by Chris Evans
Here we go again.
“You’re talking about another myth, aren’t you,” Konowa said, looking from the Prince to the women.
“The Lost Library of Kaman Rhal is no myth. It was the finest repository of knowledge ever collected in one place in recorded history. The library of the Royal Society of Thaumaturgy and Science pales in comparison, and I’ve spent the better part of ten years acquiring for it.”
“Is that what this is still about?” Konowa asked, motioning to the ships in the bay. “We’re here to find more books?”
“Not simply books, Major, but knowledge. And with that knowledge we will usher in a new era. Imagine the inventions, the discoveries, and now imagine them gathered in one place.”
Konowa could, and it filled him with dread. Power had a tendency to coalesce until it blew violently apart, redistributing that power over a very large area. Empires rose and fell that way. “That’s been tried before, and it ended badly. Doesn’t the story say Kaman Rhal was cut into a hundred pieces and scattered throughout the desert and the high seas? And that his great library was swallowed by the desert along with the town of Urjalla and all of its people?”
Konowa looked at the women, but they remained uncharacteristically silent. He couldn’t tell if it was their pique at the Prince, or frustration with him.
“That was then, and this is now,” the Prince said. “The Stars have unlocked the potential and it is up to the wise and the swift to harness this new wind of change and put it to use. This, Major, is politics at its finest. I will chart a new course and the Empire and all its subjects will be the better for it. Now, I want this ship unloaded before noon.” The Prince took in a deep breath and surveyed the ships in the bay. “It’s time for us to change the world.”
ELEVEN
* * *
FROM HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCE OF CALAHR, TO THE Peoples of These Lands
The return of the Stars of Power and Knowledge herald the dawning of a New Age. Be it known far and wide that henceforth the Dark shall be banished and the Light of justice, truth, and prosperity will shine again in these blighted lands. It is time to rejoice and to partake in this most Wonderful Occurrence.
For too long, you have suffered under the Tyranny of Chaos and Disunity. Without Strong and Honest governance, these lands have fallen prey to Banditry while the coastline is ravaged by the scourge of Piracy. Discredited and most foul Beliefs have flourished, poisoning the hearts and minds of good and decent people. Be it known far and wide that salvation is at hand. Rejoice!
Know that I, the Prince of Calahr, have come here not to Conquer but to Liberate. The Empire does not seek to subjugate you as you are now by these Lawless Rogues. I come to you as Your Servant, offering succor in your time of Need. Already medicinal supplies, food, and other aid are being distributed among those people who have shown themselves to be friends to the Calahrian Empire and to the cause of Enlightenment and Good Order. The path to your salvation lies in your very hands. Raise them up in praise of your Empire and you shall be saved.
CONDUCT TOWARD A Peaceful and Prosperous NEW DAY
DECREE ONE. Any person—be they human, elf, dwarf, orc, or other—taking up arms or spells against the Calahrian Army or engaging in sabotage so as to cause discomfort and worse shall be considered an enemy of all that is Good and treated without Mercy.
DECREE TWO. Any known agent of the Shadow Monarch, the orcs, or the Lawless Bands that bring only terror and woe must be reported to the nearest Calahrian representative at once. Failure to do so will be viewed as an Act of War against the Calahrian Empire.
DECREE THREE. Any act of rebellion or resistance to the Glorious and Beneficent Works of the Calahrian Empire in these Lands will be met with OVERWHELMING FORCE. Wells will be salted, houses razed to the ground, livestock slaughtered, food stores redistributed to Loyal and Law-abiding citizens, and all modes of transportation confiscated (including camels, horses, mules, and large goats; domesticated dragons any larger than a mule will be shot on sight).
DECREE FOUR. Information pertaining to the location and discovery of the Library of Kaman Rhal, a lost Star, or any other source of Knowledge and Power must be divulged immediately to a representative of the Calahrian Army. Information leading to a Find will be rewarded. Failure to disclose information will be punished (see Decree Three).
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, Prince Tykkin
* * *
The stagnant inlet on the western outskirts of Nazalla provided the perfect backdrop for Konowa’s mood. He wiped the sweat from his brow and wondered if he was ever destined to find a mode of travel that didn’t want to drown him, buck him off, trample him under hoof, or possibly even eat him. He approached his latest mount keeping one hand on the hilt of his saber. The beast stood well over six feet high at its back, which was humped as if it were carrying a large supply bundle. It was covered in a light, short brown fur and was all knobby knees, huge feet, or hooves—he couldn’t decide—and a long, curving neck on the end of which was a head that looked comical and unlikely to want to kill him.
Konowa was immediately suspicious.
“What did you say this thing was called, sir?”
The Prince, already mounted on his animal, laughed. “It has many names, Major. Ship of the desert, dromedary, even sand horse, though camel is the most common.”
Konowa took a few steps closer, then stopped when his eyes began to water and his gag reflex stretched his jaw muscles until they ached.
“Is it supposed to smell like that?”
“They do give off a certain earthy odor, don’t they,” the Prince said, his smile unaffected by the pungent musk.
