Preludes to War (Eve of Redemption Book 6)

by Joe Jackson

  “You are being modest, we understand. You may want to avoid Sorelizar for a few lifetimes, though.”

  The harmauths shared a hearty, deep, rumbling chuckle. Morduri’s snout was tilted downward, and it was obvious he was trying not to laugh. He hadn’t said anything about Kari’s exploits, and she wondered if these tall tales spread further than just Tess’Vorg. Did the other kings hear these exaggerations of her work in Sorelizar? Did they maybe expect that she might do the same to them? What sort of effect would all of this have on her attempts to align them against the Overking?

  The harmauths laughed again, bowed their heads respectfully to the visiting neighboring monarch, and then went on their way. Morduri finally let out the airy chuckle through his nose that he’d been holding onto. He proceeded west into Tess’Vorg toward the city of Rulaj, and Kari fell into step behind him after watching the harmauths depart.

  “My memory may be a bit hazy on this, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do any of those things,” Kari said once she was walking abreast of him again.

  “The details of your daring foray into Sorelizar grow more and more outrageous with every telling,” Morduri agreed with a nod. “Though the part about dropping a mountain on his hunters does have merit to it, from everything I heard at the winter Council session.”

  “That wasn’t me. That was because of an arcane duel between my sister-in-law and The Vandrasse.”

  “Try explaining that to the people here.”

  “And what exactly is a kaeshmor? My education on the infernal tongue didn’t include that word.”

  Morduri snorted. “It’s beshathan, not infernal. And it’s something better left unsaid.”

  “It’s not the same as what Celigus calls you, is it?”

  The demon king considered her, but then recognition hit. “Ah, no. No, it’s something far worse and more insulting than that. Suffice to say it’s bad enough that it would insult the king who sired him even more than Amnastru himself. To have called him that in front of his father would have been just shy of a declaration of war, but had the same ultimate effect.”

  Kari huffed. “Great, now I’m going to be wondering about this until I get home.”

  “I suspect more important matters will soon dominate your thoughts. And it’s also likely you’ll be asked the same question by others you meet, some of whom may bother to translate the term for you.”

  They continued onward. Tess’Vorg was warm and sunny, and Kari wondered once again where on the world these realms were located that it always seemed to be summer. There was a consistent breeze across the open grasslands, and the warmth and scent of the wildlands appealed to her senses, so long dulled by winter. Spring was blossoming back home, and the sights and scents of the vineyards and orchards was intoxicating, but Tess’Vorg held a different, consistent charm. Kari couldn’t help but wonder what Mehr’Durillia had been like before the Overking conquered it.

  That thought led her to wonder about the longevity of this place. The various peoples of Mehr’Durillia could live for millennia, and Kari had difficulty putting such long years into the proper context. If the Overking had conquered Mehr’Durillia some eleven thousand years ago, how old was the world? How long had the beshathans and other races of Mehr’Durillia walked its bountiful lands? How long had these people peacefully served Be’shatha before all of that was ripped away from them by the despotic demon kings?

  Kari considered Morduri, his simple response of “failure” echoing in her thoughts. He was still young, and yet his response to Kari’s badgering seemed to indicate he felt responsible for Be’shatha’s death on some level. Even eleven thousand years later, many of these beshathan people still clung to their “sleeping” goddess, however covertly. And when Kari considered Koursturaux’ reaction to seeing Be’shatha’s pendant, she could understand why.

  “You said Emanitar–”

  “King Emanitar, Kari,” Morduri interrupted. “Don’t get too casual with the other kings.”

  “Right, sorry. You said King Emanitar is the oldest mallasti, right? Possibly the oldest being I’ll ever meet?” she continued. The demon king nodded. “Did he serve Be’shatha before the Overking came? I know he was once King Koursturaux’ kast’wa, so I was left to wonder.”

  Morduri stopped and sighed, and turned that same somber stare on her as when she’d badgered him before. “Kari, Emanitar…is Be’shatha’s son.”

