In the long run, it is the end result that matters. The empire must be whole again.”
So they had marched to relieve Coeranys, only this time, they had taken a portal through the Shadow World. Futhark, who had led them through the Shadow World on their return trip from Tuarhievel, was once again their guide. For a time, he had incurred the resentment of the troops, for they had mistakenly thought at first that marching through the Shadow World was his suggestion. Futhark had not complained, but Aedan had noticed that the troops were surly and abusive toward him, which had prompted him to correct their misapprehension.
When they found out that it was the emperor’s idea, they were still unsettled by the notion, but no one questioned it thereafter. By then, Michael had turned fifteen and had been on each and every campaign in the field with his troops. He had fought with them and suffered the extremes of weather with them. He did not eat until they ate; he did not sleep until they slept, and he eschewed luxurious accommodations to live in the field exactly as they did. Physically, he was still a boy, but in every other respect, they had come to regard him as a man. He had won their loyalty and admiration, and they would have followed him anywhere-even into the dreaded Shadow World.
The campaign to relieve Coeranys had marked a new beginning for the Army of Anuire. They had driven the raiding gnous back into Chirnaeron and thereafter, the Army of Anuire became known throughout the empire as Roele’s Ghost Rangers for their seeming ability to be in two places almost at the same time.
Michael had employed halflings as long-range scouts and messengers, so that they could pass quickly through the Shadow World and deliver intelligence about enemy troop movements and raids by gnolls and goblins and depredations by the forces of the awnsheghlien, who took advantage of the empire’s instability, seeking to increase the size of their domains and pursuing bloodtheft with an unprecedented vengeance.
And with each new outbreak of violence, no matter where or how far away, Michael and his troops would be there to deal with it.
One day, Roele’s Ghost Rangers would be seen marching in Osoerde, and merely hours later, they would be engaged in Mhoried, two hundred miles distant. They would fight a battle with some of Arwyn’s forces on the plains of Alamie, then pass into the Shadow World and reappear the same day
to subdue Baruk-Azhik, over four hundred miles away. Stories of their exploits were at first greeted with disbelief, but in time, the facts became incontrovertible.
Magic was initially held to be responsible, but those who spread such tales were soon countered by those with some knowledge of the thaumaturgic arts, who pointed out that no living mage, regardless of how powerful, could summon up enough magic to transport an entire army.
In time, the only other possible explanation was accepted-the Ghost Rangers traveled through the Shadow World. And that was when the Army of Anuire began to acquire its fearsome reputation. Men brave enough-or crazy enough-to travel through the Shadow World were men to be feared.
It was a reputation that aided them in battle, Aedan thought, and it was far from undeserved, for quite aside from the risks involved in any military campaign, the Shadow World posed dangers of its own. Safety was certainly increased by their numbers, but they were still subject to attacks by the undead in the world between the worlds, or by the strange and lethal creatures who inhabited the misty plane. And now, after eight long years of hard campaigning to hold the empire together, the army had acquired a fine edge, like a sword forged by a master armorer.
The troops were now tough, seasoned campaigners, hard-bitten and weather-worn, and though the aging Lord Korven still served as their general, Emperor Michael now made all the decisions about strategy and tactics.
We’ve come a long way, Aedan thought as he rode behind his emperor through the gray and misty ?08 realm, but there is still much to be done. After eight years, though they had fought his forces many times, they had still not managed to subdue Lord Arwyn. Seaharrow was a virtually impregnable fortress, and over the years, Arwyn had established wellfortified garrisons on all approaches to his holding.
He did not travel through the Shadow World, but his army was just as strong and equally well trained, besides which, he had the tactical advantage. Michael had to protect the entire empire and respond to each outbreak that occurred throughout its borders. Arwyn had only to protect the Western Marches, most of which he had brought under his domain, and there was never any way of telling where or when his troops would strike.
Despite that, a great deal had been accomplished.
Save for occasional raids across the borders from Boeruine and Brosengae, the Heartlands had all been won back to the empire, as had most of the Eastern Marches. The Southern Coast had been secured, save for periodic outbreaks of fighting on the borders of Avanil and Brosengae. The Northern Marches of the empire and the territory still farther to the north remained wild outlands, and there had been no opportunity to campaign for the lands of far eastern Cerilia, where the Khinasi held sway in the south and awnsheghlien and other demihumans controlled the north.
In eight years, Michael had taken an empire that had been plunged into an interregnum and was disintegrating into warring states and brought most of it back together. All that remained now was to deal decisively with Arwyn of Boeruine. And that, of course, was much easier said than done. Boeruine
had always been one of the strongest duchies in the empire and Arwyn the empire’s greatest warlord.
His forces and the empire’s were fairly equally matched, and he had the advantage of terrain. All approaches to his holding at Seaharrow were covered by thick forest through which an army could not march without rendering itself vulnerable to destruction.
The only other approach, the one always taken by the court when it had traveled to summer in Seaharrow in the past-and that seemed so long ago now, thought Aedan-was the southern approach through Brosengae, through a narrow band of coastal plain about twenty miles wide between the southern tip of the Seamist Mountain range and the Straits of Aerele.
