Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga) (25 page)

"The Sojourners can never be completely exterminated.  We can only do our best to control their spread."

"Have I not kept matters both domestic and exotic well-controlled?  We've come to accept the fact that there has never been, nor shall there ever be peace between our nations.   Let us be realists.   Conflict is the currency of our economies.  By relegating our warfare to the results of our Leit games, Xieh-Suh and I have spilled far less blood than any of our predecessors."

Mooregaard cleared his throat.  "A worthy method, until now."

For a few minutes, the flow of time seemed to stand still.  For all his political pontificating, one thought and image stood above it all:  The Empress Dowager, that audacious commoner, that whore and pretender to the throne, laughing haughtily at him.  It was humiliating enough to bear in the prison of his wounded pride, having allowed his primal urges and desires to blind his better judgment.  But having his entire kingdom discover that their king, their ostensive protector, had unwittingly turned them over in a game of chance—no, strategy!—That would lay the foundation for an insurrection of unprecedented proportion.

"I must...MUST find a way to rectify this, divert their attention long enough to rise above this and prove myself a worthy ruler."

"I concur.  But pray thee, Highness.  Do nothing so rash as to attack blindly.  Having proved her alliance with the Sojourners, the Empress Dowager is not to be underestimated."

"Nor am I." Determined to set a plan into action, any plan, he turned to his advisor, putting aside all feelings of offense, grasped his shoulder and smiled wickedly.  "Mooregaard, prepare twelve legions.  Leave behind three battalions to defend the citadel, that should suffice.  Ready my fleet.  We shall sail from the Northern Shore and fall upon those Tianese dogs in a southerly assault.  Quick and with force.  They shall know not what struck them.  Is this not the best approach?"

"Not by my counsel." Mooregaard bent down and picked up the fragments of the Leit piece which Corigan had dashed.  He tired to fit the pieces of the queen together but soon gave up and placed them on the board, broken beyond repair.   "Such an action is, if you will, predictable.  An army crossing East, straight across the peaks of the Handaras would be seen miles away, so what recourse remains but to land at their shores?  But then, our entire fleet would be swallowed up before a single soldier set foot on Tianese soil."

"Is it any wonder my father chose you as his military advisor?"  Sensing a unity of thought and purpose being forged between them, Corigan nodded with approval.  "So then.  What do you propose?"

With detached patience, Mooregaard righted and set the Leit pieces in an orderly manner on the squares of the board.  "We should send our troops through the southern borders, around the back eastern woods, to the Valley of the Accursed."

A sudden chill rushed through Corigan's spine.  "Are you certain?"

"As you are not superstitious, you should fear nothing."

"It is not for myself."  A weak grin.  "Nor is it fear, but concern, rather.  The troops may find it offensive."  For to set foot in a place the Sojourners once called the Burial Grounds of the Ancients, would surely dampen morale, if not instill fear in those of weaker minds.  In truth, this did frighten Corigan, but he would never admit it.

"It is for that very reason the Tianese would not expect us.  Whatever remnants of the Sojourners there are will be easily dispatched by our troops."

"Yes.  Yes.  A masterful plan."  But Corigan's present efforts were spent in trying to conceal his apprehension.  Mooregaard had all but accused him of being a coward.  He could not afford him any further reason to believe this to be true.  "Very well then!  Gather the troops.  We shall require several days.  Tonight, we march forth."

"By the time the Tianese discover our presence, it will be too late."  Gripping the Monarch piece between his fingers, Mooregaard snapped the head off and tossed the broken shards besides the broken queen.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Having emptied the wine flasks and filled them with water, Render stared out at a sea of sand.  The sun had risen not more than two hours ago and he had ridden his mare—whom he'd named Destiny—out of the wood and to the very edge of the Valdshire Tor.  Before him, waves of heat rose up and reflective pools, which took the appearance of ponds that did not exist, glinted in the distance.  At the horizon, a wall of mountains stretched upwards, white caps against a blue canvas.  In the center, the grandest of all summits, Mount Handara.  Though it stood many miles away, just seeing it with his eyes for the first time, gave him a sense of anticipation.

He put his hand on Greifer, who was awake now.  Though she had slept the entire night, she did not show any sign of improvement.  "We've reached the desert."

