by Rosie Scott
I smiled. “Just come out and ask, love.”
“Well, I know you're going to be all busy and important once we kick ol' Sirius and friends out of Chairel, but I was thinking I'd get pretty bored going on voyages all by myself. I thought I'd gauge your opinion about possibly joining me from time to time.”
“I like how you're being very careful saying this as if you're terrified I'll say no.”
“I am terrified you'll say no. I royally fucked up the last trip, and you paid for that one.”
Cerin huffed with amusement. “Barely.”
“Yeah, well...” Calder shrugged with a grin. “I'll forget about the gold if you can forget about the kraken.”
“Not only will I happily join you, Cal,” I began, “I'll force you to take me places. I've promised Azazel trips to every country in the world.”
“Truly?” Calder grinned over at the archer. “Kai just loves spoiling you, doesn't she?”
“Why do you think we're friends?” Azazel replied. The jest was so unexpected that both Calder and I burst into laughter.
Our conversation quieted once the early afternoon sun shone over the incline of the main road ahead. The tavern that was our destination sat on the very top of the inner mountain. The building's face would have been in full view of the sun if it weren't for the close cavern ceilings overhead.
The tavern was a four-story building even wider than it was tall, with large stained-glass windows depicting the landscape of Hammerton in panes of vibrant color. The fourth floor was split in half, with one side containing a huge balcony with a stage for entertainers just before tables and chairs. Right now, the balcony was empty. A handful of older dwarves sat just outside the tavern's front door, combining a number of instruments into a low-tone melody.
Dwarven music was nearly as harsh as Vhiri music, only in a different sense. Heavy drum beats and musical horns were common as if the dwarves looked to mimic the hardness of the rock they often worked with. One of the musicians did have a flute, but it alternated between mimicking a whistle or a simple gust of wind. Though the music was somber, it also sounded like the audible representation of war: rough, harsh, and with a beat like a countdown to battle.
As Azazel held the door open for the others to enter the tavern, I dug into my coin purse, throwing two gold pieces into a crate pleading for donations beside the group. The box only had three copper coins in it otherwise, so the gold perked the band up. One of the dwarves thanked me profusely, while another started to pack up her instrument. Griswald was a much poorer city than Olympia. Not only had I heard that gold veins were sparse in the mines of the Quakes, but Griswald was a city of production, not splendor.
“There's two more gold in it for you all if you keep playing until I leave,” I offered. The dwarf who had started to pack up sat back down. The music not only continued, but the melody turned happier as I finally walked through the tavern's open door.
The lowest floor had an open bar that spanned across the entire back wall. Bottles of all shapes and sizes sat on shelves closest to the bartender on the right side, and lining the rest of the wall were stacked kegs, each roughly labeled above its spout with charcoal. A few dwarven civilians and allied soldiers alike were sitting at the bar and around tables.
Nyx sat on the closest bar stool to the stairway, a half-full pitcher of dwarven ale between her hands. She widened her eyes with exasperation when she saw us and said, “Prepare for a massive headache, friends.”
I figured she was talking about Kirek and asked, “Is that why you're down here?”
Nyx exhaled heavily and stood, grabbing the pitcher and taking it with her as she followed us to the stairway. “It was either this or suicide, and I didn't want to mess up this gorgeous body by jumping off the balcony.”
“The things we do for vanity,” Calder said facetiously with a sigh.
Azazel led us to the fourth floor. At the top of the stairway was a wall with a door to the right, which led to the entertainment balcony. Instead, we went left, walking down a short hallway with a large room on either side. Altan had rented the room at the back of the building, giving us the most privacy from prying ears. Even before Azazel opened the door, I could hear hushed voices as the Sentinels talked and argued.
A long table stretched across the majority of the room. At one end of it sat five Sentinels. Maggie sat on the floor against the wall due to her distrust of wooden furniture. Standing in the far corner beside Altan with her arms crossed was Kirek.
The door closed behind us, and we walked over to sit with the Sentinels. As I pulled out a chair, Kirek said, “Calder Cerberius was not invited.” Even as she said it, Calder sat in a chair beside Nyx as if he hadn't heard her.