This was one of the many things that bothered Konowa about Prince Tykkin. He was a puffed-up piece of royalty who saw everything as some kind of adventure. It didn’t matter if it was dog-spiders, the Shadow Monarch’s Emissary, or a smell strong enough to rust metal—to the Prince they were all minor inconveniences that would not be allowed to interfere with his plans. And the truly galling thing was, they didn’t. Even when he was thwarted, as when he lost the chance to control the Star at Luugoth Jor, the Prince simply threw a tantrum, then brushed the incident aside and found a new adventure to tackle.
The latest was preparing to lead a ceremonial parade through the streets of Nazalla just past noon under a blazing sun. Konowa squinted and looked toward the city. The cobblestone street they were to march on was bleached white by the sun and felt like the inner wall of a furnace. The effect was stifling. It was the kind of heat Konowa referred to as “stupid.” Discipline melted under this kind of sun, and keeping soldiers in line became as challenging as any enemy. Flies buzzed around the assembled soldiers in black sheets. Konowa saw more than one flicker of frost fire as the flies were burned, but he chose to ignore it. He had much, much bigger problems.
The Iron Elves, along with the 5th and 12th infantry regiments, the 3rd Spears from the Timolia Islands, and two troops of artillery cobbled together from some very unhappy naval captains—who had to give up both cannon and crew to man them—were to march in formation, complete with a band, into the city center. No preparations were made at all if the welcome was anything less than joyful, and Konowa had yet to experience one of those. Normally, people started by throwing rocks at you, and it went downhill from there.
“Come now, Major, we are entering the city at the head of the Calahrian Empire. We must show the people that we are powerful, but also respectful of their customs. Regular horses don’t fare well here, so we will ride these. It is fitting.”
Walking on two feet is fitting, Konowa thought, and it’s highly unlikely they’ll run off of their own accord, then turn around and try to stomp you.
“I’d still like to send in a few patrols first and assess the situation, sir.” A few children and some enterprising peddlers had come out to greet them, but that happened no matter what the town or what the war. “We really don’t know what our reception will be like when we get into the city proper. And onc
e we’re in there, we’ll be hemmed in by buildings on all sides. It could be a trap.”
“Have a little faith. My proclamation was sent out by Rallie’s sreexes the moment we got here and all returned safe and unharmed. The Viceroy himself will no doubt have everything ready for our arrival.”
The idea of trusting to yet another Viceroy sent a shiver up Konowa’s spine that had nothing to do with the power of Her magic pressed against his chest.
“Perhaps, but it could also be the perfect way to lure us in,” Konowa said, knowing he was going to lose the argument.
“Then let them lure! We are unassailable. The combined firepower of the fleet’s cannon would turn this city to dust if it comes to that, but I suspect we’ll be more than a match for anything we find.”
Konowa refrained from pointing out that they, too, would be in the middle of the city when the cannonballs struck, and instead tried to recall his conversations with Visyna. Despite their inability to see eye to eye on most everything, he found her words swirling around in his head often. One that stuck was “diplomatic.” Konowa decided to give it a try.
“No doubt we would prevail, sir, and the men and I appreciate your confidence in our abilities. I was thinking, however, that we might consider approaching on foot. We’d show the people we are with them, you know at their level…”
The Prince leveled his stare at Konowa and held it for several seconds. Konowa felt dirty—if this was what diplomacy made a person do, he wanted no part of it.
“Major, you really must get over your issues with animals. Is it possible you lost the natural elvish affinity for nature’s creatures when you lost your ear tip?”
Konowa’s left hand was halfway up to his ruined point before he stopped it. “I get along well enough with Jir,” he said, frustrated that his furry companion was currently collared and chained inside Rallie’s covered wagon. He could still hear the squawking from the caged sreexes though the wagon was over a half mile back.
“A carnivore,” the Prince said, his voice becoming dry. “Yes, I have noticed that. Tell me, Major, have you ever stopped to consider that when you have more in common with a four-legged predator than the people around you, it might be time to reconsider your approach to life?”
“Is that an order?” Konowa asked.
Prince Tykkin appeared to think about this for a moment, then spoke. “I dare say it wouldn’t matter if it was. You, Major, are the least elflike elf I have ever met. The dwarf has more affinity with nature than you. I’m beginning to think the wars you wage are more with yourself than with anyone else…including me.”
Konowa didn’t know what to say. He realized that the Prince wasn’t entirely wrong. He was at war, and no one understood the battles he fought. Perhaps, he reconsidered, Private Renwar might. His train of thought got no further as a great ball of a man in a Calahrian Diplomatic Corps uniform came huffing up to stand at attention by the Prince’s mount.
Mostly.
The man tried to stand at attention, but kept doubling over trying to catch his breath. Each time he stood up and started to speak, his body would quiver and he’d be back down with both hands on his knees.
The Prince was clearly amused, graciously allowing the man time to catch his wind, which piqued Konowa’s curiosity.
“Major Swift Dragon, meet the exalted Viceroy and Queen’s representative in these parts, Pimrald Alstonfar. Pimmer, say hello to the infamous Iron Elf.”
