Red Valor

by Shad Callister

  The weapons of Gladwin’s men were stained, as well as the claws and jaws of their grim mounts, though they said nothing of the fight they’d had against the outpouring beasts from the valley. The guardian’s face was inscrutable. Damicos thought he detected something akin to sorrow there, but decided it was more likely jealousy.

  The queen, however, was in awe. And soon elation overcame her shock.

  “It is done.” She smiled tremulously. “You have done it, Damicos, slain the god of the wilds! You have done what I could not, not with all the clawed and fanged beasts under my control. You have laid bare to me the last place I needed to go!”

  The infantry captain looked steadily back at Leisha, assessing the light in her eyes. “You saw the greenstone deposits on the way in?”

  The queen nodded. “There is wealth there. But there is far greater here, in the deep canyons. The world will change now, Captain. You have enabled me. And now I will change it in accordance with the unalterable will of the gods.”

  Damicos scowled. “What do you speak of? Gold? I saw none in this valley.”

  “No. Gold we gather from the streams and sink-pits after the winter snows depart. But there is something here you seem to have passed over unaware, as all the Ostoran barons and their slaves do. Ore, Damicos—great deposits of iron ore, richly laced with strains of rare metals I do not even know the name of.”

  The captain frowned. “I am no miner, my lady. What good would iron do for my bronzed soldiery? We do not deal in trinkets.”

  The queen shook her head, smiling as if she were treating with a child. “It is hard to work for any smith, but I tell you there is enough here that if… well, leave it to me then. You take the gold and the gems you so desire. We will grow rich together and vent our fury upon the people of the coast.”

  Damicos, whose eyes had wandered back to the mammoth carcass and to his men bending their swords and spears back into alignment, now looked up at the queen sharply. She saw his concern and her smile faded. The two stared at each other for a moment.

  “The Kerathi nobles are corrupt and deviant, Captain,” Leisha finally said. “You must know this, having worked for them. They are a deceitful, back-stabbing lot that cannot be entrusted with the rule of this land. Damicos, they drove me out at the point of the dagger—I barely escaped with my life!”

  “I had heard somewhat of your history,” Damicos replied. “Cause you may have, good cause, to resent them—perhaps even revenge yourself upon them—but only those few who wronged you. Many new settlers have come since you left the coast, innocent people who had no part in what came before. They are blameless, yet what you speak of would harm them along with the guilty.”

  “What care I for newcomers?” the queen shrieked, growing suddenly impassioned. Men stopped what they were doing, turned to stare. “They will believe the same lies as the others! Peasants are all alike, grubbing for the next crust of bread, eager to follow any who will feed them.

  “The barons took from me all that I had brought to these shores. They conspired to bring me down, I who had looked to them for guidance in an unfamiliar and dangerous place! And their people supported them in it. I tried to raise support among the citizens, the government, the military, and they all rejected me.”

  “Your anger may be justified,” Damicos murmured. “Who knows better than you, Majesty? But let us be cautious in our approach when we return. The political climate shifts by the hour. There is talk of war across the sea, and the barons are restless, uncertain which way the wind blows. Taking your vengeance now could start a fire that will burn unchecked and bring down ruin upon you.”

  “Do not tell me what I cannot do!” Leisha gasped, outraged at the captain’s rebuke. “I am the queen of this land, the richest and now the most powerful person on Ostora. When I call my armies forth from the woods and hills, with the strength of all this natural wealth, I will hold every noble and peon in Ostora at my feet.

  “To those who join my cause I will be merciful—that should satisfy your pleas for the ‘innocent.’ And the others… they will beg for mercy from me, Damicos, but I will not give it. Not until they have paid the price for their arrogance when I was still young and vulnerable.”

  “What would you have from them?”

  “I will crush them! I will bend them all to my will, Damicos. You and your men can help me. I will wield you like a shield alongside the spear of my beast-riders. We will brush away the attempts to resist, we will drive the Kerathi troops to the shores of the sea, and prey upon the barons castle by castle until we hold all of the key positions in the land. Then the high king himself will fear me!”

