The Temple Road

by Kirby Crow

  “You've served me well, ser,” Liall said. “What reward can I offer you?”

  Selie bowed deeply. “To serve the king is reward enough, but now I can say I have attended to an Anlyribeth.”

  Liall gave him a purse of gold coins and dismissed him, then he summoned Margun.

  “Scarlet will be well enough to leave in the morning,” Liall said without preamble. “Make your men ready and have Chos pack our things. We'll begin the descent in the first hour of dusken. With any luck, we will be on the Temple Road within a day.”

  Margun looked uneasy.

  “What?” Liall demanded.

  Margun hooked his thumbs in his sword-belt. “Sire, I placed my sword in ser Keriss’ hands and took an oath to be his man, and then I refused to obey him. He may no longer want my service.”

  “But he needs it, so you will serve.”

  “That should be his decision.”

  “Yes, it should!” Liall snapped. “All the same, you will serve him.”

  “Sire, have you told ser Keriss that Jochi is under arrest? He's asked my men about it. He's also noted that Alexyin is absent. What shall he be told, sire?”

  Liall felt like kicking something. “Deva's shrieking hell, he's barely healed and he's already a pain in my arse. Tell him nothing. Tell him you don't know. Jochi is my subject and I’ll judge him as I please. Tell him that, if you want.”

  “Ah... that wouldn't be my first choice,” Margun evaded.

  Liall barked laughter. “So. I'm not the only one who steps carefully around a Hilurin temper. Very well. Tell him the Blackmoat is Jochi’s home and he is happy to be going there. That’s half the truth, anyway, so he might not call you out on it. Might not,” he added, just to watch Margun squirm. “How do you like leading the keriss solda, Margun?”

  “I like it,” Margun answered at once. “Ser Keriss is a man worth protecting. It's no secret that he puts me through my paces and tests my limits, but we get along well enough day-to-day if there’s no vexing, as he calls it. I enjoy his company.”

  “Does he enjoy yours?”

  “I can't speak to that, my lord. I hope so.”

  “Don't be so modest,” Liall groused. “He likes you, or he did, until you made a mess of the Jochi business. He didn’t say so, but I could see it.”

  “My lord, I would never—”

  “Stop. It's good that he likes you.” Liall sighed. “You will formally apologize to him and beg his pardon, and if he grants it, you will be grateful and improve yourself. He will need friends around him. He's going to miss Jochi.”

  Margun cleared his throat. “Have you decided Jochi’s fate, sire?”

  Theor, ever thoughtful, had provided wine and a tray of food. Liall ignored the meal and poured a cup for Margun. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Only because I knew him while I lived at the Blackmoat.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “It's hard to make friends at the Blackmoat. We were acquainted. He was kind when he was able.”

  “Meaning you were a disgraced soldier sent there as a punishment, and he was a nobleman with close ties at court and a bright future. Not precisely a perfect match.” Liall watched Margun's face carefully as he handed him the wine cup. “I didn't know you were so concerned for Jochi’s well-being. If that's true, perhaps you shouldn't have betrayed him.”

  Margun had the grace to look guilty. “After I heard him spreading treason with my own ears, there was little choice, sire. I had taken a vow.”

  Liall shook his head. “What motivates a man like you, Margun? You betrayed the queen to serve your conscience, then you betray one of your few friends to serve the crown, then you betray your lord to obey your king. What am I to make of that?”

  Margun's thick fingers curled around the cup. “I served my conscience this time, too, my lord. I swore an oath to serve ser Keriss, and I did what I thought would be best for him. I'm your subject, sire, but I’m his vassal. Serving a man instead of an idea makes the world easier to navigate.”

  Liall sank heavily into a stone chair. It was cold under him. He knew he had heard truth, difficult as it was for Margun to say it. “It’s good that you didn't lie to me. I've been wondering for days if I'd need to take your head off after all.”

  Margun put the cup down untasted. “So, Jochi is to die?”

  “I haven’t decided.” Liall rubbed his chin, thinking. “He was my friend once, too. He served me well when it didn’t trouble his conscience. You can understand that, I think.”

