Hatam-Ile, 18th of Seventhmoon 3045
Tall flames roared in the hearth sunken to the floor, which only served to increase the temperature in the room. The long day of the desert had very nearly heated the elder’s house to resemble a sauna, but Hawk shivered as he took his place between Blueleaf and Silverbrook. Ared had given him permit of exception to come listen to the discussion, on the excuse that there would also be others not belonging in the council coming, meaning the usual rules did not apply. The elders’ faces revealed nothing, not even when Ared himself stepped in, accompanied by Ren’i.
No taivashi had ever set foot inside the elder’s house in all those centuries that Hatam-Ile had been inhabited, not once before Ren’i’s accident. It was as if the prince’s arrival had set in motion something that could no longer be stopped: there were nearly thirty of his kind present now. Ren’i waited on his feet as three high-ranking soldiers, judging by their tattoos, in red Kishan uniforms followed them into the room and took their places behind him. Their collars were embroidered with black, forming the imperial crest – a single lilac blossom surrounded by leaves. The mark of Quan’s bloodline: wisdom and power. Hawk shuddered at the sight of it and forced himself to look elsewhere.
The consuls were followed by captain Hamr and the entire Guard of Honour. Even indoors they marched to the same pace, matching their steps with one another’s. Each taivashi’s left arm was left bare, their merits carved into their skin for all and sundry to see.
Ared gestured with his hand and Ren’i sat, his soldiers following his example. The chief alone remained standing. He nodded to Onniar, waiting at the door, who nodded back and shut it.
Long seconds passed as the akheris and the demons simply beheld each other. Hawk saw the Kishans watching Ren’i’s every breath incessantly, awaiting his signal, but Ren’i’s face remained expressionless. Hawk saw him in his full military uniforn for the first time since the day they’d arrived in the wastes. The blazing flames made the metal of his breastplate glow, and the red hair, tied up at the nape of his neck, brought out his features. Long, golden earrings hung from his ears, almost brushing against the pauldrons.
All that boyish levity that had danced in his eyes during the festival night was gone. He looked regal, severe, old beyond his years. In that moment Hawk did not wonder why Ren’i’s soldiers watched him as though he’d hung the moons and the stars on the sky with his own hands.
Ared extended his hands towards the flames and began to talk.
”Elders, friends, honoured guests.” His gaze lingered on the chiefs from Verem, Om-Var, and other cities in the region, seated in the front row close to the prince’s entourage. ”We are facing unusual circumstances. For the very first time in akheri history does the Kishan heir sit under the same roof with our council, and every soul present knows the reason. Liqaria has gathered their forces in the northern tip of Seiye with the intention of marching to war – through our lands.”
The chiefs shared a dark look with Ared, but no one interrupted him. Ared went on, ”prince Ren’i has promised his army’s protection for our people and homes against this threat. In exchange, he has asked us to combine our forces and allow those of us who wish to fight to join their army.”
Ared glanced towards Ren’i, who lowered his head humbly under the stares of the akheri elders.
”Every akheri who joins us will receive full upkeep and the same treatment as any full-blooded Kishan,” Ren’i spoke in clear, carrying tones. ”But that is not all. We have agreed that my soldiers will assist in feeding Hatam-Ile and the other cities in the region, and that we are to make sure no civilians go hungry.”
Nemeken lifted her chin. There was no sign of old age in her posture, and her voice carried clearly over the snaps and pops of the fire when she said,” Hatam-Ile has made its decision. We agree to lend our forces to the army’s disposal until the Liqari threat has been quelled.”
Opposite of her Miral, brown-skinned, stout and just as gray-haired as she was, straightened her back. ”This war is between Kisha and Liqaria. Why should Verem send our own to die for the empire?”
”The council of Om-Var is wondering the same thing,” said the dark, short-haired man sitting next to her. ”The talents of Kishan legions are legendary. Without their navy Liqaria is no match for the Kishan military forces, and the Liqaris are coming on foot. What use has your highness for inexperienced akheri infantry?”
