King’s Wrath

by Fiona McIntosh

  “Over my dead body,” Gavriel exclaimed.

  The man Kilt didn’t know stepped forward. “I’m tired and I could use some real food and a decent drink. If you’ll all excuse me,” he said and began walking away.

  Kilt actually laughed. “Barro. Stop him please.”

  “Touch him and I’ll kill whichever of you is Barro,” Elka said. “You know I can, Faris. This is a physic. He has no magic but the gift of his knowledge. He is tired, as he says. Let him be.”

  “Fine,” Kilt said, and Janus disappeared deep into the convent. Kilt noticed him throw Elka a look of gratitude, which she returned with a tight sympathetic smile.

  “Why are you here?” Kilt demanded.

  “Would you believe me if I said we were trying to find somewhere safe . . . to think?” Loethar offered.

  “No.”

  Elka sighed audibly. “Last time I was here I don’t remember Kilt Faris being in charge of the convent. Where is the Abbess?” she demanded.

  “Right here, Elka,” said a new voice and the Mother swept into the courtyard.

  “Mother,” Loethar said and bowed politely.

  “I’m glad they didn’t kill you, my son,” she said in her dry tone.

  “They couldn’t if they’d wanted to,” he replied gently.

  “Let’s all, just for a moment, assume that I am in fact in charge here,” she said. “I would be interested to know why you are here,” she directed at Loethar.

  “Mother, my army is approaching your convent at a steady march. My men are under the control of its general, who is pretending that he is answerable to me while in fact he answers to a far more sinister puppeteer.”

  Kilt frowned. “Piven,” he murmured.

  “That’s right.” Loethar briefly told them everything he knew, introducing Ravan and bringing both him and Roddy into the conversation to describe their first-hand experience with Piven.

  “So why come here if Piven is hunting you here?” Jewd asked.

  “I didn’t know Piven was coming here.”

  “Why is he? Why would he leave the palace, the city, to come to a convent . . . an outpost far away from Penraven in the foothills of the mountains?” Kilt demanded with exasperation.

  Lily stepped forward out of the shadows. “I think I can answer that, Kilt. Perhaps my escape was not as clean as I thought. Hello, Gavriel,” she added, embarrassed.

  Gavriel stared at her, his mouth open. “Lily,” was all he said but the emotion in his voice was naked to all.

  Kilt sighed. “Right. Of course. You were followed.” He quickly began to outline what he knew for the newcomers.

  Lily chimed in and then ended up taking over, relaying all that she could recall from the time she’d spent in the company of Piven and Stracker.

  “Stracker has willingly thrown his lot in with him,” she said to Loethar. “But they likely have no idea that you or the princess is here.”

  “Princess?” Loethar and Gavriel said together, looking around.

  Evie stepped up next to Kilt. “Corbel, it must be our turn to give an explanation,” and a truly astonished audience listened in awe as their tale unfolded.

  Roddy fell to his knees before Genevieve as she finished, “And Corbel brought me here.”

  “Your highness,” he said. “Forgive me that I did not save myself for you.”

  Loethar glanced at Kilt and gave him a knowing nod. “I understand now.”

  Kilt smiled. “Genevieve has her aegis too, Loethar. I’ll warn you now, she cannot be harmed.”

  “Brennus was surely the most conniving king of all the Valisars. He never fails to surprise me. First Piven, now Princess Genevieve.” Loethar stepped forward and Kilt bristled but moved back at a warning look from Evie. “Your highness,” Loethar said, taking her hand and kissing it. “I never imagined myself inviting any Valisar into my life, but welcome back, niece.”

  She smiled demurely. “Thank you, uncle. It’s special to be meeting long lost family.” And then she looked around at everyone. “It appears to me, as an outsider and an observer of these proceedings, that while you may have thought yourselves enemies, you should be united against this half-brother of Loethar’s and my brother who controls him. Whatever has gone before, you must bury the hate and the pain. All this combined knowledge together with our aegis magic must allow us to find a way to protect the helpless, both here in our midst and those out there who should not share this fight for the crown. Let me say it now to all of you: I do not want the Valisar crown.”

