War of the Fathers: War of the Fathers Universe: Volumes One - Three Box Set (War of the Fathers Series Box Set Book 1)

by Dan Decker

  How long now had Adar been gone? Fifteen years? Sixteen?

  The boy Jorad would long since have become a man, and Molach didn’t doubt for a moment that Jorad would have learned everything Adar had to teach him.

  Shaking his head, Molach wondered if he shouldn’t expect Adar to appear sometime in the night to check on Molach’s oath. What would Adar think of all Molach had done during the intervening time? Would he be happy Molach had been promoted to general?

  Molach half expected Adar would approach with a dagger in hand, ready to slash his throat. Without realizing what he was doing, Molach rubbed his neck.

  He looked at his image in the mirror. Looking more like my father each day, he thought, chasing away the bitterness. His father had been a great man, and it was only because of Molach that he’d made a move to take over the city. How it would have galled Helam to know that it was Adar who had put Molach in position to remain in the Radim armies, despite all Helam had done.

  Molach had half a mind to refuse the summons, but he had to admit he was also curious to meet Adar’s son. Would the boy be as paranoid as his father? He walked out the door, wondering what new madness he would face today. Jorad’s return would stir things up, perhaps making the Kopal more active.

  Chapter 15

  It turned out that Bullford Hugh was as motivated as Jorad had thought, returning with Jorad’s belongings a few minutes later. Bullford must have run the whole way because he was covered with sweat, his hair dripping moisture onto his uniform after he hopped up onto the platform with Jorad’s pack, sword, blaster, and the Hunwei head.

  “Here is fine, thank you, soldier. Have somebody else clean up the mess in the dungeon.”

  The man saluted before leaving.

  Most the soldiers on the Napael grounds looked as though they had resumed their duties. Several squads of recruits trained on the other side of the compound. Off-duty soldiers hung around the outside of the barracks, one openly staring at Jorad while the others pretended to be doing something else.

  Shaking his head as he went to his pack, the first thing Jorad did was take out his water skin, remembering as he did that he’d drained out the last drop the previous day. He pushed away his disappointment as he pulled out a fresh shirt. Stripping to the waist, he avoided looking at the bloody remains, trying not to think about all the fibers that had been embedded into his back.

  He regretted the loss of his fresh shirt, knowing as he put it on his back that it would be stained with blood by the end of the day. It would have been better to procure a uniform before summoning the general, but it was too late now. He’d have to meet this General Molach Morgol as he was.

  It bothered him that Abel hadn’t said a word to him and that Drake had left him without so much as telling him where his quarters were.

  They’re making it harder than it needs to be. Do either of them understand the urgency of our situation? Abel had invited Jorad to the palace at noon, but he wasn’t going to make it. He figured that having his back turned into tenderized meat was a good excuse not to go.

  If he’d had any food he would have eaten it, it was for the best he did not, seeing as he had no water with which to chase it down.

  Once he’d buttoned his shirt and stuffed the remains of the tattered one into his bag, he paced, wishing Morgol would hurry. Every footstep brought pain, but that was better than letting his body seize up.

  He had dreaded his arrival in Rarbon every step of the way, but now that he was here he wanted to get things moving, even with all the pain he currently experienced. How long would it be before the Council assigned the first task?

  Adar had never talked much about his trials and Jorad had never asked, not caring because he’d had no interest in making a claim. He now wished that they’d talked about Adar’s experiences at length. He knew pieces. Part of one trial had involved molten metal. Adar had come close to losing a leg during another, but those bits had all slipped out in conversation during the last couple of weeks while they’d been traveling from Neberan to Zecarani.

  It’s strange Adar never forced a conversation about it, Jorad thought. He spent all my life preparing me for it but then never talked to me about it. Since when had Adar ever allowed my lack of interest to be a factor in what he was determined to teach me?

