Steel And Sorrow (Book 2)

by Joshua P. Simon

  Elyse chortled. “Do you have proof of this?”

  “Yes, but not the sort of proof I can share with you at this time,” said Illyan, almost anxious.

  “That is utterly ridiculous. Olasi’s family has been most loyal to the crown since the days of Aurnon the First.”

  “Markus is his own man and it is no secret he is not the same person as his father. Family history means nothing. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be trusting Jeldor since his ancestor tried to rebel during Aurnon the Third’s reign.” He paused. “For that matter, should we judge you based on the actions of your father?”

  “You will not distract me from your unsubstantiated rumors by bringing my father up!” said Elyse, voice rising.

  Illyan’s face turned red. “This is not a rumor, Your Majesty. What I’m stating is true. Markus cannot be trusted. You can do your best to silence me in council, but I will not put the issue off any longer. It is too important to the kingdom.”

  Why would he want me to stay? With me gone, I would think he’d try to gain more favor among the council.

  Elyse’s eyes narrowed. “What is your goal? Your wealth has increased dramatically in the past year and your influence grows each day. Are you working for Tomalt?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I have no affiliation with him. You claim to be a pious woman, Your Majesty. When have you ever heard High Priest Burgeone preach that wealth is an evil thing sent from the One Below?”

  “Now you bring the faith into this?”

  “I’ll do whatever I need to do to make you see the truth. Yes, I have prospered. Those tasks Jonrell and Kaz have allowed me to do have all been successful.” He threw up his hands. “How could I possibly gain an advantage in this situation with Markus?”

  Elyse tried to reason things out, but was too angry to think clearly. She took a deep breath. “Just because there isn’t an obvious reason doesn’t mean that one doesn’t exist. I have far more pressing things to concern myself with than your lies.”

  “Yes. You must concern yourself with Markus’ lies. With losing Olasi’s troops and resources if Markus has seized power from his father. Why do you think Kaz did not dismiss me immediately as you do now?”

  Because he doesn’t understand politics. He doesn’t see the games being played every moment of the day, like I do. Spending a few hours in council with me does not make him an expert. It would be like me assuming I could command the army because I read a few books.

  Elyse shot from her seat and peered down at Illyan. “What is it going to take for you to drop this issue? Must I command it?”

  Illyan stood as well. “Throw me in the dungeons if you must, but I will still tell the tale to the rats if they’re the only ones willing to listen. The only way to silence me is to cut out my tongue.”

  She stared daggers at Illyan until she calmed herself.

  “I’m going. I know the kind of person Olasi is and I can’t believe that any son of his would do something treasonous. Yes, I will concede that I could be wrong, though because of what I know of the man, I doubt it. I cannot ignore the opportunity to end this war sooner and save the lives of my people.”

  “Alright. I understand that you feel like someone needs to go. Just send someone else in your stead.”

  “I will do nothing of the sort. What would Conroy think if I did that?”

  “Who cares what Conroy thinks? You shouldn’t be allowing him to dictate terms anyway. If he wants peace, let him come to Lyrosene and bend a knee to you here.”

  “It isn’t that simple. He desires peace, but it is not definitive. I won’t be like my father and let my arrogance get in the way of making decisions best for the kingdom. Conroy still needs to make the effort to leave his lands too. And by my willingness to travel closer to him, I’ll be showing how important his support is as well. If I would have sent someone in my place to meet with Jeldor, I doubt an alliance would ever have been formed.”

  Illyan ignored her point and grabbed Elyse’s hand. His voice took on a pleading tone. “You mustn’t go! If something were to happen to you, who would take your place?”

  Steel touched Illyan’s neck and the advisor froze. “Get your hands off of her,” said a cold voice.

  Illyan removed his grip from Elyse and held up his hands.

  I never even heard Kroke move. He was on the other side of the room only a moment ago.

  “I’m sorry,” said Illyan. “I got carried away.”

  Elyse was angry at Illyan’s outburst, but also elated that Illyan had lost his composure. She looked up to Kroke who waited for her decision. “Please, release him. I’m sure it was a mistake.”

