Death Flag

by Richard Haygood

  “I’m glad you see a use for us, Burke,” Madison said from the opposite end of the table around bites of his fried chicken, “but get on with it. I don’t mean to be rude, but no Guardian has bothered to say anything nice aside from the fact that I’d someday be useful to them. I feel like you’re trying to inspire the troops before battle.”

  “Madison!” Alaynna chided disapprovingly.

  Madison considered himself lucky that she had been raised with some degree of sophistication and wasn’t likely prone to attack someone at the dinner table. Her look was harsh and screamed the fact that she wanted to silence him by other means than just a simple admonishment and verbal scolding.

  “I am,” Burke answered casually. “In a way, anyway. Perhaps not directly.” Burke sighed then, as if fortifying himself to say what he had to and took a sip of water before continuing. “I know that, as a whole, we aren’t exactly the best at telling our new arrivals what’s going on around here. We bring you in, we give you the most modest sense of where you are and what your purpose is here, and then basically throw you to the wolves, so to speak.”

  Madison snorted. “That’s a bit of an understatement, but yeah.”

  Alyanna glared at him again, and Madison decided to return to eating instead of deriding the conversation.

  “Well, it wasn’t always like that,” Burke continued, not even acknowledging Madison’s comment. “Somewhere along the way, we decided that it would be better to leave our students here up to a sort of trial by fire. Someone, at some time, decided that it was better off leaving them to fend for themselves. After all, if they couldn’t figure out a simple schedule on their own, or even bother to show up and learn, then they probably weren’t going to be very useful for what we needed to use them for.”

  “Just start at the beginning,” Madison suggested, and then glanced at Alyanna. “Okay, okay!” he cried defensively when Erin joined Alyanna in shooting him a glare this time. “I get it. Last time, for now, I promise.”

  “Well, I’m sure that most of you have heard the history of K’yer Utane in at least some part. I’m not sure that anyone alive still knows the full history, although Ryder has spent a fair amount of time researching it during his tenure here, but I very much doubt that even he knows all of it. During the dark ages, after the fall of the Hyndburn Dynasty and the death of the last emperor, we know that there was a force of ravagers who arose to start restoring order. If someone was killed, the murderer would show up hanging from a tree a week later. If someone was raped, the rapist would wind up gutted in the center of town one morning. If a lord abused his subjects, his house was burned, and his granaries were emptied and handed over to the peasants. It started on one side of the country and swept from coast to coast like a wildfire in the middle of summer.”

  Burke glanced around the table, and when he saw that he had everyone’s full attention, he kept going. “Now, this is where things start deviating from most of the history you’ve probably told before. Most of the students here believe that K’yer Utane was founded in the wake of that horrible time. We, as a whole, have a collective purpose of restoring the world to its right order if things go horribly wrong again. We spent the whole of our efforts training for that time in case it ever comes.

  “Most of the outside world probably assumes that we’re a long-forgotten myth at this point, and after a thousand years, we’ve never had to take action—not officially, anyway. Unofficially, we’ve had our fingers in the politics of every nation from the very beginning. We’ve influenced elections, crowned monarchs, and created and taken away fortunes for merchants and businessmen. Everything we’ve done, however, was under the guise of protecting the people and maintaining order. Whatever our true, original purpose may have been, it’s often smarter and easier to prevent things from falling into anarchy that it is to restore it once it’s reached that point. True, it took decades before, but people have a way of bringing out the worst in each other and themselves when they really want to. I think you’ve both experienced that firsthand.” He pointedly looked between Madison and Alyanna and then took another long drink of water.

  “So, you’re basically the hand that moves the world?” Madison asked, seeking clarification. When he didn’t earn a look of ire from anyone, he decided that they were likely thinking the same questions that he was.

  “In a way,” Burke answered. “When K’yer Utane was first founded, we actually acted as an impartial actor within the political arena. Whenever disputes arose between kingdoms that couldn’t be solved through traditional diplomacy, they would turn to us to act as an impartial third party, a mediator of sorts. It was never anything as small as farmers fighting over a pig, but when it came to disputes over land or inheritance or the succession of a throne—generally serious matters that would have an effect on everyone involved and could lead to war—we would be called in to act as mediators. For a while, we also trained and supplied the officers for quite a few armies. We accepted the fact that war was unavoidable in many situations. Even when we were called in to arbitrate, one of the parties involved might not accept our judgment and turn to violence as a means of justifying what they wanted. We never acted to stop those wars outright once it reached that point, but having our officers involved helped mitigate the impact it had on the stability of the world and the common people.”

  “You were there to make sure that farms weren’t razed, creating famines. You were there to make sure that troops stayed in line and didn’t do anything detestable,” Madison said. “You were essentially safeguarding the people from the worst and most inhumane atrocities war has to offer.”

