by David Wind
Exiling of mutated people was unheard of in Nevaeh, except for criminals; however, most physically mutated people went into self-exile rather than spend their lives being so physically different. Most exiles located their communities in the outer regions of the dominions, in the wastelands, and even the badlands bordering every domain. It was from this manner of Nevaen life, that Enaid and Enna drew a history for Roth.
The way the queen explained it, no one would ever question his background. The son of two self-exiles, born without any physical deformities except the paleness of his skin and the slight shortness of his height, Roth left his family in his formative years. He joined a band of Free-Blades as apprentice to the Weapons Master, an educated man who spent as much time on Roth’s intellectual education as on his weaponry. Over the years, as he grew, he mastered all the intricacies of being a Free-Blade and eventually took the leadership of a Free-Blade company.
Roth nodded, then smiled at Enaid. “I like Nosaj, he is—”
“—solid,” Enaid finished.
Roth cocked his head to the side. “Exactly.”
“Can we then proceed to the dining hall before my stomach decides my backbone is dinner?”
“Yes, Princess,” he replied in his most obsequious tone.
<><><>
Four hours later, Roth, Ecorah, Darb and Nosaj sat in the king’s study. Murals decorated the walls, while animal hides littered the floor, half of which, Roth could not identify.
Listening to the conversation floating around him, Roth joined in occasionally, but his mind was on the coming days. When the talk turned to strategy for the upcoming battles, Nosaj turned to Roth. “Tell me why you believe splitting the forces is to our advantage?”
Roth clasped his hands together, leaned forward, and rested his forearms on his thighs. He met Nosaj’s eyes openly. “To do anything less without absolute proof that Morvene’s full force is coming from only one direction, would be a mistake.”
The young prince rubbed his chin absently. “If Llawnroc has indeed joined Morvene as reported, the amount of warriors they bring could be devastating without every fighter we have present.”
“Prince Nosaj, if I led the fight against Brumwall, I would strike from no less than three locations. By doing so, I divide the forces against me and once divided, my superior force should overrun the defenders.” Roth paused as an old cliché popped up. Latching onto it, he twisted it to fit the situation while maintaining the illusion of being a Nevaen. “In my…apprenticeship to the Free-Blade Weapons Master, I learned a saying: ‘to defeat an enemy, one must divide to conquer’.”
“It makes sense, yet it is not a concept I have ever considered, nor anyone else I know of. What makes you believe Morvene will use these tactics?”
“Because it is not Morvene’s king, nor Llawnroc’s. It is…what did you call her?” he asked Darb.
“She is known as the Black Sorceress,” Darb said. “But to me, she is the black bitch.”
Roth turned back to Nosaj. “This sorceress is in control. What certainty is there that she will play by your rules?” Roth exhaled loudly. He stopped Nosaj from replying by saying, “The question is rhetorical. We all know the answer, Prince Nosaj. And from what I know of this black hearted sorceress, she is an expert at dividing Nevaens.”
Nosaj looked from Roth to his hosts. “And thus the use of Inaria’s aoutem. Now I understand Enaid’s request for us to come now. If all goes well, we will discover their plans.”
“It is what we hope.”
“And now I make my evening rounds. Darb?”
The King stood and his son rose as well. Then Ecorah paused. “There may be a problem. It has been two days since Namor received any messages from Morvene.”
When they left the study, Nosaj stood. “Too much sitting after two days on the back of a Kraal. I need to move. Join me, Roth?”
Standing and stretching, Roth followed Nosaj from the study. In the central courtyard, Nosaj walked slowly, Roth at his side. “I’ve been told you are different from most Free-Blades. You treat your men with respect, and ask of them only what you would do yourself.”
The corners of Roth’s mouth curved slightly up as he held back a laugh. “Is that a question, Prince Nosaj?”
“Please, call me Nosaj. You will soon be part of the royal family, there is no need for formality between us. It was both statement and a question. Do your men respond well to this manner of authority?”