  Margun nodded.

  “I don't want to sentence him to death,” Liall admitted. “But I may have no other choice. He did commit treason. He admits it.”

  “Ser Keriss would be grieved to learn of his fate.”

  Liall nodded absently. “You may go, Margun. Do your duty, protect ser Keriss on the road, and you will not find me ungrateful.”

  Margun bowed with his hand on his sword and left Liall alone in the hall.

  He was not alone for long.

  “I can tell you're there,” Liall said to the air. His voice echoed hollowly. “I can always tell when one of you is near.”

  It seemed as if the rocks themselves rumbled around the hall, echoing endlessly. “Nazheradei. King.”

  He could not see Ulan, but the Ancient did not have to show himself to communicate. It sent a shiver down Liall’s spine to realize that Ulan could speak to him through the rocks. “I’ve been told that the Ava Thule have fled the Hadras, which I think you know is not entirely true. Are we walking into a trap?”

  Only silence answered him.

  “You swore not to play me false.”

  “The Hadras holds many children of the Longwalker, but the army of Nazheradei must not tarry there. They must go further, past the Ironspell, past the Kingsdal.”

  Which is not a lie, nor the whole truth, either, Liall thought in despair. Gods below, the Hadras. The desolate valley country between the Blackmoat and the Greatrift was treacherous, the terrain uneven, varying between sheer cliffs and rocky, ice-filled gorges. There were also too many caves to count, and the Ava Thule could be deeply entrenched and prepared. The Temple Road ran straight past it.

  “How many?”

  “You have more. Thrice more. In the Hadras there are only women, children. The weak and the old.”

  “I could still send my army down into that place to burn them out of the holes they hide in, kill them all.”

  “No.”

  “No, you say,” Liall's voice was bitter. “You say Scarlet will live, but first I must lure him to the last place in the world he would agree to go, into the hands of those who nearly killed him. You say I must make peace with the Ava Thule, but first I have to allow my army to march right past them. This entire venture is beginning to feel like a trap.”

  “The mighty army of the king has no need to fight old women and babes, just as I have no need to trap you. If I wanted Scarlet of Lysia now, I could take him. King Nazheradei could not stop me.”

  Which was true enough, but no longer comforted Liall. Ancients are all skulking plotters. They watch and hint and promise, but what have they actually done?

  He rose and crossed the hall, seeking the direction of Ulan's voice. The Ancient was a massive shadow at the end of the hall, furthest away from the light that streaked in from the broken roof. Liall could discern the outline of one great arm, the skin like mottled bark. Only the moonstone eyes of the Ancient glinted with a pale fire. The rest of him was as still as something dead.

  Serpents and Setna, Liall thought ruefully. One as unreliable as the other. If he survived this Greentide, that would have to change.

  “You need me to do this willingly,” he said to shadows, wondering how he had not realized it before. “For some reason, I have to be the one to bring Scarlet. I have to be the one to betray him.”

  “If you believe this a betrayal, why do you persist?”

  “Because it's my only chance, damn you! The curaes can do nothing. Your
vision showed me what would happen to Scarlet if I tried, how he would be wasted and old and loathe me for the life I'd forced on him. I have no magic of my own. I have to trust in Scarlet's magic, and in the magic of the Shining Ones.” The words were bitter on his tongue. “I have to believe that you can do what you say you can.”

  “Not I,” Ulan said, his low tones seeming to merge with the stones beneath Liall’s boots. “It is your t'aishka who has the power. He will commune with the Shining Ones. It is the Old Way.”

  “Piss on your old ways. Make him live, that's all I want.” Liall rubbed his face wearily, his heart aching. Commune. Like the ritual Melev tried to force Scarlet into? Scarlet may wind up hating him anyway. “How many of the Ava Thule have you brought inside Ged Fanorl?”

  “As many as are needed. I have said: it is the Children of the Longwalker who will grant your desire. They must be present to do this.”

  Liall gritted his teeth. It was hard to reconcile his old hatred of the Tribelanders with his need to save Scarlet. “How is it that those animals can help me, but the Ancients cannot?”

