Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (40 page)

As soon as Brannis mentioned rooms at Solaran Estate,
he thought of his own room. Then he thought of the dream. His stomach twisted
inside him as the anxiety returned, worrying what was going on in that world he
saw at night.

“Are you all right, Brannis?” Iridan asked. “You just
got this look on your face like someone just told you that the beef stew you
just ate was not actually made from beef.” Iridan walked a pace ahead of
Brannis and turned to look him in the face head on. “Really, are you well?”

“Lot on my mind, is all. The world changed a lot on us
today, I feel. More so for you and me than for most, perhaps, but it changed
for everyone. I think I know what it feels like now, when a pawn advances to
the back rank. I am not sure what piece I have become, but I am fairly certain
I am a pawn no longer,” Brannis said.

“Rook, I would say. You have a rookish quality to
you,” Iridan joked, and got Brannis to chuckle. “Always go in a straight line,
once you get set on something.”

The gnawing worry was still within Brannis, but Iridan
helped keep his mind off what he knew he could not control, at least until
nightfall. Brannis was not sure who was in control in his dreams, whether he
was just an observer or whether he was the one deciding what to do. A lot of
what this Kyrus fellow did seemed rather naïve, but it was an endearing sort of
naïve that Brannis envied a little. Maybe in that world, he was just a more
innocent version of himself.

He hoped that the innocent self of his dreams was
ready to face whatever was to come. That innocence would ill serve him, if
Brannis’s
second
-worst fears were realized. If Kyrus had just died last
night, all was moot anyway, and it seemed there would be no repercussion to
Brannis. However, if Kyrus had been captured, Brannis still did not know how
their fates were twined, and the worst might still be yet to come.

Brannis’s thoughts, it seemed, could wander off
without him, despite Iridan’s best efforts.

*
* * * * * * *

“What is all this?” Sir Hurald Chadreisson demanded as
Jurl opened up his message in the main entry hall and began to read it aloud to
Sir Hurald and everyone else within earshot.

As Brannis’s entourage entered the army headquarters,
soldiers, functionaries, and officers had begun to congregate. As with much of
the rest of Kadris, they were privy to an unusual sight … and curiosity was the
surest lure of men.

“‘This morning, the seventy-third day of Autumn, six
thousand two hundred seventy-nine summers since the Founding, three members of the
Imperial Inner Circle were executed for the crime of treason regarding the
circumstances of the death of Emperor Dharus Kadrin. These included High
Sorcerer Gravis Archon, Maruk Solaran, and Stalia Gardarus. Those who may have
been aware of their treasonous conspiracy are granted conditional clemency,
insomuch as there will be no formal inquiry beyond what justice has already
been meted out.

“‘These circumstances have necessitated changes in
leadership at the highest levels of the empire. While there is no specific
charge leveled against anyone in the Imperial Army and no officer thereof shall
be singled out for dishonor, at this time I must place loyalty and competence
above seniority and the standard chain of promotion.

“‘Thus I hereby bestow upon Sir Brannis Solaran the
title of Grand Marshal of the Kadrin Imperial Army, with full and complete
authority over all men and materials of the army, and discretion to use them as
he sees fit, subject solely to my direction and oversight.

“‘Furthermore, all senior officers in the Imperial
Army are ordered to appear in the Great Hall of the Imperial Palace at sunset
tonight, to receive further details. All questions regarding the change of
command may be held until that time.

“‘Under no circumstances will anyone interfere with
the transition of command to Grand Marshal Sir Brannis Solaran or disobey his
orders. Anyone who does so will answer directly to me.’

“Signed, Warlock Rashan Solaran, High Sorcerer and
Regent of the Kadrin Empire,” Jurl finished, and walked calmly over to Sir
Hurald and handed him the decree.

There was a stunned silence in the hall. Many of the
onlookers shifted uncomfortably, awaiting a reaction from Sir Hurald, who had
listened less than stoically to Jurl’s recitation of the decree. His pale,
pasty skin had flushed a bright red where it was not covered by beard, and he
was breathing heavily. It seemed all he could do as he listened not to cross
the few paces between himself and Jurl and run the sorcerer through.

