Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) (6 page)

“Will Tiomot write this letter?”

“Well, Yuna said Tiomot didn’t want to.”

“With that fool the war will come easily.”

“Aye, but prince Tharid urged the king to send the letter, offering to take care of the matter himself.”

“The lad has sense,” said Anza. “It’s him and the queen who, I believe, have kept Snowstone strong for all these years.”

“So the letter will be sent.”

Anza sat quiet a few moments, wearing a thoughtful grin. “Even without our efforts Snowstone and Cyana are nearly at war. Dandil knows it’s the Snowguards who are raiding his gold mine, but for sake of his pride he’s allowing Tiomot to deny the claim and stop the raids.” The woman chuckled. “But he’ll go to war if he doesn’t get the letter or his mines are raided again. We are going to make sure both happen.”

“We can have someone intercept the messenger,”

said Stroan, “but do you think the Snowguards will raid again?”

“If they don’t we will make it appear as if they did, but we’ll give them time. For now, we will make sure that letter doesn’t get delivered.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

“No. The capturing of women, the assassination of a royal envoy—it is too vile for us. Our hands will be clean of such affairs so that when we come to power there can be no fault found in us. Let us be as puppeteers, pulling strings from the shadows behind the drapes.”

“Aye, Anza. Then who?”

“Another of the three. You may remember him from times past. Valak, a master of stealth. He would be the best for this job.”

“Valak,” said Stroan, closing his eyes as he tried to remember the man. “Aye, he kills with knives. Where will I find him?”

“He drifts between Karthin and Vaul, but he is a hard man to find, for he doesn’t like to be known of men. Hang a white cloth high in a tree, on a main way where it will be seen. If he sees it, he will come near that place.”

“Very well. I’ll find him.”

“Good.” Anza lay back and rested her head against the fur. “We have done much, have we not?”

“Aye, everyone is working hard.”

“I meant you and I,” said the lady, offering a smile that looked like gratitude and a bit of something else.

“You have inspired us all to want much more than we have.” Stroan bowed his head.

“Soon, Stroan.”

“My lady?”

“Soon we will descend from the clouds. We will no longer live in hiding. We will dine in the castle, and you will be the first prince of the new kingdom.”

Once Snowstone was taken, and they were no longer bound by the duties required of them, Yuna would be at his side to share in that glory with him. Stroan could barely contain himself at the thought.

It wasn’t long before he would break the news to Anza—that he and Yuna were in love—and ask her to send another in Yuna’s stead to gather their information. Anza favored him, he knew, and they had become something like friends in the years they had worked side by side, carefully planning and carrying out the necessary evils to bring about their new kingdom. As well as he had served her, and as well as he would continue to serve her, the small favor of returning Yuna to the city and rotating another spy into the castle would surely be granted.

7

Zar squi
nted at the morning sun
, smiling ponderously at the familiar sights. It had been some time since he’d been so far east. He had thoroughly explored Cyana, spent some time in Lolia, and now that he was back in the mainreach he aimed to line his purse with gold—and he could think of no better place to do it than Lindoth. There was no other place in the mainreach that was more corrupt, more prone to violence and plagued by thieves than there. The vileness of the place almost matched that of the cities of the far east—like in Xahka, one of the dark places of the world, where even the sun seemed to shine less brightly.

Even with the temple standing just outside the city, the monks offered the people little guardianship. Even the bravest monks with their iron hands of Vyere knew it was all too easy to wind up dead for a few gold pieces in Lindoth . Only when Zar came about would this cycle be interrupted, and doing so usually earned him a lovely portion of gold.

“I must say you look quite beautiful this morning,” said Zar, glancing down on Asha’s golden-brown fur as he rode. “The way the light’s hitting your coat … it’s rather radiant, really,” Zar praised.

Asha turned her head back toward Zar and gave a slight groan.

“You owe me no thanks,” Zar replied. “Truly your coat is dazzling in this light. More dazzling than a thousand gold pieces, I daresay.”

Asha kept forward without uttering a sound.

Zar laughed. “No need to be modest, now, it’s true.

Have I not complimented your beauty before? Surely I have. Asha, let me tell you, I’ve traveled to the far corners of the land and I’ve seen many beautiful girls and you are still one of the most beautiful—if only we could work on your manners a bit.”

Zar leaned forward, peering at Asha as if expecting an answer.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “Spitting isn’t exactly ladylike. And furthermore, it puts us in danger when you behave like that—not to mention it’s quite rude. I cannot count the days it’s been since I was that rude. Can you, Asha? Good thing I’m different now.”

His golden mount grunted and lowered her head as she continued across the plain.

“What? You don’t think so?” said Zar, sounding genuinely astounded. A prickle of discontent stung his face before he raised his voice at his friend.

“I may be a vile man, but I’ve come a long way. You know I have!”

Zar folded his arms tightly across his chest, and Asha, after traveling a few more paces, let out a series of low pitched groans as if she were mumbling.

