by Terah Edun
They didn’t need to know, Thanar answered her in a chiding tone. It helps that they are only learning about the ongoing strife with the imperial family’s quarters only after it was permanently settled. They have no ability to take sides.
That’s some strife, Ciardis scoffed. You make it sound like two siblings squabbling over a set of toys.
What is an empire now and forever ruled by one bloodline if not a toy? Thanar retorted.
She bit her lip, but she didn’t have a rebuttal.
Not when he was right.
The people around them seemed to take the gesture as a signal to speak up, not about whatever it was that she and Thanar were discussing, but what was on their own minds.
The leader of the kith spoke up with a soft growl. “We must take on the goddess and her armies. It would be a fatal mistake to focus on one and ignore the other.”
Ciardis saw Sebastian nod out of the corner of her eye.
“He’s right,” the prince heir said.
“What do we know about the armies?” the sergeant-at-arms from yesterday said while stepping forward confidently. “We have their location but not their end goal. What’s their target? When do they finally arise and leave that barren wasteland they’ve been amassing in for years?”
There were stirs amongst the room, and then someone cursed and muttered, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this.”
Before Ciardis could search for who had spoken, a minor noble stood and looked straight at the head of the table. “Now that we know these…myths and legends surrounding the return of the blutgott and her army are more than just that, perhaps what the Emperor did in the North wasn’t unwarranted.”
Sebastian cleared his throat with a hard look in his eyes. “Those actions had less to do with the security of our borders and more with an aggregation of power to the throne, but that isn’t here or there right now. We know where the armies are now, and about their ties to Amani, so we will deal with the goddess’s forces as we would any enemy combatants.”
Apparently a strong, wide-boned woman thought the same, because she gave him a nod of acknowledgment as she said, “A sitting army is an easy target. We hit them with a battalion of forces and wipe them out before they ever become a problem we need to deal with.”
Ciardis looked around the room at the rest of the conclave, judging their reactions. None of them looked too shocked at the words. Even the ones who’d be inclined to protest about deception. Ciardis Weathervane had the feeling that their reticence had gone right out the window after the goddess had shown up and proven to them just how foolish they had been.
We owe her thanks at the very least for that. We never would have gotten them to cooperate under pressure otherwise, she thought.
It was both a bittersweet and amusing revelation to Ciardis Weathervane.
Ciardis readdressed what she knew of these nobles and merchants. They were the most powerful and wealthy people in the land, and perhaps not as blindsided as she had first thought. Which led her to believe that either the Emperor hadn’t been as solitary an actor as they first thought, or that the conclave members had access to intelligence that rivaled the Emperor’s own.
Either possibility was disturbing.
“Those soldiers are frozen in that valley,” the woman said. “And we had no indication that they ever planned to leave. But now that we know that this is not only a possibility but a probability, well then, we must act.”
There were murmurs of consent all around the table.
Ciardis wanted to castigate them for waiting so long to speak up, but, well, she’d take affirmations where she could get them.
“Well then, there are two questions here, milady,” Thanar said in a satisfied voice.
The woman turned to focus her entire gaze on the daemoni prince. Ciardis wasn’t the subject of her piercing look, but even she wanted to quail under that resolute gaze. Thanar, being Thanar, didn’t even flinch.
“And those are?” asked the woman.
Thanar smiled. “How do we defeat a deity? And how do we defeat a goddess’s army?”
The woman smiled back. “And I suppose you have the answers, dark mage.”
Thanar hummed. “Well, I think we’re very close to an answer to both.”
Sebastian broke the silence that fell as he said, “Well, this is where we stand. We know that thousands upon thousands of soldiers will pour through the gates of Ban at the same time the goddess will return—it’d make no sense for Amani to not use them synchronously, after all. It also would be a fool’s errand not to prepare for the bodies who will break through those gates. Bodies who will kill and slaughter indiscriminately as they cut a swathe through the land.”
“So what do you suggest, Sire?” asked a calm noble. His demeanor wasn’t challenging. It was inquisitive.
Sebastian leaned forward and looked down at the table. After a moment, he raised his head. “My triumvirate and I can’t afford a battle on two fronts. Especially when we can’t even see the second opponent. Or know where we need to strike.”
There were murmurs around the table, but no one contradicted him.
“So we’ll send the sergeant-at-arms to bring the battle to the legions in the North,” Sebastian said firmly. “And from here we’ll strike out with a third of our best mages to battle the goddess. If we can find a way to isolate her, with the Collar of Diamis if possible, even better.”
“Assuming this collar can found,” muttered a noble.
Since Ciardis agreed with the comment she didn’t bother trying to reprimand the mutterer, besides she personally thought that Sebastian’s plan was a bit shortsighted. But the majority of the nobles and merchants, even the kith, around the table were nodding in acknowledgment. Some even thumped the table with splayed hands in consent.
