“This is not just an extension of his status as a Ward, is it?” Charvil finally asked in a soft tone.
Princess Marina shook her head slowly. “No. It is a full adoption. No matter what happens from this time forward, Stavin is now a member of the Zel’Andral family, and second in line to the throne of Evandia.” She paused and bit her lips, showing her inner turmoil and disquiet to the Elders. “If he is going to fight for Evandia, he should be fighting for his own kingdom.”
“Your Highness, does he know?” Elder Kel’Caval asked in a soft voice.
“Yes, he knows. We told him yesterday, just after you got back. He’s coming to terms with it now. That’s why neither he nor Shari is in the Archive today.”
Charvil was staring at the table, but his voice all but echoed in the room. “He won’t go alone.”
“No, he won’t,” Mikal agreed. “The Farindian Royal Guard will guard its own.” He looked at his fellow Elders and said, “It is time to once again don the colors.” Nods of agreement greeted his pronouncement. Turning back to Princess Marina, Mikal bowed his head deeply and said, “We will be ready in four days, Your Highness.”
The announcement was made just a few spans later, and all of Kavinston buzzed with the news. Since the beginning of their settlement, the people of Kavinston had retained their heritage as Farindian Royal Guards by making each man a maroon and gold tabard to go over his armor with the Farindian Royal Signet embroidered in gold thread. It was presented to the warrior once his fifth season in the lowlands was completed. Now those tabards were brought out and carefully cleaned in preparation for the first time the Royal Guard had ridden out of Kel’Kavin in over two hundred years.
There were two expeditions this year. The first was the usual hundred and ten men going south to Aravad, taking all of Stavin’s wagons and mules with them. The second was made up of three hundred veterans--and two boys on their fourth expedition.
Karvik had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed to go with Stavin. He’d argued with his father for most of a day, and then had to argue with the Elders for another day. It was only his status as a Warleader Fourth, the backing of both Barvil and Charvil, and a nudge from Stavin, that convinced the council to let him go with Stavin rather than the regular expedition.
Stavin bid a quiet and private farewell to Shari and Karlin. “I love you so much, Shari, but I have to do this.”
“I know, Stavi,” Shari replied with a hitch in her voice. “Come back to me. I don’t care about anything else. Just come back.”
“I will. One way or another, I will come back to Kel’Kavin.”
Marina said farewell much more publicly. She walked out in front of the whole expedition and came to a stop facing them. “Stavin, come out here, please,” she said loudly, and Stavin walked out to face her. “Be careful, Stavi,” she said in a soft voice, then bent down and grabbed him for a long, hard hug. She whispered, “Don’t die,” into his ear, then let him go. “We will be waiting for your safe return.”
Stavin bowed deeply, and then hurried to mount his horse. Chief Elder Kel’Kaffrey addressed the expedition from slightly behind the princess. “Men, you all know what is at stake. It is your job to see Prince Stavin safely to Evandia and to join the Evandian Army facing the Andarians. Warmaster Kel’Carin, the honor of the Farindian Royal Guard is in your hands.”
Barvil bowed in the saddle, and then led the way out of Kavinston. Stavin and Karvik were side-by-side behind him, and behind them, in a column of twos, came the rest of their expedition.
Karvik was silent as they rode out, and Stavin respected his silence until he caught Karvik chuckling. “What?”
“Your big sister. I wouldn’t mind a goodbye like that from her.”
Stavin rolled his eyes as he replied, “At least she bent down this time.”
“What?” Karvik asked, looking at Stavin with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”
Stavin grinned. “After the Zel’Candan incident, she hugged me and said thank you. She didn’t bend down, though.” Karvik thought for a moment, then started grinning like a fool, making Stavin laugh. “Yeah. She’s really embarrassing sometimes.”
Barvil kept the pace brisk, and made the established camp sites on the way to Trade Town. They purchased extra supplies in Trade Town from wide-eyed Merchants and Traders. Only a few dared to ask what was happening.
“We’re going south to join the Evandian Army against the Andarians,” was all the answer they received to their questions. The Traders watched as the fabled Royal Guards of Kel’Kavin, what seemed to be all of them, rode away.
