Devil's Dominion (The Anarian Chronicles Book 2)

by Stephen Trolly

  The screams of feasting gore crows were the only answer as Erygan stopped, hoping that somehow he had made a mistake and that he had gone anywhere but where he had meant to. Domrar came through with him, swore loudly, then went back and shouted orders. Twenty-five Black Guards filed through the portal after Domrar, and all he said to them was “find the King’s son! Now!”

  Erygan watched them with unseeing eyes as they fanned out to search the sight of the massacre. He couldn’t comprehend that there was life in the destroyed camp just then. All he knew was death. He tasted the iron from the blood hanging in the air, mixed with the harsh flavour of burning cloth and canvas. He smelled the stench of urine and blood, rotting and burned flesh. He could feel the ground through his boots, drenched in the lives of hundreds and thousands. He heard the screaming of the feasting crows as they fought over the softest exposed flesh and the eyeballs of the dead. And he still saw nothing. His rage, his fear, and his complete lack of hope that anyone, least of all his son, had survived blinded him to everything.

  “Your Majesty, General, over here.” The call drew them all together, about five hundred feet from where Erygan’s portal had opened. “Eschcotans, my Lord. Looks like Volkure’s work. Headless, every one of them.”

  “There’s been no sign of my son?”

  One by one, the soldiers shook their heads. “None yet, your majesty.”

  Erygan took a deep, shaky breath. “Then until this entire field is searched, I don’t care about half a dozen headless Eschcotans, and—”

  The soldier didn’t say anything. He just held up a heavy steel helmet that Erygan knew too well. He took it from the soldier reverently, cradling it in his arms like a baby. It fell from his hands as he broke, falling to his knees and weeping.

  It was many long minutes before Erygan had enough breath to find a raspy voice. “Norrin, by all the hells, why you? I told you to stay in Dishmo Kornara. I told you so many times.” His voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. “Your first and final treason carries too harsh a penalty, old friend. But I promise you, and I swear it on my own life, that Volkure will die by my hand for this, and he will die praying that he has taken nothing else from me this day!” Erygan started to break down again, but he had no tears left. “Bring the Morschcoda’s body. It will lie in honour in the halls of Braldish. Find his armour, his throwing chisels, and Riin-Dair.”

  Erygan’s men searched for another two hours. They found all of Norrin’s heavy black armour, and every one of his chisels. But Riin-Dair was nowhere.

  “That bastard Volkure must have taken it.” Domrar was slowly guiding Erygan back to the portal he had opened. “But, some good news, my Lord. Prince Eildar either was not here, or he escaped. And I think most of Eildar’s men escaped as well.”

  Erygan had no words left in him. He just nodded, thankful for the news, but with no strength left to force a smile.

  “And there’s something else, my Lord. Every indication is that Eildar’s men retreated west and south, towards Braldish, likely to regroup, and because that’s where we did believe Volkure was heading. But the Deshika are very clearly moving east, towards the lake.”

  “Do you think they’re going to Dishmo Kornara?”

  “Not much point now. And even without Norrin, the Eschcotan army is still there, and Volkure is, unfortunately, too smart to start that fight.”

  “Maybe fortunately, General. Dishmo Kornara won’t stand if the Seven find it.”

  “Of course, my Lord. But my thinking is, what if we were wrong about Volkure going to Braldish? What if he was just trying to get back south? The safest way is to cross the bridges above and below Lake Miliish. That way you avoid the Plains of Moredo and the Morieden Tribes.”

  “Too convenient. Something happened to change his mind, and honestly, I don’t care what.” Erygan left Domrar and went back to his portal. “Find my son’s body. If he’d survived, he would have already come home. I have things to deal with in Toredo.”

