Foretellers (The Ydron Saga Book 3) (16 page)

Harad and his entourage returned the way they had come. Mahaz had begun rising, tingeing the overcast orange as it began to occlude Jadon. As the sky became brighter, they were able to proceed faster than they had come. Their mood also brightened and their conversation reflected a newfound optimism. As Harad’s pace quickened, Rodic matched him.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Rodic said, once they had moved beyond earshot of the others. Examining Harad’s new acquisition, he exclaimed, “With weapons like this, we’ll be unstoppable!”

“Developing new ambitions?” asked Harad, grinning.

“How would I have risen to where I am without them? Aren’t you?”

“We have a long way to go before Monhedeth’s inexperienced army is prepared for any major campaign, not that I don’t intend to start training them. I have a small score to settle first. Now that I think of it, what I have in mind could serve as the first in a series of preparations.”

Rodic threw him a curious glance.

“Care to elaborate?”

“How do you deal with a burr in your side?”

Seeming startled by the apparent change of course, Rodic asked, “What do you mean?”

“If you took a walk through a field and a thorn worked its way under your jerkin, would you just leave it there to fester?”

Rodic laughed.

“Of course not.”

“So, I’m asking what would you do with it?”

“I’d remove it, of course. Why do you ask?”

Harad gave a sharp nod and said, “There is an issue that’s been vexing me for some time. Try as I may to ignore it, it nags at me.”

Harad shook his head and gazed into the distance, lost for a moment as he revisited old memories. When he clenched his fist, Rodic prompted, “Go on.”

Back in the present, Harad released his breath, then related his dealings with Peniff: how the thought gazer had sabotaged his attempt to bring Bedistai and Darva to Hath Kael; how he had undermined his authority with the men he had hired; how he had ultimately shamed him before Hath Kael.

“I can’t go to bed without seeing his face.”

“You’d like to kill him,” suggested Rodic.

“I would rather kill his family and leave him to live with their loss.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“He’s cozied up with the Haroun.”

When Rodic looked puzzled, Harad went on to explain how No’eth’s jumbled topography could fragment an attacking force, making it impossible for a commander to keep track of his troops.

“I’m wondering,” Harad said, pausing to deliberate. “If I were to have them converge from three different directions—from the North, West and East—would that even be a factor?”

“Emmet Lehr has been lamenting that his army is too small,” offered Rodic, referring to the one who controlled Dar. “Perhaps if you were to approach him and offer to combine forces… ”

“Do you know if he is approachable?” Harad asked.

“Anyone is approachable if they believe they have something to gain. If he thought he had discovered an ally who could help forge an inroad through Miast into Meden and beyond, I’m sure he would listen.”

When Harad hesitated, Rodic continued.

“If you entertain any hope of expanding your holdings southward, below the River Em, you will need someone to assist you. By itself, your army is too small, as is his. You’ll need an ally and Lehr is the perfect candidate. He’s ambitious, intelligent enough to spot an opportunity when he sees it, yet not so bright you cannot outwit him, especially with the way you’re able to examine peoples’ thoughts.

“On another note, his army is as untested in battle as yours. The Haroun of No’eth, while not military, would pose formidable enough opposition to test your troops and see where their weaknesses lie. And you will need to test them if you are to avoid disaster when mounting a larger campaign. In the meantime, the conflict between Limast and Meden threatens Miast’s southern borders—Yeset is of no great consequence—and focuses their attention southward. Time is your ally. Once your army and Dar’s have been tested and are ready for something greater, Miast should be yours for the taking.”

Harad was silent for several minutes. Finally he said, “And to secure Lehr’s cooperation, all I have to do is to offer him… ”

“Someone else’s wealth,” Rodic finished.

“The fortunes of Miast,” said Harad.

“And Limast. And Meden. Their forces dwindle daily.”

“And what will be mine?” Harad asked.

“Why, all of it of course. Lehr is growing old and is likely content to remain safe within his walls. Offer him whatever you think will secure his cooperation. You, on the other hand, will be leading both armies into battle.”

