Onzu stiffly rose from his rock. Utho knew the old man exaggerated his physical ailments because that made opponents underestimate him. “I assist where I can, Utho. You were one of my best trainees.” He snapped at the bruised and weary children, “Get back to work! If you don’t maintain our gardens, we will starve.” He snorted. “At the very least, we’ll have to go to the next village and buy food.” The children returned to their chores, but they continued to eavesdrop.
Utho ignored them. “This village is isolated, but you must know that Konag Conndur was murdered by the Isharans, and that the Commonwealth is now at war.” Nearby, his horse snuffled at the plants growing in the garden. One of the students shooed the horse away. “Conndur foolishly attempted to forge an alliance with the Isharan animals. They killed him for it. His greatest mistake was trusting them in the first place.”
Onzu seemed surprised by his harsh tone, but Utho did not back down. The entire Commonwealth had to be engaged in this great war for their very survival. Utho’s empty void could only be filled with revenge. He had spread the call for capable fighters, and Konag Mandan had decreed that any seaworthy vessel was to be conscripted into the Commonwealth navy to rebuild the fleet. But Utho also needed the Bravas.
“It is our vengewar, Onzu—at last. We need all our people from across the three kingdoms, including paladins and bonded Bravas. If you send out the word, they will come.”
Onzu scratched the side of his nose, and a troubled look crossed his face. “Why me, Utho? You are bonded to the konag himself. They will listen to you as much as they listen to me.”
“They respect me, but they revere you.”
Onzu laughed, but he seemed uneasy. “I do not argue when one of my students speaks the truth.”
“Our only goal must be to punish the Isharans. The blood of Konag Conndur is only one more reason to hate them. We will swarm over their continent, reestablish our colony there, let the Bravas thrive in a new Valaera.”
The old master looked wistfully at the idealized statue of a Brava man near his own dwelling. “Just like the dream Olan had for our people when he led them across the sea.…” He narrowed his eyes, enhancing his wrinkles. “I am isolated here, as you say, but I am not deaf. I know that our paladins have discovered entire villages that are simply empty, including one of our Brava settlements. We cannot account for that … but I know it has nothing to do with Isharans.”
Utho was surprised. “Some settlements emptied out after the eruption of Mount Vada. Many towns were evacuated, and the countryside is still in turmoil. I am aware of this.”
“Not that,” Onzu said with a snort. “Not that! I mean small mountain villages, particularly in western Suderra, entirely abandoned. A Brava training settlement empty, silent … all of them gone. Taken, if you ask me.”
Utho felt a chill. “What are you saying? Who can defeat Bravas?”
“Indeed, who can defeat Bravas?” Onzu repeated while nodding. “You know the answer—the wreths! They have returned, and they see us as a resource for their own wars.”
Utho’s face twisted in disdain. “Wreths again? We have heard rumors, but the Isharans attacked us on Fulcor! Konag Conndur was heinously murdered. That is where our true military conflict lies. We must do what is necessary for the Commonwealth.”
“Oh, I am not as pliable as your young konag, Utho. Never underestimate a threat. I taught you better than that.” Taken aback, Utho began to speak, but Onzu held up a hand, silencing him as if he had struck a blow. The training master continued, “You cannot deny what is happening. We should summon the Bravas, yes, but our most pressing enemy may well be the wreths. Our people must be prepared for a tremendous battle—not across the sea, but right here.” He held up a gnarled finger. “And you know what the wreths want to do. None of us will survive.”
Utho was angry. “Legends! Conndur let himself believe them, and now he has been murdered because of that folly.”
“Some legends are true,” Onzu said. “You are blinded by your vengewar. What if it is not the Isharans we really need to fight?” The trainer stepped closer to Utho, who could not help but back away. “What if we have to fight dragons?”
60
THE konag’s decree was terse and provocative, and Kollanan took offense at the wording. Yes, Mandan was the ruler of the three kingdoms, but he was naïve and unproven, far from being prepared to lead. Though he was a year older than Adan, he was not at all seasoned enough, especially in a time of war. Mandan had been aloof and dismissive when he heard the warning about the wreths, merely parroting the words of Utho. And now Kollanan knew what sort of manipulative man the Brava was.
