His afternoons were spent working on the job that he was originally sent here to do. Logistics. His secret passion.
Two nights ago, several ships from Yalea reached Vinrael. The port was still undergoing its expansion, requiring the ships to anchor slightly offshore, so Vinrael had offered as many skiffs as it could to ferry cargo and people to land. The dignitary had brought along a number of seeds which, as the Yaleans explained, prefer colder climates, but trusted Vinrael was far enough north that they would grow. The Yaleans had also brought some goats and chickens to offer as a token of support, which Arys thanked them kindly for. More importantly, however, three hundred Yalean archers disembarked from their ships. He was told in no uncertain terms that they were absolutely not part of any standing Yalean army and the dignitary further stressed that Yalea would firmly deny any such knowledge of three hundred free Yaleans acting upon their rights as individual citizens supporting a cause that they felt very strongly about on a personal level. In return Arys, as a private individual of Euphyria, politely offered to negotiate a number of trade agreements with both Vinrael and, once after establishing official trading ports, with the Yukone Alliance. It had been a very productive day.
It was with logistics that he felt most confident in his abilities, yet he took the most pride in leading his men. It was difficult though, changing command during amidst encounters. He hadn’t taken over a battalion in a parade in peace time; he had inherited an army of Sons who were active, coming and going, returning to Vinrael at all hours.
And one such Son was racing up to him now. He put down the map he was studying and stood up from his chair to greet the man. The huge tattoo on his chest had a massive scar from a spear thrust. The man must have been freezing, but if he was, he showed no sign of it.
“Arys Tullis, are you now in charge of the Salencian Sons?”
“I am. What news do you bring?”
“I am Tora Draeg, leader of Salencia Crimson, here to report on our mission, sir.”
“Report.” This was the first time he was receiving a report from a captain returning from actual conflict. It was both exciting and dreadful.
“We wrested control of Ulane from the Khasari. Controlling the rivers will help carry the aid from Rulven to the towns. It will take at least a month before another Khasari garrison marches, if at all. We can bypass the town of Mayswood and use forest paths until the Salence Streams at Ulane, and then we can ship supplies past Old Tannis straight to Vinrael.”
Arys stopped the man to unfurl his map again and made a note of this update. “Excellent work. Continue.” He wondered if he sounded proper. He certainly didn’t look it in his leathers.
“Six nights ago, we made contact with the Togris Desaris, and were informed of expected heavy movement coming from Rulven. Our spies intercepted a message from the governor of Rulven that large deployments of Khasari are to be gathered and will have already begun marching towards Braest in the last few days.”
Arys’ heart skipped a beat. It was nice to know that he was right, but it was also unfortunate news. The Khasari were heading for Lera after all. They’d travel through Lyreport after Braest. “I see. Is there anything else?”
“There was a skirmish with a Khasari patrol between Rulven and Ulane. We lost three Sons. They are all from Vinrael. I must bear the news to their families, if you have nothing further.”
He stood at attention, waiting for Arys’ response.
“Oh…I’m sorry to hear that. May their sacrifice never be in vain.Yelia grant them peace.” He wasn’t quite sure what to say. The least he could do was look the man in the eye. He had probably known those three for many years and was undoubtedly hiding the heavy burden of guilt in being the one to return. At least Yelia in her wisdom and kindness would take care of them better than Arys could this conversation.
“Every soul in Lepcis thanks them for their sacrifice. They will remember their names. I will make sure of it. The Goddess will be pleased to meet them.”
Tora bowed and began to leave. “Wait,” Arys hastily shouted after him, remembering an idea from this morning, “I have one more thing to ask.” The leader of Salencia Crimson turned around.
“I’m new here, and I’ve heard that upon returning, half the soldiers remain while a new group depart. That is to give them a break, to see loved ones, but also so that experience and expertise is shared. How many will be staying behind?”
“Ten, sir.”
“Very well. If you have no objection, I would like to appoint ten soldiers personally and transfer them to your command.”
