Winterfinding (4 page)

“
Fled with his own
daughter.”

“
Abandoning
us.”

Soren abruptly tossed the two great ledgers
he had brought in with him onto the stone floor. They landed with a
hard, echoing thud next to Kerr each sending up a plume of dust
into the bright rays of light falling in from the high ceiling’s
windows. The gesture silenced the alders.

“
Here.” Soren’s voice was
gravely now and boomed through the chamber, “Here are Wynne
Landis’s finding about the alm you all had kidnapped by that
perfidious corsair. The pirate who then tried to extort you for
more treasure—a move only denied by Landis himself who arrived just
barely in time to clean up your mess. You had a rapist steal away
an alm. Most likely kill a paladin.” Soren looked around the room.
“Let that sink in. You did it so that would could have a hostage to
ransom.”

Kerr’s face was dark, “We all know why we
did it.”

“
Do you? Because I don’t
think any of you truly grasp just how cowardly, desperate, and
stupid that ‘strategy’ was.”

Soren leaned forward over the lectern,
“Wynne knew immediately. The man who had been burying the suicides
that had been attempting to break The Blockade. The man who had
been living in a hovel eating rancid snails and gulls for nearly a
year. The man who pulled this city together—for a second time—once
we found him. He knew.”

“
We don’t need a lecture…”
Kerr said.

“
No, no you don’t,” Soren
cut him off and gestured to the ledgers, “Read for yourselves. That
alm wasn’t some casual priestess. She was the adopted daughter of
Sinclair Somerled. But you all knew that thanks so some mysterious
contact in The Cathedral.” The door to the chamber opened a crack
and Qala began to exchange whispers with whomever was on the other
side. Soren noticed her slip out but didn’t let on as he continued
to berate the alders.

“
What Landis discovered
was that that alm, Kira Ambrose, was scion to the Parmentier spire
in Ardavass.” There was a collective seizure of breath from the
alders. Kerr’s eyes narrowed but he stepped back slightly as the
weight of this new information hit him.

“
She has rights in the
assemblage in the Seven Spires; she is an unacknowledged
kyrio.”

Soren nodded as Qala slipped back into the
room. She moved with serious intent now, Soren could see it on her
face. She came up to the side of the lectern and gestured for
Soren, he bent down to listen.

“
There’s a fleet
approaching.” Qala whispered.

“
Reinforcements for the
Blockade.” Soren suggested but Qala shook her head.

“
This is a new fleet. A
different fleet.”

“
The Merchant Fleet?
Another wave from the Spires? What do you mean?”

“
These ships, they look…”
Qala shook her head baffled, “They look like ancient Lappalan
vessels.”

“
Lappala?” Soren muttered,
“But…”

“
There’s thousands of
them.” Qala gave her brother a hard long stare, “I’ve never seen
this many ships. I’ve never even heard or read of so
many.”

Soren rose back up startled and drifted back
to the lectern. The alders had been grousing among themselves
trying to process what Soren had revealed about the alm and The
Cathedral. He raised his hand to regain their attention, “Because
of her lineage and the laws of the Light, Landis was sure that the
alm was sent forth to be killed or captured by us. Thus allowing
The Cathedral to sanction not just the Spires siege of our city but
annexation of our nation of Essia.”

The alders irrupted, but Soren spoke over
them, “Landis does not believe that Sinclair has the leverage he
needs yet to acquit this move. We are waiting, my friends. We are
waiting for Landis to unmask Sinclair’s conspiracy to steal away
our lands.”

“
There will be war.” Kerr
muttered.

“
Landis believes he can
avert it.” Soren quietly replied. Kerr shook his head and
disappeared into the throng of animated alders talking over each
other.

Qala tugged on Soren’s shoulder, “You need
to see this.”

The meeting was over, “Alders! Alders,
please.” Soren again tried to bring them to heel. “We need to
continue as we have been. We are rebuilding this city one brick at
a time. Right now, we need to organize ourselves and stay united. I
will soon be speaking with many of you individually as we move into
the next phase of Prime Alder Landis’s plan. Please be patient.”
There were shouts of dissent and some disgruntled scoffs but most
of the alders seemed satisfied with Soren’s words. They certainly
didn’t envy him the position Wynne had left him in.

