Echo of the High Kings (The Eoriel Saga Book 1)

by Kal Spriggs

  Kerrel stopped short of her tent when she saw a pair of Vendakar guards near the tent flap, and the ring of her own people that surrounded them.

  Baran walked up to her, “We've guests. Commander Pradjahdar thought he'd pay his respects and he says he's here to discus cavalry tactics.”

  “Oh?” Kerrel asked. Her hand dropped to her saber hilt.

  “Yes. He declined refreshment, but seemed willing to wait for your return,” Baran said. “He's only the pair of guards...”

  Kerrel caught the insinuation. If the Commander became a threat, he had exposed himself. She felt fairly confident that her men could deal with his pair of guards while she and Baran took down the Vendakar officer. But an appropriate explanation afterward would be the problem, as much of a catharsis as she would find it to kill the bastard.

  “Advise the troops that I would be unhappy if an... accident befell him or his men while they are our guests,” Kerrel said.

  Baran gave her a nod. He didn't bother to hide his frown of disappointment.

  Kerrel walked past the Vendakar and into her tent. She found that her guest had made himself comfortable on her camp chair. He did not bother to rise to greet her as she stepped into her own tent. Off to a wonderful start if he wants to provoke me, she thought. “Captain Flamehair, good day to you.” He had a strange accent, which seemed to clip syllables and put the wrong emphasis on words. He smiled with his even white teeth, stark against his caramel colored skin. His white-gold hair hung loose and stray strands of it caught the light from the lantern.

  “Commander Pradjahdar,” Kerrel said. “I am surprised you managed to get free from the preparations for the upcoming battle.”

  He gave a wave of his hand, “Such things are best left for those junior caste officers better suited for that work.” He gave her a broad smile. His strangely colored eyes unnerved her once again. “I wanted to discuss your cousin.”

  “Yes?” Kerrel asked impatiently.

  “It is unfortunate, this business he became involved in,” Pradjahdar said. “He seems like a young man who let his ambition get ahead of him. I have heard that you seek to defend him, which I find admirable. That admiration has led me to leave a gift as a token of my appreciation. My people value family loyalties more than any other bond, short of those that tie us to our gods.”

  “What is your family name?” Kerrel asked.

  “I am of House Rajpakopol,” Pradjahdar said. He seemed to stand straighter when he said that. He tossed some of his white-gold hair over one shoulder. “We follow our god, Lord Kaliva, and our House has many of his chosen priests.”

  “I see,” Kerrel said. “I noticed your... distinctive hair and eye coloring, is this some mark of position in your House?”

  He gave her a broad smile, which reminded Kerrel of how a cobra might flare its hood before it struck. “Indeed, the highest caste of my House bear the mark of Kaliva's approval. It is a legacy of our service to him.” He licked his lips, “We are masters of the pleasures of flesh and the sating of hungers.”

  Kerrel suppressed a shudder when she realized the man sought to seduce her. I would rather sleep with a cobra, she thought. She eased around the tent to put her camp table between them. “You mentioned earlier that you wished to discuss Jonal?”

  “Jonal?” he blinked at her for a moment, as if surprised at the change in subject. “Yes... I think that, between us, you and I, we might convince Lord Hector to have some lenience with your cousin. Perhaps instead of execution, he could be placed into the custody of a trusted third party... such as my House.”

  “Oh?” Kerrel asked.

  “Yes,” Pradjahdar said. “I have heard that Lord Hector values your council, and I think that I have his ear somewhat as well. Should we work together, I think that this would be possible.”

  “And of course, in the future, you would want me to use my influence for some of your goals?” Kerrel asked.

  “Well, it would be a friendly thing to do... especially with your cousin a guest to our hospitality,” Pradjahdar said lightly. “I think this would be your best option to save your cousin's life.”

  “I will consider it,” Kerrel said. About as long as I considered your 'seduction,' she thought. She forced herself to make a polite smile, even as her hand tingled from how hard she clenched it on her saber hilt.

