“I know that for generations your people have suffered at the hands of Lowlanders,” he went on. “They’ve robbed and hurt and mistreated you. Next year I’m going to become the leader of all the Lowlanders, and I plan to put a stop to that. I’ve already started, as Ernth and Otchen and their families can tell you. But to change the way the Lowlanders treat you, I need your help in two ways. First, I need all of you to start treating them better too. They blame you for most of the same wrongs you blame them for, and I’ve seen that they’re partly right. You have to stop helping yourselves to their crops, stop damaging their property, stop taking revenge for the things they’ve done to you. Change will come slowly, but it will come. Beginning next year when I’m in charge, any Lowlander who mistreats one of you will be punished. But you have to show them that you’re decent people who mean them no harm.”
He paused for breath and to clear his throat. Something about the shape of the valley – like a natural amphitheater – seemed to help the acoustics and make his voice carry further than he would have expected. Still, it was hard speaking so loudly for so long, and he wished for a sip of water. If I ever do this again, I’ll be sure to bring a water pouch down here with me.
Turning slowly in a full circle, he gazed around at the thousands of Mountain Folk gathered on every side of the valley. They were starting to murmur again, and he let them discuss what he had said for a moment while he gathered his next thoughts.
“What about the army?” whispered Thel. “Aren’t you going to talk about that?”
Korram nodded. “That’s next.” He waved his arms again and took a deep breath as the audience quieted.
“There’s something else I need your help with. I can do all I’ve said once I’m crowned king – that is, once I become the most important leader. But there’s a powerful man named Rampus who hates me and wants to be the leader himself. When I return to the Lowlands, I believe he is going to try to have me killed. If I’m to defeat him and all his followers, I need a lot of people on my side. I need an army – a group of strong fighters who are willing to come with me and help me stand against him. It will be dangerous. There will probably be fighting, and it’s possible that some will be killed. But you would be heroes, helping to defeat evil and bring about justice for both your people and the Lowlanders. And you would be paid for your services.” Assuming I can get access to the palace treasury, he added silently. “You’d gain experience in interacting with Lowlanders and be better equipped to deal with them in the future. And you would have exciting stories to tell your friends and families and adventures to remember for the rest of your lives.” He paused again. “So I’ve come before you to ask who’s willing to join my army.”
“We are!” shouted Thel and the other Newly Accepted, surging around him. “We’ll join!”
Their family members turned and stared at them, and the parents and grandparents in their midst began protesting and demanding to know what was going on.
“How could you decide so soon?” Korram heard Fretchal’s grandfather ask him. “Our family hasn’t voted yet!”
“But we voted,” Fretchal explained. “The eighteen of us voted last night. We’re all going!” And just like that, Korram saw the grandfather’s expression change from indignant to resigned.
All across the valley, loud conversations had broken out. Some voices sounded angry, some excited, others afraid. Korram waved his arms once more.
“You don’t have to make up your minds right now,” he told them all. “But when we leave Gathering Valley in a few days, I need to return to the Lowlands with my army. On the last day, I’ll ask again who’s willing to come. Until then, talk to your families, ask me questions if you like, vote about it – and I hope many of you will decide to join me.”
Korram stepped back with a sigh, feeling tension that he hadn’t realized was building up drain out of him. There. I’ve said it. He had done what he had come to do. Now I just have to wait and see what they decide.
Chapter 16
The next six days were full of fun that, for the most part, Korram didn’t get to share. Of course, he could have gone out with his new friends as he had the first day, riding and hunting and playing. The Newly Accepted invited him every morning, but Korram reminded himself that he was here on a mission. He had an army to build, and if he wanted it to be of any decent size, he was going to have to work hard to recruit soldiers.
So he spent his days walking from camp to camp, introducing himself to strangers, often being invited to share their meals or their work as he talked with them. Everyone was friendly, and many pressed him for the details of his snowcat encounters or related adventures of their own. They all admired his necklace and his snowcat jacket, which he was finally able to wear again as the pain of his horse mark burn gradually decreased.
Most of the Mountain Folk he met wanted to know more about the Lowlands and what his army was going to do there, and Korram wished he had more information to give. He described Sazellia and tried to make life in the city sound interesting, but it was hard to say what conditions he and his army would encounter there.
Now Korram paused over a bite of the lumjum cakes he had just been invited to share beside Fretchal’s family’s fire, thinking things over. His eighteenth birthday and the day of his coronation lay a few months away, in late winter. If Rampus planned to have him killed – and Korram had no doubt the regent was planning exactly that – surely he would try to make his move before then. So Korram would need to keep his Mountain Folk army with him at least until his birthday. He would have to make sure he was surrounded by his soldiers at all times, which meant he would need to have a barracks built and move into it with them – or better yet, find a large open field that they could all camp in.
Korram smiled with his mouth full, imagining how his mother would react when he announced that he planned to sleep in a tent even after he returned to the capital. Well, she would understand why it was necessary. They couldn’t exactly invite hundreds of Mountain Folk to move into the palace, and his friends would probably be more comfortable outdoors anyway.