  Kari was pretty sure her heart had stopped, at least until she felt and heard the rush of blood in her ears, which seemed to be on fire all of a sudden. She glanced left and right, acutely aware that she had, as she suspected, been pulled into a giant trap. Morduri and some of his peers may have been personable, but it now seemed obvious they were all part of the corruption, and not truly opposed to it. The memory of him saying her very name brought the word “failure” to mind did seem to go counter to that, but Kari felt suddenly trapped.

  “Where are you going?” Morduri asked as Kari turned and walked back eastward.

  “Home. I’ve no interest in seeing or helping Emanitar if he killed his own mother.”

  “What? No, Kari…you misunderstand.”

  She turned and marched straight back to him. She jabbed a clawed finger right into his leather hunter’s vest. “No, you misunderstand.”

  Morduri caught Kari’s wrist and snapped downward, dropping her to her knees. He grabbed her by the snout and brought his face level with hers to look her in the eye. “Close your mouth and listen. First, don’t ever touch me like that. Second, don’t mistake my kindness for weakness, or I’ll break your arm and shove it in your mouth. And third, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t bother leading you into a trap. You’d be lying on the side of that hill where the people of Moskarre drop their dung. Now, get on your feet and don’t say another word until I give you leave to do so.”

  Kari rose to her feet, doing her best not to let the weakness in her legs show. He had dislocated her wrist at best; she didn’t think it was broken, but it was possible. Much like with Koursturaux, the lean builds of these people truly belied their strength, and it left Kari shocked whenever she felt or witnessed it. She wasn’t certain it was just raw physical strength, either; it was just as likely their power as demon kings flashed through when they committed violence.

  The demon king stared at her, but only the slightest trace of anger managed to reach his face or his eyes. After a short span, he folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “Maybe you should just go home. You’re still far too impetuous. If you want to survive this plan of ours, much less the greater plans you seem to have, you need to learn to keep your emotions under control and your mouth closed. You still know so very little about our world, our people, or the Ancient Ones. Kari, the missteps you continue to make with me – calling me by name casually, leaving off the title King, or even, for pity’s sake, jabbing your finger in my chest – any of them would get you killed instantly if you did them to most of my peers. Even the ones that might otherwise respect you or be willing to listen to your ideas. Go jab your finger into Lestanaek’s chest and you’ll be picking your teeth up from the ground at best.”

  “I see no reason not to tell you the whole of this, because Emanitar is likely to, anyway. He is Be’shatha’s son, but the Overking’s conquest was not what you might think of when it comes to war. Emanitar had no choice but to surrender, and the Overking really only spared him because it made it easier to subjugate the mallasti and the rest of the beshathans. He’s not a god, not a demigod or deity in any form, so it was safer to subordinate him and make him a king than to kill him and risk the population of Mehr’Durillia fighting to the death. At least, that’s how I understand it. Oh, would you stop fuming? Go ahead and speak.”

  “He got in bed with the woman that killed his mother! This world’s creator!” Kari spat.

  “You think that was by choice?”

  “Yes,” Kari replied, and the demon king tilted his head to the side. “I’ve met with King Koursturaux, Mor
duri. Their relationship wasn’t one of master and servant. They were lovers. I’m still not even sure what drove them apart.”

  “Of course you’re not. And you only have one side’s perspective on things. Perhaps I should just let Emanitar explain it to you himself. It is his love life, after all. Just trust me for the time being: Emanitar was not a party to his mother’s death, and still owes no true loyalty to the Overking or the other Ancient Ones.”

  “Fine. Though I think you broke my wrist, you moron.” There was a flash of anger in his eyes. Kari added, “I won’t be any good to you if I can’t fight.”

  He gave her a dirty look but gestured for her to hold out her arm. He took hold of her hand and her forearm and turned, and there was a pop and sharp pain. Her wrist seemed all right after that, just overextended and sore.

