A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) (26 page)

The Battlemage stopped along the far edge of the crowd, close enough to see and hear the nobles. “The two of you wait here, since you cannot be silent.” His frown lifted when his eyes fell on Jaerd. “I trust you can keep them out of trouble?”

Jaerd put a hand each on Maddi and Tallen’s shoulders. “Yes, Magus-General.”

The Battlemage turned to Darve Northtower. “If you would join us, Maester.”

The dwarf nodded and followed the two Bluecloaks wending their way to the front of the crowd. More than a few nobles clapped Boris on the back, smiling at his sudden appearance. One or two stared daggers.

Looking up at the fourth and highest tier of the dais, Maddi studied the top chair, an imposing throne carved of a solid piece of what looked like ivory.
No elephant could be that big! Unless that isn’t ivory…

Upon the throne, his arms folded in an almost petulant fashion, an old man slouched. A few days growth of shimmering white beard shone against his pale, almost waxy cheek. A finely wrought crown rested on his head, twisting in multiple bands of gossamer silver. Dozens of opals, each deep blue passing to green with fuscia at their heart, bedecked the crown. A single one at its peak was the size of a chicken egg.

“…and what proof have you of these claims, Lord Harte?” A man dressed in charcoal robes of fine wool stalked about on the High Council’s tier. His face was shaven smooth, and a small cap rested on his head.
It looks like he uses brownberry dye in his hair.

“I have my word as the Lord of Harlong,” returned a man with a finely trimmed, ruddy beard and fierce green eyes. He scowled at the speaker upon the dais. “And my honor as a paladin”

Cupping her mouth with one hand, Maddi whispered, “Who is the man up there?”

She watched Tallen count the chairs, mulling over his memory of the hundreds of books he claimed to have read.

“It must be the Lord Chancellor. I don’t know his name, just the office.”

Maddi’s attention snapped back to the argument when the voice of the paladin rose above the crowd.

“I tell you, orcs are in the Northwood.” Wrinkles covered the man’s tunic, as if he had just removed his armor. A rather expensive looking sword hung from his hip. “I killed several of them myself. I found the markings of both Shark and Boar Clans.” He held out a strip of worn leather. “I ripped this from the armor of one of their captains. It is clearly the mark of the hammerhead.”

A collective shudder passed through the crowd. Two men with the almond skin and flowing robes of Hadoners whispered to one another.

“A painted piece of leather is no proof of invasion.” The Lord Chancellor smoothed his robes. “Even if a few orcs raided your lands, it is no cause to rouse the entire kingdom. It is needless warmongering – perhaps even a pretext to stir dissention and chaos in a time of peace.”

The Lord Harte stood as still as stone, fists planted firmly on his hips. Maddi watched his jaw work behind the beard. The paladin closed his eyes, and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. When he lifted his lids, his jaw no longer clenched, and a veil of calm hung over his features.

“I do not understand why you are being purposefully obtuse.” The lord folded his arms, releasing his balled fists as he did so. “This is far more than a simple raid. Boar and Shark do not raid together. If it were Wolf and Shark, I might accept your claims.” Lord Harte raised a chestnut eyebrow. “I have never played your games, Chancellor Vyce. Your accusations that I might play politics would be a case of the sky calling the ocean blue.”

Muffled chuckles rippled through the crowd.

The four-starred Bluecloak lifted a finger from the arm of his chair. “If I may, my fellow Lords.” The Lord Chancellor nodded begrudgingly. “If there is one man who knows the ways of the Orc better than the Lord Harte, he has just entered this hallowed hall.” The Lord Marshal nodded at Boris working his way to the front of the crowd. “As if by providence, the Earl of Mourne has just returned from a long journey to the very edge of the Northlands. He has been to Highspur.”

Murmurs moved through the assembled nobles. Maddi even noticed a single raised eyebrow among the three elves.

“Your Majesty.” Boris bowed to the king. Arathan did not respond. His stare remained fixed on nothing. “My Lords.” Boris nodded to the dais first, and then the crowd. “I have a great deal to report, most in private council. But I must say that I find myself agreeing with the Lord Harte.” The chancellor jerked his head in sarcastic surprise. “The north is on the move.” The earl gestured to his side. “If I may introduce Maester Darve Northtower, emissary from the King of the Rock.”

Darve stepped forward to the bottom of the dais and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, King Arathan, honored friend and ally to the dwarven people and their king.”

