Vengewar

by Kevin J. Anderson

  People gawked at the shaggy barbarians. They clasped their hands and raised their arms, beseeching the key priestlord. “Hear us, save us!”

  Knowing he had to keep up appearances, Klovus shouted from horseback in front of Magda, “These are the Hethrren, our new friends. They will stay for just a brief few days, before they sail off to crush our enemies.”

  The people seemed guardedly optimistic. Magda laughed out loud. “Hethrren do not know ships.”

  “Our captains and sailors will bring you across the ocean.” Klovus pointed toward the harbor. “The voyage takes only a few days, and then you can run free across a whole continent.”

  Out in the sparkling water, dozens of Isharan war vessels filled the docks, their red-and-white sails tied up to yardarms; even more ships were anchored out in the open harbor. Klovus tried to calculate how many ships would be needed to ferry all of the barbarians across the ocean.

  “The fleet is being supplied now, as you can see.” Klovus indicated where people worked aboard the warships. “You’ll have all the weapons you need.”

  Magda grunted. “We have had a long journey to reach Serepol. Perhaps we should not depart so soon.”

  Behind them, the unchecked Hethrren army entered the streets and moved through neighborhoods, terrorizing shops, taverns, stables. Magda said, “Your city looks comfortable. We may stay here for a while.”

  74

  “WHAT are you?” Cemi whispered to the rippling, insubstantial presence in front of her.

  Though the guardian force had dissipated into near transparency, she could still sense it there, in addition to the power that clung to the stone walls and permeated the foundation of the palace. The force, the entity—the godling?—was connected to her as well.

  And if it truly was a godling, a young and inexperienced deity created by all of the faith and concern for Empra Iluris, then the thing needed to be nurtured and strengthened.

  She experienced a surge of energy inside her as the godling responded to her nearness. The air twisted like currents in a stream, and she reached out, felt the invisible touch.

  Vos stepped up beside her. “Without our protector, we would never have survived the assassination attempt. We would have been discovered and killed long before now.”

  Cemi nodded. “Our enemies have many advantages over us. They have numbers, resources, weapons, and opportunity. Yet we still live.” She reached out, spread her fingers, and felt the godling wrap itself around her. Her voice grew harder with determination. “We have been saved for a purpose, and it was not just to hide here.” She looked over at the pale and fragile Iluris, still lying motionless. “We are destined to do more. I wanted to protect the empra until she woke up and took back her rule. But now…” She had a difficult time facing it. “I have to do what she would want.”

  “You know what she would want,” Vos said. It was not a question.

  Analera delivered regular reports about the secret efforts to build support throughout Serepol. Each day she found more and more people who believed the story that the godlings protected Empra Iluris, that she would come back when the time was right. It was not hard for even the lowest ditchdigger to realize that there was corruption in the city, that there were those—including Key Priestlord Klovus—who were not to be trusted. Now, with the astonishing reports of a barbarian army arriving and even being welcomed into the city, the mutterings grew louder. People whispered strong prayers for the empra to come back. “Hear us, save us!”

  “Tell them to keep praying,” Cemi had urged the old servant that morning. “Their beliefs will strengthen this new godling, their protector. Our future depends on them, on their faith.”

  Analera had nodded. “They understand, Excellency. In their homes, in shadowed alleys, in public gathering places, they all pray for the empra’s safe return.”

  Cemi reached out. If she could make the new entity more powerful, then her small group might have a better chance. Although they were trapped underground, she could sense the prayers outside increasing, because she felt it through the godling.

  Beside her now, Vos said, “That godling is our shield, and you have a connection to it. How can we make it stronger than our enemies?”

  Beyond the prayers of the people, Cemi thought of another way to make the godling stronger. The priestlords did it all the time. “Captani, give me your knife.”

  He was startled. “What do you need it for?”

  “I need it,” she said, then softened her voice, “please.”

  He handed her his razor-sharp dagger. She looked at the gleaming edge, then slashed it across the ball of her thumb. She held up the cut, the blood that welled forth. “All of your hawk guards will need to do the same.”

