Basiyr: Chronicles of Nahtan: Book 6 (The Herridon Chronicles)

by Kramer, D. L.

  Tion looked up at him, and to any outside observer, it only looked like he was staring defiantly at the priest. His mind, however, touched the priest's, knowing his name instantly. There was a darkness there, corrupt and evil. He had felt it before, and it repulsed him. Zared's followers fed off the fear, anger and evil fostered within their god and temple, each day their minds and souls blackening more as they lost their compassion and ability to care for anyone but themselves or their fallen god.

  Tion then shifted his thoughts, and in the next moment, the priest's eyes were opened back upon his life. It was something Areli did sometimes before sealing someone's scroll when they died, allowing them to view the impact their choices had on those around them through life. Though he normally only used it for those who had led good lives as a reward to show them that their choices and sacrifices had truly been worth it and helped those they cared about, he had found it useful sometimes in meting out his own justice to those who he felt particularly deserved it.

  All of the pain, terror and emotional distress the man had inflicted through his life was now directed back onto himself. The cries of children torn from their parents echoed through his ears as if they were his own voice. The sobs of a young mother watching her children being sacrificed. The desperate yelling of a father who had lost his family. The fear of being dragged into Zared's temple, not knowing what fate awaited them, but knowing it would end terribly. The pain and terror of being restrained on Zared's alter as victims were cut and bled until they died, some quickly, others tortured slowly over hours.

  The priest let go of Tion's collar, his body shaking as he sank to his knees. Tion continued his assault on the man's mind, replaying each thought back to him over and over. The priest began clawing at his eyes, trying to dig the images from his mind, but even that brought no end or relief.

  Finally, the priest cried out, begging for mercy. Tion tilted his head, only watching him as he continued to remind the man what choices he had made in life and how they had affected others. It wasn't until the man drew his dagger and cut his own throat that Tion stopped.

  He turned, picking up his drawing and pieces of charcoal, then walked to where Ayita stood, taking her reins and leading her to find another spot to sit and wait. He felt no remorse for having driven the priest to kill himself. His role as Halona's first servant was different from any other servant's, and dealing with the mortals and death was often his only task. That he was now here to help protect Valry from Zared's priests was something different, and he was not about to let any of them believe for even an instant that they stood a chance against him.

  "Now who's heartless and unforgiving?" Halona asked.

  "Zared's priests repulse me," Tion said. "Besides, Zakris granted me the ability to share with a mortal how their life had touched others, and left it to my discretion how to use it for both good and evil men alike."

  **********

  Cace leaned against the stone top of the wall. The heat from the smoldering flames and peat below drifting up, taking the chill from the autumn morning.

  Her arm had just begun healing, and it was still too soon to tell if Andry had stopped all of the infection from spreading. It still hurt badly, and she still swore she felt pain going down to fingers that were no longer there. She wasn't about to let the injury keep her down, however, and as soon as she was able to get up, had gone back to defending Valin, if only by making her presence known.

  She hated that she now had to rely on someone to help her with her armor where she hadn't needed help before, but both Rylen and Jaron had been willing to offer that assistance to her. No longer needing any armor below the shoulder on her left arm, she now wore a long sleeved tunic under her armor and tucked the sleeve back up and under her arm on that side.

  While the morning would have normally been exchanges of arrows and spears with the church guards below, this morning it was quiet from the church guard camp. The wind had shifted during the night, and the fires from the lower marsh had spread through the camp, wiping out at least half of it from what they could see here. It was hard to tell for sure, the thick smoke from the smoldering peat bog had also blown that way, making it hard to see any details, but the choking of men and horses could be heard even here on top of the wall.

  "I'm pretty sure Andry said you weren't to be allowed up here," Rylen said, coming over to her. Jaron walked with him, the Dweller Lord already holding his kora ready for the first of the day's attacks.

  "Andry's not awake, so Andry can't stop me," Cace said, glancing at him.

  Rylen and Jaron joined her by the wall, looking out at the smoke filled land below.

