A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2)

by Brennan C. Adams

  “Surely you’ve noticed-” Marcuset began.

  “Who Raimie has gathered? Yes. What of it?” Eledis whispered. “I don’t see Aramar. He’d be with us if we’d anything to fear.”

  “Aramar’s been banished, or didn’t you know?” Gistrick asked, his face tightening at the plight of the man he called friend. “How could Raimie abandon his father to Doldimar’s domain, especially crippled as he is?”

  Marcuset shook his head. “Aramar visited me before he left. He was walking.”

  “Walking?” Eledis asked with a quiet laugh. “As in on his paralyzed legs?”

  “They’re not paralyzed anymore,” Marcuset insisted. “They’ve been fixed somehow.”

  But that meant… Alouin, the implications of it!

  “So, Raimie found an Ele primeancer willing to assume Aramar’s paralysis before sending him into the cold. He still banished his father. Why?” Gistrick asked, mouth twisting.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you won’t shut up long enough for me to get it out,” Marcuset hissed. “When Aramar visited, he left a warning. Nylion’s back. Raimie remembers everything.”

  An anxious dread dropped Eledis’ mouth. The spell containing the aberration housed in Raimie’s head was supposed to last decades. DECADES. As in more than the one it had managed.

  They’d complied with the Eselan witch’s suggestions. They’d isolated Raimie from locations which might trigger a memory, minimized the stress he dealt with on a daily basis, avoided arguments whenever possible…

  All of those precarious circumstances had occurred in abundance since leaving the farm. No wonder the spell had broken!

  What were they supposed to do now? The witch had passed a few years back, her death hastened, in large part, by the stresses of keeping Allanovian fed. Eledis wasn’t aware of another Eselan who’d retained the ability to manipulate the mind. More importantly, he knew absolutely no Esela in Auden besides the Zrelnach they’d brought with them across the sea. One of Doldimar’s obsessions involved eradicating the race of magic, and within Auden’s borders, he’d been quite thorough in that regard. All of which meant no one could replicate the spell which had, for years, kept Nylion in check.

  “He’s brought us here to kill us,” Gistrick whispered.

  “Sans Aramar, all who agreed Nylion needed to go are in this tent, at least of those close to Raimie at the time,” Marcuset acknowledged, eyes wild.

  “I don’t know why you’re panicking, Marcuset,” Eledis retorted, rolling his eyes. “You and Kaedesa should be safe when compared to Gistrick and me. You never approved of our decision to remove Nylion, and at the time, both of you were too embroiled in running a foreign nation to help with a family matter.”

  “You know why we infiltrated Ada’ir’s ruling caste! We hoped to raise an army in case the foretelling failed!” Marcuset exclaimed, keeping his voice down with restraint.

  “Don’t you think we should focus on more important issues?” Gistrick whispered. “Like how we plan to kill an angry primeancer before he does the same to us?”

  “Kill?!” Marcuset exclaimed while Eledis replied, “With the element of surprise, of course.”

  “How can either of you even think of killing Raimie?!” Marcuset hissed. “He’s like the son none of us truly had!”

  Eledis and Gistrick exchanged a glance and a chuckle.

  “I think you’re projecting again, Emri,” Eledis said.

  “Don’t call me that!” Marcuset shouted as the tent flap beside him lifted.

  “-sure one of the Hand is on Khel at all times, Oswin,” Raimie instructed the spymaster, oblivious to his commander’s outburst. “I don’t trust him to stay put despite his promise. Or to care that running off on his own would make him a hypocrite.” He took in the tent’s occupants as if seeing them for the first time. “Good! You’re here.”

  Folding cross-legged to the dirt, he rested his hands in his lap. Oswin stood to attention behind him, his diligence toward his charge not to be relaxed even among those Raimie trusted most.

  The kids looked… worn. He’d been almost frenzied in his busyness, more so than usual, ever since his return from the Birthing Grounds. At least Raimie had chosen a good time to leave Tiro. With the mess he’d brought with him from the Birthing Grounds, with Hadrion’s death, they’d needed to leave the hidden city before Riadur worked himself into a fury which would have seen everyone from Ada’ir forcibly removed. Perhaps the rumors concerning the cause of Hadrion’s death were true.

