Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1)
Page 3
“I noticed, your Ladyship.”
Qabala smirked. “Things have changed since last we saw each other. It’s my Eternal now.”
Nerris rolled his eyes. “A meaningless affectation until you win the throne.”
She stalked toward him. “I see you are as insolent as ever. Others have lost tongues for such talk.”
“Isn’t ripping out tongues the work of a tyrant?” Nerris asked. “If you truly want a new order, you might start with the way you deal with criticism.”
“Be that as it may,” Qabala said, moving even closer, “you have done this land a great service, mercenary or not, and I mean to give you your reward.”
She wrapped her arms around Nerris’s neck and pulled him toward her. Their lips met, and Qabala tensed against him. He wrapped his hands around her waist and returned the kiss, their bodies swaying back and forth as if the world itself teetered on the point of a needle. Finally, she released him.
“And it begins here,” she whispered. “As it happens, I like your tongue right where it is.”
Chapter Three
QABALA INDULGED IN a deep slumber, more peaceful than she had in quite some time. Perhaps because she did not deign to dream that night. Her dreams tended to recall the painful memories of her adolescence. Coupled with the life of a military leader, it made her a light sleeper. The squealing of a horse and a soldier shouting outside her pavilion woke her. Yawning, she turned to her right. Nerris lay there, still asleep, a faint smile on his lips.
Qabala sighed. He had dozed off before he could make his exit. She had called him to her tent for the past three nights, but when they were finished, she bade him to go. It would not do for the men to think of her as some kind of slattern, and Nerris understood that. Indeed, their secret liaison seemed to amuse him, and he left her pavilion every night with a smirk, similar to the one he wore now.
This man, this former Thrillseeker, intrigued her from the first moment she discovered his presence among her mercenaries, during the march from Lhan Del to Ryvetsk. He had been friendly to her, if distant, but something about him caused her to request his presence every evening of the march.
She supposed it was because of the mystery surrounding him. There were songs about the Thrillseekers in every inn and tavern across the continent, and more than a few lordly courts as well. Why did Nerris seek to hide his status? They had discussed everything, from swordplay to politics to philosophy, and she grew more enamored as each night went by. In all that time, he had never once laid a hand on her or made inappropriate overtures. The day he returned from Palehorse was the first time they ever touched.
Her gaze drifted upward, to where the stars would have been if not for the top of her pavilion. She had held a passion for stargazing since childhood, and regretted she had not been able to indulge since beginning this campaign. Her favorite constellation was Agean the Phoenix. To Qabala, it represented strength. Strength she had once sought and now possessed. In a few months, it would appear in the northern sky, and she would be in Palehorse by then, if all went well.
It was said the royal quarters in the Aeternica had an exquisite balcony facing the north. Her gaze drifted back to Nerris’s face. Perhaps they would see Agean together when the time came.
She brushed Nerris’s hair from his face and laid a soft kiss on his brow. He stirred and opened his eyes, clearing his throat. He looked upon her and gave another hint of a smile. “My lady.”
He said it so politely Qabala almost laughed. They were a bit beyond formalities at this point. “You fell asleep, dear. It’s morning.”
Nerris sat up, blankets falling to expose the dark hairs on his chest. “You should have woke me. Now the men will know I spent the night.”
Qabala pulled Nerris back down beside her, and laid her head on his chest. “It’s my fault. I don’t usually sleep this well. I thought I would awaken in time to shoo you out of here.”
Nerris put an arm around her and stroked her hair. “You don’t care?” That was another thing about him; his gentle touch, in stark contrast to other men she had known.
“Let us merely say I am growing used to your presence,” Qabala said. “I was most put out when you volunteered to go to Palehorse. I feared for you every night you were gone. Now that you’ve returned, I mean to keep you.”
“Don’t get too used to me,” Nerris said. “Once you’ve taken the capital, your war will be all but finished. Then I’ll be on my merry way.”
Qabala frowned. “There is still Prince Lahnel. At last report, he was in Kallov, trying to win the support of Lord Bosmick.”
