by Guy Antibes
Havyr and Leshyam both fell off of their horses not long after they left the farm and got on the road leading west. Vish didn’t say anything, but Vaka colored the air with his cursing. The column stopped for an hour while saddles were repaired.
“One of your brothers,” Vaka said through his teeth. He showed the strapping to Vish. They were cut most of the way. “I know it’s not you because you wouldn’t be stupid enough leave such a small amount left to breakaway. So probably not one of the former soldiers, either.” He left Vishan somewhat in shock. The man had never confided in him before or shown him any favoritism, but Vaka had only expressed his disgust to him. Perhaps the sergeant was an ally on this expedition.
He thought the real opportunities would come when they went on the offensive against the Cuminee raiders or if mercenaries attacked them, hired by one or more of the brothers.
Vishan took off his saddlebags and stripped his horse in the evening. He dragged his gear next to the troopers. His brothers slept clumped together. It didn’t make any sense to Vish. If the brother next to you might kill you in the night, why would you sleep together?
He then recognized that keeping his enemies in plain sight might be a good strategy, but proximity didn’t seem to be an advantage while sleeping.
Vishan woke to Sergeant Vaka shouting for the men to rise. Vishan grabbed his leather armor and put it on as soon as he sat up. Torches began to light the camp. The sergeant stood among his brothers.
They stood over Havyr, the eighth son. His face was distorted; eyes bulged with his hands up towards his neck. Vishan knelt down and looked at the ruined skin.
“Garrote,” he said, “an assassin’s weapon.” His hand went to his throat. He’d never thought of a defense for that. Vishan looked at his brothers. Astyran’s face sported a bland look. The other faces showed more concern.
Sergeant Vaka was furious. “Whoever did this brought their weapon into the outpost. We don’t have garrotes like this at Peshakan. Sit down on the ground, all of you. Let me see your hands.” Vaka noticed Vishan standing behind. “You too, Vishan.”
The sergeant called him by his first name. Vish raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Vaka growled. “You are all Daryaku. I’ve got to call you something so you know I’m talking to you. Sit down,” he said quietly.
Vish shrugged and sat down next to Daryan. He put his out his hands, like the others.
“Palms out, men,” Vaka ordered.
Vish looked down the line. He couldn’t see enough in the torchlight. If he wanted to shake his brothers up he could spell a light globe, but he’d do no such a thing unless he absolutely had to.
Vaka paused as he looked down at Astyran’s hands, and then continued on down the line.
“Corporal, put Lieutenant Astyran in irons. Search his person and his gear for the garrote. It should still be soaked in his victim’s blood.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Lieutenants, even if you use gloves, a wire garrote will bruise the sides of your hands. I will show you Astyran’s hands so you may witness his condition.”
Astyran stood, flailing his arms. “No! I didn’t do anything. You can’t prove I did that.” He pointed to his brother’s body. “What do you take me for, someone who would kill my own brother?”
Parvenu, one of the other ex-soldiers, said, “Scholar Lystan already told us that you are.”
Astyran shot him an angry glare. “I am a son of the Emperor! Anyone with gloves would have those marks!”
“Thank you, Astyran. Corporal, make sure you find the Lieutenant’s gloves. They should have marks on them as well. Let’s have a quick meal and then move on.”
“We aren’t proceeding, are we?” Daryan said.
“I have my orders, Daryan. Your brother’s just lucky we’re close enough to the outpost for Captain Bishyar to judge his fate. Murder of a fellow officer is a capital offense and I could hang him right here, if I wanted.” Sergeant Vaka said. He ordered the Corporal to take the body, Astyran and two guardsmen back to the outpost.
Vishan couldn’t go back to sleep. Vaka had the troopers search through the brush and found the garrote covered with dirt ten paces from the camp. Astyran’s gloves had marks matching the garrote among with a few flecks of blood on them. It seemed that Vishan wouldn’t have to seek vengeance. The man had sentenced himself to death and the enmity between the two had been settled without any effort on Vish’s part.
