by Daniel Casey
“Kyrio Tobin, Mikkel, and Ewan.” The messenger said in a slightly louder voice as he pulled the canvas back to allow the three lords to enter.
“My lords,” Matis flipped his wrist in an exaggerated manner welcoming the three.
Ewan was a short woman who insisted on keeping her cloak tied closely around her and her hood up. Though her face wasn’t obscured, Matis was rather certain he had never seen her hair. Just her stern, pale and freckled face.
Mikkel was perhaps the fattest man Matis had ever know. In Ardavass, he was routinely the butt of more than a few jokes said openly by Matis’s circle. The man had no real power and was content to lounge on his clan’s various pleasure barges in the Spires’s sister city of Elixem.
Tobin, however, had been more than irksome. He needled Matis nearly every day, reminding him of exactly the scope of his charge from the Kyria. Though soft looking and unassuming, Matis always got the impression that Tobin had an iron core. The two had been at odds back at Ardavass and out here in the field was no different. Almost certainly, Tobin was sending reports to that duplicitous bounder Tamas.
Every time he saw Tobin, Matis felt his blood begin to burn as he remembered how Tamas had shamed him into taking charge of the Silvincian army. He was made Grand General of all Silvincian Force, but the praise of those in their assemblage that day had flowed to Tamas.
“Thank you for seeing us, Grand General.” Mikkel’s greasy lips spoke softly and ended in a toadying smile.
“You know I always welcome those our fellow Kryios decided to have my army and constantly second-guess my decisions.” Matis gave a creepy, all tooth smile.
“Today you have a reprieve from that,” Mikkel said apologetically.
“If, indeed, that was ever the case.” Tobin spoke flatly, as he came forward.
“Certainly feels that way. I don’t know if any other Grand General has ever had to endure such henpecking while in the field.” Matis adjusted his posture; he was going to put Tobin in his place this morning.
Tobin approached the map. His gaze never found Matias as he scanned the map and took note of the thrown figurines, “I would defer to our historian, Kyrio Ewan, on that but I doubt she would care to comment on your obvious discomfort.”
“Be on with it, Tobin, my seconds and I haven’t too much time to waste,” Tobin continued to avoid looking at Matis and instead set an empty gaze on Evness and then Vikram, “as we are mobilizing this day to begin our trek come next morning.” With that bit of information, Tobin did finally look Matis in the face. Matis returned a contemptuous grin, “So you will need to be going soon to prepare yourself for travel.”
“I am quite certain that we hardly have all our Novosy allies rallied.” Mikkel broke in.
“It needn’t be your concern.” Vikram dismissed.
Tobin now refused to break his gaze from Matis, “Indeed, it is exactly our concern because you were instructed to collect the Novosar forces before advancing west.”
“The remaining Novosars will come after us; there aren’t enough of them to make it worthwhile to delay here any longer. Besides, it’ll do our Bandran friends good to get to know the Novosars. They’ll meet up and join us soon enough.” Matis shrugged, “But why are you here today, Tamas?”
Tobin blinked and turned away, “We have discovered some new information that changes the nature of our enterprise.”
“Speak plainly, lordling.” Evness growled.
Tobin turned to look at Evness; his hand was outstretched with his palm open. He raised his hand slowly, stuck out his thumb, and added his index finger, his middle, and then his ring finger, “We have discovered four very interesting persons.”
“Who?” Vikram asked.
“I can’t imagine it matters to us one way or the other.” Evness scoffed.
“Go on, Tobin,” Matis sighed, “Finish your little drama.”
“We have recovered an alm and a paladin.”
“That’s just two persons. Rather poor math there.” Matis scratched behind his ear, unimpressed with Tobin.
“It turns out the alm is the ward of Vicegerent Somerled Sinclair. Assaulted on the high road, kidnapped, ransomed, escaped, hunted down by the same, escaped again, and finally finding her way to us.”
“That’ll please The Cathedral, may even afford us more crusaders than we were expecting for our campaign.” Vikram said to Matis.
“More likely it’ll simply give us what we asked for, but that will be something.” Evness added.