“With Dume Araka dead at your hand, that should be easy enough,” Nerris said, “but if you can get to Palehorse before he arrives back in the east, you can cut him off from Lesta.”
Qabala nodded. “My thoughts exactly. It’s crucial we take Palehorse before winter sets in. I don’t just have my army with me, but my followers. Women, children, the elderly. My militia is made up of men looking to protect their families. Mere foraging will not be enough to see such a vast host through the winter. If their families begin to starve, my freemen may seek their fortunes elsewhere and we will be vulnerable for Lahnel and his forces to break the siege.”
“You’ll still outnumber them,” Nerris said.
“I don’t rely on numbers,” Qabala said. “I have a responsibility to win this war with as little loss to my people as possible. That’s why I will be sending a force west to meet Lahnel and the Bosmicks. At the least, it will give us much needed time.”
“Not time enough to take the city before winter,” Nerris disagreed.
Qabala allowed herself a smile. Even a mighty Thrillseeker could be trapped by convention, it would seem. But she was far from a conventional woman. “Refugees have been flooding Palehorse from the north for months now,” she said. “Like the idiot he was, Lahnen took them in. What he did not know was that these men and women are loyal to me. By now I suspect they outnumber the remainder of Lahnen’s city guard. At the appointed time, they will ensure the gates open for me.”
“And who is going to coordinate these refugees?”
“Our informant,” she told him. “Lukas Kord.”
Nerris let out his breath, and she knew she had impressed him. Lukas Kord was a member of a minor house from the Mount Zoko area who had worked his way up to a high rank in Palehorse’s city watch. He had also been taking bribes from her spies for the past year.
“You have a far reach, my lady,” Nerris said, “but you should always keep your strategies secret. Lover or no, I’m still... how does Falares put it? A foreign goat, I think he calls me. Which never made much sense to me, given that my own house’s sigil is a golden eagle. And when goats are kicked, they cringe and run away. I’m more like to kick back.”
Qabala giggled and kissed him on the cheek. “You are no goat, Nerris. Of that I am sure. You’re correct, I should only place this kind of trust in my own officers. That’s why I mean to change your status.”
“Come again?”
“I want you to lead the force I send against Prince Lahnel,” she said. “The greater part of King Lahnen’s army was routed and scattered at the Battle of the North Moor, and the king’s death has left the rest of his loyalists disoriented. Prince Lahnel may still be a considerable threat if allowed to link up with his forces under Dume Rhonor at Lesta. If you delay him long enough, I can dispose of Rhonor’s army before Lahnel even arrives. Once that happens, your men will disperse and allow Lahnel to proceed. You will then reform at his flank and we will hammer him between our two forces, and he will have nowhere to retreat. With that, the war will be ours.”
“Surely Lahnel would not be that stupid,” Nerris said.
“He is King Lahnen’s son,” Qabala insisted.
Nerris shrugged. “If you’re right, you’ll be the undisputed leader of Yagolhan. But the men will never follow a foreign mercenary.”
“They will follow a Thrillseeker,” Qabala said. “Every young man in t
his horde has grown up on the tales of the Thrillseekers, and their elders respect your prowess as well. Revealing who you are will be one more blow to Lahnen’s regime. Half my followers already believe I’m Yala reincarnated, and producing you will inspire them all the more.”
Nerris tensed. “I never want it known who I really am.”
“They will find out eventually,” Qabala said. “From what I hear, some of them already know. Besides, we haven’t even gotten to your true reward yet. What will you do when the fighting is done, Nerris? Sweat your flesh away fighting tribal wars down in Egkari? You’ll find no other battles in Tormalia at the moment. I implore you, stay here. You will not only have me, but I will make you part of the Aeternal Council. How does Dume Nerris sound to you?”
“Only a member of the Yagol nobility can be on the Council.”
“I mean to change that,” Qabala said. “For too long have my people been crushed under the monsters of the major houses.”
“You would make new monsters, then?”
Qabala frowned. She had envisioned this going much smoother. “Stay with me,” she repeated, “and not only will you be a Dume-General, but my consort. We will make strong sons to rule after us until the end of days.”
