by James Dale
“And what have you learned so far Jaelanni ad’Jhen?” Anna asked.
“That…” She hesitated.
“Speak freely daughter,” the Great Khan insisted.
“I want to be like Annawyn of the Dora’dai,” she replied. “Riding into battle at the side of my husband.”
“Princess Jaelanni, if it is permitted to ask? Are you promised to someone?” Jack inquired.
“You said there were no terms?” the Khan asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is a Horsemaiden of the Dora’dai not enough for the High King?”
“You misunderstand,” Jack said quickly when Anna gave him the same questioning look. “I have barely enough strength for one wife as it is. I ask because…”
“I have many suitors,” the princess replied, eyeing him curiously. “But none have yet been found…acceptable by my father. Or me.”
“You are very beautiful,” Anna said, smiling at Jaelanni as she began to understand Jack’s question. “Great Khan, when my husband is not chasing dragons from my roof or wandering off to the underworld, he fancies himself a bit of a match maker.”
“You mean to some prince of the Whesguard?” the Khan asked. You could almost see him tallying in his head whom might be available. “You really do intend to put old grudges behind us, don’t you?”
“I do,” Jack nodded.
“When Agash Thugar is dust,” Mullah finally replied. “You have my permission to speak with Jaelanni. If she is agreeable. If not for yourself, then with regards to others. Should they meet with my approval of course?”
“Of course, Great Khan,” Jack nodded. “Though I think you both will be…intrigued with whom I have in mind.”
Where Mullah ad’Jhen seemed hesitant, Princess Jaelanni did indeed seem intrigued. She also knew the number of unmarried princes’ in the Whesguard. As did Cilidon An’Mera, who was regarding Braedan as if he’d already lost another child to the High King’s scheming.
“A’randrial,” Cilidon said, when the brief meeting was concluded and the Whesguardians rose to leave. “Though they seem identical to you, he is much better suited for such a union. Leave me Cilandrion to rule Ail’ithirain with an Ailfar queen when my time is finally finished on this earthe?”
“A’randrial it is then,” Jack nodded.
“She is quite beautiful,” Cilidon remarked thoughtfully.
“She is indeed,” Jack smiled. Jaelanni had not failed to notice their exchange. She smiled and nodded slightly at Braedan as if she had already agreed to his offer.
“Come my husband,” Anna said, taking his arm. She had seen Jaelanni smile at him as well. “Let us see to the wounded while there are still unmarried princes’ to choose their own mates.”
“Just thinking about the future,” Jack smiled, kissing her cheek.
The immediate future was one of pain and heartbreak. After leaving the Khan’s tent, Jack and the others went to see to the wounded. Although Lord Farra and the Ailfar healers had worked tirelessly throughout the day, they seemed to have barely made a dent in the number of men who needed treatment. True to his word, Mullah ad’Jhen sent over twenty of his finest physicians to aid them, but even that number wasn’t sufficient to the daunting task. Jack drew power into himself from Sunheart and went to work, seeking out the most gravely wounded first. It was nearing midnight when he finished, barely able to stand. Anna escorted him to their tent with the help of Brian and Anghol, and he collapsed into his blankets. He was asleep before they finished removing his clothes.
But the number of wounded who didn’t survive the night was less than a dozen.
Braedan did not awake until well into the afternoon the following day. Cloud Shadow was laying at the foot of his blankets. The black wolf raised his head and yawned when he felt Jack stir. “Where is Star?” Braedan asked, stretching.
“With Fire Mane,” Shadow replied. “They are watching the diggers.”
“Diggers?” Jack thought. “Oh, for the graves. Dornal!”
“I am here, my King,” his squire answered, poking his head in the tent.
“Fetch Captain Vanar,” Jack instructed. “I want to see how the burials are coming along.”
“I will find the captain,” Dornal nodded. “But it is nearing completion.”
“What? How long have I slept?” he asked. Cilidon had said it would take days.
“It is still three hours until sunset,” the young man replied.
“How did…”
“Ten thousand Kadinar aided in their interment,” Dornal said quietly, as if he could barely believe what he was saying.
