Wavebreaker_Book II of the Stone War Chronicles_Part 1_Trickle

by A. J. Norfield

  “Tell me, High General Setra, when have I ever given you the impression that you can dictate what I should or should not do?”

  “Apologies, my lord. I merely meant that the information is not intended for outsider’s ears,” pleaded Corza, motioning toward King Baltor and his family. “Perhaps my lord might choose that there are more important matters to attend to at this time?”

  Lord Rictor looked over his shoulder to the king and his family. The cautious king had not moved, guarding his wife and daughter from this new threat.

  “Of course! How rude of me. Where are my manners? Let’s meet the famous King of Iron,” said Lord Rictor.

  The Stone King turned around and walked toward them. King Baltor carefully pulled out his two swords, ready to engage.

  “There is no further need for unpleasantness, Your Highness,” said Lord Rictor, smiling as he stopped a few steps short of the king of Tal’Kabur. “I can see you value your family’s lives, as well as those of your subjects. Let me offer you a chance to keep them all safe.”

  But before Lord Rictor had finished his sentence, the princess pushed her mother away and launched herself forward, snatching at one of her father’s swords.

  “You killed him!” she screamed. “You monster, you killed him!”

  “Kayla, no!”

  Dropping one of his swords, King Baltor grabbed his daughter’s wrists and held them in an iron grip. He pulled her close as she fought to get out of his embrace, clawing the air to try and reach the face of the Stone King.

  “Olivia, take her,” bellowed the King of Iron to his wife as he pushed their daughter toward her.

  As he turned back to face Lord Rictor, King Baltor slowly picked up his fallen swords and sheathed them both again. If the man in front of him had worn an expression that even came close to resembling smugness, no doubt the King of Iron would have launched himself at the Stone King, consequences be damned. But the face of Lord Rictor betrayed no emotion, no inclination he was startled, angry or mocking the sorrow of King Baltor’s daughter. He calmly waited to see what the King of Iron would do next. The King of Iron fought visibly to keep his rage inside.

  “My apologies for my daughter’s outburst. You should understand it is her betrothed lying on the floor there with his head crushed. They were supposed to be wed in a few weeks.”

  Lord Rictor looked at the Talkarian fighter, lying in a pool of blood on the white marble floor.

  “An unfortunate turn of events. To be fair, though, I did give him the chance to surrender,” said Lord Rictor calmly. “I admire the fire in your daughter. How old is she? Seventeen? Eighteen summers?”

  The King of Iron swallowed hard.

  “Nineteen.”

  “Most interesting. But perhaps mother and daughter would feel more comfortable retreating to their private chamber while we discuss the terms of your surrender.”

  The King of Iron looked to his wife. The queen seemed uncertain at first, then gave a small nod in agreement.

  “Excellent! High General Setra, would you please take a few of your men and escort the royal family to their private chambers?” said Lord Rictor. “They will remain there until called upon.”

  Corza saluted and beckoned a few of his men.

  “Oh, and Setra? Make sure they are not harmed in any way.”

  As mother and daughter were taken to the royal chambers, Lord Rictor turned his attention back to the King of Iron.

  “She must be a handful with that temper. Honestly, I have no idea how people with children do it,” said Lord Rictor with a smile as warming as that of a corpse. “I am told you have another daughter, and even two sons. Your youngest daughter is currently visiting the southern trade cities as part of her education, if I am not mistaken. What about the boys? Where might they be?”

  “Far away from here. You will never get to them,” said the King of Iron, shocked by the fact the intruder knew so much.

  “See, that right there is your first mistake, King Baltor: you underestimate the extent of my reach. Your second is thinking I care whether I can get to them or not. I am merely trying to prevent any more harm from coming to your family. I recommend you choose your words carefully from now on.”

  The Stone King turned to look out the window, letting an icy atmosphere settle around him.

  “What are you here for, then?” asked King Baltor, breaking the silence.

  “A means to an end. You have something I need, and we are here to take it.”

