Chapter Seven

Racheris tossed her bundle out of the boat onto the quay. It landed with a dull thump. Nothing in it but what I brought with me. Again. Her joints protested as she stepped out of the boat and onto rough stone. And I’m getting too old for this. Her servant, Thej, followed suit.

She picked up her bundle and slung it over her shoulder. She heard Thej do the same with her substantially larger one and follow her down the quay.

The town of Kinnsrest was large for Cuisienne. It did not rival Puddlerock for size, but it was grander, with its buildings largely made of stone rather than kro. In addition to an inn with a stable, a large trading post, a carved cave entrance, and a public bathhouse, it had a squat stone lighthouse out on a narrow spit of land. The Eye, Cuisienne’s great sheltered bay, was often fogbound, making such structures necessary for any villages that took their living from it.

Despite the town’s name, the prophet Kinn was not buried there. It was, however, generally agreed that she had stayed at the Boiled Leek for some time, making the inn an occasional destination for pilgrims.

Racheris found the wrinkled old boatmaster she had rented the rowboat from a week ago and paid him the second half of his fee. Then she made her way to the inn, pondering her trip, with Thej trailing behind her.

Cuisienne had been dependent on Eldden for almost its entire history. So long ago that the story was nearly myth, Cussahntar, a fifth son of the king of Eldden, had become dissatisfied with his lot. Realizing that he would never inherit the throne, he decided to make his name in other ways. Without his father's knowledge, he assembled a massive expedition, drawing younger sons and daughters from all over Eldden with promises of adventure and a new life. When he had collected enough people and provisions, he set sail down the river Elmwyves. He followed the river to the Fork, and continued south, all the way to the Eye.

The story differed on what exactly happened when Cussahntar arrived on the other side of the Riven Mountains, but they all agreed that the expedition established several colonies, which settled in nicely and were very productive for several years before disaster struck. The nature of the disaster varied depending on the story. Sometimes Cussahntar's people were attacked by monsters. Sometimes a plague ravaged their ranks. Sometimes Addos struck them down, punishing the son for defying his father.

But however it happened, the end of the story was always the same. Their numbers decimated, their leader dead, the land nearly stripped of trees, the soil gone suddenly infertile and the water brackish, the colonists appealed to Eldden for help. They had done much for Eldden, they argued. Cussahntar had made them send their excess back up the Elmwyves into their home country as an apology to his father. Eldden had prospered off of their work. Surely the great country could help its people.

Eldden's king responded with an ultimatum. Since the colonists could no longer grow enough crops, cut enough trees, or card enough wool to send any back to Eldden, they would have to pay tribute in other ways. The firstborn of each family must be trained in combat, and should Eldden require, they must be given up. When the second child of each family came of age, they must be sent to Eldden to serve for five years. If more than two children were born, they must serve as well. In return, Eldden would send the family wood, seeds, and other necessities. Since their parents had decided to leave Eldden, none of their children could ever become citizens of the country. They could visit, and for the duration of their service they could work, but they could never live there.

Cussahntar's desperate colonists agreed, and Cuisienne was founded. The country had established a laughably weak government. Six ards ruled six sections of the country, appropriately named ardienns. Every two years the ards elected one of their number to give oath to Eldden and rule the whole of Cuisienne. Racheris had been High Ard for forty-five years. Like everything else in the country, her leadership had changed very little.

She had spent her entire life trying to show Eldden that the system was barbaric. It kept Cuisienne hopelessly enslaved, dependent on a foreign power for survival, and unable to leave. For forty-two years, she had been petitioning the rulers of Eldden to at least allow Cuisseners to move to Eldden. For forty-two years, she had been repeatedly put off. The best she had managed was securing longer visiting allowances, not that most Cuissener could afford to visit.

This year, she had thought she had a chance. King Theryn had died of an illness—a rather suspect one, given Eldden’s unstable relations with Alddra—leaving his young daughter Tieryn on the throne. Tieryn was seven years old, a few years older than Racheris’s own Racharn, and bright enough, but inexperienced, not familiar enough with politics to try and press her own ideas. Racheris had tried to convince her by way of vivid imagery, doing her best to paint an accurate picture of life in Cuisienne. The girl had seemed sincerely interested, but her advisers had talked her out of helping, and Racheris, having already renewed Cuisienne’s oath to Eldden, had been sent on her way, with nothing to show for her troubles but the promise of another year of struggle.

Racheris swung open the inn’s kro door and walked in. The innkeeper leapt up from his seat behind the counter and came to greet her.

“High Ard! A pleasure to see you again! Did you have a safe journey?”

“Yes, the Elmwyves was kind to us.”

“May I offer you a room for the night?”

“No, thank you. I really must get back to Puddlerock. May I rent two iveri?”

The innkeeper covered his disappointment quickly. “Of course, Ard. I will have them prepared at once. Do you need supplies for your trip?”

Racheris shook her head. “No, Queen Tieryn filled our bags before we left. Thank you.”

The iveri the innkeeper found for them were unremarkable beasts, which suited Racheris fine. Thej secured their supplies to the animals’ saddles, and they were off again. A steady sprinkle chilled the air. Racheris knew that she really should visit the ard while she was here, but she couldn’t bring herself to address her failure yet. She would see Ard Hofnis at the next council.

And her family was waiting. She smiled a little at the thought of them. She always missed them when she went to Eldden. Racharn was old enough to handle himself well in company now. Perhaps she would bring him with her on her next trip.