“And you, Rodic? Where will you be?”

“I will ride beside you into Dar. Once you’ve secured Lehr’s cooperation, I will return to barakMis to guard your interests.”

Harad arched a brow.

“You will be guarding my interests?”

“You control the armies. If you don’t trust me, you can easily unseat me.” He took Harad by the collar and brought him to a halt. Locking eyes he demanded, “Look into my mind if you think I’m a scoundrel.”

Harad complied and confronted the unexpected, something alien until now. Rodic was a friend.

The West Wind lashed out as they started along the trade route into Dar, forcing Harad and Rodic to draw their cloaks tight. The cold months had begun as Mahaz continued to occlude Jadon. Even at midday, influenced less by the white dwarf’s intense heat and more by its dimmer companion, the sky turned deep green and the landscape darkened. Storms grew more frequent and intense while the days became shorter and temperatures fell. Harad had to shout to be heard above the gale.

“I sent a pigeon to Lehr alerting him to our arrival and to assure him we are coming in peace.”

Messenger pigeons were the best means of communication over great distances, but since they would only return to the place where they had hatched, this form of communication required a degree of cooperation between both sender and recipient. From time to time, parties who required this form of correspondence would deliver half a dozen or more birds to the appropriate location and a similar number would be sent in their place. In this case, however, the bird Harad had released had been given to his predecessor, so it was no indicator of Lord Lehr’s regard either for him or his ascent to power. Furthermore, pigeons often fared poorly in storms, despite their persistence. So while, in a more temperate time of year, Harad might have waited for Lehr to reply and reveal his disposition, with the grains in the proverbial hour glass draining away, he elected to depart soon after sending it, hoping for the best.

“I wanted to ease his concerns about the troops we are bringing.”

In fact, Harad and Rodic were riding at the head of a phalanx of one hundred fifty guards. These days, traveling unaccompanied bore considerable risk, so he and Harad had deliberated at length about how many horse soldiers they should bring with them. They needed more than a handful, but also recognized that riding into Dar with too large a column could be interpreted as a threat. On the other hand, too few, even this far north, would leave them exposed, if not to an exploratory party out of Miast, then certainly to the troops guarding Dar’s western frontier.

Harad turned in the saddle, pleased with what he saw. Tales of how he had come into authority had been spreading among the brigades. While certain stories spawned fear, others painted baffling portraits of a stranger who had arrived unexpectedly and, just as unexpectedly, had seized the throne. Understanding the power such mystiques could lend, he did little to dissuade them. He required a certain degree of fear from those he ruled, but he also needed their loyalty. To that end, he implemented measures he believed would help foster it. Realizing how a week in the saddle could sap even the heartiest men of their strength and spread discontent, especially when accompanied by unbroken discipline, he allowed his guard to ride at ease. As a result, many were joking and their relaxed attitude pleased him. He hoped that, to a foreign observer, their relatively small number and casual demeanor would be a sign of their peaceful intent, while leaving his men refreshed enough to respond to any hostile reception. He was also pleased that Rodic had come along voluntarily. While he had offered to stay behind, Harad wanted a friend at his side when he confronted Dar’s warlord. Throughout his life, he had been forced to badger and cajole to obtain what he wanted and now he had a willing ally. Of added importance, Rodic had actually met Emmet Lehr.

“Sabed Orr was a fop and a dandy,” Rodic once told him. “He loved to impress and threw numerous galas to flaunt how many key figures he knew. The nobles and dignitaries who attended those events did so, not only to avoid his wrath, but also because of the unique opportunities his parties afforded. Although I was hardly one of the elite, many members of society had learned the extent of my more useful skills.”

He gave a wink.

“They knew I had friends in, shall we say, the more shadowy circles, who could obtain goods those in the more proper strata had difficulty finding. Baron Hamel was among them. He invited me to join him on several occasions, not only to repay me for favors I had performed by finding me new clients, but also to connect certain of his friends with someone useful.” He gave a slight bow along with another meaningful wink. “Thereby placing them in his debt.

