Rise and Fall (Book 1)

by Joshua P. Simon

  Kaz nodded in the gate’s direction. “Go.”

  The commander clicked the reins of his horse. A city of blue and larger than Floroson? And from what I can guess has grown quickly over the past twenty years. I have never heard of such a place. He considered his extensive travels and, more so, his extensive study of the world of Hyron under Amcaro. Then he found his thoughts taking a turn to the more skeptical. Could he truly be making all this up? If so, he’s a great actor. A scarier thought struck him then. Could the blow to his head have damaged his brain permanently? Could he end up crazy? He looked back at Kaz who was feeling the grooves in the wall of a tanner’s shop, concentration lining his face. No. I will not condemn a man who has given me no cause to do so and has become a friend. The others will come around. I know it.

  * * *

  Lady Jaendora forced a smile as Jonrell came up beside her, the stress from Tomalt’s attack still obviously fresh on her mind. She had led the way through Floroson, continuing to send messengers throughout the journey. “Lord Undalain would be proud of you, My Lady,” said the commander.

  The comment took the governess off guard as she leaned back in the saddle, raising an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “I’ve watched you at times during our passage through the city. A word or simple gesture from you seemed to put the masses at ease. They love and respect you. I remember your husband was held in similar regard. I always admired that about him.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. Undalain was always mindful of the people. I try to be the same. It was something he and I both learned from your grandfather. A good king and an even better man, he deserves the credit.”

  “I wish I could have known him. He seems like someone I would have gotten along with.”

  “Your father was at one time very much like his father.”

  “So, I’ve heard. Yet, I never knew that man,” said Jonrell bitterly.

  “Just so,” said Jaendora. “You do remind me of your grandfather.”

  Jonrell raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yes. When you weren’t watching me, I was watching you,” she said. “I can see the way your men treat you. They would lay down their lives for you without pause. It takes a rare man to command such loyalty. Your grandfather also had such effortless skill and would be proud of the man you’ve become.” She paused and nodded toward Kaz. “I must say I’ve never seen anyone like the black man you were just speaking with. I can tell his friendship is important to you. Though by the behavior of others around him, it seems many do not share your opinion. Why is that?”

  The commander shrugged. “His complexion, the way he carries himself, his unmatched skill, a mysterious past.”

  “Yet he is made to feel as important as the rest?”

  “Because he is. I look at the man underneath. And all of my soldiers are important whether they know it or not. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be under my command.”

  “As I said, much like your grandfather.”

  Jonrell let out a small sigh. “Thank you. I just hope Elyse sees me in such a way.”

  Jaendora frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What you said about your sister. Jonrell, she will be angry with you, with good cause and especially at first. You hurt a lot of people by leaving. Undalain and I were heartbroken, as were countless others, noble and common. But you were young and never saw that.” She hesitated as if trying to find the words. “You know, after you ran off, your father would not allow Elyse to stay with us any longer for visits. And then as Undalain’s health declined, we weren’t able to travel to Lyrosene as often to visit her. When he passed away, I tried to reach out to her again but she had isolated herself from most everyone. I think she was afraid to let anyone in again,” said Jaendora, her voice filled with regret.

  Jonrell remained silent.

  Lady Jaendora cleared her throat. “I know that isn’t what you wanted to hear right now, but I needed to say it so I can forgive you. But there, it’s done.”

  She reached out and touched his hand, causing him to meet her moist eyes. “I know it is all true. I don’t know what I can say to that. Only that I’m sorry and I won’t let you down again,” said Jonrell.

  She cleared her throat. “I know you won’t, My Prince. I can see that. However, others may not be as understanding at first. Elyse most of all.”

  Jonrell nodded.

  “Well, then,” said the governess, removing her hand and placing it on her saddle, “enough of that. I think we should discuss this business of Tomalt. What would My Prince have me do?”

  Jonrell chuckled at the sudden change in conversation. “Well, I’m afraid I haven’t conferred with the queen just yet on the matter. However, I do have several suggestions that I believe she would find most agreeable. As a matter of fact,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a rolled piece of parchment, “I have a certain letter I believe you should have.”

  Jaendora accepted the letter and began reading its contents. She nodded.

  “That is for your eyes only. Make the preparations as outlined there, but tell no one about its intent. I’ll contact you when the pieces are in place.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “Do whatever you have to in order to prevent Tomalt from raising a blockade. I convinced Sylik, the captain of Ocean Spirit, to stick around and aid you in any way. I know he doesn’t look like those you’d normally employ, but I’ve never seen a better captain. Utilize him any way you see fit, the more impossible the job, the better with him. He likes money but deep down, I think it’s the challenge that excites him.”

  “It will be done.”

  Just then several wagons rolled into view from a side alley, trailing several dozen warhorses. “Ah, here they are,” said Jaendora.

  Jonrell raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

  “A governess must learn to multi-task as well,” she said, smiling once again. “It’s not a lot, but it’s the best I could muster on such short notice for your journey to Lyrosene. The horses may be the most important of all, I’m afraid. You’ll find that your father let many things fall to the wayside in his later years. Maintaining a proper cavalry was one of them. I only wish I could offer more.”