  Perhaps that’s why Raimie had looked so haunted in the last few weeks. Or perhaps something else troubled him. Eledis hadn’t seen him with Ren lately. Had those two hit a rough patch? Such would only make sense with Raimie’s betrothal to Kaedesa, but one never knew. Maybe Raimie simply stressed over what he’d learned of Nylion.

  “Please, sit,” the kid invited.

  Eledis joined the other men cautiously slouching beside Raimie. Even Kaedesa reluctantly left her corner.

  “Oh, Your Majesty!” Raimie was on his feet once more upon observing her, and the other men flinched at his sudden movement. “I didn’t think to provide you with the barest of comforts! My apologies!”

  Kaedesa snorted. “A little dirt never hurt anyone. Raimie, if you refuse to use my name, then at least get the title right. It’s betrothed now, not Your Majesty.”

  Nervously chuckling, Raimie slumped to the ground. “Of course! How silly of me! I apologize once more.”

  Somehow, the kid managed to sidestep publicly naming them as engaged. If he wasn’t so nervous, Eledis might have smiled with pride.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked for a meeting when we’re weeks from our destination.”

  Raimie had no idea, but no one was brave enough to put forth a speculation.

  “Truth is, I’ll be ridiculously busy in the coming weeks with preparations and,” his eyes slid above their heads, “personal projects. I wanted to share the plan for Uduli with you, getting this annoyance out of the way while I have the time.”

  So… he didn’t plan to kill them?

  “You’ve a plan?” Marcuset laughed. “One which doesn’t involve us massacred upon completion?”

  “Yes, I’m curious why we’re not currently consolidating our power base, grandson,” Eledis mused. “We seek the grand prize when we’re nowhere near prepared to contest it.”

  “I know,” Raimie acknowledged with an earnest nod. “I’d much rather wait a few months, absorb more towns and resources into our growing sphere of influence, but outside factors have accelerated my time table,” he glanced to the side, making a face, “significantly.”

  “What outside factors?” Gistrick asked.

  “Can’t tell you,” Raimie answered, face turning even sourer. “They involve secrets which are not mine to share.”

  “Well, that’s bull,” Gistrick blustered. “You’ve never failed to tell us your plans in the past, even when you knew we might not approve of them. Hell, you told us you were a primeancer for Alouin’s sake, something you most definitely should have kept to yourself.”

  “Why is that?” Raimie asked.

  “Because- well-” Gistrick sputtered. “Because primeancy is evil! You took a huge risk sharing your secret! You’re lucky the men are as loyal as they are, otherwise, you’d be short a couple thousand soldiers by now. I know I seriously considered leaving at the time of your revelation.”

  Eledis tried not to laugh. Gistrick’s indignation was a complete reversal from the stance he’d held when Raimie was a child, back when the kid could dance circles around his weapons instructors upon using Ele. At the time, Gistrick had viewed primeancy as an asset his student should exploit to the fullest. Look at him now.

  “And that general hatred and mistrust is why I waited to share until the truth was dragged from me,” Raimie said, smirking. “I didn’t magically gain mastery over Ele and Daevetch in the hours before the beach battle. I’d practiced in secret and h
idden my powers for months before then, albeit not very well at times. I do occasionally keep things to myself, I promise you, and as I said before, I can’t share in this case because the secrets involved aren’t mine. Don’t bother asking whose they are either. You’ll only end up frustrated.”

  “Fine,” Eledis drawled, “we’re required to assault the capital of Doldimar’s domain long before we’re prepared due to unknown factors you won’t share. What’s the plan?”

  “I don’t know.” Raimie shrugged. “You’re the ones who’ve analyzed this problem in the last few weeks. I’m sure that, during that time, you’ve devised one or two viable battle plans. Pick the one with the least projected casualties and enact it. The assault’s only serving as a distraction anyway.”

  “For what?!” Marcuset asked.

  “I plan to fulfill the prophecy,” Raimie muttered, making a face. “I’ll kill Doldimar, and ‘return the land to peace and prosperity.'” He wiggled his fingers in the air.

  “That’s it? That’s the plan?” Eledis asked.

