Devil's Dominion Page 14

Egrin looked up at the figure standing on the Hummingbird. Just one of the many Oathbreakers which he was charged with hunting and bringing to the Queen’s justice.

  “You have said your piece, Morschledu, now hear mine. You are surrounded, Oathbreaker. Surrender to the Queen’s mercy. Pledge yourself again to her and you may yet survive this pitiful rebellion.” Egrin folded his hands behind him and waited for the Oathbreaker’s answer.

  The hooded figure on the statue spoke. “Guinira is not my Queen, and I am no rebel.”

  “You are Armandan. Your powers speak that plainly. Guinira was made Queen by the Morschcoda who now wage war against her. Does that not seem to you to be a rebellion?”

  “What do you know of this war, Egrin? Have you stood on any of its battlefields before today?”

  “Show me your face, traitor?”

  The hooded figure stood taller, though it seemed to him that she was short. Egrin got the impression that she, as he now knew, was indignant, offended. “Traitor? To whom? Have I ever attempted to usurp a throne not mine? Have I turned against my own people and abandoned them to the mercy of The Kindler and his brethren? Have I ever allowed people in my charge to be tortured and enslaved?” Xari lowered her hood. “Tell me how I am the traitor, Egrin!”

  “Xari! You named Guinira! You made her Queen! And now you wage war against her!”

  “My war is against The Kindler and the Deshika! How can you stand beside them, lead them in battle, and denounce me as the traitor, Egrin? Tell me that!”

  The words hit Egrin hard. Never in history had Morschen not despised the Deshika. Now, he commanded them. “This is what my Queen demands of me. My daughter now sits on the throne that you have abandoned. You betrayed your oaths to our people, and your own to Guinira, Xari. This is not about our past.”

  Xari dropped to the Hummingbird’s beak and walked out to the end. “You tried to usurp my throne once, and now your daughter sits on it. You were my brother Egrin. Our family was supposed to be better than the Garrenins. Instead, you tried to kill me and give Armanda to Taren.” Xari drew her sword and pointed the red blade at her brother. “Allihn died because of your greed.”

  “And you gave it to Taren anyway. While one of our own people sat on the Throne of Anaria. If Allihn died because of MY greed, how many Armandans have died because of yours?”

  Around the fountain, the Death Stalkers were growing impatient. They knew Xari’s name. They knew what she was. They knew that they had her surrounded. The time to speak was over. It was time to act on their advantage.

  Xari looked around her. She had been trapped by her own stupidity, and there was little she could do to get out of it. Instead of fighting, she took off her cloak, balled it up, and threw it out towards her brother, just beyond the fountain. Then, she threw Galdren after it. The sword buried itself in the ground point first, through her discarded cloak. The Deshika began to move towards the fountain to accept her surrender.

  Xari’s sword began to glow.

  The cloak caught fire.

  Xari’s skin began to glow red.

  Her robes began to kindle.

  Xari’s hair began to burn.

  She leapt down into the fountain. The water evaporated around her.

  The fire from the cloak spread, eating at the grass of the park.

  Xari stepped out of the fountain and pulled Galdren out of the ground.

  The fire exploded from the cloak, as though the seal had been removed. Tendrils of flame chased down the Death Stalkers, who began to flee.

  Xari stopped a few feet from Egrin. “Were my war with you, you would die tonight.” She stepped aside to go around him. He moved in front of her. “If you try to stop me, I will kill you, brother.” Xari walked on. “Do not follow me.”

  Egrin kept staring at the fountain as the grass and trees burned around him. Every so often, he heard the clash of swords as Deshika tried to stop Xari. Or he heard gut-wrenching screams as she lit her attackers on fire.

  Her words stuck with him. Our family was supposed to be better than the Garrenins.

  Egrin turned away from the fountain. Dead Death Stalkers littered the burned park. He walked north, ignoring Xari’s instruction to not follow, passing burned, dead, and dying Deshika without seeing them. Buildings that had caught fire in Xari’s wake crumbled around him without his noticing or caring. The body of a Deshik War Chief was in the middle of the street. A handprint had been burned through his chest, straight to his heart.

  The Master of War found Egrin on the arch of Sirin’s northern gate.

  “This did not go as you planned.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be her.”

