“I’ll be fine. He’s just angling for more of the rebuilding fund, what little there is. I’ve gone to Geron with my suspicions and of course Marlus knows, as well. He has a few ideas on what Tresam wants. We’ve still nothing to prove it, though, just guesses and supposition. Unless you’ve found something at the manor?”
Olinia handed him a few pages of notes, producing them from some hidden pocket. “There’s nothing much. Bribes and vague promises. I’ve also acquired a decent amount of coins and precious stones.”
Ragnall gave her a questioning look. “You were supposed to leave no trace.”
“Things got complicated. The gold can be used to rebuild or for our trading mission as you see fit.”
“What suspicions? What are you two talking about?” Cagle said, glancing from his father to Olinia and back.
“There have been rumors…whispers…around the capital. Even a few incidents. Nothing serious. Nothing anyone can prove,” Ragnall said. “Some of the recent senators’ deaths were unexplained, and there have been a rash of them over the last year. I’m sure it’s mere coincidence. Tresam has never acted openly, except continually voting in opposition to me. He fears Geron too much. That said, in the midst of this, the Dalrones have been marshaling support. Favors for senators and others in high places. It’s likely they are just taking advantage of the turmoil and our weakness.”
“Father, if there’s any chance—” Olinia started.
“Your brother will need you more than I,” Ragnall said, silencing Olinia with an upraised hand and turning to Cagle. “I can handle the political end of things. I’ve done so for many years now.” Ragnall gave a wry smile. “Tresam isn’t that smart.” He clasped his hands together in front of him, squaring his shoulders. “I have asked the Yoghens and dwarves to send troops. I’ve no doubt both will be incredibly useful,” he continued.
We’re doing this, truly, Cagle said, and found himself drawing up to mirror his father’s resolute stance. “I’d like Zethul to lead the dwarves,” Cagle said. “And Vlan for the Yogs. They’ll need their mages, of course.”
“I expected that.” Ragnall smiled. “Everything has been prepared.”
Ragnall paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully, and then continued. “Son, part of your responsibility is to select your officers. I’ve put together a list, lowlanders all, if you’ll consider them. Even among the common soldiers I would take only those from the capital or further south.”
“Of course, thank you, father.” Cagle’s head started to pound. He hadn’t even considered such a thing. Doubt flooded him in a cold wave. His father was wrong. He wasn’t ready for this. What if I make a mistake? What if I was just lucky in the south against the Fleure? What if I fail or get all my men killed?
“Father, are you sure I’m the right person for this?”
“I am.” Ragnall clapped him on the shoulders. “I can’t imagine anyone better—you and your sister both. I wouldn’t send you otherwise. You must know that the last place I want you, either of you, is away from me.”
“Don’t worry, baby brother. I’ll take care of you,” Olinia smiled. “Besides, think of the things we’ll see. No one has entered Iridia for so long, and you and I will be among the first. There will be so much to see and do. It’ll be like traveling with Taelon himself.”
Cagle couldn’t help but smile with her. Cavalier indeed. For her, this is all a grand adventure.
“I have something for you.” Ragnall moved to a locked cabinet. With a small brass key, he turned the lock. It clicked open. He lifted the wooden lid and pulled out a bundle wrapped in brown cloth. He handed it to Cagle.
Cagle unwrapped the cloth to reveal a green crystal the length of his palm and less than an inch wide. A leather cord secured it around one end with four tight loops.
“What is it?”
Ragnall took the crystal and draped the leather loop around Cagle’s neck. “It’s enchanted. I bought a pair of these from an Esterian trader during the third war with the Fleure. The man who sold them to me claimed it would protect the wearer from spells.”
“Does it work?” Cagle held the crystal in his bare hand. It felt warm to the touch, warmer than it should have been, as if it made its own heat.
Ragnall smiled. “I never found out. The third war ended a month after I bought them.”
“What will you be doing during all of this?” Olinia asked, seemingly unimpressed by the crystal.
“I will be organizing the relief efforts in the south. Once you succeed, we’ll need to act quickly to get supplies to all those who need it.”
Ragnall placed one hand on Cagle’s shoulder and the other on Olinia’s. “I know this is far from ideal. I know neither of you would have ever chosen this.”
I don’t know about that, thought Cagle, noting the gleam in Olinia’s eyes.
“But I’m counting on the two of you,” Ragnall continued. “All Kartha is counting on you. I’m sure each of you will do your duty. I want a promise from you, though. Something just between the three of us.”
“Anything, father,” Cagle said.
“Anything,” Olinia echoed, placing her hand atop Ragnall’s on her shoulder.
“I want you to promise to take care of each other. Make peace and trade with the Iridin if at all possible. And if it is not…I want you to promise to keep things short. Keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Iridia does not deserve to suffer for our gain, even though our need is great.” Ragnall’s eyes flickered between his children. Cagle nodded agreement. “We need Iridia’s aid, but we do not need her people’s blood.”
