Still, orders were orders and Kiern wasn’t going to disappoint Commander Reisch on his first task. He assembled Bairn, Karrik and Derilen and told them the news. However, he didn’t know what to tell them to do specifically, since they were much more experienced than himself. Even the size of Karrik, a head taller than Kiern and at least twice as wide made him feel stupid for even telling them. Reading his thoughts and saving him the embarrassment, Derilen said they were nearly finished loading the cart and went back to work. He’d been with them for years and had never felt as adolescent as he did just now.
Next was the horse, the stubborn beast. Of course, the Karzarki would ride it. If it wasn’t for the fact it would cause the Karzarki a sense of satisfaction, he wouldn’t have minded. He hated that foul-tempered horse. He walked the horse over to where Reisch and Rhen were waiting.
“Karzarki, get your arse up on this horse. Consider it a favour.”
“Favour my arse. I heard your orders, Yalean.”
“With one ear, I’m surprised,” Kiern grinned, before continuing in feigned nicety, “and please, call me Kiern. Of House Narren.”
“Never heard of it. Did you choose that name yourself?” replied the Karzarki as he climbed up into the saddle of Kiern’s horse. When Kiern didn’t respond, he added, “Well, we all have different tastes. Kiern of House Narren, shall we?”
Oh, if only the Commander weren’t right next to you.
Reisch sat on the cart, as his rank afforded, and Bairn rode on a much more well-tempered horse that was tied to Rhen’s, in case of any stupid decision the Karzarki made. Rhen’s horse was the slowest of the horses anyway. That left Derilen, a man that no horse found themselves endeared to (Bairn had once told him it was his baldness that made the horses feel uneasy), Karrik, whose size and weight surely made the horses wonder if the benefits of domestication were really worth it, and Kiern on foot.
They cleared the trees and found themselves on a well-travelled road. The only thing Kiern could think of that was worthy of complementing Karzark for was their road-building. They were like branches on a tree, reaching out in every direction. Entire towns owed their existence to them, and unfortunately because of this, were also entirely dependent on them. It was open-palm diplomacy. Subjugation through dependency.
Euphyria was not entirely subjugated, however, and used these roads for its own agenda. Khasari stuck to their roads, and this allowed the resistance to travel undetected through even light terrain. Though the roads allowed for quick responses to incursions and attacks, the resistance needn’t wait long to execute a well-planned ambush.
There were a few carts heading west towards Mhir and Desaris. Kiern noticed they were carrying olives and pears. They’d be stopping at Mhir, then. Desaris was too far away for their produce to be sellable. He thought it’d be a good idea to quiz Rhen to see how cooperative he would be.
“Karzarki, where would that trader over there be heading? Looks like he’s got olives and pears.”
“Desaris.”
Knew it. “Desaris is a week away at the best of times. He wouldn’t have anything left to sell. You’d lie to us over nothing.”
“The banner on his cart shows he’s peddling goods for House Ghian. House Ghian works between Desaris, Mhir, and Rulven. Braest is too far out of the way for them. However, they know that olives sell well there. So, after leaving Rulven, they swap their goods with a cart heading for Braest, likely the Mojarls or Ludins, who trade along the southern roads between Braest and Lyreport for a good portion of the price. In return, they will take either wine or salted fish and head to Desaris.”
Well, that sure showed him. He decided he’d end the conversation there. He thought he’d heard a snigger from Bairn.
After travelling in silence for about an hour, Rhen was first to interrupt the deafening quiet. “So, what’s Rulven like?”
“Don’t know, never been,” Kiern replied, content at the length of the conversation. The silence may have been uncomfortable, and he could tell Rhen wasn’t interested in conversation any more than he was, except the dense, awkward silence got to Rhen first.
It was his first time this far south of Yalea. Crossing Misral’s Schism was no easy task – Yelia had made sure of that. One day, when we have repented enough, Cerenea’s wounds will heal. But for now, the crossing remained arduous and rife with danger, and it meant that he hadn’t seen home for more than a few years, and perhaps he wouldn’t for a few more to come. Even if they wanted to, they would have to wait until winter passed. The ice and snow made it impossible to cross over back into Yalea.
