by Kal Spriggs
“What about...” Amelia shook her head. “He sees me as a child!” The last came out almost as a wail. How could she ever prove her adulthood to them when half the Wold seemed to view her as little better than an intelligent pet?
“Then be an adult. It is something that men respond to, especially when they behave like children themselves,” Tirianis said. “I love you like a sister, Amelia, but sometimes you worry too much about the little things. Stand tall, stand proud. People will talk. People will gossip. Who cares?”
Amelia dropped her gaze. She wanted to argue, yet Tirianis had laid it all out for her. In truth, her words were what Amelia wanted to believe, yet she hadn't dared to voice it, even in her own mind. “I don't deserve a friend like you,” Amelia said.
“I know,” Tirianis said with a smile. “But I will keep you around anyway. If nothing else, you make me look taller.” Tirianis embraced her again. Then she stepped back. “Hey, maybe I can pick up some big blonde Starborn lad, you happen to know any handsome ones? That would really make the gossips howl.”
***
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Katarina Emberhill
The Hidden Valley, Duchy of Masov
Twenty Fifth of Tremarn, Cycle 999 Post Sundering.
Katarina looked up from the maps and charts at the sound of shouts from outside. She went to the door saw people point to the sky. Katarina looked over at Gerlin, Bulmor, and Arren, all of whom shrugged.
They stepped out of the building and Katarina stared up. She spotted what they pointed at almost immediately. At first she felt only confusion as the bird swung lower. Then her eyes made out other details.
“Oh, it's an Angelus,” Arren said. “Well, that could be good or bad.” The old identified the winged man with a tone of resignation, almost as if he thought their break had been too good to last.
“He's seen you, my Lady, it looks like he's coming in to land here,” Gerlin noted. He peered over at her, “Someone's paid quite a bit to get a message to you, my Lady.”
“Or an assassin,” Bulmor growled suspiciously.
Katarina stepped back and as if by magic, a cleared area formed in front of her as the crowd backed away. The mageborn landed lightly at the center. Up close, he seemed utterly alien, his thin, angular body far too lean. His bright, electric blue eyes with their vertical pupils, disconcerted her. His broad, birdlike wings furled, and he stepped forward, one hand raised in greeting. “I bring greetings from the Baron of Nine Peaks for Lady Katarina Emberhill.”
“I am Lady Katarina Emberhill,” she confirmed. She felt her heart flutter a bit to meet the mageborn's eyes. Intellectually, she knew that he was of human stock and that his form came from the dabbling of sorcerers with his ancestors. Instinctively, however, she felt unnerved by his appearance and the Angelus seemed alien to her.
The Angelus gave a slight bow. “He bids you a welcome return to your Duchy, and says that he has long made preparations for your return.” The Angelus extended his arm, which seemed abnormally long.
Katarina took the rolled scroll and noted the wax seal that bore the crest of Nine Peaks. “Thank you, what is your name?”
The mageborn stood tall, “I am Kitharu Windtouched.” The crowd spoke in whispers around him, but he ignored them, as if normal people bore no consequence.
“Kitharu, thank you for your service,” Katarina said. “And thank you for delivering this.”
He smiled, “We take little interest in the politics of those who are ground-bound, but I appreciate your courtesy. Good luck in your war. If you have messages to send, Baron Nine Peaks knows how to reach my people and our payments are appropriate.” He gave her one last nod and continued to ignore the further discussion from the crowd. The Angelus mageborn took three quick steps and leaped into the air.
Katarina watched him climb into the sky and then stared at the message in her hands. “Gerlin, I would assume that everyone has heard of this by now. But if you would be so kind as to let my other advisers know that I will be having a meeting?”
He nodded. Before he could go more than a dozen steps, Katarina saw the others appear, those that hadn't melded out of the crowd. “Never mind. Let's step inside, shall we?” She gestured at the building they had taken over as their headquarters.
