Winterfinding

by Daniel Casey

  Umma shook her head, “They’ve been refining the bithumin to such a degree, dousing their lands with it. Putting it in everything. They don’t just use it to grow their food. They infuse it in their food, they use it in their clothes, in their building, and I would bet it’s even in their water. Too pervasive.”

  “You’re saying the process has been accelerated.”

  “Simooms don’t just happen. Their soil is bleaching. Their groundwater is receding, if it’s not already contaminated.” Umma looked at Rava, “We need to move quickly. If they discover what is really going on, this fleet is worthless and we lose everything.”

  “Now and into the future.” Rava assented. “What would you have me do?”

  “The spy. Let him go.”

  “With what he knows, isn’t that the last thing we should do?” Rava was skeptical.

  “He will lead you to his paymaster. Then we will know who was behind the incursion of our sovereignty”

  “You would have me,” Rava said with contempt, “shadow a weasel.”

  “You are the only one skilled enough to allow him believe he is free, see what he sees and more, and then put an end to the spy and his master.”

  Rava grinned, nodded, and left. Umma stood in silence, and then abruptly threw both consoles down to the ground. The crashing of the metal and shattering of glass made the guards start for a moment. She strode out of the chamber and yelled at the guards, “Clean it up and bring me our fastest courier.”

  Spires Army

  They had been riding for a day and a half, nearly non-stop. There had been brief moments of pause but otherwise the four of them hadn’t had much time to speak. Now though the horses were exhausted. If they kept pushing them, they’d certainly die.

  Kyrio Tobin had put them in the hands of Kees and Arcite, two stoic soldiers. Tobin had given them a parchment with details about how to reach a safe house once they were in Sulecin and the means to contact his agents. It all still seemed far too rushed for Fery’s liking.

  Declan and Arcite had been sent off to gather water from a nearby creek. Goshen was working on creating a fire as Kira minded the horses. Evening was coming on quickly; Fery felt the chill in the air. Autumn was nearly done. It would be proper winter soon. Fery stood unsure of what to do with herself. She watched as Goshen’s fire came alight. Kira threw down the last of their gear and then sat down next to the pile. She didn’t say anything, just stared into the nascent fire.

  “That one,” Kees the other soldier that had been in Tobin’s employ came up next to Fery and nodded toward Kira, “has been in a dark place for some time now.”

  Fery was a bit startled, but she didn’t let Kees see it. “What can I do?”

  Kees smiled, “Empty hands getting to you?”

  “My ass is sore, and I’m exhausted. If I stop, I don’t know if I’ll get going again.” She managed a weak smile.

  He gestured for her to follow him, “Let’s forage a bit. We’ll need more wood for the night; it’s getting proper cold now.” She followed behind him as he spoke to her over his shoulder.

  “How far ahead of the army do you think we are?”

  Kees shrugged, “At least the length that we’ve ridden.”

  “That’s helpful.” Fery muttered. She bent down and plucked a large mushroom cap. “This any good?”

  Kees turned and took the mushroom from her hands. He snapped the cap in half for her to see. The grey-white flesh suddenly turned a dark purple. Kees shook his head, “See that? When they change color like that, best just leave them be.”

  “Poisonous?”

  “Not always, but can make you sick more times than not. Just best to leave it. But this on the other hand…” Kees tossed the cap aside and gestured for her to see what he had found—a couple of large blooms looking like a delicate cauliflower. Each were nearly the size of a man’s head. “These will do well. It’s called sparass. Tuck these away in this.” He handed her a coarse sack and then each of the mushrooms. Standing he kept on into the woods.

  “It’s getting a bit too dark to see anything, let alone hunt.” Fery said.

  “We’re too loud and smell too bad to hunt anything. But you’re right, we’re losing light. Let’s get some wood.”

  Fery had a small hatchet that she’d grabbed before leaving the Spires camp. She hacked at a couple of branches. Kees shook his head, “Try to get deadwood, stuff that’s dry. We don’t want anything that’s supple cuz it’ll take too long to burn and smoke up.”

