The Sons of Hull

by Lindsey Scholl

  “We do?”

  Relgaré pretended not to notice his tone. “Yes. Much. As I’m sure you know, Commander Hull is coming back soon.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Yes, Bren would have told you. A good aide, that young man. We shall keep him around awhile. It will be a pity to make him a soldier, won’t it?” He tried a laugh, but he was too nervous to make it sound convincing.

  If possible, Chiyo was beginning to get more worried. “What is it, my liege? What is wrong?”

  “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think something is wrong? The men are settled. Hull’s soldiers are behaving themselves. The Cylini are weak. Hull’s coming back soon.”

  “You’ve already said that. Does his return worry you?”

  Relgaré slammed his cup down on the table, spilling some wine. “Watch your tone, Chiyo! Why would I be worried? He’s an ally.”

  “We are useful to him at the moment. He is not an ally.”

  “Chiyo,” the king’s voice wavered for a moment. “I don’t know that I want. . .”

  “Him to return?”

  “I didn’t say that! It’s just that, well, he is an unsettling man. But he is useful to me.”

  “What did you call me in here for, my liege? You know how I have judged the general.”

  “Misjudged.” Relgaré added weakly.

  “Perhaps. But I doubt it. The men don’t trust him, sir, and they don’t have reason to. Do you honestly think Hull is here for the Cylini? Can you not see what’s on the horizon?”

  “I see a bunch of thieves and raiders, ready to die for their greed!”

  You see nothing, Chiyo thought but did not say. How it must fit into Zyreio’s plans to have such a blind king at the end of ten thousand score! He drew a deep breath. “Why did you summon me?”

  The king grew nervous again, fingering the covering on the table and avoiding Chiyo’s gaze. “Our army is very strong, Chiyo. Too strong for the Cylini. But I don’t want to be surprised. They may still come up from the southwest and that’s our weakest side.”

  Chiyo was grateful to be talking strategy, although he knew Relgaré was about to say something he would not like. “They will not cross the Preshin.”

  “Even so, I would feel better if we had an advance battalion down there to check things out.”

  “That’s easily done. I’ll get one my captains to organize a scouting force. They can be ready by dawn.”

  Relgaré hesitated. “Wonderful. Thank you. Just one more thing.”

  Here it comes. “Yes, my liege?”

  “I think you should lead it.”

  Chiyo was not surprised. He had known this day would come, but he was determined to put up a fight. “I disagree, sir. I have many capable captains who would be more than willing—”

  The king was shaking his head. “No. I’ve given this a lot of thought. You’re the man for the job, and now that I think about it, I rather doubt you’ll need a full battalion. Perhaps half, or even a quarter.”

  “Let’s cut through the preamble. How many men are you willing to send with me, old friend?” Chiyo’s voice was icy; anybody in the camp but the king would have heeded the warning. But Relgaré’s mind was set.

  “I can spare fifty.”

  “Fifty men? With all due respect, Your Majesty, I fear you’ve gone mad. The Cylini are weak, but not that weak! What do you expect me to do with fifty men? Whet their appetite?”

  “Enough, Chiyo! Your tone is offensive. We have fought too many battles together for you to be petulant now. If anyone can handle the Cylini, you can. Besides, it is clear that you do not get along with Commander Hull and I cannot have dissension in my camp.”

  “So you send me away.”

  “I entrust you with a valuable mission.”

  Chiyo stood, furious but trying to keep his voice level. “Then I must get my men ready. My hand-picked men.”

  Relgaré had won his battle and was not about to fight another one. “Of course. Whomever you want. And take plenty of supplies.”

  Because I’ll be gone a long time, Chiyo muttered inwardly. Without waiting for a dismissal, he strode to the door of the tent. Then he stopped and faced the king. “There’s one thing you should know before I leave.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Commander Hull is also called Amarian. He is Vancien’s brother.”

  “Who is Vancien?”

  “Telanar’s student. The one you made so welcome at the palace.”

  “Oh, that boy. What does it matter that he has a brother?”