Two brothers were, essentially, dead. Fourteen of his brothers remained alive, but for how long? Vishan paid a soldier one drek to examine his horse and saddle. The animal looked fine, but Vish would like another’s eyes on his gear. He saddled up again and couldn’t help but gaze at the horses heading back to the outpost. Havyr’s body was slung over the saddle. A bow peeked out. There were now only two who carried a bow.
Vishan would have liked to grieve for Havyr, but he never knew him and, other than Daryan and Astyran, had never really talked to any of the seven in his entire life. He pursed his lips and felt wrung out with all of the tension. Only a day and a night and look at what happened.
They headed west not long after. Vishan, again, rode at the end of the column of brothers, now two shorter. None of them spoke, except to answer questions the Sergeant Vaka asked them about the previous night. Vish could tell that Vaka didn’t believe that no one noticed Havyr’s murder. Vishan escaped the interrogation since he had slept with the troopers.
Nothing happened the next day. They rode through a couple of villages. Both of them seemed to erupt from the plains like blemishes on a teenage boy. The dust and dirt of the streets had coated the buildings, giving everything the same dreary dun color as the fort. The stunted trees of the plains stood in clumps, sentinels of grayish green with black trunks seeming to flow down to the ground like tentacles.
Vishan began to see if his horse would react to knee commands. His mount responded well and would veer in the direction opposite the pressure. That was different from the warhorse, but he hadn’t expected any success. Vishan gave an apple to the horse, as they dismounted at midday beside a stream before troopers hobbled the horses so they could meander and find enough grass to forage.
Vish kept an eye out on his horse as he leaned back on his saddlebags and ate trail rations. His brothers continued to shut him out and that was fine. Sergeant Vaka sat beside him.
“You’ve got a cool head for one so young. Your other brothers are staring at each other like animals in a cage. I don’t see the same look in your eyes. Why not?”
“I’m not a threat to them. I was the 22nd son at one point. Now I’m soon to be less than half of that when this is over. My life has a long way to go and I don’t have any ambitions to be Emperor.” Vish nodded in the direction of his brothers. “They do. I think Daryan would be the most worried. He’s senior here. Everybody moves up if he’s killed.”
“But you are prepared. I’ve watched. Havyr’s bow didn’t escape your notice. I had my eye on you.”
Vishan looked out over the prairie. “My neck is as soft as Havyr’s. I had no defense against a garrote attack. To survive, one has to be both prepared for anything and be lucky.”
“Stay vigilant, lad. This isn’t over.” Vaka stood and brushed off his pants. He gazed at the clump of brothers and walked off to check on the troopers. Vishan followed him with his eyes. Another set of civil words from Vaka. Amazing.
Vaka paid a farmer to let them sleep in his barn the next night. He had slept in this same barn a few months before his brothers arrived, on one of the routine patrols he’d been on. The straw bed would be better than sleeping on bare ground and the farmer could just rake it up and still use it to feed his livestock.
The horses were picketed on lines between a few trees. Vishan made sure that he found a sleeping spot next to a wall. That made one less direction for trouble to come from.
He awoke at the smell of smoke. A brand of some kind had been thrown onto the top of the two blankets he used. He cast the top one off
and automatically put on his leather armor.
“Fire!” He began beating the flames off of those around him with the flaming blanket. Vishan coughed as he breathed in smoke and tiny bits of burning straw. He barely dodged the thrust of a sword that slid along his armor in the smoke. Leshyam, the seventh son, took another swing until Vaka had thrown open the doors to the barn and ordered everyone out. His brother sheathed his sword as the firelight grew and he rushed outside with the rest.
Vishan used his magic to weaken the boards of wall and kicked them out, dragging all of his possessions out into the barnyard. He ran back in and used small amounts of spelled ice to combat the fire where others couldn’t see him until a bucket brigade began to throw water on the blaze. He saw a body lying face down, half covered by the wet straw, but continued to fight the flames until they were gone.
Sergeant Vaka ordered them out. “The barn is mostly intact. Daryan, however, is dead. I don’t know who did it, but princes, a few flames do not hide the slash of a sword thrust. Can any of you tell me what might have happened?”
