“How goes the fight for Trecharch?”
“I’ve only just sent troops. They won’t reach the area for days yet, but the fighting has moved on.” He shook his head. “They’re brutal, the Sa’ba Taalor.”
“They aren’t that many in number are they?”
Merros bit back a hysterical laugh. “I’d hoped that was the case, but after meeting with their King in Iron, I don’t think I was right in my assessments.”
Dretta continued to study him and he wasn’t certain it was a sensation he liked. She had a very direct stare and he was never sure whether or not she found him up to the standards she demanded in her world.
Just to let himself recover from her eyes, he ate a slice of apple and a sharp hard cheese he couldn’t identify. He barely tasted them.
“There are a lot more of them than I first thought, Dretta, and they’re savage. I can’t explain that well enough. I have seen them in combat and I don’t know many soldiers who would have a chance against them.”
“You’ve been training them, yes?”
“Yes, of course. But the training doesn’t happen quickly and our enemies have spent their entire lives preparing for this.” He shook his head. “I have soldiers trained with swords and I have lancers and I have archers. But they have different weapons. Things I’ve never even imagined before.”
“So you intend to surrender?” The look she threw his way made clear she was scolding him for his doubts.
“Of course not.”
“That is good. Wollis would approve.”
“With a thousand like Wollis I feel I would have a chance.” He picked at a cluster of grapes. “He could train anyone. He could use almost any weapon.”
“So find them. Out there, among your soldiers. Find the ones like him and make them count.”
“You always make it sound easy.”
“There is no easy, Merros Dulver. There is only what must be done.”
She smiled at him then, and the possibility that he might actually accomplish some of his goals seemed more achievable for the moment. He tried to memorize that smile for when he was alone and she was not there to remind him of possibilities.
They came before her on the throne.
The throne room in Canhoon was nearly cavernous. Most of the rooms in the Winter Palace were mirrors of the ones that had stood in Tyrne, but not so the room where the Empress held court. The ceiling was over fifty feet in height, with great marble columns supporting the entire affair. The walls were adorned with the coat of arms for every royal family in the whole of the Fellein Empire, including a few that were nearly lost in obscurity. “Nearly” because, Nachia had no doubt, Desh Krohan could likely quote the entire history of each and every one of those families, no matter how obscure or ancient.
Before this day there had been a few who did not bother to deal with the new Empress. They sent emissaries if they responded at all. Now? Now was different. Tyrne had been destroyed. It wasn’t a collection of islands out in the sea that had gone. It wasn’t a gathering of savages living in huts along the shoreline of the fishing villages who had been annihilated. It was Tyrne, the Summer City, that had been leveled.
They knew Tyrne. They cared that Tyrne was gone. Tyrne mattered in their eyes and so when the Empress demanded the presence of the royal families of the Empire, this time they listened.
Now, Trecharch was falling. It was not gone yet, of course, but in less than two days the fighting had spread through the greatest forest in the Empire and the sadistic enemy was actually burning everything they could.
Nachia Krous, Empress of the Fellein Empire, was not in a good mood.
She’d hoped, prayed, that the parley between her empire and the Sa’ba Taalor would go well. That they might come to an accord and end their skirmish before it became a war.
Not because she wanted it to end. That wasn’t the case at all. She wanted to find the bitch who’d killed her cousin and flay the flesh from her diseased, gray hide in thin strips. She wanted to kill any and all who had taken her cousin’s life, no matter how minor their part in the decision.
She would have accepted peace just the same, because as the ruler of the Empire it was her duty to seek the best possible solution for her people.
Now the families she had asked to attend before suddenly found they had time for dealing with the upstart Empress and discovered that the peace they had all assumed would always last was crumbling away.
Part of her enjoyed the notion, just because of the looks on their faces.
Next to her, to the left side of her throne, Merros Dulver looked on, his face as hard as stone. There were few people she knew who could grow so cold in an instant.
To her right, Desh Krohan was currently not in his place. That made her nervous. He’d planned to be here for this assembly.
There were many faces in the gathering ahead of her that were familiar, but the unknown outweighed those she knew by a substantial margin. Unlike her cousin Pathra, the former Emperor, she had traveled all of the Empire at one time or another, but many of the places she’d visited had been over half her lifetime ago, and she had seen so many faces between that recognition was a challenge. Desh knew them all, of course. That was why she wanted him here.
Still, the people before her were growing restless and irritated.
Merros leaned over and spoke softly. She knew without having to consider it that no one but she was close enough to hear his words.
“Let them wait a bit longer, milady.” He had an amused tone that belied the expression on his face. “Let them understand that you are in command and that they must answer to you. Look at each of them in the eyes, find the ones you like the least and stare hardest at them. Should they look away before you do, you will always have them at a disadvantage.”
He waited three seconds exactly and then spoke again. “Of course, you already know that. It is merely a suggestion on my part.”
