The Black Sword Trilogy: The Four Nations (14 page)

             
“And what do you think I should do about this disloyalty?” Melkur asked.

             
“He should be executed, of course.” Leyews answered.  “Death is the only punishment that truly fits this offense.”

Melkur fell back in his chair, his mental capacities returning and his thoughts more clear.

              “And what should I do after that?” Melkur asked the Doctor.

             
“My Lord?” Leyews answered feeling a little confused.

Already, Melkur was beginning to feel drowsy.  He knew it would not be long before the medicine took full effect and he would be fast asleep.  First, he had business to do, he thought.  First he had to remind this miserable
doctor and everyone else in the room who was King.

             
“Whom should I replace him with?” He asked Leyews.  “The Army must have a commander.”

             
“General Fraust, of course,” Leyews answered smoothly.

             
“Really?  You think so?”

             
“I believe he is next in line.”

             
Melkur sat up as straight as he could and motioned Leyews to come closer.

             
“General Fraust is an idiot!!” He shouted in Leyews’s ear.  “He’s never commanded an Army in the field and so long as I am King, he never will!”

             
“But my Lord,” Leyews pleaded.

             
“Do yourself a favor, Doctor and stay out of military matters.”

Leyews bowed low and humbly, but Melkur wasn’t done with him yet.

              “And don’t ever presume to tell me my business again!  I am King here!”

             
Looking around the room, he saw several of the King’s advisers smiling, two even laughing.  Angry and humiliated, he left the room.  His master would hear of this.

             
Back in the King’s chamber, General Fraust cautiously stood before Melkur.

             
“Your Majesty…” He started feebly.  “What are we to do about Krypt?  He…he has, after all disobeyed you.”

             
The King yawned and looked toward the bed.  The girl hiding under the covers looked inviting, but he was too tired tonight.  Perhaps in the morning when he felt more rested, he could take what he needed from her.

             
“Who says I have to do anything?” He answered Fraust.

             
“My Lord?”

             
“I’m the King.  I can do or not do whatever I want.”

             
“But he has…”

             
“I know what he’s done.” The King yawned again.  “And I know what I’m going to do.  I’m going to bed and going to sleep.  I shall decide Krypt’s fate in the morning.”

             
It was a clear and crisp night in the Grand Army’s camp.  General Krypt sat on a rise overlooking the encampment looking at the stars and watching steam escape from his mouth.  He held a tin cup full of coffee and was listening to the relative silence of the late night.  Down in the camp, most of his soldiers were sleeping while the night watch patrolled the perimeters.  All was peaceful, but he wondered as he had every night before whether this would be the last such night for him.

             
At virtually any moment, he expected a rider to come over the rise in the plain past the camp from the direction of the White City.  He’d been moving the Army at a snail’s pace toward the city of Geedings; five miles a day and then two days of rest.  Supplies were waiting for them there, but not safety.  Surely, he believed the King knew of him disobeying his orders and surely a messenger was coming to bring him back to Kallesh for his execution.  But it had been over a month since leaving Kallesh and still no messenger and he knew this King was not the forgiving sort.

             
He heard heavy footsteps breaking the silence.  He turned quickly to look in their direction and saw the familiar silhouette of Valon approaching him.

             
“Sorry to disturb you, sir.” Valon told him.

Krypt looked back toward the camp feeling relieved.  It was no assassin this time.

              “Don’t you ever sleep?” He asked Valon.

             
“Not when my General is awake, sir.”

             
Valon sat next to him with a fresh pot of coffee in his hand.  He poured some of the steaming liquid into Krypt’s nearly empty cup.

             
“What are you thinking about, sir?”

Krypt took a thoughtful sip.

              “I’m thinking this is some of the worst coffee I’ve ever had.”

Valon laughed.

              “I’m serious.  This stuff is terrible.  I’m thinking I should have the cook flogged.”

             
“That’s one way to win the hearts and minds of the troops.” Valon joked.

The two sat quietly for a moment while Krypt continued to look at the stars and the horizon.

              “If we push hard, we could make Geedings by tomorrow evening.” Valon said breaking the silence.

             
“How far do you think it is?”

             
“Not more than ten miles.”

Krypt thought about it for a moment and nodded.

              “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

             
Valon felt uncomfortable at his General’s silence.  He’d served with him nearly his entire career, but had never seen him so worried.  He wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but knew better of it.  Krypt was never one to share his private thoughts, not even with those he trusted.  He was surprised then at what Krypt told him next.

             
“I’ve never been afraid to die.” Krypt said.  “Not even when I was a young boy serving under General Thool; not even in my first battle.  While other soldiers my age and older were wetting themselves at the sight of the enemy coming towards us, I was calm and relaxed.  My thoughts were as clear as if nothing was happening and I thought it strange.  I remember thinking that I was supposed to be afraid.  I was supposed to want to run and hide, but I didn’t feel like that at all.  I didn’t feel bloodthirsty or wild.  I didn’t want to dive into the enemy and kill everything in sight.  I just wanted to do my job and get it over.  And that’s how I’ve felt going into every battle; whether it’s been against bands of raiders or against three thousand Wolfen.  I just wanted to get it over with.”