She still marveled that she had a son at all. After years of fruitless marriage, she had assumed herself barren. Nearly six years ago, her monthly blood had ceased, and she had accepted that she would never bear an heir. And then she had realized that the truth. The pregnancy had been difficult, and the labor worse, but that had ceased to matter when she first saw her son. He was quick to love, quick to learn, and he had quite a talent for spearing fish. And he was hers. He had brought life back to her, renewed her, and he had a similar effect on Balatharsas. Yes, she couldn’t wait to be back among her family again.

They rode northwest, through farm country, past muddy fields and crooked shacks. Most of the day passed quietly before they reached a village, four sod houses and a dugout strong. Racheris was surprised to see a group of people clustered in the open space between the houses, speaking in low voices. As they passed through, she paused to ask what was wrong.

The people did not speak immediately. They watched her, considering, for an uncomfortable stretch before a young man spoke. “High Ard, have you had news from Puddlerock?”

“Not since I left Caiross,” Racheris answered, feeling a twinge of apprehension. She couldn’t imagine what might have happened.

The people all took off their hats. The young man said, “Ard, your husband and son are dead. Executed by our new rulers.”

Racheris froze. She suddenly found herself unable to think.

She considered each word the farmer had just spoken. There had definitely been a couple of sentences there, but they didn’t seem to make any sense. Her husband and son had died... died?

That was impossible. Surely they were mistaken. Balatharsas and Racharn, dead? That made no sense. Why would they be dead?

“Ard?”

Racheris suddenly realized her hand was at her mouth, her wrinkled fingers trembling.

Dead. They’re dead.

She felt an abrupt urge to scream and drop to the ground. There suddenly seemed to be a horrible gaping hole in her life, threatening to swallow her. She veered away from its edge and focused on the second sentence.

“What new rulers?” she asked, surprised at how steady her own voice was.

The young man gave her an odd look before continuing. “They’re called Vloss. They docked at Puddlerock about a week ago with an army. Probably got more warriors than there are people in Cuisienne. They took Puddlerock after a couple days of fighting, and told the rest of us we could join them. Ard, you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” Racheris said, wondering vaguely why the world was still turning. “Where are these Vloss now? Have they gotten to all the other ardienns?”

“Don’t know. A group of soldiers on beasts rode through here yesterday and gave us the news.”

“What did you say?”

The young man looked uncomfortable. An older woman, a little younger than Racheris, spoke instead. “We asked how much of our crop they would take. It’s less than we give the ards, so we told them we would not oppose them.”

“You gave up?” Racheris said, stunned. “Just like that?”

The woman shrugged. “What do we care for the ruler’s name? You’ve been a decent ard, but with these Vloss, we have more food. Not to mention we don’t have to give Eldden anything.”

“But what about the rest of Rune? I can’t imagine they plan to stop, not after taking Cuisienne so easily.”

Every man, woman, and child laughed, their voices blending into a single roar of bitterness.

The young man recovered first. “The rest of Rune? You mean the people who have enough food for their children?”

“The ones that take our people for free labor and repay us with wood and seeds? The ones that hold us prisoner in a land that can’t support us?” the older woman added.

Racheris shook her head. My husband and child are dead. “No. No, you can’t think of them like that. They’re the same as we are, they’re just people.”

“People that refuse to help us,” the woman spat. “If they’re fool enough to fight, then it’s high time they got a taste of suffering.”

“The common people? The ones like you? It’s not their fault things are the way they are. That fault lies with the people who rule Eldden, not its peasants.”

“Then you can do something about it.” The woman turned and walked away.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Racheris could feel the animosity brewing. The deep blackness of Balatharsas and Racharn yawned around her while her mind raced. She had always thought of herself as a woman of the people. She lived hardly better than her subjects. True, she did not till a field, and she only helped bring in the nets during peak season, but she had thought that her constant diplomatic efforts and the small benefits she secured had offset that.

Now it became clear to her that her people thought of her the same way that Eldden’s people thought of their rulers—a rich layabout. The thought hurt her almost physically. She made the mistake of pulling away from it when the only other thing she could think about was her family. Dead, dead, dead. She felt a scream roiling up her throat.

“Rider!” A child came scrambling down from the roof of one of the sod houses. “Vloss rider!”

Racheris felt her breathing quicken. She turned to the villagers. “Did the Vloss say anything about what would happen to the ards?”

“Their leader said we could keep our laws and customs,” the young man offered. “I think the ards will still be in charge, just you’ll report to the Vloss.”

“Right,” she said. “Right.” She squinted at the low hill the child had pointed out. Someone was cresting it, someone riding an iveri, but the movement was all wrong. It was bouncy, like the movement of a trotting deer, not the graceful lope of an iveri. As the rider came closer, she saw that the beast was not an iveri at all, but some kind of strange, hornless goat-deer, taller than an iveri, with a tail of long, glossy, reddish-brown hair.

“Who are you?” the rider barked upon his arrival. His leather armor was deep black, scarred in places. A matching helmet hid his face. There was a short sword strapped to his saddle. His goat-deer snorted and danced a few steps away from the iveri. Thej’s iveri snuffled and shifted its stance.

“I am Racheris, Ard of Puddlerock and High Ard of Cuisienne.” She tried to be calm. She had no reason to believe that the Vloss would kill her. Other than the fact that they had killed her family, Addos save me.

“You’ll come with me, then.” The rider circled around behind her. “Move.”

Racheris set off at a trot, her iveri shaking its head uneasily.

