Birch took two steps forward, leveling the long spear at Queen Onn’s back.
His footsteps must have made a whisper on the frozen dais, since she turned at the last moment, arching her eyebrows in amusement. Her large, cold eyes stared at him. “Child, what are you…”
Birch shoved the spear into Onn’s side. The sharp blade plunged through her filmy gown, cut between her ribs. She let out a grunt and a gasp, but the boy didn’t make a sound. He pushed harder, ramming the spear deeper with all the force of his small body.
Queen Onn choked, looked at him in disbelief, and grabbed the spear shaft as if helping him guide it inside her. Her blood blossomed out. With a quiet growl, Birch shoved even harder, and the spear sprouted from her back.
Onn tried to scream, but she had no breath. Blood bubbled from her mouth instead of words, and her knees went weak. The queen collapsed in front of her throne, nearly dragging him down. The spear shaft was the only thing that held her up. “Boy…” she gasped. Her face went slack with astonishment.
Birch heard footsteps outside the throne room just before another wreth strode in. Though he knew he was caught, he refused to let go of the spear. He twisted the spiraled shaft in Onn’s body, making sure the wreth queen was dead. He didn’t care what happened to him now. This was his legacy. Though he was just a child, Birch knew someone would tell his story, would remember him as the one who had killed the leader of the frostwreths.
Covered with Onn’s blood, he turned and saw an armored female noble, pale and beautiful. Queen Onn’s daughter.
Koru stared at the tableau. Her mother collapsed the rest of the way to the floor like melting ice, and Birch released his hold on the broken spear shaft.
In disbelief, Koru strode to the dais, and Birch faced her without moving from the corpse. They stared at each other. Queen Onn ceased making the sounds of dying, and the room filled with tense silence.
He heard more wreths approaching outside in the corridor, moving with heavy boots and thick armor. Koru’s eyes flashed at him. With a sudden motion, she pushed the boy aside just as the other wreths entered the chamber—Irri, along with several battered wreths who had accompanied Koru’s war party.
Onn’s daughter defiantly grasped the spear shaft that impaled the queen’s body. She turned to face the newcomers, who stared at her in shock. Birch backed away.
“I killed my mother, because it is necessary.” With a wrench Koru twisted and ripped the spear out of the body. The frostwreth queen slumped in a puddle of her own blood, and Koru held up the spear, which was now stained with the blood of her mother as well as a dragon.
Into the shocked silence, Koru said, “Queen Onn was a poor leader. She would have brought our race to ruin.”
She gave a quick glance at Birch, who remained silent, trying to become invisible again. Koru turned her back on the boy, but she didn’t seem to be ignoring him. He thought she was somehow protecting him.
“I am now the queen of the frostwreths,” Koru said, “and together we will fight the dragon.”
102
AFTER escaping from Serepol Harbor, the Glissand caught favorable winds and headed west, back toward the safety of the old world. The navigator set a course far north to catch another current, avoiding Fulcor Island by a wide margin.
During the first day, lookouts spotted distant red-and-white-striped Isharan sails in pursuit, but the warships were slower and poorly guided. The nimble Glissand could dart like a silvery fish, while the Isharans used brute force, with little finesse. Before long, the pursuers were too far behind to be a threat.
As the breezes blew his dark hair, Mak Dur sketched a quick circle on his chest with one finger and admired the similar circle painted on the sail. They were almost home.
The voyagier and his crew celebrated their freedom by eating provisions they found aboard, knowing that they would reach the coast of Osterra within a few days. The sailors became raucous, reckless, giddy with relief. Standing on deck beside Mak Dur, Heith asked, “Do you think those godlings will wreck Serepol? I’ve never seen such destruction.”
“I could not care less if those monsters tore the city apart. The priestlords were fools to unleash them. Cra, maybe it will teach them a lesson.” He grimaced. “I do not intend to trade with Ishara ever again.”
“I vote we just sail up and down the coast of Osterra,” said Sarrum, looking at his fellow crew members. “Plenty of towns, ports, and customers there.”
