Wrath of the Usurper (The Eoriel Saga Book 2)

by Kal Spriggs

  She looked at Grel, “Though I'll have to request that Grel stay out, to better keep the peace.”

  Grel spat in the dirt, not quite at her feet. Covle waved a hand, “What hospitality is this? We come to speak of peace, yet you insult us and then as much as say that the Duke's Hound is not welcome? What do you have to hide that you fear him so much?”

  Katarina gave him a level look, “Grel has tried to kill me, not just once, but several times.” She looked over at Commander Flamehair, “Worse, he has killed the families of some of my people. If he is present, I'm afraid tempers will inevitably flair, even if he doesn't try to provoke them.” She put her emphasis on the word to show that she fully expected him to do so.

  From the pinched look on Commander Flamehair's face, she agreed. Before she could speak, though, Covle Darkbit answered, “Then I'm afraid we will have to insist that no discussions can take place without him present. Clearly you wish to keep something hidden as unraveling secrets is the charge of the Duke's Hound.” His patently false statement hung in the air, like a noxious bit of gas that someone let loose during a formal dinner.

  Commander Flamehair had a pained expression on her face. Clearly, though she was in charge, she didn't have as much freedom to negotiate as she might wish, “I'm afraid that Commander Darkbit has stated our position.” She as much as said that she couldn't break ranks with him, not over this.

  Katarina looked between them. “Very well,” she looked over at Bulmor who gave her a slight nod. He thought he could keep Grel from getting too out of hand. “If you swear to keep him on a tight leash, we'll risk it.” She took a deep breath, “We'll allow you twenty men as an escort, would that be sufficient?”

  “Fifty would be better,” Darkbit said.

  “Fifty would be an invasion,” Katarina snapped.

  “My Lady, would perhaps thirty be a good compromise?” Miss Kail asked. “I confess, I'm not familiar with these military matters, but it seems to me that we could settle there comfortably.”

  Katarina hesitated. That was at the high end of what they could reliably watch and keep secured. Bulmor's greatest fear was that the “escort” would attempt to open one of the side gates or even the main gate in order to allow Darkbit's forces to storm the Ryftguard. It would be a violation of diplomatic protocol and the terms of the truce and destroy what little remained of Hector's appearance. It might also win Hector back the fortress and it wasn't too difficult to imagine that Darkbit and Grel would favor that over anything as trivial as appearance.

  “I think that would be acceptable,” Katarina said. “I'll let you make preparations. Captain Smith will have some men show you to the rooms we've set aside for you. They include several suites, so Miss Kail and Commander Flamehair need not worry about privacy.”

  Katarina turned away and Bulmor fell in behind her as they walked back into the fortress. She looked over at Arren and Cederic as they drew out of earshot, “Well?”

  Arren Smith stroked his beard in thought, “I think they've come in good faith or at least been sent in good faith.”

  Cederic nodded at that, “I agree, though there's something... off about Grel.”

  “What do you mean, off?” Katarina asked.

  He shook his head, “I can't say. It's just a feeling I get. I have to wonder, though, if he was involved with those mercenaries who attacked us at Southwatch. The ones in alliance with the Armen.”

  Katarina nodded as she led the way up a set of stairs and into a conference room they'd set aside for this. She looked around and saw that most of her advisers and all of her captains were present. She gave Jarek a warm smile as he drew out her chair for her. “Times were, you'd pull it out from under me before I sat,” she chuckled as she took a seat.

  “I've matured... a bit,” he replied as he took a seat.

  Katarina snorted at that, but her gaze went to Arren, “Well, Arren Smith, we already know what to expect from Covle Darkbit and Grel, what can you tell us about the other two?”

  The old man leaned back and a spark of mischief came to his blue eyes, “Ah, Commander Kerrel Flamehair... where to begin?” He glanced around the table, clearly pleased to have the group's undivided attention. “Well, perhaps it might be better to call her Lady Kerrel Ingail... or Captain Red Fox...”

  “Lady?” Katarina asked sharply. “What is a noblewoman doing as a mercenary commander?”

