The others Darris had only just met. They included five other Northmen, each representing a different tribe, and two Western leaders from small conglomerates of towns. More were on the way. King Griff had promises from the last three Northern tribes, another group of central Westerners, and the army of the distant Eastlands had not yet arrived.
For the sake of international harmony, King Griff stuck meticulously to the formalities of the meeting, though Darris felt certain that most of the leaders, including Griff himself, would have preferred to dispense with them. Only Knight-Captain Kedrin clung to every word and gesture.
Finally, Griff requested the first suggestion, which came from General Sutton. A large, well-muscled man with shrewd eyes, the representative of the most eastern portion of the Westlands spoke in a clear and booming voice. “What have we learned about this enemy so far? What are their priorities and intentions?” He used the Common Trading tongue, the only one they all shared.
For now, Darris knew, King Griff had no intention of mentioning the Kjempemagiska. Other than the people in the room at the time of Tae’s report, only Kedrin had become privy to the information. They had all agreed to fight one battle at a time, to not allow the future threat of magical enemies hamper soldiers in their current war. Once they defeated the self-called alsona, Béarn and her allies could start worrying about and strategizing for the bigger war. By Tae’s calculation, the Kjempemagiska had placed their faith squarely on their alsona. It would take time for them to muster for another war, time enough for the allies to celebrate victory, revise strategy, and attempt to recruit the elves. But first, of course, they had to defeat the alsona. Though he kept the thought to himself, Darris was not at all sure that was possible.
Griff addressed the question directly. “They intend to slaughter every person in our world and claim every bit of our land.”
A short murmur swept the room. General Markanyin of Pudar spoke next, “How do we know this?”
“One man has managed to speak with them,” the king of Béarn explained.
The general’s head listed slightly to the left, and his brows knitted. In size, he rivaled the Béarnian king, a surprising feat. Average size for the bearlike Béarnides was enormous by the standards of other cultures. “Why don’t we engage them in parley? Surely, the right person could convince them of the folly of—”
Griff cut him off. “They won’t parley.”
Knight-Captain Kedrin requested the floor with an archaic gesture, and Griff relinquished it with a faint sigh of relief. Had he not sat so close, even Darris would have missed it.
Kedrin took over, his voice commanding even at the volume of normal speech. “I’m afraid they don’t even acknowledge the conventions of parley. They’ve slaughtered every man who came within reach of their weapons, no matter his gestures or flag.”
“Except this one the high king spoke of.” General Markanyin acknowledged Griff with a bow and a glance.
The knight dipped his head. “The one His Majesty spoke of only succeeded because the pirates he addressed were prisoners, the only two we’ve managed to capture in our years at war.” He forestalled the obvious question, “They fight to their last breath, no matter the odds.”
Grunts were heard throughout the room. Darris watched Kedrin formally give up the floor in the grand and arcane manner only the Knights of Erythane still remembered.
A knock sounded at the door, then it edged open to reveal Sir Ra-khir, Kedrin’s son, in pristine knight silks. He bowed deeply to each king in turn, including Tae, who rolled his eyes in response. Ra-khir saluted each general, entered the room fully, and closed the door behind him. “I apologize for interrupting, but I’ve only just arrived.”
Darris turned his attention to Kedrin. The Knight-Captain seemed mightily displeased, his features taut and the corners of his mouth bowed grimly downward. Taking back the floor with every flourish, he addressed his wayward son. “Sir Ra-khir, this meeting is for generals only.”
Ra-khir tipped his head to his father. “Again, I beg the pardon of every great man in this room, but I am in command of an army. Though not among the largest, it is not the smallest either.” The look he gave his captain seemed just a bit pointed to Darris. The Knights of Erythane currently consisted of only twenty-four men. One less with Ra-khir not among them.
Knight-Captain Kedrin made a brisk and full gesture of apology. “My pardon, Sir Ra-khir. Who is at your command?”