Ren’i’s expression was sombre as he met his gaze. ”Because they have clear superiority over us. According to our intel they have initiated a full-scale mobilisation. They’re throwing all their available might at us.”
”The manpower of the Kishan army matches that of the Liqaris. Why did the crown prince not bring all of his legions with him, if this threat is as great as you claim?” asked Miral.
”You know as well as we do that the rebellion stirs still. The empress needs the legions to defend the north.”
Ared turned to Ren’i and his consuls. ”Ren’i, you and your consuls know best what the numbers look like. What is your current headcount?”
Kha’ar cleared his throat. ”Your highness, if I may?”
”Feel free, consul Kha’ar.”
The consul stroked at his short beard. His brows were furrowed and the usual glint of amusement in his eyes was all but gone. ”One legion is comprised of five thousand soldiers. That may perhaps sound like a big number, but we must remember that the full strenght of the Liqari infantry has been equal to five Kishan legions in our previous wars. They will face considerable challenges attempting to bring such large numbers across the Cape of Mists, but we must assume they succeed in bringing at least four full legions across, if you account for probable losses.”
The chief of Om-Var shook his head. ”This mobilisation is nothing but a rumour, unless we have something to prove it. How would you know all the way in the north how many soldiers their camp currently hosts?”
”We have our sources in Liqaria, and all messages from them have confirmed the matter,” Kha’ar stated. His voice maintained its serene tone despite the elders’ expressions. ”Though their estimates about the headcount of the army are not precise, we cannot lull ourselves with assumptions that the Liqaris would come unprepared. Whoever starts a war rarely initiates an assault at all, unless they have a good reason to believe in their chances of winning.”
”I understand your reasoning, consul Kha’ar, but we are talking about akheri lives. We are not ready to sacrifice innocents over a mere assumption. Your hostilities with Liqaria are Kisha’s problem, not ours.”
”Jamoran,” Nemeken said, her voice a warning.
”You know that I’m right,” replied Jamoran, Om-Var’s chief. ”Liqaris have not attempted an infantry assault through the southern cape since emperor Verqur’ei’s reign, nearly two thousand years ago, and the results were catastrophic for them at the time.”
”1825 years ago, to be precise,” Kha’ar interrupted him. The corners of his mouth quirked into an unctuous smile. ”I remember it clearly, my good chief, for I was there myself. We stopped them and destroyed them to the last soldier on the plains while your people were hiding in the desert.”
”Enough, Kha’ar,” Ren’i said, his voice a warning. ”You’re going too far.”
”As your highness wishes,” Kha’ar said, bowing lightly towards him. He was still smiling.
Ared stepped in the middle of the room, the cloak hanging from one shoulder swinging. ”At ease, friends. We are here to negotiate how to repel this enemy together, not fight amongst ourselves.” He turned his gaze to Jamoran and Miral. ”Rumours of the Liqari mobilisation have reached even the wastes, something you know just as well as we do. It is for that reason that we sent a party of our scouts to find out whether the rumours were true. Their declaration has confirmed what the consul just told us.”
”You sent, Ared,” Miral said. ”There were only Hatam-Ileans in the party, and based on what you’ve told us only two of them returned unharmed, the third half-dead. Are we truly about to place our trust on the word of a handful of inexperienced scouts? They must have been under so much pressure during their flight that I’m amazed they managed to tell you anything at all, especially if one of their companions had just been killed in front of their eyes.”
”Such insolence!” one of the Hatam-Ilean elders shouted.
”Inexperienced? What is the elder of Verem trying to insinuate?” yelled another.
A frail-looking elder had clambered on his feet, an agonised look on his gaunt face. ”How dare you! Don’t you realise what horrible price we paid for the scouting mission?” He shook so badly as he pointed his finger at Miral that those seated nearest to him stood up as one to support him. ”Liqaris killed my child! They killed Willow!”
