Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four

by Shepherd, Joel

  Errollyn went straight to Rhillian, and she rose. Errollyn embraced her. Sasha saw her face over Errollyn's shoulder, her expression a little surprised and quite relieved.

  “I'm sad about Arendelle,” Errollyn told her as they parted. “But not Kiel. I would have done it earlier, had not consequences forbidden it.”

  “This is not a matter to be spoken of so lightly,” another serrin said gravely.

  “No one asked your opinion, Hsheldrin,” Errollyn cut him off, eyes not leaving Rhillian. The talmaad named Hsheldrin looked quite displeased. “Kiel's plan was evil, as was much of Kiel's path of late. If we do not oppose evil, we oppose nothing. If Arendelle was ensnared by Kiel's ra'shi at the time, then his death is also an unavoidable and necessary sadness. You did right and well.”

  Sasha went to sit by Aisha, who offered her a bowl of biscuits.

  “What happens here?” Errollyn asked the gathering, challengingly. “You all look like someone died.”

  Discomfort swept the room. Even Rhillian gave him a faintly warning look, resuming her seat by Aisha. Errollyn paced, slowly.

  “We discuss vy'tal air,” replied a serrin.

  “Banishment,” Aisha whispered to Sasha, in Lenay.

  Sasha frowned. “From what?”

  “Saalshen. The serrinim. Everything.”

  Sasha stared across at Rhillian. Rhillian met her eyes, and smiled faintly.

  Errollyn was laughing. “Vy'tal air,” he said. “Seriously? You're not joking?”

  More frowns. Errollyn spoke Saalsi with deliberate bluntness, like some vandal using a porcelain statuette to break down a door. Hearing it was enough to make more sophisticated serrin wince.

  “If vy'tal air is not invoked by this act,” said another serrin, “then for what should it be invoked?”

  “I don't know,” Errollyn replied. “How about for something wrong?”

  “No serrin has intentionally and in good mind murdered another serrin in millennia!” came the angry reply. “She murdered two!”

  “Firstly,” said Errollyn, “Rhillian did not murder anyone. Kiel murdered a human family, and was about to murder many more. Rhillian stopped him. In the course of this stopping, Kiel lost his life, as did Arendelle. A fair trade in any moral tongue, I think.

  “Secondly, we are about to fight a battle for Saalshen's very existence. The talmaad have two truly proven commanders in this fight. I am one, Rhillian is the other. She commanded with excellence in Elisse; few if any could have done as well. This discussion can wait until after the battle, if there is an after. If there is not an after, it will be because we are all dead, thus rendering all of this most excellent hot air of yours wasted.”

  “This is the most serious crime against the serrinim in a millennium!” another serrin said angrily. “And you treat it as a joke!”

  “I treat you as a joke,” Errollyn corrected. “All of you. Killing a murderous serrin is evil, yet murdering human families is nothing? Is evil only evil if it is committed against a serrin? Morality cannot be equivocated. Morality is consistency. Wrong is wrong no matter who the victim.

  “The only crime here was committed by Kiel. Serrin do not kill each other because we rarely do enough evil to warrant it. If you wish to be upset by someone breaking a long-standing tradition of the serrinim, be upset by that. Rhillian, let's leave. If this mob does not understand even that much, they are not worth our company.”

  “You can appoint her as commander of talmaad if you wish,” a serrin said darkly. “Whether any serrin shall choose to follow her is another matter.”

  A small group of buildings clustered along the stream. One was a mill, its waterwheel squeaking in the rush of downhill water. Sasha wondered if the slope of the ground had been shaped by serrin many hundreds of years ago, or if they had chosen this slope to make the water run faster.

  “Now you know how it feels,” Errollyn said to Rhillian as the four of them walked along the bank.

  Rhillian sighed, thumbs tucked in her belt. She was greatly upset, but showed it little. Sasha put a hand on her shoulder. “We are all four of us exiles, in our way. My father cast me from Lenayin, Aisha cannot return to Enora, Errollyn is du'jannah, and now you.”

  “I will not leave,” said Rhillian, gazing at the mill. “The threats of a people who cannot punish their own mean nothing.”