“What’s that?” Zar asked, still sounding annoyed. “I didn’t hear what you said, but if you’ve nothing good to say, by all means hold your tongue.”

Zar grabbed the water-skin that hung from Asha’s front saddle pommel and took a drink. “I’ve changed much,” he said, “I think—no, I’m certain.”

Asha fell quiet and Zar returned the water to its place and folded his arms across his chest.

“It leaves you in an odd position having tasted of evil; pure things lose their ardor for you’ve seen the darker side of them, and that thrill of wickedness is too close, too familiar. It’s probably the reason I can’t live a good, quiet life on a farm somewhere. That simply wouldn’t do, would it, Asha?”

It was midday when Zar led Asha to graze on a thick patch of shrubs growing outside of a dell, dismounted and grabbed some food from the saddlebag. He was nibbling dried venison when a murmur snuck from the dell and fluttered past his ear. Zar listened. Something was happening.

Creeping closer to the woods he could hear it better—the voices of several men—but he couldn’t see anything. The young trees were dreadfully dense and garnished with a violent thicket of saplings tangled with vines and ferns, blocking any hope of seeing clearly into the dell. But a moment longer of quiet listening told Zar he didn’t need to see it. He could hear it, and he had heard it before— far too many times. He briefly considered finding another way into the dell, but he dismissed the notion as a few more shouts rang out. Zar sighed and crawled into the thicket.

Swimming through the brush and holding on to his swords’ hilt to prevent it from being snagged, Zar bent back the saplings and made his way through. He peered through the wood to see a group of men who seemed to be in disagreement. Their clothing and armor told him immediately they were Snowguards—five that he could see so far, now six, and one more, a set of them. Moving closer still he saw one man that wasn’t a Snowguard, and, naturally, the one they were in disagreement with was him.

He proceeded quietly.

“Consider it a tax from Tiomot,” a guard called. The man was mounted on a tall bay and it was clear he was the set’s commander.

Two of the other guards had some fellow pressed against a tree with blades to his throat. He was middle-aged and rather small, and clung to his coin purse as one guard pulled at it and the other pushed his swords’ blade tighter against the man’s throat.

“It’s only six gold pieces!” the man yelled frantically. “Six gold! Please!”

“That’s all?” the commander bantered. “Then why so much trouble?”

Laughter erupted from the group, moving from the set commander to the four mounted behind him, before finally passing to the two on foot carrying out the orders.

“Snowstone is quite far off.” Zar’s voice sounded from among the trees The soldiers looked around, their laughter cut short. Zar stepped into view. “I must ask, I really must—what are Snowguards doing this far east?”

The company looked to Zar with confused eyes, though they tried hard to maintain their casual faces.

“You know that Snowstone rules these lands, stranger,” the commander explained.

“Aye, of course,” Zar replied. “Snowstone rules the four lands—in a matter of speaking.” Zar rested his shoulder against the bark of a tree. “But I’m sure you men have noticed that the farther east you travel the less authority you bear, and in the case of Xahka, a place that is never truly governed, I think you’d find that your titles will matter not at all.”

“We shall soon see,” the man replied while still looking more than a bit bewildered.

“You are traveling to Xahka, then? Does Tiomot wish to strengthen his hold on the untamed land? No, there are too few of you for that,” said Zar, looking around.

“The business of your realm is not to be questioned,”

the same man offered coarsely.

“Snowstone is not my realm,” said Zar. “Can I now question your intentions?”

Zar could see that the set commander almost looked unsure of how to respond.

“Do you think it wise to question me? At least this man,” said the commander pointing to their victim, “though he may not leave with his gold will leave with his life—if he stops resisting. You may yet lose both.”

“He will pay nothing,” said Zar, “nor will I. But there will be a cost for
you.
”

Laughter echoed from the guards.

“And what cost might that be?” said one of them as he drew his sword and dismounted. Three of the others also dismounted and drew their weapons.

“I daresay it’s quite despicable that you would take his last six pieces of gold.” Zar reached his hand over his right shoulder and rested it on the hilt of his sword, and the set commander, the only one who hadn’t dismounted, broke into laughter.

“I find it humorous that you would risk your life for this man,” he said, glancing toward the man his guards had detained. “And even more humorous that
he
would risk his life for only six pieces of gold. It is nothing.”

“Nothing for you,” Zar replied. “But even the one-eyed man is a beauty in the country of the blind—and six pieces of gold may be all this man has. And
if
it is nothing, I wonder why
you
wish so much to have it?”

Zar’s right hand remained on his sword hilt, gripping it firmly as the four dismounted soldiers moved in closer. The two guards threatening the man pushed him to the dirt and moved towards Zar with their swords raised. Zar had no idea if these men were any good with their blades, but if they were, with this many of them, he could not allow them to surround him.

He had to attack them now, unless he was going to use another tactic to scatter them.

“You may have stumbled upon the wrong company today,” said the commander as his men gathered closer around Zar.

