The young man seemed disappointed and confused. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t even heard the men talking. She tugged his arm. “I will let you walk me back to the castle.”
He brightened at that, and the two of them left the tavern as Captain Rondo began to tell another outrageous and provocative tale.
52
ELLIEL and Thon stood before the throne of the frostwreth queen. The scar on Onn’s cheek both marred and enhanced her beauty. This woman was exceedingly powerful, no question about that. An ancient spear was prominently displayed on the wall behind the throne.
The queen seemed fascinated by the two outsiders who had dared to come to her, but they were aware that the slightest provocation could turn her capricious amusement to fury. “You are here of your own accord, knowing your lives may be forfeit. Even my drones are more intelligent than that.”
Beside Elliel, Thon was caught up in his own concerns, his deep desire to glean what information the frostwreths might possess about him and how he fit into the universe. “I need to learn what you know about wreth history, and what you remember.”
The incredible palace was sculpted out of a living glacier, its towers and walls raised up so that the structure loomed as high as a crystalline mountain on the plain of snow. Elliel had also seen the sandwreth palace, which was just as imposing. Unlike the deceitful sandwreths, these people did not hide their murderous intentions toward humans. Was that preferable?
Frostwreth warriors stood along the ice-block walls, shifting their spears and regarding the two visitors. Irri, a muscular male warrior, stood closest to the throne, as if he considered himself Onn’s personal protector, or her personal possession.
If frostwreths intended to sweep down and eradicate the gadfly humans, Elliel feared Norterra was doomed. Even with the help of Thon, could she convince Onn to release Birch? Was the boy still alive?
The queen rose in a liquid motion, looked down at Thon. “And what sort of being are you? You are unlike anything I have ever seen.” Her brow wrinkled. “A sandwreth creation? A spy?”
“No, I am most certainly not that,” Thon said. “I came here to review your histories, so I can learn the answer for myself.”
Onn turned her attention to Elliel, raking her gaze up and down the black finemail cape, her chest armor, her sword. “You are another Brava half-breed, a female. Females are usually wiser.” She mused for a moment. “I brought a Brava here as a toy not long ago. I killed him when I was done with him.”
Elliel responded mysteriously: “Bravas are not so easy to kill.”
Cold blue fire ignited behind the queen’s eyes, but she dismissed Elliel and stepped closer to Thon. He remained motionless as she touched his dark hair, his silvery scaled chest plate. “Handsome but … unsettling.”
“I wish to see your historical records. It is important to me.” He flashed his perfect teeth, as if to convince her that what was important to him must be important to her as well. “We have a different purpose as well. You have taken a young human boy. We would like him back.”
Elliel was startled he would be so blunt. She spoke quickly: “As a gesture of respect. We make this formal request of the queen of the frostwreths.” She paused a beat as Thon continued to stare at her. “Does the boy still live?”
“Birch is a dear child, endlessly interesting, though he requires a good deal of watching.” Onn’s pale eyes shifted toward her standing guards, and a frown flickered across her features. “I wonder where he has gotten to.…” She shouted to anyone who could hear her command, “Bring the human child here! I want to show our guests how well I take care of my wards.” She turned back to the visitors and sniffed. “What is he to you? The mere fact that you ask about him means he must be someone of importance.”
“I did not know the wreths considered any humans of importance,” Thon said, again surprising Elliel, but he exactly played upon the queen’s mood.
Soon enough, a group of agitated drones escorted a gaunt boy into the throne room. He stood with shadowed, downcast eyes, dressed in patchwork clothes, scraps tucked into other clothes, overlarge trousers held up by a short length of rope. He looked up at Thon and the Brava woman, but did not recognize either of them.
Elliel felt a warm rush to see the child, despite his miserable condition. She bent down and took him by the shoulders. “It’s all right. We’re trying to get you home.” She lowered her voice, careful not to say Kollanan’s name. Somehow the boy had kept his identity hidden. “Your grandfather will be glad to know you are alive.”
