Shield and Crown

by Michael Jason Brandt

  “Very soon. Perhaps as we speak.” Fawkes took another swig. “I…am anxious to get back. I wish to be at her side, not a kingdom away.” He hesitated. “Your pardon, Thane.”

  Nico dismissed the apology with a wave. “What of the other Second? What can you tell me?”

  “Second Garrett is east, aiding the Vilnians.” He pointed to Northgate on the map.

  “Against the Chekiks?”

  “Aye. They received warning of the invasion before the enemy could get the bulk of their forces through the mountains. The fight is thickest here, at Halfsummit. Thus far, the Vilnians hold them at bay.”

  Nico stared at the markings in the mountains. “There are two other passes, however.”

  Another swig, heavier than usual. “There have been no reports from Soul’s Pass, in the north.”

  “And Sea’s Pass, in the south?”

  “A massive lake obstructs the way, right in the middle. A beautiful sight, if rumors be true. The surface freezes for much of the year, naturally, but not enough to allow an army to cross.”

  “Not an army, but the Chekiks would be foolish to send no one at all.”

  “Aye, and they have. Raiding parties only. Gothenberg reports they have already taken care of them. It’s clear that the invasion’s heaviest thrust is in the center, and so it’s there we have focused our forces.”

  A logical plan, but one that worried Nico immensely. It assumed much based on little evidence, with the existence of the empire at stake. “One final question for today, Thane.”

  “Aye?”

  “May I have a swig of that wine?”

  “And so I believe Koblenzar deserves a second chance,” King Nicolas informed his predecessor.

  “Did you learn nothing from what happened with Handersonn?” Hermann raged.

  “I did, but that was incompetence.”

  “Disloyalty is a far graver concern than incompetence.”

  “General Koblenzar has not yet been disloyal.”

  Hermann glared back at his son. “Even you aren’t this naive, Nicolas.”

  “Even you understand the need to hear voices that don’t only say what you want to hear. It’s a mistake many leaders make, and I don’t intend to. I need information, father. It will take too long to replace Koblenzar’s network. We need every ally we can get.”

  “Not every ally is a friend. Some smiles mask deceit.”

  Nico’s exasperation grew. “Then I’ll be careful with what he tells me.”

  “And what of what he doesn’t?”

  “I cannot run a kingdom with nothing but suspicion and distrust.”

  Hermann sighed. “How did I ever raise such a fool? At least Markolac knew when to listen.”

  “Yes, that worked out well for us all.”

  This conversation was even more painful than expected. His father’s frequent contempt was currently even more irksome than usual, for this time it was deserved. This whole notion to reappoint Koblenzar was foolish, but Nico was going through with it, anyway. He had no choice. He had to believe in second chances, because he needed Leti to give him one.

  Regardless, he was ready to end this conversation. Whatever advice the good king Hermann might provide was not worth the price.

  “Captain Mickens, I am sending one of the Loresters to their king with a message. Please choose two troopers as escorts.”

  “Aye, Third.” The young trooper saluted and turned away, but not before Nico noticed the man sported new facial hair to hide his homely face.

  Nico looked over his shoulder at Fawkes, whom he had invited to today’s dispositions. The thane would be leaving soon, and Nico wanted him to report to the Second that Akenberg was doing all it could to end one conflict and help with the others. “The terms are generous. We don’t seek Lorester’s humiliation, nor any of their land, but only their aid in the coming wars.”

  Fawkes nodded, looking more sheepish than usual. “Aye, My Third.”

  Cottzer was next. For this, Nico stood to deliver the orders. “General, I haven’t an army to offer you, but this duty is just as important as any field command. We need updates from the war in the east. You will take two companies of light cavalry to Northgate, with a double complement of horses. From there, use discretion in your dispositions—but I expect your main force to continue to Halfsummit. Avoid the fighting unless you really can help, and send regular reports to me.”

