Etchpay said, “The men of the western ranges rallied as you said they would, Soma.”
“How did Lukan convince them not to charge out the moment the Serm arrived?”
“Told ‘em Leger Mertone was returning,” he said. “I am sad I did not get to meet him here. Will he be returning to the city before the army starts west? My crew is as eager to set eyes on him.”
“Sadly, I cannot say,” Bohn told him. “The Chancellor still has a bounty on his head. I do not know where the general is half the time and would not risk him by trying to find out. It is safe to say that he is marching on Heneur, but none of us will know more than that until the battle joins and he takes the field.”
Etchpay smiled at this, as did all those in earshot.
Well done, son. Well done.
The pennants carried by the lieutenant’s men caught my eye. Their green and black didn’t look quite right. I squinted against the bright sun until I made sense of the embroidery upon it. The crests of the Raydau and the Cynt had been added—a single black bull’s head upon the upper green fields above and three white bundles of grapes upon the black fields below.
“You like it?” he asked. “We’ll need to add a third field of blue below them soon with six Heneuran fishers.”
I nodded my agreement but moved on. I didn’t like being ashore. “How are things here?”
“Very well. Bit crowded in Moorsmoth right now with so many waiting to move to Enhedu. But that aside, all the new districts have been established and reeves named. A few weddings, and it is over.”
“Don’t be so sure. Vall did the same to Heneur, and it didn’t end the feuding,” I said. “Have you assigned any guards to the brides?”
“No. Why?” he asked and looked momentarily exhausted. “We have to keep all the girls alive, don’t we?”
“Yes. Alive and happy if you can manage it. Feuds die very hard. Assign three men to each pair of newlyweds at Prince Barok’s expense—your very best. Everyone involved will agree, especially the bride’s families.”
The young man swelled with the knowledge of a solution and the authority to act upon it. He took a long look at the mountains. “I love it here,” he said. I let him take the moment. He’d been moving full speed since I’d last seen him, and he deserved the moment of prideful revelry.
After he returned, I said to him, “Get the crowds ready to board. My holds will be empty as soon as we unload, so we can carry quite a few if they don’t mind being cramped for two days. 4,000, give or take.”
“You can carry that many? Sounds like a long two days.”
“If they don’t like it, they can build a road up the coast.”
“Ohh, don’t get me started on that topic. They’ve an unnatural fear of roads here that I do not understand.”
“What good has ever come down a road to the Oreol?”
“Huh. Nothing good. Perhaps some trade through the pass with Almidi might wake them to the notion?”
“When this war is won, a road from Wilgmuth to Urnedi is the kind of project you can expect Lord Barok to require of you. A man could make himself a fortune if he controlled the work crews.”
“You’re arguing against your own fleet, Admiral,” he smiled.
“Urnedi to Moorsmoth will be a waste of my time soon. I should be sailing from Kuet to Khrim.”
The talk of the future had us both anxious to be back to things. I asked for a set of the new pennants, and a Cynt man happily presented a linen bag that contained a score of them.
I thanked him and bid them farewell. I saw the immigrants aboard the Lynx, raised the new pennant atop all ten masts of my squadron, and turned for home.
I liked the voyage back to Urnedi far more. The Pinnion Coast was at peace. The ships handled sluggishly with the heavy cargo of passengers but kept to the wind as they should. We sheltered from a storm one night and day in a cove upon the Isle of Belloy, but that was the worst I had to contend with. No corsairs. No smoke upon the horizon. Leger had done it—drunken thrall or no—he had won for us the Pinnion. They had all done it, just as was happening all across Enhedu—everyone doing more than they aught, but scarcely enough to keep pace with our dreams.
It was my turn to do more as well.
I was delivering a vast supply of much-needed labor to Enhedu—happy neighbors in the shape of solid families. Yet, they were strangers who brought with them their fears, sorrows, and the heavy weight of the Shadow. Their number staggered me. The thought of the struggle to mend the unhappy threads in so many battered souls—it had me leaning heavily into the rail.
