Chronicles of Den'dra: A land on Fire

by Spencer Johnson

  Em’risi had managed to remove almost all of the evidence of the altercation by the time Alvin was pounding on the door. Hastily slipping a dress over her head and squeezing a little more water out of her hair, she undid the latch. Alvin was attempting to fend off an insistent healer intent on bandaging the gash along the side of his head. On seeing the Princess, the woman fell silent, but she rejoiced when Em’risi ordered Alvin to submit to her administration. He silently stared at anything except Em’risi as the healer went about her business. Only the occasional grimace twisted his face as the woman prodded a tender spot. When she was done, Alvin waited until she had left the room before speaking.

  “I trust you wouldn’t have let her go if you were injured?” There was an element of accusation as if Alvin suspected that Em’risi would do just that.

  “Perhaps a bruise from falling to the ground afterwards, but no injury. Your head was all that was injured?” Em’risi sank into a chair after locking the door. It was a thick one that impeded noise well.

  “Just the head. My ears are ringing and my eyes have a lightning bolt imprinted on them, but that is fading.”

  “I didn’t know I could do that.” Em’risi shuddered as she answered the unspoken question in Alvin’s clear gray eyes.

  “You did what had to be done. It was all I could do to hold him. If you hadn’t done that stone and lightning thing, he would have broken free.”

  “I…” Em’risi unconsciously shivered again.

  “You killed him. Erased every trace of his existence. I would have done the same, if I could. People will be wondering about the thunderclap and the burnt stone, but they won’t know that a Gifted tried to kill you.”

  “I killed him. That is the truth of it. I lost control of my powers and I killed one of my citizens.”

  “You aren’t like Reigns. Nothing like him. Tell me, what would you have done if we could have capture him?” Alvin frowned as he saw the conflict on Em’risi’s expression.

  “I would have… Couldn’t have had him put in a cell. If he was breaking free of your energy, nothing could have held him. His black robes… the Shadow Order, again. Still, that isn’t enough to condemn someone to death.” Em'risi rose from the chair and paced between the window and the door with her fingers intertwined in an attempt to keep them stilled. The throbbing returned as her concentration lapsed momentarily.

  “He tried to kill you. That is enough to condemn anyone to death… He could have been imprisoned… Reigns found a way. It would have involved shackling him hand and foot. Each being pulled in a different direction until his joints were about to be pulled apart. Would you have been able to condemn him to existing in agony until the executioner put him out of his misery? How would you have controlled the rumors that would have begun spreading once the people learned that an assassin had slipped through our ranks and struck at you? You killed him instantly, putting an end to all those problems. You are a better ruler for it.”

  “How am I a better ruler by having incinerated the man?” Em’risi bristled as she wheeled on her bodyguard who only flinched before continuing.

  “Eventually, in a week or a month, you will order men into battle. Your men and Reigns’ men will die because of that order.”

  “So I am better because I can kill? Is that what you mean? Did you fear that I couldn’t condemn a murderer to death? Is that it?” Em’risi paused to take a deep breath. Her heart was racing and it took a few seconds to focus enough to disconnect her Gift again.

  “No. Being able to kill doesn’t make a person better. Understanding what killing is, that is something else. You will order these men into battle where many will lay down their lives in your name, but you will do so knowing what you are asking of them. You know the exact weight that will drag at their conscience. However, you will feel the weight of every man dead when the battle is over. Is that something you can bear?” Em’risi faltered as Alvin’s words spoke to a secret within her that she had been trying to avoid thinking about.

  “I will do what must be done.” She prayed that she wouldn’t have to bear the guilt of having ordered men to their death in vain. She believed that should the rebellion fail, with her head on the heads man’s block; that she would die of the weight of all the men she had failed before the ax could descend.

  “It is because of that, knowing that you would rather take the place of every dead on the fields. That is what inspires these men to fight in your name. They see someone who will do what must be done in order to do what is right. They know that their widows will not be turned away by you. That what they are fighting for is a better place for their children. They fight because they believe that you won't ask the same of their children when this is over. They believe you can lead us to peace.” Em’risi took a deep breath, a calm expression firmly fixed on her face.

  “I never took you for the philosopher type, but… thank you.” Alvin merely smiled and inclined his head a little.

  “I am whatever my Queen requires.”

  “I am not the Queen yet. I have not yet sat the King’s Stone like all my forefathers since the time clan Brae first crowned a leader.”

  “Minor difference for the people. They have taken to calling you the Princess Queen. It matters little to them if you have sat for some ancient ceremony.”

  “Princess Queen?”

  “It is the name they chose. They will rally to that name, shout it as a war cry and there is nothing that you can do about it. You are the people’s Queen.”

  “Perhaps there is too much value placed in tradition. Who am I to argue with my subjects?”

  “You are perhaps the first ruler in many generations to see the matter in that light. Speaking of which, the people would be loath to lose you.” Em’risi smiled at Alvin’s insinuation.

