Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  “I also agree,” said Zarruk. “The time has come—and none too soon. For there is one more reason we need to select the re-ka now. We have five helars and five kas to command them. With the invitations we are sending out to our kin in the west, by spring we might well have a score of helars. Fifteen more helars and fifteen more kas commanding them. No doubt they will be worthy men—but worthy or not, they were not here! Who broke through the mountains? We did! Who crushed the Berssian Army? We did!” Zarruk paused and took a deep breath and passed his gaze over all the assembly. “Who took this city?”

  “We did!” shouted back every voice. “We did!”

  “Yes, we did! And those who led the way should continue to do so! If we do not select a re-ka now, what might happen in the spring? The fifteen new kas could decide that they wish to have a re-ka and select one of their own. Then we, we who led the way, would be obliged to follow those who followed. I say no to that! Let us select a re-ka now, and let those who come later swear fealty to him! Let the leaders lead!”

  A loud cheer went up. All the kas and all the noyens and all their shamans and all the watching warriors cheered. The captive women in the center huddled against each other in terror, not realizing that they were the farthest things from the minds of their captors. Thelena’s slave was only a few feet away, still holding the basket and looking nervously at the cheering men. Atark smiled and took the basket from her. She bowed and then slipped away. He was in a good mood. This was all going very well. And Zarruk was behaving brilliantly. They had quarreled after the slaughter of the Varags, but they were still friends, and they still agreed on what must be done. And the first step had just been accomplished. No ka would dare oppose selecting a re-ka now. Battai was gnashing his teeth and cursing, but he could not oppose, and it would make no difference if he did; any vote would go against him. Atark suspected that Battai had friends among those who would come later and had hoped to delay the vote so he would have more support for his own bid, but that was not to be. They would make the selection this day.

  Or perhaps this night, for it would not be a quick thing to do. Zarruk had laid the perfect groundwork for his own selection by reminding everyone that he was the first. He had led the attack on the fort and opened the pass. And he had been in the center of the attack on the Berssian Army. And, of course, Atark was his shaman. None would forget that.

  Still, it could well be a very long day. Atark opened the basket and looked to see what his daughter had sent to him.

  * * * * *

  Long hours later, Atark knelt in the darkened tent and looked at the Ghost.

  “So, it is done? Zarruk will be the re-ka?”

  “Yes, it took half the night, and Battai nearly drew sword on Zarruk at one point, but in the end it was done. Zarruk is the first re-ka in three centuries! The others all swore to him.”

  “Good! Good! Unity of command is essential. The stories I could tell you of the in-fighting and treachery in the army the last time we came east!”

  “I believe that all the kas will prove loyal—even Battai.”

  “Perhaps. But do not deceive yourself! Ambition will overcome any oath, given enough time. Zarruk will need to watch his back. And so will you! I agree that the time has come to begin the instruction of the other shamans. But once you no longer hold the power yourself, there will be those who will wish your destruction.”

  “I am aware of that. I will be careful.”

  “Care is good, but precautions are even better! There are spells, simple spells, which can give you protection.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, and it is time for you to learn some of them.”

  * * * * *

  It was amazing what a little bit of yelling could accomplish, thought Matt Krasner. He looked, with no small satisfaction, at the cavalry detachment that was escorting him through southern Laponia. Two dozen lancers jogged ahead and another two dozen behind. People and wagons cleared the road at their approach. Of course, officially, they were escorting the Laponian Special Emissary, but none of them would be here but for him.

  Three weeks earlier, he had swum his horse across the Glovina River. Not long after that, his companions had turned southeast in hopes of finding someone to report to. Matt had turned his horse northeast, instead, and ridden hard for Laponia. There was nothing more he could do in Berssia. He was quite sure Berssenburg had fallen, the king might well be dead, and the kingdom was a shambles. No meaningful resistance to the Kaifeng was going to possible in Berssia—and he was thoroughly fed up with being part of a meaningless resistance. The only hope lay farther east, and he was going to make damn well sure that they knew what they were up against.