  Burke nodded and seemed thankful for the fact that Madison hadn’t outright said that they were there to stop soldiers from looting, pillaging, and raping the conquered peoples. No matter how civilized a society might be, men at war were always a threat to those they were fighting against. “But, after a time,” he continued, “all of that came to an end. I don’t know where, and I don’t know what prompted it, but at some point, K’yer Utane adopted an entirely isolationist policy toward the rest of the world. We’ve continued working in secret and behind the scenes as we do now, but our involvement in the politics of the world as a major player diminished and then disappeared entirely.”

  “I guess I understand everything so far,” Alyanna said, breaking her silence, “but how does any of this pertain to me directly? I get that I’m in the position to inherit the seat in Stargrave now that my brother has passed, but if K’yer Utane isn’t involved in the world’s affairs any longer, what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “That’s where things start to get a little more complicated,” Burke said. “There are certain parties here at K’yer Utane who would like to bring an end to our current policies. They would like to see us reemerge into the rest of the world as a major actor once again.”

  “Why?” Madison asked, suddenly curious and rather anxious. “That’s a horrible idea. You only have a small force of people here, but they’re trained from birth to be extremely lethal. I haven’t seen a lot in my time here, but I have no doubt that a single one of you Guardians could probably wreck an entire army by yourselves. I’ve fought against pirates, I’ve fought against slavers, and I’ve fought against the people here that have spent their entire lives training. It’s unlikely that any kingdom would let you go unnoticed, and every single one of them would likely regard you as a threat. You’d basically be labeled as a loose cannon—a really big cannon—that was better off dead and obliterated than left to its own devices. You’d bring war to your doorstep at the best and total annihilation at the worst. What point would it serve?”

  The others listened to his criticism with growing concern. Even Erin, who was typically passive unless she was angry, looked like she was bothered by the idea.

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Warren asked. “There’s no way for us to predict how other nations would react. Many of them might be willing to accept us back into
our former roles.”

  Madison shook his head. “They might be willing to accept you as arbitrators—for a time, anyway—but it wouldn’t last. Even back then, there was no guarantee that K’yer Utane’s intervention would completely avert a war, and there’s certainly not one now. Before, there was at least a history and heritage attached to it. Everyone accepted that K’yer Utane had a role to play, even if they didn’t abide by its decision. Now, they’d just view you with suspicion and prejudice. The only thing you have to back up your decisions would be force, the very thing that they would fear and want to destroy you for.” Madison shook his head again. “No, it’s a horrible idea.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Burke said, silencing any other protests that might have cropped up. “I agree with you anyway. But, like I said, that doesn’t mean that everyone else here does. There are some who think that it’s time for K’yer Utane to make its presence known in the world again. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the war in the east. Well, they’re not entirely wrong. I spent the last few months there with a handful of Sworn, and things are getting pretty bad. The rest of the continent isn’t really in much better shape either, I’m afraid. Not everyone is suffering like those who are in the middle of that war, but as a whole, they aren’t making progress or improving themselves either.

  “Villages are suffering due to lack of trade. Bad harvests from bad weather and bad storms have left a lot of bellies in the country hungry, and more and more people are flocking south to cities in search of food and work. More and more people are disregarding sciences and mathematics and throwing them to the wayside in favor of simple lives spent farming and hunting; or, worse, for lives of crime.”

  Madison nodded knowingly. “As I said, I’ve fought pirates, and I’ve fought slave traders. The slavers mentioned a few different names while they had me in custody, but I can’t say that I remember them. I was disoriented most of the time they had me. They kept us starved and dehydrated and exhausted so that we wouldn’t try to escape. Honestly, I’m still not even sure how I managed it. Actually, I take that back: I do know how I managed it. Even after I killed one of their men, they kept making the mistake of trusting me. It was like they expected me to just go along with whatever it was they wanted me to do.”

  “They probably did,” Burke said, to everyone’s surprise.

  Only Alyanna nodded, and her gaze was fixed on the empty plate in front of her. “There are many people who accept that form of captivity as a fact of life,” she said softly. She reached up and brushed a stray lock of her silvery hair behind an ear and then looked up and met his eyes with her own. “The people from the coast are often willing to give their lives and their freedom for shackles and servitude. It is not something that I can ever accept. No one from the north would ever turn their back on the ice and wind that we call home, but I can understand why they make that decision.

  “As Guardian Burke has said, things have gotten hard for many people everywhere. Pirates roam the coastal waters unchecked, and there is no unified navy to fight them off. The eastern cities might have made a stand against them at one point, but I’ve heard that their fleet has been almost entirely decimated. The Southern Kingdoms are only concerned with themselves and their own interests, and they’re involved in the war. Most fishing villages are too small to make a stand on their own, and they are too disorganized to mount a proper defense. When you’re cold and starving, and there’s no end in sight or a way out, the idea of a full belly and a place to sleep at night becomes attractive.”

