Nightlord: Shadows

by Garon Whited

  On the other hand, if we could use it as a forward base of operations to stage our invasion of Byrne’s territory, it would help a lot. We had plans for all three possibilities: take it by force, talk them into being friendly, or be welcomed as allies.

  I really hope for that last one. I’m not looking forward to this.

  Verthyn was in sight when my pocket mirror chimed. It was Tort, and she wanted to report something big. We made a hasty camp and unpacked the big mirror. Tort swam into focus and we all gave her our attention.

  “The Quaen river has run dry,” she said. Quite a lot of people greeted this with expressions of disbelief, some of which were rather colorful. She insisted.

  “The Quaen is no longer flowing,” she continued. “I have seen this all along the river’s course, from the rivermouth in Formia to the mountains near Clariet. The sea flows up and down through Formia, but only with the tides. The rest of the riverbed is mud drying in the sun.”

  “How?” Huler demanded, then checked himself and softened his tone. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but the whole of the Quaen? I have seen the river and the ships that sail upon it. It is swift in the north and slows to a wide and deep river in the south. It is a mighty flow of water. How is this possible?”

  “The mountains near Clariet, on the southern side of the Averill,” Tort replied. “A great prow of stone divides the Averill like a knife; one branch flows westward, which we call the Averill. The other branch is the Quaen river, flowing southward through a ravine and into Rethven. Someone has worked great destruction within those mountains, bringing down cliffs and overhangs, rocks and boulders. The headwaters of the Quaen are dammed and the Averill flows all the more hurriedly westward.”

  There was a quiet moment at the table. I got out the largest-scale map we had and laid it out on the trestle table. With a word and a gesture, I started a spell to alter color; I ran my finger down the Quaen, temporarily erasing it. Everyone looked at the new map and started to wrap their heads around the changed situation.

  “Byrne,” Thomen said.

  “Obviously,” I agreed. “The question is, what are they trying to do? Cross the Quaen, yes, but where? And why? Just to expand westward?”

  “It depends on where they attack,” Kelvin said, rubbing his jaw. He needed a shave; he’d been busy. “Bildar is hard to take; others have tried it, I hear.” Huler nodded, obviously the source of that intelligence. “Formia is too far south to be a real goal right now. So, I would think either Loret or Telen is the next target; they are both on the east side and vulnerable. With a city to tear down and a drying riverbed to cross… depending on how long it takes to sack the city, add another three days, maybe four, and Byrne will have a roadway across into central Rethven.”

  “Isn’t Carrillon in central Rethven?” Seldar asked, and everyone considered that.

  If Byrne could take Carrillon, Prince Parrin could take the throne. It wouldn’t make everyone fall in line, but it would certainly be a powerful symbol of conquest. Some cities—especially cities bordering his blooming kingdom—would be tempted to simply declare him King and throw troops behind him in the hope of avoiding anything more onerous. That could easily swell into a wave of conquest that might engulf Rethven in as little as a year, two at the outside.

  Would that be a bad thing? I mean Rethven, as a kingdom, could use some unity and organization. Prince Parrin seemed to have that in mind. Good king, bad king, doesn’t matter; the first objective is to unite the remains of Rethven and turn it into a kingdom again. Is there some reason I should be against him doing it instead of me?

  Baret. Philemon. Brentwood. Wexbry. And everybody else who just recently wound up on my side of the war. Even if they gave up instantly and laid down arms, I doubted Prince Parrin would be terribly happy with them. At the very minimum, they would be taxed within an inch of starvation for a while. At worst…

  Added to that is the presence of another kingdom. Mine. He wouldn’t like that they allied themselves with what he would have to think of as a foreign power. Worse, he wouldn’t like having a foreign power that close to his border. If he succeeded in reuniting Rethven, would he leave Karvalen alone?

  No.

  If that wasn’t enough, there was also the small matter of some personal assaults and attempted assassinations. Trying to kill me wasn’t unreasonable. Coming so close to killing Amber and Tianna, on the other hand…

  Kammen said something scatological. People nodded.

