Ascendant

by Florian Armas

  ASCENDANT

  Book Three of the

  Chronicle of the Seer

  Series

  Florian Armas

  ***

  Copyright © 2019 Florian Armas

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without written permission of the author.

  Cover design by Cherie Fox

  ***

  For my mother

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Codrin

  Chapter 2 – Saliné

  Chapter 3 – Saliné

  Chapter 4 – Cleyre

  Chapter 5 – Dochia

  Chapter 6 – Codrin

  Chapter 7 – Codrin

  Chapter 8 – Saliné

  Chapter 9 – Codrin

  Chapter 10 – Maud

  Chapter 11 – Codrin

  Chapter 12 – Jara

  Chapter 13 – Jara

  Chapter 14 – Jara

  Chapter 15 – Jara

  Chapter 16 – Codrin

  Chapter 17 – Codrin

  Chapter 18 – Codrin

  Chapter 19 – Codrin

  Chapter 20 – Codrin

  Chapter 21 – Dochia

  Chapter 22 – Dochia

  Chapter 23 – Saliné

  Chapter 24 – Saliné

  Chapter 25 – Saliné

  Chapter 26 – Cleyre

  Chapter 27 – Cleyre

  Chapter 28 – Cleyre

  Chapter 29 – Codrin

  Chapter 30 – Codrin

  Chapter 31 – Codrin

  Chapter 32 – Codrin

  Chapter 33 – Codrin

  Appendix

  Chapter 1 – Codrin

  Under the moonlight, the lone tent was watched by many hidden eyes. Hidden in the forest, seventy feet behind the tent, stood a hundred soldiers, sixty of them archers. Down in the valley, lying down behind a small ridge, two hundred fifty soldiers were waiting for the signal to attack. And on the slopes of the large meadow climbing toward the tent, another hundred were playing at being asleep. It was a waiting game.

  Half of the sky was clouded and dark; in the other half, scattered clouds were dancing with the moon, so that every so often, the tent seemed to vanish from sight. Gripping their weapons, the soldiers tensed and relaxed to the rhythm of the gentle light from above. There was no lightning and no thunder to disturb the heavy silence. Just days before, a storm had raged, and not far from the tent stood a half-burned giant oak, fatally split, its remaining leaves still green. The old tree was broken off five feet in the air. The end of the trunk still sat perched atop the stump, and ran at an smooth angle down to the ground where what had been its highest branches lay crushed into the earth. Archers were hidden in its remaining thick wall of branches and leaves. Another oak stood, unscathed, closer to the forest, and the tent was pitched next to it.

  When the moon broke free from the cloud’s grip, its light entered the tent through the open front flap; there were two Mountes guarding it, one on each side. The back entrance of the tent flapped noiselessly, and a tall woman came into sight. Through the clouds, the moonlight became more intense, following the woman as she walked toward the lone old oak. Like a sponge, her white dress absorbed the light until it started to glow faintly. Unlit, her face remained hidden.

  Who is that woman? Codrin wondered, and, leaning against the giant oak, he set his eyes on the woman, watching closely, with the feeling that something important was about to happen. How did she get here? “Vlad?” he asked in a low whisper, without moving. “Who is that woman?”

  “What woman?” Vlad turned toward Codrin.

  “Vlad can’t see me,” the woman said. The moonlight, stronger than before, and the translucent glow coming from her clothes finally revealed her face. She walked further, as if at leisure, and stopped in front of the tree half-hiding Codrin. “You can’t hide from me,” she laughed.

  “I am not hiding from you.” I am hiding from many, but not from a woman who may not even exist. Glancing right and left, Codrin stepped away from the tree, fighting the impulse to touch her. Nobody followed him, and nobody moved in the valley.

  “Don’t look at them. This is not ... what you call real. We are now inside your mind.”

  Am I dreaming? “Who are you?” Codrin asked, reluctantly, trying to decide if he should continue or make an effort to wake up.

  “Dochia.”

  “Dochia?”