  Chiyo gritted his teeth at such willful ignorance. “He is a follower of Zyreio.”

  “To each his own. What’s that to me?”

  “Just bear that in mind after you’ve beaten the Cylini. You might not get rid of him as easy as you like.”

  “You’re dismissed, General.”

  “I’m already leaving.”

  The men watched as Chiyo stormed out of the king’s tent. While barking an order to his first captain, he almost ran over young Bren.

  “Watch where you’re—oh, hello, Bren. Excuse me. I’m in a hurry.”

  But Bren was not so easily deterred. Instead, he composed his gangly limbs into a salute. “I’m sorry, sir. But I heard what you and the king said.”

  Chiyo’s look was blistering. “You should be whipped for spying. How did you get past his guards?”

  “I, uh, that is, I’m very small and quiet, and there’s one spot where, if you can get between the tent poles—”

  “Never mind. Did you want something?”

  “Well, it’s just that I heard that, well, you would be leaving and going south, and I—I thought that maybe—you know—”

  “If you’re going to be a soldier, Bren, you’re going to have to learn to speak clearly. Get back to me when you have your thoughts formulated.” Without another word, Chiyo went to compose his small army, leaving Bren to fight back embarrassed tears.

  By dawn, fifty armed men were mounted and prepared to leave. They would strike west first, then cut across the river. The air was cool and moist. Hiverra ended quickly in the marshes; by noon, undoubtedly, there would be torrential rain, a depressing prospect for all involved. Their leader considered paying his respects to the king, but decided against it. Relgaré wanted a hasty departure and he would get it.

  Chiyo had just opened his mouth to command the march when Bren appeared again at his knee.

  “Yes, Bren?”

  “The, uh, th-the king, sir. He’s not wanting you to go alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just that you’ll have about five Sentries following you, sir, to, uh, make sure you behave.”

  Chiyo growled under his breath then instinctively glanced over his ranks. No, they wouldn’t be there. Sentries don’t like to be seen if they can help it.

  Bren was still at his knee.

  “One more thing, sir.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “I was wondering if I could come too, sir.”

  Chiyo stared at the boy of no more than eleven cycles and wondered distractedly if Relgaré would count him as a man. Probably not.

  “Very well, Bren. You know what kind of mission this is, don’t you?”

  “An unsafe one, General.”

  For the first time in many days, the old soldier smiled. “Then go get your things. We leave in few moments.”

  Before the orbs had completely risen, the company had departed from the camp. Chiyo rode at the head, but he was soon joined by his first captain and fellow countryman, Hunoi. They rode in silence for a time, Chiyo watching the horizon and Hunoi watching his general. When he spoke, his words were carefully selected.

  “I see that the king has made his choice.”

  Chiyo did not answer, keeping his eyes on the trees as they grew thicker.

  “When will Commander Hull arrive?”

  “Call him Amarian. That’s his true name and that’s the name he’ll use
when he sets up his reign.”

  Hunoi winced. He had never seen his friend in so dark a mood before. “You are certain that this is the time?”

  “Growing more certain every day.”

  “And you do not think the Prysm will triumph?”

  “No.”

  “You think Kynell’s strength depends on men and horses. But you know the Ages better than I. There must be something else.”

  Chiyo did not look at him. “Kynell has used men and horses in the past. Kynell has lost in the past.”

  “Perhaps he chose to lose.”

  “Perhaps he just lost.”

  Hunoi shook his head. “I can see there is no talking to you.”

  He began to slow his voyoté, but Chiyo grabbed his arm, still gazing ahead. “Hunoi.”

  “Yes, General?”

  “I want those Sentries dispatched by nightfall.”

