The General's Legacy - Part One: Inheritance

by Adrian G Hilder

  ‘Does it work?’

  ‘Grandfather’s advice is usually sound, and it worked with you.’

  Julia turned in his embrace to face him, smiling. ‘What could you possibly have to fear from me?’

  ‘In the beginning, I was afraid that you wouldn’t be interested in me or I’d make a fool of myself trying to get to know you.’

  ‘You… muddled through somehow… if I have the expression right. Hmmm, but what do you desire?’ Her mischievous smile had returned.

  ‘Oh, everything.’ Cory’s hands slid down onto those curves he so admired.

  ‘Cheeky,’ she admonished, still smirking.

  The world shrank away into a passionate kiss that ended some time later with Julia’s fingers covering Cory’s lips, both of them a little breathless.

  ‘It’s hot in here,’ Julia said.

  ‘I know somewhere cooler. Remember that rope bridge?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You’ve never seen a waterfall like this.’

  ***

  Cory had the key in hand to a rarely used, heavy iron door right at the base of the castle. The door opened and closed, groaning like a tired old servant. Standing on a small rock ledge, the ropes of the bridge were secured directly to the castle wall. Cory led an uncertain Julia one wooden slat at a time until they were halfway across and then picked up the pace. Right below them, the waterfall roared into the plunge pool Cory passed on horseback most days of the week. A cool mist rose; the ropes were damp and the slats slippery. On the small rock cliff over which the water fell, Cory motioned Julia to crouch with him. Words were washed away in the roar. He pointed up the rising rock face, split by millennia of fast flowing melt water. The split zigzagged and curved, sometimes revealing a flash of water. A bridge made of stone crossed the flowing water and two pathways led from it, one back down the cliff and the other up a steep climb. Their path was upwards.

  ‘More to see!’ Cory yelled.

  Another nod came in reply and they climbed on. Someone had put a great deal of effort into carving a ledge to make a path and stairs in the stone, following the water flow. Each time the pathway came near, the water flowed in a different direction, deflected by smooth, curved surfaces in the rock. Bowl shapes and other holes covered the rock faces, through which the water had once cut a different path. The entire waterfall resembled a crazy white snake eternally rushing its way downward. Eventually, the pathway ended at what was indeed a waterfall like no other; the water didn’t actually fall, but jetted out of one rock face and into another, across a distance twice the height of a man. The fierce flow appeared completely horizontal.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she yelled breathlessly.

  Cory grinned and nodded, watching droplets of water decorating her beaming face streaked with damp hair. He looked away for a moment, back into the water, then an impulse took over. With a gentle firmness, he took both her hands, pinning them and then the rest of her against the rocks. Her giggle merged into a kiss that left only the roaring water at the edge of their awareness.

  A while later, her fingers over Cory’s lips ended the kiss and she yelled, ‘I’m getting all wet here! We should go back and see your second favourite woman for something to eat.’

  Cory’s laugh couldn’t be heard above the roar before Julia pulled him by the hand after her, heading back down the path.

  She wore a more serious look on her face now that Cory couldn’t see. Conquer your fears and reach for your desires? she thought. I wonder what I am supposed to do with fearing my desire...

  She tightened her grip on Cory’s hand. That would have to do for now.

  ***

  Sebastian would rather have stayed in the church hospital. Today he had made some progress communicating with a woman they only knew as Jane. Now she would, at least, talk to him. She liked cleaning windows. She did it all the time. The church and hospital constantly had the cleanest windows of any building in Tranmure. She ‘cleaned’ windows so much that she would wash the same windows twice in a day. Sebastian became really alarmed when it rained and she went out trying to clean rain off windows. There was nothing he could do to stop her. Then they had confined her indoors and discovered her first love was cleaning mirrors. When they were gleaming even to her satisfaction, the cleaning moved onto her face. Her reflection had to be perfect and a sore red face obviously needed more cleaning to make it perfect.

