Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3)

by Kal Spriggs

  Yet she didn't hold out much hope for that. His gear and especially the maps suggested he was at the least a scout. That Zadek and his brothers found him north of the river meant he probably knew enough about Hector's withdrawal that she couldn't let him go.

  Hector might well order him hung, Kerrel thought, but until then, I'll do my best to keep him alive.

  ***

  Herald Aramer Jameson

  "Well," a light voice spoke from behind him, "that's interesting."

  Aramer started, shocked that anyone had managed to sneak up behind him. He spun and came face to face with Brooke. The mage stood at her ease, leaning back against a tree trunk. "Please," she said, "don't allow me to interrupt."

  Aramer gave her a level look, but the woman just smirked in reply. He turned back around, trying to ignore how the spot between his shoulder blades itched. He finished writing the backwards letters on the mirror and then waited while the ink slowly faded. His work done, he touched a rune on the side of the mirror and then waited for the hot surface to cool.

  "I see you're back," Aramer said. "Care to share where you've been these past few months?" After following him around for months, she'd seemingly disappeared during the depths of winter.

  "I am," Brooke replied. "And no, I won't."

  "Well," Aramer said sourly, "what brings you back?"

  "Officially I'm here as a healer. They caught one of Lady Katarina's scouts a few hours ago. Their company healer barely kept him alive until I was able to arrive. A good thing, too, since he's Katarina's scoutmaster," Brooke said.

  "Gerlin?" Aramer's eyes went wide. "Here?"

  "Yes, I think that's his name. Commander Flamehair has him. He's still unconscious, really he's lucky to be alive with the amount of blood he lost and the other damage those brutes did to him," Brooke said. She gave a cold smile, "Not that they'd do that to anyone else ever again."

  "What did you do?" Aramer asked quickly. Not that he cared what happened to some of Hector's scouts, but he didn't want the mage to ruin his cover. Not that it's much of one, he thought, a beard and some bootblack to darken my hair is the most naked I've been in years.

  "I did nothing," Brooke said innocently. "Perhaps now that you've sent your message off to parties unknown, you might journey forth and tell Kerrel the good news about her prisoner?"

  "Don't change the subject," Aramer growled. He had no doubt that Brooke had done something. She generally disapproved of those who injured or killed for no good reason. It was something he normally liked about her... except when it came into conflict with his interests. His eyes went narrow, "Where's Illiadan?" Brooke's oversized cat was normally her constant companion.

  Brooke gave a wicked smile, "Hunting."

  ***

  Zadek

  "Ivan, step it out," Zadek grinned drunkenly back at his favorite brother.

  Not that he and either of his brothers were related by blood. Ivan and his other brother Ivan were discards, like him. The product of rapes, cast out on the edges of society, they had survived because they were strong.

  The alcohol is taking its toll, he thought, I'm thinking about the past.

  He took another swig from his bottle and clapped Ivan on the shoulder. "Ivan can't handle his liquor, eh?"

  The two of them looked back to laugh at their stumbling brother.

  Zadek's laughter trailed off, though. He didn't see the other Ivan. "Ivan?" Zadek asked.

  Perhaps he had fallen? Zadek stumbled back the way he had come, peering around in the dim light. He didn't see his missing brother.

  Zadek heard a sound behind him and spun. His other brother Ivan was gone, now, too. He let out an involuntary, frightened moan. This was like when he was a child. Alone.

  Zadek shivered. He thought about the men and women he and his brothers had killed... or simply tortured for fun. They had always preyed upon the loners they found, even when they had scraped by as brigands. People who were alone were weak. They were prey.

  And now he was alone again.

  Zadek spun again as he heard a horrid yowling noise. Out of the dim evening light he saw a pair of brilliant green eyes. He fumbled for his crossbow, trying to string it with fingers that shook. The yowling grew louder and Zadek brought up his crossbow, aiming it at where the green eyes awaited him... yet they were gone and the noise cut off.

  Zadek gave a defiant shout and fired the crossbow anyway. "Hah!" He screamed, "Stupid beast! Scared you off!"