  Kroke removed his blade with a reluctant pause.

  The advisor rubbed his neck. “Thank you.”

  Elyse sat, smoothed out her dress, and smiled. “I might be willing to consider your suggestion if you admit to me where you got your information on this issue.”

  Illyan stood for what seemed like an eternity. Elyse saw him struggle to find the words and enjoyed every moment of it. He started to speak twice, thought better of it, and waited again.

  Illyan cleared his throat. “I wish I could explain everything to you, Your Majesty. But I can’t. And since there is nothing more I can do to convince you of your error, I will leave you. I’m sure you have much to do for your trip. I would ask if you needed my assistance in any way . . . but I have a feeling you would not take me up on the offer.” He bowed. “May I be excused, Your Majesty?”

  It was now Elyse’s turn to stare, dumbfounded.

  There was a cough. “Your Majesty?”

  Elyse waved her hand. “You’re dismissed, Lord Illyan.”

  He bowed and left.

  * * *

  “I don’t like any of this,” said Kroke.

  Elyse turned sharply as they walked through the castle, making her way to the armory. Though the bulk of her army marched across Cadonia, she still liked to check in on the progress of the smiths and fletchers left behind and she wanted to do so one last time before leaving. “What do you mean?”

  “You shouldn’t go to this supposed peacemaking meeting. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Then why haven’t you said anything sooner?”

  “Because I only now heard about Markus being a traitor.”

  “I’m going.”

  “Why? You could do like Illyan said, stay here where it’s safe, but send someone else in your place. They can smooth things over on your behalf and confirm what is really going on with Markus. Why don’t you send Gauge? He seems eager to do more.”

  Elyse shot him a look. “I already went over this with Illyan. I’m not doing it again.”

  “Look, all I’m saying is that there are better ways to solve your problems without potentially putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  Elyse became flushed with anger. She was already on edge after her meeting with Illyan.

  “Did Jonrell ever put himself in harm’s way? Even when there may have been other options available?”

  “Many times.”

  “Why did he do it?”

  “Because he was in command and felt that the risk should be his to take. He also wanted the responsibility of any failure to fall on his shoulders.”

  “And why should I be any different? Jonrell commanded a company of men. I rule a kingdom. If something goes wrong, the stakes are much higher. I can’t afford to pass off something of that magnitude to anyone else. Even Gauge.”

  After a long pause, Kroke nodded. “I understand. But I still don’t like it.”

  * * *

  Elyse closed the leather bound tome—one of four texts Drake had given her after returning from Estul Island. She had been nervous to openly ask for works about Sacrynon’s Scepter, worried that Drake might ask too many questions. But the boy appeared indifferent to the request. Even still, she asked him to keep the matter private and to her knowledge he had.

  He’s probably too busy to even remember the conversation.

  She h
ad hoped the documents would give her some insight on how to destroy the infernal instrument, but so far she had only found more information on the scepter’s history. Having been created in the early years of the Quoron Empire by a cabal of mages, the instrument helped construct the ancient wonders of that age. What happened to the scepter after that is unknown, but the instrument was lost for centuries. Sacrynon discovered it by chance shortly before Aurnon the First united Thurum and pushed into Cadonia.

  The rest of the story she knew from texts in the royal library. Sacrynon fought diligently with Aurnon during that time. The power the mage wielded through the scepter destroyed many of the mythical beasts that once roamed the land while also humbling the fractured kingdoms of Cadonia. Sacrynon then used the scepter to build many of Cadonia’s great cities in a fraction of the time it would have taken to do so otherwise.

  Sacrynon held the power for years before becoming the Mad Mage. It changed Nareash in a matter of months.

  In a brief moment of coherency which historians contribute to Aurnon’s friendship with the mage, her ancestor distracted Sacrynon long enough for his pupil, Amcaro, to wrestle the weapon away from him. Together they killed the Mad Mage. Shortly afterward, Aurnon the First left Cadonia with the weapon, determined to either destroy it or lose it for all eternity.