  Loethar sighed. “And I relinquish my claim on the empire.”

  That brought a silence.

  “He means it,” Elka assured. “It’s one of the reasons Roddy gave himself over. We came here to throw our lot in with you, your highness,” she said to Evie. “We hoped to find you here. Ravan and Roddy believed you would be.”

  “Is this true?” Kilt demanded of Loethar. “You came here to offer yourself to the princess?”

  Loethar nodded. “Without reservation. I do not wish to rule any longer. One day when we have more time I will explain it but right now we must work together, as my niece says, to protect these people who don’t have a magical shield.”

  Surprising himself, Kilt reached out a hand. Loethar took it.

  “This is for the innocents,” Kilt said, “not the Valisars.”

  “For the innocents,” Loethar echoed.

  The three women actually clapped and the other men looked around at each other, bemused, as Kilt and Loethar shook hands, sealing their pledge.

  Jewd shook his head. “Well, life is never boring around you, Kilt, that’s for sure.”

  It was Gavriel who gave voice to a concern everyone seemed to have missed. “But if Piven is following Lily—and he has his aegis—why has he brought an army?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Piven was becoming restless. “What an interminable journey. How much longer?”

  “We are nearly there, your majesty,” Vulpan said. “We just passed the marker stone.”

  “And we’re sure she’s headed for the convent?”

  “So my men assure us,” Stracker said. “There is nowhere else. She is hardly going to disappear into the mountains.”

  “Lily has survived in the forest most of her life. She’s not scared of living rough,” Greven warned. “I hope she does disappear into the Teeth, never to be heard from or seen again!”

  “Be quiet, Greven,” Piven said wearily. “Stracker, I’ve allowed you to bring one hundred of your men. You said you would explain as we neared the convent. Are you going to tell me why now that you have exasperatingly negated my ability to steal up on them?”

  Stracker’s tatua stretched as he grinned, his chains attached to his nose and ears, lips and eyebrows jangling lightly. He would normally not wear his “jewelry” into any sort of fray, Piven knew, so he was clearly feeling comfortable that whatever opposition was ahead, it would be minimal.

  “I have given it a lot of thought and it’s a precaution for Loethar. He’s getting help and I don’t know from whom or how many. But the person who gave me this,” he said, pointing to the wound on his head, “was a Davarigon. If he has somehow won that people’s support, then while you are hunting down Lily Felt for your own reasons, I want to ensure my brother is sent to the gods. And I want the men around me to bear witness.”

  “Oh believe me, Stracker, when I say that I want the same for your half-brother. But what makes you think your army will strike down their emperor?”

  “These are the Greens only. And they will follow me—before anyone—to my death. I don’t need them for the killing. That will be my pleasure. But I want them to see the leader of the Greens strike a blow, one that’s been long overdue.”

  “They might have to kill, though, general, if the Davarigons are involved.”

  Stracker laughed. “The Davarigons are not aggressive. They will not take on the army. That’s another reason I brought along the Greens: they will act as a dete
rrent. And they will show Loethar that he has lost control. If he’s here and he sees the Greens arrive as one, the message between him and me is clear.”

  “Are you certain the Greens will follow you above the emperor?” Vulpan wondered and, at the glare from Piven, hurried to rephrase. “Er, I mean, if Loethar and you are kin, why wouldn’t they want him spared?”

  “Almost all of the tribal colors would refuse to move against Loethar but the Greens are different,” Stracker acknowledged with a rare sigh. “The Greens have not forgiven him for not proudly tattooing his royal status to his face and body in their shared color. And what’s more, he has shown no favor to the Greens since their generous help to make him emperor. Still, if it were anyone but their own leader asking it, they would not be a party to treachery,” he said, grinning widely. “But I am a Green before I am anything and they know it and would kill for me. Through me they will enjoy the favor they want.”

  “And you think Loethar might be right here?” Piven asked.

