Samples from books that we have published at Eartherean Books.
This is another in a series from the third book in the 4-book series The Doom-Quest of Ara-Karn: The Iron Gate.
© 2009 by A. Adam Corby
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License.
The Parley for Peace
IN THE BLACK-DRAPED CHAMBER the Empress heard Berowne’s report in Bordo, the court language of the Empire. Then, as if the very language might bring her closer to an understanding of the plans of the barbarians, she questioned Kuln-Holn in the tongue of the far North.
Berowne, who was sure that Little Doughty had not told him all that had been said above them on the anvil-top, sensed now that other secrets were being exchanged. He shrugged and sipped at his wine-cup. When the Empress deemed it right he should know, she would tell him. All the same he put it in a corner of his heart, that there was more to Little Doughty than he had guessed.
‘It is unfortunate, perhaps,’ the Empress said, reverting to Bordo, ‘that all the enemy’s forces remain here. It means they are too strong for us to dream of counterstrokes.’
‘What of their talk of a tribute?’ Berowne asked. ‘Is there truly such gold here that it could tempt Ara-Karn?’
‘Such musings are worthless,’ she replied. ‘What he sought is no longer here.’
‘Even so, your reverence, I do not think that he will require a fortune. And though I did not understand the words of the barbarians, I could make out their hearts from the tones of their speech. It is true. They are sick of it. Iocantris said he did not hear the voice of Ara-Karn. If the god-king stood among his men, he said nothing. Perhaps he fears to oppose them. They will demand only enough treasure to prove their boasts of victory. If we haggle with them, I believe we can end the siege.’
‘Captain, it will do no good.’
‘Let me attempt it at least, your reverence.’
‘Very well, Captain. You have leave to try.’
§
ON THE MOUNTAIN’S EDGE, the barbarians gathered below the Iron Gate. Garbed in their finest tunics and gaudiest ornaments, the best warriors arranged themselves upon the scattered, colossal disks of the fallen column of Elna’s Pillar of Victory.
Berowne mounted the steps to the central battlements. The greater part of his men were there, leaning on their lances and gesturing at the square below. Ullerath, the Charan Ennius Kandi, and the Rukorians Haspeth and Narrano Delcarn stood at the parapet.
‘Our general at last,’ the Eglander said.
‘Should I leave it to men who thrust with the haft ends of their lances?’ Berowne asked with a smile. ‘What goes on below?’
‘It was but a while ago, they began gathering,’ Haspeth said grimly. ‘We were debating whether it were best to load the Beak with stones and begin the battle.’
‘Let us wait and see what they will offer us,’ Berowne said. ‘Charan Ennius, have you been able to overhear them?’
The Gerso shook his head. He pointed with his bow. ‘This is no war-party, Captain. They are waiting for something. None of the chiefs is there.’
Berowne drew in a lungful of the cool, salt-touched air. Looking down into the barbarian crowds he saw the scars on arms, faces and legs. Some men lacked hands, eyes or fingers. He saw the hollows in their cheeks, the longing in their eyes. It was as if he stood and walked among them. He knew their years away from home. What this salt air was to him, so were the chill, wooded wastes of the far North to those men. They wanted to be home again. In the end, for all their terror and savagery, they were only soldiers, the same as he. It stood upon his shoulders to treat with them and gain peace. It was the chance of his career. Peace, riches, titles, and the foremost love of Kiva awaited him.
‘Well, if they wish to bid us to speak,’ Haspeth said, ‘at least we may let them know those with whom they would deal. Some of you men go down and bring up the Banner of the Bordakasha.’
Three Rukorians descended and brought up the banner. ‘Let it hang over the parapet,’ Haspeth told them. ‘Let them see it and know us.’
The yellow cloth, marked in black with the circular device of nal Bordakasha, the house of Elna, gleamed against the massive black iron of the gate like a lamp-flame. The rising airs pulled upon it, rippling the long cloth. The guardsmen, seeing the banner of their kings, stood straighter and held their shields and lances more firmly. Narrano Delcarn chanted some lines of the Song of Elna.
The sight of that banner awoke something even in the chests of those below. They moved about the square, their helmets lowered. Then the warriors on the stone disks raised a cry and pointed back into the ruins. A troop on horseback emerged garbed in bandarskins, silver corselets, tunics of elaborate craft, golden armbands and helms of bronze and the silver-gold electrum. They dismounted before the huge stone disks.
The chieftains and champions of the tribes of the far North walked to the lip of the coomb, and stood upon the bloodstained stones.
‘Men upon the Iron Gate!’
The words were shouted in common Bordo. It was one of the renegades who shouted them. He stood before his masters upon the brink of the coomb. He was dressed in the flowing robes of the dwellers of the Desert, with bands of dyed leather on his arms and about his gut. In the shadow of his cowl his face was painted like a mask from whose depths two reddish eyes burned.
‘We hear you,’ Berowne answered. ‘What do you want?’
‘Men upon the gate, I salute you,’ the renegade shouted. ‘You have done well to withstand us for so long.’
