Vengewar

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “We do not abandon our comrades!” the captain said.

  Utho looked up, though, and saw the Isharans growing closer. If they got into position and set their trap, the flagship would never get away. Konag Mandan would be captured or killed, and Utho knew what the Isharan animals would do to him.

  Though the words tasted like poison in his mouth, he yelled, “The konag is right. Set course away from here and let us hope the second ship follows. We have to find a safe channel out to sea. We need to go!”

  As swiftly as the winds could take them, they sailed away from Fulcor Island and toward the shores of home, only two ships remaining of their entire attack fleet.

  48

  THE new sheets of shadowglass drank all light, like glossy tar that had captured the essence of midnight. With the cargo seized from the Utauk trading ship, Klovus now had ten intact sheets of the rare, remarkable material, and he would use it inside the growing Magnifica construction. In the chamber beneath the temple, he ran his pudgy fingertips across the surface, leaving no smear. He would have his devout artisans frame the black sheets and mount them in prominent places. He was in a good mood.

  And then the Black Eels reported their failure.

  Zaha faced the key priestlord, expressionless. His dark hair hung neat and straight, his brow smooth, his words inflectionless, as if he had killed his emotions before he killed his first victim. “Eight of our Black Eels are dead, Key Priestlord. The empra and the girl Cemi are gone.”

  Klovus opened and closed his mouth, but his throat was a vacuum of words. “How is that possible?” He wasn’t sure he had even understood the man properly. “How could mere hawk guards stand against my Black Eels? Did you not infiltrate the proper stations? Were you exposed?”

  “My assassins did everything properly.”

  “Obviously, you did not!” His shout echoed off the stone walls of the chamber. He reeled and nearly cracked one of the large shadowglass panes.

  Zaha continued, undaunted. “I did not participate directly in this operation, but analyzed the scene afterward. The Black Eels successfully entered the empra’s chamber and launched their attack. They should have killed everyone there. I examined the scene, the blood, the bodies. Many hawk guards lay dead from sword wounds, but the Black Eels…” He hesitated, unable to find the correct words.

  Klovus had never seen one of the elite assassins so uncertain before. He was deafened by anger, but restrained himself from striking Zaha across the face, even though he knew the assassin would stand there and accept the punishment and shame. “What are you saying?”

  Zaha gave a blunt answer. “My Black Eels were … destroyed. Their bodies crushed, their bones broken, their organs burst.”

  Klovus was surprised. “But they can harden their skin. How did that happen?”

  Zaha gave a maddening shrug. “I cannot explain, Key Priestlord. I found a large bloodstain on the ceiling inside the empra’s chamber. One of my Black Eels had been slammed up there and crushed into a pulp by an unimaginable force.”

  Klovus’s mind spun. “Force? What force could do this?”

  “I do not know, but then I remembered something.” Zaha changed the subject slightly. “When I tried to kill the empra on Fulcor, Key Priestlord, some unseen force drove me back, prevented me from harming her. It was too powerful for me to fight. Perhaps it has returned to guard her again.”

  Troubled, Klovus looked down at the sheets of black glass, but the substance swallowed questions and gave no answers. Klovus’s eyes narrowed. “A bit convenient, is it not, this invisible force that you blame? What could it be?”

  Zaha gave another maddening shrug. “Unknown.”

  Empra Iluris had been in a coma, utterly helpless ever since returning from Fulcor Island. Though the woman was the ruler of Ishara and the people revered her, she had no magic of her own—Klovus had learned that long ago. Iluris couldn’t even bear children! He looked at the opaque shadowglass. Had she somehow enlisted the help of a godling? But surely Klovus would know! The wheels turned in his mind. “Where is the empra now?”

  Another shrug. “Unknown. She and the others are gone. They must have found a hiding place or left the palace.”

  Klovus lashed out at him. “Can you provide answers for any of my questions, or are you utterly useless?”

  A tiny flicker of anger lit behind the dark eyes. “Black Eels are never useless, Key Priestlord.”

