The Siege of Abythos

by Phil Tucker

  Audsley blushed and drank his plum wine in one gulp. "Now, this might sound strange – again – but, um, do you know of any widows from the First or Second Rank? A lady of distinction who has been bereaved for five years or more?"

  Iarenna blinked, frowned, then looked away, deep in thought. "Perhaps. Let me see. The Ascendant's family... perhaps someone from the Fujiwara clan..." She trailed off. Audsley watched her, enjoying her fierce focus and the pout of her lips as she sought to think of someone.

  "Perhaps – the only lady I can think of is the Red Rowan, widow to the former Minister of War."

  So? Now what?

  Ask if she has suitors.

  Audsley blanched. Why?

  We must determine our competition.

  Audsley poured himself a cup of wine, drank it, then poured himself a second, smiling shakily at Iarenna all the while. "What can you tell me about the Red Rowan?"

  "Not much, I'm afraid, but it is said she has a very striking personality and was once heavily involved in politics. She is said to have been a true beauty, but now rarely leaves her home. I believe she resides on the Second Level."

  Perfect.

  "Ah. Delightful."

  "Why do you ask?"

  Audsley moved his cup an inch to the left, then moved it an inch back to the right. "Ah, just, you know, curiosity."

  Iarenna narrowed her eyes. "We have enjoyed great honesty between us thus far. It would be a shame to lose that frankness."

  Audsley sighed. "She might be able to help me get close to the Minister of the Moon, I suppose."

  It was a ridiculous statement, but Iarenna didn't laugh. Instead, she regarded his exquisitely tailored robes and then nodded thoughtfully. "If you can work such a transformation as you have already done once, then perhaps it can be done. But you cannot visit her estate. You will have to send a messenger bearing a line or two of your poetry. She will gauge the depth of your soul from that message alone."

  "I know, I know." Audsley fought the urge to sigh. "Don't worry, I've already spent a small fortune on elaborately colored cards and all manner of inks. If the Red Rowan's home is a fortress, then I have assembled as elite a military force as the world has ever seen."

  Iarenna studied him. "An elite force needs an exemplary commander. Conversing with one such as the Red Rowan is a completely different affair from impressing a humble Sigean girl of the Seventh Rank."

  Audsley didn't need to be prompted by the demon. He reached forward, took Iarenna's hand in his own, and gazed into her eyes with new boldness. "A different affair, perhaps, but without the depth and meaning that I've come to appreciate already." Then he realized precisely what he was doing and blushed. His face burned as he sat back and looked everywhere but at Iarenna. "If, ah, I may be so bold. Ahem."

  Iarenna was silent, and then rose to her feet. "I shall see about procuring a suitable messenger, one who can enter the Second Level and deliver your missive with fitting dignity. In the meantime, your guest room has been prepared. I hope you enjoy your stay at the Miliaka Estate, humble as it may be."

  Audsley opened his mouth, trying to think of a fitting response, half-expecting the demon to prompt him, but nothing came. In the end, he simply watched as Iarenna padded softly from the room and closed the door behind her. Then he sat back, nonplussed, and turned his gaze to the falling rain. The dolorous sounds of the wind instrument rose to match the tenor of this thoughts, and then, with a sigh, he too stood up.

  I presume that you have a fitting message already in mind for this illustrious widow?

  Oh, yes. Our Red Rowan's life is about to become very exciting indeed.

  Audsley considered the door through which Iarenna had exited, and sighed. Very well.

  For the first time, the thought of climbing to the heights of Aletheian society failed to thrill him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Asho took three steps to the closest chair, pulled it out from under the table and sat down. The huge kragh was watching him with inscrutably dark eyes, while Mikho had crossed his arms and was standing patiently in the background, listening intently. Shaya was watching him too, her expression torn between joy and concern.

  "Asho?" She crouched in front of him and took his hand. "There's nothing to fear. Tharok's made it clear that he intends to liberate us."

  "A kragh army." He had so many questions, but he felt as if he were floating with the shock of the revelation. "But – Shaya. Wait. What's he going to do after he's freed us?"

  "Do?" Shaya sat back on her heels, her touch cool on his callused palm. "Don't be naive, Asho. You know what it will take to free our people."

