“Whatever. And I said what you needed was redemption.”
“Precisely. This provides me with the opportunity for both. It presents me with a task that is by any measure a worthy purpose for my life, something that would without a doubt redeem me for any past wrongdoing, and one that I really ought to have been dreaming of for some time.”
“Running from Epidime?”
“No. Killing Epidime.”
“You want to kill him. Kill a man you say brushes off death like snowflakes on his jacket.”
“Certainly. It must be possible. And if it isn’t, at least trying to do it will keep me busy.”
“Desmeres… I realize I joined you because I wanted to be part of something important for once. And this is definitely important. But don’t you think it is a little too important for you to handle? I say we head south, we go to New Kenvard. That’s where most of the Guardians of the Realm spend their time now, right? This is clearly the sort of thing they were meant to handle.”
He shook his head slowly. “We can’t get the Chosen involved.”
“Of course you can!”
“It would mean war.”
“What? Why?”
“Myranda and Deacon are two of the key ambassadors and negotiators. They are splitting their time between rebuilding their city and meeting with delegates from Tressor. A peace this fresh is fragile. Any disturbance could shatter it.”
“Surely that… malthrope isn’t an ambassador. Or the dragon. Or the shapeshifter. Seeking their help won’t hurt negotiations.”
“Oh, no. It won’t hurt the negotiations. It will completely destroy them. Your family lives in Verril. They’ve seen Ether, Myn, and Ivy in action. Did their tactics strike you as subtle?”
“Absolutely not. My father and brother were lucky their home wasn’t damaged. But a bit of chaos is probably excusable in light of the threat.”
“Not when that threat is specifically a D’Karon. The war was entirely their doing, something the Tressons are only beginning to believe. In fact, the only thing they are even more incredulous about is our claims of having entirely removed and defeated them. If Epidime turns up, and worse, appears to be in a position of power, then the Tressons will certainly interpret it as treachery and rally the troops once more. And if Ether or Ivy clash with Epidime then there is no chance of it being kept secret.”
“And you’ll be subtle? What happened in that field counts as subtle?”
“In comparison to what the others would do, it was positively elegant.”
She released an exasperated breath. “Desmeres, we don’t even know for certain Epidime is the real enemy. There could be other explanations for all of this. At least take the time to make sure you aren’t losing your head about this.”
“Fortunately for me, it doesn’t take me very much time at all to be sure of something. At this point in my life, I find it quite safe to assume my intuition is accurate.”
“Yeah? Maybe we should ask Trigorah how accurate your intuition is.”
The instant the words left her lips she regretted them. Desmeres’s expression barely changed, but she could see the glimmer of something smoldering under his gaze.
“I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“No. Well said. It doesn’t change a thing, though. My own poor judgment may have contributed to her death, but Epidime delivered the final blow. Maybe more than anything else, that’s why he has to die. There’s something to be said about simple revenge. It’s a classic purpose to live and die by.” He looked to Dowser and scratched at him. “Everything about this reeks of maneuvering, manipulation. Epidime has crafted a scenario in which he and I must meet again and again. Alone. He’s guaranteed himself repeated attempts at his prize.”
“But you aren’t doing it alone.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got me. And though I’m loathe to admit it, Dowser’s not entirely worthless either.”
Desmeres grinned. “Like I said. Manipulation. Epidime moves his pieces to bring me to him. Oriech makes his play and brings me help. Welcome to the game, Genara.”
“That suits me fine. It means that at least someone involved has a decent head on her shoulders.” She sniffed. “But now that you’ve decided what you need to do, how do you get it done? We are talking about killing a man that even the Guardians of the Realm couldn’t kill.”
“That may be so. But we have quite a few things they didn’t have.”
“Like what?”
“Like access to all of their records, and a considerably less scrupulous ‘hero’ with vengeance driving him rather than justice.”
Dowser, unsatisfied with the quality of the pats and scratches he was receiving, stood and nudged Desmeres’s leg. He stiffened with pain and gently guided the puppy away from the injuries.
“But first, we’ll need a few things,” he said. “I need a healer. I also need someone with greater mystical insight than I have. Someone with some connection to the Alliance Army would be useful as well. Deacon would, unfortunately, be ideal. My mystic acquaintances are otherwise limited. … Though there may be one. Would you be kind enough to fetch the maps from just inside the hatch?”
Genara stood to collect the maps.
“In the depths of the war, healers were hard to come by. For the most part, Lain and I made do with the healing potions I made, but while it is relatively simple to conjure elemental effects like fire and ice, my formula for the health restoration elixir always left something to be desired, so I made it a point of finding a healer we could depend upon just in case.”
She handed him the maps. “Is she nearby?”
“He, actually. And while he’s had to move about a bit, the last I heard he had returned to his old roost.” He flattened the map on his lap. “We are here, right on the edge of Ravenwood. The man we’re after his here, nearer to its center.”
“He lives in the middle of Ravenwood?”
