The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born)

by Drew Karpyshyn

  The women nodded to Roggen as he approached.

  “Hadawas is ready for you,” Keegan guessed the one on the left said, while the one on the right pulled back the flap to let them in.

  Roggen went first and Keegan and the others followed. A dozen small lamps had been scattered about the ground, though they gave off more heat than light. It wasn’t just warm inside the tent; it was actually hot enough that Keegan began to sweat.

  The ceiling was high enough that even Norr could stand up fully, but inside the massive space looked bare and empty. A pile of unfolded bedding lay in one corner, and a small table stood in the other. Hadawas was sitting alone in a low, wide chair in the middle of the tent, leaning to the side to rest against one of the thick, padded arms.

  His body was covered by a heavy fur blanket, leaving only his head exposed. His hair was thin and gray, his skin lined and weathered. But his eyes were still sharp and focused as he watched them enter.

  Norr and the others stepped forward until they stood in front of Hadawas, who stayed silent, studying them carefully. Once everyone was inside, Roggen tied off the flap to keep the heat from the lamps from escaping.

  “Where’s Berlen?” Roggen asked, making his way over to stand beside the old man’s chair.

  “I sent him away,” Hadawas answered, speaking so the Outlanders could understand. He studied the newcomers closely, never taking his eyes off them.

  His accent was thick, but Keegan was more surprised by how deep and vibrant his voice was.

  “You sent Berlen away?” Roggen said in surprise.

  “I told him to catch up with the scouts we sent out earlier. I want him to see the Danaan army with his own eyes, then report back to me.”

  Roggen didn’t say anything, but it was obvious from his expression he thought his chief had made a mistake.

  “You wanted this meeting,” the old man said, addressing Norr. “So tell me—why has the Red Bear returned to his people? And why have you brought these Outlanders to my Conclave?”

  Keegan felt Jerrod tense up beside him, but the monk remained silent, content to let Norr be the judge of exactly how much should be revealed about their true purpose.

  “The Outlanders I travel with are my friends,” Norr told him. “Scythe and I have been together for many years,” he said, nodding in her direction. “And Jerrod and Keegan saved my life in Torian.

  “Hunted by the Order, we fled the city and hid in the Danaan forests until Vaaler’s patrol found us,” Norr continued, pointing in the direction of the exiled prince. “He and Keegan were old friends, and we thought the Danaan Queen would give us sanctuary.”

  He’s leaving out everything about Jerrod’s prophecy and the Legacy and the Talismans, Keegan realized. At least for now.

  “Instead, she condemned Vaaler for bringing outsiders into her forbidden kingdom and we were forced to flee for our lives.”

  He’s also not saying anything about Vaaler being the Queen’s son.

  “We had nowhere else to go, and so I led us East, hoping we could find refuge with my clan.”

  Norr halted his tale, uncertain what else he should or shouldn’t reveal.

  “A simple tale,” Hadawas remarked. “But one that does not go all the way to the core, I think.

  “You say you are hunted by the Order, yet you have one of the blind monks with you. You say the Danaan condemned you, yet one of your companions is of the Tree Folk.

  “They are outcasts,” Hadawas declared. “Is that why you travel with them, Norr? Like you, they were exiled from their own people.”

  “There is some truth in what you say,” Norr admitted. “And I fear we are the reason the Danaan army has invaded the East,” he added, trying to turn the conversation to another topic.

  “When we escaped the North Forest, we did not think the Danaan would mount an army to come after us.”

  “Not surprising,” Hadawas noted, “if you brought down the same kind of destruction on the Tree Folk as you did in Torian.”

  Norr didn’t say anything at first, no doubt weighing how much Hadawas knew that the old man wasn’t saying.

  “What happened in Torian will not happen here,” Norr promised. “Not unless you turn against us.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Hadawas asked.

  Norr shook his head.

  “You’ve already brought destruction down upon the clans,” Hadawas reminded him. “Unless you have some secret weapon to stop the Danaan army yourselves.”

