DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (243 page)

“My King,” the duke finally replied, “you speak of Abbot Olin’s fleet, but in truth they are but a ragtag group of opportunists.”

“And so your work in controlling them to Abbot Olin’s needs will be no easy task,” Aydrian was quick to reply. “But I have all faith in you, Duke Bretherford. Duke Kalas assures me that there is no more able man in all the kingdom at handling the movements of a fleet. The lives of ten thousand of Honce-the-Bear’s soldiers will rest squarely on your shoulders, to say nothing of the overall designs concerning Behren. If Abbot Olin’s mission proves unsuccessful, then we can expect those Behrenese pirates to use the turmoil within Honce-the-Bear to strike the coast from Entel all the way up the Mantis Arm.”

It made perfect sense, of course, and that was the beauty of the plan, Bretherford knew. Bretherford realized that this was not about Olin, for if Aydrian was truly afraid of the potential consequences concerning Jacintha and Behren, he would have merely held the greedy abbot in check and waited until Honce-the-Bear was fully secured before turning his sights to the south. No, this was about getting Bretherford out of the way and far from Prince Midalis, the duke knew. Aydrian had Kalas securely in his court, and that meant the Allhearts, and they meant the Ursal garrison and the majority of the Kingsmen, and perhaps even the Coastpoint Guards of the southern mainland. But the fleet, like the waters they sailed, were more fluid in all of this, and Aydrian understood that the duke of the Mirianic could bring a powerful allying force to Prince Midalis as easily as Duke Kalas had brought the ground forces to Aydrian!

And so however Aydrian might parse his reasoning, the truth of it was that Bretherford was being shuffled out of the way, and away from the main body of Honce-the-Bear’s great navy.

The duke was somewhat surprised as the truth unfolded in his thoughts. Why hadn’t Aydrian just dismissed him, perhaps even had him murdered? Why this pretense of more important duties?

As he came to understand, Bretherford’s estimate of young Aydrian as a tactician heightened considerably. The duke was on the fence concerning the disposition of the kingdom, and Aydrian saw that clearly. And so the young king was putting him into a position where his skills would serve Aydrian well. Aydrian feared him, Bretherford knew—feared that he would take the fleet and hand it over to Midalis. But no such fears would accompany the duke of the Mirianic to Entel, especially when the great bulk of his command would be left behind.

“Your estimate of my understanding of the Behrenese might be exaggerated,” Bretherford started to say, trying to wriggle out of this.

“You are the man who will escort Abbot Olin by sea to Jacintha,” Aydrian said
firmly. “You will coordinate the movements of his naval assets along the Behrenese coast and provide him with the plans for transporting soldiers from Entel to Jacintha, or to whatever other coastal city Abbot Olin chooses.”

“You propose to place a duke under the command of an abbot?”

“I have just done so,” Aydrian corrected, his tone firm. He had come in pretending to ask a favor, but now he was obviously issuing an order. “You serve the throne, do you not?”

His pause and expression told Bretherford that Aydrian was not going to let that seemingly rhetorical question pass by without a direct answer.

“I have served Honce-the-Bear for all of my life.”

Aydrian grinned. “And you continue to serve the throne of Honce-the-Bear?”

Bretherford didn’t blink as he stared at the young king.

“The throne now claimed by Aydrian Boudabras?” Aydrian clarified, so that there could be no irony, no double meaning, in the demanded answer.

“I serve the throne of Ursal,” said Bretherford.

“The voice of that throne in Jacintha will soon be Abbot Olin,” Aydrian told him. “Abbot Olin travels to Behren at my request and as my emissary. The fact that he is an Abellican abbot is of no consequence. He serves me at this time, and you will answer to him.”

Bretherford wanted to respond to that, wanted to remark something along the lines that Duke Kalas might not be so thrilled to hear of these unexpected developments, but Aydrian’s expression told him clearly that there was no room for debate here. The young king hadn’t come in to
ask
anything. He had come in to push Bretherford out of the way.

