“Me? But I—”
“We know Empra Iluris wanted you to replace her.”
“No one is replacing the empra,” scolded Captani Vos. “She still lives. She needs rest and medical attention.”
Cemi still struggled with Nerev’s comment. “You may know it, Chamberlain, but Iluris made no announcement to the people, did not anoint me. I can’t just—”
They listened to the crowd grow angrier as Klovus continued. “We should have strengthened Ishara thirty years ago. Our Serepol godling must be stronger than any other force in the world.” He paused, then turned his speech in an unexpected direction. “The Magnifica temple was always meant to be the cornerstone of our strength, not just for Serepol but for the whole land. As key priestlord, I hereby order construction efforts to resume. All resources, all workers shall be brought to the city center, and the temple will rise, the grandest ever constructed! We need it for the defense of Ishara. When our godling thrives, we will conquer the hated Commonwealth. We will wipe out the godless!”
Cemi was alarmed by how bold Klovus had already become. “Iluris has to get better.”
As they crossed the main entry hall bearing the empra, an old woman rushed along the polished tile floors, clad in a drab but clean dress. “Excellency!” Analera had been a loyal and dedicated servant for all of Iluris’s life, and now she pushed herself in among the hawk guards. “Oh, my lady! I will call the court physicians.”
Recognizing her, Vos and the hawk guards relaxed. Cemi had also talked with the old woman many times during her days of tutoring sessions. She said, “Make sure the empra has whatever she needs in her quarters. We will all be with her.” Her voice cracked. “We may be there for some time.”
“It’s a defensible position,” said Vos. “Our best option to guard her.”
Wearing a look of determination, Analera hurried off. “I will take care of everything.”
7
FULCOR Island was a fortress in the middle of the sea protected by an expanse of empty water. Only expert navigators could thread their way through the jagged reefs to the sheltered harbor cove, which was little more than a cleft in the cliffs. Stairs made of iron and wood bolted onto the sheer rock allowed people to climb single file up to the stronghold above.
Even with such defenses, Klea did not feel entirely safe. The battle-scarred Brava woman stood on the garrison walls and gazed across the threatening waters. Utho had stationed her on Fulcor as the new watchman, and she could not let down her guard. The Isharans were out there.
On that blood-filled stormy night, when the treacherous enemy had attacked during what was supposed to be a peace conference, Klea had killed many Isharans, but those casualties did not pay all the vengeance that was required. She remembered swinging her sword and striking down enemy after enemy … but it had not been enough to save Konag Conndur, and that weighed heavily on her heart. A failure.
Utho was the expedition’s lead Brava, sworn protector of the konag, but Klea and another Brava, Gant, had also been assigned to protect the diplomatic mission. Somehow, a murderer had slipped into the konag’s chambers. Utho had whisked Mandan away to safety, and the enemy had also escaped with the gravely injured Empra Iluris. Klea wished she’d been able to break the bitch’s neck with her bare hands.
A hundred Isharan soldiers had been left behind that night, abandoned by their own ships. The desperate enemy had fought under the sheeting rain and flashes of lightning, but Klea had led the Commonwealth soldiers to victory. Now, six days later, her soldiers raked the gravel in the courtyard to remove the scars of combat. Others scoured blood from the walls and floors in the main keep.
Standing on the thick surrounding wall, Klea watched the grim work as cold sea breezes scrubbed her face. A seasoned Brava, she was in her middle forties, muscular but not stocky, dressed in traditional black boots, pants, jerkin. Her heavy cape hung from her shoulders, protection rather than a burden. She carried a long sword, which she used for everyday killing, and the burnished gold cuff of her ramer for when extraordinary violence was required.
Klea looked down at the courtyard barracks, watching her people repair damage to the building exteriors. After that night, the fallen Commonwealth soldiers had been respectfully laid out, relieved of their armor, weapons, personal possessions. A scribe documented the names, writing down any detail that observers could see or remember, in order to preserve their legacies. Since Fulcor had no spare wood for funeral pyres, the bodies of those heroes were consigned to the sea, taken one at a time to the cliffs above, their legacies read aloud, before they plunged into the foaming water to vanish into the purity of the sea.