“If that is your command, I shall honour it.”
“Thank you. You may take your leave.”
It would be a weighty decision, choosing the ten soldiers whose lives he would put in danger by joining Tora’s vantha, but that weight came with his post. His men needed experience in this new world. Besides, the Sons sacrificed too much already. He made his way to the barracks, whereupon his Lepcis soldiers saw him, and stood at attention.
“Varren, Tylis, Tick, Marnet, Big Gaarn, Red Kell, Jurn, Horse, Wek, Cod. You’re joining Salencia Crimson. You will depart this afternoon. I know of the danger, but this is a war where everyone’s lives are on the line. Learn to fight in the new way, so that we may bring back the old way. Listen to your new captain, Draeg, and heed the advice from the others. We are all on the same side here. They have sacrificed everything for Lepcis. You are all sons of Euphyre. Do me proud.”
In unison, their fists beat their chests.
Arys couldn’t stay. His job demanded it of him, but he had known these men for years and he couldn’t risk tearing up on the thought of it being perhaps the last time he’d see some of them. It was war, and it was very real. It wasn’t the same as when he was in Lepcis. The survival of Lepcis rested solely on Karzark not knowing that it even existed. Yet the secret of Euphyre’s continued existence seemed so safe, despite the reality being on a knife’s edge. But this was him, a leader, sending men that he knew for years to their deaths. And he didn’t even know which ones wouldn’t return. The only certainty was that not all would. It was a burden upon his shoulders, one which he had no choice but to carry.
The weather had turned for the worst, as if to match his mood. Dark clouds came rolling from the west, and the symbolism was not lost on Arys. Indeed, a storm was coming. He headed back to command, this time collecting his things from outside and taking them into the tent, walking past the two guards who had also decided that they could better do their jobs from inside. He walked past them and was surprised to see Vaelynna sitting inside, her feet on the table. She lazily looked up to him, putting down her dagger she was spinning on the table moments ago.
“You were right, captain. Our enemy indeed marches to Lera.”
Well, that news had travelled fast. Tora Draeg had left to inform the families after he had finished speaking to him…
“I am the princess. I know things before you are aware there are things to know,” she said, her eyes pointing to her sceptre leaning against the wall.
“Yes, your –”
“- Legatus.” Vaelynna Rhasphyre swirled around and stood up. She went for a flagon of wine and poured two glasses. Arys remembered he hadn’t drunk anything since he had left Lepcis, but he figured now was as good a time as any, receiving a glass full to the brim from the princess. It wasn’t as though he was going to deny her a drink anyway. He took a sip. Ah, wine. It tasted just as he remembered. Disgusting.
“Take a seat. We have plans to discuss.” She pulled out a chair. He dutifully sat.
“We have a large Karzark host marching to Lera. If Lera falls, the Yukone Alliance falls. If Yukone falls, we have zero support. Karzark will reach our eastern shores. If they reach our eastern shores, we are lost.”
Sad words from the princess of his people. Such was their plight.
“Your Highness,” his eyes meeting hers as she glared back at him, “we have sent the bulk of our forces to reinforce our Yukonian b
rothers and sisters. Yet, I now fear it’s not enough. I do not fully know of the Yukonian capabilities, but, if the Karzarkis instigate a siege, we will falter regardless. There are too many Khasari. They will have ample men to defend their baggage train while maintaining the siege, and there is little we can do about it.”
“They can’t hold a small slither of territory along the coast forever when they don’t control the inland. We will cut them off sooner or later,” she countered with defiance in her eyes. She took a large sip, seemingly unaffected by the bitterness. She’s unhinged, Arys thought.
“I don’t think they intend to hold that land, initially. As far as we think they know, the Yukonian Alliance are the last defenders of Euphyre. They think the Sons fight for Yukone. If they were to destroy the peninsula, what would be left for the Sons to fight for?”
He took a sip too, but unlike his princess, he couldn’t help but grimace. It was a drink for a man who wished pain and suffering upon himself.