“Fetch Kirk,” Jack said again, sitting up to pull on his boots. “And find me something to drink.”
“Water?”
“To start with,” Jack nodded.
Mounted on Eaudreuil and surrounded by Kirk and twenty Golden Lions, Braedan rode the two miles to the hill where the grim’Hiru had been formed. Save for the churned up earth, there was scant signs a battle had taken place only the day before. As they rode by the soldiers returning to camp to rest after their labor, a cheer rose up to greet him. Doridanians and Caladani and soldiers from every kingdom that had ridden east with him shouted his name and saluted him as he passed. There were many Kadinar mixed in with them, walking among them as easily as if no one remembered until yesterday, they had been sworn enemies. The hardened desert warriors regarded him with a mixture of awe and curiosity.
“King Jack Deathbane,” said Kirk.
“What?” Braedan asked, turning to the Lion.
“That’s what the men are calling you my Lord,” Kirk replied. “They are stories spreading of how you personally healed just about every wounded man in the camp. And raised several from the dead. Did you? Raise the dead, I mean?”
“You know how stories get started, Kirk,” Jack replied, acknowledging the cheers with a wave. He could only recall bringing back the single Amorhadi, but last night was blur.
“I followed you all night, my Lord.” Brian added. “Sometimes the stories are true.”
“You probably started that Jack Deathbane nonsense, didn’t you Brian?” Jack sighed. “You want to spread some stories? Let me tell you about the Kadinar princess I met last night. I am pretty sure Jaelanni means Desert Flower. Hair as black as coal. Eyes like two dark pools in the moonlight…” By the time they reached the hill, the Lions had forgotten all about healing or raising the dead.
The low hill which had been the center of the battle yesterday had been transformed into one enormous cemetery. Thousands of newly dug graves were laid out in orderly rows and marked by company banners to identify which unit the fallen belonged. Jack found Anna, Tarsus, the Lady Ara’fael, Dorad and Princess Ailicia, guarded by Captain d’Kenna and his Hammer. A pair of Kadinar had just finished laying a soldier from Brythond in the final grave. They were helped from the hole by Dragon Legionnaire who patted them on the shoulder like they were old friends before they started filling in the grave.
“Oh Jack,” Anna said seeing them approach. He dismounted and went to his wife. She had been crying. She looked exhausted. He held her for a moment, then wiped away her tears.
“You should have wakened me, my love,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“You did your part, Jack Deathbane,” Ara’fael informed him. “We mortals can take care of the dead.” There was no trace of her usual sarcasm. The Spellweaver had been crying as well. She remembered the last war. Burial of the dead wasn’t finished yet.
“Each grave has been numbered and named,” Tarsus informed him. “When…when this is over, Amar will supply granite markers for each one.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Jack nodded.
“There is even a spot for the wolves,” Ailicia said. She and Dorad were holding hands. “Snow Dancer said it was unnecessary, but Arri explained to him they deserved the same honor as their wolf-brothers.”
“They do indeed,” he nodded. “What of the grim’Hiru?”
“We…Cilidon, Theros and I…burn
ed them. The Lords helped,” his wife replied softly.
Thirty-thousand grim’Hiru. And not even a thin cloud of smoke remained. No wonder his wife looked so tired and haunted. “I am so sorry I asked you to do that, Anna,” he said taking her hand and kissing it.
“We all must do our part,” she replied.
“Come with me,” he said, holding his wife’s hand, they went over to the last grave where the Legionnaire and the Kadinar were tossing in the final shovels of dirt.
“Did you know him?” Jack asked.
“He was my cousin,” the Brythondian sergeant replied sadly. Turning to see it was the High King who addressed him, he bowed quickly. “Thael da’Arthan was his name, my Lord.”
“He will not be forgotten Sergeant,” Jack assured him.
“He fought well my Lord,” the sergeant sighed. “Slew one of the biggest grim’Hiru I’d ever seen. Thael was from Thonbor, my Lord.”
“Was he?” Jack said, laying a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder. “Does he still have family there?”
“A mother and two sisters,” the sergeant said quietly. “His da passed two years ago. But Thael answered the Dragonslayer’s call. It’s gonna break his ma’s heart.”
