by Edun, Terah
She bit the inside of her cheek in indecisiveness. She didn’t really have a choice, though.
Standing up, she turned to General Barnaren. “Thank you for the care you have shown me, sir. Would you please have someone escort me to the waiting party?”
The general responded, “I will do it myself.”
Carefully she placed a hand in the crook of his elbow and stood on slightly trembling legs. She may have been sleeping for three weeks, but she still felt exhausted.
She steadied herself and raised her head high. It wouldn’t do to appear weak.
Chapter 3
Ciardis followed General Barnaren as he emerged from the tent into the bright sun. He nodded to the guards that stood at attention on either side of the entrance. As they stepped out into the chilly air and she walked forward ahead of him on the cold and barren ground, she took her first look around in three weeks. The landscape in the distance was foreboding, broken only by the chill of cold, icy winds swirling through drifts of snow. But her more immediate surroundings were filled with soldiers moving to and fro, busy with assignments. It looked like a disturbed beehive with armed men hurrying on assignments, wagon carts full with supplies trundling east, and the occasional chatter of voices carrying in the air. Always male. Always burly. She pulled her cloak a little tighter about her.
She had no problem with men. But these soldiers were no doubt some of the very same type that had passed through her home village and the surrounding communities, drinking their way through the bars, whoring with the local women, and generally destroying two or three properties before moving on. In fact she was sure the gap-toothed lumbering giant to her right that carried two large iron spokes was the same one that had beaten the farrier’s son until he was unconscious for half a day over a girl. Men like him, men like all of them, had no respect for themselves and likely wouldn’t have any for her, either. She needed to get out of here. Back to where she belonged. Back to Sandrin. She turned away in disgust after one man turned and paused walking to give her a quick wolf whistle and a lascivious wink. Ciardis focused her attention on General Barnaren, who was conferring with two compatriots at the moment.
She took the opportunity to truly look at him for the first time in close to six months. They hadn’t spoken since that fateful day when she’d saved his ass on the Blood Hunt. Ciardis preferred to leave out the thought that she had almost—the almost was important here—caused his death. They’d been hunting the famous white hart elk in the forests close to the capitol city, only a portal gate away, in fact, when she’d stumbled upon a glade. Inside the glade was a magnificent white hart elk stag standing proudly at the water’s edge. He’d been at least sixteen hands high with a rack of tines that spread like a crowning glory towards the sky. The elk hadn’t shied away when she’d approached him, and she still remembered the feel of his soft, white fur as it shone in the afternoon light.
Unfortunately the general had stumbled upon the glade, as well, and had taken it upon himself to kill the elk. She couldn’t blame him for that; hunting the white hart elk was the very reason they had ventured into the forest. But the general hadn’t factored in the strength and the speed of the animal. The elk was a king among beasts—stronger and swifter than any she had seen before. The stag had charged the general, breaking off a poisonous tine from its rack in the general’s thigh and incapacitating him. It had taken the combined power of Ciardis and the general to call a lightning strike to kill the white hart elk.
By the time the general’s retinue had arrived he was close to knocking on death’s door, and Ciardis had stepped in to aid the healers’ in their efforts to drain the poison from his body and heal the damage it had wrought on the floor of the glade.
Snapping back to the present, she watched as the general finished his conversation and motioned for one soldier to take up a post in front of her tent and two others to come forward. They were brawny men with broad chests, bearded faces, thick, fur-lined cloaks, and broadswords strapped to their backs. The kind of men one often saw hunting in the wilds, who came to the village market one or twice a month to trade for things they couldn’t forage for in the forest or mend and make on their own like clothes and weaponry.
“These are Kane and Titus,” he explained. “They have been assigned to your guard while you are present in our company.”
Ciardis glanced at the two soldiers, puzzled. Why would she need guards for such a short stay? She would be on her way back to Sandrin within a day at the most.
“They are here for your protection,” the general continued. “Both will accompany you while you’re in the camp. Don’t evade them.”
Ciardis gave him a flirtatious grin.
“General Barnaren, you give me too much credit,” Ciardis said. “I wouldn’t seek to lose these strong, strapping protectors.”
As she and the general walked forward, the two men falling back behind trailing them, she shivered in the cold. “I’m well aware of the rumors of your mischief around court, Ciardis,” he replied, “Do not under any circumstances leave their sight.”
His face was sharp with disapproval as he stopped abruptly and turned to face her while gripping her wrist tightly. “There are things in this icy wasteland that you don’t want to encounter—not alone.”
Ciardis raised an eyebrow. His tone was dead serious, even grave. “Things that could get past the dozens of Imperial guardsmen you have on watch?” She nodded her head at the watchmen that stood surrounding the encampment in watchtowers and standing on the ground on the distant tundra.
“Yes,” the general said in a tone that made her straighten and wonder what could possibly be that frightening. Perhaps the northern hordes were closer than she assumed?
Ciardis pursed her lips and swallowed. He didn’t look amenable to divulging any more. “Very well, General.”