“You lot,” she heard the rider say behind her. “Get back to your fields. The Vloss Empire reminds you to report to Puddlerock within one week. We also remind you that any Song-talented among you are to report immediately.” Then there was a thudding of hard feet, and the goat-deer caught up to and circled the trotting iveri. “I’ll ride in front. No funny business, do you understand me?”

Puddlerock had changed. The public cave entrance in the town center had been torn down and was well-guarded. A crude platform had been constructed from the pieces. Did they die there? There were signs of two huge bonfires. Several houses had been destroyed, apparently in fighting. Several dozen ships, larger than any Racheris had ever seen, were anchored in the bay and just outside of it, the evening breeze ruffling their red-and-black flags. And the Vloss camp was a neatly arranged mass of tents, fortified with earth and wood, a few minutes’ walk outside the village, a few last rays of sun bouncing off of the cloth tents.

Racheris was stunned. She had assumed that the peasants had been exaggerating, but now that she saw it for herself, she could believe that there were more Vloss soldiers than there were people in Cuisienne.

She saw no people in the village, but that was to be expected. During the day in this season, it was usual for everyone in Puddlerock to be either out on the boats or working in the drying sheds.

Racheris was taken to the camp. The rider announced them, and a heavy gate was swung open to admit them. The camp was active, despite the light rain. There were a number of unarmored people reinforcing the earthen walls, building them higher, digging the ditches outside of them deeper. Soldiers drilled in groups. Blacksmiths hammered away at metal. Goat-deer snorted and swished their tails.

They followed a wide thoroughfare down the middle of the camp. Eventually they arrived at a pavilion near the center. The rider dismounted and entered it.

After a few moments, several people came out. Two of them were armored in black metal, one in red. The taller of the black-armored ones flicked a hand casually, indicating that Racheris should dismount.

She nodded in what she hoped was a courtly and respectable fashion that did not show her mingled fury and horror, and slipped off the iveri, her joints protesting. Thej did the same behind her.

The shorter black-armored figure removed a metal-crested helmet, revealing a gray-skinned, red-eyed man with pointed ears and a heavily scarred face, a good fifteen or twenty years younger than Racheris. The other two followed suit, unveiling even less human faces. The one in the red armor was a skeletal woman with snow-white skin latticed with pale blue veins, her eyes obscured by a carved and painted wooden mask. The one in the black was stranger yet, with greenish-gray skin and golden goat’s eyes that were set too high in his skull.

“Ard Racheris of Puddlerock, I’m told,” the red-eyed one said, exposing pointed canines in a polite smile.

“Yes,” Racheris said, wondering why she wasn’t leaping at his throat. These people killed my husband and child, and he is smiling at me. “I am also the High Ard of Cuisienne. Who am I speaking with?”

“A well-mannered savage,” the masked woman said, apparently amused. “I am Duchess Gazza Devenkyos.” She gestured to the scarred man and then the gold-eyed man. “This is General Adryngar, and this is Undergeneral Paervorenth.” They inclined their heads in turn.

The general spoke then. “I confess we’ve been looking forward to meeting you, High Ard. Your subjects have had a great deal to say about you.”

She remained silent, wondering what he would look like if she put a pike through his head.

“We’ve heard good things, for the most part. The consensus seems to be that you’re a wise and caring leader. There is one piece of information that we’re concerned about, however...”

“I hope so,” Racheris said, unable to contain herself any longer. “If you think I’m going to sit here and cooperate nicely with you after being told that you executed my husband and son, I’m afraid you have another thing coming.”

The general raised his eyebrows. “Well, High Ard, it’s really not as if you have any other options.”

“I disagree,” she said, running purely off of anger and bravado now. “It seems perfectly within my power to kill you where you stand.”

The undergeneral snorted. The duchess laughed outright. The general only smiled a little more widely. “I’m sure you would make the attempt, High Ard. But I think you’ll find that with you alone and unarmed, and us armored, you have no chance. You’re welcome to try, of course, but I think it would be more profitable for you to at least hear me out before you commit suicide.”

Racheris glared at him. “Speak quickly, then.” She could feel her rage and grief boiling away within her, but long decades of politics allowed her to tamp down her emotions to a certain degree. She had thought she had already reached her limit, but the prospect of imminent death helped her retain a certain degree of clarity.

It was the duchess who responded. “In essentials, you are welcome to continue your day-to-day business. You are not to leave Cuisienne for any reason. A Vloss guard will be assigned to you for your own protection. And of course, you will report all of your activities to the Vloss, and we reserve final judgment on all matters.”

“Is that all?” Racheris said in disbelief.

“For the most part,” the general said. “Anyway, we’ve also had reports that you have something of a problem with authority.”

“Only when my people are in danger, or being lied to.”

“Neither of those things are true right now,” the general said reasonably. “Your people are only in danger if they resist, and they’re not being lied to.”

“No? Then how do you explain telling them that you’ll take less of their harvest than the ards do? You can’t have enough supplies to feed your army for any long period.”

The undergeneral smiled. “We have stores enough to eat for a month without any help from Cuisienne. We will be well on our way into Eldden by then, and in the meantime a number of our ships are out fishing, far beyond most of Cuisienne’s boats.”

“If you don’t have any other objections, High Ard, you’ll be assigned a guard and escorted to your tower,” the general said.

“I need to return these iveri first,” Racheris said. “I rented them from an inn in Kinnsrest.”

