The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) (17 page)

Throughout it all, Norr sat atop the sled like a petulant child, not speaking but making his discomfort and displeasure obvious with his sour expression. Jerrod, however, cared little for what the big man thought about his current situation. He was far more interested in what the Stone Spirits thought about Norr.

Shalana was difficult to read. Given their history, she probably
harbored some bitterness toward him. But she hadn’t shown any outright hostility, and she had agreed to let Norr ride on the sled. Jerrod chose to take that as a good sign: had she wanted her former fiancé to truly suffer, she would have forced him to walk on his wounded knee.

Maybe she’s forgiven him for what happened between them
.

The rest of the Stone Spirits didn’t seem to bear Norr any grudge, either. In fact, it seemed the opposite was true. Even though most of the Stone Spirit warriors with her were clearly too young to have ever fought at Norr’s side, several had been quick to volunteer to take turns helping pull his sled.

He is well liked among his people. Even after being gone for years his reputation still inspires their loyalty. That could help win the Stone Spirits to our cause … unless Shalana sees this as a potential threat to her position
.

Unfortunately, there really was no way to know for sure until they reached the main camp.

The journey was grueling but otherwise uneventful. During the day a steady rotation of men and women helped drag Norr along, and at night the Stone Spirits set up makeshift camps with impressive efficiency.

Norr stayed with Keegan, Jerrod, and the others at night, but there was little talk among them. By the time the convoy stopped each day they were all too exhausted to do little more than collapse into a deep sleep, wrapped up in the blankets and bedding provided by Shalana’s people.

Even with the relentless pace Shalana set, it still took them three days to reach the Stone Spirit settlement. When they did, Jerrod couldn’t help but be amazed at its size.

Norr had told them the Stone Spirits were among the largest and most powerful of all the clans, but the monk had assumed his words were born of partisanship and pride. But on seeing the hundreds of tents and dozens of single-story mud buildings
stretching off for almost a mile into the distance, he realized the massive barbarian hadn’t been exaggerating.

The Ice Fang clan had numbered around fifty human members. Of those, about thirty had appeared to be warriors; the rest either too young or too old to fight effectively. In contrast, Jerrod’s highly attuned senses estimated the Stone Spirit camp to house in excess of five hundred souls.

The larger population would mean less urgency to conscript warriors—they could afford to have members of their society who focused on other skills. However, it was probably safe to assume they had at least two hundred members who would be able to take the field of battle.

That doesn’t include the clans that pay them tribute, either
, Jerrod reminded himself.
They might be a lot smaller, but Norr said over a dozen chiefs paid the Stone Spirits tribute. If Shalana needed to raise an army, how many could she call on? A thousand? Two thousand? More?

The Order had always been aware of the potential threat the Eastern savages represented, but their attention had primarily been focused on the Southlands, the Free Cities, and the mysterious, Chaos-blooded Danaan. Nobody had ever attempted to get an accurate count of the clans; the assumption had always been that the nomadic tribes were too few to ever represent any real danger.

How many other clans wield the same kind of influence as the Stone Spirits?
Jerrod wondered.
If they united against the Southlands, would the Order be able to raise an army large enough to keep them at bay?

Based on the most recent census, taken shortly after the Purge almost twenty years ago, each of the Seven Capitals had populations approaching or exceeding fifty thousand. It was safe to assume there were at least that many more subjects in the smaller cities, villages, and hamlets under their jurisdiction. But most of those were untrained, unarmed civilians: actual soldiers made up only a fraction of the population.

The Order had always feared a Danaan invasion: an army supported by Chaos mages emerging from the North Forest. Seeing the Stone Spirit village in all its glory made Jerrod realize that their inherent fear of a kingdom built on Chaos magic had blinded them to the nomadic empire lurking in the Frozen East.

As they drew closer to the makeshift village, people came rushing out to meet them. Men, women, and children poured out in a wave, clapping and cheering as the delegation, with Shalana at its head, marched into the center of the city. A number of dogs came with them, but these were not the deadly trained killers of the Ice Fang packs; rather, they were the random assortment of pet mutts and curs one would expect to find in the streets of any small Southern settlement.

