As the convoy approached the Elkhan its members became noticeably more nervous. They paused at the water’s edge and Yaneera addressed those who had accompanied her: “People of Andara, doubtless some of you have realized the purpose of our journey. For those of you who have not, or still wonder, let me make it plain to you. We are going to cross the Elkhan and treat with the Kairon.”
At the pronouncement there was an explosion of muted whispers and mutterings throughout the assembled convoy. Raising her hand for silence, Yaneera continued: “The Disciples assure me that while we know the Kairon only as savage beasts who destroy all in their path, they are much more than that. The Disciples have taught me that the Kairon are servants of Mythos who cleanse worlds of those who will not follow their Master. As such, they are allies to our cause and will fight with us against our oppressive neighbors. We travel now to gain their support.
“I know you fear to travel beyond the Elkhan that has protected us from their wrath all of our lives,” she acknowledged. “But the Disciples ask us to place our trust in them. If we confront them you are not to draw arms. Place your faith in Mythos and his servants—they have delivered us thus far—let us trust them to carry us safely through this endeavor.”
As Yaneera concluded, Jonas and Alsarius approached the water’s edge. The pair stood back to back and paced out ten paces along the shore. Turning to face the water, they drove their staves deep into the earth. They chanted in unison words and phrases alien to the common tongue spoken by the Andarans. As their words carried over the river a stirring could be felt—slight at first but increasing in intensity as the Disciples’ chanting reached its zenith. The Andarans looked back and forth fearfully.
When the Disciples ceased chanting, the ground split open. The Andarans watched, mesmerized by the magic before them—an immense slab of stone rose from the fractured earth and moved steadily away from the Disciples until it spanned the entirety of the Elkhan.
Jonas turned to face the assembled convoy. “You will wait here while we treat with the Kairon. Ensure that no one crosses this bridge after us. Should a stray Kairon discover you before we reach their chief, you may need to deter them from crossing. Do not venture into their territory for any reason—without us you will likely die swiftly and needlessly. Your role is to guard the bridge and keep your people safe. Do you understand me?”
“Yes!” came the jubilant chorus from the convoy. Jonas knew they drew confidence from the power they had just witnessed, and were glad, too, that they would not need to venture into harm’s way.
Turning to the Empress he continued: “Yaneera, select a dozen of your men to accompany us. Alsarius and I will travel with you and we will recruit the Kairon to our cause. With their strength behind us, we will crush all who have rejected Mythos.”
Yaneera nodded her understanding and barked a series of orders to her accompanying soldiers. “Captain Kelsol, you and your men will accompany us. The remainder will stay here under the eye of Captain Ponell. Ponell, you are to hold this bridge at all costs. No one is to cross from either side until we return. Do not take this duty lightly, for you may need to meet the Kairon in battle. Your diligence will save lives. Remember our people lie at your back. Do not let them down.”
“We will lay down our lives if need be, Empress,” Captain Ponell replied, then bowed and departed to organize his troops.
Captain Kelsol turned to the wagon master and spoke quickly. “Ready two wagons for transport—we will require supplies to make our journey.” To the Empress he spoke reverently: “Empress, I will ready my men for departure.” Kelsol bowed to the Empress and moved swiftly among his troops selecting men to accompany him.
While the Empress waited for the troops and supplies to be assembled she couldn’t help but dwell on the immensity of the task that lay before her. For a hundred years the Kairon had plagued Sevalorn, held in check only by the barriers nature had provided. Could such beasts really be tamed by the Disciples? Yaneera wondered, not wishing to voice her doubts aloud.
As a young woman she had inherited the largest Empire in Sevalorn, and this youngest Empress in the history of her people now ruled a nation on the brink of open rebellion. A sense of entitlement to rule had cost her parents their lives, so in an effort to preserve her people she had been forced to make great concessions. Laying aside the beliefs her family had held for generations had not been easy.
