Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1)

by Nicholas Andrews

  “Uncanny.” Nerris turned at the voice to find Rade standing behind him. The graybeard saluted. “For a moment, I could have sworn your father sat there, polishing his bastard sword.”

  “My mother always said he deigned to fight with a mace,” Nerris said.

  “He was best with the mace, true, but always kept a sword ready just in case.” Rade gestured to the rock next to Nerris. He nodded his consent. The old man sat with a grunt. “What became of your mother?”

  “You’re going to tell me you knew her as well?” Nerris asked.

  “When I was younger, I made it a point to know all the fair ladies of the land,” Rade said with a twinkle in his eye. “Alas, when I met her, she was already head over heels for Derrin Palada.”

  “She died in my thirteenth year,” Nerris said. “A fever took her in the spring. When summer came, Dist, Jhareth, and I left Haladast for good.”

  Rade chuckled. “So that’s where she ended up. I am sorry, Nerris. Your mother was a kind woman.”

  Nerris nodded. “What brings you out here? Your fancy for dangling stories about my family over me?”

  “There’s where you’re not like your father,” Rade said. “You have a prickly disposition.”

  “Do I?” Nerris asked. “I suppose that’s how the world made me.”

  “Actually, I was asked to deliver you to the pavilion of the Aeterna, to await her pleasure.” He winked.

  Nerris rolled his eyes. Not much got by this old man. “Qabala isn’t Aeterna. She hasn’t touched a godstone, and unless she’s got one stowed away in her pocket, she never will. Those stones haven’t been seen in almost thirty years.”

  Rade shrugged. “Who’s to say what she has or hasn’t done? No one knows much about her life before the massacre in Lhan Del.”

  Nerris put away the rag and sheathed his blade. “Be that as it may, I’m hardly the only person she’ll need to convince. I suppose I should see what she wants.” He stood and walked back up the hill.

  “Have fun,” Rade called after him.

  As he walked through the camp, men stopped in their tasks to salute him and children stared at him in awe. Nerris pondered if the dogs would be next to fawn over him. He wondered exactly what Qabala had been telling her people.

  As he approached her pavilion, Nerris caught sight of a young girl attempting to carry two heavy buckets of water up the hill. As she stumbled, Nerris reached out and caught her wrist before she could spill one of them.

  “Have a care, Meeka,” he said.

  The girl gasped in surprise. “Nerris... Commander. My lord.” She made an awkward curtsy. Qabala’s pretty handmaiden had waited on him many times during the evenings he spent with the would-be Aeterna. Before their relationship had changed.

  Nerris chuckled. “I’m no lord. Let me help you with that.”

  Qabala’s pretty servant shied away. “No, it is my task. My Eternal bade me to wash her armor.”

  “Please, let me help,” Nerris said. “Qabala works you too hard as it is.”

  “You are kind to say so,” Meeka said, “but my Eternal may be cross if you are late. If she knows I held you up, she could have me whipped...” Meeka turned her face, blushing. “Forgive me. I spoke ill of the Aeterna.”

  Nerris frowned. “Ill or truth?” Meeka did not answer, and Nerris shrugged. “Very well, I’ll leave you to your duties. I ought not to test the lady’s patience.”

  Meeka bowed her head, and followed Nerris into the tent. Meeka sat her buckets on a nearby table and went about her preparations as Nerris sauntered to Qabala’s makeshift field bed. Lady Qabala sprawled amongst the blankets and cushions, decked out in leather riding trousers and a cloth halter which barely covered her breasts. She flashed Nerris a seductive smile, her jade eyes following his movements. “Meeka, leave us for a moment.”

  Meeka bowed and made her exit as Nerris saluted. “Lady Qabala, a pleasure to be in your presence as always.”

  Qabala gestured to the cushion beside her. “Come sit with me.”

  Nerris set his katana on the table and removed his cloak. He joined Qabala on the bed, and she curled up beside him at once. “So cruel that propriety would keep us apart for the majority of days,” she said. “Once I am Aeterna in truth, you will be at my side in perpetuity.”

