Souldrifter

by Garrett Calcaterra

  “Comfortable enough for you?” Lady Hildreth asked Natarios, not waiting for his answer. “Go on, tell the prince what you heard, and we’ll see if he can be of any help.”

  The houndkeeper cleared his throat and turned to Caile. “Yes well, it was actually your escape from Emperor Guderian, Prince, that gave me the idea. I overheard him speaking with Wulfram about how you escaped through tunnels beneath the keep. The two of them had no knowledge of it before your escape, and to the best of my reckoning, the four of us here now are the only ones still alive who know about it.”

  “The details of your sneaking aren’t important,” Lady Hildreth snapped. “Get to what you heard.”

  “Right. I knew Ambassador Rives was up to something, so I used the tunnels and found one beneath Ambassador Rives’ room. I overheard him having a secret meeting with the guildmasters from the steam-engineer’s and sorcerer’s guilds. And also with someone else, a sorcerer from the Old World, I think. They somehow were able to speak with a senator from the Old World Republic.”

  “Yes,” Caile interrupted. “Makarria and I suspected the Old World of using some sort of speaking relic that allows them to communicate over great distances. They knew about Talitha’s impeachment before we did in Sol Valaróz. Was it Senator Emil they spoke with?”

  The houndkeeper’s eyes lit up. “Yes! And he was definitely the one giving orders. All this time I had thought it was King Lorimer orchestrating things through his ambassador out of simple greed. I was glad to help when it was just a king and a few guildmasters and I was promised a big slice of the pie. I mean, what harm was there in putting Kobel on the throne and firing up Guderian’s factories again if everyone was out to make a little money, particularly me? But it’s not as simple as that. King Lorimer has put everything into place to turn the Five Kingdoms over to the Old World. In return, he’ll be the overlord.”

  “The Kingdom of Golier has a long history of treachery, but I never suspected King Lorimer would commit outright treason,” Caile said. “I’ll take his head myself if I ever get my hands on the bastard.”

  “We can deal with King Lorimer and his treachery later,” Lady Hildreth said. “We have more pressing matters first. The senator told Ambassador Rives that Queen Makarria was surrendering Valaróz and that a fleet from the Old World would arrive here in Col Sargoth on the day of the election. The votes are secured to put Kobel on the throne and he’ll open the city to them, then unlock the factory gates to march out the war machines. Once that happens, there will be no one who can stop them, not your sister, and certainly not King Hanns in Norg.”

  “And to prevent any objections,” the houndkeeper interrupted, “the senator ordered Rives to murder the entire election council once the vote is secured. Even me. The sorcerer’s guildmaster intends to burn us all alive with firewielders.”

  “Everyone except you, prince,” Lady Hildreth added. “You, he ordered captured immediately. You’ve garnered a reputation as being rash in your actions. He didn’t want you to give them any unexpected surprises. That’s why we had to abduct you so hastily. In order to save you from them.”

  “A surprise of its own,” Caile said. “But thank you. Whatever hasty actions I’ve made were to stir up my enemies, and now that I know them, I mean to act. If Kobel is the key to their plan, then we’ll get rid of him. I’ll accuse him of treason in the council hearing tomorrow, and challenge him to a trial by combat. He’s more of a hothead than me. He’d never refuse.”

  “That’s noble of you, but Rives would never allow it,” Lady Hildreth said, shaking her head.

  “She’s right,” the houndkeeper agreed. “I may be lord of proceedings in name, but Rives has wrestled control of that council from me with Old World money. He’ll refuse your demands, and vote you out of the council chambers. And then his men will know exactly where to find you, and they won’t be content to simply capture you anymore.”

  “Then I’ll denounce Rives and demand a trial by combat with him too,” Caile insisted.

  “Did you not hear the part about the firewielders?” Lady Hildreth asked. “Try anything rash in that council room and the sorcerer’s guild will cook you before you can draw your sword.”

  “What then?” Caile demanded, annoyed by their casual refusal of all his ideas. “Commander, you have control of the war-wagon factory. You can fortify it and refuse to turn it over to Kobel, right? Whoever controls those wagons holds the might of Sargoth.”

