The other lands
( Acacia - 2 )
David Anthony Durham
David Anthony Durham
The other lands
The Story So Far As related in Acacia, the first book of the trilogy Thasren Mein, an assassin, journeys from the far north. He is the youngest brother of Hanish Mein, chieftain of the exiled northern people from which they take their surname. Thasren bears with him the anger of a defeated people, and he carries a weapon meant to strike at the heart of the ruling Acacian Empire and to announce a long-planned war.
As Thasren moves south into the milder climate of the central empire, the family he is targeting lives an idyllic life, oblivious of the danger creeping toward them. The Akarans, led by King Leodan, have lived for generations at the center of a prosperous empire. The land has been relatively peaceful for years, although the nation's early rise was the result of chaotic warfare. It had been mythologized in tales of the first king, Edifus, his son, Tinhadin, and the legendary band of sorcerers, the Santoth, who were supposed to have helped them win power.
King Leodan rules from the beautiful isle of Acacia, at the center of an inland sea. He is a widower who dotes on his four children: Aliver, a headstrong boy of sixteen; Corinn, the family beauty; Mena, an insightful adolescent; and nine-year-old Dariel, a boy with an adventuresome spirit. Leodan knows that the empire is held together by a number of long-standing crimes. In addition to keeping an iron military grip on the provinces, for years the Acacians have traded with faraway foreigners known as the Lothan Aklun. A naval trading conglomerate, the League of Vessels, handles all the details, so that the two sides never interact. The Acacians send a regular quota of children into some unknown slavery, receiving riches and a drug called mist in return. The empire then distributes mist among the populace, keeping them dull and obedient.
Leodan shelters his children from this, wanting them to have happy childhoods full of love. But in his solitary moments Leodan temporarily forgets his guilt over the empire's crimes-and his longing for his dead wife-by inhaling mist himself.
The king's closest friend and confidant, his chancellor, Thaddeus Clegg, was raised with Leodan. Thaddeus has a secret, one that has turned him against his old friend. He has recently learned-with Hanish Mein's scheming assistance-that the Akaran family was responsible for the death of his beloved wife and infant child years earlier. It was not a crime Leodan had any part in, but learning of it bitterly twists Thaddeus against the king. When a soldier arrives to warn the king of troop movements in the far north, Thaddeus kills the messenger, thereby buying his distant ally Hanish crucial time to unleash his surprise attack.
And what a multipronged attack it is! Thasren stabs King Leodan with a poisoned blade during a banquet. Hanish's other brother, Maeander, leads one army sweeping down from the northwest. To the northeast an alien race, the Numrek, fight savagely on the Mein side. All around the Known World, Meinish soldiers conscripted into the Acacian army rebel. Hanish himself drags a navy across the frozen tundra so that he can launch the boats on spring-flooded rivers and appear suddenly in the Inner Sea, in the heart of the Acacian Empire. In addition to all this, Hanish unleashes a contagion that sends the vulnerable Acacians into writhing agony. And he slaughters them without mercy.
Caught off guard by the sudden fury of the attack, Acacian authority collapses. On his deathbed, Leodan calls on his old friend Thaddeus to enact a plan they had discussed years earlier. Despite everything, Thaddeus agrees. His love of the children is too great for him to hand them over to Hanish Mein. Instead, he sends the children out into the far reaches of the empire, escorted by lone guardians, to be hidden. The hope is that they will grow to maturity in safety and one day reunite and win back the empire.
Very little goes as planned. Only Aliver makes it to his intended destination. He is raised among the Talayan people of the south, in a tribal culture of warriors and hunters, runners who roam the arid plains of their vast continent. He even comes to learn that the mythical sorcerers, the Santoth, are real. He meets them and discovers they would very much like to return from their banishment and aid him but feel their magic has been too corrupted by time. They ask him if he has The Song of Elenet, the text in which the Giver's magical language was written. He does not, so they remain in exile. Aliver grows to manhood in this challenging environment and learns a great many things that build his character and leadership potential. His siblings do not fare quite as well.