  “Well,” Arren's voice took on his storytelling mode, “You see, there's quite an interesting story behind that...”

  Bulmor grunted, “There always is.”

  “Now, when I was a bit younger,” he stroked his beard thoughtfully, “I had a few adventures in the Duchy of Asador with some companions, working for Lord Ingail, Baron of the Northward. As you may remember, Lord Ingail was killed in battle...”

  “I remember that!” Aerion said, his voice excited, “You mentioned his enemies had runic knights, that they killed him!” Katarina bit back a smile at the eagerness in the young man's voice. It was easy to forget that in many ways he was still a boy.

  “That's right,” Arren said, his voice sad. “He was killed by Baron Artar of the Iron Fortress. Lord Ingail was succeeded by Lady Rachel Ingail, his daughter. A woman of both beauty and intelligence. Rather than allowing her lands to be absorbed by some other noble upon marriage, she vowed never to wed. Instead, she took on a mysterious lover and had twin daughters, all out of wedlock.” He shook his head, “It was quite the scandal, you can imagine.”

  Katarina frowned at that, “How does this tie in?”

  “Well, Kerrel was the younger of the twins, Moira the elder,” Arren answered quickly. “They had quite the legends about themselves, for they were known to find trouble like they were born to it.” He shook his head, “As a friend of the family, I was asked, some cycles ago, by Lady Rachel Ingail for help. It seems that a neighboring noble, Lord Othis, was violating the rights of his people, his soldiers were turning families out into the night, seizing lands, and taxing the poor into the ground.”

  Katarina saw that everyone had leaned in, to better hear Arren's story. “Well, it seems that Moira and Kerrel were rightfully enraged at this and so they crafted up Lady Red Fox. Each took turns covering for one another, as only identical twins can manage, while the other would slip across the border, waylay Lord Othis's taxmen, and redistribute the stolen wealth.”

  “Which is all well and good until one of them gets caught,” Gerlin grunted.

  “True enough,” Arren Smith answered and Katarina heard a youthful tone to his voice. “True enough... which is why Lady Ingail had called for me. She knew I had many skills at slipping in... and out of places. Young Moira had been captured and her other daughter, Kerrel, was preparing to rescue her. I took it upon myself to lend her aide. We slipped into Lord Othis' castle, where, rumor had it, he planned to marry Lady Moira against her will, and so become the rightful heir to Lady Rachel Ingail's lands. Well, Kerrel and I burst in and fought our way through to the guards, only to find ourselves facing Lord Othis with his dagger pressed to young Moira's throat.”

  “So you swept in and saved the day?” Gerlin asked sarcastically.

  “To my shame, I did not,” Arren said, his voice suddenly old again. “Having failed to protect Lady Ingail's father, I hesitated, worried that I might cost the life of her daughter and heir. I also prevented Kerrel from stepping forward and convinced her to lower her blade.” He shook his head, “Lord Othis, at that point, decided that having two daughters of his enemy was an excess... and he slit Moira's throat in front of us both.”

  The room had gone quiet. Katarina felt tears fill her eyes at the thought, she could directly relate to it in the murder of her little brother.

  “What happened?” Aerion asked quietly.

  Arren looked up and shook his head, “Well, Kerrel went mad. She fought off the guards who'd taken us, killed them both and then ran Othis through and cut off his head. We then took Moira's body and fled.” He shook his head, “It was a bad bu
siness, for she staked his head at the crossroads, like they once did for oathbreakers and traitors of the worst sort. Lord Othis's brother was Baron Artar, the same that had killed Lady Ingail's father. Their family feuding was rekindled, only this time the alliances of both were drawn into it. Lady Ingail had lost her heir, but so had Baron Artar, for he...” Arren coughed a bit, “Well, he isn't able to have children, you see.”

  He gave a deep sigh, “It looked like full scale war, for certain. Both sides called up levies in the thousands... but then Lady Kerrel put a stop to it. She surrendered herself to Baron Artar. He had a bit of a pickle after that, then. If he executed her out of hand, then he'd restart the war, but he couldn't just let her go. So he made a deal with her mother. Lady Ingail turned over a broad swath of her lands, called the Greensward, which Baron Artar's family had long contested. In return, he let Lady Kerrel go free, on the terms that she was exiled until her mother dies, never to return upon pain of death.”

