Брайан Макклеллан - Blood of Empire

Vlora looked from one letter to the other, then back again. A war raged in her chest as she considered the possibilities of both, the benefits and the dangers. There were too many to name. The idea of returning to Adro and facing a country that had made it clear it didn’t want its war heroes around anymore was terrifying. The possibility of conflict – of putting her talents to use in Dynize – had a certain allure.

“You support whichever decision I make?” she asked Olem, though she’d asked him the same a dozen times in the last few days.

“I do.”

She picked up the letter from Dynize, folded it, and placed it back in her pocket. “No more running from home,” she told him, taking the other letter and handing it to him. “I have a story to tell in Adro, and I’m going to tell it, no matter what Delia and her friends try to do to us.”

“It’ll be good to see the mountains again,” Olem said, a small smile spreading across his face. “What about Ka-poel?”

“I’m tired, Olem. God or not, it’s going to take her years to repair Dynize. I think I’ve earned time to deal with more personal matters. Besides.” She frowned, thinking back to those few minutes in the Else. “Adom was there , and he did not stop her. I have the feeling things are going to work out.”

“Right. I suppose we can ask him in person in a couple of months.” Olem offered her his arm. “Well, my Lady Flint. Will you accompany me to our ship?”

She hooked her arm into his. “Gladly.”

Styke watched a tree fall, listening to the satisfying snap of limbs as it gained speed in its descent and finally crunched to the ground with a sound that echoed throughout the forest. He took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow, and shouldered his ax. His left hand hurt terribly, the fingers that Emperor Janen broke still aching on cool days, and his side decidedly tender after so much hard labor.

But both pains were good ones. They reminded him that he was alive, but mortal.

Styke proceeded to strip the tree of all its branches – a job that took him several hours. By the time he was finished, it was getting near noon and Celine had joined him, setting up two armies of carved cavalry on the nearby stump of a tree he’d felled last week. Styke watched her play with the two warring forces for a few moments, then fetched a reinforced leather strap. Wrapping the strap around the trunk of the tree, then around his shoulders, Styke dragged the trunk across the soft ground until he’d removed it from the area that would be, one of these days, his new house and yard.

“You know we have horses, right, Ben?” Celine called from her play.

Styke reached his destination and dropped it, letting it roll down a slight incline toward a pile of other trunks. “No need to use a horse for what a man can do on his own.”

A sudden neigh caught Styke’s attention, turning his gaze away from his own horse pen and toward the forest. About thirty yards away, watching him from their mounts, was a small procession. His sister sat at the front – straight-backed and proper in her saddle, face expressionless. A number of bodyguards and servants were arrayed around her, most of them looking far more impressed than their master.

Once she knew she’d been spotted, Lindet flipped the reins and approached. Styke wiped his face with his shirt.

“After all you’ve been through,” Lindet said as she approached, “you’re still an ox. I can’t believe it.”

Styke stretched his hand and ignored a twinge in his side. “You expect me to fall to sloth in my retirement?”

“I didn’t expect you to retire,” she snorted. At a gesture, her companions came to a stop, while Lindet herself brought her horse right up next to Styke and dismounted. She draped the reins over a nearby branch. “Let me get something straight: This new Dynize empress pries the entire Hammer out of my hands as a concession for removing her armies peaceably from Fatrasta, and then turns around and gives it to you? What the pit did you do in Dynize to earn that kind of gratitude?”

“It’s just a bit of land.”

“It’s thousands of square miles of land, largely unpopulated, with several abandoned frontier forts and a proper fortress on the coast. And I’m to understand you own it all, now?” Lindet’s tone seemed to waver between impressed and annoyed.

Styke scratched the back of his head, stifling a smile. “I’ve given a lot of it to my old Lancers, and I let the towns keep their land, but yeah. I own the Hammer.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Damned if I know. I’ve never actually owned land before. For now, I’m going to build a cabin, then get working on a stable. I figure in a few years I can have a proper horse farm up and running. I’ve also been promised three hundred Dynize horses. I’m gonna start breeding them with some of ours and see what comes out the other side.”

Lindet sighed. “You. A horse farmer. There’s been a lot of madness in my life the last couple of years, but this might be the most insane.” She waved away a fly, but managed to turn it into a dismissive gesture. “Fine. Show me the grave.”

Styke glanced at Lindet’s retinue. They were still mounted, and keeping their distance. He let his grin drop and jerked his head. “This way.” He led Lindet away from his new clearing and about fifty yards through the woods, then across a river and past an arrow-shaped boulder. At the base of a big beech tree sat a rectangle of white marble, marked with the name “Marguerie je Lind.” Styke had only done basic maintenance on the small memorial since that night crossing the Hammer last year. It was a shaded, pleasant spot, but he half expected Lindet to demand why he hadn’t erected something more grand.

Instead, his sister pursed her lips and gazed down at the marble marker, hands clasped, regarding it in silence for several minutes. “I always wondered where you buried her.”

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” Styke replied. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Celine hanging around, close enough to eavesdrop but far enough to remain respectful.

“I didn’t,” Lindet replied. “At least, I thought I didn’t. I believed her weak for being unable to protect herself from him . But I’ve reassessed those beliefs.”

Styke was tempted to reignite an argument long forgotten. He bit his tongue. “That’s good.”

A smile touched the corners of Lindet’s mouth, as if she knew what he was thinking. “I’m on a tour of the country,” she suddenly said, looking up to meet his eye.

“Oh?”

“It’s been almost a year since the war ended. Relations with the Nine are normalizing. The Dynize empress, beyond the initial concessions she wrung out of me, has been nothing but warm. The Palo are icy but coming around. It’s time to rebuild in earnest, and I need to know every corner of the country that requires help so that I can distribute it.”

“I see.” Styke eyeballed his sister. There was something different about her – a very faint hesitation that had never been there before. “I was in Bellport a few weeks ago. The newspapers are claiming that you’re going to remain Lady Chancellor for six more years and then hold a general election. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for giving up power.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for becoming a horse farmer,” she shot back.

“That’s fair.” Styke looked around until he found one of his spare lances that he’d left against a nearby tree. He leaned on it, still watching his sister. “Will the election be real?”