  “Do you know all the women in the world named Dochia?” she chuckled. “The one you know is now far from Frankis, and she will not return soon.”

  “What do you want?”

  “To test the water.”

  “You speak like a Wanderer. Nothing concrete, only riddles.”

  “I am a Wanderer, Codrin of Arenia.”

  “Are you from Arenia?”

  “I was born in Arenia. Almost seven hundred years ago. I founded the Order of the Wanderers.”

  “You are...” Codrin’s lips tightened, his eyes became wider. His mind whirled, and he struggled to speak. It can’t be.

  “Dochia,” she laughed and became silent, staring at him. His lips stayed tight. “The last Empress, the Maiden Empress... I have many names.”

  “Why are you...?”

  “Here? Because of you, obviously. There is interesting news in the east. Old Khad Muir from the Selem branch was killed ten months ago, and the Timurid branch has taken power in the Khadate. They have lost another Khad already, but the next one will be a Timurid too, even though nobody expects him to gain their throne. His election will be a surprise for everybody. Almost everybody. Meriaduk is the new Great Priest of the Serpent, and he is leading the nomads (from the rear, of course; he is a priest) to conquer the world for his new god. For the moment, at least. Things may change, though, sooner than he expects.”

  “Nothing good ever came from the steppes.”

  “The nomads are people too, just like you. A new Fracture is coming, and the Realm needs a Seer. Are you strong enough to be the third Seer of the Realm? Are you ready to save the Realm?”

  “How should I know?” Codrin shrugged.

  “Baraki told me that he is strong enough to be the one.”

  “Baraki!” Codrin said bitterly. He wanted to shout that his whole family had been killed by Baraki. To shout that Baraki was the Chief of the Royal Guard who killed his King and helped the Usurper take the throne of his father. To shout that Baraki even killed his fourteen-year-old sister. “That traitor,” he finally hissed. “You contacted that traitor who helped the Usurper.” She contacted him first. But is this true or I am just dreaming?

  “Ah,” Dochia stared at him. “The Usurper is dead, and you still dream of taking back the Arenian throne.”

  “It is mine by right.”

  “Is it?” she asked, amused. “Your line took the throne by force from Nabal’s Line.”

  “Nabal was a usurper.”

  “Maybe. Each throne is held by strength, not line.”

  “That’s why you lost the Alban throne to your cousin, Nabal?” Codrin asked, trying in vain to control his inner voice, which sounded so real to him. “I apologize. I should not have asked that.”

  “Why not? I could tell you that Nabal was not a usurper. The Alban Empire was doomed to vanish, and I just sped up the process. Nabal was the man I trusted to help me split the Empire without much violence, and I let him rule Alba while I worked to create new kingdoms to replace the old empire. But much is a relative
thing,” she sighed. “Many people died. History was rewritten when your line took the throne, three hundred years ago.”

  “Then ... I am a usurper too.”

  “You belong to the Arenian Line, but you are not a king; you are a fugitive. And why should the Seer be a king? The last Seer was an Assassin.”

  “Then why me, and why Baraki?”

  “Baraki is my offspring, and he is of Nabal’s line too.”

  “Why should the Seer be your offspring?”

  “It’s not really necessary, it’s just easier for me to know where to look. You are my offspring too. I know that you know that. So are you strong enough to become the Seer?”

  “How should I know?” Codrin repeated.

  “That could be a good answer too. I must leave now. Do you want to ask me anything?”

  “Will Baraki take the Arenian throne?”

  “I am sure you can ask more intelligent questions.” Abruptly, she walked toward the tent. At the back entrance, she turned. “Two days ago, Mohor was killed, and Aron is now the Seigneur of Severin.”

  “Saliné?” Codrin whispered.

  “She remained in Severin, as she is Bucur’s fiancée. Jara, Vio and Cernat were sent to Arad.”

  “To Orban... This is the Wanderers’ work,” Codrin snapped. “Drusila, the First Light, will brag how she is saving Frankis by killing innocent people. I no longer wonder why you chose that traitor Baraki for the Seer.”