  "Movement," Rylen said, pointing toward the river.

  Cace turned her attention that way the same time as the archers prepared to fire at anyone who thought to try to use the river to escape. The land there was already littered with bodies from those who'd tried to run that way and make it to the bridge. The few who had made it to the river itself had been quickly swept away in the fast current.

  A group of perhaps two hundred church guards were walking that way, their weapons held out in front of them. Bows were held out at arm's length, quivers in the opposite hand and empty. Spears had been broken at the top. Swords were carried in sheaths. They led a few horses, but not many, and several moved as if injured. She made a quick note that there weren't any dark robed figures in the group.

  "I doth believe thou hast convinced them to surrender, Lieutenant," Jaron noted. "No doubt thy fires broke hearts and wills alike."

  "We should be so lucky," Cace said. "That's far enough!" she called down to the church guards. She moved down that way on the wall, getting close enough she could hear the man in front when he spoke. The men were all dirty, covered in ash and soot and several had singe marks on their armor.

  "We come to surrender," the man in front called back.

  "Terms?" Cace asked as Rylen clapped her on the back.

  "Unconditional," the man returned. "We admit defeat, Lieutenant. We have no ground to retreat nor advance and ask only for fair quarter." He paused, looking up at them. "Our only options are being burned alive, drowning, or throwing ourselves upon your mercy. We have voted and unanimously chosen the latter."

  "You could always opt for dying in battle," Cace called back. "I'd be more than happy to send out a matched number of Mo'ani to meet you on fair field."

  "You're absolutely horrible," Rylen chuckled.

  "Those bastards cost me an arm," Cace told him. "If they want to surrender, they're going to sweat for it."

  Murmurs went through the group of church guards below, and she recognized the frantic motioning of several of them.

  "If it's all the same to you, Lieutenant, we would like to decline," the man in front called back to her.

  "I'll accept your surrender on one condition," Cace finally said. "I want all of your plans sent up by a single messenger, along with a statement of what your intentions in Herridon were if we had let you march through Valin. Once I have all of those, I'll accept your surrender and consider giving you fair quarter." She didn't mention that whatever she granted them would likely be rescinded by Lord Valin. He was well known by everyone in Valin Hold for never offering quarter to church guard prisoners.

  The man nodded. "Done," he said. "Where shall the messenger meet you?"

  "Oh, we're not coming out," Cace said. "But we'll allow you to come in. No weapons, no bags, no armor. I'm debating requiring you to strip down entirely."

  "Thou art horrible," Jaron nodded at her, agreeing with Rylen.

  "I might still lose my arm to the shoulder," Cace reminded. "I'm upset." She looked along the length of the wall, spotting a bucket further down from them. Walking down, she picked it up and came back, throwing it over to land near the man's feet. "Once you have the plans and statement, use that to douse enough of the peat to make it to the gate. If you try putting out any wider of a path than you need to walk through by yourself, the archers will be more than happy to remind
you," she ordered. "Oh, and no boots. We'll be waiting inside the gates for you."

  Cace, Rylen and Jaron were all waiting inside the gate when it opened to let the church guard into Valin. Rylen and Jaron both had their weapons drawn and several archers on the top of the wall had turned to aim their bows at him. As Cace had ordered, he'd removed his armor and was walking barefoot. He carried the bucket in one hand and several rolled up pieces of parchment in the other.

  Now that he was closer, Cace could see he was possibly in his late thirties or early forties. She couldn't see what color his hair was, the amount of ash and soot in it made it impossible to tell. His beard was trimmed short and was a light brown, though. He carried himself like someone who'd been a soldier most of his life, so she knew they were dealing with someone of skill. It made her even less likely to trust him, men like that often didn't need a weapon to be dangerous.

  "You have a name?" Cace asked him as the gate closed behind him. They weren't going to risk any of the other guards trying to run through as well. Even for the short time the gate was open, the smoke that drifted in was thick and acrid. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to have been out in their camp.

