Sovran at War (Kingslayer Book 2)

by Honor Raconteur

  “If not you’ll be up there a good year, I would expect. Perhaps longer.” Mihr tapped a hand to his leg, thoughtful, pensive. “You want me to be lead while you’re gone.”

  “Yes, sir,” Darius answered forthrightly. “You know our defenses better than anyone else and your seniority trumps all of the generals. I can’t leave Niotan in better hands than yours.”

  Mihr snorted. “Flatterer. And don’t say something like ‘it’s not flattery if it’s true’ because while it is true, hearing those words out of your mouth is still flattery and I know good and well that you only said them because you want something. Out with it.”

  The man did not possess a strategically sound mind for show. “Baros’s letter to me indicates that he is suffering from capable leadership. I don’t think just me will suffice.”

  Eyes narrowed, Mihr studied him for a moment. “You want to take your staff with you.”

  Giving him a hopeful smile, Darius asked, “Please?”

  “We don’t have an excessive amount of capable leadership either, Bresalier. Your staff is the cream of the crop. I’ll be hard pressed to work without them in the next year if they go with you.”

  “I know,” Darius responded quietly and left it at that. He knew very well what he was asking, what it would entail, but he honestly couldn’t imagine going into war again without Navid, Kaveh, or Ramin with him. Those three men were like his hands, his eyes, his ears. They were an extension of him in battle. Especially going into a land that would likely no longer welcome him, he needed men he could trust around him. Feeling like he should try and compromise, he offered, “I can just make it a request of them? Not a command? They can choose to go or stay.”

  Mihr snorted, nearly rolling his eyes. “As if they would choose to stay. They’re as bad as lemmings, that lot, going wherever you choose to go. In fact, if I tried to keep them here, they’d likely sulk and be absolutely useless while you were gone. On second thought, Bresalier, I insist that you take them with you.”

  A slow smile spread over Darius’s face. “You’re a true friend, Mihr. Thank you.”

  With a wave of the fingers, Mihr waved his thanks away. “When do you leave?”

  “Two days, if I can manage it.”

  “Then you best get in touch with your commanders. That doesn’t leave them with much time to pack.” Mihr hesitated and looked up at Roshan. “Are you going as well, young raj?”

  Darius cranked about on the bench to look over his shoulder. Roshan met his eyes hopefully, tongue darting out to wet his lips in a nervous gesture. “Please?” he implored Darius.

  Part of Darius truly wanted to say no. No, this isn’t safe, this isn’t a war that I can bring anyone into, you can’t come. But almost twenty years in war had taught him that the concept of a ‘safe’ war didn’t exist. There was no such thing. This war would present challenges others didn’t, and likely there would never be another one like it, but then, no two wars were ever the same either.

  On the other hand, the learning opportunity for Roshan was staggering. He’d experience more cultures, a wider range of fighting techniques, and more political maneuvering than he ever would in Niotan. Did he dare not bring Roshan? For the sake of the rising generation, for future conflicts that would inevitably arise, did he dare not arm this boy’s mind to its fullest capacity?

  It took only a blink for this to race though his mind and reach a conclusion. “I will bring you on one condition: do not die on me. Your sister will murder me in my own bed.”

  Roshan lit up in a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good. Don’t get hurt either. I don’t want her upset with me, Amalah is terrifying.”

  Her brother nodded with energetic agreement. “She really is.”

  Mihr looked doubtful but then, he’d never lived with Amalah; he didn’t understand just how sneaky and underhanded her revenge could be if you upset her. It was the quiet ones to watch out for. No one seemed to really understand that. “Mihr, I need to set things in motion and send messages out to my staff. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “If I do, I’ll ponder them tonight and let you know in the morning. You have enough to think about. I’ll handle this.”

  Trusting him to do just that, Darius rose. “Thank you. If anything dire does happen, send word to my parents’ house in Arape. I’ll leave behind the address. My father will be able to reach me.”

  “I will. Go on, go on, you don’t have much time.”

