Sins of a Sovereignty (Amernia Fallen Book 1)

by Plague Jack

  “I wasn’t provoking him. I was just explaining the situation and he went off,” said the elf girl, who kneaded her hair to one side. Shrike got a good look at her ears, which lacked the usual elvish points. Instead they were flat, with a sharp line of scar tissue.

  “Who clipped your ears?” interrupted Shrike.

  Pierah laughed. “A bold question, little man. I had an accident with a hungry mule.”

  “Beast bites are hardly so clean. You’re a liar.”

  “Drop it, Shrike,” said Evrill. “The girl’s scars are none of your business. Perhaps you should keep your questions to yourself.”

  The dwarf laughed and twirled his dark red goatee. “They don’t make you a spymaster for not asking questions.”

  “You may have forgotten, but you are no longer a master of anything,” said Salus. “Your knowledge is still useful, and that is why you are here, Mr. O’Connor. If you want to continue your imprisonment comfortably I would suggest doing everything you can to help the Wild Hunt.”

  “Help the Wild Hunt? Why should I do that?” asked Shrike. “Let them prove their right to the throne through trial and error.”

  “You belong to the Wild Hunt, and you belong to me. It may benefit your current situation to cooperate as much as possible. You have no friends here.”

  The dwarf gazed at Evrill and Calcifer, wondering if they would defend him, but they did not. “And if I cooperate will I earn my freedom?” asked Shrike, dreaming of faraway shores. You knew this would happen, Harper. Damn you and your curiosity.

  “Perhaps,” said Salus, turning his attention back to Pierah. “Please recite the battle plans in their entirety.”

  The witch spread a brown-stained map upon the table. “In a few hours we will abandon these tunnels. Procrastination is not an option, as we have just enough food remaining to get us to Norfield. Roselock has recently reinforced the city with over two hundred extra men from Voskeer. Our total headcount is five hundred and ten, and unfortunately we only have two hundred and thirty-two gas masks. This means that everyone is going to face some degree of Nixus exposure, but with regular mask rotations, Evrill has assured me that the effects will not be fatal.” She pointed at the map to the wooded area outside Norfield. “We will camp here to regain our strength. The cover the wood provides should protect us from arrows or bastillas. They may try to smoke us out, but there are valuable lumber camps and quarries in the area that the Norfieldians will want to preserve. The girls on the inside will be taking care of getting the gates open, and they will open them when they see my signal.”

  “What signal?” asked Calcifer.

  “Amernian legends claim that on nights of great bloodshed, the gods turn the moon red. I’m going to cast a spell to mimic this and send the city into a panic,” said Pierah.

  “Clever,” said Shrike. “But how do you know they’ll panic? They could see it as a sign of impending victory.”

  “It’s a gamble,” said Pierah. “It all is.” She marked her fingers around the city in a pincer formation. “We have fifty horses, so they will be divided into regiments of twenty-five—one regiment to charge across each bridge. Our archers will support the cavalry from the surrounding cliffs. If all goes well we should be able to take the elf district relatively quickly. Heavy losses are expected during the first wave.”

  “And what of the civilians living in the elf district?” asked Evrill.

  “We want to minimize civilian casualties,” said Salus. “Currently the Wild Hunt has the moral high ground, and we can’t risk it by committing genocide. Even if it were our goal to wipe out the humans, we can’t afford to. Norfield has a massive economy, generated from the surrounding farms. The farmers have to keep farming or it’s a useless capture.”

  “What if your whore army fails to get the doors open?” asked Shrike. “What then? Do you have battering rams at the ready?”

  “If it comes to that I’ll blast the doors open,” said Calcifer. “I will have my revenge.”

  Shrike laughed. “Against Norfield? Are you such an idiot that you’ll take your anger out on a city? The city didn’t fuck your girl to death; nameless men did. There’s no way to know who raped your sister, and for every guilty human you kill you’ll slay ten more innocents.”

  “How about I take my anger out on you? You little shit!” snarled Calcifer. The Bottler had shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep.

  He’s not doing well, thought Shrike. That was too harsh of me.