  In the Lion’s Den

  The giant panther lead them back along the river, much to Edya’s annoyance. She wondered why the Cartarin had not shown themselves sooner, and saved her and the others a long, pointless walk. Daliana wondered if the Cartarin had really needed to hunt them down, and El Darnen’s long, forced march had challenged the great cats in their own land. El Darnen followed behind the women, at the very back of the group, with a tiger on either side of him padding along on their four paws. Daliana looked back several times, and saw that his hand was never very far from his sword hilt. She thought that the stance looked familiar, but she had known many warriors, even just among her own people. Remembering one specific warrior’s stance out of the thousands that she was sure she had seen would have been impossible, and she knew it. But she also knew that no two people had the same walk, and El Darnen’s was peculiar. His left leg did almost all of the work, and he almost limped along with his right. It never bent more than the smallest amount. It too reminded her of someone else, but she did not know who.

  Kallin walked beside the panther the whole time. It was always the short, round Storinean who got up first after a rest and insisted that they keep walking when the others wanted nothing more than to sleep. The Cartarin were happy to agree with him. Daliana gathered that the three who had been tracking them had long been away from their pack’s den, and that they were eager to get back there.

  *

  Two days after the hunters had captured the Morschen, the den of Chief Heavy Paw came into sight. Kallin was almost bouncing, and both Edya and Daliana worked hard, and failed, to keep from giggling at the ridiculous sight of the most well educated person either of them knew bouncing around like a child’s favourite ball, which he still resembled, despite the weight he had lost since the beginning of the New Deshik Wars. El Darnen had no trouble keeping the laughter off his face, however. He was feeling far from happy at the sight of the camp, and Kallin’s excitement only increased the Serpent’s frustration. Daliana heard him talking with both of his tiger escorts in their own language. Though they answered, because of the nature of their tongue, all growls made with the throat, she could not tell if they were answering his interested questions, or arguing and forcing him to keep going. She assumed that it was not the former. She whispered this to Daliana.

  Daliana gave out a long sigh. “He seems to have no love for the Cartarin, and they seem to share in that opinion about him. But, this is different. He seems to be almost … afraid.”

  “Angry and resentful at being caught, maybe, Daliana, but afraid? He knows that they mean us no harm.”

  “He said he knew at least one Cartarin. Maybe he is afraid that they will want revenge for something.”

  “I don’t know, Daliana. El Darnen is many things, but a coward is not one of them. He detests politicians with passion that surpasses even our hatred of the Deshika, so traveling with three Morschcoda can hardly have been his first choice for a vacation.”

  “I was hoping you would be serious.”

  “What do you want? I just found out that I have an older sister.” Both women smiled. “And I doubt that the Cartarin will break their word and kill us. I don’t know how much power our guide has, but I doubt that even a chieftain would ask him to break his word. This is a people that I think honour must be very important to.”

  “Even still …” Daliana began, but the panther dropped back to them.

  “Your young friend is right. Honour means much around the circle, and if any Cartarin has given their word, not even a great chief like Heavy Paw would ask them to break it. He did not even ask his own sister to stay when she told two tired travellers that she would guide them back over the mountains. That was many Silver Moons ago now, and the chief mourns his sister every day that she does not return to the den.”

  El Darnen spoke from the rear. “Sometimes, having too much honour is worse than having none at all, Cartarin.”

  The panther stopped and clenched his front paws into fists. “If you were
not a guest, I would kill you for that.”

  El Darnen just laughed. “You just made my point for me, Cartarin. Your honour will not let you challenge me, even though I have just insulted the very thing you hold most precious, which is honour. Not everyone has it. What if you challenge the wrong person, expecting them to fight by your rules? They will stab you in the back and claim victory anyway.”

  “You should know, long tongue.”

  “I didn’t claim to be an honourable man. I never have. Honour doesn’t feed the refugees of one hundred pointless wars who seek shelter with you in the high mountains, Cartarin. You would not have done half as well as I did, were you in my place. When you are a hunted man, honour is nothing but a handicap.”

  “A person without honour is nothing.”

  “Many people on the other side of the mountains say much the same about money, or royal blood, or ancestral treasure. I have known many worth ten times what a person calls nobility.”