While this slow, sad process continued for two days, the dead Isharan bodies were left where they were. Under the hot sun, the corpses became discolored and bloated. Gulls circled above the high walls, and Klea let the birds feast while her crew completed more important work.
In all, seventy Isharan soldiers had been captured alive and locked in a prison barracks where they were allowed no sunlight or food. After the rainstorm, the roof cisterns were full, so she did give the prisoners a little water to keep them alive.
Finally, when all the dead Commonwealth soldiers had been respectfully buried at sea, Klea released the enemy prisoners in small well-guarded teams, and ordered them to strip the armor and any valuable keepsakes from their dead comrades, who had already been relieved of all weapons.
One Isharan soldier retorted through a bruised mouth, “I will not defile the bodies of my brothers. They should be taken to the sea as they are, out of respect.”
Klea drew her sword and struck off his head, then told the other prisoners they now had one more body to deal with.
Sullen and resistant, they peeled breastplates, boots, and greaves from the stinking bodies. While stripping one of the empra’s bodyguards, a captive found a knife hidden under the chest armor. He seized it and launched himself at Klea with a roar. She raised her gauntleted hand to block the blade, which could not penetrate the finemail in her glove. She grabbed his wrist, squeezed until the bones cracked, and the knife fell.
Refusing to acknowledge the pain, the Isharan glowered at her with black soulless eyes. Klea saw no humanity there, even though these people were descended from the same humans created by wreths long ago. As Klea held the man’s gaze, she stomped her bootheel on his bare foot, shattering his ankle. He collapsed with a gasp, after which she calmly crushed his other foot, crippling him. She would not need the captives much longer anyway.
When the remaining prisoners finished stripping the enemy cadavers, her soldiers sorted the valuable armor and weapons from the filthy garments. They piled the useless debris in the courtyard and set it on fire. The blaze sent a column of smoke into the clear sky, a beacon of victory and defiance that Klea hoped could be seen all the way to their capital city of Serepol.
As she stared at the smoke, one of her soldiers came up to her, dissatisfied and impatient. The wind whistled around them accompanied by the scolding seabirds. The man still had a bandage on his left arm, crusted with blood from an injury on that terrible night. “Do we know when reinforcements are coming from Convera, Watchman? When will they change the station guards and let us go home?”
“Fulcor Island is your home now,” Klea said.
“I was not part of the garrison here,” the soldier said. “I accompanied Konag Conndur on his diplomatic mission. I wasn’t supposed to be left behind during the fighting.”
Klea frowned, hearing the criticism in his voice. “I am certain there will be supply ships soon as well as other war vessels, but for now we must hold the island. You should be pleased to serve among the Fulcor defenders.”
“But this place is just … a cold and windy rock,” the soldier sneered. “No resources, only rainfall for water.” He shook his head as he looked at the imposing garrison walls. “Why must we fight so hard to defend it?”
Klea scowled. “Because the Isharans want it, and they have always wanted it. The
y stole Fulcor from us many times, but we always captured it back.”
“But why?” The soldier’s words had a whining tone. “Why is it so important?”
“This is a strategic island, halfway between the old world and the new. When the first colonists sailed away in search of a new home, it was their stopover point. Olan led his group of Brava colonists here on his way to establish Valaera.” Her lips twisted to remember that old tragedy, and the wind felt colder around her face. “All those hopeful colonists, following their dream, harming no one…”
“I was trained as an officer in Convera, and even there no one could explain why Fulcor Island is considered strategic. We’ve shed so much blood over this worthless rock…” He looked up to the gray skies.
“It is not worthless,” Klea snapped, struggling with her own thoughts and angry that she had no ready logical answer for him. “This island belongs to the Commonwealth, and the Isharans are willing to sacrifice many lives to seize it back. Therefore, we need to hold it.”
When he continued to argue, she silenced him and sent him off to his duties.