“So long as Karzark breathes our air, our sons and daughters have a cause.”
“Half our territory lives under their yolk already, and yet they have not risen in open rebellion. They cannot. They believe once the Yukonian Alliance is broken, there will be no more resistance. They will send most of their troops back west and slowly integrate what remains unconquered.”
Vaelynna crossed her arms and sighed. “You probably have the right of it. However, essentially nothing has changed since we deployed our forces. So, why has your heart changed so? You knew this before and encouraged the Legatus Yuran and Weymar to march to Lera. Tell me.”
Arys could no more lie to the princess than himself. “I do not know. I just have a feeling our defence of Lera won’t be enough. Karzark conquered Euphyre with fewer men than what they are sending to Lera. How can we defend against that?”
Vaelynna had no choice but to remain indignant at his suggestion. “All of Yukone will reinforce Lera. So long as that famed wall of theirs doesn’t fall, it will receive support from the entire peninsula.”
“Karzark can read a map,” Arys said, a little too snappy for his own liking, “They will know they can be reinforced and will adjust their strategy accordingly. They will take the city by force, even if the price is high. They have the numbers.”
Simply saying the words made him feel like a prophet of ill-news, a traitor to the determination of all the heartland. But his princess, the hope of his people was having none of it. The maid from Lepcis that he had met before had come into view from the entrance of the tent. She was carrying a small bronze bowl of blue dye. She made her way to Vaelynna Rhasphyre, his princess, who dipped her hands into the bowl and painted her face with the markings of her people, the markings of war.
“Then, Captain Tullis, it is simple. Stop the largest Karzarki force we’ve encountered from reaching Lera.”
Arys Tullis was at a loss as to how exactly he could achieve that, with his force of men that was paltry in comparison. She made it sound so simple, as though she hadn’t the faintest understanding of war – like a real princess. He could not match his foe in a pitched battle, and he could not harry a marching legion that size without risking a mass rout of his men. He simply could not match his enemy.
He looked up to his princess, the woman whose shoulders carried the desires and hopes of her people. He could not tell her the hopelessness of the situation he felt. Yet, he could not lie. She had presented him with an impossible task. Seek utter annihilation at Lera, or sit back and watch the Yukone Alliance, the last bastion of Euphyrian heartland, burn. His princess seemed to notice the difficulty he was in, the grimace on his face. She turned away from his gaze and walked towards the sole wooden wall of the tent. She grabbed the decorative shield and spear that hung on the wall and thread her arm through the shield. She hit the spear against her shield. Again and again, looking forward, past his eyes. Bang, bang. Again and again she hit, until the two guards joined in unison, their spears echoing off their shields. Bang, bang. She handed her spear to her maid and picked up the bronze bowl in front of her on the table and walked towards Arys. She nodded towards the exit of the tent and passed the two guards who followed them out, still hitting their shields with their spears. Once leaving the tent he found the rain had worsened with the wind having picked up, yet he found his men from Lepcis standing at attention. Rather, they had their swords drawn, shields at the ready. In chorus they raised their swords high, and then began to hit their shields in unison.
“Through the sacrifice of the Sons of the Phoenix, we live in peace, away from the eyes of Karzark. We do so on the promise that one day we will free the homeland and repay our debt tenfold. Euphyre invicta! Euphyre! Euphyre!” they chanted, their oath of the legions. He looked around the sea of his soldiers, men he had known his whole life and had never once demonstrated such behaviour.
Vaelynna put down the bronze bowl on the table outside the tent, rain drenching her. She once again dipped her hands into the Euphyrian blue. She raised a hand and draped it down his face, the paint dripping down with the rain. “You are a son of Euphyre, and you are my chosen. You will find a way.”