Nerris laughed, which made Qabala’s ire rise. She was giving him everything a normal man would want. What else would it take to keep him at her side?
Nerris glanced over and looked at her face. “I’m sorry. The thought of marrying an Aeterna sounds so absurd to me. I was raised in a rural village in the Great Oak Forest. My mother traded turnips and sold homemade jewelry for a living.”
“Yet you have noble blood yourself. Even the more conservative of my people would accept that.”
Nerris sat up again, disentangling himself from her. “I will lead your diversionary force, if that is your command. As for the Aeternal Council... once, when I was able to dream as you do now, I would have been tempted. Now I’m just a warrior looking for a battle to die in.” He removed his blankets and put on his underclothes.
Qabala sat up and threw the blankets off as well, exposing her full nude figure. She grabbed Nerris by the shoulders and threw him back onto the straw mattress, climbing on top of him. She gave him a hard look, and could feel his manhood stiffening beneath her. How dare this insolent man throw her offer in her face. How dare this insolent, complicated, wonderful man...
Before she could give him what for, Falares entered the pavilion and bowed, his long blond plait dropping past his shoulder. He looked up at Nerris and Qabala, his eyes going wide. Qabala sighed. The man still hadn’t learned to announce himself. She climbed off Nerris and stood, not bothering to hide her nakedness.
She put her hands on her hips. “What is it, Falares?”
The big man’s eyes scanned her body, but Qabala didn’t care. Every man in her army looked at her that way, and it gave her pleasure to tease one of them with what they could never have. Falares cleared his throat. “We are ready to break camp, my Eternal.”
“Excellent.” Qabala pulled the blanket up and wrapped herself in it as Nerris put his trousers back on. “I mean to arrive at Palehorse within a fortnight.”
Nerris coughed. “You have much to plan. I’ll leave you to it.” He gathered up the rest of his clothes, as well as his sword and scabbard.
“Wait, Nerris,” Qabala said. “You can’t just leave. The men will see you.”
He smiled. “I’m a Thrillseeker, my lady. We’re used to making our own exits.”
He drew his katana. It was a curved sword of folded steel from a distant land, which Qabala was unfamiliar with. With a mighty swipe, it made a tall slit in the tent wall. Nerris sheathed his blade and surveyed his work. “Problem solved. Now I can come and go unseen, and you won’t have to worry about calling me under the pretense of ‘strategic consultation.’ “ With a smirk and a wave, he disappeared through his improvised tent flap.
Falares sniffed. “You let that foreign goat talk to you that way?”
“That foreign goat could cut you to ribbons with that blade of his,” Qabala said. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“I do not understand why my Eternal places him high in her heart. The men expect better from their Aeterna.”
Qabala rolled her eyes. Of course he wouldn’t understand. Men like Falares were ruled by three priorities: eating, fucking, and fighting. Anything else was an abstract concept to them. “The men have their way with the camp followers every night, Falares. I merely claim the same comforts. They may think of me as a goddess, but that is not what I am. Not yet.”
Falares dropped to a knee and bowed his head. “Please do not say such things, my Eternal. You are the savior of our people, the dawn which routs the night. You have ended the reign of a foul tyrant and will give this kingdom back to its people.”
“And I don’t aim to stop there,” Qabala said, “but that does not make me any less than human. Give me half an hour and I will join you at the head of the column. Send in Meeka to draw my bath.” She thought for a moment. “I’ve changed my mind. Make that a full hour.”
Falares saluted and left the pavilion. Qabala went to the metal tub and placed her hand on the rim, waiting for her handmaiden. The tub was big enough for two, and Qabala wished she had stopped Nerris from leaving so soon. They could have washed each other clean as she needled away at him until he accepted her proposal. But she would win that battle, as she intended to win the one coming against Prince Lahnel.
A short time later, Meeka entered with a pail full of hot water. The mousy blonde sloshed it into the tub and left the tent, returning with more water until the tub was full. Finally, she made one last trip and came back with a hank of soap and a clean rag.
Qabala let her blanket fall and climbed into the tub. “Put the soap in the pail,” she told the servant, “and join me.”
