“Me!” Keltheryl burst through the door. He elaborately bowed, hand fluttering to the side as he bent over. “Applause, hurrahs, and cheers.”
A beat of disapproving silence trailed the man’s entrance.
“Who are you?” Eledis asked.
“Keltheryl! Pleased to meet you!” The man bobbed again.
“I know that,” Eledis said. “I’m asking why you, of all people, should take such a significant role in this proposed battle.”
“Oh!” Keltheryl exclaimed. “Raimie, do you want to answer the question?”
Collapsing into the chair he’d recently vacated, he kicked his foot against the floor. Raimie made a face which made the boisterous, young man opposite him grin even wider.
“Khel’s killed Enforcers in the past,” Raimie explained. “He should be able to do it again with ease.”
“Really?” Riadur rolled his eyes. “Where did you find this man who’s accomplished the impossible?”
“First of all, I’ve killed an Enforcer before so obviously, the task isn’t impossible,” Raimie snapped. “And I didn’t find him. He found me, but must we discuss Keltheryl’s origins? I trust him, and that should be enough for you.”
The kid was beginning to lose his temper. Best to step in before he showed up.
“What about the other half of the team?” Eledis interjected, steering the conversation toward a subject both more productive and less perilous.
“They’ll advance on the Birthing Grounds’ center where Doldimar creates his Kiraak,” Raimie answered.
“You’d send your men into a hive of those monsters?!” Riadur squeaked.
“Who will lead that unfortunate group of soldiers?” Kylorian asked on the heels of his father’s question.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Raimie asked
“Honestly, no,” Kylorian answered.
Several other people around the table murmured agreements.
“Oh, for the love of-” Raimie pinched his nose. “Me. I’ll lead that half.”
Eledis smiled. At this rate, the kid would get himself killed which, while supremely tragic, would significantly further his goals. He hadn’t wanted Raimie’s death to happen so soon or, truthfully, at all, but such a serendipitous opportunity couldn’t be passed over.
“You want to lead the charge again?” Aramar asked. “Put yourself in real and immediate danger again?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Alouin, Raimie, why do you keep doing this?!” Aramar shouted, his palm smacking his chair’s armrest. “You’re the only hope we have to defeat Doldimar, and you court death with your every choice!”
“I can’t help it I’m the only one with the skill set necessary to accomplish my goals!” Raimie yelled.
“Which are?” Kylorian cut in, and Eledis silently blessed the boy.
Raimie rounded on him, ready to tear into Kylorian, but he must have seen something in the other boy to pacify him because he released a long breath.
“In this case, I want to convert the Kiraak to their natural state,” he answered.
“How?!” The question burst from multiple lips.
“The process is simple enough,” Raimie shrugged. “It’s the opposite of what’s done to create them. Carefully draw Corruption from under their skin and dissipate it once it’s free. It takes time for the afflicted man or woman to act human once more, but the conversion is feasible. At least, it was possible for the small group on whom I’ve attempted it.”
“That implies an ability to control Corruption,” Riadur rumbled. “Isn’t that something associated with primeancers, more specifically those who use the dark power?”
“Daevetch.” Raimie nodded. “That’s why I must lead the second half of the team. I’d rather give the Kiraak their lives back than wipe them out.”
“But-” Riadur broke off, troubled.
“I don’t know about this,” Aramar mumbled, oblivious to Riadur’s confusion.
“I like the plan!” Kylorian exclaimed. “Though I’d make a suggestion.”
“What’s that?”
“Put me on your team with Keltheryl. I’ve fought Enforcers before-”
Riadur snorted, his son’s assertion breaking his befuddlement. “More run like a girl from them.”
Both Eledis and Kylorian tensed, but the younger man merely responded in an even tone to his father’s statement.
