“Indeed,” Shailiha answered. “I thank you.”
Remembering the other reason he had wanted to contact his sister, Tristan again looked at her. The time had come, and there could be no denying it.
“Now that you have the needed information from Failee’s grimoire, there is one thing left to say,” Tristan told her. “It is important, and you must heed my advice well.”
“What is it?” Shailiha asked.
“It is unlikely that I will ever return to Eutracia,” he said. “Because of that, it is time for you to become Queen. I fully realize that this is a burden that you never thought you’d have to shoulder, but in the name of our late parents, you must. Our country needs a formal ruler.”
Before the princess could answer, Aeolus reached out and took one of her hands into his.
“TheJin’Sai is right,” he said. “We must accept the fact that although we can communicate with one another, the Conclave of the Vigors is probably forever divided, and our struggles have become separate and distinct. You are the reigningJin’Saiou and rightful heir to the throne. It is only right that you take power.”
Taking a deep breath, Shailiha looked at her brother. Although she could see and hear him as if he were sitting by her side, she missed him badly. She missed his impetuousness, his strength, his laughter, even his moodiness. But she also knew that he might never actually be with her again, and because of that, he was right. It was time for her to shoulder her responsibility.
“I accept,” she said to everyone. “And I thank you for your trust in me. But I think it only right that I not succeed to the throne until our struggle with the Viper Lord is finished. We must focus all of our attention on the calamity at hand. This is no time to prepare for a coronation.”
Wigg smiled broadly at her. “Spoken like a true queen,” he said. “Your parents would be proud.”
Mashiro reached out and touched Tristan on one arm. “With all due respect, Jin’Sai, we must end this viewing,” he proposed. “Both the Conclave and theInkai have urgent matters to attend to, and time is of the essence.”
Although Tristan did not want to see his sister go, he knew that theInkai elder was right. Looking back into Shailiha’s eyes, he told her so.
“I agree, brother,” she said. “Please stay safe, and may your coming battle see a victory for the Vigors.”
“And yours,” Tristan said.
With that, Mashiro dismantled the spell, and the image vanished.
After taking the medallion into his hand, Tristan held it thoughtfully for several moments before again placing its chain around his neck.
“Now, then,” Mashiro said soberly. “It is time.”
Tristan and the others knew full well what Mashiro meant. TheInkai elder would now imbue Tristan’s blood with Shashida’s versions of the banned forestallments and the language fluency forestallments. Each time before, the process had been excruciating and this time would likely be worse. Even so, there was no other choice, no going back.
“I understand,” Tristan said. “Where shall it be done?”
“The venue is immaterial,” Mashiro answered. “This meeting chamber is as good a place as any. The process will take some time and you must remain strong. If you survive the ordeal, you and Vespasian will be the two most powerful mystics in the world. You will not be as well trained in the craft as he, but your gifts of manipulating nature will be equally strong. Aside from Vespasian’s ability to rain fire as described by Julia, we cannot know the natures of his other banned gifts, or how many he possesses. But thePon Q’tar will not know that of yours, either. Are you still sure that you wish to do this thing?”
“Yes,” Tristan answered simply. “It has to be.”
“Very well,” Mashiro replied. “Because of the exquisite pain that you will suffer, Hoshi will place a warp about you to keep you from thrashing. We apologize for such crudeness, but it is needed to keep you from harming yourself.”
Mashiro nodded at Hoshi. She in turn looked at Tristan with sad eyes.
“Forgive me,” she said quietly.
At once Tristan felt himself engulfed in a warp the likes of which he had never experienced. Although it was not painful, his immobilization was perfect, unrelenting. The only movements allowed him were his quickening breath and the blinking of his eyes. Nervous perspiration started on his brow in anticipation of the horror to come.
Out of respect, Mashiro cast a sad look at Wigg, the man who had for so long been Tristan’s best friend and mentor. Although he too was saddened by what was about to happen, the First Wizard knew that there was no other choice if Shashida and the Vigors were to survive Vespasian’s onslaught. Closing his eyes, he gave Mashiro a reluctant nod.