Corinn is betrayed by her guardian. She is delivered into Hanish's hands and forced to live among the new Meinish court that has taken over her father's palace. For years she chafes against the luxurious bondage she is kept in, but slowly Hanish's charisma and charm begin to win her over. Much against her will, she falls in love with her captor.
Mena does not reach her planned destination either. Her guardian is killed, leaving her adrift in a small boat at sea. She drifts until she comes ashore on the remote, primitive Vumu Archipelago. There she is greeted as the earthly embodiment of one of the island's main deities, Maeben, the eagle goddess of wrath. Mena is raised in the temple in a position of privilege, although bound by the religion's strict rituals and formalities. For years this is her life, until Melio Sharratt-a childhood friend of Aliver's-discovers her. He assures her that the Akaran story is not over and secretly trains her in sword craft.
When Dariel's guardian cannot find the person he is supposed to deliver the young boy to, he abandons him amid the chaos of human migration happening in the mountain passes of Senival. By chance, the prince is found by Val, a giant of a man whom Dariel had met while exploring the servants' regions of the palace. Val had always told the prince tales of his earlier life as a pirate on the Gray Slopes. He proves the truth of it when he takes Dariel with him, raising the boy as a brigand and sea captain.
Thus the four Akaran children grow to adulthood in vastly different environments, completely out of touch with one another for years. They are brought together through the work of Thaddeus Clegg. The former chancellor, still living with the guilt of having betrayed his king, works among a network of agents to find and bring the Akarans back together.
Hanish Mein steps into the role the Akarans had occupied. He increases the slave quota and continues to suppress the people. It is not long before the varied peoples of the Known World, who had once chafed against Acacian rule, find themselves in even more dire straits under Hanish Mein.
And they don't know the worst of it. One of the early Acacian kings, Tinhadin, had put a curse on them. They are not allowed to pass out of life. Their bodies mummify and they remain trapped in them-not alive, not dead. It was a vindictive act of a mad tyrant, and Tinhadin could not have foreseen that the collective souls of all these Meinish ancestors would band together in a group called the Tunishnevre. They speak to Hanish and demand that they be transported to Acacia for a ceremony that will finally free them back into life with all the power and rage they've gained from centuries as the undead. The ceremony requires elaborate preparation and the blood of one of the Akaran line to succeed.
Aliver begins to rally the vast tribes of Talay. He speaks of a new dawn for the world, with a rule that will be just and fair, with power spread among the various peoples. He swears he will abolish the trade in child slaves, and with the distant help of the Santoth he helps the people defeat the mist addiction that has plagued them for so long. Dariel, fresh from skirmishes with the league, joins him. Mena, having broken with her adoptive religion, reunites with them also. Together, they drive an ever-growing army toward Hanish's forces.
Having helped orchestrate the reunion, Thaddeus takes some solace in seeing the children grown, healthy, and strong. He leaves them and sets off on a mission of his own. He r
ealizes he knows where The Song of Elenet is hidden in the palace of Acacia, and he knows a secret way to enter and get to it. He manages this and plans to return the book to Aliver so that he can fully call on the Santoth. Before he leaves, he sees Corinn and makes contact with her, hoping she will flee with him.
What he doesn't know is that Corinn has undergone considerable changes. Unlike her siblings, she has never experienced life among the people. She knows only the palace, the court, wealth, and the shrewd manipulation of power. She has finally given her heart to Hanish, but one evening she overhears her lover communicating with the Tunishnevre. She hears him swear that he will kill her to release them. This is the last of many disappointments, and it makes her believe she can rely only on herself.