  Katarina shivered at that, for it was almost a distorted echo of her own past, “Her mother agreed to that, even though it meant she'd never see her daughter again?”

  “What choice did she have?” Arren said softly. “She'd lost one daughter, she didn't want to lose the other. She wanted to prevent the wars in Asador from destroying the rest of the Duchy. So she agreed, and she hasn't seen her daughter since.”

  The room had gone quiet as everyone thought about that. After a moment, Arren continued, “I'd heard that she worked as a mercenary for some cycles after that, and then that she had founded a company of her own, made up of troopers from her mother's lands, who want to earn her favor and gain skill in battle. It seems, now, that she's done well enough for herself.”

  “Do you think you'll have some advantage in our talks with her?” Katarina asked.

  Arren's gaze dropped to the table, “My Lady, I'm afraid that she won't hold my words in high esteem, not after I encouraged her to surrender. The death of her sister is on my hands, for that, and if she hates me for it, I couldn't blame her.”

  Katarina sighed then, “Well, she at least sounds like someone we can talk with and trust.” Katarina hoped that would be enough. Because if it wasn't, she had the feeling that her story would be another tragedy for Arren to tell.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  Commander Kerrel Flamehair

  The Ryftguard, Duchy of Masov

  24th of Paloom, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  “Now, the way I see it,” Covle Darkbit said, his voice genial, “You're presented with only a couple options, the first is a negotiated surrender...”

  “Oh,” Lord Jack said, “You wish to surrender, splendid! I accept.”

  Even Kerrel snorted at that as Darkbit's eyes narrowed, “Careful young lordling, else that might well come off the table.” The young redhead waved an arm in mock apology and gestured for Darkbit to continue. “Your other option is to fight it out, in which case the best you can hope for is to shatter the Duchy into splinters while the Armen and Norics overwhelm the pieces.”

  Lady Katarina leaned forward and Kerrel's eyes went to the young woman. So far, she'd been impressed by her. While rumor had it that she hadn't been in the thickest of the fighting, it was clear that she had seen some. She moved comfortably with the sword on her hip and though she wore a dress today, Kerrel had seen that her chain armor had seen its share of scuffs. And though Hector assumed she must be someone's puppet, she spoke with intelligence and reacted too quickly for that to be the case, Kerrel thought.

  “We have several other options,” Lady Katarina said, her voice calm. “Right off the bat, there could be some kind of co-rule or even marriage of state, where I would have joint authority with Hector. Straight away, I'm certain you can see the advantages to that,” she nodded at Kerrel and at Halyna Kail, “I could manage the lands while Lord Hector managed the army.”

  “You'd agree to marriage?” Halyna Kail asked sharply. She looked surprised at that, almost as if she hadn't even considered it.

  Katarina grimaced, “If I must, then, yes. He's my first cousin, so it's not as if it's illegal... and it would be a marriage of state, only, you understand... but yes, to keep the peace I'm willing to consider the option.” She looked back at Darkbit, “For that matter, there's the option of your surrender. There's many, I'm certain, who would lay down their arms if it meant you and Grel here received a fair trial and a quick execution.”

  Darkbit flushed, “That's not on the table.”

  Kerrel met Lady Katarina's eyes and gave a slight nod, though, and she saw that the other woman understood. It wasn't on the table for discussion, but it was an option. Though Hector will probably ensure it's a quick trial and a quicker execution, she thought, not that it's not more than the two of them deserve.

  Darkbit hadn't caught the interplay and he stroked his goatee and mustache. “Well, do enlighten us, what other options do you see to be discussed?”

  Lady Katarina grimaced as his tone but she continued, “There's also a negotiated exile. I'd be willing to leave these lands if he were to accept the terms we could establish, contingent upon my return as his heir upon his death. Of course, I would have to insist upon some rather drastic changes, both here in the south as well as to the components of his Army, which would have to include a larger portion of locals rather than mercenaries.”