If Rampus did make an attempt on his life, then Korram could finally have him tried in court and executed, or at least thrown in the dungeon. And at that point, according to Malornian law, he himself – being above the age of sixteen – would be free to appoint a new regent to rule until he was crowned. Korram had nearly that whole page in Malornian Law and Government memorized. It was from chapter twenty-four: “Rights and Responsibilities of a Crown Prince in the Event of the King’s Death before His Coming of Age”.
Even once Korram was king, he would still have to put up with the High Council, most of whom he was sure were on Rampus’s side. The king’s powers were limited in Malorn, and many decisions he would want to make would require a High Council vote. But there were certain things a king could do, and taking charge of the military was one of them.
Assuming General Dorralon wasn’t already in Rampus’s pay. The thought made Korram uneasy. But once I’m king, Dorralon will have no reason not to serve me, he tried to reassure himself over his last mouthful of lumjum cake. Will he?
But Dorralon, along with most of Malorn, probably thought of Korram as an untried boy who might or might not be worthy to rule a kingdom. If only there were some way in which he could prove himself to everyone. There ought to be a Rite of Acceptance for kingship.
On the final day of the Mid-Autumn Gathering, a tangible melancholy filled the valley. There were tears in every camp as friends and extended family shared one last meal together, one last conversation, one last exchange of clothing or tools or goats. Everyone wished the Gathering could go on longer, but looking around the valley, it was obvious to Korram why it had to end. All the grass within view was gone now, devoured by the thousands of goats and horses who had left the ground filthy and trampled. Korram knew many families had been taking their livestock out to graze beyond the valley, but nearly all the available grazing within a reasonable distance had
been used up. Besides, the weather was growing colder, and everyone was eager to make their way down to the lower valleys and foothills before winter set in and snowstorms blocked the passes.
Korram overheard lots of plans being worked out as people asked or were invited to spend the next year traveling with other families. Ecstatic hugs and cries of joy signaled such agreements, always accompanied by disappointment on the part of those who would not get to see their loved ones until the next year’s Gathering.
And there was ongoing discussion about who would be joining Korram’s army. He had tried not to pressure anyone, but of course he was eager to get as many recruits as possible. It excited him every time he overheard someone say, “I think I’ll go along and see what it’s like,” or, “Don’t you want to come too?” He heard a few arguments about who would get to go and who would stay in the mountains to care for the children and elderly and the family’s goats, but these were few and far between. Most disagreements ended quickly as families put the matter to a vote.
On that final evening, Korram returned to the bottom of the valley to learn what size army he was going to have. He had spread the word that everyone who was coming with him should meet at the bottom before supper to discuss what supplies they were planning to bring and make arrangements to share, if possible.
But this event turned out to be much more disorderly than he had anticipated. Many people showed up with goats, and he had to explain over and over why they couldn’t bring them along. “Goats will slow us down,” he pointed out again and again. “We can drink water. Leave the goats with your families.”
There was additional confusion about who was going to bring tents. Family members usually shared tents, but when some were coming and others weren’t, how were the sleeping arrangements to work? At this time of the year, sleeping under the stars was not a realistic option. Dozens of separate negotiations began, as recruits found friends or relatives in the crowd and began asking each other who was bringing a tent and who had room in it to spare; and some of them had to go back and forth among family members who were staying behind, asking to borrow tents they hadn’t thought they’d need or returning ones they wouldn’t need after all.
They each had to bring their own food, Korram told them; at least a week’s worth. He knew the journey would take longer than that; they would have to stop now and then to hunt or gather food, but he hoped to keep such delays to a minimum. They could always buy more supplies in Sazellia later.
Everyone seemed puzzled at the idea that they wouldn’t be stopping to find food in the first few days of travel. There might be opportunities for that in the evenings, Korram explained, but his army wouldn’t be traveling the way Mountain Folk normally traveled. They were going straight to the Lowlands as quickly as possible, and they had to bring as much food as they could carry for the journey. At the same time, they had to be able to actually ride their horses, not just walk beside them, so they couldn’t pack too heavily.
This led to even more confusion as luggage was opened then and there, and people who thought they had finished packing had to sort through their possessions and decide what they could and couldn’t bring after all. Cooking supplies, tools, and extra clothing were handed out to friends and family staying behind, bags were repacked, and horses were loaded and mounted just to make sure it was doable.
With all the disorder, Korram was able to gather very little idea of the actual size of his army. Not only did his recruits keep going back and forth to their camps, but plenty of other people were milling around the valley floor helping their friends pack, watching the action, or offering advice. He got the uncomfortable impression that his army was smaller than he had hoped – possibly much smaller – but he would have to wait till tomorrow morning to see who was actually coming.