Qala’s tug became a firm grip as she
escorted Soren through the crowd of alders to the far end of the
chamber where they exited through a tall, skinny door that lead to
a thousand short stairs. She pulled him along, “The best vantage
will be Crown Apex. I’ve men there now gathering information.”

Soren pulled his arm free and continued up
the stairs behind Qala. “How many?”

“Several. Each with a monocular recording
details of the advancing fleet’s ships. Well, not advancing
really.”

They had moved to a brisk trot as they
ascended and soon the spiraling stairway opened to a wide walkway
that overlooked not just the Rikonen harbor but also the Novostos
Sea. Soren saw the black line of linked ships that made up The
Blockade.

Qala nudged him to look beyond out over the
Novostos. As he did, he could make out a dark wide mass. Qala
handed him a monocular and as he brought it into focus, the fleet
revealed itself to him. These were Lappalan ships, as though they
had jumped right out of the storybook pages.

But there were other ships, huge ships that
were so mammoth Soren could barely believe it, “What the…”

Qala nodded, “They’re some kind of new
vessel. I’m just guessing but they seem to be at least three
hundred yards long. We don’t know yet if they’re cargo vessels or
something else.”

“What cargo though?” Soren muttered as he
stared through the monocular, “They’re not moving. They’re
anchored?”

“Seems so,” Soren put down the monocular and
turned to listen to Qala, “When my people spied it coming they kept
quiet, not sure they were in their right minds. Once they got close
enough to make details out, then they came and got me. Apparently,
they’re in range to see The Blockade and that must be why this
armada has stopped in its tracks.”

“But something this size,” Soren gestured
toward the sea, “could surely bully its way through The Blockade.
There must be a thousand ships there.”

“We don’t know if it’s a military fleet or a
trade fleet. Maybe they don’t have the personnel to attack.”

Soren shook his head still in disbelief,
“Still. Still.”

“I know.” Qala guided him along the walkway
to a different vantage, her tone softened as she asked, “Do we know
for certain Lappala knows about The Blockade?”

“How could it not?” Soren said
incredulously.

“I know, I’m just saying. News travels
slowly, especially when it has to cross the Ragan Mountains or
travel the Novostos and Avostos before getting to trek across the
arid Aral to Lappala.”

“You think that they…”

“Thought maybe it was going to be a
short-lived thing? Decided to pick a side and constructed this
armada to aid that side? I don’t know.” Qala shrugged, “But not
knowing...”

“This changes things.” Soren squinted trying
to see the fleet without the aid of the monocular.

“Yeah, but what things?” Qala asked.

“Everything,” Soren turned jogged back
towards the stairs, “for everybody.”

The Blockade

Admiral Lesur was not a fat man, but he had
grown soft these pass three years. He had come to realize that his
appointment to command The Blockade had not been a boon. At first,
in Elixem he had been damn eager to not just make the shortlist but
also be the admiral. Lesur had poisoned the right kyrios in
Ardavass against his only real rival, Vivao Paternii, by revealing
the marshal’s overly affectionate relations with the Cathedral’s
novices.

The young Kyrio Knowles was easily disgraced
by encouraging him to use heavy-handed tactics to quell an agrigy
protest over crop pricing. Finally, a wicked bargain with Kyrio
Alois gave him the commission. He should have known when Alois had
refused to barter with him and gave in to his request immediately,
he wasn’t asking for anything of value.

No one thought The Blockade would last.
Either the Cathedral would step in to put things right or the
Spires isolationist factions would end the siege calling the
marines home. Lesur thought taking command would fast track him to
a landed position; he would be one of the new lordlings. Instead,
The Blockade had calcified. His dispatches were progressively
ignored. He oversaw new marines, always inexperienced and barely
trained, and waited. There was no opportunity for glory here.

Lesur rose from his chair and shuffled to
his cabin’s bar cabinet. Taking up a crystal carafe, he poured into
a tall glass far too much Elixem gin. He caught his reflection in
the mirror above his glassware. His face was fatter than when he
had left. It wasn’t age, but boredom. He turned away in disgust.
Crossing the room again moved toward his cabin’s window, which
looked out over the Novostos.

