The Complete Enslaved Chronicles

Home > Other > The Complete Enslaved Chronicles > Page 33
The Complete Enslaved Chronicles Page 33

by R. K. Thorne


  He sighed. He supposed she had a point. “Obviously, the other Masters know of my training the mages for war, and you need not hide your plan to increase the number of mages in their service. I will tell them we discussed it. I am less certain when—or if—I will tell them of any of my designs on Estun and assassinating the mage prince in particular. I cannot afford their interference this time. They are too easily frightened, poorly trained in either tactics or strategy or both, and above it all, our king is an idiot. The whole court is more interested in wine and gossip than in their own kingdom’s safety. The other Masters may be slightly less drunk, but they’d still prefer to be navel-gazing.”

  “It is a good thing they have you then,” she said with an edge to her voice. He caught her double meaning—she meant both that this was likely true, but also that those he criticized would probably not feel the same way.

  “It is good they have me,” he replied in earnest. “Look at this prince—a star mage, after all these years. They insisted the magic was long forgotten.”

  “And I’m sure you stand to gain nothing here but the protection of your lord and his ladies.” She eyed him.

  Ah, so she was not above subtlety. That was good, especially when discussion of near treason was involved. There were a select few things that it was really best not to be blunt about. “I certainly stand to gain from this. I make no pretense of this being some kind of altruistic endeavor. Most primarily, all of my power at present comes from these mages I rule—”

  “That you and the other Masters rule?” She grinned slyly.

  He cleared his throat. “Indeed, yes, of course. As I was saying… I strive to protect my own power here, nothing more.”

  “Really, truly?” she smiled sweetly. “Nothing more, at all?”

  How much should he tell her? How much could he trust her? He hardly knew her. Did he hope for more power through a war with Akaria? He did primarily want to neutralize the threat they posed—but certainly a pleasant side effect was likely to be more mages to rule, more land, more credit for doing good for the kingdom. More deeds to encourage them to forget about the nature of his birth and focus on who he really was. So did he hope to grow in power by all his machinations? Of course. Did he even half hope to find a way to subvert the king, or perhaps weaken him a little? Well, how could he not hope for that? The man was weak, foolish, and irresponsible. But it was a long shot, and he rarely thought about it in the light of day, let alone spoke about it to anyone.

  “I have found that everyone has layers of reasons behind what they do, Princess,” he replied. “You, though, seem to have nothing at all to gain from hunting down this mage prince. Why are you so ardent?”

  She frowned, realizing the trick he’d pulled but unable to dodge the direct question. “It is my calling. I do not need a vocation beyond my family. They are willing to support me if they can’t marry me off. And yet, I have chosen a profession that is neither easy nor safe. Why else would I choose it other than that I had been called?”

  So she was a zealot. No faking that. She had seemed rather smart and logical for a zealot, so he had wondered if it was a show. But no. He said nothing for a moment, taking a conveniently timed bite. He had eaten little so far and talked much. He left the burden of talk on her at this calculated moment.

  She sniffed. “Well… perhaps there is another layer to it. I traveled to Akaria looking for a husband. I may have a vocation, but I had still hoped to rule something. Somewhere. To civilize a place like Akaria, with mages running wild. But I’d have to go far ashore for that at this point. It may not be worth it, to be so far afield on my own. The Akarian was the last unmarried prince in these great northern kingdoms. And it had actually seemed possible for a moment or two. But then—to realize that he was a mage. In hiding. Of all the trickery and deception…” She trailed off, lost in her own thoughts for a moment.

  “Deception? He’s been deceiving everyone around him, no?”

  “Yes. He’s not just a mage, but a liar to boot. But if I had married a mage… He would have never said anything. The possibility horrifies me.”

  He nodded. He suspected the matter of the prince’s deception slight compared to the dashing of her dreams of conquest, of being a queen and having her own kingdom to rule, like her older siblings. But that was painful to think about, and a little foolish because it had probably been a slim chance for her anyway. Righteous indignation was easier to hide behind, had less sting and more fire. He could understand.

  “Well, you shall have your chance to make things right. Small steps, but we will get there.”

