Upon the Flight of the Queen

by Howard Andrew Jones

  At N’lahr’s gesture they took to the benches, Gyldara and Elenai choosing the one on the wall facing N’lahr’s desk, and Tretton selecting the one opposite the door to the courtyard. Elenai could see where N’lahr had exercised this morning, just visible through the door’s hazy glass window.

  “What about Alten Lasren, sir?” Gyldara asked.

  “Let him rest,” N’lahr said. “I’ll have work for him soon enough.”

  Lasren had been wounded by Kyrkenall even before the great battle, only after which it had been apparent he’d been in far more pain than he’d let on. The healers had seen to him, but he’d likely need time to recover.

  N’lahr took his chair behind the desk and looked over to Gyldara. “What did you learn from the Naor prisoners?”

  Each of them turned to look at her, a far from objectionable thing. All of the Altenerai were healthy and well-formed, but Gyldara in particular was a lovely woman, with flawless skin, bright eyes, and fine features. Her golden hair shone with sunlight pouring through the window in the courtyard door.

  “I spoke with seven ranked prisoners at length and separately,” she said. “I kept a weaver squire on hand to monitor surface thoughts. In summary, the Naor have developed a new weapon.” She then spoke quickly, describing terrible creatures that were something like their old allies, the ko’aye, feathered reptiles. Except that these beasts were far larger and had the power to tear down city walls. “That’s why the Naor last night didn’t have siege engines,” she said. “These ‘dragons,’ as they call them, were supposed to fly to Vedessus just as soon as they smashed the walls of Alantris. Praise the gods they did not.”

  Elenai tried to imitate the solemn manner of her older companions, who might have been alarmed by the news but revealed only mild concern.

  “Aradel must have found a way to stop them,” Tretton suggested.

  “Chargan claimed he’d already taken Alantris,” Elenai remembered suddenly. The mage’s image in blood had said as much last night.

  N’lahr, it seemed, hadn’t forgotten at all, for his nod was slow. “How many dragons do the Naor have?”

  “The officers weren’t sure, but I got the sense they were limited in number. Apparently they’re hard to get and hard to control. They’re dangerous to groupings of defenders, but would have trouble picking out individuals to attack. And, like ko’aye, they put themselves at risk if they fly low enough to assault us.”

  Gyldara continued, her voice growing strained. Probably she’d put hours into her questioning before rolling into bed, only to rise in time to report. “I confirmed that Chargan, the weaver who spoke to us last night, is one of Mazakan’s grandchildren. He’s reputed to be a very capable magic worker. But I suppose that was obvious.”

  It had been fairly so, since the man had apparently sent his image to talk to them from hundreds of miles away.

  “I’ve also confirmed he’s part of a final force meant to rendezvous with the one already in Alantris,” Gyldara continued. “Mazakan’s plan was to hold both Alantris and Vedessus and then advance with the bulk of all three armies for Darassus.”

  “Just like Chargan boasted last night,” Elenai said. “But if he’s such a powerful sorcerer, why is he in the rear? Shouldn’t they have had him with either of the first two armies? To make their success more likely?”

  “Maybe they meant to protect him,” Gyldara suggested. “Although I suppose they could have placed him to the rear of either of the besieging armies, and kept him safe that way.”

  “Certainly,” Tretton agreed. “Elenai’s question stands.”

  “I can think of two possible reasons,” N’lahr said. “First, magic workers are accorded honor, but still have lesser status than Naor warriors. He probably wouldn’t have been allowed to lead an army against one of our cities—that would have been left to someone of higher status—but as a scion of Mazakan he might be given some authority over others for specific lesser tasks. Second, someone has to be responsible for recruiting or subduing these dragons. That may be Chargan, in which case he’d remain behind to collect more for the assault on Darassus. How far out is his army?”

  “He’s due to reach Alantris about a week from now. His younger brother’s troops were to reach it at about the same time these Naor arrived at Vedessus. In all likelihood they’re already at the walls. Or through them,” Gyldara finished grimly.