“A voyagier does not go against the wishes of his crew,” said Mak Dur. “I will enjoy being home and safe. Inside the circle again. Utauks were not meant for war.”
A thunderstorm rolled in that evening, drenching the decks and filling the water barrels. The sailors came out to stand in the heavy rain, washing themselves and feeling refreshed.
Two days later they spotted the hazy gray-green coast, and the Utauk crew cheered. Ahead, ships sailed around the Rivermouth harbor like bees swirling near a hive. Raising Utauk pennants, the sailors pulled on the rigging, and the Glissand arrowed toward where the Joined River spilled into the sea.
Mak Dur stood at the prow, feeling more relieved than victorious. He chastised himself for risking another trade run, despite knowing the tensions with Ishara. He had hoped one last voyage would result in a large profit, but instead he had lost his ship, cargo, even the valuable shadowglass. His crew had faced an ordeal none of them would ever forget. Now that the danger was over, however, their ordeal seemed more like an adventure. He considered the stories he would tell in Utauk camps from now on.
As the Glissand approached the harbor, two Commonwealth warships sailed out toward them, their sails marked with the rising sun of Osterra. They were loaded with soldiers, and they reminded Mak Dur of prowling guard dogs. The crew mumbled uneasily, but the voyagier pointed up toward the clear circle on their sail. “They know we’re Utauks. Cra, we are neutral and no threat.”
As the burly vessels closed in, though, he felt less confident. He spoke in a low voice to Heith. “Keep sailing toward the harbor. We have nothing to hide and an important story to tell. The konag himself will want to hear our report.”
One warship pulled alongside the Glissand, and the grim soldiers shouted across to them. “You have entered Commonwealth waters. What is your business here?”
“We are Utauks!” Mak Dur called back. “We escaped from Ishara and are back to trade information.”
The large ship came so close that their hulls briefly ground together. Without asking permission, the Commonwealth soldiers threw ropes and boarding hooks, and the Utauks were indignant as a dozen men in leather armor bounded over. Mak Dur blustered, “I did not grant permission for you to come aboard! Why are you…”
“We will escort your ship into Rivermouth Harbor. Konag Mandan has commandeered all viable sailing vessels for his navy.”
“His navy? This is a trading ship, not a war vessel.”
“It can become a war vessel,” said the lieutenant in charge.
Now that the Glissand had been occupied and secured, the soldiers detached the boarding hooks, and the two ships drifted apart again. Twelve soldiers took up threatening positions on the deck, intimidating the unarmed Utauks. The lieutenant raised his voice. “I command you to sail to the Rivermouth docks, where your ship will be inspected and your crew will be interrogated.”
“There’s no need for this!” Mak Dur said. “We were going there anyway.”
“Good. Cooperation makes things easier.”
The Commonwealth soldiers stood with drawn swords, offering to do none of the ship’s work, but Mak Dur’s crew knew what to do. With strong breezes, the Glissand made good time toward the harbor. As they approached the crowded docks, he saw countless ships, many more than the usual bustle of fishing boats, trading vessels, and patrol ships. Every ship in the harbor, even smaller fishing scows, bore Commonwealth colors. Mak Dur’s heart felt like lead.
“We escaped from Serepol for this?” Heith whispered.
The lieutenant said, “After the murder of his father, Konag Mandan is preparing for war with Ishara. His navy will be larger than Konag Cronin’s legendary fleet from the previous conflict, and your ship will be part of it. Your crew should be proud.”
Mak Dur muttered, “The beginning is the end is the beginning.”
The officer frowned at him. “No need for that Utauk nonsense. We will teach you war songs of the Commonwealth.”
The Glissand’s crew grumbled. The navigator wove a path among the other vessels in the harbor, and a pilot boat guided them to an open dock. As soon as the ship was tied up, more soldiers swarmed aboard, remarking on the sturdiness of the Utauk ship.
“She seems a fast enough craft,” said one military officer, who ignored Mak Dur and the Utauks. “After we add armor to the hull and a battering ram at the prow, she’ll be ready to go to war.”
Mak Dur was offended. “You cannot just take my ship! The Glissand is an Utauk vessel.”