  “Excellent,” Pradjahdar said. “Well, I will await your decision. In the meantime, I've seen to it to move your cousin to more comfortable quarters in a tent just next to my own. Just to show that we do not hold his previous actions against him, of course.”

  “Thank you,” Kerrel said. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go over some battle preparations with my troops.”

  “Of course,” Pradjahdar said. Kerrel kept her hand clenched her saber hilt as the man walked out of her tent. A part of her longed for the opportunity to run him through from behind. That desire only increased when she saw his 'gift' to be a medallion with the symbol of Kaliva.

  Kerrel drew her blade and used it to pick up the talisman. She stared at it with revulsion, before she flipped it out the front door, right past Baran. “Have one of the men put that filth in a sack and dispose of it in the latrines,” Kerrel said. “Make sure no one touches it with their bare skin.”

  ***

  Aerion Swordbreaker

  The Hidden Valley, Duchy of Masov

  Eighteenth of Tremarn, Cycle 999 Post Sundering.

  Aerion grimaced at the sour taste of the wine and looked anxiously at the trail that led back to the camp. It had grown dark and the stars were out. He had another day to work the forge come morning, making spears to arm the men and women who wanted to fight Hector.

  Walker seemed to have become the center of the group. “So, that's when I told Lady Katarina that we should attack the tax caravan!” Aerion rolled his eyes at that. Walker seemed to have a way with telling stories, though not nearly so well as Aramer.

  Aerion looked over at Quinn, who was in deep discussion with another young man. He eased up to them, hopeful that he could convince the other man to leave off. “So, really, when you think about it, I'm betting that runic magic is something that anyone can learn. It's got to be like any other profession.”

  “Yeah, my father said he used to get a rune crafter to come and put the wards on his house for cycles, until he just started copying them. They work almost as well,” the boy said.

  “Exactly,” Quinn murmured. “So, my thinking is just that I'll try with this Shrouded Wizard, Cederic's his name, and just see if he'll be willing to teach me a little bit. Now, I have the feeling that once I start figuring out the basics, I can move on from there...”

  Aerion shook his head. He wandered around the fire towards where Josef sat. “Hey Josef, we might want to set on Quinn, he's talking about wizardry again.”

  The big man gave him a snort, “Hopefully that's just the wine.” He held up a cup of his own. “How do you like it?”

  Aerion looked down at it, “Tastes sour to me.”

  Josef shrugged, “We make some cherry wine, back on the farm. It's sweeter than this, but it's nice to taste something that reminds me of home.” Josef took a sip.

  Aerion blinked at that. He drank some more of his wine and decided that perhaps it wasn't so bad as that. “You miss it, don't you?” Aerion asked.

  Josef shrugged, “More than anything.” He took a deep breath. “But what's done is done and I've made good friends, between you and Quinn...” He trailed off, “And I suppose Walker isn't too bad.” Walker's voice rose in a shout, followed shortly by laughter from his cluster of new friends. “Well, okay, he's probably a wretched human being to judge from his clothing, but he's amusing,” Josef said with a smile.

  Aerion snorted at that.

  “Hey there, room for one more?” A soft voice spoke.

  Aerion looked over to see Kara, a tankard in one hand. Josef gave her a shy smile, “Sure. I thought the party was over there?”

  Kara gave a sharp laugh. A
erion realized, in the light from the fire, that she was pretty. Her curly brown hair was tied back from her fine featured face. She was of medium height and she had curves that he couldn't deny were attractive. For a moment, Aerion wondered, if thing were different, if she might have been interested in him or he her.

  Yet when he closed his eyes to picture it, he instead saw a taller woman, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He shook his head and sipped at the wine. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Kara had taken a seat next to Josef. “You started out as a farmer, up north?”

  Josef nodded shyly, “Yes, in Capulin Vale. We had an orchard there, where we grew cherries. That's what the valley is named for, the cherries.” He paused, “We have some of the best soil in the duchy there.”

  Kara leaned forward with a laugh and poured some more wine in Josef's cup. “You're nice.” Her voice sounded husky.