  “Dislocated,” he said.

  Kari fell into step beside him once her legs were solidly under her again, and they continued onward. “I still can’t believe he had sex with Koursturaux.”

  Morduri snorted. “Kari, you’ve seen her…are you sure you can’t believe it?”

  She wanted to be miffed at the suggestion, but chuckled; she hadn’t really looked at it from such a base perspective. “Is that all it was, then? Just lust?”

  “No, it’s far more complicated than that. I think it had more to do with trying to turn her against the Overking, though that obviously failed miserably.”

  Maybe not as much as you think, Kari mused. “And you don’t know what it was that split them apart?”

  “If I were to speculate, it was their love. I know, that sounds absurd, but they split apart after Emanitar was believed to have been murdered by King Sekassus. Nobody knew the truth of things until Emanitar arrived – late – to the Council session. But the news of his death had shaken King Koursturaux, as much as she held it inside. I suspect she was afraid of ever feeling that again, and cut him off. Yes, I know you’re going to say she’s kast’wa to King Celigus now, but their relationship is wholly different.”

  “And Arlerase is their son?”

  Morduri’s ears angled back, but his expression was one of shock. “Not that I’m aware of. He is King Celigus’ son, certainly, but he doesn’t look anything like King Koursturaux at all. I suspect his mother may have been erestram, or some derivative of erestram like King Celigus’ father was.”

  “Do you think King Arlerase or Celigus might be interested in my idea?”

  “I honestly can’t say. Though they may be your two easiest parties to ask without risk of being exposed or killed.”

  “Something to look into, then.”

  Morduri remained silent, and they made the most of the day putting miles under their feet to reach Rulaj as quickly as possible.

  *****

  Rulaj had a lot more charm to it when Kari arrived with Morduri. She remembered well how impressed she’d been the first time she and her friends had approached, but now, with what she knew of its coliseum and the football squad that played there, she was excited. There would be plenty of time to worry about her coming attempt to kill Prince Amnastru, and she’d decided to enjoy what she could along the way. If she was lucky, she hoped she’d be able to take in a match involving the Rulaj Reds while she was here.

  Morduri had been a bit withdrawn and distant during the last few days. It was amusing in a way, as Kari realized he might actually be more nervous about their plan than she was. It was one thing to send someone else to their possible death in an assassination attempt, and quite another to be involved personally. Kari found she liked Morduri on some levels, but the way he acted left her confused about how much experience he actually had fighting – either in the field or even just on the chessboard.

  Perhaps she was about to find out while they visited Emanitar…

  All thoughts of either football or chess were swept aside as Kari noted the reactions her elestram escort was getting from the people of Rulaj. While most of the stares were respectful for the visiting monarch, there were many that were less formal and much more suggestive. Morduri received more than a typical amount of attention from the women here, most of whom were elestram, but he still got the attention of a number of mallasti. His responses were polite bows of the head, but he didn’t reciprocate any of the suggestive stares or gestures he received. Kari understood that well enough: he considered Emma his mate, and though that wasn’t common knowledge, neither did he take advantage of that fact.

  Kari still enjoyed witnessing all the attention he drew. He was certainly handsome – regardless of his being an elestram – and Kari could appreciate the reactions. According to the older Council Codex her Order had, in the words of Turik Jalar, Morduri was considered “one of the underworld’s most eligible bachelors.” Kari wasn’t sure he was the same way with his own people or with females that sought his attention, but she found him personable and pleasant, especially for a demon king.

  “Your Majesty,” Kari prompted him.

  “Lord Irrasitus,” he corrected. “We are not in my realm.”

  “Ah, right. Lord Irrasitus, those jewels the elestram females wear…the tasseled ones that go between their brows…those mark them as married?”

  Morduri stopped, and Kari turned to see what had gotten his attention. Apparently, it was her comment, and she got nervous that she may have misspoken. She wasn’t sure why such an inquiry might cause trouble, but then he smiled at her and shook his head. “You may be one of the most perceptive people I’ve ever met. What made you deduce that?”