  He’d arrived in Laponia, out of uniform, riding a Kaifeng pony, and in no mood to take any shit from anyone. Fortunately, fast riders had already arrived carrying the terrible news of the fall of Berssenburg. At least he would have no trouble convincing the Laponians about that! Everything had been in a panic, and Matt did not waste any time trying to convince local magistrates or local officials. He had ridden straight to the capital and demanded to see the king. That had involved quite a bit of yelling, but he would not take no for an answer. His sheer persistence—and loud voice—had finally won him an audience. The fact that he could claim to have witnessed the disaster firsthand did not hurt, either.

  The king of Laponia was not a strong ruler, the local dukes and princes held much of the power in the land, but that had made him all the more eager to meet this valiant cavalry officer who had fought the Kaifeng and lived to tell about it. Matt had lied shamelessly, too. In the stories he told, he’d been a major at Fort Pollentia, and a lieutenant-colonel at the great battle. His regiment had slain two thousand Kaifs in a glorious charge before being swarmed under by their endless numbers. He’d led an escape from the Kaif death-pits, killed another thousand, and burned part of the camp in the process. He’d personally seen and heard the Kaifeng leader and seen the sorcerer in action. Well, that last part had been true, if only from a distance. He did not have the slightest qualms about his tall tales—anything to get these people to listen to him!

  And listen they had. The Laponians had their own legends about the Kaifeng. During the great invasion of three hundred years earlier, a powerful Kaif army had gone north around the headwaters of the Glovina and ravaged Laponia. Mothers here still used the threat of the Kaifs to frighten unruly children. The younger Kingdom of Berssia might have been a rival, but they had also been a buffer against the Kaifeng. And now Matt was telling them that buffer was gone.

  And the Kaifeng were coming—here.

  It did not take anything to convince the king that Laponia could not face the threat alone. The king had figured that out on his own. Matt had told them everything he knew about the Kaifeng magic, too. Not that he knew anything at all about how it had been done, but he could tell them plenty about its effects. The parts about the magic had created the greatest consternation in the Laponian court. Advisors and ‘experts’ had been brought in, but none had any answer for the fireflies. Answers—and help—would be needed from farther east. An embassy was decided upon, and Matt made sure that he would be a part of it. He was determined to see that the word was spread.

  So now he jogged along on a splendid horse, wearing a splendid uniform. The Laponian king had made him a colonel. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was a colonel of, but the uniform was very nice indeed, and his purse was full of gold. Yes, it was amazing what some yelling in the right place could accomplish.

  At one time, he might have felt very pleased with himself, but there was too much weighing on him. Would the other principalities realize the extent of their danger? Would they put aside their petty quarrels to face the real threat? Could any answer be found to the fireflies—or the spell that was said to have shattered Berssenburg’s walls? If not, could the eastern armies be convinced to give up their muskets and cannons and return to bow and sword and lance? He knew that in Laponia they were already searching at
tics and basements and old town halls looking for armor and weapons. Would the others do the same?

  His mood grew grim as he thought about it. Not so much because of the enormity of the task he had set for himself, but because of the realization that this was all he had left. The regiment was dead, his only home had been destroyed, Chenik was dead, Kareen was a slave and hopelessly out of his reach. He was completely alone. His only purpose now was to stop the Kaifs.

  How could such a huge job leave him feeling so empty?

  No matter. If that was all he had left, then he would embrace it totally. If it was possible to stop the Kaifs, he would see that it was done!

  He rode east to spread the word.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Captain Kostlan had been doing a great deal of shouting over the last few hours, but it did seem to be having the desired effect. Unicorn had clawed its way against unfavorable winds and a raging sea. And it was finally sliding into the sheltered waters of the great harbor of Zamerdan. Those waters were packed with vessels which had had the good fortune, or the good sense, to get here before the weather turned foul.

