The Rise of Kings (The Flameweaver's Prophecy Book 1)

by Emery, Ben

  The river that marked the edge of Torncloud territory bubbled down the north face of the mountain, winding its way in an arc around the village, separating it from the land beyond. A pebbly ford was the only way across the wide strip of water, as it deepened on either side. The water did not flow quickly, and was beautifully clear. Terran had said that it flowed off to the south, before swerving slightly to the east where it met the sea, and the home of the Wornsea Tribe. Further downstream, to the south of the village, the Tribe’s livestock was kept in wooden paddocks, and tended to by the same farmers that oversaw the fields on the floodplain. The whole place was an oasis in a barren landscape, peaceful, and perfectly isolated from the rest of the world.

  As the trio stood on the banks of the river, Galarus spoke up for the first time since they had left his hut.

  ‘I am a prisoner here,’ he said, more of a statement than a question, staring out toward the red, dusty horizon.

  Terran moved to stand next to him. ‘Not in the traditional sense,’ he replied. ‘We do not seek to hold you against your will, or keep you locked away in a cell, but you are unable to leave.’

  ‘Unable?’ Galarus asked.

  Terran nodded. ‘You are welcome to roam the village at your leisure, with Marrew, for your protection, of course. But beyond our borders lie vast wastelands, monotonous and deadly should you get lost. You would not make the journey without a guide.’

  ‘Then what use am I to you? A hostage for ransom?’

  Terran chuckled at this. ‘By no means, General; I very much doubt we would achieve peace that way. And that is assuming your king would be willing to pay a ransom for you.’

  ‘My city would want me back,’ Galarus stated assuredly.

  ‘Your city: yes. But your king?’

  Galarus grimaced at the thought of Rural sat upon the Marble Throne. He doubted whether Terran was wrong in this assumption.

  ‘What do you want from me then?’ he asked again.

  ‘Only your time, General, I simply desire your time. A week, maybe two, and then we shall return you to your people,’ Terran responded.

  Galarus remained silent, thinking for a moment. ‘You mentioned yesterday that you would show me the truth. What did you mean by that?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Terran recalled, smiling to himself. ‘I’m afraid I was being overly poetic when I said that. I am unable to show you the whole truth, as its entirety is yet to be revealed, even to me. But there are several things of which I am certain, the most important of which is your being alive, General. More will be revealed to you as it is revealed to me.’

  The Wandeer left him then, at the river’s edge, Marrew remaining with him noiselessly, to escort him back to his residence in the treetops.

  Without Terran present, the tribes-people that Galarus passed shot open looks of contempt his way as he walked down the main road. Women, in particular, no doubt widowed by his actions at Gamga Ridge, glared endlessly at him. Their leader’s decision to spare and capture the Caldoan General was clearly not a popular one. Whatever reasons the Wandeer had had for saving Galarus, they were not shared with the rest of the populace.

  As the pair neared the tree line, a group of people, Terran among them, came into view. He was engaged in conversation with several others that looked as though they had just arrived; members of the Ironhand Tribe. Galarus recognised the imposing figure of their leader, Rohken, who wore a bandage over his left eye, and the even more terrifying form of the behemoth, the huge hammer-axe weapon slung across his back.

  The Ironhand chief spotted Galarus, staring after him briefly without breaking his conversation with Terran. The General stared back, until he reached the edge of the forest, and climbed the staircase wrapped around a tree trunk that led to the houses above. Rather than return to his assigned hut, Galarus preferred instead to sit outside. Summer was nearing its end, but it was still wonderfully warm in the Territories. The system of hanging wooden walkways that meandered through the boughs of the trees creaked as they led him to a viewing platform that jutted out from the foliage. A low railing skirted the edge of it, and a single bench sat in the middle, facing out across the plains below. It was a stunning vista, far more peaceful than any spot one might find in Caldoa. Galarus could see the appeal of such serenity.

  It was not long before he was once again joined by Terran, who quietly took a seat next to the General, resting his hands in his lap as he did so.

