Rise and Fall (Book 1)

by Joshua P. Simon

  Grayer sat in a sleeveless jerkin, exposing large, powerful arms. In one hand, he held a sheet of paper within inches of his face, his eyes squinted in concentration. The other hand held a lemon cake that he shoved into his mouth. A large belly folded over his lap.

  The general made no sign that he had heard Elyse or her guards enter the armory. So Elyse addressed him first, “Good day, General Grayer. I hope all is well with you.”

  Her voice caused him to jump from his chair and come to full attention. The man resembled a barrel with skinny legs. Elyse held in a snicker as she wondered whether he would topple in a strong wind. Despite his size, he bowed fluidly at the waist as befitted a man who had spent his life in the military.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Your Majesty. We get so few visitors here. If I would have known, my dress….”

  “Your dress is fine, General. May I have a moment of your time?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course. I can change quickly and meet you at a place more appropriate if you like.”

  “Here is fine. Please have a seat,” she said motioning to the chairs. After the two settled she continued. “What shape is our army in?”

  “Shape? Why, the army is in excellent shape as always,” said Grayer, though Elyse could see his voice lacked the confidence she hoped for.

  He fears what will happen when I learn the truth of things. She glanced at a rusted breast plate and shook her head. I may have believed him only yesterday but not after seeing this. “General, please, I need you to be as honest with me as you would with your captains. Brutally honest, in fact. I need to know that if it comes down to it, we can defend our land.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “I can give you brutal honesty, Your Majesty. In fact, I welcome the truth, though I’m afraid you won’t like it.” He paused. “Yes, I have heard the rumors circulating around the kingdom and I know they change daily as to who poses the greatest threat. And each day I sit here asking myself the same questions. Who will attack first? Where will the attack be? How can we defend the realm? I’m no closer to the answers. But I do know the answer to one question, perhaps the most important question of all. Can we defend the realm? And the answer is, without a doubt, no. I look at the numbers you see before you in our records and they never change. We don’t have the strength or skill to win a war if it came down to it.” He paused for a second adding, “Don’t think that will stop me from trying, Your Majesty. I am a man with honor. I swore an oath to the crown each time I moved through the ranks. I don’t take those things lightly.”

  It is worse than I thought. How can I not have already known about this? Why do my advisors not know about this? Even Gauge made no mention of such things.

  She tried not to let it show that his words had bothered her. “Thank you, General. But I must ask, how can you say we don’t have a chance to win a war? You are in charge of the Royal Army. Where are we lacking?”

  He gestured to the forge. “I remember when I joined the military and I was given my first sword. Every fire burned bright in here, and you could feel the heat throughout the entire building. Masters and apprentices alike hammered away each day making repairs, and trying to outdo each other with their newest creations.” He gestured to the fletcher. “The same occurred there. The warm temperatures of the forge allowed the fletchers to work the wood more easily to make bows and arrows at an alarming pace.” He sighed. “This place was so efficient, we could supply fighting forces in and out of the realm, even to Conroy before he built his own armory. Now, we are barely able to maintain the weapons for the royal guard let alone a larger army.”

  “I don’t understand. Isn’t it one of your duties to ensure such things are properly maintained?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, it is. But it all boils down to money. I can yell, scream, argue, and plead, but no one works for free. A blacksmith, a fletcher, and even a soldier have their own responsibilities at home and mouths to feed.”

  “How is it that you lack the funds necessary to maintain your army?”

  “Well again, if brutal honesty is what you want, your father cut funding greatly over the past few years. He went on about how maintaining a strong military was a waste of money as there hadn’t been a real threat of rebellion outside a few minor lords since Aurnon the Third’s reign. I tried to explain to him that the crown should always be in control of the strongest army in the land, but he would not listen. I daresay our forces are the weakest and our lords have been allowed to work their land without performing their duties to the army.”