Thaddeus shows her The Song of Elenet. Feeling its power, Corinn makes up her mind. Instead of fleeing with Thaddeus, she poisons him. She hides the book and quickly works behind the scenes to secure her own power. She makes a deal with the league, convincing them to sit out the coming war, and she forms an alliance with Hanish's old allies, the Numrek, promising them the status Hanish never granted them. She brings in Rialus Neptos, a former Acacian governor with a duplicitous nature, to help her. She never exactly works against her siblings. Indeed, her actions aid them by taking the league and the Numrek away as threats, but neither is she working in concert with them. Her sights are set on Hanish, and she carefully arranges the pieces to strike him, even as he puts the finishing touches on his plan to resurrect the Tunishnevre.
Meanwhile, Aliver's army meets the Meinish forces, led by Maeander, on the plains of northern Talay. The clash lasts for several days, the advantage veering back and forth. Maeander unleashes savage beasts called antoks that do great damage to the rebellious forces, but so does Aliver's connection with the Santoth aid his cause and protect his people.
Then Maeander approaches the Acacians personally. He offers, invoking ancient customs, to fight Aliver in single combat. Aliver can't resist this chance of ending the contest between them, instead of letting so many of the common people he's grown to love die. Against Mena and Dariel's protests, he agrees. For a time it seems he might prevail, but all too suddenly Maeander strikes a fatal blow. Aliver falls dead.
In a moment of rage, Dariel orders the troops to attack Maeander, thus breaking the oaths given prior to the duel. Fighting resumes between both armies in earnest, and the Meinish forces appear to be winning. Waking on the morning that looks to be the end for the Acacian forces, Mena and Dariel are both stunned to see enormous, shadowy shapes approaching from the south. The shapes shrink to human size as they grow near and reveal themselves to be the Santoth. They've come out of exile, troubled and angry because they sensed Aliver's death. They know now that their banishment will not be lifted, and in rage they unleash their anger against the Meinish army. They rip apart the land and tear whole groups of soldiers to shreds with their songs and spells. Once the Santoth withdraw to the far south, it becomes clear the Acacians have won the battle.
Back on Acacia, Corinn has sprung her surprise attack on Hanish, using her new Numrek allies, whom she has smuggled into the palace via the same route Thaddeus used. They attack and kill the Mein, eventually capturing Hanish. Corinn orders his execution on the very altar on which he had planned to sacrifice her. Rialus performs the act.
As the book ends, a sort of peace has returned to the Known World. Corinn steps unchallenged into the role of queen, receiving her two living siblings with gracious but somewhat cold hospitality. It seems her vision of the future might be very different from the idealistic notions Aliver had espoused. Also, she is pregnant with Hanish's child.
Prologue
In Luana, during the ninth year of Hanish Mein's rule I t should have been him. Just him. Ravi shouted this again and again. He jumped to be seen above the crowd. He pushed through the other children and grabbed at any of the red-cloaked soldiers he got near enough to reach. They ignored him or shoved him back into place or brought a crop down on his head and shoulders. Ravi would not stop shouting. They were making a mistake! He would go with them wherever they wished to take him. He would behave. He would do whatever they asked, but Mor should be no part of this! She was their parents' only other child. They needed her. Their mother could not live without her. He had heard her say so more than once.
"Please," he shouted, "let her go! Let her go home!"
A squat soldier rounded on him. He was shorter than most of the men, thick around the waist, with leathery skin and hair that bristled like a spiny rodent's. His crimson shirt stretched tight across his belly. He grabbed Ravi by the chin and spoke close to his face, the man's onion-scented words hot on his skin. "You're both quota," he said, his accent strange to Ravi's ears. "You understand? You've both been given. Two peas from the same pod, two pups from the same litter. That's just the way it is, lad. Accept it, and your life won't be so bad."
The man tried to push the boy away. When Ravi clung to his arm, the man growled that he had been patient enough. He balled his hand into a fist and smashed the boy on his nose. Ravi saw black for a moment. When his eyes cleared he stood sputtering, stunned, his lips and chin and chest splattered with blood.