He turned and they continued walking. Pointing to the surrounding tents, he explained the layout. “We have ten subdivided plots of three hundred soldiers each. I’ve placed you in the middle encampment with myself and my closest advisors.”
Turning to the right, “This is the healer’s encampment.” Ciardis saw three tents on a slight slope with wooden benches laid out in front of them. Surrounding those tents in an orderly fashion were large gray tents that housed the general and his men.
They stopped walking in front of a gray tent that looked like any other except for amount of guards that stood outside of it. A ring of imperial guardsmen and battle mages stood facing outward. They were ready to face any threat.
“Here is your prince, Ciardis Weathervane.”
He hesitated before continuing, “There are many events that you are unaware of, Ciardis Weathervane. I would caution you to take heed.”
“I’m from these northern lands of the empire, General Barnaren. Perhaps not this far north, but I am quite aware of the dangers of the wild and the foreign army.”
“I was not speaking of either of those things.”
“Then what?” she said slowly, watching the hot puffs of her breath billow out in the wind.
The general didn’t reply to her question.
Ciardis let out an impatient breath. “General Barnaren, regardless of the dangers here I am fully capable of meeting the threat. And if I’m not, well, then I have these two tall and muscular guards to dispatch it.”
He laughed sharply. “Now that’s what I expect from the hellion that rode in my Blood Hunt.”
Ciardis flashed back to the day Serena had surprised her with the offer on Barnaren’s behalf. To ride in her first, and so far only, Blood Hunt. They spent the day hunting the white hart elk outside the city with Ciardis’s sole duty being to impress upon her potential Patron her skills in riding, archery and tracking. She had managed to do all three while almost getting him killed. She was just grateful he didn’t seem the type to hold a grudge.
Ciardis let a small smile grace her lips. “I had no idea that I had made such an impression on you, General Barnaren.”
>
“My dear, you made more than that,” he said. Lifting her hand gently from his wrist, he kissed her hand. “And my marriage offer still stands.”
Ciardis looked over at General Barnaren in genuine surprise.
“Does it, now?” an icy voice interrupted them.
Ciardis had been expecting to meet the Prince Heir, but even she was surprised at his interruption. That, and the murderous look on his face. General Barnaren returned his stare with the cool aplomb of a seasoned man who had seen war and knew that this boy had nothing on him.
“Prince Sebastian,” General Barnaren said with a deep bow, “I hope that now that you have seen the fair Miss Weathervane you are ready to depart.”
Prince Sebastian frowned deeply and turned his dark gaze from Ciardis to the general. “I certainly am not. We have already spoken on this subject, General Barnaren. I will be present at the first meeting. And the Weathervane will, as well.”
Ciardis felt a cold shiver go down her back at Sebastian’s tone. It was dismissive. Prince Sebastian might be many things, but he always exuded respect for any individual he spoke to, from the lowliest stableman to the general himself. At least he had been more gracious when she’d seen him last. Perhaps the weeks had changed him. She wouldn’t know until they spoke. Without a further word Sebastian held out a hand to Ciardis. Glancing out of the corner of her eye at the general’s perturbed face, she took Prince Sebastian’s hand and allowed him to lead her into the tent enclosure.
*****
She felt like listening to the better part of her subconscious, which was telling her to leave now. Generally when her conscience tried to beat her into submission she was about to be kidnapped, almost killed, or both. Now it was telling her to forget her duties, forget the Companions’ Guild, and, most of all, forget the Prince Heir whose hand she held and whose pulse she could feel beating erratically even through the fabric on his wrist.
Quietly, she told her conscience to go hell. Would you rather be bored or adventurous? She’d pick ducking across snowdrifts under a midnight moon over sitting in a cottage in Vaneis closing another tear in a garment any day. Turning off her internal dialogue, she focused outward on the situation at hand. It didn’t take a genius to tell that Sebastian was agitated. About what, though, she couldn’t say.
But no one had ever accused Ciardis of not sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong.
As they walked into the tent, she casually asked him, “Where are Terris, Meres and Lady Vana?”
“I know it’s been weeks since I left, but I just want to know where they are,” Ciardis admitted.
“Terris and Lore Meres stayed in Ameles. Something about motherless griffin kits and bonding with the land,” Sebastian said quietly.
Ciardis chuckled. “Sounds like Terris.”
“Terris was quite worried about you and even journeyed to Sandrin for a few days, but after you didn’t reappear there she went back to keep an eye on the forest and help just in case you returned there without warning,” Sebastian continued.
Looking around Ciardis was surprised to find the tent empty except for a few benches and a large table spread with a map on it. She turned to Sebastian and silently squeezed his hand with a whispered, “I’m glad you came. For me, I mean.”
He looked over at her with a pained grimace. He quickly smoothed his expression as he met her eyes with a small smile. “So am I.” Ciardis had to wonder why he was acting so strange. She looked over at him with a questioning look and raised eyebrows. Did it have to do with the other guests who were on their way? Whatever it was, perhaps it was best that their delay meant they could put a formal discussion off and she could speak directly to Sebastian first.