  Is that all I really inherited from you father? A long list of mistakes and problems? And now I have just a few months to try to fix mistakes it took years to make. “How large is our army now?”

  He sighed. “Large isn’t the best word to use in describing the army, Your Majesty. Outside of the royal guard, we have roughly four thousand men stationed throughout our territory.”

  Elyse’s eyes widened. “That can’t be all?”

  “It sickens me to say this, Your Majesty. But I’m afraid so. Most of our best men were sent to Conroy,” he said with his head down, not wanting to meet her eyes.

  He blames me for making matters worse. But I had no idea things were so bad. But that’s it, isn’t it? It is my responsibility to know everything.

  “Last I heard, Tomalt could call in a full army that would be well over ten times that amount,” said Elyse.

  “Yes, and that would be just from his northern forces. Conroy’s army isn’t as numerous but his men are better trained, and far more experienced from defending the High Pass. Bronn is somewhere in the middle.”

  “And what of Olasi and Jeldor?”

  “Olasi’s troops are second in training and experience only to Conroy’s. Being so close to the High Pass himself, they have to be in case Conroy needs help, however his numbers are fewer. Regardless, we would be cut off from his help if a war did occur with Tomalt. I’m not as sure about Jeldor’s men since that region is so isolated from the rest of Cadonia. I do know that his army would be the smallest of any but our own, having the smallest territory. However, growing up in such a land, his men have a natural hardness about them.” He paused. “Your Majesty?”

  “Yes, General?”

  “Well, one area we always had a great advantage in was sorcery. And if it comes to war, a few extra mages could make a big difference in our ability to defend the kingdom.”

  Elyse frowned. “I know, General. But Amcaro is dead and with no High Mages left alive, Estul Island is without anyone to oversee those still in training or provide council to those here on the mainland.” She shook her head. “I’ve asked Gauge to send word to them, but so far I’ve not received any response.”

  “I see,” said Grayer, looking weary.

  Such talk of her army’s inferiority overwhelmed Elyse but she had to do something. My advisors want decisions, then so be it.

  “General, I want our army to grow and I want it done fast,” said Elyse, raising her voice.

  “Your Majesty?” said Grayer, looking up wide-eyed. “We will need money to…”

  “You will have anything and everything you ask for within reason. Consider money no longer a problem.” At least I hope it isn’t. “We will meet each day at this time to discuss your progress, starting tomorrow. We have much more to go over then. I want you to be completely honest with me going forward in all things and do not be afraid to ask for anything concerning your task. The defense of this kingdom is my number one priority. Is that clear?”

  “Absolutely, Your Majesty,” said Grayer, his eyes springing to life with purpose. “I promise you that every waking moment will be spent on bringing this army back to its glory.”

  Elyse nodded, satisfied by Grayer’s eagerness. As the two parted Elyse noticed that Grayer seemed to be in much higher spirits as he raced to begin work. She, on the other hand, felt more depressed than ever.

  One Above, how can we ever hope to win with so small a force? Still, I refuse to run away and give up. How
could I have been so oblivious to the state of the army? I’ll have to talk to Gauge about the army’s condition before the day is through.

  Realizing her tardiness for another appointment, she rushed from the armory.

  * * *

  “And then what did you say?” asked Lobella as she helped Elyse undress.

  “Nothing at first. I was too shocked. But then I was angry and in so many words told him that in the future it is not his place to keep things from me regarding my kingdom. Then he apologized and we bid each other good night.”

  The two said nothing else as Elyse slipped her gown over her head and Lobella put it away. Lobella came back and began helping Elyse with her undergarments and then with her nightgown. Finally, Elyse broke the silence. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

  “It isn’t my place to question my Queen’s decisions,” said Lobella.

  “Well then question your friend’s decisions,” said Elyse turning to face Lobella.

  The servant dropped her eyes. “I think you were too hard on him.”

