“No sign. Yesterday was the last sighting.”
“They were only scouting, then.”
“Probably, Third.”
He did not love that possibility, for it suggested a greater level of intelligence than he had hoped the enemy possessed. It was easy to remain hopeful when he thought of them as animals and mindless abominations, less so when admitting to demons, devils, and—worst of all—infected people.
He wanted to face this Kevik the Corrupt in single combat, to cut off the head of the beast and destroy the source of their cunning.
But that was exactly what Devero had attempted. Proud as he was, Nico doubted he would be any more successful with such a direct approach. And he could not leave his army and his kingdom without a leader, not at this crucial juncture, not with two other wars occurring simultaneously.
“What of the integration?” he asked.
Nico was very interested in this important step, for he longed to see the kingdoms working together again as they had under Emperor Eberhart. No easy task, considering the propensity for selfish motives and petty animosities that dominated Imperial relations. Speeding the process of cooperation, he believed, was one of his most critical responsibilities.
At the same time, he had to stay true to Akenberg, for her people’s welfare was always his highest priority.
“General Boisson requests twelve companies of infantry and three of cavalry,” Lima reported.
“Make it ten and two. Put Captain—make that General—Anika in charge. She is to obey Boisson’s orders within her judgment, so long as she maintains the protection of Allstatte. Put all that in writing, if you would.”
“Aye, Third.”
“Koblenzar won’t like it.” The older general would neither approve of the reduction of Akenberg strength, nor the bolstering of Dauphi.
“Nay, Third.”
The dissent of the man in charge of intelligence collection was, at times, distressing. Yet Nico still felt that he provided more value than detriment. Koblenzar’s loyalty to the kingdom was never in question, even if he had no love for the man who ruled it. As for that—well, the day that Nico stopped welcoming the opinions of those who disagreed was the day he became a tyrant.
“This is foolishness, to weaken our army while we still fight a war.”
Nico had been right about the old general. If anything, he had underestimated the anger this move would provoke.
“I’ll remind you that we fight more than one war, General Koblenzar. We cannot do everything at once, so we must prioritize. The Veldt is the bigger threat.”
“Let them overrun Daphina, My King. That makes one less enemy for us.”
“Daphina is no longer an enemy.”
“They killed your own brother, yet you treat them as friends.”
Nico felt the unwanted anger building inside. “Don’t speak to me of my brother, General.” The exchange left Nico wondering, for the dozenth time, how far the conspiracy against him had permeated. He had never delved into that, for he did not really want to know. In order to run the kingdom, he had to have some faith in those who served him, and he could not if he learned that once they wanted him dead.
Yet the whole affair bothered him immensely. His heart was full of poison, and each mention of his father or brother pushed it further into his blood.
I need Leti, he thought, with a kind of desperation he had never before felt. She is innocent of these intrigues. She was always on my side, even when her own father believed me a traitor. She will be my shield against the pain of betrayal.
But what if she does not forgive you? You made a promise, then you murdered a man who was almost her kin.
She will understand. She has to. I need her.
“The Third is tired,” Lima was saying, urging the rest of the council to disperse. She had General Koblenzar in her one hand, and Pim was already moving toward Reikmann and Anika.
How they protect me.
“No, Lima. Pim, it’s all right. Just a touch of the heat.” Nico rubbed the sweat from his forehead. “Let’s continue.
“General, if you are done lecturing me, I have a question for you.”
“Of course, My King.”
“Did you locate the other Thirds, as I asked?”
With the deaths of Devero and Hawkes, the ranks of Swordthanes were becoming woefully thin. Second Garrett would soon take charge, but there remained a vacuum of leadership that needed to be filled. Either the most senior Thirds would be promoted, or trials arranged to determine the hierarchy. The former would be quicker and more efficient, the latter more glorious—and might even allow Nico an opportunity to test himself against his peers.
Koblenzar coughed, his tone growing defensive. “Not yet, My King.”
Nico could see where this was going, and was in a hurry to get there. “Have you tried and failed, or simply not tried?” He knew the proud veteran would take umbrage at the suggestion of failure, and so would admit to the truth.
“Your pardons, My King, but we don’t have time for the affairs of your Order. We have a war to conduct. Several, as you pointed out.”
Holding back the better part of his rage, Nico narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “Eberhart himself believed the affairs of my Order were worth his time. They should concern you, because they concern me.”
Koblenzar sulked but said nothing.
Nico looked at the others in the room. Lima and Pim were Lima and Pim. Steadfast, reliable. Always by his side, like twin shadows.
Reikmann was politely deferential. He loved his status, and would do nothing to threaten it. Thus far, the new young king had been a boon for his professional career. But Nico would not wish to push the limits of the man’s personal loyalty.
Anika was a bit of an unknown. Probably the most capable of the three, she had never shown a hint of excessive ambition. She had received one advancement after another at Nico’s direction, and had neither balked nor thanked him. The young officer simply did her duty.
Nico took for granted that they all wanted him to make a push for emperor. After all, it would shine glory directly onto Akenberg, and indirectly onto themselves.
