The Hollow Queen (29 page)

And still there was glow to their cheeks, shine to their eyes.

They were looking to him with the same loyalty and vigor that he had felt for his original commanders, the men who had taught him all that he had known, not just about swordsmanship and defensive maneuvers, horsemanship and battlefield configurations, but camaraderie, valor, and endurance. He had trained with them, fought beside them, bled beside them, carried their corpses out from the desolate grounds of battles lost, and buried them with honor.

He remembered them, when all of history had forgotten their names.

The field commanders were counting off their muster now.

Anborn rode to the eastern battalion and stopped before them, standing in a seemingly endless assembly.

“Men of the Alliance,” he said solemnly, his voice booming over the encampment, “today we begin the purge that will return the holy city of Sepulvarta, the City of Reason, to its religious leadership, will drive the aggressors from our homelands, and will take back control of the Middle Continent. The nation of Sorbold, under the leash of its new emperor, has committed atrocities not only on the religious city-state, but across the Known World. It is time he and his armies are brought to heel.”

A roar of approbation echoed across the plain.

Anborn hid a smile of delight at the sound.

“Rules of engagement,” he continued briskly. “Any Sorbold soldier who surrenders on the battlefield or off it is to be captured when possible, though never at the risk of your lives or those of your comrades. No wanton or needless destruction is to be visited upon their towns and villages, though, of course, those towns and villages must be subdued first in any manner necessary within your training and your oath. No women are to be defiled—”

A mass snort of amusement rumbled across the plain; Anborn smiled.

“No
civilian
women,” he corrected. “In short, you are to comport yourselves in a manner that will not reduce your own humanity, but that will at the same time ensure victory of our cause. Because the cause you take up this day is not just a noble one, it is an essential and necessary one, the driving out of a monstrous invader, the protection of your own homeland. It is the righteous defense of the Known World, Life, and the Afterlife. When you are contemplating your objectives, do not lose sight of the urgency and importance of your mission—for failure will cost this world far more than I can put into words. Are you ready?”

The answering call of
yes sir!
rolled over the fields of grass and all the way to the foothills of the Teeth.

“The first wave will ride with me to the aid of Sepulvarta; the second will defend the Threshold,” Anborn commanded. “Your comrades who remained behind while you advanced to this place are at this moment defending the northern city-states of Roland; our prayers go with them. Divide and come with me, First Wave; Second Wave, may the All-God guide your swords and arrows, and mind your horses, cavalry. Mount up!”

The shout of acclaim that answered him sent a thrill through Anborn's blood and reinvigorated his battle-aged bones. He nodded to the field commanders of this division, then set off westward, to repeat the call to arms to each of the factions that would follow him south this day.

THE HARBOR OF VIENEZ, GOLGARN

Far past the Firbolg mountains to the south, a thousand leagues away from where the Lord Marshal was addressing his troops, a ship was docking in the quiet port of Vienez in the seaside kingdom of Golgarn. It was a royal ship, but that notwithstanding, its arrival was unheralded, its flag the standard not of its own kingdom, but that of the new Emperor of the Sun in the neighboring land of Sorbold.

The ship, after a drawn-out dispute with the harbormaster's vessel, was finally allowed to land in the royal dock, much to the outrage of its sole passenger.

Beliac, Golgarn's king.

He waited, silently and impatiently, as the various documents of passage, harbor certificates, and logbooks were examined, inspected, and eventually approved, allowing the ship to off-load its single passenger and copious cargo, then strode down the gangplank to the pier and eventually to the street, where a royal coach had been summoned but had not arrived yet.

“We had no notice of your return, sire,” the minister of the harbor said sheepishly, trying to keep his eyes from meeting the furious gaze of his king. “You departed six and a half months ago; we did not know what had happened to you.”

“I've been at
war
, you imbecile,” the king growled. Then he coughed, somewhat abashed at the overreach of his statement. “Or at the edges of it.”

“Yes, Majesty.” The minister turned at the sound of horses' hooves approaching, clattering against the cobblestones of the street. “Do you wish to return immediately to the palace, or will you be stopping at the Sea Duchess, as you did before you sailed?”

“To the palace, of course,” Beliac said, climbing into the coach as the minister held the door. “The royal family members are no doubt beside themselves with worry.”

*   *   *

The royal family clearly was beside itself, Beliac discovered upon returning home, but worry was not the emotion that had them in its grip.

Upon being greeted by the palace servants, the king was escorted into the dining room, where he discovered his wife, Queen Eunice, and his eldest son, Prince Hariton, at supper. The crown prince rose immediately to his feet at his father's arrival, wiping his mouth with his napkin, while the queen remained seated, a look of unmistakable displeasure wreathing her face as she chewed and swallowed the bite of food she had taken in as he entered the room.

“Father! Welcome home.”

Beliac nodded to his son. “Hariton, good to be with you again. Dearest, you are looking well.”

The queen said nothing, but dabbed her mouth and folded her napkin decidedly.

The servant-at-table looked around awkwardly, as the queen was occupying the king's customary seat.

“Never mind,” Beliac said, gesturing toward the empty chair at the other end of the table. The servant-at-table quickly pulled it out, and the king sat down.

