Chapter 15: Lo’dai Goes Northward

  Another month passed with Kagarani leading his army alongside the Divine Message through the southern West Midlands, defeating several lords on their march to Leislay. Conveniently, each battle would end with Ralu’s men arriving late, in time to declare victory, while the Midlanders had already retreated a quarter mile away. Ralu would thank Kagarani for clearing the way, then make camp while Kagarani moved further north. It was during this time that Na’Vanad made a name for himself as the best of warriors in Kagarani’s army. He was credited with slaying one hundred men and wounding plenty more.

  Yashin made it clear that Kagarani would have already made him a knight if doing so wouldn’t prevent Ralu and Rontisil from embracing him. There was no advantage to that promotion under Kagarani. He already commanded more authority without a title than all other Shavuim, except for Yashin. In fact, he legitimized Yashin as an excellent second-in-command by his success.

  The Divine Message initially fought like disorganized barbarians, but once Bardom taught Oukleze’s men how to fight like real soldiers, they adapted. Their success would have been commendable if they had not been brutally murdering their own brethren. Bardom’s qualms grew quieter with every battle they won, and every time he caught Aya Ralu’s eye. It was an understood agreement between them—there would be no betrayal of Kagarani while Na’Vanad was there.

  When Bardom explained it to Yashin, he was perplexed why Ralu went along with this. The arrangement was beneficial to Ralu, where he profited while avoiding any risk to his men. Ralu’s supply lines were manned by merchants who had worked out shipping deals with the lord before the campaign began, providing the camps with high-quality supplies from Stet-Lek. Bardom would find himself visiting Ralu’s camp under Captain Anders’s protection while he visited for several key items. On the other side, Kagarani’s supply lines were strictly for food and other necessary supplies.

  Bardom found apothecaries and doctors who could aid with injuries or ailments. Bardom struggled with sleeplessness and would occasionally require antiseptics for cuts. The most important, however, was the correspondence.

  Bardom and Sali wrote letters to one another, and Bardom used a code to instruct her to share them with Adella. The updates from Stet-Lek were welcome while he stayed in the colder and quieter West Midlands.

  Before the attack on Leislay itself, she wrote:

  Na’Vanad,

  You’ll be glad to learn that several women are claiming to be pregnant by you. I know they are liars, but this is actually a good sign. Shavuim will tell their boys that they are the sons of great men, as a hope that they will become as great as that person. This has not happened for a few years. It’s not a small thing.

  As you might expect, Ralu’s Shavuim all heard what you did for my sister, Nula. She is beginning to walk again, and she even smiles. They all call you ‘Lo’dai’, which I'm sure you don’t like. Yet your exploits tell another story. You are not just a symbol of judgment by the divine. You’re a hero, sent to save us from our misery. And all you had to do was help some people to earn that reputation.

  It should not be a surprise that the death of Sir Wilago was met with celebration here. Naturally, that celebration was met with a harsh response by Ralu’s men, who picked out a Shavu to blame as the killer. However, the accused surprisingly declared that he indeed killed Sir Wilago in vengeance for assaulting Nula. I’m sure you’ll find that interesting.

  None of that was true, but he said it anyway, to protect the true killer, whoever it may have been. Then they sliced his head off and warned us not to touch the Lekkians ever. We were sad to see him killed, but we were proud, too. The Shavuim begin to dream of a world where they are free.

  Na’Vanad, you have changed things here. The Shuavium of the other lords have begun to see it too. This is why I can share with you now, as news of your victories comes down here and spreads. Somehow, the truth is revealed that you are leading the battles and are victorious each time. Be careful.

  Sincerely,

  Sali

  Bardom penned his response.

  Sali,

  I am glad to hear of your sister’s recovery. She’s a good woman and deserves to live. May she continue to recover well.

  Women should know better than to lie about a boy’s parentage, but alas, I suppose there’s no stopping it. I am moved by your words. Inspiration was never my intention.

  As for our campaign, I note the same things as in my previous letters. Ralu does not join the fight, nor do I expect he will. There are about a thousand fighting men in the Divine Message, which aids our primary force by servicing the vanguard. These men, Yashin’s men, begin to view themselves as my own soldiers. I am grateful for their confidence. It makes fighting alongside the enemy easier.

  It has yet to fail us, but we have not yet faced serious opposition. The enemy lords are coalescing, however. This once disjointed kingdom is reunifying to save itself. I fear it’s too late.

  These lords south of Leislay are not prepared for our force. We beat them at each confrontation and destroy their villages. As they run back to Leislay and its walls, I wonder if they sense how doomed they are.

  As I’ve mentioned before, the Divine Message are dangerous. Their belief in purifying the world, that the Great Leader has been sent to deliver the Kahl’s violent message, is insane. What is worse, some of them have begun to call me “Lo’dai” as if I were divine myself.

  So these are the matters that concern me. I’m sorry, I don’t have more. Be sure to check on the tea, and even pour yourself a cup. I hope to see you soon.

  Warmly,

  Na’Vanad

  ***

  A memory took Bardom while he sat around the fire one night after they finally could see Leislay in the distance. He felt unusually broken, dwelling on Sir Mogue’s death. He could have spared him. He could have taken him prisoner and made him his own slave, another co-conspirator. But that’s not what he did. He chose to kill him instead. When Mogue raged at him with his last strength, Bardom secretly wished he’d succeeded in killing him. He was doing a terrible thing by being there in Leislay. It would not end there. He had no guarantee he would even succeed. Is that what Sir Mogue died for? The possibility of justice? The possibility of Bardom becoming just as wicked as Rontisil?

  As he stared into the flames, he went back to that terrible day in Katan-Bat. Wally and Kent led as they carried his mother’s corpse and the armor of the dead Lekkian who had killed her. They passed through the center square, where the bodies of Abban, Atzulah, Wahda, and many others hung lifeless, swinging lightly.

  “Damn them all,” Wally whispered.

  Bardom halted, looking over them all, the sack that held his mother inside still slung over his shoulder. A few men acknowledged him, asking him if he needed something. From behind his mask, his lip quivered.

  “What is it, boy, have you gone deaf?” one of them laughed.

  Wally and Kent approached hesitantly.

  “What’s your man’s issue?” the guard asked.