  "So, he means to destroy the Empire." Asho nodded slowly. "Conquer it."

  Shaya nodded.

  "And then? Once he's conquered Aletheia, destroyed Ennoia's castles, sacked Zoe and placed all the other cities under his control? Are we to be ruled by kragh?"

  Shaya rose to her feet, releasing his hand as she did so. "I don't know exactly what he plans to do. And, to be honest, I don't care. All that matters is that he's given me his word. That he means to set us free." She shook her head, a growing look of bewilderment on her face. "Why aren't you happy? This will change everything!"

  Mikho stepped forward, inserting himself smoothly into their conversation. "He's not happy, my dear, because he has other loyalties now than to simply serve us mere Bythians."

  "Is that true? Lord Kyferin. Do you still serve him? Prefer his rule to our liberty?"

  "No," said Asho sharply, not liking the way Mikho was looming over him. The elder Bythian smiled and took a step back. "Enderl is dead. I serve his widow instead – Lady Kyferin. And she is worth serving. Under her, I've already helped free some three hundred of our people. Ask Kanna, here. They've left Bythos altogether to live under the open sky."

  Shaya's shoulders sagged with relief. "Then perhaps we can all work together?"

  Mikho tut-tutted. "Only in the short term, dear Shaya. I don't believe this Lady Kyferin will be glad to welcome your Tharok. Unless I am mistaken, Asho?"

  Asho glanced at Nok, the highland kragh. How was he so huge? He looked to have been carved from the trunk of an old oak, ridged with muscle and without an ounce of fat on him. His arms were as thick as Asho's thighs. Would Iskra welcome an army of these, intent on conquering the Empire? "No. She means to overthrow the Empire, to free us Bythians and destroy the faith of Ascension. But she won't want to replace the Ascendant with a kragh warlord. She won't want to place her people under his authority."

  Mikho smiled apologetically to Shaya. "It's not hard to understand, unfortunately. What Ennoian warlord would rather serve another? No, she means to rule herself."

  Asho ignored Mikho and kept his eyes on his sister instead. "Shaya. You can ask Kanna about Lady Kyferin. She's not like that. She's putting together an army with the Agerastians and means to attack the Empire soon. She's been exiled, she's lost her children, she's suffered unspeakably – but it's only brought out the best in her. You can trust her. I do, with my life. Help us take down the Empire – but not for the kragh."

  Shaya looked over to Nok and spoke to him in a series of harsh, clashing sounds. Nok's response was a low rumble, like the first warnings of an avalanche. They spoke for a while longer, Shaya's tone distressed, Nok's calm, till finally she sighed and frowned. "Tharok is coming, Asho, whether I help him or not. Even if I were to break faith with him, even if I were to help you and your lady, he still means to invade and destroy the Empire. The only hope for our people is to align with him so that he sees us as allies and not enemies. Helping Lady Kyferin would only doom us all."

  Asho smiled mirthlessly. "You don't think we'd have any chance of rebuffing him?"

  "No," said Shaya quietly. "I don't. He's uniting the tribes, Asho. I don't think you know what that means."

  A chill went through him. "Like Ogri the Destroyer?"

  Shaya nodded. "When last I saw him, he already had most of the highland tribes under his authority, along with a la
rge lowland clan. You don't know him, Asho. You don't understand what he's capable of. He frightens and awes and inspires me. He's going to do it. He's going to conquer the lowland kragh next, and then break through Abythos. There's no stopping him. We need to be his allies when he comes."

  Asho fought the urge to shiver and hunched his shoulders instead. Could it be true? Ogri the Destroyer come again? Though he'd never paid close attention to Audsley's history lessons, any tales of campaigns or war had always caught his attention. The name of Ogri had always captivated him. What page or squire would ignore the tale of the greatest threat to the Empire since the destruction of the Sin Casters?

  "Ogri broke his promises to Ilandra. He had her raised on a wooden cross and left her to die along with her thirty followers."

  This time it was Shaya's turn to scowl. "Tharok isn't Ogri. And I'm not Ilandra. This time it will be different."