All the waitstaff disappeared in the direction of the buttery.

The queen and the crown prince returned to their meal, while the king of Golgarn stared in amazement.

“Have you all gone quite mad?” he demanded as his wife and son looked up again. “What happened to decorum?”

“Sorry, Father,” Hariton said nervously. “How was the coronation?”

“Did you meet the Lady Cymrian?” his wife asked, laying down her spoon again.

“
Lady
—no! I didn't come within a thousand miles of her. What is the matter with the two of you? Where are the other children?”

“To bed,” said the queen, taking up her spoon again. “What kept you, then?”

“Are you unaware that the Known World is
at war
, dearest?” Beliac demanded.

The queen and the crown prince exchanged a glance.

“I am aware that Golgarn is without its navy,” Queen Eunice said finally. “Much of the palace guard has been redeployed to help protect the harbor from an undesirable element that has sprung up since you gave the emperor of Sorbold our warships, but of late they have also recently been fired upon by incoming vessels, as has the harbormaster.”

“You must be joking,” Beliac said as the servants-at-table returned, bearing a simple repast, which they set before him.

“I assure you, Father, 'tis no joke,” said Prince Hariton seriously. “The Spider's Clutch is running rampant on the waterfront now. And we have had to repel several attacks just outside the palace walls.”

“This is
insane!
” Beliac sputtered. “Attacks? Was it the Bolg?”

The queen and the crown prince exchanged another glance.

“What?” the king demanded. “Why are you behaving so oddly? Has that encampment of Bolg been the instigating force behind all this insanity?”

“The good news, Father, is that there are no Bolg,” Hariton said after a long moment.

“What do you mean,
no Bolg?
An entire outpost of them was discovered not long before I made my alliance with Talquist, the emperor of Sorbold. Up in the hills, not three leagues from here! It was grisly, I tell you—you were here, Eunice, when the scouts came with the reports—human skulls on guard posts, partially eaten body parts strewn everywhere—”

“It was a fraud,” said the queen steadily. “There were never any Bolg within three hundred leagues of this land.”

The king stared at his wife and son as if they had lost their minds.

“I—I am at a loss as to what to say to the two of you,” he said at last, putting his fork down beside his untouched plate.

The queen rose in her place at the table.

“Well, my dear, perhaps that is so, but believe me, I am at no such loss. The palace soldiers went, at your instructions, on a regular guard route to make certain that the encampment of Bolg did not grow larger, or begin to come nearer to the border. Each week there seemed to be less and less movement, fewer heads appearing on posts and the like. Finally the sortie of soldiers screwed up their collective courage and approached the lair of the Bolg, only to find it empty.”

“Empty?”

“Perhaps that is incorrect. It was uninhabited by anything living, and apparently had been so uninhabited for several weeks. What was left behind, besides the realistic-looking human heads—some of those actually
were
real, in fact—was nothing more than litter, dice, a few decks of playing cards, and a pig's head atop a scarecrow of a body dressed in furs and armor. Other than that, there was no sign of anyone, human or Bolg.”

“It's true, Father,” Prince Hariton said quickly as a look of dismay beyond measure took up residence on the king's face. “I went to the encampment myself—under heavy guard, of course—and toured the place. It was exactly as Mother has described it.”

“So while you have been away these last seven months, playing court fool to the new emperor of Sorbold, our kingdom has been beggared, our citizens are living in fear, and our trade has fallen to almost nonexistent—”

“There is a
war
on, dearest!” the king all but shouted. “The entire Known World is at war! The Patriarch of Sepulvarta was an apostate, a purveyor of atrocities you cannot begin to imagine. The Lord and Lady Cymrian, while fair of face, are apparently rotten and evil at heart, were starving and poisoning the citizenry of the Hintervold! And the Bolg have been massing all along, waiting to overrun—”

Queen Eunice pushed in her chair impatiently.

“Excuse us, please, Hariton,” she said.

The crown prince's glance went from his mother to his father, then back to the queen again. Quickly he rose and pushed his chair in, then left the room in all due haste.

The queen walked around until she was standing beside Beliac.

“Your childish obession with being eaten alive by Firbolg has cost all of us dearly, Majesty,” she said curtly. “I have spared the children the truth, but I know it; I endured your flailing about in your sleep during the years we occupied the same marriage bed as you groaned and whimpered and wept about it. Apparently you must have confided it at some time or another to an untrustworthy friend or ally outside the family, or perhaps a palace servant overheard you when you were tossing in your sleep after we began to maintain separate chambers. Who knows? All I can surmise is that you were manipulated because of it, led to believe that the monsters you fear were stalking you, when in reality, it was all a lie.

“But it doesn't matter now. Even if you wished to wreak vengeance on whomever has had such amusement at your expense, you are in no position to do so. Our treasury is empty, our reputation as a world power is soiled, denatured, our military might belongs to Sorbold now, and you are the laughingstock of your own people. Welcome home. I hope your journey west was worth it.”

She bowed slightly and stormed out of the dining room, leaving Beliac staring at his untouched supper.

 

The Battles of the Citadels

 

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