  The new guardian entity shimmered around her. “We all make sacrifices,” Cemi said. “By giving up something important to us, we shore up the godling.” Blood ran down her palm and along her wrist, but the godling whispered around her like a warm breeze, taking the blood, making it vanish, sealing her cut.

  Voss took the knife and slashed his own hand. “I’m glad there’s something we can do while we wait.”

  75

  UTHO returned to Convera, uneasy after what he had seen in the Dragonspine Mountains. He was a Brava, and his character was made of steel, and he would set a course and not waver—that was always his strength. But Onzu had made him wonder if it was also a weakness. Did his absolute focus on the vengewar make him blind to everything else?

  When he reached the castle, he sensed the anxiety in the court and realized instantly that something dreadful had happened. Striding up to the nearest court guard, he demanded, “Why are these people so tense?”

  The man snapped to attention, but he looked ill. “It’s Konag Mandan’s emissary to the sandwreths.… Queen Voo was … not satisfied.” He explained about the horrific fate of the emissary folded in a box, still alive.

  Utho ground his teeth. “Wreths again! Was it a parlor trick? Or some kind of torture?”

  “It was magic, sir. Wreth magic! Voo says she expects Konag Mandan to come in person next time she summons him.”

  Utho was offended. “Mandan is not her slave. He’s the konag of the Commonwealth.”

  “I know, sir, but what are we to do if wreth armies invade the three kingdoms? King Adan and King Kollanan already—”

  “Wreth armies are not our concern! Tell me, have the Isharans attacked us again? Or do we still have time?”

  The guard blinked. “Isharans? No, but King Kollanan insists the wreths—”

  “I’ve heard enough about wreths for one day.” He stalked past the guard, making his way to the konag’s chambers. He had been gone for so long, Mandan would want to see him immediately. He hoped the young man had not made unwise decisions in his absence.

  Unconcerned with the sweat and dust from his long ride, Utho strode down the corridor to the spacious royal apartment. He remembered when Conndur the Brave had lived in these same rooms, which held a few war mementos, but not many, because Conndur was not a man overburdened with nostalgia. Upon taking the crown, however, Mandan had changed the chamber.

  Now three easels stood with paintings in various stages of completion. The air smelled of turpentine and firewood, and the konag’s brushes and palettes lay in disarray on a table. One wall was entirely covered with maps.

  He entered without knocking and found Mandan standing before one of his easels, staring at the canvas. He blinked his empty eyes and didn’t seem to see Utho. He held his paintbrush over a palette filled with black, gray, and red pigments. The painting was a sketchy and distorted version of Conndur’s mutilated body sprawled on the blood-soaked bed. “I cannot get it out of my head, Utho. I thought that maybe if I painted it…”

  Utho yanked the canvas from the easel and turned it to face the stone wall. “That only sharpens your memory of it—sharpens it into a dagger that stabs your heart.”

  “I wish he wasn’t dead. My father would know what to do!” The young
man’s voice was raw. “No one accepts me as the konag. Why won’t they obey my orders?” Near his bedside a small table held a crumpled letter. Mandan grabbed it, held it up. “I sent my decree to Suderra and Norterra, as you said, and they don’t listen. My own uncle defies me!”

  Utho took the letter and read with disbelief. “Kollanan demands that you send the Osterran army to him?”

  Mandan shouted, “But he can’t refuse.”

  “You are correct, he cannot refuse.” Yet Kollanan had done exactly that, dismissing a formal declaration of war and a call to arms, citing some obscure clause in the charter. The fate of the Commonwealth was at stake!

  Utho knew the real reason, and it was not about wreths. It was because Elliel had told the Norterran king all about Lord Cade, the saltpearl operations, and what Utho had done to her. She had corrupted Kollanan.

  Mandan was uncertain. “We can’t let him get away with it, can we?”

  “No, my konag, we can’t.”

