The Cor Chronicles: Volume 04 - Gods and Steel

by Martin V. Parece II

  “The Loszian will clap with one hand!” Walthur laughed, receiving snickers and pained looks from those assembled, excluding the wounded Menak.

  The next hours were filled with the makings of plans and talks of the capabilities of different parts of the host. Cor listened idly, though contributed little as talks of war and tactical maneuvers was not so much his domain. Truly, the how of reaching Nadav in the midst of a massive battle furrowed his brow as the others talked.

  “If we move to the northeast, into the northern foothills, we’ll have the best positioning. We can use the hills and ridges to hide most of our forces.”

  “Nadav will come right at us to be sure. His arrogance knows no bounds, especially now. He will not fear anything we have to contest him with.”

  “We have two types of cavalry at our disposal. The Western heavy cavalry and knights can ride right over hundreds, maybe thousands of the dead at a time. The Tigoleans are faster and less armored, but they’re well trained with bows and javelins from horseback. They can ride up the flanks of our enemy with few casualties.”

  “My necromancy will not aid us, nor will that of any of the other nobles. Nadav’s hold on the dead is too strong.”

  “We Paladins, and what few priests we have left, will be best served healing the wounded. Garod grants us the power to lay the dead to rest, but only for so long.”

  “Do we tell the men exactly what we face? We risk desertion now, but otherwise they may run off at the time to fight.”

  “I will burn down as many as I can, but you Westerners can aid Hykan’s fire. When we are sure of the location of our final battle, seed as much ground as possible with oil, pitch, tar, anything that burns. I will create infernos in the middle of Nadav’s ranks.”

  “Archers. Make sure they are fletching as many arrows as they can now. We will surely run out.”

  “What of the Loszian soldiers who surrendered to us here?” “Compel them to join us. Divide them up and mix them throughout the ranks. Watch them for treachery.”

  “Here! This is it!” exclaimed Red, bringing all the talk to sudden silence. Everyone leaned forward to see at what on the map he pointed. “This valley is the key. It’s huge, large enough to admit an army. We’ll lead Nadav right into it, with the infantry at the far end. Lady Thyss’ idea of tar and pitch is genius, but we’ll use it another way. Once Nadav has committed his dead to the field, we’ll ignite it, sending flames all the way up his flanks to the valley’s mouth. He’ll have no choice but to come right at us. The Tigolean horsemen will ride in from over the rise behind the infantry, staying at a distance to use their spears and such, while our bowmen cut into Nadav’s host from a distance. When things start to go rough for the horsemen, they turn and run. Then charge the heavy cavalry. As soon as they pass the footmen, the footmen charge. The knights will crush thousands of the dead, but eventually we’ll run out of momentum and have to stand and fight. By then the infantry should be meeting the enemy. Meanwhile the horsemen have been riding around the valley to harass Nadav’s army from behind.”

  “Impressive,” King Rederick agreed, nodding his approval. “I think then we all have much to do. Move with purpose. I want the host on the march within two days.”

  All stood and bowed, and Rederick exited first. The others slowly filed out behind him, some engaged in conversation as they set their minds to the tasks before them. Cor leaned on Menak’s table thoughtfully as he waited for the throng to make its way out, and Thyss tapped her foot impatiently.

  “You’re going to put me through this, aren’t you?” he asked.

  She almost literally smoldered as she returned his glare. “You don’t have to worry about me,” she said, “or Cor’El.”

  “You always say that.”

  “And I’m always right. Hykan will always protect us.”

  Cor stepped forward to stand close to her, their eyes mere inches apart, and said, “I’d rather put my faith in you than Him, but I’d still feel better if you took Cor’El away.”

  “You need me, you idiot,” she blazed.

  “I know,” Cor sighed, and he looked toward the door which was just closing behind the last of the Seven Lords. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Lord Dahken Cor, may I have a moment?” Menak called from behind him.

  Cor half turned and looked at the Loszian; he was a shadow of his former self, the necromancer that allowed him passage into Losz what seemed like a lifetime ago. “What is it?”