“Yes, he was,” I replied evenly, taking the seat beside Cyrus. He and Uriel sat on one side of the table, while Dax and Zephyr were on the other. Altan sat at the end, leaning his face into a fist on the table as if he was already tired of bickering.
“Altan specifically told Azazel to gather the Seran Renegades,” Kirek said. “No one else.”
“I know,” I replied. “I didn't say Altan invited him. I invited him. He is my ally, and I am yours.” I waved a hand over the table. “Continue.”
“Altan,” Kirek insisted, to which the first Sentinel raised a hand.
“Drop it.” Altan's voice was impatient but fatigued.
“Our queen is fending off assassins left and right, and you decide to trust their king?” Kirek retorted.
“Since when do you care about trust, Kirek?” Altan blurted angrily. “You once said you placed little value in it. You trust no one but yourself. For the love of the gods, I've done as you've asked. I've brought everyone together. Say what you need to before I kick everybody out.”
Altan's rant seemed to tone down Kirek's anger just a bit. “Kai is looking to undermine us, Altan. She is recruiting Sentinels to her cause and pulling them away from their loyalties to Eteri.”
“What are you talking about?” Altan breathed.
“During the takeover, I saw her and Cerin use a spell on Cyrus and Uriel. It made them fall into leeching rages just as if they were necromancers.” Kirek glared at the two Sentinels.
“That's impossible,” Altan replied. “They aren't necromancers.” He glanced up at me. “Tell Kirek the spell you used so we can be done with this.”
“She's right,” I replied. “We gave them leeching highs.”
Altan hesitated, a look of perplexity on his face. “What? How?” After I finished with my explanation, he frowned and turned to Cyrus. “Is this true? She used it on both of you?”
“With our permission, yes,” Cyrus replied.
“How does that change anything?” Kirek asked, directing her next words to Altan. “Regardless, if they have gone through the rages, they are no longer fit to serve as Sentinels. Our queen has made it very clear that necromancers are not to have power.”
“We are still not necromancers,” Uriel said, his voice tight with anger. I remembered when the healer had told us how he'd continuously been overlooked for promotions in favor of Kirek. I could only imagine how he felt now that she suggested he be demoted. I was shocked Kirek had gone that route with her thinking. I'd always figured her vitriol would only be directed at me.
“Neither of you can go through this without Kai giving it to you,” Altan clarified.
Uriel replied, “Or Cerin, but yes.”
“Then I don't see the problem,” Altan replied. “They aren't necromancers, Kirek.”
“They are still receiving the same power!” Kirek walked up to the table to be closer to Altan, punching the table lightly for emphasis as she talked. “Kai is offering our Sentinels power they have never had before. Power that our queen heavily regulates. It will start to warp their mind and negatively affect the way they lead their armies. And even if it doesn't, Kai is trying to sabotage their loyalty to the queen by offering them something Tilda will not.”
“How do you know this?” Altan aske
d. “How do you know this will affect them? Necromancers have never been in power before in Eteri. You said it yourself. We don't know how one would lead, because it's never been allowed.”
“The fact remains that it is not allowed,” Kirek retorted angrily. “It doesn't matter what we speculate. The law of Eteri forbids it, and every Sentinel here has sworn service to Eteri.” She glared at Cyrus and repeated, “Eteri. Not Kai.”
Altan blew an exhale between his lips. “I see your point.”
Cyrus leaned forward over the table. “Altan—”
“I only said I see her point,” Altan interrupted. Turning to Kirek, he went on, “So Cyrus and Uriel have fallen under necromancy's influence. Now what? What would you have me do?”
“They either need to be demoted or heavily reprimanded,” Kirek suggested.
“Okay, let's say we demote them. Then what?”
Kirek frowned. “What are you asking? I've offered you my suggestions. In my opinion, they've willingly broken the laws of Eteri. Their fates should be Tilda's to decide.”