  Darius didn’t need to be told that, as he felt the sands of time slipping slowly away from him. It was not a feeling he relished. With one last salute, he got up and left, issuing orders as he moved. “Sego, send word to my staff, tell them to meet me in the war room as quickly as possible. Roshan, you and I have a letter to write, so I need an army courier. Fetch one for me.”

  Both men spun off, going in different directions. Tolk moved in a little closer, walking properly at Darius’s side. “You have plan already.”

  “I have several ideas and hopefully people will cooperate,” Darius corrected absently, mind already spinning ahead. “But I’ll explain that later, when we’re all together, as I don’t have time to repeat myself.”

  Tolk blessedly sensed he needed to think and fell silent. Darius used that stretch of quiet as much as possible, thinking hard. He needed information, he needed allies, and he didn’t for one moment believe that Brindisi had enough troops to deal with a northern invasion. He had to collect help on the way, and there was only one viable source for that. Perhaps two.

  By the time he reached his war room, Navid entered at his heels, appearing more than a little breathless and his uniform half-on, half-0ff. His hair looked even more dishabille than usual, sticking up in every possible direction, and for once he’d seemed to have forgotten to put his gold hoop into his ear. “Sir?” he demanded, white around the eyes. “Trouble?”

  “Baros is sunsided,” Darius answered, using Navid’s native slang to answer, partly for the fun of it, partly because he knew how the man struggled with proper Niotanese. “The barbs adited and booted his troops hard.”

  Navid swore, loudly and creatively. He gave up trying to get the rest of his uniform on and focused instead on the problem at hand. “Cracy gate-pinched?”

  “Yes. No way to dicker.”

  “Barbs,” Navid huffed in understanding. “No dickering with barbs. Riddled skors.”

  Stupid and filthy was actually a very accurate description of most of the Roran barbarians that Darius had ever met.

  Kaveh and Ramin stumbled into the room at practically the same time, Roshan two steps behind them. Kaveh, for once, couldn’t be used as the model for a perfect soldier, as he gave every impression of having dressed on the run. Even his nose looked more crooked than normal. Ramin for once looked the most respectable out of the three, as he wore the uniform correctly and didn’t appear out of breath. Perhaps he had been somewhere nearby, easily summoned? Sego didn’t appear, but then, the men had likely sprinted here and left the man in their figurative dust. As well they should, Sego could be caught up later, but Darius needed these three moving as of yesterday.

  “Here’s the situation as it stands,” he greeted them, pointing toward seats. “As of almost a month ago, the barbarians invaded northern Sovran. Baros has not been able to push them back into their own lands. He’s got them locked in something of a stand-still but he doesn’t expect that to hold for long, nor should he. He’s written a plea to me, asking for my help, and Tresea has granted leave for me to go.”

  All three men shared speaking glances but it was Kaveh that dared ask, “You’re allowed back into Brindisi?”

  “Baros gave me full pardon.” Darius’s mouth twitched in a humorless smile at the reaction that statement got. His commanders could not have been more surprised if he had announced his intention to strip naked and jump into a pit of venomous snakes.

  “Sir.” Ramin drew in a breath before asking careful
ly, “Are you sure this is from him?”

  “Positive. Every word of his message is true or I am the son of a goat.” Darius waited a moment, gave them a little time to process this, then added, “You see now how desperate he is. I have several ideas how to win this, but I need commanders and additional troops. I’m not commanding you to go with me. I’m asking.”

  All three men looked at him as if he had lost what was left of his mind.

  “Of course we’re going,” Ramin informed him slowly, head shaking in wonder. The lights reflected dully off his hair, an atypical thing as it was usually bright to the point of distraction. At some point, Ramin had re-dyed his flamboyantly red hair into a more muted red that could almost pass for natural. “Why are you even asking?”

  “Because this is going to be insane and I’m not one hundred percent certain that my enemies in Brindisi won’t try to use it to entrap me?” Darius held up hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright, don’t give me those glares. It’s just a possibility, you should be wary as we go in, that’s all. Roshan, the courier?”

