The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  “That doesn’t mean you automatically go to war.”

  “No, that would be for the senate to decide. But we have a new emperor and emperors love to prove their strength as soon as they can. If anyone learns that we are technically at war then they don’t need any justification to launch a full invasion.”

  Agnarr drew in a heavy breath. “If they reach Faersrock it’s going to be a massacre.”

  “No. It will be a massacre if a legion arrives next year.”

  Agnarr gave it one last shot. “My fighters are out looking for you on the lake. They won’t get back here in time. We only have fishermen and children with us. Less than ten fighters but enough of them can man a bow. Without your help, Razoz might kill every man, woman, and child in Faersrock by this time tomorrow. You came to help. If I’m on the throne, I give you my word that you will be my ally and there will be no need for a war. I will make it punishable by death for anyone here to raid Ispar’s lands. You will have your victory and a new alliance. We can both win. But I can’t do that if Draegor’s cavalry massacres everyone around me.”

  Alysia’s voice cracked. “How many people live here?”

  Agnarr’s eyes started to water over. “Thousands.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Agnarr rose from his seat. Waved to the four walls of the tavern. “You and your people can stay here. It will be warm. We weren’t expecting so many of you but I am relieved that you have capable soldiers with you.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” said Alysia.

  “I will tell my people not to disturb you. Some might. They have a routine and do not like it broken.” He bid us all a quick nod. Left.

  Alysia stared into her clasped hands. Loken moved himself around the table to sit where Agnarr had been, allowing the four of us to huddle together. “We can’t defend this town with our numbers.”

  “I know,” said Alysia.

  “We have a way out on that ship. We can rest up for an hour or two and set sail.”

  I asked, “What about Berik?”

  Alysia looked as though something on the creaky floorboards would help to solve her unending dilemma. “We might be able to barter for him.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Whoever sits on the throne might offer him back.”

  “Doubtful,” said Loken.

  Zara said, “Everyone has a price.”

  Alysia carried on. “Or if by some luck Agnarr is able to reach Brilskeep and finds Berik then we can offer Agnarr a reward for Berik’s release.” She sighed once again. “Thousands live here.”

  “Then let’s find out who they are and see how trustworthy Agnarr is,” I said.

  “You don’t trust him?”

  “Not in the slightest. He knows of Elizandria and dropped that line of inquiry immediately.”

  Loken asked: “Why would that matter?”

  “Because she supposedly sent a message to him.”

  “She said she did. She also supposedly sent a message to us. Maybe she was just playing it safe.”

  “And yet Agnarr avoided any mention of the messengers completely. Hell, you’ve asked more questions about her and her messengers than Agnarr did.”

  “He has a lot going on,” said Alysia. “His son, his crews out looking for us, our delayed arrival, Razoz and the cavalry on their way.” She looked to Loken. “How soon could they reach us?”

  “I’ve never seen horses move on vampire blood. If they were imperial cavalry then they could reach us by sundown tomorrow. Sooner if they have roads. Sooner still if they have spare horses with them. So with all of that – and because of the short days up here – let’s say dawn tomorrow.”

  I said: “So let’s find out if it’s worth staying.”

  Loken squinted with a cautious look towards me. “The last time you went snooping around the whole castle exploded into a blood bath.”

  I turned to Zara. “You want to come look around? See if anything’s amiss?”

  “I’m on protection detail.”

  “Then bring the vanguard inside and stick Alysia in the middle of them. That’s what they’re here for.”

  “You mean I’m going to be trapped inside all day again?” asked Alysia. “No. I didn’t come here to hide.”

  Loken gritted his teeth. “As long as we’re in sight of our mages we can leave the tavern.”

  “Good. We have the whole of the north to win over. We might as well start with the locals of Faersrock.”

  Loken looked to Zara. “You should go with Raike.” Then to me. “What did you have in mind?”

  “We’re going to double check Agnarr’s story. Find out if he’s still married to Beatrix and how the news of Johnan’s death is received. See how many nobles are on his side or could be swayed to his side. See what people think of Elizandria. That sort of thing.”

  “They’re not going to be happy to see us wandering around their home, asking the sort of questions that make it sound as though we are suspicious of their future king.”

  “In my experience very few people are ever happy to see me. We have a few hours of light left. Let’s make the most of it.”

  Zara nodded along. “We’ll need a local who can show us around and translate.”

  “Not Torunn.”

  “You don’t trust him either?”

  “He’s all right but I want someone who lives here and not on a ship. A kid would be good. A girl would be preferable.”

  “Why a girl?”

  “Because it’s funny watching them having to translate ‘go fuck yourself.’”

  Alysia slumped forward. “Oh, gods.”

  I rose. Left. Zara emerged a minute or so after me. Waved the vanguard into the tavern. They slumped inside, exhausted and now paranoid of being in a confined area in the middle of enemy territory, but at least it would be easier to break out of a wooden building than a brick dungeon.

