by Guy Antibes
“This inn wasn’t quite destroyed, was it?” Trevor asked.
“No,” Akku said, blushing a little. “There was a running battle in the town from one end to the other. Henkari’s replacement fought here since the inn was the headquarters of Erdu’s rebels.” Akku smiled. “Cooler heads prevailed, so the magicians in the group didn’t burn the building down. There are a few brand-new structures in Pokencil, I understand. The fight against my father didn’t instantly stop when you left.”
“I’m surprised the Maskumites didn’t take advantage of the situation,” Trevor said.
“Who said they didn’t? There were six battles of consequence fought along the border. Father sent the plainsmen army south to bolster the loyalist troops, mostly Henkari’s veteran soldiers, which made the difference. Other than a few unfortunate farms, property damage was kept to a minimum,” Akku said.
“There is a ceasefire with the Maskumites?”
Akku nodded. “Supposedly. General Henkari was going to head south, anyway, but you gave him an excuse to tour the border a few weeks earlier than planned.”
Volst showed up. “Lissa told me that she was going to take a bath before coming down.” Trevor gave him a quick recap of the situation that Akku described. “So, what are we going to do?” Volst said.
“I’m not so sure,” Trevor said. “When General Henkari joins us tomorrow, we will see what his plans are before we decide on our own.”
~
Akku yawned, which triggered a yawn from Trevor as they watched Henkari unfurl a map of southern Jarkan.
“Here we are,” Henkari said, pointing to a spot about a quarter of the distance from the western border. Most of that space included the mountains. “The rest of the land is flat until hills pop up toward our border on the east.”
Trevor looked down on the map. While others followed Henkari’s description of troop positioning on the flat lands, Trevor examined the mountains. He followed the mountains down toward the capital of Maskum, the port city of Khartoo. Trevor figured that he could go where a squad couldn’t, but he would have to assume a scout’s role.
“Do we know the disposition of Maskumite troops?” Trevor asked.
Henkari pulled a thin sheet of vellum out of one of the map tubes and laid it over the map. “We are green, and they are orange,” the general said.
Trevor couldn’t fault Henkari’s troop placement if the Maskumite troop placements were accurate, but it was easy to see that the Jarkanese were outnumbered almost two to one.
“What happens if their best magicians join the armies?” Trevor asked.
Henkari pursed his lips. “We’ve beaten the Maskumites with similar odds, but this time with fewer troops at our disposal, I’m not so sure.”
Henkari’s troops had just fought a civil war, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that dissension among the troops still existed.
“I think you need some help,” Trevor said. “Lissa and I will be back in a few hours.”
“Where are we going?” Lissa asked.
“Brachia. Viksar isn’t in any better shape than Jarkan,” Trevor said.
He took Lissa to a hallway. “We are going to Bassington.”
“But I’m not—”
Trevor didn’t wait for the rest of Lissa’s thoughts. They were at the front gate of King Worto’s castle in the Brachian capital.
“Has the king arrived from the east yet?” Trevor asked.
Both guards nodded. “He isn’t accepting petitions for a few days.”
Trevor shook his head slightly. “Tell him that Duke Trevor Arcwin of Listenwell is waiting for him.”
“You are a duke?”
“Give him my name, and he will receive me.”
In a few minutes, Trevor and Lissa walked through the gate with an escort of royal guards. They took Trevor to the same small throne room where he had first met King Worto.
“I thought I was rid of you for a while,” King Worto said, but the comment was more sarcastic than sincere.
“Have you had a chance to try out the charms?”
King Worto’s forehead furrowed. “I have, and we found three more Maskumite magicians hiding in the castle. Gareeze Plissaki has gone.”
“Would you like to give Maskum a lesson?”
King Worto leaned forward on his throne. “What kind of lesson?”
Trevor told the Brachian king about the situation on the Jarkanese border.
“I’ll lead the army myself.”
“Please don’t,” Trevor said, “I think Brachia needs you here, but send a message along with a general to deliver to King Turgul. I’ll write a message as well. Have the general precede the army, and if you can, bypass Argara. They will be anxious enough letting your army through their country, even if you will be going as an ally.”
Worto rubbed his beard and thought for a bit. “You are trying to rehabilitate my image?”
“Do you want it rehabilitated?” Trevor asked.
Worto blinked slowly. “Some of it, I do. I am willing to sign a provisional treaty, and I want compensation for sending my soldiers south.”
Trevor nodded. “You will get it. I will return after consulting with the Okoran king. It isn’t polite to send an army across a country without some kind of permission.”
“I don’t need anyone’s permission,” King Worto said.
“Still, we don’t want any distractions along the way, do we?” Trevor said.
The king’s eyes narrowed. Trevor could tell he had gone about as far as he could go with the man.
Worto waved him away. “Pave the way. I will get my revenge against the Maskumites.”
That was what Trevor had wanted to hear. “As I said I’ll be back soon.” He grabbed Lissa’s hand and teleported to Tiralina, the Okoran capital.
“Is Seer Morra Deepen with the king?” Trevor asked at the gate to the king’s palace.