  Aerion took the hint. He gave them both a smile and stood. He finished his cup of wine and glanced around the fire. Walker seemed to have enthralled most of the others with another story, this one included lots of grand gestures and laughter. Quinn and his new friend were drawing symbols in the dirt with sticks. Aerion shook his head and went to the wine cask and filled his cup again. He looked around with a somewhat desperate feeling. He didn't know what to do.

  Finally, he drained his cup of wine, filled it again, and walked towards Walker's group. If he had to be here, he might as well try to enjoy himself.

  ***

  Lady Katarina Emberhill

  The Hidden Valley, Duchy of Masov

  Nineteenth of Tremarn, Cycle 999 Post Sundering.

  Katarina followed Gerlin down the trail and made certain to watch her footing. This was less because of the treacherousness than because of the puddles of vomit that stained portions of it. She shook her head as the trail opened up into a box canyon. She looked over at Gerlin, “How many are missing?”

  “Eight of them,” Gerlin said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “And I'm a bit sad they didn't invite me to the party.”

  Katarina sighed as they stepped forward. The box canyon looked as if had been used for parties such as this one for a long time. A large fire pit lay at the center, and stones sat around it as chairs. There was also thick grass to set in or lie in, as several figures around the smoldering fire showed. Gerlin walked forward and prodded one of the boys with his boot. After no real response, he went over to the open wine cask near the fire pit. He sniffed at it and then gave a chuckle, “Marovingian wine, probably stronger than most of them are used to...”

  Katarina grimaced, “Best to get them up. I think Bulmor has some special training planned for the ones who truly overindulged.”

  Gerlin smirked. He nodded over to the brush where Katarina saw a tangle of limbs. She flushed at that. She looked away and her gaze fell upon Aerion's prone form. He lay face down near the small spring. As she walked up behind him, she could hear him snore. Of course, Katarina thought, he and his friends would be at the center of this. “Gerlin, I think you should use your horn.”

  The halfblood winced, “My Lady, that's just cruel.”

  Katarina cocked an eyebrow at him, “A lesson they'll remember, right?”

  He just nodded and pulled his horn off his belt. He took a deep breath and then blew out a clear, high note that reverberated off the walls of the box canyon. It gave Katarina a slight headache.

  It brought a chorus of groans from most of the young men and boys. Aerion started up, stick clasped in his hands like a weapon. His single eye was wide with surprise. He blinked at Katarina stupidly for a moment, “My Lady?”

  “Enjoy yourself?” Katarina asked sharply. She heard thrashing in the bushes behind her as whoever was there disentangled themselves.

  Aerion dropped the stick and put his hands to his temples, “Ancestors my head hurts,” he said, his voice weak.

  “You probably should have thought of that before you started drinking,” Katarina said. She looked around and saw Quinn setting up with a dazed expression and then saw Josef stumble out of the brush, his tunic missing and his boots in one hand. Behind him, Katarina saw one of the village women, her hair in disarray. Katarina looked at Aerion. “Really, I would have expected this of Walker. But you?”

  Aerion seemed to have difficulty answering. “I'm sorry, my Lady.” He finally said. He sounded so absolutely miserable that Katarina felt her lips quiver. She really did not want to laugh, not just now. “Well, too bad you didn't follow Walker's example. He's back at camp training with Arren. Bulmor, on the other hand, has a special training session planned for you lot.”

  Aerion paled a bit, though whether that was at the idea of training or what Bulmor would have to say, Katarina didn't know. She allowed herself to smile a bit, “Its not your fault entirely, Aerion, I understand that. Still, when Walker told me that he saw you leading Josef and Quinn down here last night, well, I almost didn't believe him, not until I found you like this.”

  Aerion didn't respond, so she just gave him a nod. Behind her, she heard Gerlin chuckle. “Poor lad, he doesn't know what to say.” They waited as the group started walking up the trail, many of them with their heads hanging at the thought of the day ahead of them. Gerlin spoke in a low voice, “There's no way that Aerion led the others down her, you know, my Lady.”

