The Winds of Strife (The War of the Veil Book 1)

by John Donlan

  “You also know of the attack that we suffered here just a few days ago. By now, the story of what occurred has spread throughout Southmarsh. None of you could have failed to hear it by now. The creatures that assaulted Marsh End were not men. They were beasts, monsters, horrors summoned by dark magic for twisted goals. They were also the fiends that were responsible for the events in the marsh.”

  More rumblings from the gathered crowd. Most had probably expected this news, but it was the first true confirmation that any of them had received.

  “What were they?” That was Lady Elsorna Thorne, a staunch supporter of Gadmar. She was a cousin to Baron Hedick of Arnsmoor, which made her almost family. She was getting old now, but still held herself well. A strong, no-nonsense woman. “And how do you know that they were responsible for what you claim?”

  “Because I followed their trail into the swamp,” Darius told her. “After they burned a farm looking for the soul survivor of the slaughter, they returned to the swamp. At least, so I believed. In reality, it was a diversion, to keep my attention away from their true goal – the attack on Marsh End. They wanted our forces disorganised and leaderless so that they could find what they wanted.”

  The mutterings were louder this time, the gathered men and women talking quickly amongst themselves as they digested the information. One of the lesser lords got to his feet, his face dark and brooding. Darius did not know the man’s name, only that he held lands to the east of Marsh End, near one of the smaller towns.

  “If that is the case, then there must have been a reason they came to the city. And it sounds to us as if you know what that reason was.” The man spoke loudly, struggling to be heard over the hubbub. “They did not have the numbers to bring down Marsh End, which suggests a different motive for the assault.”

  Darius nodded. This was the part he was dreading. “Yes, they had reasons beyond mere death and destruction. They came for the woman sitting beside me. She was the one who survived the attack against the delegation. She was the one they wanted. They risked everything to find her.”

  “But why?” Lord Farrin asked. He was a wealthy landowner from the north-eastern borders of Southmarsh. He had earned the land due to his loyalty during the Tho’reen war, and for his valour and distinction in battle. He had worked the land diligently, and these days, it was one of the most productive and profitable parcels of land in the entire duchy. “Why would they want this girl? She does not look of any importance to me, and if they wanted her because of what she saw, then they went about their task very poorly indeed. But if their goal was not to hide and obscure their own existence and their involvement in the massacre of the delegation, then why attack the city?”

  Darius rubbed at his chin. He was not sure, now that it came down to it, how best to explain what he had learned. He did not truly understand it himself, nor how his discovery should be of such obvious importance to the things that had attacked the castle. He looked at Needra, hoping for her gaze to show him he was doing the right thing, but she was staring down at the table, as though inspecting the grain of the wood was the most important thing in the world. He sighed and turned back to the assembly.

  “I… found something, something that I believe was of great importance to whoever sent those creatures into our lands. I cannot tell you why it is important, or even how I came to the conclusion; I beg your indulgence and faith on that matter. But I can tell you that it is a symbol; a motif, perhaps. At first, I thought nothing of it, but several nights previous, I realised that I had seen it before. Twice before in fact.”

  He felt no need to include details of the dream that had so disturbed his sleep. The dream that had shown him the very symbol he was talking about now. When he had awoken, that symbol had been etched into his mind. He had left his room and gone through the castle to where Needra was still sleeping. And there, he had seen it again. A tattoo, on the girl’s right shoulder, identical to the one on the patch of skin in his dream. He had seen it there on her body before, when she had first come to the castle, but never really saw it for what it actually was. Now he knew the significance. It was the same symbol as was cut into the base of the statue of Naedorn right here in the castle shrine, a symbol that he had since traced as far back as the time of the Candrille.

  He relayed all of that to the gathered lords, carefully and slowly, to ensure it was all heard and digested. They listened to his words silently, but when he was done, they broke into a roar of noise.”

  “What does it mean? Why would they be so concerned with a tattoo, and a symbol whose very meaning has been lost to time?”

  “Will they try again?”

  “How can we use this knowledge against them?”

  Darius raised his hand and waited patiently for the babble to die down. He sighed again and shook his head. He wanted sleep. He had barely rested his head for the past two days, and he was exhausted. “I do not have the answers you seek, but I promise all of you now, on my honour, I will do all I can to find the truth. I know only that something about this symbol is of vast importance to those creatures, and whatever force it was that gave them their unholy life. It may even be the very key to destroying them utterly. Why else would they risk so much trying to find this girl, other than because they feared it? If they are still out there, and I believe they are, they may try again. And that is why I have summoned you here. The Southmarsh faces threats from two fronts now. The Tho’reen may yet march to war in retaliation for the deaths of their delegates, and these… things, the monsters responsible, may have numbers greater than we could possibly imagine. If they attempt to attack us again, we must be ready, and vigilant. Because if we are not, the Southmarsh, and indeed the entire kingdom, may fall.”