“It was the Third Citadel of the Parasens. The original name was lost after the Euparyens gained control.”
Kiern and Rhen both turned to Commander Reisch, who had been riding in the cart only moments before. He was now holding the horse’s reins, having switched places with Bairn.
“You’ve been there before, Commander?” Kiern asked.
“Only briefly on official business. After Karzark’s subjugation of the Euphyrian Territories, entering Rulven is more than brazen. Especially…”
“Karzark wants peace and prosperity for all of Cerenea, that which can only be achieved by a unity of purpose. A plurality of rulers will only ever result in disharmony,” Rhen snapped, instantly regretting opening his mouth.
Kiern looked to Rhen, and then to Commander Reisch, and was torn whether he should hit Rhen for his outburst in front of the Commander or to feel sorry for what fury would come from Reisch himself. But to his surprise, the Commander only let out a chuckle.
“My dear prisoner, I agree with you, though your register is somewhat too intellectual for your present company, as though this isn’t the first time you’ve come to Karzark’s defence. But your words have truth in them; when four brothers each rule their own, the world will know no peace.”
Kiern could read the confusion on Rhen’s face like a book. Then Reisch’s face hardened.
“But that's as far as I'll agree. Typical of your people, you assume that it must be Karzark, for were you not born a Karzarki, and that the right of conquest – that in which another’s will is enforced upon another somehow determines who would best lead Cerenea. Man is fallible, and your logic is proof. Karzark, mankind, therefore, has no such mandate. No, it must be Yelia who rules.”
“And that is The Wrath.”
Rhen’s face gave away much of the Karzarki psyche to Kiern. Just how much did they not know? At least most Yaleans were aware of The Sin as much as The Wrath, regardless of its foolishness.
“You'd place the future of man into the hands of a higher power. I believe man has the right to determine our own future,” said Rhen quietly.
Commander Reisch continued, “Man tried that once. It was man’s folly that brought us to the brink of destruction six hundred years ago. Yelia tore up this land because of the Betrayal of Man. For six hundred years we have grown apart as strangers. If we are to be worthy successors of the Elders, we must repent for our actions.”
Kiern again looked at Rhen. Though Rhen was hiding behind his status as a prisoner to hold his tongue, Kiern could tell Rhen didn’t have an answer. So Kiern pat him on the back and said, “This shows why we must repent. We are as different as we are the same. We grew up as strangers, as was the will of Yelia. And if things don’t change, it will destroy us all.”
-------------------------------------
It is said that of the Youngers, it was Yaleartes that first felt remorse for the death of his older brothers. Yaleartes prayed and prayed for his mother’s forgiveness, and after the Weeping, became an ardent believer of The Wrath; that is, their mother’s sorrow had turned to vengeance and sought to punish the younger brothers. Yaleartes filled his domain with his voice, crying out to his mother for her love once again. A great schism of the earth had separated Yaleartes from his brother, Euphyres, and the hills which he had grew up on with Taer’lea, became icy ragged mountains.
The Schism - Author Unknown, Library of
Yalea Aranth
Rhen
Evening had snuck up the party.
Today had been the coldest day since Rhen had set out from Mhir, and the sun had retreated earlier than they had hoped. Reisch had anticipated crossing Akon’s Bridge by nightfall and find lodging in Verni that he said they had stayed at once before, but it was still a three-hour march away. Instead they had to settle for an inn on the west side of the bridge in a small town that had been established by Karzark a generation ago. Bridgetown, as Rhen knew it, though he was instantly rebuked by Kiern for saying it out aloud, with a lighting jab into his side.
Apparently, the town had been taken over by Euphyrian rebels who, knowing the bridge was the only crossing suitable over the mighty Togris River within two days of travel, jumped on the chance to remove the Karzarki garrison and exact tolls on Karzarki merchants, funding their rebellion. Karzark would respond by ameliorating their losses, and the Euphyrian rebels would melt away into the forest and harry the patrols, prompting Karzark to withdraw its forces. The cost was simply more trouble than it was worth. The Karzarki citizenry were evicted, and the town changed its name to Rhasten. And that is why Rhen should be grateful for his aching ribs, said Kiern. Better a jab in the ribs than a knife in the back.
