Kingdoms and Chaos (King's Dark Tidings Book 4)

by Kel Kade

  “You ask many questions,” Malcius replied.

  Dolinar shrugged. “It is my talent. I seek to understand the things I see. I do not believe you reject your king.”

  Malcius kicked a rock. “No, I do not reject him as my king. As a friend—it is complicated. I have blamed him for all our troubles, and I depend on him to solve them.” He glanced at Dolinar’s knowing gaze and shook his head. “I guess, inside I know he is not responsible, yet I trust he will make amends, regardless.” He growled in frustration. “I just—I cannot let go of the anger.”

  Dolinar nodded. “When I was young, my father was killed in a challenge. I blamed our matrianera for a long time even though she was not responsible for his death. It was easier to blame someone I cared about, someone with whom I felt safe, than the true enemy that frightened me.” Dolinar briefly crossed his wrists and said, “If you will excuse me, Malcius Jebai, I must confer with my comrades.”

  As Dolinar walked away, Balen said, “He is a wise man. You would do well to heed his words.”

  Yserria shaded her eyes with her hand. The clouds had dissipated by late morning, and the sun shone bright over the battle field. Echelon Orina’s troops were scattered around the base of the hill to the north, the largest group toward the west, as she had predicted. She did not look to the south where Balen led the second unit down the river.

  “Are you sure we can trust them?” said Malcius.

  “We have no choice,” she replied.

  “Balen seems a decent fellow, but these people are conniving. He admitted that he is Ifigen’s second. What better way to sabotage us?”

  “What does it matter?” she said. “If he betrays us, then we lose. If he were not with us, we would have no troops, and we would still lose. If he is with us, at least we have a chance at winning.”

  “You should have let me lead the second unit.”

  “He is more familiar with the terrain and the men.”

  She saw his frustration in his dark glare and clenched jaw. He said, “Where do you want me then, matria?”

  She scowled at him. “Go wherever you want.”

  He lifted his chin and said, “Then, I shall stand beside you.”

  The first horn blared, and the troops on both sides began to move into position. Yserria found that her men were well accustomed to the challenge of battle and required little encouragement or direction. She spied Ifigen on the far hill. He was pacing back and forth in front of his men, presumably delivering some inspiring speech. Yserria had no such speech. These men did not know her, nor did they care much for her cause. Most of them probably fought because they relished the battle.

  She walked along the front line, then turned and raised her voice. “You do not know me, so to ask you to fight for me would be less than inspiring; but, you do know Echelon Deshari. If we win, you need no longer concern yourself with her.” Her gaze roved over their faces. None cheered, probably out of fear of what might happen to them should they lose, but a fire lit within their hungry gazes. She grinned. “We fight to secure our survival, and we fight to destroy our common enemy. We fight as one, as a pack. We fight as wolves.”

  This time, the men rooted. It was the same cadence they had chanted during the dance, and it was inspiring. Their chant grew louder, and even those on the adjacent fields turned to stare. The second horn blared, and the battle began.

  The front line of Orina’s troops pushed forward, ascending Yserria’s hill. They hid behind large shields attached to logs on wheels, each pushed by half a dozen men up the slope. Ifigen’s archers cast the first volley of arrows at the men climbing his hill, but Yserria waited. After two volleys on the adjacent hill, the frontline infantry rushed from behind the shields to attack Ifigen’s forces.

  Yserria returned her attention to her own battle. When Orina’s front line was nearly to the top, she raised a signal flag. Her men abruptly shifted into a grid with large gaps between the files. Dolinar cast his spell, and dozens of boulders from the other side of the hill began rolling forward between the columns. Yserria gave the signal to the archers, who aimed high so that their arrows would drop behind the shields to strike the men pushing the logs. The arrows struck just as the boulders tumbled down the front slope, crashing into the shields. With no one to hold them, the logs plummeted backward, rolling over and dragging the men behind them. Some of the men were able to escape the shields before they were crushed, and Yserria’s infantry met them with force.