The eight of them gathered around the table as she read through the short message, which she then passed to Bulmor. “It would appear that Baron Nine Peaks offers his undying loyalty, a small fortune, and a good sized army to my service.”
“Can we trust him?” Samen asked.
“He's one of the handful of old nobility that Hector didn't replace, and the most powerful next to Baron Olzstyn,” Bulmor said, his voice gruff. “The pair of them didn't rebel against his takeover, but the strength of Nine Peaks lies in its defenses.” He shrugged, “He's known to be eccentric, but he's also said to be a good ruler.”
Arren spoke up next, “Yes, I've met him before. Dedicated to his people, and a noble of the old school,” he smiled a bit, “When he took his father's place, he swore his loyalty to the High King, the Duke, and his people.”
“That's... interesting,” Katarina shot a suspicious look at Cederic, “Some of your doing, perhaps?” She wondered again, if he had somehow manipulated her into the decision to go to Southwatch. That worry was, in fact, one reason she had delayed their departure.
He shrugged, “I have nothing to do with this. I've never met the man and if I had the inclination to make allies appear, as if by magic, I'd try to generate some a little closer to our present location.” His tone had a sarcastic bite that actually felt refreshing to Katarina. It is good to know that I have people unafraid to tell me what they really think, she thought.
“Well taken,” Katarina smiled. “Very well, how does this change things?”
“It gives us more people, more forces, and base of operations,” Bulmor said. “Somewhere closer to the rest of the Duchy, in a position to cut off the Ryftguard and in position to attack Zielona Gora.”
“It will give us trained troops and equipment and time to train more,” Gerlin said.
“It gives us strings and obligations,” Aerion's mother said.
Katarina looked over at her, and then saw Arren nod slowly in agreement. “I'm not certain I understand. Please explain.”
“If you go to him, now, with a handful of unarmed, untrained people, it gives him the appearance of strength. Even if he is well intentioned, it establishes him as the authority and you as the applicant.” Eleanor said. The short blonde woman looked far to innocent for her tone of world weariness. “Others will see that, or hear of it, how he saved you. People, supporters and enemies, will see him as the power behind you. Even you might come to rely on him... after all, his generosity will be what gives you the keys to the Duchy.”
Her words echoed Cederic's previous discussion of why he wouldn't use his powers to seize the Duchy for her. Katarina nodded, “I see.” She looked around, “Anyone else?”
“I think we need to go to the fortress, that the wizard Cederic spoke of,” Aerion said. “If we seize those weapons and whatever treasure lies there...”
Arren nodded, “Yes, Lady Katarina would have the position of strength. Give us a couple weeks, back here, to train the recruits, plus any more that show up while we're gone, and we can show the world that you are the force behind the move to unseat the Usurper.”
Katarina frowned. “It will take several weeks to reach Southwatch, more if we have to fight Norics along the way. Say a month there and back. What happens during that time?” She looked around. “There is almost certainly some kind of pursuit headed here, though I can't guess at it's strength.”
“At least a company, probably two,” Bulmor said. “Depends on who Hector assigned the task.” His gruff voice sounded thoughtful, though.
“Can we defend the valley and still send enough people on this mission?” Katarina asked. She did not wish to give up their refuge or their wounded, without a fight.
&n
bsp; “We are well hidden here,” Samen said. “And it would take a larger army than I think anyone would send to fight through the entrance if even a handful held it, especially now that we've almost got the gate built. You can move faster on horseback to the Southwatch. Those of us who know how to ride a horse, and how to fight should be the ones to go with you. The rest can hole up here, train, and prepare for your return.”
Katarina looked around the group. She saw determination and agreement on everyone's faces. “Very well, we ride for the Southwatch tomorrow.”
***
Captain Kerrel Flamehair
The Lonely Valley, Duchy of Masov
Twenty Fifth of Tremarn, Cycle 999 Post Sundering.
The officers met in the council chamber of the Lonely Keep.
