The Nesilia's War Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set: Books 4-6)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Oh, shut it, Curaldo,” she hollered back. “I’m bloody coming. Here you go, Mister Tehr.” A small bit of wine filled his glass, then he took a slurping sip, licking his lips like it was finest he’d ever tasted.

  “Excellent,” Valin said. “Thank you, Abigail. Leave it.” She was about to respond when he grabbed her wrist. “And what did we say about acting more respectfully?”

  “That the highborns like it,” she said, wincing.

  “And that means…”

  “More gold.”

  “Good girl.” He released her and slapped her bottom with the back of his hand.

  She seemed to be doing her best to mask her pain. “Sorry, Mr. Tehr.” She stopped by Torsten and ran her hand along his shoulder. “It’s good to see ye again, Sir Unger. I hope to see more of ye.”

  Torsten wasn’t sure how to answer. He merely smiled and nodded. When he’d helped her, this was the last place he imagined she’d wind up. But he remembered her being petite, and pretty in a homely sort of way, even though her fair skin and blonde hair had been matted by mud and worse. She’d lost everything to the Black Sands rebellion; the exact type of girl Valin Tehr preyed on.

  “You know, she told a story about how a Shieldsman saved her down south when I hired her,” Valin said.

  “You never can believe what the new ones say,” Codar remarked.

  “But isn’t the truth so beautiful?”

  “It is.” Codar lifted the jug of wine and poured Valin a full glass. “Are you sure we can’t interest you, Sir Unger?” Torsten shook his head. “Or your ward?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Tehr,” Lucas said. “I have a weakness for the stuff, and I’m in training.”

  “Ah, what vices sons learn from their fathers. Good for you, my boy. You’ll make a better Shieldsman than the last one from Dockside.”

  “Don’t speak of him,” Torsten snapped. “If you truly want my thanks for you helping Rand free me, start by telling me why you did it.”

  “Let’s just say Iam spoke to me.”

  “The truth,” Torsten growled.

  Valin snickered. “Goldless men like the Drav Cra are a dying breed. Impossible to deal with. I was near ready to surrender Yarrington and relocate to Westvale when Rand the Deserter—or rather, Redeemer now, I can’t keep up—showed up on my doorstep begging for my help in setting you free.”

  “That’s impossible,” Lucas interjected. “Sir Langley fought the Drav Cra jailers himself to save Sir Unger.”

  Torsten glared back toward the voice. “It’s the truth,” he said softly. He heard the sound of feet sliding backward.

  “Incredible,” Valin said. “A wench tells a ridiculous but valid story, and a knight of Iam bends the truth.”

  “The world is truly changing,” Codar said.

  “I let the people believe the story they needed to hear,” Torsten said, making no attempt to mask his venom. “I didn’t think you’d want any credit.”

  “Relax, I don’t blame you,” Valin said. “Besides, who would have believed that my friend Codar arrived just in time to help?”

  “Not a soul,” Codar said.

  “Truth is, I wouldn’t have wanted the attention,” Valin said. “But Rand, he was willing to give everything to save you. Did you know that Sir Unger? He believed Iam chose you to free us from Redstar’s corruption. He believed it with such vigor that I nearly started to believe it too.”

  “Then I’m glad I didn’t fail him,” Torsten said. “He deserved better than what he got, from me, from you—everyone. I saw the look on his face when he and that Breklian cutthroat arrived at my cell, Valin. What part of his soul did you make Rand sell for you?”

  “We helped each other save you so you could remove Redstar. Neither of us wanted to see our ways of life die. Surely, you could understand that? In exchange, Codar helped me arrange passage for him and his sister to Brekliodad.”

  “And I assume you haven’t told him that the Shield has forgiven his transgressions and invited him back.” It was a statement as much as a question.

  “I couldn’t tell him, even if I wanted to. Brekliodad is far away, and it’s his life to make there. He refused all of Codar’s connections. Better to truly disappear and be grateful he no longer needs to suffer for Queen Oleander’s wanton rage. He was done with this place.”

  “You know nothing.”

  “I know being lost in the wild is better than hanging from a noose,” Valin responded, “or being forsaken by his own people.”