  Her eyes welled up.

  Such a tragic tale. And filled with holes. How did the scepter survive? The only two who apparently knew about it were Amcaro and Aurnon. Both dead.

  Elyse got up from her desk, checked the lock at her door and pushed a chair against it. She went to her bed, got to her knees, and pulled loose a floorboard nestled against the back wall. The secret hiding spot she used as a girl held a small box. She opened it. Wrapped in cloth, lay Sacrynon’s Scepter.

  She had no talent for the arts and therefore no desire to brandish the instrument. Still, she refused to take any chances by coming into contact with it again. She only opened the box periodically to make sure of its safety.

  She tucked the scepter away and while on her knees said a prayer. She ran through her ever growing list of worries and petitions. As always, the first and the last thing she prayed for was the scepter’s destruction.

  Chapter 18

  “This wasn’t the plan,” said Jeldor as he pushed his way into Kaz’s tent, gesturing wildly with his hands. “In fact, this goes against everything we were trying to accomplish in taking the fight to Tomalt. I can’t believe you changed an entire season’s worth of strategy like this! Do you realize that Tomalt’s bringing a massive host in from the east right now?”

  The Duke’s army had just reached the royal army’s camp and though word had been sent ahead that Jeldor was furious, Kaz still fought to remain calm. “I’m well aware of Tomalt’s movements. Did you know he is bringing up most of his southern forces as well?”

  Jeldor’s jaw dropped, framed by his bushy beard. “Impossible.”

  Kaz walked to a nearby table and grabbed a goblet of wine. He handed it to Jeldor. “I promise you it’s not. Now we know why he allowed us to penetrate his lands with little more than some bothersome raiding parties. He was buying time so he could converge on us.”

  Jeldor snatched the goblet from Kaz’s hand and downed its contents. “But where did you get this information?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tomalt isn’t the kind of person who would leave his southern border undermanned. Not with Olasi capable of striking at any moment.”

  “He would if he was certain Olasi’s forces would not march against him.”

  Jeldor cast a confused look and then suddenly as if understanding Kaz’s remark, his eyes widened. “The old man turned traitor?”

  Kaz shook his head. “No. But shortly before I left, a noble in Lyrosene told me that he believed Olasi’s son, Markus, might be working with Conroy.”

  “Did you get any proof?”

  “No. And I told Elyse I’d drop the issue for that reason.” He paused. “But something still bothered me so I looked for alternatives to our plan in case the rumors were true. Once I received word about Tomalt’s southern armies, it’s been all but confirmed in my mind. I’ve already sent word to warn the queen.”

  “But why let Tomalt go unopposed?” said Jeldor walking over to pour another drink.

  “If he’s working with Conroy, it makes complete sense. They let us wear each other down first and then Conroy swoops in and attacks the victor.”

  Jeldor rubbed at his face. “One Above, we weren’t expecting to take Tomalt’s entire army at once. With his southern forces, he’ll outnumber us.”

  Kaz nodded. “And he still holds the advantage with mages.”

  Jeldor let out a sigh. “Can this get any worse?”

  General Grayer pushed his way inside the tent. He saluted both Kaz and Jeldor. “Commander. My lord. A rider has just come in from Bronn’s territory. He’s the only one to make it back to us. Your hunch was right, Commander. Bronn is marching against us with nearly twenty thousand men. From all appearances, it looks as though he’s converging with Tomalt’s southern army. Based on the other reports, all three armies should be here within two days.”

  Kaz gave Jeldor a look. “You should have kept your mouth shut.

  “We should have gone after Bronn when I wanted us to,” said Jeldor. “That pompous fool needs to be taught a lesson.”

  “He will learn one soon enough. But now you know why I pushed for the forced march. We needed to combine forces sooner,” said Kaz.

  “But here?” Jeldor walked over to a map sprawled out along a wooden table. He pointed with his hand. “Mountains to our left and the Asycium river skirting around the range, looping at odd angles back onto itself. And you pick the spot where the cursed thing encloses us on the right and from behind. We’re blocked in on three sides.”

