The Fire Sword

by Colin Glassey

  Minister Renieth was in his office, and Kagne and Tolis were allowed to meet with him after a short wait. Kagne explained the problem and their proposed solution.

  When Kagne finished, Tolis added, with some heat, “Kemeklos must not fall before the army of Kunhalvar arrives at its gates! The followers of the Mavana here in Tokolas are its best source of supplies—much better than Sasuvi because we have been using the river.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Renieth said with a note of annoyance in his voice. Kagne saw that Renieth was looking tired; he also noticed that Renieth was visibly uncomfortable with having Tolis in his office. He avoided looking at the man and acted as though Tolis was Kagne’s servant.

  “I’ll see what I can do. The Ministry of War oversees this matter, and they don’t see eye to eye with us here in the Ministry of Rituals. But I have a few friends among the junior scribes. It is as visible as Mount Mazal that we must all work together to accomplish this monumental task. Please excuse me now, as I have a report that must be finished before noon.”

  Outside the building, Tolis was downcast but determined. “They will do nothing. We’ll just have to find a way around them. There’s more than one port on the Mur River.”

  “Why are you so convinced nothing will be done?” asked Kagne. “Minister Renieth has been very helpful to us since we came here.”

  Tolis looked at him sidelong. “You really don’t know? Well, I will tell you. They hate the Red Swords. Even though Lord Vaina was one of us, even though it was the warriors of the Mavana that took this city, the officials who joined later, the scholars who now run the government, they hate us, and they hate the Mavana. They want to close our temples, stop us from preaching in the streets. But when the Mavana is revealed in all her glory, it’s they who will be on their knees, begging her for mercy.”

  “Why not go directly to Lord Vaina?” Kagne asked. “He must understand the importance of keeping Kemeklos supplied.” Kagne didn’t think he could get a meeting with Lord Vaina, but he knew Sandun could raise the issue.

  Tolis thought about this for a few seconds. “If it could be done, this matter is too important not to make the attempt.” Tolis dropped his voice as they stood under the shade of a building on the opposite side of the street. “We don’t know if Lord Vaina is still a believer. Some think he comes to the temple, but only in disguise. Perhaps it’s true, more likely not. But take it from me, a former grain-seller, you cannot bargain with Lord Vaina and come out with the better half of the goods. Still, we need this. We need to keep the supplies flowing north.”

  “I’ll talk to the Fire Sword, and he will get Lord Vaina’s attention.”

  “Then I will return to face the new emergencies that have occurred in the hours that I’ve been gone.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Kagne. You have a good heart. Although you are not one of us, I pray that you will see the light of the Mavana one day.” Tolis turned and walked down the street, gathering speed as he went.

  Kagne found Sandun back at the embassy after lunch and explained the problem. His old friend expressed an interest in the Red Swords’ supply network as well as their theology, which Kagne was unable to explain satisfactorily. Kagne was pleased that Sandun had emerged from his black depression; the combination of the campaign to rescue Kemeklos and his upcoming marriage to Miri of Shila had seemingly banished “the blue devils.”

  The remainder of the day Kagne spent practicing with the Keltens; despite his earlier misgivings, he also fletched some arrows. He learned from Damar that his warrior woman, Sumitar, had asked to join them, and her demonstration of skills, performed the previous day, had impressed everyone. Well, almost everyone.

  Olef helped with the fletching, carefully cutting up goose feathers while little Niksol slept in a basket beside her. She motioned Kagne over and whispered to him her feelings about the Serice warrior girl.

  “Too clean, she was. Too much a fine lady. Bet she’s never spent a week camped out in the rain with naught but cold biscuit and eggs for food. Aye, she can shoot, but she’s just a novice at war. Damar will have to hold her pretty little hand. If they’d wait another month or two, I could—but no, this hungry boy won’t be weaned early. Next spring, I’ll be ready.”