  Lady Thorne stood again. “We have always stood firm and strong against anything that dared pose a threat to the lands we all hold dear,” she said, turning and sweeping her imperious gaze over the gathered lords and ladies. “If what you are telling us now is true - and I believe it to be so - then we will do the same again. Your family has ruled the Southmarsh very wisely since the founding of the kingdom, and they have always been a friend to the Thornes of Arnsmoor. As your father is not here, and since you have assumed the mantle of duke, then the leadership of the Southmarsh falls on you, lord Darius. Our families have been friends for many, many years. Whatever you wish of me, I will do it.”

  Darius smiled, thankful for her support. He had been afraid that none of them would believe his tale, but now that at least one of them had, he felt more confident. “We must make preparations to deal with both potential threats. Gather your forces, hold them ready to march to war if it is needed. Until then, be wary and vigilant. Those creatures got into the city without our knowledge, and they may do so again in any of our towns and homes. Hunt them down if you see them, seek them out if you don’t. Cut off the head, and they will cease to be a danger to us.”

  The gathered nobles all rose to their feet, shouting their support, their unwavering loyalty to the Southmarsh, and their promises to do all that was needed to keep the lands safe.

  Darius felt relief wash over him. He knew it was what his father would want, if he were here.

  Thinking of his father now made him wonder what Gadmar was doing at the moment. He had sent a messenger north, to the capital city, relating all that had happened, and telling all that he knew about the vile creatures they had fought. He did not know if it would help his father’s cause in West Reach, but he hoped that it would at least do some good. It would serve as a warning of this fresh danger, if nothing else.

  Darius raised his glass and the crowd quieted. “To the Southmarsh, and to the kingdom. May we forever stand united against all threats!”

  “To the Southmarsh!” The crowd roared back.

  * * *

  After he had finished discussing the way forward with the gathered nobles and lords, Darius left the castle with a contingent of soldiers. He rode through the city, out through the gates, and along the road beyond. His plan
was to visit the High Keep so that he could survey the defences there. Many of the lords had pledged to send what men they could to held defend the city and the keep, as well as strengthening the borders of Southmarsh to protect against the possibility of attack. Darius did not know which enemy posed the biggest threat, but he was determined to cover all possibilities.

  The sky was, for once, clear and bright, with no hint of rain anywhere to be seen. He was glad. He’d had enough of wet days for awhile.

  Two dozen men rode with him along the quiet stretch of marshy road. Once, not that long ago, he would have taken far less when riding through the Southmarsh, now he was unsure if even this many soldiers were enough. He did not expect another attack on the road so soon, but after everything that happened, he was not going to discount the possibility.

  His thoughts turned to his sister and to Needra. Both had remained behind in the castle. Torelle would need to govern things while he was gone; his journey to the keep and back was only going to take a few days at most, but there were so many things that required attention, that he’d had no choice but to leave his sister in charge. He was not concerned. Torelle might not be battle trained or knowledgeable about strategy or war, but she was intelligent and shrewd for her age, and she would do the job well enough in his absence.

  A slight breeze blew along the raised road for a moment, and when it faded, Darius frowned as he heard the sound of hooves approaching from somewhere ahead. Worried that it may mean fresh troubles, he held his hand up and halted the rest of the soldiers. The sound of the racing horse drew closer and closer, and Darius laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, preparing himself.

  A sole rider appeared, head down over the saddle with his travel cloak whipping out behind him. Darius recognised the crest on the cloak as soon as he saw it. It belonged to Arnsmoor, the barony ruled by Hedick Thorne. The speed at which the man was riding told Darius instantly that something was wrong.

  He waited nervously as the horse drew close. He wondered if the rider had even seen them, and if he would stop, but at the last moment, the mount was jerked to a standstill. It skidded to a halt, throwing up mud from the road, its nostrils flaring. Judging by the way the beast was panting, it had been ridden hard.

  The messenger’s face was pale and worried as he turned in his saddle to face Darius. “My lord, I did not expect to find you on the road, but it is perhaps for the best. I come from Baron Hedick, with a message of great importance. It concerns your father.”

  Darius licked his lips, suddenly more worried than he had been. If it was news about his father, it could not be good. One look at the expression on the rider’s face was enough to tell him that.

  “Then speak, man. What do you have to tell me?”

  The rider hesitated and ran his hand through his hair briefly before replying. When he spoke, his voice was purposefully measured and he chose his words carefully. “Your father’s captain is returning home. He sent scouts ahead to Arnsmoor to tell the baron all that has transpired in the capital. Duke Harrow has rebelled against the crown. He has killed the king and most of the dukes that were loyal to him and has likely secured the throne by now. Your father is… he is among the dead, my lord.”

  The words felt like a dagger to the heart. “Duke Harrow killed my father?” Darius felt a white hot rage building inside him, though it was tempered with a powerful and heart-breaking grief over the news that his father was gone. He felt his body trembling as he sat astride his horse, every nerve and fibre of his being wrestling between hatred and sadness. “How?”

  But the rider was shaking his head. “Duke Harrow led the rebellion, my lord, but he did not swing the sword that killed your father.” The messenger paused again here, and Darius could see that he was struggling to speak.

  “Who did it?” he hissed, leaning forward in the saddle of his horse and grabbing the man’s tunic in his fist. “Tell me who killed my father!”