  N’lahr paused for only a moment. “I want to move out tomorrow. If the Naor are in the city, we’ll find a way to root them out. And if they’re not yet there, we’ll have to defeat them before Chargan turns up with his group.” He was starting to brief them about the troops the governor was turning over to them when someone rapped on the hallway door. “Enter,” N’lahr ordered.

  Elenai fully expected Kyrkenall to come through, and then, upon seeing a third ranker poke in her head, realized the alten probably wouldn’t have bothered knocking.

  The squire stepped inside and saluted. The younger woman looked more uncomfortable than she should be, even accounting for the fact she stood before four Altenerai.

  “At ease, Squire,” N’lahr said. “Report.”

  “Kyrkenall is in the stables, sir. He said that…” She paused minutely. “That he doesn’t have time for a meeting right now.”

  N’lahr stood.

  “Did he say anything else?” Elenai asked.

  “Not … Yes, but…”

  “But not that bears repeating,” N’lahr finished. “All right.” He turned to Tretton and Gyldara. “Get started organizing and cataloguing the supplies we need. It’s a tall order to get it all ready in the time we have but I know you can do it. The Naor had a lot of smoked meat we can use. And Gyldara, good work.” He caught Elenai’s eye while striding to the door. “Come with me.”

  She followed him out of the room, wondering at his speed until he explained.

  “Kyrkenall’s heading out to look for Kalandra.”

  “He wouldn’t do that—not without permission,” Elenai said.

  He shot her a look. “That’s why he didn’t ask for any.”

  “But that’s a terrible idea,” Elenai objected. “There’s too much going on. And what about the storms in the shifts? And how remote the last little fragment was—he needs to travel with a weaver. Isn’t he thinking about any of that?”

  “Of course not. Because he doesn’t want to.”

  They pushed their way into the outer courtyard. There were target markers stored to the left of the doorway they exited, and stables built into the wall to right and left. Kyrkenall was leading a horse quickly toward the thick double gate. Lyria, his sturdy dun, was saddled.

  He didn’t look especially happy about their arrival, but paused and faced them. He was fully dressed for an expedition, complete with travel kit and extra bundles of arrows. His great black bow was stored in Lyria’s saddle holster.

  “You can’t look for her right now,” N’lahr said as he strode forward.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Your horse is even more exhausted than you are,” the commander pointed out, which was a line of attack Elenai hadn’t considered. “And you’re bad enough. The bags under your eyes have bags. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  Kyrkenall frowned at that and absently scratched the side of Lyria’s nose. She snorted. “I won’t press hard until we reach the border.”

  “I know you want to find her. I want to find her. But we made that mistake before and we barely got here in time to save Vedessus. Naor have already marched on Alantris. They’ve probably got it surrounded.”

  “Then coax up another miracle. You don’t need me. You’ve got more Altenerai now. I hear Tretton’s back, too. And the Kaneshi cavalry’s probably on its way as well.”

  Elenai had only learned at breakfast that the governor had sent word to the nearby realms as soon as the Naor had been spotted in Arappa.

  “I’m glad you’re keeping well informed. Did you hear about the dragons?”

  �
��‘Dragons’?”

  “Naor secret weapons. Great winged beasts, larger than ko’aye, that can knock down walls with ease. They’ve likely already been used against Alantris. And they’re overdue here.”

  Kyrkenall’s brow furrowed. That was apparently a bit of news he hadn’t learned.

  “We need to counter these dragons with aerial forces of our own. I need you to make peace with the ko’aye.”

  Elenai inwardly shook her head, amazed both that N’lahr had already devised a strategy to counter the Naor “weapons” and that he’d struck on an argument to intrigue Kyrkenall, maybe into changing his mind. The commander could just order him to stay, but that didn’t seem to be how it worked between them. Unfortunately, the alliance with the winged lizards had been broken years before, and from what Elenai had learned, repairing it would be no simple matter. Did he really expect Kyrkenall to serve as diplomat?

