Rising Vengeance (The Anarian Chronicles Book 1)

by Stephen Trolly

  “There was a reason he wanted the book sent as far from Agrista as possible, Marrdin.”

  “What would that be, though? If he desired nothing more than the book’s safety, then where it was could not be safer, especially now.”

  “I think,” Galeth broke in, “that Taren knew that Agrista would end up as a ruin standing in a lake. Yes, that means only a Drog can retrieve it, but Makret was Taren’s most trusted advisor and friend. Makret would have known where the book was. He obviously thought that the book would be safer somewhere within his empire’s borders. And I think that Taren wanted his part of the book read. No one can lie in that book. The enchantments on it are ancient and powerful.”

  “You think that Taren named his heir in the book?”

  “Why not? The enchantments that bind the book prevent it from being read except under certain conditions, or so I understand, and nothing written in the book can be a lie. No one will dispute whoever his heir is if he or she is named in the book.”

  “Why not simply name an heir and announce him or her? No one would have disputed that, either.”

  A new voice broke in. “Because then one of Makret’s first jobs before we know that he is a traitor is to assassinate that person.”

  All four jumped at the sound of the new voice and looked toward its source. There, in the same long, baggy robes, ink-stained and dusty, stood Kallin Revdark. “Kallin. It is good to see you again.”

  “The circumstances are unfortunate, but, yes, it is good to see you again, Erygan.”

  * * * * *

  Edya walked along the walls on the northern side of Alquendiro. There was never any reason to guard that side, as it looked out over the inland Sea of Drogoda, in which Alquendiro stood upon an island near the southern shore, so she knew she could be alone. When a Drog died in the city, they were taken to the docks and put in a small grey boat to be sent adrift with the tide. As the only living Reeshnar, she considered the northern wall the one place where she could speak to her ancestors. She was not surprised when Erygan walked up to the wall beside her.

  “Daliana and Gelida just rode in. Guinira is attempting to marshal the Flame Weavers, but she has sent Xari ahead by the portals.”

  “So, Ranny and Norrin are all that we are waiting for now.”

  “And Daken, but I don’t think he’ll come.”

  “Why not?”

  “General, Makret’s treachery nearly destroyed the Dragon Hearted. My borders are well defended, Norrin marches eastward, but Meclarya is weak. If Makret marches from Agrista, he will march on Airachni. They will need every Ringlord of any power that they can find.”

  “Galeth will have to stand for Daken, I assume.”

  “And you must stand for Taren.”

  Edya looked back over the water. “I can’t take Taren’s place, Morschcoda.”

  “Edya, you are the only one who can.”

  Again he chose to use her first name, and again, it confused her. She was not used to being treated as a Morschcoda’s equal. “I’m not Taren.”

  “No one is.” He paused for a few minutes, looking out over the water. “I knew Taren for over six hundred years. He was ninety seven when I met him, and had already been a Morschcoda for thirteen years. Do you know what the older Morschcoda called him?”

  “He never told me.”

  “He was called ‘the Prince of Chaos’ by practically everyone whose opinions mattered.”

  “The Prince of Chaos? You are talking about the man who controlled Anaria?”

  “It seems hard to believe now, I know. But Taren didn’t just come home from Armanda and start a war. He was either too smart or too self-centered for that. Probably both. No, he was the Prince of Morieden. He turned it into a kingdom. He closed the borders to the rest of Drogoda, confiscated practically all trade that passed through the province; he kidnapped, threatened, or simply just bought his father’s supporters.”

  “How?”

  “Morieden Province makes up half of Drogoda. Half of your Brotherhood of the Mordak comes from the Morieden Tribes. And at least three quarters of Drogoda’s silver mines are in the north. Taren stole a fortune, bought food from Dothoro at three times its price just because he could afford to, and disrupted half of the trade in Anaria for a year. Then his father started the war, which Taren won.” Erygan summed it up in one short sentence. “The Prince of Chaos.”