“When we are done with this, I will go see them personally,” Jack promised. “You have my word.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” the sergeant said, and saluted.
Jack returned the salute, Dragon Legionnaire style, fist over heart. He turned and thanked the two Kadinar. Though they did not understand him, his offered hand bridged any language gap. The sergeant spoke to them in halting Kadinari. He’d obviously spent time on the border and learned some of his enemies’ tongue. The pair bowed deeply, eyes filled with wonder that the High King of Aralon would thank simple warriors for digging a grave. He shook each of their hands, then touched his fist to his forehead and bowed, as Hamman had greeted him that first day. More stories would be spread tonight about the western king who treated every man he met with respect.
“Take me two where Rhyn is buried,” he said to his wife.
The Lord Marshal of the Knights of the White Horse was buried on the center of the hill. His lance and shield already marked his final resting place. Around him were buried twenty-seven more knights. It was a remarkably small number considering they had charged first into army of thirty thousand grim’Hiru. It was a grim, but silent testimony to their skill in battle. The reputation of the knights was well deserved. Arrgenn was kneeling at his father’s grave. Jack went and knelt down beside him, laying an arm across the young man’s shoulder.
“He was a great man,” the Lion said quietly.
“He was,” Jack agreed. “I am so sorry Arrgenn. If I had…if only…”
“You cannot be everywhere at once, my Lord,” Arrgenn sighed. “It is a rare thing for old warriors to live so long, and he died well. Do…do you think he understood why I could not join the White Horse…why I chose the Lions instead?”
“I am sure of it,” Jack said, tears forming in his eyes. The first of the day. Probably not the last.
“I will not fail you my king,” Arrgenn said, turning to him. “I am the last of the Dunnahel line. I have no family left…”
“You still have family,” Kirk said, kneeling by his comrade.
“We are your family,” Anghol said, joining them.
“So long as we have breath,” Brian added as the rest of the Lions gathered around console
their comrade.
Jack patted Arrgenn’s shoulder and rose to let his lions have a moment to mourn with their brother. He stood and turned to find a large crowd had followed them to the top of the hill. There had to be a three or four hundred at least. Men from every Whesguard kingdom and Kadinar as well. Though they had to be weary from their labor, they had still followed him. Perhaps in hopes of witnessing Jack Deathbane perform some new, miraculous wonder? Maybe sprout death daisies on the hill with his tears or call lightning from the sky and raise all the fallen like he had the Galekindar. Braedan had no miracles for them. All he had was a deep, overwhelming sadness. Many of these men were likely destined for the same fate as Rhyn Dunnahel, Thael de’Arthan and all the others. Laying in new graves while their comrades mourned. Or laying in the hospital tents if they were lucky. He had no miracles for them, but he owed them something.
He owed them the truth.
“It is just beginning,” he said sadly. Without thinking, he had filled himself with the power of Sunheart. He could have whispered the words and everyone on the hill would have heard him. “You will see blood and death and the powers of Hell before this is done. But…that will not be the fate that awaits your families back home. More will fall. I may fall. But darkness will not prevail. This night will end. A day will dawn bright and clear with no more fear of the dark, and your children will grow old never having learned of war. By the blood shed here, I swear it. On this ground, where our friends and comrades have given their last full measure, I swear it to you.”
There were no cheers thankfully, but they looked up at him with renewed determination and hope. Jack prayed he would not let them down.
Chapter Thirty
Brother
That evening, Mullah ad’Jhen once again shared the hospitality of his tent with the western kings. There were more formalities to be observed with dinner. The Kadinar ruler made a great show of again welcoming the Whesguardians. The Great Khan greeted each of them warmly, introducing them to Queen Yaesima, who presented each with a gift. Anna received a beautiful, ivory handled dagger. Jack was given back the House of ad’Jhen royal signet ring. If there was anyone to thank for making this day possible, it was Manar ad’Jhen. Without the young prince’ impulsive generosity, Jack like as not could have ended up a prisoner of the Kadinar. Without Manar’s ring, Maadim Khalmyia could not have obtained his audience in Khadda’Temar and Second Battle of the Bergaweld could have turned out much differently.
