Silently, the Mirans watched, guarding the path of escape until the flames burned to nothing late that evening. There was no movement from the camp during that time and, dipping his chin in a silent salute to the fallen, the islander led his men forward once again.
“Arnacin!” Carpason exclaimed as the troop entered his besieged camp and he saw the islander riding behind Hadwin. “How are you here?”
Coolly, the islander replied, “Through dysentery and an ambush on their encampment.”
“Dysentery?” the lord repeated.
“It’s a water-borne lethal disease. How fast can your men return to the march? I don’t wish a repeat of today.”
Carpason said no more, ordering his men to prepare the disassembling of the camp. He easily recognized the look of hidden horror in the dark-haired boy and knew that only time would heal it. There were other things that had to be dealt with first, including the careful moving of ten injured men—a partial blessing and a rarity in Mira. All the same, he patted the islander’s knee in silent comfort as he passed Arnacin, still seated on Hadwin’s steed.
Chapter 10
Cestmir’s Charge
WHEN THEY RETURNED TO THE capital, the king called a meeting of all present commanders. King Miro exhaled in relief as Carpason walked in. “Word came that you returned, but…” Controlling his expression of white-faced relief, he finished, “It’s good to see you.”
Turning to Arnacin, he thanked him profusely.
Glancing over, Carpason noticed how still the islander was in the midst of the group, his skin pale, his lips set in a hard line. To the king’s gratitude, he only nodded, but someone else asked, “How did you accomplish it?”
As if his words stuck in his throat, Arnacin whispered, his mouth barely moving, “I poisoned the native camp.”
Gales of delighted laughter burst around the room. “That’s brilliant, Arnacin!”
“Ingenious!”
“Ha, those rats need such a lesson!”
At every word, the islander appeared to grow taller as he straightened every individual bone, his jaw locking, his eyes hardening like stone. Yet Carpason saw that no one else paid any heed. Everyone seemed too excited by the thought of the savages’ reaction to such an attack.
“How did you sneak poison beneath their noses like that?”
“Oh, oh, we should just poison all the plant life in Melmoor and they will think it cursed!”
“The meeting,” the lord reminded, but he was drowned in the general laughter. With another glance at the islander, Carpason suddenly imagined steam drifting from the islander’s nose, such was the fire in his gaze. Before another word could be uttered, however, Arnacin nodded to the king and whirled toward the door.
Dead silence fell when Miro barked, “Arnacin!”
The islander halted abruptly in the doorway, his back facing them, but Carpason could see his hard angry breaths through the rise and fall of his shoulders. Sighing, however, Miro added, “I give the permission to go and come, Arnacin, and I alone.”
Whirling back toward them, Arnacin declared in a voice as cold as the rest of him… “I told you I poisoned them!”
“A pure inspira—” One count started before Carpason stepped on his toe in warning. The damage, however, was already done.
“Oh yes, when has cheating meant anything to you? When has dishonor or even lives meant anything to you? So praise me as a brilliant hero, an ingenious strategist, but know this, I wouldn’t repeat it if the same stakes were on the line.” Finished, he nodded toward the king, inclining, “Your Majesty,” and then toward the man he had said he would not rescue again, “Lord Carpason.” Without another word, he vanished before the king recovered from his shock.
Regardless, it was the king who spoke first, “That boy will have to learn. I should have someone thrash him as a reminder.”
Smiling slightly, Carpason nodded toward the door, “He is not one of your subjects, Sire, and you just unwittingly offended his honor. Perhaps you should regard him as an ambassador.”
“Should I do that, I must inquire as to his kingdom so I may send a note of my displeasure to his king and demand some sort of repayment,” Miro growled before excusing his nobles.
“There you are!” Carpason exclaimed as he found the islander leaning against his ship’s rail, his hood shielding him from the lord’s sight as he stared out to the vast expanses of the open water beyond the sea gate.
When no movement came as Carpason joined the still figure, he leaned out to look beneath the hood. “I understand the king has quite a few things he would like to discuss with you alone,” he gently whispered, although those dark orbs continued to stare past him, as if unaware of his presence.
“And so he sent you,” the islander finally said.
“When it comes to problems with his foreigner, he rarely relies on anyone else,” Carpason shrugged.
“I had to leave,” Arnacin breathed. “He wasn’t allowing it.”
“Tell me, Arnacin,” the lord sighed. “Could you not simply take the compliments as they were meant?”
Shaking his head, the islander confessed, “I murdered them, my lord, pure and simple. I know I’ve said that before, but there is no excuse this time. They were already dying when we attacked and they didn’t even understand how it happened. I saw them screaming to the heavens, as if betrayed with nowhere to turn.” He paused for a second before pronouncing, “We cut down defenseless people and I should have been executed as a hypocrite, murderer and fiend. Yet instead, Mira heaps praise. I could have cut off all her nobles’ heads.”
Like usual, Arnacin’s voice remained soft. It lowered into a growl but, at the moment, not one memory of the boy ever shouting rose to Carpason’s mind. His words, however, grew consistently darker by the week.