  “I would prefer to speak with you privately.”

  At this Cor turned to fully face the Loszian, and he set his feet in a wide stance. “No. Anything you have to say can be said in front of her. What do you want?”

  “Very well,” Menak almost mumbled. He sat back in his chair. “Are you familiar with the stone we Loszians use to build our abodes?”

  “Taraq’Nok spoke of it once, before I killed him.”

  Menak’s eyes narrowed, but he pressed on, “Are you aware that, in conjunction with the mark we place on our servants, it allows us to know of anyone entering our home, castle or tower.”

  “I am,” Cor said with a glance at Thyss.

  “What is this about, deformed one?” Thyss demanded.

  “Why can I not feel you here?” Menak asked. “I noticed it yesterday. I felt all of the council members, the Tigoleans, everyone, but not you. Why?”

  “How should I know?” Cor responded. “I’m no necromancer. Shouldn’t you be able to answer that?”

  “You stood before me once before, with Taraq’Nok’s lackey.”

  “Wrelk.”

  “Yes, Wrelk,” Menak mused. “I felt your presence then. I knew exactly what you were before I even saw the color of your skin. What are you now? Why can I not feel you?”

  “Something to do with Garod’s protection, maybe? I don’t know, but if you can’t feel my presence, then I’d wager that neither will Nadav,” Cor thought aloud.

  Thyss squinted her eyes at him suspiciously and said, “What do you mean you Dahken bastard?”

  “A change of plans. Congratulations, Lord Menak! You’ve just become the bait.”

  26.

  A figure sped across the Aquis countryside on the back of a fine horse that was bred to combat. The rider was not a large person, in fact standing just over five feet when not on horseback, and the large warhorse further exasperated her diminutive stature. She wore a suit of full plate armor, made especially for her size, and it shined brightly in the sun for all to see for miles. She wore no helm, making plain her chestnut hair and deathly gray pallor, and a shortsword and dagger adorned her hips.

  She was a warrior, a Dahken and a queen, but her rule had been broken almost as soon as it started. It didn’t take her nobles long to realize that she could not fulfill any of the promises she had made, especially once her Tigolean army had left with Lord Dahken Cor. Fickle people and motivated almost purely by wealth, the Akorites bought away most of her remaining support and guards. Her strength and the fear that it inspired were no longer enough.

  Marya rode for Byrverus, where she hoped to find Keth, but somehow she knew he wasn’t there. As she crossed the miles day after day, she felt something tug at her even further west, past the Spine into Losz. She didn’t know what would happen when she found him, but she would accept whatever judgments he made. She felt safe and powerful when she was with him before, as if the two of them together could never be dominated. Now she only felt naked and alone.

  27.

  Menak sighed deeply as he laid down upon his bed, closing his eyes as he nestled into the plush silks. His eyes and head hurt, and redness seemed to explode when his eyes shut. It burned painfully, but eventually the pain faded as the color dulled to purples, dark blues and finally blended into the black. He needed to get back to work, but he was tired from the effort of the last two hours. The Loszian missed the touch of his slave girls, so instead he let his thoughts take him away as he began to doze.

  He’d spent the last two hours
attempting to contact every noble, lord or necromancer of which he knew, with no success at all. Menak wrote down the names, all that he could remember, and then he gazed into the vessel of water. He called name after name, making a mark beside each after he called it. He would call the name, count to fifty and then make the mark, after which he moved on to the next. Once he had reached out to ten, he started the list over again with the same results. He then moved on to the next group of ten. He had gone through sixty names with no response from any of them.

  Menak had to be honest with himself though – he had not expected an answer from most of the names on the list, especially not at first. To make his list he looked at his map with every city, holdfast, tower and castle and wrote down the names of the nobles who lived and ruled there. He started with Ghal and moved outward from there, and as such, he knew most of them were already dead. For that matter, even if they were alive they would not answer; they would be in hiding or gone from Losz, as he was until very recently.