Lorester and Daphina were all but at his mercy. Falkenreach and Vilnia were in no position to argue. That he had sent aid to the latter, with the promise of more to come, probably pushed them onto his side. The status of Gothenberg was unclear—reports were conflicting on that account—but if Vilnia fell to invasion then they might be next. If he was smart, King Deniger in Oren needed a unified empire as much as anyone.
Already, five or six of the twelve kingdoms were likely to support a declaration by Nico, even if they did so grudgingly.
That left Asturia, the land that he once thought of as his second home. King Anton was a good man. Prince Tobias had been Nico’s pupil, and Princess Letitia owned Nico’s heart. Toby and Leti would convince their father to trust Nico again. Wouldn’t they?
The latest reports from General Freilenn were positive. He had pushed the Asturian army back toward their capital and, as commanded, had done so with a minimum of fighting. Asturia had not the history of success in war that Akenberg did, nor its rigid discipline and superior leadership. Rather than lose everything at once, the Asturians had shied away from pitched battle, hoping the strength of numbers—three kingdoms against one—would wear down their foe.
The surrender of Lorester and the rapprochement of Daphina would put an end to that strategy. Now Asturia found themselves alone. Surely, Anton could be made to see reason. If not through respect for Nico, then out of sheer self-interest.
Either way, the time had come to find out. With the detachment of Anika and several hundred soldiers, this western front was as prepared as Nico could make it. No one advocated an offensive from this position, much as they might wish to cleanse Falkenreach of its foul infestation. There was simply too much risk involved, too many unknowns about their enemy.
The best he could hope for was a stalemate here while he moved on to oth
er conflicts. Only after a resolution with Asturia was attained, and the barbarian invasion of Vilnia stopped, could they afford to dedicate more resources to stamping out this demonic incursion once and for all.
Nico gave the orders, expressed heartfelt best wishes to General Anika, and sent word to Boisson. The demons were a Dauphi problem for now. It was time for Akenberg to deal with Asturia.
He tried not to be so excited, but the prospect of seeing Leti again made his heart sing.
The messenger from the east arrived in the middle of the second night. Lima woke Nico, who immediately had the man sent in.
One glance at the haggard rider spoke volumes. The shabby condition of his surcoat and breeches were nothing compared to the weariness on his face.
“Private, what is your name?”
“Hirt.”
Nico waited a moment to see which title the man addressed him by. Then stopped waiting.
“You come from General Cottzer?”
Hirt nodded.
Nico stood. “Lima, get Reikmann and Koblenzar. Private, will you accept my seat?”
The man shook his head. Of course, he’s been in the saddle too long already.
Pim ducked in and made himself invisible in one corner. Nico continued attempting to ease the tension inside the stuffy confines of the tent.
With that name, he must be a former thrall. Like Pim, a lowborn who somehow managed to climb above his station and become a cavalryman. That alone indicated no small measure of capability, and perhaps explained why Cottzer had chosen him.
He’s not very talkative for a messenger, though.
Hirt squeezed his eyes shut, confronted some inner barrier, and broke through. He sighed audibly, visibly relaxed, and looked right at his king.
Nico nodded to the generals as they entered, but never took his eyes off Private Hirt. With everyone present, he touched the man’s shoulder. “Deliver your message, soldier.”
“Forgive the delay, My King…Third, your pardon.”
“Go on.”
“I rode as fast as I could to Neublusten. Then to Allstatte. When I heard you left there, I hurried to catch you here.”
“When was the last time you slept, Private?”
A look of confusion formed on Hirt’s face. “I’m not sure.” He considered a moment. “Three days ago, I think.”
No wonder the man’s wits were rattled. “I see. We’ll arrange a cot for you.” Nico nodded to Lima, who ducked back outside.
“I...come from Halfsummit, Third.”
“So we’ve retaken it, then?”
Another momentary look of confusion. “We have, My King.”
Both generals gave eruptions of pleasure, and even Nico could not resist a smile. I knew I could count on Cottzer. The man was determined to succeed. I just had to give him that opportunity.
Hirt did not share the relief. “There were costs, My King.”
“How many?”
Nico expected a series of numbers, delivered in official military form. The deviation from this practice alone should have been a warning as to what was coming.
“Perhaps I might explain, Third.”
Was he worried about punishment? “Go on.”
“You heard Rama’s report? The first battle, the sorcery?”
“Yes. Rama reached us three days ago.”
“Three? There were five between battles—”
“You came quickly, Hirt. You’ve done well. Please tell us what happened.”
“Swordthane Garrett…your pardon, Second Garrett, asked for volunteers. He wished to assault the Chekik magi…he called them Archons…when they were distracted and he could catch them unawares—”
This man was a poor choice to be messenger, Nico thought. But there’s nothing to be done about that, now. We’ll get through this story, eventually.
“Please slow down, Private. That will help. You’re saying the Second wished to wait for the enemy to be engaged, for the Archons to unleash their magick, and then make a direct attack on them?”
“Aye, My King.”
That does sound like a Swordthane, Nico thought. It’s just what I would do. Not that he ever possessed much doubt, but it was reassuring to hear that the Order was in capable hands.
“How many volunteered?”