”Enough,” Nemeken shouted and started to get to her feet, but before she could say anything else Silverbrook had stood up in the back row. Her eyes were icy.
”I saw the Liqari army with my own eyes, elders,” she said so loudly that it carried over the chatter. Every pair of eyes in the room latched on to her immediately. ”Their ranks cover the Mori plains; the camp reaches from horizon to horizon, and more soldiers kept arriving the whole time during those eight days that we spent spying on them.” She pulled up the hem of her shirt, revealing a large, uneven scar that went across her upper belly. ”They killed one of us and nearly myself, too, as if we were nothing but insects in their eyes. They will do the same to any akheri they can get their hands on, regardless of whether we aid the Kishans or not.”
”Sit down,” Miral said coolly. ”In Verem we would not allow anyone besides our elders to speak in the elder’s house. Be grateful that your chief has even given outsiders the right to come and listen. This is not some market gathering.”
Dewdrop took Silverbrook by the hand and said something to her in a hushed voice. Silverbrook sat down laboriously, aided by her cane, but she looked angrier than Hawk ever recalled her being.
Jamoran sighed deeply. He focused his gaze on Ared. ”It’s not that we don’t trust Hatam-Ile and your council’s ability to make informed decisions, but our current knowledge is simply too one-sided. Liqaris are a seafaring people. It is much more logical for them to bring their forces straight to Hol Saro on ships come spring.”
”The Liqari navy was wiped out entirely two years ago,” Ren’i intervened. ”You do know that, too, don’t you?”
”So it is true? The tides of Merenos truly destroyed their navy?” Ared asked, frowning.
”I can swear it. I myself lead the counter attack and saw the destruction with my own eyes.”
Miral huffed. ”Anyone can claim so, but where is the proof? I agree with Jamoran – Liqaris would not fight on land unless forced to do so.”
To Hawk’s surprise Ared smiled. ”You’ll notice that this matter can perhaps be proven. Ren’i, you said you were there in person?”
”Yes. The worst of the storm had already calmed down by the time our ships arrived on the scene, but anyone present would have noticed the sheer scope of the destruction.”
”Excellent.” He extended his hand to Ren’i. ”Would you please come to me?”
Ren’i looked puzzled, but got up and walked to Ared, close to the hearth and the swaying flames.
”What do you want me to do?” Ren’i asked.
”Give me your hand.”
After a moment’s hesitation he did so and allowed Ared to press their palms together. The soldiers jolted, but if Ren’i felt any discomfort, he did not let it show on his face at least. He focused his attention on Ared and asked, ”well, what’s next?”
Ared’s hand looked tiny and frail against Ren’i’s palm. ”Think back on what you saw when your ships got there. Recall every memory, every wave and gust of wind. I want to test a theory.”
”What theory?”
”You’ll see in a bit. Well, if it works, that is.”
Ren’i had done his best to forget what he’d seen, but the memories crashed over him as if they’d only been hiding under the surface, just waiting for a chance to re-emerge. With his mind’s eye he saw the swelling of the sea like the breathing of some enormous animal. He could almost feel the wind and the whipping rain that plastered his clothes to his skin. The scent of salt wasn’t enough to mask the reek of rotting flesh that carried everywhere. The waves rose and fell, smashing the remnants of a hundred shipwrecks against the hulls of Kishan ships.
Ared’s eyes glazed over as he stared in the fire, and Ren’i thought he felt something brushing faintly against his consciousness. It wasn’t what he felt whenever another taivashi used their powers around him, but something much softer, like the brushing of careful fingertips against skin, and he realised Ared’s lips were moving as he whispered words in a language that Ren’i did not recognise. Others in the room gasped audibly.
There were images in the fire. Ren’i saw how the roiling waves and the dark shadows of ships were cast in sharp relief against the flames, almost as clearly as they appeared in his head. A thunderbolt split the skies and illuminated a sea of broken Liqari bodies, churning in the maelstrom of the receding storm. Thousands upon thousands dead. The coastline looming in the horizon was but a shadow, but the shipwrecks washed to the shore stood out as silhouettes against the lightning-lit skyline.