“Indeed. They say it has to do with the meeting of lay lines and keeping him from prying eyes. Having met the man, I think it has more to do with being left alone. It will be a bit difficult. Ravenwood isn’t the most pleasant place to drive a full cart. After a visit to Isntist to replenish our horse feed, we may be able to make it in a few days. Hopefully my legs can hold out until then. But that’s enough planning. Those beans should be ready. Best to keep our strength up. Plenty of travel ahead.”
#
After a few days of travel, Anrack reached the capital. There was much to do within Verril itself, but before his meetings with the queen and his staff, he knew he had to pay a visit to Fort Greenworth. His attempt to capture Desmeres and his goods had been a dismal failure, but it had proved that Scriben’s notes and research were accurate broadly accurate. Further analysis would turn up other worthwhile targets, he was sure of it.
On Anrack’s orders, a small field-post of sorts was added to the fort in his absence. Workers were still clearing one of the outlying buildings but already he could see crates of fresh supplies and the beginnings of a semi-permanent set of quarters for additional guards. He had always known the value of good information, but until he’d seen it for himself he’d not realized just how precious the contents of the fort were. As such he couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands—or, more importantly, slipping through his fingers.
When he stepped inside, he found the main building of the fort even more difficult to navigate than his first visit. The gems on the walls, which supplied most of the light last time, were quite dim. Only a pair of oil lamps shed any real illumination, and both of them were set on the record-keeper’s desk.
“Scriben!” Anrack barked, limping into the circle of light around the workspace.
The sound of his voice startled the excitable scholar. He looked up and squinted, recognition slow to dawn in his eyes. When he finally dredged up the name and rank of his visitor from his tattered memories, he hastily stood. A pile of scribbled notes fell from the desk and fluttered to the floor.
�
��A thousand pardons, Err… Commander… Commander Anrack. It took some time to place your face.”
“Never mind that. I’ve been to the storehouse. It was precisely as well stocked as you’d suggested, but your information was not complete. The traps at the entrance still triggered.”
“Err… oh. That’s… that’s unfortunate. Is that why you seem to be… rather more poorly than I remember?”
“My more recent injuries came at the hands of Lumineblade. He was present in the storehouse when we arrived. It cost me one of my men, as well as the wand you provided.”
“The wand? Did I… did I give you a wand?”
He stood and shuffled to a nearby shelf, lantern in hand.
“Ah… yes, there is one missing here.” He rubbed his forehead. “My word, I’ve not been as clear-headed lately as I would like… That’s why… Err… That’s why I must have written these notes.”
The record-keeper returned to the desk and gathered the first of the fallen notes.
“Have you been drinking, Scriben?”
“Drinking? No. Err, I’ve not been drinking. It’s just. That curse. The one that struck me when I was first looking into the notes… Did I tell you about that?”
“Yes, of course you did.”
“I don’t remember. I have good days and bad, sir… I lose large swaths of my day… of my week. On the good days, I leave notes to guide me during the bad. There are certainly a lot of notes today…”
“Clearly you’ll be no good to me right now. Take a note then, for when your wits return to you.”
“Yes. Yes, I can certainly do that.”
He fetched a clean sheet of parchment and dipped his quill.
“What would you have me do?”
“Gather more of those wands. And any D’Karon weapons you have. Anything that might be wielded by my men. If they require training, summarize it. Desmeres is proving a worthy adversary, and if I am to best him, I must be well-equipped.”
Scriben finished recording the request, then read it to himself as though he was just learning what it said.
“D’Karon weapons. I think…” He rummaged through the notes. “Yes. Yes, I have two points here. The queen sent a man asking for a report on what you’d discovered while you were here. Croyden Lumineblade, if I’m correct… Why is that name familiar…”
“He’s the queen’s consort and the son of the blasted scoundrel I’m after. What did he have to say?”
“Mostly he said he was irritated how much you’d learned and failed to report. Err… No… No, that’s how much I’ve learned and failed to report. I suppose I’ve not been comprehensive in my summaries to the queen… I could have sworn I’d been thorough…”
“Did he have anything that concerned me, or has this entire pointless conversation been a complete waste of my time?”
“He wants to see you immediately. He wants a report on what steps you’ve taken so far and the progress you’ve made… I think that bit was for you… It may have been for me as well… I think I need to lie down and gather my thoughts…”
Anrack pounded the table. “Listen! The information in this fort is crucial to my mission and to the continued safety of the kingdom. If you cannot handle its stewardship on your own, then I shall have an assistant assigned, but I cannot afford any more setbacks.”
“Yes, Commander.”
He tapped the note. “Gather the weapons, gather the information on their use, and have them ready for me. Understood?”
“Yes, Commander. Yes, that much is quite clear. The weapons will be ready for you. I know I have swords and bows. Perhaps—”
“Swords and bows I have. Unless these have some mystic quality to them, I have no interest in them. I want their magic, Scriben. If you can’t find any more things as simple to use as the wand, then dig up spell books or something. I’ll recruit a wizard if I must, but I’m certain that D’Karon magic will be indispensable. Their spells kept the Tressons at bay for over a century. It is madness that the queen has tied our hands by denying them from our troops.”
“Err… As you say, sir.”
Anrack turned and paced back to the door.
“It is a wonder this Kingdom hasn’t collapsed a thousand times over…” he muttered.