She lifted her head from the saddlebag and gazed out at the vast and desolate land ahead.

// FROM HERE, WE MUST TRAVEL WITHOUT INTERVAL.  FOR BY NIGHTFALL, WE SHALL REQUIRE THE REFUGE OF THE HILLS //

"How long?"

// UPON HORSEBACK, HALF THE DAY //

"Are you well enough?"

She put her head back down, her emerald eyes vanishing into the darkness of her fur.

// I SHALL HAVE TO BE //

With a light tap of his heels Render rode forth, wonder and dread intermingling within.  From his perspective, the mountains looked nothing like they had in his dreams.  And yet, they felt so familiar.  As if he were returning to a place to where he'd been, long ago.

As Destiny trotted out into the open landscape, a sound coming from the wood arrested his attention.  It grew closer, louder.  When he turned around, he saw, emerging from the shadows and branches, that which he would not have expected.

Pompous as could be expected, Branson came riding out into the open.  Upon his horse, he matched stride with Destiny and spoke not a word.

"I thought you weren't coming with us."

"Just because I happen to travel on the same path doesn't mean I'm following you."

Render let fly an incredulous huff.  "Right."

"The truth is, I was concerned about you."

This time, a full-bellied laugh broke out from his lungs.  "About me!"

"I suppose it's a weakness of mine," Branson said.  "Invariably, I try to consider those with less fortunate an upbringing than my own."

"Indeed."  Render clicked his tongue, shook his head and rode forth.  "A nobler prince this world is yet to see."

"You may accompany me, if you wish."  A self-satisfied, but entirely unconvincing smile stretched across his face, underlining his smug, half-opened eyes.

"Very well, then.  I presume we share a common destination?"

"That depends on your definition of destination, but I assure you, common has no part in it."

"Whatever you say."

The truth was, Branson had gotten lost in the wood and resorted to traveling towards the setting sun, after a frightening night hiding and trying to sleep under his horse.  Nothing could complete his humiliation more than coming upon Render, that freak of nature, that pauper who had no right whatsoever to have entered his home.  Or what had been his home.

But now, with his home destroyed, and according to Father, with no one in King Corigan's dominion worthy of trust, Branson knew no other choice than to follow his father's instructions, should such a thing as the attack occur.  He was to travel deep in the hills of the mountain range.  The valley where history's bloodiest massacre had taken place.  The Valley of the Accursed.

Despite his sorry attempts to exude the air of nobility, and despite the fact that he was in fact, son of The Lord Agon, Branson felt like a mouse.  A very small mouse surrounded by hungry cats.  Certainly, he must keep Render in check, lest he attempt to lord it over him, but there were times he wished more than anything that Father were there, so that the burden of his protection would not fall upon himself.

And why did Render ask so incessantly where he was going?  He would have to be going in the same direction!  That former slave could not be trusted with the truth, so Branson had to appear aloof and evade questions.

"We shall arrive at the foot of the mountain by dusk," Render said, pointing forward.  "There we can stop for a meal and proceed into the hills for shelter."

Annoyed, yet comforted by his initiative, Branson set his eyes upon their destination.  "Yes.  Yes, I agree."

He would put up with Render's arrogance as long as he could.  But for now, considering his mysterious powers that routed the wolf pack, Render might prove a useful ally in the crossing of the mountain range.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Grateful that the ascent to the first resting place brought nothing more than a few scrapes, Render came upon a tableland partially surrounded by trees.  This would be where they would set up camp.  After he and Branson tied their horses, he started a fire.  The sun fell over the Eastern landscape, painting the sky orange and violet over the snowcapped summits and well into the distance where lay the valley that separated the kingdoms of Valdshire Tor and Tian Kuo.

A crisp evening breeze wafted by carrying the scent of crackling embers, while a pair of doves sang a plaintive song.

Of course, Branson had already sat down by the fire, helping himself to the vittles Render found in the traders' abandoned satchels.  He was pleased, however, to see Greifer leap gingerly from the saddlebag and alight upon the ground without a sound.  She stretched her forepaws, one still bandaged, and lowered her body to the ground.

"Glad you're feeling better."

Branson turned around and shot him a queer look.  "I'm not, actually."