Hawk clutched at his knees and felt his hands shaking. No one in the room dared to speak: even Miral and Jamoran were visibly startled.
”How are you doing that?” Ren’i’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.
”I’m a fire-reader,” Ared replied, eyes still on the images reflected in the fire. The consuls were staring at him as though only now seeing him for the first time; their expressions betrayed the same fearful respect that Ren’i had only ever witnessed from them in front of the empress. ”I can see visions in the flames – past events, current events, sometimes even visions of the future.”
”And memories, I presume?” Ren’i asked, which made Ared smile.
”Only those of others, and only if they open their minds to me. A fire-reader cannot take anything against another’s will.”
Consul Vannuil stared in the fire, the blazing flames reflecting from her colourless eyes. She had been there with Ren’i that same day two years ago, had witnessed the same as he had: the same devastation, the same death. ”Fire reading is a skill that we’ve only ever heard rumours about in the north, ever since the dawn of time. Who would have believed the stories were true?”
”How is this even possible?” Miral asked, her voice trembling. ”Tens of seers have come and gone in the history of Akheriland, but not one of them has ever been able to share their visions with others.”
”My own guess is that it’s because the prince is one of the taivashi.” Ared glanced at Ren’i from the corner of his eye. ”They’re not called fire bearers for nothing. Quan’s offspring carry the gift of their forebears, their heritage in the form of ashay.”
He relinquished his hold on Ren’i’s hand, and the images in the flames quivered and died. Ren’i could not tear his gaze off of them immediately, though he no longer saw anything but fire.
”So you can reflect my memories – any taivashi’s memories – in the fire because of our demon blood?” he finally asked, shattering the silence that had fallen in the room.
”Perhaps. At least it worked with you.” Ared looked around the room, lingering just a touch longer on the Guards. ”Fire cannot lie, nor can it be manipulated. What we just saw is the truth.”
Ren’i reclaimed his position in front of his retinue and sat down.
”Fine. So there is one thing we know for sure,” Miral said. ”The Liqari navy is no more. That does not change matters drastically. We still know too little to be able to make any concrete moves.”
”I agree,” Jamoran said, and glanced approvingly at Miral. ”What Ared showed us confirms Om-Var’s stance: the strength of this Liqari army is not one to cause us concern. They lost countless soldiers with their navy. I doubt there is much left of their forces as it is.”
Hawk stifled the desire to roll his eyes. Verem and Om-Var were located in the eastern parts of the desert, only a couple of leagues from one another, and the cities had always shared a close bond. Their elders tended to back one another’s decisions at every turn when the akheri chiefs and their councils convened. The chiefs of Talmida, Amr-An, Kell-Dan and several smaller cities seated next to them remained silent, but Hawk could tell from the looks on their faces that they didn’t want to oppose the decisions of the more influential chiefs.
The representative of Talmida, a wrinkly, hunch-backed elder, raised his head weakly. ”We agree with Om-Var’s wise words,” he managed with a fumbling voice that hardly carried over the sounds of burning wood. His bent posture seemed burdened by the weight of his years, and the elder’s fingers shook uncontrollably as he gestured towards the flames. ”We’d be good to remember that the Mori plains have remained uninhabited for as long as we can recall. Perhaps the Liqaris have decided to claim the area and are preparing to found a new city? Why are we assuming that their intentions are not peaceful?”
Nemeken stood up so suddenly that her hems swayed, all the signs of a brewing storm on her face.
”With joy will we hearken to the words of Hatam-Ile’s elder,” the old man greeted her.
”You’ll hear them whether you want it or not,” Nemeken stated bluntly. ”Enough of this nonsense. Your babbling provides no explanation as to why the Liqaris attacked a peaceful akheri patrol. If they were simply looking to start a new settlement, why would they seek to hide their intentions?”