  Kyrkenall let out a dry barking laugh. “The queen royally pissed them off. I told you that. When the Naor attacked their holdings, she didn’t help them like they’d helped us. They were driven from their own hunting grounds and we didn’t lift a finger. I would have—if I’d known.”

  Probably when all that had happened he’d been out in the wilds on his long, fruitless search for Kalandra.

  “We’ll have to make amends,” N’lahr said

  “How would I even start?”

  “Do we know where the ko’aye went?” Elenai asked.

  “Deep into kobalin lands, in the shifts, where I’m sure the hazards are innumerable and the hunting is thin,” Kyrkenall answered. “Toward the northeastern tribes there are some fair-sized fragments.”

  “Which is why Ortok will show the way, and act as negotiator with any kobalin.” N’lahr looked hard at his friend. “And you’ll negotiate with the ko’aye.”

  The archer shook his head. “You’re out of your mind this time, N’lahr. No, I’m going after Kalandra.”

  N’lahr didn’t say anything for a very, very long time, and the dark-eyed archer looked back and forth between him and Elenai. “Aren’t you going to tell me I can’t go?”

  Still the moment stretched on. N’lahr stood motionless.

  “N’lahr?” Kyrkenall asked.

  Finally the commander responded. “I’m going to ask you who’s better to send,” he said simply.

  “Well, there’s Aradel.”

  “I mean right here. I’m sure she’s quite busy in Alantris. And you know that.”

  Kyrkenall growled. “Damnit to the darkest pits, N’lahr … you think we’re going to be able to talk to the ko’aye?! They’ll tear apart any one of us that gets close.”

  “Gyldara, Lasren, and Elenai have never met them. Tretton will never be in the air. And I can’t go. You’ve flown with more than one of them. They like you.”

  “Liked.”

  “You’re all I have, Kyrkenall. If Kalandra’s survived this long by herself, she’ll manage a little longer.”

  Kyrkenall cursed colorfully, then sighed in profound disgust. “Why do you always have to be right?”

  N’lahr smiled sadly at his friend and turned to Elenai. “I want you to go with him and Ortok. They need a weaver if the storms get bad.”

  She should have expected that, because it’s an argument she had made a moment earlier. She swallowed. “Yes, Commander. How soon do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Right now I want you to go spend time with your family, as you promised. I’m sorry,” he added with quiet sincerity, “that it can’t be longer.”

  “They’ll understand.”

  Kyrkenall’s voice was low, resigned. “What do you want me to offer them in exchange for joining us?”

  “Find out what they want, but let them know that I have returned, and that I will honor my promise. I will help them recover their homeland. We should have bound all the Altenerai to that oath.”

  Now that Elenai better understood the history, she frowned at the thought of the queen’s slippery reasoning. She had justified the annulment of the agreement with the ko’aye in part by saying that it was only N’lahr who’d pledged to aid them, something a dead man couldn’t do.

  N’lahr was thinking along similar lines. “This time I hope you and Elenai and the others will join me.”

  “Happily,” Kyrkenall said fiercely. “But what if they won’t trust us again?”

  “The queen kept me from keeping that word, but she won’t be able to stop all of us. Tell them that. Even if they’re not interested, they should know the Naor are out in force and away from their own holdings. It might be the ideal time for the ko’aye to retake their ancestral lands. If they don’t join us, they can still weaken the Naor in that fight. But they are our friends, and they were our allies. Find a way to remind them.”

  Kyrkenall looked doubtful.

  “How are you going to convince Ortok to guide us?” Elenai asked.

  “He said he wanted an army. Maybe he can find one out there to lead.”

  “And bring back? You want an army of kobalin on our lands, too?” Kyrkenall asked.

  “As I told Tretton, we need all the help we can get. Now give Lyria and yourself a little longer to rest. Tomorrow morning is soon enough.”

  Frowning, Kyrkenall turned and clicked his tongue, and Lyria plodded after him toward the stables.

  “I expected it would be harder than that,” Elenai said softly.