#
A few hours later, the Commander arrived in the Capital and made his way into the entry hall of the castle. Servants took his cloak and led him to a small room to the side of the throne room to sit await an audience with the queen. When the heavy door opened a few minutes later, a tall, thin man with the distinctive features of an elf stepped inside. He had golden blond cut to shoulder length and the same lean, muscular build that seemed to be assigned to every elf upon reaching adulthood. He wore impeccably tailored clothes, a military dress uniform in the three shades of Alliance blue. When he looked upon Anrack, it was with an artful combination of dispassionate superiority and thinly masked contempt.
“Elite Commander Anrack,” he said.
“Lumineblade,” Anrack said. “I understand you wanted a word with me.”
“I did. In a few moments you’ll be meeting with Queen Caya. She is not pleased with you. I thought I would take this opportunity to give you a chance to explain yourself.”
“I was unaware I had any explaining to do.”
“You have been monopolizing the time of the record-keeper, but that much she can tolerate. What she cannot tolerate is the profound amount of information you uncovered and chose to act upon without first sharing it.”
“What information would that be?”
“I personally visited and found that volumes of notes from the former General Epidime had been analyzed.”
“Is it now the job of the Elite commander to serve as a courier for the record-keeper? Surely if new information has been uncovered it is his job to deliver it.”
“This isn’t about the information, Anrack. And I will thank you to keep a civil tone. The issue is that you acted on it without clearing it with us. As the current state of the record-keeper clearly illustrates, the Generals were treacherous.”
“Scriben only shared books that had been deemed free of enchantment.”
“It does not take an enchantment to set a trap, Commander. A great deal of disinformation has been uncovered in the D’Karon records, and many deceitful instructions and lessons intended to either open a new path for them to invade or lay the groundwork for one in the future. We have defeated the D’Karon once. We do not relish the thought of having to defeat them again.”
“Do you believe I would be so foolish as to engage in some behavior that might threaten our world?”
“I believe sharing your intentions with regard to D’Karon issues is the best safeguard against such a result, intentional or not. From this point forward, if the D’Karon factor into your decision-making, you will clear any decision with the crown before continuing.”
“That would lead to unacceptable delays. Our quarry is a wily one. Every minute we delay acting is another chance for him to slip away entirely. But then, I suppose that may be the purpose of this absurd requirement.”
Croyden raised an eyebrow. “What are you implying, Commander?”
“The man I’m after is your father. Clearly you have an interest in seeing him escape justice.”
“I have never met the man, Commander. Though I share his family name, I assure you I have no love for Desmeres Lumineblade. I thoroughly resent the implication that I would allow simple sentiment to interfere with the proper running of this kingdom. And moreover, even if that had been my goal, if you believe I have any influence over the queen, you are sadly mistaken. The kingdom is hers to lead. I merely ensure her orders are carried out smoothly and efficiently.”
Croyden turned head and twitched a pointed ear.
“The queen is coming now. I suggest you treat her with greater respect than you’ve treated me.”
The door swung open and nearly broke from its hinges. Tus, the leader of the Honor Guard, filled the doorway
. He glared at Anrack, then stepped aside. Queen Caya thundered into the room with fire in her eyes.
“Commander. How nice of you to grace us with your presence. I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you with our request for this meeting,” she jabbed. “Croyden, did you give him an earful?”
“Not with the same spirit I suspect you would have preferred.”
“I couldn’t hear you screaming from down the hall, so you were definitely falling short of what I had in mind. Anrack, would you like to explain to me why my infirmary is filled with injured Elites?”
“We had an encounter with Lumineblade.”
“You are supposed to apprehend him.”
“We made every attempt, my Queen. He was quite well-armed during the clash.”
“So I heard. What did you expect? You ran into him inside his personal armory! It doesn’t take a brilliant tactician to know you don’t corner a world-class weaponsmith in the very workshop where he produced some of his finest pieces! And what’s this I hear about one of the Elites dying?”
“It was unfortunate. I was not present at the time; I’d joined some of my men to locate and guard a secondary exit to the storehouse.”
“And why does it not surprise me that you found a reason to use the wand the very first time you had the opportunity?”
“You gave us permission to use the wand in an emergency. As the encounter turned out to be a lethal one, I think calling it an emergency and utilizing the wand was simple, sound leadership.”
“The point was to use the wand to save the life of one of your men if he was in danger. The man with the wand died! That’s not sound leadership, but it is certainly simple.”
Anrack kept his face impassive, but his anger was evident.
“Have you got something to say, Commander?” the queen said.
“I was taught to treat the crown with deference and respect, so I will hold my tongue.”
“I don’t care how you feel about the crown, Anrack. The woman wearing it is the one you need to worry about. So speak up. That’s an order.”
“As you wish, my Queen. How do you expect me to do as you say if you refuse to allow me to act in the ways I see fit? In our first meeting at Clennock’s Den, I will admit to being bested by Desmeres because I was unprepared for his level of treachery. If not for your pointless limitations, I would have had him, and my man would still be alive.”
The Redemption of Desmeres Page 23
