War Bow

by P. S. Power

  “I know that many died, but... This sounds different.”

  King Mathias nodded at her.

  “Anders had brokered a parole with over half the prisoners of noble blood. One of his promises was that none of the women would be used poorly. Five soldiers bypassed the guards and took one of the ladies in our care, against orders. Knowing they were doing so, in fact. Our General there, Coelder, put them all against Anders in a fight to the death, almost immediately. With no time to prepare.”

  Robarts shook his head, a tiny bit.

  “Four of them by then. Sir Daniel had killed one of them, on finding what they were doing. They... well, they didn’t merely lose. Anders burned their bodies all the way to ash, in mere moments. It was a fearsome sight to behold. Magic of course, but used so quickly that I didn’t even hear a spell being muttered.”

  That was because Anders hadn’t spoken one at all, using the spells linked to hand gestures that he had worked out. Small explosions and then the same fire starting move that he used on the cooking fires most days. His rage had made them stronger than normal, but it was a thing he hadn’t thought about at the time.

  Rather than explain, he spoke to the King, directly.

  “We probably don’t need to do anything to General Coelder over it, I wouldn’t think. He knew it was a mistake and won’t make the same one again, so it’s repaired already, that way. I keep seeing the men I killed, when I close my eyes, but other than that, I’m well enough with the whole thing.” The men truly had been dead, regardless.

  Then he snapped his fingers, which got a frown from the ruler.

  “Sorry. Just recalled something. Baron Brolly and I made acquaintance, earlier. I think we agreed that he’ll sign papers saying that I’m not disowned and that we don’t have to fight to the death. That probably means he’ll set up some complicated scheme, from the sound of it, instead, but it might keep things quieter around here. Unless I was supposed to kill him? In that case I’ll have to find some other reason. That or do it in secret.”

  The King snorted then.

  “That’s brilliant of him, of course. He had a shortfall in the numbers of men he’s providing for the war. Some hundred and twenty men, which is fairly serious. If you aren’t disowned, he can simply order you to take one of the slots. Truly, doing that would have to count as the entire Brolly contingent, given your effectiveness in battle so far. I know that I’d accept that as an exchange right now. One of you is worth far more than a hundred and twenty men that won’t be there anyway, in fact.”

  The man didn’t seem displeased by the idea, though he glanced at Aisla.

  “After you all return from Barquea, of course. If we don’t have a peace brokered by then. Now, Anders, what plans do you have for the rest of the day?”

  The words took him aback for a moment, since it seemed obvious to him what he’d need to be doing.

  “Finding the killer, Your Majesty. Natan Smidt will not go unavenged. If I have your leave to do so, that is?”

  That got a nod and a wave.

  “Go and see to that for us, Master Brolly. You have all rights, to question or detain anyone you need for this effort. You may torture as well, but use that sparingly, if possible. Barring the real killer being found, then find someone we can present as being guilty that will seem legitimate.”

  The words weren’t the most pleasant to hear, but he understood the idea. It would be best to remove the real killer, though. Whoever they were. It was probably Mistress Colm, or at least her employer, whoever that was.

  If it wasn’t, he didn’t want to blame her and then find the real murderer in their midst, at some later date.

  “I’ll see to it, Sire. At once.” He bowed to the man, and then the entire room, as he removed himself from it, walking backward while bent over. The men on the door moved the spears for him and didn’t make small talk as he turned and walked away.

  His mind raced for a moment, as he tried to work out what to do first. The obvious answer was to seek out the Modroc contingent. Depak Sona as well. The killer wouldn’t be any of them, of course, but the Modroc might have thoughts about who had done what and frankly, the Barquean Ambassador would have to be the first person they suspected, since the two lands were at war and Depak didn’t have a staff in attendance on him there. Him, or Princess Aisla, of course. If it was one of them, well, then he'd have to frame Agorn for it.

  A wave of anger for the serving man came over him then. It was probably unfair, but the hatred seemed to be truly mutual. That meant, if he had to do anything of the sort, it really would be that very man who was blamed for it.

  He smiled as he walked, even though he was serious about that last part. He might just do that, even if he could find the real killer. Anders, the boy, relished the idea, even as Farad mentally scolded him for it. It was mentally lazy, after all, which wasn’t a way to start any new project. He needed a clear head on the matter.

  Still, it was a place to put things, if he had to, in the end.

  He walked directly to Depak Sona’s room, in the ambassadorial hall. It took a while to get there, the castle being large and with many twists and turns to it. When he got to the correct door, he knocked, not truly knowing if the man was there at all, that day.

  “Enter, if you will!”

  Anders did, with a smile on his face. He bowed toward the old man, who looked to be about fifty, but who, if the stories were correct, was closer to a hundred and twenty or possibly more.

  “Well met, Depak Sona.”

  The other man grinned back, as if pleased to see him.

  “Anders! I’d heard you were returned, but didn’t think I’d get to see you, for some days. How was your journey? You’ve been practicing your magic, I see. That or food was remarkably scarce. Since you took enough for at least half the trip, your current state seems to point to the first idea.” The man didn’t seem totally pleased with the idea, but it wasn’t scolding, either.

