THE WARRIOR KING

When Karigan and her companions came within a couple miles of the encampment, she brought them to a halt. She guessed they’d been spied by scouts keeping watch, and it wouldn’t be long before they encountered sentries patrolling the perimeter. This might be the last time she got to speak to them without an audience. She gazed at each one of them: Duncan, and the three Eletian tiendan, Byrnin, Shoshan, and Kiris.

“I would appreciate it,” she said, “if we kept the news about my new status in Eletia to ourselves.”

“Why would you wish this, Dama?” Byrnin asked.

“It’s just . . . It’s just I’m still trying to get used to the idea of it myself, and trying to figure out what it means. There is already so much going on and I don’t think King Zachary or anyone else needs to be bothered with it.”

“I do not understand why anyone would be bothered by it,” Byrnin replied. “It is an honor.”

“It’s well . . .” She waved her hand in the air, not sure of the answer herself.

“I confess I do not understand the ways of your people,” he replied.

“It is not the sort of secret one can promise to keep,” Duncan said, “but I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks.”

She received no indication one way or the other from the Eletians for they had already moved out to take up their positions in a triangle around her. She sighed.

They encountered the first sentry before she expected. He was clearly waiting for them. “We were ordered to keep an eye out for you, Rider,” he said, “by the king himself, but he said nothing about Elt.” He gave the tiendan a sidelong look.

“They are, er, my escorts, sent by Crown Prince Jametari.”

The sentry grunted his acknowledgment and led them to the next sentry, where he handed them off so he could return to his post. When they reached the third, it wasn’t just the soldier awaiting them but Tegan astride her horse, Osprey. As they approached, she dismounted and led Osprey forward, grinning.

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed. “And you’ve brought friends.”

“You’re alive, too,” Karigan said with a laugh, and the two hugged.

“Wish I could get a hug,” Duncan said mournfully.

Karigan petted and scratched Osprey’s neck, and took in the delightful musk of the sun-warmed hide of a horse. Pleased with the attention, the mare nickered for more, and Karigan, who missed her own Condor, was more than happy to oblige. “I’ve been worried about everyone ever since the Lions attacked and the wraiths came.”

“We’ve been worried about you, too,” Tegan said.

Karigan introduced the Eletians.

“It would appear you have quite a story to tell,” Tegan said.

“You have no idea.”

As they walked toward the encampment, Tegan started catching her up. “We’re all well,” she said. “The Riders, I mean. None of us were hurt when the Lions attacked. The Weapons took the brunt of that, and many soldiers, too.”

Karigan recalled the killing of the three in Zachary’s tent. She’d considered Willis and Ellen friends as much as Weapons could be such.

“The captain sent Fergal, Elgin, and Melry back to Sacor City,” Tegan added, “with messages for the queen, and to get Melry out of the war zone.”

Karigan could only imagine how much Mel loved that. She’d be champing at the bit to go in search of her mother.

“So,” Tegan said, “you’ve actually been in Eletia all this time?”

“All this time? I’ve been gone for only a few days.”

Tegan halted and stared at her. “Karigan, it’s been a month.”

“It’s been what?”

“The Eletians probably didn’t tell you,” Duncan said, “as they are accustomed to it.”

“Tell me what? Accustomed to what?”

“Places where the etheria is resonant, such as Eletia, seem to exist at a different pace than the rest of the world. Sometimes slower, sometimes faster. You do have a lot to learn about your new homeland.”

“Your new homeland?” Tegan asked.

“Long story. I’ll tell you later. And you!” Now she turned to Duncan. “It is not my homeland, and remember what I said about not talking about it?”

“I did tell you that such secrets are hard to keep.”

“Well, try harder.”

Duncan pursed his lips. The Eletians, who ranged at a distance, did not voice their opinion on the subject of her homeland. Tegan looked like she was dying to know more, but refrained from asking. Instead, as they continued on, she told Karigan the news of the royal infants.

“Everyone is all right?” Karigan asked.

Tegan smiled. “Yes, a healthy boy and girl, and the queen is doing fine, as well, thanks to Anna.”

“Anna?”

Tegan told her about the attempted assassination and Anna’s deft action with a flowerpot.

“Hearing about the babies really lifted everyone’s spirits,” Tegan continued, “and I daresay there’s been a twinkle in King Zachary’s eyes that I hadn’t seen since the colonel was abducted.”

It was a relief to hear about the babies and Estora on a personal level, and it was also good news for the realm, for the heirs represented stability and continuity during a time of turmoil.

“You’ve no news of the colonel?” Karigan asked.

Tegan shook her head. “A ship flagged with the two-headed eagle of Varos was spotted leaving Storm Harbor a little more than three weeks ago, and we assume she was on it. I am under the impression the king is doing something about it, but what, I do not know.”