  “You’re here for iron and steel,” said King Baltor solemnly.

  “The best in the world,” Lord Rictor said with a grand hand gesture. “I always appreciate it when they put a person with intelligence in charge of a kingdom. It makes negotiations much more civilized,” added the Stone King.

  “Is that what we’re doing? Negotiating? Why not just raid the harbor warehouses and take off with the iron in storage there? Why slaughter all these people only to stop and talk now?”

  “You are right. Just taking the iron and steel would have been easier. But you see, I do not merely need the materials. Our plans are what you might call a bit longer term. I fully intend to keep the fires hot and the ovens burning. Tal’Kabur will be at the heart of our efforts and provide us with a constant stream of much needed equipment.”

  Bogoris Baltor looked around his throne room. The white marble had always been a strong contrast to the gray city outside, but the King of Iron learned long ago not to argue with his queen’s taste. Doskovian soldiers were busy clearing out the corpses, but dark blood still colored much of the stone. His house was tainted, his kingdom invaded. Gradually, reality set in; the Doskovian forces were here to stay.

  He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Anger demanded action. He still had his hands free; they had not even bothered to tie them, nor take his swords.

  A deadly thought crossed his mind. But as his gaze swept the room he saw how futile the idea was. They would harm his wife and daughter before he could fight his way through—if he could fight at all with so many soldiers nearby, not to mention the Darkened positioned along the walls. He was glad his other three children were not here now.

  He looked at the special forces of Lord Rictor. The skeleton-faced men looked even more incongruous in the bright throne room than the blood. None wore a helmet, in contrast to the normal soldiers. Their armor was of a higher quality, but looked messy with so many weapons hanging from different straps around their chests and waists.

  They would take me out before I could even come close. I need to buy time. Maybe we can find a way for our people to escape into the forest. This is our land, and I’ll be damned if I let some outsider take it from us without a fight.

  “You have had your fight, and lost,” said Lord Rictor, as if the king had spoken his thoughts out loud. Bogoris looked at the invader in horror, but the white-haired ruler simply stared out of the window and observed the turmoil in the city.

  “It will take some time before things quieten down,” said the Stone King.

  King Baltor wondered if the man had spoken to him at all. The intruder seemed so lost in thought, it was as if Lord Rictor had forgotten that he was still in the room.

  “You mentioned a way to keep our people safe?” said the King of Iron after a while.

  “What? Oh, yes,” said Lord Rictor. “Once things have been tidied up a little, you will announce your allegiance to me. You will tell the good people of Tal’Kabur to lay down their weapons and cooperate. Tal’Kabur will officially fall under the rule of the Stone King. We will send out messengers to the other cities along the coast and inland. They will be ordered to lay down their weapons and wait for my forces to take over their cities.”

  Lord Rictor studied his reaction with a watchful eye, but the King of Iron was a seasoned diplomat, too skilled to let anything show that he wanted to keep to himself.

  “Those who behave," continued Lord Rictor, "will be allowed to work in the mines and forest. If they listen well and obey
, they can return to their loved ones each night. What remains of your armed forces will be disbanded and put into labor camps. Armorers and swordsmiths will work day and night to provide the highest grade of weapons and armor they can make.”

  “And once you have your weapons? How can I be sure you’ll not burn the city to the ground when you are done here?” asked King Baltor.

  “Done? Whatever gave you the idea that we will ever be done? As king, it is your duty to protect and lead your people, is it not? You can keep your kingdom in name, but from now on, stone will rule iron in these lands. Please do not expect to regain your kingdom from me, Bogoris. Ever. Either you make sure your people obey, or this entire kingdom will be cleansed.”

  The King of Iron looked at Lord Rictor with growing anger and disgust. The man's complete indifference to the existence of an entire people was appalling.