Reading this impertinent decree now, Koll felt a chill, realizing that his own warning letter about Utho—written to his brother—had fallen on deaf ears. Conndur would have taken the message more seriously, but Mandan was entirely under the Brava’s thumb.
Keeping his anger in check, Kollanan instructed the courier from Convera to wait in the antechamber. The man was exhausted from fighting his way over the nearly impassable mountain roads.
The king called Lasis, Elliel, and Queen Tafira to join him in his reading room, and Shadri followed. The hearth was cold, and the sunshine of a late-autumn day came through the open windows. For years he had mounted his war hammer on the wall here, never intending to use the weapon again. But times had changed.
Kollanan rested his elbows on the wooden desk and held up the letter. “The konag commands me to gather every capable fighter and dispatch them on a forced march to the coast. He wants the Norterran army to join the larger Commonwealth forces for an immediate attack on Ishara.”
Normally implacable, Lasis drew in a quick breath.
Elliel said in an acid voice, “Those words were put in his ear by Utho.”
The queen placed her hands on Koll’s shoulder as she leaned over to read the letter. Her face paled. “But we do not have an army to spare. We are building all available defenses against a frostwreth attack.” She looked up, her dark eyes wide. “That would leave our entire land vulnerable.”
“The sandwreth reinforcements should be here soon to help us,” Elliel said. “We need our armies here, so that we all fight together.”
“We simply cannot send our fighters away,” Lasis said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It would be foolhardy.”
Kollanan set down the letter, agonized. “Mandan is still the konag, my brother’s true heir, whether or not I agree with him.” His heart sank as he realized that Adan must have received a similar letter in Suderra.
“Would a token force be sufficient?” Tafira asked. “A hundred fighters, perhaps, to fulfill our obligations to the Commonwealth?”
Koll shook his head. “With the signing of the Commonwealth charter, the three kingdoms agreed to fight as one, swore to follow the konag as the ruler over all of us. If I defy this decree…”
Shadri’s eyes shone with a new idea, and she blurted out, “Well, then, that is your answer, Sire! The three kingdoms vowed to protect one another since the time of Queen Kresca, didn’t they? We all know that, right? It is explicitly stated in the Commonwealth charter. Remember the fifth section? Think of the exact words.” She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed.
Elliel looked at her. “You memorized all the words to the Commonwealth charter?”
The young scholar frowned in surprise. “Mostly. I have read it many times, as part of my studies. I don’t know that I could recite it all from memory, though. We may need to refer to an actual copy if we are to invoke that part of the charter.”
Lasis and Elliel responded with perplexed expressions. Kollanan stroked his beard, searching his memory. “We have copies here at the castle and at the remembrance shrine. Please refresh my memory, girl. What is it you suggest?”
Shadri grinned with excitement. “Konag Mandan’s decree does not invoke any specific clause, so can you not turn the demand around? The Commonwealth charter, section five, states that if any one of the three ki
ngdoms requests assistance under grave circumstances, the other two kingdoms must respond. Invoke that obligation, Sire.”
Surprised, Kollanan looked at Tafira, who offered an intrigued smile. He said, “I believe that part of the charter refers to seeking aid in the event of a natural disaster, a flood or a famine.”
“Implicitly, not specifically,” Shadri said. “The authors and original signatories of the charter could not conceive of an outside enemy, since the wreths had vanished and Ishara had not yet been settled.” Her smile widened. “The words are the words.”
“The words are the words,” Koll said, stroking his lower lip.
The scholar girl continued. “Write to Konag Mandan, invoke section five, and tell him that you require the Commonwealth military to save Norterra. Your kingdom is facing a grave threat, as specified in the charter. The frostwreths have already destroyed Lake Bakal, and we know Queen Onn is building terrible armies. You have plenty of evidence, plenty of witnesses. Without question, our kingdom needs military assistance. By the terms of the Commonwealth charter, the konag is required to send aid if you request it, isn’t he?”
