by Jordan Baker
"Damn," Boric cursed. He knew that if Kaledra was under attack, he would not be joining in the defense of the crown city and its surrounding lands and they could only hope that some of the other nobles would soon arrive, for the royal guard numbered only three thousand and the troops Elric had been able to muster from among the people was barely ten thousand. With the advance guard, which numbered just over two thousand horse, that made fifteen thousand against the thirty from Maramyr. Kaledra's lands were by far the largest and his numbers should have meant an additional ten thousand, half of them mounted and most of them well armed. "If Kaledra's raised his army to its full numbers, he might be able to hold out against the Xallans, but against that many Darga, no doubt he is in desperate straights. We must send aid."
"But how can we, uncle?" Borrican asked. "We face an even greater threat, and are outnumbered by the Maramyrians, at least two of their soldiers for every one of ours. The other nobles all together might be able to provide another five thousand, but we still remain badly outnumbered."
"Borrican, it is the duty of our family to protect the lands of Kandara. The other lords, even Duke Kaledra, who ranks highest among them, are administrators. They have been given rank by us, the Akandar, to oversee the lands, but they do not have the true power to defend the people. It is our responsibility to protect the people of these lands and come to their aid, for it is a promise we made and we Akandar keep our oaths. It is the responsibility of all Akandar, it is my responsibility and it is your responsibility as well, as a highborn noble of Kandara, as a Prince of Akandar. Remeber this, Borrican. No matter what is required, we will honor the our oath as lords of Kandara and we Akandar do not submit, nor do we surrender."
Borrican could not see how it was possible to fend off so many. The lands would soon be overrun with soldiers from Maramyr and Xalla, along with these Darga, who sounded fearsome, and yet his uncle did not seem afraid. Borrican knew the members of his family were exceptional fighters. It was in their blood and, even though Kandara was a peaceful country, the nobles of Akandar hand long been trained from a very young age in the arts of war and now he understood why. Still, no matter how strong his own sword was, he did not know what they could do with so few soldiers against such numbers.
"I will take a thousand of our strongest to aid Kaledra," Boric said. "You are in command of the rest of the advance guard. Do what you can to slow down the Maramyrian advance but try not to lose too many of our own. We will need every strong arm to defend the city."
"As you command, uncle," Borrican said, though he was not happy about it.
Borrican knew it would only be a day or two and the rest of the Maramyrian forces would be through the main pass and begin their march toward the city, which would take another handful of days. After that, it was only a matter of time before the battle began and Borrican wondered if he would face any of his former captains.
*****
Nathas rode at the head of the Maramyrian force, accompanied by Kaleb Alaran. Duke Mirdel and Lord Barant, followed along behind, with a contingent of the royal guard and Nathas had little doubt that either of them would take to the field for the real battle. Kaleb had been chosen to take command of the advance troops and Nathas was expected to personally lead the main force. Cerric had issued several royal decrees, making those command decisions, claiming it would be best for the morale of the soldiers to see familiar commanders leading them into battle. Cerric had written the orders in Maramyr, and Mirdel had only revealed them once they had moved on from Rivergate and were well into the Kandaran mountains.
Both Nathas and Kaleb understood what the orders meant. They would personally lead the troops, and though it would certainly mean more effective command from a tactical perspective in the field, they would also be placed at much higher risk of being killed, which they both privately agreed was intentional on Cerric's part. Matters were made worse by the fact that the overall battle would be coordinated by the Lords General, Mirdel and Barant, who were far less experienced in matters of war, which could easily put Kaleb and Nathas and the soldiers at even further risk. They were not particularly pleased with the arrangements, and were further dismayed when several of the black robed mage priests appeared, traveling by some magical means to catch up with the army, and there was talk among them that Cerric might take command himself.
"I don't know what happened at Maramyr, but the black robes seem a little disconcerted of late," Kaleb commented.