As a child she had been taught of the Allfather and his goodness as he watched over Creation. Now as a young Empress she had pawned centuries of tradition to purchase favor with these Disciples. She wondered what her parents would think as she so quickly set aside their faith. What of the Allfather? Did he even exist? If he did what would he think of Andara’s abandonment?
These were the thoughts that plagued the Empress’s mind of late. But there were no answers to be had—since the Disciples had exerted dominion over the capital, the surviving priests of the Allfather had gone to ground. Their places of worship desecrated, the priests had disappeared.
So Yaneera was left alone to contemplate the consequences of her current course of action. She had only wished to save her people from the starvation that had loomed ominously before them. Now she found herself preparing for the destruction of entire nations at her hand. Did their rulers feel as she did? Would the Disciples deliver on their promise? So many questions and so few answers. If the Allfather wished it otherwise he should not have left her people to starve.
The rhetoric provided little comfort but it did allow her to bury her questions for the moment. The Disciple’s approach brought Yaneera back from her thoughts.
“Yaneera, can you hear me?” Jonas repeated.
“Of course—what’s the matter?” Yaneera asked.
“Kelsol and his men are ready, if you are?”
“Excellent—let’s move out,” she said without hesitation.
“Are you sure all is well, Empress?” The Disciple asked. “You look uneasy.”
Yaneera hurriedly buried her emotions beneath the façade she wore so readily in court. “Of course—I was simply weary, I shall rest better once we have achieved our purpose here.”
“Of course, Empress. When we are done here your enemies will have been dealt a substantial blow. The northern Kingdoms of Sevalorn will either be united behind you or destroyed before you. Your might will be without equal.”
“Then let us be away, Jonas. Lead the way.” The Empress was eager to avert the Disciple’s watchful gaze. Can he read thoughts? Surely not. She chided herself and resolved to be more mindful of her emotions in the presence of others.
*****
It was nearly noon when Jonas raised his staff, signaling for the party to halt.
“What’s wrong?” Yaneera asked anxiously. The further the group ventured into the Kairon’s Plains the less comfortable she had felt.
“We have been spotted.” The Disciple pointed to a column of dust rising on the horizon. “There is little point in moving—we will not outrun them. Our best course is to wait for them to come to us. Captain Kelsol, under no circumstances are you or your men to draw your weapons. The Kairon are proud. If they sense a challenge there will be bloodshed. Leave it to Alsarius and me to deal with them.”
“Understood, Jonas,” the Captain replied. “We will shield the Empress from harm and do nothing else, unless you tell us otherwise.”
“Very well. We wait.”
The small patrol of soldiers gathered tightly around the Empress. Once they were in place the Disciples positioned themselves between the small party and the dust plume that was steadily making its way across the plains towards them.
With a speed that defied reason the dust plume sped across the plains towards the waiting Andarans. Soon Jonas could make out the imposing figures of the Kairon—taller than a human riding a horse, the creatures were immense. Muscular, well-tanned torsos spoke of a life spent under the hot sun. The Kairon’s lower limbs resembled those of a large stallion, well suited to the nom
adic lifestyle the creatures favored.
When the beasts drew nearer it was apparent they were ready for war. Each warrior bore a weapon. Several brandished wicked spears that looked capable of impaling several soldiers at a time; others carried the same recurve bows favored by human horse archers, ensuring their muscular frame would not get in the way of maneuvering the bow. Yet others held swords or clubs, many of them pointing aggressively overhead as the fierce creatures barreled towards the small party.
Seeing the Kairon arrayed for war, Jonas determined they were unlikely to ask questions before slaughtering the Andarans wholesale. Sweeping his staff before him, Jonas quietly muttered an incantation. Fire erupted from the end of his staff—the flames struck the dry prairie and the drought-stricken grass caught instantly.
In moments a wall of fire began to spread. Unfortunately for Jonas it spread in every direction, including towards the Andarans he sought to protect. Seeing the dilemma, Alsarius began to chant, and a steady breeze rolled across the plains. With the wind at their backs, the Andarans were spared the fire, for it moved away from the small cluster of humans and rolled fully towards the Kairon.