  “Honour is worth more than a giant’s weight in gold.”

  “Then what is blood worth, Cartarin? Your chief regrets keeping his honour intact, even though it cost him his sister.”

  “It was not his place to tell her otherwise.”

  “She asked him if she should go. He knew that she wanted to, and he also knew that he would never see her again if she did. But she had already given her word, so he could not ask her to break it, for her honour and his.”

  This time, the panther actually stopped. “I did not say any of this. I merely said that the chief still mourns for his sister.”

  “And I said that I knew a Cartarin, once. I never said which one.” El Darnen pushed past the panther and walked until he had caught up with Kallin, who was so intent on getting to the camp that he did not hear a word that was said behind him.

  *

  The panther led the four Morschen to a central fire in the camp. Around the fire sat what was obviously their equivalent to a ruling council. Four were spotted like cheetahs and leopards, but there were two jaguars, another panther, and a lone tiger. The last, obviously Chief Heavy Paw, was a lion with an immense mane of tangled golden hair. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rich, powerful. Daliana thought his voice sounded like Norrin’s.

  “Four Morschen, wandering in Cartarin lands without clear purpose or direction. Such a thing has only happened twice in my time. One of those times was when a ragged group of tired and hungry men and women stumbled up to this very camp, fifty-two Silver Moons ago. But the first time, that was stranger. Two men came over the mountains. They were looking for us, but they were farther from the mountains than they wanted to be, and did not know how to get back through. But that takes us even deeper into the past.” The light of years long past shone in the Chief’s eyes. With a low growl, he returned to the present. “Why have you come here?”

  Daliana answered. “We were traveling through the mountains, looking for another of our kind. Gelida Mectar is Morschcoda of the land of Noldoron, and she should have been somewhere close to where we first appeared in your lands, but now we are outside of Anaria, and we are not sure if we can find our own people, much less how we will do it.”

  Heavy Paw simply looked at Daliana. He made no indication that he had even heard her speak. Then he changed the subject quite abruptly. “You are the Garrenin, yes?” Daliana nodded. “Come here.” She walked over to the Chief. “Yes, Garrenin blood courses through your veins. The Cartarin never forget a scent. Even the children of our children’s children will remember your smell from today. But some go back even longer. The smell of a true Garrenin stretches back in our memories to the dawn of time. That is what I smell in you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Heavy Paw, growled. “That was not a compliment. I have little love for Garrenins. Not since my sister chose to lead those two Morschen back across the mountains.”

  It was then that he saw El Darnen. He growled. Even though El Darnen was the only one of the four who understood the exact wording, the other three understood the message well enough. “Why have you come back here?”

  “Believe me, Heavy Paw, I did everything I could to avoid this.”

  “Clearly you did not do enough.”

  “If I had been alone, I wouldn’t have been caught in your lands in the first place. The only reason I’m here is because I was with these three when your hunters captured them.”

  “Give me one good reason why I should not kill you now.”

  El Darnen was about to speak, but Daliana broke in. “El Darnen, what’s going on?”

  “I was one of those first two Morschen that stumbled upon the Cartarin, over ninety years ago now. I came over the mountains with Taren. He needed a guide, and I needed his good will more than I should have. We were half dead, but we got here. The Chief’s sister, Grrwa, promised to lead us back over the mountains. It took a long time for us even to understand them saying that. Once we got back, Taren started planning an expedition to learn more about the lands on this side of the mountains. Garneth volunteered, and took half of the smartest Demosira with him.”

  “You told me that the Dragon Riders never saw a living being.”

  “Only Galeth went out, and Galeth didn’t see any Morschen. He saw the Cartarin, but he had no idea what they were.”

  “Enough. Answer my question, Morschen.”

  “Your hunter promised that no harm would come to any of us.”

  “He did not know what he promised when he made it. I strip his protection from you. Leave my lands before tomorrow’s sun sets, and you may still escape with your life. Even if you do not escape, you will find me generous.”

