Despite the freedom offered in Yerskania, the majority of the population were deeply religious and there were several large temples devoted to the Blessed Mother and churches devoted to the Great Maker and the Lord of Light.
“You said others should know the truth,” someone shouted, cutting through the noise. “After all of your talk of action, you want us to use words?”
“No,” snapped Roza, silencing the whispers. “That is the work of others. We all know the truth about what Taikon has become. A man that does not sleep or eat. A man who drinks the blood of children. His own people in Zecorria will tear him down when they realise the truth. I want you to protect your home when the time is right.”
“How?” asked a bold man, stepping forward from the crowd. Roza made a note of the way he stood, his height, build and the tone of his voice. The mask he wore was modest, but the cut of his clothes hinted at much greater wealth. There were also several bulges under his leather gloves, suggesting he wore several expensive rings. A man with a big ego to match his deep pockets. He probably belonged to one of the more wealthy families.
“I can tell that most of you are not without privilege, and these are dangerous times. Hazardous times for honest merchants.” Roza waited and a few heads picked up on her meaning. The bold man nodded briskly and stepped back, but a few others still looked towards her expectantly. “You will hire as many Drassi mercenaries as you can afford. Keep them close and keep them hidden. Your lives depend on it. When your Queen calls on you, I expect you to answer.”
“The Queen?” asked more than a few people.
Before anyone could ask any more questions she quickly stepped down from the platform and slipped out the back door. Roza pulled off the mask and set a brisk pace across the city, taking an indirect route away from the warehouse to her next appointment. The last thing she needed was anyone following her.
This time when Gunder entered his house and sensed he wasn’t alone, he didn’t reach for the nearest weapon. As before, Roza was sat in his kitchen, this time rubbing at her face from where her mask had pinched the skin on her nose. His cheeks were still red, but it would fade in another hour.
“Not very subtle,” said Gunder, “but I suppose it was necessary.”
With a sigh Roza pulled off the long blonde wig, laying it on the table between them. She unwound her red braid and scratched at her scalp. “I don’t know how the idiots make a profit. They’ve no guile.”
“The Yerskani are very straightforward people. It’s why I like them. You always know where you stand.”
“Usually behind them with a spear, prodding them towards the bear pit,” said Roza.
Gunder raised an eyebrow. “Something bothering you?”
Roza waved it away. “I also heard a rumour from several sources about King Matthias being assassinated and Taikon dancing in the streets in celebration.”
Gunder grimaced. “All true. I received a message last night from Shani.”
A heavy silence settled on the kitchen. Roza always had a witty retort and Gunder maintained that her most dangerous weapon was her tongue. But now she sat in silence, lost in thought.
“Any word on what they’re doing?”
Gunder shook his head. “I expect we’ll hear about the succession soon enough. Prince Thias is solid, like his father. I think he’s ready.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Roza. She shook herself and seemed to throw off her melancholy as if it were a blanket. “It’s going to take a bit of time to trickle the Drassi into the city. How about we have the next meeting in a week’s time?”
“If not sooner. We don’t want them having second thoughts, or thinking it’s just talk. I’ll start passing the word around.”
He would have to make some new friends in the Watch. Even if the Chosen were too busy or stupid to notice an influx of Drassi, the locals were far more astute. Their straightforward approach made the idea of offering bribes a difficult and touchy subject, especially with soldiers who had sworn an oath. It would require delicate work, walking the line between telling them the whole truth and revealing just enough that they wouldn’t ask too many questions.
Roza stood up to leave.
“Do you have time for a drink?” He felt the need for some companionship, and to be with someone where he could just be himself, not the merchant.
“Another time.” Roza moved to the door, but turned back before leaving. “The next story I want to hear about Taikon is one where he’s weeping and pissing blood in the streets.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Gunder said with a vicious smile.
CHAPTER 26
The day ended in a rough stalemate. The two armies sullenly withdrew from the battlefield, each knowing the conflict was far from over.
The sky was a dull grey and a light wind blew in from the west, bringing with it the stench of death and enemy campfires. A little drizzle fell continuously, sitting on eyelashes, soaking into clothing and trickling down the back of necks.
One of the field surgeons, checking for survivors, found Ecko’s remains. At first the crow thought a young boy had snuck onto the battlefield and been killed by accident. It was only when he saw the bone charms, and a few untouched patches of skin, he realised who it was.
Huge chunks of flesh had been completely burned away, right down to the bone. Any remaining tissue was charred and black. Somehow the skin on his face remained intact, while the rest of his head was a bright white skull, washed clean in the rain. His hands were curled up into twisted claws, and his empty eye sockets were filling with rain.
Finn and Darius wrapped the body in a blanket and carried it from the battlefield back to their camp. Despite not being Linked with Ecko, they’d all felt the moment of his death. Everyone on the battlefield saw the column of white fire fall from the sky like a signal from the Gods, but all of those connected to the Source had felt it in their bones. Hours later the air was still charged with energy, and Eloise’s skin tingled as if she’d been sitting too close to a fire.