"Apparently they had some magical ritual having to do with their religion during the wedding ceremony between Cerric and Calexis and something happened to Cerric. He claims to be a god, called Kroma," Nathas told him what one of his men had reported.
"Kroma?" Kaleb frowned. "Kroma is one of the old gods, known as the god of courage, valor and virtue. Even thought the temple at Maramyr has been empty for years, there are still some places in the countryside near White Falls where he is worshipped. A lot of the outposts I have been uncovering are marked with references to Kroma, so I would imagine he was popular with the Bordermen, back in the times before the Great War."
"Courage, valor and virtue?" Nathas said. "Not a very good match."
"What isn't a very good match, Captain General Nathas?" asked Duke Mirdel, as he rode up between Nathas and Kaleb.
"Lord General, Duke Mirdel, good of you to join us," Kaleb greeted the man. "The Captain General was just saying how poorly matched the Kandarans are in numbers. If the reports are to be believed, they have barely more than ten thousand to field against the thirty thousand we command, not to mention however many will be coming over the eastern pass."
"Another twenty thousand," Nathas said, "not counting the Darga."
"Right," Kaleb added. "We have over fifty thousand against what, ten, perhaps fifteen thousand Kandarans? It doesn't promise to be a very good match, if you're a betting man. Are you a betting man, Duke Mirdel?"
"I'm not shy of a wager," Mirdel replied.
"Shall we have a wager then," Kaleb suggested. "How long do you think it will take before the walls of Kandara fall to the mages?"
"Ha!" Mirdel scoffed. "I saw the mages demonstrate the power of their magical fire. Nathas was there too, he saw it. Once they are within range of the city, I give it a day, perhaps two if the walls are particularly thick but not more than three."
"Three days or less," Kaleb replied. "Would you be willing to risk a hundred gold crowns?"
"Why not?" Mirdel turned to Nathas. "What about you Captain General, what's your wager?"
"I would rather not wager on such things," Nathas said. "I'm just a man of arms, and not a noble like the two of you, so a hundred gold crowns is not a bet I would make."
Mirdel pondered for a moment. "Tell me, Nathas. How much does the crown pay you for your services?"
"A hundred gold crowns is almost a year's pay, and I am the highest ranking officer in the Maramyrian army," Nathas told him, "not counting the Lords General, of course."
"Such a paltry amount?" Mirdel was surprised. "I should have a word with Cerric once this war has been won. Surely he can afford to pay you a little more than that. My household spends more than that in a week."
"The lord Duke is very fortunate to enjoy such plenty," Nathas replied.
"A hundred gold is a rich for a country lord like myself, but I can manage it," Kaleb said. "Here's a thought. Nathas bets ten gold crowns. You and I bet a hundred. We treat the winnings as equal."
"How is that fair?" Mirdel asked.
"If you win, you will be a hundred and ten gold crowns richer," Kaleb said. "If I win, I will be a hundred and ten gold crowns richer. If the Captain General wins, he gets two hundred gold crowns and we get the satisfaction of seeing the highest ranking officer in the Maramyrian army paid his due, and we'll sue Cerric in the royal court for reimbursement after. He can't deny us both, especially for correcting what must surely have been an oversight by some low level magistrate at the palace. It is an embarrassment that the Captain General of Cerric's
army is compensated by such a paltry amount."
Mirdel laughed. "You're a fair man, Kaleb, and far too generous but I can see why your people like you. I agree to the terms, if Nathas is willing to play our game, of course."
"I wager it will take ten days to breach the walls of Kandara, once they are directly attacked by magic and other means," Nathas said, "perhaps a day or two less or a day or two more, if I am permitted a range."
"The Lord General chose one to three days, so I do not see why not," Kaleb said. "I say they will not fall, but if they do, it will take thirty days, possibly more."
"One might think you were siding with the Kandarans," Mirdel said. "Have you no confidence in our army?"