At once a terrible fire poured through Tristan’s bloodstream. He desperately needed to move, to scream, to cry out and beg that it stop. But he couldn’t. He could only endure it. On and on the pain went, coursing through his system like a raging river. Sweat poured into his eyes, his heart raced, his soul shrieked in torment. As the process continued unabated, some were forced to turn their heads, while others brushed away tears that only kept returning.
In the end, the torturous process would take five full hours.
CHAPTER XLV
TWO DAYS AFTER DESTROYING THE CITY OF KAGOYA, Vespasian triumphantly stood in the Shashidan valley through which ran the mighty Alarik River. It was midday, the weather clear and bright. As he looked out across the amazing scene, the emperor couldn’t have been more pleased.
His destruction of Kagoya had been total. Despite the lengthy warnings that he had received from Gracchus, even he had been astonished by his new gifts. As Gracchus said, choosing a particular forestallment and then summoning its power had been simple things. Controlling it as it went about its awful work and then causing it to vanish on command had been far more difficult, however. With experience, your ability to control your new gifts will only grow, Gracchus had told him. Like some highly addictive drug, Vespasian’s new gifts beckoned tantalizingly, and he hungered to taste them again. With his day terrors finally gone and the banned forestallments waiting to be summoned, he had never felt so alive.
On seeing their emperor destroy Kagoya, his legionnaires had acquired an even greater reverence for him. They now considered Vespasian a demigod, his awesome command of the craft unlimited in its scope and fury. The final victory over Kagoya had fully redeemed the scheming lead cleric in the emperor’s eyes, and everyone believed that the total dominance of the Vagaries would not be long in coming.
Aside from his supply lines that stretched ever northward, Vespasian’s entire war machine had been moved to this valley by way of hundreds of azure portals. The Shashidan resistance had been stronger here, and many legionnaires had died.
Even so, the campaign had progressed too easily, Vespasian thought. His massive war machine’s string of successes continued to worry him and his advisors. It was almost as if the Shashidanswanted them to succeed, but the Rustannicans were at a complete loss as to why this might be the case. What was done was done, Vespasian realized, and there would be no turning back until their mission was complete. To stop the campaign now that the gold deposits had been taken would be absurd, even though the newly empowered warlord and every advisor in his service feared that a Shashidan trap was in the making. They had come for the gold, and they would stay in this place and take it.
Trying to cast off his concerns, Vespasian turned to admire the lush, beautiful valley and the majestic river that flowed through it. This area was one of the most awe-inspiring that he had ever seen, not to mention the richest. In the Rustannican dialect it was called Vallesis Majestatis, or the Valley of Majesty. The Shashidans called it Tani Kinkiro, the Valley of Gold. Vespasian found both names apt.
Running due north and south for more than one hundred leagues, at the valley’s heart laid the mighty Alarik River, fed by its seemingly endless branches. Legend said that hundreds of centuries were needed for the river to carve its way sout
h through the imposing granite peaks and to divide them into two separate mountain ranges. On leaving the valley the river flowed south toward the broad, flat plains that would later give rise to Ryoto, the capital of Shashida.
The opposing mountainsides rose leagues into the air, their tops so high that they lay perpetually covered with snow and ice. The craggy slopes had long ago become laden with pine trees, their green needles casting a clean scent into the air. Lush pastures and knolls lay on either side of the Alarik, their gentle swells extending from the riverbanks to where the mountainsides began rising toward the sky. Fish filled the Alarik and its many branches, and wildlife of every kind flourished amid the serene protection granted by the opposing mountain ranges.
To everyone’s surprise, the phrase “Shashidan gold mines” had been a misnomer. On reaching the Vallesis Majestatis, Vespasian and his forces were stunned to find that there were in fact no “mines” at all. Instead, the gold lay all about for the taking, the earth humbly offering up her treasures without demanding a great struggle of any kind.
