“We confirmed it, Key Priestlord.” Zaha’s dark eyebrows drew together. “We found the site of Valaera.”
* * *
In the windswept hills of Khosun District, ten miles inland from the seacoast, lay the remnants of the Brava colony. The key priestlord rode on a sturdy horse accompanied by Black Eels disguised as guides wearing the fur-lined leather outfits common to Khosun.
For himself, Klovus wore a hooded cloak over a plain tunic and trousers, leaving behind his trappings of office. The horses moved across the dry grasses. No roads led out to this empty, forgotten place. Dark scrub oak dotted the shaded valleys, and tall thistles rose like thorny weapons that scratched Klovus’s legs.
Zaha rode ahead as if he knew where he was going, though the priestlord could see no distinguishing landmarks on the terrain. This was a wild place. The hills all looked the same, and the population of this district was sparse enough that no settlers had claimed this land. He couldn’t imagine why Brava pioneers would have chosen to build a home in this place after sailing across the ocean. He supposed even the bleakest part of Ishara must be a paradise in comparison with the drained old world.
Zaha pulled his horse to a halt on the side of a hill. “This is the place, Key Priestlord.” He dismounted and stepped over to assist Klovus, who accepted the assassin’s strong grip as he climbed out of the saddle and stood in the rustling grasses.
“How do you know?” Klovus saw nothing.
“If you look closely, you can see the lines. Some bricks, cut stone.” He trudged ahead, his boots trampling the grasses. The key priestlord followed, and the other Black Eels fanned out, searching for artifacts in the weeds.
“Look here, it is more obvious,” said one of the riders.
Now Klovus could distinguish a straight line, the crumbling remnants of what must have been a wall. “Yes, I can see it’s artificial.”
“This was once a large structure.” Zaha paced off the line of stones, then turned at a corner when he found another part of a wall. “Our scouts searched the terrain. We think there were thirty or more buildings here.”
“Thirty?” Klovus was surprised. “So Valaera was a significant village.”
“They must have had livestock, pastureland. Crops would have extended through the hills and valleys there.”
Klovus tried to imagine the extent. “Our people would not have been aware of the colony for some time. Even now, Khosun District has a sparse population. If the Brava settlement was self-sufficient, it might have taken a year or more before anyone even noticed the invasion.”
As he walked through the grasses, Klovus stubbed his toe on a stone block that marked a building foundation. He stepped carefully around it. “It is a good thing they were stopped. The invaders would have brought their wreth bloodline to our pure land.”
Zaha offered an opinion, which was unlike him. “One can understand why they came to our shores. Ishara was a pristine place, mostly uninhabited. They left their own poisoned lands to establish a foothold in a better place.”
Klovus sniffed. “They meant to take advantage of the fresh magic and the powers here.” He seized on a thought and knew he would repeat it often. “Now they intend to do it again! The godless Commonwealth envies our beautiful land. They want to leave their exhausted continent and take ours. That is why they’re so aggressive.”
Looking at the ghostly shadow of Valaera, he envisioned a once-thriving colony. “But they can’t have it! We will tell our own tale of how the Bravas came to our shores without permission, that they meant to seize Ishara and build their own empire here.” He nodded, liking the sound of his words. The foundation of his power was in reinforcing the external enemy, turning Isharan anger against the Commonwealth.
He had to do it without interference, so that the loyalty of the people was not confused.
“I see only dust and shadows—and I vow that is all there will ever be.”
42
A LONELY silence was different from a merely empty one. Now that he had returned to Bannriya Castle from the desert, Adan saw the shadows differently, sensed the large spaces in his bedchamber, heard the echoing quiet in the corridors. With Penda gone, the castle had numerous associated noises and distractions. In their bedchamber, the wooden stand sat empty without the two skas that always accompanied her.
His uncle had departed for Norterra, but if Adan longed for noise and conversation, he could always go to the meeting chambers, the banquet hall, the throne room. His ministers, advisors, and vassal lords gathered and presented their reports on the training and defensive efforts around Suderra. But such talk was just words, without the warmth of his wife’s company.
