“If there must be blood, so be it. We cannot run from this. I feel the gods weaving our fates around us. There is no escape from their doom, and they mock those who try with further punishment. We shall stay here and face whatever comes.”
“Then prepare for a Silverpath warpack,” Perian answered. Her voice was toneless. “We have only a few days to wait.”
CHAPTER 23: IN THE CITY OF THE QUEEN
The morning air was clear and cool. They entered the pines and then passed along the bank of a small stream that wound its way toward the larger river. The shade felt cool and the scene was pleasant, but every eye was watchful. The undergrowth here was fairly light and would not hide many enemies, however, and they reached the beginning of a long valley without seeing any creatures besides the three that had gone ahead.
Slopes laden with conifers rose on either side of the mountainous valley, with outcroppings of granite boulders marking steeper patches of impassable terrain. To their right the cliff face rose up and partially blocked out the sun. Tall stands of pine and fir blocked the view of any city or settlement that might have lain in the center of the more open heart of the valley.
But the men of the Tooth and Blade began to notice signs of habitation. Trails worn into the grass at their feet criss-crossed the mouth of the valley, showing where hunting parties or other traveling groups had become accustomed to entering and exiting the place. Hanging from one large, free-standing tree was a sort of banner, a strip of leather with longer fluttering strips of fabric and hair. The scent of woodsmoke hung in the valley, faintly permeating the air though no fire could be seen or pinpointed ahead.
Damicos eased up next to the brown-haired beast-rider, watching his horse carefully for signs of panic. His mount’s nostrils flared at the strange scent, but it kept its course. The valley curved almost due west, and as they rode he watched the rider at his side. The beast he rode was a marvel, flesh and blood yet so fantastic it seemed a dream. The man moved easily atop his strange mount, and seemed in no mood to hurry. He hadn’t looked back once since leaving the glade. Damicos deemed his confidence genuine: he had the bearing of a leader among his people.
Despite the earlier confrontation, Damicos didn’t feel in his bones that combat was imminent. Usually ahead of a battle he had a tingling ache in his arm and leg bones, a sort of premonitory instinct that his body used to prime itself for the fight ahead. He felt no such thing now.
In fact, he was uncommonly relaxed and confident that things would turn out well this day. He hoped he wasn’t being foolish, but he’d learned to trust his gut more and more since coming to Ostora, and he wasn’t going to stop now. Jamson’s cheap ultimatum might have ruffled feathers, but Damicos suspected the man would soon be forced to project a more respectful tone once they reached the city and its… queen.
Leisha. Were the stories all true, then?
A moment later they moved around a stand of tall pines and crested a small rise. The hostage reined in his steed, and Damicos followed suit, staring. Jamson gasped, and Kairm nodded in satisfaction.
“Told you,” the old trapper said. “I told you.”
It was everything that Kairm had promised, and more.
From their position on a low ridge facing a large meadow before the gates, the place was perhaps twice as large as Dura, and its walls were impressively high and well-structured. Its inhabitants were obviously well-acquainted with the dangers that lurked among the surrounding foothills, and had spared no labor in protecting themselves.
Palisades built from tree trunks each as thick as a man rose twice as high, and there were heavy boulders set into a kind of cement along the bottom, hardening them against battering. The top of each log was sharpened to a point, and then a smaller fence of still-sturdy and also sharpened stakes rose even higher up from there. Some of these had downward-pointing stakes arrayed like spikes to prevent anything from climbing over. Studying them, Damicos felt a grudging respect—a hoplite knew the value of a good wall.
Inside, wooden buildings rose even higher than the walls, three and four stories into the air. Wooden walkways and bridges, some open and others enclosed, passed between the buildings and the outer wall to form a system by which an inhabitant might move across the city without descending to the ground. And at the peak of every roof, embedded into the wooden sides of every log, was a fat green jewel shining in the sun.
One building stood especially tall, near the rear of the enclosed city. It, too, was festooned with greenstone, yet it also boasted yellow gold gilding above the arched window peaks and along the corners of the walls. It was a gleaming vision of ostentation that took the captain’s breath away. Few cities dared boast so openly of the wealth within.
Watching from the ridge, Damicos saw armed men moving hurriedly along the walkways and ramparts. Other men and their women and children streamed through the front gate bearing supplies and dragging along their most prized livestock. The place was a hive of activity, no doubt galvanized into action by the news of the approaching army.
Jamson and Kairm were still marveling open-mouthed at the sight, and though the disciplined soldiers behind kept their formation well, there were mutterings of awe and rampant speculation about the value of the greenstone they saw.
Now, for the first time, the beast-rider turned to look at the soldiers following him, eyeing Damicos especially with defiant pride. He seemed half boastful, half afraid—desiring his city to impress the newcomers while hoping they would not attack it.
Damicos was just as determined to show him nothing. He reminded himself of purple-towered Kerath and its splendor, compared to which this place was a wretched hovel of sticks, notwithstanding the glistening hoard decorating its buildings.
“We waste time here,” Damicos growled. “Take us to your queen.”