"Not you."  Render stepped over to the black cat and sat by her.  Right away, she brushed her face against his arm.

// THE RESPITE WAS MUCH NEEDED //

"Of course," said Branson, a wry smirk twisting the corner of his mouth.  "You were talking to the cat."  He shook his head and continued eating.

For the rest of the evening, Render avoided speaking with him, which did not seem to bother Branson in the least.  Griefer seemed herself again and Render spent the time attending to her and familiarizing himself with their camp.

When he discovered a small, empty cavern, Branson instantly claimed it for himself.  "I am younger and more apt to becoming ill from exposure to the elements."  And with that declaration, he went in, lay down and went to sleep.   Not too far from the entrance.

Griefer made it clear to Render that she did not care much for the boy, but she suffered him nonetheless to keep their company.

"Come and sit by the fire," Render said and stretched out on the ground.  The cat followed and sat next to him facing the flames.  A wave of exhaustion fell over him.  Though he had put his torn shirt back on, he shuddered as the cool breeze became frigid.

// IF WE BEGIN AT DAWN, WE SHALL CROSS TO THE EASTERN SIDE OF HANDARA AND ARRIVE AT THE SOUJOURNER'S COUNCIL BEFORE MIDDAY//

Render held his elbows tight, trying to stay as close to the fire as he could stand.  "Should we not send off a signal to let them know we are coming?"

// THAT WOULD NOT BE PRUDENT, FOR I HAVE SEEN ONE OF THE WOLVES ESCAPING, SURELY IT HAs REPORTED OUR PRESENCE//

"To whom?"

// TO WHOMEVER IT WAS THAT SENT THEM //

A strong gust blew from the top of the mountains sending a splash of snowflakes into his face.  Render shuddered and rubbed the backs of his arms.  "Won't we freeze to death at the summit, before we ever cross over?"

// YOU SHALL SURELY NOT DIE //

Too cold to argue, Render rested head down upon the satchel.  He rolled onto his side and curled up, such that he faced the fire.  All the while, Greifer sat still, staring out at both ends of the clearing, her tail twitching every now and then.  "Good night."

Save for the snapping of the firewood, the cooing of the nocturnal doves and the moaning wind, silence enshrouded the entire camp.  A stillness Render had never known.  He opened his eyes and gazed into the countless points of light that sparkled in the heavens.   Some flickered white, some silver, some even blue.

"Do you think there are other worlds out there, other people?"

// T'WOULD SEEM A GRIEVOUS WASTE OF SPACE, IF OURS WERE THE ONLY WORLD SO INHABITED. FOR ALL WORLDS ARE CREATED BY VALHANDRA  //

"That name."  Render's spirit quickened.  Courage and dread arose simultaneously.  "Why does it trouble me and stir me so?"

// HIS NAME IS HIGH ABOVE ALL NAMES.  SO GREAT IS HE, THAT EVEN HIS NAME HATH POWER //

"You speak like a Sojourner."  But this did not bother him.  A curiosity, a hunger rivaled only by his life-long desire to know his parents, emerged from the depths of his soul.  "I want to know of Valhandra.  Why the sudden urgency, I cannot say.  But the more I hear that name, the more I feel I have known it my whole life."

// NATURALLY //

He sat up and his heart began to race.  In his mind, the name repeated, over and over.  Valhandra.  Valhandra, Valhandra, VALHANDRA!  Holding his knees tight to his chest, Render began to rock back and forth.  It felt as though his heart might burst.  He held his head between his hands and began to groan.

Then, a warm touch to his face. 

Assuming the form of a great panther, Greifer stood above him and laid the soft pads of her paw upon him. 

// THE CURSE AFFLICTS THEE STILL .  BUT your TIME DRAWS NIGH.  you MUST SOON ENTER THE CRUCIBLE //

The anxiety began to ebb, but his shivering became more tremulous than before.  Render did not care to ask about this curse or crucible.  He could learn more tomorrow.  "I'm so cold.... so frightened."

Greifer lay next to him and curled closely around him.

// REST UPON ME, RENDER //

He did so and laid his head upon her side.  The warmth that emanated flowed through him, comforted him.  The shaking subsided.  And finally, the long needed rest came over him.