Arathan nodded, his first visible movement since Maddi entered the hall. “We have memory of receiving you before, Maester Northtower.” The king’s voice sounded aged, but it still held the iron of a man who fought a dozen wars. “Gannon is honored with a visit from our ever sturdy friends.”

Darve straightened wearing a broad smile of friendship. “I am honored you would remember one such as me, Your Majesty.” His face turned grave. “However, I have come with grave news, news which may add urgency to your lords’ debate.”

Maddi stared, transfixed as Darve reached into his cloak and pulled out the dragon tooth he had shown her during their journey upon the Andon. Tilli had also displayed the dagger she made from her own dragon kill.
It was not as large, but just as fearsome.

More murmurs shook the crowd.

“It is the tooth of a dragon, Your Majesty.” Darve raised the tooth above his head so all might see. “A beast unlike any seen since the Elder Days. They raided our city and homes, burning much of Wood Town. Thousands are feared dead.” The dwarf went to one knee before the dais. “I humbly request your aid, Your Majesty, in the spirit of the long alliance between our peoples.”

Arathan nodded, his distant stare fixing on Darve. “We are already aware of this, Maester Northtower. We are also aware that Aginor has dispatched aid.” The king shifted slightly, his white satin tunic and pants glimmering in the faded daylight from the dome overhead. “However, we will dispatch a chest full of gold marks to Aginor to aid him in aiding you.” A whisper of a smile flickered across the kings lips, gone before Maddi was certain she had seen it. “Thank you for the gift, Maester.”

Frowning herself, Maddi watched Darve’s brow wrinkle. The dwarf smoothed his face in an instant and laid the tooth upon the lowest step. He rose, bowed his head, and turned, disappearing into the crowd.

Earl Boris’ eyes switched from Darve to the king. “There is more, Sire. Orcs have been found in far closer places than Highspur or Harlong.” He took two steps forward, his shoulder close to the paladin’s, who had listened to Darve with interest. “Gavanor and Bridgedale have both been scenes of attack.”

Alarmed shouts rang out from the crowd. Maddi took a step back from the shudder of movement among the suddenly pale assembly. Near half a dozen men dashed from the room, each wearing a different crest upon his tunic and an urgency about his features. The men on the Common Council perked up.

However, while those on the High Council sat alert in their chairs, they did not appear shocked. Maddi caught the Lord Marshal nodding to Boris, almost imperceptibly. The fat man in Temple robes stared at the fingernails of one hand. He slipped what looked like a piece of candy into his mouth with the other. The handsome Lord Doctor moved nothing save for his sharp eyes.
They knew already, but no one else did.

The Lord Chancellor waved his hands to calm the assemblage. “Peace! Peace… Your king is well aware of this.” He turned to Boris, his plain features frowning as if disappointed with an unruly child. “Your ravens were well received from both locations, My Lord Earl. As I said to the Lord Harte, there is no need to unnecessarily alert the entire kingdom over a few raids.”

“What we faced at Bridgedale was more than just a raid, Your Majesty,” Magus Britt answered, nodding his head in deference to the king. “Their raid was targeted, coordinated, and extremely well equipped. I believe they could be the same orcs that entered the Northwood, come down via the Snowbourne.”

The Lord Chancellor spread his hands in disbelief. “What was their target?”

Tallen shifted next to Maddi, his face pale. When she patted his arm in reassurance, he gripped her hand.

Boris placed his palm on the Battlemage’s shoulder. “We are not certain.”

Maddi heard Tallen exhale. She felt his hand relax, but it did not leave hers.

The earl folded his arms, his blue eyes focused on the king. “But, along with the Lord Harte’s evidence and this unprecedented dragon raid upon the Rock, I believe we must increase our vigilance – begin a muster.”

Shouts of “Aye!” echoed from the crowd. Three out of five heads nodded in clear agreement. The rest remained frozen. Maddi could almost smell their fear. “I do not like the mood change in here,” she whispered into Tallen’s ear. “Maybe we should leave.”

Tallen turned his head to her, a doubtful squint in his eye. “Oh no, not again. We’re staying where we were told.”

Jaerd, vigilant behind them, patted her on the shoulder firmly. “He’s a smart one, my brother – learns more quickly than others.”

The Lord Chancellor again waved the crowd to silence. “We have already begun preparations.” He looked at the paladin. “A dozen ships of the line were sent north to patrol the Dragon’s Teeth. The primitive skiffs of the orcs will be no match for Admiral Lindon’s fleet.” The chancellor shifted his stare back to Boris, and narrowed his gaze. “And you, My Lord Earl, are to command of a battalion of reinforcements, which will leave for Highspur at once. You will then remain at the fortress long enough to discover the nature of this ‘threat’ you proclaim but cannot name.”