Zar took a few steps back, holding out his left hand before him, his right arm still raised over his shoulder, gripping his sword hilt.

“Wait!” he said sincerely, and the advancers seemed to slow a bit. “Don’t be fools!”

The company of men glanced at one another before one of them let out a snarl.

“I am not alone!” said Zar, once again sounding sincere. His left arm was still stretched out and his gaze fixed on the commander.

“He lies! He tries to trick you!” the man retorted.

“This is no trick!” said Zar quickly, barely giving the man a chance to finish. “You may be of the royal guard, but considering your corruption, I’d say my word is worth just as much as yours—no, more.”

The men halted their advance, more uncertain with each word he spoke, and Zar continued to retreat, still holding out his warning hand with his other ready to draw his sword in case the company grew tired of his charade and decided to rush forward.

He stepped back a few more paces and rested his back against a large tree. “Me and my three companions were resting at the edge of this dell when I heard noises—”

“
Three
companions?” said the commander, chuckling.

“Well, if it’s only four of you, I think we’ll take our chances.”

“Three archers,” Zar insisted. “Expert marksmen, I daresay.”

“Archers?” one of the Snowguards questioned, failing to hide the concern in his voice.

“If they fear that I’m in danger, they will come running,” Zar continued. “You won’t even know where the arrows are coming from.”

The commander’s face no longer held a smirk. “This man lies. There is no one.”

No sooner had he uttered those words than Zar called out, “Asha! Asha!”

The company held still and Zar called out yet again. The wood was quiet, and the men held perfectly still as if they were indeed waiting and listening to see if Zar had allies. One guard said it was nonsense as he lifted his sword and took a step closer to Zar. Another voiced he believed the archers were real, which is why Zar had been so confident in challenging them. “Think about it,” he said, “he would never talk like that to us if he was alone.”

“Shall we wait a bit longer for your allies?” the set commander taunted. A few members of the set chuckled while others looked quietly about the tress, but Zar kept his gaze on their leader. He watched the man’s face and witnessed the bend of his smile even out as the thicket began to move, rocking and bending as something tried to make it into the dell—and the sounds of rustling vines and snapping twigs became louder.

“They’re coming!” one said quickly, looking to his commander for instruction.

It wouldn’t be long before Zar’s friend came into sight, so he shouted out a command he was certain would put his plan into action.

“Shoot them!” he yelled, drawing his sword from over his shoulder.

The gathering of men in front of him broke as they all darted off in different directions, one of them yelling “Take cover!” as he went.

The guard that stood the closest to Zar tried to hide himself behind the nearest tree. Zar followed.

The man had barely reached his refuge behind a large blackwood when Zar leapt towards him. Zar’s blade split leather and mail and the man fell back against the tree. With a faint cry, he rolled into the dirt.

Without a thought or break in movement Zar moved to the next nearest guard, a man who had dropped to the ground beside a tree trunk to avoid being targeted by the fearsome, but yet invisible, archers who he believed were surely on their way. This man, like his comrade, had moved about so frantically in an attempt to spare himself from arrow-fire that he’d paid little attention to Zar’s movements. Zar flipped his sword and re-gripped, changing his blade to face downward, and stabbed into the man’s back as he squirmed frantically. His sword bit through mail and Zar pushed it hard until it came out the other side of the man and dug into the dirt.

Another guard crept out, following Zar.

Zar pulled his blade from the body just as quickly as he had pushed it through, and dashed away from the man’s blade. He didn’t bother to look behind him or turn to meet the man, but pressed forward to his next target, leaving his pursuer trailing behind with a raised sword.

Zar came quickly upon another man, his sword lifted high in both hands, the tip of his blade pointing into the sky. He brought it down into a Snowguard’s shoulder and the blow made a cracking sound as it broke through the armor. The guard following him attempted to strike, swinging his sword with both hands before Zar was finished with his current killing. Zar spun swiftly around, and with one fluid motion stepped forward and dug his blade into the man’s throat.

Zar looked for the horse that carried the leader, still jogging, shuffling, and twisting around his opponents. He turned to every hoof he heard, every horse’s whinny, every sound of movement. He had soon fastened his senses upon a horse on the left moving with some speed away from him. It was the commander’s bay with the man still mounted atop, who, from the looks of things, was trying to find the fastest way out of the skirmish. The thick, cluttered wood hindered the bay’s flight. Even so, the commander kicked and spurred the mount. It rushed forward only to skid to a halt in front of a patch of trees—its path cut off.

Zar moved quickly toward the animal, switching his sword to his left hand and pulling his dagger from its sheath. He was coming into range when the bay reared up, and, taking one more step, he sent the dagger flying. The weapon hit near the guard’s ribs and stuck, and the man slowly toppled off his mount and struck hard against the dirt.

Zar rushed to the man and pressed his sword against his chest. Blood coursed generously from the man’s wound, his body twisted from the fall.