  Most of these points were being repeated for emphasis, the general having already received a full briefing the eve before. Nevertheless, the repetition made Nico feel better. Whereas the man had been quite distracted at the prior meeting, he seemed much sharper today. Small wonder, coming on the heels of a good night’s sleep with the secure knowledge that the king was salvaging his career.

  “I also want scouts sent north to Soul’s Pass and south to Sea’s Pass. We need a continuous watch on each.” In war, as in other things, surprise could be deadly.

  “Understood, My King. I’ll begin at once.” The general saluted and briskly moved away, showing none of the tears of joy and gratitude that overwhelmed him last night.

  Nico studied the other Swordthane once more, attempting to read the man’s mind. The appealing face carried an air of gravity that mixed with its natural cheerfulness, creating a curious amalgam.

  “Thane Fawkes.”

  “Aye, My Third?”

  “I cannot talk you into staying longer?”

  “Nay, My Third. I appreciate the offer, but my duty is elsewhere. I ride north and west later this morn.”

  Nico nodded. “I know. I will be headed west soon enough myself, Thane. You are welcome to accompany my army—”

  “Your pardon, Third, but I prefer not to delay.”

  “Just so. In that case, I hope you will accept an escort. I can spare only one squadron of troopers, but the Second may find them useful in a fight. And can consider them only the start, for I will send more as soon as I’m able.”

  “You send troops away while you still can use them here? I…cannot refuse aid, Third.” He looked as though he wanted to say more.

  “Lima, Pim…will you excuse us a moment?” Nico waited for the door to close. “Continue, Thane.”

  “My Third, I must say, my time here did not go as expected.”

  “No?”

  “Nay. I assumed you would order me to join this war against your neighbors. A Swordthane is a valuable resource, yet you never seemed to consider it.”

  Nico remained quiet, letting the man speak his mind.

  “Third Arturo was the finest man I knew. He lifted me from servitude to become what I am today.”

  I’m not sure I like where this going.

  “I thought to hate you, King Nicolas,” Fawkes said abruptly. “By the gods, I wanted to hate you. But I find I cannot.

  “When I arrived, I meant to challenge you. To avenge my Patron, or die trying.” He looked like he wished for another flagon of wine. “I no longer feel such compulsion, however. The empire is better off with you fighting for it.”

  Nico was touched by the candor. Here was a man who had not wanted to like him, yet did despite himself. Of such beginnings could friendships grow, and Nico was in constant need of reliable friends.

  “Thank you for those words, Thane.” Though I’m not sure I deserve them. “Please, go with my best wishes. Tell the Second I desire nothing more than to end my kingdom’s selfish war, and join her in the north.”

  4

  Falkenreach

  “I wish it would stop raining,” Kluber said.

  “I think I see a break in the clouds,” Calla replied. “Perhaps this afternoon will be sunny.”

  “The rain has not stopped for four tendays,” Margo chimed in. “Where have you been hiding to not know this?” Her plain features assumed a look of curiosity. Jak would have thought suspicion, but he doubted this decent-hearted woman was capable of distrust.

  “Hush now, child,” she went on, smiling down at the cooing infant who squirmed a
nd giggled, cradled on her hip.

  Jak grinned, despite himself. It was intoxicating to think that Calla would soon have just such a blessing. The anticipation brought a wide range of emotions, but foremost among them was an endless joy. He glanced at his beloved, hoping to see a similar thought flicker across her lovely features. Instead, he saw a return of the troubling clouds that continued to inflict her in recent days. She had not spoken of what ailed her—indeed, had denied that anything did—but a lifetime of companionship and unceasing reflection had brought Jak an understanding that few people had for another. She was an open book to him, and he knew when something bothered her. Not only knew, but felt an aching compulsion to alleviate her distress, if only she would let him.

  Jak had finally accepted his love for her. He longed for an understanding of the world entire, yet had so long denied this one simple truth about himself. He had certainly loved her since the time he was old enough to possess mature desire, but his loyalty to Kevik the Kind, his master and friend, had prevented any form of competition.