"No, Duke Mirdel," Kaleb said. "I believe our army is superior in size to the Kandaran army and I have no doubt that our mages are powerful, but Kandara has never been conquered. It is an old city and some say it was built in the last age. If its walls have withstood attack for so long, then I would imagine that it will be no easy feat to bring them down, even with mage fire."
"That's a fair point, Kaleb," Mirdel said. "I think you underestimate the power of the mages, but I will happily take your gold, or pay it to Nathas if he proves to have guessed correctly.
"Excellent. Whomever is closest to the number of days, will be a richer man for it." Kaleb smiled at the Duke, then at Nathas.
"Very good," Mirdel said. "Are we expected to reach the forward encampment by this evening? I find this mountain air makes my head feel somewhat light."
"We should," Nathas told him.
"Excellent. I will let Lord General Barant know."
Mirdel slowed his horse then turned and rode back along the line, amused by the conversation. Even if Kaleb or Nathas were correct in their estimates, which he found to be preposterous, the likelihood of either of them surviving the battle was little to none. Both of them were proving to be able commanders with the respect of the troops, and no doubt they would motivate the soldiers in the field with their bravery, but once their usefulness had passed, they would be cannon fodder. Even though Barant seemed to be of a somewhat fairer mind, Lord General Mirdel had no intention of sharing the glory of this war and, as he rode back to meet up with the other Lord General, he wondered if there was a way to arrange for him to share the same fate of the other two.
"Why do I feel as though I should bathe every time I speak to that man?" Kaleb asked.
"Duke Mirdel is a cunning fox," Nathas said. "No doubt he expects neither of us will live to win that bet. Do not be surprised if we are ordered to the front lines or sent on a charge once the battle has begun."
"He would not betray us so openly," Kaleb said, genuinely taken aback.
"You put too much faith in nobility, Kaleb. Your dealings with Baron Manfred should have taught you better. Besides, Cerric has already put us in position to take the brunt of whatever the Kandarans throw at us and I do not think his intention is to make heroes of us."
"I think your years at Maramyr have may have jaded you," Kaleb told him. "And perhaps you are the wiser for it."
"I am no denizen of the court, but I have studied warfare and battle for most of my life and I have learned to recognize the early signs of a feint and I know when the terrain puts me at a disadvantage."
"I will have to remember that." Kaleb glanced around to make sure Mirdel was not sneaking up on them again. "What we were speaking about before, if what the mage priests are saying is true, then it means their whole religion is a sham, but it seems strange that Kroma would be the god behind the priesthood and their book. The god of valor, courage and virtue was never one for trickery and avarice, at least not according to the old histories."
*****
The cloaked figure stepped out from behind the statue of the armored knight and watched silently as the black robed mage exited the temple. The mage, who he recognized as an important member of the priesthood, had spent most of the day in the temple, just sitting silently, apparently thinking, and unaware that he was not alone. The temple of Kroma lay under a thick layer of dust, with only the faintest signs that anyone had visited in recent times and, unlike the mage, this other visitor left no footprints.
Now that the mage was safely gone, he made his way to the center of the temple, where he had originally been headed. He walked through the great hall to the great stone dais and there he saw the many visions of those who had visited the temple, the ceremonies that had taken place, honoring the courageous, those who had shown great valor and defended virtue. Moments from times long past appeared as apparitions and slowly faded, leaving only a desolate emptiness. The figure turned and saw the place where the mage had sat, on one of the stone benches before the dais, where the dust has been disturbed. He walked over to the place and touched the stone, listening to the faint echoes of the mage's thoughts and he heard what he suspected he might, chaos and anger intertwined.
He sat down in the place where the mage had sat, for it was as good a place as any in this place that now only harbored memories and he wept, for he now knew that the god Kroma was gone and he knew that the god, who now inhabited the body of a king, had killed him. Worse, he had stolen his life, his power, his name, his very essence, which was even more heinous than murder alone and he knew that such an act would not be without repercussions. After a time, he rose from the bench and walked through a side passage to the temple of Mara, where he paused for a moment and lamented that her temple had also fallen to disuse, even in the city that bore her name. He pushed open the door to the passage that led to the next temple, that of Kenra, the god of shadows, secrets and death and he was not surprised to see that this temple was also layered with dust, forgotten by those who once openly worshiped at the altar of chaos and destruction.