  Klovus paced the underground chamber. “Where could they have gone?” he muttered, asking the question of himself as much as the assassin. “She’s injured, unconscious—a burden. They would have had to carry her from the high tower. Cemi is an ignorant street girl. Could she possibly have planned this, made provisions for escape? They did not know we would attack.”

  “It does not seem possible, Key Priestlord, but after the death of Chamberlain Nerev, they may have guessed they were in danger.”

  “Killing her shouldn’t have been a problem!” Klovus looked up, thinking of the next crisis. “If we have no answers, then neither should anyone else. Have you cleaned the scene, removed all the bodies?”

  “Yes.” Zaha’s voice now had an arrogant undertone, as if he was offended to be asked such a thing. “We’ve scoured the bloodstains, removed all signs of a struggle. The empra’s quarters are pristine.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “Two servants came into the tower while we were cleaning, and we dispatched them. One minor minister from Ishiki barged in to request a signature from the empra. He was a fool, and he is also gone.”

  “How should we explain this?” Klovus asked. “To any outsider, she simply vanished without a trace.”

  “That is indeed exactly what happened.”

  The torches on the wall flickered. The stone-walled chamber felt oppressive with the weight of the enormous temple above. The hazy, magic-infused spelldoor on the wall remained dormant, but Klovus could sense the godling there, brooding in its own otherworld.

  Zaha spoke crisply. “We could have left the dead hawk guards in place, which might have sparked rumors of a conspiracy among the guards, that they assassinated her.” He hesitated. “But I doubt the people would believe that.”

  Klovus heaved a sigh of exasperation. “What else would they believe, then? If we don’t give the people something definite, they will make up their own stories. Surely, suspicion will fall on me!” He shook his head. Frightened people would believe anything if encouraged properly. And here in Ishara, a land potent with magic, the people’s sincere belief could manifest and become true. “We need to find Iluris before anyone else does. For now, we say nothing. Leave it a grand mystery.”

  “It is a grand mystery, Key Priestlord.”

  Klovus traced a fingertip along his lower lip. “Let all the ideas trickle out so long as they don’t implicate me, and we will allow the rumors to determine which direction we go.”

  “Hear us, save us,” said Zaha.

  “Yes, of course.”

  * * *

  The following day, a sweaty, dust-streaked rider rode into the temple square at dusk, where Klovus led the throngs in their worship. The key priestlord raised his hands, encouraging the people to chant and pray.

  The rider galloped forward, knocking people out of the way as he carved a passage toward the rising temple platform on his foam-streaked horse. He waved a leather-gloved hand. “Make way!”

  Klovus recognized the messenger as an assistant priestlord dressed in green and brown with the markings of Tamburdin District.

  The chants faltered, and the crowd noise dropped to a murmur as the rider rushed toward the key priestlord, calling out before he reached the stone steps. “The barbarians have attacked!” His voice was hoarse, as if he had shouted too much already. “Hethrren are swarming Tamburdin!”

  In alarm, Klovus turned from the sacrificial altar. Next to him, one of his ur-priests whispered, as if invoking a demon, “The Hethrren, Key Priestlord!”

  The violent barbarians preyed on
hunters, sacked and burned villages, crashed into the defensive walls of the main Tamburdin city. During their last attacks, which were led by Magda, an ugly brute of a woman, Klovus and Priestlord Neré had unleashed the local godling, directing that mass of anger and wild energy to thwart the raid. The godling had driven the Hethrren back into the wilderness, and Klovus had hoped that Magda learned her lesson. Apparently she had not.

  Now, though, he realized that the news gave him an opportunity—a glorious distraction from concerns about the empra. Raising his hands, thinking fast, he called the crowds to silence. Arriving at the newly constructed temple steps, the weary priest messenger slid off his saddle, holding on to the horse’s mane to keep his balance. The beast itself was shuddering, barely able to remain on its feet.

  Klovus stepped down to meet the flushed rider, who blurted out, “Key Priestlord, they burned outlying villages, struck the city walls! Priestlord Neré tried to scare them with the godling once again, but even more Hethrren surged out of the forest. Many hundreds of our people were killed, and she had to call the godling back. She begs for your help.”

