by Kal Spriggs
No, they would not work together. And after his servants, Covle Darkbit and Grel, had slaughtered so many innocent people in Hector's name, the uprising in the Duchy of Masov would not end any time soon. Indeed, they would have the entire winter to think upon Hector's many crimes and let their hatred fester, egged on by Covle Darkbit's continued raids.
"My vanguard will be ready in the spring, well before Hector's forces will expect us," Xavien said. "I will shatter his army with my first strike." He smiled a bit, "I may even let Hector live, he has been a fine, if unwitting, servant."
Seraphai did not match his smile, but in Xavien's opinion, she didn't take enough pleasure in their work. Everything she did was calculated, drawn to a plan that only she seemed to know and understand. "Hector must die," she said in an intent voice. "If you succeed in only one thing, be certain of that."
Xavien nodded, "Of course, my Queen. Anything else?"
"Xavien, beware your father. He knows of you, now and he'll not forgive you for what you've done," Seraphai said the words with no emotion or emphasis, yet Xavien couldn't help the slightest thrill of nervousness.
"I don't plan to let him live long enough to be of concern," Xavien said. His father's continued survival was a matter of irritation. Xavien could admit to himself that his plans involving his surviving family had been overly complicated. He should have waited to spring his ambush until his father rejoined the Northern Fleet, just as he should have cut his sister's throat after he used her for the ritual.
"If you fail in this, it will leave the Five Duchies in a stronger position," Seraphai said as she took her seat. It was a clear dismissal and Xavien gave her a gracious bow and turned away.
In the corridor, Xavien paused to consider his next action. Tarjak Rusk awaited him at his quarters, but Xavien was willing to let the Armen Warlord wait.
The bellowing roar of the wind was muffled by dozens of feed of solid rock, yet even so, the snarl of it sounded like some barely muzzled beast. There was one other thing he could do to sow chaos over the winter. Xavien smiled a bit at that thought and he turned his mind's focus to a distance, to the creations of his mother's grandfather.
Awaken, he commanded, awaken and hunt.
***
Chapter I
Lord Hector the Usurper Duke
Castle Ember, Duchy of Masov
14th of Ravin, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Lord Hector considered the map for a long while before he slowly removed the last yellow peg from the hole near Lower Debber and replaced it with a red one. With the loss of Lower Debber to Lady Katarina's forces, he had no garrisons remaining in the south. Not that I believed I could keep it, he admitted to himself, but I hoped it would at least occupy some of Katarina's forces over the winter.
The town's militia had some loyalty to him, seeing as his father, the late and unlamented Lord Mikhel, had called the town home. Moreover, he'd exempted them from much of the wartime taxes elsewhere in the Duchy, mostly because they had provided their taxes in quality steel that his smiths turned into weapons and armor. Now that steel would go to Katarina's forces. The garrison had fallen to a mix of sabotage and diplomacy, from the little he had heard.
That left him with just handful of notionally loyal mercenary bands in the south, most of them little more than bandits at this point. Covle Darkbit's force was the largest, yet Hector felt little trust for the man. The rumors passed along by his informants made it clear that while Darkbit hurt Katarina's forces, they had utterly alienated the general populace.
I wish I had listened to Kerrel and executed him, Hector thought, at least then there would be less blood on my hands. The weight of his mercenary's actions had grown upon him. It was one thing to sack an Armen raid camp... it was quite another to hear the reports of this or that village burned to the ground, its people turned out into the coming winter.
And not all of them at Covle Darkbit's hand, Hector thought with resignation. There were red pegs in other locations than the south. Most, if not all, were isolated by his own forces, but some would hold out the winter and he knew that his forces would be too dispersed to defeat them all and still guard the south against the army that Katarina would field in the spring.
This had all spiraled out of control and Hector knew exactly whose fault that was. At least he had savaged the Armen enough that they shouldn't be able to come south in force. If nothing else, they would have to overcome his forces on the Lonely Isle first, who would have the entire winter to fortify and ready themselves.
