Chartomancy

Chapter Forty-seven

8th day, Planting Season, Year of the Rat

10th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th year since the Cataclysm

Tsatol Deraelkun, County of Faeut

Erumvirine

Scouts from the Derael family had been watching us for several days, but we took no action against them. Tsatol Deraelkun had a special place in Virine history because it had held the pass in the Central Virine mountains since before the Empire had been sundered. During the Time of Black Ice and the oddities that wild magic had spawned, it had been heavily damaged by monstrous armies and all but razed several times. Regardless, the Derael family had not let the enemies get into the Virine heartland, and had made their home stronger every time they rebuilt it.

And as I had known since we left Kelewan, it would be at Tsatol Deraelkun that we would make a stand.

While many passes through the mountains existed, most could handle little more than wandering shepherds, their flocks, and smugglers. Emperor Dailon IV, who got seasick at hearing the cry of a gull, went to great expense to establish the Imperial Road running from Felarati to Kelewan. Cutting a road through the Virine range had not been easy, but it was done, and the first Deraelkun had been built astride the road as an Imperial way station.

Down through the eons it had changed a great deal, and by the time of the sundering, it had become a massive fortress with three circles of walls, and secondary fortresses linked by tunnels and redoubts carved so artfully from the native stone that they remained undetected until one was right on top of them. Moraven had passed through the area a number of times and occasionally been a guest of the Derael family.

I recognized the colors and arms of the soldiers blocking the Imperial Road, and assumed that for every dozen I saw before me, five times that number lurked in the woods and ravines. Their armor had been tied with alternating cords of black, red, and yellow, making one mindful of poisonous snakes. The family crest featured a bear rampant and still fighting, though stuck with two spears and four arrows. Each wound indicated a time they’d rebuilt Deraelkun, and the bear seemed eager for the next assault.

Two riders left the center of their formation and approached me. I left my lines alone and rode toward them. I still wore the Morythian armor, but had set aside my mask. Having them recognize me would not hurt, nor would letting them mistake me for the Moraven of their acquaintance.

The woman held up a hand and her son reined back. She came forward another couple of feet, then stopped her horse. Both of them were tall, and she quite uncharacteristically. Strands of white worked through her long black hair. She could have hidden them as many women would, but many women her age wouldn’t have donned armor and come out to meet an armed force. She wore a sword, but I knew she’d never use it. The bow and quiver on her saddle, and the jade thumbring on her right hand, reminded me of her skill.

I bowed my head to her. “Countess Derael, it is a pleasure.”

Her hazel eyes studied me closely. “You look like someone I know, but he’s never showed an inclination toward displays of nationality.”

“Change is necessary.” I looked back toward the south. “You’ve seen enough refugees come through to know what is happening.”

She shook her head. “Those who get this far are traveling on rumor. I hope you have solid information.”

I turned back and nodded. “We do. We also have Prince Iekariwynal with us.”

Her son, Pasuram, nodded grimly. “Kelewan has fallen?”

“If not, it’s only by a miracle.” I looked at both of them openly. “Are you going to allow us to join you in Deraelkun, or shall we die here contesting the road?”

“Fighting us or those chasing you?”

I smiled at her question. “Them, preferably.”

She nodded. “Come. The count will welcome you and will listen eagerly to what you have to say.”

“How is he?”

“Better.” The countess allowed herself a small smile. “News of the disaster in the south has enlivened him.”

Moraven had first met Count Jarys Derael when the count was just a young boy. I’d seen him in the years since grow up, grow older and, in the last few years, watched a wasting disease slowly destroy his life. Luckily for him, he had married very well, and his children had inherited the strength of their parents, as well as a deep pride in the family tradition.

We reached Deraelkun after only two hours’ ride. My troops were given billets in the lower circle, while I rode on to the main keep with the Prince and a handful of Derael vassals. The nobles were sent to clean up, while the countess took me directly to the count’s chambers. The warning look in her eyes prepared me for what I would see, although keeping my reaction from my face was not an easy matter.

Jarys Derael had always been quite vital. Very tall and slender, he favored the spear to the sword, and had learned from some of the best naicai in the Nine. He’d used his reach and speed to great advantage and had he not been called to duty after his father’s premature death, he might well have become jaecainai.

Not that his being a Mystic would have necessarily saved him from disease. I had no idea what it was, but his body had begun to atrophy and he had lost control of his large muscles. I found him still quite quick of mind, but for someone so strong to fall victim to such weakness was a curse that can devour the spirit. In recent years, he had become a recluse within the family tower, and I was the first person who was not blood kin or a close friend of long standing to be admitted to his presence.

He clearly had been positioned for our interview, as the high-backed chair in which he sat had behind it a south-facing window. The sunlight glowing through it backlit him enough that I could not get a good look at his face. Even so, it wasn’t hard to see that his once-thick shock of red hair had thinned and turned grey. A blanket hid him from the waist down, and I could not tell if he’d been belted into place or not. He held a stick in his left hand, and it pointed at a map of the countryside, but I didn’t expect him to move it.

And his voice had a watery sound, as if he were half-drowning.

“Please, Decaiserr Tolo, be seated.”

I accepted his invitation and slipped into the chair facing him. “I appreciate the time you are able to give me, my lord.”

“And I appreciate the information you will give me. Did you see Kelewan fall?”

“No, but it could not have taken long.” I outlined the situation as I’d seen it, then gave him a report on the nature of the enemy-starting with my arrival in Erumvirine, but declining to mention how I got there. I even showed him the scar on my right forearm and upon seeing that, he fell silent for a moment.

Even with the backlight, I could see the intelligence burning in his eyes. “The kwajiin were not present in the first battles your people reported?”