“I wasn’t about to risk my men in an impossible fight, and I didn’t think wasting my life a fantastic idea either. Of course, we retreated from Betlisa when we could! You certainly seemed content with my decision at the time!” Kylorian turned to Raimie. “I’ve at least plenty of experience fighting Kiraak. You say you want to save them, but the crazy bastards won’t be obliging enough to lay down arms and line up for your ministrations. I can watch Keltheryl’s back while he dispatches the Enforcers.”
“You’ll do no such thing! Your purpose is to follow my orders! You’re not to volunteer your services, especially not to him! Do as you’re told, boy!” Riadur shouted, raising a hand as if to strike Kylorian.
It was a nightmare come to life. The past superimposed the present, and Eledis’ father violently beat his younger brother for a perceived failing.
“Leave ‘bailie alone!” he yelled.
Riadur’s eyes snapped to him, and Eledis realized his protest had been audible and that he’d risen to his feet. Eyes quizzically bored into him, and he bowed beneath the weight of his discomfiture. At least his actions had stopped Riadur from committing an act he’d regret.
“Apologies,” he mumbled, sinking into his chair.
“You’re drunk, Dury,” Kylorian whispered, posture ramrod straight. “I didn’t plan to say anything, but your behavior is getting out of hand. Sit down and stay quiet so you don’t embarrass us further.”
Riadur blanched, but instead of returning to his seat, he left the room as if in a daze. The door swung shut behind him, and the room’s occupants politely averted their gaze from Kylorian, discomfort plain from their shoulders’ set.
“Thank you, Eledis,” Kylorian eventually said, his face once more controlled into a mask of impassivity, “although I believe you may have mistaken my name.”
“You’re right. I apologize,” Eledis replied with chagrin.
The past hadn’t come to haunt him in years. He’d gotten out of practice with ignoring it.
Nodding acceptance of the apology, Kylorian again turned to Raimie. “My offer stands. Would you like my help?”
“Khel?” Raimie asked.
“I don’t see what harm he could do,” Keltheryl replied. “Welcome aboard, Ky!”
“Thank you. I look forward to lending you my sword.”
“Is there anything I’ve forgotten?” Raimie asked the boisterous man he’d chosen to lead half his saboteur team.
“You’ve covered everything, my friend, but they might have questions for you. Find out maybe?”
Eledis frowned. Such familiarity shouldn’t exist between two people who could only have known each other a few weeks, and the way they acted around one another was an echo of a relationship he'd thought concluded. It couldn’t be, could it?
No! Kheled had always been reserved, almost haughty, whereas this Keltheryl was energetic and down to earth. Their personalities couldn’t be more opposite.
On top of that, the difference in appearance was startling. Eledis knew Esela could shape change, but he didn’t think Kheled had possessed the balls necessary to take on human form. Additionally, such a shape change supposedly required intense effort and force of will. No Esela could maintain it for more than a day straight.
And there were the testimonies. At least a dozen men and women would swear on whatever they considered most sacred that they’d seen Kheled’s corpse in Da’kul. Eledis’ creeping suspicion was unfounded, no matter how uncannily similar the two’s interactions might seem.
He listened in on the conversation once more. Not many questions must have come up because the meeting appeared
to be wrapping up.
“…anyone objects, I’ll put the plan in motion,” Raimie announced.
All eyes turned to Eledis, and he snorted. Why did they rely on him to oppose the kid? It was irritating, especially because, in this case, he rather liked Raimie’s scheme.
Now that they had a foothold in Auden, they’d want to destroy Doldimar’s military and economic infrastructure. Yes, preserving portions of that infrastructure would also be a priority, but he couldn’t see them using Kiraak at any point in the future.
Even if Raimie had been willing to use his magic to place ordinary men and women under his thumb, Eledis would have fiercely opposed it. They needed the common man’s support in the coming months and years, and one surefire way to destroy that goodwill was to use something as unnatural as Kiraak to accomplish their goals. Raimie already teetered the line with his primeancy. No need to add to the uncertainty surrounding him.
“When do we march?” Eledis asked.
“We?” Raimie’s face crinkled with confusion. “Eledis, you’re to stay in Tiro. You didn’t hear me say that?”
