Vengewar

by Kevin J. Anderson

  She peered into the clear, starry night. Because the Plain of Black Glass was a dead place, there were no night sounds of hunting birds or wild animals, not even insect songs. The only sounds were the augas and the wreth guards.

  A shadow streaked overhead, accompanied by the quick flap of feathered wings. In a low whisper, Glik said, “Ari, you’re here! Cra, I’ve missed you.”

  The reptile bird flew closer, but made no sound, not even her familiar clicks and burbles. The ska dropped into the shadows around Glik and fluttered her blue wings. The surge of warmth inside the girl’s heart felt like melted honey. She reached out to let Ari land on her good arm, and she stroked the pale blue feathers and sapphire scales. Ari laid her head in Glik’s cupped palm, and a low humming came from her throat.

  Glik felt the ribbon collar around the ska’s small neck. “What have you seen, Ari? What message did you bring me?” She rubbed her thumb on the mothertear.

  Activated, the diamond spilled a glowing image into the air, and Glik forced herself not to gasp. Penda! She looked beautiful with her long dark hair and large brown eyes, but her face was drawn with concern. It had been so long since she’d seen her adopted sister.

  “Glik, my dear sister, we know where you are. We know about the treachery of the sandwreths. Please don’t give up hope! Adan Starfall and I will come for you. We are trying to find a way.”

  Another face drifted into the image—Hale Orr. “And the Utauks will help.”

  “We will come for you,” Penda repeated and drew a circle around her heart.

  Glik reached out longingly, and her fingers passed through the projection. When the message ended, her heart swelled even more. “The beginning is not the end,” she said.

  Ari made a low ratcheting sound, and Glik looked up to see a large dark shape. Cheth had crept up silently and also heard Queen Penda’s message. “So they know about the camp. But will that help us?”

  “She is the queen,” Glik said. “Penda will help in any way she can.”

  Cheth clenched a fist and looked out beyond the fringes of the camp. “Then we have to be willing to fight, too.”

  Suddenly the ska reeled back, letting out an alarmed click. Cheth spun and dropped into a fighting stance. Three wreth warriors strode up, seeing the blue ska. One pulled out a spiraled spear, while the others grabbed their bows. “A little dragon! A spy.”

  Ari flapped her wings, and Glik snapped her arm up to fling the reptile bird into the air. Whistling, the ska soared up and away, but the wreth warriors nocked arrows and drew back their bows.

  Glik screamed in alarm, and her cry startled the wreths. Their arrows flew astray. Ari dodged and swooped in the air, pounding her small wings to gain altitude. The third warrior hurled his spear, which grazed the ska’s tail feathers.

  “Leave her alone!” Glik could feel the ska’s terror through her heart link. She threw herself onto the nearest guard, but he knocked her aside. The thrown spear clattered among the rocks on the far side of the camp.

  The wreths shot another set of arrows. “Kill it!”

  Ari squawked, tumbled in the air, then flew off again. She streaked down low and drove herself upward in an arc, gaining height.

  Glik cheered when Ari flew far enough away that the wreth arrows could never reach her.

  The warriors glared at her. “Vermin,” one grumbled. “Little dragons.” They stalked away.

  Glik’s heart kept pounding, and she drew a circle again and again, trying to calm herself.

  Troubled, Cheth bent down to snatch something from the rocky ground. She returned to Glik, extending a long pale feather that the wreth spear had knocked loose. “Keep this, and Ari will always be with you.”

  Glik held the feather against her heart before tucking it into her loose tunic, where the wreths wouldn’t find it. “Ari is always with me.”

  96

  GALLOPING hard, King Kollanan led his rescue troops to the ancient city under siege. In the distance the orange glow from Yanton rose up from where the homes had been torched.

  “Ride,” Kollanan shouted as the walled ruins loomed in front of them. The din of fighting grew louder ahead. “Ride! We have to save them.”

  The Norterran riders circled to where Cade’s troops had massed at the main gates. Koll let out a loud roar of challenge, and his soldiers added their voices, building the sound into a thunderous threat. “Ancestors’ blood, they will know we are coming, and they will be afraid.”