Chapter 47
IT TOOK ANOTHER TWENTY-SIX DAYS to reach the border, and the guards there stared at the mass of warriors in obvious fear until Stavin rode forward. “We are going south to join the Army facing the Andarians,” he explained loudly as he rode up to the crossing, and the looks of relief on the guards’ faces were nearly comical.
“Pass, Ward Stavin, and thanks to the Gods Above that you’re here,” the lieutenant in charge said as his men moved the barrier aside.
Sixteen additional days of riding delivered them to the Zel’Horgan and the Evandian Army. Their arrival was met with a cheer from the troops, and Barvil ordered their camp set up. He took Stavin with him to report to the general.
Lord General Zel’Rantal met them in his command tent. “Ward Stavin, it is a pleasure to see you again. How many troops did you bring?”
“Three hundred, Sir,” Stavin answered as he automatically came to attention, “under command of Warmaster Kel’Carin.”
The general suddenly focused on Barvil as a silent whistle pursed his lips. “A Warmaster. I had heard that there was a Warmaster in your ranks, but I didn’t expect you to lead the force yourself.”
Barvil bowed. “General, before we go much farther I have a message for you from Princess Marina.” Barvil held out a message tube that was sealed with the princess’ personal glyph. “You’re probably not going to like what it says.”
“How probably?”
Barvil grimaced and said, “Almost certainly, Sir.”
The general muttered as he opened the message tube and scanned the parchment. “Gods Below,” he whispered, then looked at Stavin. “Prince Stavin?”
Stavin ducked his head and smiled a little. “Yes, Sir.”
“Do you know what this says?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“King Kalin and Princess Marina have placed the fate of Evandia in your hands.”
Stavin swallowed convulsively, then whispered, “Yes, Sir.”
The general’s face went blank for a moment as he thought of all the things that could go wrong with the plan Princess Marina’s note detailed. “You’ll have to call out their champion.”
“Yes, Sir,” Stavin answered.
“And you’ll have to stop calling me ‘Sir’, as well,” the general said with a wry twist to his expression. “After all, you’re a prince now.”
Stavin took a deep breath and held it for a moment before blowing it out in an explosive sigh. “Yes, S—General. I’ll cross the river in the morning. We,” he glanced at Barvil, “need to rest and get cleaned up, and get some good food.”
“Good food’s not that common, Prince Stavin,” the general replied with a crooked grin. “All we have is Army chow.”
“It’s got to be better than what we’ve been eating,” Stavin muttered as he and Barvil turned away.
It wasn’t.
The next day, well before dawn, Stavin crawled out of the tent he and Karvik were sharing and stared across the river at the fires of the Andarian encampment. Karvik soon joined him. Neither spoke for a moment, then Stavin sighed. “I want your promise, Kar.”
“If it’s within my power. What do you want me to do?”
“Make sure Karlin gets my Dragon’s Tongue. Take him on his first expedition.”
“On my life and honor, Stave.” He was silent for a moment. “You don’t think you’re coming back.”
Stain shook his head. “Shovar is too good, Kar. He’s also wielding a Dragon blade. I don’t know what will happen when we fight. If we fight. I don’t know what the Dragon Magic will do.”
“Only the Gods Above and the Gods Below know what will happen today.” Karvik sighed. “And I wouldn’t bet a spark on that,” he added irreverently.
Stavin chuckled. “Help me armor up.” Thank the Gods Above Kar is here.
Arandar hadn’t yet risen when Stavin and Karvik went to the edge of the river. Barvil and General Zel’Rantal were waiting along with every officer in the Evandian force. A small boat was tied to the shore.
“Are you sure you want to go alone, Stavin?” Barvil asked.
“I think it’s best, Sir,” Stavin answered absently.
Lord General Zel’Rantal bowed deeply, as did every officer. “Prince Stavin, don’t throw your life away. We’ll be waiting for a sign, one way or another.”