  Perhaps Adar had never talked about it because he’d been forbidden by the council from doing so. Or perhaps the trials were so bad that Adar had feared they would scare Jorad off. The more Jorad thought about it, the more convinced he became that the latter of his two theories were correct. Giving instruction had been Adar’s central purpose during their time on the run; if he’d avoided a topic, it had been for a good reason.

  Jorad came to the edge of the platform and stopped, looking up at the city wall. He hadn’t appreciated in the dark before just how tall it was. This was his first good look at it in the daylight. It was higher than any he’d ever seen in any other city, and Rarbon Palace itself made the wall seem small.

  He could see men moving at the top but couldn’t make out any details. Calling up to one was out of the question.

  In the far corner of the compound were several other buildings, the purpose for which he’d couldn’t identify.

  I have so much to learn but no time to do it. It was going to be like drinking from a waterfall while fighting off an enemy at the same time. The mental image resonated with him. Defeating the Hunwei is important. Doing what I must to gain access to the Portal is my focus. Nothing else matters.

  The first thing he needed was an ally who would be willing to show him the ropes. Would General Morgol be such a man?

  Jorad didn’t hold out much hope. The name did sound familiar as if it was somebody Adar had mentioned, but he wasn’t certain the context. Karn had said that less than half of the people believed Adar would return, but most didn’t care. And there were others—who like Tere—would kill Adar if they could.

  The wind picked up, and Jorad could feel it brushing up against the wounds of his back as it blew through his shirt, making him cringe with pain.

  He had a long day ahead. He would have asked for a healer but had the distinct impression that if word got out, he’d never live it down. He was already off to a bad start as it was. He could only suffer through, hoping nothing became infected.

  Perhaps, if he could connect with Xarda, he’d ask her to look at it, but even then, he was hesitant. People needed to see their leaders as strong.

  The sun was much higher by the time the guard returned with General Morgol. Jorad had decided to rest by sitting on the edge of the platform. Hopping down wouldn’t have normally been a problem for him, but he’d decided he would need a break before attempting it.

  He spotted the guard and Morgol from the moment they entered through the gate. Jorad flexed his arms to get back to his feet and realized he was in too much pain to move without risking a fall from the platform.

  His other option was to hop down, but he noticed that even from a distance, Morgol stared at him. Should he stumble in his landing, it wouldn’t go over well. He wanted one thing to go right today if it could.

  He gripped the edges of the platform as panic flooded into him, making his stomach hurt. Keeping his face as still as he could, he realized he had one option. He needed to control the situation. He’d rather look arrogant than a fool who didn’t know how to land upright from several feet above the ground.

  If he hadn’t already, Morgol would soon hear about how Jorad’s claim had gone. Perhaps he’d be less harsh if he knew Jorad’s back had just been torn raw. Whatever else happened, Jorad wasn’t going to say a word about his punishment. He would do whatever necessary to keep it from showing, though Morgol would certainly know of it eventually.

  Melyah, I need to be strong. It was difficult to not let his frustration with his circumstances overwhelm him. This was not how he’d wanted things to go.

  Here he was with the fate of the world on his shoulders, and he was playing politics with Abel, w
ho’d mastered the game before Jorad was born. A man who’d done such a good job of it that Adar—the most capable person Jorad had ever known—had been forced from the city.

  Jorad couldn’t even hop down the remaining few feet from the platform without fearing he’d fall flat on his face.

  I can’t choose my circumstances, but I can decide how I’m going to respond. He needed to think through every word and action. Something he wasn’t very good at doing.

  Adar struggled with this as well. His father could be rash, particularly when he felt a need for action. Perhaps that was part of why Adar had fled, leaving Abel to remain in Rarbon, holding onto his power.

  Adar had never said as much, but Jorad had got the idea his father blamed Abel for the death of Jorad’s mother. The animosity between Adar and Tere made Jorad think Tere had a hand in her death as well. Adar had never been open about his suspicions, but his dislike of Tere was apparent. During the few moments Adar and Jorad had alone since the coming of the Hunwei, Jorad had never been able to think of the right way to bring up his questions.