Kerrel could feel the weight of centuries in the room. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that almost a thousand cycles ago Moral had cut down his younger brother in this very room. This ancient keep had seen the start of the fall of the High Kings. How different things might be if Moral had someone to bring him back from the darkness or if he listened to his brother, she thought. Yet, ironically, here she was, unable to convince another commander to listen to her, so caught up was he in his battles against he Armen threat.
“Our scouts report that the enemy has assembled just under five thousand raiders, while we have assembled twenty five hundred troops,” Hector said. “With our smaller force, we will take a defensive position on the fords below the Keep. The position should allow us to mitigate their numbers. Commander Pradjahdar will have command of the defense of the southern ford. Commander Nasrat will command the defense of the northern ford, Commander Abrupbnet will command the cavalry force and I will retain overall command.”
Hector swept his gaze around the room. “This will be a difficult battle. However, we have a secure defensive position, and clear lines of retreat should it become necessary. Our cavalry element will be kept in reserve in case the Armen manage to ford the river in any serious force.”
“Sir, what about magical defenses?” Kerrel didn't see who asked that question, though it was an important one.
“The Keep itself will provide some defense,” Hector said. “In addition, Lady Moratha will arrive in the morning, giving us three witches. Commander Nasrat has put out a call to local priests, and some are expected to lend their assistance, though they will vary in effectiveness. Due to the number of enemy shamans and the possibility of Armen godlings and spirit involvement, I recommend a dispersed formation.”
“Any other questions?” No one spoke up. “Very well, we have a day or two before they arrive. Make your troops ready,” Hector turned away and stepped out the back door.
Kerrel made to follow him, but then Pargan stepped in her way, “We have a problem. We need to talk.”
“Can it wait?” Kerrel asked. She had gone over the situation with her cousin to the point of complete exhaustion. At this point, she felt certain that her best course would be to lay out everything she knew or suspected to Hector himself.
“It most definitely cannot,” Pargan said. “Let's step outside.”
She followed him out onto the balcony. The view drew her breath away. The Lonely Keep stood on a hilltop almost a thousand feet above the surrounding area. Out on the horizon she could make out the curvature of the world. Below her, she could see the layout of the camp, and could see where the river wound past the Keep and the two fords which made the Keep so vital.
“Watch your step, girl,” Pargan said. “I would hate to have to clean you up off the rocks below.”
Kerrel gave a snort, “The least of my worries right now. What's so important?”
“One of the mercenary captains under Commander Pradjahdar just came to me last night. He says that Pradjahdar spoke to him about retiring, making more off this battle than he could in thirty cycles of mercenary work.”
“Treason?” Kerrel said. She felt her stomach twist.
Pargan nodded. “It gets worse. Someone must have heard that he let the information out. He had a heart attack last night.”
“Poison,” Kerrel said. “And the Vendakar are known for their exotic poisons. So what do we do?”
“I came to ask you that,” Pargan said softly. He ran a hand through his scruffy beard. “You are close to Hector, would he trust you enough to believe this story?”
“On the eve of a battle?” Kerrel shrugged, “Hard to say. He might think this some attempt to prove Jonal's innocence. Or he might decide its an attempt to break the army's unity right before the battle and have us killed.”
“Great,” Pargan spat over the railing. “You know, I warned you against getting involved in politics.”
“You think this came because I refused Pradjahdar's offer?”
“I think this is all too sudden. You did something that forced their hand and so Commander Pradjahdar has to act right now, or risk his plan, whatever it is, will be revealed,” Pargan said. “From what I gather, his battalion will switch sides, and will let the Armen across the southern ford. He won't actively fight Hector, just stand aside and let the Armen do his work for him.”
“Well, if we can't take this to Hector and we definitely can't let this happen, there's only one thing to do,” Kerrel said.
Pargan shook his head, “I'm not going to like this.”