Vish sat there. Leshyam had to have been the culprit unless two of the brothers worked together. Vishan now knew he was a target. He just didn’t know if Leshyam’s attack was opportunistic or planned along with Daryan’s death. Oldest and youngest.
“Leshyam tried to kill me with his sword until you ordered us to fight the fire,” Vish said. His brother looked at him through hate-filled eyes.
“Your sword, Leshyam.” Sergeant Vaka sighed.
His brother drew out his sword. “It’s clean,” Leshyam said with defiance and arrogance in his expression.
Vaka put it up to his nose and looked at the blade closely. “Smoke. There is smoke and ash on the blade. This sword was drawn during the fire, probably after you wiped off the blood.”
Leshyam ran off into the darkness. Vaka let him go for a few moments and then ordered the remaining troopers to capture him.
“We have to clean out the farmer’s barn and that includes all of you, princes. We’ll start with your brother’s body.”
Parvenu and Vishan, as the youngest, dragged Daryan’s body out of the barn. The dead prince’s clothes had mostly burned off, but they could make out a small gash above his heart and an ugly rent in his neck.
Dawn finally came and the barn sustained less damage than Vishan would have thought possible. Perhaps his magic had actually helped.
Vaka took Vishan aside and led him into barn. “What’s this?” He pointed to the hole in the wall.
“I kicked out the planks so I wouldn’t lose my gear.”
“That’s quick thinking, Vishan, but now I know you use power. Wood doesn’t break like that.”
Vishan began to sweat. “I, I had to save my things after Leshyam attacked.”
“I won’t tell anyone, but you’re going to have to be smarter than that. Understood?”
“Yes, Sergeant Vaka.”
“Good. You caused this damage, so give me whatever dreks you have on you. I’ll have to pay more for barn repairs.”
Vish emptied his purse into Vaka’s hand. Seven dreks.
“That will have to do. I think I hear the wailing of your guilty brother.”
As they walked out of the barn, troopers walked out of the farmer’s wood with Leshyam trussed up and tied to a horse.
“That branch will do,” Vaka said. He looked back at Vishan. “Nice slice on your armor.”
Vishan looked down to see a scoring of his armor. Leshyam would have done serious damage if Vishan hadn’t immediately donned protection.
“Leshyam Daryaku, by the authority given to me by the Emperor through the Red Army and Captain Bishyar, I sentence you to death by hanging. Since you killed a good soldier in cold blood, I don’t much care what happens to your sorry soul. Oh, and willful destruction of Imperial property through arson as well.” The sergeant nodded and a rope was thrown over a suitable branch, a knot was tied and in moments, another brother had ceased to exist.
The troopers were as solemn as the brothers as they broke their fast. Leshyam was cut down and buried with Daryan on the farmer’s property.
“To think, two of Emperor Shalil’s sons laid to rest at my farm,” the farmer said.
“Be glad I don’t charge you for the privilege,” Vaka said. “Time to go. Here’s enough for your barn and then some.” Vaka handed the farmer a purse. Vishan didn’t know how much came from Leshyam or Daryan, but it certainly held more than seven dreks. “The raider’s trail might already be cold. We do have a mission apart from facilitating the murders of Imperial heirs.”
Vishan had thought that one or two of his brothers might not make it, but four in two days? Sergeant Vaka didn’t suffer fools and Astyran and Leshyam were no exceptions. The sergeant had easily found the proof of the murders moments after he discovered them. If Vishan had harbored any plans to do away with his brothers, he would have stopped right then.
He looked at the trio and wondered. He had liked Daryan and regretted his death. Of the seven, Daryan had deigned to talk to him. Vish thought Daryan to be a good man under other circumstances, but he didn’t seem nasty enough to be Emperor. Was he too nice? Vishan wondered. Would he kill his other brothers if given the chance? Vishan had no desire to do so. That didn’t mean he was nice, it meant he was practical. He wanted to survive and wanted to learn illusions from Peleor. He liked his old life in Baku and wished, once again, that he were there.