  "Oh? It will?" Asho looked at Nok. "Do you see the kragh ruling us wisely, enforcing just laws and respecting our rights? They're kragh, Shaya. They live like beasts in the wild. They don't have laws. They only respect strength. Tharok will burn our cities to the ground and kill thousands upon thousands of innocents."

  Shaya pushed her shoulders back. "Again, you don't know of what you speak. And, yes, there will be war, and death, and tragedy. But how else can you defeat the Empire? Will your method be any different?"

  "You said yourself you don't know what our world will look like after Tharok's done. Do you think he'll just go back home and leave us to rebuild?" Asho fought to keep his voice calm. "No conqueror abandons the spoils of war. He'll stay. He'll lodge himself in Aletheia, and his kragh will have free run of the Empire. You can't help him, Shaya. You can't help him destroy everything to free our people."

  "You don't get to tell me what I can and cannot do, Asho." Her voice became hard. "I'll repeat myself one last time for your benefit, but I can tell it won't matter. Tharok is different. He saved my life by buying me from a slave market – and then freed me. He said my future was mine, and I chose to stay with him and his people. They've treated me with respect, with dignity. When Tharok asked me to help him, I asked him if I had a choice. And he said yes, that he wouldn't force me to lead this rebellion. That no kragh forces a woman." She was trembling with emotion. "Do you know how that felt, Asho? Of course not. Because, even though you're a Bythian, you're still a man. Well, I'll tell you – it was a defining moment in my life. To be asked, and to know my decision would be respected, even though it would affect the fate of countless thousands."

  Shaya took a sudden breath, cutting off the flow of words, and crossed her arms over her chest. "So, yes. I trust him. And, yes, I'll help him. Because even at his worst, Tharok's shown himself to be better than any other ruler I've seen here in the Empire. I'll take his rule and his respect and the kragh ways over our broken system and your widow Kyferin any day of the week."

  Asho was taken aback by her words. Their passion. Their fire. He didn't know how to respond. He couldn't make her understand, not after what she'd apparently been through.

  "I'm happy for you, Shaya." He smiled brokenly. "I'm glad you met this Tharok, and that he's treated you well. I can't tell you how much that means to me. I had thought you lost forever, and instead I find you here, leading an invasion and as powerful and determined as Kethe Kyferin."

  Shaya's scowl slipped. "I'm glad you're doing well, too, Asho. And I'm glad Lord Kyferin is dead."

  They were only a few yards apart, yet Asho felt a chasm lying open between them. He wanted to step over it, to hug his sister, but although the kragh Nok was standing to their side, he seemed to rise between them, a symbol of the gulf that now yawned open at their feet.

  "Asho, you never said exactly why you came to visit my humble abode," said Mikho, breaking the silence. "Though, at this point, I can hazard a guess."

  Asho sighed and looked over to Kanna. The other Bythian woman was standing as still as a shadow near the door, watching him with pensive eyes. He turned at last to Mikho. "We came to ask your help in stealing the stockpiled Gate Stone. We need it to bolster our attack."

  "How familiar those words sound! Almost word for word the plans I was discussing with your sister but half an hour ago. Oh, dear. What am I to do?" Mikho's smile was cold and predatory, and his face betrayed not an ounce of indecision.

  "You'll pick kragh over humans, Mikho?" Asho felt a great weariness settle over him.

  "In this case, I believe I shall. Shaya has made a number of excellent points. Shall I elucidate?"

  Asho nodded grimly. He didn't think he could stop the man, regardless.

  "For one, I have greater faith in Tharok's conquest over your mythical lady's. Just look at Nok, here. He could probably take down a regiment of Ennoian knights by himself. Second, your lady is the widow of a hated Ennoian warlord, while Tharok is a mystery. I might be a fool, but I'm not so foolish as to think that swapping out one set of Ennoian overseers for another will make that much of a difference."

  "And you think Tharok will be a gentle taskmaster?" Asho didn't even bother to put venom into his voice.

  "We mean to leave Bythos, Asho." Mikho leaned forward, eyes glittering. "It is an old dream of mine: to leave the Empire altogether and strike out into the land of the kragh. There's true freedom there. True independence. We can form a city state of our own, where none will lead us but ourselves. Shaya tells me the land of the kragh is as broad and far-ranging as the Ennoian mainland itself. We shall find our corner there and begin anew."