“With much more eagerness than if I imposed my will on them. I am not their king, and they are not my subjects; rather, they are Free-Blades, which by its essence means they are free to choose whom they follow. When I fight, I want to know my back is well protected by loyalty and trust, and no other reason.”
“This is wise,” Prince Nosaj responded.
When Enaid’s gorlon, Regit, appeared before them, conversation stopped. Regit let out a soft growl, turned and started away. It stopped three steps later to look back at the two men.
“I assume this means we’re being summoned,” Nosaj remarked, looking at Roth with raised eyebrows.
“One would think.”
Both men looked up to the ramparts and saw the outlines of two heads against the background of sky and stars. “Shall we?” Roth asked.
Five minutes later, Roth and Nosaj stood on the millennium-old stones of the parapet walkway, talking with Enaid and Inaria. The sky above them was cloudless; the stars spread out not unlike the sparkling facets of an infinite number of jewels.
“I sent Syntha to Morvene’s capital, Troit. She will scout for us,” Inaria stated.
“The aoutem should be able to locate my father’s spy.”
“I would advise against direct contact,” Roth offered.
“Syntha will fly. Joined with my aoutem, I will be our eyes. Through Syntha, I will be able to locate our woman.”
“When does she reach Troit?”
“Troit is a three day ride from here, or two days using the ferry to cross the Northern Lake, but Syntha will be there before daybreak.”
“We should be together when that happens,” Roth suggested.
Inaria looked from Roth to Nosaj and then Enaid before speaking. “In the courtyard before sunrise.”
A strange feeling caught Roth, like a dark brush flicking across his eyes. He shook his head, and grabbed onto the stone of the balustrade to steady himself. The feeling was not new. He had been through it several times before and it always heralded something bad.
“What?” Enaid asked, stepping close to him and covering his hand with hers.
He shook his head. “A strange sensation. I’m not sure what it was.”
Inaria moved closer to Enaid. “You seemed dizzy. And now?”
Roth shrugged. “Fine.”
Inaria and Enaid traded glances. Then Enaid said, “We meet an hour before sunrise, at the fountain.”
“We should get some rest,” Nosaj suggested to his wife. A moment later, their goodnights done, Enaid and Roth found themselves alone on the parapets.
Enaid leaned against the stone. “Tell me what happened.”
Roth exhaled softly. “It’s hard to describe.” He detailed the feeling, and explained how this sensation usually heralded something bad.
“Intuition is strong in you, my love. I have known so since I saw how you fought. There were many times you anticipated your opponent before he moved against you. Tonight the feeling was stronger, more forceful, yes?”
When Roth nodded, Enaid stroked his cheek, as she was wont to do. “When the time is right, we will know what your intuition is warning you about.”
He gazed at her for a moment. “Hopefully before anything happens.”
<><><>
The sickle moon was gone from the sky, leaving only a blanket of stars to give light. Dawn had not yet begun to rise when Nosaj and Inaria entered the courtyard and walked to the fountain where Roth and Enaid sat.
“Did you sleep well?” Inaria asked when they reached the benches
surrounding the fountain.
Enaid shook her head. “We slept not, we had much to discuss.”
“Syntha is flying the boundaries of Troit. Llawnroc’s forces are indeed there, camped in the fields outside the walls of the keep. Perhaps a thousand and a half strong.”
“Morvene’s troops?” Roth asked.
Inaria closed her eyes. Everyone remained silent for several minutes. When she opened her eyes, the green of her irises were darker. “There are two thousand, maybe more.”
“And my father’s spy?”
“Not yet. We search.” Inaria closed her eyes.
Bending close to Enaid, Roth whispered, “This must be what I felt last night. Something is wrong.”
Inaria’s eyes snapped open. She turned to Enaid. “She is in the main keep, but there is a powerful block set around the keep. Join with me.”
Enaid reached out, took both of Inaria’s hands in hers, and closed her eyes.
