Ancient Magic

by Blink, Bob

  The animals that numbered in the hundreds were stabled away from the main area, a matter of cleanliness and convenience. Most were not interested in riding after the long journey anyway, and were more focused on interaction with their counterparts. While messages were often exchanged, face to face meetings happened rarely because of the distances involved. This was a chance to exchange news, stories, and feel out the attitudes of one another.

  I’Vorris met each leader as he arrived with great public enthusiasm regardless of which side his spies told him the man was on. He also met with each privately after they were settled in. He never pressed them for how they might vote, but discussed the issues at hand, raised with each their awareness of the odd doings along the eastern borders of Lopal and what might be the cause. Each night he reviewed with Sooor what he had learned. The old woman was seldom seen in camp during the day, and only made her appearance at I’Vorris’s tents when she could come and go without being observed. She was not liked by most of the leaders who found the old woman disturbing.

  Before long only Bab’hon was missing, but that was expected. He had indicated he wouldn’t be participating, so none were surprised by his absence. With everyone present in the camp, some of the politics began, much of it hidden from view. The various leaders met among themselves. No one was fooled. The two sides of the issue were well enough known, and those with like leanings tended to spend time together. I’Vorris watched it all with great interest. He could clearly see what motivated his fellow leaders, and was able to reaffirm what his spies had told him before any of the leaders arrived here.

  I’Vorris watched as two young women left the tent of It’oni just before midnight. The feasts that were held every night degenerated into drinking and womanizing sessions as the night wore on. There were a large number of comely young women available. Most thought it an honor to be bedded by one of the tribal leaders and they vied for the honor. The leaders were anything but monogamous, and considered the nights of play away from home their right. I’Vorris didn’t participate in the activities. In part because the women involved were from his own tribe and he felt that such behavior would ultimately undermine his standing, and in part because he had other things on his mind.

  I’Vorris turned away from the opening in his tent and looked at Sooor. “They are all eager for war. Even those who will support me would rather sharpen their swords and seek the spoils of battle that they can see waiting just across the river.”

  “You cannot be surprised by this. Your spies have told you as much for many months.”

  “No. But it surprises me how strong is their desire and how little thought they are willing to give other matters.”

  “They can see only what is obvious. Both Branid and Kellmore are weaker than ever before and are ripe for the taking. There is little doubt that Lopal could overrun both lands. Holding onto them for the long term is a different matter. Those who are wiser can see that the lands could be overrun, stripped of wealth and others spoils, then only selected lands retained to meet Lopal’s needs.”

  “Perhaps I should be leading them. I might be able to temper the nature of the war.”

  “We have discussed the outcome of such an action. Whoever leads Lopal into this war will fall before the war is very old.”

  “And then what happens?”

  “I cannot see beyond what I have told you. The future has become very murky at this point.”

  “Have you ever known the future to be so closed to you?” I’Vorris asked.

  “Not like this. There is much I cannot see, but never have the visions been affected as they are now.”

  “So what am I to do?”

  “That is not for me to say. I have told you what is to happen. Lopal will go to war. The rest remains to be seen.”

  “What of the problems to the east?”

  “They are troubling and deserving of investigation. Perhaps that is something for you to consider.”

  They talked late into the night. This was the last night that I’Vorris would have to consider his plan. In the morning, the voting would take place. There was no longer a reason to delay.

  The time had come. The vote was to be cast. They were all present. It’oni tasted defeat in his mouth, and it now was too late to take any other action. Last night he’d been assured of success. He’d celebrated with a pair of the local women. As he had expected, both Ser’ril and Yerid’o had been leaning toward siding with I’Vorris. Yerid’o was solid in his conviction, but over the period of the past week It’oni had swayed Ser’ril, and with a combination of promises and bribery, had persuaded him to cast his vote for him. Their territories shared a common border, and It’oni promised him a share of the gains from the war and had promised support solving the problem in the Ruins. That had given him the count he needed. Then, just a short while earlier, Ny’tor had informed him that he would be voting for I’Vorris.

  “Why?” It’oni asked, unbelieving that his friend would do this to him.

  “You have plotted against our Lamane. I’Vorris is a man of honor. He has lead us well during the years he has been our leader. Rather than trust to a vote of the Eight or a challenge in fair and open combat, you sought to have him murdered in his bed. I cannot support one who moves in such a manner.”

  It’oni had been aghast at the condemnation. His wasn’t the first time assassins had been sent to kill another. Of course, they were usually members of one’s own clan and not someone from outside. But he couldn’t see how that would matter. He would have to repay the treachery of his former friend, but it wouldn’t change the outcome today. Today he was going to lose both his bid to become Lamane and to push Lopal into a war that would benefit them all. He looked up as I’Vorris stepped into the open from the tent around which they had gathered. Someone was with him.

  “My fellow leaders,” I’Vorris announced loudly in the rich voice that carried so well. “Our friend and fellow leader Bab’hon has sent his son to vote in his stead. This is well and good. All should be represented on this fateful day.”