  "And, let me guess." Asho had to struggle with the appeal of that vision. "You are going to humbly suggest yourself as a candidate for our first benign ruler?"

  Mikho's eyes half-closed and he leaned back, his expression hardening. "Your cynicism speaks volumes. Clearly, you have no depth of feeling or appreciation for the wonders we are about to discover."

  "You're right. I have grown cynical," said Asho. "How many of our people have agreed to this plan? How many have signed on to this exodus?"

  Mikho's smile was as cutting as a knife. "That is what leadership is for, Asho. To show others the best way forward into the future."

  "Don't trust this man, Shaya." Asho looked at his sister, ignoring Mikho. "He'll use you and then toss you aside."

  Shaya's expression was guarded. "I'm not so easy to use, brother. I can take care of myself."

  Asho nodded. "Well, it looks like there's nothing more to be done here."

  "Asho." Shaya stepped forward and took his hand. "We can work together on this. We can free our people together. I remember how cold and distant Lady Kyferin was when we were children at her castle. How she never stepped in to stop the abuse. Why are you so loyal to her? Why do you choose her over your own sister?"

  Asho hesitated as old memories came roaring back, and with them that old pain, that wounded anger. He took a breath, composed himself, and then took Shaya's hand in both of his. "You're right. Even a year ago, I wouldn't have fought for her like this. But Enderl's death changed everything. It changed me, it changed her, it changed our world. We've all suffered, but in that suffering, we've discovered our true selves. I'm a knight, Shaya." He smiled. "Not like the Black Wolves or Ser Wyland, but in here, in my heart, it means something. It means I'm willing to die for what I believe is right. Lady Kyferin has justified that loyalty by having the same values."

  A deep frustration rose within him, a desire to share all of his adventures with her, to talk of demon armies and ruined castles, the Black Gate and Kethe's speech to the castle folk, about the way Kethe had looked at him, and the Agerastian Empire.

  Instead, he sighed. "I love you, little sister. But we're on different paths. You won't betray Tharok, and I won't betray Iskra. I don't know how this will play out, but even if we end up completely opposed, I'm happy you're here. I'm happy you're free. It's good to see you again."

  Tears filled Shaya's eyes, and for a moment she looked like her old self. She stepped into his arms and he squeezed her tight,
cheek pressed against her hair, like he'd wished he could through all the long years she had been gone. He wanted to tell her so much, to share how her memory had kept him strong, had kept him from being swept away by bitterness and rage, but he could feel Mikho's eyes on them, could see Nok out of the corner of his eye.

  So he pulled back and smiled sadly at her. "Goodbye, Shaya."

  Pain wavered in her eyes like a solitary tongue of flame. "Goodbye, Asho."

  "Kanna," said Mikho. "You know the way out, don't you? Please escort Asho out. I've much to discuss with my guests."

  Kanna pushed off the wall. "I'm not your servant, Mikho."

  "But you'll do what you're told, regardless. Now, go." Mikho waved his hand dismissively and turned to Shaya.

  Asho resisted the impulse to seize Mikho by the front of his shirt and instead walked past him, nodding to Kanna, and out into the hall. He felt numb and exhausted, but filled with a bittersweet sadness. As he followed Kanna's lithe form through the complex, he marveled at how his little sister had grown. Gone was the waif with a mop of pale hair and big solemn eyes, her mouth always closed unless they were alone, at which point she'd ask him a hundred questions. Gone was the meek girl who had bowed her head whenever she was yelled at in the Kyferin kitchen, the girl who had fled Enderl's home before she grew old enough to attract a completely different kind of abuse.

  Their parents would be so proud of her. Asho realized with a start that he was overflowing with pride himself; he might disagree completely with the path she had taken, with her allies and her goals, but he could see the goodness in her eyes, see his little sister within this determined and fierce young woman.

  The path ahead of him suddenly burst into a field of white light tinged with gold as he fell forward, pain erupting in his head. Before he had a chance to recover, a foot caught him in the ribs and knocked him onto his side.

  Gasping, blinking over and over in an attempt to clear his vision, he looked up and saw Batou holding his stone-notched club. "Thought you'd just walk on out of here, did you?" Batou grunted.