Hearts of Fire

by Michael Jason Brandt

  A new tempo meant new footwork. Summer looked down at their feet and placed her hands on his hips. She guided his movements, gently tracing a slow circle on the grassy earth until their positions were reversed from a moment earlier. His feet were used to the science of fighting, with its incessant forceful maneuvers. Thrust and move. Parry and move. Feint, slash, and move. Always moving. Even more so than with the previous song, this dancing felt uncomfortably deliberate, and instinct made his muscles impatient.

  Sensing his discomfort, Summer slipped her thin arms further around his waist, holding him tightly and securely. From the corner of his eye, Yohan saw Brody drape his arms around Meadow, who rested her head against his chest. Now Yohan did likewise to Summer, and she responded the same. He imagined he could feel her breathing, eyes closed in carefree complacence.

  He had needed a purpose. It was very comforting to know that he found one—to protect these people, and even to learn from them. He tightened his embrace of her slender shoulders, conveying an unspoken message of invulnerability. She sighed contentedly, a sound lovelier than the music.

  Chapter Six

  Neublusten

  NICO had not expected a hero’s welcome on his return to Neublusten, nor did he receive one. In fact, his return barely received any attention at all.

  Cormona after the battle had been a city on edge, waiting for the death or recovery of their beloved king. A city that wanted to celebrate victory, but could not. Before the battle it had been a city of worries, fearful of the possibility of defeat.

  Neublusten was different. This was a city in mourning, not only for their fallen prince but for themselves. Defeat was not a possibility—it had already come.

  If the residents even knew the younger prince was home, they clearly did not expect his presence to make any difference.

  Nowhere was the solemnity more apparent than in the barracks, which were not only morose but pitifully empty. Nico led the Princeshields into the military quarters with nary a comment from the few remaining troops stationed in the capital.

  The circumstances were even bleaker than he had expected, and he craved updates on the events past and present more than a good washing or meal. Fortunately, he had personal access to the best source.

  “Corporal Mickens, you will see to the supper and bunks for the company. Private Lima, please gather whatever news you can from anyone who remembers how to speak. Private Pim and I are going to have an audience with the king.”

  “Me, Commander?” Pim suddenly looked more frightened than he had before battle. “With the king?”

  “Indeed.” Nico set out, forcing the trooper to follow immediately to avoid insubordination.

  Outside the barracks, Nico reassured the young man. “Don’t worry, he won’t even notice you’re there. To my father, you’re beneath notice… Your pardons.”

  Pim shook his head, the prospect of being insignificant more a relief than an insult.

  As they entered the castle proper, one of the petty servants acknowledged the prince with a bow. It was the first sign of normalcy since their return, and Nico wished he could hug the man for it.

  Ascending the steps to the upper level, a palpable anxiety began to build. Exhaustion and hunger disappeared completely, replaced by apprehension at the imminent reunion. Audiences with King Hermann generally consisted less of conversation than confrontation. That his older brother had been the more suitable heir was the dominant dynamic between king and prince, father and son.

  A calming of the heart and mind was in order. Along the passage to the king’s chambers, Nico paused to peer out the broad windows on the scenic outlook. A fresh breeze blew in at the same moment, carrying the scents of pine and juniper from his father’s precious gardens. Nico soaked in sight and smell like meat and wine, then let out a contented sigh. “This view never fails to lift my spirits. What do you think, Pim?”

  “I never really thought about it.” He stood back from the window, as if worried he might fall out. Nico knew what the young man’s discomfort stemmed from, however. As a thrall, and a fieldthrall at that, he had probably never been in a castle like this, let alone so near the royal quarters. This world did not belong to him.

  Nico wanted to change that mindset, to convince the trooper that no one would accuse him of stealing just for looking out a window. The process would take time, however.

  No better opportunity to start than now.

  “Well, look at the lake. From here you can really see why it got its name.”

  “Why’s that, Commander?”