As they swept across the plains the flames grew in size, consuming the dry grasslands before them. When the flames were almost upon the Kairon, Jonas again swept his staff before him, ending the incantation. As suddenly as they appeared the flames dispersed, leaving the air heavy with smoke and ash that blew steadily across the plains.
The prairie fire had the desired effect. The Kairon had slowed their approach—the large creatures moved patiently through the smoke seeking their quarry, for the beasts knew well the danger fire posed on the dried plains. As the Kairon emerged from the smoke the image was one to inspire fear: each large creature brandished its weapons of war as smoke and ash swirled about their large and imposing forms. Vivid war paint covering the beasts’ muscular forms added further to their imposing image.
Had Jonas not encountered them before, he would have been as terrified as the Andaran soldiers cowering behind him. The Empress was not visible, buried deep within the safety of their ranks.
As the Kairon approached they did so warily, and Jonas ensured his robes were clearly visible. There was a small chance these beasts were native to this world but he thought it unlikely—he had never met a creature of their kind that was not a part of the Herd, the warrior society of the Kairon that spanned many worlds. And these would know his robes.
Nevertheless he exercised caution lest these be the first of their kind. Two dozen Kairon would be a formidable foe. At this distance it would be possible for them to survive an arcane assault long enough to bear down on the Disciple. The tremendous creatures were not easily slain—each was capable of enduring tremendous pain before succumbing to its wounds.
The creatures drew near and Jonas called out in their tongue: “Greetings, Warriors of the Herd. I am Jonas, Disciple of Mythos, he who protects us all. I have come to speak with your Warchief.”
“A Disciple—humff,” snorted one of the creatures, the intricate war paint covering his chest setting him apart from the simpler patterns of his fellow Kairon. It was evident who led this pack. “You and your kind have much to answer for. We will take you to the Warchief so that you may answer for your crimes.”
“Crimes?” asked Jonas. “I have committed none such—I am here at the will of Mythos. I would warn you against threatening the servants of the God who created you. If you forget your place, your existence will be but a footnote in the history of the heavens. Do not threaten me again.” The Disciple spoke with menace and malice in equal measure.
The warrior responded in kind, unwilling to lose face before his kin: “If you set fire to the plains again I will see you crushed beneath my hooves before you have a chance to swing that staff of yours. Do not threaten me, little human.”
“The fire was but a warning, Kairon,” Jonas declared. “If you attempt to harm us now that you know who we are, I will set in motion a chain of events that will end not only your life, but the life of every one of your kind on this continent. Now I will bandy threats no longer. Remember the oath your Elders swore generations ago and cease this hostility at once.”
The creature snorted its displeasure but was otherwise silent.
Seeing he had won the struggle, Jonas attempted to return some civility to the exchange. “What is your name, warrior?” the Disciple asked, all malice now gone from his voice.
“I am Skaros—” the warrior grunted—“Chief of the Darnei and right hand to Arsenath, Warchief of the Kairon.”
“Then you will know where the Warchief can be found?” Jonas asked.
“Of course. He holds council at the Tears of the Elkhan. It is not far—as the Kairon move. But with your short legs we’ll be lucky to be there by nightfall,” Skaros added condescendingly.
When the humans balked at the distance Skaros continued: “Warriors we might be, but your beasts of burden we are not. You will walk.”
“I would expect nothing else, Skaros. Lead on. We have matters of great import to discuss with Arsenath as soon as possible.”
“Then follow me. I will lead you to him.” The warrior slid his spear into a scabbard that ran down his left flank, gesturing with his hand he pointed to the west. “Come—it is this way.”
Motioning for the Andarans to follow, Jonas fell into stride behind the Kairon. Content that he was making progress, Jonas called out to the Kairon: “Skaros, you spoke of sins. What did you mean by that?”