  Just as Yserria was beginning to feel confident, a fierce wind began swirling atop the hill, capturing shields and shoving her troops into one another. Dozens of small fireballs, none large enough to kill but certainly large enough to cause damage, were cast toward the crest where they were whipped up by the wind. The fire spread, and the fireballs struck at random. During the commotion, Orina’s forces gained ground. They began to swarm the hill.

  Yserria could hear the pounding of hooves, but she could not find their source. Suddenly, the illusion dropped, as if a curtain were drawn back, and a small cavalry unit plowed through their lines. She called to one of her mages, a life mage who was already in the midst of casting a spell. The horses suddenly reared and began thrashing against nonexistent restraints. As the confused horses ran amuck, her archers and pike men took down their riders.

  After striking down an infantryman who had been unlucky enough to top the hill, she turned to Malcius. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away from the man with whom he was engaged. After running her sword through the man’s ribs, she turned to him.

  She held the signal flare out for him and said, “Lead the charge!”

  “What? Me? Now?”

  “Yes, now! Go!”

  He grabbed the flare, and Yserria watched his back as he cut his way to the front line. He activated the purple orb that propelled itself into the sky, setting phase two of their plan into motion. Yserria’s troops descended the hill, leaving a gap in the line to the west. She was depending on Deshari’s duplicity, certain the echelon had been feeding her opponent information. Orina would know that Yserria had little experience and would expect her to make novice mistakes. Sacrificing the high ground enticed Orina’s troops, and the poorly placed line gave them an opening. Orina’s champion took the advantage, his troops filing into the gap, segregating Yserria’s men and acquiring a pathway to summit.

  Balen’s men did not appear. No charge from the rear, no final rout. He had abandoned her. Yserria’s heart plummeted into her stomach, and she looked for Malcius. He was there in the fray, deep in the thick of it, determined to drive the enemy into the rear forces that were not coming. She hurried to the crest of the hill and scanned the other hill to see how Ifigen’s troops fared and was shocked. His hill had been overrun, and Orina’s forces had been diverted to her field.

  Dolinar ran up to her, breathing heavily as he leaned on his knees. He was bleeding from several gashes, and his armor was hanging from one shoulder.

  “Echelon Orina has broken the terms of the challenge. She was not satisfied to wait and see if you would fail. She seeks to overthrow Echelon Deshari.”

  “I see that. Where is Balen?”

  He pointed toward the base of the rise along the river. “There, Echelon Orina’s troops are now nearly double, and he was forced to engage much farther back. If he had not been there, though, we would already have been overrun.”

  Yserria had to think fast. What would Rezkin do? Something unimaginable, she was sure. “Gather the mages,” she said. “Move the river.”

  He looked at her as if she were mad. “You wish for us to do what? That is impossible.”

  “No,” she said, pointing to the gentle slope of the ridge along the hill’s elongated western flank. “The saddle there is low, and the rock beds dip away. You can see where they have already slumped. With a bit of power, you can force them to slide on their own. It will dam the river and open a passage through here. The field below will be flooded. Orina’s troops will be decimated.”

/>   “And some of our own,” said Dolinar.

  “We will sound a retreat right before you act. We will save as many as we can, but if we do nothing, all of them will die.”

  “I am an earth mage. I know this land. What you ask—I do not believe it can be done.”

  “We cannot know until we try; and, if we do not try, we will never have another chance.”

  Dolinar nodded and then sprinted off to gather the few mages at their disposal. Yserria gripped her sword, whispered a prayer to the Maker, and then descended into the turmoil, fighting her way toward Malcius. The grass on the slope had been ripped and churned, and the topsoil had become loose. With every precarious step, Yserria slashed and ducked. She used her body weight to send more than one enemy tumbling down the hill and tried to catch a few of her own men who might have shared the same fate. She finally caught up with Malcius, and without discussion, the two fell into the partnered combat they had been taught. Guarding each other’s backs, they fought until those in their immediate vicinity were dead, then moved farther along the line.