Sadly wrapping an arm around the islander’s shoulder, Carpason sighed, “I’m sorry.”
“What have you done?” Pulling away, Arnacin finally looked at him.
“I never realized how quickly war could change one. Within five months, you are now discussing chopping men’s heads off.”
“My lord,” the islander shakily began, “if I ask the king, will he allow me the freedom of stepping down from command? I’ll help as one of the soldiers. I cannot lead.”
“Until the day your commander asks you to ‘murder’ an enemy, in which case, you’ll hang?”
Dropping his gaze, Arnacin commented, “You didn’t ask me to take command to save my neck.”
“No, I asked because we need you, Arnacin. We need the extra army and there is no one else who can lead like you, who has the talent needed. Learn to trust Miro, Arnacin. He’ll learn to know what you need, but please don’t ask him to bow before your command. He is king.”
Raising his eyes, Arnacin breathed, “You said yourself, he’s murdered Arnacin of Enchantress Island. He’ll never know what I need.”
“No, Arnacin. I murdered Arnacin of Enchantress Island through desperation. Punish me however you see fit, but don’t punish Mira or her king, I beg you. Help while you are able, please.”
Carpason’s plea spurred Arnacin to action, and he permitted himself to work on his ship only when he deemed there was time. Of the books the islander now read, none of them had anything to do with ships, but of Mira’s history, savage information, and any other material that might help him put an end to the war. He dug up every map he could find, tore through the section on medicines, and disappeared into the journals of well-known commanders.
Other times, Arnacin spent just as many hours with Gagandep, learning from him all he could not discover about medicine from his reading. He continued practicing his swordplay and archery and, of course, was constantly deployed with his troop at the king’s command.
During this time, Hadwin became his second-in-command, Firth became his assistant slink, going with him on all scouting tasks, and one of Duke Cestmir’s knights, the light-hearted and hot-headed Cornyo, became the troop’s chief stress reliever.<
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In many ways, those three were all the men Arnacin required. Although he came to know and care for all the troops granted to him, those three were his companions and no one begrudged them the right.
Still, one fact plagued the islander, and every interaction with the natives drove its point ever further into his heart. After two weeks, he could come to no alternative than the plan he’d been formulating.
The troop often used the village, Winliy, as a resting place on their way back to the capital. It sat halfway between Melmoor and the city, and allowed the exhausted men hot food and solid sleep for one night, even if that sleep was caught in various places in the large village barn. Sitting in the hayloft door of the barn, Arnacin finally whispered to the knight standing against the door frame beside him. “There are many good things about your king, Hadwin. There are a few things I even respect.”
He paused. Then chucking a handful of straw out the door, where the wind blew it into the fields, he finished, “But he’s leading his kingdom to the grave. I can’t kill just to lose. I didn’t promise my help to lose. If those I’m trying to help save are already dead, I can’t go on.”
“Arnacin,” Hadwin sighed. “You always had too much heart. No one will fault you if you back out. There are other men who have withdrawn due to such trauma.”
“If I don’t help…” Unable to finish that line of thought, Arnacin surmised, “It would destroy me, Hadwin. I gave my word. I can’t let it mean nothing.”
For a long moment, they remained silent and, even as Arnacin stared out at the last touches of red behind the rim of the natives’ mountains, he knew the knight was studying him. Eventually, Hadwin asked, “What have you found in all your research?” He smiled. “At this point, you’ve done enough to compete with the knowledge of the ruling nobility.”
“Nothing,” the islander admitted in defeat. “Nothing useful to the war, outside of general tactics. Your natives guard their secrets jealously. Savage Superstitions has nothing but useless tidbits and myths, and still they murdered the chronicler for it. I’ve spent hours trying to find some way to use the information in it, but it’s a pointless exercise.” With an ironic, humorless smile, he asked, “How do you use the fact that they boil their furs before doing anything with them in order to prevent the animals’ spirits from staying?”
Hadwin only shook his head in answer, and again, silence fell over them. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say this,” the knight eventually mentioned. “However, since I couldn’t stand here and allow you to think Miro is the densest man in existence, I’ll tell you this: quite a bit of political war takes place in the capitol. Our wonderful councilors know that our war increases fear and while they can pull on those strings, they hold quite a large amount of power—for they play on Miro’s fears and, therefore, make even the throne submit to them. Though they also fear the natives, they will try to keep the war going for as long as possible.”
“Is Miro that stupid, not to realize what they play at?”
“Just try to picture it, Arnacin. It’s not that Miro’s that stupid, but that, perhaps, he is too wise. He knows the wisdom and wiliness of his councilors. He knows they don’t stand for him, but that in not standing for him, they speak for themselves and don’t simply bow to his ideas. Therefore, he uses their views to test his own. He knows they play on his fears, yet he fears that they are right, and that to remove them would erase that counterbalance.
“My lord has long attempted to use reason, yes, even to use the councilors’ own game against them when Mira needs it. Yet the councilors always have the first move, that first non-retractable strike—the power of words. There is only so much Miro and Carpason can do against it.”
“Why did I need to know that?”
“Because you need to know.”