  Kagne complimented Olef on how fat and healthy Niksol looked. She smiled and looked down on the baby with a tender expression. “He’s made me soft, and my calluses are fading, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  In the evening, when Valo Peli returned from his job as head of lopor production, Sandun asked him to explain the Red Swords to him and Kagne. Nodding in Kagne’s direction, Sandun said, “Kagne is helping the Red Swords ship supplies from Tokolas to Kemeklos, and he’s been inside their temple, but what are they? What do they believe?

  Valo Peli pulled at his beard and thought for a half a minute before telling them: “The study of deviant cults is not one of my fields of learning.”

  Sandun pressed him: “But you know something.”

  “Yes, this one knows something of the Red Swords.” Valo Peli looked at Kagne and Sandun as he considered what to say, and then he shrugged.

  “When this one was first given the task of suppressing a Red Sword rebellion near Lake Histel, I went to a colleague of mine in Daka, a man who studied the religions of Serica. He talked my ear off for several hours. I won’t weary you with all he said, but this was key. In the waning days of the Gold Kingdom, there were records of a cult of a goddess, Mefena, coming to save the world. For the period between the Gold Kingdom and the Water Kingdom, the files in Daka relating to false religions are fragmentary. However, in the early years of the Water Kingdom, my associate uncovered reports of a cult that claimed Nasana, a female goddess, would soon be revealed, saving the world from destruction. This cult of Nasana was suppressed with great loss of life.

  “The Red Swords today worship the Mavana, a female goddess, said to come to rectify the world. I am persuaded that this is the same cult. Though they may not know it themselves, for more than four hundred years, their predecessors have been promising the Mavana—or a goddess just like her—is about to arrive. When the Red Swords parade through the streets these days, chanting ‘the Mavana is coming,’ I think: This has been repeated for centuries. Why are the Red Swords right this time, when all the previous heralds of the Mavana were wrong?”

  “And that’s why you think Lord Vaina left the Red Prophet and severed his connection to the religion?” Sandun asked.

  “This scholar believes you have the right of it. Lord Vaina must have recognized the falseness of the Mavana cult and instead embraced the wisdom of the Great Sage.” Valo Peli gazed squarely at Kagne. “I urge you not to get too close to these people, Kagne. They are our allies for the moment, but this league is merely a temporary expedience.”

  “Or perhaps this time they are right, and the Mavana is about to heal the world,” Kagne said with a sincerity that he did not feel.

  Sandun looked at him and frowned.

  “I have been wrong about many things over the years,” Valo Peli replied. “Who can say what lies in our future?”

  After the next day’s council meeting, Sandun returned to the embassy and told Kagne that Lord Vaina had ordered the Ministry of War to catalog and protect the Red Swords’ boats and to let them continue shipping supplies upriver.

  “Thank you, Sandun,” Kagne said gratefully. “They will be pleased.”

  Kagne hurried back to the temple and found Tolis. Kagne told the priest the good news. Tolis clapped his hands and started organizing all their available carts to go down to the harbor with supplies.

  Reija came back in the middle of the preparations, and when she heard the news, she covered Kagne with kisses. Kagne stood there, grinning from ear to ear. He remembered this feeling from previous years: the feeling of success, the knowledge that people are looking up to you because you can solve problems.

&nbs
p; That night, lying in bed with the girl, Kagne searched his heart. Although he cared very much for Reija, he found he was not a believer. The Mavana meant almost nothing to him. The goddess, for all her size and beauty, was just a statue. The words spoken by the leader and repeated over again were not his words. The symbols that gave deep meaning to the religion—the rose, the sword, the golden disk, these washed over him and left him untouched.

  Kagne’s time in the prison below the temple in Sirosfeld had not been wasted. The bishop’s daughter, Liris, arranged to have books sent to him from the library. An old history of the temple, printed eighty years ago, explained the theological errors that led to the three Grand Proclamations. Three times, the Holy Synod in Pella had preached the Glorious Battle was nigh. Three times, all the peoples of all the nations in the Archipelago had been commanded to give up jobs, possessions, and family and join together in vast hosts. Clad in white and carrying spears of wood, hundreds of thousands, men and women, in every land had done what the temple demanded: they had gathered, waiting for what they believed would be the final battle. The prophesy in the Book of Pellar said the Glorious Battle would cast down Naktam forever. Sho’Ash would return to the world, in exalted majesty, and the golden age of perfect justice and wisdom would follow.