“You may ask them if you wish, but until I fought the first one on the road to the capital, none of us had seen them. Still, it is possible they were directing things behind the scenes.”

“But they did not show up in the ranks until the battle with the Iron Bears?”

“Again, not to my knowledge-but they could have been traveling along the river and I just never saw them.”

With great effort, he shook his head. “It would make no sense to divide a force that way. Having your troops under discipline is the best way to win. And the way they sent bestial creatures against Kelewan suggests the kwajiin are not averse to sacrificing their unruly comrades.”

I nodded. “I see no reason to doubt your analysis. I’m not certain, however, that they want to destroy them foolishly. The kwajiin seem anything but foolish.”

“To assume they would use them poorly is to assume the enemy is stupid.” His voice faltered for a moment and he swallowed hard. “If you are correct, however, we have to wonder why they are coming here to Deraelkun.”

“Three possible answers come to mind, my lord.” I smiled easily. “The first is to clear the way to invade north. The second is to close the avenue for an attack from the north. And the third is to have the honor of destroying Deraelkun.”

“I’ll believe the first two, but the third is not a consideration-not if I want to believe them a worthy foe.”

“To discount it, however, you discount their having a knowledge of Deraelkun, which suggests they will bring insufficient force against your position.”

The count’s head canted to the right, and I believe it was a deliberate motion. “That is something to consider, certainly. I have had scouts out. The kwajiin have slowed their advance since you ambushed them. Given the rate at which new troops have been joining them, and the speed of their advance, I anticipate a siege force of twenty-five thousand within a week.”

My stomach tightened. “That would be the siege force from around Kelewan, which means the capital has fallen. It also means they’ve brought in many more troops to pacify the country they’re leaving behind.”

“That, or they have killed everyone.”

I wasn’t certain which prospect sounded worse. The idea that they had murdered everyone in Kelewan revolted me, but made the number of troops in Erumvirine manageable. If, on the other hand, they had brought more troops up, we were looking at fifty thousand invaders at a minimum. If all of those were kwajiin, the invasion would not stop at the Virine border.

“Which would you prefer?”

“Neither.” The stick in his hand rose slightly, then flopped back down. “I have much thinking to do. Please take your time and review the defenses here. Perhaps, between the two of us, we can come up with a way to stop the invaders.”

“Of course, my lord.” I stood, bowed, and withdrew.

The countess met me in the corridor outside as servants moved silently past and into his room. “He’s not the man you remember, is he?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“He’s been worse.” She led the way down the corridor. “Come, I want to show you something before we look over the defenses. It’s something you’ve not seen before. Few have, who are not of Derael blood.”

I kept pace with her. “How many troops are here?”

“Not counting yours, there are roughly five thousand.” Consina kept her voice even but quiet. “Three are our house troops, and we may get more as the lords you brought in send for their households. The other two are militia-poorly trained but well led. We pair them with more established units or give them support duties. Harassing the enemy gives them experience without much chance of being overwhelmed.”

“There is a value to that. What is the ratio of archers to swordsmen?”

She smiled. “All of our soldiers can do both, Master Tolo. We have a regiment of archers who are our sharpshooters.”

We descended a circular stairway that went from new construction to old, then older. It let us into the foundation of the tower. She took a torch from a bracket on the wall and lit it, then conducted me along a dark corridor. We paused before a round door built as a plug into the wall. Taking a key from around her neck, she unlocked it and, surprisingly, the door swung open easily on well-oiled hinges.

“Originally this room served as the Emperor’s treasury when he visited, and it is the only room that has survived every siege. The Derael family converted it to their own treasury, then a museum.”

She set the torch in a bracket beside the door, then took up a small taper and went before me, lighting small lamps hung on chains from the ceiling. As light filled the room, a chill ran down my spine.

Eons of treasures filled the room. Tapestries depicting great battles and momentous events lined the walls. Banners, some bloodied, burned, cut, torn, and yellowed with age, hung from the ceiling. Broken carriages of siege machines and one whole ballista had been rebuilt in the center of the floor, and marble statues representing heroes surrounded them. In another circle that filled the room to the walls, weapons and armor hung on wooden trees, memorializing Derael warriors and others who had fought at Deraelkun.

Consina paused next to a suit of armor that looked untouched. Behind it, standing tall, a spear almost touched the ceiling. I joined her, admiring the armor.

“This is his, as well you know. It’s not like most of the others, with cut strings and dents and even bloodstained holes. By the time Jarys took command, Tsatol Deraelkun’s reputation defended this place more than any soldier.”

She glanced down. “It was always his dream that he would be able to prove his worthiness as a warrior and have his armor installed here, but no one ever came to test him. And now, when someone is coming, he’s not able to defend Deraelkun.”

I smiled. “The best warrior is one who defeats his enemy without ever having to fight.”

“I have told him this many times, and while he acknowledges the right of that wisdom, it eats at him that he can no longer fight.”

“It will take more than Jarys’ donning his armor and picking up his spear to defend this place.” I ran a hand over my unshaven jaw. “You say we have five thousand. By the time they come we might get twenty percent more, but they will still outnumber us five to one. If they use the tactics they did at Kelewan, they will hurt us before we begin a formal battle.”

Consina nodded. “We are not without our own plans. We will erect many banners and light many fires, making them think we are ten times our number. That will slow them down.”

“That’s a good idea, to be certain.” I turned and studied the other armor and the tapestries, drinking in the history of the place. “I think, this time however, it’s not the right tactic.”

I turned and looked at her, smiling broadly. “I think, in fact, this time we will defeat them by appearing weaker than they could ever hope we are.”