‘We still live,’ Berowne replied.
‘You cannot long continue.’
‘We have water, food and shelter. What else do we need?’
‘Men upon the gate, we have taken your city.’
‘You stand for a while in the ruins of her buildings.’
‘We have laid low the provinces of Vapio, Fulmine, and the Eglands.’
‘Did you hear?’ Haspeth said to his lieutenant. ‘He spoke no word of Rukor.’
‘We have overcome Ilkas and Bollakarvil. The upper and lower Delba obey us. Postio we destroyed. The Desert tribes follow us. The North is ours from Arpane on the Sea to Tezmon, from the sea to Gerso. The very Sea of Elna now is ours. We have conquered. And why is this? What have we done? Nothing – for it was not our doing. It was his. You do not fight us – you fight him. And though you may stand against us, you will never prevail against him.’
‘And who are you, renegade?’ Haspeth asked. ‘You, who speak like a civilized man, wear the trappings of the Desert, and go like a leashed dog before all these barbarians? Tell us your name, that we may publish it in all the cities of the world as the greatest traitor to our race.’
‘I am the voice of the Empire of the World.’
At that, silence crossed the battlements. Then Ennius Kandi said quietly, ‘Once you had a name.’
The man below looked up at the hooded man. ‘It was Erion Sedeg,’ he said. ‘But that was in an age now dead to the world.’
‘Erion Sedeg, why have you betrayed your city?’ said Haspeth. ‘Why do you serve these tyrants of yours?’
‘Why do you serve yours? Men upon the gate, you are soldiers, not nobles. I have known soldiers – my father was one. Soldiers labor for their lords for many years, they lose limbs and sit in the streets to beg or steal their bread. Some are owed farmland for their service: this land is denied them, because the charanti take it, though it is land owned by the city. How many years have you labored, and how rich are you for it?
‘The age of the charanti is gone. Ara-Karn has come into the world. This false and fallen Goddess you protect has lost Her strength. Dark God has stepped to Earth in the far North, and cast His shadow upon the lands of men. For those who follow Him there will be wealth, land, and power. Those who oppose Him will be hunted and cut low. Which do you choose?’
Then he was stopped by the barbarians behind him, who spoke to him harshly in the tongue of the far North. Erion Sedeg turned to them and uttered a few words. They fell silent, and he faced back to the Iron Gate.
‘What is it you want?’ Berowne asked.
‘To bid you to a parley, so you may win peace.’ The renegade spoke these words reluctantly. ‘But first we would be sure that those with whom we speak have sufficient warrant to bring their oaths to pass.’
‘Speak on then, Erion Sedeg. I am Captain of the Guard of the Citadel of Elna, and have been given powers to speak for her Divine Majesty.’
The renegade turned again to the chieftains. ‘It is enough,’ he said. ‘Captain, come speak with us. We give oaths before Ara-Karn himself for your safety.’
Berowne turned to the Gerso. ‘Ennius, my lord, you know the barbarians. Will they hold their oaths? I am of a mind to accept. This shouting before mobs will lead to short tempers and hasty words. And I believe they do seek peace.’
The hooded man gazed down over the square. ‘Look and see your answer for yourself, Captain. You heard the words of the renegade. Why have they come in such numbers if they wish to speak of peace? Captain Haspeth, would you trust your life on their oaths?’
‘Never with such savages.’
‘Put them to this test, Captain Berowne,’ the Gerso said. ‘Bid the chieftains come here among us, and see what answer they give.’
‘But that is more dangerous still,’ Haspeth protested, ‘let them come within reach of the mechanism that holds the gate shut?’
‘There will be no danger,’ Ennius Kandi said. ‘Go on, Captain.’
‘Erion Sedeg, it seems to me there is little place there for conferences. Come hither, then, and we will meet in the cool shadow of the yard beyond the gate. I guarantee your safety.’
The renegade passed on the words to the chieftains. At length they answered, ruefully it seemed. But there was gladness in the voice of Erion Sedeg as he said, ‘It will not do, Captain. We will not pass out of sight of his armies where you may work your treacheries upon us. We will remain where we are.’
‘You see, Captain,’ Ennius Kandi said. ‘What guiltless man is so suspicious?’
Berowne sighed. ‘What are your terms?’ he shouted down.
‘These,’ answered Erion Sedeg. ‘We, the arms and strength of Ara-Karn the King, will consent to spare your lives, if you deliver us the chieftain Gundoen unharmed, and with him all the stores of gold held in the caverns beneath the Palace. Also, as a personal offering to the Dark One, we will have the golden Disk of Goddess that shines from the roof of the White Tower. Then we will grant you your lives, if you swear obedience to the King.’
‘You do not ask much,’ said Haspeth. ‘Shall we give you the Southern Ocean as well?’
‘Peace, Captain,’ Berowne said. He called back down. ‘Who is this Gundoen you say we have?’
‘A chieftain and the naming-father of the Lord,’ the renegade replied. ‘These things you know, Southron. Your own Ampeánor, tyrant of Rukor, took him from our camp after the fall of Ilkas.’