Observing the scene with only the aid of a few remaining stars, Roth watched as both women, their eyes closed, appeared to stop breathing. Powerless, he continued to stare at them as they worked their magic. His feeling of wrongness grew stronger.
Suddenly, and at the same instant, both women gasped deeply and opened their eyes. Enaid shook her head as she released Inaria’s hands.
“This bodes nothing good.” She turned to where Roth and Nosaj stood. “She is being held prisoner within. And, she is there as well, the Black One. She keeps our woman blocked from all with abilities… She knows!”
“Is there nothing we can do?” Roth asked.
“Nothing,” Enaid and Inaria said at almost the same time.
“She is more powerful than we thought,” Enaid added.
Roth looked up at the sky, and at the now purple and deep pink rising in the east. “Can your aout…Syntha keep flying?”
Inaria nodded. “She is strong. What are you thinking?”
Roth waited a breath as he fleshed out the rising idea. “Can she fly in wide sweeps and give you a view of the entire area.”
“A traimore, like a treygone, depends on its eyesight for food and life. Their eyes are exceptional and they can see for very long distances.”
While the people of Nevaeh had no way to compare, Roth knew the traimore was the mutated descendant of a hawk, and a hawk’s eyes were as strong as eagles, the ancestor of the treygones.
“Can you ask Syntha to fly as high as she can and still see clearly? Then have her sweep the area in wide arcs toward the lake and Brumwall. Let us see if there are more troops gathered elsewhere.”
Inaria nodded and then sat on one of the benches. Closing her eyes again, she took several deep breaths and let herself fly with her aoutem. An hour later Inaria came out of her joining with Syntha. “There is an encampment on the upper northwestern edge of Morvene, at the top of the lake. There are many troops.”
Another quarter hour passed before Inaria spoke again. “There is another camp. This one with three companies of exiles and criminals. There are many boats.”
“Where are they?”
Everyone fell silent while Inaria maintained her joining with the traimore. A few minutes later, she said, “Directly across from Troit. And they are preparing boats.”
Roth looked at Nosaj, and then at Enaid. “We need speak to your father and Darb. I know what they will be doing.”
“How?” Enaid asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t explain. I just know.”
Chapter 6
Solomon Roth sat astride his kraal, staring at the army massed below. Beside him, Enaid watched Llawnroc’s army preparing for battle. “Solomon, are you certain?”
“I am not wrong. If I am, then hope for Nevaeh’s future is lost,” Roth said, never taking his eyes from the three figures standing at the forefront of the army below. Turning in his saddle, he looked over Brumwall’s two thousand warriors, half waiting astride their mounts, the other half on foot, ready to charge down the hillside at his command.
While the troops massed behind him comprised the largest of Brumwall’s forces, two smaller armies stood at the ready as well. One waited twenty miles from Apolis, in the tall hills overlooking the Northern Lake. There, Nosaj, Inaria and two other women of power commanded Nosaj’s troops and three hundred of Brumwall’s. Inaria’s aoutem flew between their position, and Roth, and Enaid’s.
A second force, commanded by Prince Darb, and made up of three Free-Blade companies and one Brumwall company, waited in the hills above the upper tip of the lake, watching the small fleet of boats deliver the third arm of Morvene’s attack.
The shore at Darb and Nosaj’s sections was soaked with the tar oil used for thatching roofs. When dry, the tar oil became solid, and was not flammable. In its liquid state, the oil was a dormant inferno awaiting release. The moment the last of the opposing forces stood on the ground, the archers would release flaming arrows. Brumwall’s warriors would meet any who made it through.
Roth, with King Ecorah, readied the largest of Brumwall’s forces to face the main army of the enemy. Every man and woman in the ranks was there because they wanted to be there, not because their king forced them. Ecorah, King of Brumwall, sat astride his huge kraal to Roth’s left.
Queen Enna was next to him, her concentration fixed on the army below. “Olrac is caught in her castings. Facing him means facing her, to a degree,” Enna said, directing the statement to Roth.