They had only crossed a third of the distance across the open meadow toward the city when two of the riders from the clearing, those astride the great hounds, left the gate and bounded toward to the oncoming column. The messengers came close to their leader and slid to a halt on the lush grass next to him, conversing in rapid speech too low for Damicos to hear.
The lead rider nodded as if hearing what he expected to hear, and then waved them away. “Clear the streets. Prepare the way. But see that the walls are doubly-manned.”
“It is already done,” replied the older beast-rider, and then the two messengers turned and raced back to the city.
The man on the six-legged creature turned himself around and looked first Damicos and then Jamson in the eye.
“Her Majesty the queen proposes to meet you in her palace. The sun smiles upon your company today.”
Damicos nodded, nonchalantly, to mask his relief. So far, so good.
“You may bring several of your men with you,” the man continued. “And you may keep your arms, though I would ask you to leave those great spears behind as a token of respect. They will not fit inside our doorways easily.” He glowered for a moment. “The rest of your men will wait in the meadow outside the gate. If they cause trouble for the townspeople, they will be dealt with by our guards.”
Damicos raised an elaborate eyebrow, seemed to consider a moment, then shrugged. “It will do.”
He turned and conferred with his sergeants briefly. After a minute, the envoy assembled at the front of the column: Damicos, Jamson, Hundos, Leon, Kalabax, and four men from the ranks. The veteran Cormoran, a skirmisher named Pike, and two more hoplites that were reputed to be good swordsmen and level-headed, young Tamwrit Kaio and short-but-sturdy Meeks.
“Now’s the time to spit-shine your greaves, boys,” Damicos told them. “You’re about to meet a queen!”
He next addressed Sergeant Hocano, assigned command in his absence. “Form a hollow square and hold here. Let them eat and fill the water-skins at yonder stream. I don’t have to remind you to stay out of arrow range from the ramparts, but watch the trees, too. If we’re not back in two hours, assume we’re slain and act accordingly.�
�
“Does that mean assault the town, captain, or retreat to the coast?”
“Whatever you decide, Sergeant,” Damicos laughed, “but if I were you, I would attack. Kill as many as you can and burn their pretty little log town down around their ears.” He spoke aloud, so that the beast-rider would hear.
Damicos turned back to face the city, and drew a deep breath. He eyed the beast-rider. “We’re ready, Captain. You are a captain of some sort, aren’t you? You failed to offer a name.”
The brown-haired man folded one hand over onto the other that was holding the reins of his beast. “I am Gladwin. I am her majesty’s chief Guardian.”
Jamson spoke to the man for the first time. “Guardian? For one charged with the protection of this place, you seem strangely reluctant to defend it.”
Gladwin shrugged his bare shoulders slowly, making the fur vest ripple. “I am more knowledgeable than most about what our defenses can stop, and what they cannot. You came upon us unaware.” His gaze fixed itself again on Damicos and turned to ice. “But know this, Kerathi: if your meeting with the queen does not go well, none of you will make it back to the coast alive. There are secret strengths here that you have never faced, and though you lay waste to our city, it would cost you all the blood you possess. This I swear.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but turned and led the way across the meadow. Damicos silently followed, ignoring his fuming men and Jamson’s scoff. He understood Gladwin’s position; a little histrionic display of bravado was to be expected.
They crossed the open ground slowly, approaching the city at a pace that wouldn’t cause undue alarm to its inhabitants. The men were mostly quiet as they marched, keeping formation and making a good show of it for the onlookers.
The men atop the city’s walls had bows, Damicos could see already. Well, he thought, the infantry’s shields and armor would offer some protection if it was a trap they were walking into—enough to make a running fight of it, at least. But Damicos didn’t sense a trap. There was too much fear in the watching faces.
As the heavy palisade rose up before them Damicos noticed movement inside the wooden archway over the gate. There were more guards inside the gatehouse, ready to shut them in or drop murderous rain upon them from above. Yet still he did not hesitate to follow Gladwin through; he was ready for anything, but again his senses told him there was no immediate danger.
Once inside, the magnitude of what these settlers had built from the raw elements of the wilderness dawned fully upon the captain and his companions.
Most of the street was paved neatly with flat pieces of hewn granite, but channels were carved through it all to wash rain and filth away toward the walls or into cisterns. The buildings that towered all around were sturdily built and had ornate carvings around the windows and eaves. And they spread as far as he could see throughout the city, leaving very little ground unused within the walls. Wood, everywhere and everything, many thousands of carefully cut and shaped logs. A warm, resinous scent filled the air. Fire would be a danger, certainly, but full rain barrels stood at every corner, with a hide bucket hanging by each which would serve as well to douse a flame as to water an animal.
There were skilled carpenters among this people, and some guiding vision that had engineered the place in a cohesive manner. This was entirely different from the haphazard placement of cottages and commons in the towns along the coast, and it was just as far from the sandstone rows and plazas of Kerathi cities, which had their facades and their palaces but also had slums and rank alleys behind every manicured house-front. Damicos saw no greenstone or gold at street-level, but wondered how much he’d find if he ascended to the level of the top-most walkways.
“What is this place called?” the captain asked.
“Leitra,” Gladwin replied. “City of Leisha, our queen and ruler.”
“Ah.”
