Ninth Oath -- Mud and War

Chapter Ninety: ‘The bridge between the Two...’

‘Oh?’ said Garovel. ‘Where are you from, then?’

Axiolis seemed about to answer when he stopped himself, hollow eyes narrowing. ‘You said... your name is Garovel?’

‘I did, yes.’

The reaper’s odd reaction had even gained Haqq’s attention. ‘Then,’ said Axiolis, ‘are you Chergoa’s brother?’

Hector blinked and turned to stare at Garovel, who took his sweet time answering.

‘...Yes, I am. How do you know Chergoa?’

‘She is an old friend,’ said Axiolis. ‘I happened to cross paths with her a few times before really getting to know her. The first was some three hundred years ago in Ardora. She was trying to have her servant dig a new well for a village that was struggling through a drought. It made a favorable impression on me.’

‘Yeah, she has a good heart,’ said Garovel. ‘Usually.’

‘When she first told me that she had a living sibling, I thought she was joking.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ said Garovel. ‘Is Chergoa here in Kuros, then? I don’t sense her nearby.’

Axiolis’ expression somehow darkened. ‘Oh... you do not know, then. I thought that perhaps she got word to you herself.’

‘Please explain.’

‘My servant is a Rainlord,’ said Axiolis, sterner now. ‘His name is Zeff Elroy. He was captured by the Vanguard, which is why I am here seeking aid from the Sandlords. Chergoa’s current servant is Zeff’s daughter, Emiliana Elroy.’

Hector wasn’t sure he’d followed all of that, but the strained look on Garovel’s face told him more or less everything he needed to know.

‘In other words,’ said Garovel, ‘Chergoa is right in the middle of this war of yours.’

‘I am afraid so.’

Garovel kept his next word between him and Hector. ‘Fuck.’

Hector had to unburden himself of his questions. ‘You have a fucking sister?! I mean--?! How is that even--?! Why didn’t you ever--?!’

‘I’ll tell you later,’ was all Garovel offered him. And then publicly, he said, ‘I would very much like to know more about the Rainlords’ current circumstances.’

‘Then I shall very much like to tell you,’ said Axiolis. However, he was distracted when he noticed Haqq quietly stepping for the door. ‘Haqq, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. You need to join your brother upstairs.’

“I would love to, but I am quite busy here,” said Haqq. “Your new friends here have tasked me with a critical analysis of great urgency.”

‘Leave him be,’ said Sazandara. ‘He will not be much use to Asad, anyway. I will go with you.’

‘Very well,’ said Axiolis. He turned to Garovel. ‘I would like you and your servant to attend as well.’

‘Of course,’ said Garovel. ‘I was hoping you’d invite us.’

The reapers led the way, and Hector tried to explain where they were going and why to Lynn as she just followed with that resigned look on her face that he’d seen several times before. By now, she must have gotten accustomed to being left in the dark about half of the things going on around her.

During the trek back upstairs, Axiolis continued with his story.

‘We still do not know why they decided to attack us,’ he said. ‘Zeff and I have been with the Vanguard for over twenty-five years. I am still having a bit of difficulty realizing that I no longer work for them. Part of me is hoping that this is all just some kind of gigantic misunderstanding.’

‘I would have expected you to sound angrier,’ said Garovel.

‘Oh, I am. But I am also... very confused. I cannot imagine what could have motivated them to betray us the way they did. Zeff and I are--were--believers. In the Vanguard. In everything it stood for and tried to accomplish. We devoted ourselves to it. We devoted our FAMILY to it. Can you understand that, I wonder? Have you ever believed in your cause so fiercely that you would devote not just your life to it but also the lives of your loved ones?’

‘I’m afraid I haven’t,’ said Garovel.

‘Then you are wiser than I, it would seem.’ Axiolis fell quiet a moment as they reached the elevator once more. ‘My servant’s wife is dead now because of what the Vanguard did to us. His wife. Practically my daughter. When I think about that... I become much less confused.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Garovel.

‘When Zeff and I were interrogated, their questions seemed to be most concerned with the oldest of Zeff’s daughters, Gema. It appears as though the Vanguard is quite desperate to find her.’

‘Did they tell you why?’