  The inhabitants of Tal’Kabur were renowned as a strong and proud people. Life in the kingdom was tough, and the labor often physically demanding, but its citizens were proud to say workmanship was as important as bloodlines. The various guilds, like those of the armorers and sword makers, had their own hierarchy. It did not matter whether you came from the gutter or the castle—if you had the skill, you got the recognition. And here this man was, thinking himself high and mighty, treating them all like vermin.

  A loud bang echoed through the room as a door was thrown open. A young man with bound hands walked in, escorted by Corza.

  “Father!”

  “Bronson! What are you doing here?” called out the King of Iron.

  His son had clearly been part of the battles outside. His armor was dented, scratched and smudged, while dried blood had created brown knots in his blond hair. As Bronson hurried through the room toward his father, Lord Rictor held up his hand to halt the Darkened, who had started to move to intervene.

  “Father, are you alright? Where’s mother? Kayla? Are they safe?”

  The young man had his back to Lord Rictor as he grasped his father’s hands. Baltor saw the look in his son’s eyes as Bronson took in the swords still at his father’s side. He forced his son to raise his head and looked him in the eyes. The King of Iron shook his head very slightly. He had no need for a second outburst from one of his children to make matters worse. Somehow, the King of Iron was certain the Stone King would not tolerate a second attack on his life.

  “Young Bronson…”

  Lord Rictor let the words hang in the air as if he was tasting them. Bronson turned to face the man.

  “So good of you to join us. I was led to believe you were not on the island at all, so you can imagine my surprise to see you here,” said Lord Rictor pleasantly.

  “And who are you?” said Bronson, his voice thick with disdain.

  Corza grabbed the king’s son by the shoulder and gave him a sharp kick to the back of his leg. The young man landed heavily on his knees.

  “You will know your place. You may address Lord Rictor with ‘my liege’, ‘my king’ or ‘my lordship’ if needed. But you’ll speak only when spoken to, and you'd best watch your tongue,” snarled Corza. He did not particularly care if Lord Rictor was being insulted; on the contrary, he had plenty to add himself. However, it never hurt to show loyalty in front of the Stone King, and he would play that game for as long as it was needed.

  He leaned closer and whispered in the young prince’s ear.

  “You know, you remind me of a certain dark-haired Aeterran soldier,” he hissed, twisting the collar of Bronson’s shirt so it tightened around his neck. The prince looked at Corza in confusion as he struggled for air.

  Corza noticed King Baltor’s hands trembling. He smirked and pushed the prince away, allowing him to breathe again but making sure the insolent boy stayed on his knees.

  “They just brought him up from the harbor, my lord," said Corza to Lord Rictor. “Their ships came into range this morning after we landed in the city. They were trying to take over one of the isolated ships anchored outside the harbor. Apparently, after they boarded, this one took out eighteen of our men before he was knocked out in the fight. My men said he demanded to be brought up to the castle to speak with whoever was in charge.”

  The Stone King still stared at the young man’s face.

  “Normally they'd put such a nuisance to the blade immediately, but he was wearing the royal seal of Tal’Kabur on his armor and ring so the men thought it best to see if he was telling the truth,” added Corza, to fill the silence.

  “The resemblance is remarkable,” said Lord Rictor, completely ignoring Corza. “You must be dear Kayla’s twin, correct?”

  “Kayla? What have you done with my sister? If you’ve hurt her in any way, I’ll—”

  Corza hit the prince on the back of his head with the handle of his Roc’turr, knocking him to the floor and cutting his threat short.

  It was the final straw for the King of Iron. Before Corza had straightened himself fully, King Baltor’s armored fist rammed into his jaw. Corza fell to one knee beside the young prince. Blood sprayed from his mouth and onto the floor.

  Recovering immediately, Corza jumped back to his feet, slashing his Roc’turr directly at King Baltor’s throat.

  “Setra!”

  The Stone King’s voice thundered through the hall. The general’s dagger froze mid-slash, blade pressing against King Baltor’s throat and drawing the tiniest drop of blood.

  Corza turned his head to look over his shoulder, grimacing in anger and bewilderment.