  “You can’t hurt Mr. O’Connor,” said Salus. “I need his brain, for now. Rest assured, Calcifer, you’ll get your revenge. In fact, I have something for you.” Salus produced a folder and slid it around the circle’s ring toward Calcifer. The Bottler opened it and looked down at the paper within. Inside was a sketch of a bald, hook-nosed man with sharp eyes. “Calcifer, meet Arterius Blake. He deserted during the assassination of Phineas and spent the following hours sowing a nightmare of terror across the elf district. His crimes included but are not limited to the sacking of the Bleeding Hearts brothel. As a reward for his efforts the Blood Queen appointed him protector of Norfield. Can I trust you’ll take care of the matter for me?”

  “You can,” hissed Calcifer, grinding his teeth at the paper. He looked up at Salus. Their eyes met. “How do you know that Blake is responsible?”

  “The letters from eyewitnesses are included,” said Salus. “It’s all there. Do you need more?”

  “No…” said Calcifer, transfixed. “This’ll do.” He stared transfixed at the papers when he spoke again. “Tell me, Pierah, am I going to have to hunt you down after the siege?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Are you going to mutate yourself again, like you did when you killed Phineas?”

  “It was the only way to put down the Archduke and escape alive. There’s no way I’m taking that big of a risk again.”

  “But you want to,” said Calcifer. “That’s how it begins. And you will. They always do.” He placed his long-necked tankard upon the table, runes glowing faintly. “And when you go rogue, as you will, I promise you, bitch, I’ll put you where you belong,” Calcifer’s fingers drummed alongside the bottle’s metal. “Right here with all the others.”

  “I think you just want to believe that you’re the only one virtuous or controlled enough never to explore the reaches of their power. I think you just want to believe you’re special when you’re anything but.”

  “Shut up, Pierah,” said Salus. “Calcifer, that tankard of yours is one of the most dangerous things in Amernia. Maybe even the world. If we could somehow contact the hellions inside, perhaps we could persuade them to serve us.”

  “Spoken like someone who’s never met a hellion,” said Shrike. “If you like being bossed around by a disfigured psychotic terror, open the bottle. Otherwise, let sleeping monsters lie.”

  “We lost complete control of the hellions after Capricorn,” added Evrill. “They began to bicker amongst themselves and then went their separate ways. The only reason we were able to use them in the Green War was because they hated Darius when they were human. Their tantrums more often than not did more damage to the Queen’s men than the enemy. Calcifer does this country a service by keeping them locked away.”

  “He does,” said Salus. “But they are only imprisoned, not dead. One day someone’s going to let them out of that bottle. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when, and when that day comes I don’t want to be on their bad side.”

  “It’s not going to happen,” said Calcifer. “As long as I guard the tankard they will remain imprisoned.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” said Salus, seating himself. “I don’t understand why you bothered to imprison the hellions. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to kill them?”

  “No,” said Calcifer. “The tankard is a gift from Cambrian himself. Its magic assists in their capture.”

  “I think what Calcifer means to say is that his magic jar does all th
e work and helps to exaggerate what would otherwise be a mediocre legend,” said Pierah, smiling wide.

  “Why don’t you go see how Kaevin is doing?” said Salus. She shot him a contemptuous gaze and left the war room.

  A few moments later Calcifer stood up as well. “I’m leaving,” he said. “I need to go pack up my things and get ready for the battle.” He left without waiting for anyone’s approval.

  Salus reached a thick arm across the table and pulled the maps towards him. “I’ve heard rumors that Brarian Ashen used to sneak supplies out of the city through a secret tunnel. Might you know where, Mr. O’Connor?”

  You said you wouldn’t help the Hunt, Shrike thought. But they’ve got you by the balls. “There is a tower along the Iron Road,” said Shrike, “near where they brought down the last dragon. You’ll see it shortly after you leave the Nixus fields, although rot and ruin has taken its toll. Beneath the floorboards is a passage that will take you into Norfield, but it’s small. Only a few men would be able to fit through it, and the Norfieldians know about it. They keep it guarded, but lightly.”