Next to him, Jamson could barely contain his excitement at being vindicated as he gazed around at the physical evidence of the splendor he had promised. “I knew it!” he whispered. “By all the gods, I knew it!”
The people that stared back at Damicos and his men with mixture of trepidation and defiance were undoubtedly Ostoran. They dressed differently, using leather and animal hair more than Damicos was used to, and the men wore their hair as long as the women. But in feature and form they were no different than the people on the coast, and the whispered words he heard through windows as well as the orders shouted overhead on the bridges and ramparts were plain Kerathi, although with a subtle accent.
The street ahead was clear, and Gladwin led them along it without remarking on their surroundings. The two hound-riders rejoined their leader in the street, falling in alongside him. Then a small troop of guards closed in behind them, bearing plain wooden bows and short swords beaten from bronze. These kept their distance several paces back, but they followed along wordlessly.
Damicos ignored them; it was no more than he would have done had the situation been reversed, and he did not expect an attack to come from that quarter. The handful of guards would be foolish indeed to come at armored men.
“This queen of yours,” Jamson asked Gladwin as they moved along the empty street in the direction of the largest building in the city, “how should I address her? I do not wish to offend needlessly.”
“She is queen, highness, majesty,” Gladwin replied. “No different from your Kerathi royalty. Bow to her, kiss her hand if she extends it.”
“Then you do not pledge any form of fealty to the high king?”
Gladwin snorted. “Your high king? In Kerath across the sea? None. We barely remember him. The man you now call king was no doubt a child when I left, and I have never looked back. No, Leisha is my queen and there is no other.”
Damicos nodded. “Well. We have something in common, then. We, too, have left the old loyalties behind.”
Gladwin turned in his saddle, visibly startled. “You do not march in his name?”
Jamson cut in. “Much has changed on the coast since your people were last heard from,” he told the beast-rider. “The soldiers of the Tooth and Blade company are flexible, and I think that both you and your queen will find value in our coming.”
The beast-rider slowly nodded. “Coastal Ostora was in much need of change when we broke away from it. The queen will be interested in what you have to say, I think.”
As they passed a shuttered window, Damicos caught a glimpse of a freckled young face peering between the slats. It disappeared when he looked. Then they were almost to the palace Gladwin had mentioned, and though it was nothing like the sprawling royal estates of Kerath, it was impressive in its own right.
The central structure of Leitra soared up from the street-level entrances to tower high overhead, at least six stories in the air. Damicos had never seen a wooden building so immense. The beams that formed corner pillars and archways ahead of him looked to have been carved from whole trees as big around as two or three men could reach by holding hands. This was no ramshackle pile of boards; it was a grand lodge, sturdy and finely tooled by master craftsmen. Portions of the exterior had been darkened with dye, and others whitened so that they gleamed in the sun.
There was an empty space around the building for several paces, giving breathing space and separating the palace from the dense city around it. In that space were flower beds, fruit trees, and a fountain. The building itself, which as Damicos now saw was actually several interconnected structures, extended over a thousand cubits square at the base, and almost that tall in the center where a massive tower peaked toward the sky.
No flag flew from its top, but the entire building was decorated with green and gold that shined in the sun. Each pillar had gold swirling up in spiral designs, and the roof beam ends were capped with gold. The doorways were adorned with the sparkling green gems, and around each window and along the railings of balconies and bridges the stones ran.
This was undoubtedly what had attracted Kairm’s attention on his ear
lier encounter with the city. By current market price for the precious stone, Damicos knew he had to be looking at a king’s ransom. And where that much splendor was displayed on the outside, how much more might lie within?
All this he drew in at a glance. But then his attention turned to the figure that stepped out onto the terrace that rose from the garden area.
She was tall, commanding even at first sight, and striking in both her features and the form of her body, which was wrapped in a pale green gown. Her hair was bound upward with fine golden laces, giving her prominent neck and chin a regal lift. She walked between two spearmen, and stopped with one hand on the greenstone balustrade that ringed the terrace.
She was staring piercingly at Damicos with brilliant sky-blue eyes which nearly hypnotized him even at a distance.
“Men of the coast,” Gladwin intoned, “meet her highness, Leisha, Queen of Leitra and the Ostoran hinterland.”
CHAPTER 24: PREPARING FOR ANNIHILATION
Dawn found the company hard at work. At first light, Pelekarr sent mounted scouts, led by Perian, in pursuit of the escaped man.
They returned before midday, whereupon Perian confirmed that the barbarian had moved quickly and unerringly southeast towards Silverpath territory. The man had eschewed guile in favor of speed, and there was enough sign to follow. However, it was soon clear that even on horseback they stood little chance of overtaking him.
“Once he gains enough of a lead,” Perian told the captain, “he’ll begin to conceal his trail. It’s pointless to go further. I’m a good tracker, but not a great one. He is a future chief, trained from birth in these things. Few could match him.”
Pelekarr was surprised. “How do you know he is a future chief?”
“It was written on his skin,” Perian replied, rolling her eyes at the captain’s ignorance. “His name is Uthek, son of Kultan. You played with fire when you took him alive.”
Red Valor Page 21
