Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  “Where will we deliver this?”

  “Not far,” Farrel said, “Only as far as the next town on the north road, Dardenport. Innkeeper at The Willow.”

  Levi was getting bored at all of this. It was hard to understand what they were talking about, and harder to care. None of this concerned Reilek. None of this concerned her, nor gave her a reason as to why she was called over. She said as much. “Why I here?”

  “Ah, forgive me. I was getting to that. I am told that you are from Taeryen?”

  “Taer’lyn.”

  “Fascinating. I’ve never encountered someone from Taer’lyn. I’m told that you were betrayed by your own people and you will never be able to return home, am I correct?”

  “I don’t wish.” Her sending off was not one she was like to forget anytime soon.

  “You’ve pledged yourself to the Elsgard, and this man, Reisch Elestan?” he asked.

  Insofar as I am given the means to claim vengeance on the Bastmyra, yes, I have a cause to fight for. But curse this language. His manner of speaking was deliberately complex, as his position supposedly afforded him. He had to let it be known he was in a higher position and this was his domain. Men were simple creatures, no different from a dog pissing on a tree. “Yes. So why I here?”

  “I understand. Before I can explain it to you, I must ask you about Taer’lyn first. Do you know what your Caranaum is?”

  “Caranaum?”

  “Oh, forgive me. You’d have another word for it, of course. Some sort of object of power that only Taeryens derive power from.”

  “I no understand.”

  Nartenis jumped in. “That power with your hand, Farsum, Yaleans cannot do that. Just as you cannot do what I did to you back then. Magick. Is there an object or something, perhaps an artefact from centuries ago?”

  He asked her as if he was asking what she had for breakfast. The elders would probably kill her for answering but, an injustice done demands the favour returned. “Oh. Fordunis. It’s… I don’t know word, water come out. But Fordunis no water, it is … ah trives csec veh…eye…water. Last Galascyn.”

  “Water come out…oh, like a fountain? Eye water...ah, tears?”

  Their gesturing helped. “Yes.”

  They both listened intently, keen for her to tell them more about it, which unfortunately for them, she couldn’t. “I never see, but people say good luck to people pray for Yelia. Foun-tain never stop. Sorry I no help.” She did not feel guilty. The last bastion of duty she felt for Taer’lyn died when the Bastmyra ran. They can all die a thousand deaths.

  Both men paused for a second, and the Nartenis’ friend finally said quietly, turning away from Levi, “Galascyn, not Taeryen? Does she even…no, not now, later,” before he turned back to Levi with a smile.

  “I see. Thank you for telling us what you know. Now, Reisch said that you had a link with Reilek, but closed it off. Are you able to make another link with someone?”

  Again, the gesturing helped. “I never try. I no understand how to work. The Bastmyra was guided we. I try to remember.”

  “Does it only work between two Taer’lyns?” Nartenis asked.

  “Never try. I no understand.” We don’t get many non-Taer’lyn, you know. Maybe her second language skills were lower than she thought. She thought she’d made it clear about how Packs worked.

  “I see. Well, I have a special mission for you. One that I think you would feel quite at home with. Please meet Ghiris.”

  A young man entered the room and politely bowed. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “You too,” she said, with a little too much accentuation from her inner thoughts. Quite a handsome fellow, this Ghiris.

  “If you can make a bond with him like you had with Reilek, I can give you your own…what do you call it…Pack.”

  Levi had never entertained the idea. Thinking was for the Nartenis. The mental conditioning had gone on for years and was hard to break out of, but this was a thought that her brain was allowing her to entertain. “Thank you. Much honour.”

  “You see,” said the Nartenis, “we help people. I give you my trust, and all I ask is that trust be reciprocated. You didn’t attempt to kill any of us after you were freed, and now that kindness has been repaid.”

  “Nartenis, one day, that is your death. Kindness kill.”

  “Perhaps. Now, last thing before I get some sleep. About that letter, Farrel. How long until the Euparyen governors hear of the Taeryen fleet sailing down Karzark’s coast?”