  “I know how to get firewood.” Fery snapped. Kees ignored her and disappeared into a thicket. She could make out his shadow. “What did you mean back there?” Kees grunted in what sounded like a questioning way. “About Kira. You said she was in a dark place.”

  “The alm, right.” Kees emerged from the thicket, threw down an armful of twigs, and then disappeared back into the thicket saying nothing.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “What did you mean by a dark place?”

  “That she was in one.”

  Fery let out a long, exasperated sigh, “By the Light…” she muttered.

  “Think about it for a moment, you’re her friend.” Kees emerged again with several rather large logs. He began to bundle the twigs and logs, tying them with a notched leather strip. “The Spires is using her assault as an excuse to attack The Cathedral. She thinks she’s to blame for her home being threatened.”

  “That’s ridiculous. She knows she couldn’t control what happened to her.”

  “That’s hardly satisfying. Find your emotions to be reasonable, do ya?” Kees pulled hard on the leather strap and the wood creaked faintly. Fery hacked off another branch and tossed it on her pile.

  “It’s more than that.” She muttered.

  “Oh, most, likely. I imagine she’s had a great many things that have led her to be that glum.” He lifted the bundle and seemed to be judging its weight. Setting it down, he pointed at her pile. “Strip those but don’t cut them in half, we can use the bark. I’m gonna get one more load about this size, then we need to head back.”

  Fery nodded and began to whittle her branches down. “She was attacked on the high road, but those bandits nearly killed Goshen.”

  “The paladin?”

  “Yeah. Nearly killed him twice. She blames herself for that I know because she wanted him to be her escort. The bandits abused her on their ship. They nearly killed another friend of ours then too.”

  “Where’s he at then?”

  “North.”

  “Gah, that’s unpleasant. Probably the dumbest thing he could do.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Kees paused, looked at her, and gestured all around them. “Autumn’s over. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we got our first winter storm over the next couple of days. Any farther beyond Sulecin and things get colder faster. Light be damned, Far Port’s probably been frozen over since late Mabon.” He seemed to sniff the air like a hound. “Smells like snow.”

  Fery hadn’t thought about it before but it suddenly struck her that it did smell like snow. She giggled a bit but caught herself, desperately hoping Kees hadn’t noticed.

  “Then before we got snared by you all. Some corrupt Spires men tried to kill us. She’s been hunted for what feels like ages and it’s only been since Lammas.”

  “Some folk have been hunted their whole lives.” Kees muttered.

  Fery grimaced, “And then there’s you all. With your little plots. Schemes. Using us.”

  “Well, that’s not really my area.”

  “You don’t deny it then. We’re being used.”

  “There isn’t anyone in these lands that isn’t being used or using someone. Pretend otherwise and you’ll find yourself in a bad way.”

  “That is remarkably cynical.”

  “The real world often is. Things don’t work like they do in Yvor and Nolan or The Owl’s Tale.”

  “I’ve never heard of The Owl’s Tale.”
/>   “That hardly changes my point.”

  “Which is?”

  “You need to stop complaining. She needs to stop dwelling in the past. Do what you can now; deal with what’s in front of you, what can make you and other happy in the future.”

  “Rather philosophical of a soldier.”

  Kees chuckled, “Technically, I’m an officer.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Fery gathered up her branches. “Still, it’s must be difficult to deal with the news she’s gotten.”

  “Wha’s tha then?” Kees asked offhanded as he was working on another bundle.

  “Her father, a vicegerent, isn’t her father. Her real family was actually one of the Spire clans.”

  Kees gave a grunt of surprise, “Well, then, thank fuck she didn’t die.”

  Fery furrowed her brow, “Why’s that?”

  “The laws of both Silvincia and Sulecin have all holdings of wards pass to their adoptives. That vicegerent would’ve found himself with legal rights to that Spire. He’d be clergy and noble. Which would be rather cushy, when you think about it.” Kees spoke casually, and then stood. He had the wood bundles slung over his back, “We need to get back before we can’t see a damn thing.” He walked passed her back the way they had come. Fery held her bundle of branches in her arms but stood unfollowing.