  She gave him a relieved smile as he pulled the topic away rather than drilling further. A small kindness, a peace offering. “I would rather my bow kill the prince than your assassin’s blade, I must admit. But I am a woman who puts results ahead of ego.”

  “I find ego does little but get in the way.” Says the man who has fantasies about deposing the king, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. He waved the thought away.

  “Indeed.”

  “I shall send word to the supply master to give you whatever you need,” he said, “should your Devoted lords not be adequately supportive of your holy mission.”

  She looked pleasantly surprised. “It is settled then. We will scuttle them out and skewer them like this potato.” She made short work of impaling the small roasted root vegetable on her knife and lifting it up as if in toast.

  “So many to skewer, so little time. But first,” he smiled, “we will have this lovely breakfast—together.”

  Alikar swept down the stone hallway and out of sight. At nearly the same moment, Aven’s brother Thel was returning to the king’s chamber with Miara at his side. Damn, when had they even left? Had she missed all that? Aven had thought she’d been right behind him. That she could have been pulled away so easily without him noticing was more than a little unnerving after that altercation. Had Thel heard Alikar’s assertion that he should be heir? His brother had to be expecting it, but he wouldn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, that was a fine tussle, lots a grumbling, but the boy’s just a pup,” Devol grumbled. Murmurs of agreement and a few laughs flitted through the group, easing the tension a bit.

  “Only slightly less so than our respected prince,” Lord Dyon said, an edge to his voice. Aven was barely a year older than Alikar.

  “Ah, with comments like that, it’s good to be home,” Aven muttered, clapping Dyon on the shoulder.

  Dyon narrowed his eyes at Aven’s hand but then shook his head at the empty doorway. “Serves them right for electing him just to get a privileged price on his ore.” Unlike Alikar, Dyon’s position was his for life. “He distracts us from matters of true importance. When do we ride on Kavanar? This affront cannot be tolerated.”

  Devol spread his arms wide. “Indeed. Mastikos knows, it’s been too long.”

  “The king tells us you were kidnapped,” Dyon said. “Is it true? By agents of Kavanar?”

  Miara had come to stand by Aven’s side, just behind him, and she shifted uneasily.

  “His Majesty didn’t see fit to tell us until just now that you’re safely returned,” Warden Asten added. Her icy blue eyes cast a sidelong glance at the king. She had cropped her blond hair even shorter since last he’d seen her. How long had it been, three months, five? She did not often travel this far west these days. “Welcome back, though. Well met.”

  Murmurs of agreement followed her words. Aven gave her the same brotherly nod he’d given her a hundred times before when she’d bested him at bowstaff. The two of them had trained together since they were children, until she’d moved up in the ranks to her current position.

  Aven cleared his throat. “It’s true, but I would not have us ride to war just yet.”

  “Why not?” demanded Asten.

  “Let me explain. I was kidnapped. And I was also rescued—”

  “Hardly. You got free of them on your own,” Miara cut in.

  “I could not have es
caped alone. But no matter. I was held prisoner in a Kavanarian hold for two days. And I discovered a few things about our enemies you will all find interesting.”

  For a moment he wasn’t even sure any of them had heard him. Their eyes had all shifted to Miara, Lord Beneral’s gaze especially icy.

  “Who’s that?” Devol grunted. Aven smothered a laugh.

  “My lords, ladies, and wardens, this is Miara Floren, mage of Kavanar. She was instrumental in my rescue.”

  “Your escape,” she said.

  “Fine, my escape. Miara, may I introduce you to most of the fine members of the Akarian Assembly. This is Warden Tana Asten, Lady and Assemblywoman from Shansaren Territory. Wardens are Akaria’s elite warriors, and Asten is one of our best.” Asten bowed, and Miara returned the gesture. The military elite of Shansaren had chosen Asten to represent them for a lengthy seven-year term.

  He didn’t know how Asten managed to seem friendly and deathly serious at the same time; he knew no one else with such an air. She had always been that way, even as a young girl. Of course, she had already been an accomplished swordswoman by the time Aven had met her. Aven, on the other hand, had simply been thrust among the warden aspirants and told to shape up. His peers had choices: be good at a sword or do something else. As crown prince, he did not. With peers like her and a competitive streak, he’d mostly held his own.