“She is in the palace. The seer doesn’t tell us what she is doing in there.”
“You probably don’t recognize me, but I was here some weeks ago,” Trevor said. “If you could find her…” Trevor shook his head. “Never mind.”
He grabbed Lissa’s wrist and opened a communication with the head seer. Reena had, indeed, handed Vale the new magic ring. “Can you communicate with Morra Deepen? I’m standing at the palace gate and need to speak to the king.”
“You expect me to be at your beck and call?” Lister Vale said.
“Yes. I am Dryden’s Messenger, and I’m doing some messaging.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The head seer cut off the communication.
A few minutes later, Morra Deepen rushed to the gate. “Come in. I carved out a few minutes with King Bingador.”
Trevor and Lissa had to walk quickly to keep up with the Seer. They arrived in the Okoran monarch’s private apartments. The king was at a huge desk.
“Morra said it was important,” Bingador said impatiently.
Trevor told him the story and explained that King Worto would be spending money to get his army across the western side of his country and that it would be in Okora’s benefit to let the army pass coming and going. The king was initially against the idea, but the Okoran seer used a similar approach to Trevor and explained that Okora could get their revenge on Maskum for meddling in the country’s affairs without sending a single soldier.
With permission granted and a few royal orders signed, Trevor and Lissa teleported into the Jarkanese palace and did much the same thing with a more cooperative head of state, with the condition that the army couldn’t come within ten miles of Argara. The Jarkan king would be happy to provide supplies.
After returning to Bassington, Trevor had letters made to allow the army passage to Jarkan and its return to Brachia. The process took four hours rather than two, but it was complete, and General Henkari began to plan for the addition of a Brachian army of about ten thousand troops within the next three weeks.
Trevor didn’t worry about gathering troops at Mas
kum’s northern border, but he did worry about what Maskum could bring to a battle.
During all the teleporting, Lissa had insisted that she be the one to accompany Trevor to Khartoo. “It won’t be without hardship,” Trevor said. “We will be scouts.”
Lissa sighed. “We’ve been through that. I will handle whatever comes my way. I was almost a gold, after all.”
Trevor sighed. “Then we will start for the mountains tomorrow morning.”
~
After buying suitable clothes for a rough journey, Lissa and Trevor had just left the town and passed the garrison when General Henkari stopped them.
“I must insist that you take one more person on your trip,” the general said. “This is Potur Lott, a retired scout. He is half Maskumite and half Jarkanese. He knows the mountains well and has been through them to Khartoo plenty of times.”
“He has connections with villages and with smugglers?” Trevor asked.
The general blushed a bit. “There are rumors to that effect. You can prove they are right or not on your journey. He will be worth taking rather than moving about blindly on your own.”
Lissa raised an eyebrow. “A guide, then,” she said. “Trevor, we shouldn’t give up such an opportunity.”
Trevor thought, other than the fact he couldn’t transfer three people, that it might be a good idea to have another capable person along with them who had been to Khartoo before.
They said goodbye to General Henkari and introduced themselves to Potur Lott as they started. The ex-scout brought along a pack animal.
“If we are contemplating posing as smugglers at one point or another, we will need to have something to smuggle. I took the liberty of freeing the garrison of some delicacies that we can sell in Khartoo,” Potur Lott said.
He was a tall, spare man, almost as tall as Trevor, with hair just beginning to gray. The scout looked at Trevor. “You could almost pass for a Maskumite except for your eyes. Those are not the eyes of a southerner, but then I’m what would be considered a half-breed, and you both have to pretend to be as well. Maskum even has some blonde tribes in the mountains.” Potur leaned over and gazed at Lissa’s face. “Your eyes are as northern as his. Maybe we will buy a veil for you. There is nothing we can do for Trevor.” Potur broke into laughter. “What a crazy mission this is! It will be fun.”
“If we don’t get killed,” Trevor said, but his chances were reduced a bit by bringing along Potur Lott.
They continued past the crossroads and then took another road north before exiting out of the military zone. At another crossroads, they turned west toward the mountains.
“We will be heading west until nightfall,” Lott said. “There is a village where we will establish our story before plunging into Maskum.”
“Have you ever lived in Maskum?” Trevor asked.
“I grew up there. My mother was a Maskumite, but when she died, my father and the rest of us weren’t as welcome in the village, so we left for southern Jarkan. I was fifteen and was already well-versed in what people do in the mountains to survive.”
“How long have you been a scout?”
“I was a scout for eighteen years before I tired of it all. I retired until a bunch of us joined up for a short stint to smash the rebellion. I had no love for General Erdu or his officers,” Potur said. “What is your story? All I know is that you are a higher-up, even if you are half my age.”
Trevor let Lissa do the telling. Potur was shocked that Trevor was the sole remaining prince of his family.
“I knew Presidon’s queen took over and executed the royal family, but I didn’t know there was a survivor. That should make you king, shouldn’t it?”
Trevor laughed. “I wouldn’t have lasted long. My father shoved me into the army, where I was coddled. I didn’t know any ministers or even other lords. I was a prince without power, and quite frankly, that is what saved me. I couldn’t do any damage to the crown, so I was patted on the head and sent south.” He shook his head ruefully. “There have been assassination attempts, and I survived one not that long ago in Ginster.”