  Anders simply nodded.

  “I did many foolish things, trying to hold it all together. Then I killed twenty thousand men or more and continued along my path to utter dissipation, later. I ate constantly, at levels that left me feeling fat and stuffed much of the time and still had to tighten my belt almost daily. I hope to rest a bit, for a while. I did get to work on many new magics, at least.”

  The man frowned then.

  “I hadn’t been told of the deaths. Is that a real thing or a turn of phrase that I’m missing?”

  Anders switched over to Scara then, so the man would know it wasn’t about the words being used, at the very least.

  “No. We were trapped, with a fresh army coming at us, intent on our deaths. I placed vast explosions on arrows, that others fired into the incoming forces as they marched. Ten of them. They fled, but we kept killing, as they did it. I said twenty thousand, but it was more than that. I nearly passed out each time one of the spells was used, they were so large.”

  The other man closed his eyes then.

  “Ah. I am sorry to hear of that. The taking of life is never an easy thing. Are you well, inside your mind?”

  He shook his head then, and spoke of a thing he hadn’t with anyone else yet.

  “No. I don’t think I am. I think, perhaps, something inside of me is broken now and that I might never repair it, in fact. I feel both hard and as if I might cry, at each passing moment. At the same time, I don’t care about those who died at all, even while I do.”

  The other man simply nodded.

  “That is the way of great battles. It took me nearly five decades to move past what I did in the last great war of my people, personally. All I can say is that it will get better, eventually.”

  Anders wasn’t certain of that, but he nodded, anyway.

  He kept speaking in the language of Barquea, since his accent needed work, if he was headed in that direction soon.

  “Now, one of the Modroc, Natan Smidt, was murdered by poison. Was it you or Aisla who did it and how did you get tha
t done? Have one of the servants carry the bottle in?” His tone was casual and he wasn’t serious about the accusation, which got a snort in return.

  “In the refrain of all who are accused, regardless of guilt or lack thereof, is wasn’t me. Aisla either, to the best of my knowledge. We have had letters from Sula Darian, which could have held secret messages for us. Indeed, they did, so that might be suspect. The truth is that they were simple updates on the war there. That’s not going well for us at the moment. Not so horribly as to cause fear, but we normally defeat Modroc handily and have been struggling with each battle, of late.”

  Anders nodded.

  “Ah, then. I’ll be checking all of that out, of course, using magic, so if you feel me poking at your head later, that’s why. How have things been going here, while I was away? It feels like a long time, even if it was only about two months. Less than that, truly.” By about a week, in fact.

  The other man, either convinced of his own innocence and that Anders believed him, which was the simple truth, or not caring that much about being accused of a crime, waved his right hand.

  “The Modroc are in a state. Clarisse stopped talking to me, when Natan passed. I don’t believe she truly blames me for it, but there are only so many people that it could be, and I have to be thought the prime suspect that way. So far no one has investigated well enough to clear my name or show guilt. Have you word as to what is being done there?”

  Anders did, so nodded.

  “I’m in charge of the investigation now. With full powers to do what is needed to find the guilty party, or to find one who can be made to look that way. If that last part is needed, I’m going to show the guilt of that serving man that elbowed me in the head. Agorn. Just so you know he probably didn’t do it, when we have him beheaded.” Anders grinned then. “I shouldn’t make light of it. After all, we might really have to do that. It’s why I was so blunt asking if you or Aisla did it. If you did, well, tell me now and we can set that into motion, making him look to be the guilty party.”

  There was a simple head shake in reply.

  “I can see the thought, since having Istlan in the war against the Modroc would be to our benefit and this kind of event might bring that into being. Then, it also might not. If that was the point, then targeting myself or Aisla would have been the superior plan. If I died, that might be enough to force a turn against the Modroc. The same is true in the other direction, for their Ambassador, Chistos Fromet. I suppose that Smidt could have been ordered to drink poison by his own people, in an attempt to do that very thing, but the man was only the Assistant Ambassador for a few weeks. Before that he was merely an attendant.”

  There was a slow shifting of the shoulders then and a sigh.

  “I’ve wracked my brain, trying to work this out. So far I don’t have much.”

  Anders shifted back to Istlan, his face grim.

  “I’ll go and see what I can find out, from the others. The Modroc, first. Then everyone in the castle, if it comes to it. I’ll talk to you later? In the morning, if nothing else, for our regular visit.”

  That got a pleased smile and a nod. The man stood as Anders turned to leave, but at the door he spoke, his voice soft. He spoke in Scara, as well.

  “Be most careful, great-great-grandchild. The best way to stop a good investigation is often to slay the investigator.”

  He nodded, but didn’t reply, simply leaving. That part was obvious to him, after all. The histories spoke of that kind of thing, over and again. It generally took three deaths, before no one was willing to touch a given task, fearing for their own lives. Meaning that whoever was guilty would only have to murder two other people, once they got him.

  For the moment, Anders didn’t care about that idea. Not even in the smallest portion. He was too damaged at the moment for such feeling to enter his heart.