To them, the soldiers were the greater threat, because they were threat they could see. What was more, the soldiers coming through the gates of Ban represented a clear and present danger to the livelihoods of everyone in the room.
They want to defend their homes and their lands more than they want to defend a capital and a bloodline, she realized.
It is a reasonable desire, Thanar said blithely.
They have seen that the goddess is the greater threat. How could they even justify this? she countered.
Defeating Amani and coming back to a land that has been wiped from the face of the earth is no-win in their eyes, Thanar told her somberly. And to be honest, neither is it in mine.
Ciardis said, If the goddess isn’t defeated, if we don’t save Sandrin, the entire empire is forfeit.
Thanar murmured, Maybe. Maybe not. The Emperor is the land. The land is the empire. Who says the Emperor has to rule from Sandrin?
You want Sebastian to flee, Ciardis said, horrified.
No one’s fleeing, said the prince heir firmly before Thanar could respond. Least of all me. But I agree with Thanar: maybe we need to change our tactics and make this battlefield the place of our choices, not just the goddess’s convenience.
Ciardis was silent for a moment. What did you have in mind?
Instead of speaking to the triumvirate mind-to-mind, the prince heir addressed the conclave. “What say we pick our own fields to line with blood? What say you?”
His tone was defiant, and the conclave latched on to it in approval with the ferocity of wolves scenting blood.
They wanted a leader, and no matter how sensible the woman with the calm demeanor was or how strong the warrior lord was, their faith had always and would always be in the Algardis bloodline.
As it had been for centuries.
15
Rousing cheers erupted.
Ciardis had to give the conclave a small benefit of the doubt. As much as she would have wanted those cheers and that camaraderie from the moment Sebastian stepped forward as the Emperor-in-waiting, it felt a tiny bit more satisfying to know he was earning their loyalty. More than his predecessor had, perhaps even more than his own father. If Seb
astian could secure his reign with the hearts and minds of his people, then their loyalty would be without question. And whether she liked it or not, whether she’d prefer a more “dull” entry to rule or not, this was the true test of the start of his reign…defeating a god, knitting together an empire, all while facing down charges of regicide. If he came through this whole, Ciardis Weathervane had no doubt that Sebastian Athanos Algardis could withstand anything.
As the cheers died down, Sebastian stirred and said reluctantly, “Right now we only know when the goddess will strike. We don’t even know where, so cheers are premature, but—”
“Sire, if I may?” said a small voice. “You’re right. We should choose our own place of advantage. One that gives us strength in this battle.”
Ciardis said, “Yes, but where can we fight against hordes from the North and the immaterial presence of a goddess bent on testing us? What area would possibly give us a vantage point against a deity?”
There were shrugs around the room.
“Perhaps our little missing friend could tell us that,” whispered Thanar.
“Who?” Ciardis whispered back.
“Seven,” Sebastian said flatly.
“Oh.” To tell the truth, Ciardis had forgotten all about the turd weasel who had been one of the last of the Emperor’s minions they had had to face. With Maradian’s death, he had disappeared into the winds. Normally she wouldn’t care to track him down, but unfortunately Seven had the collar about his neck when he had done so. A collar, which according to legends, they needed to use to slay the blutgott.
“If we don’t know where and when, and we have advantage,” the woman who had spoken before said thoughtfully, “perhaps we could work off what would be the most logical next step for them.”
“Go on,” said Sebastian with heavy urgency.
She paused and then continued. “The soldiers will be sent en masse. After all, as of now they have no reason to split off their regiments to attack at multiple points. There’s no one ready to oppose them, and they should know that.”
“Yes. Then where would they go?” Sebastian asked, rubbing his face tiredly.
“To here, Sire,” said the warrior noble, who had managed to move to a place near the head of the table. “If they can cut us off and run the vestiges of the great empire into the sea, then I would see no better victory.”
“Vestiges, my lord, how dare you!” a noble cried.
The warrior lord gave him a dry look. “What else would you call an empire so fractured that it seems the internal parties are at war with themselves, and no one has mustered a defense?”
“At least it’s not as bad as it was during the mages’ time,” a scholarly man muttered. “Those battles were so entrenched, we still have the break lines in place to this day.”
Ciardis thought about what he’d said, tuning out Sebastian’s thoughtful conversation with the warrior lord with an impatient wave of her hand.
Those surrounding her apparently saw that as a request for redirected attention.
“Tell us more about these entrenched lines,” Ciardis demanded eagerly. It was the barest hint of an idea but it was there.
The surrounding conclave members all stopped talking and turned to look at one of the scholarly gentlemen who was doing his best to disappear into the hemline of his collar.
“Ciardis?” Sebastian asked uncertainly.
She waved her hand at him and absentmindedly shushed him, not paying anyone else the least bit of mind.
“They’re break lines,” he barely managed to squeak out.
Insistently she looked at the scholar as she said, “Break lines? That’s a start. Where? How? What lines?”
The man blanched and fumbled with a pocket watch attached to his doublet.