  Edya, though not surprised at what Taren had once been like, shook her head at Erygan. “What are you trying to say, Erygan? I’m tired of wordplay and stories that have half-hidden meanings. Dealing with two Morschcoda is trying enough, and now, because I am one of the only people with any authority in Drogoda, I must deal with eight. So please, speak plainly while words still have meaning.”

  “I knew Taren for longer than most alive today. He was never the most predictable person, but I think he would have wanted you to take his place now.” With that, Erygan left the wall.

  Daliana and Gelida eventually made their way to the wall where Edya watched. Daliana waited quietly, but Gelida spoke. “I’ve never seen this much water in one place before.”

  “You must have seen something like this.”

  “This is my first trip into eastern Anaria.”

  “There are lakes and rivers in the west, as well.”

  “Nothing is this large.”

  Daliana broke in. “Edya, something is bothering you. Erygan told me that you’re afraid, that you don’t think yourself either ready or suited to stand in Taren’s place, but I don’t think he’s right. I feel a sense of … loss, coming from you.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I might not. But you can’t be certain of that.”

  Edya stood straighter, and turned as if to leave, and then sat heavily with her back against the wall. “It’s not something where I can stop and continue later. I mean, I don’t want to stop, so,” she said as Gelida and Daliana sat next to her. She cleared her throat once, and then, with a shaky voice, started the tale. “Taren was one of the closest things to a father that I ever had. The first time I ever saw him, it wasn’t a dark warrior with deadly skill in battle that so many only knew him as. It wasn’t even as the skilled manipulator and politician that the rest of the world saw. It was an ordinary man, sometimes a king, who loved his people, who I thought would rather be one of them than their ruler. He was about four hundred years old, and I was only twelve, but I knew that given a chance, I would die for him, because I knew in my heart that he would die for his people… for me.” She stopped to wipe a tear away from her eye. “I was twelve and my brother was ten. We were playing in the street. We never heard him, even though the whole Spear was with him. He was riding to The Councils, I think. Anyway, neither of us moved, because we didn’t know anyone was using the road. It was just some deserted side road anyway, not the main streets through the city. Not a road you’d expect to see any Morschcoda on, though Mordak Riders were a common enough site. It wasn’t one of the more pleasant areas in Alquendiro, I can tell you that. It was almost ten minutes later that I looked up and saw Taren, sitting on his Mordak, kind of leaning forward, resting on his arms. He was smiling at us. He stopped one hundred Riders so as not to interrupt two children he didn’t know.”

  “That sounds like Taren.”

  Edya choked back her tears. “I wouldn’t have thought any of the Morschcoda saw that side of him.”

  “It was only the one time. He had just seized Dothoro, and was visiting me where Makret had had me kept. He was about to leave, but he relaxed for a moment. Just a few seconds, just when I think he was tired of hiding behind himself. He actually laughed, if you can believe it. Every other time I saw him, though, his face was harder than stone.”

  “I only met him once” said Gelida. “In the Garuthen Mountains, after Guinira had killed my father. It wasn’t that long ago, actually. The only thing he did was arrest Guinira. He did send almost half of the Spear to ensure I made it to Galzeen, though. I didn’t think that he
was as distant as many people make him out to be. He seemed to be so high above everybody there, but he made sure that everybody was treated fairly and well. I never understood it until now.”

  “I know. I was told after, in Ra-Diavere. I was left in command of a detachment of Rider’s when Makret used the Brotherhood to ambush Ranny in Dothoro.”

  “Is there more to your story, Edya?”