He looked back to his men. They had worked themselves into a frenzy. The rain had seemed to have the opposite effect on them than it had him. They were truly buoyed, their morale second to no army. Looking into their faces, they felt invincible. He couldn’t let them down. His princess had named him her champion, in front of his army. He had to somehow save Lera from the Khasari legions marching towards it, whilst being unable to meet them on the field or prevent their advance. He had a large number of men at his disposal, but not enough to challenge the dominance of the Khasari.
Ah, there was but one path he could take. If it failed, it would be a catastrophic blow to both Yuron and Weymar, and all of the Yukonian defenders. But if it succeeded, it might force the Khasari on the backfoot and strengthen their position. It was a risk, but he didn’t see another way, and doing nothing was not an option.
“We march for Rulven,” he said, towards Vaelynna.
She stared at him for a moment, her hand still dripping blue dye, then found her resolve with a nod. “Very well. We will follow you, my captain,” she said to him, while turning to the men that had gathered in front of their tent. He felt her hand on his body – an acknowledgment he was now in her inner circle. They both faced the cheering Sons of the Phoenix; their morale alone enough to break the Karzarki invaders.
He vowed never to wash these trousers again, lest the blue handprint disappear. It was asymmetrical, only on one cheek, but he would find a way to live with it.
-------------------------------------
“Our new nation of Karzark,” said Kalecenes, “rose up against the tyranny of Galaces, and it was Karzark who said no more. We will not tolerate the horrendous practices you forced upon us. You have been found guilty of countless murders and slaughter, of rape and of torture. Guilty of the most sadistic of crimes, the sacrificing of children, the enslavement of your people, of greed and degeneracy, of your depthless depravity and decadence, your gruesome experiments on your people, dark, twisted rituals and of blood Magick. Yelia can no longer look you in the eye, for you are no son of hers. We find you guilty.”
Paleix I, Head Priest of Karzark, The Trial of Emperor Gedric
Rhen
The three of them said goodbye to the rest of the Elsgard at a crossroad a day east of Rulven. Two Elsgard who had been in Farrel’s service in Rulven joined Bairn on his journey. Farrel had given them horses, but Reisch declined to take any himself, not wanting to abuse the hospitality of his old friend. They received their orders from Reisch as they left Rulven, and Rhen had purposefully been left in the dark as to what they were. What he did know, however, was where the three of them were heading.
The Myrian Mountains. It had always been on his list of things to see before he died. But the far-off range was forever out of reach of merchants who valued staying alive. The range that lost half of its mass down the g
reat Schism. Before that it had marked the natural demarcation between Yalea Aranth and Euphyria, but now Mishval’s Schism had claimed the title of being the unnatural, truer border.
The Elders in their twilight years had sought to strike fear into the hearts of the people, to prevent them from joining the Youngers. The four heroes, those who changed the world, they were the first to be targeted by Pyresia and Galaces. Wielders of terrible Magicks augmented with blood, cursed by Yelia, evil spirits brought forth from dark rituals and sacrifice, all were hurled towards them. And it was poor Mishval, the hero of Euphyria that was blamed for the earth that had been torn asunder throughout the land by his own people.
This was one such version of events that a priest from Karzark would tell you. Maybe parts of it were true. Rhen didn’t feel like sharing his thoughts on that particular matter with Kiern.
The existence of Mishval’s Schism was true enough. It was said to be as wide as ten cities and as deep – it would have to be given that half a mountain range sunk into the abyss. Now it made for an impossible crossing. He had heard tales from Khasari who had returned from the eastern reaches that it was no better out to sea. Terrible sea beasts now resided in the trenches that the Schism had made, taking ships whole, down to their watery graves. The northern Citadel, Tannis too, was said to be full of ghosts and vengeful spirits of those who had not let go of this world.
And yet, here he was, travelling to the Myrian Mountains with two Yaleans. One was the commander of the Elsgard, and the other…
“Okay, it’s freezing cold. Why is Kiern topless?”
“He’s training,” Reisch said, continuing to look straight ahead. Well, so much for that.
“The man’s sweating,” he persisted, hoping for an answer with a bit more meat.
Reign of Phyre Page 19