  “They’ll be gone by mid-day, sir.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The four had finally made it through the foothills, leaving the last of the chilly mountain air behind. Finally! Vancien rubbed his arms. Although it was still late hiverra south of the Range, it would be nice not to have to sleep in a fetal position. He glanced over at his two friends. Verial’s presence had suppressed some of their growing romance, but Telenar still made sure to point out every scenic or historic spot to his lady. N’vonne, meanwhile, was intent on keeping the priest’s side warm every time they stopped for rest. Compared to those two, Verial looked like a thin, watery icicle. She had not said much since they had embarked, nor had anyone urged her to speak. Vancien did wonder, though, what she was thinking. Were they her own thoughts? Amarian’s? Zyreio’s? A collection of memories from all Obsidian’s Advocates in the past? If that were the case, he pitied her. Of course, he reminded himself, he pitied her already. Why would Kynell allow such a creature to suffer? He sat silent for a moment, then turned in his saddle to see Telenar pointing out a charming little waterfall to the ladies.

  “Telanar, how long until the Plains?”

  The priest dropped his arm and thought for a moment. “Autore will be upon us fully in a few weeks. We’ll have to go through the southern half of the marshes to avoid the army and that could take many weeks. Jasimor is in the southern tip of Chiyo’s country. It will be a race to get there by breach.”

  “Where are we now, exactly?”

  Telenar raised an eyebrow. “Forgotten geography already? We’re a league south-west of the Child’s Pass southern gate. We’ll swing west when we get into Cylini territory. It will be unpleasant, and of course we’ll have to ford the Ergana, but we have to avoid Relgaré. It’s best, too, if we stay off the main roads.”

  Vancien nodded, welcoming the distraction from Verial. Telenar was right: geography had never been his strong point. Neither was he terribly excited to spend weeks in the marshes, shut out from the orbs, battling off insects the size of birds. He wondered how the voyoté would do in such conditions. They had been fine beasts so far, but would their paws grow moldy walking through water and slime day after day? An interesting question, but not interesting enough to keep him from glancing surreptitiously over at Verial.

  N’vonne tried not to constantly keep her eye on Vancien, but she was worried about him. Ever since the day that she and Telenar had reached their understanding, he had been the third wheel by default. She was growing fonder of Telenar every day, of course, although they had not repeated that first, awkward kiss. Yet Vancien was still her priority. She had seen the way he treated Verial, as if she were both a helpless infant and a curious toy. If they were not careful, simple numbers and convenient arrangements could encourage something more than detached fascination. Two men and two women traveling together could result in, well, natural divisions. But that could not be allowed to happen. Vancien was not just any man and Verial was not just any woman; if Vance were to fall in love with her, the battle could be lost before it was even fought. Kynell forbid!

  Behind her, she heard a soft sigh. The sound was beginning to irritate her. Did that woman ever do anything but sigh? In a valiant attempt to be civil, N’vonne turned her head slightly and asked if her if she was all right.

  “All right? If you mean that I am warm and well-fed, then yes, I’m all right. But in any other sense—”

  No time to settle things like the present. “Well, I mean a bit more than that. Do you mind if we ride ahead? I’d like to talk with you.”

  “Do not trust anything I say.”

  “I won’t. But if there’s anything you want to say, you’d best say it now.”

  Heeding the tap of her rider’s heels, Cetla jumped forward a few paces. Telenar noticed, but did not comment. Vancien noticed, too.

  Once they were decently out of hearing range, N’vonne jumped right in. “Tell me, Verial, are you feeling any better since you have joined us?”

  N’vonne felt her shrug. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve tried to feel anything. I feel Amarian watching me; he might even know what I’m thinking. And if he does not, then Zyreio does.”

  “Still, there have been no Sentries. Amarian can’t be everywhere.”

  “But Zyreio can. And he would know if I were not accomplishing my task.”

  “So why don’t you? If you’re supposed to charm Vancien, you’re doing a poor job of it.”

  The retiring Verial quickly vanished. “I can do as I please when I please. Vancien’s as easily charmed as any man.”

  N’vonne was not intimidated. “You have charmed Amarian, then? So well that he sent you away?”

  “Darkness is no mere man. He has no soul, no desires, except to serve Obsidian.”

  “It’s hard to believe he’s so focused before the Dedication. It sounds as if he is consumed already.”

  “He is not easily swayed. And after Zyreio takes him completely, nothing will touch him.”