  N’lahr smiled a little. “You need to get on your way, and I need to speak with Ortok.”

  She was briefly confused, thinking N’lahr was changing his mind and ordering her into service now. “And you should probably change out of your uniform,” he continued. “I’m sure they’ll want to see you in it, but it will feel a little more like home if you’re not in your khalat.”

  Her khalat. It still felt strange to think of it in a possessive way. “What about … that matter you wanted to ask me about? The hearthstones?”

  “It will keep. We’ll talk when you get back.”

  She started to object that she wasn’t actually that hungry, not after the breakfast, then nodded her agreement. “I’ll check in this evening.”

  “You don’t need to hurry. Our lives will be nothing but hurry after today.”

  Clearly he was wasn’t slowing down, and she wondered briefly if she should stay to help him more, but she merely nodded again, wondering where she’d find a change of clothes. She’d fled Darassus with nothing but the garments she was wearing.

  Fortunately, Gyldara had a spare blouse, and some squires offered a selection of leggings that fit fairly well. She felt almost naked without the khalat and sword, but once she was a few blocks away from the barracks she realized that she was free—no longer was she instantly recognizable, and people went about their day without halting their work to stare, congratulate, or thank her.

  This anonymity proved so pleasant that she was almost saddened as she turned down the side street of the main square and drew in sight of home.

  It wasn’t an impressive a structure from the front, typical of all those on this street. Within though, she knew it was spacious, with a wide courtyard that her father found ideal for entertaining—after-parties for cast members, business meetings, and sometimes rehearsals were held there. All this activity to grow his theater and provide for his daughters, she’d realized later, might also have helped drown the silence in his wife’s absence.

  When last Elenai had visited three years ago, she’d hesitated, because it no longer felt quite like her home, but then opened the door without knocking. Today she raised her hand to the fading red wood, and rapped it.

  From within came the sound of laughter and talking. It seemed that no one had heard, and she was lifting her fist to knock again when she heard the distinctive tread of footsteps. The door opened before her.

  Elenai didn’t recognize the young woman who brightened at the sight of her. She was of average height, dark-skinned, with curling black hair bejeweled.

  “Oh! Elenai.
I’m Ahzelia. Caslia’s girlfriend,” she said quickly, seeing no sign of recognition in Elenai’s eyes. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” Belatedly, the woman stepped to one side and gestured for her to enter. “Please, come in, it’s your house.”

  “Thank you.” Elenai stepped over the threshold and onto a new green rug stretching down the entry hall. She waited politely while Ahzelia closed the door, feeling out of place.

  “Your sister’s told me so much about you,” Ahzelia went on. “She’s always looked up to you.”

  “Has she?” Elenai found that declaration implausible. She’d always wanted a close relationship with Caslia and seldom had one, and certainly she’d never seen much evidence that Caslia wanted to emulate her.

  Ahzelia laughed in a self-conscious way. “She told me how determined you always were. She said you took a target and a spear into the courtyard and practiced every morning for hours.”

  “She hated that,” Elenai said, remembering Caslia shouting down from the balcony to stop the clatter.

  They moved out of the entry hall and into the central living space fronting the courtyard. Two of her three aunts and their husbands were placing napkins and utensils on a long table while some of her younger cousins chased a pair of brown spotted puppies. It was her grandmother who saw her first, turning with pitcher in hand and then flinging water from it as she threw open her arms. “Elenai!”

  All those fears about feeling apart from things evaporated in the explosion of cheerful greetings. Her grandmother’s embrace was exactly as she’d remembered: strong, no matter her protests that she was growing “feeble in her old age.” Her grandfather had aged more obviously. There was little left of his hair but fringes along the side. His smile was warm as ever, though, and he still smelled of wood and resin from his carpentry shop. Her aunts complained, as they had before, that she was too thin, but added this time that she needed sleep.

  “She’ll have to stay a while with us,” bosomy Zianna cried, “and we’ll fatten her back up! Remember what a chubby toddler she was?”