  As he lowered the crossbow, he heard the yowling again, this time from right behind him. Before he could turn, a weight struck him from behind and he felt teeth close around the back of his neck. Before he could scream, he felt a sharp, piercing pain.

  Then he felt nothing at all.

  ***

  Herald Aramer Jameson

  "This is our opportunity," Aramer said to Kerrel. "He's senior enough that he could talk Katarina into at least hearing talk of peace... if you get Hector to go along with it."

  "He's not going to think much of peace after what those scouts did to him," Kerrel grimaced.

  "Then you need to make him think of peace," Aramer snapped.

  As Kerrel's green eyes flashed, he held up a hand, "I'm sorry. I know you're trying." He let out a breath, "The healer says it'll be a couple days before he's able to ride, right?" When Kerrel nodded, he went on, "Talk with him, try to win him over. Maybe ride ahead and prep Hector a bit."

  Kerrel grimaced, "He's a halfblood. Hector isn't exactly enamored of those of Armen ancestry."

  "No," Aramer said, "He isn't. But he works with the people of the Lonely Isle, and they have their fair share of Armen ancestry." When she nodded, he stroked his chin. The new beard itched. It was worse than the fake beard he'd wore as Arren Smith. He missed that guise, truth be told.

  He missed the friendly rivalry he'd had with Gerlin... the odd sense of companionship with the halfblood. He hoped he could get the man through all this.

  "Kerrel," Aramer said, meeting her green eyes, "this is probably our last chance to avert all out, full-scale war. What we've seen until now are skirmishes. If it gets past that, this won't end until a lot of good people are dead. We owe it to those people to try to end this peacefully."

  She gave him a glare, "I understand all that, Jay. But you need to understand that I can only do so much. The only leverage I have with Hector is that he values my words. You have no idea how stubborn he can be."

  "Oh," Aramer said with a slight smile, "I have some idea."

  She snorted at that. "Fair enough, but I came around eventually... I'm not sure that Hector can bend, not without breaking." He saw her concentrate, looking for the right words. "He's done things, terrible things, in the name of protecting his people. I think if I push him too hard he'd break under the weight he's carrying."

  Aramer nodded in response. "I take your point. Push him as hard as you can, then."

  "What about the Luciel Order?" Kerrel asked. "I know they're divided on this..."

  Aramer grimaced. To say that the secretive order was divided was an understatement. He didn't know how involved she had become with them, but he knew well enough that several of the local members had already chosen sides. Members from other areas of the Five Duchies had also begun to chose sides, which threatened to split the organization. That tied back to the message he had just sent, one of many attempts to contain the damage as best he could.

  And that doesn't even consider the risks should the Order of King Gordon get involved, he thought. While he had respect for their martial abilities, they tended to think with their swords all too often. His agents in Boirton had reported the Order had gone all weak-kneed at the prospect that Katarina had sworn her oath to support the High Kings. If they got involved, it would end the war, but they'd almost certainly generate a great deal of hostitility in the process. Subtle was not in their vocabulary.

  "I'll speak with my contacts again," Aramer growled. "See if they can put pressure on various hotheads and try to cool things dow
n. If you can do the same..."

  "I'll see what I can do," Kerrel nodded.

  Aramer gave her a wry smile, "No pressure, just the fate of civilization on the line."

  ***

  Duke Hector the Usurper

  Hector looked up as Kerrel strode into the tent, "My Lord," she said, "here's the scout that we captured. As I told you in the letter I sent..."

  Hector, though, had turned his attention to the prisoner. He didn't hear anything she said as his eyes went wide. "Cyryl?" He asked in shock.

  His son was battered and beaten, one eye still swollen shut and the rest of his face mottled with bruises. "Who did this to him?" Hector snapped. Cyryl wore manacles on his wrists, like a criminal or slave.

  Kerrel blinked at him in surprise, "Some of your scouts, my Lord," she answered after a moment.

  "My scouts..." Hector shook his head, "have them flogged."

  "My Lord?" Kerrel asked, looking at him as if he had lost his mind.

