by Jon Sprunk
The armed riders watched them warily. One of the men in chainmail urged his mount forward, and thirty-six swords cleared their scabbards. The riders started for their weapons, too, but the man who had come forward stopped them with an upraised fist.
“Whoever you are,” he said, “you had better have a good reason for stopping us.”
“We do.” Captain Drathan nodded to Josey. “Your empress demands it. Now get down off your horses before we are forced to lay hands upon you.”
Josey swallowed as all the riders turned their heads to look at her. Then their leader slid down from his mount. He reached up and pulled off his helmet to reveal a tan, weathered face. His sweaty gray hair was matted to his pate. Holding his helmet under his arm, he lowered himself to one knee, and his men did likewise.
“Who are you?” Josey asked. “Where are you from?”
The leader looked at her and frowned. His eyes were steel-blue under bushy black brows. “I am Gerak Therbold, lord of Aquos.”
Josey had heard of that territory, but knew almost nothing about it. “Where are you going with these men, Lord Therbold? You're armed as if for battle.”
“I am going to defend my lands, Highness,” he replied without hesitation.
Josey's borrowed horse pranced in a circle, and she had to turn around to keep facing the lord. “Defend them from whom, my lord?”
“It is a private matter, Highness. I would prefer to deal with it on my own.”
Josey clamped her legs around the horse and jerked the reins sharply to get it to stand still, but with little effect. “Like you and your ilk have dealt with the local villagers? I have seen the devastation wrought by your private little war, my lord. I aim to put an end to it. Now tell me. Who were you going to fight?”
Lord Therbold's mouth twitched, and Josey thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he said, “Count Sarrow of Farridon. His men have been pillaging our eastern border since last spring. Two days ago we received a message from Hafsax, one of my larger fiefs, that Sarrow was moving there in force. My son took a party of men to prevent this, but I haven't had word from him since.”
Josey took a deep breath. Her anger was dwindling, against her will. “And you are going to find your son, my lord?”
“I am, Highness. By the grace of the Prophet.”
“Stand up, Lord Therbold. How far is Hafsax?”
The man climbed to his feet. “Three leagues from here, Highness. As the crow flies.”
Josey nodded to Captain Drathan. “We will accompany Lord Therbold on his mission. Send someone back to the lord general for additional men. And have Master Hirsch come with them.”
While the captain selected a messenger, Lord Therbold and his men remounted with Josey's permission. Therbold looked unsure, but surrounded by her bodyguard, he didn't have much choice in the matter. If he's lying to me…
“Lead the way, my lord,” she said, and flinched at the steel in her own voice.
With a bark to his retainers, the nobleman kicked his steed and took off through the cold mud. They rode for the better part of a candlemark, over countryside that became rougher and hillier as they progressed. The road was little more than a dirt path riddled with ruts and frozen puddles. Josey shifted back and forth trying to find a comfortable position in this saddle, but it was proving a futile endeavor. The borrowed seat was killing her.
“Are you aware,” she said to Lord Therbold, who had deigned to ride beside her, though he hardly spoke at all, “that my army has been traveling through your lands for more than a sennight?”
“From what I've heard, Highness, it isn't much of an army.”
Ouch. “Perhaps not, my lord. But it is a sad day when an empress is not welcomed by her vassals when she arrives in their dominion.”
He bent his stiff neck. “My apologies, Highness. If I have been remiss in my hospitality, pray excuse me.”
“Of course. Tell me about your grievance with Count Sarrow. What started this feud?”
“Sarrow is a swine. He thinks he can intimidate me into rolling back our border from its traditional placement, but I will not yield. And so he provokes me at his pleasure, by which I mean constantly.”
“Why Hafsax? What is its significance?”
Lord Therbold glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “As I said, it is one of my larger holdings in the east. It provides much-needed wheat and corn, and wool that I trade in exchange for the things my lands require.”
“That's it? It has no strategic value?”