  “You had her trapped. All you had to do was give the order.” The Master of War forced Egrin to turn towards him. “You’re weak, Morschen. Pathetic, like my War Chiefs.”

  “Her mission is finished. She will not return to the Plains of Parda.”

  “To drive her from the Plains was not your mission, Morschledu Hunter.” He cracked all sixteen of his knuckles. “Your mission was to kill her.”

  “I tried. And I failed. Trying again will result only in the same.”

  The Master of War grabbed Egrin’s throat and lifted him. He swung him out over the edge of the wall and held him there. “This may not be a long drop, but it will still hurt you. It might kill you. It might only break some bones. Should I release you to find out?” He relaxed his fingers slightly. Egrin didn’t say or do anything.

  The Master of War let go.

  Egrin landed flat on his back. He could tell that he had several broken bones, just from how much he hurt. He pushed his arms down and raised his shoulders, then tried to move his legs.

  Then he tried to move his legs again.

  He fell back to the ground, afraid of the truth that he already knew. He would never walk again.

  The Master of War came down and stood over him. A War Chief and a few of the Death Stalkers that had survived were with him.

  “Tie him to a horse and send him to the forest. Let his own people kill him. He isn’t worth dirtying our swords.”

  * * * * *

  Daken and half a dozen Rangers met Xari when she re-entered the forest.

  “Sirin burns, my lord.”

  Daken nodded as he unconsciously accepted the Ranger’s statement, but ignored everyone but Xari. Instead, he hugged the woman. “You’re an idiot, going onto the Plains alone.”

  “No more an idiot than you, wanting to go back to Meclarya and challenge one of the Seven for Airachni.”

  “And I still intend to go, but—”

  Daken and Xari both drew their swords and turned towards the crashing sound coming through the underbrush to the south. The six Dothrin Rangers drew their bows and took aim. A lone Morschen man on a horse surprised them all.

  Egrin Gundara rode, or was more accurately carried, into the small clearing. The horse he rode dropped its head and ate wearily.

  “Egrin?” Xari didn’t lower her sword. “I told you not to follow me.” Egrin nodded. “So what are you doing here? Don’t you have Morschledu to hunt for Guinira?”

  “War Master threw me off the wall. Can’t move my legs.” Egrin coughed. Blood splattered on the ground to his left. “He knows you’ll kill me, so he sent me to die. Didn’t want to waste his own time killing me.” Egrin untied the strap that held him in place and fell off the horse. The horse wandered away to find more grass. Xari walked over to her brother and stood over him. “Just do it, Xari. You’ve wanted to for a century. Don’t make me live like this.”

  “You have no idea how much I want to Egrin. You killed Allihn.” Xari fought with herself for a moment, and Daken tensed. “Run ahead and prepare a healer. We’ll bring him.”

  “Xari—”

  “Be quiet Egrin.”

  “Xari, did you hear me? Just kill me or let me die. Don’t prolong this.”

  She turned back to him and placed her sword on his neck. “I tried to forgive you, many times. And every time, all
I could see was the body of my husband, being carried from the battlefield, escorted by you and fifteen Mordak Riders.” She sheathed her sword. “You have no idea how gladly I would kill you Egrin, if things were only slightly different. If you had legs, or you had tried to stop me last night, or you were capable of defending yourself, or were a prisoner trying to escape, or had been sentenced as a traitor …” With every different scenario she spouted, she spoke faster. “There are so many different circumstances where I would end your life without a second thought. But do not dare to ask me again that I do. You are my enemy, but you are still my brother Egrin.”

  * * * * *

  Daken walked with Xari. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. He deserves death, a few times over, as I’ve said. He attempted to usurp my throne, and my husband died as a result. I didn’t dare kill him then, because the rumour was—”

  “That he was backed by Taren. I remember.”

  Xari nodded. “His fate is in Daliana’s hands. He is a traitor to Anaria, not just to me.”

  “Then get whatever information out of him you can before you decide.”

  “Why should I bother?”

  “If he was thrown off a wall by Dothoro’s Master of War himself, he isn’t just another nameless traitor. He knows things, Xari. Anything he wants is worth it.”

  “He’ll only ask me to kill him.”

  “Promise him revenge. Give him the War Master’s head as a paperweight to look forward to.”

  “It won’t change anything.”