"Ravi…" His sister's voice finally reached him. Her voice was part of why he had been yelling. He feared to hear it. He began to move toward another red-cloaked man, but Mor threw her arms around him and would not be shaken off. "Please, Ravi, stop it! This helps nothing. You'll make them angrier."
Angrier? Ravi thought. Angrier? What did it matter if they were angry? He came near to whirling on her with harsh words, but her grip on him was tight and, in truth, he did not really want to break free from her. He knew that she was right. She was always calmer than he was. She never wasted actions, as he often did. On the farm, she worked each day steadily and slowly. She moved like an old woman, he used to think. But somehow she always finished her chores before him, no matter that he was faster and stronger than she. Even now, she was more self-assured than he was. Acknowledging this stilled him more than her grip on him and more than his fatigue and his battered face.
"Good, Ravi, come," she whispered, starting to pull him back into the mass of children. "Better they don't see you. They're not going to let me go. You know that, and they might separate us if you keep drawing attention to yourself. I don't want to be alone, Ravi."
Neither did he. He let her pull him into the group, sliding between the others until they were two among many. Now that he had ceased his commotion, he and his sister were little different from the rest. He saw a few faces from the neighboring village. The rest were strangers, but judging by their clothing, demeanor, and fear-filled eyes they were much the same as he and Mor. They were farm children, too, from the fertile but isolated territory north of the Lakelands. They had been gathered together near a town he had never been to. They were like so many sheep brought into one corral and kept in place by wolves in red garments.
How many of them were there? Hundreds, Ravi thought. Children as young as seven or eight, some as old as he and his twin sister at thirteen. They all had frightened eyes and often whispered to those nearby, trying to gain some understanding of what was happening. Many had tear-streaked faces, smudged and dirty. Their hair was mostly silver blond, their complexions smooth and pale, eyes narrow and deep set in a way that foreigners sometimes laughed at, thinking them a dim, passive people. They weren't dim, though, or passive. They were far enough north that they had often gone unnoticed by those of the Known World. That had changed suddenly, Ravi realized, and the change already felt irrevocable.
The siblings sat down knee to knee among the others. Mor wiped Ravi's face with her sleeve, instructing him to raise his head. He did so sullenly, accepting her attentions but not able to look her in the eyes, as he knew she wished him to do. He had not cried once yet. He feared that looking into her face might change that: her face was too clear a reminder of things lost.
A few days ago the world Ravi knew had been measured by the r
olling miles of farmland and moor around his village north of Luana. His family's cottage sat on a hill surrounded by fields of the sweet red potatoes that were one of the area's main crops. The houses of their nearest neighbors rimmed the horizon, spaced out by a half mile or so. A lonely landscape, damp each morning and cool throughout most days, no matter the season. It was a simple life he had led, daily toil at the tasks that modestly sustained their family of four.
His father was a quiet man with big hands; he limped from some injury of his youth. His mother had absurdly crooked teeth, which she showed often as laughter peppered all the words that came from her mouth. He knew that his mother had lost two children in childbirth before having him and Mor. This was not unusual. Perhaps she was sad beneath all those smiles, but she made sure that Ravi never saw signs of it.
He had dreamed of escaping to something more exciting: sailing on a trading vessel, joining the guards that occasionally patrolled the provinces, or stealing a neighbor's horse and riding out into the world. He had found excitement, but not in the way he had imagined.
The red-cloaked men had arrived in the dark hours far from either dusk or sun return. Ravi heard the knock on the door. He heard his father grumbling a moment later, and he listened to the creak of the door and to the mumbled exchange that followed. Probably one of the neighboring farmers, Ravi thought, come to ask help for some midnight mishap. The farm over by the marshes had been having a problem with sheep thieves. Perhaps they were organizing a chase.
"Ravi," Mor had whispered from her cot on the other side of the room, "who is it?"
He shushed her. He had started to pull off his sheet, planning to tiptoe across the floor and listen through the crack in the door, but he got no farther than plucking the cloth between his fingertips.
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