‘Supposedly, she killed an Intarian diplomat, but I do not think that would evoke the level of aggression they have shown toward the rest of the Elroys. I sense a greater plot behind all of this. At a guess, I would say that Gema has become involved in some kind of power struggle. I only wish we knew where she was.’

‘Tell me more about these Elroys,’ said Garovel.

‘Very well.’

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The Golden Fort’s assembly hall was a domed chamber of formidable size, naturally lit during the daytime by two high-placed rows of elliptical windows. Gold-and-white banners hung from the ceiling as yet another reminder of Hahl Saqqaf’s presiding ownership.

Asad had been waiting all afternoon for another chance to speak. Abbas and the others had heard his arguments four times previously, and still no decision had been made. The routine had begun to wear thin.

As he sat listening to a lesser lord from Egas drone on about rural livestock, he just tried to resist the urge to rub his forehead and sigh. Thankfully, at least, his red cowl allowed him to hide his expression. He was the only one of the eight Sandlord heads garbed in crimson today, as he was the only one intending to speak before the assembly. It made him stick out in the line of seated white robes, but he was accustomed to such things by now. His golden yellow eyes and black full body tattoos had never made it very easy for him to conceal himself, even among his brethren here.

‘Not much longer now,’ said Qorvass in Valgan. ‘Just be patient.’

To Asad’s eyes, each one of the eight reapers present was a large insect--a scorpionfly, more precisely. Their long wings, however, consisted of burning flames, and their bulbous eyes held a dark glow.

Asad appreciated Qorvass’s attempt at encouragement. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he couldn’t convince the other heads to help. The Rainlords would attack Rheinhal any day now. Hell, they could be launching their assault this very moment. Octavia Redwater hadn’t been keen to share that particular information with him, and Asad didn’t fault her for it, not when he couldn’t even guarantee that the Sandlords would help her.

It was reaching the point where he was beginning to consider doing something that he knew to be very stupid. If Abbas and the others refused to help, then perhaps he would just go in on his own. Of course, if he took the full strength of Hahl Najir with him, it would undoubtedly come back on the others and put his own family in danger, but if he acted independently, that wouldn’t be an issue. It also meant he would be much more likely to get killed. Hence, the stupid part.

He’d already talked to Qorvass about it, and while the reaper was certainly not thrilled by the idea, he hadn’t entirely dismissed it, either. They hadn’t seen Zeff in months, due to an argument that Asad couldn’t even rightly recall now, but the mere thought of the man’s family being betrayed by their own comrades, of Mariana dying for it, of Zeff being held captive, and of their children suddenly without parents--it was all more than enough to anger Asad past the point of conventional wisdom.

After the Egasi lord concluded, Abbas began assuring the man of what would be done to address his agricultural concerns. Asad noticed the new group of onlookers enter from the far end of the room. Three reapers, and two young foreigners. Sazandara was among them, but Haqq was not. He should not have been surprised, he realized. His brother was many things, but a concerned citizen of the world was not one of them.

When the time finally arrived for him to speak, Asad stood and circumnavigated the long desk in order to reach the room’s center platform.

All of the Hahls were represented here today, which was a rare thing, and Asad knew the reason for it was due to the perfect split between their allegiances. Hahls Najir, Shihab, Duxan, and Saqqaf were all independent, while Hahls Haayen, Kattan, Mateen, and Dagher all worked for the Vanguard.

It was no coincidence that all seven of his esteemed peers were male. Kurosi law plainly forbid women from holding positions of political power. It was often conflated as a law of all Sandlords, but it really was a regional matter. Asad had lived in Kuros for nearly twenty years now, and at this point, his youth spent growing up in Moaban seemed almost like someone else’s life, but he still clearly remembered his mother being the unquestionable head of Hahl Najir when she was alive. It was difficult to imagine her bending to anyone else’s will, regardless of what the law might have told her.

Asad pulled down his red hood, revealing his bald head to the audience. His tattoos extended there as well, four black lines inked into the naturally dark tan of his bare pate. Such were all of his tattoos--nothing but ornate lines across his whole body, all bearing intermittent protrusions that looked vaguely like tiny thorns or knots. They’d become something of a cosmetic nuisance as he’d grown older, thinning and stretching over time, but he was entirely unashamed of showing them off.