  ‘Beautiful view, don’t you think?’ The Wandeer sighed. ‘I do love it up here.’

  Galarus nodded in agreement.

  ‘I notice you saw Rohken earlier,’ Terran said, changing the subject.

  Galarus grunted. ‘I suppose he took some convincing not to kill me?’

  The old man chuckled. ‘On the contrary, he was in total agreement with me that you are worth far more to us alive than dead. It is only Saen that argues for your death, though for what reasons I am yet to understand.’

  Galarus looked surprised at this, and Terran must have noticed.

  ‘I know he may seem somewhat brutish in his ways, but Rohken is no fool. You and your men fought valiantly, and did much damage to us. We are under no illusions that repelling a full scale invasion would be beyond our capabilities.’

  ‘But you’re a Wandeer,’ Galarus said. ‘Surely you alone could defeat an army of thousands?’

  ‘Perhaps years ago,’ Terran agreed. ‘But I have grown weaker in my old age, and being away from my homeland only weakens me further. It is the same for all Wandeer.’

  Galarus listened closely. It was not every day that you had a discussion with a Wandeer about anything other than trade.

  ‘But the rockslide was your doing?’ Galarus asked.

  Terran nodded. ‘I am an Earthbreaker; one of the four branches of Wandeer magic. There are also the Stormbrewers, Flameweavers, and Tideturners. I can affect stone and rock, turn the ground upon itself, or tear it in two. But I can also carve trenches in the earth to irrigate our fields, or overturn the soil to make it ready for seeding.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ Galarus replied, unsure of what any of this had to do with him.

  ‘This knowledge of my people will serve you well in the near future. I will not be the last Wandeer you meet, nor the last that will seek to help you.’

  ‘Help me how?’ the General retorted.

  ‘Help you to understand the tempest that will soon engulf this world,’ Terran said. ‘Let me ask you something for a change. Have you, during your stay here, thought upon why you were sent to fight a numerically superior army with so few men of your own? Believing the Tribes to be united, as your people did, your king still saw fit to send only two thousand legionaries into a hostile foreign territory.’

  Galarus had indeed spent time considering this, but Terran was not finished.

  ‘Or why among the men sent to war were those most loyal to you? After all, you served alongside the Tenth Legion against the Vahc many years ago, and now they are led by a lieutenant more loyal to you than most.’

  Galarus looked at him, slightly impressed at his knowledge of the Caldoan military.

  ‘The stories of Alloria’s greatest General have indeed reached the Territories,’ the Wandeer said, smiling. ‘Furthermore, the other half of your men were untested in battle, only recruited a month prior.’

  ‘You would have me conclude that the king sought my death at the hands of the Tribes, but for what reasons? And you have yet to convince me that the assassination of Villanus was not ordered or carried out by one of you,’ Galarus replied.

  ‘Do you honestly still believe that it was us, General?’ Terran asked sincerely.

  He did not, but he said nothing. Though he had only spent a short time with the Wandeer, it was clear to him that he bore no ill will against Caldoa, nor did it seem he would sink so low as to send an assassin. Neither would Rohken, for that matter; clearly a man of honour who sought victory on the battlefield, not in the shadows.

  ‘I will
leave you to your thoughts, General,’ Terran said as he rose to his feet, leaving Galarus sat in the failing light in the tops of the trees, the shadow of Torncloud mountain creeping slowly across the landscape below.

  Galarus spent the next several days in the company of Terran, and, of course, Marrew, though the Wandeer did not mention again the reasons for the General’s capture. Rather than press him on the subject, Galarus instead enjoyed the conversations they did have, mostly concerning the Wandeer as a people, and the island of Wan’Dring. As a race, little was known about them, and they were often considered very private. Terran, however, was more than happy to answer any questions that the General had, and in doing so Galarus learnt a great deal.