Beneath a waxing half-moon, Nuren Yseril waited under an arbor of overgrown honeysuckle.
Victims of fall’s cruel breath, the sweet white and yellow blooms had faded away to nothing now, though remembering their smell brought the faint trace of a smile to Nuren’s face despite the evening’s grave misgivings. Her father had warned her of what was to come; he shared everything with her, calling her his closest advisor, and she loved him for it. He would need her support now.
From the modest beginnings of a trading family, Jales Yseril had risen to become an important man, a senator, no less. He would demand much of her, given what was to come, and much would be demanded of him. The senate had to lead Kartha through the dark days ahead.
Over the gentle chorus of crickets, she heard the patter of steps on the footpath. The stony garden path shone under the blue moonlight, curving gently along, floating over an arched wooden footbridge, and swerving around into a grove of bare olive trees.
A shadow approached. The bridge creaked slightly under his weight.
“My love,” Nuren whispered.
“I came as soon as I could.” Cagle drew back his hood. He met Nuren under the arbor and swept her up in his arms.
“I’ve missed you.” Nuren couldn’t help but stare up at him. Ten months since she’d seen him last. Ten months of lonesome solitude.
“I’ve missed you as well. I’m sorry I won’t be able to stay long. There’s much to be done.”
Cagle bent down and his lips found hers. Nuren felt the steady warmth of his breath caressing her cheek as he started to draw back, and she pulled him down again to return his kiss. Her heart raced.
“I know.” Nuren paused to catch her breath. “Father told me. He said the expedition could take a year or more.”
“It won’t be that long. We’ll do what’s necessary and return quickly.”
“Necessary,” Nuren said. “I wish it didn’t have to be you. Felnasen is going. Let him lead the army, let him find what we need.”
Cagle let go of her gently. He eased down onto a wooden bench. He ran his hands over his hair and studied the ground. He looked so tired. “This is the only way to save our people. Father trusts me with the task.”
“Felnasen is loyal. He’s a good man. He’s just set in his ways.” Nuren set next to him. Close enough that their hips and shoulders touched. He took her hand and wound his fingers through hers. More than anything she wanted to feel his presence, to be near him. It was cruel, being apart for so long and now having such a short time before duty called him away again.
“Felnasen is a good man, but you’re right, he’s too rigid in his thinking. Father needs someone who doesn’t just follow orders and win battles, but who knows when to fight and when not to. I think I can be that person. At least I hope I can.”
“But why does it have to be you? We’ve already lost so much time together. I wish your father hadn’t sent you into the north.”
Cagle leaned over to kiss the crown of her head.
“I know, love,” Cagle said. “He had his reasons, though. The Fleure destroyed the university in Monport, and Haney said it will take another year to rebuild and then likely one more to get it staffed. He didn’t want my education delayed. There is also some knowledge that can only be gained in the north, and I think he wanted me to keep an eye on things there.”
“Haven’t you done enough? Everyone knows you did more to win the war against the Fleure than the whole army put together.”
“It wasn’t just me. Everyone did their part. You were right there with me the whole time. Without you I don’t know what I would have done. I’m only sorry we couldn’t do more. Maybe we could have saved more of our friends.”
Nuren was quiet for a time. He was right—they’d both lost so many friends to the Fleure, most too young to even fight. But fight they had, bravely and most gave their lives for the cause.
Her thoughts drifted off into the future. She knew he would return victorious from Iridia. In many ways he was the most stubborn man she’d ever met. He wouldn’t allow himself to fail. He would succeed, and then he would return. Sooner or later, he’d follow his father into politics. He’d never be a natural politician—he was far too modest—though she could help with that.
When the Fleure invaded, they’d both been enrolled in the university at Monport. Everything had happened so quickly; Cagle had rallied the older students, herself included, and they had held off the invaders long enough to get the youngest children safely into hiding. Then he’d become their leader after the Fleure drove deep into the lowlands. The group of them, less than two hundred boys and girls in total, fought for two long years against the invaders.
Despite being trapped behind enemy lines and with access to neither supplies nor reinforcements, they’d waged war against the Fleure. They’d burned supply depots, fought hit-and-run skirmishes against their patrols, assassinated enemy commanders, and when the Fleure chased after them, Cagle had led the invaders on a merry chase through the swamps and fens, infuriating and exhausting them.
No one would ever know how many men the Fleure lost along the way. Enough to force them back into their ships and over the horizon.
She’d accompanied him on their most successful and daring mission, the sinking of three enemy supply ships laying anchored in Monport harbor.
Both of them had been injured after the harbor guards had spotted them during their escape and struck with their bows. The other students had made it back to camp easily enough, but together she and Cagle had taken to the fens and holed up in an abandoned farm to wait out their pursuers. Thinking they were sure to die, she’d confessed her growing feelings for him then, and discovered to her surprise that he’d long felt the same.
She’d been lucky to find him and luckier still that they both survived to the war’s end. Afterward he’d been sent to the far north and now was going farther still.
