The Empire of the Zon

by R. M. Burgess

  “I am delighted to be with my sister huntresses to share in their danger in these extreme times,” said Deirdre, speaking to the all the assemblage as well as to the public comm, as she returned the salute sharply. “The Legions are ever the shield of the sisterhood. We will triumph, as we always have. We will make our foremothers proud!”

  Rhea signaled, and members of the recovery team quickly closed and resealed the Hydromeda’s hatch. They signaled the Hypathia to power off the conduit, and the glimmering green tether between the ships disappeared.

  “Captain Rhea,” said Deirdre as soon as the quarterdeck resealed. “Please have your handmaiden attend me to the royal stateroom. And set a direct course for the Aurora Citadel. Flank speed. The Hypathia will take up position on our starboard quarter.”

  “I hear and obey, First Principal,” said Rhea formally.

  As Rhea’s handmaiden appeared at Deirdre’s elbow, she turned to Alex. “Please join me, Centuria Lady Alexandra,” she said. “We have much to plan.”

  THE PRIVY COUNCIL chamber was warm, with a roaring fire in the grate. Baron va Haxos, Alumus the Red Khalif, Baron da Coel, and the rest of the Privy Council were all seated. Noiseless servants circulated, refilling crystal goblets of Brigon apple wine. Duke Hilson and his older daughter, Talia, sat at the foot of the formal table, in the seats reserved for those appearing before the council.

  The buzz of conversation in the chamber was hushed as two Life Guards entered, followed by Harald and Esme. The king and queen were led to their formal seats at the head of the table. Harald took his seat on the aerie, with Esme on his right, and the Life Guards stationed themselves behind the royal couple. All eyes in the chamber were on Harald, who looked uncomfortable.

  “Duke Hilson,” he began. “We are very displeased with your actions. Your aggressive actions in Aurora are threatening the prosperity and well-being of the kingdom. We will be lenient this time and allow you to retain your title, privileges, and lands. But you must immediately withdraw your forces and return them to the Northern Marches to resume your normal and historic duties—protecting the realm from the depredations of the Utreans.”

  Artor Hilson leaned back in his chair and smiled arrogantly. Talia shot a look at Esme that said, Just watch our father now!

  “You threaten me, you young puppy,” he said scornfully. “You who have been placed on the throne by our Zon enemies, replacing your brave and patriotic father and brother! I have thirty thousand men camped outside your walls and thousands more are marching to join me. My regiments are fighting in the streets of the Aurora Citadel, and when it falls, we will march on Atlantic City. Briga will be free!”

  Harald’s face grew decisive, and his entire demeanor changed.

  “Duke Hilson, I arrest you herewith and strip you of all your lands and titles,” he said angrily. “Baron va Haxos, summon a troop of Royal Blacks. Place Duke Hilson and all the nobles who have accompanied him in the dungeons of the Great Stony Keep.”

  Before Baron va Haxos could respond, Duke Hilson spoke again.

  “Harald, you have forfeited your right to rule Briga with your slavish kowtowing to the Zon,” he proclaimed in a carrying voice. “Shelsor blood runs in my veins as it does in yours. I hereby strip you of the crown and declare myself king of Briga! Cornel Baron da Coel, do your duty.”

  Harald looked sharply at Baron da Coel, his eyes going wide with shock.

  “The Life Guards protect the king,” intoned da Coel. “Artor, the true and righteous king of Briga is threatened by the traitorous Zon instrument that sits on the throne. Arrest him!”

  “This is treason!” cried Harald, turning ashen. “Baron va Haxos, summon the duty captain of the Royal Blacks—”

  “The Royal Blacks report to me, pretender,” said da Coel irreverently. “Brigons will not fight Brigons. We unite behind King Artor to fight the Zon. Life Guards, convey the pretender to the Dripping Dungeon.”

  Harald could not believe it as the two huge Life Guards behind him hauled him to his feet and held him immobile. They pounded their pikes on the floor, and a dozen Royal Blacks flooded into the chamber. As Alumus, the Red Khalif, looked on approvingly, Baron va Haxos and the army and navy commanders were roughly seized. Da Coel now looked to Duke Hilson, who nodded. All the detainees were frog-marched out of the chamber. As the chamber door clanged shut, Duke Hilson looked to his younger daughter.