Elliel smiled. “That’s very clever, Shadri.”
“Not just clever, she’s absolutely correct.” Kollanan’s eyes brightened. “I agree. Norterra needs the help of all three kingdoms more than ever before. Help me write a proper response, quoting the appropriate words from the charter. There can be no doubt.”
“Could we send Captain Rondo and his soldiers with the courier back to Convera? To ensure the message is delivered?” Shadri suggested uneasily. “They are just causing trouble here. I’ve heard them talking…”
Kollanan dismissed the idea. “No, I want them to join the fight at Lake Bakal so they can see the frostwreths with their own eyes. Once they’ve faced the real enemy, they will not be able to deny the danger.” He scratched his thick beard, then shook his head. “Afterward, I will grant them leave to go. When they return to Convera, they can help convince Mandan.”
“If they are willing to open their eyes,” Tafira said.
Together, Shadri and Tafira helped him shape and temper his words as he wrote out his response and his request invoking the terms of the charter. When the letter was ready, Koll summoned the courier into his reading room. The man had refreshed himself and awaited a response, though he was not looking forward to the arduous journey back. The king looked down at the folded message before handing it over. “I cannot do as Konag Mandan asks. Rather, this is a formal request for him to assist my kingdom in our defenses. I’ve already enlarged the Norterran armies, but we cannot spare any soldiers for a war across the sea while we face a full-fledged attack from the wreths here in our own land.”
The courier was aghast. “Sire, you cannot refuse the konag’s command! After what happened to Conndur the Brave, we have to attack Ishara!”
“Ancestors’ blood, Conndur was my brother, and I despise what the Isharans did to him, but my kingdom is more important than revenge. Conndur would have rushed to help Norterra if I’d asked! Norterra’s existence is at stake.” He pushed the letter into the courier’s hands. “This is a formal request, per the terms of the Commonwealth charter. He is required to help us.”
The courier squirmed. He looked down at the letter in his hands. “I cannot deliver this to the konag.”
“You will. It is my command as king of Norterra. Konag Mandan is bound by the Commonwealth charter. The defense of the three kingdoms outweighs a discretionary aggressive attack.” When the courier still hesitated, Kollanan barked at him: “We will give you provisions and a fresh horse. Ride! It is imperative that the konag receive my request as soon as possible. We need him to send his army here.”
The courier scuttled down the corridor, clutching the letter.
After he had departed, Elliel said, “If Mandan sends Utho to lead his armies, I intend to fight him.”
“We will have enough enemies to fight, do not fear,” Koll said, his heart heavy. He had provoked his nephew, and he didn’t know what the young man would do.
“This will not end well, beloved,” Tafira warned.
With a sigh, he rested his bearded chin on her head as he held her close. “Sadly, you are almost always right.”
* * *
The sandwreths finally arrived from the south. Only twenty of them, Kollanan saw with deep disappointment. They rode augas, sixteen armed warriors with metal and bone armor, three dour mages in rusty leather robes, and Quo, with honey-gold eyes and long bleached hair. “My sister sent us to you. We will help you destroy the fortress of our enemy.”
Koll and his queen stopped in front of them, accompanied by a crowd of awed curiosity seekers. “Welcome. We had hoped for a larger force from Queen Voo.”
Quo snorted as if he had been insulted. “How much more would you need? You do not understand the power we can wield.” His dull-eyed auga flicked out a long tongue. “Your human army can assist us. Are you not willing to fight as well?” He smiled. “In ancient times, humans were quite good at fighting and dying on the battlefield.”
61
IN the thick forest just outside the Hethrren camp, the restless godling stirred. Klovus kept the entity under control with his bond, letting the thing out and then reeling it back in, like a fish on a line.