  Torsten expected a curse to roil within him, but the words never came. After everything, Rand Langley deserved to be free of the demons which plagued him in Yarrington. Being shipped to a faraway land when he hadn’t ever traveled outside Greater Yarrington explained Rand’s expression that day. Brekliodad was a hard place, filled with rigid people who’d seen enough death to fill the Torrential Sea. But it was a place where he could finally disappear.

  “Just hope he gets there alive,” Torsten said. “The boy’s suffered enough.”

  “I’m no expert on cross-Pantego travel,” Valin said, “but, what would you say, Codar? Another few weeks before he arrives?”

  “It has been a long time for me as well, but that sounds reasonable,” Codar replied.

  “If I hear word of his arrival, I will make sure you know,” Valin addressed Torsten. “Sometimes, it can be hard to find Iam’s light, but in the end, I think Rand the Redeemer did what he set out to do.”

  “Stop, Valin.” Torsten waved his hand dismissively. “You have my gratitude for helping Rand free me, and for freeing him, but you’ve proven time and again how wholesome you are.”

  Valin released an exaggerated laugh. “See, Codar. I told you the old boar would eventually come thank us. He just needed some time.”

  “Pride slows even the greatest Shieldsman,” Codar said.

  “It’s the last time you’ll hear the words from me,” Torsten said.

  “That’s more than enough,” Valin said.” And don’t worry, I’ll keep our little secret about how you really broke free. The kingdom needs heroes like you and Rand now more than ever.”

  “Just tell me, why make yourself so visible now?” Torsten said. “No lies about your generosity or desire to help South Corner because my vow to Liam is a vow to his son. I won’t allow another snake near him.”

  Valin took another long, slurping sip of wine. “Do you know what this place used to be before I bought it?”

  Torsten didn’t answer.

  “A broken-down old tavern,” Valin said. “Better off burned to the ground than serving ale. I took everything I saved from begging on the streets, working the docks until my hands were raw, running favors for thugs and used it to buy this place. Now, I have more gold than the Crown.”

  “Earned off the backs of women and blood,” Torsten said. “Or do you think I’ve forgotten what goes on downstairs, or how bodies get in the harbor?”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about bodies, but we all do what we must to rise when we aren’t born into sunlight. You did the same. Followed your great king here and there, killing whoever he targeted, bending knees. The only difference between us, Torsten, is that I gave the orders. These women choose to be here because here is better than anywhere else they could reach. The men who venture downstairs choose to fight because they’re tired of waiting on Iam’s light to shine down on Dockside. And Iam…” Valin Tehr laughed a despicable sounding laugh. “He abandons us, leaving his churches derelict while a bunch of men in robes argue about who should wear the whitest one. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make South Corner more, and it took me watching cultists tear the place to pieces to realize it was impossible to do from our quaint little spot on Autlas’ Inlet. So, do you know what I want, Shieldsman?”

  There was a long, silent couple of seconds where Torsten imagined Valin took a sip of wine. His assumption was proven correct at the gentle sound of the goblet touching the table again. Then, with a commanding tone, he said, “Res
pect.”

  “You can’t get that through threats and bribes of the flesh,” Torsten said.

  “I can’t get it no matter what I do from here. Look at you. A lowborn Glintish boy from South Corner rising to be Wearer of White and still, when the slightest doubt came into their minds, your men watched some Drav Cra savage slam you behind bars without a word in protest. Us and our false, small names, who gives a fiery shog in Elsewhere? No, it’s time for me to give this rotten place a voice worth a damn and you’re going to help me do it.”

  “Me?” Torsten asked.

  “Yes, you,” Valin said, “who after all your failings somehow still holds the ear of the king. A ‘bribe of the flesh’ with his mother perhaps.”

  “How dare you!” Torsten started to rise, then heard Codar and Lucas shifting behind him. Metal scraped against leather, and Torsten wasn’t sure whose weapon was being loosed.