  “All right,” I said, “we have a new problem. Do we hurry like hell to Carrillon, assuming that’s where he’s headed, and defend it? Or do we try to intercept him on the way and meet him in the field? Or do we press on, taking back everything they’ve taken so he has no base of support? Or just go straight to Byrne and take his seat of power?”

  “Majesty,” Huler said, “if we take back everything as we go, it is a roll of the dice. He may take Carrillon; he may not. If he does, he will have taken the most wealthy and well-defended city west of the mountains. He will prove that he can do it, and that will frighten people more than an army ten times as large.

  “Even if he has no support in the east—if we take every single city, including Byrne—he is in a much better position to press his claim of kingship by doing so from Carrillon.”

  “So, Carrillon is the key?”

  “Politically? I believe so, Majesty.” Huler looked around the table. There were nods of agreement.

  “So, straight to Carrillon? Or do we try and catch him in the open?”

  “If we knew where he was, Sire,” Kelvin said, “we might plan a way to intercept him. We’re only guessing he’s at Loret or Telen. He could have been preparing to cross anywhere and be plowing across the mud as we speak.”

  “Tort?” I asked, looking at the mirror. “Did you get that?”

  “Yes, my angel. I must apologize. My efforts have been to discover what I may of the road before you and the cities you intend to face. I have given no thought to the lands outside that region.”

  “Not your fault; I wasn’t thinking about it, either. Take a quick look along the Quaen, though, if you would, and see if you can find an army, okay?

  “I will do so immediately and inform you of the results.” Her image faded away to reflection.

  The council table turned to pandemonium.

  I sometimes feel as though there’s some sort of agency watching me and waiting for a moment to poke something, just hard enough to tip it over, so that I have to scramble to catch it or watch it fall and bust into pieces. It didn’t start with the Hand trying to kill me for becoming a vampire; I’ve had this feeling ever since I was a kid. Stolen bicycles, vanished toys, pets that wandered off, friends that moved away, that sort of thing. It continued through my teenage years and followed me into adulthood.

  This is not a quality one looks for in a military commander. It should be avoided in absolute rulers, too. Maybe I should pass a law.

  We held off on formally greeting Verthyn and spent the rest of the day fortifying our camp with earthworks and ditches. At least we weren’t marching. Once we were dug in, we posted sentries and gave everyone the rest of the afternoon off. I can only imagine what the people in Verthyn were thinking. I didn’t much care if they were sweating; it might do them good to be a little scared of us. As long as they left us alone while we sorted out strategy, I was content.

  Tort spent the rest of the day examining the former river; she called in to report only after darkness made it difficult.

  I made a mental note to include some low-light and infrared filters for future night recon.

  We set up around the council table and paid close attention.

  “The army of Byrne has massed at Telen,” she told me, through the mirror. “They are laying a wooden roadway across the mud of the riverbed. I estimate that it will be complete in two days. I have also searched all along the Quaen’s course; there are no other bodies of troops assembled anywhere along it, with the exception of the northernmo
st reach, at the landslide dam. There are at least a hundred men there, prepared and positioned to guard the piled-up avalanche that forms the dam. I suspect, after much probing and work, that there are wizards present; my sight is blocked in strange ways. There could be some of the ‘cannon’ that you have described.”

  “They mean to avoid having their supply lines and avenue of retreat flooded,” Huler said. Kelvin agreed with him.

  “I suppose so,” Tort agreed. “Also, the force in Telen has obviously taken the place and sacked it further.” She looked at me apologetically. “It never truly recovered from your attack, my angel; it has been a town—a minor city, at best—for decades.” I shrugged.

  “I didn’t attack them to be nice to them,” I noted. “All right. How many are there?”

  “I estimate eight thousand. Six thousand infantry, perhaps four thousand well-equipped and two thousand militia or peasant levies. There are nearly a thousand horsemen, and easily a thousand archers.”