  "Lieutenant Ionel," he nodded to her. "The items you requested, Lieutenant." He handed her the parchments.

  Cace took them, unrolling them and looking through them. "So did your officers really believe Lord Valin was going to allow you to march through his hold?" she asked, glancing up at him.

  "King Thorvald had no reason to doubt the alliance," Ionel said. There was a note of defeat to his voice, but she couldn't be sure it was sincere. She briefly wished Lord Rial was here, his ability to read body language and tone would have answered that immediately. "His orders to you appeared to be authentic. He thought there might be some scheme to try to benefit Lord Valin more once we got here, but he did not anticipate...this."

  "You weren't expecting to lose?" Rylen asked him.

  "No," Ionel told him. "And especially not so badly. There was no indication of Dweller cavalries here," he glanced at Jaron. "Or the lengths you would go to protect the hold."

  Cace paused when she read through one set of orders.

  "Why were you marching on Herridon?" she asked. She handed the parchment to Rylen. The paper only gave the orders to clear Valin and continue on to Herridon, with no further indication of why. It gave specific orders to avoid contact with any of the other holds within the kingdom, and go overland when possible to avoid any detection from scouts or patrols.

  "We were to join the siege force that marched north from Basiyr," Ionel said. "Their orders are to hold Herridon until Thorvald arrives to claim it."

  Cace, Rylen and Jaron exchanged looks.

  "How many men doth thee have remaining?" Jaron asked Ionel.

  "There are two hundred and ten of us left," he replied. "The wind shift last night wiped out two thirds of our camp. There may be some injured still left there, but we can't get to them because of the fires."

  Cace handed the other parchments to Rylen and rubbed her forehead. They still had over twelve hundred Mo'ani here, and Jaron still had a large number of his Dwellers and their horses. They would be needed in Herridon to stand any chance of breaking the siege there.

  "Here's the problem," she said, turning her attention back to Ionel. "You've asked for fair quarter, but Valin's dungeons really don't qualify for that. They tend to flood, and while it's good for keeping the rat population down, you'd end up freezing to death when winter hits because you'd be spending all of your time crammed into cells and knee deep in water.

  "Likewise, Garyn's dungeons aren't big enough to hold all of you, and any who were sent there would also freeze to death because it gets damned cold up there in the winter and Rylen here doesn't believe in heating his dungeon."

  Rylen shrugged as he looked through the papers, handing some to Jaron. "I'm not wasting good fuel on prisoners," he replied. "Not when my Mo'ani need it."

  "So," Cace looked at Ionel. "My options are simple. Either your men get left in the north woods where Lord Olorun's ghost wolves will eventually kill you, or you're all coming to Herridon with us as prisoners."

  Ionel stared at her. "The wolves are real?" he asked.

  "Very much so," she assured him.

  "I told you our surrender was unconditional," he reminded her. "All we asked for was mercy."

  Cace nodded. "Herridon it is then," she said. "Go back to your men, they come in ten at a time, no armor, no weapons. We'll signal when each group is to start inside. Once they're all secure, you'll lead a group of Mo'ani and Dwellers out to your camp so we can be sure everyone there really is dead. Once we know Valin is secure, we'll start preparing to head to Herridon." Cace glanced over when she saw Andry standing there, his arms folded as he stared at her, a frown on his face. "I've got injured church guards surrendering, Healer," she told him. "Please make sure they're going to live after we put them in chains."

  "I'm sure they're going to be just fine," he told her.

  Ionel bowed his head to Cace. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said, then turned to leave. He paused, turning back to look at her, Rylen and Jaron. "I will say you three have been some of the most formidable opponents I've ever faced. I am impressed." He turned and walked back out of the hold when the gate opened. A few seconds later they heard a pained yell through the gates as they closed.

  "I guess I forgot to tell him the peat probably started burning again," Cace mentioned. She'd debated telling him to refill the bucket before he left, but then decided against it. If he didn't have the common sense to realize the smoldering peat could reignite, then she wasn't going to tell him.