  “It’s been a hard day,” Kent said. “He’s exhausted. We need to haul all of this a long way still.”

  “Admiring the Great Leader’s work then,” the other guard laughed. “A couple of dead royals is quite the sight.”

  Atzulah’s jaw hung open, his eyes were wide with fright, as his last expression. It is all unfair.

  Bardom blinked away a tear and turned around. “It sure is.”

  The flames danced on the wood that night near Leislay. He was far from home and so alone.

  The next morning, Bardom sat in a broken temple, somewhere between meditation and presence. In his lap was a tome he came across in the ruins of a Kahlist temple. The title of the book spoke to his soul: Alas For My People. The book was written by an old Kahlist prophet, who warned the Lekkians that turning away from their religion would lead them to a life of oppression and tyranny. The prophet wept for his people as they grew not to care about the very constitution of their country. They worshipped wealth instead of the Kahl, and he could not save them. Bardom saw with his own eyes what this old text warned of: slavery, worshipping of leaders instead of god, and war on a scale once thought unthinkable. He probably meant war within Stet-Lek, unconcerned about the country’s neighbors. But of course, their suffering was the Kahl’s concern, too.

  Despite Stet-Lek long being the center of Kahlist theology, Kahlism was the dominant religion across the whole continent. The minor religions were tolerated in most countries, and the ideas they preached were usually polytheistic, worshipping nature and spirits. Bardom rarely found them logical, and they were far from mainstream. The only reason he believed in the Kahl was that he was meant to represent nature as a unified force. Not all-good or all-bad, but a baseline for justice in a world filled with cruelty and randomness. If the Kahl determined how that order operated, Bardom had faith that his place in it was not designed as a punishment, but as an opportunity. The Kahl did not punish men. The Kahl had men decide such things for themselves, but was the one to give them the ability to do so.

  As Bardom read the pages, he could hear the cries behind this man’s writing, begging for men to hear him, even as he knew it was futile. He wrote impassioned essays on how the Kahl had designed men to have free will, and to decide matters of justice for themselves. He wrote how the Kahl gave men challenges in predictable cycles, where that free-will was put to the test. Bardom sighed as he considered the folly of the old Lekkians. This book was written nearly 70 years before Rontisil usurped power. How could they be so naive?

  He read the first few chapters, but the depressing nature of it soured his desire to continue. He let its weight press on his thighs as he stared off at the open clearing beyond the pillaged hamlet where they garrisoned. In this house of worship with a broken-down wall, he tried to find some peace.

  Images of Katan-Bat burning flickered through his mind. His father’s face appeared in his thoughts, sending a sinking feeling of fear and anguish through his chest and stomach.

  As he felt his pain, a woman in a loose, dusty black shawl stopped before him, carrying a bundle of kindling. He did not reach for a weapon nor show her any hostility. Only a courteous eye, despite his grief.

  “You are reading in the ruins,” she whispered in disbelief. The words were not hers; she appeared to be quoting them.

  Bardom looked at the book, then at the temple. “I suppose.”

  With a trembling finger, she asked, “Is your birthday in three days?”

  Bardom thought about the date. He remembered someone mentioning it in passing, and remembered the sadness that his birthday was soon approaching. He frowned at her. “Who are you?”

  “Is it?” she asked more forcefully, her eyes wild.

  Bardom shook his head.

  Her shoulders sagged, and her eyes darted for something else. “The one who will save us… he’ll read in the ruins, born on the Day of Calamity…”

  It was suddenly clear what she had meant. A prophesied hero was meant to rescue them, to rescue everyone. As a slight breeze passed by, he noticed a page in his book slightly bookmarked. Bardom glanced at the anxious woman, then opened to the page. He blinked in surprise.

  And if still it is all for naught, then know it is four generations that shall suffer. But upon the fourth and cruelest, know the Kahl will provide your deliverance.

  He shall be a prince, a hidden knight surrounded by enemies.

  He shall have the fieriest heart, both in love and rage.

  His mask will be gold, but his face of flesh.

  He will be a blood son to all, avenging generations humiliated.

  He will read in the ruins, born on the Day of Calamity

  The wanderer will find his way, the boy will stand as a man.

  Bardom frowned at the text. It seemed… eerily applicable to him.

  He recognized the Kahlist influence on her, which was clearly popular in the region. In Katan-Bat, Kahlism was a casual belief. In the Midlands, it was powerful, however. A woman could be forgiven for believing in sorcery and prophecy there.

  However, to him, it was bogus. Men did things. Men acted. Fate did not intervene in matters. Belief in such fantasies was a waste.

  Born on the Day of Calamity, he repeated in his thoughts. So vague. What could that mean?

  Then he remembered the morning’s discussions. If Aya Ralu arrived today, they would launch their attack in three days. The lord had been hanging back for a week, not advancing his troops. “Their day of calamity,” Oukleze had called it. Bardom glanced uncomfortably at this woman, then stood up fast—leaving the book on the ground.

  She looked at him with eager eyes, calling back to him with pious praise. But he only fled, hurrying away to avoid further attention. His birthday was in four months, but Na’Vanad was born on Katan-Bat’s day of calamity. Who would be born on Leislay’s?

  Immediately after, Bardom stepped into Kagarani’s makeshift court with a troubled look, his eyes replaying the scene of the woman. That fanatic…

  “What’s the matter with you?” Yashin whispered, pulling him to the side so the other soldiers wouldn’t keep their eyes on him. “You’re late! Our lord is deciding final unit placement.”

  “I’ve been assigned to the vanguard for weeks,” he mumbled absently. “I don’t care.”

  “You should care,” Yashin responded. “Each unit will depend on the others when the battle starts. We cannot afford a misstep. Get a grip!”

  Something’s not right, Bardom looked up, noticing the change in Yashin’s intensity. He wouldn’t lash out like this unless the situation was dire…

  “Has Ralu arrived?”

  Yashin frowned. “What?”

  Kagarani shot an annoyed glance at the two and halted his narration of the battle map. “Is there something you wish to say, Na’Vanad?”

  Bardom swallowed. “Has General Ralu arrived yet?”

  “Yes,” Kagarani frowned, then looked at the others in bothered astonishment.

