Farindian Summer (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 4)

by Loren K. Jones

  Stavin studied the ground at his feet. “Have any captured officers brought to me.”

  Gavlin looked down at his prince and nodded. “Yes, Prince Stavin.”

  It was late in the day when six men were brought before Stavin. General Zel’Jellan was among them, and he seemed surprised to see Stavin sitting at tea. “I warned you, general,” Stavin said without standing. “What did you think would happen? Did you think we wouldn’t fight for our kingdom?”

  “We took these lands! They’re ours!” the general shouted. He was dirty and unkempt, like he’d been forced to fight himself. He also looked desperate, perhaps fearing his execution.

  “No, general. The lands north of the Kahrant River are yours. You invaded Evandia for the second time in two years. What did you expect the outcome to be?”

  “The king will hear of this!” General Zel’Jellan shouted, and seemed shocked when Stavin laughed.

  “He already has. Colonel Zel’Fordal used our message book to tell King Kalin what you did here. He seems quite put out by it. You and your officers are to be transported to Twin Bridges and tried as bandits. King Jallat has disavowed your actions. That will be all.”

  “No!”

  Colonel Zel’Fordal stepped forward and said, “Remove them.” Once the prisoners were gone, he turned to Stavin and gave him a very old fashioned look. “You, my prince, are far too talented a liar.”

  Stavin started sniggering. “So I’ve been told.”

  “What do we do with them?” Gavlin asked.

  “Hold them until we’re told to do otherwise. We send the real messages by courier at first light. It’s just a guess, but I think the kings’ reaction, both Kalin’s and Jallat’s, are going to be pretty close to what I just said. What is our casualty count?”

  Now Gavlin shook his head. “One hundred nine dead, and another two hundred seven wounded.”

  “And the Andarians?”

  “I don’t have a casualty count yet. We have seven hundred and thirty-one prisoners. A large portion of their men broke and ran. Those that surrendered were surrounded and didn’t stand a chance.” Gavlin paused to take a breath. “Karvik is with the healers.”

  Stavin snapped to his feet, knocking over the table and getting tea all over the maps. “How bad is he?”

  “Not bad,” Gavlin said as he laid a hand on Stavin’s arm. “He got a sword stroke to the thigh. He’ll be out of the fight for a while, but Barvil says he’ll be fine.” Now Gavlin took a deep breath and looked Stavin in the eye. “He was using the Sword of Zel’Hallan.”

  Stavin breathed the words, “Gods Below,” as he stared at the ground. “Did he say what his count was?”

  “Ten,” Barvil said as he entered the tent. “I got six more. We only lost two men.”

  “So next time is Charvil’s turn again?” Stavin asked. “Who did we lose?”

  “Hendel Kel’Carin and Davik Kel’Aniston.”

  Stavin caught his breath. Davik was his father’s cousin, and Hendel was Barvil’s nephew. “I’m sorry, Barvil.”

  “So am I, Stavin. So am I. We’ll have the memorial in a little while. The rest of the warriors are seeing to the graves.”

  I should have been out there! I should have taken up the sword and slaughtered—His thoughts froze as he realized what he was thinking. Is that what I’ve become?

  Chapter 39

  KING KALIN CALLED HIS MINISTERS TOGETHER three days after the traitors had been executed. “We have a problem, and we are going to have to solve it,” he said as he looked around the table. The four empty chairs were very conspicuous. “We are going to have to appoint new ministers of Trade, Health, Finance, and Development.” They were all in their usual formal clothing, but it was obvious in their red eyes over deep, dark bags that they had not been sleeping soundly.

  “King Kalin,” Fortan Zel’Bordal said and stood when the king nodded, “I would nominate Healer Adept Kel’Sarin as Minster of Health.” There was an immediate murmur of shock from the rest of the ministers, but he continued. “Adept Kel’Sarin is—”

  “Unacceptable,” Minister of the Interior Zel’Jessel snapped. He stood and glared at Fortan through narrowed eyes. “He’s of a Cat Clan. Only Chosen men can serve on the King’s Council of Ministers.”

  Adept Fel’Banan looked at him and asked, “Only Chosen men, Lord Zel’Jessel?”