Ra-khir turned stiffly toward King Griff. “Sire, they’re outcasts; but finer warriors more dedicated to Béarn you could not find anywhere. In a crisis such as this, it seems prudent to accept every sword arm in our defense. What say you, Your Majesty? May we join the allies of the continent?”
Renshai. Darris got it in an instant, and he believed Kedrin did, too. He was less certain about Griff. Markanyin held a thoughtful expression, as did General Sutton and Valr Magnus, but the remainder of the Western and Northern leaders showed no obvious sign of recognition.
King Griff spoke carefully. “Does anyone have a problem with allowing these outcasts full status among us? If so, speak now.”
Murmurs passed around the table. Only General Sutton spoke aloud, “So long as we’re sure they’ll fight for us and against the pirates, I see no reason to exclude anyone.”
King Griff gave a heavy nod.
“Let’s take a formal vote,” Kedrin suggested. “Everyone for including the outcast unit signify by saying, ‘Aye’. ‘Nay,’ if opposed.”
Around the table, a chorus of “aye” sounded, without a single voice in opposition.
“It carries, then,” Kedrin said. “Sir Ra-khir, do you have consent to represent these outcasts?”
“Fully.”
Knight-Captain Kedrin indicated that King Griff should take the floor for a decree that must seem standard and obvious to the overly formal Kedrin.
Clearly flummoxed, King Griff covered smoothly. “You announce it, please, Knight-Captain.”
Kedrin suppressed a grin and dutifully proclaimed, “Then, Sir Ra-khir, you are granted the equal status of general. And your followers are forgiven any crimes, including trespass, for the duration of this war.” He turned to Griff and bowed nearly to the ground. “Is that correct,Your Majesty?”
King Griff nodded broadly. “Utterly. Thank you.”
“And,” Kedrin added in clear warning, “since you also represent the Knights of Erythane, and our Majesties King Griff and King Humfreet . . .” He bowed humbly to each in turn. “. . . I expect you to keep your wayward followers completely in line.”
Ra-khir looked momentarily stricken, but swiftly regained face. “I’ll do my best, Knight-Captain.” He had about as much chance of keeping Renshai corralled as he did the myriad of palace cats.
With every chair at the table full, Darris rose and offered his own to Ra-khir. The knight graciously accepted his offer, and Darris took a position behind and beside Griff, where he could observe most of the leaders’ expressions.
The tribal leader of Gelshnir spoke in his musical Northern accent. “What are the pirates doing now?”
“Massing their ships offshore,” the high king explained. “We estimate three hundred, but it’s only a guess. They’ve destroyed every vessel that’s drawn near enough to count.”
The Gelshni general continued, “What about scouts? What do they know?”
King Humfreet of Erythane finally spoke. “They’re less than worthless. Even those who can sneak near without getting butchered don’t understand a word of the pirates’ gabble.”
Darris saw a spark flash through several eyes, but General Markanyin got the question out first. “What about the ‘one man’ who spoke with our prisoners?”
King Griff ’s gaze went directly to Tae, and he paused a moment before answering, perhaps expecting the king of the Eastlands to save him the trouble. When Tae did not oblige, Griff accepted his burden. “He has an uncanny gift for languages and had the chance, because of the two prisoners, to immer
se himself.”
“Can he spy?” Markanyin asked hopefully.
Darris looked at Ra-khir and found him smiling. He had easily figured out the identity of their mystery language speaker.
“No,” Griff said, more as a command than an answer. “We can’t risk him. Not only do we need him for his talent, but he’s too important to lose.”
Finally, Tae spoke. What he lacked in volume, he made up for in intensity. “I’ll do it.”
Every eye jerked to the Eastern king.
Tae continued, “If we don’t win this war, we all die. Women, children, no one will be spared. What’s one life, any life, compared with that?”
Silence followed. Strategists and warriors filled the room, yet none had ever fought a war as significant and potentially deadly as this one.