  She nodded. “Almost fifty years later, I was training with ordinary cavalry. I was only sixty, so even if I had been of more than common birth, I wouldn’t have been tested for either a Ring or a Mordak. I think that Taren had kept track of me, or had someone who did, because he summoned me that day. I don’t know why, and I probably never will, but I remember running to the throne room. I think it was because I didn’t dare keep him waiting, not even a reasonable time. I had to wait for my escort to catch up so that no one would think a commoner was trying to break into the throne room. When they did catch up, though, they just opened the door and pushed me through. Taren, Makret, and I were the only ones in the room. It was the strangest thing I think I had ever seen or will see again.” In the middle of her tears, she gave a small laugh. “I think that the day’s audiences had just finished, or maybe a meeting with the Mordak Council, because they both looked exhausted. Makret was sitting on the ground, leaning against the front of Taren’s throne. Taren was sitting sideways. His head was laying on one armrest, and his legs were over the other. I stopped and bowed about halfway down the throne room, but Makret just waved me forwards. Makret stood up, and Taren did too, which was surprising. Taren almost never stood for anybody, and then he had a servant bring me a chair. We talked for hours, I don’t remember what about. Just a meaningless discussion. And then Taren asked me if I had ever been tested for a Ring. I said no, and the next thing I knew, he was leading me himself through the castle to the treasure room. A massive table filled with Rings, more than I will likely ever see again, stood in almost the exact centre of the room. That was so whoever was being tested could be the exact centre, I guess. That was Taren’s explanation, at least. Well, as anyone can see now, this Ring chose me.” She held up her right hand, where a silver Ring set with three small blue Sapphires graced her first finger. She stroked it once with her thumb and continued. “Several months later, the same thing happened, except I was tested to become a Mordak Rider. I passed the test, it wasn’t really difficult, and one of the first things that happened was Taren almost immediately named me a Captain and put me in charge of a group of fifty Riders.” Here, she broke down into tears for several minutes. Gelida put her arm around Edya’s shoulders, and gave her something between a squeeze and a hug. “I’m sorry.” She finally managed to push through her lips. “My father was a member of the Spear of Drogoda. He died protecting Taren from an assassin when I was two years old, only two months after my brother had been born. My mother died the day after my brother turned six, and my brother died five years ago. Taren had him tested as I was, but he never joined the Spear. He was second in command to one of the Masters of the Brotherhood. I have no idea which one. He died at Agrista when the Brotherhood rode against the Deshika there.” She paused again, turning her head so that she could see the Sea of Drogoda glistening through the battlement. “Taren saw my skill with a sword early on. I don’t think many people believed him, but Taren insisted that I learn to be a master. He wanted to teach me himself, but that would never have been allowed. No one ever was really able to explain why. Maybe if he had really been my father, instead of the closest thing I ever had to one, he could have. As it was, he arranged for the best instructors. Two gave up on me. They were used to teaching people who had more than basic military training. In two hundred years, I haven’t heard their names again. I think Taren banished them. The third was more patient. She said that she believed Taren that I had talent, and not just because Taren was Taren. She really thought I had the ability to become Tai-Aren Coda. And I did, two months ago. After I became Aren Coda, I was named by three of the five Masters of the Brotherhood to join the Spear. Taren had something to do with that I think, because I don’t think anyone has ever been admitted to the Spear without being a True-Arms Master.” She stopped, trying to find the right words.

  “Did you love him?”

  Edya looked as hard as she could at Daliana. They both knew that it was a pointed question, but Edya knew that it was not meant to be. She sighed. “That’s hard to answer. Taren was the closest thing to a father that I can remember having. He looked out for me, I assume because of my father, and he saw that I and my brother were well looked after. He is the reason I am what I am. And I think that I am the reason that Makret betrayed him.”

  “What?”

  “Did you not know that Makret was”

  “Yes, I knew that. But how can you blame yourself for Makret’s fall?”

  “I don’t think that he ever liked me. As the commander of the Spear, and Drogoda’s High General, he had an important say in the vote that made me a member of it, but he couldn’t go against three Masters of the Brotherhood and Taren. He forced Taren to concede that he couldn’t train me himself, and he did speak against my promotions in the Spear. I think that he thought Taren was replacing him. Makret was another sort of like me. Taren had literally pulled Makret’s head out of the noose when they were both young and reckless, as opposed to the old and reckless men they turned into, and then he ensured the same things that eventually happened to me happened for Makret. So I think that Makret thought that Taren had decided that Makret was no longer fit to be his second in command.”