Storm Harbor was a town in Hillander with considerable commerce and a sizeable fishing fleet for the town’s modest size. A Varosian ship would be noticed, but of interest only to the customs house. Presumably the Varosians would have kept the colonel out of sight. By now, she would be far out of reach. Once again, anger kindled in Karigan’s chest that she and the Riders had not been allowed to pursue the Varosians when they had the chance.

Tegan also told her that incursions by the Raiders had become fewer and less widespread, and those that did occur were not as organized. Leaving Torq in the white world, and denying the Raiders the use of the travel device, had apparently had a positive effect. This was good news.

When they entered the encampment proper, Karigan was surprised to see how much it had expanded. On the outskirts, traveling merchants had set up wagons, carts, and booths, creating a small market selling food, trinkets, fortune-telling, and useful items a soldier could not get from the quartermaster, such as needle and thread, liniment, and personal items like hair brushes and tobacco. There was even a portable brothel in a covered wagon in which the soldiers could spend their meager earnings. The scent of sweet pies baking at one booth made Karigan’s mouth water.

One vendor sold an elixir he claimed would cure any imaginable ill. Shoshan paused by his booth to sniff the contents of a bottle. The vendor, unfazed by an Eletian in her white armor stopping by his wagon, began to extol the virtues of his product.

“From foot rot to lice,” he said, “from an intolerant belly to toothache, my elixir will cure all. Just for you, my lady, I will throw in a free bottle with your purchase of three.”

Karigan knew all about these charlatans. He would try to sell as many bottles as quickly as possible so he could pack up and leave before his customers figured out the elixir would not cure their ills, and might possibly make them more sick. She was about to steer Shoshan away, but the Eletian wrinkled her nose and set the bottle back down on the table.

“You may keep your vile poison,” she said.

“Well, now, that’s not very friendly,” he said. “In fact, that is downright slanderous!”

Karigan was afraid he might cause trouble, but Shoshan ignored him and walked away, and the vendor changed his tune when another customer walked up to his booth.

Shrines had been set up just beyond the merchants. They honored not only Aeryc and Aeryon, but other gods less frequently venerated in this age—Valora, goddess of war, and Faraday the Healer, among others. Soldiers lined up for the privilege of lighting a candle and leaving an offering of coins in return for a blessing from one of the presiding priests. It was appropriate, she thought, the shrines were adjacent to the market.

The encampment was noisy and smoky. Depending on wind direction, one might receive a face full of the stench of urine from the latrines, or the fumes of metal being worked by blacksmiths. Provincial units swelled Zachary’s ranks, their banners posted to mark their assigned sections. They came from as far away as Wayman. Some of the units lacked the order and polish of the Sacoridian regulars, for they’d no uniforms or armor, and they’d brought whatever weapons were available to them, be it a great grandsire’s notched and rusted sword, or a scythe. Their tents were pitched haphazardly, and the soldiers sat idle before their fires, smoking and drinking, and seeming to just watch the activity of the camp around them. No few made the sign of the crescent moon as the Eletians walked by.

Other units, much to her relief, looked more battle ready. Some provinces maintained standing militias, and these were better equipped, and were as disciplined as the Sacoridian regulars.

Deeper into the encampment, she glanced up toward the pass. She halted in surprise.

“What is it?” Duncan asked, and he followed her gaze. “Ah, I see. The king has been busy.”

The Sacoridian front line had advanced across the valley toward the pass, though it remained well out of the range of projectiles. It did not appear as if there had been any actual combat, but the new line looked well-entrenched with earthen fortifications in place, a row of tents, supply wagons traveling to and fro, soldiers drilling, and cavalry training on open ground. It would be an impressive—and intimidating—sight to those up in the pass, especially with the main encampment of the Sacoridians massed behind the front line. None of it would make a difference, however, if a way was not found to infiltrate the keep.

It looked like Second Empire had been busy, too, barricading the pass itself. Plumes of smoke rose behind the barricades, and she imagined the troops there did not stray far from the keep. And why should they when it contained everything they needed, including fresh water and the food and armaments that had been stockpiled for the Sacoridians who had been stationed there?

It took a while to reach the center of the encampment, and when they arrived at the king’s tent, they were greeted by Fastion.

“Ah, Sir Karigan, you’ve returned to us,” he said. He assessed the Eletians with a glance. “It would appear you’ve an entourage.”

“Er, no, not exactly.” She cleared her throat. “I am here to report to the king. And Captain Connly, too.”

“Then you have arrived at the right moment,” he replied.

Seven horsemen rode up to the tent, six Weapons on black horses and wearing black armor. They would have been impressive enough, but at their head, like a knight of old heroic ballads resplendent in his armor, and riding upon his tall white war horse with the sun glinting on the pommel of his sword, was her king. No parade armor did he wear, but cold steel unembellished but for the etched sigil of Sacoridia on the breastplate, and marks caused by the battering of his opponents’ weapons.

He lifted the visor of his helmet, and his brown eyes surveyed the encampment before him like a hawk, stern and sharp and in command.

This was her king, she thought. This was Sacoridia’s warrior king.