  “They’re laying a wooden road?” Lissette asked, curiously. “How does that work?”

  “They strip all the surrounding lands of trees and split the logs in half,” Tort explained. “They lay them down to form a flat surface, held in place by stakes driven into the ground. On this foundation, they lay tightly-wrapped bundles of sticks, as a mat, to spread the weight of feet, hooves, or wheels. As a road, it will not last, but it will allow them passage to and fro across the mud flats of the old river-bottom. They will cross before it dries, but when it does, it will form a much more stable bed.”

  While she spoke, Seldar and Kelvin distributed markers on the main map to represent the new forces. We looked at the map for a bit, thoughtfully and somewhat glumly.

  “That’s a lot of men,” Seldar finally observed. People agreed. Kelvin ran his fingers along the map from Byrne to Telen.

  “To field such a professional force—that is, without the peasant levies—they must have stripped their defenses. We might encounter very little resistance if we march north and take the cities from Byrne.”

  “And we might find that Carrillon falls,” Huler said, “and its survivors are pressed into service to expand from a new center.”

  “Which wouldn’t be a problem,” I pointed out, “if Prince Parrin is in Byrne. If we take Byrne and Prince Parrin, whoever leads the army winds up swinging in the breeze. Unless the Prince is leading the army himself?”

  “We do not know,” Tort admitted. “I cannot find Prince Parrin any more easily than I can locate these cannon. He may well be traveling with his forces. I have had no reports on his whereabouts.”

  “If a Prince takes Carrillon, Majesty, then presses his claim with an army such as that, it will work powerfully toward his conquest of the old realm,” Huler pointed out.

  “I got that,” I told him. “So, let’s spell this out. If the Prince is with the army and they take Carrillon, things get worse. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “If he’s not with the army and they take Carrillon, it’s just as bad, as long as the Prince is still in power somewhere, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, we need to deal with Prince Parrin, either by dealing with him and his army, or dealing with him at his home. If he’s with his army, it’s simple; we just go there and defeat them, capture or kill the Prince, and everybody celebrates. If he’s not with his army, we march on Byrne, crush it, and repeat the process with the Prince. Is that it?”

  “I believe so,” Kelvin said, “but which do we pursue? The army or the Prince?”

  “Can we catch their army?”

  “Possibly,” Kelvin said. “If we head for Bildar and they let us through with a minimum of argument. They may be very glad to see us, or they may shut their gates. Moving an army across the mud will take days; if we may use the bridge of Bildar, it will be hours. If we can also obtain more transport, and if the weather allows, then yes. Many ‘ifs,’ Sire, but there always are.”

  “Got it. If we march after the army, maybe we catch it before it hits Carrillon, but we’ll certainly catch it before it can take Carrillon?”

  “Without doubt, Sire.”

  “So, if we do that, we either ruin Prince Parrin’s chances of ever conquering Rethven, or we just slow him down. And if we march on Byrne, we take it, and either ruin Prince Parrin’s chances of ever conquering Rethven, or we just slow him down. It all depends on where the Prince is, and we don’t know. Have I missed anything?”

  Heads shook. That about summed it up. I sat down and regarded the map, hands folded in front of me, chin resting on my knuckles. Just as in a game of chess, you have to take the king—without, of course, getting your own king taken.

  I did not especially like that I was one of the kings.

  “That will be all,” I told everyone. Torvil, Seldar, Thomen, and Kelvin looked surprised. Huler, Kammen, and Lissette just shrugged.

  I spent some time looking at the map and wondering.

  One of the problems I’ve had with being king is that it eats into everything else.

  That’s probably not too clear. Let me try again.

  Everyone is made up of all the things they are. A person can be a student, a parent, an artist, a friend, and a dozen other things, all at once. Ask someone what they are and the answer will depend on when you ask them. When a mom is changing a diaper, she’s likely to identify herself as a mother. Ask her when she’s cleaning the house and she may tell you she’s a housewife. Ask her when she’s at night school and she’s a student.