  Archpriest Ranold referred to some people as having wounded minds. Some could be helped and some they didn’t know how to help beyond prayer. In his time, Ranold had seen a few mages who had pushed their use of magic too far in battle and damaged their minds. They were the hardest of all to help.

  Sebastian had to leave this behind. Signing his goodbyes to Pete, he departed to receive the new ambassador from Emiria. It was not a role he was familiar or comfortable with. His time with Jane had been a welcome distraction despite her disappointing progress.

  Setting aside thoughts of clean mirrors and sore faces, he focused instead on what he had read about Emiria and the role of the ambassador in his father’s office. Some surprising things. Pacing down the corridors of the palace towards the council room, Sebastian tried to picture what the ambassador might be like. A small, quiet man, perhaps, with brown hair and nervous eyes. He imagined he would be slightly overweight and around his age, or maybe just a little older. He would have an interest in music, probably attend church most Days of the Sun and if he had a wife, she would be much the same.

  He was still picturing all this sitting at the table, nursing a cup of water, when the ambassador entered. Sebastian managed to stand and held out his hand in greeting. The man strode with purpose, towering a good six inches above Sebastian’s height. The ambassador’s face was striking and full of angles. Nose, cheeks, chin and even his full head of pale grey hair appeared to sweep forward in a chiselled, wedge-like appearance. His face wore a stern look as steel-grey eyes with a hint of blue looked down and locked onto Sebastian’s stare.

  Sebastian felt liked a rabbit surprised by a wolf.

  The shake was firm and the hand warm as the man brought his thoughts back from wherever they had been. His face softened a little. ‘Xolt Carmikel, ambassador from Emiria, Your Majesty.’

  Sebastian introduced himself unnecessarily and the men sat.

  Xolt opened a notebook he had been carrying and spent a moment meticulously writing a date and title in the book. When he was done, he pulled a sheet out of his book and slid it across the table. ‘A matter of formality.’

  Sebastian took it and scanned the sheet, the clear writing making it quick to read. It was a summary of Xolt’s background that ran from his most recent appointment in Ephire back through thirty or more years, including many army ranks and the beginning of his career as a soldier. Sebastian pretended to be reading for longer, then started to feel awkward with the silence. ‘You were a soldier. What made you leave the army?’

  Xolt replied with a voice that sounded as strong as he looked. ‘Injury. I was severely wounded in the shoulder. I have not been able to lift a decent sword for many years, never mind fight with it.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right. You don’t have to use a weapon to be a warrior; it’s a state of mind.’

  ‘I read with great interest about the origins of our scout network earlier this week.’

  Xolt nodded and wrote ‘Defence and scout network’ in his notebook.

  ‘I never knew our own Scout Commander was Emirian. I’ve never met him.’

  ‘Part of the original mutual defence pact. A condition being that the scout commander would only report to the king and the general. Preservation of secrecy. Which brings me to a concern we have… Valendo is yet to appoint a new general.’

  ‘Oh, er, I believe an appointment will be made in four weeks, at the annual commander’s dinner.’

  Xolt moved his notebook and wrote more. Sebastian could no longer see what was written
.

  ‘We still feel the garrison at Norvale is light on numbers. There are a lot of Emirian citizens in Tranmure that we are naturally concerned about. We have five hundred more men stationed on the border inland from our capital Tri than you do on the more strategically significant location of Norvale.’

  The king had warned Sebastian the ambassador would probably bring this up.

  ‘The council has determined that, given scout reports indicating no build-up of forces near Norvale, the numbers are sufficient.’ Sebastian felt himself flush, worrying that his response sounded as rehearsed as it was.

  The ambassador appeared too preoccupied with his writing to notice. ‘We note that there has been an increase in trade and a diplomatic initiative recently. Isn’t this somewhat irregular with a nation unresponsive to any request for a formal peace treaty?’