Matis waved them both to be silent, “How does this affect us, Tobin?”
“The alm made it clear that they weren’t set upon by ordinary outlaws, these men had been hired and sanctioned by a rogue faction within The Cathedral.”
“I’m still not seeing how it matters,” Matis leaned back in his chair, “Our march on Heveonen will continue unabated.” Then an idea came to Matis, “However, this certainly sounds like something that needs to be handled by skilled diplomats, by three experienced Silvincian lords.”
“The Cathedral will be notified soon enough,” Tobin ignored Matis last comment, “Just as the Kyria will be.”
“And when you finally return to us with updated instructions,” Matias stood, “I will faithfully carry them out. Until then, I have a campaign.” Coming around the map table, he gestured that it was time for the Kyrios to leave. Tobin and Ewan didn’t move and although Mikkel stuttered incoherently while shuffling back and forth, he didn’t leave either.
Tobin moved closer to the table placing a finger on the star denoting the city of Sulecin, “We aren’t more than a few days from The Cathedral. You need to go there in person and explain we have the alm.”
Matis laughed, “Why should a Grand General concern himself with a lowly alm?”
“Because if this alm’s report is true, and I see no reason for it to be false, we could quickly see the sanction for our move against Essia dissolve.”
“The death or ransom of a single alm could do nothing of the sort.
“She’s no ordinary alm…
“Even if she’s a daughter of a vicegerent, it can’t impact us.”
“She is the ward of the man who many think will be the next Patriarch.”
“So return her, Tobin, curry the favor your superior Tamas wants. It will not change my intent.” Matis said sternly.
Vikram approached his general and tugged slightly at his sleeve, whispering, “Sending them alone…we could lose leverage.”
Matis thought for a moment and asked Tobin, “Who did she say was responsible for her abduction?”
Before Tobin could respond, Mikkel did, “From her story it’s clear the outlaws had some connection with the civics in Rikonen and a rogue sect in Sulecin itself.”
Tobin raised a hand, “It’s not quite…
Matis cut him off, “Why didn’t you come out and say so at the outset?”
“We did.” Mikkel looked confused but Matis ignored him.
“Who assaulted her is only a minor point, something to be dealt with internally by the Cathedral. If they find out we have the alm, safe and sound, and never told them, we could incur more than mere disfavor.” Tobin said more than a bit annoyed.
“Worry not,” Matis threw his arms out wide, “We shall return this alm. I shall deliver her to the vicegerent myself.” Tobin was taken back. He hesitated to say anything further. A wide smile crept across Matis’s face as he turned to his lieutenants, “I will deliver her with the strength of the Silvinician army at my back with which I will root out the churlish fraternity.”
“You would move against the faith of millions?” Tobin said astonished.
Matis blinked and replied in faux shock, “Certainly not. I will be rescuing our great faith from the poison within it. I was elected as defender of the faith.” Moving towards Tobin, Matis pressed his finger into the Kyrio’s chest, “By your own spire’s precious golden boy.” Tobin staggered back slightly.
Evness came forward and pulled the canv
as of the pavilion back, “I think you’re done here.” The kyrios slowly began to leave.
Before they had disappeared, Matis called to them, “You will of course inform the Spires of my decision. In fact, it might be best if you left for Ardavass today.” He leaned on the table crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin. “Before noon, I should think.” Mikkel reluctantly nodded as he was the last to leave and Matis caught a glimpse of Tobin looking furious.
Once they had gone, Evness chuckled, “Well, that certainly changes things.”
“It certainly does,” Matis turned to face his lieutenants, “Evness you will leave a small unit here to collect Novosar stragglers and meet the Bandran justiciars, but you shall lead our troops to Sulecin to camp on the plains before the city. Vikram, find someone to escort those three back to Ardavass or get lost on the way. I don’t want to hear any more from them. They are an annoying remainder in my plans.”
“And what is that plan?” Vikram asked.
“We have discovered a cancer in The Cathedral, one feed by the Essians, and that we must cut it out.”
“Taking control of The Cathedral by force is not the wisest move, sir.” Vikram said.