  “I bet my brother will say the same thing. Adan hasn’t even answered.” Mandan walked over to the empty easel, stared at his paints, and knocked them aside in disgust. “Our courier said that Kollanan was building an army. I believe he means to march against us.”

  Utho was alarmed by the thought. He hadn’t imagined that, but it was possible.

  A polite knock on the chamber door interrupted them, and Cade was there with his beautifully dressed daughter Lira. When he saw the redheaded girl in a seafoam-green dress, Mandan’s entire demeanor changed. He smiled, and his eyes shone. “Lira! I did not expect you in Convera until tomorrow.”

  She blushed and gave him a formal curtsy. A necklace of saltpearls shimmered like stars against her pale skin. “My konag, when you commanded me to come to the castle, we hurried as fast as we could.”

  Cade gave a respectful bow. “My daughter was anxious to see Convera. There are so many wedding plans to be made. Are you certain the date is firm? Three weeks hence seems a bit rushed.”

  Mandan took the girl’s hand and kissed it delicately. “You brighten even the darkest night.” He looked harder at her father. “And yes, the date is firm. I am counting the days.”

  Lira giggled. Utho turned his steely gaze toward Cade, and a message passed between the two men. Serious matters were at hand.

  “We will have the largest wedding in the history of the Commonwealth, my love,” Mandan promised. “I’ll appoint a committee with ministers and tailors, jewelers, painters, florists. Everyone will prepare the castle, all will be perfect. And you will be my queen.”

  Lira looked as if she might swoon, and Lord Cade swelled with importance. Utho said, “Yes, there is much planning. It is best, my konag, that we send the girl off with her ladies-in-waiting so that we can discuss important matters.”

  “Lira shall have everything she wishes,” Mandan interrupted.

  “Everything she wishes.” Utho looked at the giddy girl, wondering if she might be another tool to keep Mandan in line, or if she was just a distraction. He glanced at the painting of Lady Maire on the wall by the konag’s bed. Was the striking resemblance not obvious to everyone? Even Cade didn’t seem to notice.

  “We will have a long life and a great legacy together,” Lira said with a shy smile. “Tell me more about our wedding.”

  “All the important people will come,” Mandan said, then his expression darkened. “But not King Kollanan … and probably not Adan either.”

  Lira was disappointed. “They are the other two kings of the Commonwealth. Is this not an important occasion?”

  Utho took the girl by the shoulders and turned her out into the corridor. “We should find the ladies who will help you prepare. You must be weary.”

  “But I just arrived! I want to spend time with my—”

  “The ladies will be delighted to see you.” Utho glanced at Cade. “Your father will remain with us.”

  With a longing expression, Mandan watched the young woman go. As soon as the three were alone, Utho closed the chamber door and explained to Cade what Kollanan’s response had been to the war decree. The konag grew surly again. “This cannot stand! King Kollanan must be punished for his refusal.”

  “Kollanan the Hammer is no longer fit to be king of Norterra,” Utho said. “He should be removed in favor of a leader more loyal to the Commonwealth.” He looked at Cade with the implicit suggestion that it might be him.

  Mandan blurted out, “I need to demonstrate that I am the ruler and they are my subjects! There can be no doubt.” He picked up a short-bladed knife next to his half-eaten supper and threw it at the wall. The knife stuck into the map of Norterra, its tip piercing the name of a town. “There, that is as good as any! That village will bear the brunt of my anger. I want soldiers to march there and destroy the town, just to show King Kollanan that he cannot defy me.”

  Cade, perhaps drunk on the thought that he might become the next king of Norterra, walked to the wall and studied the map. He removed the dagger and placed his finger on the marked town. “Yanton.”

  Utho had never heard of the place.

  Cade squared his shoulders and faced the young konag. “As you know, Sire, I possess a large standing army. They have been drilling to fight the Isharan animals, but here…” He reached up to indicate his own holding on the northeastern coast and traced a line across the map. “My troops could march directly above the Dragonspine Mountains and come down into Norterra. We could find that town and … and do as you command.”