  It’oni was shocked. It was seldom done, and it was up to the Lamane whether the vote would be allowed. He had seen Bab’hon’s son in the camp the last couple of days, but had not known he had made a request to be allowed to vote. Obviously the Lamane had waited to the last moment to consider, and finally approve, the request. At first It’oni couldn’t understand why I’Vorris would allow it. The man had to know the situation as well as himself. He had as many spies and had to have tasted the winds to know he had the winning count. Bab’hon was clearly one who preferred war and would almost certainly have instructed his son to vote against him. Then It’oni mentally checked off the names. With Bab’hon’s vote, and those he still could count on, he would have four. That left I’Vorris with the other four. It would be a tie, which would allow I’Vorris to cast the deciding vote. He would vote for himself and put an end to the talk of war. He would still win, but would have credit for allowing all to have their say. A masterful move with a known outcome.

  The vote proceeded, each voting as It’oni had known they would when they were called upon to state their position. The vote was open and vocal, and all of those watching could see and know where the various leaders stood. None would be able to claim later that they had voted differently. Ny’tor indeed stabbed It’oni in the back, an offense that would reap rewards later. Bab’hon’s son voted for him and the war as he’d predicted. When it was done, it was a tie. I’Vorris’s masterful move was paying off for him. When the voting was finished, I’Vorris climbed up on the elevated stand to read the results.

  “It comes to me to cast the deciding vote,” I’Vorris announced formally. They all knew that was the case, and It’oni was angry at the man for having beat him so cleverly. “I know that this has been a divisive time for each of you and I appreciate those who have stood behind me after all these years. The gains and risks that face our country need to be considered and I have factored them into my decision today.”
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  I’Vorris hesitated briefly as he let his eyes roam over the leaders who were gathered around the platform beneath him. It’oni felt the man’s triumphant eyes on him. Then he continued. “That being the case I cast my vote, the deciding vote, for It’oni and the war.”

  It’oni was shocked! He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The others were stunned as well. I’Vorris had just stepped down as Lamane and given the leadership to him! The group was silent for long moments, then a gradual cheering began to build up as It’oni was pushed toward the platform where I’Vorris waited. Ton’er and his group of Guardians were no more shocked than anyone else, but quickly he let his pleasure show as he joined in the cheering. He knew he would be able to find more common ground with the new Lamane.

  It’oni uncertainly mounted the steps that led up to where his opponent waited. He’d hoped to climb the stairs to claim his victory, but to have it handed to him by the man he’d hoped to defeat had left him confused. By now the cheers of his supports had grown, and he stepped forward to where I’Vorris waited.

  “They are yours to lead,” I’Vorris said, as It’oni came to a stop before him. Then, smoothly, I’Vorris took off the ceremonial crown and placed it upon It’oni’s head, followed by the formal cloak of fine white fox that only the Lamane was allowed to wear. Then he stepped back and allowed the new Lamane to speak to his followers.

  Afterwards the party began. A huge celebration had been prepared, planned regardless who would win. Food and drink was available and the people dug in enthusiastically. Even those who were stunned by I’Vorris’s unexpected release of the crown. Some who had supported him were glad, as they had wished to follow It’oni to war. Others were simply stunned.

  “Why?” It’oni asked I’Vorris when they were relatively alone off to one side of the celebration. “You had won.”

  “It is what the leaders really want. Perhaps it is the right course although I do not feel it to be the case. You can lead them and bring glory to Lopal. My heart would not be in it.”

  “What will you do now?” It’oni asked.

  “My sons will follow you and represent my tribe. I will take a small force of my most trusted warriors and head east. There are matters there that need to be investigated. Perhaps we will both be successful.”

  “You speak of the attacks on the herds,” It’oni said. “You really believe that is something to worry about? It is simply bears or the large cats that are excessive in number this year. Such things have happened before. The balance returns quickly enough.”

  “I do not think that is the cause this time. The stories I’ve heard suggest a different cause. Perhaps you are right, but I need to see for myself.”

  “You will not work to oppose my direction as Lamane then?” It’oni asked.

  I’Vorris smiled wryly. “I gave up that right when I voted for you. You are Lopal’s rightful leader. I am duty bound to follow your lead. I ask only to be allowed to follow up on this mystery.”

  Bab’hon rode into camp four days later as the celebrations were winding down and the leaders were making plans to return to their villages and inform their people of the outcome. It’oni had already called for the formation of a war council. The raids were to continue while they planned and prepared for an all out attack in two months. Bab’hon was shocked at the outcome. He’d fully expected I’Vorris to carry the day, and had prepared his message with that in mind. Now that It’oni was the Lamane, he knew the response to the Duke’s offer would be viewed differently, and he considered just what he would tell the new leader.

  Chapter 54

  Chaos seemed determined to overwhelm them. Branid was in a state of turmoil. The King was dead. So was his youngest daughter. His designated heir to the throne had not been heard from in more than two weeks and his situation was unknown. War was said to be coming and was possibly only weeks away. The only good news was that the disease, which looked very much like the dreaded plague, had struck no other victims, and therefore it must have been poison that killed the members of the royal family. That raised others questions however.

