Chronicles of Den'dra: A land on Fire

by Spencer Johnson

  At the most, he could put the people off by a couple weeks with the excuse that she was in private grieving. In a way, he was glad he had someone fresh to work with. Em’risi’s attitude would have been troubling to deal with. She had been spoiled by her father and would likely not cooperate with being ordered to do this and that, when and how Reigns thought best. A fresh start with a malleable girl that would do whatever he wanted without question was considerably better.

  He had people that could make sure the transformation would be completed on time. The girl would be seen at the head of the official funeral procession and everyone would think her the Princess. A short time later, she would be crowned the Queen and again no one would be the wiser. All this time Reigns would be the one in complete control. The rebels would be irrelevant. The paradox of them fighting in the name of the Queen and at the same time attacking her men would not go unnoticed. If any of the noble houses had been wavering in their loyalty at that point, they would have no choice but to fall into line. A line that Reigns would draw as he saw fit.

  Reigns’ next stop was a large room in the castle dedicated to the creation and distribution of propaganda. The power of a subtle phrase was incredible. More often a picture had to illustrate the words in order for the uneducated to understand. The one that Reigns saw first was a realistic drawing of Balinor. Below the picture was a note telling the tale of an innocent group of travelers and their children that the ex-general had slaughtered simply because he wanted their horses. Below the note was a rendering of the massacre and a group of the vilest looking miscreants that had assisted him in the atrocity. Care was taken to paint the man in believable lies. Public opinion was sure to be inflamed against the rebel and his band of thugs.

  The artist at the next table was trying to capture the essence of the Princess’ beauty, despite the fact he had never seen her. The woman on the paper was impressive and did indeed begin looking like the Princess once Reigns ordered a few alterations. Below that picture would be a passage from the grieving Princess pictured to her subjects, putting forth her virtues and telling the people that she, more than anyone, could understand the unutterable grief her people suffered over the King’s untimely death. It was as artfully worded as the picture was drawn. The people would feel that their Queen cared for them.

  After these artist were done, the posters would be sent to the next row of tables where more artists would turn out hundreds of copies. These would then be sent to every major city and even some of the larger villages where they would be hung in all the usual conspicuous places.

  If all went as planned, people would come to love the monarch in Shienhin and reject the one hiding in the Outlands as a fraud. Without that claim, Balinor would be unable to garner the support needed to survive, even if Reigns didn’t crush them. It would be a pleasant diversion reclaiming the Outlands. Until now, he hadn’t placed much value in the sparsely populated region. As soon as the rebellion was crushed, he would be appointing landmasters to manage the Outlands. The people should also pay for having supported a rebel in their midst. Perhaps a doubling of their taxes as an example would help ensure the proper loyalty from the rest of the regions.

  ***

  Enthack had just delivered a copy of the dispatch that he carried to Fenar and was leaving when he had the misfortune of running into a belligerent Ildroth. Tusul’s forged seals were identical to the originals allowing the under captain to read the private communications of the Chancellor with impunity. This one was to be delivered to the Inarack residence and handed to the person of the noble leading the house. Enthack knew of two other missives that were even now being carried to the other two northern Noble families.

  “Under captain, what brings you to Warton?” Ildroth held the rank of a first lieutenant and outranked Enthack by a couple levels.

  “Imperial business. You Lieutenant?” Ildroth noted the medallion that dangled on Enthack’s chest and suppressed a scowl. Why Fenar would let one of these traitors under the roof of her establishment was beyond him. He failed to remember that an identical medallion hanging around his own neck putting him in no place to judge others.

  “My own business.” Ildroth’s cold reply would have caused a lesser man than Enthack to excuse himself.

  “There is a war on up north. Shouldn’t you be preparing to join it?”

  “Mind your tongue under captain. I'm stationed here for the time being.” Ildroth haughtily cautioned Enthack who smiled irritatingly in return.

  “That might well change Lieutenant. I'm delivering a dispatch to house Inarack now.” Ildroth sneered in reply.

  “I'm Ildroth of house Inarack. You can give me the dispatch and save yourself a trip.”

  “My orders were to deliver it to the head of the house Inarack. I doubt that he would be stationed here in Warton, even if the accommodations were this comfortable.” Ildroth nearly failed in restraining himself from following the urge to choke the life out of the insolent under captain.

  “I will escort you to my home then.” Ildroth’s offer was seated in his desire to know what was inside the dispatch as soon as possible.

  “I think not. You are stationed here. I do hope that it isn’t too comfortable. Would be a shame if you got sent to the lines up north.” Enthack turned and left Ildroth fuming in the hallway. Fenar came upon him a moment later as he resolved to have his stallion saddled and take the fast way home. He wanted to relish the satisfaction of refusing the courier’s entrance to his family estate. He was within his right to deliver the dispatch himself seeing as he outranked the courier.

  “I must have my horse saddled at once. That courier had a dispatch for my father concerning the war.”

  “Do I look like Danryn? Go get your own horse saddled, but it won’t be necessary… I have the dispatch and in the spirit of cooperation, I was willing to let you read it here. Although, the fresh air might help if you instead rode to the Inarack estate to read the dispatch.” Fenar began folding the dispatch as Ildroth spluttered.