  “If you’re the reason Makret betrayed Taren, then it is even more important for you to take Taren’s place.”

  “I can’t take Taren’s place.” Edya’s voice came back stronger, without cracking the way it had before. “Only Taren’s heir can rule Drogoda. And I am not his heir.”

  “How do you know? If he was practically your father-”

  “But I am not his daughter. I’m not his heir, Daliana. I know that.”

  Just then, Galeth came running up the stairs. “Kallin is calling all Morschcoda or whoever stands for them. He’s preparing to open the book.”

  The Words of Taren Garrenin

  Edya felt uncomfortable and out of place among the eight Morschcoda. She knew that Galeth felt similar, but he had held an important place in his country for far longer than she had in hers. Erygan had sent Torridestan Portallers to hasten Ranny’s and Norrin’s arrivals, as they could wait no longer. Kallin began by slowly, reverently lowering El Kardi Morschcoda onto the table that the ten stood around.

  “Many of us called Taren Garrenin our king. We looked to him and to Drogoda. We made our own decisions, but we answered to Taren. But now, our situation is desperate. There are many Morschen claiming to have seen one or more of the Seven Devils on Anarian soil. Many Ristans claim to have seen The Kindler himself. Makret Druoth has betrayed us, and Taren Garrenin is dead. Seven of us were Morschcoda when Taren proclaimed himself King of Drogoda. Seven of us here were pledged to him. Are those of you who served him willing to bow to whoever he has named? We cannot afford to break apart.” Gelida nodded, but the rest betrayed nothing. “And those of you who did not own Taren as your lord, will you abide by his decision? Whether you bow to them or not, it will affect you.”

  Erygan looked at Norrin and Marrdin. “We are agreed. Taren was many things, but we aren’t inclined to believe that his choice would prove ill for us, either personally or for Anaria. We won’t pledge ourselves, but we will support whoever Taren has named.”

  “Then we shall open El Kardi Morschcoda.” Beginning to chant, Kallin flipped several pages, until he stopped at one closer to the front than Edya thought it should have been. “Hear now the words of Taren Garrenin, as written in his own hand, and read from El Kardi Morschcoda, as has never been done before, in this age of the world.” Kallin began reading, but at first, no one understood him. Edya thought that she could pick out words or sometimes even phrases, but not mu
ch more. She was glad to see that the others were confused. Kallin finally seemed to realize what was wrong.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so used to the old tomes of the Great Library, many of which are written in Old Morsch. I sometimes forget that it is a language few besides the Demosira now understand.”

  “Taren was fluent in Old Morsch. I’d forgotten that.”

  “So it seems, Erygan. I will begin again. Forgive the pauses that I will have to make, as it seems that I must translate as I read.” He once more bent over the words written in Taren’s firm but graceful hand.

  Many Morschcoda wait until well into their ninth century before choosing to tell the tale of the life that they have lived. Maybe it is because they do not wish to be seen as they truly are while they still wish to enjoy the time remaining to them. El Kardi Morschcoda isn’t biased. But this doesn’t worry me. No, it’s something else that drives me, for, though many even of the Ringless Morschen pass the tale of nine hundred years, I feel the ever increasing weight of my seven and one half centuries pressing me down, even as I sit here and write. I do not think that I shall live to see the completion of Lasheed’s purpose for which I was appointed, but I hope to at least see the Morschcoda Council continue. The Morschen, at the very least, I hope to allow to survive. My story is long and complicated, full of threats, regrets, contradictions, pointless musings not meant to be understood, although you, Kallin, might find them interesting, and several painful secrets that I had wished to take to the grave, and may still, but they must be said. I know some of you will hate me for what I have to put in writing. Some of you were probably only looking for an excuse. I know that everyone who reads this will be shocked at more than one point. As for certain things, I had hoped to say them in person, and maybe I still will, but the point approaches where Erygan and I will attempt to break the Anarian Treaty, so I count on very little.

  “This was written over fifty years ago,” exclaimed Ranny.