  “Coming up, sir, he’s requesting clearance to leave the city tonight.”

  “Good.” Darius put his hands together in a slow circle. “Here’s my thoughts: we need help. We’ll go north by the Tran Highway, but I think we need to stop on the way and speak with the Baiji as we go. You remember Tunheim of Windsweep?”

  Kaveh nodded instantly. “The Second Clansman that was with us in the last battle. Of course, sir. Very lively, capable leader.”

  “Yes, he is. We’ve exchanged letters and gifts off and on. I know where he’s at, or at least where his camp was, as of a month ago.” Darius had carefully nurtured that friendship because he firmly believed in keeping up with allies in between wars. Besides, he liked Tunheim. The man had a wonderfully terrible sense of humor. “I believe that if we ask, he’ll help us. No one wants the barbarians to get out of their own territory, it is dangerous in every sense of the word.”

  “Hence the courier,” Ramin said in understanding. “You think he’ll meet us on the road?”

  “Or at least get closer to it so I’m not spending two days coming in and out of Baiji territory. He’s accommodating that way. Also, I want his take on what’s going on politically speaking in Brindisi. His news is surely more up to date than mine.”

  No one argued that.

  Navid cleared his throat and offered, “Night Raiders?”

  “Yes, I hoped to speak to you about that. You still have a way to contact them?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send word, ask if they’re willing to help me out again. We need their particular expertise, I think.”

  Without a word, Navid drew paper and ink toward him, already drafting a letter to the Night Raiders.

  Used to this taciturn silence from the man, Darius just rolled on. “We need to leave within two days at most, as we frankly don’t have any time to spare. Pack quickly and only pack a few uniforms. I’m not sure if we should make it obvious we’re in the Niotan Army until we’re actually in place up there. We’ll meet at the palace’s north gate two mornings from now at first bell. Questions?”

  Navid glanced up. “Where should Night Raiders meet us?”

  “Depends. How fast can you get a message to them?”

  “Three days.”

  “Tell them we’ll be on the Tran Highway and our schedule, they can find us.” Darius had no doubt they’d manage easily. The Night Raiders were known for their intelligence gathering as well as their fighting ability, after all.

  Kaveh dared a glance at Roshan, who had been quietly taking all of this in, before asking tentatively, “Just us going, sir?”

  Darius flashed his brother-in-law a quick smile. “No, Roshan goes with us. Bohme and Tolk will be with us as well. That’s it for the immediate party. We’ll gather up allies on the way.”

  The commander flashed Roshan a conspiratorial grin. “Glad you’ll be with us.”

  “Me, too, sir,” Roshan answered frankly. “General, will I be a runner like Payam while we’re out?”

  “Yes and no.” Darius hadn’t really thought it out yet, but he more or less knew what role the boy would be in even without studying the situation. “You will if I need you to, but for the most part, I need you with me and observing. Your job is a serious one, Roshan. I can make mistakes in the heat of battle if I’m too distracted by things, or if I overlook information as it’s coming in. I need you to double-check me, ask the obvious questions, make sure the information is being correlated as messages come in. You’ve been studying under me for eighteen months now; I trust that you now know enough to have some instincts on when to ask questions.”

  Roshan, still only thirteen, with baby fat lingering in his cheeks, gave him a serious look that hinted at what he would be like in ten years. Darius had taken him on as a bride-price, a negotiation so he could marry Amalah, but no one could deny that Roshan had potential. Fortunately for all concerned, he also had the right attitude, willing and eager to learn. Moments like these, with that expression of determination flashing in his eyes, reaffirmed it all over again. “Yes, sir. I’ll do that. In that case, a question sir?”

  Amused, Darius waved him on.

  “You’re sending a courier to the Baiji but you’ve made no mention of sending a letter to King Baros.”

  Oops. Darius stared at him and had the bubbling urge to laugh. Tolk saved him the effort by doing it for him.

  “You forgot,” Tolk accused, chuckling.