When Birch looked at her, his eyes welled up with tears. “Is he coming for me?”
Elliel rose to her feet and said to the queen, “It would be a great display of generosity and kindness if you let us take him.”
Onn seemed scandalized. “Birch is one of my most prized possessions! He sits at the side of my throne. Why should he want to go back to mere humans?”
“Because they are his family and his home. Surely you can understand that?” Elliel was not sure of such things at all.
“I honor him by keeping him.” Onn paced in front of her throne while the silent guards watched, ready to attack. “No, he is mine. Why should I be generous? You will not deprive me of his company.” Onn lashed out at the silent drones. “Take him away, deep into the tunnels. He is not going anywhere.” She also turned to two of the powerful wreth guards. “Be sure the boy does not get … lost.”
Elliel felt dismay as Birch was whisked away. She could tell there would be no changing the queen’s mind. Maybe they would require more extreme measures.
Onn’s face took on a calculating expression. “The child is interesting, but has little knowledge. I shall keep both of you here, as well. My mages will enjoy extracting information.”
Elliel backed away. “You will not.” She clamped the gold ramer in place and called forth the fire.
Thon stood unarmed and seemingly relaxed, but his voice sounded ominous. “You disappoint me, Queen Onn. We came here with a reasonable request.”
“I alone decide what is reasonable,” Onn said.
Elliel stood close to Thon with her ramer raised, shining the intense orange fire against the blue-white cold of the palace. Onn seemed amused by the glow of heat shining on her pale skin.
Irri strode forward, swelling in size with the opportunity to protect his queen. More wreth warriors advanced, raising spears and swords. Elliel stood ready to fight, the fire crackling. She was confident she could kill Irri, but she could not kill them all.
Onn sat back on her throne as if hungry to watch the unfolding battle.
Enigmatic and silent, Thon studied the enemy warriors closing in. He had battled them before at Lake Bakal, but that was at a distance, not hand-to-hand. He seemed perplexed to be facing actual opponents. Elliel didn’t know what he would do, or what he could do, but she had faith in him. She had seen the immeasurable power that Thon possessed, whether or not he understood what he was.
“I had hoped the wreth race would be powerful, honorable, and worthy,” he said. “Alas, I find you lacking.”
Irri’s deep-throated laugh sounded like a growl. Raising a hand and invoking an invisible force, Thon lifted the armored warrior off the floor, his reinforced boots dangling in the air as he kicked out. As Thon held him suspended in the air, the helpless warrior slashed the emptiness with his sword but could reach no one.
The startled frostwreths hesitated. Thon pressed Irri against the frozen wall near the stained spear. The surface of the ice blocks melted and re-formed. Horizonal streams of water folded around him to encase Irri in a frozen cocoon.
Queen Onn looked at the trapped and struggling warrior in astonishment. More warriors charged forward, cocking back their spears. Thon gestured toward the mirrorlike ice floor, which suddenly liquefied, and the charging warriors sank in up to their knees. With a second gesture, Thon refroze the floor, trapping them in place like insects in amber.
Two trapped warriors hurled their spear
s at him, but Elliel’s ramer destroyed the weapons in midflight. More warriors paused at the edge of the throne room, waiting for a command from the queen.
Onn looked at Thon, amazed. “What are you?”
“That is what I am trying to discover. I was sealed beneath Mount Vada in a chamber made of crystal. Someone put me there, long ago.” He touched the intricate tattoo on his face. “I know nothing of my past. What can the frostwreths tell me? What are your legends about Kur? And the dragon?” He stepped up to the dais, and the queen backed to her throne. His tone changed and he demanded, “Did you do something to me?”
“I have never seen you before,” Onn said. “Our history says nothing about a wreth man sealed inside the mountain.”
“Why was I there? Who am I? What is my purpose?” His questions became louder. “If you know, you must tell me.”
Elliel was surprised he did not ask her directly if he was Kur. Maybe he didn’t believe in the possibility enough.
