Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2)

by Craig Alanson

  And, Koren considered, sitting on a rock as Thunderbolt tore clumps of grass out of the roadway, how had Thunderbolt found him? In the middle of nowhere? Found Koren, in a place that Koren himself had not intended to be. Something very strange was going on, something Koren could not imagine an explanation for. He walked back and carefully inspected the horse’s legs for injury; other than scratches and mud, Thunderbolt’s legs seemed fine, and the horse walked without a limp. Not willing to take a risk with the horse’s health, Koren decided he would walk, until he could be sure the horse could bear his weight.

  Thunderbolt had other ideas. Koran walked beside the horse, until Thunderbolt annoyed him so much by bumping Koren with his great head that Koren walked ahead. And then Thunderbolt nipped Koren’s butt. “Ow!” Koren shouted, rubbing his pants. “That hurt! What do you want?”

  Thunderbolt stood in the road and snorted, then knelt with his front legs.

  “You want me to ride you?” Koren asked.

  The horse tossed its head and whinnied happily.

  “All right, you win, we’ll try this. Get back up, you look ridiculous on your knees.” With the horse standing again, Koren took firm hold of its mane, and swung onto its back. “Easy, easy,” he pulled on the mane as Thunderbolt broke into happy, bouncing gallop. “Let’s try walking first. You do that, and I’ll get these tangles out of your mane.” The horse looked back at him with one eye, and Koren swore the horse was saying that it did not care about whether his mane was properly groomed. With a heavy snort, he fell into an easy trot, and Koren settled comfortably on the horse’s back, picking at the burrs embedded in Thunderbolt’s once gloss mane. “Oh, forget it,” he exclaimed after getting one burr loose. “This is a mess.”

  Riding Thunderbolt had the advantage of speed and being able to cover more ground in a day; in the wilderness Koren found himself in it had the disadvantage that any bandits or orcs could hear the horse coming. On foot, Koren could have walked very quietly, and had the possibility of hacking away the underbrush and dodging off the road if he were attacked. On the horse, Thunderbolt presented a large target for an arrow, and so Koren held his bow and kept an arrow nocked. Roughly every half mile, he halted Thunderbolt and listened carefully, while the horse lifted its great head and sniffed the air. Koren startled at every sound, and flinched at every strange shadow. Twice that day, they came across wagons that had been attacked by bandits. Or, judging by the crude arrowheads embedded in the wood, orcs.

  Wherever the bandits or packs of orcs were, Koren did not see them. By late afternoon, his nerves were so rattled, he imagined that he was seeing and hearing dangers that did not exist. He didn’t fear for his own life; Koren was supremely confident in his wizard-spelled speed and skill with weapons. He was afraid for Thunderbolt. The big horse would be an easy target for arrows, and Koren could not be sure to protect the animal. When they came to a clearing and Koren saw the roof of a barn, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then he caught his breath again. What he had at first thought was a farm field had been a farm field, long ago. Now it was a meadow, overgrown with shrubs and saplings. The barn’s roof had partly fallen in, and as they rode up the weed-choked lane, he saw the farmhouse had burned to the ground. No one had lived there in a long time.

  They came across four other farms like the first one. Thunderbolt found tasty hay to eat, and Koren collected a hat full of juicy berries. Just beyond the farms was the north-south royal road that was Koren’s destination, and he was disappointed. The north-south road was reasonably well maintained, certainly better than the grass-covered almost abandoned lane he had been following. At the crossroads there had once been an inn and a stable, both burned to ashes years before. Trees grew up through the ruins of the inn; Koren poked around the ruins near the stone fireplace, finding only broken crockery and rusted metal. As it was growing dark, he led the horse back to one of the abandoned farms, and they settled into the corner of barn that still had half of its roof intact. His sleep was restless, and every time he opened his eyes, he looked at the contentedly sleeping horse. How had Thunderbolt found him, in the trackless wilderness? And why was the horse alone?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As the crown princess, Ariana had few official duties. Mostly her role was to avoid dying, until she became queen and had actual power. Sitting idle or spending all day with tutors did not provide an outlet for her energies, and did not prepare for the daily responsibilities she would fulfill once she wore the crown of the monarch. Ariana had made her own duties that she attended to regularly; one of those activities was an almost daily visit to the royal hospital. There were times when her mother kept her busy with tasks the princess deemed of less importance so that she was not able to get to the hospital. And there were times when the physicians of the hospital requested she stay away; when an infection was raging uncontained and the hospital staff feared the crown princess becoming ill. Other than those times, Ariana tried to visit the hospital at least once every day.