“I can fight as well as you, grandson!”
How dare he-?
“I know,” Raimie nodded, “but you’re much better at logistics and long-term plans. Look at the army you raised within Queen Kaedesa’s ranks while waiting for me! I need you to coordinate with Riadur and Gistrick. I’m hoping the three of you will have composed several step by step processes for how to seize Uduli once I return.”
Huh. The kid had improved upon his ability to use his people in a way which maximized resources, and he’d made Eledis’ omission from the coming battle seem a compliment. How surprising.
It wasn’t as if Eledis had wanted to participate. He’d fight when necessary but would much rather leave the distasteful activity to soldiers who’d volunteered to die, seeing no need to risk his own life when someone else would do it for him. He couldn’t, however, allow the relief he felt to show at the moment.
“Fine.” He grimaced.
“Oswin, make sure any further messages or reports from the Hand go to my grandfather,” Raimie instructed his bodyguard.
“Sir…” Oswin began.
“I’ll read them too! When I get back.” Raimie made a face. “Happy?”
“Actually, sir, I meant ask if I’m accompanying you on your fool quest this time.”
“Oh. Why wouldn’t you? Unless you must personally be here to transfer reports, I wanted you with me. Is that not acceptable?” Raimie asked.
“It is, Your Majesty.” Oswin’s lips curled.
Eledis rolled his eyes. Such disrespect! He should have come to expect it from the spymaster by now, but somehow, the man’s familiarity with Raimie found a way to surprise him at the most unexpected of times.
“Good! That’s everything, people!” Raimie declared. “We’ll move out as soon as preparations are complete.”
He and Oswin swept from the room with Kylorian and Keltheryl following, leaving Aramar and Marcuset alone with Eledis.
“You’re sure it’s a good idea to put him in danger like this?” the cripple asked. “Nylion emerges when Raimie’s threatened, whether in actuality or perceived.”
“And none of us will be with Raimie to contain him if the violent, little bugger emerges,” Marcuset continued. “Nylion always liked me best, so I might be able to minimize the destruction he’ll unleash upon his release. During the coming battle, however, I’ll be in Raimie’s vicinity but definitely not close enough to help.”
“We don’t have cause for concern as of yet,” Eledis assured them. “Some parts of the spell must cling to Raimie, otherwise, he’d have murdered us in our sleep by now. If Nylion approaches any of us, that’s when we should restrict Raimie’s activities. In the meantime, let’s take full advantage of his unique abilities, yes?”’
They both looked unsure, and while Eledis had grown accustomed to that from the cripple, to see it from his friend was disconcerting.
“You disagree?”
“No, only…” Marcuset sighed. “Raimie’s a good kid, better than most who’ve arisen from your family line, and he’ll make a magnificent king someday. I know the prospect makes you unhappy because you want the throne for yourself, but you need to think about Auden’s people, not what you desire, for once, my friend.
“Raimie has the potential to become one of the greatest rulers Auden has ever seen if he’s allowed the chance, but if the spell ever frees Nylion… I believe it’s safe to say unpredictability isn’t a desired quality in a king. Forgive me if I’m wary.”
Marcuset’s total confidence in the kid only hurt to a trivial degree. Eledis’ friend let passion rule his life, and since Raimie had displayed characteristics Marcuset associated with nobility, he latched onto the kid as the next king. He didn’t understand that sometimes nobility wasn’t sufficient for running a kingdom, and he never would. His naivety was acceptable so long as Eledis was around to remind him of real life, a situation unlikely to change anytime soon. For now, his friend required assurances the Nylion situation was under control.
“I understand, but I promise you there’s no cause for concern yet, and if there ever is one, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
“Just try to remember Raimie’s family, Eledis,” Aramar growled.
“I will.” Not that the fact would change what they’d eventually need to do. “Now, we have busy days ahead of us. Shall we tackle them?”
