ceases to blow.”
Tadarus laughed without humor. “Before my father carved this pass, there was no getting over these mountains at all. You are too used to the green valleys and gentle beaches of your homeland.” The Prince of Shar Dni had sailed north from his city into the Far Sea, coming to ground on the eastern shore of Uduria. This was his first time traveling Vod’s Pass. Tadarus felt his cousin’s tension and respected his bravery.
Andoses lowered his gaze to the bracken and rubble along the walls of the pass. “I admit I prefer the pitch and roll of the open sea to this burrowing through the earth,” he said. “I’d like to see you upon the deck of a ship, Tadarus. Then I’d have cause to laugh at your nerves.”
Tadarus smiled. “True, cousin, true,” he said. “If our errand is successful and there is war against Khyrei, you will have your chance to laugh at me.”
“They say the Old Wyrms still haunt these mountains,” said Andoses. “Is it true?”
Tadarus shrugged. He glanced back at Fangodrel, riding a black mare in solemn thought, his personal servant Rathwol following directly behind on a horse whose flanks were piled with bundles, coffers, and flasks. Fangodrel would not relinquish his luxuries, even on a trek such as this. Tadarus did not judge him too harshly. Fangodrel did not have the constitution of his younger brothers. Why Vod’s great strength had skipped over his first-born son only the Gods knew. Even Sharadza, the baby of the family, had more strength in her narrow limbs than Fangodrel. Yet Fangodrel was intelligent, and that counted for much. He was a prolific writer despite his dark sensibilities.
“Tadarus?” asked Andoses. “Did you hear me?”
Tadarus turned his head. “Forgive me,” he said. “I worry about my brother.”
Andoses glanced backward, shifting in his saddle. “He seems fine.”
“Yes,” said Tadarus. “He always seems fine. But never so quiet.”
“Perhaps it’s the mountainous gloom,” said Andoses. “It penetrates the soul.”
Tadarus chuckled. “You haven’t even scaled the cold heights yet.”
Andoses shivered, pulling his yellow cloak tighter about his shoulders. “What about the Wyrms?”
“There are a few of the old beasts left,” said Tadarus. “But they delve deep into the earth and rarely emerge. At times a quake will disturb their slumber and one will rise up storming through the pass, spitting fire and hatred.”
Andoses’ eyes grew large, but only for a moment. “Have you seen one?”
“Never,” said Tadarus. “The Giants of Steephold keep the pass secure. They deal with any Serpents that crawl from their holes. I’ve seen bones, mind you. The Giants make armor and helmets from them sometimes. Spear-tips from their fangs.”
Andoses was quiet for a moment, his voice replaced by the sound of clattering hooves and the clamor of mail, shield, and spear. Someone back in the line was singing an old war song of Uurz, a deep voice half obscured by the wind. Tadarus knew that Andoses was imagining a reptile whose teeth were as large as spear heads. He thought of his father, who killed the Lord of Serpents and tamed these mountains. His heart felt heavy beneath the crest of New Udurum, the silver hammer engraved on his breastplate.
Earlier he went to an oracle in the city, an old seer whose powers were rumored to be great, and he gave her more gold than she had seen in her seventy years. She burned the sacred herbs and sacrificed lambs to the Gods of Sea and Sky. But still she had failed to answer the questions Is my father alive? and Will Vod return to his kingdom? She had only one bit of wisdom for him after all her spells and divinations: “The sea holds many mysteries, and none know what secrets dwell in its depths save the Sea God and his finny peoples.” She gave back most of his gold, shamed by the failure of her own magic, and Tadarus never spoke of the attempt to the rest of his family. They must learn to accept that Vod of the Storms, father, King, hero, legend… was gone. Tadarus was the first to admit this, for he knew the court now looked to him as its next sovereign. Even if Fangodrel was the eldest, it was tall Tadarus that everyone approached for strength and guidance. So he bore his sadness in silence and tried his best to replace his father.