  Some of the physicians welcomed the arrival of their princess, saying that her mere presence and attention helped sick people to heal faster. Other physicians, although polite, clearly thought royalty walking through the halls was a distraction, and took time away from actual medical treatment.

  On that day, Ariana made her rounds, stopping to talk with the sick and the injured, offering words of encouragement. She remembered almost everyone’s name, and tried to remember whatever they told her; names of family members, where they were from. Anything to offer good cheer and alleviate pain, even for a moment. The royal hospital was especially busy that week, having to absorb overflow from the Royal Army hospital that was outside the walls of the castle. She visited that hospital several times a month, but the royal hospital now had many more soldiers than she had ever seen there. There were beds set up even in hallways, with people awaiting care. “Excuse me,” she whispered to a harried nurse. “Can we care for all these people?”

  “As best we can, Your Highness,” the nurse answered as she edged away with an armful of clean linen. “The physicians are working too many hours, but the real problem is we lack wizards with the power to heal.”

  “I understand,” Ariana said sadly. There were not enough wizards in the realm to begin with, and now many of them were at the western border with the Royal Army. Shomas Feany was a skilled healer, unfortunately Paedris had sent Lord Feany on some urgent errand up north. Paedris himself did what he could at the hospital, and his pleas for help had brought in three wizards. None of the three new wizards had any particular skill with the healing arts. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Annoyance flashed across the nurse’s face, before she remembered who she was speaking with. No one wished the crown princess to actually do anything around the hospital; carrying laundry, washing floors. And certainly none of the nurses or physicians wanted Ariana touching the patients. Mostly, they wanted her to cheer up any patients she could, see how hard the hospital staff were working, and go away quickly. “No, Your Highness, we have plenty of help,” she pointed to the volunteers, drawn from the ranks of Royal Army families.

  Ariana took the hint. “Very well. I shall walk the halls, and let you go back to your duties.” She ducked her head in the various side halls, checking whether it would be all right for her to enter. In many halls, she saw the physicians were busy, or the patients were all resting. In other halls, the patients welcomed their future queen; many of them were used to seeing her every day.

  A soldier, new to the hospital, tried to rise from his bed and stand when he saw the princess. He stumbled and nearly fell on the floor; Ariana had to help him back in bed, and nurses rushed over to politely shoo her away. The soldier was not letting them. “Highness,” he said in a voice so strained it was barely a whisper, “we did our best.”

  “I know,” Ariana assured the man, kneeling by the bed as the nurses adjusted the dressing on his wounds. He apparently had suffered injuries to his left leg, left arm, should
er and there was a bandage around his throat and the left side of his face. “Shh, shh, don’t try to talk.”

  “It was orcs,” the man explained, and Ariana had to lean toward him to hear his words. “There were too many of them, we couldn’t hold. The general wanted us to hit them first, before they built up their strength, but we were not allowed to attack.” His voice faded, and he jerked, as if he’d fallen briefly asleep and awakened suddenly. “Oh, princess. Your Highness,” he seemed startled to see her. “We should have attacked. In Winterthur. The orcs were encamped just across the border. We could have hit them at night, and scattered them to the winds, but the general said we were not allowed to attack. When they came across at us, they were too many.”

  “You did well,” Ariana murmured, as the man’s eyes closed again, his head rolled to the side and he fell asleep. She knew of that battle in Winterthur, and she knew the man was right. The Royal Army should have been free to raid across the border into Acedor, while the orcs were assembling to launch a raid. Instead, the local Royal Army commander had been forced to wait, because the Regent of Tarador forbade any crossing of the border. The Regent of Tarador. Ariana’s mother.