  “Oi,” Kees turned and yelled back at her, “Come along then!”

  Fery snapped out of her trace and quickly ran after Kees. “Getting cold are ya?” He asked as she brushed passed him. She ignored him, dropping the bundle of branches. “Hey, damn it.” Kees called after her but she was gone.

  The Blockade

  Lesur was drunk. He hadn’t always been drunk, but then again when he really thought about it, he could only remember a handful of times when he hadn’t been. His sober life was a blur. It wasn’t going to get any better any time soon.

  Returning from the Lappalan fleet, he had convened his officers. A barrage of questions came from their mouths, none of them relevant. It was clear they were afraid, and in that fear, their contempt of him had shown itself. Like children, they wanted to either attack or runaway. It was painful to Lesur just how incompetent his navy was.

  The woman must have sensed this weakness. The way she dealt with him could generously be called odious. She had mocked his rank, the resolve of his navy, and his ability to comprehend what she and her fleet were doing here. Every one of her questions had made him feel as though he was receiving a dressing down from his mother. He felt his face flush with rage thinking about it now. Then to have his subordinates paw at him with their fractious complaints and insipid tactics. She hadn’t been wrong in her judgment and that infuriated him, made him feel small.

  He had taken it out on them. None of them had ever heard him rage. Son of nobility, they had never been castigates. The closest they had come was perhaps being scolded on occasion by their absentee fathers. His voice had changed going from an innocuous dry croak to a deep, violent snarl. A few winced while all of them fell silence; he sent them running from his cabin smashing glasses at their feet.

  Now he sat in his burgundy leather chair that he had dragged from behind his desk to sit in the center of the cabin facing the door. At first, he had drank and continued to hurl glass after glass at the door. Now he was down to a single glass. He held it in his hand pressed to his forehead. In his other hand, he dangled a carafe at its neck bringing it to his lips frequently. Each time, his face soured as he felt the arak coat his tongue and burn its way down his throat.

  There came a tentative knock on the door. It had to be Baxter. Lesur let a jaded grin worm its way on to his face. Most likely, Baxter had been lingering outside since the children went scuttling away. Lesur chortled, “Come!”

  “Sir,” Baxter said in perhaps the most casual manner Lesur had ever heard, “Commander Moxley is waiting.”

  “Then see him in then.”

  Baxter stepped aside as Moxley entered the room from which he had been stampeded out of not a few hours before. He stopped still not two steps in, startled by the admiral’s presence.

  “Sir, I…”

  Lesur leaned forward. With his elbows on his knees, he poured the arak into his last glass. He held it out to Moxley, “Here.”

  Moxley hesitated. Lesur shook the too full glass spilling some over its lip and down his fingers, “Take it or get the fuck out.”

  Holding the glass as though it were some bizarre foreign object, Moxley tried to regain his composure.

  Lesur snapped, “Drink it. Then speak your piece.” Bringing the glass to his lips, Moxley took a reluctant sip. “No,” Lesur barked, “Drink it. Drink it all.”

  “I’m not really…”

  “Don’t you dare defy me.” Lesur had a drunkard’s gurgle, all rage and disgust. “You drink that all, you need to get at least a bit closer to where I am.”

  Not saying anything, Moxley drank down the arak. The muscles in his neck tensed but otherwise he made no outward sign that the drink was anything more potent than water. Lesur was satisfied. He stood and deliberately dripped the carafe on the floor. It’s shattering provoked a slight jump from Moxley and a slight sigh of exasperation from Baxter.

  “Close the damn door.” Lesur grumbled. Baxter stepped backwards and closed the door briefly exchanging a queer look with Moxley. “Come here, Kieran, I need you to know what is going to happen.” Leaning over his desk, Lesur jabbed his index finger on the spread out map. Moxley came over and set his glass down on the desk. Lesur paused for a moment, and then casually flicked the glass off the desk sending it to the floor to shatter. “The time for that is over.”