  After what felt like years, Yserria heard a resounding crack followed by a massive rumble. The ground shook beneath their feet, and soldiers on both sides paused in fear of what was to come. She looked for the signal, but there was no sign for retreat, so she kept fighting. Several minutes later, there was another blast, this one louder. This time, the ground’s trembling was accompanied by the roar of rushing water.

  Yserria screamed, “Retreat! Retreat!”

  She grabbed Malcius and began dragging him up the hill as they swatted away those in pursuit. The water blasted past, only paces below their position. As it tore through the hill, it took with it chunks of soil. The slope on which they sought refuge began to fall into the churning muck. With masses of earth eroding beneath them, Yserria and Malcius ran for the steeper high ground of the eastern flank. As they gripped an outcrop for support, Yserria looked over the battleground. Most, but not all, of her troops had made it to higher ground. The lowland was a swath of churning, grey water seeking its way back toward the riverbed. Across the river, on the other side of what had been the western flank of her hill, Balen and his men fought the last of their enemies on a low rise over the empty tract where the river had previously flowed.

  Yserria breathed heavily and motioned for Malcius to follow. They crested the hill and found the mages lying in the grass in varying states of well-being. Yserria slid down the slope that had once been slight and came to a stop next to Dolinar, who lay back staring at the sky. She looked up at the life mage whose name she could not remember. “Good job with the horses.”

  The woman waved her hand in dismissal. “It was nothing compared to this,” she said with a wave toward the cliff that fell into the new path of the river.

  Looking down at Dolinar, Yserria said, “What is wrong with him?”

  The woman said, “He overextended his power. He will be ill and disoriented for some time, but he will be fine once he regains his power—if he regains his power.”

  “This could be permanent?”

  The woman shrugged. “Sometimes. At least he is not dead.”

  Malcius said, “Death might be preferable to this.”

  The woman smiled faintly and stroked the braid at Dolinar’s temple. “I am sure he will recover. Dolinar is strong.”

  “You are his matria?”

  With a nod, the woman said, “We are members of the echelon’s household. She will not be pleased that we fought for you.”

  Yserria stood and said, “You need not worry about that. Deshari is no longer echelon. I have won the challenge. Now, I must issue another.”

  She mounted the rise and then stalked down the hill with determination, skirting the water to the east. As she marched, those of her troops who could stand gathered in her wake. Malcius hurried beside her.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “I must challenge Orina.”

  “For what? We have won. We can go now!”

  “She broke the terms of the challenge against the Third Echelon, which is now me. If I do not challenge her, I will appear weak and lose standing.”

  “What do you care?” said Malcius. “We. Can. Leave.”

  Yserria stopped to face him and pointed back to the men and woman who had followed her into combat. “They fought for nothing more than a respect for my motives and the promise of a better echelon. Orina has proven to be without honor. If I leave the echelon in disarray, she will claim it and place one of her ilk in the position. If I abandon these people now, they will have fought for nothing.” Yserria began walking again toward Orina’s encampment on the other side of the valley. “Right now, Orina is weak. Her forces are destroyed. She cannot defend herself against a challenge.”

  When they arrived, Orina’s servants were rushing to pack her belongings. Yserria stopped outside the echelon’s tent and called to her. “Orina Goldren of the Fourth Echelon, I am Yserria Rey of the Third Echelon. You have violated the covenant of challenge against the Third Echelon. On behalf of my people, I challenge you for your seat!”

  A blonde woman in a slinky green dress and beige sandals stepped out of the tent. She carried a folding fan that she used to cool herself as she stood nonchalantly looking at the crowd.

  “I am Echelon Orina Goldren. You cannot challenge me. My arrangement was made with Echelon Deshari Brigalsi.”

  Yserria raised her sword toward the woman. “I have won her seat in challenge. I am now Third Echelon, and I am here to hold you accountable.”