  As Storm galloped forward, Koll reached down to snatch his war hammer from where it was tied to the saddle. He swung the weapon high.

  Without slowing the horse, Lasis clamped his ramer in place and drew blood to ignite the fiery sword. He raised his blazing hand like a beacon to guide the Norterran army. It was still a pitched battle outside the gates when the reinforcements arrived. Two other ramers shone on the dark battlefield. One must belong to Elliel, but the other?

  The charge struck Cade’s standing army from their unprotected flank. The Commonwealth troops turned to defend against the unexpected assault, but the Norterran riders drove in and scattered the core of Cade’s foot soldiers. The invaders waved the open-hand banner as if it would protect them, but Kollanan considered himself a Norterran, first and foremost—especially now that the konag had turned against them. He felt a deep ache in his heart as he swung his hammer into the helmet of one large, angry soldier who blundered in front of Storm. They should not have been enemies!

  Shouts resonated among the invading forces, wails of despair, cries of disbelief. It took a moment for Koll to understand their words as the news spread. “Lord Cade is dead. Cade has been slain!”

  Kollanan would rather have executed the treacherous man himself. His charging army drove a wedge through the punitive forces. Some of Cade’s cavalry soldiers pulled their horses together and tried to make a stand, but the king careened into them and swung his hammer, crushing the chest of an opponent. “Stand down!” he yelled. “Your lord is dead!”

  Soon enough, Kollanan’s reinforcements overwhelmed the invaders, and Cade’s army broke ranks and scattered, especially after they learned that their commander had been killed. Norterran riders drove the enemy forces apart in a wild rout. Seeing their defeat, many of the ranks dropped their swords and surrendered. Kollanan’s riders pursued scattered contingents into the countryside. Even if some stragglers got away, it would be a long while before anyone could make it back to Osterra.

  As the fighters milled about, Kollanan rode toward the two blazing ramers, drawn to the Bravas. Before he could reach them, though, the fiery swords extinguished themselves, one by one.

  * * *

  The screams above finally stopped, but Shadri remained underground. The catacombs beneath the sinkhole had once seemed sinister and terrifying, but now they kept her safe. She blew out her candle and closed her eyes—a pointless gesture in the darkness—and pressed against the wall as she listened to the large thing prowling about. She might have to retreat deeper into the tunnels, even though she didn’t know where she was going. At the moment she was too fearful to move.

  The monster outside seemed intent on killing the brigands, for which she was glad. Their screams had all stopped.

  Before long, the silence stretched into a cavernous lack of sound, though she could hear the distant noises of continuing battle. She hoped Elliel was safe, and she wondered what had happened to Thon.… What if he had been killed, too?

  After a long moment, the dangling rope twitched, jerked, then began to withdraw. With a yelp, Shadri snatched the end, and the rope went taut in her hand. She heard a patter of pebbles, footsteps descending the steep slope, and a familiar voice called, “Are you down there, scholar girl?”

  Shadri shouted with great exuberance, “I’m here! There’s a … monster out there. I think it’s a dragon.”

  “I am safe,” Thon said, and she realized that he hadn’t answered her comment. “The battle is nearly over.”

  She found a sturdy foo
thold, pulled on the rope, and climbed out of the hole.

  Thon was partway down the crater to meet her, steadying himself with the rope. “I believe we won.”

  Shadri spotted blood running down the opposite side of the sinkhole, leaking from mangled bodies in leather armor. She saw blue Commonwealth tunics saturated with deep red.

  Thon didn’t seem to see them as he reached down for her. “Let me pull you up.”

  * * *

  Elliel’s wrist throbbed from the bite of the golden cuff, and her hand burned with a fire that did not consume. She faced the other Brava who stood over the body of Cade. Even though the vile nobleman was dead, Elliel wanted to kick his corpse and keep kicking him for what he had done to her. But she was a Brava, and Bravas had honor.

  Gant held his blazing ramer as if he didn’t remember what to do with it.

  Elliel made no move. “Are you going to fight me now? Are you aware of what your bonded lord did to me?”