  “Do you spy on all your allies?” Ildroth waited impatiently as Fenar slowly unfolded it again.

  “Trust but verify.” Fenar finally handed the dispatch to Ildroth who read it twice. He was a little shaken when he handed it back absently.

  “He is calling up an army and sending it right at them.”

  “How soon can you get this information to the royals?” Fenar slid the folded dispatch into a pocket on her blouse.

  “Nearly a week but maybe longer if my courier has trouble getting around the blockade. Our last supply wagons have been seized.”

  “I will have it delivered then. I can have it to them in a couple days at the most.”

  “How can you possibly get it delivered so fast?!” Ildroth realized that he had given the missive back as he patted his pockets down.

  “In all honesty, you should be asking why your people are so slow. I will give you a copy so you can try getting it delivered, but if your courier gets caught, your family's involvement will not be a secret anymore.” Fenar left a perplexed Ildroth in the hallway as she made her way to the basement.

  Brounn was not as astonished as Ildroth had been. The subject of their last conversation had been about the way that Reigns might respond to the rebellion. Calling up the noble houses and their retainers had been one option discussed to great length. Brounn merely read the missive before handing it back to Fenar and saying that he would look into it in further depth. Fenar then told him everything of interest her little orphans had overheard. The rumors were that the war with the elves had intensified. Brounn’s response about the several troop movements to the south seemed to support this idea.

  After leaving Brounn to deal with his business, Fenar went straight to her room. After locking the door, she moved to the chair before a mirror. This was the only truly private room in the establishment. The walls were sound proofed and the lock was one of Tusul’s own design. There were some things that she couldn’t risk even her closest business associates e
ver learning about.

  Letting down her hair, she scrutinized the reflection in the mirror. Her skin was pale, but not in an unhealthy way. She hadn’t been sick a day in her life. Taking out a jar of some black substance, she mixed a little in water. Taking the dark brown liquid she began working it into her scalp. It would stain her skin, but she would be wearing a hat until the stains washed out. After that, it would be a few weeks before the ritual had to be repeated or else the pure white roots would begin showing through. Lifting the hair on one side, she caught sight of one of her ears. They were normally hidden from sight by the way she put up her hair. They looked normal except for the fact that the tops weren’t rounded, but instead were tapered into points and marking her as part elf. They always came as a surprise whenever she saw them.

  Only one person had known the truth in the last hundred and fifty years. Rakyr had noticed and been told on their wedding night. Before the last century and a half, Fenar had gone by a different name. After she had turned twenty, her father had approached her and tried convincing her to join his organization. The atrocities they committed in the name of a lost race disgusted her. It had taken her nearly thirty years to lose herself enough that the Shadow Order couldn’t find her. The next hundred and twenty years she had spent moving from village to village every few years to avoid anyone noticing her unwrinkled face. It was shortly after the Clan Wars that she had learned of a mysterious assassin hunting the Shadow Order. It had taken time, but she had wed Rakyr in the hopes of being recruited into the assassin's organization. In the end, she had fallen in love with Rakyr. She had been recruited, but that had become of secondary importance. Now that he was dead, she could employ all her talents in helping the Asgare root out the Shadow Order, before it was too late.

  Chapter Six: Departure

  Urake sat in the dark, hidden behind a tree, watching as his new unit assembled. Emeck and Cero were the first ones to appear. The telepath glanced at Urake’s place of concealment before nodding and saying something to Cero. The lad merely nodded in comprehension. The two boys were close to the same age with Emeck the senior by two years.

  Urake wasn’t sure how to read his son anymore. Over the last few months, he had changed in many ways. He had always been quieter than most and enjoyed time alone with his thoughts, but now he had become even more reserved. He had asked no questions about Urake’s presence in the camp, even though he often looked like he had questions to ask. Sometimes Urake saw a haunted expression in the lad’s eyes that made him shiver. He was willing to let Cero be the first to open up and resolved not to push.

  Aleest was the next to appear. Despite Urake’s warnings about the uselessness of a horse in the Garoche, Aleest was seated bareback on the imposing black warhorse. He was greeted by the two already assembled. He then turned around on the motionless horse and stretched out leaning against Elmet’s neck. He feigned sleep as the next two arrived.

  “I was going to come. Don’t push. I can walk on my own.”

  “Shut up. You talk too much.”

  “I was only saying…”

  “Shut up.”

  “I was saying that he said first light. As you can see, or more accurately not see, there is no light out here to call first. Ouch! That was uncalled for. Your mother would be ashamed of you for… Ouch!”

  “Shut up!”

  “To think that I thanked you for helping me out yesterday with that… situation.”

  “You mean saving your scrawny hide from those guys that you ratted out?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say it that way, but I suppose that is a succinct way of saying it.”

  “What does that word mean?”

  “You don’t know what succinct means?!”

  “I can still go get those guys. I think the bigger one can still beat the tar out of you.”

  “No need to threaten. I was just saying that you said it very well. That is what succinct means. Now you have learned something new today.”