  Aven turned to Dyon to continue his introductions. “This is Lord Jax Dyon, Assemblyman of Liren and trusted steward of military organization and logistics. And Lord Ven Beneral, Assemblyman of Numaren in the south, talented merchant and steward of the White City.” The White City was another name for Panar. Beneral worked hard to keep his lovely towered city deserving of its reputation of beauty and plentiful free trade, so Aven tried to use the name as often as possible.

  Bows were exchanged. Was she absorbing it all? How could anyone? He would go over it with her later.

  “And this is Lady Vitig Toyl, Assemblywoman of Dramsren and expert trader.” Toyl was the one that Aven knew least. Like Alikar, she was just starting a shorter, four-year term. But she came across as far more practical and quite a bit wiser than Alikar, as well as two decades his senior. The lady bowed, her pale cloak of fine Dramsren wool contrasting with long brown hair that fell past her shoulders.

  Aven pointed out several officers, nobles, and arms masters, more for the sake of acknowledging them than hoping Miara would remember them. “And this is Master of Arms Devol,” Aven added at last. Dev mumbled a nicety as he bowed and seemed pleased when she bowed in return. As master of arms, he was not exactly a noble according to some people’s estimation, but then again, neither was she.

  “We are grateful for the part you played in Prince Aven’s return, Miara,” King Samul said as Aven finished the introductions. “You are welcome to stay in Akaria as one of our own for as long as you wish.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Miara said with yet another bow.

  “May we all strive to such valiant deeds,” Warden Asten said. Asten didn’t mean it sarcastically, but Miara frowned ever so slightly. Hopefully he was the only one who’d noticed. “But this attack on Prince Aven is the real outrage. We must determine a swift, brutal response. And we should not be discussing that in front of anyone recently arrived from Kavanar.” She glanced at Aven. “Except you, of course, my lord.”

  “Understandable.” Miara gave a quick bow. “I will take my leave—”

  “Wait.” The king held up his palm.

  Aven jumped in at the opportunity. “Miara was a slave in Kavanar. She feels far more ill will toward them than loyalty, I assure you.”

  “Still,” Devol started, “do we really need word of this getting back to greedy Kavanarian—”

  “I would like to ask her a few questions before she leaves us,” Samul said over the starts of other objections. “The mage is aware of the details of Aven’s journey, so we can discuss that without concern. Son, please illuminate us on these recent events.”

  As briefly as he could, Aven described for them the slaves inside Mage Hall, the Masters, the knots, the brand, and all he’d seen in Mage Hall.

  “How the hell did we not know of this before?” Lord Dyon’s hand had wandered to his sword pommel.

  “At the very least, this reveals critical weaknesses in our information-gathering efforts,” said Lady Toyl.

  “Agreed. We do have spies in Kavanar,” the king replied. “But they are carefully placed to alert us specifically to troop movements and military expansion. The few in the royal court rarely learn much and report on the courting of women and the imbibing of wine and not much else. Those seemed sufficient things to monitor, but clearly we missed this.”

  “I had heard rumors,” said Lord Beneral, “but I never thought they could be true. And even if the rumors were true, no risk to Akaria had occurred to me.” Numaren’s borders met Kavanar in the southernmost part of Akaria, along the sea, so Beneral had more opportunity to hear such rumors—and more reason to be concerned. Beyond Alikar’s territory of Gilaren, only the Lanuken’s own Elaren Territory shared a border with Kavanar, and the mountains were far too dense for even difficult passage. None traveled there by choice, and Estun was as deep into the mountains as most were willing to go.

  “Slavery. Those depraved bastards,” Warden Asten said. “I wish it surprised me, but their avarice knows no bounds. Gluttonous, corrupt scum, the whole lot of them.”

  “I am determined to end the practice,” Aven said quickly before Asten could further berate their enemies—but also Miara. “We must free these enslaved mages. And I’d like to end those responsible for such evil in the first place while we’re at it.”