“Shortly before Orr’s demise, Lord Lehr made a surprise appearance at a ball thrown to commemorate one of Orr’s alleged accomplishments. Who knows if the event we were honoring bore any more resemblance to reality than the palace statues that were supposed to portray him?”

He was referring to the fact that the diminutive ruler was rendered in statuary almost as a giant.

“Halfway through the evening, amid a fanfare of trumpets, who shows up but the Lord of Dar himself? He was dressed impressively enough that anyone with half an eye could see he was likely the second most important person in the palace. I say ‘second’ because no one dripped more gold or precious stones than Sabed Orr. Even so, it’s good Orr announced him. I don’t think anyone there had ever met the man.

“Orr personally escorted Lehr around the hall, taking great pains to introduce him to everyone. He didn’t want anyone to miss the fact that the lord of a neighboring land had honored him with a visit. He started with the most important nobles and worked his way down. Baron Hamel was well down the food chain, so it was almost midnight before he came around to us.

“When they finally graced us with their presence, I’d had a great deal to eat and drink—emphasis on the latter—so I’ve forgotten most of the conversation. Nonetheless, I got the distinct impression of a man of little frivolity. Lehr’s smiles came with great difficulty and he paid us the barest attention. It was only when Hamel mentioned his military connections that Lehr’s interest piqued and he finally became aware of the baron.

“That’s why I think you have a good chance to succeed. He’s the lord of a backwater land with limited resources and he’d like to be more. Perhaps that’s why he came calling. If I’m right, I’m sure that Orr’s death dashed whatever hopes he entertained. If you can convince him you have a mutually beneficial plan, I’m sure he’ll come along, if only in spirit. He’s almost seventy, so it’s highly unlikely he’ll want to accompany you into battle.”

“Do you think he will assist with my little problem?” Harad asked, referring to his intended attack on No’eth. “I’d really like some reinforcements.”

Rodic shook his head.

“I’d keep it to myself. I could be wrong, but if that part of your plans doesn’t suit his needs—and I suspect it won’t—he could instruct his officers to the contrary and that would put an end to it.”

They considered how best to approach him over the course of the ride to barakDar.

Brown stone battlements on a barren landscape and blood red banners streaming from its walls rendered barakDar forbidding, causing Harad to accept Rodic’s assessment of Emmet Lehr as accurate. The fortress was the antithesis of barakMis, a castle whose red stone walls engraved with elaborate designs were set on a lush green field bounded by woods. While Monhedeth’s castle reflected opulence and the former ruler’s self-infatuation, Dar’s, on the other hand, spoke of a lord possessed of greater practicality. The citadel’s smooth, tightly fitted stones would be more difficult to scale and the vast empty expanse surrounding it made undetected approach impossible, as had the welcoming party Lehr had dispatched to meet them.

When they were still a mile or more from their destination, Harad and his expedition were intercepted by a force of, by Harad’s estimation, two hundred or more of Lehr’s troops—enough to ensure they were outnumbered, but not overwhelmed. Once each party’s commanding officer had identified himself and assured his counterpart of his peaceful intentions, while explaining the consequence any deception would produce, Lehr’s commander situated his men at the front, rear and on either side of Harad’s and escorted them to the fortress.

As they drew near, Harad spied soldiers peering from the battlements and archers positioned within the wall’s crenellations. Even though war had not yet extended this far north, if it ever did arrive it would not catch Lehr sleeping. Harad suspected that, despite his advanced age, he would be a difficult man to deceive. Ironically, that prompted him to thank Peniff, the man he hated most. Although he intended to eventually exact from him the price of his betrayal, he was nonetheless indebted to Peniff for having bestowed his ability to outmaneuver even the wiliest opponent.

The cavalcade arrived at the brink of the moat and Lehr’s commander reined his horse next to Harad’s. The wind fluttering the fortress’s banners ruffled the red horse hair crest of the commander’s bronze metal helm. Its cheek plates and nose protector left two cavernous eye holes, within and beneath which the man’s features were obscured. Even to Harad, the result was unsettling.