While the Armen could bypass the island, their raiding sloops would be low on supplies and their fighting men would need days or even weeks to regain their feet after such a long ocean journey on their light vessels. Odds were, whatever Armen were desperate enough for such a journey wouldn't be in any condition to be a real threat.
Still, he thought musingly, some will probably try it. His last messages from his spies in the north had reported the winter infighting to be particularly brutal. It sounded as if Tarjak Rusk had begun an attempt to unify the Semat Armen, much as Marka Pall had unified the Solak. If that were the case, Hector could expect a number of raiding parties from those forced out, made up of the desperate survivors. In a cycle or two, Tarjak Rusk would probably come south in force, backed by a larger, more cohesive army. I can only hope that bastard Tarjak comes within reach of my blade, Hector thought. He would have to plan for that... assuming he could survive the civil war in his own lands, of course.
Hector turned to face the woman who had stood silent as he pondered the map. "No words of wisdom? No criticism of my tactics?" He saw her lips go flat in disapproval and he restrained a sigh. The barbed comment had been out of line. Despite Commander Kerrel Flamehair's stated disapproval of his tactics, she had backed him in every way that mattered. Furthermore, she'd nearly been killed by Grel the Hound, who had proven to be an agent, witting or otherwise, of a sorcerer.
At least I can thank Katarina's forces for dealing with that particular monster, Hector thought with some minor relief. The mercenary had been his tool for dealing with the least pleasant of tasks. He had become a monster somewhere along the way and Hector had simply used him as a blunt instrument, to smash his foes and create fear.
"I'm sorry," Hector said to Kerrel. "That was out of line." He sighed as he stared at the map of the Duchy... and considered the areas where he didn't know enough to put a peg. "What do you think about Countess Darkriver?" Hector asked.
Kerrel sighed, "I would say that holding two companies of hers as hostage to her good behavior would be enough, but I'm not certain anymore." She shrugged, "She has no way to contact them, not since you locked down on passage to and from the Lonely Isle, but she's a hard one to read."
Hector nodded, "And she's capable enough of risking her people. If she thinks signing on with Katarina will swing this civil war to a close before I can have her people killed in response... or that I would hesitate to do so, then she might do it."
"Would you kill them?" Kerrel asked
Hector sighed, "To set an example? I wouldn't hesitate. I know you trained with them, I know you served with them. Andoral’s black balls, I know they saved my ass when the Vendakar mercenaries betrayed me... but if they turn to Katarina's side I will have their officers executed and their enlisted men hung." Hector shrugged, "I cannot allow any of my men to think that I will tolerate rebellion... or that I won't punish disloyalty."
"And Covle Darkbit?" Kerrel asked in an echo of Hector's earlier thoughts.
"I should have strung him up," Hector shrugged. "But now he's the only commander left south of here. Which means when the spring comes, I'll have to move my forces north."
"You're abandoning Castle Ember?" Kerrel asked in surprise.
Hector sighed, "Not entirely. I'll leave a small garrison, enough to hold it against anything but a full out attack and possibly even then since the rebels will have little experience in siege craft." Castle Ember was the Ducal Seat. The stone walls around the
m had seen thousands of cycles of history and legends said that the first Starborn to arrive in the Duchy had helped to design the fortress. It was the cultural and symbolic center of the Duchy as well as one of the strongest fortifications in the known world. Yet so was the Ryftguard, Hector thought, and Katarina took it away from me.
Hector stared down at the floor beneath his feet. In truth, it pained him to abandon the place. It went beyond its symbolic value. This was the place he had been raised... and it was where he had risen to power, over the cooling body of his aunt and uncle. To abandon it now felt as if he had them killed for no reason, that his rise to power had already been undone.
Kerrel didn't seem to have an answer to that. Hector waited though, and soon enough she asked the question that he knew was on her mind. "Have you considered another attempt at peace?"
