by JD Byrne
The threat caused silence to fall over the room like a sudden downpour.
Antrey took a deep breath, stepped off the dais, and walked over to Dega. “You have said your piece, Dega of Chellein. Now leave us to our business. But tell your masters this: if it comes to battle, and I pray that it will not, we will show you the mercy you deserve as our brothers and sisters, even once you have been vanquished.”
Dega smiled a slight, smug smile at her, but said nothing more. He turned and walked out of the hall in silence.
Antrey stepped back up on the dais and addressed the rest of the crowd. “Any of you who want to leave now and return to your clan, no one will try and stop you. I hope you stay and hear what we all have to say about what the Triumvirate has done to us and what must be done about it, but I understand if you do not.” She paused and waited for a response. No one stood. No one walked away. She smiled and nodded.
Antrey turned to Goshen. “Go ahead. I think we need to hear from you now more than ever.”
He flashed her a quick smile. “Think of it this way, Jeyn Antrey. You have unified two groups of Neldathi at one time.”
“Yes, but one of them is unified against me.”
“Every story must start somewhere.”
~~~~~
Late that night, after the meeting had ended, Antrey sat in the back room of the Islander hall, enjoying a well-earned meal. Naath, Goshen, Kajtan, and Birkthir all joined her. Antrey was particularly pleased to see Kajtan and Birkthir getting along so well. It gave her hope that the clans could overcome their animosities and gather around a common cause after all.
As they finished eating, it was Kajtan who broke the silence that had fallen over the table. “I should have seen this coming.” There was no attempt to correct him, though it was equally true for all of them. “With no offense to you, Goshen, your ideas are quite…” he left the sentence unfinished, searching for the right word.
“Unorthodox?” Antrey threw in.
“Yes, jeyn,” Kajtan said, “unorthodox is as good a word as any. You have been with us for so long, Goshen, perhaps we have forgotten that fact.”
“Agreed, this was inevitable,” Goshen said. “I do not believe that even a small portion of our coalition shares my faith in the Maker of Worlds. But acceptance will come in time, I have no doubt of that.”
“That may be true,” Birkthir said. Since joining Antrey’s inner circle, he had made clear that he found Goshen’s faith troubling. “But we must not let this movement turn into a religious struggle. That will only harden hearts and minds at a time when they should be open.”
“Quite correct, thek,” Goshen conceded. “I did not mean to suggest otherwise.”
It was left to Antrey to state the obvious. “It’s me,” she said. “The biggest problem we face is me.”
“I do not believe that is true, jeyn,” Kajtan quickly offered.
“Thank you, but there is no point in sparing my feelings,” Antrey said. “There are legitimate concerns about my leadership, as you and I discussed weeks ago. But we cannot wait while I convince every thek south of the Water Road as I did with you.”
Birkthir nodded, but added nothing.
The silence was punctured by Naath, of all people. “May I say something?”
“Of course,” Antrey said, giving him a slight smile.
“I’m an outsider,” he said in a well-polished Elein dialect that put Antrey’s speech to shame. “I can’t begin to understand the relationships between all the clans. But it seems to me that if Dega is serious, and there is no reason to assume he is not, then the clans aligned with him will only be brought into the coalition by force.”
“That would somewhat undermine the message of Neldathi brotherhood,” Goshen said.
“What’s the alternative?” Naath asked. “Have half the clans working together against the Triumvirate while the other half work against their own kind for the Triumvirate’s benefit? Surely that would be worse.”
“He is right,” Birkthir said. “We do not need unity about the gods—sorry, Goshen—or about how best to lead a clan. But if this rising is to succeed as something beyond an annoyance to the Triumvirate, we must all be unified against at least that common enemy. The longer this rift remains, the more difficult it will become to heal it.”
“I agree,” said Naath. Kajtan and Goshen both nodded reluctant agreement. “But I’m not certain how that can be accomplished.”
“Dega’s coalition is eager for a fight, for whatever reason,” Antrey said. “Because of Goshen, because I’m not a full-blooded Neldathi, because I’m a woman, or just because they want to run things themselves. It doesn’t really matter. What we have to do is give them what they want and do just what I promised Dega we would do if it came to battle. We have to crush them on the field and then welcome them as brothers.”
The room was silent for a moment as the idea settled on them.
“That will be much easier said than done, jeyn,” Kajtan said after a while. “Dega’s coalition has only four clans, but they are some of the largest and most powerful. And they include the Akan, the oldest of the clans. Apologies, Thek Birkthir.”
Birkthir nodded, knowing he was right.
“They will put ten thousand warriors in the field, perhaps twice that,” Kajtan continued.
“And we have?” Antrey asked hopefully.
“That is a very good question,” Kajtan said. “We know that seven of the clans have pledged their support to you to strike back against the Triumvirate. But we have not yet asked anything of them, so it is unclear how they will respond when pressed. That is even more true if the first thing we ask of them is to take up arms against their own kind.”