  Kerrel found herself nodding at that, it was actually a reasonable statement, one she knew Hector would dislike but accept.

  “That's off the table too,” Covle Darkbit said with a snarl, “I'm the Commander in the South, and I know for a fact that if you had locals in charge they'd go straight into rebellion...”

  “Only because you've been killing them in droves,” Katarina snapped. “Which is why they'd be in charge, to prevent the kind of bloodshed you've embraced. The Duke's Army should not be a force of occupation, it should be there to protect the people. While your mercenaries have been holed up in the towns, my rebels have defeated a major Noric force as well as some of their Armen allies.”

  Grel snarled, “That's a lie, you were in league with those barbarians, which is why Captain Henderson and his company are dead.”

  “Oh,” Lady Katarina said sharply, “Was that his name? He was working with the Norics when he caught up to us, along with some Armen raiders, while he still wore Lord Hector's colors. I'll be gracious and assume that he sold you lot out to save his own skin.”

  Grel slammed a heavy fist on the table, “That's lies and more lies! I was there, it was you who sent the Norics pouring down the hillsides on us. What did you do to win over their demons? Did you let them sate their pleasures on your flesh–”

  “Enough!” Kerrel barked sharply. “We will not break the truce and you will restrain yourself unless you have something of value to say.” She had her own doubts about Grel's story of survival. For that matter, she wasn't certain how Lady Katarina's forces had escaped the Armen and Norics, much less destroyed the numbers of them they claimed. Her suspicions, however, focused more upon the Duchy of Boir and whatever navy ships they might have had near the Ryft Watch towers. The Luciel Order had already confirmed that Lady Katarina turned over the Ducal Blade of Boir after the fight at Southwatch, it wasn't too far-fetched to guess that they teamed up against the Armen and Norics around the same time.

  And from there, she thought absently, how far fetched is it to believe that they assisted her in her attack here? Certainly that was more believable than the idea that Lady Katarina stood up three companies from scratch in only a few months and then led them to victory against the most secure fortress in the known world.

  “Well,” Kerrel said into the silence, “I might list off some of the points that are open to negotiation... and others that we cannot allow to change.” She took a breath, “Lord Hector is not willing to entertain the possibility of ending the war to liberate the Lonely Isle. He has made arrangements with the locals and he feels the island's security will improve that of the Duchy as a whole
.” Lady Katarina gave her a nod at that, which was good, since Kerrel wasn't about to abandon the island either.

  “Second, while changes to components of the military are acceptable, reduction in size is not,” Kerrel said. “Lord Hector feels that the Boir system, of a Duke's Army, works better than the levy system which the nobility prefer.” She saw Lord Jack frown at that, but he didn't speak against it. “While he will accept the nobility maintaining their own forces, he will not accept a reduction of the Duke's Army, which, it is to be noted, is still only a fraction of it's size from even fifty cycles ago.”

  She saw Katarina nod at that, “I'm willing to agree to discuss the components of the army, as I said before.”

  “Lastly,” Kerrel said, “While he is willing to discuss concessions to those aggrieved parties... he is not willing to step down. Nor, I'm afraid, is he convinced that you are who you say you are.” She hesitated and then finished, “If you can prove your identity, he may be willing to talk inheritance, but he'll insist upon either exile or, at a minimum, house arrest somewhere that he can keep you secured.”

  “I see,” Katarina said. “Well, since you have Covle Darkbit here, who once served as my personal armsman, I assume identifying me will not be the issue you fear. Especially since he's demanded my hand in marriage not only from my father, but as I understand it as a requirement for his services to Lord Hector. You shouldn't have any issue gleaning the truth of my identity from him.”

  Kerrel shot a glance at Darkbit. The man gave her a dark look, but he nodded slowly. Kerrel felt a flutter of unease though, as she thought about Covle's actions. What if he were behind this impostor, somehow, as some means to improve his own position? It was absurd on the face of it, but she couldn't discount it out of hand. The scheming bastard clearly saw himself as Hector's successor.