The Strength to Serve (Echoes of Imara Book 3)

by Claire Frank

  Pathius picked up the pieces of Axxus’s armor, stacking them in a pile.

  “Why do you do this?” Raed asked.

  “I want to know how it works,” Pathius said.

  Raed shrugged and helped him gather the armor. When they’d retrieved all of it, dumping the wet remains of Axxus’s body to the ground, they headed away from the battlefield to the camp that was springing up on the other side of the hill.

  69. I WILL DEFEND

  Waiting for the others to arrive, Pathius paced across the stone floor of the war room in the stronghold. After the battle, the remains of the Attalonian army had scattered. Halthas had quickly retaken the fortress, imprisoning the people they found, and set up raiding parties to track down the enemies who had fled. Every day, they brought back more prisoners, but Pathius knew there were still hundreds, if not more, who had yet to be found. They had dismantled the Attalonian attempts at a makeshift bridge and done what they could to drive off the last of the support troops on the other side of the chasm.

  Raed walked in, looking almost strange without a spear in his hand; Alastair followed. The man who had, until recently, been the king’s second had dark circles beneath his eyes, and his cheeks were covered in stubble. He nodded to Pathius as he entered, but remained silent. Callum sauntered in, tossing a wink in Alastair’s direction; Alastair rolled his eyes.

  Cecily emerged through the doorway, her arm still bound in a sling. Next to her shuffled Daro, leaning heavily on a wooden crutch. The Serum Shapers had successfully stitched his wound closed, but Pathius didn’t understand how he was up and moving already. Whether it was because he was Imaran, or due to Nihil’s alterations, Pathius didn’t know, but any other man would have been bedridden for weeks, if he survived at all. As he glanced at Cecily, he wondered if she was helping to keep him upright with her Wielding. Despite his quick return to his feet, Daro’s face was drawn and pale and he winced as he made his way into the room.

  Pathius crossed his arms. “Since we’re all here, perhaps Alastair will let us know why he called us all together.” Torbin and two other commanders had all died in the fighting, leaving those in the room the last of the military command outside the city.

  “The raids to round up the scattered Attalonians continue,” Alastair said. “But as time passes, the chances that we’ll find them all decreases. Some have probably found their way to the river, and others may be hiding out in the countryside, but it’s unlikely we’ll find them all.”

  Pathius tapped his foot with impatience. He already knew this.

  “I have also received word from Halthas,” Alastair continued. He had their attention; they’d been waiting to hear news from the capital since reports of their victory had been sent. “The high council has ordered the army to return to the city. Immediately.”

  Callum snorted and Alastair shot him a glare.

  “If you have something to add, Callum?” Alastair said. “Although I don’t know why you’re here. I didn’t ask you to come.”

  “No, no, carry on,” Callum said. “Clearly you have things well in hand.”

  Alastair pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Callum before continuing. “The council is concerned about unrest in southern Halthas, as well as the potential for rebellion as the details of the succession are determined. We are to leave a small force here, at the stronghold, to ensure the bridge remains impassable, but the rest will return to the city as soon as possible.”

  Pathius glanced at Daro and Cecily. They were uncharacteristically quiet and he wondered if they agreed with the council’s orders. Regardless of where they stood, he had to speak. Pulling the army back behind the walls now was folly.

  “That cannot happen,” Pathius said. All eyes swung to him.

  Alastair’s shoulders slumped. “Pathius, we don’t have a choice. I risked enough in bringing the force down here. I can’t disobey an order from the council.”

  “Perhaps not,” Pathius said. “But I can.”

  “What would you have us do?” Alastair asked. “We defeated the Attalonian army, and we can’t hope to capture every last soldier who fled.”

  “Do you really think this is over?” Pathius asked. “Do you honestly believe that the force we faced is the last we’ll see of Attalon? The sprawling Empire that has conquered a hundred kingdoms?” He shook his head. “No. This is far from over, I’m certain of that.”

  “That may be true,” Alastair said, “but the fact remains that we’ve been ordered to return.”

  “We’ve been over this already,” Pathius said. “If we take this army back to Halthas, our force will be lost to the squabbling of the nobles. The dukes will pull their men back to their estates, and not just the families in the countryside. The nobles in the city will start arming themselves, in case the succession turns bloody. We have to maintain a force under central leadership. There is no leadership in Halthas right now; we all know that. We have to be that leadership. We have to stand strong so we remain prepared to protect this kingdom.”

  “Pathius, you argued that we should come south to attack Attalon, and we did. You were right on that count,” Alastair said. “Having said that, I can’t simply tell the council no. Holding back the army is edging dangerously close to treason.”

  Pathius couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m standing in a room with four of the people who deposed my father, and you want to tell me about treason?”

  Raed watched the interaction with an odd expression of amusement on his face, and Cecily and Daro shifted on their feet, casting uncomfortable glances at each other.

  “He has a point,” Callum said.

  “He is exactly why we can’t do this,” Alastair said, gesturing toward Pathius. “Our king was murdered. Halthas stands without a ruler, and the son of the old king wants to defy an order of the council and keep the army outside the city? An army that is essentially under his command. If you want to keep the succession peaceful, having Pathius take control of the army and defy the council is not the way to go about it.”