“Lord Harad,” the commander said with a deferential bow. “I am sorry, but I have been ordered to inform you that your troops must remain outside the walls.”

Harad and Rodic had already discussed this possibility, weighing the risk of entering unaccompanied against losing Lord Lehr’s cooperation, and had decided they needed his assistance enough to risk it.

Harad wanted to sound confident, so, forcing a smile he replied, “I understand.”

The commander nodded and replied without pause. “Since we do not know how long you will grace us with your presence, I have ordered my men to establish an encampment a short distance east of here.”

He turned in the saddle and gestured toward several rows of one-man tents which would act as their housing, two larger ones Harad took for a mess hall and infirmary, and a nearby stockade for their horses.

“Your men will remain there for as long as it is necessary.”

“You and your lord are most considerate,” Harad replied.

As Harad’s troops were led away, the commander glanced aloft. He waived toward the battlements and the drawbridge lowered. When he spurred his horse forward to lead them inside, Harad and Rodic exchanged glances. They were in, although on uncertain terms, for the commander’s thoughts revealed only what his lord had instructed, nothing to provide insight as to Emmet Lehr’s motives. With no choice but to comply, they followed him in and hoped for the best.

Inside the walls, a squire took their horses and they proceeded across the courtyard on foot. They entered the castle’s main building and noticed at once that barakDar’s interior, like its facade, was the antithesis of barakMis. Instead of polished marble and an array of statuary, the walls and floor were constructed of smooth tightly fitted stonework housing nothing ornate. Instead of murals depicting scenes taken from the ruling lord’s flights of fancy, the sole decorations were the banners of each governing house, as well as shields, swords, maces, helms and breastplates bearing identifying crests. All were polished to a high luster, indicating the respect the lord afforded each of them. Four great fireplaces lined the great hall’s longer walls, two to a side and each of them ablaze. Dozens of torches added illumination, as did numerous brass candelabras suspended from the ceiling. Many citizens, dressed in fine but not showy attire, were clustered throughout, as were several groups of peasants, waiting, it appeared, for the lord to grant them an audience.

It did not take long to identify Emmet Lehr. Across the hall, opposite the principal entrance, rose a dais. It did not tower like the one in barakMis. Even so, the bronze throne on its summit put the lord sufficiently high above his subjects’ heads that he gazed down at them. As Harad and Rodic entered, Lehr was addressing a petitioner dressed in rags and kneeling at the dais’s foot. The man peered up as he listened.

“We should wait here,” the commander instructed. “When my lord is finished, I will introduce you.”

Too far removed to hear what was said, they could only watch as the dialogue dragged on longer than Harad would have liked. The voices of both the petitioner and his lord gradually rose both in volume and pitch. At one point, the petitioner raised both arms as if to implore. Lehr pointed at the man and shook his finger in response. Abruptly, Lehr rose to his feet, extended one arm and pointed to the door. The petitioner clasped his hands to no avail as two guards lifted him from his knees and carried him away.

When Lehr folded his arms, scowling at the departing peasant, the commander moved close to Harad.

“My lord will see you now.”

“We can wait,” said Rodic, eyeing the one they were dragging.

The commander scowled and said, “I am instructed to bring you to him the minute we’ve arrived.”

Harad, in fact, was already proceeding toward the dais. As the new Lord of Monhedeth, he felt he had been kept waiting long enough, doubting that Lehr would have tolerated similar treatment as patiently as he had. He arrived at the foot of the stairs just as Rodic and the commander started after him.

“Some days don’t go well at all, do they, Emmet?” Harad asked, smiling as Lehr turned.

The face that had been dark turned darker and the lord of Dar demanded, “Who admitted you?”

“You did,” said Harad as he started up.

“I?”

“Your commander informed me you were expecting us.”

Commotion in the hall caught Lehr’s attention. When he raised his eyes, Harad followed his gaze and saw soldiers and palace guards running to overtake him. The commander and Rodic, hurrying across the floor after him, had almost arrived at the dais’s foot.