  The old man looked straight at Keegan as he said it, his eyes focused on Rexol’s gorgon-headed staff. The implication was clear, but Jerrod inserted himself into the conversation before Norr could answer.

  “That isn’t possible,” he warned. “Chaos was unleashed in Torian and upon the Danaan kingdom, but Chaos is weak here. There is no power to draw on.”

  Hadawas sighed heavily. “As I feared. There are no wizards in the East; no shamans; no mages. Our land is different.”

  “You seem to know much of what happens beyond the borders of Sun Blade territory,” Vaaler chimed in.

  “I have learned that the things which affect my people often have their roots in far-off lands,” Hadawas explained. “I have scouts and spies who keep me informed so I can see what the future holds for us. That was why I called this Conclave.

  “When I heard about the destruction in Torian, I realized there could be retribution. The Free Cities have long hated the clans, and I feared they would join forces to send an army against us.

  “I knew the only way to stand against them would be to unite all the clans. I have seen our future, and we cannot survive unless all the chiefs are joined in a single purpose.”

  “Others have tried to unite the clans before,” Norr cautioned. “All have failed. What made you think your efforts would be any different?”

  “Because I know where we can find Daemron’s Sword,” Hadawas replied.

  Keegan’s head snapped back as if he’d been slapped, his recent dreams springing into his mind.

  “I thought the Sword was just a legend,” Jerrod said, watching carefully to gauge the old man’s reaction.

  “Legends come from truth,” Hadawas answered. “I have studied this for many years, and I know the Sword is real.

  “They say whoever wields it cannot be defeated in battle. With the Sword, the clans would not have to live in fear of the Free Cities or the Southlands … or the Danaan who now march against us.”

  There was a long silence, and Keegan knew his companions were all struggling not with the revelation that the Sword was real but that Hadawas knew about. Even more shocking, he had claimed he knew where to find it.

  “I know this sounds like madness,” Roggen said, misinterpreting their silence. “But I trust the wisdom of Hadawas.”

  “The Sword is real,” Keegan suddenly blurted out. “I’ve seen it in my dreams.”

  Jerrod shot him an angry look and Scythe gritted her teeth in silent frustration; but Hadawas only smiled.

  “You are the one who rained fire down on Torian?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are a wizard? A prophet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that the real reason you came East, Norr?” Hadawas asked the big man. “To help Keegan find the Sword?”

  “It is,” Norr admitted, as Scythe threw up her hands and let out a choked gurgle of exasperation.

  Beside Hadawas, Roggen was shaking his head in stunned disbelief.

  “Fate has brought us together,” Jerrod said, beating a familiar drum. “We need the Sword, and without it you cannot stand against the Danaan. We walk the same path.”

  “We want the same thing,” Hadawas conceded, “but I imagine for different reasons. It may not be in our best interests to help you if you only want the Sword for yourself.”

  “The Sword is a Talisman of ancient and terrible power,” Jerrod warned him. “If any of your people try to use it, they will be instantly consumed by its power. You need our help be
cause only Keegan is strong enough to wield this weapon.”

  Keegan felt Hadawas studying him closely, and he could easily imagine what the aging clan chief saw: a thin, almost frail, young man with only one hand. He was no one’s idea of a great warrior.

  “If I help you find the Sword,” Hadawas asked him, much to his surprise, “do you vow to use its power to save my people?”

  “I do,” Keegan swore, though part of him wondered if that was even possible.

  I couldn’t control the Ring; what makes me think the Sword will be any different?

  “The Sword is hidden on the far side of the mountains,” Hadawas warned. “It will be a long and dangerous journey.”

  “What about the Danaan army?” Norr asked. “If they have already crossed into the Stone Spirit lands, they are only a few days from here. We will never be able to cross the mountains and return in time to stop them.”

  “And what about all the refugees fleeing before them?” Vaaler asked. “Where are they supposed to go?”

  “The Danaan are moving east and north,” Roggen said. “They’ve spread across miles of territory to prevent any hope of doubling around behind them.”