“I do not know!” Onn said.
“Then help me find out. Queen Voo provided me with all of their legends and records. I request that you do the same.”
Onn calculated it was a small price to pay. “You may see our records.” Her voice became smoother. “Once you understand us, perhaps you will help us achieve victory.”
“That depends on what I understand about you, and what I am.”
Irri continued to struggle against his frozen bonds. The warriors trapped in the floor could not pull their legs free. Elliel was sure Queen Onn could easily melt the ice with her own powers and free them, but she didn’t dare use her magic while Thon remained there. She issued more orders that echoed through the throne room, and soon worker-caste wreths hurried in with stacks of thin crystalline sheets, even a few crumbling documents written on old parchment.
Two mages accompanied them. “These were stored in our palace, untouched during the years of our dormant spellsleep.”
“I will need them all,” Thon said.
Onn did not argue, intimidated. “Take them and leave.”
A hundred additional warriors arrived, ready to defend their queen. They crowded at the threshold, inside the throne room.
Elliel felt strong beside Thon as she continued to hold her crackling ramer, pouring power into the fiery blade. “And the boy. We will take him with us.”
“No!” Queen Onn shrilled. Her pride was ignited. She snatched the ancient spear from the wall behind her throne and held it. “The boy stays here with me. If you ask again, I will have him killed right now.”
Elliel could see that she meant it.
As he looked at the documents, Thon was delighted with the treasure trove of information, but Elliel just wanted to get away. Even with Thon’s power, she knew the battle could turn against them in a moment. “We should leave.” She glanced around, ready for the flash point. “We can’t fight them all.”
“I don’t wish to, and I choose not to.” He turned, bearing his prized documents. “We will go now.”
Elliel kept her ramer ignited as they retreated. The ominous frostwreths watched, but made no move to prevent their departure.
53
THE two surviving Commonwealth warships limped back toward Osterra. The sails were singed and torn, the decks damaged, but the konag was alive. The other eight ships in the strike force had been sunk near Fulcor Island.
Mandan spent most of the return voyage in his cabin with the doors barricaded, as if afraid that Isharan murderers would somehow steal aboard and attack him in the night. Utho remained on guard outside the door, giving him some sense of safety. Mandan had never doubted his Brava’s strength, but he had underestimated the evil of the Isharans.
On the last night of the return voyage, praying that they would soon reach the Rivermouth shipyards, Mandan huddled on his hard pallet, listening to the uneasy creaking of the hull.
They had seen no sign of Isharan pursuit since they fled Fulcor Island, but Utho would not let the crew lower their guard. Lookouts on the tallest masts used far-seeing tubes to keep watch, but they spotted no red-striped sails pursuing them. Nevertheless, the fleeing warships sailed with all the speed they could imagine, as if their lives depended on it.
Mandan remained in his dark cabin, listening to the sounds and feeling unreasonably cold. He had seen dark clouds at sunset, and he was terrified that a thunderstorm would churn the waves and thrash the ships. Lightning and thunder would make every moment a waking nightmare.
He moaned to himself, all alone. He had slept only a few hours in the days since the disaster, but sheer exhaustion finally drove him into a sleep filled with stark images of his father’s mutilated body. He would never forget the inhuman viciousness of the act. How could such hateful people exist?
The young man woke up screaming, and even though he had barricaded his cabin, Utho snapped the latch and shoved the door open. Thunder cracked in the sky, and Mandan felt queasy. His bunk swayed as the ship rode the choppy waters.
“There is a storm at sea, my konag, but you are safe. The captain says there is nothing to fear.”
“There is always something to fear,” Mandan said.
“Not while I am here.”
A bright flash of lightning seeped through the window hatch, and the subsequent boom of thunder made him cringe. Utho held him in an iron grip, which was at first comforting and then stern. “You must not be afraid of a mere storm. As konag, you have to bring the Commonwealth together and be a brave leader. Fear the Isharans and what they can do! After this naval defeat at Fulcor, we must return with ten times the force and exterminate them. We will build an army for this vengewar with soldiers from all three kingdoms.”