  “I see. Tell me, how has Carlisle’s training been going? I was watching him today with Halden. He holds his blade much better than when he began, as if someone has been giving him hours of private training.” Em’risi gave Alvin a dubious glance that made him shift his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably.

  “He has been improving at a steady pace. Already he is a better swordsman than most. With his Gift…” Em’risi understood Alvin’s point without it needing to be verbalized.

  “He is the reserved type. Not likely to divulge anything overheard. A quality that is appreciated in one’s personal guard. Don’t give him the green cloak right off. I am sure that you can think of ways to continue his training without arousing jealousy among the rest of the men.”

  “As you wish.” Em’risi got the impression that he had been expecting her to resist the suggestion.

  Chapter Twenty: Threads

  Enthack wheeled his lathered horse to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. The satchel at his side was clutched in one hand and the reigns in the other. When his heart slowed enough to mute the thundering in his ears, he listened intently. There were no longer any sounds of pursuit. The men had fallen behind. Their mounts were not of the same grade as the ones the couriers rode. The reason for there to be an entire elite hunting squad to be on his trail was a mystery. They had reason enough though.

  If they knew the true nature of his duplicity, there would have been a dozen squads on his tail instead of the one. Working for the Asgare had certain risks. Risks that he had accepted that first time he had tracked Brounn down. Risks he had taken steps to negate. Steps that were useless to him now. He was sure that he hadn’t been betrayed. Only a series of unfortunate events had caught him up. It had started when he had delivered a dispatch about the Dragon Lords that Reigns hunted. The mysterious stranger that Reigns was speaking with had eyed him in an odd manner and Enthack had escaped as soon as he could excuse himself. This was information the Asgare would want. The fact that there had been a blue eyed, blond lad mentioned had firmed his resolve to head for Warton at his earliest possible chance. He would have detoured, if he could have explained going so far out of his way, before delivering the dispatch to Rei
gns.

  The unfortunate turn of events had been that the castle was razed to the ground shortly after Reigns had arrived. Reigns blamed the Asgare and believed that one of the two couriers had been in league with the assassin. He was right in that regard; however, he was wrong in the belief that either of them had informed the Asgare. Enthack had only narrowly escaped the elite squad because he had been getting a late bowl of soup in the kitchens and had his horse tied outside the back door. They had entered at the front and began loudly giving his description and announcing that the one they were looking for was in league with the evil Asgare. Enthack laughed lightly at the irony. He was being hunted for something he was guilty of except on the wrong premise. He stopped as he remembered the other courier. A nice lad. Now a dead nice lad.

  Assured that the pursuers were not close, Enthack dismounted and led the horse into a nearby copse of trees. Hastily digging a hole with his dagger at the base of a distinctive tree, he opened the satchel and removed a couple dozen signets. Not all of them were rings. Tusul had disguised a couple of them ingeniously in everyday items one would be expected to carry. A couple eating utensils with the impress worked into the handle, a small knife with a handle that disassembles in segments, each with a different sigil. Some were disguised in plain sight. The necklace was simply a gaudy babble to any casual observer, but five of the metal links could be unlatched and opened to reveal signets. Wrapping all the items in a piece of oilskin, he buried them and marked the tree in his memory. He doubted that he would have a chance to return. His chances of living were getting slimmer by the hour.

  Taking his cloak off, Enthack pulled on a seam and tore loose the threads. Reaching through, he pulled the inside back out of the hole. Shaking the wrinkles out, he smiled at the dingy gray cloak he held. Perhaps a little thick for a summer cloak. The chancellor’s cloak was a rich double sided velvet thing so hiding that perfectly was beyond even Turana’s extensive skills. Concealed was the Chancellor’s oak under the signet ring. Gone was any marking that informed the ones that knew them of any link to the crown. That was the basic requirement yet Turana had even managed to make it a different style of cloak once turned inside out. The next step was changing out of his jacket and pants. The common wool pair that he pulled out of his saddle bag was done well, yet not too expensively.

  His new cover was that of a merchant’s courier. It was needed to explain the horse, but beyond that, he wanted no further attention. The pale bay horse he rode would undoubtedly draw attention from any recalling a description given by his pursuers so he resolved to get a fresh horse at the next village. It would only take a flash of the medallion for the stable hand to make the exchange. Most villages had a stable with an arrangement that allowed the couriers, or any with the medallion, to trade out tired horses for fresh horses. The pursuers would probably expect that he might try such a thing. It was a risk that was of a similar weight with riding the same horse they had seen him on. Hopefully, when they discovered the stables that he had made the exchange, they wouldn’t remember what the replacement horse looked like. There was always a number of agents passing through. What was one among ten?

  Taking a small bottle out of the saddle bag, Enthack grimaced before ducking his head and rubbing the smelly mixture into his hair. It burned his fingers and stung his scalp, but a minute later when he washed the concoction out of his hair, he had a shock of brassy red hair instead of the earlier tan. There was nothing he could do about his green eyes or the shape of his face except to keep his eyes on the ground, but that was sure to gain as much attention as candidly walking up and demanding a new mount. He would have to make sure there was a new stable hand on duty else he might be recognized despite his disguise.