Meeka cast her eyes downward and nodded. As she removed her cloth dress, Qabala leaned back to submerge her hair in the warm water. Lahnel would be in for a nasty surprise if he came east, and Nerris would be with her, where he belonged. By the time the winter flurries floated down, she would have all she desired.
Chapter Four
MUCH AS QABALA predicted, the revelation of Nerris as one of the Thrillseekers and his appointment to commander elicited a hearty reaction from the rest of the army. Many he had never spoken to approached him now, each wanting to clasp hands with their new officer. The camp followers offered themselves to him in brazen fashion, some prettier than others. Nerris turned them all down.
Qabala picked his officers, but gave Nerris his own choice of who would ride in his personal guard. The first men he sought out were Rade, Chalis, and Mikaren. He knew them from their mission to Palehorse and back, and knew how they fought and lived. He could depend on them.
He found Chalis in the mess tent, chatting with a young mercenary who the high cheekbones of an Agossean. When they noticed him, both men stood and saluted. “Don’t let me interrupt your meal,” Nerris said. “Chalis, I would have you ride with me when my company departs for the west.”
“Of course, Nerris... Commander, I mean,” Chalis said. “I am honored.”
“Commander,” the other young man said, “Allow me to say I am most humbled to meet you again.”
“Have we met?”
The man nodded. “Name’s Dolias, if it please you. I was but a child in the village of Roden when you and the Thrillseekers freed us from the onslaught of raiders.” He turned to Chalis. “For months, they took everything we had, until Nerris, Dist, and Jhareth took care of them. I was in my sixth summer at the time.”
“Then you were too young to remember the first time we passed through,” Nerris said. “We were on our way to Gauntlet, untrained and inexperienced. We were lucky those bandits didn’t kill us. We only came back after receiving two years of instruction in fighting. We were out for revenge.”
“Still, the village talks about it to this day,” Dolias said. “I learned how to soldier because I wante
d to be just like you.”
Nerris nodded. “And how are you decorated, soldier?”
Dolias furrowed his brow. “Before this war, I soldiered some in Sicoria, when the last fight over the spice trade broke out. I’ve also lent my sword to the clans in Chei-Dao across the Northern Ocean.”
“Ah, a world-traveled man,” Nerris said. “I think you’ll do. Ride with us and we’ll make Prince Lahnel think twice about coming east.”
Dolias saluted. “It would be my pleasure, Commander.”
Nerris took his leave and made his way down the hill to a nearby brook, where he sat on a rock and drew his blade. The Miagamese steel shone bright in the morning sun, which reflected off the water. Nerris retrieved a small cask and rag from his satchel. He poured some oil from the cask onto the rag and carefully went about polishing the katana. As he had warned Qabala in their very first conversation, katana were dangerous weapons to the wielder as well as enemy. They bore the keenest edges in the world, and men had been known to cut off a finger merely by running a hand along the blade. She had wanted to examine the weapon nevertheless.
“It’s so thin,” she commented as she turned it by the hilt. “Almost like a toy sword. Even my saber has a thicker blade.”
“This sword has a known history of cutting through three human torsos at once,” Nerris said. “It’s also been known to break lesser swords. Its name is Noruken.”
“A noble-sounding name,” Qabala said.
“It means Sword of the Shooting Star, or close enough,” Nerris said. “It loses a bit in translation. Supposedly, metal from a fallen star was mixed in with the forging.”
“How ever did you come by something this extraordinary?”
Nerris shook his head. It was best not to dwell on Miagama. Three years had passed since he left the far eastern kingdom, but it seemed much longer. If not for the proof his sword offered, he might have thought it all a dream.
Instead, he thought of Qabala, the unique young woman who had captured the hearts of the people of Yagolhan. He had not known much about her before attending her every night, and her forwardness had taken him by surprise on his return from Palehorse. She was the first woman he had been with in a long time. In addition to the Horde’s reaction, Qabala seemed pleased with herself now that Nerris had accepted his new post. He hoped she did not mistake his acquiescence for an intention to accept her other proposals.