  The Earthbreaker had already mentioned that there were four realms of Wandeer magic, and revealed to him that each of his people tended to have a genetic predisposition to one of these, often favouring the mother’s side. Stormbrewers could affect the winds and the weather, making them very useful on a farm or at sea; Tideturners, too, made unparalleled sailors, being able to control the waters beneath a ship and alter the currents; Flameweavers could conjure and manipulate fire with their very hands, even to the point of controlling its heat, allowing them to be master blacksmiths or glassmakers. Indeed, Galarus had heard of the unsurpassable quality of Wandeer armour and weapons, though the price of such was far too high for even a General to afford. As a result of their mastery in craft and agriculture, they were a welcome sight in any city or town they landed in across Banmer.

  Terran also regaled Galarus with stories of the Wandeer Elders; the four most senior Wandeer, each the most powerful wielder of their element, though they were not limited to one, as most of their Wandeer descendants were. Only two survived now, the Elder Tideturner and Stormbrewer, the former of the two being responsible for the creation of the strong currents in the Outer Sea that kept Wan’Dring afloat and circling Banmer.

  ‘What happened to the other two?’ Galarus asked.

  ‘They died,’ Terran explained solemnly. ‘We Wandeer enjoy tremendously long lives, none more so than the Elders. But we are not invulnerable to harm. Our numbers are dwindling; no more than a thousand of us remain at my estimate, but I have not seen home for decades now. As for the other two Elders, they were killed by your people, many years ago.’

  ‘Why?’ Galarus was stunned that anyone would want to, or even could manage, to kill a Wandeer.

  ‘The Elder Flameweaver, Palangia, fell in love with the last king of Alloria, almost five hundred years ago. She was a woman of great foresight and unrivalled beauty, able to predict actions of men centuries into the future; an uncommon gift, even among the Wandeer. Before her death, she conceived of a prophecy pertaining to the revival of the line of kings. The Order, still in its infancy at the time, had dreams of greater power, and had her murdered, along with her son and husband, and thus they wrested Caldoa from the royal bloodline.’

  ‘Those bastards,’ Galarus spat on the ground at the mention of the Order. ‘A useless bunch of fanatics; no other city in the world has to suffer such zealots.’ He noticed Terran watching him, and returned to the subject they had been discussing. ‘What of the Elder Earthbreaker?’

  ‘He was killed in battle,’ Terran explained. ‘My grandfather, Euradin, was the founder of the Torncloud Tribe. It is how I came to be the leader here.’

  ‘I had wondered at that,’ Galarus admitted.

  ‘Most do,’ the Wandeer said plainly. ‘It was my grandfather that raised this mountain from the ground, until its peak was lost to the sky, carved a river bed and made the waters flow, churned the soil until it was fertile, and wrapped the Giant’s Embrace around it all, to protect the settlement.’

  ‘Why did he decide to create a tribe?’

  ‘Love, again, I’m afraid,’ Terran chuckled. ‘It makes the Elders sound like awful romantics does it not? This time it was a fisherman’s daughter that captured a Wandeer heart. On the western coast of these Territories, her father’s village was struggling. The Elder led them inland, and forged for them a new home. But, as it was, your race sought dominance over harmony, and allowed greed to dictate their actions. A war was declared, and my grandfather murdered.’

  ‘Why did the Wandeer not take revenge for the deaths of their Elders?’ Galarus asked, curious.

  ‘The Wandeer do not seek to bring war to this land, and endeavour to avoid the petty squabbles of its people. Retaliation would not yield a positive outcome for anyone.’

  ‘You speak of the rest of Banmer as though you are entirely separate from it; as though we are alien to you,’ Galarus observed.

  Terran smiled, but before he could reply a blare of trumpets stirred up a commotion on the outskirts of the village.

  ‘What’s that?’ the General turned around to see the look on the Wandeer’s face; a fleeting one of puzzlement and mild annoyance.

  ‘It would appear,’ Terran replied, ‘that Saen has decided to grace us with his presence.’

  Chapter Eight

  The Wornsea had indeed arrived, their leader borne in an extravagant carriage covered in gold, pulled by a pair of oxen. Accompanying him was a hugely excessive baggage train, along with scores of manservants and around thirty of his finely dressed and painted soldiers.