  “T’was they who found it out, deep in the mountain. The fragment. It lives still, and only they can speak to it.”

  It. Liall felt a cold chill settle in a mantle over his shoulders. Ulan had claimed that the Creatrix was hidden deep, far away in the Nerit, a fact that Scarlet confirmed. If so, then what had they found? “The Ava Thule possess this... fragment?”

  “None does. It is not a thing to be had. Even we will not touch this. It is not for us. It was never for us. This will bring peace, O king. A true and lasting peace between all the peoples of Rshan, and it can only be done if we save a life.”

  Scarlet’s life, he thought. Riddles, riddles. He felt like he was fighting his way through a maze, each step more perilous than the last. Fragment, Ulan said. Not the Creatrix, but a part of something else equally as powerful, something lost and only now rediscovered. The far past of the Ancients was shrouded in mystery, as unknowable as the Shining Ones themselves.

  “I'll do what you ask, but there will be blood on both sides. I cannot prevent it.”

  “Neither can we. Men will be men, even unto their own destruction.” Ulan paused for a long moment. “He is well again, your t’aishka?”

  “Would I be sitting here, else?” Liall snapped. “You underestimate my heart.”

  “The king of Rshan is reckless to trust so much of himself.”

  “To Scarlet? You're wrong.”

  “To me.”

  Liall bowed his head and shuddered. Soon, he could sense that Ulan was gone. He had not seen or heard him leave. It was as if Ulan had melted through the wall and into the rock of the mountain.

  No doubt he would be imagining ghosts next.

  Liall thought about the strange and terrible twists in his life, how he had begun life as a prince, became a murderer and slayer of his kin, then a thief and brigand who loved no one and whom no one else could possibly love. He thought of his life with the Kasiri and the years wherein he had learned to rule, the sudden invitation to return to Rshan, and finally meeting Scarlet, which was the real beginning of his life.

  I've made a mistake, he finally admitted to himself. He should never have returned to Rshan. He should have taken Scarlet with him to Arbyss, or to Ankar, or to Mortain, even. Anywhere where they could have had a life together free of the boundless ambitions of empires and kings.

  Perhaps the Ancients did not actually care who ruled Rshan. After they granted Scarlet the time he deserved, they would own both of them.

  The gray patch of sky visible through the roof cleared, revealing a slice of blue. Liall sat in the unyielding stone chair and studied it, his heart heavy.

  As long as he lives. That's all I ask, please gods, let Scarlet live.

  SCARLET SHOT LIALL an unhappy look. “Alexyin said that Jochi had committed treason. Is that why he’s not riding with us?”

  Jochi would ride in the rear of the column, under guard. Liall lounged in a greatchair and watched as Chos helped Scarlet to dress in the small chamber that had been Scarlet's sickroom since he was injured.

  He had told Scarlet that Jochi had gone ahead to the Blackmoat with a detachment to announce their arrival. The army column on the road would be so long that Scarlet would never know the difference, and Scarlet would be riding in the king’s vanguard, at the head of the column.

  “Treason,” Liall scoffed. “Death and executions. What next, comets and earthquakes? Jochi is in no more trouble than he normally is” he said, lying effortlessly. I lie too easily these days. “Let me handle Jochi in my own way. He is Rshani, you know, and my kinsman. I won’t harm him. Really, t'aishka, you're not the only difficult man in Rshan. The land is full of them.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Scarlet shrugged into a heavy black virca sewn with crimson thread at the collar and wrists. Chos laced up the sides of the garment as Scarlet tied his hair back with a bit of leather lacing. “Are you sure you’re not angry with him? Alexyin seemed quite certain.”

  “Alexyin was misinformed. What Jochi did was foolish, but treason? That’s going too far. Stop worrying, my love. Jochi will meet us at the Blackmoat.” The last was the truth at least. Liall smiled as Scarlet straightened the virca one last time and held his arms out from his body.

  “Well? How do I look?”

  “Are you really concerned with looking good for the army?”

  “No, but I want to make a proper show. I've kept them here for ten days, poor fellows. The least I can do is dress up.”