  Mandan brightened. “That would be a wonderful wedding present to me from the father of my bride.”

  Cade bowed. “It would be my honor, Sire.”

  Utho agreed. “That would be an acceptable gesture, Cade. You and I will lead the army and eradicate Yanton. King Kollanan will not misunderstand the message we send. He must heed the konag’s decree.”

  Mandan paled. “You’ve been gone for so long, Utho! I need you here. I can’t be a strong konag without my loyal Brava.” Utho was about to argue, but he saw how crestfallen the young man was. “Stay here and help me prepare for the larger war. Lord Cade can lead his soldiers … for me.”

  Utho glanced at Cade, who nodded. “Fear not. I know what to do.”

  76

  RIDING their augas toward blessedly warmer terrain, Quo and his sandwreths searched for Penda and her unborn child, the primary reason Queen Voo had dispatched them on the mission.

  He and his war party had fulfilled his sister’s promise of aid. He cared little about King Kollanan or Norterra, but Quo had gladly accepted this mission because he hated the frostwreths so much. True, he had enjoyed killing the enemy and had been thrilled to watch the collapse of their titanic ice fortress. Perhaps if the humans did become allies, they could be turned into shock troops against the enemy. That would make this exasperating effort worthwhile, he supposed.

  As a gift for his sister, one of the riderless augas carried the stiffening drone corpse across the empty saddle. A preservation spell kept the body from rotting too quickly, but after several days of riding, Quo lost interest in the small creature. He was glad to leave the unpleasant snow behind.

  As the augas galloped into the rolling countryside, Quo looked ahead. Somewhere out here, Penda had gone into hiding. He didn’t know why Queen Voo was so interested in the baby, a mere human and thus virtually worthless. Humans had offspring all the time, but he knew his sister better than anyone, and she could be mercurial. When she wanted something, for whatever reason, it became an all-consuming obsession. He would capture Penda and take her back to the sandwreth palace in the warm, beautiful desert. Then Voo would be happy.

  The augas loped along the foothills. Circling high overhead were the black specks of wild skas, the little dragons that some humans kept as pets—what folly! They clearly did not know what the skas were. Because the soaring reptile birds had their eyes on the entire landscape, however, they were the perfect spies. He turned his gaze up into the blue emptiness. The creatures were wise to keep a safe di
stance, but it wouldn’t be enough.

  Locating Penda would require intense magic, and only one of his mages remained alive. Now Ulla glanced at the wheeling skas, then indicated a stand of trees in the winding grassy hills. “Here. This is a good place.”

  The augas ground to a halt, flicking out their black tongues to taste the air. Ulla slid down and stood in her red mage robes. As the reptile birds circled far above, the bald woman scanned the ground, nudged the grasses with her foot, and bent down to pick up a pebble. She inspected it, held it in her palm.

  The remaining wreth warriors sat on their mounts with weapons ready. Shifting restlessly, they waited for Ulla to complete her purpose.

  With her empty hand, the mage shaded her eyes and looked up at the high-flying skas, selecting her target. She rolled the pebble between her fingers, pulled back her hand, and threw it into the sky. The stone soared upward. Ulla curled her fingers and pushed with magic to create a breeze that accelerated the projectile.

  Quo squinted, but the rock was so small and the skas so high that he could not see anything.

  One of the flying specks jerked and began to fall. Ulla’s satisfied smile deepened the etched lines in her rough face. The reptile bird swirled as it plummeted. It was a long time falling all the way to the ground.

  The mage climbed onto her auga and raced to where the ska had struck the grassy slope. Quo and the others urged their reptile mounts after her.

  The ska was a broken mess of orange scales and feathers. Quo remained in the saddle, looking down, but Ulla jumped to the ground and bent over the dead creature. She picked up the broken body, inspected the lolling head. Her small stone had struck the ska directly in an eye and bored through the skull—a perfect shot directed by magic. Quo congratulated her, but Ulla was too busy to accept compliments.