“How does this involve us?” Qurrah dared ask.
“I’d have you at my side when I tell him no,” Bram said. “At least for now. In a few days, perhaps even a few hours, I will let him pass. I only desire to see how he reacts. Trust me, I do not desire war.”
“Forgive me,” Qurrah said, “but I fear my question was not answered.”
“You must realize you mean something,” Bram insisted. “Even with your own brother as Ashhur’s avatar, even with your body made new by the hands of angels, you still will not live under their rule. You came to me for help, for freedom. I need your defiance. I need the people to see we still have a choice.”
“You give us reasons we never had,” Tessanna said before Qurrah could speak. “You tell us our value is in refusing to be puppets, then seek to use us as puppets for your own cause. If you’d stand against Mordan, stand on your own strength.”
Her voice remained eerily calm, but Qurrah could feel the anger growing beneath it.
“I do not wish to use you at all,” Bram said. “I only thought you would agree with my efforts to hold back the angels’ encroachment.”
“Angels?” Tessanna said, the last of her apathy vanishing into a wide-eyed look of fury. “Karak took away my lover, then gave me back a monster. Ashhur took that monster and gave me back my lover. I do not hide from the angels. I do not fear their eyes. It’s men like you I hoped to avoid. Men who would use me, put me on a pedestal and ask others to bow. I’ll take my knife and bleed you all if I must to prevent the prayers.”
At last Bram was taken aback, and he lifted his hands to show he meant no insult.
“You’ll be put on no pedestal,” he said. “And I assure you, no one will bow. But Antonil’s army nears, and you will accompany me as my guests.”
“And if we refuse?” Qurrah asked.
“If you would deny me such generosity, then I will deny my generosity to you. I will revoke your land and declare you unwelcome in the nation of Ker. Only if I must, of course. Surely I do not ask for much in having you stand silent at my side?”
Qurrah looked to Tessanna, to see how she would react. Did it truly matter if they were there or not? Bram wanted them used as figureheads, and nothing more. They could do this one thing, then continue on their way. His wife, though, still appeared furious, and she gave no attempt to conceal it.
“I will have no part in this,” she said, standing. “And neither will Qurrah. I watched him be Velixar’s puppet. He won’t now be yours.”
Hearing this, Qurrah expected Bram to be furious, or to carry out his threat. Instead he sighed and shook his head.
“You’re returning to Mordeina for the first time since the war, aren’t you?” he asked. “Then you don’t understand what it is like. Go then, and see. You won’t understand until you are there. If you flee to my borders, I promise to protect you, so long as you admit your error.”
“What do you mean by that?” Qurrah asked as Bram started to leave.
Instead of explaining, the king gave him a bitter smile.
“Pleasant travels,” he said.
Tessanna stared as he left, as if driving nails into his back with her eyes. Qurrah took her hand, and she whirled on him, her look that of a crazed animal.
“He won’t use us,” she said.
“I know.”
“I won’t let him. I won’t let
He kissed her forehead.
“I know. So what do we do now?”
Before she could answer a trumpet blew from beyond the bridge. The soldiers shot into motion, grabbing helmets and readying weapons. Tessanna’s cold hands wrapped around Qurrah’s.
“I want to see,” she said, pulling him along.
Many glared at them, but none were brave enough to stop them as they headed for the road. All along either side gathered Bram’s army, banners carried high, armor polished to a shine. Lost amid the chaos, the two lovers peered down the road, to where King Antonil’s army came riding.
6
Calm as King Antonil seemed, Tarlak thought he surely must have ice in his blood. How else did he remain so composed when staring at the army, ten thousand strong, that guarded the Bloodbrick Bridge?
“Well Tarlak, I can see you fidgeting over there,” Antonil said as the two rode at the forefront of their army. “You’re my advisor. Care to advise me?”
“I’m not sure there’s any other way to explain it,” Tarlak said. “He doesn’t plan on letting us cross.”
“I outnumber him three to one. Trying to stop us is madness.”
“Bram hasn’t always struck me as the most rational of men.”
“Nonsense,” Antonil said. “He’s the most rational man I know. That’s why he’s so frustrating to the rest of us.”
Tarlak shrugged.
“However you want to explain it, it still worries me. Is he playing with us, or does he really think a war is best for anyone? Games or madness, neither one I’d want to be involved with.”
“Could you form a crossing for us if he refuses, perhaps farther north?”
Tarlak rubbed his chin as he stared at the river.
“Damming it wouldn’t do much,” he said. “River’s too large, too deep. Levitating thirty thousand men over the water isn’t going to happen, either. Best I could do is try to freeze the top, forming a bridge while letting the river continue to pass beneath. It’d take a lot of concentration, though, and I’d prefer we just walk across the stone bridge the idiot king is guarding.”
“Duly noted. Bring me my generals. Until we see reason otherwise, we’ll pretend Bram has every intention of letting us cross. I don’t want to show up brimming for a fight.”
“There’s thirty thousand of us wearing armor and carrying swords, not counting the angels accompanying us,” Tarlak said. “Unless we approach naked, we’ll look prepared for a fight. But yes, keeping everyone calm is probably best.”
Tarlak turned his horse about, found the nearest general, and relayed Antonil’s request for a meeting. That done, he returned to the front, putting himself at the far corner of the vanguard so he could not see or hear the discussion. So far the generals had shown significant mistrust of him and his yellow robes. Given the absolute destruction various spellcasters had rent upon the land during the Gods’ War, he didn’t blame them. Much.
As Antonil talked, Tarlak scanned King Bram’s army. Ten thousand approximately, all appearing well-armed and well-trained. They ran about like ants upon seeing their approach, but Tarlak sensed they weren’t there for war. The bridge had no defenses placed upon it, no barricades or spear walls. The same went for the men on the far side. They had built no ballista or catapults, weapons that could have devastated Antonil’s army while they struggled to cross the bridge. No, either they planned an ambush, or a show of force. If it was a show of force, it was a hollow one. Antonil hadn’t the slightest desire to invade Ker, not with his homeland still occupied by orcs. If it was an ambush…
He snapped his fingers, and fire sparked from his fingertips. If it was an ambush, they’d get to see just how much destruction a spellcaster could wreak.
“The king requests your presence,” one of the fatter generals said, disturbing Tarlak and his thoughts.
“Very well,” Tarlak said, nodding his head and then tugging on the reins of his horse. The Bloodbrick was less than a quarter mile away, and despite Antonil’s assurances, Tarlak felt unease spreading through the men. He felt unease as well, but for a different reason. Something about the distant army felt vaguely…familiar, like a thorn in his mind.
“I want you at my side when we request passage,” Antonil said as Tarlak rejoined him.
“I was thinking I presented greater tactical value elsewhere.”