The general smiled. “You’ll need to do better than that. The iveri will be taken to the inn with the force we send there tomorrow. Kinnsrest is about a day’s ride southeast of here, isn’t it?”

Racheris nodded curtly.

“Good. Thank you for your cooperation, High Ard. Please leave your iveri here.”

The stone floor of the bedroom on the top floor of the tower had been newly cleaned, but the bed and the seal pelts on it were stained with blood that glistened in the candlelight. Racheris flinched when she saw it. Did those bastards hurt them before they killed them? Thej put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Their Vloss guard coughed. “I’ll be outside the door. The rest of my unit is on the first floor. If you leave the tower tonight, you will be killed, so make yourselves comfortable.” He left, closing the door behind him. Racheris heard him cough again.

She tossed the bloody skins off the bed onto the floor, exposing the grass-filled mattress, and sat down on it, her head in her hands. Thej shrugged off her pack and began rolling out a blanket.

Racheris sat still for a few minutes, thinking, listening to the guard cough every once in a while. Then she got up and went to the chest of drawers that doubled as a desk. She dug through the middle drawer, past rolls of parchment and old gull quills, until she found a small knife wrapped in fish leather. She turned and held it up to catch Thej’s attention. The servant raised her eyebrows and came close. Racheris whispered as quietly as she could. “We can’t let the ones below hear, or they’ll raise the alarm,” she breathed. “I’ll open the door, cut his throat, and you catch him. I’ll get his spear before it falls.”

Thej nodded and held up a hand. She placed the discarded sealskins in front of the door, then went to her pack and withdrew a hatchet from deep within before slipping the pack back on. Racheris smiled. She had hired Thej more than twenty-five years ago, and she had yet to see the mute caught unprepared by anything, whether it was an unexpected formal occasion or a sudden storm. Or, apparently, a sudden and violent escape.

The enormity of what she was about to do struck Racheris suddenly. Apart from killing a man, she was giving up on Puddlerock, leaving the town to fend for itself. And the only logical destination was Eldden. Leaving her people behind to request aid from the oppressors… it was the only way. At least she could try and get to Ard Hofnis before the Vloss did, take him with her to Eldden.

She opened the door quickly. Its hinges were well-oiled, making not a sound. The soldier was leaning against the wall. His neck was protected only by the padded cloth of a gambeson. He turned to look at her. “What—“

She plunged the knife into the side of his neck and ripped the blade out in a slash that opened his throat. It was as easy as gutting a fish. Until he fell forward onto her, blood spraying out onto her. She caught him, but her legs shook beneath her and she staggered backward, dropping the knife. Thej rushed forward, catching the man’s spear with one hand and ramming her shoulder up into his armored chest to keep him up. She nudged the ard with the hand that held the spear, and Racheris grabbed the weapon, allowing the younger woman to take the body so that Racheris could go after the knife.

But it was too late. The utilitarian little drop point was clattering down the stairs into darkness.

“Trav?” came a call from below.

Racheris froze. Oh no. Her mind seemed to have stopped working in panic. She turned to look at Thej, who made a strange face, closing her eyes and shaping her mouth into a pursed circle. Racheris stared at her. She made the face again.

“Trav? You okay?”

“He’s probably died,” someone else said with a laugh. “He’s been hacking his lungs out for two days now.”

Oh! Racheris coughed loudly and hoarsely, then again. Thej smiled and backed through the door, pulling the corpse with her, and lowered him silently to the sealskins.

“Well, he’s not dead,” the first man said. There was a sigh. “Trav? You know what? Get some extra rest, I’ll take your shift. One time favor.” There was the sound of boots tromping up stairs.

“Have you noticed we’re getting guard duty a lot recently?” the second one said.

Racheris clutched the spear tightly and looked at Thej. Thej picked up her hatchet from where she had set it down and nodded. They crept down the stairs together.

“No really. All the time. ‘Guard the free mage.’ ‘Guard the prisoners.’ ‘Guard the old lady.’ You’d think we could help secure Cuisienne instead of hanging around in this dump of a town.”

Another soldier spoke. “If you want to be running around in the rain, collecting oaths from peasants, that’s your problem. It’s drier in here than it is outside. That’s all I care about.”

The soldier was walking across the second floor now, weaving through the drying racks, toward the stairs, light from his lantern growing steadily brighter.

“Ugh. Fucking seaweed.” The voice was so close.

They waited just out of sight, Racheris trying to remember how many steps it took to cross the floor. Then the footsteps stopped. She was puzzled for a moment, then remembered.

The knife! It was still lying at the bottom of the stairs, in full view, its bloody blade catching the light.

Everything seemed to slow down. She heard the soldier take a deep breath to sound the alarm. Thej’s eyes were widening as she came to the same realization. Racheris leapt out from the stairwell, faster than she had thought she could move, and jammed the spear into the soldier’s throat. Thej lunged to catch the body, but the soldier hit the stone floor with a clatter of metal and hit a drying rack, which toppled to the floor with a crash. The lantern smashed, darkening the room.

“What the fuck?” There was a scrambling below, clanking of metal. “Shit, something’s wrong. Quick, lock the door, we can’t let them get out.”

“It doesn’t have an Emperor-cursed bloody lock!”

Racheris jumped as a hand touched her shoulder. Thej helped her remove the spear from the soldier’s throat, then pulled her gently across the room, guiding her through the drying racks. Apparently the servant had much better night vision than she did. Racheris could only see the dim shape of the empty doorway down into the first level, reflected light from a fire bouncing gently across the stairwell’s stone wall.