  “How is he?” Ariana quietly asked a nurse.

  “Well, Your Highness. Lord Salva was here last night, he is hopefully for a full recovery.” The nurse looked sadly down the ranks of beds. “I wish I could say that about all of them.”

  Ariana completed her visit in that hall, and was in the corridor, when there was a wailing and crying that attracted her attention. A young girl, perhaps five or six years of age, burst from a doorway, sobbing. She ran right at the princess, and clutched her arms around Ariana’s legs. Her two guards moved forward, and Ariana waved them back. Dropping to her knees, Ariana hugged the girl. “What is wrong, little one?”

  Between sobs, the girl managed to say that her father, a soldier had just died. As the girl cried and Ariana held her, two nurses came through the door into the corridor, carrying a stretcher with a sheet covering the body. Behind them was a woman carrying a baby, her eyes red from crying. When the girl saw her mother, she released the princess and ran to her mother.

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Ariana said simply. The words sounded hollow to her. “Your husband was a soldier?”

  “Yes,” the woman held her baby close to her. “Thank you, Your Highness.” And she walked slowly away, following the body of her husband.

  A soldier, on crutches because of a broken leg, came to the doorway. “Arlan was a good one, Your Highness,” he said of the dead man. “Took an orc arrow on Winterthur, and he never recovered. The orcs poison their arrows, or they are just covered in filth. Saved my life, Arlan did, before he went down with two arrows in him.”

  “An honorable man.”

  The soldier straightened up, and for a moment, the look on his face was anything but friendly. “Honor. Aye, he was honorable. Much more so than our Regent. I’d like to-” As Ariana’s guards stepped forward, hands on the hilt of their swords, the soldier remembered who he was speaking with. On crutches, he managed a short bow. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I am tired, is all.”

  “You have no need to apologize,” Ariana assured him. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Her words restored the soldier’s resolve. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you could talk sense into your mother’s head, yes. Otherwise,” he looked back at the ranks of injured laying on beds, “there will be many more of us here, and no gain for it.”

  The telegraph message was in code, but everyone in Linden could tell it was of extreme importance, based on the flags indicating the urgency assigned to the incoming message. The message was also quite lengthy, taking nearly half an hour to be received. The initial message was followed by others, and all other messages were halted. Despite the secrecy intended, news of the enemy’s victory in forcing a crossing of the River Fasse had reached the farthest corners of Linden within two hours. Captain Earwood of the Royal Army requested a meeting with the Regent; he was forced to wait, growing ever more anxious. Finally, as night was falling, the Lady Carlana consented to speak with him.

  Earwood bowed properly to his nation’s leader, or a near to a leader as Tarador had at the moment. “Your Highness.”

  Carlana waved him in, and Earwood quickly unrolled a map, showing that the enemy forces were now across the Fasse, and had now begun to push eastward in force. General Magrane had pulled back the Royal Army toward the north and south along the Fasse, leaving only a thin force in the center to face the enemy. “Highness, the enemy is still consolidating their position east of the Fasse. They are yet vulnerable, and General Magrane’s plan is to allow the enemy to send more troops across the Fasse for another day. Then,” Earwood used his hands to show the imaginary action on the map, “we will strike against the enemy, along the river. Our counterattack will cut the enemy force in two pieces, one on each side of the river. Then, we will only have to fight the enemy that are trapped on our side of the border. We can-”

  “No.” Carlana turned away from the table, ignoring the map. “Tell me, Captain Earwood, for this counterattack, General Magrane will need to throw his entire force into the battle? He will need to attack north and south along the Fasse, and support a blocking force to the east?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Earwood thought the tactics of a counterattack were fairly obvious. “The enemy will be blocked from marching farther east, while the army will strike along the Fasse. With the River Fasse at their backs, the enemy will be trapped, unless they can manage to get part of their force back across the river. It is unlikely they could manage to save more than a small part of their force; they do not have enough boats.”