  “Well, Esme, my dear,” he said conversationally. “It is time for you to choose sides. Which will it be—your father’s or your husband’s?”

  Esme held his eyes without flinching. They were neither hot nor cold, but flat and expressionless. Finally, her face relaxed into her characteristic vivacious smile, and her eyes became teasing.

  “I am flesh of your flesh, Father,” she said playfully. “Like you, I will always do my duty as a Shelsor.”

  LIGHT WAS FADING again. Nitya was exhausted, but she would have fallen into the snow before she would have stopped walking. To keep her mind off her fatigue and the bone-chilling cold, she meditated on the chant of power as her father had taught her, counting Greghar’s metronomic steps to keep a tally. It seemed to help, and she was able to follow in the trail Greghar cut through the snow.

  They had left Grenhall in the dark of the night, encountered the Sawtooth Range at first light, and had been climbing all day. Greghar had asked her to stay with Aghari, but she had insisted on coming. He did not argue long but quietly packed the provisions Aghari laid out on the floor of her cottage.

  They were passing through heavy forests of northern fir, the evergreen branches weighed down with snow. It grew colder as they went higher, and now, with the gathering dark, it grew colder still. Greghar wordlessly drew a furry wrap from his backpack and handed it back to Nitya. She gratefully put it on under her heavy cloak. He seemed to sense when she was at her limit and slowed to let her come up beside him.

  “We will soon reach the spine of the Sawtooth Range,” he said to her. “The trail will narrow, but it will grow more level, so we will make better time. With their horses, Guttanar and his men will have to follow a much more circuitous route along the Steefen River Valley. With some luck, we can still reach the Ice Bridge before them.”

  “What then, Greghar?” she asked tiredly. “There are over a dozen of them and only one of you.”

  “There are two of us,” he smiled. “We are a team, are we not?”

  It was her turn to smile.

  “Yes, we are. But I am afraid I will not be much use to you in a fight.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “We all have hidden depths.”

  They trudged on for another two hours before they reached the narrower trail that Greghar had promised. It was dark now, but it was a clear and bright night. The yellow moon was high in the sky along with a plethora of stars. From their vantage point on the spine of the Sawtooth Range, they could see down to the dark waters of the Steefen far below them. Nitya finally got an idea of how high they had climbed.

  “There is a cave around here that I have used before,” said Greghar. “We will stay there for the night.”

  Greghar found the cave and built a small fire. Nitya made a stew with some of the provisions from Greghar’s pack and melted snow. After they ate, she sat by him and leaned on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and drew his cloak around the both of them. She looked up at him fondly.

  “How did you find us in the barn, Greghar?” she asked. “It could not have been a coincidence.”

  “I came across the two of you while I was ranging,” he said briefly. “I followed you to Upper Thal.”

  “But why did you warn us of our danger and then take on Horus and his men for us? You had no cause to love a Zon huntress—they killed your father and caused you to lose your home and everything that you loved.” She smiled ruefully. “And surely, you could have no use for a worthless little Yengar girl.”

  He did not respond but continued staring out of the cave mouth at the starry sk
y.

  “Why do you want to know?” he asked finally. “What does it matter?”

  “My instincts tell me to trust you,” she said. “But my father said that your instincts can sometimes betray you, especially if they are not backed by reason.”

  She paused and followed his gaze out of the cave mouth. Then she slid out from the enveloping cloak and pulled down the shoulder of her shift. She was branded with a Thermadan triangle. Whoever had branded her had obviously wanted to torture as well as mark, for she had been seriously burned, and the scar was old but still vivid.

  “What monster would do this to a child?” cried Greghar, his eyes going wide with shock. He drew her into the cloak again and held her tight, as though to comfort her for her past pain.