  “The problem, Alastair, is that he’s right,” Cecily said, her voice soft. “There must be hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers left. If any of them are carrying those bracers—and we have to assume they are—Wielders won’t be safe. And if Attalon returns in force, we need to be ready. But the nobles won’t let that happen. They weren’t here. They didn’t see. How many of them will believe what went on down here? They’ll receive their reports, and turn their attention squarely back to the succession and how they can exploit it for their family’s gain.”

  Pathius cast a side glance at Cecily. She’d pulled him aside shortly after they arrived at the stronghold to thank him for what he’d done to save Daro, but he still had trouble looking her in the eye.

  “Alastair,” Pathius said, “I’ll make this simple for you. You can report back to the council and lay the blame at my feet. But this army follows me and I am not bringing it back to the city.”

  ***

  Pathius stood alongside Daro, Cecily, and Alastair, with the men and women of the Halthian army gathered before them. The injured who were able lined up alongside the healthy. What was left of the original defenders of the stronghold stood in front with the ranks of the reinforcement force behind them, a combined force of 20,000 strong.

  With a deep breath, Pathius stepped forward, standing tall. “Men and woman of Halthas,” he said, his voice booming over the crowd. “We are here, with this fortress at our backs, because of your bravery. Our kingdom, our homes, have been threatened by a force the likes of which we haven’t seen for hundreds of years. They came, with their siege engines, and their trebuchets, and their hatred of everything we stand for, but we would not yield.” He walked slowly down the ranks of soldiers, pitching his voice to be heard. “Attalon may have had superior numbers, but we held fast, and we crushed them in our grasp.”

  A cheer rose up from the crowd and Pathius held up his hands for quiet before continuing. “Today, we hold this southern passage an
d our border is secure. But the threat is not behind us.” Pathius paused, looking out over the ranks of soldiers. “I will speak plainly to all of you, because we have bled together. You are my countrymen, my brothers and sisters. I am Pathius Meroven, son of Hadran Meroven. My father was king until Rogan took the throne. Now, we find ourselves in a precarious situation. You have all heard that King Rogan was murdered. His son is but an infant, and the leadership of Halthas is in disarray. The nobles vie for position, squabbling for the remains of power, while we fight to keep their lands safe.”

  A low murmur rose from the crowd and Pathius paused, waiting for it to die down.

  “We all know that the remnants of the Attalonian army are still out there, on our soil. We have also seen the power of the Empire’s force. We prevailed here, but that will not be the last we see of the Attalonian war machine. The threat looms heavy over our kingdom, and I wish for nothing more than to be prepared when it comes.” Pathius stopped, looking out over the crowd as he let his words sink in.

  “The council has ordered us to return to the city. To do so, to go back to the city and enter into its walls, would be an unmitigated disaster. The nobles will separate us, sending some to defend their homes in the city, while others go back to the countryside, spread throughout the duchies.” Pathius raised his voice. “I cannot stand for this. I will not leave my kingdom unprotected in her time of need. I will hunt down every last Attalonian scum who dares to flee into our lands, and I will stand strong against any force that threatens our homes.”

  Frost sparkled around him as he drew in heat from the air. “I ask you to stand with me, and defend our kingdom.”

  Shouts and cheers rose from the crowd, and Pathius’s heart swelled. These were his men now.

  He turned to the others as the soldiers were dismissed back to their duties.

  Daro put a hand on Alastair’s shoulder. “In time, the council will see this is right.”

  Alastair shook his head. “I can’t even say I disagree with this, but they’ll likely have my head for it.”

  “They may end up with mine,” Pathius said, “but it’s a risk I’ll take.”

  With a heavy sigh and another shake of his head, Alastair walked away, back to the stronghold.

  “What about you?” Pathius asked, turning toward Daro. The other man was still pale, with a sheen of perspiration on his forehead, and if Pathius wasn’t mistaken, he was having a difficult time standing.

  “As soon as I can travel, Cecily and I need to go to Imara,” Daro said, his voice strained. “The Raeswa need to know about Axxus and his armor, and those bracers the Attalonians used to capture Wielders. I spoke with Raed about it, and he agrees. But we’ll return as soon as we can.”

  “I recovered an artifact that I think they need to see as well,” Cecily said.

  Pathius swallowed and looked away. “I’ll make sure whatever is left of the Attalonian army isn’t out there capturing people. I have a particular hatred of kidnappings.”

  “As do I,” Daro said. He held out a hand, and Pathius took it. “And Pathius, thank you again.”

  Pathius nodded; his eyes flicked to Cecily and she gave him a warm smile.

  “Take care of yourself while we’re gone,” she said.

  He shifted his gaze away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course. You, too.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief as Cecily helped Daro toward the fortress, Pathius hurried back to his room. His heartbeat quickened as he closed the door behind him and made sure it was locked.

  From beneath the bed, he pulled a wooden box. He felt the energy emanating from it, radiating out in waves. Opening the lid, he reached in with careful fingers and pulled back the cloth.