  “I need you on the right flank with Sasha's Ilduuris,” said Errollyn. “If they will not follow you, they'll have me to answer to. I don't trust anyone else to do the job.”

  “Arjen could,” said Rhillian. “Mirelle.”

  Errollyn shook his head. “Rhillian, we have been having this argument since Petrodor. Serrin do not think flexibly. We follow. The vel'ennar is our peace and harmony, but it is also our shackles. I have no vel'ennar, so I see things that others miss. And now there is you, a normal serrin, who has become somehow stranger even than I. Before you took Kiel's life, I would not have trusted you with command as I do now.”

  Rhillian gave him a wary stare. “I am a killer of my own kind.”

  “Like me,” said Sasha. Rhillian rolled her eyes.

  They stopped on a small bridge that crossed the stream to the mills. The building adjoining the mill had a chimney, and Sasha could smell the most wonderful bread baking. Serrin unloaded sacks of grain from a cart. One recognised Errollyn, and shouted greeting. Errollyn waved back.

  “What chance do you give us?” Rhillian asked Sasha as they leaned on the rail.

  “If we can take some of their artillery early, a reasonable chance,” said Sasha. “If not, very little.”

  Rhillian nodded reluctantly. “Immobility is death against Steel artillery. A fate much like Saalshen's. We are immobile. Human civilisations change, yet we remain stuck in one place.”

  “They weren't supposed to capture our artillery,” said Aisha. “But no one really knew what would happen in a defeat. The Steel had won only victories in two centuries. Defeat was never planned for properly.”

  “And now we equip our worst enemies with our deadliest weapons,” Rhillian finished. “But it was always going to happen. Things do not stand still upon the western side of the Ipshaal. Saalshen's enemies were always going to learn to use that weaponry one day.”

  “You should have invaded them all when you had the chance,” said Sasha.

  Rhillian shrugged. “The oldest argument, the oldest regret. Serrin are who we are—we thought that by not invading, we were being kind. And now our kindness will kill us.”

  “War is not the worst thing.” Sasha thought of Markan, and Damon. Thought of pending battles, against enemies and friends. “Sometimes it is the lack of war that creates a worse disaster.”

  Rhillian looked at her. “What are you going to do about Markan?”

  Sasha was not surprised that Rhillian could guess her thoughts; Rhillian knew her well. “I should do what is best for Lenayin,” she replied, without conviction.

  “Perhaps a woman to rule Lenayin would be good,” Aisha suggested. “Perhaps it would improve things.”

  “Not even for the blink of an eye,” Sasha said sombrely. “Do you believe in that old nonsense of women acting more kindly and gently? This is me we're talking about, Aisha.”

  “That is true,” Aisha conceded with a smile.

  “The north would rebel,” Sasha added.

  “The north rebel anyhow,” said Rhillian. “What difference?”

  “Many more would join them. I am a Goeren-yai figure, so the Verenthanes would be threatened. And worse, the methods that Markan seeks to use to elevate me mean that every mad fool in Lenayin who feels slighted that the gods or spirits did not grant him an earlier birth will challenge his brother to battle. I agree that Lenayin needs a means of passing power from one man to another without the endless shedding of blood. I refuse to add to the bloodshed in generations to come.”

  A boy of perhaps twelve came running to the bridge from the bakery. Errollyn greeted him, and the boy showed him the bow he was car
rying. It looked newly made, and the right height for a boy that age.

  “Well, they seem quite adamant, Sasha,” said Aisha. “I do not claim to know Lenayin as well as you, but I know it quite well for a foreigner. There does seem to be a desire for you to lead them, and I do not think they will simply allow you to refuse.”

  “You know most peoples quite well, Aisha.” Sasha sighed. “They have superstitions. Some say I am the Synnich. I was Kessligh's uma, I am Goeren-yai, as are three-quarters of this army, and yes, I have achieved some things. Common Lenay folk have always disliked the Lenay nobility because the nobility hold titles that they did not earn. It is not the Lenay way. Now the nobles fight with the Regent, so naturally they strike against the ways of nobility, to elevate me above Damon.”

  “You could lose to Damon on purpose,” Rhillian suggested. “In a tymorain.”