There were several small passes through the Seamist Mountains, but taking an army through them would be an invitation to disaster.
They would have been trapped like rats in a maze.
And attempting an invasion along the southern route, through Brosengae, entailed all sorts of knotty problems.
Arwyn was an experienced commander, and he had anticipated every possible invasion route. He had strong fortifications built along the twenty-mile stretch of land between Avanil and Brosengae, south of the Seamist Mountains and north of the southern coast. And those fortifications had been tiered in several ranks. If the first line of garrisons happened to fall, the forces holding them could retreat to the second line, and then to the third and fourth, meaning that an attacking army would have to advance repeatedly against wellfortified positions.
Even if the garrisons all fell, the forces holding them could continue to retreat into Brosengae, fighting holding actions all the way. Their supply lines would grow ever shorter, while those of the attacking army would extend farther as they fought for every foot of enemy ground.
Despite that, Michael had attempted to advance along that route repeatedly over the years. Each time, he had been forced to turn back.
It took the entire strength of the Army of Anuire to assault the garrisons along the border, while only a portion of Arwyn’s troops were needed to hold them.
Each time they had advanced, Arwyn had forced them to turn back by employing the same tactics-as Michael attacked the garrisons south of the Seamist Mountains with his full strength, Arwyn detailed the troops of Taeghas and Brosengae to hold them, meanwhile using his own Army of Boeruine, augmented by troops of Talinie and goblin battalions from Thurazor, to advance along forest trails he knew well to attack western Alamie.
The situation had seemed virtually insurmountable, no matter how Aedan looked at it. Attack Arwyn in the south, and he would send the troops of Boeruine and Talinie to attack the empire in the
north.
Counter the attacks in the north, and the troops of Brosengae and Taeghas would attack in the south, advancing into Avanil. Back and forth it went for years, with a steadily mounting body count, and nothing was resolved. There was only one possible alternative, ut it was dangerous.
If they could find a route through the Shadow World into the coastal region of Boeruine, then they could bring the war to Arwyn’s doorstep.
However, finding portals into the Shadow World was easier in regions like Thurazor, Tuarhievel, or the SpiderfeR, where confluences of ley lines occurred. These fines of force that ran beneath the earth were what enabled halflings to open portals to the Shadow World.
Somehow, the halflings tapped into the energy that flowed through these
“underground conduits” and used it to break down the barriers between the world of daylight and the world of shadow. No one knew for certain exactly how they did it. Aedan had seen Futhark create these portals many times, but watching it gave him no clue. It seemed to work like magic. And there was a limit to how much Futhark would explain.
He had explained, however, that portals into the Shadow World could be created more reliably at or near points of ley line confluence than elsewhere, and exiting the world between the worlds in similar regions, such as Markazor, the Sielwode, or the Erebannien, was likewise more easily accomplished. In a region like Boenjine, however, where ley lines did not meet, exiting the Shadow World would be more difficult and unpredictable.
They could enter the Shadow World through a portal created just within the borders of the Spiderfell, the nearest point of ley line confluence, and then march through the Shadow World in a northwesterly direction until they reached the region that corresponded spatially with Boeruine.
But with no confluence of ley lines in Boeruine, there was no sure way of predicting exactly where they would come out.
Sending halfling scouts through an exit portal first would not address the problem, since if the ley line on the other side was weak-in other words, too far away from the point at which they intended to leave the Shadow World-the area in which the scouts came out might not be accessible again.
“I don’t understand,” Michael had said when he and Aedan had discussed the plan with Futhark.
“Do you mean the scouts would be unable to return, or that we would not be able to follow them out?”
“No, we could send scouts through,” Futhark had explained, “and they could come back and report to us what they had found beyond the portal, but the portal would not necessarily open out onto the same place twice.
It is conceivable, even probable, that we could come out in a different location altogether, and accidentally wind up surrounded by the forces of the enemy.”
That was not exactly an encouraging thought.
Nevertheless, Michael had decided to attempt it.
They had gone in near the Spiderfell, which was risky in itself, as it was the domain of one of the more powerful awnsheghlien. It was said that the Spider could see through the eyes of all the arachnids in his domain and thus knew everything that went on within the Spiderfefl. If this were true, and Aedan had no idea if it were, the Spider had thus far refrained from taking on the entire Army of Anuire.
However, he could decide to send his creatures against the emperor’s forces, and Aedan did not relish the thought of being attacked by millions of poisonous arachnids. The very thought made him shudder with disgust and fear. Nor were lethal spiders the only danger in the Spiderfell.
The awnsheghlien had the ability, empowered by bloodtheft, to create other creatures like themselves, less powerful, but still quite dangerous. And awnsheghhen also had human and demihuman troops at their command, some of which the emperor’s forces had engaged on previous occasions. It was bad enough to have to face the combat-seasoned forces of Lord Arwyn without also having to do battle with gnolls, monsters, and human predators along the way Regardless, Michael had decided that the attempt was worth the risk. Futhark and his halfling scouts were highly dubious, but they agreed to try. They had taken on ample provisions and marched from Anuire into the Spiderfell, then gone through a portal into the Shadow World. Once they had crossed over, they turned east and marched for about three hundred miles, across the region of the misty world that spatially corresponded with the Heartlands, heading toward Boeruine.