  Bardom’s jaw hung open with excitement. It had been so long since he felt this way— the excitement fuelling his fire. He pushed past the others and exited to the edge of camp, where he could see plumes of smoke in the distance. The sort that came from campfires. He pointed and slowly closed his hand into a shaking fist. It’s time I stop fearing fate, he thought.

  Ralu chugged down his water while Kagarani watched. Bardom and Yashin stood behind him, while Anders and Layos flanked Ralu.

  “You look tired, Loran,” Ralu said, wearing his own black military dress uniform, adorned with tassels and buttons of gold, contrasting with Kagarani’s silver. “Surely that won’t be a problem for the incursion. Hm?”

  Kagarani glanced at Yashin, then back at Ralu. “Three days to sleep, Aya. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re an older man than I am,” Ralu wiped his mouth. “Stamina is important for a leader. I’ve found the relief of sleep to be rejuvenating, but never the same as the thrill of success. Is it possible you’ve become tired of your successes, Loran?”

  Bardom watched Kagarani. Ralu’s testing him. They play an insidious game of backstabbing. How is it that Kagarani is caught in this man’s trap? He is shrewder than Ralu. Ralu must have betrayed him in the past, before he murdered Vakin.

  “I regret that your father passed away when he did,” Kagarani said. “There was much he did not get to teach you, like how to be a respected general past one’s physical prime.”

  Ralu smirked. “He did teach me ambition.”

  “Ambition killed him,” Kagarani said, still sitting composed. “Abban L’Ani never forgot his raid.”

  “Well, he made it so that I would not forget, either.” Ralu’s eyes were cold. “I paid him back three times as harshly.”

  “You didn’t,” Kagarani said, “ I did. I am grateful for the wealth that victory gave me. I’m sure you’re satisfied with your portion, too, even if all you did was terrorize the city.”

  Ralu sensed the dig: Kagarani was confident enough to imply knowledge of Ralu’s betrayal of Vakin. The younger general did not react, but only rubbed his index finger with his thumb. “I was there. We both served the Great Leader that day. You led the assault because it was decided you’d get that fief. I did as I was ordered.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “Hm,” Ralu raised his chin with a watchful eye. “Alas, it was the Great Leader who killed the Katanese king. You may have captured the man and his kin, sure. But you were only an instrument in another’s hand. Is that still the case?”

  Kagarani hesitated, drawing Bardom’s subdued surprise. “I am satisfied with what I have. I’d like nothing more than to be far from this place.

  “Hm, but I’ll be more satisfied with this place,” Ralu waved around. “More industry, more trade.”

  “Yet I am the one leading the assault yet again,” Kagarani noted. “By your own logic, this place should be mine when this is finished.”

  “A second nation will be hard to manage from afar,” Ralu grinned and rested his elbow on the table as he leaned forward. “Leave the spoils to me, and Katan-Bat to you.”

  “Your businesses will be hard to manage from afar,” Kagarani said, the slightest inkling of displeasure crossing his lips.

  Ralu shrugged. “The money doesn’t mean much; it’s the army that matters. My vassals will run the rest.”

  “Aye.”

  They were silent for a moment, both looking irritated.

  “You’ll return to Stet-Lek when this is done?” Ralu peered over his goblet cautiously. “Or Katan-Bat?”

  Kagarani glanced back up at him. “To Katan-Bat with my men. We’ll need to prepare for the East Midlands.” He looked around casually. “I’m sure the Great Leader—“

  “Let me stop you there,” Ralu said, giving a stern look at Layos as he rose to stop him. “The Great Leader is a day behind us.”

  “What?” Kagarani grabbed the table, losing his composure.

  Bardom noted the alarm on both of their faces.

  “He didn’t give any warning,” Ralu said. “For the sake of our deal, I must ask you to remain here until he leaves. I have no doubt we will win, but his expectations of me make for a dangerous road to walk on.”

  “Aye,” Kagarani said, rubbing his hands. “We will tell him we are committed to subduing the full region.”

  “Naturally.”

  “You’ll need to appease him,” Layos said. “I suggest a formal proposition. Riches, men, or perhaps—”

  ”No,” Ralu shook his head, as if he found the answer easily, then pointed at Bardom. “The boy will be the sacrifice. The Great Leader wants his head.”

  Bardom turned. “I beg your pardon?”

  Kagarani turned his head carefully toward him to put him back at ease, then glanced at Ralu. “No.”

  “If we say he’s Vakin’s son—” Ralu began.

  “So he can kill him?” Yashin growled. “I’ll not have it!”

  “Your voice means nothing, Shavu!” Layos shouted back.

  “Peace, Yashin!” Kagarani commanded. “Aya, I will not sentence my best man to die. Not when I'll need him in the wars we’ll soon fight.”

  “Of course,” Ralu sat back in disappointment.

  “Why does he want to kill him?” Kagarani asked.

  “He knows he’s dangerous.”

  Kagarani raised an eyebrow. “So? There is a use for him beyond beheading.”

  “I suppose,” Ralu said. “As you well know, I’ve grown to like this one.”

  Bardom found himself speaking, although he did not do so with his usual thoughtful care. “He does need knights.”

  “What?” Ralu frowned

  “The Great Leader needs more Knights of the Peace,” Bardom said. “His realm is expanding. He needs the most capable of men to maintain it.”

  Kagarani considered this. Ralu tapped his fingers together in thought.

  “If he’s truly your best man, maybe that is the answer,” Ralu smirked. “Maybe his loyalty to you may even keep him as your own asset, your own little spy in the Great Leader’s court.”

  Kagarani glanced at Bardom, shock and suspicion fighting for his expression as he rolled his eyes at Ralu’s mockery. “A Knight of the Peace…”

  Bardom felt all eyes on him.

  “I’d be honored, my lord,” Bardom bowed. “To represent you to the Great Leader and the world would be the duty of a lifetime.”

  Yashin calmed down, recognizing the ruse in Bardom’s voice. This was a leap forward in the plan he never foresaw, even as Bardom gave him every reason to expect it.

  So convenient, Bardom thought. Circumstances are playing into my favor and forcing Ralu to hold to his promises. He’ll catch on to me soon enough, but until then…

  Kagarani thought silently as Ralu watched him. “You know I am not one for rash decisions.”