“Okay. Sure.” Altan entwined his fingers before dramatically stretching both arms out over the table. “That settles it, then. Meeting dismissed. Cyrus and Uriel, you're both demoted. Since we're now low on generals to lead armies, we'll need everyone's suggestions for promotions.” He paused. When he finally continued, the words became angrier and more sarcastic. “Oh, and since Tilda is the decision-maker on promotions, let's pack up the family and head all the way back home to Eteri. By the time we return to Hammerton to continue this little campaign, there will be metalhuggers dancing in the fucking streets!”
The last words had been yelled in anger, and it shocked all of us. Kirek removed her hand from the table and took a step back, swallowing hard as she considered Altan's words.
“We don't have time for this!” Altan finally continued, his voice labored from the outburst. “Our orders were to take and secure Hammerton. That is our main concern. I don't give a damn if Cyrus and Uriel get their jollies from the occasional high. As far as I'm concerned, the fact that Kai is offering this to our troops at all is a benefit to this campaign.”
Dax sat up straighter across from Uriel and spoke for the first time. “Can I add something?”
“Go ahead, Dax,” Altan encouraged.
Dax's turquoise eyes found Cerin, and he asked, “These so-called highs they're talking about...that's what you gave me in Olympia.” When Cerin nodded, Dax turned to Altan. “They are a benefit to us. I can attest to that.”
“So attest to it,” Altan replied.
Dax thought back to the battle. “During our defense of Olympia, you and Kirek and the others were all focused on the grasslands and the wall. When the dwarves flooded through, Leura and I were the only ones defending the main street from being breached, and we were quickly overwhelmed. I used my war horn to call for aid. The Renegades were the first to answer. I needed energy, and Cerin gave me a high. If it weren't for that, many of my soldiers would be dead. I had no energy left to heal them.”
“Kai gave me the same power twice that very day,” Uriel added. “I'd estimate no less than one hundred soldiers were saved from debilitating injuries or even death from what I was able to do alone with that energy.”
“I saw Cyrus's high,” Zephyr said. “And so did you, Kirek. You know how he marched straight up to those dwarven frontlines right outside the door of this tavern and cleared out their initial force with only two spells.” To Altan, she added, “I fought beside Cyrus for a long time this last battle. The high did not affect his ability to lead. If anything, his prowess boosted the morale of his men and mine.”
“Whether it grants them prowess or not,” Kirek started, her voice more reserved than before, “this is borderline illegal. I doubt Tilda would approve of this.”
“We don't know whether she would or not,” Altan argued. “Why don't you ask her?”
“She is in Eteri,” Kirek retorted.
“My point exactly.” Altan leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “Tilda's in Eteri. For as long as we are in Hammerton, I'm in charge. And I say we focus on our most important objective: taking this gods damn land. We don't have time to sit around bickering about nonsense. We are one major city from taking this son of a bitch, and I am not about to lose when we're this close to winning.” Altan pulled a hand out from behind his head and held two fingers less than an inch apart. “Which brings me to the next reason I wanted to call this meeting. All of you need to start working double-time to get Griswald standing on its own two feet because we need to be leaving by the first of Red Moon.”
“Red Moon?” I blurted. “Of this year?”
“Absolutely,” Altan confirmed. “As I said, we don't have time. It'll take us a few weeks to move our armies around the mountains and back up the other side to Hallmar. Now thankfully, Chairel's twice the size of Hammerton and their armies will take longer than that to get here, but they're already on the move.”
“How do you know this?” Cyrus asked.
“Got one of the metalhuggers to talk,” Altan replied. “Our armies are moving fast, so Hammerton's pleas to Chairel arrived too late. On top of everything, Chairel had thrown most of its men down south to try to run the Naharans outta town.”
I was reminded of how Calder had said Hasani was preparing for such an attack. “How does Nahara fare?”
“The dwarf made it sound like their armies are fighting at the border,” Altan replied. “It sounded to me like your friend Hasani grew the balls his father never had and moved his armies north to face them. From all accounts, those sands are full of the dead. At this point, the border is a wall of bones that they just keep raising to intimidate and overwhelm Chairel's forces.”