  Salus let out a laugh of delight. “Thank you, Mr. O’Connor, you shorten your chain with every scrap of information you give us. But it is a very long chain….”

  “What’s the plan if you fail to take Norfield?” asked Evrill. “Where will you go?”

  “We can’t fail,” said Salus. “There is no backup plan, no regrouping. The only reason this rebellion’s been possible is because Pierah’s been funding our little coup. She’s spent her life’s earnings funding the Wild Hunt. Most of that gold’s been spent shipping food for five hundred people through miles of Nixus.”

  “Harpy’s Point will take you, should you fail,” said Evrill. “But it cannot offer you exemption from the Queen’s law.”

  “And how do you think the Queen bitch is going to respond to you harboring a squad of fugitives? Don’t act like you’re being impartial while you sit here and enable treason!” said Shrike, his face remaining deceptively calm.

  “What I want more than anything is to prevent more death and suffering,” replied Evrill. “I’m not picking a side. I’m choosing to work with both. Overly polarized stances on issues only further the gap between peoples. It happened during the Green War, and I don’t want it to happen again. Harpy’s Point is to remain a no-man’s-land. I will allow the Wild Hunt’s presence as long as they behave themselves, as I will also allow the Queen’s. If the gods are good I will be able to help negotiate peace.”

  “Or, alternatively, you’ll get yourself killed while the Queen and the Hunt tear each other apart over the corpse of your city.”

  “Evrill’s a sweet little old thing. Even if the Queensguard arrive ready for battle, no one in the Hunt or in Harpy’s Point will let harm come to her.” said Salus. “Harpy’s Point has the highest elfkin population in all of Amernia, and they all adore their duchess. Hurting her would further make the Hunt out to be villains, and we don’t want to be seen as villains.”

  The people of Harpy’s Point only adore their duchess, thought Shrike, because they don’t know her. She swings that sweet old lady persona about to hide the woman who spent months perfecting poison from dragon guts. “Evrill, please think twice about inviting this man into your nearly impenetrable fortress.”

  “I should already have Norfield by then,” said Salus, “and we wouldn’t be able to take both even if we wanted to. Our forces would be spread too thin. The reason for taking Norfield is to send a message to the Queen that the elfkin will not tolerate criminal abuse any longer. In an ideal world she would listen to our demands and be open to negotiation. That is not expected to happen.”

  “And who will be the new Duke of Norfield? Could it be you?” asked Shrike.

  Salus laughed. “Me? Never. And I’m not going to be at Norfield. Well, at least not for some time. That little operation belongs to Pierah. I’m going to Harpy’s Point with Evrill, here.”

  “No, no, you’re not,” said Shrike, “because Evrill’s not that stupid, are you Evrill?”

  “It’s not stupidity,” said the Duchess. “He’s allowed under the condition that he behave. Minerva is also invited so a peaceful resolution to this conflict can be found.”

  “How many conquerors are you taking, Salus?” asked the dwarf.

  “Fifty,” said Salus. “Enough to keep us safe but not enough to seriously intimidate the guard.”

  “Fifty good men can wreak a lot of havoc,” said Shrike. “Veronica, please listen to me. This is a bad idea. If you must bring him, do not allow him to bring so many men.”

  “He is not going to conquer my city with that handful,” said Evrill. “But you make a good point. Salus, perhaps twenty-five is a more suitable number?”

  “Forty,” said the elf, a muscle straining in his neck.

  “Thirty,” said Evrill. “Thirty, and I give you my word I will protect you from the Queensguard should they arrive.”

  Salus let out a long sigh. “You drive a hard bargain. Thirty men is all I will bring.” As he stood, his chair made a noise that hurt Shrike’s teeth. “Evrill, I trust you’ll get word to the Queen immediately?”

  “It’ll be the first thing I do,” said Evrill.

  “Excellent!” said Salus, beaming. “And Mr. O’Connor, you shouldn’t worry about anything happening to the Duchess—you’ll be coming with us!”