  Ralu nodded. “It has hurt you in the past.”

  “Yet,” Kagarani said, ignoring the comment, “a knighthood for Na’Vanad would help all parties. A trophy for the Great Leader, insurance for you, and an asset for me.”

  “It seems old Yashin is the only one losing in this scenario,” Ralu laughed, along with Anders and Layos. “Perhaps the slave will learn to hold his tongue, finally.”

  “We’ll just need to prove he is worthy of the honor,” Kagarani said, ignoring the comment about Yashin. “Valor is not enough. He must be… extraordinary.”

  Ralu spread his hands. “He’s met him, he knows he’s sharp for a Shavu.”

  Kagarani pointed. “Aye, but sharp is not the same as intelligent.”

  “What must he do!” Ralu grew impatient.

  Kagarani tapped his chin. “Perhaps his command of the vanguard will be enough.”

  “No,” Yashin sounded reverential now. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but you must put him in command beside you. You must convey his value to you. Otherwise, he’s just muscle. A mind is what he will be looking for. A good sword can be found, but a mind to wield it? Much rarer.”

  Ralu nodded. “Yashin is right, the old bastard.”

  Kagarani rocked his cup, then glanced to the side. Somewhere in the general’s brain, Bardom knew, he wondered if he just handed over his fate to a slave he found only a month earlier. The sweetness of circumstance, Bardom thought, while Ralu began to grin.

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  * * *

  “Don’t say anything,” Ralu said to Bardom. “We’re playing a dangerous game, and he won’t hesitate to execute all of us.”

  Bardom watched Rontisil’s ridiculous parade of 100 guards ride towards the edge of the camp. “You’re playing everyone, my lord. You all do it, and you all think you’re clever.”

  “Kagarani,” Ralu glanced over at the other general, “isn’t playing. He’s running.”

  “As I’ve advised him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you want his influence,” Bardom said. “If he runs, he still has Katan-Bat.”

  “Alive in exile, or dead in Stet-Lek,” Ralu shook his head. “A terrible choice.”

  “He’s here with you now,” Bardom said. “You’re both being run out of Stet-Lek, even if it sounds like a promotion.”

  “You—?” Ralu jerked his head back toward him, then glanced away, calculating. “You continue to be smarter than I expect.”

  “Few have said that to me,” Bardom said. “I suspect that may change soon.”

  Ralu did not have time to react to the cryptic words the slave said, as the riders pulled around. Rontisil approached, and Bardom stepped behind Kagarani.

  “Too chummy with him,” Kagarani said. “My eye is on you, Shavu-Kara.”

  “I know where my loyalties lie,” Bardom said. “You have nothing to fear from me.” Yet, he added in his thoughts.

  Rontisil’s Knights of the Peace surrounded the welcome crew, their masks bearing the images of exaggerated human faces—some with jagged teeth, others with wild eyes, painted or metallic. Some had chain mail hoods attached, others had leather straps and no head covering. Some were affixed to a helmet for complete protection. All of them had wide eye holes for uninhibited vision, with the skin around the wearers’ eyes painted black.

  The Great Leader’s beard and long hair were particularly black, likely dyed before he left. How vain he is, he thought. All that power, and he still cares what people think of him.

  “Welcome, my lord,” Kagarani said. “Lord Ralu has only just joined us—“

  “Get the artillery set up,” Rontisil commanded Ralu. “This operation moves too slowly.”

  “At once,” Ralu bowed.

  “You attack within two days, Loran,” Rontisil added to Kagarani. “I’ve given you an auxiliary force, and you still delay. Why?”

  Bardom watched Kagarani bow his head apologetically, and wanted to groan. He turned away and thought again of that Kahlist woman. The way she looked at him… There were few people who believed that fervently in the Kahlist texts. It seemed odd that he met one, and odder that she associated him with a prophet's vague words.

  It only sounds vague because you want it to, Bardom said. Part of him wanted to believe he was the prophesied hero she spoke of. It would make all of this so much easier…

  Kagarani gave a long-winded explanation that Bardom wasn’t listening to, which seemed to put Rontisil at some ease. Bardom noticed Yashin, tense as always, watching the conversation keenly.

  Kagarani bowed to Rontisil again. “Would you permit me the honor of hosting you for refreshment, sire?”

  He looked at him with distaste. “I want this whole city under my control quickly. Don’t delay this, Loran. And don’t fail either. You know how much I hate disappointment.”

  “Aye,” Kagarani swallowed.

  Rontisil pulled his horse around, his men moving in behind him. The knight who had stood by his side waited on horseback, staring at Bardom through his mask. He was dressed in different armor from the others. His was black, and he wore a masked helm covering all but his eyes, with animalistic horns on either side. The mask was solid Bronze—flat with no distinguishing features.

  Bardom watched the soldier until he too fell in with the others. Strange, he thought. What attention did I deserve?

  Yashin seemed to relax only a fraction after Ralu and Rontisil’s men left the camp. “We are up against it now.”

  “Ralu wasn’t ready for this,” Kagarani hissed. “We’ll just have to adapt.”

  “This is the same thing they did to Vakin,” Yashin warned. “We should sabotage the artillery and attack with rams and ladders.”

  “When are we supposed to do that?” Kagarani rounded on him. “You want to go get caught breaking trebuchets? Go on, Yashin!” The lord turned to look at the city of Leislay in the distance, drawing in a frustrated breath. “Damn it!”

  Bardom wanted to say something reassuring, but he was starting to feel Kagarani’s doubts as well. Yashin put a hand to his chest to keep him from speaking.

  Yashin gave him a moment, then said, “I suggest we make a strategic decision to garrison in Katan-Bat after this battle.”

  “That’s assuming we survive it, Yashin,” Kagarani grumbled. “They’re setting us up to fail.”

  At least they aren’t really hiding it, Bardom thought. Then another thought dawned on him. “Then it’s good that we have the Divine Message with us, my lord. They’ll lead the vanguard and take the brunt of the damage.”

  “We still need to mount a furious enough attack afterward,” Kagarani said, still shaking his head, eyes fixed on the city with his arms crossed.

  “Aye,” Bardom said. “Trust me, they will lead the fight well. They don’t know they should be afraid.”