He also realized how much he missed Hale Orr’s cheerful conversation and input at council meetings, trade discussions, and military planning sessions. With longing in his voice, Hale would often tell stories of his life among the Utauks.
Late at night after the people bedded down, Adan climbed to the observation deck to watch the stars. At least here he expected to be alone, so the solitude was less painful. He stood out in the dry, clear night, listening to the murmur of Bannriya, looking out at the winding streets, buildings constructed upon foundations that dated back to when the human survivors had founded this first city.
Adan looked up at the stars. He was the king of Suderra, but he was also a husband, and his wife was out there somewhere. Safe, he hoped. That made the loneliness only a little better.
* * *
He received word of the approaching procession, somber riders who moved from town to town having traveled all the way from Convera. Apparently, they were carrying part of his father’s body, showing it off like some kind of prize.
With twisted tension, he summoned Captain Elcior and five Banner guards to ride out with him. “We need to intercept them before they reach the city. I’m not certain I want them in Bannriya, considering what I think they have.…”
The ache in his heart increased as his party galloped through the gates, dressed in leather and plate armor, bearing the banner of Suderra, a red flag on a yellow background. Once beyond the walls, he pushed the horse to a trot.
They intercepted the konag’s procession five miles from Bannriya. Twenty soldiers in Commonwealth armor rode at a solemn pace, along with a middle-aged woman in brown legacier robes, two attendants from the Convera remembrance shrine, and a squire from the konag’s court. A white horse walked sedately in the procession, his mane laced with ribbons of dark blue, his father’s favorite color. Adan knew in the pit of his heart what the small gilded chest contained.
The procession ground to a halt, and the legacier straightened in her saddle. Adan remembered Legacier Naura from his younger years in the castle, when the tutors had made Mandan and him study the stories of prominent men and women from history.
Naura bowed. “King Adan Starfall, we are honored that you came to meet us. Our sergeant wanted to gallop forward each day, rushing to Bannriya, but I felt that the import of this procession warranted a slower pace, so that all people of the three kingdoms could pay their respects and feel the outrage of what was done to Conndur the Brave.”
As he wrestled with his emotions, Adan wished Penda could be at his side. He and the queen should have received this painful relic together. He nudged his chestnut mount closer to the white horse so he could look at the gilded box. “They said that you are bearing a piece of my father’s body … but that cannot be true.” He hardened his voice. “Such disrespect could not possibly be shown by loyal soldiers of the Commonwealth or dedicated legaciers from the remembrance shrine.”
Naura stiffened at the scolding. “Disrespect, Sire? It is the exact opposite! We share not only the fate, but the physical presence of the murdered konag. Words can say one thing, and tales can grow and change in the telling, but this—” She reached over and rested a hand on the small chest. “Physical reality cannot be denied. This is your father’s hand. Konag Mandan has dispatched other processions bearing the sacred remnants
of Conndur the Brave to all three kingdoms. Everyone must see.”
The Commonwealth sergeant spoke through clenched teeth. “The Isharan animals did more than kill your father, King Adan. This was a blow to the entire Commonwealth!” He nearly spat the words. “Conndur was a wise man who came to them seeking peace, and they … they chopped him up!”
Legacier Naura spoke in a more soothing voice. “Everyone feels the pain of the wound, Sire. Everyone deserves to see this.” She pointed toward the small chest.
At the fresh reminder of what had happened to his father, Adan felt the grief well up within him again. He tried to speak, but his voice caught. He drew a breath and remembered himself. “What exactly did you bring? And why?”
The legacier opened the chest to reveal gray skin and curled fingers, one of Conndur’s severed hands. It could have been any discolored, mummified hand, but the signet ring with its aquamarine stone was distinctive. Adan fought back his disgust and horror. His father had touched his face with those fingers, had used that hand to write down observations of the stars. Tears welled in his eyes, and he turned away. “Close the lid. Mandan … my brother sent this to me?”