Thej positioned her on one side of the doorway, pressed against the wall, and placed herself on the other. They waited in silence. Racheris’s heart thudded in her chest. She was sure everyone in the tower could hear it.

There were slow, quiet footsteps on the stairs. Two sets, Racheris thought. They had a torch. The light grew stronger and stronger, lighting up the second floor. The motionless body of the second soldier caught the light.

“Emperor,” came a low hiss.

“Shh!”

To Racheris’s surprise, Thej suddenly flung herself down the stairs. There was a yell and the sound of armored men falling down the stairs. Racheris ran after them. By the time she reached the bottom, the men were already dead. Thej was standing over them, dripping hatchet in hand, breathing hard.

Racheris put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We’ll take their armor,” she murmured, just loudly enough for Thej to hear. “Then we’ll get those iveri back if we can. If we can’t, we’ll have to try and take two of their beasts.” Thej nodded.

Together they quickly stripped the soldiers. It took longer to get the armor sitting more or less comfortably on themselves. They helped each other, fastening buckles and holding pieces in place. Racheris had only seen metal suits of armor before in Eldden. Cuisienne’s lack of wood for supports made mining very dangerous, so finished metal was largely imported from Eldden, making it very expensive. Even simple items like pots and buckles were passed down in families. Armor here was more commonly made of leather or kro. Even though the only metal pieces the rank-and-file soldiers of the Vloss apparently wore were their helmets, breastplates, pauldrons, and vambraces, Racheris was unprepared for the weight and claustrophobia. Metal armor was heavy. She could feel the added strain on her joints immediately.

If Thej had any such difficulties, her lightly lined face revealed nothing. She helped Racheris settle the helmet comfortably over the arming cap and buckled her leather greaves on while Racheris returned the favor, the servant moving as easily in the armor as if she had been born in it. Then she got to her feet and began digging through one of four black packs lined neatly along the wall. After adding a few items from her own bag, she passed one of them to Racheris and transferred the rest of the contents of her bag to another pack.

Looking at Thej, Racheris found that the Vloss armor concealed them entirely. She was confident that it would be impossible for anyone to tell that they were not soldiers, especially in the dark. She took a clean spear from the wall and hefted a bulky wood-backed metal shield with difficulty. Thej did the same and nodded. Racheris returned the nod, and together they slipped out into the night.

From the hill, they could see four moving lights in the town. Four patrols. Racheris was trying to guess what their movements might be when Thej nudged her and pointed. Racheris followed her finger to the hill on the opposite end of town and saw a makeshift paddock set up outside of the Vloss camp, lit by a small cookfire. Four figures were silhouetted around it.

“They must be keeping the iveri away from their beasts,” Racheris mused. “Lucky for us.”

Thej was already making her way down the hill, away from the houses. The terrain around Puddlerock was treacherous, full of rocks and grass-covered holes. But a fall would be safer than running into soldiers. Racheris picked her way over slippery grass and rocks after Thej. The rain ensured a pitch-black night. She could hardly make out Thej a few feet in front of her.

But there was no viable alternative, so she kept going. They worked their way around the village, being careful to stay far away enough to avoid disturbing any animals, toward the camp on the far side. Racheris fell several times, and each time it was harder to get up. The armor was too big for her, so even with the gambeson, she felt as though she were rattling around in a metal box. She tried not to think about how badly bruised she would be tomorrow, and contented herself with the knowledge that it was better to be bruised than dead. All the same, she was unable to keep from limping.

They were in the grass a ways away from the paddock before Racheris had time to think of a plan. To her astonishment, she saw that not much of one was needed. The soldiers were all huddled closely around the fire, cursing the rain, and the iveri were by the corner of the paddock furthest away from it, barely visible in the black.

Thej motioned for Racheris to stay and crept toward the paddock. Racheris watched as the servant lifted the edge of a woven kro fence panel away from its stake. The iveri left the paddock quickly and quietly when Thej beckoned. She replaced the panel and slipped away, the iveri following closely. When she reached Racheris, she tapped one of the iveri, signaling it to kneel. Racheris mounted clumsily; it had been a long time since she had ridden an iveri without a saddle, and she had never attempted it in armor. Thej mounted the other iveri with apparent ease, and they trotted away, heading east.

By the time a gray wash arose in the eastern sky, they were only a short ride from Kinnsrest. The journey back had taken them longer, as they had been avoiding settlements. They had gone far east, all the way to Cuisienne’s impassable mountains, and then had turned south. They had not seen a single person.

They stopped by a boulder to give the iveri a brief rest. Racheris dismounted slowly and stiffly. Her entire body was sore. She slowly and carefully lowered herself to the wet grass. She removed her helmet and arming cap and rolled her head around, trying to loosen up her protesting neck.

“They really didn’t expect trouble with us,” she said with a sigh. “They didn’t learn much from their experiences in Puddlerock.” Should’ve killed me like they killed my family. Too late now. They’ll get what’s coming to them.

Thej shrugged and rooted around in her pack. She tossed Racheris a large piece of dried fish and took another for herself. The iveri grazed casually.

“Normally I’d assume they followed us,” Racheris continued. “But there hasn’t been sign of anyone. The iveri should smell those goat-deer of theirs from far away.” She ate some of the fish. “We’ll have to get a boat in Kinnsrest, go straight to Caiross. Without Cusarhienn reinforcements, Eldden won’t have enough troops to fight the Vloss on their own, so we’ll need to enlist Unai, and Alddra if we can…”

The iveri suddenly stopped grazing. One of them lifted its head and snorted.