“Highness, I don't know what you're—”
“I find it difficult to believe that this Count Sarrow would risk open conflict over corn and wool.”
The nobleman rode silently, looking straight ahead. Josey waited, but he said no more. She was about to ask about his son in the hopes of getting him to lower his guard when a shout from the front of the party reached back to them. Josey peered ahead to see what was going on. Clouds of black smoke rose from over the next rise.
Lord Therbold put on his helmet. “That would be Hafsax. Men of Kistol, to me!”
As the nobleman rode off with his soldiers, Captain Drathan ordered four soldiers to remain with Josey. He didn't give her time to argue before he slammed down his visor and galloped forward, kicking up clods of mud. Josey urged her steed to pick up the pace as well.
She reached the top of the rise, and a patchwork of fields lay before her, at the end of which was a small village. The wattle-and-daub homes huddled together on the banks of a wide stream. Smoke poured from a couple of thatch roofs as men on horseback rode around the village brandishing torches and weapons. A group of villagers stood behind crude barricades—overturned wagons and household furniture. She didn't see any bodies. Thank heavens. Perhaps we're not too late.
“Majesty?” Captain Drathan asked.
Josey considered the situation. “Separate the two sides, Captain. I want a barrier between the soldiers and the village.”
Whatever he thought of her plan, Drathan kept it to himself as he saluted and led her soldiers down toward the conflict. Lord Therbold, meanwhile, had taken his men straight for the village. Josey almost called her guards back. If Therbold did something foolish, this entire situation could explode. But she held her tongue.
Most of the villagers possessed little in the way of weaponry—just farm tools and sticks—but one man wore a shirt of steel scales and carried a sword as he ran back and forth between the barricades wherever Count Sarrow's men advanced. More fires were set, but there was no clash of arms. For the time being, the lone swordsman was holding off the attackers. Shouts arose from Sarrow's men as her bodyguard approached. For one awful moment, Josey thought a real battle would erupt, but then the attackers withdrew to a large field on the far side of the hamlet. Josey breathed easier when Captain Drathan set up a defensive position around the homes. By that time, Therbold and his men had been permitted inside the barricades.
Josey urged her horse down the hill. Captain Drathan rode out to meet her on the trampled field. “I was going to send a detachment to escort you, Majesty.”
“I was quite safe, Captain. Do you think we can enter the village?”
“I would suggest sending an envoy first. To ascertain their intentions.”
“Ascertain their…?” Josey shook her head. “Captain, they are my subjects. I can clearly see them from here. All I'm suggesting is that we talk with them.”
Captain Drathan made a tight smile. “As you wish, Majesty. But I believe that imperial law states that the townships under a lord's control are considered his property, above and beyond the Crown. In effect, you would need Lord Therbold's permission to enter.”
Josey fought the urge to growl something obscene. “Fine, Captain. Please send a delegation to the village to ask if we may enter. And while you are at it, remind them that their situation could deteriorate quickly if we simply withdrew our presence to, say, over that hill.”
“Aye, Majesty. With pleasure.”
&n
bsp; She stopped the captain with a raised hand before he could ride away. “And send someone to the other side, too. Find out who is in charge and tell them I want to see them. Right away.”
Captain Drathan saluted and hurried away. Josey brushed a gloved hand down her chest and over her skirt, both of which were spattered in tiny dots of mud. They're never going to come out.
After several minutes, while she sat on her horse like a grimy statue, a pair of her bodyguards came over and informed her that permission to enter had been given.
“Have we heard a reply from the other force yet?” she asked.
“Yes, Majesty,” one of the soldiers answered. “Count Sarrow has agreed to a parley if you will guarantee his safety.”
She sent them off with assurances for Sarrow's welfare and started toward the village. A barricade had been moved aside to allow her and a detachment of her soldiers to enter. Captain Drathan met them inside.
“Count Sarrow is on his way, Majesty.”
“Very good. I hope we can clear up this trouble.”
