The Motive for Massacre (The Kinless Trilogy Book 2) Page 19

  She wanted war.

  "We've no hope against a force that large," Dunwood said with no fear. It was a logistical fact that was already decided in his mind.

  "Perhaps not. But we didn't come here to fend them off, or defeat them. We came here to bloody their noses, trip them up, and bog them down. They can't afford to leave us in their wake as they invade south. We'll destroy the rails if need be, and we'll certainly gum up their supply lines."

  "Maybe so Knight Major. But will they even need supply lines? An army of the dead doesn't care if it marches on an empty stomach."

  Marcus looked to the sergeant and sighed pensively. He couldn't help but concede to that dark line of thought. He moved to another, decidedly less negative thought. "Like every other time the Empire has spun its wheels, threatening and puffing, they will issue forth a list of demands. A crying litany of injustices that the nations and people of Elmoryn have levied against them that they need changed for the good of their people. Their oppressed and half dead people. With any luck their demands will be reasonable, and all this preparation will be for naught. See to the instructions we spoke of. I'm going to prepare some drawings for the towers, and do some wandering here in the village. There are a few things I'd like to see with my own eyes. Dismissed," Marcus said, never looking back from the horde of evil warriors gathered in the too near distance.

  "Yes Sir," Dunwood said with a crisp salute. He let himself out of the suite and Marcus heard his heavy boot steps descend the stairs. Dunwood and nearly every man they'd brought from Daris would be busy for the remainder of the night. All through the night until dawn most likely. Maybe longer. Sleep was a luxury they couldn't afford.

  Marcus' creased brows were tense, and he felt a crushing amount of stress now that he was alone. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead and temples, massaging away some of the tension that was wringing him to death. His mouth was dry. When he opened his eyes the Amaranth army was still across the possible field of battle, despite his prayers to the Ancestors.

  Marcus thought of Chelsea, and worried about her. Then he thought of Umaryn, and worried more. Maybe it was the whispering in his ear of a spirit in the room, but Marcus suddenly felt that two women were actually in more danger than he and his regiment were.

  He shut the curtains and went to the desk he'd dropped his gloves on. A few sheets of paper had been set there for someone, and a quill was nearby next to an inkwell. All the tools an officer needs to organize his thoughts.

  He needed to prepare for war.

  - Chapter Fifteen -

  INTRIGUE

  Umaryn waved to Chelsea, Weston, James and her brother as they left the train platform in Daris. They had only just arrived in the city, and there were so many things to do. Chelsea was headed to her house to gather her gear to head north to rejoin her regiment, and Mal needed to grab a few spell materials before returning to the train station with Weston. They had to head north on a train to help maintain the story James was to tell to Alisanne. Umaryn needed to check in with the Artificer's Guild to ensure that she was still welcome there while her brother ran his errand. For it all to work, everyone needed to do their part, and quickly. For her part, Umaryn's trip to the Protectorate had run a bit long, and she expected a tongue lashing from her superiors at the Guildhall. She brought her horse Tinder to the stable at the Guild and headed inside the massive structure.

  Through the ticket lobby, then the grand central chamber she went, eventually winding her way down the maze-like halls that led to the side chambers, bedrooms, studies and workshops of the inner sanctum of the Guild. Hundreds of rooms were hidden behind the public areas, and navigating them was a skill and trade all on its own. This was where the work was done to operate the Guild, and where some of its workers and believers lived. She'd been gone just a scant few days, and she already felt like she was struggling to find the office of Nolan Renaud, the man who'd taken her in as an apprentice in the ways of the Guild. An office she'd been to a hundred times. She found his office with the door open, and the gray haired Artificer sitting at his desk. He looked up when she knocked.

  "Umaryn, you're back! Excellent, come tell me of your trip. Come, sit," Nolan seemed very happy to see her, which took her off guard. He hadn't been too pleased with her leave of absence.