  “You’ve done more than enough.” He leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, My Lady.”

  She touched her cheek.

  He slipped away quickly as her eyes welled once again and a faint smile trembled at her lips.

  Chapter 18

  Strapped tight on his back against the hard wooden table, Tobin tightened his hands into fists. Sweat beaded on his skin and his nostrils flared with each rapid intake of air. He gripped a dowel of wood between his teeth.

  He hoped for a hint at what was happening beyond his vision, but saw nothing. A face appeared before him, hooded in blue and red. It smiled, though the gesture brought little comfort. “I’m sorry,” it said, casting a glance toward Tobin’s ankle. “But it must be this way.”

  Sudden movement caught his attention. Torchlight bounced off the head of a large hammer, looming high. Tobin thought he heard voices talking, but the pounding of his heart drowned out any coherency to those words. His eyes widened as the hammer dropped out of sight. He never saw the impact. He only felt it. The dowel snapped in his mouth and he let out a terrible scream. Pain shot up his leg and then into the rest of his body. His mouth filled with bile and his eyes with water. He choked on that scream as the world around him turned black…

  * * *

  Tobin awoke with a start and gasped for air. He sat up and wiped sweat from his brow, trying to calm himself. A figure stood several paces away. He blinked away the remaining sleep. “What time is it?”

  “Near midnight. We’ve dropped anchor and preparations have started.” Nachun paused. “I was able to keep the others from hearing your screams.”

  Tobin stood up and began dressing without looking at the shaman. “Thank you.”

  “Was it the same dr
eam?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do after leaving the ship?”

  “I’ll be ok. Now that we’re here, I think my mind will be focused on meeting with Mawkuk.”

  “If you would let me come…”

  “No, you were right earlier. I need to do this alone so I can prove to my father and to the other Kifzo that they can have confidence in me as Warleader. Besides, I don’t want Mawkuk recognizing you from when your family traveled through here before.”

  Nachun tilted his head. “Actually, my father approached Mawkuk alone when we petitioned the Gray Marsh Clan. I had remained behind with my family in order to protect them in case he failed to return. Mawkuk does not know my face.”

  Tobin grunted. “Regardless, it’s best for you to stay with the ship.”

  The shaman extended his hand. “Then I wish you luck.”

  Tobin slung his bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. “Let’s hope I don’t need it,” he said, clasping Nachun’s hand.

  And let’s hope I don’t regret having you stay, my friend.

  * * *

  Leaving the Gulf of Eurinul, the Kifzo entered the Gray Marshes through the Dylis River. The river branched off in several directions and they used many of these tributaries and adjacent canals as they worked toward their destination. Alternating shifts, moving day and night, they wove their skiffs through the maze of muddy waterways in order to reach Cypronya. Travel was slow as the maps used to plan their route did not take into account every twist and turn.

  Tobin woke at the slightest touch from Walor on the early morning of their fifth day in the swamps. The sun had yet to rise, but the black night had softened to a light gray. Other Kifzo stirred in their boats as well. They spotted lit torches inside what looked to be a small inlet. Impossible to judge from such a distance, the torches appeared to surround several larger campfires burning bright despite the coming night. Without that glow bouncing off the water’s surface, access to the canal they sought would have been more difficult to spot. Large cypress trees stood with branches hanging low, and moss hanging lower, on either side of the waterway. They cast an ominous shadow as the party ducked under them.

  Even at midday, I think this place would be difficult to find.

  Tobin stood at the bow of the lead boat with his arms raised out to his sides, his chest exposed in the Heshan sign of peace. A voice called out from shore and Tobin saw a clansman from the Gray Marsh Clan urging the Kifzo onward. Tobin lowered his arms and gave commands to follow their guide.

  Well, at least it looks like they aren’t going to kill us right away.

  As they continued on down the canal, the passage broadened, exposing the entrance to a city most travelers would not have expected to find in such an isolated area. Father’s spies outdid themselves in discovering this place. But their description does not do the place justice.

  Several types of watercraft were moored at the docks. Most flatter and better suited for navigating many of the swamp’s shallow canals than the Kifzo boats. Nets, traps, and rods adorned the sides of the fishing vessels. Tobin realized that like the Blue Island Clan, the Gray Marsh Clan depended greatly on the sustenance they found in their waters.

  But our similarities stop there.

  He looked down at the stagnant murkiness and grunted. The water here was thick and still, a stark contrast from the clear, moving ocean he had always known. He inhaled deeply, nearly choking on the foul odor.

  There is nothing as awful as the air here. It is something I hope to never grow accustomed to.

  Stepping ashore, Tobin turned his gaze toward Cypronya. Looking back only to ensure the others were following, he pursued their guide who had made no effort to slow down or speak. Tobin was sure he should take offense to such a move, and he knew Kaz and his father would have.

  The city slowly exposed itself in detail as the first rays of sunlight pushed away the soft veil of gray covering the landscape. The architecture was unusual in comparison to other cities and villages he had visited. Massive trunks of giant cypress trees constituted Cypronya’s foundation. Thick branches provided the city’s framework for buildings constructed high above the ground. Walkways of rope and wood connected the city above, just as sidestreets separated the main thoroughfares of Juanoq. Few structures stood at ground level and those sat atop poles sunk into the ground. Tobin thought the design peculiar.