  “The females with them have been eyeing you, but not as closely or, well, lustily as the ones without them,” Kari answered as they continued toward the palace. Morduri chuckled and nodded again. “Do the males wear jewelry to mark their marriage?”

  “Not in a place you’re likely to see.”

  Kari whipped her gaze to him, and they shared a laugh. “Sorry I asked.”

  “My people have some other traditions you would find equally strange. For example, we are married in the nude.”

  Kari narrowed her eyes to see if he was toying with her. “Why would you do that? I thought your people were more prudish about nudity?”

  “We are, and that is part of the reason. It has to do with education and breeding among my kind. Males who consistently fail at their education are branded to mark them as inferior mates. Our people value intelligence above all else, and those deemed dimwitted are marked so that females who court them will not be caught unawares. On the off chance a male is able to hide it throughout a courtship cycle, they are married in the nude to demonstrate to all that they are both free of blemish or marking.”

  “So the females are sometimes marked as well for being badly educated? Glad my people don’t do any such thing,” Kari commented, drawing a curious gaze from the demon king. “I didn’t get much of an education growing up. People still think I’m pretty dumb when I don’t know what a word means or I can’t pronounce it right.”

  Morduri made a semi-apologetic gesture. “Well, with due respect, you’d be considered fairly stupid among my people. That’s not to say, however, that you’re stupid. You are quite clever and might easily be underestimated by one of my kind in a contest of wits. But to get to answering your question, no, females are not subjected to the same standards as males when it comes to education. They receive the same teaching and testing, but the stigma of passing on inferior intelligence to children falls to the male, so they are held to higher standards.”

  “But your women are just as sharp as the men?”

  “Oh, certainly. Never gamble with an elestram woman with children. Trust me on this. Back to the subject at hand, a female is normally marked by wearing a red band about her upper left arm if she is found to be barren, and not for any other reason that I’m aware of. Some males will take a barren woman as a mate, but they wear the marking so there is no surprise after a marriage is made official.”

  “Interesting.” Kari began looking at the elestram males and females more closel
y to see if she could detect any such markings.

  “Don’t bother looking for marked males,” he said, and she hoped it wasn’t as obvious to those they were passing. “Most of them leave the cities, some to find a mate in the more rural areas, while some others seek mates among the mallasti.”

  “And sire mallestrem, right?” Kari asked, and the demon king nodded. “So the mallasti don’t care so much about the dumb ones?”

  “Well, they don’t hold to our standards, and even a male that fails his testing is hardly dumb by your standards, Kari.”

  “But how do your people feel about mallestrem because of that?”

  Morduri shrugged. “There’s no stigma attached to the mallestrem as far as I’m aware. Their births don’t always have to do with inferior intelligence or that sort of thing. It’s not all that uncommon for our peoples to interbreed.”

  “Just not with the erestram?”

  He gave a non-committal half-shrug, half-nod. “The erestram are a very proud and traditional people as well. And their larger sizes make inter-racial relationships more than a little unusual. But it is possible, more easily so for my people than the mallasti.”

  They were nearly at the palace, but Kari was enjoying the personable conversation and lesson on the beshathans. “Oh? Why’s that?”

  Morduri considered her, something strange in his expression. “Well, to put it delicately, the mallasti have smaller genitals than my people. Males and females. Ours are more suited to crossbreeding with either, but…”

  “No need to explain further,” Kari said with an upraised hand. “This conversation just got weird.”

  The demon king laughed. “I suppose it did at that. Still, these are things you should be at least somewhat familiar with as you spend more and more time here on Mehr’Durillia. You never know when being aware of something – even if it seems improper on the surface – might prevent a misstep or misunderstanding.”

  Kari agreed with a nod. “Tell me why they call King Emanitar The Spotted Lion.”