  “They’re herding the refugees,” Hadawas added. “Driving them toward the mountains. Eventually, those fleeing will have nowhere left to run.”

  “We need to buy more time,” Scythe said, finally breaking her silence. “So far the Danaan haven’t faced any resistance. But if you send some warriors against them, they won’t cover as much ground.”

  “If the Stone Spirit scout was right, the Danaan force is too large to fight,” Roggen objected.

  “You don’t need to defeat them,” Scythe said. “Just slow them down so the refugees can stay ahead of them. Don’t meet them on the battlefield; use hit-and-run tactics. Target their supply lines. Set ambushes and pick off their patrols. You know this land, they don’t. That should give you the advantage.”

  Hadawas nodded in agreement, but Roggen still wasn’t convinced.

  “Your strategy requires the clans to all work together. Everyone would have to answer to a single leader. None of the chiefs will agree to it!”

  “If they don’t,” Jerrod reminded him, “then none of the clans will survive.”

  Chapter 28

  SHALANA COULDN’T BELIEVE Norr was abandoning them to go chasing after some wild fable.

  “The Sword is just a legend,” she protested. “A story for children. It isn’t real!”

  They were alone in one of the Conclave’s stone buildings—Norr had brought her here so they could speak in private after his parley with Hadawas. Soon, the room would be filled with the thanes and chiefs from over twenty clans, gathering at Hadawas’s command to choose one among them to lead an army against the Danaan.

  The Stone Spirit’s new chief wouldn’t be among them. He and his Outlander friends, along with Hadawas and a dozen handpicked Sun Blade warriors, were leaving at daybreak on their ridiculous quest.

  “It is real,” Norr insisted. “It was one of the three Talismans given to Daemron by the Old Gods.”

  “How can you believe that?”

  “Because I’ve seen the power of one of the other Talismans,” Norr told her. “Vaaler was exiled because he stole Daemron’s Ring from the Danaan. The Queen sent her patrols after us, and Keegan used the power of the Ring to slaughter them all.”

  “If that’s true,” Shalana challenged, “then why doesn’t he use the Ring to stop the Danaan again? Why do we even need the Sword?”

  “The Ring is dangerous,” Norr explained. “The last time he used it, he woke a dragon. The beast destroyed an entire city before Keegan brought it down.”

  Shalana laughed; there really wasn’t any other suitable reaction.

  “A dragon?”

  “I saw it,” Norr said. “It was real—fifty feet from wing to wing, breathing fire and raining death from above.”

  “And Keegan killed it? He’s just a boy!”

  “He’s a powerful wizard, Shalana. He’s destined to save the world.”

  “From what?” she asked.

  The big man ducked her question. “It’s complicated. But he needs all of Daemron’s Talismans to succeed. Including the Sword.”

  Norr’s time away had changed him, but not as much as Shalana would have expected. Since coming back, she’d recognized the same traits that had once drawn her to him. He was loyal. Brave. And much smarter than people gave him credit for. He wasn’t one to act rashly or foolishly.

  He really believes finding the Sword is our only hope.

  But even if he was right, the Danaan army was still rolling across the frozen plains, crushing anyone and everything in its path.

  “So let Keegan and Hadawas cross the mountains,” Shalana suggested, “and you stay here with us.”

  “Keegan needs my help.”

  “So do we!” she snapped. “Hadawas wants us to join forces to fight the Danaan. But you’re the only one all the chiefs will listen to! You’re the Red Bear! You’re a legend!”

  “They don’t need a legend,” Norr countered. “They need a leader. They need you.”

  “I can’t even lead my own clan,” she reminded him.

  “That’s not true,” Norr said, grabbing her shoulders and staring directly into her eyes. His grip was firm but not painful.

  “You were the one who rallied the thanes when Roggen threatened our camp. You were the one who inspired them and gave them courage. You were the one they followed, not me.”

  She brought her arms up, slapping his hands away and breaking his grip on her shoulders.

  “That was different. The thanes know me.”