  “Too hard on him? How can you say that? He purposefully kept information from me regarding the state of the royal army.” Elyse paused, flustered, then added, “On top of that, he did nothing to remedy the situation.”

  “I didn’t say I agreed with his actions. And frankly, I’m the last person to say whether his decisions were sound in judgment. But I think he was only looking out for your best interests. You tell me yourself that he handles a great deal of duties that would otherwise fall on you.”

  Elyse swallowed hard. “I do rely on him a lot, but how could he ignore something so important?”

  “I’ve only spoken to Gauge in passing but he doesn’t seem like the type of person to ignore anything that is important. You said yourself that the military isn’t what it should be. Maybe he thought his time could be better spent looking at other issues that would solve the same problem?” Lobella finished with a shrug.

  Some of his suggestions do lend themselves to that idea. It would make sense why he has spent so much time negotiating with those advisors sympathetic to other dukes. Now that I think about it, he started behaving that way more so after I sent those troops off to Conroy. Is he only trying to fix my mistake? I’ll have to talk to him tomorrow about this. Maybe if word gets out that we are spending so much on our own army, it will deter Tomalt or anyone else from attacking?

  Elyse realized that she hadn’t yet said a word in response to Lobella, who now brushed her hair. “I think you’re right. I’ll need to apologize to him in the morning. As queen, I have no one to blame but myself.”

  * * *

  For hours Elyse tossed and turned, unable to find rest. Her mind busied itself with the thoughts from that day. Another stressful council meeting, the worries of war, an inadequate army, and losing her temper with Gauge all contributed to her frazzled state. However, the meeting with Illyan caused her the greatest distress. She thought about how easily he set up their meeting, sending false messages to her guards, catching her alone in a secluded hallway.

  And he knows my schedule and that of my aides better than Gillian does.

  However, the part of the encounter that terrified her most was the knowing look and the devilish grin Illyan gave her when mentioning Sacrynon’s Scepter. There was no way for him to know what had happened on that dreadful day when the castle became a killing field. Only she bore witness to those tragic events, and when recalling them to others, she had been careful about what information to leave out.

  Perhaps, I remembered some of your lessons after all, Jonrell.

  Yet, Illyan’s insinuations gave her pause. After Lobella had left her room earlier, she locked the door and checked the floorboards under her bed. It was still there. She had no reason to doubt that the Scepter could not be found. The secret hiding spot was one she discovered as a girl and never told anyone about. At first she wondered if someone would be able to sense the Scepter’s power emanating from her room, but that was apparently not how the weapon worked. She remembered Nareash saying that the scepter had originally been concealed as a simple candleholder for centuries until he had stumbled upon it.

  No, someone must first know how to wield the weapon and bring forth its power.

  She shuddered, knowing that she slept right above the dreadful object. Yet, what other option did she have? She refused to allow anyone to use such a thing again.

  Chapter 12

  Notch. Draw. Aim. Release.

  The steady rhythm with a bow brought him peace in a way that few things could match. With it in his hand, the world around him no longer existed.

  In Tobin’s youth, his Uncle Cef had been responsible for schooling the potential Kifzo warriors. A harsh man, he would push the recruits every waking moment, leaving little time for them to think about anything other than their task. After Tobin’s uncle died, the training of the youth shifted to the veterans. It was understood that the older warriors knew what was expected of them and so no longer were they forced to keep as strict of a schedule.

  Tobin recalled hating that single-mindedness of his uncle’s methods. How ironic that he duplicated such a schedule now. Without Kaz hovering over him, Tobin had become his own staunchest competitor, rising before dawn and working well past dusk.

  Notch. Draw. Aim. Release.

  Since the night he found Nachun kneeling before his brother’s body, Tobin had only spoken to his father once, that next morning. As expected, Bazraki had wanted him to confirm Nachun’s story surrounding the previous night’s events which he did.