Thej leapt to her feet and climbed up the boulder to peer over the top. Then she jumped back down and held up a single finger.

“Only one rider?” Racheris whispered.

Thej nodded.

“Does it look like he’s looking for us?”

The servant shrugged. She led the iveri right up to the boulder and had them crouch. The humans put their helmets back on. Racheris waited with bated breath. She could hear hoofbeats now, rapidly coming closer. They stopped, just on the other side of the boulder, and became irregular.

“Whoa! Hey, shh, girl, what’s the matter?” The goat-deer was snorting and stamping. “Shh, shh, Yana, hey, what is it…”

One of the iveri let out a long bray. Thej rushed to put a hand over its muzzle, but it was already braying again.

“What the—“ A Vloss in leather armor came around the boulder, his goat-deer dancing nervously, its eyes rolling. “What are you two doing way out here? Where’s the rest of your unit? Where’d you get those iveri?”

Racheris leapt to her feet, every bone and muscle in her body crying out in objection, and leveled the spear at him. “Get down! Get down or I’ll set the iveri on you!” Thej brought the iveri to their feet.

The soldier held up a hand, using the other to try and keep his goat-deer under control. “Yana, stop!” He dismounted quickly and nearly fell over as the beast tossed its head and shied away. He held tightly to the reins and pulled hard. The goat-deer dragged him several feet back, but he didn’t fall. When he finally got the beast to stop, he turned and held up both hands, the reins clutched tight in one. “There. Now who are you? Where’d you get that armor?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” Racheris said firmly. “Your name, rank, and assignment, now.” She moved forward so that the spear was only inches away from his throat.

“Sorak! I’m a private! I’m just a scout, I’m supposed to be checking this area for settlements.”

“Oh? And what are you to do if you find them?”

“Nothing! Well, I have a map, I mark their locations so that a proper force can come tell them what’s happened, check for cave entrances, all that.”

“Right,” Racheris said. “Well, no more scouting for you. I can’t have you reporting our location.” She drew the spear back. The goat-deer snorted violently.

“Wait! Wait, I don’t know who you are! I won’t say anything!”

“Sorry. Your word doesn’t mean very much to me.”

The private was panicking now. “No! Come on, please, don’t. Can’t you take me as a prisoner or something?”

Racheris paused. That wasn’t such a terrible idea, actually. Eldden might need convincing, and the private would help there. He could also provide information on the Vloss, which would be very useful. “Thej, do you have any rope?”

Thej, ever prepared, drew a coil from one of the packs and bound the private’s hands in front of him, leaving a long length of rope unused. She took his helmet off, revealing a man with blue skin, long pointed ears, and a skeletal nose. She turned to Racheris and nodded.

“Good,” Racheris said. “There’s nothing like you in Rune. Eldden will have to believe us. Now, what’s your animal called?”

“Yana,” the private said uncomfortably.

“Not its name,” Racheris said irritably. “The animal.”

“Oh. She’s a horse.”

“Horse,” Racheris said. “Okay. Can it be led behind another animal?”

“Um, generally. Yana can be kind of difficult about it, though.”

Racheris nodded. “Thej, tie him on an iveri.” She saw a flicker of disappointment on the Vloss’s face. Thej passed Racheris the horse’s reins, helped Sorak onto an iveri, and wound his hands in the beast’s ruff. “You’re going to have to ride the horse,” Racheris said. “I’ll lead his iveri behind me. He and the horse together will be very convincing. Down,” she said to the horse. The animal only shuffled its single-hoofed feet.

“Horses don’t kneel like your iveri do,” Sorak said. “You put your foot in the stirrup, the dangly thing, and jump up.”

Thej nodded, and Racheris held the horse tightly while she got on. It took several tries. Horses were taller than iveri, and Yana was very nervous. She kept shying away from Thej. Once, she pulled away so hard that the servant’s feet were yanked out from under her, but Thej persevered and eventually got on top of the beast. She put her other foot awkwardly into the stirrup and held out a hand for the reins. Racheris flicked them over the horse’s head. Yana rolled her eyes and shifted her feet. Thej took them and walked the horse around for a minute, learning how to guide her.

“Grab the reins further up,” Sorak said. “You’ll have better control.”

Racheris cut the excess rope from his hands and tied it around the iveri’s neck so that she could lead it. Then she mounted the other iveri, and they set off.

Kinnsrest was quiet when they arrived. A light morning mist still hung in the air. Most of the inhabitants were already either out in their boats or in their fields. Racheris left Thej and Sorak outside of the inn and settled her account with the innkeeper. His eyebrows shot up when he saw her armor, but he said nothing. He came outside to collect the iveri.

“What is that?” the man said in astonishment when he saw the horse. “And that?” he added, pointing at Sorak.

“You’ll being seeing many more of them both soon,” Racheris said. “Look, there are soldiers coming. Do as they say, do you understand? I will return soon, and I’ll bring an army.”

The innkeeper gave her an odd look. “Yes, High Ard. Have a pleasant journey.”

“Do you know where Ard Hofnis is?”

“Yes, High Ard. He’s in his house, the big one down by the water, with the garden.”

“Thank you.” Racheris paid him extra.