  “Only men?” Firenza asked hotly, and her tone was a good indication of how angry she was.

  “Lady Firenza has a definite point, Lord Georan,” King Kalin said with a hint of a smile for the young woman. “I’m also certain that Queen Marina will have something to say about that when her turn comes.” He grinned and winked at Marina.

  “As will Stavin and I,” Shari said, drawing everyone’s attention.

  The ministers all sat back and considered what the royal family had just said. Lord Fortan again bowed to the king and said, “I stand by my nomination.”

  “Very well. Are there any other nominations for Health?” When no one else spoke, he nodded. “Adept Kel’Sarin it is. We’ll inform him later. Does anyone have a nomination for Finance?”

  Marina spoke before anyone else could. “Since we’re going to consider women as well as men, I nominate Lady Elissa Zel’Novar. She was Lord Zel’Cordas’ secretary, and was responsible for a lot of the work he took credit for.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Lord Zel’Justel, Minister of Mines, muttered.

  “No it isn’t, and you know it, Avellin,” Minister of Sheriffs Zel’Lothal said in a tired tone. “We all have subordinates who do most of our work. I do, and I know for a fact that you do as well.”

  King Kalin chuckled. “We may be doing ourselves a huge favor by bringing in the ladies. At least they’ll use more temperate language than some of you are wont to do. Very well, Lady Zel’Novar is the new Minister of Finance. Development?”

  Lord Zel’Cerran of Roads stood and bowed. “I don’t know if he’d be right for the Council, but I would nominate a brilliant young civil engineer named Steffal Zel’Aldar. I’ve worked with him many times in the past when I needed a design for a new road or bridge. As I said, he’s brilliant, he’s young, and he’s very energetic. Given the amount of work the new territory is going to require, he may be perfect for that job. If we, I mean you, King Kalin, make him Minister of Development, we probably wouldn’t see much of him, but he’d do a magnificent job.”

  The king nodded. “Arrange a meeting where we can interview him. That just leaves Trade, but I have someone in mind for that post. I have to discuss it with him first, so I’ll just keep the name to myself. Now, on to business.”

  The King’s Council of Ministers got on with their task of running the kingdom under King Kalin’s watchful eye, but all of them were wondering the same thing: Who does Kalin have in mind for Trade?

  Chapter 40

  THERE WERE SO MANY GRAVES. So very many, but Stavin’s attention was focused on two. Hendel and Davik’s graves were side by side, yet set apart from the rest by a few paces. Barvil spoke the ritual phrases, but the roaring in Stavin’s ears kept him from hearing them.

  This was the part that was always left out of the songs. This was the part of the battle that no one ever wanted to remember.

  The Andarian prisoners, including Lord General Zel’Jellan and his officers, had been made to dig graves for their own dead and those of Evandia as well. The final count was one hundred and nine Evandian dead, nine hundred and fifty-one Andarian dead, and two Royal Guardsmen of Kel’Kavin.

  Stavin waited until the ceremony was complete before walking over to look up into the general’s eyes. He whispered, “You’re such an ass. All you had to do was obey your king and the treaty he signed.” He walked away before the general could answer.

  Dahvin and Gavlin caught up to him and guided him to the command tent. “Our job is going to be harder now,” Gavlin said as soon as they sat down.

  “How so?” Stavin asked.

  “I’ve been questioning
the officers,” Gavlin continued, “and they have been on this side of the river for quite a while. General Zel’Jellan was waging a terror campaign, chasing as many people away from their homes as possible. Now we’ve got to convince those same people that we’re not like the Andarians and that becoming Evandians is a good idea. I expect a lot more harassment from the locals during our march from this point forward.”

  Stavin put his head down on the table. He didn’t look up as he said, “We need a way to send messages out ahead of us. We have to tell the people that we’re not the same army.”

  “That’s going to be hard to do,” Gavlin said as he looked at the top of Stavin’s head.

  “We could make a big show of it,” Dahvin said. “We could make a lot of noise. Have the buglers announce our arrival as a liberating army.”

  Gavlin spoke in a sad tone as he said, “I don’t know if that would help.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” Dahvin countered.

  Stavin raised his head and said, “Anything’s better than marching in and reconquering the lands that the Andarians just conquered. Anything’s better than slaughtering our own people.”