Gold nuggets-the smallest among them easily the size of man’s hand-could be seen lying atop the Alarik River bed, their bright yellow color waving temptingly up through the rushing water. More gold could be found in countless veins that reached up the mountainsides, their vast wealth easily dislodged with the craft to tumble down the hillsides and land literally at the legionnaires’ feet. The pickings were easy, and seemed too good to be true. No matter from what source the gold came, more was found beneath it.
As best the Rustannicans could tell, these amazing deposits abounded for the entire length of the valley. Vespasian could easily understand why guarding this place was so difficult for the Shashidans. Because the valley was so huge, protecting it would require the presence of so many katsugai mosota that few would be left to fight the war. And because the gold fields lay so deep in Shashidan territory, an attack on them was highly unexpected. Even so, there had been many katsugai mosota here. Killing them had come at a cost, but not so great as to stop Vespasian’s legions from ruling the day.
After dispatching the enemy, Vespasian’s legions set to work harvesting the golden bounty that so temptingly presented itself. As an incentive to speed the task, he issued a decree that every legionnaire who survived and returned home at the end of the campaign would share in the plunder.
Hundreds of thousands of men toiled at picking up the gold, their sweating, bent backs stretching away toward each end of the valley as far as the eye could see. War tents by the thousands stood along the riverbank, forming an impromptu city made of canvas. The southerly flowing Alarik ran particularly fast through the valley, making Vespasian’s planned use of his barges to ferry the gold upstream largely unworkable. Even so, many tons of gold had already been sent home to Ellistium by way of the azure portals, and more was leaving Shashida by the minute.
Despite this place’s obvious temptations, a great danger lay here, and Vespasian knew it. The very idea of his army being enclosed in a valley was a military nightmare. If the Shashidans closed off both ends of the Vallesis Majestatis, his forces’ only avenue of escape would be the azure portals, which in turn would mean abandoning the gold fields. Unless his trapped legions escaped by portal, the barbaric katsugai mosota would come charging down the valley from both ends, trapping Vespasian’s legions in the middle. In hopes of preventing an attack inside the valley, he had sent three legions to guard each valley entrance. As his worries taunted him, Vespasian was soon reminded of a famous military tenet. No man fights so hard as he who defends his homeland, he remembered. If and when the katsugai arrived in force, they would fight very hard indeed.
Vespasian turned to see Lucius and Persephone approaching. The First Tribune held a wax diptych in one hand. Smiling broadly, he removed his helmet and placed it under one arm. Persephone came to her husband’s side and looped one arm though his.
“It goes amazingly well, my liege,” Lucius said, handing the diptych to Vespasian.
“Is this the latest count?” the emperor asked.
Lucius nodded. “Even so, it grows by the moment! The gold deposits are staggering in their abundance! It seems that no matter how much we take, more always lies beneath, ripe for the picking!”
Vespasian opened the diptych and he ran his eyes down the single page. As expected, the report was in Gracchus’ handwriting. Even the emperor was stunned by what it said.
The amount of gold already sent home to Ellistium was greater than the largest amount that had ever existed in her treasury. At this rate, in mere days the empire’s coffers would hold a nearly incomprehensible amount. Vespasian smiled as he realized that the Rustannican imperial mint would be stamping new coins for decades or longer, and that each coin would bear his likeness.
Despite the encouraging tally, as Vespasian looked around the valley again his expression saddened. Unable to understand why, Persephone gave her husband a questioning look.
“What troubles you, my love?” she asked. “In only a few more days we will have sent more gold home than we could ever have imagined! Who knew that it would be so easily harvested? Your campaign is a towering success!”
“Perhaps,” he answered. “Even so, our problems have not ended.” Vespasian shook his head.