  And now he might never get a chance. For the moment, it was probably best he only had suspicions. If Adar had shared everything he knew that might have made Abel complicit in Nelion’s death, it would have been that much harder to deal with the present situation.

  It was better Jorad not know the truth for now.

  Jorad made a point of frowning while staring at the ground as the two men approached. He didn’t want to seem like he was anxious, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to offend the man either. He figured that erroring on the side of being a little grumpy might work in his favor.

  Grumpy was better than weak.

  “General Rahid.”

  Jorad looked into the face of General Molach Morgol. The man was about the same height as Jorad, maybe a smidge taller. He’d know the next time he was on his feet around the man.

  “General Morgol, I presume.” Jorad placed his hands on the platform. It was meant to be an unreadable gesture.

  Morgol frowned. “I have been informed you’re the new general of Napael army. For most, congratulations would be in order, but this is an unusual circumstance.” He waited for Jorad to make a comment but Jorad just nodded his head. “This army is yours. What need do you have of me?”

  “I wanted to formally claim command.”

  Morgol gave a slight incline of his head. “You have. I appreciate the formality. Best of luck.” He turned to go.

  This hadn’t gone how Jorad had hoped. Was it tradition to keep him from having any help? Or had Abel and Drake got to the man first?

  Melyah, I hope I don’t make a fool of myself, but I need him. Jorad hopped from the platform, keeping one hand on the top as he did. He hadn’t realized what he was doing until he was in the middle of doing it. When he landed on his feet without toppling over, he hid a smile and stifled a groan of pain.

  “General, a word.”

  Morgol turned back, his face as emotionless as Jorad tried to make his own.

  Jorad motioned to the guard, whose name he still didn’t know, he regretted not asking earlier. “Find the lieutenant generals. Tell them we’ll meet tonight at eight.” He frowned. “Have them meet in the usual place, wherever that is.”

  The man inclined his head before leaving.

  Morgol frowned.

  “You weren’t at the council meeting last night,” Jorad said, once the guard was out of earshot, “or if you were, I didn’t see you.”

  “That’s correct.” Morgol offered nothing more. Jorad knew better than to ask where the general had been.

  “The Hunwei have returned.”

  For the first time in their conversation, Morgol showed a flicker of emotion as he raised his eyebrows, but it might have been an involuntary twitch.

  Jorad would have shown the man the Hunwei head but it was up with his pack, and he’d already pushed his luck as far as he dared for the moment. He doubted his ability to scale the platform with his newly torn back.

  “You can’t kill them with a sword. I’d like to share with you what I’ve learned. Knowledge on how to kill the Hunwei will be a precious commodity in the days ahead.”

  Jorad let the words hang as Morgol processed them, apparently uncertain what to think.

  The man gave a small nod. “I’ll send a messenger.” With that he left, not looking back or wavering in his steady pace while he headed towards the gate.

  I might have better luck killing a Hunwei with my bare hands than turn that man to an ally. While the man hadn’t turned down Jorad’s invitation, he hadn’t seemed warm to the idea either. Jorad suspected it would be some time before a messenger arrived if one came at all. If the man did follow through, Jorad would take the next step.

  If not, he’d look for somebody else and count Morgol as a potential enemy.

  Chapter 16

  The sun was beginning to set, and Daen was already looking over his shoulder, expecting that at any moment the Kopal might come out of the shadows after him. He received a strange look from an elderly woman who clutched a basket of vegetables to her side.

  Without making eye contact, he sidled out of the way so she could pass.

  If his uncle Cural’s stories were true, it had been different twenty years ago. More people had believed in the Hunwei. The Radim armies had been better run.

  Why had that changed? Was it the Kopal working from the shadows? A rumor campaign that had been going for two decades? Or just human nature coming to bear? He didn’t know what to make of it.

  As Daen moved into the flow of traffic, he worried for Rarbon. He wondered how many people would care if they knew what was happening.

  I should have gone into hiding with Linel, he thought. It had taken hours of persuasion from both Semal and him to convince her to remain in hiding, but they’d prevailed because she was the only person who’d seen the Hunwei. They needed her as a witness.

