Rising Vengeance (The Anarian Chronicles Book 1)

by Stephen Trolly

  Kallin stood up next, not giving Lady Elshay any time to voice an argument. “And on behalf of the Morschcoda Council of Anaria, I recognize the newly appointed Morschcoda Edya Reeshnar of Drogoda.”

  “Thank you Morschcoda Kallin. My first act as Morschcoda is to extend an invitation to The Learned of Storinea to remain in the city until such time as they wish to leave or are no longer needed.”

  He smiled and nodded. “On behalf of my soldiers, I accept your invitation, Morschcoda Edya.”

  * * * * *

  Edya looked out from the high walls of Alquendiro’s palace. Only a few people got to see the view from those walls, and though as High General, she could have gone there if she had wished, she never had. Now she did, seeking the solitude that she knew she could never have again. Someone was there ahead of her, and turned around to greet her as she stepped out onto the palace roof.

  She choked back a cry as the man turned around. He was not Taren, but he resembled him so closely. “Greetings, Morschcoda Reeshnar,” the man said as he bowed his head, which she took to mean he held himself as almost equal with a Morschcoda.

  “Greetings to you as well, though I don’t know you. I’m afraid that I must also ask how you know that I’m the Morschcoda of Drogoda. I was only named a few hours ago.”

  “I know much that happens throughout Anaria. When you were named High General, I expected that Taren’s death would soon follow. Your claim, as High General of Drogoda, was really the only one that had a chance for the title of Morschcoda in the absence of such a man as Taren was.”

  “That still doesn’t explain who you are.” A hard edge crept into her voice. She expected evasive answers from Morschcoda or other politicians. She did not want them from others.

  “Forgive me. I forgot that you yourself have never been to the Garuthen Mountains. I” he said, drawing himself up to his full height, “am El Darnen.”

  Edya was speechless for several minutes. “But, if you’re here, then-”

  “Morschcoda Mectar is safe. She was leaving the mountains herself when I decided that I should visit Alquendiro and speak to Daliana once again. Her Majesty is here?”

  “Queen Daliana left the capital earlier today.”

  “Nyjeta. I needed to talk with her. Is Morschcoda Erygan here?”

  “No, he left before Daliana did, and in a bad mood.”

  “Quandro Hesta!” he swore loudly. It was a more refined version, meaning the Old Morschen way of speaking, of the more common curse ‘Three Hells.’ “I don’t have time to go after him myself, and by now he’ll be well beyond the range of my abilities.”

  “Morschcoda Kallin is here.”

  “Worse than useless to me.”

  Just then a soldier marched up and handed a message to Edya. “Who’s it from?”

  “Grand Admiral Tarick Jreshti, Morschcoda.”

  Taking the letter, she broke the seal, a water lily in the center of a rippling pattern, which she recognized as the Admiral’s seal from when she saw his Signet ring in Grathen Harbour, and quickly scanned the contents. They did not make her feel any better.

  “What is it?”

  She did not know how advisable it was to tell the man who claimed to be El Darnen about her battle plans, but she did anyway. “Admiral Jreshti was supposed to ambush a huge Deshik fleet at the Dragon’s Claws. He waited there for almost one month before the fleet arrived. It was much larger than anyone thought it would be. He thinks that he may have destroyed as much as one quarter of the Deshik reinforcements, but there were still over four hundred thousand warriors to deal with before he had to retreat. He lost all but six of his ships.”

  “The Admiral has done his part, but your navy can do no more.” He paused in thought for a moment. “Though if it could, I believe that Lord Barthen Grosht might be more than willing and perfectly able to take on a new position.” He gave her a look that seemed to imply that she should put Lord Barthen in charge of the navy. “Unfortunately, this may be the first and last discussion that we will ever share with each other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some of my people have decided that if the Deshika want Anaria, and are both willing and able to pay the prices that they already have to take it, no Morschen army will stop them or convince them that they don’t have the strength to defeat us. Though I don’t agree with them, their argument is persuasive, and has taken hold throughout my camp. They’ve decided that Anaria should be left to those too stupid to move on, and they intend to move westward, out of the mountains, and out of Anaria.”