Stavin just nodded then climbed down into the boat. They were well up river from where he wanted to land, and he took the oars in both hands before nodding once. Barvil and Karvik pushed the little boat hard, and he began rowing. The Zel’Horgan was a swift river, and he traveled downstream much faster than he went across. The ruins of the bridge were soon right in front of him and he redoubled his efforts to make the shore before he hit them. He made it, but the side of his boat hit the stone pier at almost the same time as the bow hit the mud of the bank. He climbed out and dragged the boat up from the water, then climbed the bank. No one met him.
Stavin took a moment to catch his breath, then climbed the rest of the way up and stood on the highest portion of the ruined bridge. Arandar finally broke over the horizon, illuminating him from behind, and the Andarians saw him for the first time.
Horns blared calls for action as men scurried about, taking defensive positions along the walls. After a short time, the gates of the palisade opened and hundreds of men ran out to form ranks ten men deep. Once they were in place, a single man rode out to face Stavin.
“What do you want?” the Andarian lieutenant demanded.
Stavin looked at him calmly for a moment before replying, “I am Stavin, called Dragon Blessed. I call upon you to send forth a champion to fight me in single combat to settle this dispute.”
The lieutenant, a young man not much older than Stavin, swallowed visibly as the sun glinted off Stavin’s golden armor. “I’ve heard of you,” he said in a soft voice. He cleared his throat, then bowed in the saddle and said, “I will convey your message to the general.” He wheeled his horse around and rode back through the Andarian lines.
Stavin’s challenge was answered in just a few moments. A single man walked out of the Andarian camp and headed straight toward him. He was a big man, easily topping even Barvil’s impressive height. He wore a short beard, and as he came closer Stavin could see that there was no dark hair left in it. When only four paces separated them, he stopped.
“I am Shovar Dragon Blessed.”
Stavin bowed his head. “I am Stavin Dragon Blessed.”
Shovar stared at Stavin intently, the sighed and asked, “Why are you here, Stavin Kel’Aniston?”
“To end this foolishness, Shovar Zel’Hallan. The traitors who were supposed to take Twin Bridges died as all traitors do, on their knees. Evandia has a larger army than Andaria, and more resources. Still, to continue this fight would cost thousands of lives on both sides.”
Shovar looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Do you think you can take me?”
Stavin shook his head, then reached up and removed his helmet. “No. But I have to try. I ask only that my armor and Dragon’s Tongue be returned to my son if I fall.” He stared Shovar in the eyes, and for an instant he saw his death there. Then the old man turned away, facing the Andarian lines.
“Hear me!” Shovar bellowed. “Soldiers of Andaria, hear me. I am Shovar, of the Chosen Clan of Hallan, called Dragon Blessed. I yield to Stavin Dragon Blessed.” There was the sound of more than fifty thousand men catching their breath, then shouting. Some cheered. Some cursed. And some thanked the Gods Above and Below that they would go home alive.
Stavin looked at the old man’s back as his knees sagged. Oh, thank the Gods Above and Below! We both get to live.
Shovar turned back to Stavin and walked closer as he let a sardonic grin cross his lips. “You’re a brave young--” Shovar suddenly looked startled and went to his knees. Stavin stared in horror at the bloody head of the arrow that was sticking out of Shovar’s chest. Someone in the Andarian lines had shot him in the back.
Stavin screamed, “No!” as he stared at the arrowhead protruding from Shovar’s chest. “No!” He was on the verge of tears as the man he most wanted to speak to knelt before him.
Shovar touched the arrow with one finger, then grasped his sword and drew it. “Take it,” he said, shoving the hilt toward Stavin before he collapsed forward. The sword stuck into the wood of the bridge, standing in Shovar’s dead hands at Stavin’s side.
Stavin looked toward the Andarian army and saw a man a few paces in front of the lines with a crossbow in his hands. Stavin could just barely tell that he was wearing a general’s uniform. Stavin grasped the hilt of the blue sword and seemed to ignite.
The glow that indicated that the magic of two dragons was close together turned into a blaze that was brighter than the rising sun as dragon-magic touched dragon-magic. Power merged and melded, feeding back upon itself and becoming greater than the sum of its parts.