  “Even if I wanted to, the factory is too big to defend indefinitely,” Buell said. “It has a half dozen entry points and easy access from the river. I wouldn’t be able to defend it for more than a day against the Royal Guard, let alone the Old World legionnaires who will be on those ships. My cavalrymen are trained to fight on horseback outside, not to defend a fortification.”

  “We appreciate your enthusiasm, Prince,” Lady Hildreth said, “but the only answer is to offer up a superior candidate to the council, one that they would have no choice but to elect.”

  The houndkeeper laughed. “Like who?”

  “How about you, Commander Buell,” Caile suggested.

  “My brother would make a fine king,” Lady Hildreth said. “The council would not find him to their liking, though. No, there is someone better suited.” She turned to Buell, who nodded for her to proceed. Lady Hildreth took a deep breath. “I have a child, grown now,” she said. “And he is the son of Thedric Guderian.”

  The houndkeeper gasped, but Caile managed to keep his surprise contained. Thon had told him of the rumors that Lady Hildreth had been Guderian’s mistress. It only made sense that she would have a child with him.

  “If you have a direct descendant of Guderian, then we can bypass the council vote altogether,” the houndkeeper said, grinning like a stupid animal. “Who is he?”

  “Yes,” Caile agreed. “Who is he, and why hasn’t he come forward? Where is he?”

  “I was hoping you could answer that question,” Lady Hildreth said. “When we abducted you, we had hoped to steal him away too, but he was not in your room.”

  21

  Code of War

  Taera lowered the spyglass and handed it back to Admiral Laud, newly promoted to the position following the demise of Admiral Giorgi. The storm had drawn closer, but the Old World armada seemed oblivious. Whereas Taera had ordered the rest of the Pyrthin fleet to retreat for the safety of Kal Pyrthin Bay at first light, the Old World armada had done nothing; their ships still laid at anchor some sixty miles offshore, and the storm was nearly upon them. The massive bank of clouds coming from the south was dark as night, and even though it was still miles away, they were feeling its effects. The air was thick and heavy with moisture, and the buffeting winds were strong and unpredictable. Already, Dekle and the airship crew were having difficulty keeping the Casstian’s Breath steady in the air.

  “They’re done for,” Admiral Laud said, peering through the spyglass one last time. “That’s a hundred year storm bearing down on them. They’ll be lucky if a quarter of their ships survive.”

  “You really think it will be that bad?” Taera asked.

  “It’s nearly winter, Your Majesty. Most storms this time of year come from the north, riding the cold air out of the Norg Sea and the Barrier Mountains. This one is coming from the south, riding the warm waters out of the Sol Sea. It’ll be wet and powerful, mark my words. The Badlands and Mount Pyr will be seeing their first downpour in twenty years. The best chance the Old World fleet has is to ride the headwind and hope to outrun the storm north and west. If they can make it past Tyrna, they could salvage their losses, but they don’t seem intent on moving. They’ll try to ride the storm out and when they realize their folly, they’ll make for the Bay and try to cut through the strait, which will be the end of them. What few ships manage to get past the reefs in the high waters will be easy pickings for us when the storm finally blows over.”

  Taera wished Laud were right. She didn’t doubt his assessment of the storm; Laud, after all,
had more experience than any sailor in the Pyrthin fleet, and was not prone to making bombastic declarations in the way Admiral Giorgi had. Still, Taera remembered her vision from the night before well. Parts of it had been shrouded in the symbols endemic to dreams, perhaps, but the storm had been very literal, along with the threat of the Old World armada. Those ships would still be there when the storm passed, she knew.

  Beneath their feet, the deck rumbled as the wind pummeled the airship’s ether-filled hull.

  “We’ve seen enough,” Taera said. “You best get us back to the safety of Kal Pyrthin, Admiral.”

  Laud bowed sharply to her, then strode to the helm of the ship. “Full sails!” he barked at the crew. “Dekle, feast on the power of this storm and make a zephyr to take us home.”