  Yashin looked at him with a crease between his eyebrows. “Do you know what Ralu is going to do?”

  Bardom paused.

  “The artillery will destroy the walls, but also the men attacking. They won’t begin the barrage until they meet our men in the field. We’ll lose good men. Particularly in the vanguard. You’re vanguard!”

  They shared a grave look.

  Bardom looked down, his lips a tight line. “If my lord commands it, I will lead.”

  Kagarani exhaled through his nose. “Indeed, you will lead. You’ll stand by Ralu and prevent the destruction of our troops.”

  “My lord?” Yashin frowned.

  Kagarani stood with his arms crossed. “We’ll fight them alone, Yashin. If we die, Na’Vanad will have the best chance at taking down Ralu before they kill him, too.”

  Bardom frowned, while Yashin bit his lip.

  “Or,” Bardom said, “we hold back and fight at a distance, forcing Ralu to contribute his troops to a ground battle, lest we lose the fight, and thus the Great Leader’s chance at capturing Leislay.”

  Yashin liked the idea. “Or force the Midlanders to meet us, and trigger the artillery to fire on our terms. It works, as long as we stay out of their range.”

  Kagarani looked at both of them. “Just as risky as sabotaging the artillery in the first place.” He paused. “Surviving the battle will mean assassins will come later.”

  “It is a hefty risk, my lord,” Yashin warned. “But it could work.”

  “If we’re caught sabotaging the artillery, they’ll execute us,” Bardom shook his head. “But if you hold back far enough and draw the Midlanders out, I can keep the artillery focused away from our lines.”

  A moment of silence passed between the three.

  “We only have bad options,” Kagarani said. “Na’Vanad, you’ll need to stall Ralu for this to work.”

  “What shall I say?” he asked.

  “Convince him of the best places to target,” Kagarani said. “Encourage firing on the walls. If they come down, then we’ll be able to break through. When the wall comes down, you stop them from firing however you can.”

  “Then, what’s his price?” Bardom asked. “What must we offer him?

  Kagarani grimaced, “We’ll have to help him conquer the whole region.”

  Yashin’s demeanor deflated. “What about Katan-Bat?”

  “It will have to wait,” Kagarani said through a sigh.

  The group fell silent until Kagarani put his finger to Bardom’s chest.

  “If we succeed,” Kagarani said, “I’ll guarantee you that knighthood.”

  It seemed as if the wind gathered around Bardom as he bowed his head. “I will do my best, my lord.” Poor Leislay, Bardom thought. They aren’t even the real enemy in this battle. They have no idea that this isn’t about them.

  “That’s a hell of an ask,” Ralu said, sipping tea from a clay cup, watching the men below his hill haul the catapults. “Defying the Great Leader is a mistake few sane men make.”

  “You’d not be defying him, my lord,” Bardom said. “Only spoiling his plans with success.”

  Ralu frowned at him. “Some day, you may be in my position, pondering a difficult choice as the players around you shift and conspire. I hope, when you do, you think of how Kagarani groveled, while I considered all my possible moves. As I said, this is a dangerous game.”

  “It may be your game, but these are his men’s lives,” Bardom said with a cold tone. “I do not appreciate your mockery.”

  Layos grunted. “Enough of that tone, Shavu.”

  Ralu chuckled, then took another sip. “I’ll aim for the walls, but I can’t keep him at bay forever. If he sees them losing on the battlefield, I’ll be forced to give the command to bombard you and your men. Many will die.”

  “I won’t be among them,” Bardom said, gauging his reaction.

  Ralu set down his cup with an unamused glance. “And where will you be, boy?”

  “Beside you,” Bardom said, “with my sword ready to cut your throat if you don’t comply.”

  Layos stepped forward, but Ralu pushed him back. The general smirked. “Always so wise, but you have a strong spine too. And you know when to show it. I do wish I had men like you.”

  “Can I trust that you’ll aim your artillery away from the battlefield?”

  Ralu spread his hands. “You have my word. I will not give the order to fire on the battlefield.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Until the Great Leader intervenes.”

  Bardom gave him an impatient look.

  “I know, I know!” Ralu motioned to his throat. “I’ll keep my ears closed to him, and you’ll keep your knife tucked away.”

  “Good,” Bardom said. “If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare the vanguard for my absence.”

  Ralu cleared his throat, then called out, “Do you know what will happen when we win the battle?”

  Bardom halted.

  “We’ll do what we did in Katan-Bat,” he said. “The pillaging. The raping. The enslaving. It’s our way.”

  “It’s a shit way.”

  “Maybe,” Ralu replied testily, “but then again, only the losers complain. The winners are satisfied.”

  “Men like you are never satisfied,” Bardom said, his head half turned. “Do you know how I know?”

  “How?” Ralu inquired with intrigue.

  “Because I’m the same way,” Bardom replied, then walked out, as he thought, He’s no wolf, he cannot even smell my deception. Let him chase his tail while I prepare to eat him alive.

  Deckel crossed his arms at the news. “I do not wish to lead these oafs.” He cast a disgruntled eye at the legion of Divine Messengers. “Contemptuous thugs…”

  He speaks too intelligently for an ordinary slave, Bardom thought. “I regret that this has happened. I aimed to fight beside you for real. It will have to happen another day.”

  “Don’t you fear the games they play?” Deckel asked.

  “I cannot tell who is ahead,” Bardom admitted. “For that, we all have much to fear.”

  Deckel sighed. “I suspect there is a considerable chance that we will all die tomorrow, and our bodies will be left to rot in this painfully boring place. They say my family is from here. If that is true, then at least I will die where I came from.”

  Bardom knocked his shoulder pad. “You’ll live for a long time, Deck.”

  The giant smiled.

  “Let’s tell Oukleze and his men.”

  “Before we do,” Deckel pulled a scroll out of his pocket. “This Kahlist woman gave me this. She said it’s for you.”

  Bardom took the scroll and unraveled it. Inside it read:

  Na’Vanad’s name echoes across the generations; a call for freedom, a cry for revenge, the fruition of a cause long believed dead. Rise—the day of our redeemer soon approaches.

  Bardom frowned deeply. “Someone is pulling something dangerous on me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Someone who thinks they know me,” Bardom thought. The Kahlists may be my ally. Or are they trying to destroy me?