  Warton was still a day further on south, unless he rode fast enough to draw undesired attention and necessitate a couple more stops at stables along the way. It was doubtful that he would do more than lead his pursuers right to the doorstep of the Asgare’s people if he were to continue on that route. There was another option. Enthack mused on it as he mounted the bay steed again. Spurring on down the road, he continued mulling the idea that was growing in his head.

  “Did you hear the news?” The stable hand was a new one and took twice as long as was necessary to transfer the saddle and saddle bags from one horse to the next. Worse yet was the fact that he wanted to engage in conversation with Enthack. Most knew to remain silent if the medallion was used as credentials. Undercover agents of the Chancellor were not to be meddled with and any business they were on was business you were better off not knowing anything about. This one fortunately seemed of the mind that undercover agents might strike him down if he looked in their face. Conversation apparently was a different matter altogether. The man would learn soon enough.

  “What news?” Enthack stopped himself from looking over his shoulder at the stable doors expecting plate mail clad soldiers at any moment. He was hours ahead. Enough time to get the saddle changed to a fresh horse without fixing himself in the man’s memory as being in a hurry.

  “Oh, not much really. A friend of mine just came over the Midlands from the west and said that he heard a courier, he got drunk at the inn, saying that he was going south to give important orders to the southern army. He said that they are going to move into the Outlands to crush the rebels that killed the Queen. Sad thing, died of the injuries they gave her on her coronation day. I hope the deep takes those accursed rebels.” Enthack considered informing the stable hand of what was and wasn’t thought of as much when speaking of news. He had heard of the attack on the fake princess and was one of the few among Reigns’ ranks that knew of the real Princess in the Outlands. The fact that Reigns was abandoning the fake princess meant that he must have felt exceedingly secure in his position.

  Enthack realized that the man had actually finished saddling the horse and was blankly waiting for him to take the reins with his eyes on the floor. Muttering his thanks, Enthack dropped a couple coppers into the surprised man’s hand. It would normally have been a silver, but he was not acting the part of an arrogant under captain now so a few coppers was more fitting. No matter how arrogant the couriers were, they quickly learned to tip the stable hands that they worked with on a regular basis. A silver this time might half the time it took to get a fresh mount next time.

  Going south to Warton was still not an option, but the Royals needed to learn of this development. There was always the possibility that the courier had gotten drunk and spilled the information by the intent of the innkeeper. There seemed to be a lot in the service of the Asgare, but just as many in the service of Reigns. It was a chance that couldn’t be taken. They had to be warned. What to do next, well that would be their problem.

  Taking the west road, Enthack took pains to walk his horse out of the town. Once out of sight of the last building, he spurred the horse into a ground eating trot and took the next road that led north. Plans whirled in his head as he followed the road that would eventually take him to the intersection east of Shienhin that led to the Outlands.

  ***

  “Deep taken, blistering fungus planting, rebel buffoons!” Seeroth unleashed another string of oaths designed to impugn the rebel’s intelligence, ancestry, plots, and the organization as a whole. The whole of Underheim had been taken and retaken several times over the course of the last few weeks. Enough people were rallied to each banner that it wasn’t a simple matter of rooting out the few guilty ones. The rebels had been tossed out of the city thrice in as many days. When one entrance was found and blocked, they found another. The poor dwarves of the city were confused and perplexed by the issue. Few understood what the fighting was about and most took to barricading themselves inside their homes. Unfortunately, the rebels had called upon a large number of the descendants of the original group. Several times the gates were opened by dwarves from the inside.

  Appeals to the grand corum for support were met by much argument and dissension. Matters of public safety had been dealt with by the city guar
d for generations. There had been no need for the corum to decide on military matters since the end of the Millennium War. Worse yet, three of the seven declared their support for the rebels and were quickly placed under house arrest. Now the corum was composed of four that were deadlocked on any decision about how to handle the matter. Seeroth left the corum with the dismal feeling that he was now the head of the dwarven armies that opposed the rebels. The state of the corum had declined to such that it only handled matters of commerce. The dwarven people were, for the most part, self-governed.

  With his new position, Seeroth called the banners of all dwarves in the city that could fight. Now was not the time to bandy with petty politics. With a few hundred dwarves assembled, he explained the true nature of the conflict. Secrets were revealed that would have ensured the death of any initiate to the rebel order. The appearance of a Dragon Lord was explained and also that the rebels had tried to kill the lad. Seeroth’s men kept a careful eye on the assembly. There were times when strife almost broke out. To be told that the dwarves were responsible for the curse, that they had been the ones that caused the death of the Dragon Lords and forced the dwarven people underground. It was more than many could take in at one time. Finally the dwarves came to a consensus that relieved Seeroth. Most were willing to fight the group that had so tainted their race. The rest were unwilling to do more than defend their homes.