  El Darnen turned to the panther who had led the hunting party. “Not even a great chief like Heavy Paw will ask the lowest of his hunters to break their word. That is what you said. I see now how much honour means to the Cartarin.”

  The panther’s response was half hearted. “You deserve no honourable treatment.”

  El Darnen turned back to the Chief. “I will not leave. My duty is to my Queen. Even though she would not listen to me and run like she should have, I will not abandon her here. Kill me if you wish, but understand that the blood of every one of your hunters that dies tonight is on your paws.” The various cats in the circle started to growl and hiss at El Darnen. He simply stood there, understanding but ignoring every word. Finally, to Daliana’s satisfaction, he spoke again. “If those aren’t good enough reasons, I have a third, and though you don’t deserve this final peace of mind that I can offer, I will give it to you.

  The hunters, which had been preparing to attack El Darnen if Heavy Paw told them to, crouched and prepared to pounce, in case El Darnen attacked first. “Grrwa is still alive.”

  *

  Early in the predawn before the next morning, the Pride’s Circle had not finished their debates. Some of what they planned to do was clear, at least, as far as the three Morschcoda were concerned. The same panther who had led the Cartarin hunters was willing to lead them back at least to the mountains, and possibly further. But Daliana had asked several questions when members of the Circle had left the fire for one reason or another. One of the males with spots like a cheetah was willing to tell her anything she wanted to know that he knew for certain, which was almost nothing. The other panther barely acknowledged Daliana’s presence when she asked her for anything.

  Finally, as the sun cast the long, toothy shadow of the Garuthen Mountains, the Circle made their decision about El Darnen. The three Morschcoda were summoned to the central fire. El Darnen was sitting there already, guarded by two tigers. Daliana took it as a good sign that they had not taken his sword.

  Chief Heavy Paw still had more questions for El Darnen though. The Serpent’s fate had been debated, but it would be the chief who made the decision. “I want proof.”

  El Darnen tried to get comfortable on the ground, but one of the tigers guarding him growled. El Darnen growled back, but stopped shifting. “My answer won’t be the most satisfying, Heavy Paw.
The Serpents of old had a much nobler calling, but one of my predecessors died without passing on that legacy. We searched for clues to that information everywhere, eventually turning to crime in our effort to find and restore the lofty title of El Darnen to what it truly was.”

  The giant lion leapt up and jumped over the fire pit. He grabbed El Darnen’s throat and slammed him to the ground. “Your past means nothing to me. Tell me about Grrwa.”

  El Darnen’s words were strained and slow, trying to talk with a lion’s paw on his throat. “My past is the only reason I know anything about Grrwa, and that she is still alive.” Heavy Paw released him and sat back down. “Because the Serpents turned to crime, I know Anaria’s networks of spies better than the fallen Morschcoda Council does. I know every assassin, every mercenary, every rogue, and every Hunter. Very few Morschen know about the existence of the Cartarin, because only one Cartarin has crossed the mountains in the last Morschen lifetime. But some Hunters have been hired to capture, alive, an exceptionally large white leopard. A female, some of them said. I know that none of those Hunters succeeded, because barely ten years ago, Grrwa came to my camp in the Garuthen Mountains. She asked me if she should leave Anaria and go back to the Prides and the wide, empty fields of the Cartarin. I gave her no advice, as I had none to give, so she stayed. She carved a spear and asked me to train her to become a Hunter herself. I have not seen her since, but I know she still lives.”

  “But the Deshika will notice her, and their masters will remember our kind. That world is not safe for her.”

  “I doubt that the Deshika would notice her. As for the Seven, they hold themselves above everybody. It would be beneath them to notice any cat. Besides, Anaria is now littered with Hunters of obscure races. One of the best is a half-human lizard from the southern lava fields named Gorshcki Coptulo. But there are others, stranger even than him. A Cartarin would not attract much notice even from the Morschen these days.”