  N’vonne glanced back at Vancien, who was absentmindedly picking at Nagab’s fur and trying not to watch them. Although he may not look the part, she had complete faith in him. “When the time comes, Amarian will meet his match.”

  Vancien, meanwhile, chewed his lip, deep in thought.

  “What’s on your mind, Vance?”

  Vancien smiled nervously at his inability to answer. “I’m not quite sure. I think I was thinking about Kynell, or maybe. . .other things.”

  “Verial?”

  Vancien started. “No. Why? Well, maybe. It is curious, isn’t it, how she shows up on our doorstep? Do you think it was only Zyreio who had something to do with it? Maybe Kynell put her there, as well, and he’s using this situation.”

  Telenar eyed him. “She was placed there by Amarian, Vance. Amarian. He only wishes you harm. Remember the Ages? Tryun and Heptar? They fell for her, too.”

  “I haven’t fallen for her. I’m just curious at this turn of events. What would happen if she were to choose the Prysm?”

  Telenar was still uncomfortable with the Vancien’s line of questioning, but if this was what he wanted to talk about, then he would go along with it. “I honestly don’t know. There aren’t any prophecies about her. She just kind of shows up from time to time, usually as a nuisance.”

  “Do you think she has much choice in any of this?”

  “I think she used to have choices and she made the wrong ones.”

  “You’re wrong there. She still has a choice, but I don’t know what she’ll choose.”

  This was getting exasperating. “Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter what she chooses. In fact, it would be almost better if she chose Zyreio.” He saw Vancien grimace but continued. “Why would you waste your attentions on a servant of the enemy? But despite yourself, you would love a convert to the Prysm. And that particular love could kill us all. She’s not the only one whose life is stake, Vance.”

  Vancien resumed his plucking at Nagab’s fur. “But what about her soul?”

  “Her soul is important, yes, but it’s not in your hands. Your task is simply t
he culmination of ten thousand score.”

  “But what if she’s some sort of culmination? What if her choice represents the final ten thousand score?”

  Telenar could not accept this. “That’s heresy, Vance, and you know it. There may be more to her than first appears, but the fight is between you and Amarian. If you forget that, then Zyreio has already won.”

  Vancien nodded as if he had not really heard the warning. Seeing his words so lightly taken, Telenar impatiently kicked Lansing in front of Nagab’s path and forced Vancien to look into his eyes. When he spoke, his voice trembled with rage.

  “Vancien pa Hull, you are considering treason. May Kynell slay you now and find another Advocate if you refuse to take your burden seriously. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?”

  Vancien’s jaw was set as he returned his friend’s fierce gaze. “I hear you, Telenar. But you are not the only one I hear. You have the Ages and I have them, too. But they are not everything. Kynell is everything. I march on his orders, not yours. He does not want me to abandon Verial and I doubt that he would look kindly upon you charging an Advocate with heresy.”

  Telenar was furious, but he could only watch helplessly as Vancien pushed past him and rode up to visit with N’vonne and Verial. What had gotten into that boy? How much damage could he wreak before the Dedication? And what happened when an Advocate of the Prysm became consumed with his own pride?

  __________

  The sky was rumbling, causing Amarian to nod in satisfaction as he gazed out the window. Rain would be coming soon, which was all the better. The sea of campsites surrounding the castle was beginning to stink, sending wave after wave of stench up to his private chamber, which was situated at Donech's highest convenient point. Such locations were hard to come by in the Eastern Lands, which were mostly flat and windy, with few trees and fewer hills. The fortress itself mirrored the landscape. It was flat, no more than three stories, and sprawling: thick walls formed an oblong pentagon that housed only the barest necessities: a sparse kitchen, a cavernous great hall, and Amarian’s most trusted servants. At the extended point of the pentagon, sticking up like a thorn, was the tower that housed Amarian’s chambers. Except for a suffocatingly close servants’ access, it was accessible only by a narrow staircase leading to an iron-barred door. Though he did his best to ensure loyalty among his followers, Obsidian’s Advocate knew better than to rely on such a tenuous virtue.