Naath jumped in at this point. “Why not? Not to put too fine a point on it, but the Neldathi have been killing each other for hundreds of years. Even before the first Rising and the Triumvirate came around. All the Triumvirate has done since is exploit the natural rifts that have already existed between the clans. Has anything really changed?”
“Of course it has,” Goshen fired back, fire in his black eyes. “Antrey’s success in bringing so many clans together already is because she has convinced them that, regardless of our history and our differences, we are all the same. We are all brothers and sisters. I would say that is because we owe our existence to the Maker of Worlds, but I know others will not agree.” He paused for someone to jump on that phrase, but none did. “After turning themselves around to that kind of thinking, turning back around to convince them to shed the blood of their own kind could prove difficult. Frankly, I would hope it would be difficult by now.”
“He isn’t wrong,” Antrey said with a heavy sigh. “Regardless, we will discover the truth of their feelings soon enough. Back to the question at hand, then. How many warriors can we put into the field?”
Kajtan shrugged. “A high estimate would be thirty-five thousand, but of unknown quality. And of those, who knows…”
Antrey cut him off. “Who knows how many of them will find their hearts are not in it when the time comes?”
The others all nodded.
“We cannot wait to find out before we prepare, unfortunately,” she said. “Kajtan and Birkthir—organize the warriors we have at our disposal. Let me know of our strength and our arms. I’ll come up with something to do with them.”
She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a long night’s sleep.
Chapter 27
Strefer was now certain that, without Forlahn’s guidance, she and Rurek would never have made it this far. For one thing, who knows what would have become of Rurek’s wound without him. Forlahn had helped not only dress the wound, but also had fashioned an effective, if crude, crutch. It kept their small party moving at a brisker pace and relieved Strefer from the duty of supporting the Sentinel’s weight every day. As a result, Strefer had become an effective lookout for Forlahn, who slipped through the brush with a loaded rifle in his hand at all times.
It had also be
come clear as the days wore on that Rurek, for all his good intentions, simply did not know these deep woods as well as he thought. Roads were long behind them now, with even well-trod trails coming and going from moment to moment. Forlahn moved like he knew each tree, each branch, and each leaf by heart. On their own, Rurek and Strefer would have been completely lost.
It took several days for Rurek to admit this fact to himself. The frustration he felt had boiled over a few nights ago, when he and Forlahn had a screaming match over the campfire, which might have ended differently had the Sentinel been at full strength. Strefer managed to calm him down and convince him that Forlahn was the best person to lead them to Oberton. As a concession, Forlahn agreed to consult Rurek on any major decisions that had to be made.
But last night it had been Strefer who nearly came to blows with Forlahn. Well before the sun went down, he announced that they were only a few miles from Oberton. To Strefer, there appeared to be plenty of daylight left, and she thought they could easily make the city by dusk. Forlahn insisted that Oberton was not the kind of place one approached in the dark, or even in twilight. He said it would be better to make camp for the night and leave the final leg of their journey for the morning. What angered Strefer is that he refused to explain why.
“If you’ve never been to Oberton, you simply can’t understand what it’s like,” he had said. “You have to trust me.”
The words “trust me” had become a recurring theme of Forlahn’s since they had met. He had earned some level of trust, she admitted. Nonetheless, being this close to their goal and being told to wait just one more day for no reason at all was frustrating.
Her annoyance also had another source, she had to admit. It also occurred to Strefer that while they had spent so long trying to find Oberton, she had not actually thought about what might happen once they got there. She had just assumed that the Oberton sages would agree to meet with her and publish the notebook. But what if they said no? If the Triumvirate itself was on her heels, would they simply turn her over? Worse yet, what if they simply weren’t interested in the entire affair? And even if they agreed to publish the notebook, what came after that? It was all too much, and she decided not to fight a battle she could not win with Forlahn.
That decision did not make Strefer any more patient, however. They had made camp last night in yet another small clearing next to a running stream. That had become the theme of their camps. She had developed some comfort in the routine nature of it. Once up, Forlahn led them at a steady and brisk pace through the dense undergrowth. But now, several hours after leaving camp, Strefer saw nothing that indicated they were approaching a city or any other kind of civilization.
She knew that Oberton lacked the great walls of the Confederation cities in the Arbor, but she expected something like her hometown, or even one of the larger Telebrian towns she had visited. Instead, she was treated to trees, deep mushy soil, and more trees. The canopy overhead remained thick, blocking out all but the heartiest of sunlight.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Forlahn finally.
“Sure,” he said.
“Where in the name of the gods are we?” She tried to sound mildly curious rather than borderline upset.
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” she said. “I mean that yesterday you said we were within a few miles of Oberton. But we’ve walked more than a few miles this morning and it doesn’t look like we’re getting anywhere.”
“Is that what it looks like?” Forlahn chuckled.
“From where I’m standing, yes.”
“You’ve never been to Oberton, have you, Strefer?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’ve never even been to the Arbor before this little adventure, to be honest.”
“Rurek,” Forlahn called out over his shoulder, “have you ever been to Oberton?”
“No,” the Sentinel said through gritted teeth.
“But you’ve heard stories, correct? You know the city’s reputation?”