  We’re all made up of a dozen or more identities. I’ve got enough of them to stock a comic book convention.

  But this thing with being a king has been eating into them. While I’ve been doing wizardly things, it’s mostly been to help do king-things. I’ve been teaching, too… to help with my role as the king. Nightlord? Yep, doing that as well as I can, considering I’m a king. Even being a parent and a grandparent has been colored by my responsibilities as a king. Amber is a princess, and Tianna may one day inherit the throne.

  How much do I owe these people? They’ve placed their faith in me, and I owe them something for that, true. They trust me and follow me and obey me, so I have a responsibility, an obligation to them. I led their ancestors out of Rethven and into the wilderness, and I’ve tried to do right by them.

  Do I owe them my soul? Do I owe them the very stuff of who I am? Should I give up all the other things I am, all that I could be or would be, just to satisfy their expectations?

  I’m their king because they decided I should be—or some of them decided and everyone else just went along with it, maybe. I didn’t decide it. I didn’t even want it. I still don’t.

  I can tell the so-called gods to go take a long walk off a short pier and hug a jellyfish. I have a harder time telling people I don’t want to be their king. So, what’s the difference? The difference is that I like these people and I think I can help them.

  That doesn’t qualify me to be a king. I belong on the council, not running it. But who can I put on the dragon throne? There’s no one else that could sit on it.

  On the other hand, it’s really part of the mountain. Who else would the mountain allow on it? Tort, maybe. Amber or Tianna, probably. But would they want to? And would I stick them with that sort of responsibility?

  So, I’m stuck with being king. But am I stuck with letting it eat up everything else? Am I going to live my life as a king and subordinate everything else to it? If I’m a responsible king, yes; if I’m going to become a good king, yes. I’ll need to spend years, decades, just being a king and learning about that job. I’ll have to give up everything else if I expect to do it well enough to have a kingdom left by the time I’ve learned how to run one. Much like learning to drive a car, I’ll have to focus solely on driving if I expect to have a car left by the time I’m a good driver.

  I’m immortal. What’s a couple of decades?

  A long time. I may be immortal, but a boring afternoon is still an eternity;
a year of hard labor is still interminable; a decade of politics and government is still forever.

  Maybe that’s cheap of me, but that’s how I feel. I never thought, “Gee, it’s ten years of my life; I’m only going to live to about eighty-something. I can’t afford that!” Human beings don’t think in those terms. At least, I don’t, and I started out as human! I think in terms of enduring through that length of time, rather than spending some sort of temporal currency.

  Besides, who’s to say I’ll live forever? I could die tomorrow in the light of the rising sun. You never know.

  But the worst thing is that I don’t enjoy this job. It requires me to do things I don’t want to do in ways I don’t like.

  Damn it, I’m trying to be a good king, but I suspect I’m a complete failure at it. It’s not like I can grow up as a prince, learning the job from older, experienced king, and then take over with the confidence that I know what I’m doing. This is all on-the-job training for me, and I hate that.

  On the other hand… there are some things I do pretty well. I have a talent for being a soul-devouring monster that stalks in the darkness. Last time I tried my hand at being a Hero, I wasn’t too bad at that, either. I was okay at being a knight, too.

  I need to get a crown. When you have to switch hats, it’s helpful to have a hat to take off.

  I sent for everyone. They trickled in while I continued to sit and brood. I’m a vampire; I’m supposed to be dark and brooding. It says so on the label. I’ll put in some more work on angst and self-pity some other time.

  They respected the brooding and didn’t say anything. We sat in silence until everyone was present. I activated the spells to shield the tent from eavesdropping and scrying; Thomen blinked at me and added his own efforts.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, “I’ve been thinking about our current mission objectives, namely, reduce Byrne’s political and military power. To that end, we have marshaled potent military force, quite capable of eliminating Byrne’s capacity to make war. What we lack is the ability to use that force in both arenas. We need to crush Byrne’s army, but we also need to crush Byrne’s ruler.