“Well, no, Nachia. The islands of the Guntha are sinking. I’ve checked on that myself. It’s a slow process, but they are falling back into the sea and nothing can prevent that from happening.” Desh Krohan shrugged. “Well, magic, I suppose, but I haven’t really looked into the matter.”
Nachia rolled her eyes and looked out the window to her suite. The sorcerer was there by her request and she could feel his eyes examining her form. In his defense she was dressed to be noticed. It irked her quite a bit that the man was barely reacting at all.
The sun was rising behind the walls of the palace and the shadows stretched out long fingers that pointed toward the distant Seven Forges.
“So what do you think of the claims that the Sa’ba Taalor have been attacking the Guntha?”
“It seems rather a stretch, doesn’t it?” He paused. “You’ve seen the same maps that I have. I suppose it’s possible that the Taalor have access to the sea, but they certainly don’t have the supplies to build ships of any size, or if they do, they’d have to haul the raw materials for a great distance.”
“The stone that built this castle came from the Wellish Steppes and was carried here by horses and many, many wagons.”
“True enough, but there was a great deal of expense and effort involved.”
“Yes, but how much effort to carry wood to build ships, even if the ships are very large?”
Desh sighed behind her. She turned and saw him staring directly at her face.
“What? Say what’s on your mind, wizard.”
“Even if the Sa’ba Taalor are off and running around on ships, what has that to do with us?”
“The princess spoke as if the Guntha made claims of a vast navy.”
“Secondhand innuendo and suppositions from a girl who has just confessed that her father has been lying to the Emperor.” He shook his head. “Even if it’s true, the Guntha have never been our allies.”
“This isn’t about alliances. This is about not knowing what they are capable of, or what their intentions are.”
“I can see your point, Nachia, but, really, we’ve only just met these people.” He stepped closer and she held her breath. It bothered her, too, that as much as he seemed indifferent to her, she found herself drawn to the sorcerer. She’d have thought the man was using an enchantment on her, but knew better. He had always held a fascination for her, even when she was a child. His hand pointed out the open window to the courtyard below. “It’s almost irrelevant, really. There they go.”
Off to the left the long line of animals – horses and stranger things – were in motion, the great beasts of the Sa’ba Taalor were heading for the distant Seven Forges. A trip that would take weeks at the very least according to what she knew.
“I think I’m relieved.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about them yet.” The man’s voice drifted lazily as he looked toward the caravan. “They’re a fascinating people.”
“They are different.”
“Well, yes, that’s rather what makes them fascinating.”
“Why didn’t you go along?”
“For the same reason that your cousin is still here instead of traveling along with them. I have far too much to do around here.”
“Like what?”
“At the very least I have to advise the Emperor on the changes those people have just brought around.”
“What changes?”
“Weren’t you paying attention?” His voice was teasing. His voice almost always seemed to be teasing. She hated him just a little for that. “Our new neighbors have apparently been killing off our other neighbors to the south.”
“They aren’t new.” She watched them as they moved away, none of the small figures seemed the least bit interested in looking back toward the palace and that suited her just fine. “We just weren’t aware that they were there.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Oh yes.” Her voice was very soft. “We were unaware of them. We should not for a moment think they were unaware of us.”
Desh Krohan nodded his head slowly, never looking away from the winding line of animals and riders. “Congratulations, Nachia. I do believe you’re learning.”
“You said it yourself, Desh. One should never stop learning. Or studying the world.”
She closed her eyes as she felt his hand pat her back softly for a moment. Oh, how she hated that the contact felt so damned good. “I stand corrected. I know you’re learning. That’s what I like to see.”
In the very far distance there was a flare of light and both of them looked. For just a moment the illumination from the Seven Forges was bright enough to be seen on the horizon. Neither of them was looking when the faintest vibration from the same location reached the palace.
SEVENTEEN
The first night they traveled until they reached the edge of civilization. Andover looked around in awe. He had never been outside of Tyrne in his life, and though he knew the world was large, he had no idea just how immense it truly was. The wilderness, the darkness of the sky and the vastness of the same were intimidating.
Tega rode in a separate wagon, one that was marked with odd symbols that meant nothing to Andover, despite the fact that he could read a little.
She did not leave her wagon on the first night, but instead locked herself away. There were more wagons than he had initially assumed, four in total: three of them carried supplies and one of those had a bunk for Andover. The others carried the larder and gifts for the kings of the Seven Forges.
When the group made camp, Drask found Andover and called him over. In the open spaces and near complete darkness, the eyes of the Sa’ba Taalor and their mounts seemed to burn. It was an unsettling image, as if they carried a bit of the fire of their homeland within them.
Drask had made a fire and he and two others settled near it, the deeply scarred Bromt and the girl, Delil. Bromt had been hunting earlier and the meat of three rabbits roasted over the fire.