“Of course,” he said, struggling with each step. “That’s why we’re here, after all.”
“And those stories,” Forlahn continued, “are all about how the priests shed their beliefs in the gods, but retained their love of knowledge, after the Great Awakening?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Strefer said, interrupting him. “They all became sages, still devoted to discovering truth and keeping knowledge. Like Rurek said, that’s why we’re here.”
Forlahn kept going, undaunted. “But those are the only stories you’ve heard, right?” Silence served as affirmative answers. “All you know is about what they do in Oberton, but not the city itself, right?” More silence. “So the only information upon which you have to form an idea of what the city should be like is your experience with what other cities are like, right?”
“Whatever,” Strefer said. She was exhausted, both by the long travel and his evasiveness. She let the matter drop.
They walked on in silence for another hour or so, before they found a trail that ran parallel to a small stream. Within a few minutes, they were in a small clearing, much like the ones they had used for campsites many nights before. Forlahn stopped them and looked around, slinging his rifle up over his shoulder.
“Are we stopping here for a while?” Rurek asked, limping over to a fallen tree, positioned conveniently so that it could be used as a bench. He sat down. “I could really use some rest.”
“Yes, of course, have a seat,” Forlahn said without paying any particular attention. He looked around, closely examining several of the trees that ringed the clearing. Each had a massive trunk, probably big enough that all three of them could fit around one while holding hands. “It’ll be a little while before it arrives, anyway.”
Strefer sat down on the tree beside Rurek. “Until what arrives?” She scanned the clearing, but saw nothing to distinguish it from any of the others they had been in.
“The lift,” Forlahn said, working with Malin to pack away his rifles inside the crevice of another fallen tree.
“Lift?” Strefer asked.
“The lift,” he said. “It comes down two or three times a day to drop people off and take others back up.”
“Up where!” Strefer yelled, unable to contain her frustration with him any longer.
“Up there,” he said, pointing towards the dense canopy overhead. “To Oberton.” He grinned the kind of satisfied grin that Strefer wanted to smack off his face.
~~~~~
They sat in the clearing for several hours while nothing at all happened. They didn’t talk to one another to pass the time. Rurek was dozing and Strefer had nothing she wanted to say to Forlahn. After his comment about the lift, she thought it best to just leave him to any game he was playing. He and Malin were huddled near the spot in which they had hidden the rifles. Every now and then the boy would disappear into the woods without warning, then return a few moments later without explanation.
Strefer’s nerves, which had been raw to begin with, were nearly frayed by the waiting. She hated not knowing what was going to happen. She hated not knowing why Forlahn had disarmed himself given their exposed position in this clearing. What if one of Spider’s competitors took this opportunity to attack? They would be helpless, sitting here waiting. She had to know.
“Why did you put the rifles away?”
“Hmm? What?” Forlahn said, rousing from some kind of rest. “Oh, the rifles. Nothing to worry about. It’s just that they don’t like armed people coming into the city. They won’t prohibit it by force, but if you want to have any kind of relationship with these people, you need to pay attention to their customs.” He looked around the clearing. “Why? Did you hear something?”
“No,” she said, her hand consciously sliding to Spider’s dagger where it hung from her belt. “I just feel so vulnerable here, out in the open. Not moving and all that. After all those days and nights of trying not to be noticed, it’s like now we want to be found.”
“
Well, we do, after a fashion,” he said. “Don’t worry about the dagger. They don’t worry too much about small blades like that. Swords, spears, or guns, on the other hand, are not welcome. Besides, they’ll be more focused on Rurek’s pikti than anything else, I imagine.”
She appreciated that he was trying to calm her down, but Strefer’s imagination ran away with her. Now she thought about how she might offend the sages of Oberton and what they might do if that happened. It was quite possible that she would need a long relationship with these people. Getting off on the wrong foot could be a disaster. She stood up and walked over to where Forlahn sat on the ground in front of his cache. She drew the blade slowly from her belt and handed it to him. “Would you put this in there? For safekeeping?”
He took it from her delicately in both hands. “That’s not really necessary, Strefer.”
“No point in taking any chances. We’ve come a long way to find this place, and if they won’t help me, I doubt anyone else will. I need to do my best to play the cooperative guest.”
“Even if it drives you crazy?” he asked with a smile.
She nodded in return. “Aren’t you afraid to leave those here?” she asked as he stashed the dagger in with the rifles. “Won’t they get stolen?”
He stood up and kicked a bit of dirt over the crevice. “To steal something, you have to know it’s there to be stolen. Unless someone has been watching us since we got here, which I think is very unlikely, someone would have to know what this place is, where it is, and have some reason to believe something of value is hidden there. It’s never been a problem for me.”
Strefer had no response and was startled when she heard a rustle of leaves overhead. “What’s that?” she asked, looking up, startled.
Forlahn looked at her and smiled. “That will be our ride. Let me do the talking, all right?” He walked over to the base of a large tree, then took three oversized steps backwards. He stood perfectly still, with his feet shoulder width apart. His hands hung loosely at his waist, open palms facing forward towards the tree.