The coming conversation concerned her greatly. She had to admit – she was worried about her ability to convince them that she had nothing to do with the recent attacks in the Ameles Forest. She’d learned that going in to meetings unprepared only led to her being more likely to be bamboozled on the way out.
Prince Sebastian dropped her hand and strode quickly to the map-strewn table. He grimaced just before clenching his hand into a fist and pounding it into the table. She was startled and looked at him askance. “Your idea of a conversation, I take it?”
He practically growled at her.
She sighed and felt a headache coming, “Alright, what’s wrong?”
“I could swear Barnaren is hiding something. They all are. I come here and expect reports, expect progress. He gives me drivel and shows me only so much. There’s something going on here. I know it.” His shoulders were stiff with anger as he set hard hands down on the wooden table and clenched his hands until his knuckles grew white.
She’d never seen Sebastian like this before. The anger and passion made him different from the young man she had known. The fury hardened him perceptibly. She wasn’t sure if it suited him. He was, or had been, an affable Prince Heir, one with a steady hand and a pleasing manner. He quickly turned around and she could see the tiredness that laced every line of his face, she felt a pang of concern.
“Just Barnaren?”
“No, the general and his men,” he said in a clipped tone, “They allude to victories and refuse to show me the true extent of their campaign.”
Ciardis tilted to her head. “What do you mean?”
“I did a tour of the men yesterday, speaking with the soldiers and venturing to the front lines. To a man, not one of those men said anything different. They all spouted the same lines, the same rhetoric: the general was the greatest they’d ever seen, they’ve won victory after victory.”
His mouth turned down into a deep frown and lines of anger radiated from his eyes.
“If they’re so victorious, why are we still stuck in this damn war? I am their Prince Heir and they lie to my face.”
“Perhaps the general values loyalty above all and the men know this. No mere soldier wants it known to his commander that he doubts him.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I would expect that of the foot soldiers, but the army commanders? No. Most would be demanding reinforcements, more troops, more supplies, more everything, and all of it they would want last week. The only thing these commanders want from me is for me to leave and submit a good report upon my return to the Imperial Courts.”
Ciardis said, “And this makes you suspicious?”
Sebastian turned to her and demanded, “Wouldn’t it make you so?”
She ignored the question. “All right, say that they are losing the war. What would the benefit of hiding that be?”
“Sovereignty. They answer to no one up here.”
“As much as that applies and would be beneficial to them when they’re raping and pillaging the empire’s villages. I can’t see them having any interest in this cold and barren land,” Ciardis said with dry wit.
“King of one hovel is better than servant to a palace.”
She shrugged. Personally she’d lived in both, and palaces were much better.
“They have been masters of this damn northern campaign for far too long, Ciardis.”
Sebastian ran an irritated hand through his hair. “My father has given the general absolute command in the absence of his direct presence on the fields of battle. For a decade the general has led this war and for a decade we have lost—lost more men, lost more land, and lost more advantages.”
“So you are here to rectify the situation? To take command on your father’s orders?”
A sound she could only describe as a frustrated growl echoed from Sebastian’s lips. “No.”
He paused, his lips thinned, and his face filled with displeasure. “According to imperial decree, I’m here to collect you. Only you. With strict orders from my father to return to the capitol immediately. In fact, he almost refused to let me come at all.”
Ciardis folded her hands in front of her with her thoughts whirling in her head. Going against an imperial order, even from father to son, was treason. Sebastian had had one task, and that task was com
plete when he delivered her as promised. She knew a heavy cost would be associated with defiance; she also knew that Sebastian would not be this upset if there weren’t a true concern about the way this war was being conducted in the cold of the North.
“I take it you wish to stay, then?”
“At least for a few more days. I know there is something going on—I can feel it.”
“And the talks you wish to be a part of?” Ciardis was direct. She flashed back to the conversation between Prince Sebastian and General Barnaren that she had just overheard. Not that she had had much choice; she had been standing right there, and short of plugging her ears would have had to overhear the details.
Sebastian nodded. “Another mystery to solve. The general has received a query from a representative of the Old Ones. They wish to speak with us.”
“The Old Ones?”
“The elementals of the northern lands who imbue the land with natural magic. They inhabit the mountain chain and are staunch allies of the Algardis Empire. Or at least they were.”
She raised an eyebrow at the palpable anger in his last sentence.
Sebastian’s eyes darkened. “The Old Ones have sent a missive with their representative; they say they will act as representatives for the hordes. That mass of murderers, thieves, rapists, and monsters on our border. They would act as representatives to the Sarvinians.”
And now Ciardis could see the crux of his anger. If kith like the chimera were the dark creatures of the night, told as tales of powerful beasts that hunt small children to keep them in line, then the Sarvinians were the true nightmare to the people of the north. A massive collection of humans and non-humans that had massed at the border of the northern passes for generations. They sought entrance to the Algardis Empire for the wealth and lands its inhabitants had. For centuries they were thwarted by the combined efforts of the Old Ones and the Algardis Empire.