“Hold on a moment,” I said to myself. “You’re doing it all wrong.”
I went directly to my cabin and opened the lockbox hidden in the bottom of the sea chest beside my cot. The bandages inside were exactly as I had left them.
My breathing quickened, and my mouth went dry. My hands shook as I lifted free a length of bloodied bandage. Somehow the vital element seemed absent. This blood was dead. It did not course with magic like the man who spilled it.
“Soil,” I laughed, searched the room, and spotted Pix’s potted flowers tied to the wall of my cabin. I untied the pot, closed the chest, and set the pot on top of it. The flowers were dead from overwatering, but the soil inside was alive with moss and a network of weeds. I poked the dirt around and exposed an earthworm and a nimble centipede.
The cloth in my opposite hand began to smoke. The magical smoke filled my lungs. The world became a foggy vision. I drifted above—apart from myself. I could see all the ships and the great green sea that cradled us.
An ugly taste caught my attention, and my focus was drawn to those nearby—the men and women aboard whose souls were an unwed mix of our parents.
I pressed the cloth into the wholesome earth, basked in the bright flames, and reached out to every person in the fleet. The light and dark threads of their souls married into bright and vital bands, and the Shadow’s presence slowly faded until my fleet was free of Him altogether.
A great crash startled me, followed by the cold slap of water across my face. I fell backward into the center of the cabin, wet and half blind. The pot had fallen over and the flames had spread across the cot and up both walls.
“Soma, Soma,” Rindsfar shouted. “Fire, fire! All hands, all hands. Buckets here. Buckets and hose. All hands. All hands!”
The cries of the crew and passengers beyond were terrible.
I snatched the handle of my sea chest and dragged it along as Rindsfar pulled me from the burning room and up on deck. The men there were forming a bucket brigade and worked to setup our single pump and hose. A brave trio ran back into the smoke with the line as others struggled to get it working. Smoke billowed about.
The nearby ships were already closing in a desperate attempt to help. One crashed sharply along side, carrying away the Lynx’s halyards and a long section of rail. Men poured over the side with buckets and loud cries.
My hands were charred and blistered, and my uniform was soaked and scorched. The pain began to stab through the noise and confusion.
I lost another few moments as the blue light of a healer soothed my face and hands.
When I regained my wits, a great cheer rose from the men at the pump as the line filled with water. The cheering carried below decks. The black smoke gave way to gray swirls. The quality of the yelling changed as the roll of smoke faded.
“Good to know the pump works,” I said, and checked that my lockbox was still inside my sea chest. Rindsfar was there with a hurt look on his face. He knew what was in the chest.
“Speak your mind, Boatswain Rindsfar.”
“You didn’t trust me to help?”
“The event simply got away from me,” I said, but knew already I had some fences to mend. He was my second in command, but I’d not trusted him with the details of the event. “You’ve a suggestion for it?”
“Somewhere on deck next time, ma’am?” he asked.
“Indeed,” I laughed and handed hi
m the lockbox. “Please secure that for me, and see what you can come up with.”
The days that followed were a blur. We put the first load of immigrants ashore at Urnedi Harbor, filled our holds with foodstuffs and goods for Heneur, and made straight for Lindrig. We arrived on the 54th to news that Lukan and our boys had bottled up the Serm outside Wilgmuth and were working to encircle them with a palisade and breastworks.
The Serm watched with curiosity as the greencoats started digging those ditches of theirs. Then the first few logs went up, and the Serm went to bed laughing. When they woke, they found themselves imprisoned within a greencoat palisade. The Serm were finished. I sent up my compliments.
Our cargo went ashore and was replaced with flax, iron, and copper. Notes from Barok’s bank changed hands, and we were away.