These days drink was sating his depression,
but he found his anger required more and more to stay muted. He
raised his glass and drank deep, closing his eyes, he saw an even
red as the light reflecting off the water outside bathed over him.
The Spires had its knee on Rikonen’s throat but his superiors
wouldn’t allow him to put the city out of its misery. Slowly
choking Rikonen to death was draining him of his resolve.

There was a knock on his door. Before he
could respond, Baxter, his valet, entered, “Sir, Commander Moxley
is here. He claims it’s urgent.” Lesur didn’t turn around or
respond. Baxter nodded and disappeared for a moment into the dark
the hall.

There was a rattling as Moxley entered,
“Admiral.” He stood at attention but Lesur carried on ignoring him.
He finished his drink, and then held the glass out to his side.
Moxley was becoming uncomfortable, toying with the idea of speaking
when Lesur wiggled his glass. Moxley came forward gingerly taking
the glass and stepping back. He hesitated, wondering if he should
set the glass down or refill it. Lesur betrayed nothing as he gazed
out the window.

“Sir, if I may…” Moxley stuttered. He held
the glass like it was a foreign object. “Shall I get you…?” He
muttered.

“You’re not from Ardavass are you Moxley?”
Lesur said evenly.

“Yes sir,” Moxley spoke slowly, “I mean, no,
I am not. My family seat is in Bandra. But I have lived in the
Spires since I was a boy.”

“Bandra,” Lesur scoffed, “The only city more
zealous than Sulecin.”

Moxley said nothing as Lesur turned
slightly, “Are you some religious nut? One of those Bandran
puritans with the gold fetish.” Contempt filled his voice, but it
was clear he was merely using Moxley to entertain himself.

“Admiral, we have spotted something that
demands your attention.”

Lesur flicked his wrist at Moxley, pointing
wildly at the bar cabinet. Moxley didn’t understand at first but
them realized. He poured a finger into the glass from the open
carafe and brought it to Lesur, who scrunched up his face in
disappointment when he saw how little was in the glass.

“Go on then…”

“Sir, we have discovered an approaching
fleet of ships.”

“Is there any other kind of fleet,
Moxley?”

“What? Well, no, but…” Moxley shook head.
“The point being Admiral that this fleet is not ours. It is not
Silvincian.”

Lesur raised an eyebrow, “Merchants
then?”

“No, sir.”

“Essians?”

“Absolutely not.” Moxley was adamant.

“So then…” Lesur twirled his fingers at the
Commander.

“We are unsure.”

“Well, that’s helpful.” Lesur turned and
moved closer to the window. He peered through the glass, gazing
this time with purpose. On the horizon was a thick black blob. He
couldn’t focus his eyes well enough to make out the ships, “Now
that’s queer.”

“Would you like to view it better, sir?”
Moxley stepped forward holding out a spyglass to him. Lesur
snatched it away from him, flicked it out, and raised it to his
eye.

“A fleet of what? Warships? Transports? A
sea caravan?” Lesur asked as he focused the monocular. The fleet
filled the iris, huge black vessels next to which sailed
dreadnoughts, frigates, and galleons.

“Yes, I believe so.” Moxley said flatly.

“Lappala.”

“Sorry, sir?”

“There are Lappalan junks out there, the
pennants are of the cartel.”

“How do you…”

“I’m a damn admiral.” Lesur snapped, turning
on his heel, thrusting the spyglass into Moxley’s chest, brusquely
brushing him aside. He made his way through the narrow hall to a
stairway. What drunkenness he had been allowing himself to wallow
in was quickly dissipating. He flung open the doors at the top of
the stairs stepping out into the blinding light of a pristine blue
sky. Moxley was fast on his heels, followed as well by Baxter.

“Sir shall I…” Baxter asked just behind
Moxley, barely outside.

“Go.” Lesur barked. He pointed at Moxley,
“We need three ships readied. The fastest bylanders we have. And
we’ll need to send a proper ship out to that fleet.”

“How many men?”

“Skeleton crew and pick a fireteam you feel
comfortable with, you’re going to the Seven Spires as soon as we
figure out who they are. I need one of those ships sent east within
the hour, simple courier.” Moxley was startled as Lesur bellowed to
another commander, “I need a ship readied to head out to meet that
fleet, and I need it fully manned.”