  A handful of Torncloud tribesmen and women stood, with their families, bewildered by the entrance Saen had made. As Galarus and Terran approached the newcomers, they were joined by Rohken and the behemoth, neither of which seemed overly impressed with the scene.

  Saen, on the other hand, had a huge smile slapped across his podgy face, holding his arms out wide as if greeting old friends. He did not so much as climb down the ladder provided for him as roll down it, sweating and panting from the mild exertion, dusting off his silken garb before beckoning over several hovering servants. Each of them carried a large bolt of colourful silk.

  ‘A gift!’ Saen exclaimed cheerily. ‘Bolts of silk from the south as a thank you for hosting us!’

  Terran forced a warm smile onto his face.

  ‘I was not expecting you, Saen,’ he said. ‘Otherwise we would have formed a more fitting welcome party. As for the gift, it is greatly appreciated. Though I’m not sure what use we will have for it yet.’

  ‘I’d be more than happy to wipe my arse with it,’ Rohken muttered, loud enough for the others to hear.

  Terran ignored the comment and Saen, though reddening at the words, pretended not to have heard.

  ‘May I ask why you have come?’ the Wandeer asked of his newest guest.

  Saen looked slightly taken aback at this, assuming his arrival had been planned for.

  ‘We have much to discuss, do we not?’ he said, nervously flickering his gaze toward Galarus and back to Terran.

  The Torncloud leader turned, looked at the General, and returned his attention to Saen. ‘You have already made yourself very clear on that particular point. Have you come to argue some more?’

  Saen shook his head vigorously, his fat face jiggling with the motion.

  ‘No, no. Of course not. I only wish to make sure we are all on the same page and that our peoples are prepared for any eventuality.’

  ‘You are prepared to fight again?’ Rohken spoke up, interrupting the other two leaders.

  ‘Of course!’ Saen retorted defiantly. ‘Did my men not play a key role in our last victory? Exposing the enemy flank to Terran’s boulders?’

  ‘They played convincing cowards,’ Rohken admitted, to which Saen’s guards exchanged nervous glances. Even in their numbers, they dared not challenge just two of the Ironhand warriors. Particularly not these two.

  Terran ran his eye over the small man stood before him. His thin hair was heavily oiled and scraped backward into a ragged ponytail. Several heavy gold trinkets hung around his neck.

  ‘You may set up your camp beyond the river,’ the Wandeer said finally. ‘I am afraid we have no abundance of rooms. Unless, of course, you wish to discuss sharing accommodation with the represen
tatives of the Ironhand Tribe, who arrived here first?’

  Saen’s eyes darted toward Rohken and the behemoth; both had their arms crossed over their chests, grinning quite cheerfully.

  ‘We shall set up our own camp, thank you, Terran,’ Saen said, bowing. ‘I often prefer the comforts of my own quarters.’ He bowed again, as low as his rotund figure would allow, and Terran walked away toward the village.

  ‘Please accompany me, General,’ he said quietly as he passed Galarus.

  The pair walked in silence until Terran was sure they were out of earshot of the others.

  ‘I do not trust that man, General.’

  Galarus said nothing.

  ‘He is strangely scared of you, despite what I have told him. There is no need for him to be here, and he does not like that I show such interest in you. I would advise you to stay well clear of him and his men. I will instruct Marrew to keep a closer eye on you for the duration of Saen’s visit.’

  ‘You could always give me my weapons back,’ Galarus said simply. His armour had not moved from against the wall of his lodgings, for he had not felt that he needed it while in Terran’s company.

  The Wandeer shook his head. ‘I fear your weapons would bring more trouble for you than safety. But I am genuinely unsure of Saen’s intentions. It is a feeling I do not enjoy.’

  Several days passed, in which the Tribes’ leaders met frequently to discuss the various matters at hand. Galarus, not privy to these talks, on Terran’s orders, was left to his own devices, and spent the time wandering around the village, or through the forest and to the foot of the mountain. The lower reaches of the mountain had become increasingly freckled with snow since his arrival in Torncloud, though on the plains there was little hint of a change of seasons.