  “But …”

  “Believe me when I say that I don’t want to leave. There are those who will stay with me, but most of my people want to be left in peace, and peace means that they want to leave. I can’t do anything more except provide a safe retreat for the armies of the Morschen.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m sorry, Morschcoda, but everything begun by Taren is at its end. I will take my leave, now.” And with that, he left the roof.

  * * * * *

  “Rider Encarthian!” She shouted as soon as she got out to the training grounds of the Spear of Drogoda. The tall Rider, already looking different from when he had returned half dead from Rista, rode over and dismounted, bowing respectfully.

  “Yes, Morschcoda General?”

  “I need you to take charge of the Spear of Drogoda. You are now High General of Drogoda. Bear it well.”

  “Me, my lady?”

  “Yes, you. And the first thing that I need you to do is send out Riders. Erygan could be anywhere, but I need Riders to go to him and ask him to return, at my request, not Daliana’s. I also need you to carry orders to Admiral Jreshti. Tell him that I am placing Lord Barthen Grosht at the head of Drogoda’s navy. I need it to be rebuilt, and I need to know that someone who isn’t drunk most of the time is the one doing it. Take news to Morschcoda Marsharin and Gundara that the Deshika have landed. Don’t try to find Morschcoda Mectar. I don’t know where she is and don’t bother warning Daken. He must know already. You also need to send word of the Deshik arrival to Dishmo Kornara.”

  “It will be done, my lady.”

  * * * * *

  Over the next two weeks, reports trickled into Alquendiro. Most were not the kind that Edya wanted to hear. The Deshika had overrun northern Meclarya, almost as far south as the Emin-Tal plateau. Daken had evacuated most of his people into the Eagle’s Roost Mountains, despite his fear that someone or something that had a grudge against the Dragon People haunted the mountain range. Western Rista and parts of Eastern Torridesta had been seized, and those that had not escaped in time pressed into slavery, those that survived, at least. Marrdin had turned back from his march near Drogoda’s northern border, just south of the Emin-Tal, where he hoped that he could ambush the Deshika if they marched further south. Erygan marched northward to ensure his own borders held, but at least recognized that Edya was the legal Morschcoda of Drogoda. He said that if called for, he would return to Alquendiro, but the Deshika were too close to Toredo to risk bringing his army. Daken refused any summons by Edya, though he too recognized her as Morschcoda. He could not afford to let any Morschledu leave his country. Galeth Tendornin had been recalled to Airachni from Dishmo Kornara, and Meclarya’s capital city was preparing for the inevitable siege, now that Makret could find no more reason to delay.

  * * * * *

  Makret himself came to Alquendiro when he heard the rumour that Edya had taken the Flowing Throne. Edya did not consider it to be the best time, but Makret compensated by providing information that she wanted badly.

  “You have nerve coming here again, traitor.”

  “I think you know that I only did what I had to. As did you.”

  “But what I had to do didn’t come to slaughtering Morschen.”

  “It will come to the same thing in the end, Edya. Especially since Taren’s final act.”

  “Why especially since then?” She tried hard to contain the hatred in h
er voice, but she could not. The words came out harshly.

  He did not question the anger. He accepted that he deserved it. “Before Taren slaughtered the Deshika at Agrista, The Kindler believed that he had the strength to slowly conquer Anaria, city by city and country by country. Then, he didn’t necessarily want to destroy the Morschcoda. He thought that you might be useful in controlling your countries once the Deshika had taken them for him. But then Taren made things difficult, which made things more complicated. It almost revealed me as a spy in The Kindler’s camp, slowing his movements, making small gains with heavy losses. I really did try to make him think that Anaria wasn’t worth the price that would have to be paid, but he cares less about the Deshika than Taren did. I tried to force the War Chiefs to release the slaves, but not even my command could do that. I did manage to get word to a dozen Ringlords before they were taken. They escaped further west, deeper into Torridesta. But it still comes back to Taren. The Deshik defeat at Agrista was no victory, no matter what I said before. It only served to convince The Kindler that larger armies and more devastating measures were needed to subdue Anaria.”