  "It's good to be back, Librarian, thank you. I'm sorry it ran longer than we thought. There was a train delay." Umaryn took a seat in a sturdy, carved chair. It was comfortable.

  "I heard about the brigands. I'm told you and your brother were instrumental in turning them back. Seems you saved several lives. Were you hurt? What of your brother? You look fine." Nolan leaned in, showing concern.

  "I'm fine. Malwynn is fine. There was an Apostle on board that survived the attack, he tended to our wounds. Others were far worse off."

  "You know it is Guild policy to not interfere in robberies, yes? We typically leave such matters to the local authorities," Nolan said in an informative fashion.

  "I'm aware. These people weren't solely trying to rob Nolan. They were killing indiscriminately, and I couldn't stand by and let others die. I'm sorry for breaking with Guild policy, but we felt something had to be done. I'm sorry the trip took extra time as well."

  Her mentor waved a hand about. "Well you're only what? A day overdue? That's hardly enough to be perturbed over. I'm glad you made it there and back. Did you find any family in Davisville? Long lost brothers and sisters, an uncle or aunt perhaps?"

  Umaryn had a script. She followed it from memory. "No, sadly nothing." It was important for everyone's story to remain consistent. "We visited several places in the city, and were unable to make contact with who we thought was a relative of ours. A shame really."

  "You say that now Umaryn, but think of how you felt when you thought some might've been there. Can you recall the feeling of hope you had? I can remember your face just now from that day. Had you not gone and followed that lead, you'd be festering with regret. Better bad news, than the hope of good news that never comes."

  "I suppose. I do have more bad news though Nolan," Umaryn said, biting her lower lip nervously. Despite the brevity of all she and her brother had to do still, she was scared she'd lose her berth in the Guild from the news she was about to share.

  "Oh? Leaving us for good? So soon?" Nolan was disappointed.

  "No, not quite. I want to be a member of the Guild for the rest of my life Nolan. I mean that. I've wanted this ever since I was a little girl in New Picknell, studying in the village forge with Luther, making nails and crooked horseshoes. Ancestors rest his lost soul. But with this war frightening us all, my brother and I have decided that we need to head north to help. He's a skilled warrior, and I'm an Artificer. They could use our skills at the front if this war does break out. Marcus Gray, the commanding officer of the regiment that headed north was also the man who assisted my family right before the attack on New Picknell. We owe him something."

  Nolan looked like a bit of the wind in his sails died out. His shoulder slumped and he scratched his chin. "For doing his job? I think you owe this Gray nothing for that. But, I understand your patriotism. I can certainly understand your need to help, and how you feel responsible as it pertains to justice for your family. But Umaryn, Varrland has armies for war. You are a gifted crafter, very talented in The Way, and to see you squander your Ancestor given talents like this saddens me."

  Umaryn couldn’t stem the flow of real emotion. Her voice trembled with a hint of anger. "Squander? That's a bit short sighted. Librarian Renaud you can't possibly understand what's at stake here. If the Empire strikes south into Varrland, thousands will die. At the very least the towns along the border will be annihilated and those people need someone, everyone to respond to their moment of need. My brother and I can be there for them, and we need to do this not only to sate our desire to make things right, but also to help innocents who will be cut down in a pointless war. I've been to Graben. I see how they live what they call a life there. And I know that
if we don't stop the Empire at the border, stopping them as they head south will be even more impossible."

  Nolan listened to her passionate argument, leaning back in his chair, physically pushed back from her emotion. "I see. I've never been to Graben, and I cannot speak to their horrors first hand. I will do my best to cover for your absence, but I am certain there will be some form of repercussions when you return. A formal inquiry will be had, and you might face a demotion. If you return, that is. War has a nasty reputation of being an activity you don't come back from alive." Nolan had lost his empathetic attitude towards her. He was already distancing himself.

  "I wish to return, and I of course accept a demotion if that's what the Guild decides. I'm very sorry if this reflects poorly on you Nolan," Umaryn said.