  “Everyone calm down,” Valin said. “I can only speak of what rumors I hear from so deep underground. If you deny that, then I believe you. Despite what you may think, I want us to be friends. And not only because you’re from South Corner, but because you were born here. You know what the people need. So do I. Food, water, work, entertainment, God—all the things to keep us from tearing each other to pieces. It all comes with gold, and nobody on this great world of ours is better at that than me. Even Yuri Darkings was an amateur in comparison, Iam save his soul when he answers for his betrayal.”

  Suddenly, it was all coming together. Torsten felt his throat go dry and his stomach knot. He couldn’t will himself to ask, but Valin answered for him after another lip-smacking sip of wine.

  “You’re going to recommend to the king that I be named his new Master of Coin,” Valin said. “Someone fresh, with perspective. Someone who grew up outside of pampered castle halls. Someone who hasn’t been bought—who can’t be bought.”

  “Why in Iam’s name would I ever do that?” Torsten questioned. “Your deal to free me was with Rand, not me. I owe you nothing.”

  “Agreed, and if I felt differently, I would have already approached you or made that fact public. But I do think it proves that I have no desire to see this kingdom or the order it brings to our chaotic world burn.”

  “It proves nothing,” Torsten said.

  “You love the Glass, Torsten, and you know there is nobody more capable than me. Don’t deny it. You would have shut me down a decade ago if you didn’t see why Yarrington needs me.”

  “Something I still regret.”

  “Help me help it,” Valin said, “and in exchange, Codar here will help me hire the finest Breklian mercenaries to eradicate the Drav Cra marauders causing so much trouble east of the Jarein. I hear they’ve sacked another town, though, nobody in the castle seems to want to talk about it.”

  “Mercenaries, rebuilding the city, spies in the east; how deep do your pockets go, Valin?”

  Valin laughed. “We can find out together.”

  It was meant as a joke, but that didn’t matter. Torsten jumped to his feet, not worrying about finding anything to keep his balance on first. “I would die before I ever let your filthy hands near that position, Valin,” Torsten said, blood boiling. “Do you hear me? Keep your army, keep your gold, and keep to your little corner of Yarrington, or we will turn a blind eye no longer.”

  “The mercenaries will be hired either way,” Valin said. “You can either claim responsibility as Master of Warfare or hand it to me. I don’t really care. I asked you here as a formality, to make things easier because despite what you think, I love this kingdom too. I love what it stands for and how it has allowed men like us to rise. Rags to proverbial riches. That is why I helped rid us of Redstar’s scourge.”

  “You did it to line your pockets. That’s all!”

  “If you insist on being stubborn, well…”

  Torsten used the table to make his way toward Valin and heard Codar’s stance shift again. This time Lucas remained still, likely unsure what to do. “Are you threatening the Crown?” Torsten demanded, seething.

  Torsten listened as Valin calmly drained the rest of his wine. Imagining his grin, Torsten wanted to smack him. Then Valin said, “Not at all.”

  “Good. I’ll march the Shield in here and put an end to your kingdom of dirt before you take another breath,” Torsten said.

  “March soldiers on a man who offered free service to the King himself? On a haven for refugees when war rages in the South, enemy kings go missing, and raiders pillage in the North and the East. And they wonder why the coffers are so drained, Codar.”

  “Such a shame,” the Breklian replied.

  “Perhaps stress has clouded your judgment,” Valin said. “Might I recommend a night here to relieve yourself. Your friend Abigail is masterful with her hands and seemed awfully interested. On me, of course.”

  Torsten bit his lip, then whipped around. Lucas barely had time to catch up and help guide him through the warren of furniture and displaced Docksiders. “You won’t see the walls of the Glass Castle again,” Torsten hissed.

  “B… bye, Mister Tehr,” Lucas said before Torsten grabbed him and pulled him away.

  “Give your parents my best, young Lucas,” Valin called out. “And talk some sense into your master. If you can’t, there’s always a place for you again here.”

  Once outside, Torsten slammed the door hard enough to earn a drawn-out “Quuuiiieeet” from Valin’s giant protector. Lucas tugged on Torsten’s arm, and Torsten stopped. The young man was about to say something when Torsten grabbed the boy by the wrist.

  “What did he mean by that?” Torsten said.

  Lucas stammered for a response before settling on, “What?”