  “Hear us, save us!” the crowd responded.

  Klovus understood what a wonderful diversion this was, and it would surely make the people stop whispering about the disappearance of Empra Iluris. Here was an outside threat, even closer than the Commonwealth. “While we prepare our war against the godless of the old world, Ishara is besieged from another side! I must protect us from all enemies. Empra Iluris is gone for now, but pray that she will return.”

  There, let that be their only explanation. “Hear us, save us!” he said, and the dutiful crowd repeated it.

  “As soon as preparations can be made, I will ride south with a contingent of the Isharan army to help defend Tamburdin with their own godling.” He swelled his presence. “I, your key priestlord, will confront Magda herself.”

  He smiled with utter confidence. There was nothing like a battle to distract the attention of a grieving land. The marching army would look impressive as they passed through the districts to confront this new threat. The soldiers would just be for show, however. Klovus had another idea. These barbarians were proving to be most useful.

  49

  AS the pair headed north into frostwreth territory, Elliel realized this was a dangerous, even foolhardy errand. But King Kollanan was willing to take the risk on the slim chance that they might rescue his grandson, and Thon desperately wanted more information about wreth history and about himself.

  Their sturdy northern horses were accustomed to the cold, and Elliel added extra layers to her black outfit. They traveled quiet roads, diverting around Lake Bakal and heading directly toward the frozen lands. Patches of snow covered the ground between sparse, leafless trees.

  Riding beside her, Thon was so confident and unafraid that he appeared oblivious, but Elliel knew not to underestimate him. As a Brava, she was not defenseless either.

  Thon was optimistic the wreth queen would give him key answers. Lost in silence, Elliel thought of how much time she had spent without her past, trying to rediscover her legacy. Unconsciously, she touched her face where the rune of forgetting was still etched into her skin. So much was different now. She was a Brava again, bonded to the king of Norterra. Even so, she could not forget what Utho and Cade had done to her. The konag’s bonded Brava was supposed to represent Brava honor for all three kingdoms.

  “I can see by your expression that you are pondering important thoughts,” Thon said, jarring her out of her reverie.

  “It’s … Utho.” Her tone of voice put an entire tale into that one name.

  Thon’s face was filled with compassion. “That man hurt you, Elliel. There is much I need to discuss with him.”

  She smiled at him. Thon often surprised her with his warmth. “I hope you get the chance. I have things to discuss with him as well.” She turned her gaze north. “But let us concentrate on one enemy at a time.” What if Thon truly was a disguised god? It seemed impossible, but since meeting him she had already seen so much that seemed impossible.…

  The cold winds were spattered with falling snow that turned the road white. Her breath was clouded, like white smoke, and she snugged the black cape around her. The horses snorted. Small icicles dripped from their noses, but they plodded on.

  As the temperature dropped, the mounts moved stiffly, heaving harder. More ice sparkled around their mouths and noses. The horse hooves crunched through the crust of snow. Even with her extra layer of wool, Elliel felt the biting cold. Her hands were numb inside their leather gauntlets.

  As the snowstorm grew thicker, Thon didn’t seem affected by the cold. Invoking magic, he diverted the lashing breezes and formed a wedge ahead of them so that he and Elliel could travel somewhat sheltered from the fury.

  “This is not a natural storm,” he announced. “It is a wreth defense meant to discourage curious travelers.”

  “I am not discouraged,” Elliel replied, but her teeth were chattering. “Are we in frostwreth lands now?”

  Thon gave her a perplexed smile. His long dark hair was speckled with snowflakes. “I believe they consider the whole world to be their territory.”

  Obviously concerned with how cold she seemed, he gestured with an outstretched hand and carved out a wider tunnel in the blowing winds. Silence fell around Elliel’s numb ears. Though the cold remained intense, there was some relief now. The horses also took heart and increased their pace.