  Moxley nodded, “I completely agree.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you agree.” Lesur’s voice was filled with disdain. “You’re still going to Ardavass. You are going to secure for our navy, sanction to bring this foreign fleet to heel.”

  “How shall I…”

  “I need ships and all our ships are locked together in this idiotic chain to continue to choke this damn dead city.” It was a though Lesur just needed Moxley there so he could think aloud. “So I need to replace these wasted ships.”

  “But you can’t break the siege now. Certainly there are still some in Rikonen that are looking for the slightest weakness.”

  “True. So I must take the ships and immediately replace them in the great chain.”

  “You’re going to build replacements?”

  “Yes, exactly. The answer is pontoons. We build grand pontoons that will allow our forces to stay connected but that free up out frigates.”

  “How exactly do…”

  “There are four or five proper shipbuilders in our ranks. They will oversee the construction. We will alter the designs of course to suit our military needs…” Lesur paused and felt a wave of nausea go through him. “Baxter! Water!”

  “But even with those handful of ships…”

  “We need ships, and we need men. No more reliefs. All marines stay regardless of the length of their tour. Also, I’m conscripting the crews of all newly arriving ships. And the ships themselves.”

  “Our men won’t take well to that. And the privateers won’t either.”

  “They I’ll beat my men into submission for failing to fulfill their duty and I’ll murder every privateer who think they’re too good to serve but good enough to take our nation’s coin.”

  Moxley stared at Lesur. He had never seen this side of the admiral. “You don’t think that’ll be a bit heavy-handed, an overreaction?”

  Lesur brought his fist down hard on the desk, “There is a war armada out there. Lurking, waiting for us to blink. We must stand up to them, make them flinch.”

  “But do you really think I should leave at this time. Given what has transpired today.”

  “Those fools. They aren’t soldiers. They cower or boast a sad, false bravado.” He shook his head. Baxter entered the cabin with a pitcher of cold water. He laid down a cloth and then set the pitcher down. “V
ery good. Thank you, Baxter.” Lesur softened his tone, and then asked, “We’ll need…”

  “Glasses, sir.” He set two wooden cups before the admiral. Lesur couldn’t help but give his valet a smile. Baxter filled both cups and then departed. The admiral picked up a cup and emptied it. He paused and closed his eyes. He could felt the cold water move down his gullet and into his stomach. With his eyes closed, he stole a moment and let himself relax. Moxley cleared his throat and Lesur came back.

  “Quite right,” the admiral nodded, “I will put the conscripts to work. They will join our navy and we shall have at least a modicum of force.”

  “Facing two fronts is dangerous. We can’t do that for long.”

  “You’re absolutely correct.” Lesur poured himself more water. “That is why your journey to the Spires will not be suspended, only amended.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “You will notify them of this situation. You will tell them the action I am taking just outlined to you. And you will demand we are sent reinforcements. If they decide to break out siege, then we’ll need to strike back. You need to rally the kyrios.”

  Moxley nodded, “What if they…”

  “They must. This is nothing we can gloss over. This fleet cannot only break The Blockade, it can occupy or destroy Arderra, Anhra, and Bandra without hesitation. Do you understand? That fleet can ravage our coasts without the slightest effort. It’s all because we aren’t nearly prepared enough for it. It is a mortal concern. If you don’t convince them, then Silvincia loses the Novostos. We lose it.” Lesur locked eyes with Moxley. He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. Moxley could see just how earnest the admiral was and he couldn’t help but feel a kind of pride serving under the old man.

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving your side, sir.” Lesur began to interrupt but Moxley raised a hand to prevent him from continuing, “But you are correct. I don’t just believe what you’re saying; I know that it is fact. We need to mobilize. I will go with haste.”

  Lesur nodded, pleased. “You’ll leave very soon. First, I need you to find someone to take charge of those who will make up the conscripts. You have a day.”