             
“But now, I keep looking at the horizon to the north, waiting for a rider to come and tell me my fate.  Now I fear the wrath of a stupid and vain King and I’m afraid.”

             
“Are you afraid of dying, sir?” Valon asked.

             
“I am, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.  I know this may seem vain or egotistical, but with other good Generals all over the land searching for armies that aren’t there and with the disappearance of Krall, I know I’m the last competent General the Grand Army has.  There are other clever officers I know; yourself for one.  But someone has been setting their will against this army since the beginning.  Someone wants us to fall apart and someone wants us to lose.  More than that; someone wants Walechia to fall.”

             
“Why would anyone want that?” Valon asked.  “I don’t even think the King of Masallah is really our enemy anymore.  I’ve even heard King Melkur has signed a treaty allowing free travel through the pass of Parabas and that the Masallan King has removed his forces from the border.”

             
“I’ve heard the same.  But it’s not an outside enemy wanting our demise.  It’s someone on the inside.”

             
“You think maybe it’s that doctor?”

             
“He may be the instrument, but he’s not clever enough to come up with any plot of his own.  No…someone’s pulling his strings.”

             
Valon thought of comforting his General.

             
“Well, the men are all with you, sir.” He told Krypt.  “They will fight and die at your command.”

             
“I know they will.  They’re good, loyal men, but what I fear more than anything is who would command them after me.”

Valon thought of several answers to that, but said nothing.  He knew that sometimes to say nothing is the wisest.

              Krypt then lay back on the cool ground and looked directly at the stars above him.

             
“I suppose we’ll just have to have faith.” Krypt said.

             
“Faith?” Valon asked.  “What has faith to do with anything?”

             
“True faith, my friend,” Krypt continued in a happier tone, “Is knowing that no matter what is happening at the moment, in the end everything will turn out the way it’s supposed to.”

             
At that moment, a shooting star crossed the sky and suddenly Krypt found himself feeling that everything was indeed going to turn out alright.

Chapter 20

              Kenner had the dream again; the one with the strange creatures, the huge, domed building and the giant tree stump resting on the tiled floor of a great hall.  He could see more this time; grass and vines growing in cracks of the stone and a cloud of wispy smoke coming from the huge, black stump.  There was a vine stretching to one side of the room and attached to a great billows being pulled slowly up and down by, what he presumed to be servants.  Another vine stretched to the top of the pedestal upon which a larger, even hairier creature sat on a throne of silver.  The creature was looking down at him and smiling as if he knew something Kenner didn’t want him knowing.  The vine was held in his hand and he held it to his mouth.  Was he smoking from it?

             
Just as he pondered this question, he heard a noise as if someone knocking on a door and he woke up.  His eyes focused on a ceiling barely lit by a dim, orange light that seemed to be dancing off of the walls.  The knocking continued and he felt the softness of the bed underneath him and the soft sheets around him.  He raised himself to look to where the light came from and saw an oil lamp on a nightstand next to the bed.  An oil lamp, he thought?  He’d only seen a few of those in his lifetime and knew that they came from Sheyron.  Looking around him further, he saw in the dim light that the room was small; just a bed, a nightstand and a door.  That was where the knocking was coming from.  Curiously, the knocking was coming from the bottom of the door.  He got out of bed and went to the door.

             
Unlocking and opening the door, he saw Shela just outside.  She was lying on a rather helpless looking man.  Her mouth was just above the man’s head and her eyes focused on him.  He had a fearful, but not quite panicked expression and he was holding another oil lamp in his left hand.

             
“Good morning, sir.” He said nervously, but still politely.  “I…um…trust you slept well.”

Kenner looked down on the pitiful sight and had to stop himself from laughing.

              “I see you’ve discovered that my cat doesn’t like anyone disturbing my sleep.”

             
“Ahem…so it would seem, sir.”

He stared down at the man for a few moments and then saw Shela turn her head quickly and growled angrily at several others standing in the hallway.  They backed up a step at her warning.

              “Can I help you?” Kenner asked.

             
“Um…” Another, older man said to Kenner, “We’re just about ready to get under way, sir.”

             
“Under way?”

             
“Aye, sir,” The man said in a heavy accent.  “You’ve booked passage to the port of Lahkhert and we could leave with the tide, provided of course…” And the man paused.

             
“Provided of course, what?” Kenner asked amused.

             
“Provided your kitty doesn’t eat me first mate.”

Shela peered into the frightened man’s eyes with her own and gave him another low growl.  Her razor sharp claws extended a little, dig
ging slightly into his skin.

             
“If you don’t mind, sir,” The man politely pleaded.

             
Kenner yawned and stretched.

             
“Let the nice man go.” He told Shela.  The man with the lamp grunted as Shela released her grip and sat up.  She moved to the side of the first mate but continued to growl at him as he slid the rest of the way from under her, stood up and dusted himself off.  He smiled at Kenner and pointed him in the direction of the hallway.