”Perhaps they were taken by surprise?”
”Mortals cannot take demons by surprise. They can sense the presence of nearby living creatures at will, and we have no means of hiding our own.”
The gaze Miral directed at Nemeken was icy. ”I don’t know what the empress has promised Hatam-Ile, but you cannot frighten us.”
”And what exactly is Verem’s elder trying to say?” Nemeken asked, her tone just as frosty as Miral’s.
”You seem so hell-bent on war that it rouses suspicion. We all ought to consider what benefits you’re reaping from this.”
The room dissolved into utter chaos. Elders shouted and spoke over one another at the same time, a cacophony of protests echoing from the walls. Some stood up, some remained seated; Hawk saw three Hatam-Ilean elders grab their companion’s arms as they tried to approach Miral, shaking their fists.
”Enough! Enough already!” Ared shouted, but for once no one paid him any attention.
The soldiers had not moved a muscle. They watched the fighting coolly without intervening. Ared shared an exasperated look with Ren’i, who flashed him a small smile. Ren’i leaned towards Hamr, whispered something to him, and stood up once more. He strode to the centre of the room, clearing his throat.
”If I may request your attention for a moment longer, respected elders,” he said, and his magically enhanced voice carries effortlessly over all else. ”I have a suggestion that will likely satisfy all the demands you have voiced.”
Theelders still arguing ceased shouting and turned to look at him. Ren’i’s smile widened.
”Thank you,” he said and bowed lightly. ”You are entirely correct in saying that we are basing too much on mere assumptions. What we need most urgently right now is more information, correct?” Some of the elders nodded. ”I suggest the following. We’ll send a new scouting party to discover what the Liqaris’ intentions are and what the true strength of their army is, should those intentions not seem to be of the honourable kind.”
”And what does that solve exactly?” Miral asked in cool tones. ”We cannot prove what the scouts claim to have seem, regardless of what they discover.”
Ren’i was still smiling. ”There I believe you will find yourself mistaken. I’ll go with the scouts myself. Ared can reflect what I’ve seen in the fire and prove that we’re speaking the truth.”
”Absolutely out of the question,” captain Hamr burst out. ”Your highness cannot place himself in such danger!”
”The captain is right in the sense that there are considerable risks involved with the mission,” Kha’ar said. ”We cannot afford to lose you. I do agree with his highness, though: we would all benefit from any intel at all that we can get our hands on in the current situation.” He looked at the akheri elders meaningfully, thin lips stretching into a tight smile. ”If the intel from the Hatam-Ile scouts does not satisfy you, you are welcome to send you own scouts with the party.”
Silence fell in the room. Jamoran turned towards Miral and whispered something to her that Hawk’s ears could not catch. Finally Miral straightened. Her eyes bore into Ren’i.
”The crown prince himself is willing to go with the scouts and put his own life at risk?” she asked. Ren’i nodded, and Miral’s gaze softened by a touch. ”So be it, then. Verem agrees to these terms.”
Jamoran took a deep breath and said, ”as does Om-Var.”
”You’ll need a guide who knows where the camp is located,” Ared said. His gaze paused on the corner where Blueleaf, Dewdrop and Silverbrook where sitting close to one another. Hawk could read from his face that he was struggling with himself when he said, ”you three have already risked your lives once, and I never imagined I’d have to ask you to do so again. We don’t seem to have many alternatives, however.”
Silverbrook grabbed her cane at once. She didn’t manage to get up before Dewdrop took her by the shoulders and forced her to sit back down. Silverbrook tried to shake her hands off and said loudly, ”I’m going!”
”No!”
A shout rose simultaneously from two directions, and both Hawk and Ren’i started upon realising that they’d yelled at the same time. They stared at each other for a moment.
Ren’i forced a calmer look on his face as he turned towards Silverbrook.