“Join us.” Andover nodded. Really, when Drask said to do something the idea of disagreeing seldom came up. The warriors settled around the fire and mostly sat in silence, but it was a comfortable quiet, something that Andover was not really accustomed to.
Bromt peeled one of the rabbits from the spit where he’d been cooking them and used a knife as large as the animal itself to cut it into quarters. Without speaking he offered the meat to each of his companions and Andover nodded his thanks when the offering was made. His stomach rumbled and he realized that he was ravenous.
As he ate, Drask picked the meat from his piece of the animal and tore it into small pieces that he slipped under his veil. All three of them did that.
And when they were done eating Drask looked toward Andover and sighed. “When we wake in the morning, we will be walking.”
“Where are we walking to?” Andover gnawed the last of the meat from a leg bone and licked his fingers.
“Home.”
Andover stared for a long moment. “All the way to the Seven Forges?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” It was all he could think to say.
“Because Tuskandru demands it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tuskandru believes that you must be… tempered.”
“What do you mean?”
Drask sighed. “You have been healed. You have been broken and you have been healed, and that is the First Forging for you.” Drask leaned in closer. “By the beliefs of my people there are many stages to becoming what you should eventually become. The First Forging is…” He waved his hands around and squinted into the fire. “The First Forging is the first step into adulthood. I know that for you, for your people, you are an adult. But to the Sa’ba Taalor, you are still a child. It is time to be tempered. It is time for your mind and body to be strengthened.”
“The Seven Forges are a great ways off, Drask.” He stared at the man for a long moment. “You’re from there. Even riding your mounts it took you weeks to reach T
yrne. It would take months to reach your home.”
“This I know. You will walk the entire distance.”
Andover shook his head. It was madness, of course.
Drask placed his heavy hands on his knees and leaned in closer. “Allow me to explain this. You will walk. There is no question of this.”
“But why?”
“Because Tuskandru speaks for all of the Kings. And none of the Kings will acknowledge you until you have proven yourself worthy. You will walk. And while you are walking, we will train you with your weapon and with a bow. I have a spare and you may use it. You will learn to hunt for yourself. You will learn to feed yourself. You will learn to fight and to defend yourself.”
Andover closed his eyes and thought hard about the situation. “If I say no, what happens?”
“You will stay here.”
“What? You mean I won’t be allowed to come to the Seven Forges?”
“Yes. You will not be allowed.”
He looked back over his shoulder, back toward Tyrne, so far removed now that not even the glow from the city could be seen.
“You will not be allowed to walk to your home, Andover Lashk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you will either walk to the valley of the Seven Forges or you will stay here.” Drask stomped his foot into the ground. “Right here. You will walk, you will obey the orders of Tuskandru, or I will kill you myself.”
“You’re serious.”
“Truska-Pren has given you new hands. You proved yourself worthy of the gift of those hands when you fought your enemies. That was your First Forging. You must be seen as an equal by my people, or you will not be accepted.”
“I’ll never find my way!” He waved his arms around. “I’ve no damned idea where we are now! How do you expect me to find the Seven Forges!”
Drask leaned back. “I said ‘we’ are walking. The four of us. We will show you the way to the Seven Forges and we will teach you what you need to know if you will be an ambassador to the Sa’ba Taalor.”
The silence between them grew. Bromt cut apart another rabbit and despite his lack of appetite – a very sudden change indeed – Andover had the good sense to eat. If he was going to be hunting for the food he’d be eating, he wanted to build up whatever stores he could in advance.
Desh Krohan lay in his bed for a long while and stared at the ceiling. The world was moving on again; he could feel it and it was not a sensation he was very fond of.
His skin shivered and the sorcerer rolled into a sitting position as his flesh goosepimpled. “What in all the worlds?” He looked around and tried to orient himself as his vision blurred. The Sooth often told him of potential calamities, but this, whatever exactly was happening, was coming out of the darkness.
“Tataya! I need you!” Tataya was close by, the others, even Tega, were all gone, sent off by him on different tasks that needed to be tended to as surely as he needed to watch over the Empire.
Tataya flowed into the room, her robes fluttering around her form as she came to him. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“I am not sure, but something is wrong.” His head throbbed. His vision would not focus. For a moment he felt every year of his existence and the weight of those years dropped him to his hands and knees on the cold marble floor of his suite. Tataya’s hands caught him before he could fall completely, and her strength helped him regain his feet.
Around the room, around the palace and the entire capital city, glass rattled, small items shook and still waters rippled with fish scale waves.
Tataya spoke under her breath, quickly weaving protection for the both of them and for the room. As she cast her words into the world the air around them calmed and the delicate glass and crystal items around the area steadied themselves.
And then it was merely a matter of minutes before Desh could stand on his own again, could think again as the pain that held him eased its violent grip.
He tried wiping at his flesh but his hand came away stained with a thin patina of blood-sweat. Tataya grabbed a soft cloth and pulled his robes open, wiping the reddish stains from his body with careful strokes.