  “Then we will respond to this insult with overwhelming force and crush them without hesitation,” Lord Dyon said. “And yet… you would not have us ride to war just yet. Why delay?”

  “Indeed, I believe Devol is drooling at the smell of blood,” Asten said, smiling slightly.

  Aven paused for a second, hoping he’d get this right. “Those enslaved mages aren’t servants,” he said. “They’re being trained for war. Kavanar is building an army of mages. Have any of you fought against such a force?”

  “So these Masters call them evil to enslave them and then exploit their magic for war?” Beneral said, shaking his head in disgust. “Hypocrites.”

  “We have martial superiority—” Dev started.

  “How many mages are in our army, Master Devol?” Aven asked.

  “Who says we need ’em?” Devol folded his arms across his chest.

  “Our siege equipment can be bolstered relatively easily—” the artillery master piped up.

  “Our archers—” started another.

  “Miara,” Aven said over them, loudly but conversationally, “can mages defend against archers, catapults, infantry?”

  “My lord, air mages can fend off archers in a variety of ways,” she said as if reporting back reconnaissance. Yes, dispassionate and factual was good. The “my lord” made him wince a little, though. “Wind blows arrows astray. Fire can incinerate arrows, but it can also be used as an obstacle to push archers back and out of range, although that’s not a recommended approach. Energy costly and inefficient, I understand.” Asten’s eyebrows rose as she spoke, although Toyl and Dyon frowned, more skeptical. Was it Aven’s imagination, or was the blood draining from Devol’s face? Miara continued on, oblivious to their reactions. “The efficient, recommended technique in the books is smoke or fog to obscure the enemy’s view of their targets. And there’s always a combination of these, not to mention that an air mage’s offensive abilities would cause significantly more trouble than these defensive ones. You can’t shoot arrows when you’re on fire, in the path of a tornado, and the like.”

  At this, Devol’s mouth dropped open, which brought a smile to Asten’s face, but only for a moment. They all sobered as Miara continued.

  “Catapults would be more challenging, but if stone is the projectile, a group of earth mag
es can attempt to take control of the projectile or redirect it. The battle abilities of earth mages are fewer than the other types, but many would likely be available. Aside from earthquakes, they don’t have as many practical uses as air or creature mages do.”

  “Earthquakes?” Toyl blurted, finally showing a bit of concern.

  Miara continued, her eyes still trained only on Aven. “As for infantry, well, there are options. A creature mage can cause a number of ailments that would delay or incapacitate troops. They could transform the enemy into whatever they wished, although again, that is expensive and inefficient. Greater damage can be done by transforming oneself or by coaxing local animals to attack, such as wolves, bears, panthers. Even something as small as a raccoon could be used to spoil or poison supplies—” At this moment, Miara happened to glance away from Aven’s face at the group and faltered. Their faces wore a mixture of horror, shock, and discomfort. She blushed. “Perhaps this is too much detail. Suffice to say a mage in war is very destructive, depending on type, ability, size of the force, and training.”

  Samul cleared his throat. “And let me remind you… Kavanar is building an army of them.” He paused to let that sink in.

  “And we know basically nothing about what it can do,” Aven continued, “nor how to defend against it. What Miara has just told us is a hundred times more than we all knew ten minutes ago. We’ve let overconfidence and piety blind us. We have to develop some way to defend ourselves.” Aven tried to keep from scowling, but he was pretty sure he was failing.

  “You mean—use magic ourselves? I am not sure I’m comfortable with such tactics,” started Lady Toyl.

  “Get comfortable with it,” Samul boomed. “Whether you would condone the use of magic or not is irrelevant when it is being used against us.”

  He paused, glaring around from face to face. Aven knew this move well—each moment he stared at them, he pushed them back from a challenge. It was not Aven’s place to act like that most of the time—at least not yet. But he watched the reactions carefully for who was a problem waiting to explode. Dyon and Beneral were nodding as Dev continued to stroke his beard. Asten didn’t meet the king’s stare. Toyl scowled back at him, unafraid.

 

‹ Prev