"I think that between them, Grel and Darkbit thoroughly destroyed all chances of that," Hector responded. During the talks at the Ryftguard, the two had attempted to seize the gates and someone, presumably Grel, had stabbed Kerrel. In the process, they had destroyed any credibility that Hector might have. Worse, they had then attacked the rebellious city of Zielona Gora which backfired in the destruction of most of Covle Darkbit's forces and Grel's death.
"I've met Katarina," Kerrel said. "She doesn't want a civil war any more than you do. Maybe if you send me..."
Hector shook his head, "At this point, winter has closed most of the roads. You'd have to travel in strength, carry all your supplies in... you'd need an army to pack everything in and you would look like an invading army. No, if we do something like that, it will have to wait for spring."
Kerrel nodded, though he could tell from her expression she didn't like to leave it for so long. Still, she hadn't read some of his reports. Even now in late fall, there were rumors of heavy snows and bitter cold. Those storms had driven normal people down out of the mountains... but it also sounded as if the Norics had been driven down out of the peaks... along with some of the sorcerous spawn from around Black Mountain. Even assuming the rebels didn't attack her, she still might have a serious fight on her journey, and Hector wasn't about to put her to pointless risk as the only field commander he trusted in the south. Especially not since I nearly lost her already, he thought.
The long seasons of Eoriel were both blessing and curse. While he had accomplished so much in the long spring and summer, with how the weather had come in so suddenly in the southern highlands, he had lost four months of the fall and would lose all six months of the winter. Even assuming that spring broke early, he would lose ten months, ten long months in which Lady Katarina's people would have to plan and prepare for a spring campaign. And though winter had closed down the roads to large forces, the southerners knew how to handle those heavy snowfalls better. Their towns were designed with interconnected homes and steep roofs to shed snow. Their people knew how to travel with snowshoes, pack-sleds, and skis, while many of his mercenaries and recruits from the lowlands had less experience with such heavy snow.
Hector had two companies from the fallen Duchy of Taral, but he didn't want to feed them into the borderlands that had become such a charnel house.
Besides, he had some doubts over their loyalty in fighting the southerners. While it was true that most of the mercenary companies from Taral had few ties, it wasn't inconceivable that they might feel some sympathy or even camaraderie with the southerners, being high country folk themselves. Even if they didn't change sides, they might well desert if given a free route through the Ryftguard and back to their homeland.
"If you're withdrawing, when do you plan to march?" Kerrel asked, even as she moved up to look at the map. Once again, her odd mix of strength and beauty struck Hector. Her bright red hair matched her fierce temper, the powerful muscles and her lean frame told of her toughness, yet still held more than enough feminine curves to make his blood stir.
"In the next couple weeks," Hector said. "My quartermasters are still reviewing their plans. I'll need to crush a couple of the rebel outbreaks here in the south to cow any chances at a general uprising. His gaze went to a red peg at Castle Redcoast. He had not expected the jolly Baron of Redcoast to rebel. The man had seemed far too comfortable in the enjoyment of good food and his barony's fine table wines. Yet rebel he had... and as the only lands to do so, he was a marked threat. If the rebels somehow linked up with him, or worse, he somehow forged an alliance with the Grand Duchy of Boir, Hector would find his forces flanked and any defense almost impossible. "We'll march as soon as the logistics is sorted out."
She nodded, "Well, then, my Lord, I'll go and check on my command's preparations."
He winced at her chill tone, but he nodded to her in dismissal.
As she stepped out of his conference room, his gaze went again to the red pegs on his map. It would be a long winter.
***
Captain Kerrel Flamehair
Kerrel froze as she turned the final corner and found one of her cavalry troopers on guard outside her quarters. That, in itself, was of little note. Ever since the assassination attempt that had left her flat on her back for three months, Baran had insisted that she have protection on her quarters at the least. She suspected he had someone follow her around as well, but she'd yet to catch them.
The noteworthy bit was that Baran stood guard himself.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Something I should know about?"