At first, Jerrod assumed the crowd was coming to pay homage to the return of their chief. He didn’t understand Clan-speak, but amid the cacophony of shouts and chants he could clearly hear Shalana’s name rising up. But as he listened more closely, he also heard Norr’s name being called out. The language barrier made it foolish to assume context, but given the festive atmosphere it almost seemed as if the crowd was welcoming back a long-lost hero.

Unfortunately, there was no way to predict whether Norr’s popularity would win his people over to their cause or compel Shalana to see him as a threat to her authority.

Vaaler’s command of Verlsung wasn’t perfect; he’d had little chance to practice what his tutors had taught him in the real world. The shouts and cheers of the crowd overlapped and ran into each other, making it difficult to pick out what was being said. Shalana’s name was being called out, as was Norr’s. Most everything else was lost in the rumble of the crowd. But there were two words he was able to pick out, being said over and over: red bear.

Are they talking about Norr?

It would certainly fit, given his size and the color of his hair and great, bushy beard.

He said he’s been gone for five years. How popular was he before he left?

The Eastern culture valued strength and prowess in battle. It wasn’t hard to imagine a giant like Norr becoming a legendary warrior. One who had earned the nickname of the Red Bear and won the hearts and minds of his people.

Norr’s account of how he had left his people made it seem like he’d deserted them; slinking away in the night to avoid a duel with Shalana. If anything, he should be reviled as a coward. In his own eyes, he wasn’t a warrior anymore: he didn’t even deserve to carry a weapon.

Clearly the people who’d come out to welcome them didn’t share that opinion. As they entered the village itself, the crowd swarmed them. Men and women fell on Norr: shaking his hand, patting him on the shoulder, embracing him in firm, quick hugs.

Realizing it was pointless to try to keep the sled moving in the throng, Vaaler let the tow rope drop and stepped back from the crowd. Jerrod and the warriors who had been helping pull Norr along did the same. Two large, middle-aged men reached down to help Norr up, each grabbing ahold of one meaty wrist and hauling him to his feet.

The big man was smiling and laughing with his old friends in a joyous reunion. Watching him, Vaaler couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous as he remembered his own homecoming after his years studying under Rexol. The citizens hadn’t lined the streets of Ferlhame to welcome him; instead, he’d been greeted by an honor guard and a handful of his mother’s most trusted advisers. Drake and his mother had been the only ones genuinely pleased to see him; the others were stoic and glum. He was supposed to return as a great wizard, but word had already spread of his failure to learn the mage’s art.

He noticed Scythe and Keegan standing apart from the crowd
as well, watching with a bemused expression. Like him, they were clearly taken aback by Norr’s popularity. But Jerrod, still standing close to Vaaler’s side, wasn’t watching Norr. Following his blind gaze, he realized the monk was studying Shalana.

Unlike the rest of the crowd, she wasn’t laughing or smiling. Her features were frozen, carefully set in a reserved, neutral mask to keep from betraying her emotions. But her body was tense, her shoulders back, her head moving slowly from side to side as she took in her people’s reaction. Her left hand clenched tightly around the shaft of her spear, the long, lean muscles of her arm taut and firm.

She wasn’t expecting this
, Vaaler realized, and a picture began to paint itself.

From his account, it was clear Norr had assumed Shalana had always been the natural successor to Terramon. But maybe that wasn’t the case. Norr was humble and modest; even if others saw him as a potential clan chief, he wouldn’t have thought of himself that way. Yet it wasn’t hard to imagine. He’d been the clan’s greatest warrior—the legendary Red Bear—and the son of a well-respected thane.

The people wanted him all along. They were certain Terramon would name Norr as the next chief, and Terramon probably knew it. It was only Norr and Shalana, blinded by their feelings for each other, who were surprised
.

When Norr vanished without warning or explanation on the eve of his duel with Shalana, it would have led to rumors and speculation. Some would condemn Norr as a coward, but others would wonder if Terramon had driven the clan’s greatest warrior away so his own daughter could become chief. And if Shalana’s reign was troubled or difficult for any reason, it would be inevitable for at least some of her people to imagine things would have been better under Norr.