  Usaya, no longer Queen although most still referred to as such, found that she had reason to distrust the motives of those she should be able to count on in this time of need. She sensed that many were starting to observe and consider what opportunities were offered by the unexpected change in events. Few seemed to be focused on the gravity of the situation that faced Branid. Few seemed to be thinking of the country rather than their own potential gains.

  Her family had abruptly been cut from under her. Her husband was gone. So was her only true daughter. Rhory, not her genetic son, but someone she thought of as her own, was missing and might be lost as well. She trembled at the thought. If that was so, much more was lost. Mydra was off in hiding somewhere, effectively lost to her and the kingdom. No one could be bothered to look for her at the moment. That was going to be a significant issue soon, as she knew that Kellmore’s King would be insisting that she be sent there where she would be safer. If Mydra couldn’t be made to go, who knew what would happen to the alliance her husband had so carefully arranged. That left only herself and Rhog.

  Rhog had assumed the throne – at least on a temporary basis. He’d probably been wise to do so considering the obvious scheming among the nobles. Even so, the move made her uncomfortable, especially since his action had cut off any authority she had been allowed after the death of Rupermore. Now she was simply a grieving widow. Rhog had gone out of his way to make it clear that she had no authority. Women did not make the decisions for the kingdom, and while she might have sage advice, he wasn’t particularly interested in hearing it. She hoped that Rhog had no plans to try and hold onto the throne once Rhory returned. That would add yet another issue the kingdom didn’t need at this time. Hopefully his disinterest in her advice stemmed from her obvious disapproval of him over the past years. That and the fact she wasn’t his birth mother, and with his father gone he no longer felt she had any real link to him. They had never been close as she’d been to Rhory. Like herself, Rhory’s wife had no official status, although her position hadn’t changed so much because everyone hoped that Rhory would be returning and she would eventually be queen. Even Rhog appeared to treat her with care.

  Matters were moving too quickly for Usaya. She felt actions were being taken without proper consideration of the consequences. She wished she had more control. She better than anyone knew what her husband had wished to happen. She could have tried to make it so.

  The people of Branid, at least those in Sulen who were most aware of events, were clearly uneasy. Long had they expected Rhory to follow as the next king. The sudden unexpected death of the king while Rhory was away checking on Lopal’s intrusions had caught them unaware as well. Now they could sense the lack of direction and the conflicting priorities that were held by the leaders. Few saw Rhog as a proper king, and all wished that Rhory would return to set things right once again.

  Bishop Orano was among those who weren’t happy with the sudden change of events. Granted he had conspired to see the rightful heir removed, but that had been for the good of the church. He had envisioned a situation in which, with Rhory gone, Rhog would have been groomed as the successor. Over a period of several years he could have helped mold Rhog into the kind of leader who would grant the church expanded powers and rights, and would have learned how to rule. The boy was not yet ready. And with a war on the horizon! This was a disaster. He could already see the weakness in Rhog as he attempted to fill his father’s shoes. Orano almost hoped that Rhory would suddenly reappear to set things right, despite his earlier efforts to see the man dead. Orano also didn’t like some of the rumblings he was hearing from the nobles. They would be within their rights to call for a vote, and could actually choose someone else to be king. Many among them would not favor the church having any more power and would be worse even than he’d feared Rhory might be in that regard. The Cardinal had addressed the leaders of the church just the other day, d
escribing the division within the country and the risks to the brotherhood. Orano briefly wondered if he had set in motion more than he intended.

  For his part, Rhog was not entirely pleased with the current situation either. He had wanted Rhory dead so he would be in line for the throne. He would have liked to see his father deal with the war that seemed to be a certainty now, and then assume the throne in a couple of years. There was a lot he knew he needed to learn, and the Bishop was correct that he needed the support of the people if he were to be able to stand up to the nobles. Sadly, his father was gone, and Rhory could well be alive. What a horrible turn of events that would be. Because of the uncertainty, and his lack of preparation, he was being careful as he assumed temporary duties as the ruler of Branid. If Rhory returned, he’d have to turn over control to him, and consider how to deal with his brother after the war. If Rhory was gone, then he was going to have to learn quickly, or be replaced. He’d never considered that when he’d started his planning. His only act of defiance was against Usaya. He knew she had always favored Rhory, and he couldn’t help but use his position to cut her off from the power she’d been assuming since his father’s death. He paced nervously. Why couldn’t this have gone differently?

  Not everyone was displeased with the state of affairs, of course. Duke Cordale thought matters were going reasonably well. He could do without the outside disturbance from Lopal, of course, but even that he thought he was managing. Roit’s trip had apparently been quite successful, and with any luck the Prince would never be heard from again. Any day now they would hopefully be hearing of his death, and then it would be time to bring this situation under control. Once he revealed what he knew of Rhog and the bishop’s plotting against Rhory, which would make most suspect Rhog as being behind the Prince’s death, the youth would be removed by popular demand. The material he would reveal would also strike a strong blow against the church, something Cordale felt was important as well. He distrusted the meddling priests and their control of the people. Best to see them discredited as well.