  “How can we trust them?” Red had asked.

  “You can’t,” Menak replied without missing a beat, “but it does not matter. They will garner no goodwill from Nadav by betraying us to him. As far as he is concerned, we are not match for him anyway. I think he could know virtually our entire battle plan, and he would still charge his host right at us.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Red grumbled.

  “Even still, we will keep most of the details of our plan quiet until it’s time to put it in action,” King Rederick decided.

  There was a noise nearby. It was nothing, something innocuous like a pop from a torch perhaps, but it was enough to bring Menak’s mind back to consciousness. He rubbed his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his one hand and sighed again, for he knew it was time to get back to work, and he groaned as he sat upright. He had surely fallen asleep, but little time could have passed. He had much to do, more nobles to try to contact, and Rederick was counting on him to find them, some of them at least. Menak cocked his head with interest at the realization that he should care what Rederick wanted or needed, but it was true that they were united in common purpose.

  Menak really did not want to go back to his task as he wandered back to his work area and the wooden basin of water. The fact was, every Loszian that did not respond, especially after the second try, made him somehow despondent and frustrated. For lack of a better word, he might almost describe it as sadness, though Menak wasn’t sure that he knew what sadness actually felt like. He sat back at his bench, placed his hands on either side of the basin and incanted a few words.

  * * *

  Nine came, transporting to Menak’s holdfast in their customary fashion at noon the next day. King Rederick called the Council together just before, and they waited patiently for the Loszians to arrive. They blinked in one at a time in blinding flashes of light, six men and three women, and all of them wore the silk robes of their station. Menak had told them what to expect, but even still, their responses ranged from silent acceptance to vocal reluctance to smoldering anger. Menak had reached thirteen in all, and nine agreed to come after varying amounts of discussion. Some were slightly early, while others were late, but all nine arrived shortly after midday.

  Menak introduced them all as they arrived, explaining which lands over which each noble lorded or some other piece of information. By the third such introduction Menak realized that no one, neither the Westerners nor the Loszians cared, and they would know each other or not soon enough. All the Loszians remembered King Rederick and especially Lord Dahken Cor. No one spoke until the last finally arrived, and it was Rederick who spoke first.

  “I assume you all speak my language?” he asked, receiving some nods and fewer words in response. “I will waste no time. You all know what goes on here in Losz, perhaps even more so than we do. Regardless, it is simple. Sovereign Nadav hunts you all down, conquers his own lands and slays his own people. You have a choice to make – bow to me or die at his hands.”

  “What doesss it mean? Bow to you?” hissed one particularly tall noble whose tongue had a tendency to linger on certain sounds.

  “Is it unclear? Pledge allegiance and fealty to King Rederick of Aquis. Commit whatever forces you have to this host.”

  “Unaccceptable. Lossszzians owe no fealty to lowly Wesssternersss.”

  “Then you fall to Nadav,” Rederick retorted bluntly, “or if we defeat him before he kills you, we’ll have to hunt you down ourselves. Either way you die.”

  “You cannot defeat Nadav. No one can,” one of the women interjected, somewhat sullenly.

  “Lord Dahken Cor,” Rederick replied with a jerk of his head in Cor’s direction, “will slay Nadav personally. Surely you all recognize him.”

  “Kill Nadav then. What of the Loszian Empire?” the woman asked.

  “The Loszian Empire is no more. Your people will learn to live the way the Shining West does, in freedom with a fair and just ruler.”

  One of the Loszian men blurted an uproarious laugh, drawing the pained attention of everyone at the table. After a long moment, he wiped his eyes, his laughs having brought tears to them. “So we are to be saved by you only to be enslaved by you. Thank you, Lord Menak, for wasting my time this day,” he said, and then he slapped his hands together. With a flash of light, he was gone, leaving the Council and Menak with eight Loszians.

  “Oruw is a fool,” said another. “He does not see that this is the only way we survive this.”

  “You are a fool if you think thisss isss good for usss,” replied the hisser.