The others Battlemages were stood waiting by a spitting fire, silent and soaking wet, but no one complained. They would rather be alive and catch a chill than the alternative.
“I’m not familiar with his customs,” said Darius, looking at the others for help.
“We have to bury him, deep in the earth,” said Eloise. “Return him to the bosom of Elwei.” Finn started to reach for the Source, but Eloise shook her head. “It has to be done by hand.”
They found a secluded spot at the edge of the camp beside a copse of trees. A few warriors came to watch, but when they saw nothing more than Battlemages digging a grave they kept their distance. Plenty of others were doing that tonight or burning bodies on funeral pyres.
Soon after they started Eloise’s clothes were stuck to her body, her skin flushed. Mercifully the earth, normally tough from a long winter, had softened with the rain.
They took it in turns, digging in pairs, but it was hard work and none of them, except Finn, were used to prolonged physical labour. After a day of using their power they were already drained, and this sapped their remaining energy. Only Finn seemed immune. Eloise could see he was relishing the physical exertion, often taking over from others before it was his turn. His rain-soaked clothing revealed the heavy muscles of his arms and upper body. Perhaps it reminded him of his old life, working in the forge all day.
Thule looked ready to collapse, but his indigo eyes burned brightly in the growing dark. After hearing what Thule had endured to reach them, Eloise knew him to be a lot tougher than he looked.
When the grave was six foot deep they gently lowered Ecko’s body into the hole.
“Merciful Elwei,” said Eloise, turning her face towards the sky with arms stretched out. “Bless and keep your faithful servant, Ecko. Embrace him into your bosom and look kindly on any misdeeds. He was a noble, kind and generous man who suffered greatly for others. He travelled a long way by himself to protect the lives of strangers. Grant him eternal pe
ace.” Eloise turned towards the others expectantly. “It’s customary for all of us to say something about our time together.”
To her surprise Darius stepped forward to speak first. He hated speaking in public and being the centre of attention, but he looked determined. This was something he needed to do. “His love for the land was infectious,” said Darius with a faint smile. “I shall not take the gifts it gives us for granted. The bounty of the earth, the sea and the sky.” He opened his mouth and tasted the rain.
Eloise looked at the others and Finn stepped forward.
“He showed me how clumsy I was compared to him,” said the smith. “He was always in control. If he was afraid, he never showed it. I wish I could be more like him.” The words were simply put, although they also touched on something Eloise had sensed, but was struggling to put into words. Something tugged at a corner of her mind.
The others were so focused on the grave they hadn’t noticed the large crowd that had gathered at a discreet distance. The warriors knew they owed their lives to the Battlemages, and hundreds had come to pay their respects.
Eloise looked at Thule, who started to speak in a hoarse whisper. It was all that his ravaged throat could manage, and the effort was great, but he needed to say the words.
“He loved the earth and his family, but he loved his homeland even more. One night I found him weeping. He told me it was because he was homesick. He was born on this side of the Dead Sea, and yet he wept for the memory of home. The First People were exiled long before his birth, so he suffered for a crime he’d not committed. As a boy his father told him stories of their homeland’s majesty and the endless forest, and some nights it haunted him that he would never see it. I found in him a kindred soul. Someone who loved his country as much as me.”
Eloise thought of her own homecoming weeks ago and how difficult it must have been for Ecko to know that he could never go home. She had left Seveldrom in search of adventure and a new life and had stayed away because there had been no reason to return. The thought of having that choice taken away hurt more than she had realised.
“He taught me about love,” said Eloise. “Love for all things, but mostly for my family.” She smiled at the others and felt a kinship with them all. They were connected to each other and the world in a way that few experienced. If they sunk deep enough into the Source they could hear the very heartbeat of creation, the ebb and flow of life in the land. As Eloise thought about the web that joined all things, something clicked into place.
“Ecko was braver than any of us,” she said. “Sometimes he spoke of other places and other times, but there was always some ambiguity. As if he couldn’t quite remember, but that wasn’t it. I think part of him knew this would happen.”
“He knew he was going to die?” asked Finn.
Eloise shook her head. “I think he knew this day would come, and that he’d face a powerful enemy, but the outcome wasn’t clear.”
“He had imperfect Sight,” said Darius, shock and awe warring on his face. “He was an Oracle.”
“Of a sort,” she said, hating that word, but unable to think of another to describe Ecko’s Talent. “He knew that he might die, and yet he volunteered to remain outside the Link. I wonder, how many of us would be as brave in the same position?”
There was little else to say. As they moved to pick up the shovels some of the warriors came forward to help. The hole was filled in quickly and soon only a small bump in the soil showed where Ecko was buried. In keeping with his customs, no stone or symbol was left to mark the grave. He was returned to the earth and the final embrace of Elwei, naked and anonymous, as he had come into the world.
It wasn’t often that Talandra drank, but tonight she felt justified in drowning her sorrows and indulging in a bit of self-pity. The reports from the battlefield were still coming in, but on the whole it had been a bloody and costly day. More so for the loss of one of the Battlemages. She knew it was callous. Warriors could be replaced, but a Battlemage could not.