  Orina’s eyes widened. “Deshari said nothing of a challenge for her seat. She said the challenge was for a claim on a foreigner.”

  Yserria grinned. “Then, she lied. She tried to take my man, and I challenged her for her seat in return. That is irrelevant, though, as it has no bearing on your actions.”

  Orina straightened. “Her forces were split, and there was unrest in her camp. I would have been remiss not to take advantage of the situation.”

  “I do not believe you were unaware of the challenge for her seat. It was no secret. You thought to destroy us both and claim the echelon.”

  A scream emanated from the tent, and a woman came running out, nearly colliding with Orina. Orina turned and screamed at her retainers. “You were supposed to keep her quiet, you idiots!”

  “She kidnapped me!” screamed Deshari. “In the middle of a challenge. It is not permitted! The challenge is void.”

  Yserria said, “No, Deshari. I completed the challenge. I prevailed against her forces—both units, whereas your champion fell.”

  Deshari’s face paled. “Ifigen is dead?” She looked at Orina in horror. “You said nothing! You would not even permit me to mourn my consort?”

  Yserria said, “You plotted against me, Deshari, and Orina plotted against you. Now, I will take both your echelons.” Yserria met Deshari’s stricken gaze and said, “You nipped at the wolf’s heels, and the wolf bit back.”

  Orina glanced around as if searching for something—or someone. “I need a champion,” she shouted. She looked to one of her sodden men who had been lucky enough to survive the flood. He was a hard-looking man with scars across his bare chest. He shook his head. She looked to another, and he too refused. She called out, “Whosoever serves as my champion will become first consort to the echelon.” No one stepped forward.

  Yserria sheathed her sword. “You have failed to produce a champion. Your seat is forfeit.”

  “On behalf of what house do you claim the echelons?” said the man with the scars.

  Yserria paused. She could not claim the echelons under House Rey or the power would go to her aunt. She had to claim them for herself.

  “What is it?” Malcius whispered.

  “They wish to know the name of my house.”

  He stared at her for a moment and then said, “Palis.”

  She glanced at him to see if he was serious. He motioned for her to proceed. She looked at him again, uncertainly, then turned
back to the crowd, “I claim the Third and Fourth Echelons under House Palis.”

  Chapter 18

  Tam and Uthey, together, followed the rest of the prisoners through the passage. It was the first daylight he had seen in over a week after being held in the dark cell of the cave near the docks. A few times a day, a guard would walk past their cell carrying a torch. Twice each day, someone opened their cell to toss in food, which was already rancid half the time, and a couple of buckets of putrid water. That was all the light they had seen. In those brief moments, Tam had estimated about thirty people shared his cell. Sometimes he heard them whispering or crying in the dark, but most kept quiet. Sometimes they stood, and sometimes they sat, but they never moved about. Their bodies had been forsaken to the darkness, their minds trapped within the confines of their imaginations. Tam had wondered if he would ever see the sun again.

  He squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness. The sharp pain behind his eyeballs nearly dropped him to his knees. He stumbled on the sandy path, but Uthey pulled him to his feet—not out of kindness or concern. The slavers had few rules: 1) do as they say, or you will be tortured or killed; and 2) whatever happens to your partner, happens to you. Uthey was looking out for his own neck. Tam flinched when a rock collided with his temple. He blinked up toward the top of the passage. The walls were made of posts as thick as his arm, tied together with rope and covered in canvas. A walkway had been constructed along the top on the other side, and guards paced back and forth watching their progress. Filthy children laughed as they threw rocks and dirt clods at the prisoners from above.

  Tam searched the figures around him as he dragged his feet through the sand. He recognized many of the prisoners as those who had been trapped in the ship’s hull with him, but there were also others. It was not surprising that many faces were missing. A handful had died before they had even reached port. Several others had died in the cell. He had been forced to sleep next to a corpse for two days before the guards finally came for the bodies. What had made it all the worse was that he had spoken to the woman. He had assured her that they would find a way out of the mess. He supposed she had found a way out.