  By this time, Barvil had joined them and said, “The Farindian Royal Guards again, Stavin?”

  “I think so, Barvil,” Stavin replied as he looked up. “I think that might work. How is Kar?”

  “He’s bitching at the Healers for making him stay in bed.” Barvil grinned. “He’s got sixty-three kills now. He swears there was another, but we didn’t find him. He’ll just have to wait until the next time to hollow out his stars.”

  Stavin smiled and stood, bowing slightly to the officers before leaving the tent. He made his way to the Healer’s area and wandered among the wounded. He was aware of Dahvin and a dozen Royal Guardsmen behind him, but his attention was on the men being treated.

  He finally found Karvik and said, “Just had to try and beat my record for the most men killed in a single battle, didn’t you?”

  “Well, somebody’s got to do it,” Karvik answered in a smart-mouth tone.

  Stavin eased down on the edge of Karvik’s cot. “Barvil said you used the sword. Why did you risk that?”

  Karvik looked embarrassed for a moment, then admitted, “Mine got knocked from my hand. It was all I had.”

  “But why did you have it at all?”

  Karvik took a deep breath and sighed. “I didn’t feel safe leaving it in my tent. If we lost—” He shrugged. “As it turns out, it’s just like your ‘Tongue. It cut through steel and flesh easily, but other than that it was just a sword. A really nice sword, but still—” He shrugged again. “I guess it takes the combination of the two gifts together to create the power you feel.”

  Stavin shook his head. “Well, hang onto it. Gav thinks things just got worse for us, and I’m afraid he’s right.”

  “Dad said the same thing.”

  A search of the Andarian camp provided little information. Their maps were no more detailed than the one Stavin had copied. The one thing they did provide was food, and men to prepare it. Gavlin had the Andarian cooks and servitors tend to their imprisoned companions. All of their baggage was present, and they were well supplied. According to the officers, they had been stealing all the food they could from the countryside as they conquered it.

  The Pacification Force stayed where they were for five days to let the wounded heal. During that time, Stavin had anyone who was found near the camp brought to him. They all received the same message: He, Dragon Blessed Senior Warmaster Prince Stavin Markan Karvan Do’Kalin Ne’Aniston Zel’Andral, was there to bring order to the south, and welcome them into Evandia. He offered the destroyed Andarian army as proof, and then let the people go on their way.

  It wasn’t long before delegations from the surrounding area came looking for Stavin. Or, more commonly, for the Dragon Blessed. He bore the strain well, and soon even began enjoying it, except when the people expected miracles from him. For those individuals, all he could do was disappoint them. He couldn’t heal the sick, but he asked the Army Healers to do what they could. He couldn’t make the blind see, or the lame walk. He couldn’t raise the dead. Soon, Barvil and Dahvin started turning such people away. Their requests were just too much for Stavin to bear.

  When it was safe to move the worst of the wounded soldiers, Gavlin ordered the force onward to the northeast. It took three more days to reach Kahrant’s Pass. They were met well short of the city by a group of men, and every one of them wore the vest of a Master Trader.

  The leader was an older man with a fringe of white hair around a well-tanned bald head. He stood his ground as Gavlin rode up to him. “I am Senior Master Trader Walkil Fel’Sarral, Grand Master of the Kahrant’s Pass Traders’ Guild. What do you want in return for not sacking our city?”

  The question caught Gavlin off guard and he stammered for a moment. “We-We-We aren’t here to sack your city, good Master Trader. The south of Farindia, from Kahrant’s Pass along the Kahrant River across to Haltar, has been annexed by Evandia. We’re here to establish order and welcome the people into our kingdom.”

  “That’s not what we’ve been hearing from the west!” one of the other traders shouted.

  “That was the Andarian Army,” Gavlin replied, focusing his attention on the man who had spoken. “We defeated them eight days ago.”

  “So why are you here?” another man shouted.

  “This is the northern border of Evandia now. We are here to inform the people of the annexation.” He paused and shook his head. “The Andarians have the north side of the river. That’s the new border. The army that was terrorizing the people along the border was in violation of our treaty with Andaria.”

  “So what do you want?” Grand Master Fel’Sarral asked in a suspicious tone.