“This alm will be our entry with the vicegerent and will accelerate his rise; we will prop him up, take the whole of Cassubia under our wing, and then move on Essia.”
“You mean to win the whole of the world for the Spires.” Evness’s eyes gleamed with a wild passion for a moment then the reality of the idea crept into his mind. He looked to Vikram who had a similar look of anxiety.
“I will,” Matis stared hard at the map, “And then I’ll return to Ardavass, where my dictates will be law.”
Stony Shore
There were several paths out of the Cruor. Most routes simply disappeared into the forests, some came abruptly to a dead end, and others were a circuitous knot. Jena never enjoyed the place, and with what she had planted in the earth there, she was more eager than ever to get away. She had done her best to erase any evidence of the Silvincian troop, but there would always be something. There was always something.
It had been weeks, so the trail of the soldiers as well as her own group’s was cold. Any tracker that could sniff them out would be unescapable, so it wasn’t worth worry about any longer. Escape was what she wanted; she wanted to be done with it all. But there was more she needed to do before she could disappear.
The boy Colm had guided the soldiers through the main pass. Roth had told her about the Novosar that had aided him, Reg. Apparently the soldiers had stolen Colm away using him to bring them to the Cruor. This meant that Reg was dead. The boy didn’t speak much; when he did, it was usually in the cant of the Athingani and only to Roth. Yet Jena could tell the boy was angry, that the kind of anger that burned just under his skin. Thinking about it made her flush as she remembered her father’s murder.
Jena shook her head, trying to banish the memories. She made her way through the forest and then to a wider path meandering along and fluctuating between hardly being a deer trail to a rutted ox-cart path. Finally, Jena skidded down a gravely embankment out of the trees and onto a proper road—level, wide, and slightly raised. The blanched tiny stone made a satisfying crunch beneath her boots.
She dropped her rucksack with a bit of disgust and hooked her thumbs into her backpack’s shoulder straps. This had to have been the way the soldiers had come, but Jena was hesitant. In front of her, the road curved west, while to her right it seemed to lose its luster descending slightly and disappearing into the forest hemming it to the south. She pulled her pack straps tighter, took a deep breath, and with effort picked her rucksack up as she made her way south.
Tired and sore all over, Jena was beyond foul tempered. There was nothing to be done about it; this was simply what needed to be done. However, the blisters she felt bursting in her boots and the throbbing, ever present ache in her back made doing what was necessary necessarily shitty. She’d spent the better part of the day wandering down this road. She needed to stop, to rest.
Just as Jena was about to reach her limit the trees disappeared and the road dissolved into a pasture. The change was welcomed but quickly replaced in Jena’s mind with the exhausting of having to tread through unfamiliar fields. She could smell salt in the air and knew she wasn’t too far from the Novostos Sea. She’d be somewhere along the Stony Shore, maybe not too far away from where she had had to swim to shore after corsairs had destroyed her boat.
It felt like it had been ages since then. Being beached, she had dragged the paladin the Cruor to reunite him with his precious alm. Thank the Light, Roth had been there, that he made it through. Then the fight with the Silvincian soldiers, riding hard fleeing north, riding hard back down to clean up the mess, and now back to where she had made landfall. No wonder she was so fed up. She wasn’t making any progress, wasn’t going anywhere.
She snapped herself back from her reverie. She’d been letting her attention wander off too often lately; she needed to focus. Stopping she dropped her rucksack and sat down on it as she shook her head. Pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes, she leaned forward in her squat and let the weight of her backpack press down on her. When she raised her head, she saw it was nearly dusk.
“I should just camp here.” She said to herself. Still for a moment, she let out a long sigh and forced herself up, grabbing her rucksack as she did so. “Nope. Gotta keep going. Can’t be too far away from it now, can’t quit just before the finish. Can’t.”
As she spoke, she caught movement off to her side. Jena slowed her pace and turned towards the commotion, her eyes scanning the dimming field. Just then coming over a gentle rise were the syncopated bleats of sheep. Three sheep came trotting towards her; all of them looked to be in need of sheering.