Captain Drathan escorted her to the village square, where the population had gathered. There were over a hundred people in sight, many of them in the same shape as Elser's village. Lord Therbold stood beside the man in scale armor, who was taller than the lord, with a rangy build. That must be his son.
As she approached, the swordsman removed his helmet, revealing a younger face than she anticipated. He looked to be about her age. He watched her with eyes like blue ice as Lord Therbold spoke in his ear.
Captain Drathan cleared his throat. “I present Empress—”
“Josephine.” The swordsman knelt on one knee. “We thank you, Majesty, with all of our hearts. Your arrival is most welcome.”
Josey bit her tongue as the villagers knelt as one, and even Lord Therbold and his men knelt again. “Please,” she said. “Stand up. My Lord Therbold, this is your son?”
The nobleman put a hand on the swordsman's shoulder. “This is Brian, my heir.” He looked around the village. “He held off the count's entire band until we could arrive.”
“Not just me.” Brian shrugged off his father's hand. “Every man here stood bravely.”
“Aye,” Therbold agreed. “But it was you who put the steel in their backbones.”
Hoofbeats sounded from behind, and Josey turned to see three men ride into the village. The center figure was a man with receding gray hair and sharp hazel eyes half-hidden beneath heavy bags. His sword had a silver handle topped with a polished green tourmaline as big as a quail's egg. A squad of Captain Drathan's men followed the trio at a respectful distance.
“Sarrow!” Therbold shouted. “You will pay for the damages you've caused here, and I will not forget this insult.”
The older rider regarded Therbold with a perturbed frown. “It is I who have suffered your insults for too long. I will not suffer them any longer! If not for this interruption, I would have taken back what is mine by rights.”
Interruption? Josey suppressed a curse. She would not be ignored on her own soil. She caught Drathan's eye and nodded firmly.
“Dismount at once,” he called out, “in the presence of Her Imperial Majesty!”
Count Sarrow pursed his thin lips and, taking his time, got down from his massive warhorse with the help of his aides. He did not kneel, however, but made only a nod in her direction. “Highness,” he said without emphasis.
Josey contemplated pressing the point, but decided to invoke her better nature. “I greet you, Count Sarrow, although I wish it could be under other circumstances.”
“Do you mean the circumstance,” Sarrow said, “by which you stand with the man who has stolen my property, abused my villains, and spit upon my family's honor?”
“Take out your sword!” Therbold roared. “We'll settle this right now!”
As the nobles reached for their weapons, Captain Drathan moved between them. “The man who draws a blade in Her Majesty's presence will suffer for it.”
Both men backed off, but they glared at each other with evident hatred.
“My lords,” Josey said. “I am calling for a halt to all hostilities between your fiefs.”
Lord Therbold snorted. “That would be my greatest pleasure, Highness. If this pig would keep his men off my lands.”
“Lands you stole from me!' Sarrow retorted. “After you burned down two of my mills.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“You lie!”
Josey tried to stand up in the stirrups, but couldn't find purchase even on her tiptoes. Frustrated, she shouted, “Shut up both of you!”
Sarrow and Therbold glowered at each other, but they remained silent. Brian had a hand on his father's arm.
Josey cleared her throat and tried to ignore the villagers staring at her. “Now, it is growing late, and my camp is far away.”
Sarrow looked to his rival. “I would be happy to provide an escort for you—”
“Thank you, my lord, but that will not be necessary.” She smiled. “You and I will both be guesting with Lord Therbold this evening.”
Therbold's mouth hung open. “Highness, that would be—”
“That is a command, my lord.” Josey looked to Count Sarrow. “For both of you. Therbold will play host and we shall sit down like level-headed men and women and solve this problem. Together.”