  “I need him alive—for now.”

  Corza looked back at the King of Iron, clenching his teeth to hold back his words.

  “Corza…do not make me repeat myself.”

  Composing himself, Corza reluctantly lowered his dagger.

  “Bogoris, you would do well to refrain from attacking my subordinates. I understand this is an emotional day for you, but next time I may not feel obliged to stop the consequences of your actions.”

  The King of Iron give a short nod and knelt to help up his son.

  “Hold your tongue, son,” Corza heard him whisper as he dragged the boy back to his knees.

  “So…twins?” asked Lord Rictor again, as if nothing had happened.

  Still on one knee, the King of Iron turned toward Lord Rictor.

  “They are indeed.”

  “Oh, so you confirm that this is your son Bronson? Correct?” said Lord Rictor in light surprise.

  “Correct.”

  “If that is the case, then you have lied to me about his whereabouts—and after I just warned you not to make a third mistake.”

  “I can assure you that I was speaking the truth. Bronson here is—was not supposed to be back for another week,” said Bogoris with conviction, looking sternly at his son as he got back to his feet.

  “Is that true, young man? Why did you return home earlier than expected?”

  The boy looked up at Lord Rictor, but this time he kept his mouth tightly shut.

  “It is a shame you have not inherited more of your father's manners. Guards, take King Baltor here away. We will put his head on a pike tomorrow morning for obstructing our plans.”

  “No, wait,” exclaimed Bronson. “Wait. It’s true. My father speaks the truth. I was out delivering goods to the Southern Cities. The negotiations ended earlier than expected and we had a fair wind guiding us back.”

  “Now, that was not so hard, was it?” said Lord Rictor. “A strong leader should speak his mind and stand by his words. What about your older brother?”

  “Brent? What about him?”

  “Where is he?”

  “He sailed north. I doubt he’s reached his destination already,” answered Bronson.

  “And what destination is that?” Lord Rictor asked patiently.

  “That’s enough,” interrupted the King of Iron.

  Before Lord Rictor could say anything else, a fierce rumble shook the castle. Shouts could be heard from the inner courtyard where it seemed part of the wall had collapsed, presu
mably as a result of the ongoing fires.

  “Milord, perhaps we can continue this conversation at a later stage? After we have the fires and the city under control?” Corza dared to suggest.

  Lord Rictor looked out of the window; a new column of smoke rose from a distant part of the city. He stretched his stone fingers. The movement drew Corza’s eye. It looked like one of the fingers had difficulty moving. A few small pieces of stone crumbled to the floor. Lord Rictor looked down and then moved his hand below his cape.

  “Yes, perhaps this would be a good time to take a break. Escort these two gentlemen to their separate chambers. I will take my leave for the Behemoth; we can continue this later.”

  Corza dragged Bronson back to his feet and shoved him and his father toward the large doors.

  “Oh, and Setra?”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “I expect a full report from you soon about your other assignment.”

  “Certainly, my lord.”

  Corza swore under his breath.

  Chapter 7

  Order

  “And you are certain the riders did not have any of those flopping animals nearby? I am certain I heard them shout something about seals,” said Galirras, his stomach requesting his next meal.

  “Different kind of seal, little one,” Raylan answered sleepily.

  Both lay enjoying the warm morning sun. The slow rise and fall of Galirras’ chest made Raylan feel as if he was back out at sea. Every now and then he would wake enough from his slumber to open his eyes and see what was going on around them. City guards surrounded their encampment in the meadow, to keep people at a distance as much as to prevent Raylan and the others from leaving while their credentials were being checked. As morning stretched into midday, they were beginning to draw quite a crowd.

  The guards had not been as welcoming as they had hoped—but who could blame them? Their arrival from the forest completely startled Galirras, who was preoccupied by the foul-smelling smoke coming from the ship. Seeing weapons at the ready, Galirras had panicked as they surrounded his friends on the beach. Not waiting to see if they truly meant harm, Galirras immediately went into a dive.