  She intertwined her fingers with his, and Nerris let her. Despite everything, including his vow that he was through with women, something irresistible about this young leader enflamed his senses. He admired her tenacity, if nothing else. “I have not said yes yet, my lady,” he said.

  “You will come around, once you see what is offered,” Qabala said. “You may be a Thrillseeker, Nerris, but you’ve never known true power. I never thought I would enjoy this either; but then, I grew up in a mud brick hut with a foster father who beat me at every turn. I was not destined to be powerful, yet when the chance arose I took it all the same.”

  “You’ve never talked of your father before,” Nerris said.

  “Foster father,” Qabala spat out between clenched teeth. “The man took over care of me when my real father died. He was no family of mine.” She put a hand on Nerris’s sternum. “When he was angry, he would wait until I was bent over doing some chore and kick me right here. The pain would be awful, and I couldn’t breathe for many minutes. So it went until I flowered. At that point, he found... other uses for me.” She shuddered beside him.

  Nerris sucked in his breath. “That’s horrible.”

  Qabala nodded and nuzzled against Nerris’s chest. He stroked her hair and they remained silent for a long time. Finally, Qabala spoke again. “I got my revenge in the end. It was the first proactive thing I ever had the courage to do. I suppose I should be grateful. It made me harder, stronger, with the knowledge that I need to cower before no man.”

  That made Nerris think of Meeka, and he clenched his teeth in anger. “And you feel that gives you the right to abuse your own servants?”

  Qabala gave him a sharp look. “Who told you that?”

  “Never mind,” Nerris said. “Just seems odd to me. Someone like you, fighting to free her people from an oppressive regime, acting no better than a petty thug.”

  Qabala slapped him. The light strike gave him no pain, but it was hard enough to get his attention. “Meeka is no servant, she is a slave. No, don’t look at me like that. The prohibition of slavery by Prince Lahnel is what led to the downfall of his house. Without that, not near as many of his supporters would have come over to me, and Kahz Rinad would never have lent me his jaguar warriors. Without that, my rebellion would never have gained a foothold. People do not follow me for freedom, but for the hope of freedom. There is a difference.”

  The slave trade was the economical backbone of Raddoni, Nerris knew. With Sicoria and Yagolhan being the only other countries in Tormalia to support such a brutal practice, it made sense the kahz would back the Qabalan Horde in this conflict.

  “Still, cruelty is something you should be above,” Nerris said. “An Aeterna is supposedly the voice of a goddess come to ground, pledged to look after her people.”

  Qabala giggled. “Nerris, you are so decent. Don’t worry about it. She’s just a slave. Sometimes they need a firm hand.”

  Nerris kept silent. Qabala was a Yagol through and through, and arguing with a Yagol about slavery was as futile as waiting for a mountain snowcap to thaw. She was correct from a political perspective, of course. Not for the first time, he reflected on the remarkable duality this young woman had shown him during their brief acquaintance.

  He took her fingers again. “I like your hands best when they are gentle.”

  Qabala gave him a chaste kiss. “That is sweet of you, dear, but before we can get to more pleasurable business, I have news.”

  She stood and walked to her war table. Nerris joined her and she pointed out a cluster of markers near Kallov, representing Lahnel’s western army. “I have received word Prince Lahnel and Lord Petaka Bosmick are on the move. As I thought, they are headed
to Palehorse. Your detachment will leave tomorrow. You will wind your way through the mountain passes and harry his force, continually falling back until they arrive here.”

  She put her finger on a dot labeled as the village of Gelnicka. “Here is where your true battle lies. Mind you, you are to slow him, so do not try to win. Your force will not be sufficient enough to be victorious in a pitched battle. If you cause him enough damage, he will most certainly stop in the village to lick his wounds. When he believes you are routed, you will reassemble at his rear. By then, I imagine Dume Rhonor’s army will be on the move and I will meet him at the gates of Palehorse. After I smash him, I will come west and end this before the ground even gets cold.”