  -------------------------------------

  The sea, though one entity, has multiple personalities, and no master. This I have learnt in my first voyage out of sight of land. As far out as I could see from home, the sea always had a calm temperament, only showing its roughness on a windy day. Never have I seen the rage that she is capable of until tonight. Even after praying at the temple, asking Yelia who stands above all men, that the sea remains this rough lead me to but two conclusions. Had I not prayed at her feet, her outstretched hand and sceptre above my head, would I have been swallowed by an even more outrageous tide? Or that Yelia has no mastery over the waves, that her domain ends where sea meets shore? Being a follower of our Goddess, I conclude it most fortuous that I listened to the advice of the sailors and offered a prayer before boarding the ship.

  I have been told to stay underdeck until I have found my sea legs, lest I am tossed overboard by one of these giant waves that could swallow all of home at once.

  I have no regrets of serving the military. I would spend ten lifetimes in service if I never had to board a ship again. I would spend another ten lifetimes in service if we could reach port tonight, and not three days’ hence.

  Diary of Arys, on route

  Arys

  It rained the night their ships arrived in Vinrael. Worse still, the wind had picked up from the afternoon, roaring east, and had delayed their arrival. The darkness had taken from him the picturesque imagery of the mainland coming into view for the first time. He had looked forward to that.

  The makeshift wooden dock was only just large enough to berth their ships, which, was not a compliment given the size of the ships they travelled on. Primus Euryet and some soldiers had come down to the port to greet them and led them inside what Arys could tell was the sole stone-made building in the city. Their cargo was carried into various buildings to stay dry, until it was ready to be unpacked the following morning. There was little for them to do that late in the night, so they retired to their quarters, ready to start in the morning.

  Arys overslept that first morning. There were no gulls to wake him up. He’d need to learn a different system for a different place. This wasn’t temporary. Home wasn’t home anymore; it was simply Lepcis.

  He put on his new clothes. It wasn’t the armour that he had grown so comfortable wearing, but it wasn’t the regular work attire either. Sharya had visited a tailor in Lepcis and had given him one last gift before he sailed off. It was a full length, dark maroon tunic, embroidered with a golden hem. She had her name stiched into his breast pocket too, so he wouldn’t forget who his heart belonged to. He vowed that whatever may come his way, he’d see her again. He’d bring her a unified Euphyre.

  He stepped outside, and the sunlight seared his vision. It was completely different from yesterday. It was freezing cold, but he was told to expect that. There was, however, no wind. That was a new sensation.

  No one had actually discussed where they were supposed to meet. In their rush to get off the boats in the pouring rain, no one had bothered to discuss the morning plans. He looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. He first noticed the mountains in the distance. He’d never seen them before but was familiar with the Myrian Mountains drawn in on his maps. Snow had settled on the peaks, some of which some had penetrated even the highest clouds. They were much more impressive to see with his own eyes, and even more so when he considered the defensive boon they offered.

  Vinrael itself was a town made predom
inately of wood that looked more like a military camp. There were no luxuries here. The townsfolk were a hardy people who had few purposes in life. He knew this all too well.

  Ten years ago, Vinrael did not exist. It was never a small town that grew from ancient, humble origins like so many others. It was simply put on a map by the Sons who needed a place of refuge from the Karzarki onslaught. It grew into a permanent town, though the Sons were careful to limit the growth of the town, wary of its location reaching the ears and eyes of the occupying Khasari. Too much trade, too much traffic, too much idle chatter between different bands of roving Sons – the risk would only grow. So, the town remained small, dispersing its support through different towns and bands of Sons to avoid suspicion. So long as the support remained, even if the town’s existence came to be known, it would not face an attack. There were too many Sons between the west and Vinrael for the Khasari to make a feasible march.