  Liall chuckled. “You don't know very much about soldiers. They're not eager to go marching into the freezing wilds to challenge an enemy when it's warmer here and there’s food and safety.” Liall nodded at the young servant. “Thank you, Chos. You may go.”

  Chos bowed himself out with grace, giving Liall a final smile before he turned his back. He also winked, which startled Liall. He glanced quickly to see if Scarlet had seen it. He hadn't.

  I've ignored this problem for too long, he thought. He would have to remedy that, and soon. He had no patience for that sort of nonsense and wouldn't have Scarlet troubled with it. There was a time when I would have taken that wink as a pleasant challenge, but I'm twenty years past that: twenty years and far too many brothels.

  Scarlet was still fussing with the laces under his arms. “Alexyin made such a thing of the soldiers still being here on my account. I was sure your men were on the verge of ... what do you call it when soldiers revolt?”

  “A revolt.”

  “Very funny.”

  Liall smiled. “The same as mariners: mutiny. But there's no mutiny here, unless it is among my own council. The common soldiers are blissfully ignorant of any fragmentation in the higher ranks, as it should be.”

  “Don’t sell the commoners short. I'm sure some of them know.” Scarlet sat down to lace up his boots again, making the laces looser and wiggling his toes.

  “Undoubtedly, but it will be ignored as gossip. Or savored as gossip. Either. Trust me, they're not at all pleased to get their marching orders. Sleep and good food are two of a soldier's chief concerns. Idleness is not a problem unless it runs into months. The time we've spent here is a happy consequence to them.”

  Scarlet glanced up, his fingers busy with the laces. “Alexyin said the delay had cost you the advantage of surprise with the Ava Thule.”

  “As Alexyin has reminded me, he is no general. He should leave the soldiering to me. He's never been in a real battle.”

  “No? He looks the part. Maybe that's just me, though.” Scarlet took up his sword belt with the double long-knives and fastened it low on his hips. “So, there's really no trouble?”

  “No.”

  “But Alexyin said—

  “Alexyin said Alexyin said. Deva's hells,” Liall growled. “Enough of what Alexyin said.” He closed his eyes briefly. I hate lying to him. I've lied a thousand times as a bandit, but the truth never mattered this much before. “I'm not angry with y
ou,” he said, deliberately soft. “If I sound so, it's because I have much on my mind. Alexyin shouldn't have distressed you while you were recovering. He most certainly should not have brought military matters to your attention. What did he expect you to do?”

  Scarlet sat on the arm of Liall's chair and took one of Liall's hands in both of his own. Scarlet’s skin felt warm and smooth, and his hands were beautifully unmarked, as whole as they ever were.

  “I think it was more about what I didn't do, or haven't done until now,” Scarlet said. “Liall, I think you should marry Ressilka.”

  Liall tried to pull his hand away, but Scarlet held on. “What’s this now?” He searched Scarlet's face, a sudden suspicion darkening his tone. “Who have you been talking to?”

  Scarlet pressed his lips together and shook his head.

  “Alexyin again,” Liall guessed. “Gods damn him.” He saw in Scarlet’s anguished expression that it was true.

  “Please listen,” Scarlet pleaded. He continued in a rush, each word tripping one over the other. “I know I was against it before, and I know Alexyin doesn't like me, but he's right about this: you need an heir. I've been selfish, I know. I've put you in danger and I've set some of your own countrymen against you. Didn't you say yourself that Ressanda might become an enemy? I’ve seen the maps, Liall. Tebet is not a small barony, and Ressanda has allies. He might not be able to win a war against you, but he can certainly start one, and then how many men and women will die? How many families will be torn apart? How many orphans will be made?” He sighed deeply, almost shuddering. “Marry Ressilka and everything is solved.”

  If only that were true. Liall cupped his hand against Scarlet's smooth, pale cheek. “It’s not quite that simple. I've refused Ressilka to her face and told her exactly why. Now if I go running back and say I want her for my bride, she's bound to know it isn't for love. That will hardly endear me to her, but even if it would, I'm the one who's unwilling now. It's too late for all that.” The sadness in Scarlet's face wrenched at his heart. “I did warn you,” he murmured.