“Not to you, Sire!” said Naura. “To all the people of Suderra! Once we reach Bannriya Castle, our procession will end. We will display this in your remembrance shrine, or you can construct a special monument in the palace. Supplicants can ponder the hideous fate your father suffered at the hands of the Isharan monsters. You will hold the right hand of Conndur high, and you will call them all to war.”
Adan balked. “War?”
The legacier gave him a questioning smile. “Yes. War against Ishara.”
His stomach knotted. He was walking a razor’s edge here, keeping the sandwreths at bay, diverting Queen Voo, who insisted on having the humans join her own war. The legacier and her companions did not understand, and his brother refused to understand.
“Your procession ends now,” Adan said, his anger rising. “What would my father think to know that his body was portioned out and sent all over the Commonwealth so that people could gawk? He was Conndur the Brave! He fought in the Isharan war. He ruled the three kingdoms for twenty-eight years. He had a brother, Kollanan the Hammer, and two sons, Mandan and myself. He liked to observe the stars, because he wanted to understand the universe.”
As the legacy recitation poured out of him, more details rose in Adan’s memory. “He loved to hunt, or to sail a boat on the Joined River down to the sea. He created his own calendar to study the seasons, and he thought he understood them, at least a little. He—” Adan’s voice caught again, but he pushed through. “He and I watched the skies together. He gave me the name Starfall, because of a shooting star we saw one night.”
He turned to the legacier. “My father’s tale is long and will fill many volumes. Historians must know the truthful details of Conndur the Brave. Your scribes are writing it down, are they not?”
“We are, Sire. Most of all, we have chronicled his terrible death and the treachery of the Isharans. Even with his many great works, the murder will be what the people remember most about your father. That is why these processions are so important. The people must see, and remember how he died.”
The thought of waving around his father’s dismembered hand to whip up hatred sickened Adan. He was working so hard to unify his people against the fearsome wreths. He did want revenge, and he wanted justice, but the last time he had seen his father alive, Adan had beseeched him for help against the wreth threat.…
Adan stared at the gilded chest. The lid remained open, the discolored hand curled on a bed of folded velvet. He swung down off his horse, took two steps closer, and slammed the lid shut. “They need to remember, but they do not need to see. I will keep my father’s hand with the respect he deserved, but I will not let it become an object of morbid curiosity.”
He didn’t understand what his brother could be thinking. Why would Mandan send such sickening artifacts? Yes, the Commonwealth should properly remember their fallen konag, and Adan vowed that he would have his own legaciers, minstrels, and tale spinners build and preserve Conndur’s legend.
After the eruption of Mount Vada, Conndur had been convinced of how dire the wreth threat was. He had gone to Fulcor Island on a mission, hoping to elicit Isharan aid against a common enemy. Empra Iluris, apparently, did not understand. Neither did Mandan, nor his Brava Utho. After what Kollanan had told Adan about Utho’s treatment of Elliel, he didn’t trust the man at all. The bonded Brava, who had instructed both princes in Convera Castle, had always seemed a man of monolithic honor, but his actions made Adan doubt everything he knew about him.
Now he turned to his Banner guards. “Captain Elcior, carry the chest with us back to the castle.” Adan saw the startled look on Legacier Naura’s face, but he waved her away. “Your procession is over. You may go home or come to Bannriya, where you’ll be resupplied for your return journey, but you will not continue this abuse of my father’s memory any longer.”
Adan turned his horse around and rode off at an angry gallop, letting the others follow him. He had been lonely, but right now he wanted no company at all.
43
AS Commonwealth warships gathered at the port of Rivermouth, ready to retake Fulcor Island, the young konag admired the graceful lines, the sturdy hulls, the copper sheeting that reinforced the prows. The ten ships were crowded with eager and angry soldiers, and the captains were ready to set sail.