The next day, the stink of the piled corpses finally became too much inside the garrison walls. Klea commanded the Isharan captives to carry the bodies up to the wall and throw them without ceremony over the cliffs to where the sharks could devour them. This was not beautiful like the legacy ceremony she had given her fallen comrades. This was just disposing of garbage.
The crippled prisoner was carried up to the wall, still moaning in pain, sweating and feverish. He had endured the agony for more than a day. Klea nodded, and two of her soldiers tossed him over the wall. He did not start screaming until he was halfway down the cliff, as if he didn’t realize what was happening.
As her black cape rippled behind her, Klea raised her voice. “In response to the crimes you committed, I sentence you all to death.” The murder of Konag Conndur gave her more than enough reason, but Isharans also bore their ancestors’ guilt for massacring the innocent Brava colony of Valaera. “Your bones will be scoured by the reefs. Your legacies will be forever forgotten.”
The Isharan captives were angry, but their hands were bound, rendering them helpless. “Godless bastards!” one of the Isharans snarled. Some screamed and struggled, while others accepted their fates with straight backs. Klea had no more and no less respect for any of them, no matter what they did.
At swordpoint, they were driven over the cliff edge, one after another.
When every captive was gone and the foaming waves erased the blood, Klea turned to the remaining soldiers in the garrison. “Fulcor must never again feel the poison touch of an Isharan. This island is ours.”
8
WHEN Suderran lookouts saw the sandwreth party riding their reptilian mounts toward the walled city of Bannriya, King Adan ordered the entrance to be swung open. He remembered all too well when Queen Voo’s brother had battered his auga to death against the barricaded gate, just because he was impatient.
Hale Orr joined the king and scowled as the gate opened. “Are you just going to let them in, Starfall? You know we cannot trust them.”
“No, but we don’t want to declare war, at least not yet,” Adan said in a low voice as the sandwreth riders approached. “We are smarter than that. Let them think we are all good friends.”
Queen Voo rode to the gate, sitting high on the tooled leather saddle. Beside her rode her lanky, aloof brother Quo and the craggy wreth mage Axus. Voo looked at him and said with a sniff, “King Adan Starfall, why do you even bother with these walls? You know I could turn them to dust if I truly wished to see you.”
Adan looked regal in his formal garments as he returned her gaze. “There are other enemies and dangers in the world. These walls have stood for almost two thousand years. You told us we should learn how to fight and defend ourselves.”
She considered, then nodded. “Indeed, a weak army is of little use to me.” She gestured into the city. “We will go to your palace! It has been weeks since our dragon hunt, and we must begin arming your people against the frostwreths. I intend to make this alliance strong. We are partners.”
Though bile rose in his throat, Adan kept his expression calm. “Of course. Follow me.” He knew Penda was already at work, rushing the staff to create a reception that would not insult the capricious queen.
Knowing Voo would never leave her entourage outside the walls, Adan and Hale mounted their horses and rode off, accompanied by an escort of Banner guards. They guided the party through the winding streets of the old city. Curious observers peeped out of windows, watched from doorways, or stood under colorful awnings.
Outside Bannriya Castle, Queen Penda had erected an Utauk-style pavilion and a wooden table spread with a colorful variety of foods. Near at hand, the weathered statue of an ancient wreth man, long ago salvaged from the ruins, lay toppled on the ground.
As they arrived, Penda waited beside the old statue, smiling. She had chosen this location intentionally, to subtly remind Voo of her fallen race. She looked beautiful in a fine dress that mixed casual Utauk practicality with more formal Suderran attire, allowing for the swell of her belly. Hale Orr dismounted and stepped up protectively beside his daughter, who was perfectly capable of protecting herself.
Her two skas perched on a single crossbar in front of the yellow pavilion. Seeing the wreths, the skas clicked and hissed. Adan’s squire Hom tried to calm the reptile birds, but jerked away in fear when they snapped at him.