  “I did,” Darius admitted, making everyone else either snort in amusement or join in on the laughter. “I’ve been so busy working out the logistics that I didn’t even think to write to Baros. You see, Roshan? This is why I need you. You’re quite right, I need to write letters to both men, and since the courier is heading that direction anyway, hopefully we can combine trips for him. Get me two pouches, one for each.”

  Roshan, with a proud smile on his face, darted out of the room.

  Really, Darius was sure he’d have realized the oversight at some point, but he was glad that Roshan had pointed it out now. Darius just wasn’t in the habit of reporting to Baros. The younger man had first been his student, then his enemy. He had never reported to the new king. He needed to get into the right mindset now, however, as he would be doing little else in the upcoming months.

  Come to think of it, he also needed to inform his in-laws that their precious son would be going into war. That would definitely be the hardest news to deliver and Darius didn’t believe he should do it through a letter. Wincing, he put the idea aside, as he couldn’t do it tonight anyway. Time enough for that unpleasant duty tomorrow.

  Drawing paper to him, he bent his attention to the letters he could not put off.

  The last time that he had been on the Tran Highway, Darius had had 35,000 Brindisi soldiers after his blood. Well, not after him precisely, but it had felt like it at the time. In contrast to that, Dakan Pass felt hollow and empty, every hoof striking the ground and echoing down the rocks. It also felt much cooler here, which Darius sent thanks to Shaa for, as riding around in the desert in broad daylight was something a sane man avoided. The mountains made the trip much more pleasant.

  Seven men traveled at a steady canter through Dakan Pass, exiting the Songhor Mountains and leaving Niotan behind entirely. Part of Darius hated it—hated the whole idea of leaving, as he did not like being separated from his family. He would miss Amalah and Parisa dreadfully, and if the situation were not this dire, nothing would be able to pry him away from them. And yet.

  And yet.

  The reason why Darius had gone into the army to begin with stemmed from his desire for excitement. He needed the adrenaline rush, the edge of danger, to truly feel alive. War gave him that. So he could not claim that he didn’t want to go, because part of him did and would enjoy the challenge that war always presented him. He just selfishly wished that he could have his family nearby while he fought. Not that he would let them get
anywhere near the front lines, of course, but he would miss them.

  Those thoughts plagued him, twisting and churning, and it got to be too much for his heart to take. With a deep breath, he forced them aside, focusing on the task at hand. How quickly he returned home depended on how well he managed this campaign.

  Baros. Baros had not mentioned to him more than the basics, and obviously the letter had been written in haste, as the handwriting had been more abominable than usual. Only years of practice had enabled Darius to read it. The situation was desperate enough that Baros had wrangled the impossible to enable Darius to return, and had likely already spread the word that Darius had free rein in Brindisi. He would have to ensure that Darius could make it to him without being either captured or executed on sight, after all.

  As long as none of his enemies spotted him, he might be able to enter Brindisi without too much trouble.

  Darius snorted, amused at himself. Since when did his luck run that good? No, at least one person would find him before he got to the capital. He could count on it. But that he could worry about later. Right now, he needed to focus on the immediate: Baiji.

  The letter he’d sent to Tunheim had likely arrived by now, although the courier hadn’t returned yet. Darius hadn’t actually expected him to. When a guest entered Baiji territory, they had to stay at least a day and be treated to full hospitality—tradition demanded it. Only extreme emergencies could demand haste.

  Would Tunheim agree? Darius gave it even odds either way. Baiji sat far south, away from the dangers of the Roran barbarians. They, out of all of the countries (aside from Serrati, but Serrati was always the exception), would be least impacted by the invasion. They still would suffer some, economically if nothing else, but they’d weather it. The only thing that gave Darius an edge was that the Baiji owed him a favor for helping ensure their independence from Brindisi to begin with. The last battle had given them the manpower and momentum to throw off the Sovran’s rule, and Baros hadn’t the ability to rein them back in. They belonged under Brindisi’s rule in name only.