  The Sons were supported by the townsfolk and city folk throughout the land too, wherever possible, but there was a limit to their support, and it waxed and waned depending on the movements of the Khasari. Vinrael served as a bastion of constant support, well out of the reach of Karzark. Those settled here had a single purpose: to assist the Sons. They grew food, they made forges, they made homes and they healed. The Sons gave their everything to keep the Khasari from coming this far east, and the Vinrael citizenry gave the same in return.

  Tents were everywhere. Now, with the arrival of Primus Euryet, the town was expanding. Buildings were slowly being erected but they all seemed temporary, as if committing stone would be wasteful. Given the situation, it wasn’t an unwise move. But he was here to remedy that. It had fallen to him to make sure that this town stood, and that it would provide a base of operations for the reconquest.

  He wandered around aimlessly looking for where he was supposed to be but found himself drifting towards the smell of food. Tables had been set up outside in a line and rations of bread and stew were being served by the citizenry. He joined the line and had himself some breakfast. He was about to dip his bread into the stew when suddenly someone stole the bread from his hand. He whisked around to see who it was and found himself staring at Princess Vaelynna.

  “Oh, Your Highness,” he began as he straightened himself up, “You gave me a fright.”

  She bit into the bread. “I hope you’re not frightened by something as much as someone stealing your breakfast. I deemed you able to deal with much worse,” she said, chewing all the while. “And don’t call me Highness here. I’m here as a Legatus, and I intend to be treated as one. I will be a Princess when the war is over.”

  “Yes, Your – Legatus.” She had a crumb on her cheek. She didn’t notice it. If he could just…no. He had to focus. “Erm, Legatus, surely there is some better breakfast on offer for the Legatii? With knives and forks and… napkins?” How could she not notice it?

  “Captains also are entitled to better food. Why are you here?” She dipped the bread into his stew and took a bite.

  “I eat with my men. It helps me get to know them. Besides, I’ve never been one for fancy food.”

  Nervous with the thought of running out of small talk and no bread to eat to fill in any silences, he changed the conversation to a topic he was more comfortable with – his job. “Legatus Rhasphyre, where is the war table in this town? I’ve been trying to find it for hours.”

  “Hours? I saw you leave your tent ten minutes ago.”

  “Ah,” was all he could muster.

  “Ah, indeed. Come, follow me. Bring your stew. I might be hungry later.”

  He followed, watching her purposeful strides, her leather armour swaying, hugging her body, much like when Sharya walked. No, enough. Of all people, she’s the Princess. He punched himself in the arm.

  They arrived in the town square where many soldiers had gathered. Arys noticed watchtowers in all four corners manned by three men each. Even with the Myrian Mountains at their back, Vinrael remained vigilant. It was weird to see soldiers with a lack of uniform, however. It was hard to distinguish civilian from soldier, but this was the new world. Necessity had dictated many years ago to cast aside their steel plates that Euphyre was famed for. This wasn’t limited to the steel itself, but soldiery as a profession. Now, the Sons were a blur of citizen and soldier alike. Crops, husbandry, stalls, smiths and many more trades still required manpower. Professional soldiery ended during the war. There were no more pitched battles with flags and banners and glory. Not for now, anyway.

  Instead they waged a war of attrition, whittling down the Karzarki supply lines, their patrols, their control. The Sons assist the people, win their loyalty, and make Karzark regret coming here. They would make the cost of occupying Euphyre too steep, and all the while they would slowly establish themselves in the far eastern reaches of Euphyre. That was his job, and he would succeed.

  Princess - no - Legatus Vaelynna marched purposefully towards the centre of the gathering. Being outside in the open to discuss grand strategy was new to him, but not unwelcome. It felt more… real.

  He saw the familiar face of Legatus Weymar beckon them over. “Legatus Vaelynna, Captain Tullis, good to see you this morning. Please, come,” he said, signalling them join him around the table.

  “So now that we are all here, can you fill us in on what has happened on the mainland the past few months, Primus Euryet?” asked Vaelynna.