  “Ever since I was born, the world has meant me nothing but harm,” she said, stating it as a fact and without self-pity. “Then Lady Caitlin came into my life and showed me that true goodness still exists. That sometimes the strong protect the weak, and do not abuse and exploit them. To find another such as her in such a short time seems impossible—surely you can understand my worries.”

  Greghar looked uncomfortable.

  “I am no saint,” he said. “And you are right to distrust me. I did not act out of honor or virtue.”

  “Then why did you risk everything for us?” she persisted.

  His discomfort turned to embarrassment.

  “It is foolishness,” he said. “If I tell anyone, I invite nothing but ridicule. But perhaps you will not mock me.”

  “I swear I will not mock or tease,” she said solemnly. “And I will tell no one. I am very good at keeping secrets.”

  “I had a dream,” he said, speaking so softly that she had to listen very carefully even though his arm was around her. “Many times over the last year, I had the same dream. An old man in dark brown, flowing robes with a full head of snowy-white hair appeared in my dream and spoke to me. He told me I would meet a Zon huntress and a young girl, and he showed me Lady Caitlin and you. In my dream, I asked him what I should do when I met you, again and again, but he would not answer. He only said that it was very important that I should trust my instincts and act according to them when I met you. Well, when I saw the two of you, at first I couldn’t believe it. Then, as I followed you, it seemed more and more like it was meant to be. You say your instincts are to trust me. Well, my instincts were to keep both of you from harm. So I followed them, as the old man told me. Then, soon after we met, it was such a coincidence that the trio in the inn chose that ballad, for the words seemed so…so....”

  He trailed off. When she did not respond immediately, he laughed self-consciously.

  “I told you it was foolishness,” he said defensively.

  “Oh, I don’t think it is foolishness,” she said thoughtfully. “I think you may be wiser than you know.”

  They spoke no more and slept for a few hours as the fire died down. Greghar was up long before dawn and had them moving again, making rapid progress along the ridge trail. When the sun finally rose, it revealed the Steefen Valley to them in the fullness of its stark and craggy beauty. Nitya was enchanted by it. She continued meditating on the chant of power as she followed Greghar, and the fatigue and cold seemed to melt away, and time passed quickly.

  By early afternoon they had reached Overlook Point, and Greghar stopped and pointed.

  “Ostracis,” he said simply.

  Nitya saw the citadel clinging to the wall on the far side of the steep ravine. Even at this distance, the evidence of the battle was unmistakable. The walls of the keep were charred, and the blackened breach in the white Ravine Wall could not be missed. She felt a catch in her throat and thought—I am not Zon, why am I so strongly affected?

  “The Ice Bridge is directly below us,” he said. “Follow me closely, and watch your step. There is a path through the trees. There are steps cut into the rock in the steep sections, and they are liable to be icy.”

  It was as he said. As they left the ridge trail, they were rapidly enveloped in dense tree cover, obscuring the enormous drop to the river from them. Nitya now realized that their entire hike from Grenhall had been well suited to Greghar with his fear of heights, as it had no open drop-offs. They reached the Ice Bridge before dark and were afforded a clear view of the main Ostracis trail along the Steefen. Greghar carefully scanned the tracks on the trail.

  “Guttanar and his men have not passed as yet,” he said to Nitya. “There is no other equine route to Ostracis—they must pass this way.”

  He found a point of concealment on the Ice Bridge with a good vantage over the downstream trail.

  “Stay here and keep your head down,” he said to Nitya. “I am going downstream along the horse trail to improve our odds.”

  He disappeared into the rocky slopes above the riverside trail. He moved quickly and made such good use of the terrain that even though Nitya was following his progress, she soon lost sight of him. She huddled into her furs and heavy cloak, continually murmuring the chant of power to take her mind off the cold.

  It was another hour and growing quite dark in the deep Steefen Valley when Greghar caught sight of the cavalcade of the Skull Watch. His keen eyes picked out Caitlin even from a great distance—her flame-red mane was unmistakable. He spent some time till he found a position that satisfied him, one from where he could see them approach while remaining unseen. Once settled, he pulled a crossbow out of his pack, checked the mechanism carefully, loaded a bolt, and wound the mechanism tight.