  “You don’t know the story?” Nico was surprised, having assumed every child of Akenberg learned this basic lesson, one of the few he had retained from his early studies.

  “I was a fieldthrall. You…probably don’t want to assume I had the same education as you.”

  “Fair enough. Legend has it the first settlers to this region saw this lake in the distance, so placid and sparkling in the sun that they thought it was pure gemstone. They named it ‘New Blue Stone.’ The city and castle they built were originally named for their founders, but no one ever used that and the name is lost to time. Everyone preferred Neublusten.”

  “I can see why.”

  “Yes.” Nico grinned, happy to see the private at last absorbed by the beauty of the view. “Sadly, we must hurry. Come on.”

  For the first time in his life, Nico did not request an audience from his father’s chamberlain. They simply nodded to one another in silent acknowledgment, and the aged man opened the door.

  Stepping inside, Nico paused. “Wait here,” he whispered. Then he proceeded to the center of the room, where the king sat staring toward the open balcony, frail hand gently stroking the immense black head of his mastiff.

  “Father.”

  Hermann slowly turned to face him. The tendays since their last visit had not been kind to him, that much was obvious. The sorrows and misgivings of the entire city were concentrated here, in the anguished expression of this old man.

  “Nicolas. You survive. One of my sons lives.” The rest of the thought was clear enough. Not the one I expected.

  “Yes, Father. My mission was on the brink of success when the news of Prince Markolac came.” Seeing the body flinch at the name brought a sense of guilt. Nico would not mention it again.

  “Tell me of your mission, Nicolas. Everything.”

  Nico did as he was told, providing every detail but one. Not far into the account, Hermann’s eyes closed, and Nico believed his father had fallen asleep, until the first question interrupted the flow.

  “And so you decided to involve yourself in Anton’s personal vendetta?”

  Nico did not hesitate. One thing he had learned growing up was that his father detested hesitation and second-guessing. “I did not see it that way. But yes.”

  The old lips curled into a smile. “Tell me of the battle.”

  This was not a memory that Nico liked to relive, and much of it was clouded in confusion. But he provided the best account he could, making sure to focus on the bravery and prowess of the Princeshields, for they had made his first action a success. At terrible cost.

  “When I allowed Renard to go with you, I expected he would disabuse you of such foolishness.”

  Nico did not approve of any aspersions cast upon the great man, who had been an outstanding teacher and reliable friend. “Renard gave competent advice, but the decision was mine.”

  “No matter. He paid for his failings.”

  The same anger that Nico had known facing Gornada in the canyon rose within him again, requiring every ounce of discipline to restrain. He felt his muscles tighten and his temple pulse, but said nothing.

  “You may continue your report, Nicolas.”

  There were more interruptions, but the gist came through eventually. The Asturians were certain to be furious, and may very well seek to take advantage of Akenberg’s sudden weakness. Nico did not attempt to conceal his own blundering role in the regrettable turn of events, bu
t neither did he hide the disapproval at what he had learned of imperial politics.

  “You should have warned me, Father. You and Anton have a history that I was not aware of. A contentious history…and a contentious present. There were reports that Duke Iago’s uprising was supplied—”

  “You have much to learn about being a king, Nicolas. And precious little time to learn it—presuming, of course, that we remain lords of Akenberg beyond the coming dawn. We will discuss all things in time. Return to me in a few days, and we’ll begin.”

  “Your pardon, Father, but this city, this castle… Things need to change. I wish to begin today.”

  “Very well, then begin acting as a prince. For once.”

  “I have your leave to do as I will?”

  The lips curled into another smile. “Yes, Nicolas. Let’s see what you can do.”

  They returned to the barracks, where Lima awaited. “I have news for you, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Lima, but not here. Come with me. Pim, Mickens, you as well.”

  He led them to the large building between the barracks and castle known as the Rechshtal. Its impressiveness stemmed neither from size nor ornament, but from purpose. This was the military headquarters for all of Akenberg, and Nico intended to make it his own.