  Rather than admit that again, Anders moved out the door and down the hallway to the right. He didn’t go far, testing Duma Sett’s door first. There was no answer, so he went to Ambassador Fromet’s room next. The man himself pulled it open, his somber visage shifting to pleased when he noticed who was there.

  “Ah! Master Brolly! Good, we have all worried when you were sent away to the war again. I can see it, I suppose. I was never a military man, so perhaps I am incorrect, but a being of magic as you possess might do much in that kind of arena, no?” There was no sense of condemnation from the other fellow.

  Not that it mattered, since he was literally pushed to the side, with Duma Sett, dressed in a white gown, doing the work there. Not caring for the safety of the other man at all, she moved in and held him, a bit desperately.

  “Anders! Thank goodness you are safe. Here as well. Have you heard about poor Natan?” She held her breath, clearly not wanting to be the bearer of such poor news. He honestly couldn’t blame her for it.

  He didn’t want to have to do that sort of thing either.

  “I have. King Mathias asked me to find the guilty party. That or frame someone for it, if the people behind it can’t be found or proven guilty. The goal is to prevent another war, if I have it correctly. So... Did he get orders to kill himself? Or, perhaps, did one of you get that kind of order? If so, tell me now, so we can cover it up.” He waited, observing the two Modroc closely.

  The Ambassador looked shocked at the very idea, and stammered a tiny bit. Duma Sett actually smiled at him, one side of her mouth lifting. Then she took a deep breath while looking away.

  “I have asked myself that same question. Truly, only we, the Modroc, could benefit from such a thing. It would have to be murder, if it happened that way. Natan was no coward, but he followed the Lord of Life as his main god. He would not take a life. Not even his own. His kind are very against war, as a rule, as well, unless attacked. There are others with us who might do such a thing, if ordered. I haven’t heard anything that indicates that happened at all. Christos?”

  The man looked at her as if betrayed.

  “Of course not! Still, should we be that blunt? What if Master Brolly thinks this means that only we could have done this? It certainly wasn’t one of the Barqueans. This can only act against them. We are the only ones that could benefit from this.”

  Anders shook his head then, because that simply wasn’t true.

  “Yanse also would benefit, if Istlan has to fight on another front. That’s also ignoring happenstance. That the drink was meant for another and misdelivered or that he saw something he wasn’t supposed to that is completely unrelated to anything else and was ended for that. True, those are unlikely, but so is harming poor Natan in the first place.” He shook his head.

  Duma Sett waved at him then, looking down at him, though not as far as all that. She was a tall woman, but no giant. Really, he seemed to be closer to her size now than he had been when they first met.

  “If Master Brolly thinks that we are behind this, then he will aid us in making it go away, to save our lives. You heard him, just now.”

  The other man closed his eyes. After a long moment, his deep voice filled the room.

  “I did. I simply don’t know that it isn’t a trick, to get a confession from us. I swear that I did not have any hand in this. That... It may well be one of my people. I do not want war, but if they were ordered to do such a thing, they would have no choice but to comply.” He tensed then, as if he’d condemn at least one of his own people to death for the deed.

  “Let me investigate and speak to everyone first, before you worry too greatly on it. I’m certain that you will all sleep much easier, knowing that a small child is looking into this.” He didn’t smile, but the Ambassador did. There was sympathy in it.

  The man looked at him then, his face relaxed.

  “I too, noticed that. Is there a reason for that, or is it merely to be a show, with someone innocent blamed for it, while the guilty goes free?” The words weren’t hard, but Duma Sett looked angered at the implications.

  Anders could see the basic idea.

  “I
don’t know. The truth is that we will probably have to do that second one. I will do my best to find the real power behind this, whatever it may be. I’ll be using magic to search your minds, later. Just in case you notice me doing it. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be looking into anyone who might have been responsible for this.”

  Duma Sett shook her head.

  “Even the Barqueans? You’d look into the mind and heart of a Princess? What of dear Depak? He is a mentor to you. What if he is the guilty party?”

  She seemed troubled by the idea.

  “Then I’ll hide it, as well as I can. We can deal with that later. If it makes you feel any better, Depak understands that I’ll be doing research into him as well. The only person that will be safe is the King.” The queen as well, but he didn’t mention her, since that line was incredibly unlikely. “If he did it, then we’ll blame someone else, but he didn’t. It would be too risky to put me into looking at it, if that were the case.” Not that the man might not have ordered him to fake an investigation. These people would never know it, if that had been the case.

  Bowing, he left the room, backing away, politely. Then he went to the next room, which Natan had shared with several other of the men. Anders laid things out for them, bluntly. In Modroc, so that fewer people could understand them.

  There were five of them left, Anders had seen them all many times and even spoken with them, but he didn’t know them well. That seemed an oversight, now. Especially since he needed to get them to trust him, on a level that they almost certainly couldn’t.

  “Gentlemen. I’m so sorry to hear about Natan. He was a good man. It... I’ve been put in to find who did it. Was it an order that one of you received?” He waited for someone to hit him, but no one did. In fact, while heads indicated that they didn’t know, bobbing side to side, no one so much as frowned at him. One of them, a man who was of middle years, from his appearance, spread his hands.