“My fellow lords,” Asad began in Valgan, “you know what I am here to say. I am unsure of how else I can convince you. It is painfully obvious that our country, our comrades, and our people have all found themselves in the sudden grip of danger and war. I firmly believe that inaction during this time is a mistake, and I urge you to support our western brothers before it is too late.”

An audible snort rose from the far left side of the desk, pulling Asad’s eyes to Lord Hamza of Hahl Dagher. A thin man, his ivory robes nearly swallowed him whole, offering only a small view of the man’s sharp nose and gray eyes. “‘Western brothers’?” he said. “You overstate our relationship with the wet monkeys.”

“We share the name of our land with them,” said Asad. “We share our people and the responsibility that accompanies them. And financially, they are our brethren as much as any lord here.”

“Sharing a war against the Vanguard is not the same thing as sharing food and money for our subjects,” said Lord Abbas of Hahl Saqqaf. He was the oldest person in the room, though it hardly showed. The few gray streaks in his dark beard were quite faint, and his sky blue gaze didn’t match his weathered features, making him look somehow younger.

Asad frowned and prepared his rebuttal, but he must have been taking too long, because Qorvass stepped in to help as Axiolis floated up behind them both.

‘The Rainlords are our allies,’ said Qorvass. ‘It is as simple as that. We may have had our difficulties with them in the past, but that was generations ago. We have moved beyond it. And now, we are confronted with a test. We should do for the Rainlords what we would want the Rainlords to do for us.’

“And if we assist them now,” Asad added, “it will solidify the bond between us more strongly than ever before. And it is a bond that all of us here--all of our fathers and grandfathers, even--have been nurturing for centuries. Consider what that would mean for our children! Consider what an unshakeable foundation of camaraderie it would establish!”

Abbas’ reaper drifted forward. Worwal was his name, and Asad was not looking forward to what he was about to say. The reaper had proved to be their most difficult obstacle in each of their previous meetings. ‘The vengeance seekers would have us believe they are instead aspiring to greatness.’ Worwal’s tone was not one of condescension or mockery. It was only flat and cold observance.

Asad couldn’t entirely refute the statement, either. So he didn’t try. “It is true that I want vengeance for the Elroy family. My friendship with Zeff is no secret.” He paused, considerate of his next words. He was abruptly reminded of what his fight with Zeff had been about. “What is a secret, however, is my proposal to join my family with his.”

That sent a ripple through his audience. Asad could already see the disapproving looks on their faces.

‘What are you doing?’ Qorvass said privately.

Asad ignored the question. “Yes, it is true. I made such an offer to him several months ago. My son Midhat with his daughter Emiliana. But perhaps you will be relieved to hear that he refused me.” He paused again to observe their expressions. “I am telling you this now because it has been my hope for many years that our two peoples be united as one.” He eyed Worwal. “So you see, while I do want vengeance, it is not instead of any aspiration. I want both.”

“‘United as one’?!” said Hamza. “Now you are just speaking nonsense!”

Asad gave a slow nod. “You may be right, Lord Hamza. Perhaps it is nonsense. I will not claim to know whether or not such unity is truly possible. But that is a discussion for another time. Here and now, I am only trying to inform you of my intentions. My sincerest hopes.”

Hamza didn’t have anything to say to that.

But Abbas did. “Asad. That is all very nice. On the whole, I agree with your sentiments. A better relationship with the Rainlords would go a long way. But we cannot forget that we have problems of our own and that our first obligation is to our subjects. The current state of Calthos is particularly troubling to me.”

“I understand that,” said Asad. “But we could still provide the Rainlords with some support, if not our full strength. I will volunteer myself, of course.”

‘It is simply unwise,’ said Worwal. ‘We would be jeopardizing our relationship with the Vanguard while Abolish is practically knocking on our door.’

A chorus of concurring grumbles arose from the men and reapers.

He was losing them, Asad knew. Worwal’s point was a good one. But as Asad was about to voice his counterargument, the golden phone on Abbas’ desk rang.

Everyone turned to watch him answer it. The man listened, thanked the person on the other end, and hung up again. He stood and placed both hands on his desk. “Word has just arrived from Rheinhal. The Rainlords have begun their assault.”