  “They have only one path to attack us.”

  Jeldor grunted. “And we have no place to fall back to.”

  “We’ll dig in here. We don’t have enough men, time, or resources to regroup and try again later,” said Kaz in a stern tone.

  Jeldor downed his goblet’s contents again. “Dig in and die.”

  * * *

  “You couldn’t have done this earlier?” asked Crusher. “You know how late it is?”

  Kaz looked back at the giant as they walked through camp. A cool spring breeze swirled through the air. “I’ve been busy.”

  “I’ve told you before that taking over as commander was a mistake. Too much stress and worry. It’s much easier to pick up something heavy and swing it. You don’t have to think about that. Just enjoy the moment.”

  Kaz grunted. “You’re whining like a child.”

  “I’m not whining,” said Crusher. “It’s late and I’m tired. It’s hard to sleep with you staying up all hours of the night pouring over maps and talking to your captains. Ghals never worry about those things. We just go out and kill the man in front while trying not to kill the man next to us.” He laughed.

  Kaz smiled. “I’ve told you before, I don’t need you watching over me.”

  “And I’ve told you before that you’ll have to stop me.”

  Kaz sighed. There was no use arguing with him.

  They entered the makeshift forge, walking into a wall of stifling heat. While most of the camp slept, the smiths saw to last minute repairs and worked diligently in preparation for the next day’s battle.

  Cisod put down a helm as he noticed Kaz and Crusher. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a massive forearm. “Commander,” he said, reaching out to shake Kaz’s hand. He nodded toward Crusher.

  “Is it ready?”

  “I just finished the last piece an hour ago. I’ve been working every waking moment on the blasted thing since Drake brought me the plans. I hope you’re happy with it.”

  “So the technique worked?” asked Kaz.

  “Yes. Once Drake helped me translate the old text from the Quoron language, I learned the methods weren’t all too different than
what I came up with on my own. Though, the end product is lighter,” said Cisod.

  “Let’s see the thing already. It’s late and all the pounding in here is giving me a headache,” said Crusher.

  Cisod raised an eyebrow and looked at Kaz.

  Kaz shook his head. “Just leave it alone.”

  Cisod led them deeper into the tent and stopped near a tarp. He removed the covering and exposed what lay beneath. Kaz heard the quick intake of breath from the Ghal behind him.

  “Well, what do you think?” asked Cisod.

  The markings of ancient creatures Kaz had never seen before covered the breastplate. Some had multiple eyes, horns, and limbs. They all seemed to be holding their own private wars with one another as the scene connected into the rest of the torso. The surface of the arm and leg braces resembled scales. The boots and gauntlets had been shaped into the head and fangs of giant snakes. Cisod had worked the helm into the head of a panther, the visor an open mouth.

  Kaz smiled wide.

  “I take it you like it,” said Cisod.

  Kaz remembered what Jonrell had told him about why the Hell Patrol wore their blood red armor and how the image helped strike fear in their opponents. Jonrell had struck an intimidating figure in his crimson armor, but Kaz wanted something that fit his own personality. “It looks exactly like the picture.”

  “Almost,” said Cisod. “The image from the book was faded so I couldn’t tell what sort of cat the shape of General Victas’s helm was supposed to be. It might have been a tiger, but I thought a panther more fitting.”

  Kaz picked up the helm and stared into the gaping mouth of the panther as the dancing flames from the forge changed the armor’s color, causing it to shimmer. He ran his fingers along its edges. “It’s perfect.”

  “The color is different,” said Crusher. “I understand the red, but what’s with the dark blue?”

  “Something personal,” Kaz said, reflecting on the color of the armor that flashed in his memories. The blue in his armor made him feel closer to his past. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Cisod.”

  “My pleasure now that I’m done.” He laughed. “Those texts said that only their generals and best warriors had this sort of armor. Now I know why. At my best I might be able to produce four sets a year.” He paused. “Oh, before I forget. Wiqua came by with Krytien as I was finishing it up. They put their own blessings on it and left looking ragged.”