  “You don't think they'd notice?” Sasha retorted.

  “Or you could fight Markan,” said Aisha.

  “My ally.” Sasha thought about it, frowning. “I'm not sure what it achieves. Nor if I could beat him at tymorain. I may strike him four out of five exchanges, but he's huge. He only needs to hit me once—he can kill much bigger opponents than me even with a stanch.”

  “There is that,” Aisha agreed. “But Sasha, you said you wish to do what is best for Lenayin. These Lenay men have settled upon a stupid custom, and…”

  “It's not a stupid custom,” Sasha retorted. “It is the elevation of the most capable, and more nations should follow it. It's just stupid to apply it to royalty.”

  Sasha was interrupted by Errollyn, drawing the serrin boy's bow and firing an arrow into a nearby tree. He spoke with the boy, impressed. The boy was pleased.

  “It's newly made,” Errollyn explained to her, seeing her watching. “I showed him how to make it a week ago.”

  Sasha blinked. “He made it in a week?” Errollyn nodded. Sasha knew serrin bows were far more complex than anything humans used, comprised of several kinds of wood, moulded together in ways that dramatically increased power, accuracy, and range.

  “You people are extraordinary,” she murmured.

  Rhillian smiled, and grasped her hand. “Many of you people are just as extraordinary. So many of you have come to fight for us foreigners.”

  Sasha shook her head. “We do not just fight for you. Everyone wishes to make a better world, and we all believe that the human world would be far better with the serrin still in it. We fight for ourselves.”

  Sasha dreamed a terrible dream.

  Then, with a start, she awoke. The first thing she saw was Errollyn's eyes, gazing at her on the pillows from barely a hand's breadth away.

  “You dream,” Errollyn said softly.

  “I dream of fire,” Sasha whispered. “And of rain.”

  “Your people believe that a warrior's spirit guide will visit him before a great battle. Do you also believe?”

  “Believe. That word is not the same from your lips and mine, even though we speak the same tongue. Serrin do not believe as humans do.”

  “Do you believe?” Errollyn pressed.

  Sasha recalled the fire, and the sea of raised spears and swords. Recalled the pouring rain upon the hillsides, quenching the flames. Fire and water, the primary place of spirits. Serrin had taught her to think clearly. Yet whatever else she was, she remained Lenay, and Goeren-yai.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “Perhaps you are the Synnich,” Errollyn suggested, sliding a hand to her waist beneath the sheets.

  “No. I'm me.”

  “Yet you believe in forces beyond the control of us all.”

  “As do you.”

  “I may be in the grip of one such force right now,” Errollyn agreed. He kissed her. Sasha kissed him back.

  A knock on the door interrupted them. Sasha wrapped a leg about her lover and ignored it. The door opened a crack.

  “A thousand pardons, sir and m'lady. There are visitors.”

  “Better be good,” Sasha murmured against Errollyn's cheek. “Who?” she called more loudly.

  “Your sister,” came the reply.

  Sasha's eyes widened. “Sofy?” She scrambled from the bed, found some of her favoured thigh-length woollen underwear and a shirt, and just in time as a slim girl in loose pants and a floppy shirt came tearing into the chambers with no decorum at all, and charged at Sasha with a squeal.

  Sasha grabbed her and they tumbled onto the bed. When Sasha let go to look at her, she could scarcely believe her eyes. Sofy's hair was nearly short. Not completely, but now it barely fell past her shoulders, a scandalous cut indeed for a girl who had always worn it halfway down her back. And she had odd braids in it, several to either side of her face, to wild and unpredictable effect. In Sofy's loose travelling clothes, Sasha could see no other sign of jewellery or decoration, save that she smelled lovely, like flowers.

  “Good lords!” Sasha exclaimed. “What have you done with yourself? What happened to the Princess Regent?”

  “Oh, I have tales!” Sofy explained, with a faint sadness through the joy. “But later. Look at you! You look fit and well, and I see few scars anywhere!” They hugged again. Sofy looked up from the bed to find Errollyn, who had dragged on a pair of pants for modesty. “Errollyn!”