  But that was before Jorad Rahid arrived in Rarbon. Rumors had swept through the city since he’d made his claim, but most seemed more intent on calling him crazy than wondering if his story was true. From the way the story was told, it sounded like even Rahar Abel hadn’t believed Jorad but had spoken up out of pity. A very unlikely emotion for the man but the rumor was on everybody’s lips.

  Even if Linel were brought before the Rarbon Council, it wouldn’t do any good. The leaders of the city were set in their view, and because the people were either ambivalent or doubters themselves, nobody would do anything about it.

  So many questions. Too few answers.

  Daen pulled out of the flow of traffic and stepped into an alley so he could see if anybody did anything to catch his attention.

  Even though the Kopal likely had a good idea where Linel was hiding, he didn’t want to reinforce any of their suspicions if he could avoid it. It was better he stay away from Semal’s place if he even suspected he was being followed. He folded his arms, both hands resting on the hilts of daggers he’d started carrying on his belt. He’d always felt that his sword and a single dagger in a boot was enough, but with things going the way that they were, he wanted the comfort of knowing he had many ways to defend himself. He felt like a walking arsenal, but that was cold comfort if they caught him unawares and stabbed him the back before he knew they were there.

  After watching for several minutes and seeing nothing of note, he continued on his way, hoping the Kopal wouldn’t dare approach Linel in Semal’s home. The Kopal seemed to be going out of their way to keep a low profile. Apart from the dead tanner, there had not been any other incidents.

  The four Rarbon city guards who were kept on rotating guard duty at Semal’s place had so far proven an adequate deterrent. It seemed unlikely the Kopal would risk drawing attention by attacking.

  It was dark when Daen arrived at Semal’s place, but the street was still busy because it became dark earlier in the day at this time of year.

  The lamps inside Semal’s home burned bright, lighting the out
side and the guards. Jorad suspected Semal was filling the oil at night to keep them going all through the evening as a further deterrent. The old man didn’t seem to sleep anyways, and Daen guessed that the last few days had been even worse than usual.

  While age might account for some of his insomnia, Daen knew it was only part of the reason Semal’s lamps burned late and why he’d still be up with the rising sun.

  Most often Semal was found talking to himself, the later it was, the more he seemed to talk, as if forgetting he was alone.

  The man had always been strange, but the rumors around the city where that he’d lost his wits. When asked, Daen would acknowledge Semal was getting old and if he were pushed, would even offer up that Semal was as obsessed with the Hunwei as he ever had been. Daen usually left it at that, even though it wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. People believed what they wanted, and he’d gotten tired of trying to convince them Semal wasn’t so crazy. Mainly because they’d start to look at Daen askance, as if judging his mental abilities.

  Semal’s eyes still worked fine, and his mind was quite keen. Those who bothered to talk to the man were disabused of any notions there was something wrong with him. The two guards at the front door nodded as Daen went by. He knew both by name because of the time he’d spent with Semal.

  Lear yawned as Daen opened the door and Cerval looked ready to fall asleep.

  Melyah! Daen thought. They’d be easy targets for the Kopal. Daen was glad Semal kept his home well-lit. Semal must have known the guards were sleeping on the job.

  Daen had tried in vain to convince Semal to tell the guards about the Kopal. The old man had just insisted Linel would keep out of sight. He was convinced there were Kopal among the guards. The man saw Kopal everywhere.

  Confound it, Daen thought while looking over his shoulder, he was starting to see them lurking in the shadows as well.

  While he didn’t think their insane beliefs had spread as pervasively as Semal claimed, and it made sense to avoid broadcasting Linel’s presence, it also meant the guards sat like fish in a barrel, waiting for the Kopal to come. Daen would prefer to move Linel, but he couldn’t think of a better place for her to go. His uncle Cural would take in Linel, but unless Daen had a way of getting her there without anybody knowing, it would be far less safe than Semal’s home.