“We have to disregard our own orders, make a conspiracy of our own and crush Pradjahdar,” Kerrel said, grateful that they were out on the ledge, both physically and metaphorically. Neither of them had anywhere to go, no place to retreat. Oddly enough, that made her feel more confident. “Which means we need to get talking with the independent mercenaries who might listen to us... and not make the same mistake Pradjahdar did and tip our hand to him or to Lord Hector.” My enemies have backed me into a corner, she thought, at least they had to come out of the shadows to do it.
“Either way we'll end up dead,” Pargan said. He glared at her. “I should have known better than to welcome you. Look where it got me.”
“Just think,” Kerrel said. “If we pull this off, you and I will be the saviors of the battle, Hector will heap the rewards on us both.”
“If he doesn't hang us,” Pargan grumbled.
***
Lady Amelia Tarken
The Eastwood
Twenty Fifth of Tremarn, Cycle 999 Post Sundering
“Lady Amelia, a moment of your time, please?”
She turned to find a shorter man, his spiked dark hair stark against his nut-brown skin. She recognized him after a moment, “You are Nanamak, right?” She remembered him from the fight with the assassins, though he had seemed terrifying and savage then.
Now he just looked like a wizened little man, barely her own height. “Yes,” He gave her a graceful bow. “And wished to walk with you a short distance and to tell you a tale.” His voice was gentle and soft, yet there was a darkness in his eyes that made her feel uncomfortable.
“Of course,” Amelia said. “I was just on my way to see Jasmine and Jasper.”
“Yes, I have business with them as well,” Nanamak said. He gestured at her to continue and then matched her pace. “How do you find the Heartwood?” His tone was neutral.
“I am often confused, though I think I finally feel like I have some idea of what is going on,” Amelia said. She wasn't sure what Nanamak felt about her, though he, at least, seemed friendly enough. Simonel had mentioned something about the other man training him, she remembered.
“That is often when things change,” Nanamak said with a wry smile. “We are like the salmon, born in the shallows, we grow and edge ever into deeper water, each time thinking we have finally understood our place, until we find ourselves in the vast ocean.”
Amelia shot him a puzzled look. “I'm not sure I understand.”
“That's the point, Lady Amelia,” Nanamak said. “We seldom do.” They walked on in silence for a while. Amelia tried to make sense of the odd little man. Finally, Nanamak broke the silen
ce, “Do you know my story?”
“I remember that Simonel called you his mentor, and that he said you trained him at weapons,” Amelia said. She had assumed he must be a warrior or guard of some kind, though he did not seem particularly formidable.
“Yes,” Nanamak said. “I have spent his childhood training him, I continue to advise him, and I spar with him every day. But this is what I do, not who I am... or who I was.”
“Who are you then?” Amelia asked.
“I was a bandit, a killer, and later an assassin,” Nanamak said calmly.
“What?” Amelia looked at the other man in shock.
“Do not worry, this was many cycles ago, before your ancestors came to Eoriel,” Nanamak assured her. “I have mellowed, over time, and I have tamed the darkness within, bent it to my service, rather than remain its slave, though it took me many, many cycles.”
“Oh,” Amelia said. Then again, she had no idea what the proper response might be to that. What does one say to a man who just admitted that he enjoys killing, Amelia wondered.
“I tell you this, because I want you to understand exactly what I speak of,” Nanamak said. “Because I believe that you are in danger... especially because you have chosen to stay.” His voice was suddenly earnest.
“Are you trying to convince me to leave?” Amelia asked.
“No. I want you to be a bit more cautious and to see that though Simonel is our King... there are some who would prefer him to be less of a King and others who see your presence as an inconvenience in their own plans,” Nanamak said softly. His dark eyes seemed to search the forest city around them, almost as if he expected some attack.
“And what can I do about that?” Amelia stopped and faced Nanamak. “I have some skill with my... abilities, but I am hardly a formidable opponent, should they try to physically harm me.” The very thought made her want to cringe. While she had held her own against the assassins, that was as much luck as anything else.