The soldier frowned at him. “We are not taking your vessel—we are conscripting it, along with you and your crew. We will provision you and train you to fight in the Commonwealth navy.”
More soldiers clambered aboard and took over his beautiful ship.
103
KING Kollanan stayed at Bahlen’s wreth city to help the survivors recover. Legaciers collected the stories of every person they could find, and the dead were burned in respectful funeral pyres. He also sent Lasis and Gant along with teams of his soldiers to nearby Yanton to work in the damaged farms and homesteads.
As he met with his Bravas, vassal lords, and battle commanders, he was sick at heart. They discussed what had happened and, more important, how Norterra should respond. Koll felt exhausted and sad. He had no desire to engage in a civil war with Osterra, but his outrage grew by the hour. Even before leaving the ruins, he wrote and dispatched a rider on a fast horse with an urgent letter to King Adan in Bannriya, informing him of the disastrous news—and warning him of what Mandan might do to Suderra as well.
Wanting to get back to Fellstaff, he gathered part of his hasty rescue army and rode off, accompanied by Elliel and Thon. He was confident Tafira had held the city together, as she always did, but the frostwreths might choose any moment to launch their full military strike against the city.
Kollanan followed the main road back to Fellstaff at a weary pace, but when he arrived at the city walls he found the people in an uproar. A haggard guard just inside the gate waved his arms, calling to the king. “The queen has been abducted, Sire!”
As the man blurted a few details, Koll spurred Storm at a gallop up to the castle. With Elliel and Thon beside him, he charged into the courtyard, shouting for the staff until his voice was hoarse. Pokle scurried out, pale and wide-eyed, his hair mussed.
“What happened here?” Koll demanded. “Tell me! Now! Where is the queen?”
The young man ran forward, waving his hands. “King Kollanan, it was those terrible Commonwealth soldiers! They stole horses from the stables, and the queen tried to stop them. She threw her knives, killed two of them, but they … they took her!” He sniffled. “They just left the bodies there. Didn’t even take their own comrades.”
Koll felt rage building in him. “If Tafira had more knives, she would have killed more of them. Where did they go? How long have they been gone?”
Another guard rushed into the courtyard. “They rode out in the middle of the night. Just after you took the soldiers to help Lord Bahlen.”
“Riders went after them, tried to catch them,” Pokle said. “They haven’t returned.” Other guards and castle staff swarmed into the courtyard, shouting over one another, but Kollanan got the gist. Rondo and his men had fled the city and they would have stayed away from the primary roads. Queen Tafira was their hostage.
One of the castle guards was distraught. “We sent out four search teams, Sire. They will find them.”
“You should have dispatched the rest of the army!” Koll’s urgency raged through him. Tafira! They might be halfway to Convera by now.
The guard’s mouth dropped open with alarm. “But Fellstaff was defenseless! You had already taken all of the soldiers who could ride. With the frostwreths out there, we couldn’t—”
Koll pulled out his war hammer as he wheeled Storm around. He had cleaned off the gore, and wrapped leather around the weapon’s handle. “I will find her. Tell me which direction they went.” He had no time to rest.
A handful of castle guards emerged from the barracks. “Search parties are scouring the countryside. They will hunt them down. We sent the best trackers we had left.”
Another man said in a trembling voice, “There is nothing more you can do right now, Sire.”
“There is always something I can do.” Koll ground his teeth together. “They wouldn’t dare hurt her.” But then he remembered what Mandan had already done. He wanted to scream. After defeating Cade’s troops, he had hoped to come home to triumph and further strategy planning. Now he felt an urgent need to leave again. “I should have known not to trust that vile Rondo.” His heart was ready to break. “In truth, I never trusted him, but I did not believe him capable of such treachery.” He growled. “Nor Mandan.”
“I think … I think it was a surprise, Sire,” Pokle said. “Rondo’s men were just trying to ride off, and the queen must’ve got in the way. They kidnapped her.”
“They will no doubt ransom her, take her to the konag,” Elliel said.