  “All the clans know you, Shalana. You are Terramon’s daughter; you led the Stone Spirits—one of the largest and strongest clans in the East—for five years!”

  “And how many of the chiefs that paid tribute to my father rebelled against my rule?”

  “But you brought them back in line,” Norr reminded her. “And you did it without destroying their clans. The other chiefs admire you, Shalana. They respect you. They trust you. None of the others can say the same.”

  Shalana sighed. Norr thought others saw in her what he saw, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

  “Our people need you,” Norr implored. “Not just the Stone Spirits, but all the clans. Please, Shalana—it has to be you.”

  “I’ll try,” she promised Norr. “But they won’t listen.”

  Inside the perimeter of the Stone Spirit camp, Vaaler was busy packing for their upcoming journey with Hadawas. Beside him, Jerrod, Keegan, and Scythe were doing the same while the Stone Spirits looked on, their faces a strange mix of emotions. Norr had gone off to speak with Shalana alone, and for once, Scythe didn’t seem jealous. In his absence, none of the clan felt comfortable approaching the Outlanders.

  Time was of the essence, but for some reason Vaaler felt no urgency as he filled his pack. Part of him wished Shalana was coming with them, though he understood why Norr had wanted her to stay behind. Scythe, of course, had agreed wholeheartedly with that idea.

  As vital as our quest might be, she can do more good here than she can by coming with us.

  Of course, he could argue the same thing about himself. Jerrod was convinced that Vaaler had some role to play in Keegan’s destiny, but what if his role had come and gone?

  I helped him get the Ring. Maybe that’s all I was supposed to do.

  There was another reason he was reluctant to go, though. He was scared. Not just for his own life but for what might happen if they actually succeeded. The Talismans were forged with Old Magic from Chaos itself; it was impossible to know what would happen if Keegan actually tried to use the Sword against the Danaan army.

  We couldn’t even control the backlash from a simple curse.

  The Ring had roused a dragon, and Jerrod feared they might awaken more Chaos Spawn by using it again. The Sword could do the same. But Vaaler was beginning to suspect tha
t was only the most obvious consequence of using the Talismans.

  How much Chaos was unleashed when Keegan fought the dragon? Enough to cause a backlash that could drive an entire kingdom to war?

  He didn’t blame Keegan for what had happened. Not anymore. He was the one who’d stolen the Ring from the Queen. Everything that came afterward could actually be traced to that one act; all the death and destruction could just as easily be laid at his own feet as Keegan’s.

  I don’t have the power of a mage, he thought bitterly, but I still suffer the same consequences for my actions.

  Even if Shalana was able to slow the Danaan army down, how many men and women on each side would lose their lives? Their blood was on his hands.

  The more he thought about the coming battle, the more he realized it would probably be a disaster for the clans even if the Danaan battle mages weren’t able to use their magic in this land.

  The Danaan have archers—will Shalana know how far she needs her troops to stay back to be out of range?

  Vaaler’s kingdom had never gone to war; they knew little about the logistics of waging war on a massive scale. But neither did Norr’s people—even a battle between the largest clans would pale compared to this.

  Will they understand how to use the terrain to their advantage? Will Shalana know the best way to deploy her units to minimize the Danaan numbers advantage?

  It was likely the Danaan would operate in small, semiautonomous bands, mirroring the command structure of the patrols that kept outsiders away from the North Forest. It wasn’t a great strategy, but the Queen’s advisers knew no other way.

  Vaaler had studied the military histories of the Southlands during his apprenticeship with Rexol. But when he tried to share his knowledge with the Danaan, they had dismissed his efforts.

  They never thought they’d be the aggressors in a war, so they never saw any need to learn how to fight in any other kind of environment.

  The tactics that worked well in the forests left them vulnerable on the wide-open plains. But Shalana wouldn’t know how to exploit their weakness.

  Both sides were stumbling in blind. Instead of precise, effective strikes to cripple the enemy, they’d engage in long, ineffective battles with staggering casualties.