The uneasy barbarians realized that the godling responded to the key priestlord’s summons. They were terrified of it, and therefore terrified of him—exactly as Klovus intended. He drove back his lingering resentment. At any time, Priestlord Neré could have done the same thing, using the Tamburdin entity to destroy the enemy camps. Klovus had no patience for a priestlord who was unwilling to use her power.
The Hethrren riders had taken him through pine forests across the hills and ridges and into the deep wilderness. The barbarians had built a towering bonfire in the center of a clearing, as if the conflagration might intimidate the godling. Now he sat in their camp, facing their leader—such an ugly thing!
Magda had a square face, features devoid of any art or grace. Her dark, wiry hair was matted—intentionally, Klovus thought, or perhaps through utter lack of care. Her body reminded him of a barrel filled with muscle. Her large breasts were squashed under leather chest armor, and a wolf pelt hung as a cape on her shoulders.
The barbarian woman squatted on a fallen log that she seemed to consider a throne and held a knotted club with a rounded, twisted head varnished with the blood of victims. She leaned forward and grinned. One of her front teeth had been filed to a sharp point. “You dare to come to us, soft man.” Her voice was like a continuous belch. “What do you want?”
Though she disgusted him, he did not flinch. His connection with the roiling deity made him incapable of fear. “If I were a soft man, I would simply let my godling rip you all apart. But I wanted to look you in the face, Magda of the Hethrren. I wanted to see if you are worthy.”
Magda made a hacking sound that he interpreted as a laugh. “Worthy of what? We take what we wish.”
Klovus brushed the front of his caftan. The roaring bonfire cracked and popped, sending sparks into the air like wayward stars. “I will decide whether or not to let you and your people live, depending on what you say to me tonight.”
The barbarians huddled close, looking at their visitor as if he were a meal about to be served. A dozen or more children were interspersed among the adults, looking at him with wide eyes and feral expressions; with long tangled hair, clad in furs and holding sharpened weapons of their own, they looked like miniature versions of Hethrren.
When he considered Magda’s attitude not to be deferential enough, Klovus drew the godling closer to remind them of its power. The trees stirred and crashed; boughs cracked; splintered branches flew into the air and tumbled down into the bonfire, releasing a gush of coals. Startled, the barbarians looked out into the forest. Magda rose from her log, held her club as if it might be a useful weapon against the deity.
“Sit down,” Klovus snapped to her, “and listen to
me.”
She whirled toward him with her club raised, and in an instinctive response, the godling stormed out of the forest into the camp. It manifested itself like a thunderhead of primal energy, a maelstrom of predator eyes and snapping fangs. When the Hethrren shrieked like children, Klovus allowed himself a smile. “I said sit down!”
Magda obeyed this time, although she continued to squeeze her twisted club as if strangling it.
He let the godling continue stirring on the outskirts of the firelight for another moment, then directed it to retreat to the trees. “I could destroy you all now. You know that.”
Magda grunted. “We are too many. You may destroy these here, but thousands of Hethrren throughout the forest will avenge me. They will kill every one of you soft pale people.”
Klovus surprised her with his suggestion. “I would rather come to a different accommodation. The Hethrren may be useful.” He laced his plump fingers together, showing the gold of his rings. “You prey upon Tamburdin lands. You raid and burn villages. You attack the city and steal what you can, but you never conquer.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you lazy? Why don’t you take over the city and declare yourselves rulers of Tamburdin?”
“We are the rulers of this place,” Magda said. “We go where we wish and take what we want.”
“Then you run away and hide in these primitive camps.” Klovus gestured around him at the clearing, where the Hethrren spread blankets and piles of their loot.
“Hide?” Magda was insulted. She seemed to have forgotten the godling already. “City people hide behind their wooden walls, trapped the way we trap animals—and they do it to themselves.” She rumbled her deep laugh again. “Cities are too small. They would confine us. The Hethrren run free.”
Klovus placed his elbows on his knees. Now was the time to negotiate. “But what is it your people want? If Tamburdin City is too small, then what would be big enough for you?” He knew what he would offer, but he waited to hear her answer first.
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