Back at the mining town of Moorsmoth, the flax bails made their way to the ropeworks and were replaced by a second load of immigrants. Boatswain Rindsfar also took aboard a carpenter and a thousand weight of rich, black soil. He was done with his project by the time we sighted Urnedi two days later. His device was a wide box with a heavy lid. They brought it up onto the aftcastle and opened it to reveal the black soil loaded inside. It looked like they meant to grow a tree between the tillers.
Rindsfar gestured to the surrounding ships after I’d examined it. Every person in the fleet was up on the deck.
“They know what I do?” I asked, but he did not need to answer. I’d not paid any attention in that swirl of days to what people were saying or doing around me—or the tales they’d invented for what I was and what I could do.
A woman upon the forecastle of the nearest ship had hold of her son, and as I looked across at her, she held up the boy as if my gaze alone would bless him. The man standing behind her looked quite frantic to escape. A man of Bayen, the way he carried on. A yellowcoat took hold of him before he could leap into the sea.
“It’s quite a thing to do, Admiral, to mend so many without leave or explanation,” Rindsfar said while the distraught man disappeared below deck. “Will you ever go ashore at Almidi? Not that it is for me to ask. I have family there—my mum and all my brothers and cousins. They’d never agree … so …”
“It would be my pleasure,” I said. “But you should know that after today, I don’t think I’ll need to go ashore to mend them.”
“Huh?” he asked and considered the crowds gathered around the pier. “You mean to test your range today.”
I nodded, and he left me to my work.
I let all the happy qualities of the moment roll through me. Oars splashed to the low thump of drums as my ships tacked in succession and started south into the bay. Ropes and rudders levered us around, and the glorious sheets of canvas carried us home. A crowd cheered.
“Let me save them all for you,” I said before I leaned over the wide box of soft black earth, jammed a bloodstained cloth deep into the loam, and withdrew my hand. The black earth warmed like I’d buried a bucket full of blazing coals.
A hissing filled my ears, and I smiled at the glimpse of Him in the shadow of the tall rock. Buried in Her earth, He could not make the threads burn. The wild and colorful threads born from the union of His blood and Her earth became mine to command. I took it all and saved the souls of every man, woman, and child aboard the fleet and in the harbor. The Shadow’s grip fell away.
“You’ve got a handle on Him now, don’t you?” asked Rindsfar.
I nodded and smiled. A tear broke down my face. She was so very happy. “I will take this to every port upon the Pinnion Coast. I will save them all.”
“And the Shadow?” Rindsfar asked.
“He knows my name. He knows where to find me. He has not come yet. I do not think He likes the sea.”
My boatswain closed the lid of the box for me, had it taken below, and went to tend to the cargo.
My crews did not complain when I turned us back out to sea that same day, our cargo exchanged for whatever goods were most needed in Heneur or the Oreol. No one complained as I raced us along the hazardous coast and stopped at every village and town. I saved their souls without so much as a hello.
I worked that coast until there was no touch of him left anywhere, every desperate cargo was delivered, and the last load of immigrants were safely aboard.
It was the 75th of Spring, and all of Enhedu seemed to be lining the beach when we started into Urnedi Bay. It was as though the entire world stood there, waving pennants and cheering.
The spring festival. Urnedi had carried it off after all. I could not wait to be ashore. I could not wait to walk through the crowd, sample the foods, and drink all the drinks.
I took hold of my entire supply of Vesteal cloth, jammed it deep into the wanting earth, and like a kiss upon a child’s waking cheek, I married the threads of their souls and freed them of His touch.
One look at the crowd told me I’d gotten them all. Silence hung like the long pause before a kiss of reunited lovers, and then they danced and screamed with all the love and happiness of that great kiss realized.
From the darkness beneath distant trees, the Shadow whispered curses.
“Oh, Soma. Look …” Rindsfar said in a lower register. I searched the trees for signs of trouble, but found nothing. My stunned boatswain had to gesture me to the end of the great pier just coming into view.