Stavin felt a rush of--something--suffuse his body. He no longer felt tired, or sore from more than a moon in the saddle. The sword in his hand felt as light as a feather. And he could see Shovar’s murderer staggering backwards toward his men. He again screamed, “No!” but this time his voice echoed off the walls of the Andarian encampment.
Stavin charged faster than any horse could run. His form seemed to blur, and the blue sword in his hands blazed as he cut down the man who had murdered Shovar. Dozens fell as they sought to avenge their general. No weapon touched Stavin. Arrows vanished in sparkles of light. Swords, javelins, and war hammers vaporized before they touched him. Men lost hands and arms as they stumbled into the nimbus of power that surrounded Stavin.
In just a few breaths, Stavin was standing in the middle of a field that was littered with dead and dying men.
“Is this what you want!?” he screamed. His voice echoed across the land, traveling across the river and to the farthest reaches of both armies, and carrying it was a sound that no man could ignore. The undeniable, indescribable roar of a dragon. “Is death what you seek!?” Stavin again roared.
All around him, men dropped their weapons as they dropped to their knees. Almost all of them bent down to place their foreheads on the ground in obeisance. Those who didn’t were lying flat in the dirt, begging forgiveness. Finally, one man, a major by his uniform, crawled forward.
“Blessed One, command us,” he begged, never looking up from the ground.
Stavin looked down and said the only thing that came to his mind. “Go home. Take your soldiers back to Andaria. This war is over.”
Chapter 48
STAVIN STOOD AS STILL AS A tree as the Andarian army broke camp around him. The soldiers worked as fast as they could without coming near where Stavin stood, still visibly glowing even in the bright sunlight. Furtive glances his way encouraged the men to make haste, and by the end of the day they were on the move.
One group of men didn’t head back to Andaria. Twenty-nine men walked to the front of the Andarian lines and headed toward Stavin, leading their horses. They were still more than a hundred paces away when Stavin noticed them, but he didn’t say anything until they were closer. When the men were just ten paces away he said, “Warleader Kel’Nastan, you’re late,” he said in a conversational tone.
Warleader Fifth Welton Kel’Nastan nodded, and then asked, “Stavin, is that really you?”
Stavin nodded, and then looked at the rest of the men. He focused on Harn
er, and for the first time in years he felt pity for the big bully. He now wore three white stripes, but he also wore an expression of terror on his face that was almost comical.
“Warmaster Kel’Carin is across the river with three hundred of our men. They should be here soon.” Stavin’s lips curved into a small smile. “As soon as they can find some more boats.”
Warleader Kel’Nastan made his decision then and nodded once to his men. “Honor guard, take your positions.”
Stavin ignored them for the most part. He was still wreathed in the power of the dragons’ magic, and felt nothing as he watched the Andarians straggle away. No heat. No cold. No hunger. No thirst. He didn’t even feel tired as he stood for a full day watching them go.
A thought occurred to him, and he spoke softly to Warleader Kel’Nastan. “The body of Shovar Dragon Blessed is on the bridge. Have your men see to his burial, but bring me his scabbard. I’m getting tired of holding this sword.”
The Warriors didn’t wait for orders. Warleader Kel’Nastan himself retrieved the scabbard and brought it to Stavin, but his expression made Stavin smile when he came close. “Just set it down,” he said, pointing to a place on the ground. When he was clear, Stavin stepped over and picked up the scabbard, sliding the blade home and letting go of the hilt. The light that had surrounded him vanished immediately, and he felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. “Damn.”
“Are you all right, Stavin?” Warleader Kel’Nastan asked, taking a step closer as Stavin staggered.
“Oh, damn, I’m tired. What a day.” He looked over to where Harner and the other junior Warriors were digging. “He did the honorable thing. He yielded to end this war. He yielded to me because I rescued Amarna, his granddaughter. Remember the story about the child thieves season before last? And then his own general murdered him for being honorable.” He looked over to where the general had lain. “I hope the rest of their officers tell King Jallat the truth. This didn’t have to happen.” He looked down at the scabbard and sword in his hand and whispered, “This didn’t have to happen.”
The Andarian Affair Page 31