  “It was your brother, my lord. Luscard Crow killed your father. Captain Stairn was there, he saw it happen.”

  Darius’ vision swam before his eyes, and for a moment, he felt as though he was going to fall from his horse and crash into the mud of the road. Somehow, he remained in his saddle, though he could not afterwards, clearly remember how. He felt hot tears of rage and hatred and bitterness and grief coursing down his cheeks, felt his body shaking like a snowflake in a storm. He gripped the rains of his mount and lifted his chin. His own brother, a murderer. He wanted to shake them man from his horse, make him admit that he was lying. But he did not. He knew, somehow, that what he was being told was the truth. Luscard had killed their father.

  “If this is true,” Darius said slowly, “then my brother and Duke Harrow, and all the lords who stood with them to commit this atrocity will pay for what they have done! By all the Gods, I swear it!”

  He turned his horse around until it was facing back towards Marsh End. He glanced at the messenger. “Rest for a spell, if you need it, but after, I want you to return to Baron Hedick. Remind him of his friendship with Southmarsh, of his long brotherhood with my father. Tell him that if he wishes to see justice done, then he will stand with us. Tell him that civil war has come to the kingdom!”

  With his words still ringing in the air, Darius spurred his horse forward along the road and raced back towards the city.

  Thirty-Five

  Her home was empty of guests once again, and Shuvani was glad of it. The evening’s revelries and pleasures had wearied even her, and by the time the last giddy noble had left, the sky was already growing light as morning approached.

  She was ready for sleep, and yet, she was still filled with raw energy and felt as taut as a bow string. She had removed one more link in the chain that could have damned her that night, and she was another step closer to her eventual goal of the ivory throne of Tho’reen; that knowledge made her head spin with dizzy delight. She felt as powerful as a God. Even with exhaustion washing over her in waves, she knew she would never relax enough for sleep. Instead, she had one of the slaves prepare her hot bath, and when it was ready, she slipped down naked into the water and instantly felt at peace.

  The heat of the bath always helped calm her when she was overly excited. The touch of the warmth on her skin, the water steaming up from the surface, and the silence all around her all helped to settled her raging blood and pumping heart. She dismissed her slaves instantly, preferring some time alone to think about all that she had achieved.

  She reflected on the path ahead, turning over every possible eventuality in her mind, trying to determine if there was anything that might jeopardise her plans. One small misstep, one tiny detail that she had missed, and everything could come crashing down in an instant. But she knew intrinsically that she had not failed to see all eventualities. Her army was prepared, her roc was waiting to be unleashed, Armensha had been set the task of bringing back the proof that would start a war, and all of Shuvani’s enemies and adversaries – other than the empress - were dead, leaving Shuvani with a clear line to the throne. Once she had orchestrated the destruction of the kingdom, she would be free to remove the empress, too. It would be an easy thing to achieve, once news of her accomplishments spread throughout the empire, and those with power and status flocked to support her. She could see no obstacles, now, that could stop her rise.

  Armensha would be in the Kingdom of Losarn by now. Once she had what Shuvani needed, she would return by the quickest route available. The assassin had never failed Shuvani before, not once, and she had no fears or doubts that her occasional lover would fail her now. Because while Shuvani usually saw affection and love as a weakness, in the case of Armensha, it had proved to be a boon. The woman would do anything for Shuvani, and she would do it well. Failure would never be an option, and that meant that Shuvani could put complete faith in Armensha. She could trust her to a degree that was not possible with others in her employ.

  The man who had brought Thursa to her death, for instance. While he had been loyal for ma
ny years, there was always the possibility of betrayal. She paid him well for his silence and his aid, but there were others who might pay more, should they learn of his service. Eventually, she would have to deal with him, too, but that could wait. There was no rush.

  She sighed in pleasure and dipped her head back, letting her hair sink into the water. Her eyes closed and she floated there, on the surface, lost in a haze of delicious thoughts and dreams, seeing herself sitting on the throne of the greatest empire the world had ever known. When the Losarn fell, she would have no problems taking Arrenissia, too, and after that… the lands beyond the sea. Those realms were distant, mysterious, and no empress in history had ever dreamed so big as to imagine conquering them. She would be the first. She could already see it, the world lying spread at her feet, its people subjugated, worshipping her like a deity.

  She laughed softly and opened her eyes… and saw her sister staring down at her.

  Shuvani jerked forward, splashing heated water everywhere. It was the first time in as long as she could remember that she had been so shocked and surprised, and by her sister of all people. She cursed inwardly, annoyed with herself at being taken unawares. Gritting her teeth, she started to rise out of the bath, when her sister stopped her with a wave of her hand.

  “There is no need to leave your bath,” she said, smiling smugly. It was a winning smile, which angered Shuvani even more. Did Muvesh think she had gained some kind of victory with her little game?

  Shuvani curled her lip in disgust. “I thought you would still be sleeping. When we were younger, you never got out of bed before noon. And from what I have seen since you arrived, it is no different now.”

  “A woman needs her rest,” Muvesh said with an easy shrug. “But today will be a busy day for me. I came here to tell you that I am leaving to return to the capital soon. I have what I came for.”