  “Then let him die. He’s already decided that that’s what he wants, so nothing is going to change his mind. But we’ve been losing this war since it started. Knowledge is power, and power is something we are desperately lacking. Now, I am going to Meclarya, Xari. Egrin is yours to deal with, and yours alone.”

  Return

  Guinira was in a bad mood. Makret, despite her self-assurances that it was impossible, had escaped from An-Aniath. He could only go two ways, but she did not know which he would have gone, and she dared not send men in both directions. If she chased him into Storinea, he could disappear, and the Remnant would know that her armies were out in force. She did not fear the Remnant, but Armandan Rebels patrolling the lands between the Estal and Miadonga Rivers would be dangerous. And if Makret had any spies in the city, they could help with whatever coup might be attempted. If he had gone to Caladea, he could disappear into the country’s far larger population, and he had as good as told her that he had spies in that country. Whatever airs she put on, she had always feared the strength of the fallen Morschcoda Council, and now she feared it more. With the rumours spreading about Edya Reeshnar stopping the Cardor, getting her own armies or even the Deshika to march into battle might be impossible, even if she found a new High General. Not having heard from Hialed Volkure made her position more difficult.

  As she walked through her palace to the throne room, she felt something wrong. The Black Power of one of the Seven was ahead of her. She knew that The Kindler could return whenever he wanted, but she had not believed that he would actually come back. He had both Nasheem and Vorteez in Anaria to do his bidding. She supposed that it could be another of her Devil masters, but as soon as the thought entered her mind, she discarded it. Nasheem avoided An-Aniath and Vorteez was hunting down the last of the Mordak and Dragon Riders. Desperately hoping that there was only one, no matter which it was, she walked through the open doors of her throne room, down the long red carpet, and without looking up at the seat which she knew was occupied, knelt exactly seven feet from the bottom step.

  The Kindler looked down at the mortal woman whose throne he was sitting in. She puzzled him. Two years ago, she had been impervious to mental trickery, willing to fight even him until the last of her strength. ‘But now … Now she is broken. She can’t hold this empire together with her own strength for much longer. But I need her ... for the present.’ While he thought this, Guinira still knelt on the carpet, her head bowed so that she did not even see his feet. He shook his head slowly. This was not the same woman that had given him such a fight. “Rise, Guinira.” She did so, but said nothing. “An account of the time since I departed for Alega is due, I think.”

  “Yes my Lord.” She still did not look at him. “General Druoth, with the help of your Deshika, succeeded in retaking this city from rebels who still believe that it is possible for the old order to be restored. One of those rebels was … is … my mother, and I have made finding her, as well as the other council members, my highest priority. We had nothing though, for quite some time, so we merely focused on bringing more of Anaria under our control. Erygan Dalrey of Torridesta fought back against us, and he is still rampaging throughout the north unchecked. We met him in battle several times, but he always bested us. We still don’t know how. The Drog Imperial Navy has also been a nuisance, raiding supply lines, attacking convoys, even striking at Deshik controlled ports along the coast. We haven’t managed to find where they are hiding, but we will, eventually. We currently have neither the ships nor the sailors for a search. And fighting Drogs at sea … It is neither the safest nor wisest course of action.”

  The Kindler tensed and relaxed his fingers several times, cracking each of his knuckles one by one. “What about the Morschledu Remnant? Have they been located?”

  “General Druoth found a weapon that seemed to indicate that the Remnant had retreated into the forests of Dothoro. We had already taken the southern plains of the country, but the forest was considered too dangerous. Still, Druoth took his army and attacked them.” She was careful to avoid mentioning her involvement in ordering the attack. “It failed miserably. He took forty thousand of The Dread Commander’s Deshika with him. I believe that under half came back.”

  “And where is General Druoth? He should be here to give his own account.”

  “It seems, my Lord, General Druoth is not on our side.”

  The Kindler’s eyes bored into Guinira. It was at that moment that Guinira made the mistake of looking up. But she did not see anger or hatred in his eyes, though The Kindler certainly felt them. She saw fear. The Kindler knew as well as she did how skilled a General Makret Druoth was. More than that, The Kindler had felt the true extent of his magical powers. They were formidable, to say the least.

  “It seems that Druoth has been deceiving us about his loyalties.” She included herself because in that case, it would have been unwise to make it sound like The Kindler had been the only one fooled by Makret. The Kindler surprised her then.

  “I should have seen this.”

