Elizabeth Haydon - The Assassin King

“I would guess the Hintervold,” Anborn said. “Perhaps, though the Hintervold is dependent on Roland for foodstuffs, and Sorbold cannot easily provide that,” Rhapsody said. “It will be interesting to rum over as many rocks as possible and discover what crawls out.” She turned to Rial, her loyal viceroy. “This is my final command to you, my friend: go back to Tyrian and serve, as you did before my crowning, as her Lord Protector. Safeguard the forest for now; we do not need to involve the Lirin at this point, though you must instruct the woods guards and the Lirin border guards to prevent any troops that would pass from Sorbold to Roland from doing so, even at the cost of a martial challenge. And Rial—go to the palace at Tomingorllo, where the diadem rests in its case. Make the attempt to pick it up, as I once did. Perhaps it is time for me crown of stars to change heads; I will be too far away to act as titular queen for a long while. The Lirin deserve better.”

“The crown, and the Lirin, have already made their choices, m’lady,” Rial said. “Even a diadem of ethereal diamonds has the right to revisit a decision every now and them,” Rhapsody said, smiling at her confidant. “We must be ready for what is to come; while this may be only an upworld war to begin with, I suspect it will not remain such.”

“Rhapsody is correct,” Ashe went on. “While the footprints of those that once dwelt within the Vault of the Underworld are not discernible here, the bloodshed and violence that is to come is a bait for the demonic, a temptation that may draw them in. So we must be prepared to repel not only the forces driven by greed and the desire for conquest, but be ready to grapple with darker forces, evil from the First Age that can only be destroyed by lore from the same time. For this reason, I wish to pronounce the decisions of this makeshift council, comprised of members of different factions of the Alliance and the church, in the presence of a Lirin Namer, that history will record our actions as defensive, and undertaken for the sake of safeguarding the Middle Continent, and its people, against the threat of invasion by those who would conquer the earth, and those that dwell beneath it.”

“Do so, then, nephew,” said Anborn. “I am happy not to be in your place this day; you will not know how painful this moment really is until years from now, when the pages of history are written about it. Believe me when I tell you this.” The Lord Cymrian’s voice was steady, kingly. “Very well— this is my decision, made in concert and with consent of all present, pending their assent,” he said. “Anborn has always been best in the command of men. If you will agree, Uncle, to take up the mantle you cast aside centuries ago, and again serve as Lord Marshal to the forces of the Alliance, it would put the best leader in the field. You also have personal friendships among some of our more tentative allies—the Nain, the Icemen of the Hintervold, the Blesser of the Nonaligned States—all of these at one time or another were brothers-inarms of yours. Though there is no need to drag any of those allies into this war if they are not needed, it would be good to know that we can count on their loyalty if they are—loyalty either to the Alliance or its military commander.”

“As you wish, nephew,” Anborn said. His voice was quiet and circumspect, with none of the condescending tone in which he generally spoke, especially about things martial. “It therefore falls to me to hold the land itself,” Ashe went on. “The draconic part will guard the Tree and serve to sustain the shield of the world. That which is man, the Lord Cymrian, must fight to protect the people who dwell upon that land. In the name of Llauron, my father, and that of Elynsynos, my great-grandmother, I will do both. I will call the Council of Dukes at once, and take over command of all of the provincial armies, putting them under Anborn’s direct command.”

“Tristan Steward will not like that,” Gwydion Navarne said. “I believe he has expected to be given that post as Lord Regent.”

“He will think otherwise when he sees the scope and scale of what we are up against,” said Ashe. “But we do not have time to wait for the gathering of the provincial forces, if what you suspect is coming is nigh, Your Grace. Anborn should accompany you back to Sepulvarta immediately, taking with you all of the forces you can muster from the outposts and garrisons in southeastern Navarne and southern Bethany. I will draft up articles of command that will give you authority to conscript any military forces you can reach; there should be almost ten thousand along that route, give or take however many are in the process of guarding mail caravans.” The Patriarch nodded. “That seems wise. I would hope that you would not leave Roland vulnerable to aid Sepulvarta; that would be a fool’s errand.”

“Indeed,” said Ashe. “Anborn, will ten thousand be sufficient for your rescue of the holy city?”

“More than enough to break a siege, if one has begun,” said Anborn. “But I have to tell you, Nephew, that I suspect they will not be of the caliber needed to do so. I have been warning you for three years, since you took on this bloody lordship, that war was coming, and that preparations needed to be made.”

“And I heeded you,” Ashe said patiently. “You may be pleasantly surprised, Uncle.”

“I am never pleasantly surprised,” the Lord Marshal muttered. “The very concept of surprise is an innately unpleasant one.”

“I will conduct the strategic aspects of the war—the defense of the Middle Continent and the rest of the Alliance— from the fortress at Highmeadow. I will send ships immediately to our allies in Manosse and Gaematria across the Wide Central Sea, to alert them to what is happening and request their aid; Talquist has the naval advantage, but with their assistance, we can even the field. “I will also heed the wisdom of my wife, much as I fear my own repercussions of our decision,” Ashe went on. “I will entrust her, and our son, to Achmed, king of the Firbolg, who is not only our ally but her dear friend, for the purpose of safeguarding her and Meridion from whatever evil seeks him. Rhapsody has agreed to go to Ylorc with Achmed, and to aid him in the development and utilization of the instrumentality he calls the Lightcatcher, a remaking of Gwylliam’s Light-forge designed and built by the Nain before the Cymrian War, for the purpose of protecting the lore it uses. The Bolg king reaffirms his commitment to the Alliance, though makes no promises of troop involvement, and asserts that the use of the instramentality will be for the defense of the said Alliance, if and when possible. Have I characterized your position correctly, Achmed?” The Bolg king snorted. “For the purposes of history, certainly. History means nothing to me; I have yet to see an example of it that I have believed.”

“Perhaps this will be the first, then,” Ashe said mildly. “Rhapsody, Lirin queen and Lady Cymrian, has asked Rial, Viceroy of Tyrian, to expand his role to Lord Protector and to see if the diadem in Tomingorllo assesses him to be worthy of the kingship in her stead. She reiterates her primary fealty to Tyrian, second only to that of the Alliance as a whole.” The Lady Cymrian exhaled and nodded her agreement. “I cannot tell you how sad this makes me, m’lady,” Rial said. “I remember fondly the day you picked up that diadem, made from the shattered pieces of the Purity Diamond, destroyed by Anwyn in a pact with the demon against her husband. It came to life in your hands, a symbol of the unity you would bring to the Lirin kingdoms—and the Cymrian Alliance. To think that you may have to give it up to protect both of those entities now is tragic.”

Rhapsody shook her head. “I’m giving up nothing, Rial. In my heart I will always be a daughter of Tyrian, whether I wear the diadem or a kerchief on my head. I only wish I could have brought about an era of peace to that united kingdom, rather than having to take up arms to defend it once again. At least this time the Lirin have Anborn fighting on their side, and not against them. That alone is worm the loss of the crown.”