Hours before a messenger arrived with news from the battlefield, Balfruss had stumbled into her office, hair mussed and eyes bloodshot from just waking up. With tears streaming down his face he’d told her that Ecko was dead, slain by the Warlock. Through his mental link with Thule he’d felt it and shared in his brethren’s grief. With help from her apothecary they’d put him to bed with a sleeping draught. He’d wake in a few hours and hopefully would have rested long enough to stay awake through the night and stand guard.
Battlemages were a dying breed, and Talandra knew that if they lost any more, the army would be overwhelmed. At that point it wouldn’t matter how many warriors Seveldrom could muster. The Warlock and his Splinters could tear every warrior in two, burn them with fire, or call down lightning and destroy the army in less than a day. After that it would be child’s play for him to tumble the city walls and let Taikon take the throne.
The most recent report from Gunder gave her some hope, as the rebellion had begun in earnest in Perizzi. If they could scour the city clean of Taikon’s influence and get rid of the Chosen, the Queen would retake her throne from a position of strength. The growing unrest in Zecorria with High Priest Filbin was also drawing the eye of many people in the west. Added to that, she’d been sent stories from contacts in Morrinow about division among its leaders. All of these combined could be enough to destabilise the alliance. Western leaders might withdraw troops from the battlefield and refocus their efforts at home, which could end the war and prevent further bloodshed.
Talandra knew such things did not happen overnight and that much could go wrong with such plans. But slim hopes were all she had. The battle itself was nothing more than a delay tactic, as they were horrendously outnumbered.
Papers with all the gory details from the battlefield lay scattered across the dining table in front of her. Talandra couldn’t ignore them, although she desperately wanted to. The remaining scraps of her evening meal still looked tempting. Despite everything that had happened, she’d managed to retain her appetite.
Instead she poured herself another mug of ale and stared out the window at the night sky, thinking of other times and places. The night was cold and heavy bursts of rain swept across the sky followed by the occasional rumble of thunder, but no lightning. The unusual storm was the result of Battlemages summoning lightning earlier that day. She had reassurances that the storm would dissipate by itself, so there was nothing to do but watch and wait.
The open windows made the room chilly, but it was the closest she’d been to being outdoors for three days and she liked the smell of the rain. There was so much information and so many reports coming from the battlefield, and her spies in the west, that she barely had time for sleep.
At moments like these she would normally seek her father’s counsel, but those days were gone. More than anything she wanted to lose herself in oblivion. Bury her misery in a layer of fog from the ale, but she couldn’t even manage that. Her mind would always reassert itself and point out the futility of what she was attempting before she was drunk.
So, she drank, and stared at nothing, lost in a tedious stupor while being irritated by her own brooding.
Her brothers came into the dining room, their faces united in misery, but somehow they also looked refreshed. Thias frowned at the windows and immediately pulled them closed, shutting her off from the rest of the world.
Their father’s body still lay in state and the three days of greeting people who came to pay their respects wasn’t over yet. She felt utterly exhausted but her brothers seemed to be riding high on something.
“What is it? Good news?”
Thias and Hyram sat down on either side of her at the head of the table. At first neither of them spoke. Eventually Hyram gestured at Thias, who cleared his throat.
“When the three days are over, father’s body will be… consumed by fire,” said Thias, stumbling a little. “At which point it’s customary to announce his successor.”
Talandra had
been thinking about it a great deal over the last few days. “We need to make it a spectacle. Right now our people are hurting. They need something to look forward to. They need reassurance and a confident leader. We have to make sure they understand that nothing will change when you take the throne.”
“But it has changed,” said Hyram, ever the pessimist. He was still dressed for battle, and his face was criss-crossed with tiny scars and fresh cuts. He also stank as if he’d slept in his armour, which was likely. “Some aren’t sharp enough to know we lost the fight today, and more than one Battlemage, but they’ll work it out soon enough. We can’t keep going as we are.”
“What are you suggesting?” asked Talandra. Her surprise turned to shock as Hyram smiled and then laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. Talandra slammed her tankard onto his hand, but it only made him laugh even harder.
“What’s so funny?”
“You don’t see it. Thias may look like him, but you’re his true inheritor.”
“What Hyram is trying to say is that we’ve discussed this at length, and you will succeed father,” Thias said with a warm smile. “You will be crowned Queen of Seveldrom.”
Talandra stared at her brothers, searching for something that would suggest it was a joke. She wouldn’t blame them. Right now they needed to laugh, but both of their faces had turned solemn.
“Why?” gasped Talandra.
“Many reasons,” said Thias. “I’ve been preparing for this all my life, but now that the moment is here, I know I’m not the right choice.”
“I don’t understand. Did father leave you a letter?”
“No, but I think he knew.” Thias smiled sadly. “You know your own strengths and weaknesses, and so do I. There’s still much I need to learn before I can rule, but there’s no time. Our country needs someone now. Someone to inspire them with the right words. You may not be a warrior, but when you lead, others follow. I’ve seen it. Countless times I’ve looked to you for advice, as did father. My mind is set, Talandra.”
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