  “Peace. We just want peace.”

  Stavin rode forward with Barvil and Karvik at his side, and all of the Royal guards at his back. “Goodmen,” he said as he stopped beside Gavlin, “I am Prince Stavin Zel’Andral, adopted by King Kalin. The city of Kahrant’s Pass is mostly north of the river and now Andarian territory. We demand nothing from you. We have no right. We would like to purchase some supplies, though.”

  “Purchase?” Master Fel’Sarral asked, suddenly very interested.

  “Purchase,” Stavin confirmed.

  “Prince Stavin, such a purchase would require a Master Trader,” Master Fel’Sarral answered carefully.

  “I can see to that,” Stavin answered. “I brought my vest.”

  “Your vest, Prince Stavin?” Master Fel’Sarral asked in an incredulous tone.

  Stavin smiled. “The only other time I’ve been to your city, I came as Master Trader Stavin Kel’Aniston, owner and founder of the Evandian House of Kel’Aniston. I bought the Kavinston supplies two years ago from House Zel’Vandar.”

  “You!” one of the traders shouted and started forward, pointing a wavering finger at Stavin as he stamped forward. He only took a few steps before he was interrupted.

  Barvil shouted back, “Stand your ground, Bel’Serva!” The man looked at Barvil in shock, then turned tail and ran. He didn’t get far. Barvil rode him down, then circled back and stopped. “The Elders of Kavinston would like a word with you, Trader Bel’Serva.”

  “You can’t touch me!” the Master Trader shouted as he scrambled to his feet.

  “Warmaster,” Stavin said loudly, and the trader turned toward him with a panicked expression on his face, “leave him alive. Let the Traders deal with him.”

  Turning his attention back to the Grand Master, Stavin bowed his head slightly. “Trader Bel’Serva cheated the Royal Guards of Kel’Kavin by doubling the price of our supplies. That’s why we buy from Aravad now.” He paused as the Traders reacted to that news. Several of them were glaring at Trader Bel’Serva in undisguised rage. “Deal with him, or I’ll allow the Warmaster to deal with him as he would with any common bandit.”

  All of the Traders were glaring at Trader Bel’Serva now and the Grand
Master bowed to Stavin before saying, “We shall, Your Highness. Now, as to these supplies you want.” Once the subject turned to Trade, everything else was forgotten.

  Stavin purchased enough to overload the Evandian supply wagons, and the excess was put in the Andarian wagons. If the Kahrant’s Pass Traders thought it was odd that an Evandian prince could bargain like an Aravadian Trader, they kept their opinions strictly to themselves.

  Barvil didn’t. He slapped Stavin’s shoulder and said, “Kethlan would be proud of you, Stavin. And that worries me.” Then Karvik started laughing, and the Farindian Pacification Force moved on.

  Chapter 41

  KIMMEL ZEL’DEVERY HAD FLED SOUTH TOWARD Evandia. He’d taken a good supply of food, as well as his personal weapons and clothes, including a spare blouse that still had his rank on it. Damn him to Eshokanal’s hell anyway. He’s not so special. Not even born Chosen.

  After ten days in the wilderness, he reached the ruins of a deserted town. He wandered through the tumbled remains of buildings, looking around curiously. This is odd. Why didn’t they rebuild? He walked with what he thought of as caution, but he never saw the three men who jumped him until it was too late.

  “What do you make of him, Vardin?” a man asked.

  “I done seen that uniform afore. He’s one of them Gods cursed Evandians,” a different voice answered.

  “I am Major Kimmel Zel’Devery!” Kimmel hissed. “Release me!”

  All three men laughed. “Why would we be doin’ that?” one demanded.

  “You don’t know what’s coming. Prince Stavin has gone mad with power. He’s using the dragon sword to slaughter everyone who opposes him.” Kimmel struggled against the ropes that held his hands behind his back.

  “Maybe we should take him to the Masters,” one of them said as he looked at the others.

  “Yes! Yes, take me to your master,” Kimmel agreed, misunderstanding what they meant.

  “I gots a better idea,” the man called Vardin said, then he grinned at Kimmel. The other men grinned as well, and Kimmel found himself being roughly stripped to the skin.