  Later that night, as the army stripped away the camp and prepared to leave the Hall of the Gods vacant as it belonged, Shrike hastily wrote a letter in his room while Mordigan stood watch outside his door. Salus had ordered that Kaevin not return his hatchets and Shrike felt exposed and panicky without them. A snake of coiled worry and fear had worked itself into the dwarf’s gut. The wings of a sprite beat against his hand as he tied the letter to its body with twine. “There’s absinthe in it for you if you cooperate, little one,” he reminded the fairy. He whispered the name of a friend to the fairy and let her fly. She went unnoticed as she flew through the cavernous chambers of the hall and upwards to the surface. Once there she coughed as Nixus stung her lungs, but the fairy flew above it. The night sky was her map and she followed Ulysses, the southern star, into the darkness.

  Chapter 10

  Amernia has its elfkin, to which the reader needs no introduction. Similar creatures are found on every continent in Archipelago. The Firelands have their murderous djinn while the Keonans have mantoids and swarmers. The Glass Empire is famous for its kappa and the Azmirians have the wide-eyed troodons. Always I ask why… are such creatures naturally occurring, or are they creations of the gods? The Vaetorians call these non-human sentient species nethers… the name has stuck.

  —Harold Thule, Archipelago and Its Conjoined Past.

  The ascent up the Copper Road was as treacherous as the descent had been, but it went faster since there was no cart to drag nor travelers to account for. He did his best to keep from staring at the three peaks of Morheim as they mocked him from the sea. Spring had come to Amernia, and even along the chilly peaks of the Frost Fist Mountains, plants were beginning to flower and bloom in hues of blue, violet, and red that burst from the crevices of lichen-speckled boulders. The journey was lonely, and it left Pendragon in the last place he wanted to be—alone with his thoughts.

  Prince Darius had been a dashingly handsome young man who was admired by the people, but like most princes, he had had no appreciation for patience. While King Gabriel Roselock still lived, he had often covered up Darius’s childhood habit of killing the cats that roamed the palace halls. When Darius had matured, Gabriel instead bribed and killed to hide his son’s habit of treating whores as he did the cats. Pendragon had often found himself at odds with Gabriel since Darius’s birth. But his worries and concerns were always dismissed by Gabriel, who could not accept the idea that his son was worse than most brigands. Pendragon was just a bodyguard, after all, and bodyguards did not preside over princes.

  On the night Gabriel was killed, Pendragon awoke to a harsh
banging on his chamber door. “What is it?” he asked the Kingsguard who had awoken him.

  “Sir Pendragon,” said the knight in red. “You ordered us to awake you if the Prince ever visited the King and Queen in their chambers.”

  “Yes, I did,” said Pendragon. “By the gods, tell me you didn’t let him in.”

  “No, sir, I didn’t, I swear. But Sir Hawking did.”

  “Dammit!” shouted Pendragon as he grabbed Christopher’s sheath and slung him around his waist. There was no time for armor. “You come with me,” he ordered the knight. The Tarnished Palace had never been a very practical place, and its poor design was exceedingly evident in moments of crisis. Pendragon ran downstairs from his room so fast he practically flew. Once at the bottom he found the stairs leading to King Gabriel’s chambers. He raced upward along the spiral staircase. They should tear these ridiculous towers down and rebuild them on the ground, he thought, panting. Outside the door to the royal chambers lay Sir Hawking’s body, his throat slit in a bright red gash. Through the heavy door he could hear what sounded like a muffled argument. His worry turned to panic when the arguing escalated into screaming. There was a sudden and suspicious silence.

  “Gabriel, are you all right?” Pendragon shouted through the door. There was no answer. The door was wooden but framed with metal so it could be magnetically sealed from the inside. Forcing it open would be no easy task. He pushed his weight against the wood and found it immobile. The jolt that ran through his arm when his sword hit the wood was borderline bone-breaking.

  Then the Queen began to scream. Several of the Kingsguard had followed them up the staircase and arrived at the landing with axes in hand. “Get this door open,” barked Pendragon, and they began to send splinters flying. Every chop felt like eons as Pendragon waited helplessly while the Queen shrieked. Together they entered a room filled with horror.