  The other man nodded. “Yes, I know. He destroyed your reputation. He drugged and assaulted you, and his jealous wife tried to murder you for what he himself did.” His pockmarked face was ruddy as he looked at her. “Is there more?”

  Elliel was surprised. “Probably, but you have the gist of it. In the name of justice, the name of honor, Cade needed to pay for his crimes.”

  Gant assessed the smoking wound. “And so he has.” He extinguished his flame and let his arms hang limp, leaving himself vulnerable should Elliel choose to attack him. After a moment’s hesitation, she extinguished her own ramer.

  Lasis rode up, holding his fiery sword high. He looked down at the body of Lord Cade, then searched for explanations in the faces of the other two Bravas.

  Gant continued, as if he were talking to himself. “Lord Cade was my bonded lord, and I did as he commanded … but I regretted my decision.” He looked at his hand, which had recently been engulfed in bright fire. “Now my bond is broken.”

  Elliel felt sick, knowing it wasn’t over. “Utho is worse. He did far more damage than this petty man did.” She glanced at the battlefield around them, all the unnecessary deaths. “And he continues to do so.”

  “I know Utho well enough,” Gant said. “I traveled with him to Fulcor Island, and he could not abide the fact that Conndur suggested an alliance with the Isharans.”

  Elliel felt unsettled. “Every Brava knows about Valaera, what Isharans did to us. That crime has never been punished, or even addressed.”

  “True, but the konag considered the wreths and Ossus to be a greater threat. I heard him speak to the empra during their parley session, heard him offer a truce. It seemed to me the empra was willing to consider the idea, but Utho did not want to hear it.” Gant paused as if something had just occurred to him. “In fact, Utho was furious … and he was the last person to see the konag before he was murdered.”

  Before long, King Kollanan approached them on horseback. His face and beard were spattered with blood, and his war hammer dripped with gore. He rode through the unsettled enemy soldiers without striking out at them.

  Lasis spoke to Gant. “Conndur was right. The wreths are our true enemy, and they are more powerful than all the armies of Ishara combined. Frostwreths have swarmed down from the north, and sandwreths have secretly taken human prisoners as slaves. After their own war—if any humans survive—they mean to wake the dragon and bring about the end of the world.”

  Listening, Kollanan halted Storm in front of Gant. “Will you fight with us? We could always use another Brava.”

  Gant took a step closer and gave a formal bow. “Kollanan the Hammer, king of Norterra, I believe Konag Mandan issued malicious orders in sending Cade’s army against you. I know that the Isharans are not our friends, but by the wreth blood that flows in my own veins, I understand legends and legacies.” He looked around the battlefield, which was lit by scattered fires and the light of the gibbous moon. “And I know where I must fight.” He turned his back on Cade’s corpse. “Will you accept my bonded service?”

  Kollanan looked at the body on the ground, then faced the Brava man. “I accept your service. Come and join us in the real fight for the fate of the world.”

  97

  RONDO’S men removed Tafira’s gag after hours of hard riding, when it would do her no good to scream. The treacherous escort soldiers had been trained in the Osterran cavalry, and they knew how to ride through unmarked forests and live off the land. Because they were fleeing with the queen as hostage, they remained out of view on their way across the north.

  “I can’t decide whether we should dump her at Konag Mandan’s feet trussed like an animal, or if we should let her surrender herself,” Rondo said.

  Chuckling, the men debated the matter while they set up an isolated camp in the pine forests. Though she seethed inside, Tafira held her silence as she sat with her arms bound, her ankles lashed together. She shifted her body to lean against a large rock.

  Two of her abductors piled dead wood in the clearing and lit a campfire. The night was cold, much more frigid than Tafira expected, and she guessed that the frostwreths were working their insidious magic to spread the tendrils of winter.

  “Nothing to say, my lovely queen?” Sergeant Headan prodded, a sneer dripping from every word.

  “Not to any of you.”

  “Then we didn’t even need the gag,” Rondo said. Sitting on a fallen log across from her, the captain used the whetstone from his pack to sharpen his sword in a clumsy threat. “Even after all your years living here, I can still hear your accent.”