“Can’t stay away from danger?” Potur asked.
“I suppose not. I had a mentor who was a prince on the run like me. Before he died, he secured a duchy in Brachia for himself, should he return. He left it to me, so I’m now the duke of Listenwell, and that is easier than trying to make sense of a kingdom.”
“You are smarter than I thought,” Potur said. “I thought you were some dumb noble—dumber than Akku Manusa.”
Trevor smiled. “We will test how dumb I am. We are going to Khartoo to scout out the situation there. I don’t understand who runs the country, and I want to learn for myself how the magicians are organized.”
“They aren’t all that organized, but what I do know is that they used to be at each other’s throats until a few years ago. That has General Henkari worried, at least that is what he told me. You’ll be doing Jarkan a great service if you can quash the Maskumite threat before they do much more than keep their army perched at the border.”
Trevor would be satisfied if that was the result, but he didn’t tell Potur that. Lissa began to ask Potur questions about his childhood and his time in the army. She gave Trevor a nod indicating the man had told the truth. That was one less worry. After Lissa had her turn, Trevor asked him to tell him some of his scout stories.
The man had done quite a bit of work along Jarkan’s border with Maskum since the border hadn’t ever been truly pacified in Potur’s lifetime. However, Potur made it clear that even with troops gathered on both sides of the border, Maskum and Jarkan weren’t officially at war.
Chapter Fourteen
~
T he southern forests climbed up mountains that were different from the northern mountains. The trees weren’t so close together, and most of the underbrush consisted of tall grass and low bushes. that didn’t mean the going was easy. The terrain was rock-filled with some very steep patches.
After rising in altitude so Trevor could see the plains through the haze below, Potur took them on a track heading west. The path was wide enough for a narrow wagon, and Trevor noticed wheel marks occasionally in the dirt. Midafternoon, they stopped at a small village nestled around a lake in a high valley.
Vegetation was denser here, and fields were cut out of the forest. As they rode into the village, Trevor could see a normal-sized road coming from the south and extending to the north.
“There is a border post on the south side of the valley. This village is the last habitation before we enter Maskum. If you want to turn back, this is the place,” Potur said.
“We can spend the night here?”
Potur nodded. “The horses could use a rest from the climb. I’ll scare up some business, and that is better done by myself.”
Trevor understood what Potur meant. Their escort could be more open in his business dealings without them looking on.
After showing up at the tiny village inn, Potur told them he’d be spending the night elsewhere, but he left his pack animal with Trevor.
“Shall we stroll through the village?” Trevor asked Lissa after they had secured their rooms.
They proceeded out of the village. Trevor was hoping it would be market day, but the village green, which wasn’t very green at all, was empty.
“There is the Dryden church,” Trevor said. “We can visit that.”
They stepped inside the small church. It reminded Trevor of the little chapel in Viksar where a cleric had ensorcelled Brother Yvan. A woman stepped out from a door wearing clerical robes.
“Oh, I don’t know you,” she said.
“Are you the local cleric?” Lissa asked.
The woman smiled. “I am. People from the outside always give me a look when they see me in my robes. Can I help you?”
Trevor smiled. He couldn’t recall seeing any women village clerics. “We are sightseeing. The village is very picturesque.”
“It is. We don’t get many visitors here. It is
n’t an easy place to get to unless you are coming from the south or the north,” the woman said. “You came from the east?”
“How did you know?” Lissa asked.
“The Maskumites have closed the road between here and the next village.”
Trevor frowned. “No one told us.”
The woman shrugged. “It happens all the time. Sometimes the Jarkanese army will push the border south for a few miles. Most of us don’t pay any attention. The innkeeper probably thought you came on the eastern track.”
Trevor wondered if he should go looking for Potur Lott.
“Was there any fighting in the village?” Trevor asked.
The woman laughed. “Dryden is better to us than that. Both sides ignore the village since we ship fish to Maskum and Jarkan. That lake is very productive. There are valuable trees in the valley as well that we export both ways.” She looked a little sly. “Are you worried?”
Trevor shook his head. “Not if you aren’t.”
“I’m not,” she said.
Lissa bumped Trevor. “We might want to get going.”
Trevor smiled at the cleric. “There is more to see.” He glanced at the woman’s muddy boots before he turned to leave.
“Fire!” Lissa said as Trevor turned to see the woman’s hands extended.
A spear of fire slammed into him. Trevor stepped toward the woman. “I have a very good charm, and you aren’t a cleric.” He ran to the door where the woman had come out and saw a man’s body in his underclothes lying on the floor. “Are you a Maskumite magician or a smuggler?”
The woman’s face turned from angelic to devilish. “A smuggler, of course. By the time you return to your inn, the village will be ours, and you will be dead. There are those of us more powerful than me.”
Lissa sent out a bolt of lightning that burned a hole through the clerical robe and pierced the woman’s body, who crumpled to the floor.
“Could Potur be involved in this?” Lissa asked.