  Madison held her gaze, and he watched a cold determination form there as she spoke. He could tell how much she valued her freedom and her way of life. She didn’t necessarily look down on the people who made the decision to trade their lives away in exchange for protection and provision, but there was no way for her to condone it either. He knew what she was saying: that was their choice, and that was fine by her. But she would rather be dead than have to serve someone else.

  “That’s the sad truth of it,” Burke said. “Trading human lives is detestable no matter what the reason or how willing someone is. Most of those people are traded from one form of captivity to another their entire lives, and even when they aren’t, they’re conditioned to accept the fact that it’s only a matter of time until someone comes along and sets the gears in motion. It’s sad. It’s also a fairly significant argument for breaking our isolationism.

  “Anyway, this is where you start to get involved, Alyanna. Stargrave is a major supplier of gems and minerals to the rest of the continent. The ice mines have produced stones that are unrivaled in beauty, and deep veins of gold and other precious ores have been discovered in those mountains.”

  Alynna shook her head slightly. “You’re not wrong, Guardian Burke, but that was long ago before my father’s time. We are not as impoverished as the rest of the continent, but we are neither thriving nor rich either. We rely on trading those precious gems and minerals with the rest of the kingdoms in order to acquire most of the basic foodstuffs and resources that we need to survive. The war has grown to encompass so many different peoples that even trade has become difficult, and our people are starting to feel the effects of it. Regardless, the mines are all but played out. The massive deposits were stripped from the mountains long ago by my forefathers.”

  “Your father and just about everyone else believes that,” Burke said carefully. “And they’re all wrong.”

  “What?” Her face scrunched together in thought, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she puzzled it out. “How would you . . .” She trailed off as she figured it out. “That’s what you were doing there all those years ago! You were scouting the area when you discovered my father! You found him after he lost his party and all his friends to the dragon! You nursed him back to health and returned him to his home safe and sound and then disappeared without a word. Anyone else would have expected a reward for saving the life of a prince, if not outright demanded it, but you just wanted to save him. You weren’t interested in any reward, you just wanted to save the only heir and find out why the mines weren’t producing like they used to! Wait, does that mean . . .?”

  “Yes. There are still extensive veins in those mountains,” Burke confirmed. “They’re buried deep, deep below ground, but they’re there. They’re also being guarded by a dragon.” He added the last part nonchalantly, as if the presence of a mythical wyrm was a casual matter of little importance.

  Alyanna looked like she had just struck it rich; and, in a way, she had. She just received confirmation that her father’s story, a story that she had grown up listening to and believing in like it was the legend of Santa Claus, was real. She had also been told that her family and her people still possessed a vast fortune—they just had to figure out how to get to it.

  “This is also where things start to get a bit more complicated. I think someone is trying to exploit your father in the hopes of dragging Stargrave into the war,” Burke said.

  “Well, yeah. That’s why we came here,” Alyanna said. “We were hoping that K’yer Utane might fulfill the role it used to—although we didn’t know that was what it was at the time—and step in for us. We don’t want to be dragged into any war, much less someone else’s. But, if things continue the way they have been lately, we might not have much choice. It’s not just that trade’s been disrupted; it’s that both sides are intentionally withholding it from us with the hopes of dragging us in faster.

  “Not just that,” Burke said, waving his hand dismissively. “We know about that. I meant that someone here is trying to influence your father.”

  There were several collective gasps from around the table.

  “Wait . . . What?! Why would . . .?”

  Burke spread his hands for a moment and then leaned forward onto his elbows again, clasping them together in front of him. “I can’t prove anything, but it seems like that’s what’s been going on. There are just too many things that don’t add up otherwise. For better or worse, I’ve
also learned to look for conspiracy and intrigue just about everywhere—even in places where it doesn’t belong and shouldn’t exist.”

  “Y-You must be mistaken,” Alyanna said hastily. “I-I mean, I don’t mean to be presumptuous, Guardian, but surely . . .”

  Burke held up his hands, stopping her before she could bumble around with her words any further. “This isn’t a hastily-drawn conclusion, I assure you. I dislike the idea as much as you. As I said earlier, there are certain forces here within K’yer Utane that would like to see us reemerge into the world. I’ve had a feeling for some time now that something like this would happen, and I’ve been watching for it. Whoever is controlling things is subtle and managed to make moves without me knowing about it until it was too late to do anything, partially because I’ve been outside the valley for so long, but I’m almost certain that’s what is going on.

  “Before you jump to any hasty conclusions and rule me out completely, consider this: Your father didn’t find this valley by mistake, Alyanna. He may have had suspicions, and I suspect he did, but this valley and this citadel are protected by powerful magic. No simple scrying spell led him here on a mere hunch. It doesn’t work that way. If it did, we’d have visitors on our doorstep every other day seeking the fame and riches of a long-forgotten legend.