  Damicos was nearly speechless. The woman was fantasizing, talking of naked conquest.

  “You would challenge the high king? You wish to establish control over the entire coast?”

  “Not only the coast, Damicos.” Leisha’s eyes glittered with that same inner fire he had seen before, now unrestrained. “You have unlocked the barrier that held me here in the wilderness for so long. With my wild armies unfettered by the influence of the great demigod that lies dead before us, I can push them out of the forest. I can sweep into the coastal towns and drive all before me in fear.

  “I hold the key to the interior already. I will go north to the sorcerers’ towers, south to the steaming jungles. I will erect fortresses and monuments to my power in all quarters of this continent. And then, when I have sufficient strength, I will send legion after legion across the sea, aided by packs of ravenous monsters that answer only to me!”

  She was mad, Damicos now realized.

  Truly mad—not just eccentric or unstable. The queen had utterly lost her senses, and had all this time in her forest kingdom been stewing in a mental state of unhinged fervor and malice.

  And yet, though her ambitious words were certainly tinged with insanity, Damicos knew something she still did not. If she could muster an army large enough, and hit the barons hard enough, no one on the coast would be prepared to fight them off. Not with the Kerathi legions missing and scattered, and not against invaders that rode on huge beasts, who commanded the deadly creatures of the forest.

  If she were allowed to reach the coast with this army, now coupled with the wealth to maintain and increase it, she would find there a mere fraction of the resistance she anticipated.

  There were no barriers to her wild plan. The squabbling barons would not unite against her; indeed, many would likely ally with her if they thought they could gain advantage by it. What garrisons the barons did have they would use to defend their own holdings.

  And in the end it would be the people of Ostora that would feel the greatest pain. The rank and file who were now enjoying unparalleled freedom, the capacity to farm and build and trade in relative peace, would be crushed under the weight of a mad queen and the bloodshed and oppression that resulted.

  He shook his head as he contemplated it all.

  She might not be able to hold her gains in the long term—no matter the outcome of the war across the sea, whoever sat the throne at its end would send a fleet, and the legions would disembark and retake the land. But in the interim, what devastation would she bring?

  The future was plain; a man of war knew enough of how such things went in a land laid bare to the sword. Red slaughter, conscription, and slavery to feed the war machine. Wholesale theft and rapine of subjugated towns, to fuel the swelling ranks. And then would come the famine and the disease.

  There would be no more free Ostorans, no more prosperous and hearty life here. Ostora would become a twisted mirror image of Kerath, without the powerful noble classes that balanced the high king’s power overseas and ensured a level of sovereignty. It would be ground to dust under the thumb of a madwoman drunk with her own power, or caught between that and an outraged king compelled to quell the rebellious.

  The captain looked over at Gladwin. The queen’s commander scowled, but said nothing.

  “Do not think I will forget you, even now in my day o
f triumph, Damicos,” Leisha continued, chest heaving. She raised a hand and delicately wiped the corner of her mouth. She quieted her voice somewhat. “I will show gratitude and grace to those who remain my loyal allies. You will enjoy a seat at my right hand in all of this.”

  Damicos shook his head grimly, but chose his words carefully. It wouldn’t do to make an outright enemy of the queen here and now.

  “I do not know to what extent I can support your plans for the future, your Highness. But as for me and my men, we have fought bravely here and suffered great casualties. I own this place now, this valley where my men watered the ground with blood. We will share in half of the wealth taken from it. You may do what you will with the other half.”

  Leisha’s eyes widened at the demand, but she merely pursed her lips.

  “You ask too much,” she said after a moment, putting the argument back on her terms as a queen speaking to a hireling. “But I recognize your sacrifice and commitment. I will give you more than I would any other. A third part shall be yours, of whatever we take from this place.”