“Preposterous!” Sir Hurald thundered. “This is a coup.
Take this lot prisoner immediately,” he ordered to no one in particular,
gesturing to Brannis and his entourage. “These are traitors to the Empire!”

Hurald’s hand went to the enchanted sword at his side,
but instantly the honor guards’ halberds leveled in his direction. Several
officers moved to General Sir Hurald’s side, though they were careful not to
draw their own blades. While the honor guard was little tested in battle, they
had a reputation for efficiency and obedience that left none to question
whether they would die carrying out their order to defend the “usurper,”
regardless of what Sir Hurald might wish.

Others had watched from the entrance hall or the
walkways above that overlooked it, but there was no great haste to take sides.
On the one hand, they were suspicious of these orders, having just heard about
the deaths of three of the most influential members of the Inner Circle at the
hands of the one who gave them. On the other, the military was quite fond of
history and educated its officers well on the subject, especially Kadrin’s rich
and bloody history of conquest. Unlike the peasant-folk outside, these men knew
who Rashan Solaran was and wanted no part of defying him. Rumors had already
spread that the old warlock was truly returned.

“What are you waiting for, men?” Sir Hurald looked
around the hall and up at those watching and waiting. “Draw steel and subdue
these intruders. Are you cowards?”

There was some element of truth to Sir Hurald’s
accusation. The honor guard was the least of the troubles they saw. Three
sorcerers of the Imperial Circle were among the entourage, and many had heard
second- or third-hand accounts of Iridan entering combat in the Battle of
Kelvie Forest. Sorcerers were always risky to fight, since when faced with
death, they had no reason
not
to try to fight with aether, to the winds
with consequences. Foremost, though, was that Brannis was known to carry Massacre.
None in the hall had noticed—or knew enough to even tell the difference—that he
was carrying Avalanche instead.

“There has indeed been a coup,” Brannis replied. “It
is over now, the usurpers killed. Rashan Solaran is Regent of the Empire now.
This is a fact. The Imperial Circle already recognizes him as such. He meets
with the nobles even now to inform them. Your summons for this evening is your
time to see for yourself. I have seen him already.”

“You shall not take the army without a fight!” Sir
Hurald proclaimed. “I have served at the emperor’s command for nearly my entire
life, and I will not allow some reckless pup to steer us into catastrophe. If
none of you will draw steel to defend the fate of the army, then I will.”

And Hurald drew his blade, a fine piece of both
sword-smithing and aether-smithing. The blade shone like silver or seemed black
as night depending on the angle of the light. It was scribed down the length
with runes, keeping it razor sharp and easily balanced in Hurald’s hand. He
presented it in the classic fencing salute.

“I challenge you, Brannis Solaran, to a duel,” he
spoke formally, but intentionally left off the “Sir” and any mention of rank.

“Hold,” Brannis spoke softly, raising his hand to
forestall the impending halberd charge he felt was coming from the honor
guards.

He drew Avalanche from its sheath, slowly, and with a
reversed grip. He took two steps closer to Sir Hurald as the honor guard parted
slightly to allow a clear path between the two men. Still moving slowly, he
raised his sword, blade still facing downward, until his arm was fully
extended.

With a sudden, explosive thrust, Brannis drove the
sword halfway to the hilt into the solid granite floor of the entry hall. Those
nearby turned, threw up their hands, or covered their faces to protect
themselves from the stone debris that flew up every which way from the sundered
floor. To his credit, Sir Hurald only flinched, never lowering his sword from
guard position.

“I could cut you in half,” Brannis spoke, loudly
enough for everyone in the now quiet hall to hear him clearly, despite being
only a few paces from the old general he was addressing. “But that will not
make me any more right. If you were to dodge my strike and run your sword
through my heart, you would not prove your point, either.