  She was Jak’s now, though, and he would never let her go. Enough years had been wasted already.

  “Child, stop wriggling.”

  Margo, whom he had only known for a handful of hours, was every bit as easy to read. Her sanguine disposition had buoyed the weary travelers through the past few days, as more and more refugees attached themselves to the growing mass of miserables.

  “Do you wish to trade, wife?” Tomba asked. On his shoulders he carried their older daughter, a freckled, strawberry-haired five-year-old named Simpa. Jak had barely heard the girl utter a single word, her quiet disposition taking more from her reserved father than her garrulous mother.

  “Nay, husband. Mara will behave herself. Won’t you, darling?” She readjusted the baby and tickled its belly, eliciting a burst of renewed cooing and wiggling.

  Jak’s group of three had encountered the family of four shortly after reaching the road to Daphina. In the two days since, the forest thinned and the party thickened, as more and more fearful Reachers elected to flee the province ahead of the spreading menace.

  The Veldt was near, of that he was certain. Jak did not understand how he knew—perhaps his connection with the devils gave him a particular sensitivity to their foul workings—nor did he know just how near the horde was. It could either be miles away, or just behind the tree line. Either way, he kept his knowledge to himself, lest the others become even more distraught than they already were. Yet he did his best to keep everyone moving.

  Most of the Reachers were from this southern stretch of the kingdom they were fleeing. Only the three friends from Everdawn hailed from as far as Shady Glen. Kluber warned the other two not to mention this fact to anyone else, as that name had become an oath, spoken with fear and contempt. And not without reason, for it was the source of the catastrophic evil pouring across the land.

  Although there were now nearly two dozen people walking in loose proximity along the muddy path, Jak had less desire to interact with the others than to stay close to Margo. She was the only one who seemed capable of talking about anything but corruption and death. He understood why it was on the mind of everyone here, but he had seen so much of it for as long as he could remember. Now, even the most banal frivolities were a treat.

  “Tell me again of the hare that Simpa found,” he asked.

  “Aye, she thought it was rabbit, like the one we kept when she was young…”

  It amused Jak to think that they no longer considered the five-year-old to be young.

  “We let her feed the rabbit bits of cabbage, and so she tried to take a leaf out to this new fellow…”

  As her mother spoke, Simpa watched with rapt attention. Though the subject of the story, however, never did she utter a word of her own.

  Margo spoke louder as the sprinkling of rain grew heavier. “Well, of course a hare has no interest in cabbage, so it—”

  Her voice trailed off as a disturbance broke out on the road ahead. They heard the sound of hoofbeats in mud, then saw a trio of mounted riders round a distant turn in the road. Their uniforms were darkened with moisture, but the livery was instantly recognizable as the silver fleur on azure blue.

  Dauphi Gendarmes. All the tension in Jak’s muscles abolished by Margo’s stories returned in an instant, for one of the many rumors repeated by the nervous refugees was that outriders from Daphina were blocking access to the province.

  The three riders may have been young, but their lined faces were dour and serious. When one of them yelled, the voice boomed with the force of authority. “Everyone stop immediately, by order of King Argenlieu and Queen Louisa.”

  Jak watched as Margo and Tomba backed away from the newcomers. Sensing the sudden change in mood, Mara began fussing anew.

  “Kluber,” Jak said to his companion. The older boy nodded and moved forward, toward the gendarmes and the growing mob forming around them.

  Jak met Calla’s eyes, and he tried to smile reassuringly. The gesture failed, for her lips pursed and the lines of worry in her face only intensified.

  “Should I run, Jak?”

  “What? Nay, why—” But he watched those small hands instinctively clutch her belly, and he suddenly understood her apprehensions. He stepped closer, taking one of those hands in his own. “Calla, we’re safe now. We’ve made it.”

  She did not seem to hear the words, for her attention remained focused on the riders. The one who had spoken continued to sit atop his black destrier, but the other two—a young man and woman so similar they could be brother and sister—dismounted and began tugging at the desperate citizens.