“Will you ask your father?” Nuren asked.
“About?”
She elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow!” Cagle rubbed his side and smiled playfully. “I already have.”
Holding her breath, Nuren waited until she could stand it no longer. “And?”
“He’s agreed.” Cagle’s smile widened. He leaned close, his fingers brushing a lock of hair from her face, and he kissed her.
Nuren’s head swam and her quickening heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her breath came hot and shallow.
“When will you ask mine?” she asked.
“As soon as I return.”
“Not before?”
Cagle’s eyes grew distant. He turned from her and looked out over the moonlit garden. “I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to rush our marriage. I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed.”
“I just want you. So long as I have that I don’t care about the rest.”
“You already have me.” Cagle smiled at her again. “As soon as I return, we’ll be married, and then we can go wherever we want.”
“I wish I could go with you. You know I can fight and hold my own.”
“I know,” Cagle said. “But you’ll be needed here. Your father will rely on you to help keep the people fed until we return. You’ve a gift for getting things done where others fail, my love.”
He was right. Her father was a capable man, but with no other family to rely on he would need her in the days ahead. There was so much to be done. Her heart might not agree, but she knew her place was here.
“Once you return there will be demands placed on you. More duties that could pull us apart. I don’t like how your father paraded you around the city like some prized sheep after the last war,” Nuren said. She bit back the urge to say more. And I don’t like how all those women looked at you and batted their eyes when he did. It wasn’t right.
Cagle gave her a wounded look. “I know, but he is my father. He’s sacrificed so much for our people. Everything he does is for duty. Can I do less?”
“You’ve already given enough,” Nuren sniffed.
“After this, I’m done. Don’t worry, Nuren. Father has agreed to our match, and I’m sure yours will as well. Vlan asked me to spend some time with him down on the coast. We can go there and just disappear.”
“Anywhere alone with you sounds wonderful,” Nuren said. She snuggled in tight again, basking in his warmth against the cool night air.
The thought was nice, but she knew any respite from their duties wouldn’t last long. Her father would need her wisdom and support; he had no one else.
Ragnall and the king and the senate would all heap their burdens on Cagle. Already there were rumors of preparing a force to counter the Fleure. After this most recent invasion, all of Kartha was aflame with anger. Hatred of the Fleure was one of the few things currently uniting the country. Sooner or later, they would have to carry war to their enemies instead of waiting for them to attack again. Cagle would be the natural choice to lead that expedition, as well. And after that...after that he might ascend to king, though she knew the title held no appeal to him.
He didn’t care about his own advancement; he was selfless, not like so many other senators’ children. She knew most of them. It was one of the duties her father asked of her; meet with the families of the sitting senators and learn what she could of the next generation of Karthan leaders. Such information could be useful. Kartha’s founders hadn’t intended for the senate to be an inherited post, but four out of every five seats were already filled with the second generation.
Her father’s origins were more humble than most. Jales Yseril been a successful trader before seeking the office, but he wanted the seat for her, as well. She could be the first female senator, he often said. He’d be overjoyed at the thought of Cagle as his son-in-law, she knew it.
So much will be demanded of us. Nuren sighed. For now, though, all of Kartha, including both their fathers and even King Geron himself, could wait. Tonight, I want him to myself.
“Hold me tight, my love. I just want to enjoy our time together.”
CHAPTER 3
A March of Swords
Cagle rode at the head of the army. Like a long serpent it wound over the road behind him through the hilly countryside, shifting direction to follow the easier path but forging ever northward toward the Jandas and Kartha’s border.
He could see the high mountains now. Their snowy peaks rose from the land, a jagged shark-tooth maze of false paths, dead ends, and sheer cliffs. Crossing them wouldn’t be easy. There would be little to eat there—winter already held the Jandas tight in its clenched fist—and every minute would be a fight for warmth.
The wind carried the scent of mountain pines down from the heights. Cagle felt its coolness on his face. He drew his cloak tighter.
A misstep will spell disaster. We should have traveled sooner.
They’d left LaBrogue a month after he’d accepted the task. Choosing commanders, prepping the army, marshaling the men along with their provisions, and then setting out when they did had been nothing short of a miracle. Still, it might not be enough. From what little they knew, the trail through the mountains was passable only part of the year, and the last days of fall were fast slipping away. With every passing day the weakening sun rose later and set earlier.
“What do you think, Zethul?” Cagle asked his companion.
“I think it’s going to be a cold trip,” the dwarf said.
“Still believe those extra skins and furs are a waste of weight?” Cagle could see the first of a dozen wagons he’d commissioned to haul the winter gear from his seat atop his horse.
“No, I’m thinking we’ll be needing them soon enough.” Zethul’s eyes crinkled down into pinpricks as he squinted at the Jandas ahead. Not for the first time, Cagle wondered how well the dwarf could see.
Sons of Plague: Tales of Kartha Book One Page 5