  The Raging Storm

  Try though she did, Edya could not refute Makret’s statements. The Kindler would crush Anaria, or if he did not, others of the Seven Devils would crush it for him. It was an impossible situation, but it was her duty to ensure that, if nothing else, the fall of the Morschen was glorious, and would forever inspire awe and terror among the Deshika. Shaking her head at those thoughts, she turned once more to the detailed drawings of the Deshik camps given to her by the few Dragon Riders that dared the skies north of the Emin-Tal Highlands. The Deshik Shamans were not adept at harnessing and wielding the wild elemental magic that was powerful throughout Anaria’s wilds, but their own magic, their twisted abominations of the Morschledu’s art, was still dangerous, and even more so to the Morschen who had never fought against such things. Eight Dragon Riders had died to get these drawings. Galeth Tendornin had been one of them. His loss was a heavy blow against the Morschen and to her especially, as he was one of her last links to Taren, and only served to inflame the argument that Anaria was already lost and that if the Deshika wanted Anaria, they could have it. The Morschen could go elsewhere. Edya pulled out a larger map that showed Meclarya in detail as Kallin walked in.

  “Is there any news?” She asked him.

  “None that you want to hear or have not heard before.”

  “Are things still going that badly?”

  “No. But they are not going well.” He walked over to the map and pointed as he spoke. “Daken has decided that the Emin-Tal Plateau is far too valuable strategically to just hand over to the Deshika. He has abandoned Airachni and marched to the Highlands. Reports say that he actually drove back the Deshik front.”

  “That’s not unhopeful.”

  “I have heard from some of our fellow Morschcoda. Apparently, Makret has decided that his most immediate threat is Meclarya. He has withdrawn most of his forces from western Rista. Erygan believes he is able to retake it, but he waits for word from you. The southern Morschcoda are attempting to organize their armies. They mean to march north to aid Daken.”

  “Gelida?”

  “Despite the Serpent’s assurances, Gelida has not been seen or heard from since Daliana returned to Alquendiro from the mountains, almost a month ago. But what of Daliana? I have heard nothing from her since she went back to Eshtam-Nis.”

  Edya shook her head as she answered. “Neither have I.” Kallin lowered his head, his eyes half closed, trying to push past his mental limits to call on Daliana, two hundred leagues away. Edya closed her eyes and bowed her head. In her mind, she tried desperately to find a place of calm, a flat pool as still as glass that reflected nothing, such as she did when she fought with other Tai-Aren Coda. But she could not loose herself from her thoughts. Finally, she looked up again at Kallin, who had made no progress. “Tell Erygan that he can try to retake western Rista, but he can’t hold it. We need his armies. Tell him that I need him to be at the Emin-Tal Highlands with the rest of the Morschcoda. He need not worry about his lands. With luck, we’ll draw the eye of The Kindler to the south.”

  “I will do that.” He seemed, to Edya, to be against the idea, but she had no choice. If they ground this force out of existence, it might scare the other Deshik armies enough that they would not come. Unfortunately, that also meant that some of the Deshika had to survive the war to escape across the sea. The Kindler certainly would not spread the news of the Deshika being routed in a way that would inspire terror among the rest of the Deshik armies.

  * * * * *

  Edya went back to the roof of the palace. As far she was concerned, the view from the roof could not be matched by anything in all of the rest of Anaria. On calm days, the sea was tranquil, lying flat and still, and in clear air, it was said that one could see as far as the Miashny Islands that lay near the center of the massive inland sea. ‘Today’ thought Edya sullenly ‘is no such day.’ The Sea of Drogoda, tossed by the wind that was roaring down from the north, held a wild and dangerous beauty. The white caps of the waves crashing into the blue and green water, or against the grey stone and water blackened wood of the piers, reminded her and everyone else of the raw power of the ocean unchained. She leaned against the tall battlement of the palace rooftop and sighed.

  “Unfortunately, such powers are of no help us,” said a voice behind her.

  She jumped at the voice. It sounded so much like Taren that she had to choke back a cry as she turned around. Even then, she had a hard time believing, as before when she first saw him, that El Darnen and Taren were different people.

  “That makes two questions that I need to ask you.”

  “No. I haven’t managed to convince my people to remain in Anaria. I’ve argued with them for two weeks now.”

  “Actually, I was more concerned with how you knew what I was thinking, and with how you got up here when it is forbidden to all but a few people.” Another question leapt to her lips. “Have you seen or heard from Gelida since you were here last?”

  “I will answer three questions, then. First, Taren and I often spoke up here. The guards haven’t changed, and they remember me. As for how I knew what you were thinking, I’m a Ringlord of Water, and when I stood here last, I thought that if I could unchain the oceans themselves, perhaps that would return this land to peace. Sadly, the task is beyond me. The Ringlords of old were more powerful by far than those of us who walk the world’s weary circles today, but I think that it would’ve been beyond even them.”