For a moment, Lehr looked confused. But when he noticed the commander, then looked back at Harad, something registered and his expression transformed from puzzlement to comprehension.

“You?” he said.

“That’s right.” Harad grinned. “I’m your new neighbor.”

As the approaching footsteps and voices grew louder, Lehr studied Harad’s clothing which, while finely made, bore the grime of a week spent in the saddle. After a brief consideration, he raised his hands to halt the approaching guards.

Turning back to Harad, he observed, “At least you’re not a fop like your predecessor.”

The remark caught Harad off guard and he paused near the summit, doubling up with laughter. A second later, Dar’s lord joined in. He was still grinning broadly as he gestured towards the ones still waiting to be heard.

“I’ve had enough of these whiners. Come. I’d like to talk with you somewhere more private.”

Harad nodded, motioning to Rodic to join them.

Lehr led them through a curtained partition at the dais’s rear, then down a passage to a small but well-appointed room. Its doors were planed smooth and finished with fine lacquer, then fitted with sculpted bronze hinges and handles. The table, while not ornate, was sealed with a lustrous brown varnish and plush velvet cushions were affixed to the chairs. On arriving, Lehr whispered to a servant who returned moments later with three oversized flagons. Following Lehr’s example, Harad and Rodic lifted their own, swirled the red wine within and sniffed.

“One of the things this land is good for,” said Lehr, raising his own to his lips.

Once Harad and Rodic had begun washing the dust from their throats, Lehr leaned toward Harad, apparently glad to have another noble to confide in.

“Thank Siemas, I no longer have to deal with your prancing predecessor.” He wrinkled his nose and added, “I cringed every time I had to look at him. I suppose you know he had requested my assistance.” Without waiting for Harad’s response, he added, “He thought that we two, by uniting forces, could overwhelm Meden and eventually Limast.”

He downed the rest of his drink and shoved his flagon aside, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He appraised the new arrivals just as Harad reached out with his mind and examined him.

Lehr, Harad quickly learned, suspected his visitors had come in search of the same sort of alliance, and Lehr believed he knew what such an operation might entail. Naturally, concerned about Harad’s sincerity and motives, he also worried about the size of Monhedeth’s army, although no less about the size of his own, and whether deploying even a portion would leave his land vulnerable.

“And now you show up on my doorstep,” Lehr said, “and I’m wondering if you have similar ambitions.”

“We all have ambitions,” Harad replied. “They’re nothing to be ashamed of. You wouldn’t be ruler without them.” Lehr nodded in appreciation, so Harad added, “I want to make sure we both keep what we’ve acquired.

“If Meden and Limast don’t reduce each other to rubble, the victor will eventually look for other lands to conquer. Miast is all that stands between them and Dar. From there, the northern route brings them to Monhedeth. It’s only a matter of time until they devour us both and the only solution I can see is for us to join forces. I suspect you see it too, or you wouldn’t have bothered to respond to Orr’s invitation.”

“You’re right in that,” Lehr replied, wincing at the mention of Orr’s name.

“Do you communicate at all with Ben Haro?” Harad asked, referring to Miast’s ruler.

“From time to time, but not about matters such as this. I suppose I’ve grown too comfortable in my old age to consider going to war.”

“I understand he’s been rattling sabers and making tentative forays. Do you think he’d consider joining forces?”

“He can’t be trusted.”

“Even the most poisonous viper can be trusted to protect his nest. While I’ve never met him, my friend Rodic informs me the man is not stupid. I’m sure he understands what’s at stake. If I can prevail on you to send word of our intentions, perhaps we can learn something from his response.”

“I’ll have my cooper fit a bird with a message,” said Lehr. “Once he responds, or in the event he fails to do so, we can decide on which course of action to take next.”

That pleased Harad. Lehr had been more amenable to this line of reasoning than he had anticipated. As they continued their discussion, Harad grew increasingly confident that, when the time arrived, Lehr would indeed place his troops under his command, at which time he would make Peniff suffer.