  “Hell, I don’t even know you,” Deckel laughed. “You’re still a mystery, you know?”

  “I never understood the need to talk about the past,” Bardom lied.

  “There’s enjoyment in it.”

  “There’s no enjoyment I desire more than victory, Deck,” Bardom replied, crumpling the parchment and approaching the rebels.

  The vanguard troops handled Na’Vanad’s sudden removal from command bitterly, but they tolerated it after their complaints were finished. The Shavuim had gotten used to things being out of their control. Oukleze looked suspiciously upon the news, wondering if Bardom was intending to renege on their deal. Bardom assured him such was not the case, but was sure to remind him of the consequences if the Divine Message abandoned their responsibility to Kagarani.

  Oukleze was an unusual blend of fanatical devotion to his cause and pragmatism for his own security. In a way, he reminded him of his father. The care he took for his men, the fatherly role he played to them. This was a man who was chosen to lead without an election. The selection of a man through silent reverence was to be admired in a clan. That was what separated Bardom, or rather Na’Vanad, from Kagarani. The men were loyal to the lord, but they believed in the Shavu-Kara. Belief was more powerful than titles.

  While his reputation grew among Kagarani’s soldiers, free men and Shavuim alike, he felt his control of the situation dwindling. Anxiety filled him as he stood to the side as Rontisil’s men filed through the camp. I must control Ralu. I must find a way. Rontisil’s games are protecting him from me, but only for so long. He does not even realize he is defending himself, he does not even suspect I am a threat.

  Ralu could be seen directing his lieutenants in their erection of the artillery posts. While the weapons themselves were largely stolen, the ammunition was produced by his own factories and chemists. Explosives, firebombs, toxic chemicals, and smoke bombs were ready for deployment.

  Katan-Bat, Kagarani had explained, was deemed too easy to attack with this artillery, so they preferred a surprise attack. Additionally, they suspected that Abban L’Ani was prepared for an artillery attack, which Bardom knew was true. The hills of the region made it so that positioning artillery would have easily been spotted, and the range beyond the walls would have been inconsequential when aiding a ground assault. Instead, Kagarani’s men, alone thanks to Ralu’s betrayal of Vakin, invaded from the north. Forced to suddenly ward them off, they were completely unprepared for the westward attack from the joint forces of Rontisil and Ralu. The explanation put a pit in Bardom’s stomach, forcing him to realize how oblivious his father had been. The great men he had worshiped, it seemed, were too kind to their enemies. It ended as their doom.

  “Hey,” Yashin found him. “You okay?”

  Bardom shook his head, blinking away a tear. He swallowed, “I am starting to wonder if I am cut out for this.”

  Yashin laughed. “You’re not even participating in this battle. What are you afraid of?”

  Bardom scowled at him. “Don’t you understand? I’m not talking about this battle at all.”

  “Ah,” Yashin nodded, taking a seat on a rock beside him. “You mean the war.”

  Bardom nodded.

  “It’s not too late,” Yashin said. “You can just be an ordinary man, an ordinary soldier. You’ll have a good life with Kagarani. Perhaps he’d grant you a post in Katan-Bat. Maybe even make you governor there in his stead. You could help your people that way.”

  Bardom shook his head. “I can never go back. Not until the debt is paid.”

  Yashin sighed, then rubbed his hands, looking over the camp. “You know, Kagarani himself is largely responsible for the destruction and current occupation of your home.”

  “That is correct,” Bardom said.

  “What will you do to him?” Yashin asked, casually, without threat.

  Bardom put his jaw in his hand. “It will be painful to kill him. Perhaps he will give me a reason not to.”

  Yashin nodded lightly. “If it means anything, he did not want to invade. When it became clear there was no choice, he advocated to spare your family.”

  “Yet it was his men that rounded up my father, brother, and uncle,” Bardom said. “I have the names of all involved. “Their time will come, too, if they are not killed by this sham of a strategy Rontisil is forcing.”

  “The Great Leader,” Yashin hissed. “Just saying the name can get you arrested!”

  Bardom shrugged, then sighed. “I need Kagarani, but he needs me too. Once Ralu has been dealt with, he will be repositioned as Rontisil’s strongest ally.”

  “Assuming we can preserve our numbers through this campaign.”

  “I have a plan,” Bardom said. “If it works, men won’t be a concern. We’ll have enough to take Stet-Lek.” A devious grin took his face.

  Yashin frowned. “You’d need at least… 100,000.”

  “Good wager,” Bardom said, “I think 120,000 to be sure.”

  “How would you get those numbers?” Yashin whispered.

  Bardom pointed east. “They say the deserts of Midani hold 150,000 fighting men, belonging to different clans, of course, but bred to contend in the harshest conditions in the world.” He deviated north. “The whole of this country remains to be conquered. Their soldiers are more valuable than any timber, iron, or gems in this land.” He pointed slightly eastward. “The Northern Wood, a land filled with the best archers on the continent, estimates say they have 60,000 fighting men.” He shifted his hand southeast. “Deep in my home, beneath the pain of slavery and subjugation, my people await their revenge.” Bardom put his arm down, grinning at Yashin. “Thousands of men, perhaps a million, waiting to take their revenge on that man. His empire will fall. It is certain, with all that mounts against him.”

  “You’re delusional,” Yashin looked at him uneasily. “There is no mounting. He is the wave washing over this land. His forces are on the offensive, and we are cogs in it.”

  Bardom scoffed with a smile. “How can you still have no faith?”

  “Because I have been a slave for longer than you’ve been a man,” Yashin said, “and I am living another day where I suspect I will die soon. With a life like that, how can I believe in anything?”

  “You believe in Kagarani,” Bardom noted.

  “Aye,” he said. “I do. It’s because he’s shown me he deserves my trust. He’s earned that.”

  “And have I not earned that?” Bardom cocked an eyebrow.

  “You’ve proven a lot to me,” Yashin admitted, “but toppling the big man is easier said than done. It is too steep a task to succeed. That’s what you live for, that’s why I can’t trust you.”

  Bardom crossed his arms and furrowed his brow deeper.

  Yashin relented. “Yet.”