“As it should be,” Roth said.
Enaid closed her eyes for a moment, while Enna shook her head. “She is powerful, more powerful than any other Afzaleem,” Brumwall’s queen warned him.
Roth, in the year and a half since returning to what had once been his world, still did not fully comprehend magic, but gained more knowledge daily into how women used their paranormal abilities. Still, the queen’s warning did not deter him from what he knew must happen.
“My Ladies,” he said, his eyes travelling from Enaid to Enna, returning to the woman who would one-day be his wife. “Only with your protection, will we take the day without bloodshed.”
“In order to defeat the young king of Llawnroc,” Ecorah said, “you must end Olrac’s life to sever the hold she has on him. When you do, you will create a legion of enemies from the other dominions.”
“My Lord…Father,” Enaid said, “Solomon, Mother, and I have discussed this. We believe we can sever the bond the Black Witch holds upon Olrac. All still depends on Olrac and the Afzaleem accepting the challenge. Olrac is larger, broader and believes himself a better fighter. Never having faced or seen Solomon in battle, he has no knowledge of his skills. And she will think herself more powerful than all of us, which is to our advantage.”
Ecorah shifted on the saddle, the kraal held still, bearing the large king’s weight easily. “Over the past months, Solomon Roth, I have come to hold you in high regard. You have shown me much, and taught my best warriors to be better. Although I disagree with this…plan of yours, I will allow it because my queen says it is the only way. If you fail, I will mourn your death.”
Roth edged his silver and blue kraal closer to Ecorah, and reached out with his right arm. The king smiled, grabbed his forearm as Roth did the same to the king, and said, “No one can say you do not have the courage of a madman. Then, again,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “if anyone heard the story of your life, they would consider you insane. So,” the king said with a laugh, “on with your mad plan!”
Releasing Ecorah’s arm, Roth turned to Enaid. “You are ready?”
Enaid’s face reflected unbridled concern, yet she nodded, and moved forward. Enna guided her kraal next to Enaid and the two women, princess and queen, started down toward the valley where the army of Llawnroc waited. At Roth’s signal, Navi, and ten of the company’s best warriors separated from the group and followed the two women.
He watched them ride toward what, he was certain, would be the only way to save Nevaeh from the dark forces holding it in thrall, and could n
ot help but settle his eyes on Enaid’s back and accept the wonder of his new life.
Then he laughed aloud. If I live.
The two women and the troops following them took a full seven minutes to get the bottom of the hill. Less than a minute later, Navi stood in his stirrups, twisting his torso toward Roth, and waved his arms in their prearranged signal.
Ecorah nodded slowly, his face stoic. “May your feet be swift, your sword true and your way safe,” Ecorah intoned in a warrior’s farewell to one who goes into danger.
Without looking either left or right, Roth prodded the kraal forward and started toward what could be his last moments on earth. He kept the kraal moving purposely slow, allowing the tension to build in the king waiting below.
He had spent hours, picking everyone’s brains about Olrac. How he fought, the manner in which he fought, and a sharp insight into the Morvenian king’s strengths and weakness. Namor had given him the best description of Olrac: ‘A mean fighter with has a tendency to attack and disregard defense. Overall, he’s a fierce fighter who gives no quarter.’
“I agree. Which I see as a weakness,” Darb had cut in. “I have seen you use this weakness to defeat others in order to teach them.”
Roth shook away the memory and concentrated on the man ahead. Olrac was a large man. Not as broad as others, but Roth could tell his strength by the way he sat on the kraal while wearing full battle armor. Olrac would be a dangerous opponent. But then, this king did not know Roth.
Roth studied the king carefully, noting that the longer he took, the more the man grew restless, shifting on the kraal, and looking at his sorceress who stood at the forefront of the army lined behind him. Both Queen Enna, and Enaid sat absolutely still, waiting patiently for his arrival. Enaid’s Gorlon lay at the Kraal’s feet, seemingly indifferent to the goings on. Roth knew it was far from reality.
