This post is chapters forty-four and forty-five of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.
The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43
Chapter 44
In the royal coach of Liat, Princess Danijela held Natasza close to her, like she might hold a crying child. Natasza was inconsolable, and each of her sobs was like a red hot knife into Danijela's heart. Natasza needed to be happy, that was something that Danijela knew in the pit of her soul. But what could she do? They had been lucky to escape from Kubara. Danijela had run screaming in terror from the palace when the priest had begun burning things. For a while she thought that Natasza must have died inside, and she had considered returning to the wreckage of the palace to be close to her corpse. Henrik had held her back, and she was glad that he did when Natasza eventually found them. Natasza was wild with panic, and it only increased when they saw the giant statue lumbering through the city. Danijela ordered what people she could to her coach, and they had set off as fast as they could back to Liat. With Captain Romo dead and only a handful of Lancers left to protect her, she felt horribly vulnerable. And Henrik's scornful looks from across the coach didn't help.
“Natasza, please, it's not that bad.”
Natasza's weeping stopped, but something worse replaced it. She looked at Danijela with raw contempt. “What would you know about it? I've lost my king. My general. My army.”
Heartbroken, Danijela grasped wildly for something to say, something to calm her. “We can get you a new army. Before Gavril, the Liatian army hadn't been defeated for centuries.”
This seemed to get Natasza's attention, and a smile spread across her face. “Really?”
“Yes! Yes! Henrik, you tell her.”
Henrik shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Highness, it's true that Liat has a well deserved military reputation, but we can't ignore the loss we suffered against Gavril. When we took volunteers for the Citizen's Militia, it was like skimming the cream off of milk. Those that remain in Liat that might be pressed into service are less motivated, less inclined to discipline. And it takes years to develop the kind of discipline that the Lancers had.”
Damn him, why was he saying these things? He would surely be upsetting Natasza, just when she had found a way to make her happy again. But for some reason Natasza did seem happy, although she had a curious expression on her face that Danijela couldn't read.
“Yes,” said Natasza. “I see what you are saying. The footsoldiers do matter. I focused all of my energy and attention on Gavril, but when he needed help against the fiery priest his men were nowhere to be found. I was a fool. I allowed myself to be seduced by the complexity of my own workings. The complex webs of motivation I spun around Gavril and Danijela may be beautiful and effective, but they are only two people. The blanket of acceptance I threw over the nobles affected more, but was too subtle, too refined.”
Danijela wasn't sure what any of that meant, but Natasza was smiling now, and that was the important thing.
“I need to go back to basics,” Natasza continued. “Techniques so simple that even the goblins can do them. I don't need subtlety, I need intensity.” She looked into Danijela's eyes. “Subtlety has it's place, but so does brute force. May I experiment on our baron, here?”
“Of course, Natasza!” Danijela answered without delay. “Anything to please you!”
Natasza locked her eyes on Henrik, who thrashed and flailed like he was having a seizure. Danijela held her breath, not knowing what else she could do. Henrik was a sycophantic fool, but she had no desire to see him in pain, if that was what he was feeling. When it subsided, Natasza asked him, “Is anything more important than duty?”
“Of course not,” he answered, his tone of voice indicating that he resented the implication that he might offer a different answer.
“Your duty is to Danijela, Empress of the World. Are you prepared to fight her enemies?”
“Yes,” he answered, although he seemed puzzled that he had said it so quickly. “Yes, all that oppose her must be crushed by any means at our disposal.”
Natasza settled back into her seat and said, “There, I can supply the motivation. Let's return to Liat and gather up our new army.”
As the royal coach traveled through Liat, they dispatched messengers in every direction with orders to muster the Citizen Militia. Danijela ordered every able-bodied man and woman in Liat to report to the town squares, arming themselves with pikes from the armories when they could and with mining and farm implements when there were no more weapons to be had. As people jostled each other in huge crowds, eager to understand what threat had inspired such unusual orders from their princess, Natasza burned devotion into their hearts. Danijela spoke of the need to expand an empire and the enthusiastic adulation of the crowds was almost as intoxicating as the approving smiles she got from Natasza.
As the populace rallied to her banner, leaving the mines and fields empty, Danijela wondered what would happen to her country with all of the normal work abandoned, but that paled in comparison to the joy she felt when she saw Natasza admiring the growing army. Anything to please her.
Chapter 45
Jonas had expected to meet with Benedek sooner. For days he had waited in his bed in the mansion that the nobles had seized as their new seat of government. The surgeon had done something with a burning liquid to his thigh and then sewed the wound shut. An herbalist stopped by several times a day to pack poultices on it, although Jonas averted his eyes whenever he did, having no desire to see how badly he had been hurt. The herbalist also made him eat a bitter soup that he claimed would bring color back to him. Jonas wondered what the health benefits of bringing his color back would be, but knew better than to begin discussing herbs with an herbalist. It would never end.
Eventually, though, Benedek did arrive, and seemed less distressed than Jonas would have expected. He took the small, rickety chair next to the bed, and Jonas addressed him. “Hello, Your Grace.”
“Hello, master sculptor. I believe you have some things to explain.”
“Sculpture is really more of a side line. In truth, I am a wizard. Master Wizard Jonas Terra, at your service.”
“I see. And have you any other deceptions you wish to confess?”