  Nerris frowned. “I still don’t think Prince Lahnel will go for it.”

  “What choice does he have?” Qabala asked. “He stands no chance without combining with Dume Rhonor, and even then he’s outnumbered.”

  “Why me, anyway? I studied at Gauntlet, and am well-versed in battle tactics, true. But I am an adventurer, not a leader of men.”

  “I want my people to get used to you in that position,” Qabala said. “The weight of this mission against its level of risk is perfect for you to get your feet wet before you become one of my Dume-Generals.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said.

  Qabala smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “You would not disappoint your Eternal, would you?”

  Nerris laughed. “You are persistent.”

  “One other thing,” she said. “After Lahnel marches to meet me, put the village of Gelnicka to the torch. Should he escape us somehow, he will find no refuge there.”

  “No,” Nerris said.

  Qabala rounded on him. “Excuse me?”

  “No,” Nerris repeated. “No firings, rapes, or murder. I will not have that in any force I lead.”

  “You are leading soldiers, Nerris. Would you prohibit breathing, sleeping, and shitting as well?”

  “I saw too much needless carnage when Gauntlet rebelled against King Ullas in Agos,” Nerris said, “and much more since then. I am a mercenary, my lady, not subject to you or Prince Lahnel or anyone else. If I lead, I will do it my way, or take my sword and go.”

  Qabala dashed forward and grabbed his arms as if afraid he might make good on that vow here and now. “I meant no disrespect, Nerris. I confess my ways are brutal at times. They have been a necessity merely to survive, to stay alive in this war. Your decency and honor is why I want you to lead, why I want you to be my Dume-General and consort... it’s why I love you. Please, stay with me and help temper these shortcomings of mine.”

  Nerris looked into her wide eyes, seeing a rare glimpse of the girl who lurked underneath the armor and the mantle of leadership. The fervency in her speech took him aback. Love? He doubted she had ever experienced that before, but she said it with such conviction. He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “I do not plan to go anywhere yet. As long as I can lead on my terms.”

  “Of course,” Qabala said. “Should you think this the best course to follow, I trust your judgment.”

  Nerris bowed his head, and Qabala flashed him an impish smile. She walked to the tent flap and made sure it was secured tight. “As loath as I am to part with you for such an extended period,” she said, turning back to him, “I confess I have lured you into a bit of a trap. Falares has orders that no one is to disturb me all day, except owing to direst emergency. We part company for some time tomorrow, but for now, let’s make today ours.”

  She rushed him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Nerris grabbed her by the waist and hauled her off her feet, carrying her toward the bed. She yanked him down with as much force as her lithe body could muster, and they tumbled to the cushions, laughing the whole way.

  As she fumbled at his belt while inundating his lips with a deep kiss, Nerris opened his eyes. Though near midday and the tent well lit, he saw something dark out of the corner of his eye. What looked to be black mist hovered near the pavilion’s entrance. It remained for only a moment before it vanished.

  Qabala sensed his hesitation and drew back from him. “What is it?”

  Nerris looked from her to where he had seen the mist, but not a trace of it remained. “Nothing,” he said. “For a moment, I thought someone was there.”

  “I told you, we won’t be disturbed.” She lifted her halter, exposing her pert breasts. She leaned down until they were level with his face. “Don’t let it concern you, Nerris. There are other things to gawk at.”

  He buried his face in her chest, and listened as she moaned above him, her hot breath touching the back of his neck. Qabala was right; she needed him to help mold her into the best ruler she could be, whether as a queen or Aeterna. She had been raised brutally, and brutality was all she knew. But he could show her a better way.

  For the first time in three years, something was there in Nerris’s mind. An inkling sprang forth, a spark which grew brighter with each passing moment. Something to live for.