  “Nothing is decided yet, and innocents always die at times like this; only the number differs from one potential ruler to another. It’s difficult to count in advance, and sometimes you have to sacrifice...”

  “Oh yes, Drusila made a lot of sacrifices,” Codrin cut in.

  “She is part of a game that may kill her too. Change is coming.”

  “Change,” Codrin shrugged. “The more we change, the more we stay the same. We fight. We kill. Sometimes, I think that only the weapons are changing. They can kill better. Some talk about sacrifices, others die. Dying is certainly a change. Drusilla tried to sacrifice me to smooth Bucur’s path toward the Frankis throne. It doesn’t matter that Bucur is a fraud; I suppose he is the king with the lower body count. It all depends on the one who counts. Go, Wanderer; go to your people and to Bucur and Baraki. Leave us alone with our own sacrifices.”

  “Bucur is nothing but a bump on the path of history, yet history spans across time,” she said. He will stay in position for some years. Drusila did not try to kill you, and you are not alone. Duke Stefan will make you a proposal, and you have to decide your path.” She vanished before he could speak again.

  I failed them, Codrin thought. Saliné, Jara, I failed them all. All. Under the moonlight the tent was still there, and Codrin shook his head. How could the Wanderers...? If Baraki becomes both Seer and King of Arenia, my chances are lost. My future is in Frankis. He suddenly understood. I just need to defeat the Circle, the Wanderers, and the Dukes... Only the Assassins are missing from that list. For now.

  “Did you see something?” Vlad asked, when Codrin reached the old tree again.

  “I am not sure, but I think that they will attack soon. Let’s go inside the tent,” Codrin said, trying to gather his thoughts. I need to survive this night. Then, I will see.

  In the valley, two hundred fifty soldiers prepared to crawl up the slope. The wind began to blow in short, strong bursts, kicking up old leaves and dust in small whirlpools of cold air.

  The wind is helping them, Codrin thought. “Sentries,” he called the two Mounts guarding the front of the tent, “come inside.” He took their place, and let his mind wander over the plain. Far away, lightning painted the sky; it looked like an old hand with thick white veins, its white fingers piercing the ground. The ridge materialized for a few moments, still void of people. Darkness came again, and a vision filled Codrin’s mind: soldiers crawling toward him. There are more than I thought. Are we betrayed? He stepped into the tent, and closed the flap. “Give the signal,” he said to the few people inside. “They are coming.” He did not tell them about the larger number of attackers.

  “Everything will be over soon enough,” Costa, the captain from Peyris, said. “All our soldiers in place, and I see that you are confident, but we should not underestimate Codrin.”

  “We need to attack tonight; we may not have a better opportunity.” Leno, who was leading Aron’s contingent, stared at Costa, in the feeble moonlight, trying to add more weight to his words.

  “Let’s hope that surprise is on our side. Codrin doesn’t know that I joined you after sunset with a hundred soldiers. And he doesn’t know that Eagle is the Dervil of Peyris, and not a simple mercenary leader.”

  That is bothering me.” Eagle rubbed his chin, and stayed silent for a while. “A hundred riders could not have passed unnoticed by their scouts. A trap may wait for us.”

  “They came through the area watched by your scouts.” Leno’s arm gestured briefly between Costa and Eagle; the scouts were either Duke Stefan’s soldiers, from the small contingent from Peyris that had joined Severin’s army three weeks ago, or mercenaries. Leno was slightly annoyed, but neither of the other two trusted Aron’s men with important tasks. “Don’t you trust your own men?”

  “I still don’t like this night attack,” Eagle muttered. “It may surprise us more than we can surprise them.”

  “There is always a risk,” Costa said. “We are soldiers, risk is part of our life.”

  “You must do it tonight,” Belugas, the Primus Itinerant Sage of the Circle, interjected. “I have news from Severin. Orban helped us to take Severin. Aron is now the Seigneur of Severin. When Codrin learns this, he will attack you, and even with those hundred soldiers Costa brought from Peyris, Codrin still has more men.”