Jonas thought for a moment. “Perhaps not a deception, but an omission. Given my first confession, you will not be surprised that my apprentice is training to be a wizard and not a sculptor. You may be surprised to learn that, in addition to being my apprentice, he is Gavril's younger son.”
“Interesting.”
“I would think that after the Stone Woman, everything else I have to offer would seem anticlimactic.”
“You expect your action against the mad priest to wipe away your sins, do you?” asked Benedek.
“I probably wouldn't have phrased it exactly that way, but I think you have the core of the idea, yes.”
“I shall commence preparations for your festival immediately. I'm sure that all and sundry will gather from miles around to thank you for rekindling the War of Despair in the heart of our kingdom.”
Jonas had always liked Benedek, but this had gone on far enough. He was through humbling himself before the nobility. “I think you have it the wrong way around, Benedek. I'm the one who stopped magic from tearing this kingdom apart.”
“You've clearly broken the First Law," said Benedek. "There are more than a few who think I should have you executed here and now, before you turn your power against us.”
“Please. You would execute me for purchasing stone to convince people that I was a sculptor? If you want to hold me to that strict a standard, then I call you an oathbreaker for submitting to Gavril instead of fighting him.”
“I was thinking more of the forbidden spells you used, from before the First Law was enacted.”
It took Jonas a minute to figure out what Benedek was talking about. “I've broken no laws with my spells, Benedek. They may have been inspired by stories from the War of Despair, but they are my own creation.”
“Why should I believe that?”
“Why should you doubt it? You think I found my spells in a book? Where?”
“Perhaps the same place that this Learned Marek found his.”
“Nonsense. I had never met the man. And besides, if we were in league, why would I kill him?”
Benedek's voice had lost much of its confidence, and he seemed more like the thoughtful man Jonas remembered from Applewood Manse. “Perhaps you quarreled.”
“Or perhaps I saw the mayhem he was causing, the impotence of the knights and soldiers that he was burning alive, and took action to save the kingdom.”
Benedek stared at him for a long moment. “I see no deception in your eyes, but you have lied to me before and I never doubted.”
This was growing tiresome. “Believe what you will, but I don't think that you will execute me for carrying out the duty that you and the other nobles were unable to. This Marek was a threat to everyone, and I destroyed the threat. Where did he find his spells?”
“I suspect he unearthed them. He tricked me into giving him command of a company of engineers in the Wolf's Teeth Mountains.”
Jonas chuckled. “Tricked you? I'd say we have more evidence that you were in league with him than I was. Was he your catspaw, assassinating Gavril, your rival for the throne?”
Benedek seemed to like being accused little more than Jonas did. “You overstep yourself, wizard. I have tolerated your disrespect because your actions did serve the good of the kingdom, but there are limits to my forbearance.”
“And I grow tired of living my life based on the forbearance of others. You were the first to level false accusations here, Benedek, and mine were made in jest. I have never known you to be less than an honorable man, but I will not accept slurs against me, no matter what your title.”
Benedek was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched. “I believe I spoke in too much haste. I have no desire to make you an enemy.”
Jonas regretted his harsh words. Benedek, for all his faults, was a good man who only ever aimed to do his duty. Magic on the scale that Kubara had seen must surely have rattled him. And it was true that Jonas had deceived him. Still, it was important to cement the idea that Jonas's position in society had changed. “I accept your apology.”
Benedek clenched his jaw again, presumably considering whether reigniting the argument was worth the trouble. By Tarkannan custom, a man of Benedek's stature would only be expected to apologize to a peer, even when in the wrong. He let Jonas's characterization of his words stand, an unspoken admission that Jonas was entitled to more respect than the nobility normally gave to commoners. “Given your actions, I assume that you are as troubled as I am by the notion that just anyone might acquire magic like our good Learned Marek.”
Jonas was relieved to move on to matters that were simultaneously less tense and more momentous. “Yes. It is troubling. He acquired his powers in the Wolf's Teeth, you say? How?”
“That I do not know. I am sending Baron Joszua Chase to investigate, but I fear that he will have no better idea about what to search for than I do. As a master wizard, perhaps you would consider lending your expertise to the expedition.”
“That might be wise,” Jonas conceded. Whatever Marek had found in the Wolf's Teeth was probably still there. Jonas was better equipped to deal with it than anyone else he knew. Still, his entire body ached. “I am not in any condition to travel.”
“You can convalesce in a carriage as well as you can here.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Certain enough. The longer we delay, the longer another Learned Marek has a chance to find whatever there is to find.”
“It seems I have little choice, then.”
“Few of us ever do, wizard.”
“What of my apprentice, Rurik?”
“What of him?”
“I have no desire to take him on another long journey, but I hesitate to leave him here. Gavril had enemies, as you well know. They may choose to strike at Rurik out of some misplaced vengeance.”
“You want me to guarantee his safety?”
“I would prefer it if you could have him escorted back to Castle Thornwood. His mother is there. I can understand that you hold no love for Gavril, but the boy is not involved in politics. All he knows is that his father is dead now. That's a hard thing for one so young.”
Benedek thought for a moment and then nodded agreement. “I need to send someone to Thornwood anyway, to determine who will act as duke until Gavril's eldest son reaches his name day. Sending your apprentice along with them shouldn't be too much trouble.”
“Thank you.”