General Sutton cleared his throat. “I’m certain His Highest Western Majesty meant no slight upon your courage, Your Eastern Majesty.” Obviously unaccustomed to royal titles, the leader of Santagithi, and her closest allies, attempted to mimic proper formality as well as to smooth ruffled feathers. “He merely made the point that your precious skill might serve us better than on a simple scouting mission.”
Tae smiled. No king despised formality more than he did. “No offense was taken.”
Darris knew innocent Griff could kick and spit on Tae, and the scrappy little Easterner would give him all the time he needed to explain.
Valr Magnus ignored the verbal exchanges, studying the massive map that covered most of the tabletop. “Do we even know where these pirates come from?”
“Here.” Leaning forward, Tae jabbed a finger that thumped against the wooden table well off the southern edge of the map and directly across from Béarn.
Exclamations and discussions began immediately. Though he had initiated it, Tae did not join any of the conversations. He sat back, clearly relieved to allow others to take the floor from him.
Unlike most of the others, Valr Magnus did not allow the shock of an army from beyond the known world to derail him. “We need to concern ourselves with more than just the army massed in the Southern Sea.”The Northman stood to reach the exact spot off the map that Tae had indicated. “What we need to worry about are ships breaking off to go here . . .” He made a gliding motion around the isthmus of islands south and west of Béarn to indicate a shore fall near the twin Western cities of Corpa Schaull and Frist. “. . . and here.” He indicated another sea path eastward to land on the barren stretch of land known as the Western Plains and beyond to the Eastlands.
“If we have all our armies massed here . . .” Magnus circled Béarn and Erythane with his finger. “. . . we leave our civilians wide open for attack.” He scratched his honey-colored beard. “Then the enemy could circle around here . . .” He cut through the westernmost Westlands to Erythane and from the Western Plains through the Southern Weathered Mountains to Béarn. Magnus looked up to find all of his colleagues peering over the map. “At least, that’s what I’d do if I were the pirates.”
“Which is why,” the general from Gelshnir said, “our armies are stretched along the western coast.” He indicated the Erdai general and one of the Westerners, the one representing the twin cities of Corpa Bikat and Oshtan.
Tae added his piece again, which surprised Darris. When they had traveled together as friends, Tae had spent most of his time in silent hiding. He still seemed uncomfortable when attention turned to him, but his nearly two decades as king had, apparently, boosted his confidence. “The Eastern armies, right now, are massed along the shores of the Western Plains. My father reports having found some expert mystery general to lead them.” Tae rolled his eyes.Weile Kahn had a habit of hitting his son with unwelcome surprises. “My father is on his way with a team of scouts. They’re competent, but they’re limited by not knowing the language.”
General Markanyin rose and paced in the small space the table, and its massed kings and generals, left him. “With our armies spread thin, the pirates don’t need strategy. They could attack Béarn en masse.” He stopped between Tae and General Sutton, hand falling to the arm of Tae’s chair. “These scouts of your father’s . . .”
Darris held his breath. Rumors about Weile Kahn’s followers abounded, and only the worst of them were true. Tae’s father had gathered criminals as followers and served as their lord for decades. Survival had daily required stronger and more convoluted security than kings saw in a lifetime. His enemies included all of the world’s power, above and beneath the law. Tae’s mother had paid for Weile’s antics with her life; and Tae, himself, had been left for dead on more than one occasion.
“. . . can they infiltrate the enemy?”
Tae shook his head. “Not without knowing the language, I’m afraid. I’m not even sure I could do that; many little things, most I don’t even know about, would give me away. But, at least, I could spy on them and understand what they tell one another.”
“Can you teach it to others?” the only Western general who had not yet spoken piped in. He was a small man, compared with the others, and the youngest in the room.
Tae’s brows rose in increments. “Sure I could. Just give me students with a knack for both languages and stealth for two to three years.”
“Two to three years? Is that how long it took you?”