  The guide turned back and grunted. “You will walk only where I walk.”

  Tobin nodded.

  Footsteps sounded from behind, softly padding the matted reeds covering the path. “How’s your ankle?” asked Walor.

  “It’s fine,” said Tobin, pausing briefly. The journey south provided Tobin more than enough time to grow accustomed to the full use of that leg.

  “Come,” the guide called out impatiently. He walked faster than before in contempt.

  Tobin spared a glance back at Walor.

  “I like them already,” Walor said, smiling, cracking his neck with a sharp twist.

  Tobin grunted and set off down the trail.

  As the sun peaked over the horizon, Cypronya continued to impress. Craning his neck to look at the massive trees, he saw the first glimmers of movement on the open decks and swaying walkways. The city itself was deep, an alley with no visible end in sight.

  The rows of trees are so straight it seems like someone carefully planted each one by hand.

  Their guide stopped in front of a large bonfire with flames slowly dying. Wisps of smoke danced through the air. On the other side of the fire sat an old and frail man on a throne erected from driftwood. The throne was pieced together haphazardly and carved into the images of hideous beasts foreign to the Kifzo. The man’s wrinkled eyes narrowed as the guide whispered in his ear.

  Men and women stood on either side of the throne. The servants could only be distinguished from the man’s advisers by studying their mannerisms. The old man shifted in his seat of moss and pulled away from the guide.

  The old man cleared his throat and leaned forward. “You’re late.”

  That was not what I had expected to hear. “I did not realize I had an appointment, Mawkuk, Leader of the Gray Marsh Clan.” He bowed as a sign of respect. “I am Tobin, Warleader of the Blue Island Clan, son of El Olam, our ruler.”

  Mawkuk nodded in acknowledgement. “You had an appointment the day your boats reached our lands.” His tone was accusatory.

  “We have good reason for our visit,” he replied.

  “Good reason? We may be isolated here among the swamps and the other clans may look down on us, but we have not been deaf to the dealings of your people.” He shook his head and chuckled. “El Olam? Is that what he calls himself now? Full of arrogance, your father. He is proud to have united the Blue Clan through the spilling of his own people’s blood, isn’t he? No matter that I, and others, found more peaceful solutions to rule.” He paused. “But that wasn’t enough for him, was it? He claimed the Orange Desert Clan as his own and enslaved many of those he’d conquered. A clan that was once considered the weakest in all of Hesh, slowly becomes one of the strongest.” He paused again, before continuing in a patronizing tone. “I must say that I find it interesting for a man with such success to approach me not once, but twice now. What could we offer someone so much greater than ourselves?”

  “Maybe this isn’t the best of places to discuss such matters,” said Tobin, aware of all the eyes on him. “Perhaps there is a more private setting to continue our conversation?”

  “No. Here is where we will discuss whatever it is you would bring before me and my people. But now isn’t the time. I am both tired and hungry. We shall continue this when I am ready.”

  “I was looking to conclude matters quickly. El Olam is awaiting our return.”

  “Your father can wait. You are on our lands and before my throne. Not his.”

  Tobin opened his mouth to respond but Mawkuk raised a hand and spoke to the guide. “See these men to our gue
st quarters and provide them with food and drink. They’ve had a long journey.”

  Tobin’s jaw clenched to bite back his anger. Father would have exploded at such an insult, but I will do this my way.

  He bowed.

  * * *

  The same guide, who had brought them into the city, led them to a large wooden cage resting on the ground beneath a colossal cypress tree. Tied to the cage was a thick rope that stretched toward the sky. Their guide said nothing as the twelve Kifzo warriors followed him into the cage. The guide gave two short tugs to a smaller rope inside the cage. They ascended, swinging to and fro.

  Tobin watched Mawkuk leave his throne. Several women led him to a smaller cage further away. Gazing down from such a height caused him to break out in a cold sweat. He distracted himself by turning his attention to the dwellings they passed during their ascent.

  The cage stopped at the top of the cypress. Tobin saw the enormous pulley the rope was set to and the locking wheel system used to lift and lower the wooden cage. A handful of men worked the system with apparent ease, despite the weight from the men the cage held.

  The guide led them across a long and narrow walkway where they entered a large single room. Wooden pallets covered in straw lined the room’s walls. A wooden table, filled with various food and drink stood in the room’s center.

  They were more than ready for our visit it seems.

  Tobin addressed the guide. “When will Mawkuk call for us?”

  “When he is ready,” said the guide, closing the door.

  From a small window, Tobin watched him cross the walkway and hop back into the cage before it was lowered. Shortly after, the cage returned and half a dozen men joined those already near the wheel system. Though they tried to conceal it, they were each warriors, weapons hidden beneath loose clothing.

  “Looks like they don’t trust us very much,” said Walor, looking out an adjacent window.

  “Why should they?” asked Tobin with a shrug. “My father is not making a name for himself by being a peaceful man.”