Hirt looked surprised. “All of us, of course.”
Nico nodded. “Just so. How many did he take?”
“Ten. He felt that General Cottzer should stay with the main army, for the main attack. So did the Vilnians.”
“Perhaps you should tell us of that.”
“Following the first battle—the retreat—the enemy did not pursue. Within a day, our lines were reformed. Another, and we were ready to go back.
“But it was five days, as I mentioned. The generals and the Second designed a new plan, orders were issued—”
“Understood. Go to the start of the engagement, Private.”
“Aye, My King.” He paused, seeming to collect his wits once more. Nico’s request had bumped his thoughts out of order, and it took time to sequence them again. “Aye, the attack started at dawn. We were the right wing—”
“This was on the field, or at the fortress?”
“The field again, Third. The tribesmen met us in line, just as before. And we pushed them back, just as before.”
“And the sorcery came again?” Reikmann prompted.
“Nay, that was the strange thing. Though we drove their army to the lake at the base of the cliffs, the magick didn’t come.”
This was beginning to feel like good news. If so, he wondered why Hirt had not been more forthcoming right away. “What happened then?”
“There are trails up to the top of the bluff, then a few hundred yards, then the fortress itself. They lost most of their numbers at the base of the trail, but we pursued them up—the Akenbergers proudly in the lead, My King—and faced them again outside the walls.
“That was where the sorcery came. And other things. Demons or devils, I know not which. Things I never wish to see again.
“A great flying beast, much like the dragons of lore. Smaller, without breath of fire, though.” He sounded almost disappointed, as if upset that his childhood fantasy had not turned real. Nico found himself wondering whether the man was sane. Certainly, the account was beginning to sound more and more like a fairy tale.
“Instead, it seemed to radiate pure cold.” He shivered, though even at night the temperature inside the tent was sweltering. “We brought it down, though, Third, with arrow and bolt.”
“What else did you see?”
“A giant, of sorts. Perhaps an ogre. A dozen feet tall, or more—it stood hunched, like so—covered in red fur, wielding an enormous crude axe. It looked fierce but clumsy, until General Ariens led a charge with ten soldiers. That axe cut him in two in a second.”
“What?” General Reikmann blurted out. “Ariens dead? I know him—”
“Dead as the others, General.” Hirt went on, unfazed, the recollection flowing smoothly now. “That right tough bastard cut down scores, until the Akenbergers got there to finish him off. I got a few swings in, myself, and never was I so relieved to see an enemy die. Burnt myself on his fur, though, I did.” He held up his forearm, where the blackened flesh was visible even in the modest light of the tent’s hanging lantern.
Nico shook his head. The story had lost whatever fantastic quality it once possessed. It now became far more real, and the consequences more vital.
“You won the battle, Private?” he prodded, rising out of the chair.
“Aye. And nay.”
Nico sat back down. A king does not slump, he reminded himself, and stiffened his back. “Finish.”
“We cleared the bluff. That was a mistake. That’s when the fire came, spreading across the top, pushing us to the sides.” He paused, then closed his eyes.
“Hirt, what happened?”
“The wind. Like nothing you’ve felt before. Some of us were close to the trail. We ran for tha
t, down one turn, and were saved. Most of the others…” He gulped. “It blew them. Dozens, hundreds. A thousand yards to the bottom. We watched them go over. There was nothing we could... General Cottzer…”
Nico saw the tears now, but he needed to hear the rest. “Finish, Private.”
“Second Garrett was there. He and the volunteers. I had lost track of them. But there they were, pressing through the winds, past the remnants of the flames, to the fortress. I’m sure he knew by then it was a trap, but the magi were in there, so that’s where he went. And the others. Into the fortress.”
“But he won, didn’t he? You took the fortress.”
“His plan was to catch them by surprise. But the only surprise was on us. The winds stilled, and we heard fighting.” Hirt calmed himself, though his chest continued to heave.
“He took the fortress. Killed the magi and whatever else was inside—that, or they killed themselves in the process.
“We dared not help, for we heard the earth rumble. Felt the ground beneath our boots shake. Watched as the rock split, and the fortress crumbled in on itself. The whole thing sheared off, then went down to the bottom.”
Just like that, Hirt stopped talking. He looked at them each, in turn, then squarely at Nico. “I’m sorry, Third. I know I’m a poor messenger. There…weren’t many options.”
Nico felt surprisingly calm. He spoke quietly, since the tent had suddenly gone silent. “How many of you survived, Private?”
“Of the Vilnians, a few hundred. Commander Kizer assumed command. He sent word to Northgate for reinforcement, and set up a forward base at the mouth of the pass, in case more of the enemy attempt to come through.”
“Which they’re sure to do.” Nico did not want to ask the next question, but he had no choice. “How many of Cottzer’s command survived? How many of our soldiers?”
“Five, My King.”
Reikmann coughed. “If this is true, there’s nothing to stop a full-scale invasion of Vilnia. A few hundred troops will hardly slow them down.”
Nico nodded, still trying to process the numbers. Five left out of sixty-seven. It was a blow, but that was war. “Private Hirt, you did well to get us this message so quickly. We’ll send help, of course.
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