“Overwhelm them?” Azazel asked. “Are you saying Nahara's army is greater than Chairel's?”
“I don't know numbers, friend,” Altan replied. “I just know that while we've been dilly-dallying over here, Hasani's giving them one hell of a fight to the southwest. I doubt Nahara's army is larger than Chairel's unless they came by some sort of miracle.”
“I sent him fifty thousand troops over the years,” Calder pointed out. “And last I heard, their own armies are flourishing because people are jumping at the chance to be a part of Kai's war. Kai's worshiped by the Naharans for her deeds there.”
Altan raised one red eyebrow at me. “How have I known you for seven years without knowing that? And now that I know, why can't I feel anything other than extreme amusement?”
I chuckled softly and said, “I don't take pride in it. It's not something I brag about.”
Altan huffed. “Well, I would.” He glanced over at Calder. “And fifty thousand? Hell, where do you get all these people?”
“I told you, Quellden is full of us.” Calder paused and added, “Though, honestly, after this next group of reinforcements comes to Griswald, I'm cutting off my support here in Hammerton. My army isn't limitless, and Chairel is my main concern.” His red eyes flicked up to Kirek. “Not to mention that my support has been appreciated only sparingly.”
“We appreciate your support,” Altan argued lightly, though Kirek said nothing. “You've done a great deal for us considering we aren't allies.”
“Speaking of allies,” I said, “what do you know of the reinforcements Chairel is sending here?”
“Very little,” Altan admitted. “Hammerton sent news of Olympia's takeover, so I'd have to assume Chairel plans to send armies to Griswald and Hallmar to secure or defend them before moving on to attempt to retake Olympia. Considering we're here in Griswald, we beat them to at least one of the cities. And considering that Chairel's main force from Comercio was battling at the Naharan border, I'm thinking they might send a different army instead. One that can get here much faster.” He raised an eyebrow at me.
I nodded, understanding his line of thought. “They'll be sending the Celds.”
Thirty-seven
60th of High Star, 428
&n
bsp; Fatigue and light tipsiness swam around my head as Nyx squeezed me tight just outside a tavern door. The depths of Griswald were always dark, but I knew it was past time for bed because my body was pleading for sleep. The muted beat of a dwarven drum was still prevalent behind the tavern's door, and the raucous laughter of partying dwarves and Alderi vibrated through the stone beneath my feet.
“Happy birthday,” Nyx said at my ear before she finally pulled away. “Don't worry. I'll keep celebrating without you.”
“How old are you again, love?” Calder asked, still holding a mug of ale he'd brought outside with him.
“Thirty-three.”
“Ugh. So old,” Calder teased, swiping at his brow. “Gods, I wish I could remember thirty-three. I'll be two hundred and thirty-three in a couple of years.”
“It doesn't matter,” I replied. “You'll still act like you're twelve.” After he chuckled, I added, “It just goes to show how unnecessary this whole idea of celebrating is. I appreciate the party, Nyx, but I don't want you thinking you have to throw me one every year.”
“I didn't throw this party for you,” Nyx retorted teasingly. “I wanted to throw a party for me, and your birthday gave me an excuse. Besides, I knew this was the one day we could really hang out together without getting yelled at by Altan for not working.”
“Well, it's back to work tomorrow,” I replied in agreement. “Four weeks until departure.” I exhaled heavily, thinking of all the things I had left to do.
“It's coming along, love,” Calder assured me, reaching out to shake my shoulder. “We'll get it done. Don't you worry about a thing.”
Cerin, Azazel, and I left the others to their partying. The tavern sat on the southern side of the curved bridge, so our way back to the apartments was a direct walk over the chasm. We passed by a mixture of races partying together near the keg stand at its center. As I'd once surmised, it hadn't taken more than a few weeks for it to happen. It was possible the dwarves simply were more apt to partying with their enemies than moping around without their ale. Racial tensions were still high, of course. Centuries of the dwarves fighting with both the Vhiri and Alderi couldn't be forgotten overnight, but copious amounts of free sex and rowdy parties helped to win their hearts.