  “I last saw him in the north. I’ve had spies working hard. A Davarigon woman was asking for a physic’s help in the town of Francham not long ago, which is close to where I was attacked. The physic she contacted has since disappeared and there are rumors that they were glimpsed heading east.”

  “And?”

  “I know every step of this land,” Stracker admitted. “There is nothing near Francham this far north other than the convent. Besides, that’s where Loethar sent Valya, so he is familiar with it, no doubt on friendly terms with its Abbess. It would be a good place for Loethar to lie low unnoticed and convalesce from his wounds.”

  “My, my, Stracker, your creativity has been working hard. It all sounds thoroughly plausible and whether or not it comes to fruition, I find your imagination most entertaining. Plus it will be incredibly amusing to watch the nuns quake beneath your imposing gaze, not to mention your one hundred Greens.”

  “Piven, this is madness,” Greven counseled. “What can you expect to gain from this?”

  “Everything, if Loethar is here. And I have to tell you, Greven—and don’t deny that you aren’t feeling it too—my senses are twitching. Perhaps General Stracker has excelled himself. I smell Valisar magic on the wind.”

  Greven looked away angrily and Piven knew he felt it too. This was the moment he had been longing for. Which Valisar would he slaughter first? Toying with that notion kept him entertained for the last few dull miles of their journey. He hoped it was Loethar.

  Behind them lay a devastated compound on the outskirts of Barronel. General Marth’s mustering of the soldiers who could still remember the old hate for the barbarians had been a lynchpin of the attack but it had been Leo’s inspired idea to trial whether he could be used as a channel for magic that had won the day. It was true that the Vested camp was not the most heavily guarded of regions in the empire; they were a community known to be non-aggressive, of almost accepting their fate as imperial prisoners.

  The Vested were so compliant in fact that their supervision over the years had dwindled to what was essentially a skeleton guard. Loethar left the administration of the community mainly to former administrators of Barronel—civil servants who knew how to work as part of a group and keep good account of spending, provisioning the Vested, caring for them, providing the structure they needed, from accommodation to teaching to apothecaries. Barronel was now seen as an outpost, a place tribal soldiers were sent in their earliest years to do a “season” as it was known in their ranks, or somewhere those same soldiers—perhaps a bit older—might be sent as punishment for misdemeanors. It had evolved over the decade into a more casual, even sleepy hamlet where little excitement occurred and most of the men were keen to leave. They showed little interest in the Vested and as such there was all but nil interaction between Vested and imperial guard.

  And so the uprising had not only caught the soldiers entirely “off guard” but Marth had planned the strike to occur during the night when it was left to locals of his ilk to keep an eye on the Vested’s end of town. In the small hours the Vested were led as quietly as possible out of their compound while Leo and a small unit of Marth’s most trusted patriots had moved silently on a killing rampage.

  Marth knew there were exactly fifty-one soldiers in the city. Fate was smiling on them; that was the lowest number he could recall and he had deliberately and very generously greased the palm of the two innkeepers at the favored drinking spots to not water any wine or ale—in fact to be liberal with his servings. One final act of defiance that, while it didn’t sit easily on Marth’s conscience, was necessary to ensure their success was the drugging of the soldiers’ liquor. Leo had insisted on every precaution being taken.

  “Make no protest, Marth, this is war. Loethar used cunning for his overthrow. This is just a different form of fighting. Subterfuge is something my father was clearly adept at and would applaud if it meant it achieved our aim.”

  Marth had nodded, accepting that this was their one glittering opportunity to overthrow their captors.

  And Leo had used the slackness in attitude by the barbarians to devastating effect, striking while the majority of the fifty-one men dozed in a drugged stupor. The rest he killed with startling efficiency with his own skills . . . a hefty dose of his new-found magic magnifying his abilities, Perl dragged alongside, her eyes wide with terror. But one man, found relatively sober in the arms of a whore, died awake. Tied naked to a chair, the whore’s screams still echoing, he was conscious and entirely aware of the blade being drawn across his throat.

  “Remember me, Welf?” Leo had said as blood burst forth and the young soldier had begun to gurgle and choke. “Let King Leonel’s face—a Valisar—be the last face you remember on your way to hell.”