She had never much liked Hofnis. He didn’t seem to care overmuch about the people he ruled. He enjoyed the finer things in life—imported robes from Eldden, rare plants, expensive food. But he did have a keen instinct for keeping himself safe, so Racheris wasn’t concerned about her ability to convince him to come with her to Eldden. And he had coin there, not to mention connections. Yes, Hofnis would be very useful.

Hofnis was in his garden when she arrived, enjoying what promised to be a rare sunny day. He was carefully pruning a large flowering vine that grew over his wrought-iron fence. He turned when he heard the horse’s hooves on the path leading to his house. “Racheris!” he said in surprise. “What on earth are those creatures? And what are you wearing?”

“Hofnis,” Racheris said, inclining her head in respect but not dismounting. “You’re going to need to come with me.”

The plump man straightened his embroidered hat. “And why would that be?”

“There’s been an invasion. I’m taking you to safety in Eldden.”

“An invasion?” he said, fingering his gold necklace nervously. “By who?”

“These,” Racheris said, indicating Sorak. “They’re called Vloss, and they have a very impressive army. They’re coming to take Kinnsrest today.”

“Hmm,” Hofnis said. “Hmm. That’s… that’s very interesting. And where are Balatharsas and Racharn?”

Hearing their names was like being doused with cold water. “They are dead. Executed by the Vloss.”

“Ah. I’m sorry.” He considered. “Well, I’m always ready for a trip to Eldden. But we can’t possibly leave today. My gelsemium really needs to be pruned.”

“Hofnis, I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. We need to leave now.”

He drew himself up, puffing up like a velvet-swathed bullfrog. “Racheris, you may be High Ard, but you still owe me the respect due to my station. I will not be bullied.”

“You’re about to be,” Sorak said. The Vloss sounded amused.

Racheris turned. There was a large group of black-clothed riders approaching from the northwest. “Hofnis, we are leaving now. If you want to stay behind and have all your possessions confiscated by the Vloss, you’re welcome to do so. Otherwise, you need to come with us.” She turned and left, jogging toward the stone quay at the edge of town. Thej trotted behind her, leading Sorak with the rope.

Racheris handed a bemused fisherman half her coin purse as Thej attempted to drag Yana stamping and shrieking onto a small vessel. “We’ll take any rope you have,” Racheris added. She rushed to help Thej force the horse onto the boat.

“Wait!” came a cry. Hofnis was running down the quay, much faster than Racheris would have expected. The horse saw him running at her and jumped out of the way onto the boat, landing with an ominous crunch. Thej leapt in after her, followed closely by Hofnis.

“Hey!” Sorak yelled. “Hey! We’re over here!”

Racheris turned and saw the Vloss waving his bound hands over his head. The riders were already in the village, and a group of them were heading straight for the quay. She grabbed the Vloss and shoved him into the boat. Then she jumped in herself, untied the vessel, and pushed off as the first horse came cantering down the quay.

Yana was neighing loudly, and her movements were rocking the boat badly. Racheris grabbed Sorak. “Calm that horse! Calm her or I swear you’ll drown!”

The Vloss didn’t look like he needed much convincing. He staggered over to the horse, nearly falling out of the boat. “Yana! Yana, shhh!” He took the reins from Thej. Racheris didn’t see what happened next. She was busy grabbing an oar and getting them away from the quay before the Vloss there could grapple them. Thej joined her on the other side of the boat.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the mouth of the river Elmwyves, which fed into the bay. By that time, Sorak had somehow gotten the horse to lie down in the middle of the boat. Her sides were still heaving and her eyes were still wide, but she was quiet, and she wasn’t rocking the boat. He stroked her head gently. “Good girl. Good girl,” he said softly.

“Hofnis!” Racheris said. The ard was sitting at the back of the boat, utterly petrified. “Hofnis, we’re far too low in the water. I need you to throw everything that’s not food overboard, understand?”

The plump man nodded, apparently not trusting himself to speak, and began tossing crates, traps, and nets overboard.

“And put the sail up, for Addos’s sake! The wind’s coming off of the bay, it’ll help us get upriver.”

The fishing boat wasn’t made for river use. It was going to be extremely difficult to make it upriver, especially since they only had two oars. After they passed the Broken Bridge, a massive stone formation that effectively blocked foot traffic on the river banks, Racheris thought they might be able to tie the horse to the boat for more help, but it was going to be a long, hard slog to get there.

She felt it when Hofnis finally got the sail up. The boat surged forward. “Hofnis, take my oar!” she ordered. He did, and she headed to stern and grabbed the tiller, steering them into the river, around sandbanks and past rocks. The Elmwyves was wide and slow where it entered the bay, allowing them to make quick progress.

“Vloss on the shore!” Hofnis cried. “They’re going to shoot at us!” A stone ripped a hole through the sail as he spoke. The ard cowered down, letting go of his oar, which slid dangerously toward the water. Yana squealed.

“Keep rowing!” Racheris barked. She tacked toward the far side of the river. The current was slow, but the heavily laden boat still rocked as they crossed it. Stones landed in the water around them. One whizzed past Racheris’s ear and bounced off the side of the boat.

They forced the boat upstream into the mountains, slowly and painfully, taking turns at the oars, as stones and arrows rained down upon them. Sorak removed his armor and attempted to cover Yana with it. The plates of boiled leather looked woefully useless on the horse. Thej rigged the three Vloss shields up on the port side as a kind of makeshift wall. The boat quickly gathered a collection of arrows that stood out like long thorns from its splintery wood, and stones from the slings had to be tossed out over the side. The small sail, which had already been weather-beaten, acquired holes by the dozen.