‘No one has seen the High Charan since summer, nor had any word of him until now. We know nothing of this Gundoen, and we cannot give you what we do not have.’
‘Have you killed him then?’ the renegade shouted.
‘We have not even seen him. And we are prepared to offer oaths upon it.’
Once more the renegade consulted with the barbarians. Even from so far away, it was clear to Berowne that they disbelieved him. ‘I should have agreed to go down. Now it is too late.’
‘What of our other demands?’ Erion Sedeg shouted. ‘What of the gold, and the golden Disk?’
‘The treasury is empty, Captain,’ the Gerso said. ‘All the gold went to Tezmon to buy the alliance of a rebel barbarian.’
‘And what did not go there, bought arms and food for the armies of the League,’ Haspeth added.
‘Erion Sedeg,’ Berowne said, ‘I give you the sacred word of the Empress on this. You know her fame. The Bordakasha do not bargain like buyers in the bazaar. What is wealth to her, the child of the gods? That gold you speak of is gone. And the Golden Disk is a holy thing. And yet even so, I think she so cares for the lives of her people that she would consent that you may have it. And any wealth that still remains with us, that too you can have.’
‘What is this you tell me? Is your great Empress no richer than her servants?’
‘I tell the truth, renegade. The Empress herself will give her sacred vow to it, which should be more than enough for you.’
Erion Sedeg turned his painted face back to his masters, and they took counsel. Then laughing the renegade stepped back on the lip of the coomb. ‘We agree, Berowne,’ he said. The hatred in the paint seemed grotesque over the smile of his lips.
‘What do you mean, you agree?’
‘We will take your terms. Let there be peace. Throw down the Disk of Goddess, let your Empress give her vow, and go in peace where you will.’
Exclamations passed the lips of the guardsmen.
‘And you will offer oaths to this?’ Berowne asked.
‘We will swear it before Ara-Karn – which should be more than enough for you. We will let all the people in the Citadel depart without hindrance or harm. But we will let go only the people.’
‘Which means what?’
‘That we do not trust in any oaths of your kind. The people may depart: the rest we will take, even to the weapons and your beasts. You will leave naked, all of you, so that we may know that you conceal no gold or other trinkets beneath your robes. Then we will search the Citadel ourselves, and offer all we find to Ara-Karn our King. In truth, he would accept no less.’
‘But this is not to be borne! Naked, like children or the poor beneath your mocking eyes – beneath your swords and spears?’
‘Why not, if you have nothing to conceal?’
‘Yet surely,’ Berowne said, fighting back his temper, ‘you do not mean the Empress herself must go naked beneath your eyes. Surely she and her attendants may be allowed to retain their personal belongings. A soldier’s life is hard, and he must suffer much in the service of his city, and I dare say that the folk on the grounds will gladly leave behind their goods as payment for peace. But for the mercy of Goddess, you cannot mean the Queen herself.’
‘I speak for one who has no mercy, Southron. It is the Empress in whom Ara-Karn will have his greatest curiosity. We will line the Way of Kings to watch her come forth. Only the view of this famous beauty in her degradation will repay us for the loss of the gold and Gundoen. This Ara-Karn requires. And if you do not consent, then it will mean all your deaths, no matter the years or the manfall needed to accomplish it. This will be our only offer. Think well on your answer.’
‘Do you wish our answer, you filth?’ Haspeth thundered, his face scarlet. ‘Here then, and have your fill of it!’ He cast his lance straight at the renegade.
True was Haspeth’s aim, and great his skill. But Erion Sedeg was quickness itself, and stepped aside so that the shaft buried itself deep in the bowels of the chieftain standing behind him.
Hilad-Dren of the Vorisals looked down at the lance emerging from his guts and with an oath set his hands to the haft and drew it forth. A gush of black blood stained his hands and his knees, and the pain of it smote him like a stone, so that Hilad-Dren pitched forward, and the gold and jeweled ornaments clattered on his war-marked corpse.
Uproar echoed off the ruins. The guardsmen cast lances and loosed stones on the square, while the barbarians rained their death-birds about the battlements, so that at length the guardsmen had to give back. Then the barbarians threw filth on the yellow banner of Elna. The guardsmen tried to draw it up, but Erion Sedeg, at the risk of his life, ran beneath the gate and hurled up an oil-soaked torch. The ancient relic caught fire like tinder. Smoke and soot swarmed over the guardsmen, stinging tears from their eyes.
With that, the barbarians departed from the square, leaving deadly silence in their wake.
The guardsmen gathered round the charred tatters of the banner. At length Berowne broke the stillness.
‘If there is anything of humor in this, my lord,’ he said, ‘I wish you would reveal it. I would be thankful for some cheer.’ For the Charan Ennius Kandi had been silently laughing.
Now the hooded man shook his head and gestured at the empty square. ‘There is nothing in it to bring you cheer,’ he said. ‘But that man Erion Sedeg is a genius.’