”Your wife would skin me alive if we brought you with us,” he said softly. ”I appreciate your offer, but I cannot possibly accept it.”
”But…” Silverbrook protested.
Blueleaf got to their feet. ”I’ll be your guide. I could lead you across the land bridge even in my sleep.”
Hawk’s hands balled into fists when he saw the look on Silverbrook’s face. He inhaled deeply, stood up, and said, ”I’m coming with you. I’m sure you could use a tracker.”
Silverbrook’s expression darkened further. ”That’s my job, you know, not yours—”
”They need a tracker without physical disabilities,” Hawk interrupted her. Silverbrook started as if hit, and Hawk knew the words had cut deep. He wouldn’t regret them too much if they were enough to keep Silverbrook safely at home, with Nightsong, and he hoped silently that she’d forgive him one day. ”I have no family to look after or any responsibilities in Hatam-Ile that my absence would endanger.”
He was uncomfortably aware of all the eyes fixed on him, but forced himself to ignore them. Ared, Dewdrop and Blueleaf were staring at him, transfixed with shock, the elders scowling and clearly wondering who the hell he was, but Hawk only had eyes for Ren’i. Despite all his shortcomings the prince was also a soldier, a hard-boiled professional, and Hawk knew he could see the bigger picture better than all the rest together. If need be, he’d be able to put their success over a single life better than the elders. Hawk thought he could almost hear the gears turning in his head, and to his relief Ren’i finally nodded.
”If you’re sure. The journey will be dangerous, and I cannot guarantee we all make it back in one piece,” Ren’i said.
”The Guard of Honour will ensure your safety, highness,” captain Hamr vowed.
”Absolutely not, captain. The fewer we are the faster we can make tracks, and the smaller our risk of detection.”
The Guards were staring at Ren’i as if unable to believe their ears, and some of them leaned towards their nearest companions, whispering to one another with serious looks on their faces. Even the consuls were visibly appalled.
”You’re not seriously thinking about going without your bodyguards? On enemy territory?” Vannuil burst out. ”Have you lost your mind entirely? Liqaris can recognise you on sight!”
”Remember your place, consul Vannuil,” Qel muttered under his breath.
Vannuil stood up, straightening to her full – and rather considerable – height. She was tall even for a taivashi, and the gaze she directed at Ren’i was colder than the heart of winter itself. Ren’i had feared her when he’d first started his service, and not without a reason. Even among Kishan consuls Vannuil was a legend, one of the great and the mighty of their age, who’d fought her way from a backwater foot soldier to consul on nothing but skill, and even after centuries her talents in combat were unrivalled. She was not a beautiful woman in any way; there was nothing in her angular features and heavy-lidded eyes to soften the impression of sheer power bubbling just beneath the surface. She took a step forward, and Ren’i did the same.
”I want you to understand one thing,” Vannuil said in a low voice that still managed to carry across the room in the sudden silence. ”You are the heir to the throne, and it is your duty to your people to value your life. Make sure that you are worthy of that duty.”
Ren’i met her colourless eyes without flinching. ”Or else?”
Vannuil smiled. It didn’t suit her at all. ”Do not imagine for an instant that death is an option to you. You will sit the ruby throne one day, even if I need to drag all three of your souls out of the river Tuoni with my bare hands.”
”Poetic as always, Vannuil.”
Captain Hamr cleared his throat. ”If your highness is certain of your decision, so be it, but you will need to bring at least two Guards with you. No objections,” he said when Ren’i showed every sign of protesting. ”If one dies the other can still carry out their mission.”
Ren’i considered the matter for a moment. He pointed at his Guards. ”Sava. Linnee. You two.”
They responded by clapping the left fist against the breastplate.
Ared took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily. His voice was once more calm and steady when he spoke, but Hawk saw how the hem of his cloak creased as he clutched it in his trembling fist.
”Thus we’ve agreed, then,” Ared said. ”All right. We’d best go over everything you’ll be needing on the journey.”