  Chapter Five

  THEY MOVED OUT at first light, ten thousand strong of the sixty thousand fighting men who were said to comprise the Qabalan Horde. Nerris rode at the head of the cavalry, with Rade, Mikaren, Chalis, and Dolias around him, along with a thousand more sabres and mercenaries. Though Yagolhan had no order of knighthood, the kingdom boasted a fine tradition of equestrian warfare. Colonel Quin commanded the other brigade of light cavalry. Quin was a solid military man with a balding head and bushy moustache. Qabala sent him to supplement Nerris, who wasn’t as familiar with the terrain in southern Yagolhan as the grizzled commander.

  Behind them followed three infantry units, two thousand archers and six thousand foot. Every man wore a leather cover over their hauberks, painted with the colors of the mountains and autumn foliage to owe for better maneuverability in the brush. Nerris fingered the black and gold officer’s sash hanging across his chest. He wasn’t used to wearing one and kept having to adjust it.

  Nerris glanced up at the cloud cover overhead. Though it was late autumn, they were far enough north that an early snow was possible. Ten thousand boots and hooves leaving tracks in the white would certainly wreak havoc on their plans.

  “Admiring the beautiful weather, I see,” Rade said.

  “I prefer cloudy days,” Nerris said.

  “Oh?”

  “Cloudless skies are merely a harbinger of sorrow,” Nerris said. “At least with the clouds, I know the worst is already here.”

  The next day, the division entered the forest known as Yahd’s Walk. Their orders were to spend the night among the trees, and in the morning Rade and other forest-savvy commanders would split off from the main group, following game trails north and south until they had sufficient distance to close in on Prince Lahnel’s army. They would set up ambushes and attack supply wagons until their prey stumbled into Gelnicka. There they would regroup with the rest of Nerris’s division.

  The trees in the wood hugged close, allowing little daylight through the rusted canopy. This precipitated some muttering amongst his soldiers. Almost all in his forces were pure Yagol, and they cast nervous glances at the trees. Nerris sent Mikaren out to talk to the men, to seek out the cause of unrest. “This forest is named after the Enslaver?” Nerris asked Rade while he waited.

  “Yes,” Rade said, “though here in Yagolhan we call him Unifier or Conqueror. It’s said that when he was a youth, Yahd Y’Ghan dared to walk this wood by himself on his quest to see all of Yagolhan. He knew his destiny was to end the petty wars and unite the kingdom, you see. No one knew how he knew, but somehow he did it.”

  “What makes this forest so special?”

  “It’s supposed to be haunted,” Rade said. “Trees which snatch men from their saddles, foul ghouls slaughtering travelers in the night. I’m sure you’ve heard the sort about other woods.”

  “Is that why the men are nervous?”

  “Couldn’t say, Commander.”

  However, Mikaren soon returned and confi
rmed his theory. “We shouldn’t have come this way,” he said. “Many of these men are not soldiers and will run if frightened.”

  “The trees are certainly unsettling,” Nerris scoffed, “but hardly haunted. Spread the word that should any branch make a grab, the men have my leave to put the torch to them to prevent further groping.”

  Chalis and Dolias laughed, but Rade frowned. “I wouldn’t be quick to joke, Nerris. The wood itself may indeed be harmless, but its reputation attracts undesirables of all sorts.”

  “Yes, about ten thousand of them,” Dolias said, winking to Chalis.

  Rade’s thought proved true, when a volley of arrows darted their way from the tree branches to fall among his men. One soldier toppled from his horse, an arrow punched through his breast. One of the mercenary’s horses fell screaming with an arrow in its side, and threw her rider to the ground.

  Soldiers shouted around him, but Nerris drew up his most commanding voice. “Sparrows in the trees, pecking at a hawk!” he shouted. “Do not break formation!”

  Several similar attacks came as they marched, and Nerris grew more irritated with each one. Every time, he sent men to pursue these archers, but no one who returned found anything. Those who did not return told no tales either.

  “Who are these men?” Nerris asked. “Do they intend to bleed us all the way to Gelnicka?”

  “Local loyalists to the crown, I think,” Rade said. “Don’t let it rattle you.”

  “And what happens if you take an arrow in the heart?” Nerris asked. “Or Colonel Quin, or myself? Something needs to be done about this.”

  “Find a man who sees no color,” Mikaren said.