“Nothing, Your Imperial Highness,” he managed to say quickly. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”
“No,” countered Ciardis. “You know something!”
He seemed to be the only person who did. Fortunately she wasn’t the only person who thought enough of it to put him on the spot.
“Speak up, man!” snapped another noble. “If you have something to help us, then say so.”
This second scholar eyed the first with a pleading look, as if asking him to take over, but when the first shrugged helplessly, it was clear he was on his own. So this new scholar who had managed to grip the entirety of the room’s focus muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch, then raised his head and looked her in the eye. She had to give him credit for bravery there.
“The break lines are remnants of the Initiate Wars,” he said. “They were used to demarcate ley lines throughout the empire.”
At the look of incomprehension on multiple faces, he grimaced and explained quickly, “Ley lines act as storage for wells of power. Where they run closest to the surface, pockets of untapped power lie that can be used by mages to fight battles. The larger the ley line, the greater the reserves the mage will have to do their work.”
“And these ley lines,” another eager individual interjected, “they were used to fight back against the broken mages during the wars?”
“In a way,” the scholar said uncertainly, turning to look at his questioner.
“What way, man?” the warrior lord said, his tone flat and impatient. “Did the mages on the imperial family’s side build bigger weapons with them? Enhance their own gifts to win the war?”
“Yes, yes,” said a minor noble, who clearly thought they had just found the solution to defeat a deity’s army.
Though to Ciardis, the lines sounded less like an offensive strike measure than an old remnant of history the scholar wasn’t even sure could be useful.
The scholar squared his shoulders. “They weren’t used to enhance anything. The ley lines were turned into traps.”
A thousand voices erupted around the room in excitement, or at least it seemed like that many to Ciardis.
“Traps?” said the warrior lord, his tone enthusiastic now rather than that of straight frustration.
The scholar seemed to bloom a bit under the boisterous enthusiasm around the room, but Ciardis knew there was nothing to get excited about. Not yet.
They needed answers.
She shrugged out from under Thanar’s heavy-handed protection and neatly sidestepped Sebastian’s grab.
She made her way to the middle of the room and stepped up to the side of the table, where she found herself wedged between the warrior lord, who had moved with dexterity when she had, and the scholar himself.
He’s fast, Ciardis commented blithely to Sebastian and Thanar.
It was both a warning to them to stay back, and let her handle this, and an observation of someone who’d learned to recognize talent in many forms.
I would hope so, Sebastian grumbled back. He’s a descendant of the mage warrior clan.
Which one? Thanar idly asked.
She ignored the menace in his voice. He wanted her to come back, but she had no intentions of moving from her new perch.
Looking from warrior to scholar, Ciardis said with deliberate levity, “I do believe we may have inadvertently stumbled upon something that could help us.”
The scholar shrugged with an odd twitch. “It seems that could be, milady.”
“The question,” the warrior said in a voice with a smooth rumble, “is how do we use it to our advantage now?”
The triumvirate put their heads together, like so many others around the room, to deliberate on that matter.
Before long Sebastian cleared his throat heavily and announced from the center of the room, “Gentlemen. Ladies. If we could focus on the matter at hand?”
Excited conversations all around the room died down as people who had turned to converse with their nearby neighbors realized one of the triumvirate had disappeared from her place.
When frantic eyes searched the room and finally found her, Ciardis almost winked at them. The mixture of anxiety, surprise, and horror in their gazes from
thinking that she’d left or, worse, might have been behind them, was all too clear.
Ciardis thought, When did I become the nightmare they tell their children in low voices about?
And why? she wondered even more quietly.
Nevertheless, their fears regarding her were not the subject of this meeting. That would come later.
She turned to the sergeant-at-arms, who’d managed to ghost up to her as silently as a large predator cat. He actually reminded her of a certain nursemaid on the North battlefields with that same quality.
“So which of the great families do you hale from?” Ciardis asked in a voice as bright and cheery as she could manage. Which, for her, was pretty bright.
The warrior lord seemed taken aback that she was even speaking to him. But to his credit he quickly marshaled his thoughts and said, “The Fairchild Clan, milady.”
She tilted her head. Not coquettishly as she’d seen Lillian do as Serena a thousand times, but inquisitively.
The warrior lord of the Fairchild Clan responded to her interest with a brusque, “We have been warrior mages since before the time of the Initiate Wars, milady.”
“So then I assume you know your battlefields, milord?” Ciardis said. “Both tactics and playbooks?”
The man straightened in pride. “Inside and out.”
“But he’s not a strategist, Your Imperial Highness,” said the scholar, who seemed to have already faded back into the background conversation even though he’d been the star of the room just moments before.
Ciardis had the feeling he was flummoxed at the change. Even a bit displeased as surrounding nobles trying to get to Ciardis with their own ideas were subtlety edging him back into the crowd.
After all, the nobles seemed certain they didn’t need him anymore. Ciardis Weathervane knew otherwise.