  “What would have been good for us is if we’d killed Nadav in his throne hall when he announced the invasion of Aquis!” shouted the woman who had previously spoken.

  The Loszians erupted into shout filled arguments, screaming and swearing at one another. Foul gestures were thrown about with the verbal insults, and threats were made in response to the slights. Menak rolled his eyes upward and searched the ceiling for some way to make his peers cease their fighting, but as it continued, the Loszians seemed to polarize against just the hisser.

  “Enough!” Rederick thundered, jumping to his feet. He drew his huge sword and slammed the flat of the blade onto Menak’s tabletop. It clanged like a crash of thunder, and the arguments abruptly ended. The king said firmly, “There will be no enslavement of any races in the Shining West. The Loszians and the Westerners shall all share the same freedoms and rights under my rule.”

  “Horsssesshhit. We cannot trussst him.”

  “I will go a step further then,” Rederick replied loudly but not angrily. “Before you, you see my Council, those people whose opinions and wisdom I rely on to forge my rule. They choose their own successor, and when I die, the new ruler of Aquis is taken from their number. It would not be just to rule the Loszians without considering their say in matters, so when this is all over I shall award one of you a position on my Council.”

  The hostility in the room shifted suddenly as the Loszians were shocked into near silence and the Westerners exploded. Again there was shouting and anger, but this time it was directed at King Rederick, mostly from Walthur and Joth. Mora’s face registered dumfounded surprise, and even Cor sat back in his chair, seemingly struck dumb. Rederick again jumped to his feet and slammed two mailed fists into the table, causing the wood to creak and Meank to wince in empathetic pain for the wood.

  “Garod damn you all, shut up!” he shouted. “My rule will not be a reign of tyranny. The governed require a say in their ruling lest the rulers become despots. The Shining West shall remain free now and forever, and this is how it must be done,” he explained, looking into each of his Counselor’s faces in turn. He then faced the Loszians directly. “Now, your decision.”

  “All of you can fuck goatsss,” said the hisser. He slapped his hands together and vanished.

  “Seven left. What say you?” asked Rederick, but sounded more like a demand.

  “We are with you,” one called Guurtok verbally assented, though the
others said nothing. A few looked away, while some bowed their heads or nodded, but none of them spoke.

  “I will accept your oaths of fealty and expect your loyalty,” said Rederick. “I warn you that should any of you betray me, it will go badly for the betrayer. Maintain your honor and show your loyalty, and you shall even keep your titles and nobility. Now, we have much to discuss.”

  “May I start, Majesty?” asked Menak, receiving a nod from the king. “Of all of Losz’ lords, only thirteen answered my calls, and only you nine agreed to meet here. How many are left, do you know?”

  “More than that,” replied Guurtok. He was ugly, even as Loszians go, but mostly due to some sort of accident or injury. The tip of his nose and right ear had been burned away. Scars connected the two places on his head and ran down his neck into his robes. “There are many in fact, but they have left Losz or otherwise gone to ground. I would not expect to find them soon.”

  “I would rely on you all,” said Rederick, “to help bring them in when we come across them. Their choice is no different from yours. I cannot allow them to live if they should stand against the Shining West. Join us, join our way of life, and they too have a place in our new world.”

  Cor shifted uncomfortably in his chair, though no one seemed to notice. The king’s words sounded reasonable enough, and they made sense. After all, the Loszian Empire was an affront to everything in which Cor believed, everything Rederick believed. Hadn’t Cor himself said those very words? Had he not decided years ago that he would tear down Losz block by block if necessary and kill every one of its necromancers? And yet, now faced with the very real possibility, with the realization of that dream, it somehow seemed wrong. He wondered if the Shining West had made the same offer to the Dahken those centuries ago when the newly made Spine separated the warring empires. Cor glanced to his right to see Keth eying him.

  “We believe Nadav and his army of the dead to be here,” Red said, pointing at a place near the coast on Menak’s great map, “and we plan to face Nadav here. What can each of you commit to the field?”