  "I said have them flogged!" Hector roared. As Kerrel reeled back he held up one hand, "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for, you don't understand, you can't understand..."

  "He's my father," Cyryl said.

  "He's your what?" Kerrel asked in shock.

  "Cyryl is my son," Hector said as calmly as he could manage. "Release him from his restraints."

  "Hector," Kerrel said and Hector didn't miss how she threw aside formality, "whoever he might be, he still is one of Katarina's supporters and he's dangerous."

  Hector met her green eyed gaze calmly, "Unlock his manacles."

  She did so and a moment later, Hector nodded at her, "Leave us for a moment."

  He waited as she left. Cyryl looked after her and then cocked an eyebrow at him, "Well, I’m glad to see you've moved on."

  Hector gritted his teeth. "You won't make this easy, will you?"

  Cyryl glared at him, "I don't know, father, should I make it easy? Last time we spoke you struck me and said I wasn't your son." He moved over and took a seat on a camp stool. Hector didn't miss how his son winced and favored is leg. Clearly he had taken other injuries.

  "I understand that you went to warn Duke Peter," Hector finally said.

  "He thought I was there to spy on him for you," Cyryl said. "He had me thrown into the dungeons, I only escaped because Grel slaughtered the guards down there."

  Hector nodded, "You fell in with Katarina, I knew that." He looked away, "I assume you stayed with her to anger me?"

  "I remained at her side, guarding her from your assassins because she's the rightful ruler of the Duchy of Masov," Cyryl said. "Ancestors… what were you thinking? You've become as bad or worse than those we fought!"

  Hector tried to meet his son's gaze, but he couldn't. "I've done what I had to do," Hector said. "And before you recount me with Covle's deeds in the south, remember, I've liberated the Lonely Isle. I've saved tens of thousands from death and slavery under the Armen."

  "Well, tens of thousands died over this last winter," Cyryl responded. "Men, women, and children. I was there, I saw their pathetic frozen bodies. The ones the weather didn't kill, Covle Darkbit did. They're still finding families, frozen and buried in the snow," Cyryl growled. "And as for you, who taught me that family was everything... you killed your own uncle and cousins!"

  "Duke Peter was going to move on me," Hector said. "Killing Baron Estrel caused him to think I was a threat. I went from a favored officer to a threat. He didn't understand!"

  "So you killed him, his wife, his son..." Cyryl shook his head. "You do realize that the killing won't stop, right? There's always someone else--"

  "You think I don't know that?" Hector snapped. "Do you think I enjoy doing what I've had to do to survive?" He waved his hand at the tent flap, "Half the nobility hate me for my success and want to supplant me. The other half hate me for what I did because they wish they had the courage to do it themselves. I wish every day that I'd had another way to do what I needed to do... and every day I see I had no other choice."

  "You chose the route you wanted," Cyryl said. He looked away then. "It isn't too late, you know. We could end this war, we could unite the Duchy again."

  Hector grimaced, "I see you've been talking to Kerrel."

  "To your replacement for mother, yes," Cyryl said. Hector winced at that, but he didn't argue. In some ways, he thought he liked Kerrel so much because of how different she looked from Tiara. In other ways, though... They both have the same fire, the same inability to keep quiet, he thought.

  "You think I could settle some kind of peace with Katarina?" Hector asked.

  "To prevent civil war?" Cyryl asked, "I don't doubt it. But you would need to make some real show of good faith. Don't send that bastard Covle. As a matter of fact, if you hung him or clapped him in irons at least, you might get some real progress."

  Hector looked down, "That's not off the table. Would Katarina listen to you?"

  "If I thought you meant it, yes," Cyryl said.

  Hector turned away and went to his map. He stared down at it, seeing the armies in his mind, judging the terrain. I could still win this, he thought. But at what cost? When he couldn't bear to meet the eyes of his son, what did that say about the choices he had made?

  "I've lost my way," Hector muttered to himself.