Next, he made his way through another passage that led to the temple of Stroma. He walked to the center of the chamber and bent down on one knee, placing his hand on the symbol embedded in the floor, then he gazed up at the ornate glass ceiling that opened to the sky above. The glass was dirty and years of dust and soot from the city had darkened the view, but the light still shone through. He looked around the temple and saw a few signs that some had visited it and he closed his eyes and felt the faint vibration of the power that still remained, far weaker than it once was, but slowly returning.
He rose and walked through the next passage to the temple of the Lady and, upon opening the door, he could not help but smile. Where the other temples lay empty, dusty and desolate, the temple of the Lady was vibrant and full of life. He was both amused and pleased to find a fountain at its center, bubbling gently over into a pool of clear water, from which grew an endless array of flowering vines that flourished under the pale light shining through the frosted glass of the ceiling above. He closed his eyes and felt the flow of power in the temple and realized there was magic at work in this place. He opened his eyes again and saw the temple empty, covered in dust like the others and knew that this was what those who did not honor the Lady would see, an illusion of desolation, missing the truth that the temple and the power of the Lady was fully alive and growing.
He stepped over to the pool at the center of the temple and touched the water with his fingertips then lowered his hand into it. It too held a power, different from that of the Lady, but he was pleased to discover that its energy remained strong at its depths even though the surface was noticeably muted. He lifted his hand from the pool and took a deep breath then reached out with his power, subtle and barely noticeable, like a wisp of cloud in the sky and he felt the world. One god destroyed, one in hiding, one still lost, one in plain sight, and one pretending to be another, and whose folly could destroy them all.
Before leaving the temple, he plucked a flower from one of the vines and placed it in the pool. It floated in small circles, pushed gently by the current and a gentle breeze blew through the temple and the flower stopped, held in place by the air that surrounded it. He smiled and touched his hand to the edge of the fountain and let his power flow thro
ugh the stone to the floor beneath it, where another symbol lay hidden, a perfect circle, the mark of air, the mark of the Lady, its power ensuring that the water of the fountain continued to flow. Glad of what he had discovered, he walked to the entrance of the temple and into the light of the day.
There, at the center of the large square, towering over the others was a tall, stone structure, the new temple of the god who called himself the one god, while claiming to be Kroma, the god of virtue. It was a contradiction and yet it was a truth, as much as any disguise carried truth beneath it, and he wondered if the god, in his lust for power, even knew who he really was anymore. Perhaps it was time to remind him, he thought, and he began to gather his power but he stopped himself. It was too soon to take such action, and it would accomplish little except to alert the god to his presence. There was much to be done if the god was to be stopped, and there were ways to bring about his downfall, other magics, older powers from a distant age, when the gods had battled one another. There was much to be done, indeed.
He was about to depart when he sensed someone approaching, a mage dressed in black, but different from the others, for the faint line of power that reached out to him from the temple of the one god was incomplete. As the mage drew near, he recognized him underneath the guise he wore, a bit of magic he found to be very clever, and he wondered if perhaps it might be better to reveal himself to a select few.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A lone figure, wrapped in rough cloth robes, walked across the sand that burned hot under the blazing sun. It had been days since she had left the lands of her home, the muddy swamps and dense forests she had known. At first she had liked the heat of the desert, the hot days and the cool nights, but she quickly discovered that places of water were few and far between. If it were not for her natural instincts she would not have been able to find the hidden nooks and buried pools where the life sustaining liquid could be found, but even then what she found was not enough and she soon began to suffer with pangs of thirst that overwhelmed the pangs of hunger she discovered in this desolate place.