“Rhen, come here,” Reisch ordered. Rhen walked over to Reisch as descended from his horse. “Hands.” Reisch then produced some rope and bound his hands together as gently as the demeaning gesture could be.
“If you’re seen in Rhasten with your Karzarki attire, you’ll be relieved of all your belongings at best, and simply killed and tossed into the forest at worst. Consequently, since you’re actually my prisoner, I’ll have you look the part. Just while we’re here, play along, and I’ll unbind you when we’re out tomorrow. Do anything stupid, you stay bound until Tannis. Rezan?”
“Rezan.”
They made their way to the inn, The Phoenix. How subtle. How many times had this inn changed hands? Chips in the woodwork hinted at the answer being a lot. Still, it was the biggest building in the small town. Upon further inspection, however, using the word town to describe Rhasten was probably as much an overstatement as it was calling Karzarki cuisine food. Only a hundred or so people seemed to reside here, and half of them probably called elsewhere home.
Kiern opened the door for Reisch, who not-so-kindly pushed Rhen into the inn. The few patrons, upon seeing the door swing open stopped their drinking and looked at Rhen, who had just lost his footing and fallen from the strength of the push.
“Found this one yesterday south of here. Looks like a lordling, could be worth something. I’ll be taking him to Anneth tomorrow. We’ll need two rooms if you have them available,” Reisch said to the innkeeper with a stronger accent than normal.
He was a burly man, who clearly plied a different trade before becoming an innkeeper. His muscled arms were unable to hide his past; a canvas of slices and cuts. His tattoo on his upper arm was stretched over the muscle, forcing Rhen to reconsider his evaluation. Perhaps soldiering was not this man’s trade of yesterday, but of today.
“Aye, the last two we have. Some merchants have the other room. Roughed up on the road, lost more than just our fee, so I let them stay at a good rate. Treat them well today and you’ll have an ally tomorrow. Anyway, upstairs to the left at the end. Dinner in an hour, and breakfast is on me. You’ve done good by us today, learte.”
“It’s nothing," said Reisch as he handed over his coin, “Ah, my companions should have passed through town earlier. They probably continued onto Verni. A larger party than my own.”
Rhen took in the crowd inside the inn. Most of them looked like they had seen a few battles. A table of four, gambling on a dice game. They didn’t look like soldiers, instead more like merchants. A table of two, with six empty tankards, and a table of one, in the corner, the man possessing a huge scar over what once housed an eye. Most people wore an eyepatch, but this man felt no such need. He looked Rhen up and down, as if sizing him up, before going back to his drink.
“Ah yes, just after midday. They’d most likely have reached Verni by now, aye.”
Reisch nodded in thanks, and then shoved Rhen towards the stairs. The others followed. Which was the act, Reisch the Heartless, or Reisch the Kind Captor? First, he cuts of an ear, then acts as a travelling companion on the road, and now acted as a poacher. He’d be free of Reisch soon, if he could somehow send word out to some Karzarki patrol in the area. Even though he hated using his family’s name for help, this was quite potentially life and death, and he didn’t want to wait around to prove himself right. His name was the one card he had up his sleeve, but for now his hands were tied – literally.
They all entered the one room, following Reisch. Derilen was last to enter and closed the door behind him. Reisch dragged the sole chair from underneath the table and sat himself down. He motioned toward Bairn, who gave a swift nod and left the room. First watch. Judging by their fluidity and the lack of needing to verbally communicate, they were quite experienced in this duty.
“Right, here’s the road we take tomorrow,” he said, spreading out a map on the table. It was not Rhen’s map, but he could see that additional markings had been added, likely taken from his own. “Cross the bridge, stay on the highway to Verni. It’s a little more dangerous, but our cover should suffice, and we’ll make up time. The cart isn’t going anywhere in this weather except for a Karzarki road. We’ll stop for supplies and can meet up with Reilek’s band if they're still in Verni. Then, we set for Rulven. We’re behind schedule, so we will leave just before dawn.”