Their resentment of Shalana had probably simmered quietly
below the surface, whispers and secrets that never reached her ears. In her eyes Norr had acted like a coward and abandoned his people. She probably thought she was being merciful and magnanimous by agreeing to the Ice Fang ransom. She probably imagined she was bringing home a fallen, broken hero, a man who would have to work long and hard to redeem himself in the eyes of the clan.

In the face of Norr’s triumphant return it would be impossible to keep clinging to that illusion.

“Enough!” Shalana suddenly called out, her voice rising above the crowd as she brandished her spear above her head.

Everyone fell silent, all eyes turning to their chief.

“The thanes are waiting for us in the great hall,” Shalana said, directing her words to Norr. “We must decide the fate of you and your Outlander friends.”

Clever
, Vaaler thought.
Remind everyone that he has allied himself with those outside the clan
.

“There will be time for catching up later,” she added in a softer tone. “But we will do it right. A proper feast to honor the return of the Red Bear.”

Another smart move. Don’t paint yourself as the villain
.

“What’s happening?” Scythe asked, coming over to Norr as the mollified crowd slowly dispersed.

“Shalana is taking us to meet with the thanes,” he answered, speaking loud enough for Keegan, Jerrod, and Vaaler to hear.

“Right now?” Scythe protested. “We don’t even get a chance to rest or eat?”

“We go now,” Shalana told her in Allrish.

The two Stone Spirit warriors who had helped pull Norr on the sled bent down to grab the tow ropes, but the big man shook his head.

“I’ve rested long enough. I can walk to meet the Thanes without help.”

With Shalana at the head, they were escorted through the camp by a half dozen warriors to a long, narrow, low-roofed building made from mud and stone.

I guess once a clan becomes as big and powerful as the Stone Spirits, they don’t have to be nomads anymore
, Vaaler thought.

They approached the building from the broad side, where a single door stood in the middle of the wall. Shalana pulled it open and went in first. The rest of their escort stepped aside, indicating for Norr and his companions to follow. The big man had to duck to get through the entrance, but inside, the ceiling was just tall enough for him to stand upright.

Is that coincidence
, Vaaler wondered as he and the others shuffled in,
or did they build this tall enough for the Red Bear to stand up in on purpose?

The interior was a single open room—the distance to the back wall was only twenty feet, but the hall extended at least thirty feet off to either side. A large table ran almost the entire length, with benches lining either side. There was probably room for sixty or more, but currently there were only about twenty seated at the table, all on the opposite side so they could face the door.

Those inside rose as Shalana made her way along the length of the table, around to the other side, and eventually to a seat in the middle, directly across from where Norr and the Outlanders stood, waiting and anxious. The other thanes took their seat only after she sat down, and Vaaler heard the door close behind them.

The Danaan scanned the faces of the thanes staring curiously back at him. Most were men; he counted only six women besides Shalana. The men were all bearded, so it was difficult to judge their ages, though Vaaler guessed they ranged from mid-twenties to well into their sixties. Seated immediately to Shalana’s right was a stern-looking man of about fifty, clutching a rough-hewn cane in his left hand. Based on his position at the table, Vaaler guessed this was Terramon. The last two fingers on the hand clutching the
cane were missing, probably lost to frostbite on a long winter campaign. Between the weathered lines of his face and his beard, it was hard to see any resemblance to Shalana, but he shared her cold blue eyes.

In contrast to the unbridled enthusiasm of the men and women in the camp, the thanes showed little emotion as Norr stood before them.

They probably know what really happened when he left. And they know the reality of being chief is a lot harder than most realize. They don’t imagine a world where everything is perfect just because Norr is in charge
.

An awkward silence settled over the gathering. Norr shifted, trying to find a more comfortable stance. One of the thanes cleared his throat, and another coughed, but none dared speak. The silence dragged on, becoming an oppressive weight on the room. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably less than five minutes, Shalana rose from her seat and addressed her followers.