  Jarren had no opinion concerning Captain Kostlan’s sense, but apparently his luck had not been too good on this voyage. On the return trip to Erebrus, a squall had carried away some of the rigging and the ship had been forced to put in at an island to make repairs. They were two weeks late getting to Erebrus—two weeks which Jarren could have spent at the wizards’ island taking more notes if he had just known. Still, Captain Kostlan had nearly decided to head straight back to Zamerdan, which would have stranded Jarren and Gez for the winter. He was very glad that had not happened. The people of Erebrus were far friendlier on the return stay, but it still would have been a terribly dull place to spend three or four months. He wanted to get back to civilization! He had so much to talk to Oto about!

  And a great deal that he could not talk about. He had decided during the wait in Erebrus, and the long voyage back, that he was going to have to take Weibelan into his confidence. At least to the extent of telling him that there were things he couldn’t talk about rather than try to pretend that he simply did not know. An out and out deception just was not going to work with Oto. He was sure the old man would understand—no matter how disappointed he might be.

  The ship was in the harbor now and the sea was much calmer. Most of the sails had been furled and Unicorn glided slowly along, looking for a place to anchor. Kostlan was cursing the fact that there were no berths left along the quays. They would have to unload their cargo into the boats and row it to shore.

  “And what are the bloody princes up to now?” snarled the captain, pointing to the arsenals. “Their warships are swaying up their topmasts and taking aboard stores! I hope to hell they aren’t planning on turning the harbor into a battlefield!”

  “Why else would they be doing that?” asked Jarren.

  “Don’t know. I can’t imagine those lubbers actually trying to go anywhere during the winter!”

  “Just so long as they don’t start until we get off this tub,” said Gez. Kostlan frowned at the boy.

  “Well then, I suggest you get your things packed so you can get off ‘this tub’ as soon as we are anchored and can lower a boat.” Kostlan moved away, still frowning.

  “Been packed for hours,” answered Gez.

  “What do you plan to do now that you are home, Gez?” asked Jarren.

  “Dunno. I wasn’t any luckier at dice on the way back than I was on the way out. Pretty nearly broke. Guess I’ll go back to carrying people’s bags on the docks—not that there’s much traffic this time of year.” The boy paused and looked at Jarren. “Unless, of course, you’ll still be needing a servant. I mean, you did save my neck and all. I could probably be persuaded to stay on.”

  “That would be a very good idea, Gez. I’d be happy to have you around—and I could keep a much better eye on that mouth of yours that way.”

  “Hey!” said Gez in outrage. “I gave you my word! I won’t say nuthin’ about the wizards!” The boy turned red as a dozen sets of eyes turned his way.

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” said Jarren. “You may slip up without intending to. Less chance if you stay with me.”

  “Maybe. But I’m giving up a fortune, you know. The other merchant houses would pay me as much gold as I could carry for what I know.”

  “And one merchant house would slit your throat for doing so. You’ll be safe at the university, Gez. Warm and fed and paid, too.”

  “Well…yeah, I guess so. Same wages?”

  “I think so.”

  “Done!”

  There was a sudden roar as the anchor was let go and the cable rushed out the hawsehole. The ship lurched ever so slightly and slowed to a halt. Almost immediately, there came a cry from above. “Boat approaching! Looks important, Captain!”

  All eyes turned toward the shore, and indeed, there was a large boat with eight oarsmen pulling hard toward them. Jarren was amazed to see that there was a flag fluttering from the stern that bore the crest of the university! He looked closer and was even more amazed to see Oto Weibelan sitting near the stern!

  “Ahoy the boat!” cried Captain Kostlan.

  “Ahoy Unicorn! Is Jarren Carabello aboard?” came the reply.

  “Aye, he’s here.”

  “Thank the gods! Can we come up?”

  “Aye, why not?”

  Jarren looked on in growing curiosity as the boat hooked on to the ship and several people, including Oto, scrambled up the ladder to reach the slightly pitching deck. Oto spotted him immediately and rushed to embrace him.

  “Jarren! Jarren, my boy! I’m so relieved to see you!”

  “Uh, it’s good to see you, too, sir. But I’ve only been gone a few months. You act as though I’ve been gone for years.”