  Damicos thought that over for a moment, and then nodded. “It is done. That still gives my company plenty of riches.”

  “Indeed it does,” the queen breezily replied, smiling again. The speed of her mood changes was unnerving. “You’ll help to guard it, of course, and the transport route.”

  “Of course. And as such, we will control those routes and the pace of transport.”

  “Alongside my men, yes.”

  Leisha ordered Gladwin and his men to set up sentries around the valley and a semi-permanent camp at the mouth of it. She also called for the head of the mammoth to be hauled back to Leitra. That suited Damicos for the time being; he had less appetite for trophies now than he had before speaking with the queen.

  Jamson’s face was mournful at the loss of the ivory, but he had listened to the queen’s rant with trepidation and dared not complain openly. Instead he drew Damicos aside.

  “Captain! Those tusks are worth a kingdom, not to mention the hide, and the fame such a deed will bring us. Speak up and assert your claim; the queen may listen to you.”

  The captain smiled wanly. “Let her keep them. The raff worship this Redtusk, he was a god to them. Do you want word to spread that you had a hand in killing their deity?”

  While Jamson considered this, Damicos called for volunteers among his men to stay and maintain control of the valley’s rich deposits. These men would also see to the proper burial of the fallen, and would trade with the residents of Leisha’s city for their upkeep until relieved.

  Finally Jamson himself raised his hand to volunteer, and then asked to be given command of the guard unit. Damicos was incredulous.

  “You’re no soldier, Jamson.”

  “This isn’t a soldier’s job! This is a task for a trader, an administrator. My talents lie in that direction. If your men are willing to take orders from me, I have no worries.”

  “You did not seem so eager to trust yourself among Leisha’s people before,” Damicos replied.

  “I am invested in this enterprise as far as any man,” Jamson insisted. “As I said, I am the likeliest man to oversee the extraction and management of the wealth of this valley. I agree with you that the ivory is better left to the queen, but greenstone will do nicely in its place, and whatever ores she spoke of. I will come with you to the coast when I have established a working process here.”

  “Fair enough.” After all, his second in command was dead. Damicos turned to his men. “Who will stay under the command of Jamson, to guard and manage these resources for our company?”

  At first there was nothing but hesitation among the ranks. Jamson pointed out, however, that those who stayed would live like kings off the wealth they now possessed, would be heroes among the men—and women—of Leitra, and would have opportunity to learn the ways of the mysterious people who rode and controlled the monsters of the forest.

  After that, twenty men stepped forward and formed a new troop. Cormoran was among them.

  After a few more hours’ rest and preparation, Damicos and the rest of his men returned toward the city of Leitra in the company of the queen. Every man bore a weighty sack of rough gems, the easy pickings from the canyon floor near walls laced with green.

  CHAPTER 37: A GRIM ACCORD

  By midday the bodies outside Ashtown had all been counted.

  The settlers had lost eighteen, including several women and children slain by arrows falling inside the walls. Total casualties for the mercenaries weren’t much worse than that; armor and shields had made the difference. Even so, several of the infantrymen lay still and cold in rows on the lakeshore and in the field with a nearly equal number of the skirmishers felled from the battlements or in the final fight at the gate.

  There were eight good cavalrymen that would never fight again. One of them was Arco, who had fallen to the enemy chieftain right at the end. Pelekarr had avenged him swiftly enough. But there were many more wounded, some seriously enough that losses could yet increase.

  Pelekarr knew he’d somehow pulled off a minor miracle. He’d expected far worse losses and had begun to worry near the end that the fort would fall entirely. Perian’s timely arrival had brought a swift end to the close fight.

  But his triumph felt hollow. A score of men would be hard to replace, and many of the dead were seasoned warriors he could ill afford to lose. It would be a hard journey back through the dangerous wilderness, and they would be slowed by bearing along the wounded.

  Perian sat on a bench in front of one of the huts, in a state of grief and exhaustion so profound that Pelekarr at first had feared the White River shaman had gone too far, expended too much of her strength. What toll the last few days had taken, he could only guess.