  Each time, there was no Glorious Battle. Naktam did not appear; neither did Sho’Ash. The assemblies ran out of food, and fighting broke out despite the many priests and nuns who were with them. After the last Grand Proclamation, a mammoth mob of angry believers surrounded the Holy Synod, and the one man who stayed to face them, the exarch of Pella, was torn to pieces by the furious faithful.

  Now it was forbidden for any priest to name a date for the Glorious Battle, and those who did were sanctioned and even imprisoned if they failed to recant.

  In Tokivanu, most people believed the temple, but they also followed the wisdom of the stars. When Kagne became a man, he was taught secret knowledge by the chief. The two men spent all day and night together. Kagne was taught that the stars were the visible thoughts of Sho’Ash. The stars were the means by which Sho’Ash talked to mankind. What happened in the sky at night was directly followed by events somewhere in the world.

  The chief explained to Kagne that, during the day, the whole world followed basic principles. Everything was connected. The snows tumbled down the high mountains when they were deep, and the sun softened them. The scrub jay called out because a human entered its territory. The antlered mule deer buck roared out its call for mates in the fall when the females were receptive. Nature fit together and made sense because it reflected, albeit imperfectly, the mind of Sho’Ash.

  “The stars are the intentions, the will of Sho’Ash, made visible,” the chief had told Kagne. “How could it be otherwise? Nothing is without purpose. Although there is evil constantly working to disrupt and destroy, good is stronger. Sho’Ash proved that for all time when he defeated the Black Terror.”

  This was what Kagne believed. If the Mavana were coming, the sign of her herald would be found in the stars.

  The next evening, Kagne saw the skies were glass-like, and he asked Reija to take him to the roof of the temple. Borrowing an oil lamp from one of the niches, she led the way up a narrow spiral stair. She pushed open an old wooden door that led to a dangerous walkway circumnavigating the conical dome directly above the statue of the Mavana.

  Kagne leaned back against the roof tiles and held Reija’s hand as he looked at the stars. Up here, he could tell the wind was blowing from the north. The smoke from the city and the haze from the river were scattered. The stars were fine and twinkling brightly. He looked intently for changes in the sky and saw the same sky he had seen before in previous years.

  The Red Wanderer was stepping lightly away from the Plow, which indicated a good harvest. The Fairy Wanderer hung low in the east, which meant the lord of some powerful kingdom was weakened by illness. The Leviathan was nearing the arch of the sky, just as it always did this time of year. If the Mavana were coming to bring about a time of peace and bliss for all, she was coming without any indication from the stars.

  Kagne did not believe the Mavana was coming. In fact, he was certain of it. The stars did not lie. Sho’Ash had not saved the world from the Black Terror simply to end it without warning. He sat up and looked at Reija. “You believe the entire world will be saved and made perfect when the Mavana comes?”

  “I do believe it,” she told him, her pupils large in the night.

  “And now, on the eve of the Mavana’s coming, the world is…ruined?”

  “Of course! The world is suffering: famine, pestilence, floods, war. Everywhere.”

  “You know I came from Kelten, across the Tiralas,” Kagne said rhetorically.

  Reija stared at him, wondering what he was leading to.

  “What do you know of Kelten, what it was like when I left?”

  “No doubt it was terrible, like just here.”

  “Not so much,” Kagne told her. “Kelten was peaceful and prosperous when we left. We set forth from Kelten because we were feeling good about the world. With our wars ended, we were looking to restart trade with Serica. There were troubles, to be sure, many problems in Kelten, but Serica’s woes are not copied in my land.”

  “Oh…” Reija remained silent for a dozen heartbeats. “That doesn’t change anything. When the Mavana comes, everyone in the world will be saved.”