  Nolan didn't respond at first, he just looked at her with disappointment in his eyes. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke. "Go Umaryn. Be with your brother. Rush to the end you so impatiently seek. When, and if you return, we'll navigate your future in the Guild. That or we'll sing tales of your spirit as you guide new members of the Guild from the other side."

  Umaryn tried to think of something to say to make peace with Renaud, but his animosity was on his face, and exhibited in his body language. He wanted no more to do with her, and nothing she could say in the moment would change that. Silently, she stood and left the small office.

  Despite considerable anxiety about doing so, James had left the group according to their plan. He headed to a tavern where he'd get a room for the night, and then go see Alisanne. His meeting with her would theoretically cause a delay that would buy them some time to get things done in the city, as well as give him true reason to think they'd boarded the train to head north to the unfolding conflict. His ability to tell a reasonable truth to Alisanne was paramount.

  Chelsea now led Weston and Malwynn with Bramwell the Gvorn in tow to her mother and father's home, where she'd left her gear. The sergeant-squire walked with a brisk energy in her step. She was almost home, but more importantly she was that much closer to being able to rejoin her unit, and her Knight Major. She took her duty to him and her nation very seriously.

  As she pulled several steps ahead of the uncle and nephew, Weston lowered his voice and started a conversation with Mal. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

  Mal seemed surprised at the question. "I don't know, not that long. A few weeks. Umaryn and I knew Marcus Gray, her commanding officer."

  "You love her don't you?" Weston whispered.

  Mal stopped walking so abruptly Bramwell nearly bowled him over. He thought for a second and then said, "I do think I love her. Strange to say it out loud. I know that sounds silly, but she's already helped to save our lives several times, and she's honest and strong. Someone I can admire."

  Weston seemed pleased. "I like her. You would do well by her. She's smarter than she looks and looks tougher than that Gvorn you're leading. Bramwell is his name, yes?"

  "Yeah. He was a gift from Marcus after we assisted his unit right before New Picknell was destroyed. Bramwell originally belonged to the necromancer who led the patrol that initially probed New Picknell. We're still not sure if that was intentional or not. I guess it doesn't matter anymore," Mal said as he stroked Bram's long snout. His long curved horns that sprouted from his temples swayed with pleasure at the attention.

  "It's a beautiful creature. Oh, we're here I think," Weston said as Chelsea knocked on the door of a small home ahead. Mal knew it was her parent's home.

  "Chelsea's mother is an Apostle. She helped get us into the Cathedral archives where we found out about you. Her family is something else. You'll enjoy this," Mal said as he tied Bramwell to the small hitching hook on the side of the home. Chelsea had already gone inside.

  After brief introductions, and a few warm and lengthy hugs, all those in the home were gathered around the hearty wooden table in the kitchen. Chelsea's mother looked worried, her hands knotting together over and over as Chelsea told her about her need to head to the north. The mother stopped her daughter as she became more fervent in her speech.

  "Chelsea stop," the mother said quietly, interrupting her only child.

  "Ma, I know. You're not happy, but I'm a soldier, and I've got a duty," Chelsea said firmly. She'd made up her mind.

  "Marcus came to us before he left with the regiment on the trains. He left you a letter. He said to make sure you read it before going anywhere. He said it was very important."

  "Really? It must be a list of equipment to bring. Where is the letter?" Chelsea looked at her mother and father, then at Mal and Weston. She looked frazzled.

  Chelsea's father stood up and went to the cupboard. He pulled it open, revealing a series of stacked, plain wooden bowls and plates. Each handmade. He lifted a stack of the plate and pulled out a letter. It was folded into a third, and sealed with a red wax stamp. He returned to the table, and handed it to his daughter.

  "That's his seal," Chelsea said. She slipped a finger into the fold and cracked the wax, allowing the letter to open fully. The letter was a single page, and Mal could see over her shoulder that it wasn't full. The message was fairly short. The squire lifted the letter to reading distance, and her eyes cut across the document quickly. Mal watched her face as it became more and more irate. Her lips curled into a grimace, and before she was done reading, her brows furrowed downward until she was squinting with anger. When she finished, she slammed the paper down onto the table painfully, stood up, and walked up the stairs to the second floor, leaving everyone behind, wondering what the letter said.