  She refused food and had drunk only a little water. Her eyes were far away, set deep in a pale, wan face streaked with sweat and blood and dried tears.

  Harnwe had not returned with her, and the captain knew without asking that the young archer was dead. He knew also, from the way Perian avoided looking at the pile of dead in and around the centipede’s carcass, that the carnage wrought by the monster had deeply affected her, despite her avowal of total hatred toward the Silverpath clan.

  He stopped his horse before her and sat gazing down at his strange ally. After a moment, he spoke her name. She looked up, face dull.

  “I go to deal with the prisoner, Uthek,” he said. “I would have you with me.”

  Silently she rose. Pelekarr held out his hand and pulled her up behind him, then turned his horse for the gate.

  They went slowly, seeing deep sorrow in some faces and stark relief in others. For the settlers, this victory was a miracle from the gods. Ashon nodded as they passed, his hearty gratitude warring no doubt with a desire to see the soldiers gone.

  They rode through the gate, almost brushing a few arrows still driven into the logs, toward the heaps of slain.

  In silence they passed the fallen. The Silverpath corpses were thrown onto a pile, the Kerathi were laid out in rows for burial. A sergeant wrote each company name on a scroll, along with the dead man’s unit. The names would later be chiseled into stone. Not here, where Pelekarr wanted no sign of the company’s involvement, but somewhere. Dura, perhaps, or the ruins outside it. A fitting epitaph on a large stone, reared into place at the company’s headquarters.

  Other troopers retrieved equipment and weapons from the battlefield, bending the blades back into shape where the bronze had become deformed by the heavy blows given in battle. It would take longer to hammer out the dents in armor and shields; Pelekarr thought he might have a few dings to remove from his own helm. It reminded him of the young blacksmith, Humexes, and he wondered about the promise of harder metal that would resist such battle damage. The smith had spent the battle on the ramparts with a sling, and from all reports had proven himself no sluggard.

  The carcass of the centipede was a gory shambles, still carrying a faint reek that made Peri
an shudder behind him. He reined in, staring at the slime drying on the mandibles. All around on the ground lay the remains of the brave men who’d spent their lives in taking the beast down. Valor in the face of certain death, when flight would have been the prudent choice.

  “They didn’t run from the centipede,” Pelekarr quietly said. “They turned and fought it. Why?”

  “They were Silverpath,” Perian said.

  Pelekarr nodded, and they rode on. Ahead, a figure sat hunched on the ground, securely bound hand and foot to a one of the wooden barricades. No fewer than four guards stood around him.

  “What will I do with him now?” Pelekarr murmured as his horse neared the barbarian prince.

  Perian suddenly retched, the residual stench finally overcoming her. She took a drink from the flask Pelekarr offered from his saddlebag, and sullenly croaked a reply. “Kill him. Immediately.”

  “Haven’t you wearied of killing?”

  “Haven’t you?” she hissed. “Look around you, Pelekarr. All this could have been prevented if you had dealt with him as I counseled. A swift death even now will save thousands more lives in the future. Uthek is a war-chief in the making, prince of a savage clan.” She waved her hand at the blood-soaked earth, the mounds of corpses. “How can you still not see it, Kerathi? Where is the pitilessness of your kind?”

  “I am Kerathi when it suits me.”

  They stopped in front of the prisoner, and Pelekarr dismounted. The four guards saluted smartly and stood to attention.

  The captain studied the battle-stained prince before him with a small frown, rubbing his jaw. Finally he addressed the captive. “Swear an oath of peace, and you may go free.”

  Perian stiffened in the saddle and gripped the pommel so tightly her knuckles grew white. But she said nothing.

  Slowly, Uthek lifted his head. He sneered at the officer who stood over him.

  “Pawtoon, you are without honor! My warriors killed many, yet even now you wish to buy peace rather than take vengeance. Dog!”