  I pointed to the gaggle of kids being watched carefully by every adult in the vicinity. “Let’s start over there.” We wandered over. “Does anyone speak Isparian?”

  The kids were called back towards safety. A couple of dogs came to investigate us. Were curious that we didn’t smell like fish. I scratched the back of a mutt’s ear. Made a friend. He followed us around while trying to sniff Zara’s butt.

  A blacksmith stoked a fire. Paused to sneer at us. An old man repaired a net while sitting on the stump of a log, leaning back against his house. Paused to sneer at us. A couple of young men followed us with axes in their hands. I stopped. Turned. Felt my pulse rise. “Can I help you fellas?”

  They said nothing. Stood fairly still while maintaining eye contact. We moved on. They followed. I caught sight of our ship’s first mate being led into a small but well-built stone house with Agnarr. Possibly Agnarr’s home.

  Our pursuers got a little closer. Started working themselves up towards a confrontation. Some of our sailors came to our rescue. Shouted at the axmen. Our pursuers shouted back. One of them pointed at Zara, muttering something with a disgusted look that seemed disparaging. Zara snapped her belt into a spear. The disparager’s face dropped, not expecting her reaction.

  His friend chuffed to himself. Stepped forward in a ‘you better watch yourself’ kind of move. Swiveled his ax around.

  Zara lunged, swinging the heel of her spear through the air, catching the ax then knocking it to the ground before her attacker realized what was happening.

  Some of the locals chuckled. Others hissed for an imminent fight to the death. The sailors cautiously clapped our pursuers on the back, urging them to leave before everything turned to shit. Zara’s guy seemed to agree. He reclaimed his ax, spat on the ground in a mark of ‘this isn’t over’ and sauntered away.

  One of the sailors remained. “Okay?”

  “We’re okay,” I said.

  Agnarr took note from the front of his house. Said nothing. Went back inside.

  Zara said, “So far we haven’t endeared us to find a kid who can translate
.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  We took another look around town, getting a feel for the general infrastructure while trying to plan how to escape from Draegor’s cavalry or fight them in such a cramped fishing town. The surrounding trees were useful to hide behind or block the road. The mud would help break a few ankles but that also posed a problem for us. The quicksand could be useful but that would take out only a handful of riders. We checked the end of the pier. Counted the row boats. Tested the water. Shivered.

  “Worst case, there are six small fishing boats with two oars each and thirty three of us who would have to cross a hundred miles of water.”

  “We’d fit,” said Zara.

  “Yeah, but we’d never reach the other side alive. Rowing a hundred miles through the fog with no landmarks to guide us?” I brought us back towards the center of town. “Just how likely are we to ever see Berik again?”

  “Honestly? I think he’s dead by now. He was left behind in the middle of a coup with several warlords on a killing spree to eliminate their enemies. They would know that Berik wasn’t high up enough to be worth the effort of a ransom and killing him might’ve given someone enough of a high to let them think that they had dealt a massive blow to the general.”

  “Does the general know Berik’s name?”

  “No idea.”

  We walked on, watched by more locals, including the guy who had lost his ax in front of Zara. He was muttering to his friends, talking about how he could’ve easily taken us on and that we better watch out for him if we knew what was best.

  I asked: “Assuming that Berik is still alive, what would you do about him?”

  “I’d try to find a way of getting him back without any bloodshed.”

  “So, a ransom?”

  “A bribe might work, since Berik is a low-rung soldier, but a ransom would be smoother and not risk his jailor’s life. More expensive, though. You?”

  “I like the bribe option. I also like breaking him out.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going back for him.”

  “Depends. Just how low level was he?”

  “He’s a regular grunt.”

  “Who happened to be good enough to serve in a general’s vanguard and be assigned to protecting the general’s daughter.”

  Zara stopped. Looked me dead in the eye. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

  “The chain of command is Alysia, Loken, you, then me. So I’ve asked Alysia, Loken, and you what you each think we should do about the guy we left behind.”

  “Any surprises?”

  “No. Right now there’s too much going on and Berik is a situation that needs to be put on hold until we have further information.”

  “So what would you do?”

  “Send them a simple threat: ‘We win wars. You don’t. Your kingdom is divided. Ours is not. You know what we want.’”

  Zara arched an eyebrow at me. “‘You know what we want’?”

  “There’s no need to be too wordy with threats.”

  “What would you do about everyone here versus the cavalry?”

  “I’d evacuate the town. Get the civilians moving west while Agnarr, his fighters, the sailors, and us cram ourselves back onto the ship and sail east, back towards Brilskeep. Ice Bridge should be largely deserted by now as their fighters are all coming here. So we land nearby, storm Ice Bridge, and send word to Elizandria. She’ll know if there is a new king or queen and who it is. Depending on that we could work on an alliance or total war against the new monarch.”

  “We’d be pinned in as soon as the cavalry return.”

  “Yes, but Agnarr’s raiders will return as well. We’ll have their stronghold, the cavalry will be stuck on the outside, and the raiders will come up from behind them. Then we’d let whoever has the throne know that Draegor’s kidnapping of us was a declaration of war. If they don’t surrender everyone who was involved in our kidnapping then the north will become Ispar’s newest province.” I paused as someone caught my attention.