  “Mmhmm. Hope you like it because it won’t change,” Raimie groaned as he stood and brushed dirt from his uniform. “Discuss amongst yourselves if you like. I’ve other tasks on my agenda tonight.”

  He turned to the only female in their midst. “Kaedesa, would you be so kind as to join me? We should discuss how badly you wish to commit Ada’ir to my beleaguered cause.”

  “I’d love to walk with you!” Kaedesa exclaimed, springing to her feet with a twinkle in her eyes. “I’d also enjoy a regaling of this prophecy you spoke of. Where did you find a seer? They’re exceedingly rare!”

  “I’m sure we’ll discuss many topics this evening, Kaedesa. After you.”

  Extending a hand, Raimie bowed, and the Queen of Ada’ir skipped from the tent.

  When the flap fell closed behind her, Raimie woodenly rose. A change swept over him. His posture shifted, and a deceivingly relaxed stance took hold of his body, solely betrayed by tension in the shoulders. He faced them and such hatred! Eledis flinched from the loathing pouring from those hugely dilated eyes, the sneer twisting those lips.

  “Nylion,” he breathed.

  “You should know the only reason you remain alive is due to your high standing among the soldiers,” Nylion proceeded to calmly inform them, ignoring Eledis’ exclamation. “Eliminating you now would leave such a sizable power vacuum the army might collapse on itself. Your tenuous roles and Raimie’s attachment to the idea of delivering justice,” he spat the word, “instead of vengeance are all that stay my hand. I’ve allowed him to decide your fates because he has always been the nobler of the two of us. Do. Not. Make me regret it.”

  He punctuated the last syllables with finger jabs, capturing each of them with his gaze. Then, he turned on his heels, jogging to catch up to Kaedesa. Oswin followed at a quick trot.

  “Shit,” Marcuset muttered.

  Shit indeed. Eledis had hoped, as he was sure his companions had, that Aramar had been wrong, that they wouldn’t need to contend with the Nylion problem in addition to everything else.

  “What do we do?” Marcuset asked.

  “Play the faithful vassals for now,” Eledis answered. “It’s all we can do until another option presents itself.

  “Even if that means we follow Raimie’s insane plan?” Gistrick asked.

  “His crazy plans have worked in the past! Look at how far he’s led us!” Marcuset protested.

  “Perhaps his strategy for Uduli will succeed as well,” Eledis agreed, “but if the battle goes poorly, I’m sure Raimie won’t blame us for retreating if it saves lives. We have an out.”

  “Shit!” Marcuset exclaimed once more, clutching at his head.

  “If it helps, I’ve an idea for a solution,” Gistrick proffered. “It may involve participating in something extraordinarily unsavory though.”

  “I think we can stomach it,” Eledis said. “Anything to rescue us from our plight!”

  Marcuset hesitated, but it didn’t take long for him to reluctantly nod.

  “Nothing that will kill him,” he insisted from within the cocoon of his arms.

  “Of course,” Eledis lied, looking over his friend’s head at Gistrick. “We’d never want to do that.”

  Gistrick inclined his head, and Eledis smiled something between a grimace and a grin. At least one of his companions understood their inevitable, unenviable task.

  “All right, my friends!” Eledis slapped his knees. “Let’s play the dutiful soldiers and pray Uduli isn’t as well defended as we’ve been told.”

  * * *

  There it was. After years of strife and struggle, Eledis laid eyes on the city which had haunted his dreams since he was young.

  Uduli didn’t appear how he’d imagined it. That is to say, the city itself matched his expectations with its soaring wall and its eclectic buildings, climbing the mountain to the culmination of an elegant, black palace at its pinnacle. The glass-like spires which stretched to the heavens sparkled through the tears misting Eledis’ vision.

  What came as a surprise, however, was the spread of ramshackle shanty towns beyond the city’s wall. Reports had briefly mentioned these, but they’d focused more on defenses and the capital’s state within the wall. They’d failed to emphasize how widespread the flimsy hovels sprawled. Alouin but they stretched for miles!

  “Why are we waiting?” Raimie asked him.

  “The plan calls for a charge of the wall,” Eledis explained. “We can’t gallop horses through that mess without suffering injuries. I don’t like disruptions to the plan before we’ve implemented it.”