  Euryet cleared his throat. He was in his early forties, but the grey streaks in his hair and crow’s feet around his eyes would have convinced anyone he was sixty. “There’s been some good and a lot more bad, Your Highness.”

  “Start with the good.”

  So, he can call her Highness…

  “The eastern provinces, Salencia and Yukone have had very little interference from the Khasari. That is to say, there have been no reinforcements forthcoming to alleviate the garrisons in Theran’s Lake and Jakkenmarch. Our best estimates give them another month in Theran’s Lake, and two weeks for Jakkenmarch before they are forced to march back west, lest their supplies run out. The Sons have made sure that the roads have remained dangerous enough to discourage even the most adventurous merchants.”

  “That’s good,” Vaelynna signalled to a soldier to get her some tea, “And we are ready to provide aid to the people once they have left?”

  “We are, Your Highness. Though, we will need to commit a sizable number of soldiers when the time comes, lest they leave some of their garrison behind.”

  Vaelynna looked pleased. “Good. While we can’t physically hold the cities yet without drawing the ire of the Khasari, so long as we have the hearts of the citizens on our side, we may as well have. Besides, any Khasari garrison left behind would struggle with morale. They would feel abandoned by their army marching west. They can be negotiated with, if necessary.”

  “Yes, Princess Vaelynna,” said the Primus, looking towards the ground.

  Legatus Weymar noticed and decided that was the end of the good news. “The bad news then, Euryet.”

  “Yes, Legatus. Primus Harryn was killed during an engagement with Khasari forces outside Lyreport. Without Harryn, the Khasari were quick to press the advantage, doubling their numbers and scattering the Sons. Many were lost. They have returned to the towns to await a new regional commander.”

  That was ill news. Arys remembered Harryn had been friends with this father, and now he had followed his path to the grave. It was also, logistically speaking, a great loss on regional security. Control of the land waxed and waned with the years but losing a general in the field was hard to replace. The type of warfare they lived and breathed was one you could not adequately train someone for.

  The soldier Vaelynna had asked to bring her tea came back with a large mug. “Who is to be Harryn’s replacement?”

  “I am,” said Weymar. “I grew up on the Yukone peninsula. I’ve worked with the Yukonians numerous times before. Harryn’s loss is a blow; he was a capable, experienced general. Hopefully I can make u
p for some of the difference in experience with my connections. Perhaps strengthening some trade ties with them could help our cause, if we can establish a foothold here. It would risk Vinrael’s concealment in doing so, however. Tullis?”

  His first order. “Yes sir, I’ll make sure it happens. I will send a message to Tresben as soon as possible.”

  It had begun. Arys had waited for the revival, the reconquest of the heartland, and they were taking bold, irreversible steps forward.

  Primus Euryet regrettably continued. “We’ve lost the capacity to contest the silver mines around Lyreport, and thus assistance from the city will be hard to come by. The whole region is essentially lost. We cannot project ourselves without risking being cut off. It puts Lera in the direct of path of the Khasari.”

  “I see,” said Yuran.

  “Still, they can’t press further east without overstretching their supply lines.”

  “Exactly,” said Vaelynna, “Which means stabilising the northern regions will be a priority for them. If the north is pacified, they will have the men and supply lines to commit south.”

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, this harbinger of bad news, Euryet, wasn’t finished. “We also received word from Rulven that three Khasari legions will cross the Desari. The request came from the governor, Narazan. He claimed he has trouble from the Sons, but three legions double the Khasari present in all of Euphyre. I believe that garrisoning Rulven is not the real reason they are here.”

  Arys was brought here as a logistician to deal with maps, roads, trade, and supply. Despite never having set foot on the mainland before, he had memorised the roads (though his sources were sometimes out of date), the cities and towns, what they produced, who the governors were. This was a game of strategy in which Karzark had the upper hand. Numbers were on their side, time was on their side.

  “I have a feeling that Lera is their target, if you don’t mind me interrupting,” he said. Yuran and Weymar both looked at him.