  The Arcstone almost glowed, radiating warmth. Although Pathius dared not touch it, to look on it was mesmerizing. As soon as he’d arrived at the stronghold, he’d felt its pull. Nihil had subjected him to countless sessions with the stone over the years of his captivity; he almost felt a part of him was still inside it. It had made him who he was. When he’d seen Cecily being attacked by the Lyceum Wielders, carrying the metal box, he had known what the box contained. He’d understood why she’d left it with her friend Griff and he’d been pleased she planned to keep it out of the Lyceum’s hands. At first, he had intended to leave it be. But as the days passed, he had thought about it often, the power of the stone intruding on his dreams.

  He had taken it while they waited in Solinde. Initially, he’d told himself he simply wanted to see it, and would return it to her metal box when he’d had an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. But once he had it, he found he couldn’t let it go. So the stone he’d left in the box as a replacement remained, and it appeared Cecily had not checked on it again. It was a relief to see that she still believed she had the stone. Of course, she’d discover it was missing when she got to Imara, but Pathius would deal with her when the time came. For now, he gazed at the stone as it pulsed with power, wondering how he could use it against his enemies.

  EPILOGUE: SAHAAR

  A cool breeze blew in from the harbor, bringing with it the pungent scent of the sea. Callum wrinkled his nose as he walked. Sahaar was truly the worst sort of cesspool. Away from the water, the sweltering heat left him sticky with sweat and the swirling winds kicked up gritty sand. Closer to the harbor, the air was cooler, but the stench of rotting sea creatures made bile rise up in his throat. Fortunately, he wouldn’t be there long.

  Reports from his contacts in Sahaar were sporadic at best, and contradictory at worst. He was fairly certain one of his men had been compromised and was sending him false information, and the last man he’d sent south hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks. With Pathius defying the council and holding the army at the stronghold, and the nobles in an uproar over the details of the succession, Callum couldn’t stand being in the dark about the happenings in Sahaar any longer. Attalon had marched right through the southern kingdom and had been close to knocking on Halthas’s door. Pathius was convinced another attack would come, and Callum tended to agree. Attalon wasn’t exactly known for failure when it came to conquest. If they were staging an invasion force in Sahaar, Halthas needed to know what was going on.

  Trade had largely ceased between the two kingdoms, with the overland route impassable and security increased on the river. But smugglers found ways to ply their trade in times of war as well as peace, and Callum hadn’t had trouble finding passage south. Of course, he’d paid a ridiculous fee to be taken across the border, rowed into a harbor in the middle of nowhere, and left to find his own way to the city of Kahmir on foot. That they wouldn’t take him all the way had been a rude realization, but he’d managed. The Sahaarans weren’t faring too well with Attalonians swarming through their kingdom, and a few well-placed coins bought him a ride in a farmer’s cart. Hardly his preferred method of transportation, but it had been better than walking.

  The boards of the wooden sidewalk creaked beneath his feet and a woman in a wispy silk dress walked by. Callum couldn’t fathom why anyone had decided to settle in this dreadful pit of sand, but the place wasn’t without a certain appeal. The colorful, gauzy dresses left little to the imagination, showing every curve. Callum turned and watched the woman’s backside as she walked past. Although it wasn’t difficult to picture what she looked like beneath that dress, there were plenty of things he could imagine. Perhaps a few extra days in Kahmir wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if he had the right company.

  A jumble of buildings blocked his view of the harbor, but the stench told him he was near. He crossed a packed-dirt road, then ducked into the shadows between structures as a knot of Attalonian soldiers marched past. The place was absolutely crawling with them, and although they didn’t seem to take particular notice of Callum, he wasn’t keen on taking chances. He had an idea of what they did with Wielders, and he had no interest in becoming some sort of slave.

  When they’d passed, he turned a corner and emerged onto a wide street with an expansive view of the
harbor. His back went stiff and he stopped in his tracks, his mouth open, as he stared past the rickety waterside buildings. Anchored in the harbor were thousands of black ships rocking with the waves. Tall masts soared into the sky, with dark flags waving from their tips. Rowboats darted through the water, coming and going from the docks to the massive ships, like a mass of ants teeming around an anthill. Past the bobbing masts, the horizon was dotted with more dark shapes approaching the protected waters.

  A woman walked past, shooting him a glare, and he realized he was standing in the middle of the street, staring. He stepped to the side and ran his hand through his hair. He’d expected ships. He knew the Attalonians were here, likely using Sahaar as a staging ground. But the vast hoard of ships in the harbor was beyond anything he could have imagined, and more were approaching. The force they’d seen at the stronghold was nothing compared to this; it would be like comparing a single drop of water to an enormous sea.

  Callum turned, hurrying back toward his inn, all thoughts of staying to enjoy the Sahaaran women long gone. He needed to get back to Halthas, fast.

  This was going to be worse than they thought.

  ~~~~

  The Echoes of Imara series will continue in The Heirs of Imar, coming fall 2016. Sign up to be the first to hear about new releases and special deals, and get a FREE short story, Wooden Leg.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

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  You can find maps, concept art, and depictions of the series in Lego (yes, Lego!) on my website at clairefrankbooks.com.

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