  “Don’t know why you brought the horses,” Keltheryl chirped beside Raimie, and Eledis scowled at him. “The Kiraak’ll just make them spook.”

  Eledis allowed a beat of silence to carry the weight of his disdain. “You failed to mention this earlier, why?” he asked.

  Keltheryl leaned closer to him, and the ever-present smile dropped. “Perhaps I merely wished to make you look incompetent, Eledis,” he whispered before rising with an irritating smile. “Besides, the plan doesn’t need to change. Charge without horses. You’ll be fine.”

  “Are we seeing the same battlefield? Who knows what sort of traps and ambushes wait in the chaos of those dilapidated slums!”

  “Doldimar doesn’t work that way.” Keltheryl’s eyes lost focus, drifting up and over Eledis’ head. “He enjoys a pitched battle, full of carnage and death. Picking off individual combatants isn’t his style.”

  “And you know this how?” Eledis demanded.

  Keltheryl cagily smiled. Frustrating man. Surely Raimie knew better than to commit to a charge. They should step back, pick from the other plans he’d composed. The next best option involved soldiers leading individual suicide squads against the wall as distraction, something of which Raimie was guaranteed to disapprove, but the kid planned to use his entire army in the same way. How could he complain?

  “No charge,” Raimie pronounced, and Eledis thanked the heavens for common sense, “but we do slowly advance without the horses. The first sign of unexpected resistance and we retreat.”

  Was he joking? Please say he was joking.

  “Spread the change in orders,” Raimie commanded Oswin.

  The spymaster signaled the other soldiers surrounding them, and the four took off. Raimie dismounted, followed by Keltheryl.

  “Coming?” he asked.

  The kid would get them all killed, but what else could Eledis do? He also climbed from his horse, shaking his head at the stupidity of youth.

  So it was that the rebel army strolled toward the fight to capture Auden’s heart.

  Composed of soldiers loyal to Raimie and those of Ada’ir, the army was bound by a tenuous link of betrothal between their two monarchs. The tension between the two sides was visibly palpable from soldiers grouping with those of their own to the uncomfortable reluctance with which they marched together.

  The Ada’ir faction bristled with strain. Ra
imie had requested Kaedesa remain in their encampment some miles distant. Without their monarch’s presence, her soldiers seemed to find it difficult to follow even the simplest of orders.

  Eledis didn’t look forward to the coming battle. Already at a disadvantage in terms of numbers, soldier’s strength, and role as aggressor, they didn’t need the added complication of an uneasy alliance.

  When they crossed the sprawling shanty towns’ outskirts, the army’s pace slowed to a crawl, caution perhaps taken too far. Eledis quietly hummed to himself as he retrieved a spare handkerchief from his person to secure it around his head. Around him, soldiers coughed and gagged.

  “Do they attempt to kill us with their smell alone?” he asked.

  Raimie quickly followed Eledis’ example, eyes watering. Only Keltheryl seemed unaffected.

  “I’ve smelled worse,” he quipped, some unreadable emotion twinkling in his eyes.

  Eledis wasn’t sure how to describe it. Unwashed humans mixed with excrement and rotten food? Or maybe the smell was more akin to putrefying corpses. The refuse heaped on corners and sides of makeshift streets explained some of the odor but the rest? Who could guess? What Eledis did know was cities were supposed to stink-that’s what happened when you crammed thousands of people into a few square miles-but this was barbaric.

  When a shadow peeled from a shack’s base, flitting across the street before them, Eledis jumped. What was that? Some unknown form of primeancy? One of Doldimar’s soldiers who refused to die?

  A… girl? She slunk into sunlight, headed their way, and for the first time, Eledis noticed the glittering eyes staring at them from the rickety buildings to either side. The girl stopped well out of reach, slowing the front line until it halted. Eledis wondered if Raimie was aware of how many eyes drifted to him, waiting for him to take the lead.

  The kid took two steps forward, making the girl tremble, before crouching to her eye-level. “Can I help you?”

  Shifting, the girl defiantly lifted her chin. “Are you here to hurt us?” she asked.

  Raimie rocked back, her words as strong as a physical blow. Gently taking her hand, he folded it between his own. “Why would you think that, sweetheart?”