  The four were left behind in an awkward silence, looking at each other.

  "What does it say?" Chelsea's mother asked, not daring to touch the letter. Her husband physically backed away from the table, distancing himself from the situation.

  Mal looked at the parents of the girl he was pretty sure he loved, and took the fall. He picked up the letter, took a deep breath and read it quietly aloud.

  "Chelsea, I hope your trip to The Protectorate was worth it. I trust you learned many useful things at House Kulare. I wanted you to know that I was aware that you were going there with Malwynn and Umaryn when I granted your leave. The wall between your quarters and mine is thinner than you realize, and you talk in your sleep," Mal said. He stopped and chuckled. "Man I bet that pissed her off."

  "She's always talked in her sleep," Chelsea's mom said. "She's fought a hundred Ice Bears in her youth. Is there more?"

  Mal nodded and continued. "Have no fear, I was more apt to grant your request when I was sure that was the cause for the leave. By the time you get this letter, assuming of course you stop at your parent's home and read it, I will be in the village of Ockham's Fringe, preparing them for a siege. I don't know if The Empire is serious about invading this time, but I wanted to be there to ensure a war doesn't break out due to a Varrlander's mistake. I'm sure you're unhappy that we deployed without you, but you'll have to make do with a new mission." Mal stopped, puzzled. "A new mission?"

  "Keep reading," Weston said quietly.

  "It is my belief that Malwynn and Umaryn have been telling the truth about what happened during their time in Graben. The night you met them I let them down by refusing my aid, and this is my chance to make it right. I told them I couldn't help them investigate someone they believed to be the one responsible for the destruction of their town, an Apostle, and though I was in the right to not help them, it causes me great discomfort to know that I couldn't help them. They came to my aid once, and the first time they asked me for assistance, I turned them away. As a Knight I must find a way to reconcile how I feel about this. This is my chance to aid them. I hereby order you to accompany them on whatever it is they are doing to discover the identity of the person or persons who destroyed their village, and killed their family. Extend them every ounce of effort and skill you have. Protect them. Seek what they seek with all the verve you've given the regiment. You are to return to direct duty at my side only when
they release you from said duty."

  "Oh dear," Weston said, crossing his legs.

  "Yeah not good. There's more," Mal said, scratching his head. "I know this is not what you want, but deal with it. Part of being a Knight and an officer in the Varrland military is knowing what you want to do, knowing what you need to do, and knowing when to do neither, because something more important needs to be done. This is more important right now, and I believe that because all of this motion towards war seems to stem from the events at New Picknell, and their great loss. I suspect if you are able to ferret out the truth of their tragedy, we can avert this war, or at least wage it in a righteous way that makes all the inevitable dying to come worthwhile." Mal paused. He sipped water from a wooden cup before continuing. "After you read this letter, please hand it to Mal or Umaryn so they know what I've charged you to do. Chelsea, I look forward to having you rejoin me at my side, as my squire, as my most proficient sergeant, and hopefully soon as a fellow Knight. May the Ancestors guide your feet, and power the swing of your sword. Signed Knight Major Marcus Gray, Commanding Officer of the Darisian 2nd Infantry."

  "And here I am," Chelsea said. She'd managed to make her way down the stairs without anyone noticing. They were too involved with Mal's reading of the letter.

  "Chelsea," Mal stood, leaving the letter on the table. "I'm sorry. I know you wanted to head north."

  She was grimly flat. "It's fine. If Marcus thinks I'm of better service to you, then so be it."

  "You know we could use you," Mal asked her.

  "My regiment could use me too Mal. I don't want to talk about this right now. Let's just follow through on the plan. The faster we figure it all out the better off everyone will be," Chelsea said. Everyone in the room knew she was unhappy.