Desh stood still for it, mostly because he was not yet convinced that the worst of the seizure was over.
“Desh, what did you do?”
He shook his head. “This wasn’t me, Tataya. Not this time. This was… I don’t know what. But something has happened. Something I need to investigate.”
She nodded her head, her red hair falling loosely around her face. “I will prepare the chamber.”
“Thank you.” Desh moved carefully. His strength was recovering nicely but his hands still shook. He made his way to the end table near his bed and poured clear, cold water from the pitcher there. He drank four full glasses before he felt more himself again.
By the time he’d dressed himself Tataya returned, carrying his shimmering robes and four black stones that Desh had carved himself, each covered in delicate markings that were etched deeply into the spheres.
He stared at the stones for several seconds. Each was the size of a small apple. “Do you think four? Really?” he grimaced at the notion. The effort to make them had not been expended lightly.
“You were just sweating blood, Desh.”
He nodded and instead took three from her after he’d put on his robes. Then he slipped one of the round stones into the pockets of his robe.
“Two for now. A third if I need it.”
“You know best.” Her voice said otherwise. He ignored the tone. He was used to it from the Sisters. Part of their mission in life was to keep him humble and they did an excellent job. That did not mean he always listened to their suggestions.
“Let’s just finish this.” He mumbled the words for himself, really, to bolster his sense of self-confidence. Dealing with the spirits was never an easy thing, and the odds were good that they would be very agitated by whatever had just happened.
“Have a care, Desh. I’ve grown rather fond of you.”
“I always do, Tataya. Watch over us please.”
He moved into the small room that she had prepared for him. The walls were unadorned iron. The floor was cold silver, polished to a mirrored finish. The ceiling above him was red and wet and rippled as he looked at it.
Desh set two stones on the floor before him and sat cross-legged.
Deep inside, hidden well away from the faces of the people he knew, Desh allowed himself a small shiver.
The Sooth could be very demanding when they wanted to and he suspected there would be a cost for whatever questions he asked. He just hoped the stones were enough of a payment.
The tide of red that came down from the ceiling covered him in a matter of moments and he resisted the instinct that told him to breathe.
The answers would come soon enough.
First, however, was the pain.
Desh Krohan managed not to scream. At least on the outside. In his mind he howled with agonies few would have believed possible to endure.
Goriah walked along the beach and looked at the ruination. There was little that had not been picked over by seagulls, crabs and other creatures, but there was enough. Skeletons remained half buried in sand, scoured by the wind and rain and cleaned by the vermin. Some of the remains still had jewelry and weapons alike.
The Guntha had come to do battle. They never had the chance.
Far off across the waters the islands of the Guntha were slowly sinking into the depths of the ocean. In another hundred years there would be little left of them, but for now they were still inhabitable. She would be heading over to the islands soon enough.
Even now, she knew, the Guntha were planning on coming to Roathes. They were angry. They were confused and they were scared. All she had to do was look at the remains of their camp to know why.
“All true. None of them survived. Not a single one.”
She closed her eyes and felt the echoes of the dead. They were not ghosts, exactly, though t
o be sure there were a few of those around. No, these were merely afterimages of the carnage. Reflections of the pain that ran through the Guntha as they died.
Most of them never even knew what happened. They slept through their deaths. She supposed that was a blessing.
Goriah opened her eyes when she heard the men coming her way. She did not bother looking toward them. She knew what they wanted. They wanted to know who she was and why she stood among the ruins of well over a thousand corpses.
Really, she cared very little what they wanted, but she had to play by the rules that Desh Krohan offered her.
When she finally looked toward the small gathering of men, they stared at her with open surprise. She was as pale as snow in comparison to them. Her skin was pale, her hair was nearly white and there were likely none among them that had ever seen anyone as far removed from their own body types.
They were dressed in pants and shirts, not in the more casual skirt-like outfits that so many of the Roathians preferred. Like as not that meant they worked for the king, who was trying, slowly and without much success, to make his people more like the rulers of the Empire.
Pants did not make sense in the heat and humidity, nor did the heavy cloaks and greatcoats favored by Tyrne at the present time.
One of them finally came closer to her, his eyes wide. He was not scared, exactly, but he sensed that she was not quite what she appeared.
“No one is supposed to be here. This area has been declared unclean by King Marsfel.”
“And yet here you are and here I am.”
“Well, but we are here because you are here.”
“I have been summoned here to examine this very place. By order of Emperor Pathra Krous.” She held up the golden seal of office that he presented to his managers.
The man stepped back and bowed down quickly. “If we may assist, you have but to ask.” His voice did not agree with his words. Like so many, he disliked being made to help strangers to Roathes. The king wanted the Empire. The king wanted the prestige and wealth of Fellein. The Roathians seemed to prefer the idea of fishing and farming. She could see the appeal.
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