  “Reija, I don’t believe the Mavana is coming.”

  “You can’t say that. You mustn’t say that! You have to be with us. You helped us—you must believe in the Mavana.”

  “My friends and I are going north to fight the Kitran, to fight and hopefully kill Nilin Ulim. We are looking for revenge. It’s a simple rule: when you punch a Kelten in the face, he will punch you back—harder.” He took Reija’s hand and said earnestly, “I care for you, Reija, but I’m not going to worship the Mavana.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I…I can’t be with you if you aren’t part of the people, if you don’t wear the red silk. It’s not allowed. The people mean everything to me. I can’t. And you are wrong. The Mavana is coming. She has to…” Reija turned her back on Kagne, and soon he heard muffled sobs.

  Kagne had expected this reaction from Reija. His heart was torn. All day he had been thinking about taking her away from the Red Swords, convincing her to leave them and be his woman. He didn’t know if he could convince her, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to make the attempt. He knew the Red Swords were all she had. And he was going north. When would he return? He had no idea. None. Perhaps never.

  Although he loved Reija, he knew it would be wrong to take her away from her friends, only to leave her behind in Tokolas in few weeks’ time. He would not join the Red Swords, and since he would not take her from them, it was best just to make a clean break with the girl. Let her find someone from within the temple, let her find happiness without him.

  Kagne stood up, made his way over to the old wood door, and went through. As he cautiously navigated the narrow stairs filled with darkness, he again heard Orinok’s voice in his mind: “Go north. Follow the call!” He didn’t think the Mavana was the True Master, but he was going north, following the horns of war.

  Chapter Five

  Ceremonies

  Basil was fletching arrows. Or rather, Basil was still fletching arrows, just as he had been for the last twenty days. Life was not without its compensations: he was working in the shade of some magnificent old trees in the Tokolas Temple of the Great Sage, which was quite peaceful and not overrun with horses and piles of equipment. His woman was beside him, cooing over his son. It was a mild afternoon in the shade, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead.

  Basil sighted down his most recent creation, admiring the slight curve of the feathers, the sharpness of the arrowhead. He had not made 500 arrows; instead, this was arrow 211,
but he knew quality mattered far more than quantity. Arrow 211 was a quality arrow; it would fly far and true.

  Olef shifted a sleeping Niksol to rest his small head on her shoulder, and then she spoke. “Basil?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “As do I,” he replied evenly. It was no more than the truth. They had made it across the Tiralas, reached Serica, and established good relations with the local government—mission accomplished.

  The silence last for half a minute while he selected a stick for the next arrow.

  “And?” Olef said.

  “And what?” Basil replied.

  “When do we leave?”

  “Later.”

  “When?”

  “Sandun says the ruler of Vasvar has taken the western shore of the Mur.”

  “What’s that to me, or to us?”

  “We Keltens are famous,” Basil told her. “Word has spread that we destroyed the Vasvar fleet.”

  “So we can’t cross land that belongs to Vasvar?”

  “Aye. We cannot return by the route we came.” Basil carefully applied a line of glue to the shaft of the stick and then another to the underside of the half feather, and then stuck them together.

  “And when will this change?” Olef asked.

  “When Lord Vaina conquers Vasvar.”

  “But before that happens, you and Lord Vaina’s army are going north to fight a fearsome horde of Sogands.”

  “Aye.”

  “What if you don’t come back?”

  Basil didn’t look at her, but he heard her voice, heard the tension, the anxiety.

  “How will I live?” Olef continued. “If you don’t come back, I’ll begging in the streets, or worse.”

  “Lord Vaina will survive,” Basil said. “He will take care of you.”

  “Lords! They care for the folk that are important, them that are useful. If you and the rest of the knights don’t ride back, I’ll be forced out of the big house as sure as the moon rises. I cannot fight, I cannot ride like I used to. I cannot take up my old trade, not here, not on my own. And if I don’t care for our child every day, our little boy will die. Tell me true, what am I to do if you…if the worst happens in the north when you battle the Sogands?”