  “What happened in Severin?” Costa asked.

  “Just a realignment of power. Tomorrow, I will tell you more.”

  “Mohor was the rightful Seigneur of Severin.”

  “That’s not your problem, captain,” Belugas said, coldly. “Your problem is in front of you. Do your duty and solve it.”

  “Will you join us in the fight, Sage?” Costa asked, a trace of mockery filling his voice.

  “My job is to tell you what to do. I will leave after you capture Codrin.”

  “Costa, when do you want to attack?” Eagle asked. He was a cautious man. He credited Codrin with the unification of the two northern bands of mercenaries, yet the way Codrin killed Sharpe in The Long Valley gave Eagle pause for thought. That and the troops he lost in the mountains north of Valeni, while trying to kidnap Jara on her way back to Severin.

  “After midnight, or when conditions are favorable. Rain, wind; something to give us the advantage. We will advance in two columns and surround the tent while Codrin is sleeping. Warn your men that I want him alive. The Duke wants to offer him a new life in Peyris.” And even his granddaughter, Cleyre, as a wife. I wonder if Codrin would enjoy marrying her. Cleyre is quite a libertine. She is nineteen now, and even the old women at court have lost track of how many men have pleased her. But she is skilled in bed, Costa sighed; the memory of many nights, spread across half a year, with her, came back to him. And her body is a ... marvel. She is intelligent too, so she may choose to calm down once she is married. Once, when Cleyre was just one of the Duke’s many granddaughters, and not yet a political player, Costa had aimed for more than just being a passing ghost in her bed. It took him a few months to realize that she was only interested in his manhood, or at least only slightly interested in anything else, even though he was intelligent and able to make decent conversation. With some bitterness, he accepted his place as an occasional lover until she decided to drop him. Unknown to him, she liked his mind too and, while he was a capable soldier, he received his promotion to captain, a few months ago, because Cleyre had proposed it. At nineteen, Costa became the youngest captain in Peyris’s army.

  Finding an opportune moment, Belugas took Leno aside. “Kill Codrin,” he ordered. “Do it tonight or
when it’s the most convenient to you, but not later than tomorrow morning. You may need to kill Costa too. He is becoming a liability. If all goes well, you will be made governor of Corabia. It belongs to Codrin now. The papers are in my satchel. I will hand them to you tomorrow.”

  “It will be done. I have three archers prepared to act when the torches are lit. It’s better to do it now than in the morning. The night keeps its secrets better.”

  “You are well prepared.” Belugas gripped his shoulder. “I have to leave now. You will find me at the foot of the hill.”

  The wind sighed, and Costa shook his head, trying to escape the half-unwanted invasion of memories. He sniffed the dust in the air, and let the wind beat against his face. It’s strong enough. “Give the signal to attack,” he ordered and, in two minutes, his men started to crawl toward the ridge. Is Duke Stefan thinking to give the Dukedom to Codrin? All his remaining male descendants are idiots; their only occupation is chasing young girls, even Albert, who is fifty-five years old. At least Cleyre is helping Stefan rule. In fact, she rules now, more than the old man. Cleyre and Codrin... They might raise Peyris to its old glory. Well, he sighed, Cleyre was not meant for me. I am just a Knight. Lost in his thoughts, Costa was frowning.

  The crawling soldiers arrived close to the ridge and split into two wings, which moved like two huge snakes trying to surround the same prey. The left wing was the first to arrive just shy of the place from where they could be spotted if the moon showed again through the clouds. They waited patiently until the right wing arrived in a similar position too, and after another signal, which was transmitted from one man to another in hushed whispers, both wings moved forward. The moon seemed to be playing on their side, as it stayed hidden. Thirty paces from the tent, they stopped again, when the leading soldiers touched the stones which had been left there by scouts the previous night.

  Costa signaled and, silent as the night, his men ran to surround the tent. Joined by Eagle and ten old hands, he ran too, toward the door of the tent. I must be careful, Codrin is a devil with his swords.