Unfortunately, as Futhark had feared, they had failed to find a portal that would lead them to Boeruine. Instead, they had emerged on the high slopes of the Seamist Mountains, where they had fought a battle with a savage tribe of ogres into whose territory they had blundered.
The hulking, brutish demihumans had been greatly outnumbered, but they had fought hard to protect their domain against what they had thought was an invasion. Reasoning with ogres was impossible. They were only slightly above the level of beasts. The army had been forced to kill them all in order to defend themselves, and despite being outnumbered, the ogres had inflicted heavy casualties. When it was over, there was no question of continuing the campaign. Michael had been forced to give it up and retreat.
So they had trudged back through the misty Shadow World, having -failed in their objective. On the way back, several men were lost to poisonous snakes and the voracious albino spiders, and three of the advance guard had blundered into a sinkhole as they crossed a marsh and disappeared in an instant.
The morale of the troops was low, and Michael felt responsible. He had fallen into a sullen silence and not said a word for days. Aedan had tried to lift his spirits, but it was no use. He had known the emperor all his life, and he had seen his sullen moods before.
At times like these, it was best to leave him be.
Talking with Sylvanna as they rode before their troops helped Aedan keep up his own spirits, for which he was very grateful. In the past eight years, they had grown close, and with his heavy responsibilities as the lord high chamberlain, it was a great help to have someone he could talk to without having to weigh every word he said.
Aedan was not sure when he first realized he had fallen in love with her. He had guarded himself carefully against such feelings ever since his ill-considered affair with Princess Laera. However, with Sylvanna, there had never been a time when passion simply struck and overwhelmed him. His feelings for her had grown gradually, almost unnoticeably, until one day he realized she meant more to him than anyone else in the entire world, except perhaps Michael.
Michael was his liege lord and his friend, and he had a duty toward him, a duty to which he had been born. He loved him as a friend and as his sovereign, but he loved Sylvanna with all his heart and soul. He had never told her outright, but he was sure she knew. And he was sure she felt the same way, too. It was something that neither of them had ever acknowledged openly, for there were many reasons it als would be unwise.
They served different sovereigns, allied for the present, but still with a long history of enmity. Aside from that, Sylvanna was immortal, and though she looked younger than he did, she was many years his senior. By elvish standards, she was still quite young, but in human terms, she was old enough to be his mother. And then, of course, there was Gylvain, who had become both a friend and mentor to Aedan and the emperor. And Aedan felt sure he would not approve a match between them.
So he kept his peace. He had learned his lesson with the Princess Laera.
She was still at court, for with Arwyn in rebellion, the marriage had never taken place. And though she was still unwed, her beauty had only increased with the passing years. However, things between them were extremely awkward. Aedan had made an enemy for life, and he knew that if she were given the slightest opportunity, Laera would not hesitate to take revenge for his having spurned her. Her eyes seemed to burn with hatred whenever she saw him, and Michael took pains to keep the two of them apart as much as possible. Marrying her off to a noble in a distant province might have solved the problem, but Laera’s disposition had driven off a number of likely suitors. Nor were the whisperings about h
er at court likely to attract a husband desirous of a faithful wife.
Laera had been a mistake, thought Aedan, and he could live with it.
But he did not wish to make a similar mistake with Sylvanna. The two women were as different as night and day, thought Aedan, and Sylvanna was easily ten times the woman Laera could ever hope to be, but that was no reason to CIO his
thinking with his heart and not his mind.
“what?” asked Sylvanna.
“I said not rep
“No, but you were looking at me very strangely just now,” she said.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “I only wish we were back home already. I have had about as much of this dreary place as I can stand.”
“It will not be long now,” she replied. “We should reach Anuire tomorrow.”
“I wish it were today,” said Aedan uneasily. “We have had nothing but misfortune on this journey, and I have never seen the emperor’s spirits so low.”
He glanced back at the marching lines trudging wearily behind them on foot. “It cannot help but affect the troops.”
“They have experienced setbacks before,” Sylvanna said. “They are veteran campaigners. They can handle it. A few weeks of unwinding in the taverns and brothels of Anuire, and they’ll be ready to go out again.”
Aedan glanced at her curiously “And what about you? How do you unwind?”
“I am an elf,” she replied. “Unlike humans, I am not a slave to my emotions.”
He could not rea r tone or.-ter expression. r all the years that he had known her, it was still sometimes difficult to tell when she was joking and when she was serious. Elves had a rather peculiar sense of humor, different from that of humans, and he had never quite grown accustomed to it. Was she simply stating what she believed to be a fact, or was she directin a subtle barb at him?
“If you expect me to believe that,” he replied, “I’m a‘7 afraid you will be disappointed. I know you too well.”
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