  Nine - "I don't think this is going to end well"

  Nahtan looked up when Brijade approached him. They'd kept marching late into the night and were now setting up camp about a league away from Thorvald's armies outside Basiyr. The other nobles Asher had sent messages to had responded, some only sending small groups of men, others sending small armies. All of them added to their numbers, though, giving Nahtan more than enough to take Basiyr.

  They'd stayed by the side of the road until the army reached them, then moved Calan into Lady Caya's wagon. Nahtan hadn't needed Yenene to tell him they'd reached the small group just in time and Calan probably wouldn't have survived much longer on his own. Once Yenene was sure he was settled enough to be able to move, they had continued on their way to Basiyr.

  Korrie had continued to avoid Nahtan while they waited, and Garren had stayed between them. Once the army got there, the thief had quickly disappeared into the ranks. Nahtan still intended to find out what she'd done with the scroll she'd stolen from Yenene's packs, but for now decided to focus on getting to Basiyr.

  "So should I just draw my sword now so I'm ready when this discussion turns violent?" Brijade asked him. She was still wearing her armor and had her hair pinned up, telling him she'd come to find him straight from seeing her own horse and tent taken care of for the night.

  "No swords," Nahtan told her. He motioned for her to come into his tent with him.

  "I'm really not in the mood tonight, Nahtan," she said.

  "I just want to talk to you," he told her. "But in private." He'd been thinking a lot about his conversation with Asher, and the more he thought about it, the more the things Asher had said made sense.

  "If this is about Bear's letter--"

  "It's not just about Bear's letter," he cut her off, then paused, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He clenched his left hand into a fist. "Please, Brijade," he said. He knew he needed to approach this calmly and keep his temper under control

  She watched him for a long moment, then walked into his tent as he held the flap open. He followed her in, letting the flap fall behind him.

  "What is it then?" she asked, turning to look at him. He could see she was tense, from the way she was standing to the way she was watching him, as if waiting for him to reach for a weapon. Her eyes had moved to everywhere she knew he had one; fr
om his skinning knife in his boot to the dagger in the sheath on his left forearm.

  "When did you stop trusting me?" he asked her. He'd thought a lot about how to approach the discussion with her, knowing he didn't want her to view him as an adversary.

  She paused, seemingly taken aback by the question. It was obvious she hadn't been expecting him to start the conversation that way.

  "I don't know," she finally said after a long moment. "Sometimes I still trust you, sometimes it's all I can do not to knock your teeth out."

  "But you don't," he noted. "You haven't taken a swing at me except in the mock fights at night." He'd caught her frowns and the looks she'd exchanged with Bear before he'd left, so he knew they were both unhappy with some of his actions and decisions. While Bear had voiced his opinions, Brijade had mostly kept hers to herself.

  "You're my king," Brijade replied. "I swore oaths to you, and I'll keep to those to the end."

  Nahtan nodded. "So every night you've come to me, is that you coming to your king because of an oath, or is that Brijade coming to Nahtan?"

  She frowned, and he could see she was trying to figure out if there was some trap in his question.

  "I really don't think this is going to end well," she said, turning to leave.

  Nahtan put his arm up onto the tent post and moved to the side, blocking her way.

  "I've already considered the answer could be either one," he told her. "And I'd like to know which it is."

  She looked up at him, sighing.

  "It's not that easy of an answer," she told him. "Because it's some of both."

  "Tell me," he ordered her. He knew he didn't love Brijade, not like Bear did. But she had been a good friend over the years and he did rely on her and value her place in his inner circle. Her loyalty and friendship were two of the things he counted on.

  "Bear always knew he and I weren't going to just see each other," she said. "He's seen other women and I've seen other men. When I first came to you, it was because you were one of my best friends, and I had that familiarity with you. We had that bond and trust from the battles we'd stood in together." She shook her head. "It was a release we both needed and could provide for each other. But then you started down this road, and it was like I became some possession of yours. That was when it became more of an expectation than anything shared out of our friendship. You still needed that release, but instead of sharing it, you were just taking it."