“Sir.”
“Kiern, you and Rhen have the other room. You’ve got last watch, after Derilen. And Rhen, don’t get any ideas. I’ve explained the situation outside to you. I would prefer you alive tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Merely more than a mutter, it drew the ire of Kiern, but thankfully he took no more than a step closer.
After they separated into their rooms, Kiern claimed the bed. Rhen made no attempt at considering it as an option, anticipating Kiern would relish the opportunity to demonstrate his authority like a child. Instead, he went straight to the blanket folded up neatly in the corner and unfurled it in the centre of the room. He opened the window and gave the pillow a good pat down. Dusty. This inn must not get a lot of overnight visitors, Rhen thought, or at least those who had a choice. He decided against using the pillow and lay down.
“Good night.”
“It’s good night when I say it’s good night,” said Kiern, sitting on his bed, “I have questions.” Of course.
“Really? I’m quite exhausted, and my ear is killing m-”
“You’re our prisoner, and I will have my questions answered one way or another. We can have a friendly conversation, or the other way.”
Rhen sat up. He grabbed the pillow he had discarded moments before and propped himself up against the wall. “Alright then. What do you want to know?”
“Why did a lordling decide to head out into the big world seeking treasure, as you say? I imagine it must be uncomfortable for you, sleeping in inns, on the ground, walking all day…”
Rhen paused a moment, deciding whether to spin a lie, but decided it wouldn’t matter anyway at this point. “Do you consider a merchant house lordly?”
“Ah. Well it was one or the other. I saw your hands back when we met you. Smooth as a baby. You weren’t the soldiering type. I was hasty in assuming you were a lord,” Kiern trailed off, Rhen picking up on a bit of disappointment in himself.
“Where did you learn Euphyrian? My guess is not in Euphyria. Your accent is as terrible as it is harsh. Where are you from?” Rhen asked.
“I’m the one who asks questions,” said Kiern, unable to visibly rid the insult from his mind.
“Oh, come on. I’m trying to be civil here. Throw me a bone. Look at me. I’m tied up, one ear short, and you Yaleans killed my only friend. Things haven’t exactly gone to plan...” His voice trembled slightly. Part anger, part…
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br /> Kiern sat on his bed in silence for a while, looking at Rhen, probably trying to get a read on what Rhen was thinking. Rhen guessed he must have felt a little bit of sympathy for him, because after a long pause Kiern decided that he would indeed give him a bone. “Rin Kas. Central Yalea. Historically part of Galaces so you could say it’s western Yalean. It’s a small city. Nothing like the citadels down here.”
So, they had both grown up in small cities, insignificant on the grand stage. Perhaps Kiern had an as interesting story that had led him this far south.
"It isn’t a large city, but it lies further south than the capital, and has gentle terrain around it. Hills yes, but no mountains, no Desari. It also has the fortune of being located on a river. Goods are shipped along the Arlas River as close to the capital as it goes. Euparyens used to stop by Rin Kas as they headed further north. Some settled."
This was the first Rhen had heard of this. “Wait. How were Euphyrians crossing Mishval’s Schism? Yelia made it impossible for the Youngers to cross.”
“Karzark made it to Euparyen, and I am not Euparyen, yes? And right now, I don’t trust you enough to tell you how people cross Misral’s Schism, and I don’t mean that with any ill-will.” Kiern paused for a moment, and sighed before continuing, “Well perhaps I do, but I wouldn’t tell you regardless. Anyway, ever since Karzark invaded Euparyen – Euphyria – there has been no trade. Rin Kas has lost its lifeline and is struggling. People have lost their livelihoods. Some of the Euphyrians are stranded, unable to return to their ancestral home and see loved ones. All because Karzark thinks it has some damn right to conquer who they please.”
Kiern had started out calm enough, but he could not hide his anger. But Rhen wasn’t going to take it lying down. He had his own opinion that needed to be said now, lest it escape at a less opportune time. “Perhaps Rin Kas would still be thriving if it wasn’t for the Euphyrians starting the war.”
Reign of Phyre Page 6