  • • •

  The people of Sol Valaróz reacted to their queen’s death with violence. The riots had lasted throughout the night and well into the morning before the Republic legionnaires and Sol Valaróz’s city watch were able to restore order, and even then it was a tenuous order at best. Fires still burned in the poorer boroughs, and the marketplaces were abandoned. The casualties were mostly rioters, but numerous innocent bystanders had been trampled to death in the mayhem, and a handful of skirmishes had broken out between the legionnaires and the city watch themselves thanks to Senator Emil’s orders to kill all rioters on the spot. The legionnaires obeyed, but of course the city watch was reticent to stand by and watch their own people get killed by foreign soldiers. Ambassador Mahalath had warned Emil as much, but Emil had been adamant, and Mahalath had to admit in hindsight, however reluctantly, the tactics worked.

  Apart from the fires, all was quiet now. The citizens had retreated to their homes, and the looting and killing was stopped. Mahalath just hoped the peace would hold until more legionnaires arrived. As it was, the Republic armada ships entering the harbor from the Sol Sea were arriving in only a sporadic stream.

  The royal palace, at least, was safe. It had been mayhem for a while when Queen Makarria was first murdered, Mahalath reflected. The throne room had been utter chaos, with people screaming, shouting, and trampling over one another—some of them to get to the dais and aid the queen, others to flee. I was as aghast and panicked as any of them, Mahalath recalled. Senator Emil, ever in control of his emotions, was quick to take charge, though. Within minutes, Emil had orchestrated everything: the clearing of the throne room, the transport of the queen’s body to her bedchambers to be attended to and mourned over by her parents, the immediate burning of the assassin’s body, and the deployment of legionnaires to all the key points throughout the palace and the city to secure Republic control.

  The Valarions, for their part, were completely inept without their queen. Queen Makarria’s mother was hysterical and distraught, the captain of the Royal Guard preoccupied with attending to the mother, and no one else was even present to step forward and take command. Prince Delios was in Col Sargoth, they were told, and Queen Makarria’s other advisors all conspicuously absent. The pompous fool representing the Brotherhood of Five, Master Rubino, was the only one to stick around and make his voice heard. He demanded a hearing, citing some ancient law, but Emil had him thrown out of the throne room, and just like that the Republic was in control of Sol Valaróz—the queen dead and Emil with the signed treaty to back up his claims of authority.

  It’s what we wanted, but it didn’t have to be this way, Mahalath thought. Queen Makarria already signed the treaty. It was done. There was no reason for her to die needlessly. Mahalath had liked the young queen. She reminded him of himself when he was a youth: headstrong and idealistic. She had been caught in an impossible position, between a crumbling empire and the Republic eager to expand, but she had acted with honor and decisiveness. Mahalath had nothing but respect for her, but her own servant apparently didn’t see it that way. Now Makarria was gone and Mahalath was left to reassemble a functioning Valarion government along with Emil, who had all the tact of a drunken bull.

  “It is not up for debate,” Emil was telling Admiral Biton, the man in charge of the Valarion navy. They were seated in Queen Makarria’s council chamber—Mahalath, with Emil and the commander of the legionnaires, as well as the highest-ranking military officials in Sol Valaróz—and Emil was having his way with all of them. “Your ship captains will be demoted to first mates, and be replaced by Republic captains,” Emil continued. “The Pyrthin navy is threatening to disrupt the peace we’ve worked so hard to gain. Do more need to die? I’ve shown you the treaty your queen signed, Admiral. If you or your ship captains refuse me, it’s treason. I am well within my right to have you all executed.”

  “Save your threats,” Admiral Biton said. “I’ll see to it. The captains will step down and allow your men aboard.”

  “Good. Each of your forty naval ships will get a new captain and a protector—a sorcerer, to be clear. I’m quite aware of the kinship between Valaróz and Pyrthinia. The sorcerers will be there to ensure we have no mutiny. And if that’s not enough, let your crews be reminded that it is Republic legionnaires who ‘guard’ what’s left of the royal family. If there is any sort of mutiny, they will be less inclined to keep the royal family safe. Am I understood?”

  “Aye.”

  Emil nodded, self-satisfied and unafraid to show it. His smirk stretched nearly ear to ear. Mahalath could barely stomach his arrogance, but the Senate knew what they were doing in sending him. Emil got results.

  “Good,” Emil said. “The tide goes out three hours after sunset, if I’m not mistaken. Your ships will leave with the tide and make straight away for Kal Pyrthin Bay to aid the Republic armada.”