  “’A place for you… here… again.’ How well do you know that bastard? Did he place you at my side?”

  “Y… y… y…”

  Torsten’s grip hardened.

  “You chose me,” Lucas cried.

  “How do you know him!”

  “I worked for him in the arena as a boy. And I… well, fought there once before I joined the city guard. Fists only though, and not to the death, I swear. My parents had a rough year. They just needed some autlas.”

  Torsten found it easier to read men when he could look into their eyes but feeling Lucas’s pulse throbbing at his wrist helped. He let go, and Lucas doubled over, clutching his arm.

  “I’m loyal to the kingdom, Sir,” Lucas said. “I want to be a Shieldsman so I can be the one to save my home next time.”

  “I know, boy.” Torsten helped him upright, realizing how odd it was not to be the other way around. For the first week or so after he lost his vision, he’d fumbled around like an infant learning to walk. Lucas had been there to deal with his frustration, to help him up countless times.

  “Forgive me for… that,” Torsten said. “He’s always had a way of getting under my skin and after helping me get free… I fear what it might mean to owe that devil anything.”

  “I understand, my Lord,” Lucas said.

  “I wish you’d have told me you worked for him before I found out like this.”

  “I didn’t think it relevant,” Lucas whispered. He cleared his throat and found his voice. “When you were here, growing up, maybe it was different, but nowadays there isn’t a boy in Dockside who hasn’t done something or other for Valin Tehr. But I didn’t know he’d worked with Rand.”

  Torsten sighed. “Perhaps I should have told someone. Pure redemption seemed such a better tale.”

  “Favor or not, he did save you and help defeat Redstar. And you said it yourself, he keeps the peace here. Why do you hate him so much?”

  “Any man of honor should.”

  “Maybe,” Lucas said. “It just seems more… personal.”

  “It’s everything,” Torsten said, terse.

  “Am I going too far in asking what he did to you? Something many years ago?”

  Torsten drew a deep breath. As selfish as it was, he worried if perhaps his ire was fueled by the
fact that, if not for Valin Tehr, he would’ve failed his kingdom and allowed Redstar to bring the Buried Goddess back from Elsewhere. But it wasn’t just that. In the depths of his mind, he could hear the pounding of footsteps like drums on a fateful day long ago when Valin helped show him the darkness of the world he hadn’t known existed. Of the body he’d left floating in the harbor.

  “You are,” Torsten said, pushing the memory back down. “Valin is right though. We can’t get rid of him right now and risk how it will look. We must show the people of Yarrington that the Crown cares for them—more than anyone or anything. More than war or old feuds.”

  “How?” Lucas asked.

  “We’ll figure that out after you get me back home. I doubt Valin will help us pass through his wall of refugees this time.”

  “Hold your breath then.”

  “Lead away. Oh, and Lucas. Not a soul is ever to know what Valin Tehr did to help Rand. The kingdom depends on it.”

  “Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. But what if he starts spreading rumors now that you refused him?”

  “Unless those close to the Crown claim it to be true, it will join a thousand other Dockside rumors dripping in the shog. I suppose he knew that from the start.”

  XIV

  THE THIEF

  The following few days passed uneventfully. The troupe salvaged what they could from the fallout of the storm and set off on their way to Fettingborough.

  The spring rains didn’t cease. Nothing like that storm hit again, but the clear skies that followed were soon enveloped by gray once again. Whitney was soaked to the core. Water dripped from his clothes and hair and coming off the worst winter he could remember, the bite in the air could still be felt.

  They’d lost a covered carriage to the storm, so only the spoiled Pompares now rode in luxury. Talwyn and her mother shared a horse, but even they had to travel exposed to the rain.

  Whitney’s little show of strength meant he walked with Conmonoc, night and day, in the back of the troupe, heavy supplies slung over their shoulders. Poor Gentry too, as little as the boy could carry. And Conmonoc, the biggest of them all, hadn’t stopped whining about sore feet and blisters since they’d left Grambling. Whitney was amazed he didn’t join the bastard. In fact, he was surprised at how he didn’t mind serving as a human mule at all. Feeling his muscles burn with soreness again made him feel like he was back in…