“Well, what are you all doing out? Is there somewhere you should be?” The sheep nudged her as they circled. Jena continued but got the distinct impression that she was the one being shepherded.
Over another gentle hill she saw it—a burnt out house with a few bodies rotting in the garden between it and a barn. This must be Reg and Colm’s home. Jena emerged from the pasture through a break in the fence. She stood staring at the front of the house. The foundation was there, the porch awning somehow still intact, but the rest of the small building was charred black. The walls were mostly gone or like the roof collapsed in, Jena walked into the center of the husk and glanced around herself. It would do.
She set her rucksack down and unlatched the straps of her backpack sliding it off and onto the floor. She rolled her head in slow circles trying to loosen her neck, and then she arched her back hearing and feeling her spine crack and pop. Rubbing her shoulders, she made her way back out of the ruin and onto the lawn between the house and barn.
The barn was untouched. Apparently, the Silvincians couldn’t be bothered to torch the entire homestead. Jena tried to guess whether this was out of spite or laziness.
She shrugged whispering, “Why not both?” She knelt next to one of the bodies, its face eaten away.
“Dogs, birds, whatever,” she muttered as she looked over the body, “This isn’t a soldier.”
Jena let out a sigh, rested her chin on her knee as she looked over the other two bodies. “Those aren’t soldiers either but those are not common folk. Not like this one here.” She looked closer; the man’s throat was cut. Jena lifted him slightly and saw a stab wound in the back.
“Reg, most likely. So that makes those two…” She looked out passed the barn to where the land ended and fell into the sea, “…probably the corsairs that started this whole shitty drama.”
Jena stood. She wasn’t going to bury anyone today. She was going to make a fire in the husk of the house and sleep. When morning came, then she’d put Reg to rest properly. Back amid the ruin, she walked through the few tiny rooms not looking for anything in particular. She paused in what must have been a bedroom. On a small cabinet was a blacked book, its cover and spine seemed to be a kind of metal. Je
na gingerly lifted the cover to discover that the book was hollowed out—a solander.
Inside were several burnt cards, when Jena touched them they fell to ash. She dragged her finger though the ash and pulled up a thin silver chain and a blackened silver cuff bracelet. Gathering the jewelry up in her other hand she pocketed it and looked to see if there was anything remaining—a handful of copper coins, some colored ash, and a brittle piece of folded vellum.
She took the vellum and turned back to her packs; she needed a fire. In the morning, she’d ponder these objects. In the morning, she’d bury more bodies, but she’d make a cairn in the Novosar style for Reg.
Arderra
It was getting cooler. Jena could smell it in the air. The warm months had been over for some time and the cool highlands had lulled Jena into thinking the mild weather would just keep rolling on. She knew better but she didn’t want to face it. As she leaned against a broken fence post gazing at her handiwork, dark mounds even now were losing their color under the midday sun, she was suddenly aware of her body’s sweat and ache. Her muscles burned. It had been building for the past few days.
Jena could smell her tired body; its heat crept out her collar curling into her nostrils. She stank. Fingers feeling fat, she tried to stretch them out holding the shovel she had found in the barn.
“These men weren’t soldiers,” she muttered eying each of the two graves, “but they weren’t innocents.” Her head rose slightly as she looked beyond the graves to the stone cairn she had built around Reg’s body. She let the shovel fall as she walked towards the cairn. Pausing above it, she knelt, lifted a palm-sized stone in the middle, and placed the jewelry she had found the night before. She tossed the stone up and down a couple of times as her other hand rubbed the folded vellum in her belt. The stone covered the bracelet and chain, Jena stood and turned back to the burnt husk of the cabin.
As she strapped on her pack, her eyes gave one last appraisal to the cabin. There was nothing more she should bother to salvage. Already she was more weighed down than she would have liked, but Arderra wasn’t too far away. Jena bounced a couple of times on the balls of her feet and swung her arms in big loops to get her pack to settle in a way that felt right. Looking around she figured she had a two or three hour walk to the outskirts of the village, less if she was able to find a wagon on the road.