The duke supposed that he should be grateful that Aydrian had seen this way out, and had not merely ordered him thrown into a dungeon, or quietly beheaded.

But still …

Chapter 5
 

I
T WASN
’
T OFTEN THAT A
J
HESTA
T
U MYSTIC WOULD BE WELL RECEIVED IN
C
HOM
Deiru, for the Yatols of Behren had spent centuries condemning the Jhesta Tu as heretics and demon worshipers. The mystics were particularly disliked by the Chezhou-lei, the Behrenese corps of elite warriors, who considered them as rivals.

When Pagonel arrived at the gates of the Chezru palace, dressed in his telltale robes, the initial reaction to him was consistent with those notions. The two warriors standing guard outside the great doors of the building stared at him wide-eyed and mouths agape, and after recovering from the initial shock, both dropped their spear tips level with the mystic’s chest.

“Peace,” Pagonel said to them, holding his empty palms up in a nonthreatening manner. “I am Pagonel, who is well-known to Yatol Mado Wadon. I am he who traveled to Dharyan on behalf of your Yatols upon the death of Yakim Douan. I am he who represented the wishes of the Yatols to the Dragon of To-gai, thus ending the war.”

As he spoke, the spears gradually eased to the side and down, and when he finished, one of the guards nodded to the other, who fast disappeared into the palace.

A few moments later, Pagonel was ushered through the doors, and though more guards surrounded him and a few shot threatening glances his way, the mystic understood that he had done well in coming here, that he would indeed get his desired audience with Yatol Mado Wadon.

They escorted him into a small waiting room and left him there, and he heard the door lock behind them as they departed.

Pagonel put his back up against the wall opposite the door, sank down into a low and comfortable crouch, and waited. The minutes turned to an hour, and still he waited, digesting all that he had seen on his journey from the west, replaying all of the events and conversations in an attempt to understand better the depth of the situation in this tumultuous land.

Finally, the door opened, and Pagonel was surprised to see that it was Mado Wadon himself who entered. The man was quite old, with hair thinning to wisps of nothingness and heavy drooping lids half-hiding his dull eyes. He moved his withered little frame into the room just a step, then turned and motioned for Pagonel to follow. The Yatol said nothing as he walked with Pagonel in tow through the arching corridors of Chom Deiru, past the great artworks of the Chezru religion, the tile mosaics along the wall depicting the great struggles within the Behrenese church and culture.

How meaningless many of those murals now appeared to Pagonel, given the revelations of the previous Chezru Chieftain! The actions of Yakim Douan, using
the soul stone to steal the bodies from unborn babies so that he could live on in a new corporal mantle, mocked the murals depicting the Abellicans of the north as heretics for using those same stones. The great deception of Yakim Douan laid waste to the many Chezru images of glorious Transcendence, the process that the Chezru had considered as a passage of knowledge, the incarnation of a new God-Voice to be found among the children of Behren. Only in walking these halls now, in looking at the murals that formed the core of Chezru beliefs, did Pagonel truly appreciate how profound an effect the deceptions of Yakim Douan had had on this land. The very core of Chezru had been shattered.

What emptiness must now follow?

They went into a small private room, with two chairs set before a glowing hearth and food and drink already put out on a table between them.

“You have come with word from Brynn Dharielle,” Yatol Mado Wadon remarked before Pagonel had even sat down. His voice sounded as old as the wrinkled man looked, and as weary, cracking slightly on nearly every syllable.

“I have come hoping to receive word from you that I might relay to her,” the mystic replied. “My road to the south showed me growing problems within your kingdom, Yatol.”

“Yatol Bardoh has not been among those sending their well-wishes,” Yatol Wadon said dryly. “He left the field of Dharyan—”

“Dharyan-Dharielle,” Pagonel corrected.

“Dharyan-Dharielle,” Yatol Wadon agreed. “He left the field with a great host of soldiers at his disposal, and with all of them knowing only that great tumult had come to Jacintha. They are uncertain, and in such a state, they are likely open to the suggestions of Yatol Tohen Bardoh.”