  Zara tightened her grip around her belt. “What now?”

  “Her.”

  An eleven year old girl had followed us around the side of her house, trailing her fingers along the wooden beams as though she might still be able to use the building for cover.

  I walked over, much to her surprise. She hurried back to an old man gutting a two-foot fish and dumping the innards in one crate and the flesh in another.

  “Do you speak Isparian?”

  The old man glanced up, groaning with a mix of disapproval and resignation. The eleven year old hid behind him.

  “You looked like you were trying to listen to us, to practice. Do you speak Isparian?”

  The old man wheezed at her. “Anka?”

  “A little,” she answered, her nervous intonation making it sound more like a question.

  “My name is Raike. This is Zara.”

  Zara smiled like she had the warmest soul in the world, changing her expression in a second from the usual disgruntled look she perpetually gave me. “Hi Anka. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Who taught you Isparian?”

  “My mother.”

  “Was she Isparian?”

  “Not really.”

  “Where was she from?”

  “Gerera.”

  One of Ispar’s provinces, though if Anka’s mother was at all like me then we were both foreigners due to a lack of citizenship, despite being born and raised to people who themselves were born and raised in Ispar’s land.

  I asked, “Can we get your help to talk to people?”

  The old man muttered something under his breath.

  I dug out one of Draegor’s silver coins from my pocket. “I’d like to hire you for an hour. You show us around Faersrock and help us talk to people. Okay?”

  She looked back to her grandfather as he shot a stern glare at us, muttering to Anka. “He wants to know where you got that.”

  “Brilskeep. I’ll give you this now and you help us for an hour.”

  The grandfather climbed uneasily to his feet. Held out his hand. I paid up.

  “I have a couple of questions before we go anywhere. Is Agnarr married?”

  Anka had the answer. “Yes.”

  “Who to?”

  “Beatrix.”

  “How long have they been married?”

  She shrugged, not knowing the exact timing of it all. Her grandfather had the answer. “Two years,” translated Anka.

  “Is she here?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Does she live here?”

  The old man strained his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Some nobles in the south are married but live in different cities. Does Beatrix live here?”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  “When did she leave?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve only noticed she isn’t here.”

  “Does she go away often?”

  “No, never,” muttered the old man, before realizing that wasn’t true and stumbling over Anka’s translation. “Yes. Once to see her mother before she died.”

  “Is her father still alive?”

  “No.”

  “Does she have any brothers or sisters?”

  “A sister, I think.”

  “Where does the sister live?”

  “West of here.”

  “Does Beatrix have any hatred towards Ispar? Did she lose her brothers to General Kasera?”

  “Not that I know of, but a lot of people up here don’t like Ispar.”

  “When are the rest of Agnarr’s ships supposed to return?”

  “Not today. Probably not tomorrow.”

  “Have you heard of Elizandria?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you. Can you show us around now?”

  The locals weren’t going to let us out of their sight, that much was certain. Pockets of nosy northerners followed us around, concerned that General Kasera’s vanguard had landed in their home and were already staking out
the place.

  I asked: “Were we expected?”

  “No.”

  “When important guests arrive is there any kind of big feast? A moose on a spit? Ice wine?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Was any of that being prepared in the last couple of days?”

  “No.”

  “So everything was normal? Just another couple of days in Faersrock?”

  “Yes.”

  I added it to the list of concerns. I knew Mikael was well versed in exaggeration but he had been quite certain that a moose and ice wine would be served for Agnarr’s most important guests. Admittedly Agnarr may have wanted a low-key meeting, a rendezvous in the church that was away from prying eyes, and maybe he wasn’t expecting so many of us to arrive, but even so his lack of preparation wasn’t reassuring.

  Zara whispered to me. “How is it you have a silver coin from Vasslehün when all of our money was taken from us?”

  “I’m lucky like that.”

  “Right.” Zara spoke to Anka’s grandfather. “How much is that coin worth?”

  “It will feed us for a month.”

  “That must be some luck.”

  I sent Zara a shit-eating grin. We stopped at the blacksmith’s. The roar of heat from the dome kiln was a welcomed relief from the chill around my neck. The man himself rose from stoking the fire. The left side of his face was scarred with burns and flecks of soot. He tried to hide it by wearing his singed hair down over his face. He would’ve looked better pulling his hair back completely.

  The blacksmith cast his eyes over us and muttered a few curses. Anka recoiled. Her grandfather wheezed a ‘language, please.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ was the general vibe from the blacksmith.

  “Ask him if he knows of Elizandria, the mercenary queen,” I said.

  “He doesn’t want to talk to us,” whispered the girl.

  “Ask him if he knows of Elizandria, the mercenary queen.”

  Nervously, the girl asked. “What of her?” came the reply.

  “Is she trustworthy?”

  “She’s a mercenary, so no.”