Without even bothering to turn Skaros waved the Disciple off. “That is for Arsenath to determine. You will need to wait until we reach the Tears to hear an answer of him.”
So much for progress, Jonas thought to himself. At least we are alive.
*****
Skaros’s estimate had proved accurate—after walking for the remainder of the day the party drew near to the place the Kairon referred to as the Tears of the Elkhan. None of the Andarans had ever been there, but the Tears were readily identifiable by the immense Herd of Kairon that had gathered together. Thousands of the creatures congregated around the life-giving water source.
The Tears of the Kairon were a smaller branch of the Elkhan where its waters ran off into dozens of smaller streams—doubtless it had once been used by humans to irrigate their crops until the Kairon had driven them beyond the Elkhan. If sketched from above the numerous branches of the river would look as if the river herself were crying.
As the group drew nearer the Tears, large groups of Kairon were coming and going from the Herd. In answer to the unasked question Skaros said, “It is difficult to gather so many in one place. The Kairon you see coming and going are hunting and foraging for food to lessen the burden.”
Jonas sought to count the Kairon as they moved through their midst. But after a few minutes he abandoned his effort, as the swirling mass of creatures was simply too difficult to get a bearing on. Instead he began counting the symbols of different tribes they passed. Before long his count was at fifteen. If this Herd followed the pattern of the other Kairon he had encountered it meant there would be at least ten to fifteen thousand of them—a substantial count by any reckoning.
The Andaran group drew near the water’s edge and a structure loomed up before them. Simple by the standards of men, it was of timber construction with a thatched roof. It was similar to other shelters they had passed by, except that the previous shelters had been without walls and open to the elements—this large structure had been enclosed with stitched hides.
Skaros pointed to the building and spoke, his deep voice still bordering on a growl. “The Warchief is within. We sent word of your arrival. Do not keep him waiting.”
“Thank you, Skaros. We will not keep him waiting.” Jonas walked over to the wagon containing the Empress and called for her. “Yaneera, we have arrived. Leave your guards outside. We will enter with Alsarius and speak with the Kairon Warchief.”
Yaneera sprang down from the wagon and stretched. Dressed in
a simple blue robe she would hardly seem to be the ruler of anything, let alone Andara—one of the largest lands in Sevalorn.
“You heard Jonas,” she instructed. “Ensure that the men rest, Captain. Do not do anything foolish. Stay by the wagons and do not do anything that could be construed as threatening.”
“Yes, Empress. I understand. We will be careful.” The grizzled captain bowed to the Empress.
Flanked by the Disciples the young Empress of the Andara made her way into the enclosure.
Chapter 19
The Empress and Disciples entered the enclosure and were surprised to find it richly furnished. In the center of the room rested an immense Kairon, its legs folded on an expensive rug, surely the spoils of war—the Kairon were not known for their craftsmanship. Inside the doorway a pair of Kairon stood at attention glowering at the visitors—but she was surprised to see there were no other Kairon present.
Yaneera examined the Kairon as she approached. Even resting as it was the creature was immense. Its dark beard was braided and clasped with various jewels, and while most Kairon fought bare-chested, the leader before her wore a polished steel breastplate. The creature’s muscular arms lay folded across its chest.
As they approached the beast spoke, its voice warm and rich, vastly different from the rough tones they had heard from Skaros. “You are lucky Skaros and his warriors did not attempt to kill you—the marks of a Disciple have not been seen by the Herd in our lifetime.”
“Greetings, Arsenath,” replied Jonas. “He did indeed try, but fortunately we were able to deter him without bloodshed. I am glad you are able to recognize the marks, for I am weary from our journey. I doubt my ability to show such restraint a second time.”
“What is your name, Disciple? I would know whom I speak with.”
“I am Jonas. This is Alsarius, and we are accompanied by Yaneera, Empress of Andara.”
When The Gods War: Book 2 - Chronicles of Meldinar Page 14