“Suggestions that you suspect will not be in favor of the present situation in Jacintha, nor the present leadership,” the mystic reasoned.

“Tohen Bardoh has ever been an ambitious man.”

“As we have discussed before, to a degree,” Pagonel remarked. “Your agreement of a joint, open city under the command of Brynn Dharielle was based primarily on these very fears, was it not?”

“And now I pray that your friend the Dragon does not disappoint me. It is in the interest of Brynn Dharielle and of To-gai that the present leadership in Jacintha overcome any threat by Tohen Bardoh. If Behren is united under him, he will not tolerate the addition of Dharielle to the name of the city Dharyan. He opposed the end of the siege of the city, vehemently so. You know this as well as I.”

“Do you believe that he is strong enough to go against the Jacintha warriors?”

“Many of those warriors have still not returned from the field outside of Dharyan-Dharielle,” Yatol Wadon explained.

“They stood down readily enough when word came to them from Jacintha.”

“True, but I assure you that at that time few in Behren wished to continue battle against the Dragon of To-gai. This is a different matter. All across the kingdom there is war now, as old disputes renew without the control of the Chezru Chieftain
to mute them.”

Pagonel sat back and considered the startling admission. To have a Behrenese leader revealing such a weakness within his country to a member of the Jhesta Tu was incredible enough, but when that Jhesta Tu was well known to be in league with the To-gai-ru, the admission became even more unbelievable.

Pagonel sat back and folded his hands before him. That Yatol Mado Wadon was able to speak so bluntly and openly to him here confirmed the level of desperation that was obviously growing within the man. That Yatol Mado Wadon would even receive Pagonel in anything more than a polite manner in a general audience chamber was a clear indication that the man was deathly afraid of Bardoh. Apparently, the rumors of the Yatol of Avrou Eesa building a tremendous army were not understated.

“Brynn Dharielle has fewer resources at her disposal at this time than you may believe,” the mystic honestly replied, for he understood that such information would not imperil Brynn in any manner. Certainly Yatol Wadon was in no position to even think of striking against her.

“Her dragon alone—”

“Fewer than you may believe,” Pagonel interrupted. “And there is no formal agreement between Dharyan-Dharielle and Jacintha.”

Yatol Wadon’s dull eyes widened and he gripped the arms of his chair, seeming ready to spring up and assault the mystic.

“Her course seems clear, though,” Pagonel remarked, and that settled him back just a bit. “What do you ask of her?”

The simple question seemed to catch Yatol Wadon off balance for a moment, for what indeed might Brynn be able to do? She wouldn’t march her army from Dharyan-Dharielle to Jacintha to protect the ruling Yatol from another Yatol, after all!

“I have come to understand that she is no friend of Yatol Bardoh,” Yatol Wadon said hesitantly.

Pagonel merely smiled in response to that monumental understatement. Yatol Bardoh was the man who had ordered Brynn’s own parents murdered. He was the Behrenese leader who had conquered To-gai so brutally a decade before, a man who had never expressed anything but contempt for the To-gai-ru and their traditions. Bardoh had left the field outside of Dharyan-Dharielle, but he had not done so with a light heart. More than anything else, he had wanted to retake the city and be rid of the Dragon of To-gai.

“To fully engage Jacintha, should it come to that, Yatol Bardoh will need the north road,” Yatol Wadon explained. “He will need Dahdah Oasis, else the promises he feeds to his soldiers will die in the desert sands.”

“You would like Yatol Bardoh to be looking over his shoulder at another enemy as he marches toward Jacintha,” Pagonel remarked.

“Or looking over his shoulder at another enemy as he marches on Dharyan-Dharielle,” Yatol Wadon was quick to reply. “He covets Jacintha, agreed, but he
covets Brynn’s city for even more personal reasons, and he may come to believe that retaking Dharyan for Behren will elevate him among the people and make his march toward Jacintha all the more plausible.”