As Voo came close to inspect the toppled wreth statue, her lips quirked in a smile. “We have historical records back in my desert palace, but this worthless man was nothing of note.” She tossed her long hair, making the little metal ornaments jingle. “I am glad you found some use for him.”
Ignoring the selection of drinks, candied fruits, and sliced meats on the table, Queen Voo approached Penda. “I can sense the life growing within you.” Boldly, she reached out to touch the curve of her belly.
The Banner guards raised their spears or rested gauntleted hands on sword hilts. The wreth warriors accompanying Voo were alert but confident that no human could pose a threat. They seemed amused at the defensive posture of the guards.
When the sandwreth queen touched her, Penda’s expression changed to one of pain or fear, as if a knife twisted in her gut. She jerked away and spoke in a cold, commanding voice. “Please don’t touch me.”
Adan stepped between them. “Some might consider that a threat to my wife.” His voice held controlled fury and firm command. “Step away.”
Voo shrugged. “I meant no insult. There is a beauty in such pregnancy, but I also see pain, because it makes us remember why we hate the frostwreths. When my ancestor Raan became pregnant with Kur’s child, her own jealous sister poisoned her, nearly killing her. And she lost the baby.” Voo raked her golden gaze across them. “That triggered our generations-long feud with the frostwreths, and the tragedy was why Kur left us. We must destroy Suth’s descendants before the world can be pure again.”
Ari bobbed on her perch, glaring at the strange guests. Beside his sister, Quo sniffed the air as if he could find answers there. He leaned closer to Penda. “I know little about how humans give birth. When is your baby due?”
“It will be soon,” Penda said, uneasiness clear in her voice.
Voo seemed fixated on the baby. “What do you intend to do with the child when it is born? Will it be useful?”
Indignant, Adan said, “It will be our son or daughter. We will raise it and love it and hope to make it the best person possible.”
“Ah.” Voo sounded disappointed. She gestured for her entourage to take seats at the table.
They all began to dine on the variety spread before them, but no one seemed interested in the meal. The servants were clearly uneasy, and the squire Hom was jumpy each time the sandwreths snatched samples from a plate. Hale Orr was as tense as a strung bow.
Penda sat across from the sandwreth queen. “Why did you come here?”
&n
bsp; Voo mused, “Queen Onn created her own workers, which she calls drones. Inferior things, I have heard.” She looked at Adan and Penda, ignoring everyone else. “I see much greater potential in humans. Your army will be a valuable asset in the coming war. There will be many obligations and requirements, possibly even some sacrifices in order for your race to survive.”
Quo picked up a forkful of sausage, sniffed it, then set it aside. “So long as your people continue to breed. We expect significant losses in the coming war. We will need many children as replacements.”
Adan felt boxed in and ready to explode. He wanted to demand that Queen Voo free all of the human captives he had seen in the mothertear images, but he forced his emotions beneath the surface. He took a breath, released it slowly.
Queen Voo said, “Adan Starfall, you rule only one kingdom in this land, but the konag rules all of you. Why has he not come to see me? Does he insult me?”
The mage Axus grumbled from his chair near Hale Orr. “If Adan Starfall is not the most powerful king, then why waste your time with this man?”
“Because he is still powerful, and he is nearby,” Voo said with a sniff. “And I find him charming.”
Adan, though, felt stung by the comment. “Konag Conndur was murdered by our enemies across the sea. He … my brother Mandan is konag now. We only just received word of what happened.” He pushed back the grief that welled up. He also knew that his brother discounted the magnitude of the wreth danger. “I think you should speak with my brother, convince him how important your war is.”
Voo blinked her topaz eyes and spoke in an imperious voice. “Tell your Konag Mandan to come to the desert, and my warriors will escort him to my palace.” Her smile went only as deep as her teeth. “I am eager to see how he measures up to you.”
Hale spoke up in disbelief. “Cra, you want the konag himself to ride into the desert and hope that someone notices him?”
Quo practiced stabbing the meat with his fork. “We are always watching. No one enters the Furnace without us noticing.”
Vengewar Page 4