"Trooper Isvan just returned, Commander," Baran said. Kerrel nodded in reply. On their books, Isvan was one of the new arrivals from home, an experienced cavalryman who they employed as a scout. In truth, though, Isvan was a pseudonym for Jay. Not that Jay is his real name, either, she thought. As far as she knew, "Jay" was short for "Popinjay" which was how her mother had referred to him.
He was a spy… that much Kerrel knew. He was at least her mother's age, though since he was Starborn, he might be older than that and he wouldn't show it for another hundred cycles. He most often traveled in disguise and under a pseudonym... and he felt responsible for her sister's death.
I am as much to blame in that as anyone, she thought. She should have been the one to walk into Lord Othis’s ambush... and she knew that Moira would have been fast enough and smart enough to get her out alive.
Kerrel stepped past Baran and then into her suite. She nodded at the man who wore her colors, even though he looked unfamiliar. His closely trimmed red beard and long ponytail of red hair were a shock, especially since the last time she had seen him, he was clean shaven with short hair.
"My lady," he bowed. As he stood up, she saw his eyes twinkle a bit in amusement at her expression. "May we speak freely?"
Kerrel went to her wardrobe and pulled out an iron triangle, a gift from her mother. She activated the runes on it and then turned back to face him, "We can. What news?"
He flopped back onto one of the overstuffed chairs near the fire. "I've been up and down this Duchy over the past three weeks... and none of the news is good."
Kerrel frowned at that, but she wasn't surprised. While her own network of informants was substantially smaller, she had come to the same opinion. In the current circumstances, the only good news was that the early fall snows had prevented the outbreak of civil war.
"Who will side with Hector and who with Katarina?" Kerrel asked.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, "Are you asking as a member of the Luciel Order... or as one of Hector's Field Commander?"
Kerrel scowled at him, but she wasn't certain herself. On the one hand, she thought the Luciel Order supported Lord Hector, on the other, she knew that several members supported Katarina, especially in the south. "I'm asking so that I can make a better determination about what to do... for the cause we are both sworn to achieve."
He gave her a slight nod at that. He had encouraged her interest in history and supported her desire to reunite the Five Duchies under the High Kings. Kerrel still wasn't certain if he had purposely steered her that way or if it had simply worked out, but the cause
was one she believed in. Though she could admit that it had put her in a difficult situation on multiple occasions.
"Most are waiting out the winter before they make a decision," he responded as he put his feet up and interlaced his fingers. "Countess Darkriver hasn't said much, which tells me she's already made up her mind but she doesn't want anyone to know what she's going to do." Kerrel nodded at that. The mercenary commander was frightfully capable. She had earned her title from Duke Peter, for services rendered against a variety of foes. Her mercenaries, the Mongrels, were one of the best-trained units in the world... and Kerrel had served with them for the first five cycles of her exile.
"The Baron of Redcoast has sworn over to Lady Katarina," he said, "which was as much from necessity as anything else, I believe. His youngest son was arrested by Hector's garrison commander at Capulin Vale and his eldest led a raid to rescue him. Between the two of them, they killed an even dozen of Hector's men, including Captain Marani." Kerrel grimaced at that. Captain Marani would not be missed, he was another of Hector's poor choices, his men no more suited to garrison work than Grel's had been. Marani had been reassigned to Redcoast after the debacle at Zeilona Gora. It seemed that he hadn’t learned his lesson after that.
But the fact that his sons had killed one of Hector's appointed captains would be a clear statement. Even if Hector didn't need a target to crush as an example, he would have little choice but to take action over this. If the Baron had been smart, he would have sent a messenger to Hector and asked for lenience... but maybe he wasn't given the option. That's the problem with most of the mercenaries Hector has hired, she thought. Most were simple men, hired to fight or to occupy an enemy's towns and villages. They were pure fighting men, who would get themselves in trouble in peacetime.
"What about the freeholdings?" Kerrel asked. Much of the Duchy of Masov's lands were controlled by free men, peasant farmers who owned the land they worked. Over time, most of them had formed clans and communities.