“So that I’ll know there’s no hope, ever?”
“As far as hope goes, Arnacin, you must have some idea what to do to counter the natives. Your whole troop knows you glean information from more than just the library. I also know you were thinking something other than quitting on life. The Arnacin I know never does that, no matter how bleak the circumstances.”
For a moment, Arnacin did not admit or deny it, resting his head against the doorframe. Then, he whispered, “To speak of what I am thinking would be to ask you to commit treason. If I could convince your king to send me as a lone spy, it would be another matter, but otherwise…”
After a second of silence, Hadwin whispered, “Ask us, Arnacin. We’re with you.”
Turning to the knight in confusion, Arnacin studied him. “You know,” he finally stated.
“You want to ask us if we’ll go into the mountains with you.” Hadwin nodded. “I’ve known it could come to this from the day you were given command, and I have only one request to make. Tell the king.”
Turning away, Arnacin replied, “I will tell the king in my own time, Hadwin. One thing I cannot do is surrender this one chance to his whim. If I tell him and he refuses, I’ll have only one option left to me…”
“Suicide,” Hadwin finished. Arnacin said nothing.
Arnacin kept his thoughts secret until they were out of sight of Winliy, in the midst of the plains. Then, asking his troop to form a circle around him, he opened his mouth, yet no words would come. Biting his lip, he slowly paced in a small circle inside that ring and, after a moment, he started, “I can no longer lead.”
“What?” he heard Cornyo exclaim.
“There are some things I cannot command.”
“Arnacin,” Hadwin sighed, “King Miro gave you command. Whatever it is, we obey.”
With a grim smile, the islander glanced at the Tarmlin knight and gently replied, “No. If I told you to draw blades on each other this instant, would you do it?”
A stunned silence met him, and he saw Firth’s head twitch. “No, you wouldn’t, because of right and wrong. Above any ruler, no matter how great, there is a law, a law we know as infants. To a child, death is always terrible. A man’s hatred is always a bad thing. No king could change that. They could make it the rule that murder is lawful, but that child would not agree until it was slowly schooled into that way of thinking.
“That law remains whether the king says ‘yea’ or ‘nay,’ and I at least must follow it even when the king says ‘nay.’ For that reason, I cannot lead.”
“What has the king asked you to do?” Cornyo asked in confusion.
“Senseless murder until death.”
Several cries of outrage filled the air. “He would never! What? We know Miro!”
It was Firth who said, “The savages are hardly…” Yet there he stopped and, as the outrage died down, Arnacin nodded.
“Your father is ‘savage,’ Firth. It is their betrayal of their own blood that makes the natives so horrible in your opinion. But, like your father, they are people, and I agreed to help protect Mirans and adopted natives alike. I never thought I agreed to the worthless slaughter this war has become, on both sides. There’s no end, men—no victory. You kill until you drop, and for what?”
No one answered. Many of the Mirans were staring at their boots. It was Cornyo who whispered, “What alternatives do we have?”
“I don’t know yet. I have a few suspicions, some of which even Lord Carpason knows, but our attempt to discover more failed. I know a place that will have those answers, though, yet the king has forbidden our infiltration, afraid that the natives will never trust Mirans if he doesn’t keep this war inside Mira’s borders.”
Mutters were rising from the Mirans again. After a moment, one challenged Arnacin, “You think to order us into the mountains?”
“No,” the islander breathed. “I can never order such a thing. I’m telling you, I can’t lead anymore, and I am going back to tell Miro so.”
“Arnacin,” Hadwin muttered, his tone warning, yet Arnacin had no time to answer, for that moment, Cornyo stepped forward.
“I will never lose my loyalty to my king, but, Arnacin, you must know, if you
think there’s a possible way to help Mira survive, I will follow you to the gallows Miro erects for me.”
Shaking his head, Arnacin licked his lips. “Cornyo, no. It would be deceit, betrayal against your homeland. I have thought about this all night. I can’t ask it of you. If I tell Miro that I can no longer help in this war, I can sail off and slip into the mountains by my own decision, completely apart from Mira. The same absolution is not available to you.”
“You’d die without support, Arnacin,” Hadwin spoke up. “And if ever you found the real leaders, you would be incapable of eliminating them on your own. No, you must allow us to do this with you, or not at all.”
Hadwin’s harsh logic stilled the islander’s heart. After a moment, he sighed in defeat. “Then each of you must choose your preferred course of action. If even one of you thinks we should not enter the mountains, we won’t, but know that if you decide to defy your king to possibly save your homeland…” For a second he paused, and then with a slight smile, he shrugged. “Well, you wouldn’t be able to continue as your lords’ spies.”
The whole group shifted, yet no one spoke, and Arnacin returned to seriousness. “In all honesty, if you choose the mountains and we are ever discovered, I will take full responsibility, but that doesn’t guarantee that you won’t be executed for it as well.”
“My life belongs to my king and country, Arnacin,” Cornyo vowed, sincerely. “If I die helping them, I will die willingly, and if I can succeed before I die, I will die with relief. I’ll go into the mountains with you, for Mira.”
The Savage War Page 18