  “My Lord, this is not your fault. You were on the other side of the ocean. It is mine. I could not hold him to me.”

  The Kindler shook his head at her. The old Guinira would have agreed with him, or said nothing, at the least. This Guinira wanted so much to be in his favour that she was willing to take any blame that he was going to take for himself. He did not understand mortals. “That was not what I meant. I have known for over a year now that Makret Druoth was not one of us. That was why I wanted Nasheem here. That was why I went back to Alega.”

  “If you had told me, I would have had him dealt with sooner.”

  The Kindler stood. His voice shook the ceiling of the throne room as he shouted his response. “I didn’t want him dealt with!” He calmed himself, but the power and malevolence in his voice still shook the room. “I wanted him here, watched, and under control.” The Kindler started pacing and lowered his voice. “While he had to pretend to be loyal, he wasn’t a threat. Now, the second he gets to a major city, he will announce that he stands with the Remnant. Hundreds of thousands of Morschen will join him just because he is Makret Druoth, no matter what he has done. Thousands of ‘loyal’ Ringlords will join him just because they don’t want to be on the losing side.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “We must deal with Druoth, before he can rejoin our enemies. I will not allow him to raise the banner of the Garrenins over Anaria once again.�
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  Guinira started to argue for the first time. “My Lord, the Garrenins are dead. Even Taren the Second has passed into whatever world comes next. Not one remains in Anaria to unite the Remnant, even if Makret raises their fallen banner.”

  “There is no Garrenin that we know of, Guinira. It troubles me how much Druoth is like his fallen master. Taren Garrenin was a powerful man. It would not surprise me to know that he survived the ruin of Agrista. He was the one who caused it, after all.”

  “It isn’t possible my Lord. If he had, the Remnant wouldn’t be hiding in the forest. He was never one to sit by, even when hopelessly outnumbered. And he knows what kind of effect it would have on our forces, Deshik and Morschen, if he were to reveal himself.”

  “Perhaps ... But I believe that a Garrenin has survived this war, someone who waits in the shadows, listening for the voices of dead ancestors to tell him or her that the time is right. But we must stop Druoth. Do you know how he escaped or which way he went?”

  “No. No one saw him leave, which leads me to suspect that the Remnant sent a Portaller to free him. Or, unfortunately, spies within the palace could have seen to his release. I think though, that if he escaped himself, he went either east, to Caladea, or west, to Storinea. He would be too easily recognized in Drogoda.”

  “He will be recognized no matter where he goes. Makret Druoth is not a man who can hide. Nor would he choose to do so. Is there a Hunter’s Guild in Anaria?”

  “I don’t know if there is an official Guild, but there are some who would hunt him down.”

  “Good. You will attend to that. I want him found, Guinira. Any means. Any price. Do you understand?” Guinira nodded. “After that is dealt with, come and find me. The Eschcotan occupation of Dishmo Kornara has gone on long enough. We must end that, but not by striking at the city itself. You must devise a way to bring Eschcota to its knees. Without them, Dishmo Kornara will fall easily.”

  * * * * *

  Guinira saw to it that news was spread throughout An-Aniath that there was a price on Makret Druoth’s head. Knowing that she needed to make a point, whoever inquired was told “alive if possible, dead if necessary.” She suspected that Makret’s reputation would encourage only the best Hunters to attempt the capture, especially a live capture, but she was worried that the “dead if necessary” clause might encourage a Hunter with no professional pride to simply slit the legendary Drog’s throat while he was asleep. It would not have been the first time that some nameless Hunter brought in a prize of such value. So, to discourage just anyone from claiming the Right to Hunt, she made the dead bounty seven thousand paroes. Though seven thousand gold paroes was for most people a fortune, for a name like Makret Druoth, tens of thousands, if not more, would be considered a worthy price. For Makret to be brought in alive, in acknowledgement of how hard, nearly impossible, it would be to capture him, supposing that they could even find Makret, she offered twenty-one thousand paroes. She knew that Bounty Hunters had certain rules that they were supposed to follow, but a lone Hunter bringing an obscenely powerful and talented Ringlord in to An-Aniath from she knew not where might be willing to bend the rules with no one looking. Either way, the price was set, but the Right to Hunt had to be earned. And until Hunters made their way to An-Aniath for a chance at profit, she could do nothing more.