Sweat streamed off the face of the Viceroy as he stood up long enough to shake Konowa’s hand, then doubled over again and heaved in a few more breaths. The Prince laughed and shook his head.
“Pimmer and I were in school together, not exactly a state secret I suppose. He was known even then as an overachiever, although sadly it was at the dinner table.”
Konowa could believe that. Corpulent didn’t begin to do him justice. Swollen seemed a better description. Pimmer’s jowls oozed over the collar of his uniform so that it was impossible to see the braiding there. The silver-plated buttons looked poised to shoot off like musket balls as the fabric stretched taut around his frame. His boots splayed outward to keep his considerable center of mass in an upright position.
The first stirrings of pity rose up in Konowa, then were quickly snuffed out. Pimmer no doubt owed his position as Viceroy to strings pulled by the Prince. The result was a crony placed in a position of authority while those better qualified were passed over. This was the man who oversaw the Calahrian interests in the Hasshugeb Expanse, which meant he was responsible for the welfare of Konowa’s former elves. The last vestiges of pity were swallowed up by a growing sense of outrage.
“Your Highness, I really wish you would reconsider,” Pimmer finally managed as he stood up straight and stayed there.
“The matter is settled, Pimmer.”
“But, Your Grace, it is not safe for you to march through the city. This is not Celwyn. The population is restless and there is much talk of insurrection. News of the uprising in Elfkyna and the return of the Star of Sillra has inflamed passions. The people expect the Jewel of the Desert to fall next. Fortunetellers all over the city have been predicting it for days now. The price of tea has tripled in a week.”
Konowa hadn’t heard of the Jewel of the Desert, but it made sense that the Stars would have names appropriate to their locales. If he ever got wind of a Star of Cold Beer and Warm Women, he might just chuck it all and never look back.
“Then it is time to douse those flames, Pimmer. Really, I had expected better of you. You’ve had weeks to prepare for our arrival. What have you been doing with your time, besides gorging yourself?” the Prince asked, using the toe of his boot to nudge him in the stomach.
Konowa was surprised to find himself agreeing with the Prince.
“I have been negotiating with the Suljak of the Hasshugeb,” Pimmer said, then continued when neither the Prince nor Konowa indicated they knew what that meant. “He’s the spiritual leader for every tribe in these lands. From warlord to goatherd, they all listen to him. It is through his intervention that the trade routes remain open. It’s the Suljak, and the Suljak alone, who can talk to the Gaura tribe. They make up half the population. The Suljak has brokered a deal between them and us, and because of that the other tribes are falling into line. Without him, we would be lost here, now more than ever.”
The Prince waved a hand in front of his face to get rid of some flies. “Pimmer, you remain a candle without a wick. The trade routes remain open because we have outposts guarding them and soldiers patrolling them.” The Prince looked down at Konowa and pointed to him. “In fact, you have among the troops at your disposal the original Iron Elves. Despite the major’s past indiscretions, which we won’t get into here, the regiment was, as it is again under my command, Her Majesty’s finest. I am sure the elves you have are up to the task of keeping the rabble in these parts in check.”
“Yes, well…about the elves,” Pimmer began, looking between the Prince and Konowa. “The situation here is a very complicated one. There are certain subtleties that you should be aware—”
“Enough, Pimmer!” the Prince said, his voice spooking his camel. The animal reflexively kicked a front leg out and directly at Konowa. Konowa jumped out of the way, though the foot grazed his saber’s scabbard. “The time for subtlety is over. Events call for action, and I can see I arrived here not a moment too soon. I thought you’d have a chance to prove yourself out here in the southern wastes and away from the pressures that gather at the center of the Empire. It appears even in this vastness you are in over your head. I will deal with you later. Now, we will march, and the people of Nazalla will know that the Empire is the only power that matters.”
Alwyn took his spectacles off and rubbed them against his sleeve. He held them up to the sun and squinted. The glass was scratched in several places. Sighing, he put them back on. A moment later the order to come to attention rang out. Boots slammed down on the cobblestones, kicking up a waist-high dust storm.
The Prince cleared his throat. “Soldiers of the Calahrian Imperial Army! Untold centuries of history look down upon you and will judge your actions,” he said, pointing theatrically out to the desert beyond the city.
A smudge on the horizon indicated a rising plateau, or perhaps just a smudge on Alwyn’s spectacles, he couldn’t be sure. A few soldiers turned to look, some even putting up a hand to shield their eyes. One, and it sounded an awful lot like Scolly, asked, Where? I don’t see nothing.
“Know that I have delivered this very day a proclamation to the peoples of this land, informing them that their days of subjugation at the hands of petty tyrants and wielders of dark magics is at an end. The proclamation reads as follows…”
“Well, that seems a bit holier than thou if you ask me,” Yimt said, dabbing a bit of white pipeclay onto his nose. Alwyn adjusted his spectacles and followed suit. He’d learned that however odd a thing might seem, if Yimt did it it was worth copying…except when it came to recipes…and crute…and drink…actually, there were a lot of exceptions, but often the dwarf got it right.