  Sebastian had no prepared speech or script for this one and started to wonder what to say. Time passed with the ticking of the grandfather clock. Xolt looked ready to say something more when Sebastian found his tongue. ‘Well, all our contact is with Plain Lake City and Prince Karl Ferand.’

  ‘What of this diplomatic mission?’

  Sebastian shifted awkwardly; he couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say in present company about this subject. Unable to ignore the question, he said the best he could come up with. ‘Karl’s daughter is on an extended visit and we are, er, getting to know the family.’

  ‘Nothing about Nearhon’s future intentions? Any prospect of a peace treaty?’

  ‘I will have to consult with my brother further.’ Sebastian tried to make it sound final while Xolt wrote his notes.

  More questions followed about trade, foreign relations and Valendo’s navy developments. Sebastian began to wish he had his own notebook to record everything he had no answers for, which felt like more or less everything. As his mind filled with questions, his frustration rose with his father for leaving him so unprepared. He’d spent no long evenings in his father’s office, not like Pragius enjoyed. Determined to get something out of the meeting in line with what he intended, Sebastian forged ahead and offered a bit of hospitality.

  ‘There is a concert with our orchestra on Weekend Day in four weeks. Perhaps you would join me as a guest?’

  Xolt considered the question for a moment. Music bored him. He preferred the playhouses in Tri for entertainment. Something with a story to engage and enlighten the mind. And he had an invitation to the annual commander’s dinner as a courtesy to an ex-military man. He didn’t have to attend, but it would be a rare chance to swap some old war stories with people that might be interested in listening.

  ‘Yes, I will join you,’ he said.

  Xolt excused himself and a deflated Sebastian stared at the clock pendulum, resentment towards his father increasingly replacing frustration with each swing.

  ***

  Coeric sat alone in a front-row seat, dressed informally with nothing visible indicating his status as king. Lamplight reflected off the bronze casting of a sun hanging at the front of the church, illuminating his face. Another face with brown eyes under a dark hood joined him. Ceoric completed his prayer and moved into a private room, the hooded man following. Ceoric waited for the scout commander to begin his report.

  ‘All is quiet on the northern border.’

  ‘Nearhon scouts have left Norvale?’

  ‘Oh no, they are still there. Just not very active. And I can’t track any scouts in Tranmure.’

  ‘All scouts have left Tranmure?’

  ‘Given that I can’t track any, I would certainly hope so.’

  Raising his eyebrows, Ceoric sighed. ‘What do we think of Princess Julia Ferand and her assistant?’

  ‘Her assistant certainly likes to explore the city. I doubt there is a marketplace or road she doesn’t know by now, and she seems to have an interest in horticulture. She spends a lot of her spare time helping out in the hot house. It is proving difficult for me to keep track of the princess and not break the constitution at the same time.’

  Coeric turned with a puzzled look.

  ‘I’m not permitted to scout on our own elected representatives or the royal family. I have someone who looks after our interests in the orchestra, and we know she frequently takes horse rides. Sometimes alone. If you want to know what else she’s doing, you’ll need to ask Prince Cory. Today they were at the castle. At least one Nearhon scout has turned up in Halimouth. The docks are being watched.’

  Ceoric broke in. ‘Cargo shipments?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I think they are looking for someone.’

  ‘What should we do about this?’

  ‘Keep watching the watcher and see if we can work out when he’s found who he’s looking for.’ The scout commander paused, and when no further questions came, he continued. ‘It looks like Bytper has sent scouts to Plain Lake City. I’m concerned they are stepping up operations to detect and track my men. More scouts have crossed the border into Emiria; the garrison is being observed and someone new is in Tri.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I would speculate they are assessing soldier numbers. Something you might do if you were considering reviewing the size of your own forces. One thing for certain is that this is a change in behaviour. The new Emirian ambassador is aware.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Only that I don’t like the feel of this. The pattern of activity has shifted.’

  ‘What does it all mean?’

  ‘It means I have questions to find answers for.’