“One that is appreciated,” she said, while her eyes skewered Prince Torrain of Louron, whose father had not appeared and who failed to make apologies for that situation. Also, when she was much younger, Torrain had pulled her hair and gotten away with it. She still wasn’t sure if she intended to hold a grudge.
For one moment Torrain looked haughty. Then he looked away, nervously worrying his lower lip. She hoped he was remembering the hairpulling incident and how he’d run to his mother for protection when it happened.
Her eyes moved to Queen Lanaie, who was her guest on an extended basis for the present. She wasn't quite sure how to handle that matter. Lanaie was the queen of Roathes. The problem was that Roathes was only a name on a map now. Most of Lanaie’s people were either dead, living in Canhoon, or trying to find a place to live inside the city.
They had been among the first victims of the Sa’ba Taalor.
Her brother Brolley had affection for the girl. Then again, most men did. She was exotic, attractive and chesty. A combination that made most men and a good number of women look twice. That she was also nice only added complications.
Lanaie looked to her and smiled softly. Nachia knew she was worried about her people. That was, undoubtedly, one of the reasons she was here. She wished more assistance than had already been given. Roathes had a history of asking for help and offering remarkably little in return.
Of course, she was still a queen and had every right to be here. Just as importantly, there were others who understood that her status as a queen made her a perfect target for marriage proposals. That included Nachia’s uncle, Laister, who had already expressed his desire to marry Queen Lanaie. So far Lanaie had made no response. Nachia needed to make certain it stayed that way.
Her eyes went to her brother, Brolley, who was still recovering from his escape from Tyrne. He had planned to stay in the palace until she returned. He would have, too, had Merros not ordered the palace cleared and had his soldiers take him from the castle by force.
She reminded herself to thank Merros for that again. She h
ad already done so on several occasions, but there was simply no way she could properly convey her gratitude.
Brolley looked toward Lanaie and his eyes cast over the rest of the crowd. They were important people. Because of their status, even he had to remember to behave.
No, that was unfair. He had learned his lesson on diplomacy already. She just tended to be harder on her brother. Somebody had to watch out for him and if she did not, who would? Laister? Not very likely.
As Nachia pondered, Desh Krohan came into the chamber from the far side, moving through the gathered crowd which parted before him.
She knew Desh Krohan, had known him since she was a toddler, had sat on his knee when she was much younger, had seen him at countless functions, had wept on his shoulder when her parents died.
That was a man.
Desh Krohan, the First Advisor and best-known sorcerer in the Empire, was a different figure to behold. As he moved through the room in his hooded cloak, the people around him backed away, suddenly aware of exactly how much power he wielded.
That was, of course, exactly why he wore the robe now and why he came into the room from the far side. He wanted all present to remember how striking a figure he could be, because that way, when he stood at her right side, they would remember how powerful the Empress of the Fellein Empire was.
He was doing her a favor. He was reminding them that she was in charge.
When Desh settled at her side, his great cloak continued to shift in the still air and the great cowl hid his face. He was a sinister presence.
Had she not known the man so very well, she might have been intimidated herself.
Nachia nodded her head, acknowledging the sorcerer, and then spoke. “We are at war. As an empire, we are at war.”
The emotions on the faces before her varied little. There was anger. There was fear. There was regret. The longer she looked, the more she saw of the fear.
“General Dulver can give you the details. He has studied the maps and can tell all of you what he needs from you.”
“What he needs from us?” The voice was sharp and tinged with desperation. Nachia saw the speaker and was moderately surprised. Kordon Neiller was the king of Goltha, decidedly one of the largest and most powerful of the Twelve Kingdoms. Goltha was both the name of the city that grew near Lake Gerhaim, and the kingdom that sprang from the same. Gerhaim was massive and all rivers ran to the lake in their time. Kordon Neiller was her distant cousin. He was also one of the best of the allies of the Imperial Throne.
Nachia smiled at him and the man melted just a bit. They had been friendly for all the time they’d known each other. Kordon was her senior by fifteen years. He had been crowned when he was twelve and had ruled well.
“We are at war, Kordon. No one wants this. No one. But it is what it must be.” She waved a hand and Merros stepped forward, looking resplendent in his uniform.
“The Imperial Army needs more soldiers. We will, of course, hire as we need to from the mercenary ranks, but that’s not the same thing. In the last few decades several countries have not enforced the laws of the Empire as well as they could when it comes to training soldiers. The time for allowing young adults to stay on the farm or tend to the family must now come to an end.”
Were there guilty faces? No, but there was guilt aplenty. The royal families were merely better at hiding their sins.
Merros continued, “It is requested by the throne that all present provide the appropriate numbers to the ranks of the Imperial Army.”
“And what numbers do you deem appropriate, General Dulver?” The question came from Theorio Krous. The man was Nachia’s relative in name, but only just. He was also the King of Morwhen far to the east. Morwhen was well known for the soldiers they trained. They were often among the elite. According to Merros, if all of the kingdoms trained soldiers as well as Morwhen, there might have been less to fear from the Sa’ba Taalor.