  “Eh? What? Oh! Of course, you couldn’t possibly know, could you?”

  “Know what, sir?”

  One of the other men who had come aboard, a younger man than Oto, with a thin, stern face, stepped forward impatiently. “Did you find them?” he demanded suddenly. “Did you find the wizards?”

  Jarren stepped back in surprise. Who was this person? He was dressed very richly with an ornate golden chain around his neck. Someone important, obviously, but how did he know what Jarren had been looking for? He stared sharply at Weibelan. “What is this, Oto?” Weibelan looked embarrassed.

  “Oh, Jarren, my boy, I do apologize. This is Lieter Pelacore, the chancellor of the university! He has some very important things to ask you.”

  “Did you find them?” he asked again. “Out with it, man! Yes or no?”

  “Sir, this is hardly the place for such a discussion,” protested Jarren. He looked appealingly to Oto. What was going on here?

  “Dammit!” snarled Pelacore. “You’ll answer me or we’ll be having this discussion in the city dungeon!”

  “Lieter! Lieter!” cried Weibelan. “Patience, please! Jarren just returned and he has no idea what has been going on in his absence. And he’s quite correct, you know: this isn’t the proper place to be discussing this. Let’s go back to the university and we can get this all settled.”

  Pelacore scowled ferociously, and Jarren thought he was going to explode. But then he got control of himself and nodded. “Very well! Let’s go! We have no time to lose!”

  “We’ll fetch our bags,” said Jarren.

  A few minutes later, they were in the boat and rowing back toward shore. “So what is going on?” asked Jarren to Weibelan.

  “Bad news, my friend, very bad news. The Kaifeng have taken Berssenburg.”

  “What?!” Jarren exclaimed. “How can that be?”

  “Who’re the Kaifeng?” demanded Gez. “Where’s Berssenburg?”

  “The city fell a little over a month ago. Apparently the Kaifeng took two of the border forts several months before that. The Berssian Army marched out to meet them and was annihilated.”

  “But how is that possible? By all accounts, the
Kaifeng are little more than savages these days. How could they defeat a modern army and capture the capital of a great kingdom? And what does this have to do with me?”

  “I know it sounds incredible, but we have confirmed the information. As for ‘how’? Well, my boy, we are hoping that you can tell us that.”

  Jarren looked at him in astonishment.

  * * * * *

  Mattin Krasner frowned at all of the beribboned, plumed, perfumed, prancing…fops in the council chamber, and his heart sank. What could he possible hope for from this gathering of fools? But perhaps looks were deceiving; he had to admit he probably looked pretty foppish, himself, in his Laponian colonel’s outfit.

  At least he was here, and perhaps something of use would be done. Certainly, little of any use had happened since he left Laponia. He had traveled through the Duchy of Nirbon and the Principality of Mundoor, to the port city of Ibeck. They had spread the word as they went, and while they had generated a good deal of panic, there had been depressingly little action. Then had come word of a gathering of leaders and ambassadors in Zamerdan to discuss the crisis. A voyage on a small coaster had gotten them here yesterday, despite the worsening weather.

  “Colonel? If you’d please take a seat, perhaps we can get started.” Matt looked up to see one of the university officials at his elbow. He had never been to Zamerdan before, but he knew that the free city was divided into many rival factions. The university was hosting the conference as a sort of neutral ground. He spotted a seat near the center of the long table and grabbed it. One of the officials looked upset, and he was certain he had ruined some pre-planned order of precedence they had in mind, but he did not give a damn. Sometimes he wondered if this whole masquerade as a colonel was going to land him in a dungeon someday.

  The others started finding chairs, and Matt took the opportunity to look them over. As far as he knew, there were no actual rulers here. No kings or princes or dukes had yet arrived—if indeed they ever planned to. Instead, there was a bewildering array of ambassadors, chancellors, and ministers, along with priests, generals, admirals, and more than a few he could not begin to identify. The soldiers might be of interest, but he had his doubts about the rest.