* * *
A week passed in a blur of activity. A flurry of messages flew between Tiro and Da’kul as the residents of the town and fort prepared for their new siege machines’ transport. Two days ago, Marcuset had led the army from Tiro to meet the parade of trebuchets and catapults rolling from the fort.
Raimie and his saboteur team would depart for the Birthing Grounds in the next several hours, hopefully to arrive at their destination soon after the bombardment began. Eledis supposed he should see them off, but he couldn’t be bothered.
The kid had provided a unique challenge for him. He wanted Uduli captured in the next six months before Tiro’s limited resources failed and they were forced to raid towns for food.
A sneer pulling at Eledis’ mouth. Such weakness. These people were the subjects of the rightful Audish king. Their food technically belonged to the one with a legitimate claim to the throne, but Raimie insisted on letting these peasants keep something which wasn’t theirs.
No matter. Eledis could determine a way to end this war in half a year. Ignore the enemy’s overwhelming numbers. Ignore Uduli’s impregnability when sufficient defenders manned its wall. The old man would fix these problems by himself.
A knock sounded on his door.
“WHAT?!” he shouted.
A messenger hesitantly stepped inside. “I’ve a report for you, sir,” the man rasped. “It’s from Thumb. He’s-”
“Give it here.” Impatiently snatching the proffered parchment, Eledis scanned it. “Shit!”
“What is it, sir?” the messenger asked.
“I need to speak with Raimie. Where is he?”
“On his way to the Birthing Grounds, sir. He left a few hours ago.” Concern lapped the messenger’s composure. “What’s the problem?”
Eledis had no obligation to answer. The man was simply a messenger, after all, but panic forced the words from him.
“Oh, nothing too serious,” he = responded. “Just news that a fleet of warships has weighed anchor at a nearby port. They’re offloading troops, and Thumb believes their destination may be Tiro.”
“Shit…”
“Indeed. We’re screwed.”
Chapter Eight
The line advanced at a ridiculously slow pace, one which was clearly beginning to wear on the nerves of the people around Thumb. A fight broke out several places in front of him, and he smiled. Human nature was wonderfully predictable.
Thumb considered breaking up the fight, but doing so might attract the Conscripted’s attention, something he w
ished to avoid. He planned to ignore the two men arguing, but when one of them reached for the dagger at his belt, Thumb found himself beside them, one hand twisting the assailant’s wrist, the other on his sword’s hilt. The single point of contact was minute enough he could maintain it without his skin crawling.
“That’s rather rude, don’t you think?” he grumbled, his slow, relaxed tone at odds with his aggressive stance.
The assailant merely hissed in pain.
“What seems to be the problem?” Thumb asked.
The intended victim shakily pointed a finger at his assailant. “He said I tried to cut in line, but I did no such thing! I only wanted to see how many people were in front of me!”
Thumb laughed. “Is that all? That’s no reason to draw a weapon. You should apologize.”
The assailant imperceptibly shook his head, and Thumb twisted harder.
“Apologize.”
“My apologies,” the assailant gasped, and Thumb dropped his grip.
“That’s what I thought. Now please, try to remain calm. Remember where you are and who’s watching.”
Crumpling on themselves, the two men shuffled into line, making not a single peep more. The Conscripted who’d quietly observed the altercation resumed their tasks, content to let supplicants work their problems out on their own.
Thumb could entirely characterize his visit to the port of Nephiron by predictability such as this. He’d left most of his gear outside the city gates, abandoning armor in favor of traditional clothing and carrying only a single sword with him. No one had protested the weapon in any of the other ramshackle towns he’d recently visited. In fact, remaining armed seemed to be actively encouraged. The strong were the ones who survived in Auden, after all.
Nephiron could be a copy of Sev, the famous port city across the sea, minus the extreme poverty and location on a cliff.
People crowded the streets, going about their business even if it was furtively. Thumb had never seen more frightened people than those who lived here. Even still, trade continued unabated. Markets occupied city squares, and criers on street corners attempted to attract customers to this shop carrying the best tackle for your horse or that one selling the finest of steel.
A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2) Page 13