  “I’ll take that.” Bardom crossed his arms. “It will take time,” he acknowledged, “that I admit. However,” he gave his older friend a fierce look, “I will see it done.”

  Yashin studied him, fearful of the fire in his eyes. “Hm, perhaps you are cut out for the task then. Even if you’ll surely fail.”

  Bardom knew what he was thinking: the young man will be the death of us all. It seemed ironic for Yashin to worry about that when Ralu’s catapults were about to rain down on them, but laughs were hard to come by.

  “I guess I just needed a reminder,” Bardom said.

  Bardom and his companions headed to the common area, where a sparring competition began amongst the forces of Kagarani and Rontisil, who weren’t needed for the battle preparations. Bardom sipped from his canteen while Deckel set up the matches. Bardom stirred as the whole crowd stood up, with a throne being placed, soon followed by Rontisil, with Kagarani at his side. Cheering launched from the soldiers, slave and free alike.

  “Aye!” Rontisil raised his hand. The strange masked soldier who had stared at Bardom before stood nearby, as did his companions. “Shavu! Get me the best fighter in Kagarani’s army. Be he as large as a mountain, my champion—” he motioned to the masked figure before him, “—will make short work of him!”

  Bardom recognized him as the soldier who’d lingered his gaze on him. Perhaps he was preparing to fight him in particular, and this was all planned.

  Deckel scratched his chin. “Aye, sire. If…If it please you—”

  “Out with it, Deckel!” Kagarani commanded. “Summon our best.”

  Yashin kept his eyes on the ground while the crowd parted around Bardom. “Oh, hell,” he muttered.

  “Sire,” Deckel announced, “Shavu-Kara, Na’Vanad. The lone survivor of the great Lord Vakin’s army!”

  Bardom rolled his shoulders and grabbed his sword. “Good day to die, Yashin,” he mumbled, then raised his sword high over his head. “Good day, sire!”

  Rontisil laughed to himself, then nudged the masked soldier. “Go.”

  Deckel walked past Bardom. “Don’t kill this one. It won’t end well if you do.”

  “Aye,” Bardom nodded, practicing a flourish. The crowd went suddenly quiet as the masked soldier stepped onto the battleground. He never urged restraint.

  All of Rontisil’s knights, clad in their colorful and detailed masks, contrasted with this soldier, whose mask was made of cloth fabric, leaving the eyes clear to see.

  “Let’s keep it an exhibition,” Bardom bowed customarily to him, casting aside his helmet. “But if you force me, I will kill you.”

  The soldier did not respond, only retrieving his own sword.

  “BEGIN!” Deckel shouted.

  Bardom planned to stalk him, but he lashed out quickly with an attack. His immediate defensive posture was unplanned, especially because this soldier was not particularly tall. The attacker moved with speed and good form, taking Bardom by surprise. Bardom only handled it well because his own training had prepared him for such bouts. I suppose this was why they called me the Lightfoot.

  Bardom gradually turned the soldier to his weak side, forcing him to dodge to create distance between them. Otherwise, Bardom would have had him knocked to the ground in seconds. Now they were stalking one another.

  The battle resumed as Bardom took to the offensive, testing the soldier with several half-hacks, quickly switching direction to evaluate his speed on defense. He noticed the Lekkian’s strength wasn’t as devastating as that of other men, so he continued testing him. Ordinarily, he would not have done that. He would have simply set out to attack for a quick finish, but there was something unusual about this opponent. Something curious.

  He noticed it involuntarily, the scent infiltrating his nostrils as he kept his breath steady. So familiar, he thought. So intoxicating…

  Then he noticed the soldier's figure, ever so slightly rounded at the hips, the bosom slightly protruding. It must be her. Who else could smell so divine while sweating through this fight?

  If it was, she did not relent when Bardom stopped his attacks. The soldier’s sword came forward, forcing Bardom to lock his sword with hers in a contest of strength. He couldn’t help but grin.

  “You needn’t have come this far to see me,” he said, straining with her. “What would your father think if he knew?”

  The soldier said nothing, only fiercely staring into his eyes. Hers now looked familiar to him.

  They broke, and Bardom raised his hands high in the air, stepping away, sword overhead. “Perhaps this warrior is too talented for me!”

  The crowd booed in disappointment. Rontisil watched closely.

  “Finish him, Na’Vanad!l

  “Come on!”

  Bardom turned back to her. “You are far more dangerous than I believed.”

  She launched into an attack, their swords clashing. They moved like the wind, the exertion growing upon them. Bardom’s years of training gave him the foundation to withstand it, but her? It was a revelation that she was a warrior, but her stamina was not at Bardom’s level. He would have to teach her the ways he conserved his strength in battle, winning with his mind over his strength.

  After following her lead for several contests, he finally found her out of position, and it presented an opportunity to end the fight without harm. He pushed just hard enough with his sword against hers to keep her off balance—

  But she was prepared for it.

  She jumped backwards, leaving Bardom pushing forward too hard; he stumbled off his feet, and she slammed him down. With his back flat against the ground, she put the sharp edge of her sword near his throat, her hand pressed against his armor.

  They breathed on each other, Bardom putting his hands beside his head, laying them on the ground with no resistance. “That was pretty good.”

  She said nothing, only breathing heavily.

  “I’ve dreamt about you unendingly,” he said. “Laila.”

  Her eyes softened.

  Bardom smirked. “Do you mind letting me live? I’d be quite grateful.”

  She released him. Part of him had hoped she’d say something. He was not used to such a cold reception from a woman. They usually fawned over him.

  As he sat up, he watched her salute her father, then bow.

  Concealing his chagrin, Kagarani clapped with the Knights of the Peace, others joining in hesitantly until applause arose from the whole crowd. Clearly, no one knew that Laila was under the mask, but it was obvious they all watched Na’Vanad lose on purpose. They knew there was no way to live if you killed a Knight of the Peace.

  He wiped his hands, then stood up on his own, with no help from his opponent. By the time he was on his feet, she walked away. He grabbed his sword from the ground and watched her leave, choosing to believe she was there for him.

  Laila slammed his back against a wooden post supporting her tent, running her nails through his hair. Once again, Laila’s scent intoxicated him, luring him deeper into his passions. Bardom grinned, removing his lips from hers, “Your father would execute me for this.”