  Tafira’s gaze was ready to strike sparks for another fire. She remembered the castle guards running out into the courtyard, sounding the alarm as they saw the Commonwealth men ride off with her. “You know my king will find you. He will crush your skull with his hammer.”

  Rondo laughed. “Hasn’t he already committed enough crimes against the Commonwealth?”

  The escort soldiers rummaged through their packs and took out preserved food they had found in the saddlebags. Headan squatted in front of Tafira, munching on dried meat and sweet biscuits. Chewing loudly, he mused, “She’s already forfeit, Captain. Even though she’s a foreigner, she still has a certain beauty about her. Older than I’d like, but…” He sniffed. “I’ve never had an Isharan woman. Have you?”

  Rondo shook his head, and the sergeant pressed his idea: “We can all take turns, maybe a few tonight, a few tomorrow. It’s a long ride back home. By the time we reach Convera, we’d each have an Isharan woman—and a queen, at that! You can’t make us pass that up, Captain.”

  Rondo stroked the side of his face. “Nothing says we have to deliver her in perfect condition. Konag Mandan wouldn’t care.”

  Tafira knew these men were full of empty bluster, but she could see a difference in their eyes. They were angry at what they had been through, incensed because King Kollanan had not sent them home weeks ago. Under normal circumstances, she knew these soldiers wouldn’t have the nerve to harm her, but these were not normal circumstances. Nothing had been normal since the day the wreths swept over Lake Bakal.

  “She is a beautiful woman,” Rondo admitted. He rose from the fallen log and inspected her like a customer evaluating the wares of an unreliable merchant.

  Tafira spat at him, and he flinched aside, scowling. She said, “If you damage me, I will be worthless as a hostage. If any harm comes to me, my beloved Kollanan will declare his own vengewar on you, and all of Osterra will pay the price.”

  Rondo covered his alarm. “Ho! Listen to such boldness from a woman tied up on the ground and far from home!”

  “Such boldness comes from the rightful queen of Norterra.” She twisted against the ropes around her wrists. The men had been lax, tying her with sloppy knots, and she could probably work herself free in time. “Give me a knife and let me play with you. I am good with a knife. Ask your two men who are dead on the stable floor.”

  Rondo reddened and struck her hard across the face. “You make me think that a
little bit of rape might be a fitting punishment for the murder of Commonwealth soldiers.”

  “Why don’t you let us throw knives and practice, Captain?” said another soldier. “I’m fairly good at it. Ancestors’ blood, I even killed a rabbit once.”

  “Accidents happen,” Tafira said in a mocking tone.

  Rondo grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “Practice is a good idea.” She stumbled as Rondo and one of his men pulled her to a thick silver pine. “Get more ropes from the packs.”

  She twisted her arms. The bindings were loose and slick from the poor knots and her own perspiration, but she couldn’t slip free.

  Rondo pressed her against the trunk. A soldier offered another coil of rope to wrap around her waist and the tree. He looped the rope around her several times, lashing her to the tree, even binding her legs so she couldn’t kick.

  Rondo stepped back and drew his dagger. “Just how good are you, men? I don’t want any mistakes.” He sniffed. “A cut or two would be fine, but pray you don’t kill her.”

  Tafira strained against the ropes.

  “Don’t worry, they will try not to hit you.” Rondo stepped back and threw his knife first. The blade struck the tree just above her head, chipping off a chunk of bark. She flinched.

  The brash young rabbit killer threw his knife next, and it skewered the tree to her left. He whistled at his prowess, but Tafira held her tongue. She thought he had been aiming somewhere else entirely.

  The men took turns, egging each other on. Tafira steeled herself and hated them. A careless knife did cut her arm, and blood ran down the tree, mixing with hardened globs of pitch. One miscalculated throw could plunge through her throat or heart, and they were far from any village where they might find a doctor. Tafira would have been safer if they had raped her.

  The men’s laughter was so loud they didn’t hear their horses snort and stamp, straining against their hobbles on the outskirts of the camp. Tafira looked across the campfire and felt a deep flow of fear worse than these raucous men had inspired.