“Rashan Solaran is back. Yes, he is the very same
warlock who destroyed Loramar and ended the Necromancer Wars, and who survived
the Battle of the Dead Earth, contrary to what we once thought. He had been
gone just over a century, and he has much to explain about his whereabouts in
the interim, and why he has not returned before now. That I will grant.

“This is no raw lust for power; he has all that he
could want and more already. I know little of his tale, but I know this much:
Warlock Rashan was able to survive the final battle with Loramar because he had
become an immortal, a demon. However powerful and dangerous history’s record
says he is, he is more so now. Though I was not present to witness it, I have
reliable accounts, confirmed by the Inner Circle, that Gravis Archon confessed
his crimes and tried to rationalize his way around them. When Warlock Rashan
chose to summarily destroy him, the former high sorcerer was helpless to defend
himself.

“Though you will doubtless hear much the same from him
tonight, Warlock Rashan does not intend or wish to remain regent, or to style
himself as the new emperor. Having traveled back from Kelvie Forest with him, I
feel I know him at least a small bit. I believe he was homesick and wished to
return to the emperor’s service, as he once served so long ago. Upon his
homecoming, he instead found a grand conspiracy that had been perpetrated in
his absence.

“He is upset. He is angry. He does not yet know whom
to trust among the circles of power in Kadrin. Thus he has instated me, his kin
and someone whom he has shared travels with, as custodian of the army, at least
for the time being. I know not if this promotion will last a week, a month, or
become permanent.

“You, Sir Hurald, have not been demoted as such. The
position of Grand Marshal may be above yours but has not been awarded in many
summers. I expect you will continue to serve the Imperial Army and obey the
orders given by me or by the regent. If you have issue with this arrangement,
and frankly you have made it sufficiently clear that you do, take it up with
Warlock Rashan tonight when you meet him. Contrary to what you might think, he
will not kill you for challenging his decision; he may even appreciate it. He
finds our knights soft and passive, and you might do well to show otherwise.

“I will let you think on this. I have no intention of
issuing sweeping orders to change the army wholesale. My one order for today is
that you find me an office, which I will take residency in starting tomorrow.”
Brannis paused as if to consider something, then continued: “And please bear in
mind that the warlock may visit this new office of mine. While I consider
myself to be good humored and reasonable, I find Warlock Rashan to be somewhat
less so, and he might find it
inappropriate
if he has to meet with me in
some converted pantry or one of the stables.”

Brannis pulled his sword from the ground as easily as
if it had been stuck in snow, and returned Avalanche to its sheath, locking his
gaze on Sir Hurald as he did so.

“I may still ask to face you in combat over this,
Brannis,” Sir Hurald said, more calmly than he had spoken earlier. Warily, he
slid his own blade back into its sheath as well.

“I will see you this evening, then. I shall be in
attendance as well, as I am now a senior officer of the army,” Brannis replied.

Brannis turned and began to walk back toward the main
doors, and the honor guard fell in behind him.

As they exited army headquarters and the view of those
inside, Iridan leaned in to Brannis and whispered, “Well played, indeed. I
thought for a moment you really were going to cut him in half in front of
everyone.”

Without turning, Brannis muttered back, “So did I. I
am still surprised the arrogant mule put his sword away.”

Iridan suppressed a chuckle.

*
* * * * * * *

Brannis parted ways with the honor guard and the two
sorcerers at the gate to Solaran Estate. He needed some time away from the
chaos that was quickly overtaking him, at least long enough to regroup and
adjust to the sudden change in rank and importance. Iridan remained behind when
the rest left.

“Would you like me to show you around the place? I
know my father did not like having you around, but that would seem not to be an
issue anymore,” Brannis said.

Despite their longstanding friendship, Maruk Solaran
had never approved of Brannis associating so closely with a “peasant” sorcerer.
Though his stance had softened somewhat as Iridan showed himself more and more
capable as he advanced through the Academy, Brannis’s father had never allowed
Iridan to feel at ease at the estate.