  Even Marth had chosen to look away when he’d seen the savagery in the eyes of the man in whom he’d placed his faith.

  The Vested had emerged onto the main road between Barronel’s easternmost point in either fast-moving family carts hitched to teams of horses or saddled up on horseback ready to ride hard.

  Leo had consulted the runes for their best course.

  “You cannot lie to me, Perl,” he warned.

  “I can withhold information, though,” she said.

  “Then I will make sure I ask all the right questions,” he said as she spread her stones out by torchlight. “Now tell me what you see.”

  With a stormy look darkening her expression, Perl picked up her marked pebbles and gave consideration.

  “I cannot predict the future,” she snapped. “I can only get impressions of your life. East. Your destiny lies east.”

  You’re sure now? Not south into Penraven, which makes a lot more sense.”

  Perl shrugged. “Ignore me if you choose. Follow your own instincts. The stones suggest east. But I’ll tell you I sense darkness there. You would do well to take your chances elsewhere.”

  “Where is Tolt?” Leo called.

  “Here,” a sulky voice replied.

  “What have you dreamed?”

  “Killing.”

  “Who?”

  “Many.”

  Leo gave a look of exasperation at Tolt’s vague responses.

  Suddenly Reuth shouldered her way forward. “I had a vision earlier this evening.”

  “And?” Leo said, standing from where he’d been crouching near Perl and her runes.

  “Well, it was fast and made no sense. It was just a flash of a picture in my mind. I saw the convent at the foothills of Lo’s Teeth, surrounded by the barbarian army—the Greens.”

  “The Greens are Stracker’s,” Leo hissed. “Did you see Loethar in your vision?”

  “No, majesty. Only the walls of the convent surrounded by the soldiers.”

  “So, the convent,” Leo repeated as though this would be the last place in the whole of the Empire he would imagine heading. “How do you know it’s that one?”

  “I recognize the landscape. I sought refuge there when we first escaped Loethar’s clutc
h. It was the Qirin there who suggested I return to the south and into Medhaven; she said happiness would find me there. I thought she might have meant peace but I now realize she meant Clovis.”

  “Perl says east,” he murmured.

  “And the convent is east,” Reuth said.

  “Then east we go. By my reckoning if we ride hard, general, with scouts up ahead to make sure of no traps, we can make it by midday.”

  Marth nodded. “Let’s get out of Barronel. We can regroup once we near the Teeth. I’m presuming you have a plan, majesty?” he said, an eyebrow lifting.

  “I’m working on one,” Leo said, with anger in his voice. “Let’s ride. Come, Perl.”

  Soundlessly she stood, followed Leo and permitted him to help her up behind him on the fine stallion he’d stolen. With her arms around him they looked like lovers but that was where the comparison stopped. Their expressions showed there was no love between them . . . not even companionship. Marth suspected the young king had no time for friendship even though he’d permitted a Vested priest to say the words of marriage hurriedly for them.

  Driving them hard through the night and sticking to the northernmost roads, Marth suspected they would encounter few, if any, of Loethar’s people, and he was right. These were not densely populated areas anyway so there was scant reason for soldiers to be patrolling. But the handful of surprised barbarians they met along the way, who looked astonished to see a column of hard-riding, disheveled peasants on good horses, met a swift death. Leo had been well trained in the art of killing from horseback and with Perl’s protection he won not a single scratch from the barbarian arrows. Galloping, howling with glee at the soldiers, he killed even those who ran from his swinging sword or begged mercy.

  People ate, drank, even rested as they traveled and so the column never stopped moving. They were two hundred strong; most of the Vested had chosen to join Leo and Marth but some were too infirm or too young to make the journey, and a few simply refused to be drawn into what looked like dangerous times ahead. By dawn they had caught their first glimpse of Lo’s towering Teeth in the distance. It was here, herding people into the nearby woods, that Leo called his first and only halt, and after watching that everyone was sufficiently hidden by the trees, he alighted his horse and called to Marth and Reuth.