  “Oh, I know,” Katarina said softly. “I could see Walker was just as hungover. For that matter, I have my doubts that Arren wasn't involved somehow. He was far too smug about the whole thing.” She sighed, “But this is a good opportunity to begin enforcing discipline. And Aerion is a good sort, he'll take the lesson to heart without any real grudge about it.” She paused, “Though I can't wait to see what he does to Walker for setting him up.”

  Gerlin gave her a meaningful look. “You know, my Lady, you're rather devious when you put your mind to it.”

  ***

  Lady Amelia Tarken

  The Eastwood

  Twentieth of Tremarn, Cycle 999 Post Sundering

  Amelia tapped on the door frame. It had taken her days to build up the courage to talk with her friend. She had actually managed to talk to Jasper and Jasmine first, who had apologized for the distress they had caused her. Jasper had even finished her armor, though he had looked devastated when she told him she couldn't accept it.

  Tirianis appeared in the open doorway. Her friend stood, her face impassive for a moment and Amelia wondered if she had destroyed this friendship with a few poorly chosen words. “Oh you poor dear!” Tirianis said and swept Amelia up in an embrace that lifted her off the ground. Her lean frame held a surprising amount of strength and Amelia felt those arms clench around her far tighter than she would have expected.

  Amelia tapped her on the shoulder, “Air.”

  “Oh, yes,” Tirianis lowered her, “It is good to see you. When I heard the drivel that Jasmine and Jasper had passed along, I feared you might do something rash.”

  “No,” Amelia said. “But I have decided that I should leave. I've stayed here to long, my father must think I'm dead and this is not my home...”

  “Nonsense,” Tirianis said. “We can get a message to your father. We could even arrange a trip to meet him, but you must remain here. You told me of how they treated you back in Boir, why would you want to return to that?”

  “It's home,” Amelia said. “And... I don't belong here.”

  “Of course you do,” Tirianis said.

  “Don't you see, I cause trouble wherever I go,” Amelia said. She felt tears of frustration boil over in her eyes. “Back in Boir, at least, that trouble is limited to gossip and whispers at the Citadel. Here, I don't know what effect I can have, and I've already caused your people enough harm.”

  “The wizard who attacked us did that harm,” Tirianis said. She spoke levelly, and her tone suggested what she thought of Amelia's argument. “You are no more to blame than we are for being a target. And if you feel that you stir things up, that's all to the better. My people have squatted in the woods for
six thousand cycles, a little bit of trouble is good for us, gets the blood pumping and makes some of the 'wise' Elders start using their brains for something besides setting on.”

  That startled a laugh out of Amelia. She could admit that some of the Wold seemed rather disinclined to think at times.

  “Good! That's more like it. I think we'll have to work on your habit of taking trouble onto yourself,” Tirianis said. “It's not healthy and we have plenty of issues to worry about in life without blaming yourself for things beyond your control.”

  Amelia shook her head, and finally she admitted to herself the thing she feared the most, “Tirianis... I think I'm falling for your brother.” Her friend stared at her for a long moment. Amelia waited for the admonishment, for the scolding, and lastly for her friendship to end.

  “Well, I'm glad you can finally admit it,” Tirianis said. “Although getting him to speak about his feelings for you will be more difficult.” Her tone was calm, almost as if Amelia had admitted that she liked green more than blue.

  Amelia felt as breathless as when the other woman had squeezed the air from her. She finally managed to stammer a response, “What?”

  “You expect me to throw my hands up in the air, to cry 'oh no, we're all doomed?'” Tirianis smiled. “I'll leave that to older people who should know better. Love and affection bring pain and I've heard the muck that people said about my father and mother for long enough. Simonel may half believe it, but I think it's garbage. Yes, it is a tragedy, but our history is one of tragedy and my people, like all, remember the bad more than the good.”

  Amelia felt suddenly faint, “But I can't... I don't...”

  “Stop right there, and stop being a child about it,” Tirianis said. “The melodrama and such may seem the only thing you can think of right now, but stop and look at it. What business is it to anyone else if you and Simonel find comfort in one another? None. If, spirits forbid, Simonel fell in love with a female goat, we would all be forced to let him carry on with the thing, much less a beautiful, intelligent, and gifted young woman like you.”