After about an hour, when they dined on roasted lamb and engaged in polite “getting to know you” conversation, Jack rose from his cushion and raised a hand for silence. “I would like to thank Mullah ad’Jhen and Queen Yaesima for their hospitality. I know the history of contention between Kadin and the west will not be erased overnight. The history of my own county is filled with war against enemies who later became our closest allies. It will take time to build trust. I harbor no foolish hope even the gracious aid the Great Khan’s physicians provided to our wounded, nor will the shade and wine we have shared tonight simply make the last eight centuries of strife disappear. There are some sitting here who have faced each other on the field of battle. Such memories cannot be put aside easily. However, if we hope to survive this, if we wish to change the world so our children do not meet each other with drawn blade but shared shade and wine, we must begin putting aside old grievances and the enmity handed down from our ancestors.”
“We are more alike than our adversary would have us believe. We love our families,” he said, nodding to Lord Sabhiae who sat beside her brother the Great Khan. “We can show compassion and hospitality even to enemies in their time of need,” he continued, raising his glass to Hamman. “As I have said, given the chance, we have shown we can share food and wine instead of exchange blows on the field. We can treat our former enemy’s wounded and help bury their dead.”
“When the Bloodstone has been defeated, when its curse has been re-moved and Agash Thugar is dust, I look forward to a day we can sit together in Khadda’Temar, or Immer or Ail’ithirain, and water the seeds we have planted here tonight. To a new world,” Braedan finished, draining his glass.
“To a new world,” the others echoed.
Mullah ad’Jhen rose and offered Queen Yaesima his hand. He motioned for Manar and Jaelanni to join them. “When Manar returned to Khadda’Temar and told me of the Dora’dai who saved his life,” the Khan began, “I was at first ashamed it took an enemy to protect my son. Then my brother spoke to me of the man who my son had granted Ahala Bid, and I began to
wonder in my heart if it was not time to put aside old feuds. To see if there was another way. I was still thinking upon this three months ago, when two messengers came before me on the same day. One came offering peace and the other demanding war and sacrifice. The offer of peace came from the enemy who had saved the life of my son. Not merely a wandering Dora’dai, but the returned heir of the High King. The demand we go to war and I sacrifice my daughter to renew Kadin’s servitude, came from one who would make my kingdom slaves and chattel to feed his alters with blood.
“Eight hundred years ago, Mansour ad’Jhen, Great Khan of Kadin, broke the oath he’d sworn to Ljmarn Bra’Adan and the throne of Immer. He knelt to the Black Banner of Grethor, raised by a rebellious Lord, in foolish hope the dark-king and his Bloodstone would grant him wealth and lands not his to give. His treachery against the throne of Immer and the High King brought Kadin suffering, defeat and eight centuries of strife with its neighbors.” Mullah ad’Jhen dropped to a knee before Jack. His family followed suit. “I kneel to the heir of Ljmarn, who offered Kadin peace and his hand in friendship. I wish to repair of our broken vows.”
“I do not ask you to do this, Mullah ad’Jhen,” Jack said quietly. “I ask for only your aid in destroying the Bloodstone.”
“These others have knelt to you,” the Great Khan replied. “The Dragonslayer has knelt. The Ailfar have knelt. Can Kadin do less, if we wish to put aside old enmities and build a new world?”
“They knelt,” Anna said, coming to her husbands’ side, “because he was their friend first and did not demand they kneel.”
“You have been my friend but a day,” Mullah smiled. “You will be my king from this day until my last.”
“Then stand my friend,” Jack said, offering the Great Khan his hand. “And together maybe we can build a new world.”
The dinner completed and the Kadinar having sworn allegiance to the High King, the evening became a war council between the Great Khan, his generals, and the Whesguardians. Word was sent for Morgan, Sir Gain, and General’s Meridion and Malik Gamrin to join them. Maps were brought out and a large table was cleared. “I have never been to Grethor, High King,” Mullah ad’Jhen said, unrolling an ancient scroll, “but I assume it hasn’t changed much since this was drawn.”