But when it came time for Mandan to board, Utho saw him grow visibly uneasy. His face turned pale and sweaty, as if he already suffered from seasickness. In a low voice, he said, “I am not a battle commander, Utho. You should be the one to command them. You are my greatest general.”
Although the konag was right, Utho could not allow that. “And you are the ruler of all three kingdoms, the heart of the Commonwealth. Your legacy is our legacy, and you must inspire your fighters.” He added for specific effect, “It is something you can tell your Lady Lira, when she comes to prepare for the wedding.”
The ship captains raised the open-hand flag of the Commonwealth and then the rising sun of Osterra. The sailors cheered, as did the Rivermouth spectators, from merchants to fishermen, shipwrights, and simple townspeople.
Instead of inspiring Mandan, though, the rousing enthusiasm seemed to intimidate the young konag. “But if I am to rule, shouldn’t I be back in Convera Castle? That is our capital—”
Utho was annoyed by the reaction. “Don’t ever let anyone hear you say such things!” He struggled for calm and patience. “You can speak anything to me, my konag, but others might hear your comments as cowardice.”
At least Mandan had the decency to look offended. “But my grandfather sent his two younger sons to fight in the Isharan war, because his firstborn was too important to go off to battle.”
“Yes, and Bolam stayed home and died of a fever, while Conndur and Kollanan returned.” Utho placed a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You will return as well. I’ll protect you.” He gestured to the ten warships, just part of what would become a breathtaking navy. “We will overwhelm Fulcor Island and throw out the invaders. From there, the garrison will be our base, from which we can launch our full-scale war against Ishara. This conquest will be a vital part of your legacy, and you must be there. We are creating history.”
Mandan lowered his gaze, then drew a deep breath. Utho watched the young man fill himself with courage and import, as his mentor had taught him to do. Turning to his warships, the konag lifted his hand in an upraised fist. He shouted, “We are ready to launch! In a few days’ time, our ships will reach Fulcor Island to avenge my father!”
A resounding battle cry roared back from the soldiers and crew on the ten ships. As if in a trance, Mandan fixed his gaze forward and strode to the end of the dock, where he boarded the flagship. The captain welcomed him, and the soldiers hammered sword hilts against their shields in a rhythmic beat that could be heard across the harbor.
U
tho could tell Mandan was still frightened, but at least no one else saw it.
Within the hour, all ten warships departed from Rivermouth, heading out to open sea. The coastline dropped away, leaving only infinite green water around them. Mandan stood on deck, staring into the salty breezes. The young man confessed to Utho, “I want to be in my cabin, but it’s confined and stuffy there. I get queasy.”
“Better that the people see you out here, Sire, as the leader of your fleet.”
Mandan grudgingly agreed. “Yes, they need to see me.”
“It is one of your duties as ruler. You understand why you had to come.”
He nodded again. “And you’ll keep me safe.”
“Yes, as I swore long ago.”
Mandan squinted into the winds as if he could see a distant glimmer of the isolated island, though they were still two days away. “I can never forget what happened on Fulcor. My father—” His voice broke, and his expression collapsed.
Yes, Utho had been cruel to stage Conndur’s death scene as he had, all the blood he had sprayed on the walls and ceiling, which everyone interpreted as the animalistic glee of Isharan butchers. That desecration had broken Mandan, but it also allowed Utho to rebuild him into the ruler that the Commonwealth, and history, needed.
“This time will be different, my konag,” Utho promised. “This time we will not be surprised by Isharan treachery. We will drive them back out.”
Mandan’s voice had a raw edge. “But how is it possible that they captured Fulcor from us? You left Klea there as watchman. We stationed plenty of soldiers in the garrison. We left three large guardian ships around the island.”
“We thought our defenses were sufficient,” Utho admitted, and the guilt dragged his heart down. “With their empra near death, the Isharans should have been in turmoil. We were wrong.” He drew a long, slow breath and added, “I was wrong.”
“They brought a godling.” Mandan paled again. “What if it’s still there? How will we fight a godling even with ten warships?”
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