  “I have learned that you can’t shut up. One of you have a spare sock?”

  “What might you need a sock for?”

  “So I can stuff it in your mouth and tie it on. It will be quiet then.”

  “Now that just doesn’t make sense. Stuff it in then tie it on. It should go something like… Okay, okay, I will be quiet. Don’t…! See they are laughing. It’s sort of funny if you step back and look at it. Just step back over there please.”

  “Just be quiet like that kid or I will hit you with this.”

  “He is a showoff. I do wish that I had a horse like that.”

  “I said…”

  “Okay, Okay. See? Silent.”

  Urake had trouble remaining hidden as he suppressed an urge to laugh at the spectacle of a mortally offended Niman struggling to remain silent for Arken’s benefit. The humorous mood was dampened when the last two individuals arrived. Both Torroth and Inadar had agreed to come of their own free will, but neither of them wanted to be here. They chose what they considered to be the lesser of two evils. Even if they did make good on an escape attempt in the future, he wouldn’t hold it against them. One of the reasons that he had requested their presence was because he wanted to learn more about Inadar. After watching the seven interact for a couple minute Urake stepped into the circle of light.

  “I trust that neither of you will try cutting my throat in the middle of the night.” Urake tossed the weapons that had been taken from Torroth and Inadar at their capture at their feet. The black metal knives that Inadar carried had given him pause when he recognized the distinctive metal carried by the hunters. He also noticed that Inadar was eyeing Cero oddly for some reason.

  “I hope that you are just showing off with that horse.” Urake marveled at the usually energetic horse that hadn’t more than twitched in the last few minutes.

  “You don’t want me to come with you.” Aleest sat up and looked down at Urake before he turned around and on the horse.

  “Don’t tell me that Elmet told you.”

  “Okay… I won’t.” Urake shook his head as he turned back to the two busy arming themselves.

  “Who is Elmet?” Inadar questioned as she slipped a knife in her boot.

  “Don’t get him started.” Urake rolled his eyes.

  “It’s Okay. He will be coming back here when we reach the snow.” Aleest spoke softly as he hugged the horse’s muscled neck. Everyone seemed to detect the emotion in his comment so they didn’t speak again as they picked up the packs that Urake had set out for them. He noticed that Cero shouldered his effortlessly, but also that he lagged to the rear of the column as they set out. Their path led directly up the slope behind the cave. A trail was soon found that began climbing the hill in a slow switchback pattern.

  “So what is your name?” Inadar tried to strike up a conversation with the quiet lad plodding next to her.

  “Cero.”

  “That is a nice name. Where are you from?”

  “Yrany. It’s over in the Garoche Highland.”

  “You’re a little ways away from home.” Inadar didn’t mention that she was a lot farther away home and wishing she was there more every day.

  “I’ve been farther.” Cero’s non-committal answers had nearly killed Inadar’s attempt at conversation.

  “Oh… What did he do to make you come along?” Inadar nodded towards the man leading the column.

  “Nothing really. He is my father.” Inadar nearly tripped and lost her balance.

  “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I'm sure he is a wonderful person when you get to know him.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. What do you want to know?” Inadar responded, regretting her attempt at being friendly.

  “Who is he? I mean, everyone is afraid of him. Except for Emeck and Aleest.”

  “You don’t know?” Inadar found Cero’s naivety to be shocking. After all, he had just claimed the man as his father.

  “When he was in Yrany, he pretended to be a dr
unk and no one paid him any attention. Now that I think about it, it does make a little more sense, but now people do whatever he says now.”

  “He is the Asgare. A legendary assassin. I heard stories about him most of my life, but then he disappeared about fifteen years ago. Everyone thought he was dead. It seems that he was actually hiding out as a drunk the whole time.” Torroth explained over his shoulder.

  “So my father is an assassin that disappeared the same time that I was born. That explains some, but I think that he should explain the rest. Excuse me.” Torroth stepped aside as Cero put on a burst of speed and walked rapidly to the front of the line.

  “I need to talk to you.” Cero pulled up short just behind Urake.

  “I was wondering when you would get around to it.” Urake stepped to the edge of the path so Cero could walk next to him.

  “Last time I saw you, you were leading those soldiers after me. Why?”

  “Several reason. The first being that I didn’t want them to catch you. Another being that they were going to get a tracker from the village if I didn’t.”

  “That didn’t turn out well.” Urake paused as he looked quizzically at Cero.

  “I made sure that you were able to stay ahead of them.”

  “How did you do that? I was way ahead of you.”

  “There were two more at the house waiting for you when we got back. How did you manage to avoid them?” Urake avoided explaining how he had ensured that the men didn’t follow.

  “They weren’t there when I got back to the house. I grabbed the stuff I needed, then I heard them with the black carriage and got out before they showed up. How did you get away?” Urake figured that Cero would learn sooner than later and also that it was best from his own lips. He was also still having trouble thinking of Skeln as Cero.

  “I killed them. They were a threat to you.” Cero looked horrified for a moment as he pondered Urake’s comment. Acceptance sank in a minute later.