestured to the side and Stavin was allowed to move into view. “The Traders’ Guild, however, will not. The Guild Hall has already been burnt to the ground, and the holdings of the Traders’ Guild officers will be destroyed as well, but the rest of your town will be left alone.”

  The leader shifted his attention to Stavin, and the fear in his eyes was overwhelming. It was as if he expected Stavin to slaughter them on the spot. The man finally got up the courage to bow deeply to Stavin and say, “Thank you, Prince Stavin.”

  “You are welcome,” Stavin replied and was amused by how surprised the man seemed. “Skykon is to be rebuilt, and you people will be needed. Trade Town will no longer exist as an enclave of the Traders’ Guild. Skykon and the Council of whatever you decide will be in charge of the whole valley. The Evandian Traders’ Guild will be taking the place of the Farindian Guild. It has already been decided that all Farindian Houses and credentialed Masters will be transferred to the Evandian Guild. Without fee or bond. They weren’t happy about that, but my father’s Minister of Trade made it clear that we would not tolerate any misbehavior from the Masters’ Council.”

  “Your pardon, Your Highness, but Skykon is, well, it’s a haunted place.”

  Stavin shrugged. “So just change the name of Trade Town to Skykon and get on with it. You don’t have to move into the ruins.”