Unfortunately, that life would be different when he returned. He didn’t know what effect his little brothers’ deaths might have had on his mother. She doted on them like she never had on Vishan. They were the last of her children. The thought made his foul mood darker.
His father still played his deadly games and would continue. Could Vishan decline to rule? Could one abdicate their place in succession? He’d have to find out once he survived this patrol, if he survived.
~
After the midday break on the third day out, Sergeant Vaka took them south towards the Cuminee border and an hour later they came to the destroyed farm. Every building had been burned to the ground. The remains of eight people, five men, a woman and two children had been staked to poles in the ground in front of the black shell of the farmhouse.
“The Cuminee do this after they’re finished with them. These folks were killed before they were put on poles. That’s a change in Cuminee practice. Princes, you’ve got burial detail. I’ll take the troopers and see if we can find tracks out of here. It’s been a week, but there’s been no rain. Vishan, you’re in charge since you’re a regular officer.”
“Yes, Sergeant Vaka,” Vishan said and saluted and turned to his brothers. “Let’s get this done. They left the pack horses, so we can wrap up our hands in something before we take care of the bodies.”
The other three brothers stood and gawked at him.
“You think we’re going to take orders from the 22nd son?”
“You will if you don’t want to end up like Leshyam. If any of you want to be in charge, feel free. I have no desire to incur Sergeant Vaka’s wrath. I have taken enough of his abuse since I’ve been here.” He walked to the pack horses and rummaged around, finding a roll of bandages. “Here,” he pulled out his dagger and cut off strips of cloth.
“I heard you were given a dagger, but I didn’t think the Emperor would give you that one.”
“Which one?”
“The Assassin’s Blade. It has a name, you know. Specially made to kill father. The story is that father fought the assassin and killed him. He prized the dagger above all others and put this unique gem in the pommel. I guess he thought you wouldn’t hold on to it for very long.”
The words surprised Vishan. Did his father give him the blade knowing that his chances of survival were slim? It didn’t matter. If he did, so what? Vishan had survived so far and he intended to survive for a lot longer.
“Let’s get these buried. Do you want to dig the graves or move the bodies?”
“Dig t
he graves,” they said, nearly as one.
“I suppose one grave for all of them,” Vishan said. “I’ll move the bodies. You get started.”
Vishan tossed them a shovel from one of the pack horses. “One of you can use Leshyam’s sword.” He pulled that from Leshyam’s former mount.
The three brothers had dug a hole six feet square and four feet deep when Sergeant Vaka returned with his troops. Vishan had laid out the bodies close to the grave and pitched in using a pole that he had carved with a flat point.
“That’s good enough.” Vaka pointed out two of the troopers. “You help them dig another foot down and then cover ‘em up.”
“Did you find any tracks, Sergeant?” Vishan asked as he washed off his hands at the farm’s well, some distance away from the others.
“Enough. I’d say maybe ten. But they weren’t Cuminee. I told my men not to tell your brothers. All they’ll know is that there are too many for us to attack since we’ve down seven men from when we started.”
“The staked out victims. Isn’t that what the raiders do?” Vishan said.
“Not like that. The Cuminee savages urinate and defecate on their living victims when they string them up on those poles. Every time.”
Vish didn’t notice anything other than mortal wounds on the bodies. “So this is a set-up?”
“Uh huh,” Vaka said, nodding his head. “I had hoped I’d see other Cuminee signs. They typically carve totems on the trees and other such nonsense to mark their raid. I don’t see any of that here. Whoever did this read some reports and didn’t bother to see what the Cuminee savages really do.”
Could his father be so cold-hearted? “Do you think my father—”
“More than likely one of those ‘princes’ has friends.” Vaka looked over to the burial party. They had just started rolling in the bodies, using the shovel and the pole that Vishan had modified. “We’ll not be staying the night and there will be watches consisting of a trooper and a prince all night long when we do stop to camp. If we had more men, I’d be tempted to wait them out, but we are at least evenly matched. In addition to the watch, I’ll take the first half of the night and you take the second, so make sure you get some sleep. It will be a long night, Lieutenant.”