  ***

  Nearhon’s great plain lake on a clear evening was a sight to behold. In any direction, there were no mountains or hills to spoil the view and the lake itself stretched as far as the eye could see. An orange sun on the horizon painted its multi-hued rays across the water and onto thin stratus clouds above. A tall man in tailored leather clothing stood on a jetty over the water. He often stood here watching the sunset. Blue-grey eyes hunted through motes of light dancing on ripples as if salvation from what he had just learned could be found there. It was a warm summer evening. He shivered anyway. The only thing he could think to do to protect his daughter, Julia, would start with the instruction he would give his assistant.

  ‘Your Highness?’

  ‘Summon the security specialists. Tell them it’s very urgent and very lucrative.’

  His deep voice sounded as calm as the lake water looked. Duplicity was a practised skill for Prince Karl Ferand.

  Chapter 6

  The Departure

  The first Battle of Ostmere 1847.

  Kingdom Army of Valendo led by King-Consort General Garon Allus Artifex-Dendra.

  Deaths: approximately 1300.

  Kingdom Army of Nearhon led by King Klonag Ferand.

  Deaths: approximately 2300.

  — Excerpt from the War Histories of Valendo

  ‘Is he acceptable to you?’ Ceoric asked.

  ‘What does that have to do with anything?’ Sebastian replied.

  ‘It is the proper protocol. If you think the new ambassador the Emirians have sent is underqualified or otherwise unsuitable, you may reject him.’

  Sebastian drew a deep breath and looked out the window. There was a beautiful midsummer day beginning out there and he wished he was in it. ‘Oh, sun’s light father, I’m the one that’s underqualified and unsuitable.’ Ceoric frowned, so Sebastien added, ‘I have a notebook full of questions I couldn’t answer. That assumes I remembered and wrote down all the things I couldn’t answer. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ambassador is on a fast horse back to Tri as we speak, eager to tear up decades of agreements and part themselves from Valendo due to my incompetence.’

  Ceoric waited, the wisdom of patience or because he didn’t yet know how to respond. Even he wasn’t sure which.

  ‘It was embarrassing. I’ve never been so embarrassed.’

  Ceoric looked up at the ceiling, an unspoken prayer for hel
p on his mind.

  Sebastian studied his hands, which were gripped together with fingers interlaced in front of him. ‘When you are here at all, you spend hours, even days helping Pragius,’ he said. ‘I get a book to read one night.’ Releasing his hands, he gestured dismissively around the room at the books lining the walls of the king’s private office. ‘How’s that supposed to help? I’m not even comfortable doing this sort of thing.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that, but we’ve all got to learn to play our part here.’

  ‘Isn’t the king supposed to deal with ambassadors, anyway?’

  ‘Well, it was what your grandmother did.’

  ‘See what I mean?’

  ‘Valendo is forever becoming a more complex kingdom to rule. I am run ragged, Sebastian. So much happens in Halimouth. I have no choice but to spend much of my time there. Some days I don’t know whether it is best to be there or here in Tranmure. Some days I awake unsure of which city I am in. I need you to be involved, Sebastian. What role do you think you should play? It’s all very noble and compassionate what you do at the hospital. Maybe if I had the choice I might like to do something different. At least some of the time.’ Ceoric, failing to suppress frustration, stood and picked over bookcases removing volumes as he spoke. ‘No, I don’t begrudge being king. It’s a duty and an honour given to me by God, and by God I’ll do it — however hard it is.’ He pulled out more volumes. ‘But I need you to play a part. That’s your duty.’ He dumped a pile of books on the table in front of Sebastian. Sebastian glared at his father, who ignored this and asked, ‘Did he ask about soldier numbers in Norvale?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Sebastian.

  ‘Thought he would. What kind of man is he?’

  ‘He was a soldier, then a military leader and then an ambassador. He’s been all over the place.’ Sebastian held the glare.

  ‘Well, he would take more interest in military matters then, wouldn’t he?’