“It’s thisplace, Persephone,” he said quietly. “We must tarry here because the gold lies here. But as a military stronghold, this valley is a nightmare. We must soon decide how long to stay and loot the fields, because every moment that passes brings us that much closer to engaging the Shashidans. If they somehow close off both ends of the valley-”
“A necessary gamble, my liege,” Lucius said. “We have legions posted at both the northern and southern valley entrances. At the first sign of the Shashidans, our forces will engage them, and they will personally inform us by way of one of the azure portals. You may put your entire trust in them. They have never failed us.”
“I know, I know,” Vespasian answered, rubbing his brow. His heart was filled with a strange blend of euphoria and impending doom, and the conflicting emotions showed on his face. “It’s not a matter of whether the Shashidans come, but when. They’ll divide their forces, then try to seal off both ends of the valley, I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be so certain?” Persephone asked.
“Because that’s what I would do,” Vespasian answered grimly. “A schoolchild could grasp its effectiveness! But there’s more to my worries. Being imprisoned between these imposing peaks makes me wonder whether our campaign plan should be changed.”
“To what end?” Lucius asked.
“Persephone said it best,” Vespasian answered. “Because we can simply pluck the gold from nature as one might harvest fruit from a tree, our work proceeds exceedingly fast. Soon we will have sent more gold home to Ellistium than we ever dreamed possible. Perhaps we should then abandon this valley and move on, for it is too far away from home for us to hold as conquered territory. I long for the maneuvering room that only being away from these imposing peaks can afford. Here in this valley we toil like rats in a trap.”
“There is little else that we can do for now,” Lucius said. “I suggest that we review the process for sending the gold home. More than anything else, it will remind us why we ventured into this barbaric land.”
Letting go a short smile, Vespasian nodded. “Very well,” he said to Lucius. “Lead on.”
The trio sauntered along the Alarik toward one of the many staging areas where the gold was being weighed and the sums tallied before being shipped home. Many such stations lay up and down the length of the valley. Despite the hundreds of thousands of eager legionnaires working away, Vespasian knew that even if his forces toiled here for months, they couldn’t harvest a fraction of the massive Shashidan deposits. Although their take would be vast, in a strange way that knowledge also disheartened him.
In the end, what will we have accomplished? he wondered as he walked. No matter how much gold his legions took from this place
, the amount would be finite. He could imagine the imperial coffers back in Ellistium full to overflowing as never before. But for how long would the plunder last?
Unless he struck Shashida a fatal blow here and now, not even thePon Q’tar could predict how long the War of Attrition might continue. Given the great wealth of this valley, Shashida might be able to finance her war needs endlessly. Soldiers and weapons of war were replaceable, up to a point. But because Rustannica’s indigenous gold deposits were nearing depletion, Rustannica could again become a victim of her own successes, and even the stolen gold reserves would one day be used up.
Taking Ryoto was the key, he knew. If he could kill the members of theChikara Inkai and the Kokkai Kokumen, the total defeat of Shashida would soon follow. But how much gold should be harvested before he ordered this valley abandoned? And when he did, in what direction should he send his legions-homeward to safety, or onward toward Ryoto and an uncertain future?
At first his goal had been only to send as much gold as possible to Ellistium, then retreat homeward to fight this war another day and with vastly renewed strength. But no Rustannican force in history had advanced this close to Ryoto. Taking the Shashidan capital was so tempting that he knew he must strategize only with his head, not his heart. Then Vespasian smiled wryly as he remembered that being on campaign was always a far different and far uglier thing than was proposing it to the Suffragat in the luxurious surroundings of the Aedifficium.
Were his legions’ recent successes due to luck, he wondered, or were the Shashidans cleverly drawing him in? Now that his new gifts had been realized and Ryoto lay before him, should he continue this fight to its finish? That was what Gracchus wanted. And what of theJin’Sai? he wondered. If Tristan reached Shashida, he was surely in Ryoto, plotting with theChikara Inkai. As Gracchus said, there would be no better time for Vespasian to kill theJin’Sai than now, hopefully before the Vigors mystics could imbue Tristan’s blood with spells that might match his own…
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