  General Koblenzar, a longtime ally and friend of King Hermann’s, was the current leader of all things martial, from the soldiers in the field to the ceremonial houseguard stationed in the throne room. He also had a particularly derogatory manner of speaking to those beneath him, and he clearly believed that included a second prince. Nico had never been comfortable in the haughty man’s presence, and did not at all look forward to this meeting.

  The headquarters was a second home for Koblenzar, and not because of an excessive workload or zeal for duty. Rather, he used the building as a convenient location for feasts, balls, and dalliances—often with the wives of officers he sent out on campaign, if rumor held true.

  Currently, Nico found him seated in the spacious war room, deep in conversation with Captain Reikmann of the Royal Guard, another associate of King Hermann’s since the early days. Beside them, two tankards rested on a massive table, where spillage of the red liquid within had stained the giant map pinned there. Their laughter was audible from outside the chamber, and continued well after the four newcomers arrived, followed by a pair of attendants who had unsuccessfully attempted to block entry.

  Bewildered by the interruption, the general remained seated as he addressed the prince.

  “Commander, have you come to report on your deployment? I hear you have sizable losses to explain. Or perhaps you have decided that the army is not the life for you, after all?” He smiled disdainfully and reached for his drink.

  “Neither, actually. King Hermann just appointed me to overall command of Akenberg’s forces. Thank you for your service, you are relieved of duty.”

  Koblenzar sat up abruptly, causing more wine to spill from the tankard. “What is this nonsense?”

  “Ask him, if you wish. I have work to do.” He turned to face his companions. “Pim, escort the general to the castle. He wishes to speak to the king. Mickens, have a seat. Lima, prepare your report.” Then he faced Reikmann. “Captain, do you desire to keep your command?”

  “Yes, My Prince.”

  “It’s ‘General,’ now. Fine. You can stay. Add what you will to Lima’s account, starting with the current status of your company. Then help me summon any officers stationed in Akenberg to give them new orders.”

  “Yes, General.”

  “This is a farce,” Koblenzar said. “I’ll be back in less than an hour to spank your spoiled ass. Keep away from me!” This last was directed at Pim, who had moved closer.

  “Don’t kill him, Pim,” Nico said casually, hoping the news of Captain Gornada’s fate had made it this far. “But do help him find the way out without stumbling.” He grabbed the two tankards from the table and held them in the direction of the attendants. “You two, please take these. We won’t be needing them, or any other drink, for quite some time.”

  The reports were entirely bad. The Battle of Allstatte had resulted in the nearly total annihilation of Prince Markolac’s army—foolishly named “The Emperor’s Army” just prior to its first and only engagement. Caught between the combined forces of Daphina and Lorester, most of the force was killed or captured. The odd group of stragglers shuffled back into Neublusten each day, but they were few in number and in no condition to return to action. Worse were the stories and rumors they spread among the residents of the city. The loss of the army was unfortunate enough, and repeated words of impending doom only reinforced the negativity. Only a victory—of any size or importance—would reverse the tide. That needed to be the highest priority.

  Precious little remained with which to accomplish that victory, however. The bulk of the veterans had marched off to glory with the ill-fated prince. Those who remained had been hastily thrown together into a second army and sent northwest in an attempt to slow the Lorester advance. Fresh recruits were few and far between, which was understandable considering the bleak prospects. Reikmann reported that King Hermann had proposed conscription, but that Koblenzar talked him out of it in the belief that nonprofessionals took too long to train and were more trouble than they were worth.

  “Everyone has to start somewhere,” Nico said. “Not long ago, I was a nonprofessional.” He did not add that people like Koblenzar still considered him one. He suspected that Reikmann did, too. “One learns quickly when one has no choice.”

  “Yes, My Prince. I mean, General.”