  Edya fell silent. As unhopeful as his speculations and musings were, they gave her a strange sense of comfort. She almost felt like a young soldier again, with her commanding officer reassuring her. Nothing had calmed her raw nerves half so well as the reassurance of a man of great experience. El Darnen may have been a criminal to most of Anaria, but he was still one of the closest things to Taren that existed, and with the death of Galeth, maybe the only real tie to him that she had left. She turned again to the sea, and saw that, though the storm still raged, the water moved with less violence than before. “And Gelida?”

  “As for Gelida … she has more pressing concerns than sending messages back and forth between Galzeen and Alquendiro. The city is divided. Many of the Noldorin want the same thing that my people do … to leave and never come back. She is having a hard time holding the people to her, and she refuses to have her armies march against those she swore to protect as their Morschcoda.”

  “The timing is too perfect.”

  “You sense it too?”

  “There is more to the division in Noldoron than mere coincidence. I have to go.”

  “Go, and you will die. This must be what The Kindler wants. To distract us, force us to look westward even as he brings his armies down along the coast. If Drogoda marches to Noldoron, even just to restore peace, then Meclarya, Grathen Province, and Caladea will fall.”

  “We need her armies.”

&n
bsp; “You don’t need them that badly. Not yet.”

  “I can’t allow Noldoron to fall. Gelida is too strong of a leader to waste her life before the war has even started.”

  The two stood in silence, staring out at the raging water. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “What?”

  “You need someone to restore order in Noldoron. The Greshida hasn’t abandoned me yet. We will do this one last thing before leaving, to ensure that everyone knows that we did our part.”

  “El Darnen, I …”

  “I know, Edya. I won’t likely see you again, so goodbye.”

  * * * * *

  The Kindler looked at the man before him. He knelt on his left knee, his left hand rested on the hilt of a long, nameless sword that The Kindler knew he could wield with deadly ability. His right hand bore a Ring of silver, set with a band of small sapphires that wound around the entire circle, like a small river between silver shores. The Ring reminded him of the first days of the war that had raged throughout all the long ages of the world, thought to have ended with the upstart wretch Taren that he himself had killed. It had only started a long period of waiting while the Seven still slumbered. The shores of the lands belonging to The Seven had been closer to the lands of the cursed Nations of the League of Anaria, of which there were now only ten. Those days had been a time when only a wide river had separated the two continents, and the League was made up of all manner of beings: Cartarin from beyond the mountains, humans from Alega and Acrosa, Anarian Morschen, Elves, Dwarves, and the mysterious Forgers. Now the barrier river had become a vast ocean, wider than he even cared to contemplate, and the League of Anaria was long broken. The Cartarin, if there were any left, no longer trusted the Morschen, and the Morschen had all but forgotten the Cartarin’s existence. The Forgers had been exterminated, and the Elves had fled. The Dwarves had retreated deep into their underground realms, and had not been seen since the end of The Eternal War. And the humans of Alega and Acrosa, they were under The Kindler’s rule. Even had they been free of him, the Morschen despised the humans across the ocean, if they even knew that their ancient allies still existed. The Ring on Makret’s hand was significant for other reasons than the memories it triggered. The man who bowed before him could have been one of his greatest enemies, second only to one who was now dead. ‘It is a good thing’ thought The Kindler in the deepest recesses of his mind, where not even the others of The Seven could have heard him, ‘that these wretched Morschen do not know what their ancestors were truly capable of. What they themselves are still capable of.’ Yes, he could feel the true strength of the wild currents of raw elemental magic that coursed through Makret Druoth. This was a man of incredible power, whose strength harkened back through a long lineage unbroken to the fathers of the youngest and greatest of the Morschen Nations. And Makret Druoth, the arrogance of his forefathers as clearly a part of him as it was of others in those days, long after the wars between their kind and his, met and held his stare, something few mortals had ever done and lived to tell of. In a way, the man’s arrogance impressed The Kindler. If any of The Seven should truly fall, not just be put to sleep, but die indeed, here was one who was worthy of replacing them. Finally, The Kindler spoke as he turned around, hating that a mortal could match his gaze.