  As they came closer, he saw that Caitlin’s arms were bound behind her back, and there was a noose around her neck. The other end was firmly tied to her saddle. Ten troopers rode in front of her while Guttanar rode just behind her. Behind the captain there were many riderless horses, doubtless some of the mounts they had stolen from Grenhall. Caitlin was an excellent rider and rode easily in spite of having no use of her arms. Her face was strained and tired, but she held her head up high and did not look cowed or frightened.

  They have bound her and beaten her, but they cannot break her, he thought, admiration welling up within him. If the feeling was something more, he dared not admit it, even to himself. He resisted the temptation to use his bolt on Guttanar then and there. They passed below his position. After the long train of riderless horses, two troopers brought up the rear.

  He lined up the crossbow, waiting for them to come to precisely where he wanted them. Then he squeezed the trigger, shooting the last trooper in the chest. The range was short, and the bolt penetrated the trooper’s light armor and leathers. He fell off his horse and was dead before he hit the ground. The thud of his body hitting the ground drew the attention of the other trooper, who twisted in his saddle to look around, precisely as Greghar had planned. He launched himself at the trooper from above, a dagger in hand. They landed on the trailside with Greghar on top. Before he could cry out, Greghar stabbed him quickly four or five times. Taking the trooper’s helmet, he mounted his horse and took his place at the rear of the line.

  He gradually began to pass the riderless horses, coming closer and closer to Guttanar and Caitlin. He stayed far enough back that Guttanar could not easily see him, screened as he was by riderless horses. He loaded another bolt in his crossbow and wound it tight as he rode.

  The trail twisted, and the intervening horses moved unpredictably, so it was difficult to get a clear shot at Guttanar’s broad back. Greghar lined up his shot three times, and each time his target was obscured at the last minute. The fourth time, he thought he had it. It was a perfect line. They were just below the Ice Bridge. Greghar could see the vantage point where Nitya was concealed. He noted with approval that she was out of sight.

  He squeezed the trigger, the sound lost in the roar of the cataract. Just as the bolt was released, Guttanar leaned forward to adjust his stirrup strap. The bolt aimed for his back skimmed off his helmet instead. Worse, after it caromed off the helmet, it grazed the haunch of Caitlin’s horse, panicking it. Many things happened
at once, and everything seemed unfold in slow motion before Greghar’s eyes.

  Caitlin’s mount reared and then began galloping up the trail past the troopers in front of her. She retained her seat only with great difficulty, painfully aware that she would be strangled if she fell off her horse. Guttanar did not know whether he was being ambushed by one man or a hundred and took no chances.

  “The six of you of the first squad, follow me!” he cried. “All the others, form up at the Ice Bridge and hold off the attackers!”

  He spurred his horse and galloped after Caitlin, followed by his six troopers. The four remaining troopers formed up in a loose configuration, blocking the trail just below the Ice Bridge. They had a steepening hillside to their right and the cauldron of the Ice Bridge cataract to their left. Greghar drove some riderless horses before him as cover and approached at a fast canter. He did not want to waste time with these anonymous troopers, but he knew had to get by them to pursue Guttanar and Caitlin.

  Bending low in the saddle to remain obscured by the horses, he reloaded the crossbow and fired at the trooper on the riverbank from point-blank range. There was a dull thud as the bolt went home. The trooper toppled from his saddle, fell into the foaming cauldron, and disappeared beneath the surface, weighed down by his armor and leathers.

  With a blood-curdling cry, Greghar now emerged from his cover, galloping at the three remaining obstacles with longsword drawn. He had chosen to use Caitlin’s sword, Karya, and marveled at its lightness and flawless balance. He had never held such a perfect weapon.

  The three troopers were seasoned soldiers and split up to attack him from several angles, with answering war cries of their own. Greghar closed in with the steepening and unrideable hillside on his left to minimize their advantage. He spurred his mount to catch his closest adversary before the other two could close. Steel met steel as they swung at each other, but Greghar was stronger and had the advantage of height on the man. He was able to get in a second slash as they rode past each other, and the trooper went down off his horse, grievously wounded.