  “We need soldiers, and they aren’t summoned from the mists. We need to find out what will encourage people to join. Failing that, we’ll need to follow the king’s suggestion, after all. All right, let’s continue.”

  The news from abroad was not any more reassuring. While the Dauphi remained in place to complete the siege of Allstatte, the Loresters turned their focus on Neublusten itself. The Second Army stood in their way, but restricted itself to harassing attacks and minor skirmishes, with strict orders not to risk a full battle they were certain to lose. That seemed a reasonable strategy to Nico, though it did naught but delay the inevitable.

  Meanwhile, their friends in Asturia were using the “Akenberg aggression” to unify the last of their dissenting factions. King Anton was reportedly raising a formidable army with the intent of finally concluding his longstanding grievance with Hermann.

  Therefore, Akenberg was opposed by the full strength of three kingdoms, while being severely shorthanded herself. In a very short period of time, she had gone from the strongest of the twelve kingdoms to one of the weakest.

  Not including Nico’s self-promotion and Koblenzar’s departure, there were three active generals in Akenberg service.

  “General Freilenn commands the Second Army. General Cottzer was with the Emperor’s Army when Markolac took over. He remained to advise the prince. Reports are that he was captured, but we don’t know for certain. That leaves General Handersonn.” Lima hesitated to go on.

  “Tell me.”

  “Word is that he’s a drunkard.”

  Captain Reikmann squirmed uncomfortably, but said nothing.

  Nico turned to him. “Captain, I want your honest opinion. If we can keep him sober, is he competent?”

  “I believe so, My Prince. I mean, General.”

  One thing that stood out during the discussion was the absence of any mention of surrender. The notion itself was so foreign, so anathema, to the Akenberg mind that it was beneath consideration even in these dire circumstances. Nico attributed this to his father’s reign, comprising one success after another. Since his coronation, the kingdom had thrived and expanded, with nary a failure to contemplate. Hermann’s acts were often a mystery to Nico, but not for one moment did he doubt their value. These achievements illustrated how he could never live up to his father’s legacy. Akenberg would mourn the day it lost the great man.

  Suddenl
y yawning, Nico rubbed his eyes. Mental exhaustion had finally caught up to the physical. “All right, that’s enough for now. Let’s all think things over this eve and resume in the morn.”

  Captain Reikmann coughed politely. “General, you asked to see the other officers.”

  Damn. “Yes. Thank you, Captain. Please bring them in.” I’ll get to sleep eventually.

  Nico eschewed his royal bedroom for the officers’ barracks adjacent the Rechshtal. Intending to set the example by starting at daybreak, he was mortified when the sounds of clattering equipment woke him in the midafternoon. He hurriedly splashed water from the basin onto his face, strapped on his sword belt, and rushed outside. Dazzling sunlight disoriented him.

  Lima and Pim were waiting, silently amused by his mild discomfort. Beyond them, Nico saw a crowd filling the courtyard. The noise must have come from the pile of practice swords near where a score of young men and women were utterly failing to form a straight line.

  “Today’s new recruits,” Lima informed him. “Hopefully, the first of many.”

  “How?” His eyes had adjusted to the light, but his mind remained discombobulated. Apparently, a half-day’s sleep was not enough.

  “Captain Reikmann,” she replied. “He sensed that you favored decisive action, so he started spreading the word last night.”

  “What did he tell them?” Nico felt a growing sense of unease. Somehow, he knew he was not going to like the answer.

  She straightened her back and deepened her voice, emulating a herald. “Fight beside the Swordthane. Victory is assured. Become heroes of Akenberg.”

  Nico clutched his head. The cobwebs were clearing, only for a dull pain to take their place.

  “He asks that you inspect the recruits, General. He says it will help morale.”

  Nico nodded. “Lead the way.”

  They made a slow circuit behind then in front of the awkward line. He did not know what to look for, nor would he reprimand anyone on their first day. Instead, he merely stopped occasionally to inspect a face or request a name.