The earl slammed a fist into his hand. “It should be a division, not a single battalion. We should muster the kingdom, and send two dozen more ships north of the Teeth.” He folded his arms again. “Tomas is right. Boar and Shark working together means this is more than just raiding.”

The Lord Chancellor shook his head. “These are the resources to be committed. The kingdom has many responsibilities, the protection of trade and commerce primary among them.”

The paladin scoffed. “What matters commerce when the world is dead?”

Maddi watched Boris ignore the chancellor, his gaze never leaving the king. “Is this your command, Your Majesty?”

Arathan nodded, his watery blue eyes never leaving the blue-cloaked earl. “It is.”

Boris bowed deeply to the king. “Then I shall depart upon the morrow.”

The Lord Harte folded his hands behind his back. “And I shall join you.”

Grinning, the chancellor raised a single finger. “There is one more thing, Lord Harte.” He lifted an eyebrow toward the king. Arathan nodded back, ever so slightly, his chin now resting on a thumb. “As you have at last made your presence known among us at court, after such a long absence, perhaps you would take your seat upon the Common Council? The king is preparing a summons for all the council members. Would not representing the people of Harlong here be far more important than some wanderlust borne journey into the wild?”

Maddi backed into Jaerd when she saw the contempt in Lord Harte’s stare. But his sharp eyes were not aimed at the Lord Chancellor. Instead, they flew toward the fat man in Temple of Balance robes. He paid no attention, but Maddi caught the barest hint of a grin creep upon his flabby lips.

The paladin’s tone dripped with barely contained rage. “I have made it clear to His Majesty many times why I feel that the vows of my order preclude my involvement in the councils of the kingdom.” He blinked again and drew in a deep breath. Some of the anger slipped from his voice. “Others would do well to remember as much. The Temple already involves itself too greatly in the political matters of this kingdom, rather than simply its spiritual matters.”

The fat man upon the dais raised a chubby finger. “But the two are intertwined, Paladin Harte.” His syrupy sweet voice took on a patronizing tone. “The spiritual matters of the kingdom are best addressed from the council, as are the political. I believe this is the point my friend the Lord Chancellor makes.”

After a short nod toward the priest, a falsely beseeching tone slipped into the chancellor’s voice. “Just so. In this time of great strife, your king requires that you advise him in council.” His eyes narrowed and a thin smile formed on his smooth face, turning Maddi’s stomach. “If you cannot take the seat of House Harte, then it will be granted to another house, as will rule of Harlong.”

From the mumbling of the crowd, Maddi picked out some of the words, a mix of confusion and support. Grins grew on the face of a few greedy lords.
They see this as a chance to improve their own standing in this farce. Fools!

The Lord Harte folded his hands behind his back. He stared at the floor before lifting his gaze toward the king. “I could send for a proxy, Your Majesty.”

The chancellor shrugged, mock sympathy oozing through his voice. “I am afraid, My Lord, that the law requires that any proxy be a blood member of your house.” He shook his head sadly, though Maddi still saw a hint of the smile. “As I understand it, you are the last Harte. You have no other family to appoint as proxy.”

I do not like that chancellor. Not one bit.
Maddi sneered at the surrounding nobles, who likely already schemed to get themselves seated on the dais.
That Lord Chancellor will use you just as easily.

Lord Harte’s face clouded into a stony mask. His green eyes stared at the floor, seeming to study the intricate stonework. When he finally lifted his gaze, it was with sadness in his eyes far more real than anything in the chancellor’s expression. He fixed it upon the fat man, who squirmed under its ferocity.

“I see that the Balance has skewed much further than I had feared.” The paladin’s tone remained even, his face calm. However, his eyes burned with passion when he turned them toward the king, ignoring the chancellor’s very existence. “Your Majesty rules in Gannon, and Harlong has been a part of it since my ancestor knelt to yours. It is yours to do with as you will.” Lord Harte lifted his chin with pride. “I trust to Your Majesty’s grace, and that he will remember my people are among his most loyal and loving subjects. Had my father, one of my brothers, or even a nephew lived to take this seat, I am certain they would be glad to do so. However, I took my vows with the Paladins of Balance well before they all passed into the beyond. Those vows are more binding than even the command of a king, may it please Your Majesty.” The man bowed his head slightly. “I cannot serve two masters, and the Balance can be my only choice.”