Theorio himself was a heavyset man, well muscled and dressed in black armor. He did not wear uniforms. He always wore, at the very least, leather armor, such as he sported currently.
Nachia lowered her head briefly, a sign of respect, and then looked him in the eyes. In comparison to the King in Iron, Theorio Krous was not an intimidating man.
Merros spoke again, answering the question. “The ledgers of the Imperial Army are very thorough. Numbers matching those offered by each of the Twelve Kingdoms one century ago are expected.”
The gathered families murmured and mumbled on that one. Most of the kingdoms had fallen far short of the appropriate numbers of conscripted soldiers over the last few decades. Most still offered up numbers, but few enforced the laws of conscription as they were supposed to.
Theorio Krous smiled. “You will have double that number from Morwhen.”
Merros offered a formal bow. “You have my thanks and the gratitude of the Empire, Majesty.”
The man looked at Merros and smiled. It was the sort of smile she expected from a member of the Sa’ba Taalor: a promise of bloodshed and joy in the shedding.
Perhaps Merros was right.
The crowd continued to mutter among themselves until Merros brought up Trecharch and the war going on there.
When it came to bad news, it seemed everyone was ready to pay attention.
Merros and Desh walked through the inner garden, in an area officially set aside solely for the Empress. They had access, of course, though being there had once been punishable by death.
Merros spoke softly just the same, his eyes looking around constantly. “You and your Sisters. You’ve shown in the past that you can communicate over great distances.”
Desh nodded.
“Can others do this? I mean other sorcerers or apprentices?”
“There are a few, Merros.” He allowed a small, tired smile. “We are hardly a vast army. I’d say there might be a hundred across the entire Empire.”
“I need them. I need you.”
“Whatever for?”
“I have couriers and I have a few trained storm crows. That is all. And I have a continent to protect.”
“That’s always been the case.”
Merros nodded. “True, but we have a war now, and a large one.”
Desh contemplated that. “Sorcery and war do not go well together, General Dulver. If we learned anything, ever, as a group, it is that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s extremely possible that the Blasted Lands are a result of sorcery that got out of control.”
Merros looked his way with a dark expression.
“You think I jest?” Desh asked.
“No. I just didn’t think anyone capable of that sort of power.”
The sorcerer said nothing for a moment, but instead looked toward the window where Nachia could have easily looked down on them. He knew she was very likely listening to their words.
“There are only a few. I’m one of them.” He shrugged. “More than one sorcerer working together can perform even greater feats. The City of Wonders was raised from ruination and moved from one place to anther. The Silent Army was raised at the same time and fought against invaders that would have taken control of the Empire otherwise.”
Desh saw the changes in Merros’s expression and curbed the thoughts before they could go too far. “Those feats are long past. Many of the most powerful among us died in the process of working those feats. I could, perhaps, rebuild a city, but as I have said before, there is a price to pay for sorcery and I fear you would not much like the cost.”
The general looked at him differently from that moment on. It was a subtle thing, but Desh noticed.
“I’m not asking for any to get involved in the combat. I just need to have a better way to communicate between camps.”
“Between camps?”
“Desh, we have one empire. They have seven kingdoms. I do not believe for a moment that those seven kings will be joining together to offer a single front.” He sighed and shook his head. His arms mov
ed behind is back and he clasped his hands there. “I have the First Lancers stationed at the Temmis Pass. No choice in that. It’s the likeliest place for the Sa’ba Taalor to use to reach us.”
Desh opened his mouth to speak and Merros silenced him with a gesture.
“I know. No one expected the bastards to attack Trecharch. That was an oversight caused because I thought they would have to come up through the Temmis Pass. They’ve found other ways, but I can’t risk leaving the pass unguarded. If I did, if I do, I can guarantee they’ll use it to their advantage.”
He sighed and looked at Desh straight on, as few men would do willingly.
“Desh, I need to be able to organize my troops across several fronts. I have no doubt at all that they will attack from different areas. They have great black ships waiting for the chance to move up the Jeurgis and into the waters outside of Canhoon. I have a fleet of mercenaries heading in to deal with them, but no way to communicate with them. We’ve promised gold and that’s a good motivator but not enough to guarantee any proper defense.”
Merros took in another deep breath, ready to continue making his point.
It was Desh who silenced the general with a gesture this time around. “I’ll arrange something. But, Merros, I mean what I said. None of them can aid you beyond speaking on your behalf. None of them will. I won’t permit it.”
“That is your decision to make. I will not question it.”
“Be certain that your soldiers understand that as well.”
Merros nodded his head. “I will. How soon can they be sent out?”
“Within two days I’ll have them on their way. Make certain that you have the proper letters of introduction for them, please.”
Merros offered a grim smile. “I’m grateful, Desh.”
“You have a war to win and I’ve placed that burden squarely at your feet. The least I can do is offer a little help with keeping things organized, I suppose.”
Six
The ground came up very quickly and punched Andover Lashk in his right side. Since he was much smaller than the ground, and softer besides, he came off worst from the impact.
The Seven Forges Novels Page 70