  “And if the counterattack fails, what force will be available to prevent the enemy from marching east, crossing the Tormel and into the heart of Tarador?”

  “Very little, Your Highness,” Earwood had to admit. “But-”

  “It took the enemy over three years to cross the River Fasse, after they established a substantial force there,” Carlana observed with disdain. “Surely General Magrane could hold the enemy at our second defensive line along the Tormel river until winter? A mere few months, rather than three years? Holding the Tormel will give us time to strengthen our defenses there by springtime.”

  Earwood winced. “Ma’am, our defenses along the Tormel cannot be compared to those of the Fasse. It is not certain the enemy will halt their offensive until after the winter. General Magrane believes, strongly believes, that a counterattack now, here,” he stabbed an index finger at the map, “now, is our best chance to-”

  “No.” The Regent ended further discussion with a gesture, sweeping the edge of the map, and it rolled back up. “Captain Earwood, there will be no foolish adventures which risk our army. No dubious tactics that squander our remaining strength. I am certain that General Magrane would prefer to lead a glorious charge, rather than garrison his forces in dull defensive duty along the Tormel. General Magrane failed to hold the enemy at the Fasse, despite my giving him all the resources he requested, and more.”

  Earwood held his tongue. It was true that the Regent had provided troops and supplies to the Royal Army at the Fasse; what she had not done was allow Magrane freedom to use his army in the most useful manner. Knowing anything he said would only anger the Regent, he remained silent.

  Carlana made a cutting motion with one hand. “I will order General Magrane to pull back across the Tormel river. We shall see whether he fails again.”

  Ariana did not sleep well that night, or sleep much at all. Her sleep had been interrupted by thoughts of the soldier who had died in the hospital, and his grieving family. She wanted to do something for that family, and in the middle of the night she had gone through her jewelry to find a gem to give. In the cold light of morning, she considered that it was unfair to help the family of one soldier, when there were so many families in need. That was why she arose even before her maids came in to wake her, and why she had g
athered much of her jewelry in a leather sack. That day, she was going to give the jewelry to Kallron, for him to sell as discretely as possible. The money would be given to the families of Royal Army soldiers who had died in battle. How that would work, she was not exactly sure; Kallron would surely know how to distribute the money.

  It was frustrating to Ariana that only a small part of the fancy jewels she wore every day were actually her property. Most of the jewels were actually property of the state; Ariana had no right to sell them, or give them away. That is something she intended to change when she became queen. If she lived that long. If there was still a Tarador on her sixteenth birthday. The blunt words of the soldier on crutches had been absolutely correct; Ariana’s mother was leading Tarador to ruin, and the sacrifice of brave soldiers was for nothing.

  The present situation could not continue. Ariana needed to do something.

  She picked at her breakfast in the study by the window, eating it more because she did not want to insult the cooks who prepared the food, or the maids who brought it to her. When she was about to push the plate away because she couldn’t stomach the thought of another bite, her maid Nurelka came into the room and curtsied. “Your Highness, there is an army captain here to see you. I told him to make an appointment through Master Kallron, but this captain insisted it is extremely urgent.”

  Ariana looked down in dismay at her clothes; she was not dressed to receive visitors. If an army captain said a matter was urgent, she could not delay. “Send him in, Nurry.”

  The army captain strode into the room and dropped to one knee. “Thank you for receiving me, Your Highness.”

  “Captain,” she struggled to remember the man’s name. He was a rugged man with long black hair and an angry scar on the forearm of his sword arm; the old injury did not lessen his skill with sword nor bow. He was trusted by Grand General Magrane to act as the general’s liaison when Magrane was away from Linden. As a captain, he could move around the castle with less notice than one of the army’s generals could. She remembered the man’s name. “Captain Earwood, rise, please. Sit down. Have you eaten this morning?” As she said it, Ariana mentally kicked herself for asking such a silly question. Of course the army rose early and took their breakfast early.