At anchor there was a ship like none I’d ever seen. Sevat’s ship—my ship. It rose impossibly high out of the water, two decks of ancient oak with elegant castles fore and aft. Two great pine masts stabbed up into the air, twice as high as any mast in my fleet. Their stowed lanteen yards bore more ready canvas than any three ships. It was just as he had whittled it. Long, elegant, and fierce. This was a thing made with love—with the touch of the Spirit guiding his hand.
Sevat met me at the foot of the gangway. The great crowds fell silent once more as I got my arms around him.
“What will you call her?” he asked.
“The Whittle,” I said and kissed him.
The hissing of the Shadow was drowned out by the thunder of the crowd.
56
Crown Prince Evand Yentif
The Conclusion of the Campaign
It took three days for the first sizable force of the Havishon to approach through the dusty remains of the forest. It was a scout of light cavalry, some 400 to my eyes, and very unusual for a people who rarely gathered in anything more than raiding parties and the occasional confederation of skirmishers. The group had an officer of some quality, I supposed, but they were terrible scouts.
The smoke of a few small fires continued to sully the blue sky. My company’s uniforms were gray from the mist of ash that swirled ever around. Our fit horses were on their sides behind a low rise, each man crouched behind them. West of us at the riverbank, all was well for the recuperating 5th and our levy infantry.
The long column rode closer, and I raised my arm. “Order, company, mount up.”
My 300 Akal-Taks stood with their riders aloft, and a great cloud of ash exploded up from the floor of the murdered forest.
“Charge,” I called, and we were across the distance at once and crashed along the entire column. I expected them to break back from us wildly, but they turned and a call went up from them.
“Ludoq,” they cried despite the storm of horse and steel that savaged them. They bunched themselves together, without long spears, armor, or the training needed for such an enterprise, and to my utter surprise, they took our charge. Our gray wave smashed upon them and painted the road red. But they held, and fought, and died, screaming their royal honors until they were no more.
“What has happened to the Havishon?” Okel asked.
“Their Ludoq prince has emerged,” I replied. “We are fighting against a dream.”
“Not a dream. A man, and you’ll not have long to wait to see him. That was a recon in force we just rode down. He cannot be far.”
“Behind that ridge, I imagine.”
Okel followed my gaze
up the road to the perpendicular line of hills that ran southeast to northwest. They were green with tall trees. Somewhere not far off, a firebreak had been cut, and somewhere in those hills was Sahin and whatever whorish army of eastern vandals his pillage of the church had bought him.
“Rally the rest and charge the road?” he asked.
“If this lot had broken like every army of the East before it, I would say yes. The ash is too hard on man and horse for us to have to kill a hundred thousand more of the same today.”
“Have you seen what you needed to?” he asked. “Can I get you to head back now?”
“I have,” I said with a laugh. A general acting as company commander was poor form. “Back to the river with us.”
We left the dead Havishon to be covered by the ash we stirred and took our dead back with us.
A cool rain fell. It rinsed away the ash upon us and turned the landscape into a sickly gray smear stuck through with black stumps of oak and cherry. The kiss of rain squelched the last of the three-day-old fires, and we returned to find that the extra weight of water had overwhelmed the far side of the dam. A long stretch of road west of the bridge was washed away, and the center section of the dam had gone downriver with it. Trunks and brush littered the banks. The bridge survived, however, and with the pond drained, the river had found its older and deeper course. It was flowing beneath the stout bridge once again, and Colonel Ivinta’s brigade looked to have repair to the road in hand.
I called my colonels and militia officers together to hear a report of the men. They were tales of fitness and readiness.
“What news from our scouts back west?”
“The last of the nobles obeyed your order to rejoin you here. They will be arriving throughout the day,” Ivinta said. “The pilgrims refused. The Sten’s army has been sighted moving up from Alsonbrey, so they are waiting for his arrival. All else is quiet.”
“Do we have a true count of the casualties yet?”
Corsair Princess Page 4