  “I’d never let him,” she said, reaching for his belt.

  He grabbed her face and kissed her forcefully, walking her to the bed as she reached for him.

  “Thank the Kahl you’re the only man who bathes in the army,” she said breathily.

  “Had to find some soap when I knew you were here,” he said, with a kiss on her neck. He stood tall and pulled off his shirt. She sat up and felt his abdomen, noticing a tattoo on his ribs.

  “What is this?” she asked softly.

  He looked at the slashes, small diagonals along his ribs. “Ten,” he said. “One for each man I’ve slain.” A lie. They represented the Ten Pillars of Honor that a Knight of the Realm was sworn to. Only knights and their wives knew of this symbol—the greatest secret of their order.

  “Only ten?”

  “After I slay you tonight,” he brought his face to hers deviously, “perhaps I’ll add an eleventh.”

  She giggled as they kissed, then he reached for her trousers, undressing her tenderly.

  As they lay on her pillows and under her covers, Bardom thought of the last time he lay with a woman. Sweet Lya, he thought, wondering where she was and how she fared. It was unlikely he’d ever see her again, but he recalled his promise to pursue marriage with her. It would never happen now. How much things changed for both of them in just a few hours from that well-intended promise.

  “I love you,” she said to him.

  Bardom’s eyes shifted as he returned to the present. Narrowing his eyebrows, he looked at her. “You don’t mean it, my lady.”

  “I do,” she said, blinking her brown eyes. “I want you to be mine, to have you in my bed every night—not just this one.“

  “The passions of young people like us cloud the mind,” Bardom said softly. “You’re a princess, and I'm a slave.”

  She felt his chest, her hand right over his heart. “The heart that beats inside you is not that of a slave. It never was.”

  “A slave does not determine his heart.”

  “Nonetheless, you are no ordinary Shavu,” Laila gently declared.

  The uncomfortable flush of danger crept into his mind. Would Rontisil truly whore his daughter as an actress to learn my story? Another thought came chiding him for not being able to trust her.

  “Why must you be cold to me, Na’Vanad?” Laila sighed. “Is it only in the heat of our passion that you care for me?”

  He said nothing.

  “It is true what they say,” she turned away from him. “Men have their desires, but it never lasts.”

  His eyes darted towards her. “You think too little of me.”

  “You care too little for me.”

  “That’s untrue.”

  “I love you, Na’Vanad.”

  “You do not know me, my lady.”

  She spun around, pushing herself up on her elbows, her breasts against the mattress, neck craned to look down at him as he turned on the pillow. “If you would speak to me, I would.”

  He studied her. Her ruse is clear. It’s information she’s after. But why go through the trouble of seducing me for it?

  “Mine is a dull story.”

  ”Tell it,” she reached for his crotch.

  He loosened as he felt her touch. I must lie carefully now. Too much truth, and I expose myself. Too much falsehood, and she’ll know it.

  “I once was a soldier in a far land, on the borders of the East Midlands and Katan-Bat,” he said.

  “Ahh,” she grinned, seeing his reaction to her touch. “The secrets come out.”

  “I killed several men,” he stroked her hair, feeling her hand on him. “I enforced my captain’s orders.”

  “Mmhmm,” Laila moaned, kissing his abdomen as she descended down his body.

  “I was sold into slavery to Vakin some years ago.”

  “How?”

  He gasped at her touch. “ I was fond of a lord’s daughter, and she was fond of me.”

  She stopped and chided him, “Do not speak of other women.”

  He nodded, and she continued giving him pleasure.

  “Vakin kept me a secret from the other generals, because I got his dirty work done.” His voice was weak as he felt her mouth on him. She got up and mounted him like a stallion.

  “Keep talking,” she placed his hands on her breasts as she proceeded to make love to him once more.

  “When we breached the border of Katan-Bat, I was part of the unit to meet Kagarani’s forces,” he watched her face, her staring into his eyes as she felt him. “When I reached the city, news travelled fast that our men were ambushed.”

  She nodded, luring him to continue.

  “I led the men to the walls where Kagarani’s forces broke through, but our way was blocked off by Ralu’s men, a detachment sent to stop us.”

  She sped up.

  “We fought valiantly when they attacked, knowing these men had already killed our brothers,” he said, locked in their moment. “I survived, but barely. They killed every man they could, except me. I got away, hiding in the city. It was not until I found my new master that I was saved.”

  She moaned, “No,” she leaned into his ear, “it was not until you met me that you were saved.”

  He laughed as she moaned further.

  “Say it,” she leaned back.

  “You saved me,” he laughed.

  She looked at him seriously. “Say it!”

  He felt her passion and matched it. “You saved me, Laila.”

  “Yes.”

  “You saved me.”

  “Yes!”

  “You saved me,” he repeated as she climaxed.

  She panted, falling on him. “I did.”

  He flipped her over and had his way, finishing quickly, falling into her embrace. She rubbed his body as they caught their breath.

  “I do love you,” she said. “Do you believe me?”

  He nodded.

  She kissed his cheek. “It’s amazing how a woman can loosen a man’s lips.”

  “You're the first woman I’ve had in a long while,” he admitted.

  “I’d like to be the only woman you’ll ever have again,” she replied.

  “You say that,” he looked into her eyes, “but you’d be murdered for it.”

  Laila frowned. “I will have the man I love. And he will love me freely.”

  “About that,” he found himself saying as they both caught their breath. Damn it, don’t say it, he thought to himself. “I…”

  She tilted her head. “You?”

  “I,” Bardom swallowed, “I’m conspiring with Ralu to attain a knighthood. Perhaps… perhaps a word with your father would go a long way in making it happen.”

  She wrapped her fingers around the back of his head as she grinned. “A knight? Then we could have all the babies in the world, and no one would dare harm us.”

  He grinned, and they kissed.

  “Kagarani must survive this,” he reminded her.

  “Whatever you want, my love,” she said, hugging him tenderly. The warmth made him tear, forcing his eyes shut. He buried his face in her hair. Her scent was like home.

  “I love you, too, Laila,” he whispered to her.

  She stroked his head and grinned at the ceiling. “I know you do.”

  She is too kind to me, he thought, as his emotions overwhelmed him. What are her plans?