Koll snapped, “Ancestors’ blood! She’s lived in Norterra for three decades as my queen, and she has ruled by my side. But she is Isharan. Mandan will use that. He will make her a scapegoat.”
“Utho will use it,” Elliel said. “We have to find her before they reach Convera.”
Koll slid out of the saddle and handed Storm’s reins to a stable boy. “I need a fresh horse so I can ride out again soon.” He strode into the castle, calling another search party together. Wanting to vent his anger, but finding no appropriate target, he swung his war hammer in the air.
Yes, the wreths intended to destroy the human race, but why would his own allies strike Norterra? Why would the rightful konag declare war against one of the three kingdoms? Mandan was tearing the Commonwealth apart.
Before long, the head of a search party galloped in on an exhausted horse. Distraught and bedraggled, he shouted out his news as he stumbled off his mount. He yelled into the courtyard, “We tracked down Rondo and his men, Sire!” The man looked as if he had been weeping on the ride. “And we found the queen.”
Kollanan’s rumpled shirt flapped loose around him as he ran into the courtyard. He grabbed the man’s arm, bellowing for the stables to hurry with the new horse. “Take me there.” Elliel and Thon joined him, ready to rush off.
“It’s too late,” the man gasped, his voice breaking. “Too late!”
Koll threw him up against the wall. “We’ll get you a fresh horse, too. Climb in the saddle and ride! Was your party able to engage Captain Rondo? Why didn’t you bring the queen back with you?”
“Too late, Sire. Much too late.” The scout began sobbing. Stable boys brought out hastily saddled horses, and Elliel and Thon mounted. The scout seemed in a daze as he climbed into the saddle on a fresh horse.
A growing horror left Koll speechless.
Elliel and Thon galloped alongside as they raced out into the hills, led by the weary messenger. Elliel shouted over the pounding hoofbeats, “Tell me—what happened?”
“All dead!”
“Rondo’s soldiers are slain? Who killed them?” Koll demanded. “And the queen?”
“All, Sire. All dead.” The man hunched over his horse and rode faster, as if he could outrun his news. Koll refused to hear.
He saw only a red haze as he urged the new mount to as much speed as the animal could handle. He didn’t want to accept what he had heard. He kept thinking of his beautiful wife with her exotic wisdom, how she had always been loyal to him. “Ah, Tafira…” He was still in a daze of deni
al, his throat dry, his body aching from combat and days in the saddle. He blocked all thoughts from his mind.
Wrung out, gray skinned with grief and dread, the messenger slowed in a forest clearing where other horses were tied to trees nearby. “This is the place, Sire.”
Elliel and Thon joined Kollanan as he slid from his saddle and stood on unsteady legs. Now that he was here, he felt slow, wary. Despite his disbelief, he knew what he would find, and he hated each step.
The scout began weeping again. Four Norterran soldiers stood guard around the site. Kollanan smelled blood in the air.
In the clearing, he found dead soldiers strewn about—Captain Rondo and his escort party. All had been butchered.
“Who killed them?” Elliel said. “I’ve never seen such a massacre.”
With the gait of a dancer, Thon moved among the bodies, inspecting them. Elliel drew her sword, while her other hand strayed to her ramer, but the threat was long gone.
“We found them like this,” said one of the scouts.
Koll’s words were strangled by a sob that fought to escape. He saw the large tree at the edge of the camp, the figure tied to the trunk with ropes.
Someone had slashed her throat.
He walked forward on weak legs. Each footstep was like a boulder falling. He stood before Tafira, who hung limp but tied in place with a rope. Her head lolled forward, her chin down, her eyes closed. Blood from her neck had soaked her fur-lined robe, and her lush dark hair was loose and tangled.
Kollanan wept. He wrapped his arms around her body in a last embrace and buried his face in her hair. “They killed you, beloved. Ah, they killed you!” He held her for a long, long time while the others remained silent, giving him his space.
He thought of all the times he had held Tafira over the course of thirty years. “They did this.” He finally pulled himself away from her, thinking only of Cade’s punitive army, the assault on Bahlen’s city, Mandan’s appalling orders. “They did this,” he said again. “They did this.”
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