  “It would be wise to wait a few days,” Admiral Biton said. “A heavy storm is bearing out of the southern waters. It’s veering away from the Sol Sea and is headed into the cold waters of the Esterian. It will be a ship-breaker.”

  “He speaks the truth of the matter,” Mahalath spoke up. “Our reinforcements from Khail Sanctu have reported high seas and heavy cloud cover.”

  Emil shot Mahalath a dark look and then turned his gaze back upon Admiral Biton. “Your ships and sailors are renowned for their seaworthiness. I refuse to believe a little storm will get in their way. They will leave with the tide, or I will have your head.”

  “Aye,” the admiral said, though his tone made it clear he didn’t like it.

  “Be away then,” Emil said, shooing him away with a flippant wave of his hand. “All of you: admirals, generals, whatever you might be. Go.”

  The Valarions all filed out of the council room, leaving Mahalath alone with Emil and the captain of the legionnaires.

  “Good then,” Emil said. “Now all we need to do is put a Valarion face to our rule here. We’ll follow standard protocol and appoint a council of Valarion governors. Mahalath, you will sit on the council as well, and as the only Republic senator here, the council will answer to me, at least until the Senate appoints chancellors for the Five Kingdoms. So then, what Valarions do we appoint as governors? Obviously, we have to appoint the Queen’s mother, so as to acknowledge their archaic system of monarchy by birthright. But the woman is nothing more than a farm wench. She will be easily cowed. In addition to her, I was thinking of the man from the Brotherhood of Five, Master…”

  “Master Rubino,” Mahalath supplied. “Are you sure about him? He is outspoken, and his views are hardly progressive.”

  “Bah,” Emil scoffed. “He pines to make Valaróz in the image of the Republic.”

  “Yes, but the Republic of three hundred years ago, when we still had slaves, and women were considered inferiors under the law.”

  “Women still are our inferiors,” Emil said. “And the masses of imbeciles who drive the Republic economy are slaves in all but name. Having someone on the Valarion council to voice such conservative views will do no harm. And besides, Rubino has more influence in the city than anyone else from what I can discern. We’ll need him to keep the people in line. We’ll also need a military figureh
ead. None of these generals or admirals we met with today will do. They’re too stubborn and loyal.” Senator Emil turned to the commander of the Legionnaires. “Commander, you’re in charge of finding a good candidate among the officers in the Royal Guard and city watch. Pick someone who is young and ambitious, a man who is willing to sell out his own people for power.”

  “As you say, Senator,” the commander replied.

  Emil looked back upon Mahalath. “Who else then? That’s only four, including yourself. We need to find two more, at least, in order to represent a wider selection of the Valarion people. A working man, I think. One of the guildmasters, perhaps?”

  “Yes,” Mahalath agreed. “I’d recommend the scholar Natale, too, as he provided council to Queen Makarria, but my men discovered him dead this morning. He was slain where he worked in the library. Beheaded.”

  “Unfortunate,” Emil remarked. “Most likely killed by the same mad woman who killed the Queen. Exactly the reason women shouldn’t be given swords or seats in government. They’re beholden to their emotions.”

  Mahalath faked a thin smile and bit his tongue. My wife is five times the senator you are. You’re nothing but a blunt instrument.

  “Well?” Emil demanded. “Who else? A dead scholar can’t sit on the council. You’ve been here over a week. Surely you’ve made contact with someone suitable.”

  Before Mahalath could respond, there was a commotion at the door, and two Valarion guardsmen pushed their way into the council room along with the queen’s parents, who were clearly distraught. The two legionnaires who had been guarding the door were grabbing at the Valarion soldiers, trying to pull them back outside, their hands reaching for their short swords.

  Mahalath jumped to his feet. “Legionnaires! Stand down. Let them pass.”

  Everyone went suddenly still at his command. The legionnaires shot a glance at their commander who sat to Mahalath’s side. At his nod, they composed themselves and exited, leaving only the royal parents and their two guards. One of them Mahalath recognized: Captain Haviero. Mahalath had been about to recommend him for the council, even knowing Emil wouldn’t like it.