  Bazraki also used the time to finally probe Tobin about what he had discovered during his time with Nachun since Nubinya. To his surprise, the discussion was not as intense as he had expected. Tobin found a way to give enough information to his father without casting Nachun in a negative light. Yet, Tobin felt relieved when he finished.

  Tobin and Nachun had barely spoken since that night in the bowels of the palace. In fact, Tobin purposefully avoided him, though he never stopped long enough to consider why.

  Notch. Draw. Aim. Release.

  Tobin had kept his distance from Lucia as well. When their paths happened to cross, he would feign deafness or quickly seek a place to hide in order to avoid her. Undeterred by his behavior, Lucia took to sending him messages, asking that they meet for dinner. Tobin declined each offer without explanation, through the use of a messenger.

  He shook his head. The thoughts he tried to shun somehow had crept back into his mind. He narrowed in on the target.

  Notch. Draw. Aim. Release.

  Tobin’s newfound commitment to preparation was intended to separate him from the others, but in some ways the plan backfired. Other Kifzo had noted his new training habits and he found himself no longer alone in keeping such lengthy hours. Tobin didn’t know if it was out of inadequacy, competition, or guilt that his fellow Kifzo joined him for his marathon sessions but the training yard beamed with activity each and every day. Yet Tobin only desired to revel in its silence.

  He snorted. When have I ever gotten what I wanted? None of it really matters. In fact, nothing matters anymore. His eyes squinted to the farthest target out; one that only a few in his whole clan could reach.

  Notch. Draw. Aim. Release.

  The edges of his mouth turned up.

  * * *

  Tobin closed each day with the sword. Practicing while already fatigued forced him to narrow his focus. He ran through the memorized drills his uncle had taught him while seeking a way to compensate for his hindered footwork. The self-imposed challenge seemed to rejuvenate his interest with the weapon. He worked later and later each night, sometimes only by the light of the moon. He failed to pinpoint the cause to his sudden rededication.

  Perhaps it’s because Kaz is no longer here to ridicule me at every turn.

  Sessions had begun with Tobin working on his forms alone. But as his confidence grew, he realized he needed more of a challenge, understanding that with such isolation, he only
limited himself. So, putting aside his fears, he made use of the practice circles that he had shunned for so long.

  Dozens of fenced-in practice circles were grouped in the southwest corner of the practice yard, butted against Juanoq’s southern walls. Looming overhead, the fortifications cast long shadows over the grunting combatants below. The cacophony of clashing weapons filled Tobin’s ears as he twisted the sword in his hand, dodging a flurry of blows.

  Tobin knew Walor would work with him, rather than against him. As an accomplished swordsman, Walor used his compact size and quickness to dart around and between his opponent’s defenses. The head scout’s style challenged Tobin’s hampered mobility.

  Parrying one of Walor’s thrusts, Tobin countered with a slash of his own. Walor ducked under the blow, then sidestepped Tobin’s next swing. A grin crept across Walor’s face as he leaped backward to circumvent yet another of Tobin’s attacks.

  The two paused, circling each other around the crude fence that enclosed the practice circle. Walor jerked his head off to the side and a loud pop followed. “Ah, there it is.”

  “Am I boring you so much that you can stretch during our match?” said Tobin, lifting his arm to wipe sweat from his brow.

  “Actually, I was just thinking how much better you’ve gotten. A week ago, you would have left yourself open after the upward cut, but this time you kept pressing.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that I’ve shaken your confidence?”

  Walor’s grin widened. “Hardly.” He jumped forward, bringing his sword down. Tobin clacked his practice sword away.

  Got him.

  As Walor landed, Tobin moved to separate their weapons by pushing off with his boot. But Walor rolled, tumbling to the dirt, limbs snaking out in a blur of motion. A moment later, Tobin rested on his back, staring up at the gloomy night. Walor stood over him and the light from the torches lining the circle danced off his face. Walor’s sword hovered inches from Tobin’s face. He smiled. “You’re dead.”