  He turned around and he met his son's eyes. "I'll have Commander Flamehair give you a horse and papers to pass south. Tell her..." He closed his eyes, "Tell her I'm willing to talk. I'm willing to condemn Covle Darkbit, willing even to..." Hector stumbled as he said it, but he finally forced the words out, "...willing to step down. I'll need assurances. We cannot afford to let the Armen retake the ground that we've fought for. You understand?"

  Cyryl nodded, his eyes wide in surprise. "Thank you."

  Hector sighed, "I'm not doing this for you." To himself, for the first time, he could admit he was doing this out of selfishness. He wanted to be able to see pride in his son's eyes again... no matter the cost.

  ***

  Commander Kerrel Flamehair

  Leizno, Duchy of Masov

  Fifteenth of Shallob, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  The semicircle of white-robed people who awaited her in the basement of the tavern came as no surprise. What did surprise her was that none of them wore hoods. She recognized two of the men at once, both of them local nobles, one the Baron of Leizno and the other a minor lord from Kasovia, with little to his name besides the title. Three others she recognized after a moment, merchants and tradesmen who had influence throughout the city. The sixth man she didn't recognize, but she had only been in the town for a week.

  "You bring news for the Luciel Order?" the Baron of Leizno asked.

  "I do," Katarina nodded. "Lord Hector has sent an emissary to Lady Katarina. If she receives him well, they will open up peace talks."

  The Baron's eyebrows went up. "Peace? I thought everyone had discounted that..."

  "There have been some recent developments," Katarina said. "What I ask is that the Luciel Order put its influence behind this. If we can prevent full scale war..."

  One of the tradesmen sneered, "What cost will peace bring, though? Katarina has made alliance with Earl Joris of Olsztyn. What has she promised him? If he has his way, he would destroy the tradesman class, he wants nothing beside nobility and serfs."

  "I've dealt with Lady Katarina before," Kerrel shook her head, "she doesn't strike me as the sort to let a man like that have free rein."

  "Assuming she's more than a figurehead," the Baron of Leizno objected.

  "She's not," Kerrel snapped, "not anymore than Hector is."

  "She's just a woman," one of the merchants groused, "and I've heard she's engaged to one of Earl Joris's sons! That bastard had my cousin killed to strike his debts!"

  Kerrel gave the merchant a level look. "I'll defer your judgement of the Earl of Olsztyn, but I'll also remind you that I am 'just' a woman and I'm no pushover."

  The man took a step back, his face gone pasty. "Well, yes, t
hat's not what I meant..."

  It was exactly what you meant, Kerrel thought. It said much about the differences within the Luciel Order that men like him were on their council here in Leizno. "What resources does the Order have here in Leizno?"

  The Baron looked around, "This is the Luciel Order here," he responded in confusion.

  "What?" Kerrel asked in shock. Leizno had a population of a hundred thousand people. The Lonely Isle chapter had dozens of members and the island's entire population was under thirty thousand. She shook her head, "Well, weigh in with your fellows, convince them to realize that peace is good for us all."

  "I don't know that we necessarily agree on that," the Baron of Leizno said. "Lord Hector's war in the north has been very good for business. He's driven off the Armen, we have tremendous trade volume, weapons, supplies, armor... any peace situation without Hector would be very bad for us here in Leizno."

  Kerrel rubbed her forehead, "You have to realize that civil war would not be good for the Duchy as a whole."

  "Well," the Baron said, "no, it wouldn't. But it won't get that far. The most we'll see is some minor skirmishes. It isn't as if the rebels would dare to march this far north!" Kerrel saw the others in the group nod. "While I don't know how the other chapters in the south feel, I'm certain they won't press this to full war."

  Kerrel stared at him in shock. "I know of several members of the Luciel Order who have taken up arms with Lady Katarina."

  The Baron looked pained, "Well, then it's their own poor decision. That's one reason this chapter has broken off contact with the southern chapter and why we've made some selective removals here among our own number. We don't need such impulsive sorts within our ranks."

  "What do you mean by removed?" Kerrel demanded.

  The Baron held up a placating hand, "We merely no longer invite them to our meetings. We're not putting the Luciel Order at risk by reporting them or anything like that."