  “What are they doing?” Calla asked, though she knew the answer.

  “Looking for corruption,” Tomba answered. “They’ll turn back anyone they suspect of it. Or kill them.”

  Jak was relieved not only that the man had answered for him, but that his tone stayed calm. This was not a father unduly worried about his family. After the incident with Gronen, Jak was not sure he could take another misfortune.

  In contrast to Tomba’s composure, several of the other refugees could not hold back from cries of dismay. One gray-haired woman suddenly bolted from the crowd, disappearing into the trees as those around her watched and gasped. Jak was thankful he had never learned her name.

  “No one else run,” shouted the man on horseback. He unslung a crossbow from his mount. “I will fire at the next person who tries.”

  “Why don’t you let us by?” came a loud, desperate voice. The first of many.

  Aye, let us by… We’re people, not monsters… Please, we beg…

  An intensifying volume of rain accompanied the rising chorus, then the rumbling of thunder added its unwelcome refrain.

  The crowd pushed forward, and the dismounted pair stepped back and drew their weapons defensively. An elderly man grabbed the young woman’s shoulder, and she shoved him away with her free hand. He tumbled into a pool of mud and was nearly trampled by those behind, eager to take his place near the front. The shouts mixed into an incomprehensible din.

  The sky darkened rapidly. Lightning flashed off in the distance, followed a moment later by the menacing crack. Then, after a brief interlude, cries of horror.

  More people were coming down the road, joining the stalled group hoping to pass into Daphina. They, however, were not waiting idly, but running in confusion, yelling in unmistakable fear.

  Several shouting refugees pushed past the spot where Jak stood. He pulled Calla out of their way, saving her from the same fate as Margo, who was knocked to the ground. The kindly mother had managed to shield Mara from the worst of the fall, and Calla released Jak’s hand to go to the child’s aid. She scooped the infant into her arms as Jak reached out to help the woman, then was knocked aside by a tumult of leathery wings and murderous shrieks.

  He heard Calla yell his name. Catching his balance to avoid joining Margo in the mud, he looked into the red eyes of a demon-bat, just like the ones he had watched des
troy his village.

  He knew them better now than he had then. Jak had read much about them in the Pantheon, taking particular interest in the fiends that devoured his home. He suddenly saw the image of a boy hunched over a tome of ancient lore, staring through a stone, absorbing knowledge for future use like a squirrel hoarding acorns. The velbat is a child and servant of Nagnuaqua, half-brother to man. Weaknesses include fire and light…

  “Jak!” Calla screamed again, and his image of the boy in the library pulled away, diminishing into darkness as two points of red light came into focus.

  The demon stared at Jak with palpable hatred, its claws twisting into the back of the woman on which it perched.

  “Save my baby!” Margo yelled at Calla. Her pained face turned to her husband, as Tomba stepped closer. “Nay!” Then her face was thrust into the mud.

  The man stopped, torn between his wife on the ground and the daughter on his shoulders.

  Jak continued staring at the demon’s face. The last time he had seen them, he had not noticed how very human their features were. It sneered at him, its barbs twisting into Margo’s flesh, daring Jak to act, wondering why he did not flee like the others.

  Because the time of fleeing was over.

  His face lifted, eyes focused on the blackened skies overhead. He did not even feel himself slice open his skin, was barely even aware that he had done so, but he raised the bloody palm toward the darkest of clouds in humble offering. Power surged through his body, then down from above.

  The bolt of lightning struck not the creature, but a tree ten paces away. Wood fractured and burst into flames. The noise would have been deafening, but Jak’s mind had long since blurred all sounds into an irrelevant roar of rain and thunder, shouts and cries. His mouth twisted in frustration, and he directed his anger into a second request—nay, a demand—to destroy the beast before him. Switching the knife awkwardly to his offhand, trying to get a firm grip despite the slick flow of blood, he finally managed to position the blade against the undamaged palm.