Lord Therbold muttered something under his breath, and then said, “I will not allow this mongrel in my house, Highness. I would rather—”
Josey glanced over Count Sarrow's shoulders. Lord Therbold's words died away as Hirsch approached on his small mare, followed by a company of crossbowmen. The soldiers' arrival had a profound effect on both noblemen. After a quiet conference with his officers, Sarrow announced he would be glad for a chance to settle their differences. Therbold was not so effusive, but he bent his stiff neck and mumbled a half-hearted welcome.
As the two sides set out on the road, leaving the villagers in peace, Josey rode up beside Hirsch. The adept smiled beneath the crumpled brim of his hat. “Making new friends, lass?”
“Not so much.” She leaned closer. “Your timing is excellent, Master Hirsch.”
“So I've been told, but it looked like you had things well in hand.”
It didn't feel like it. “Thank you. Any news from Argentus?”
“About finding a crossing? Nothing new. He has scouts on both sides of the river, but my guess is we'll be stuck here at least another couple days.”
“Just what I didn't need to hear. Can't you”—Josey wiggled her fingers in front of her—“wizard up some way for us to cross?”
He looked at her out of the sides of his eyes with one brow arched.
“All right.” Josey puffed out her cheeks. “Send a message back to camp, telling them where we'll be. In the meantime, I'll see if I can get these two old bulls talking.”
“I think browbeating them was an auspicious start.”
Josey glared until Hirsch winked, and they both started laughing as they rode down the muddy path.
“What the fuck is that?”
Caim steered his steed around Dray for a closer look. A low structure sat off to the side of the road amid the clumps of colorless grass—an oblong, semi-flat stone about eight feet long laid across two plinths like a crude table. Brown stains marred the surface of the long stone, and three severed heads were displayed on leaning pikes behind it.
Caim's horse shied away when they got within a pace of the display. He held the animal steady while he studied the heads. The victims had been Northmen, judging by the wisps of wheat-colored hair blowing in the wind. Their skin was blackened and ripped. The eyeballs shone in the lantern light like orbs of ice.
“What's it supposed to mean?” Malig asked.
“It means stay the hell away,” Dray answered.
Caim swung his steed around. Egil caught his nod and took off down the trail again. Caim rode up in front with him while the others filed behind. The road was harder to pick
out, having shrunk over the past two days to a narrow dirt path little more than a hunting trail. They'd been riding over a monotonous plain of snow and pale grass, past menhirs and over bone-white creeks.
“You see a lot of those shrines out here?” Caim asked.
“Some. Mostly up north.”
“Who puts them up? Priests?” Caim had guessed the table was an altar, although to what deity he could hardly guess. The stains certainly looked like blood….
Egil shrugged. “I suppose. People don't talk about them. It's best that way.”
“Seems like people don't talk about a lot of things up in these parts.”
Egil pulled something out of a pocket—it looked like a stick with the bark shaved off—and started chewing on it. “Back when I was a boy, I remember seeing the sun in the sky. It would rise and fall every day. The warmth of it was like an oven on my face. They say the sun still shines in the south beyond the mountains. That true?”
“Sure.” Caim studied the guide's face.
“I was five years old when the Dark came to these lands.” Egil snapped his fingers. “And all of sudden the light was gone. That was near twenty years ago, and I ain't seen the sun since.”
Caim did the math. That was about the same time his family had been attacked. Were they connected?
“I've got a question,” Dray said. “How does anything grow up here in the dark?”
“Not much does.” Egil kicked a tuft of grass sticking up through the snow. “Except for this stuff. We never saw it when I was little, but now it's everywhere. The priests say…”
“What?” Dray asked.
“Doesn't matter. I don't listen to them. What are y'all hunting? There's lynxes out here, though they're hard to spot.”
“We're not hunting for game,” Caim answered.
The guide nodded. “Yeah. I didn't think so. You aren't outfitted for shit.”
Caim inhaled through his nose, pondering his options. He decided to take a chance. “We're looking for a place.”
“What kind of place? I'll tell you right now there ain't much to find up here. And we'll be entering Bear tribe territory soon.”