“All three kingdoms.…” Shuddering, Mandan leaned against Utho’s muscular chest, felt the reassuring leather armor, but the Brava pushed him away and held him at arm’s length.
“You are Konag Mandan of the Colors, and you write your legacy with your actions. You survived at Fulcor Island—twice!—and you have learned. You must learn!”
“I will,” Mandan said, determined. Another crack of thunder startled him, but he steeled himself, did not react. In the lantern-lit cabin Utho gave a slow approving nod.
“We expected to capture Fulcor Island, Sire, but even defeat—temporary defeat—provides fuel to feed the fire. As I told you before, a vengewar is not a quick thing, but it is necessary.”
“What are we to do? As soon as we reach Rivermouth, all the people will know that I could not recapture Fulcor Island. What about Lira—”
“You couldn’t do it this time. Next time, though, we will crush them.”
Hearing the confidence in the Brava’s voice, Mandan pushed aside his doubts.
* * *
The following morning, after the lookout sighted the misty coast of Osterra, Mandan sat in a chair on the deck, which was still moist from the previous night’s downpour. He eyed scorch marks on the scrubbed planks, scars where arrows had gouged the deck. The marks of battle. Utho called them the marks of survival, not of defeat.
“We sank several of their ships,” Mandan said. “I only wish we could have taken some Isharan prisoners for Lord Cade. It … it would have made a fine wedding present for my father-in-law.”
“Set your priorities, my konag. When we conquer the continent, we will secure more than enough slaves for our needs. And there are things more important than your upcoming wedding.” Utho gave him stern instructions. “You need to write a letter to the kings of Suderra and Norterra. The Commonwealth must be united, and the fate of our entire land now rests in how we respond to the enemy. We know from the last Utauk trading ship that Empra Iluris remains in a coma, unable to rule.” His gray eyes hardened. “Therefore, Ishara is weak, leaderless, in turmoil. Now is the time to strike. We cannot miss this opportunity!” Mandan nodded, agreeing completely, and Utho nudged him into action. “Write all that! Tell your brother and your uncle. Now is our chance. We need to stand together.”
The young man called f
or fresh paper, ink, a quill. Thanks to Utho, he had so much anger he could barely find the words to write. He struggled to compose the letter as he sat outside in the deceptively bright morning.
Utho nodded down at the paper. “Write, Sire. Issue your commands. You rule the three kingdoms, and this is our war. They all have to obey you. Call them to action.”
“But … but King Kollanan sent that terrible letter about what you did to Elliel. What if he doesn’t heed me?”
Utho’s face grew as dark and stormy as the previous night’s clouds. “You are the konag, Sire. He is only a king.” That seemed to be all the answer he would give.
As Mandan worked through the first few sentences, the words began to flow better. He read his first draft, but found it inadequate, so he tore it up and rewrote the document in stronger, clearer language. He was the rightful konag, issuing a royal command.
When he felt satisfied with the document, and after Utho approved it, he wrote identical letters to Adan and Kollanan.
This war against Ishara would consume the resources of the Commonwealth: the ships, soldiers, weapons, armor, food, and supplies. The three kingdoms, which had been allied since the time of Queen Kresca, would need to merge their armies into a single force capable of crushing the enemy that had committed such horrible crimes. Norterra, Suderra, and Osterra could have no other priorities. They would stand together under Mandan’s rule. He was the konag, and they must obey.
Mandan signed and sealed his letters. As soon as the warships landed at Rivermouth, he would dispatch riders across the land to deliver them with all possible speed.
54
KEY Priestlord Klovus traveled with part of the Isharan army to Tamburdin District. Before he left the capital, he issued public announcements and spread quietly insidious rumors about the danger of the Hethrren, which would help distract the people from thinking about the silent empra, although many still prayed for her every day. The spectacle of marching troops caught their attention, at least for a while.
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