“No,” Tae admitted. “But I learned under rather unique circumstances.” He glanced toward Griff, who was hanging on Tae’s every word, even though he knew most of the answer. “From two native speakers.” He switched from the ubiquitous Common Trading tongue to Western, then Northern, then Pudarian. Darris did not know Northern, but he did the other two. Even the accents were spot on. “I was exposed to innumerable languages from infancy, and I obviously have a god-granted knack that few share.”
General Sutton looked around Markanyin to address Griff. “You’re right,Your Majesty. That’s a talent we dare not risk.”
“Except,” Tae added, “that the Pudarian general is quite correct. We need to know where to position our armies, because we don’t have the numbers to spread them even as thin as we have.” He sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then proclaimed without allowing an opening for argument, “So, I’m going in.”
CHAPTER 41
I gave up thinking a long time ago.
—King Tae Kahn of Stalmize
THE STEADY LAP OF WATER against ships’ hulls, the watery sounds of leaping fish and bobbing wood, the sharp wind blowing across the ocean all became too familiar to Tae. He and Imorelda had spent three days paddling cautiously between the massed warships on a hunk of old ship wood meant to look like ancient flotsam to anyone glimpsing it from a distance. He kept the cat focused on the proper wavelength for the alsona’s communication. They had heard just enough of sailor orders and warrior commands to assure that all the pirates used the same pitch level of mental communication.
The arrangement had initially seemed bewildering to Tae; mental communication did not allow much leeway for whispering, shouting, or mishearing. He wondered how the alsona kept myriad conversations going without interfering with one another. The last couple of days afloat, however, had brought answers. Apparently, they used regular speech for close, intimate conversations and reserved the mind calls for times when distance or numbers required it. At first, that bothered Tae. All that came to him were coarse discourses between sailors regarding chores, minor problems, and issues with the riggings. He worried that he was missing all the important exchanges.
Over time, however, Tae gathered a bit more from the stray bits and conversations that wafted clearly through the mental connection. He located the flagship in the middle of the formation, larger than the others and carrying their highest commander, the only Kjempemagiska they had brought.
*I’m cold,* Imorelda lamented. *I’m cold and wet and hungry. And, worst of all, I’m wet.*
Tae hated to lose his ability to scan for enemy communications. He just knew the moments focused directly on the cat, instead of the pirates, would t
urn out to be the most revealing ones. Also, when Imorelda was helping him listen, she could not complain. *You said ‘wet’ twice.*
*I hate wet.Wet’s twice as bad as the others.*
Though tired of Imorelda’s whining, Tae could not help feeling responsible for her misery. She had perched upon his shoulders for so long, he had already passed the points of pain and numbness. *I really am sorry, Imorelda. You know that. I’d have left you at the castle if I could, warm and overfed. But I can’t do this without you.*
*I’m cold and wet and hungry.*
*And wet,* Tae reminded.
Imorelda shivered suddenly, and Tae had to grab hold of the sides of his makeshift boat to keep from teetering into the water.
*Get some food from the pack, Imorelda. Eat as much as you want.* Tae knew he could moderate his own rations to make up for whatever extra she ate.
Imorelda snubbed Tae’s offer as if only a fool would have made it. *I’m not hungry.*
Tae sighed and closed his eyes, seeing no need to argue. *Then crawl inside my cloak. It’s warmer and relatively dry.*
Imorelda remained in position. Apparently, she preferred complaining to action.
*Imorelda, please go back to scanning. I need you.*
*But I don’t understand anything they’re saying.* Imorelda rearranged herself on Tae’s shoulders, much to his relief. *And it’s boring.*
*I understand.* Tae meant it and hoped his sincerity came through with his words. *Saving our world may seem boring to you, but it’s survival to me and everyone we know and love.*
*Like Subikahn?*
Tae stiffened. He had managed to shove thoughts of his only son out of conscious memory for longer than he would have believed possible. Can’t afford distractions. He put an emphasis just short of anger into his sending, *Just go back to scanning, Imorelda. If we lose this war, every human of our world will die. And these alsona don’t seem to like cats much, either.*
Flight of the Renshai Page 62