After what felt like an eternity of continuous panic and exertion, they finally entered the shadow of the Broken Bridge. It was a poor name. The structure was less a bridge than it was a vast natural wall that loomed high over the river, jutting from the mountains like two great stone ramparts, crumbling with age. It was split into two wide ridges that sliced down from the steep mountains to the water, leaving a fifteen-foot gap that allowed the Elmwyves to rush through in a surging torrent. It took a well-trained sailor to pass through it by water, and an uncommonly skilled climber to even attempt to climb over it from the banks. It was a natural wall that fenced Cuisienne in, nearly blocking the only pass through the mountains.

The Vloss were still on the other side of the river, following them. Their horses were tired, but the boat wasn’t moving very fast. The current was stronger here, the river rockier, and the wind weaker. Racheris had given Sorak a shield to use as a makeshift paddle, which she admitted to herself was probably the only reason they were still moving. It took teams of oarsmen to move a boat up the Elmwyves. They just didn’t have the manpower.

“Just a little further,” Racheris said, pushing the boat away from a spike of rock that threatened to destroy the boat with one impact. “We can regroup once we get past the Bridge.”

No one responded. Everyone was exhausted. The Elmwyves was fighting them hard. They had emptied the boat of all nonessentials, but they still rode too low. Every turn and bob splashed them with icy snowmelt.

The current grew stronger as they closed in on the Broken Bridge. The twin ridges forced the water into a narrow channel, speeding its flow and deepening the bed. The rush of water down the Bridge was a waterfall as much as anything. Racheris bit her lip when she saw it. Damn. We might not be able to get through. The boat’s progress slowed to a crawl. Racheris switched places with Hofnis, taking his oar. The ard stumbled to stern and grabbed the tiller, guiding the boat toward the center of the river.

The Vloss started slinging at them again now that they were closer. Water rushed around them. Racheris felt as though she were trying to paddle up a rapid. Then an arrow stuck in the side of the boat in front of her. She spared a glance over to port to see. The Vloss were stopped. As an extension of the mountains, the Bridge was broad on the banks, and the Vloss had gone as far as they could. They were on the ground, aiming carefully. “Come on!” Racheris croaked. “We’ve nearly made it.”

The boat’s bow jutted up into the pass. They were as far to starboard as they could get, but the current still stopped them in their tracks. Racheris redoubled her efforts, her arms and shoulders screaming. The bow passed the knife-edge of the Bridge’s starboard ridge, then started to angle upward. They were paddling from too far back. The force of the water was going to capsize them if they couldn’t make it through the pass within the next few seconds.

On instinct, Racheris reached out with her paddle and caught the edge of the ridge. Sorak saw what she was doing and copied her with the shield. They heaved, levering the boat through the pass. The bow splashed back down into the river.

Hofnis gave a feeble whoop and pulled the tiller, steering them around the far side of the ridge. The side of the boat scraped the stone. A few more paddles rode the boat up onto the rocky bank. They were now in Eldden.

Racheris let go of her oar and collapsed against the side of the boat. She saw Thej do the same. Sorak pulled himself out of the boat and dropped on the shore. Hofnis slumped against the tiller. The horse got to her feet and stepped awkwardly out of the boat. “We did it,” Racheris said weakly.

“Apparently,” Hofnis said, waving a beringed hand. “The question is, what do we do now?”

Racheris sighed deeply, thinking. “Let’s have a look at the boat,” she said, after a long pause. She pulled herself back to a sitting position and surveyed the boat.

It was a large boat by Cusarhienn standards, small by anyone else’s. Four people and a horse took up the entire deck, leaving barely enough space for the mast. It had a fairly deep draft for its size, suitable for a bay boat. A hatch near the stern meant storage space belowdecks. Judging from the draft, Racheris thought the hold was probably just deep enough for a person to lie down in comfortably. There were three cracked boards where the horse had jumped in from the quay, but they weren’t broken all the way through, which Racheris thought was something of a miracle. She stood with a great effort, got out of the boat, and saw a long scrape running along the entire starboard side, where they had hit the Bridge.

“Hofnis, can you open that hatch and see if there’s water in the hold?”

The plump man pulled open the hatch and turned away, gagging. “No, there’s no water. Lots of fish, though.”

Racheris nodded. “She’s probably still watertight, then.” She considered. “The Elmwyves is slower this side of the Bridge. I think it would be best to take her to the next settlement, and then see if we can get a ride on a proper river boat.”

“That’s nice,” Sorak said, leaning over the edge of the boat to look at her. “Not to offend my captors, but I’m not moving from this spot for another half hour.”

“Excellent idea,” Hofnis said. Thej nodded fervently.

Racheris glanced out over the river. She couldn’t see the Vloss from there. “Well, the river’s too deep and fast to ford for quite a ways downriver, they couldn’t get to us even if they did ford it because the Bridge is in the way, and they don’t have a boat to try and follow us upstream. We should be safe here for a time.” She sat down against a large washed-up log.

Thej got to her feet and started looking through her bag. She pulled out a bag of dried fish and passed out pieces to everyone. Yana was busying herself with a clump of grass.

Racheris was too exhausted to feel any emotion strongly, but as she chewed the unsalted fish, for the first time since she had heard the news of her family’s death, she felt the pain lessen a little.

She was safe, for the moment. She had escaped Cuisienne, made it to Eldden. She had undeniable proof of the invasion. She would come back, and she would have an army. Balatharsas and Racharn would be avenged.