  She leaped up and hugged him too, then exclaimed at his remaining scars, a clear but fading tracery across his body. As they talked, Sasha felt an unexpected emotion. When Sofy's attention returned, she was surprised to find Sasha wiping tears.

  “Sasha, what's wrong?”

  “Everyone's here,” Sasha explained, helplessly. “Everyone I love. Or nearly everyone.”

  “But we're going to win, right?” Sofy grasped her hands. “And when we win, how better than all together?”

  Sasha sighed, and nodded, with what she hoped was conviction. Sofy did not yet truly know war. She did not consider how dearly even victory would cost them.

  They exchanged tales, as servants brought breakfast.

  “So where is Jaryd?” Sasha asked.

  “With the army,” Sofy explained. “We reached Tormae last evening; we could have reached Jahnd that night but the villagers said there would be grand events for you, so we thought we'd wait until morning.”

  “We were in Tormae just yesterday,” Sasha confirmed.

  “Yes, they said. Isn't it lovely? Errollyn, Saalshen is so beautiful! And your people! I've yet to meet any who were fearful or unkind, even once they learned who I am.”

  “You should see the star festivals,” Errollyn said sadly. “The next is in a week, if I have my calendar right. Only I fear it will be skipped this year.”

  “I would love to see everything Saalshen has to offer,” Sofy enthused, breaking bread and spreading butter. “I would love to spend a year here—I'm sure even then I could barely scratch the surface.”

  “Sofy.” Sasha drew her attention, cautiously. “So you and Jaryd are…?”

  “Fucking, yes.” And Sofy laughed at the look on Sasha's face.

  “Sofy…you're still married.”

  Sofy chewed her bread. “What's your point?”

  “To the Regent.”

  Sofy shrugged, determined to finish her mouthful before answering.

  “I like this new development,” Errollyn admitted, very amused. Sasha was too incredulous to respond. What in the world had happened to her very respectable and proper little sister?

  “I could not reconcile it for a very long time,” Sofy said after a swallow. “I mean, I love people, and I love all the things about people that make them difficult. Gods know I had enough of it with our family.”

  “No argument there.”

  “Yourself included,” Sofy added pointedly, but with a sparkle. Sasha nodded impatiently. “And I got so angry with you sometimes, because you fell in love with all these things that the mindless head bashers in Lenayin love so much. You know, duelling, warfare…”

  “We are a nation of warriors, Sofy.”

 
; “We,” Sofy retorted with sarcasm. “Well, I'm not. And I've never accepted that people are evil, because that's just the excuse these mindless brutes use to justify killing each other. So I could not believe that Balthaar was evil, and for the longest time I refused to accept that he could do all these evil things that you and others accused him of. But then I saw Tracato. And I saw what the Elissians did to those innocent townsfolk we tried to save, and…”

  “But none of that was Balthaar directly,” Sasha interrupted, watching Sofy intently. “Tracato was set afire by the Black Order. And the Elissians follow themselves.”

  Sofy smiled. “But this is the point, Sasha. I realised it did not matter that Balthaar had not ordered these things directly. This is not a question of personal responsibility. It's a question of ideas. And beliefs. Balthaar's ideas led to that. He shares those beliefs. He thinks them innocuous enough, and godly, and right and proper, as he's been taught. He is not a bad man, and he genuinely believes that what he is doing is right, and will lead to the betterment of all the world, and all the people in it.”

  “Except mine,” said Errollyn.

  “Yes,” Sofy agreed. “In his mind, serrin are not ‘people.’” And she reached a hand to grasp Errollyn's in apology. “It's only what he's been taught—he does not know any better.”

  “How tragic for him.”

  “It is,” Sofy agreed. “Because his wife has now realised that none of it matters. Him being good, many of his people being good, it's irrelevant. We have to stop them. Kill them all if we must. There may be no evil people, but there are certainly evil ideas and evil actions. It is very sad if good people must be killed to prevent their evil actions, but there it is. It's really quite stunning how simple it is when you realise it.”

  “So what will you do now?”

  Sofy looked faintly surprised at the question. “Well, I cannot fight, but I can stand on a rampart and wave a banner. I can declare before all friends and enemies that the Princess Regent is so convinced of the evil of her husband's actions that she has turned against him.”