That night, supper with Ernth and his family was a solemn event. Both Ernth’s parents had decided to join the army, as well as his uncle Korth and aunt Silanth. Ernth’s cousin Thorst, along with Thorst’s wife Relth and their baby Chenth, were going to be spending the next year with Relth’s family. So this was to be their last meal together for a year.
“I wanna be in the army too,” Thisti complained around a mouthful of dried goat meat. “I’ll be lonely with almost everyone gone, and besides, I never get to do anything exciting.”
“This whole year will be exciting for you,” her mother reminded her. “My sister and her children will be traveling with us, so you and Sench will have four cousins to play with!” Thisti brightened, and her brother bounced up and down on his goatskin mat in enthusiasm.
But the adults’ faces were somber, and Korram couldn’t help but feel somber along with them.
In the morning, he helped with the milking and shared the milk with the family one last time. The valley was a bustle of activity as thousands of families took down tents and loaded horses. Everyone was leaving today, for one direction or another.
Korram rolled his few personal possessions into a bundle which he tied onto Clinja, along with the bag of food and the water pouch the family had given him to bring. There were hugs and more tears, and Thisti wrapped her arms tightly around Korram’s waist. “You have to come back and see us again,” she ordered fiercely. “You have to! You’re not a Lowlander anymore; you’re one of us. You belong here!”
Korram didn’t have the heart to tell her that, as the Prince of Malorn, he belonged in the Lowlands. He knew that when he left the mountains he would be leaving part of himself behind.
Korram and Ernth rode up to the top of the valley’s northern slope, where he had arranged to meet his army. Therk and Chun accompanied them, along with Korth and Silanth. Thel and a few others were already there, their breath cloudy in the cold morning air. Nobody spoke much. They sat silently on their horses, waiting for the others, probably each wrapped up in their own thoughts about who they were going to miss.
Gradually, more and more people trickled up the slope toward where Korram waited. As the flow tapered off, he tried not to let his disappointment show. I was right. There are fewer than I’d hoped. He estimated their numbers at just over two hundred, and the thought of so few Mountain Folk trying to stand up to Regent Rampus and the whole might of the Malornian military filled him with despair.
It isn’t going to work. There aren’t nearly enough of us. Had everything he had endured to get this army been for nothing?
But victory didn’t always go to the larger army, Korram reminded himself. I just have to have a better strategy than Rampus.
He felt a moment of bitterness that his father had never taught him anything useful about military strategy. Father had always been busy, the business of ruling the kingdom taking up most of his waking hours. Couldn’t you have spared some time to help your son get ready to rule the kingdom? Korram thought. Couldn’t you have taught me a few things about planning and leadership and how to survive when people are trying to kill you and steal the crown? Of course, Father himself hadn’t survived that. Supposedly he had passed away from an illness four years ago, but Korram had always suspected Rampus had a hand in his sudden death.
Still, Korram would speak with Mother and Kalendria and Arden as soon as he got back, and maybe they could help him think of something. He knew that his parents had often talked military and government matters over together, and that the queen knew nearly as much about ruling a kingdom as her husband had. Father had come to rely on Mother’s advice, and Korram was thankful that he had access to that, at least.
Many of the Mountain Folk who joined them at the top of the ridge looked excited, though Korram could see apprehension on some of their faces, along with the sadness of their recent farewells. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of these brave men and women would ever return to their families. For the first time, a sense of responsibility for the lives of others settled heavily over him. Was this what it was like to be a leader – to be king? To know that people who trusted you could die because they were following you?
Korram look
ed around at Ernth and his relatives, at Thel and the other Newly Accepted; at others he had met in the last few days, many of whose names he wasn’t sure of. He had been Accepted as one of them, and he felt a sense of kinship with them that he had never dreamed he would feel. And now they were about to follow him into probable danger and possible death.
Korram swallowed. Would he even be a good leader? Apart from giving orders to servants, he had never really had to be in charge before. When it came to government issues, he was only considered an honorary member of the High Council; he could state his opinion but he couldn’t even vote in meetings. What do I really know about leading people? he thought with a spike of panic. What am I supposed to do with my army, now that I’ve got it? He scowled at the thought of all his father had never taught him.
Fortunately, for the first few days he didn’t have to do much except keep them going in the right direction. Though it would have been quicker to leave the Impassables and ride north toward Sazellia across the Lowlands, Korram decided it would be safer to travel through the mountains for as long as possible. He asked Ernth’s father, Chun, to act as guide. The older man was soft-spoken and kept to himself most of the time, but Korram had observed that he had a good sense of direction and his family often chose him to lead the way as they traveled.
The Mountain Folk seemed to have very little idea how to travel in a straight line, or even how to stay together in a big group. Smaller groups were constantly breaking off to go hunt or gather food. Some of them, especially the young people, kept veering away to race their horses or practice with their spears or bows, sometimes not catching up to the others for hours. Korram reminded them over and over that they needed to ride all day, stopping only for a few brief rests; but though they nodded their agreement, most of the Mountain Folk never really seemed to grasp this idea.
Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 31