Now this campaign to unite four kingdoms in a war the likes of which had never been seen in modern history. He was glad for the chance to remove himself from court, to dwell upon the journey, the diplomacy, and the warfare that would follow. By distracting himself with bold endeavors, he might forget the pain of his loss. He must forge a new set of legends and stories to rival those of Vod. He must become his father by doing great things, by shaking the world into new forms and shapes.
Vireon was different. He held no ambition, and he lost his pain by losing himself in the glory of nature, the thrill of the Long Hunt. Tadarus envied him. In many ways, Vireon was still only a boy. He knew the throne would never be his, so he was free to be a child of the forest. There was little responsibility on Vireon’s shoulders, though they were as wide and strong as Tadarus’ own. Tadarus loved his younger brother and missed him even now, but the throne rooms and [ne as battlefields of distant lands were no place for Vireon. Besides, Tadarus did not know when he would return to Udurum, so Vireon had best keep their mother safe.
“How far until Steephold?” asked Andoses. It was only the company’s first day in the mountains, but for him the journey could not pass quickly enough.
“Two days at this speed,” said Tadarus. “If the weather holds.”
They would find warm fires, fresh bread, and good meat at the citadel. Fifty Uduru were stationed there to watch over the pass from its mid-point. Andoses would see the Serpent bones Tadarus had mentioned. And friends were there whom Tadarus had not seen in five years, since his trip to visit Uurz with his father and brothers. He was barely twenty at the time, and it seemed Vod would live and rule forever. Perhaps it was thoughts of their father that now plagued Fangodrel?
Tadarus let his steed drop back and drew up alongside his brother. Fangodrel looked at him with piercing eyes, his face a white wedge of calm. Tadarus rode near him in silence awhile. He never knew how to approach Fangodrel without sparking an argument, so he usually avoided him. Which, given Fangodrel’s introverted pursuits, was not hard to do. He rarely entered the training yard, the wrestling pit, or the stables. More likely he’d be in the library learning some esoteric history or holed up in his room writing verse… or cavorting with some courtesan. His appetites were notorious, but then Tadarus and Vireon also had their fair share of lovers. Fangodrel kept his affairs as secret as possible, yet there was only so much secrecy to be had in a palace. Tadarus knew how cruel Fangodrel was to his wenches, how he beat the servants and maidens who displeased him. Perhaps he thought a Prince should behave in such a way. Such behavior bred little love among the court.
“ You must lead the diplomacy,” Queen Shaira had told Tadarus. “You will be the one who convinces Dairon to support Shar Dni… not Fangodrel.”
“Then why send him at all, Mother?” Tadarus had asked.
“He is the eldest,” she replied. “To not send him would be an insult. But we both know he is no sweet- tongued ambassador.”
“Nor am I,” said Tadarus.
“You do not have to be,” said Shaira. “You are the son of a Hero-King, and you wear Vod’s image on your face. Fangodrel… Fangodrel is different. You know this.”
“Yes,” said Tadarus. “He is more like you than father.”
Shaira stared at him then, as if he’d said something odd. Then she only smiled and reminded him of his duty.
“Remember that you speak for New Udurum,” she said. “If Fangodrel fails to realize this you must… remind him.”
Tadarus reassured her: he knew his role and that of his brother.
“And when you get to Mumbaza this will be even more important,” said the Queen. “Fangodrel is a figurehead only. You, Tadarus, are my voice and mind. If we are to aid my brother’s people, it falls upon you to secure these alliances.”
“Do not forget,” said Tadarus. “Andoses will be with us.”
“Yes, of course. But a Prince of Shar Dni is not a Prince of Udurum. You are also the voice of the Giants. The world respects this, fears it even. It is what separates us from all other kingdoms.”
“Mother…” Tadarus hesitated. “What if we gain the alliance of Uurz and Mumbaza, but the Giants decide not to fight? What then?”
Shaira smiled at her son, kissed him on the forehead. “Son, when have you ever known an Uduru not to want to fight?”
Now Tadarus rode beside the brooding Fangodrel and searched for words. The shadows of the peaks fell over