  As the northern forests dwindled to nothing, they reached a desert of snowdrifts punctuated by upthrust black rocks. The snow blew more furiously on either side of them, as if angry that Thon had thwarted it.

  When the gray clouds cleared briefly, Elliel glimpsed towers of blue ice in the distance, bastion walls that looked larger and more graceful than the blocky fortress looming above Lake Bakal. She drew in a deep, cold breath. “Do you think they know we’re coming?”

  “Of course. And I know where they are, too.”

  Within the hour, something in the air snapped like a string stretched too tight, and the wailing blizzard faded around Thon’s protective shield. The winds dropped and became still, the snow settled to the ground, and the white curtain of blowing flakes cleared. The two horses snorted, and Elliel patted her horse’s neck as she felt the animal’s tension build.

  Ahead of them appeared three white-haired wreth warriors wearing ice-blue and silver armor. They bore weapons and angry expressions as sharp as scythe blades. They rode shaggy white steeds, like horses crossbred with wild wolves.

  Behind them came five metal-and-leather sleighs that carried bald wreth mages, drawn by a train of small-statured drones who plodded over the snow.

  “Halt,” commanded one of the warriors.

  The two riders reined in their horses. Thon said, “We have traveled far to see Queen Onn of the frostwreths. Please take us to her. She has information I need to see.”

  The warriors raised their crystal-tipped spears. “You were not invited. Therefore, you are not welcome. You are intruders.” The leader gestured to his companions. “Take them and their animals.”

  Elliel clamped the golden ramer around her wrist and ignited her fiery weapon. She raised the stark orange flame high.

  Thon slid from his saddle and stepped forward, ignoring the snarling wolf-steeds. He addressed the armored warriors in a conversational tone. “I made myself clear. We are travelers who wish to see Queen Onn.” He gestured toward the palace in the distance. “We will go there ourselves if you choose not to help us.” When they did not respond, he lowered his voice. “I can make you move out of our way.”

  The indignant warriors raised their spears, as if they meant to cut Thon down. The sleigh drones shifted in their harnesses. The mages lifted their arms to summon power from the air. “You are not a frostwreth,” one mage growled. “Therefore, you are an enemy.”

  Thon tossed his black hair. “No, I am not a frostwreth … and you do not want me as an enemy.” He made an impatient sou
nd, lifted his foot, and brought it down hard on the packed snow.

  An astonishing shock wave rippled through the frozen ground. The packed ice shimmered and convulsed. The wolf-steeds reared up, slashed their claws in the air. The mages’ sleighs overturned, tossing the occupants out onto the cold ground. When the harnesses snapped, the drones scattered.

  Thon brought his boot down a second time, and the surrounding ice and snow melted and refroze to a perfect glassy sheen, a rippling mirror that extended for fifty feet all around them.

  Astonished, the wreth mages scrambled to defend themselves. The wolf-steeds bounded away, their claws skittering on the new polished ice. The warriors changed their arrogant posture and dropped into defensive positions.

  Standing with arms crossed over his chest, Thon said, “We came to see Queen Onn. I suggest you take us to her.”

  This time, after only a moment’s hesitation, the frostwreths agreed to escort them to the frozen palace.

  50

  AFTER staying in one place for a few days, Shella din Orr’s heart camp packed up to roll over the countryside. Penda and her father traveled with the wagons on an unmarked and unplanned route around the Suderran hills, generally moving north, according to the old woman’s whim.

  The two rode in the main wagon on either side of Shella. Though the large wooden wheels bounced on the rutted road, the matriarch’s seat was padded with so many blankets and furs that she barely noticed the jostling.

  Penda wrapped her arms around her belly. In her life among the Utauks, she had seen many young mothers give birth, but she still felt anxious. The saddest part was that she might have to give birth without Adan Starfall if he couldn’t reach them in time. When the wagon hit a particularly rough rut, she winced and felt a twinge in her abdomen.

  Shella din Orr snapped, “Careful! Cra, are you trying to bounce the girl’s baby loose?”

  “Sorry, Mother,” called Emil, who was driving the horses.