In the Palace of Rygia: Chapter 1

It was a bloodbath.

General Justus Corden let his arm drop to his side, sword heavy in his hand. Hiking his silver shield onto his back, he lifted his eyes to scan the mountainsides. Empty. His own men were gone, routing any Temanites who remained alive after this latest battle.

Yet he was not alone. Bodies lay strewn throughout the grassy valley. Some had golden hair, like his own. These wore silver chainmail and many had blue cloaks. Others, by far the majority, were brown-headed and wore the red and gold cloaks of the Temanite army.

Religious fools. They never learn.

So many dead. More this year than the previous six combined. Seven years of war, all for what? We’ve gotten nowhere. Justus had made little headway, ground-wise. But worse, he felt no vindication. Perhaps there was none to be had, no matter how many Temanites found death at the tip of his sword.

Another scan across the mountains proved him still alone, so he knelt to clean his sword, grabbing the nearest piece of fabric—a fallen Temanite’s red cloak. This one was an officer, Justus knew. Only the officers wore red cloaks. The regulars wore gold.

He slid his sword across the cloak and watched the bloodstains disappear into the fabric. Red. Their cloaks, their blood, all the same.

Rising, he took a deep breath. The smell of death lay heavy in the air, but he had become accustomed to it. Sometimes he felt as though he wore the smell. Or perhaps the smell wore him.

He shrugged it off with something more of a shudder, then plodded up the mountainside. Topping the crest, he took in a welcome sight. Colorful pavilions dotted the northern slope—his camp. The tents were arrayed in no particular pattern, sitting on any flat areas they could find just above the treeline.

All quiet. Empty. No doubt his men were busy keeping the enemy away. That battle he had just left was the closest the Temanites had come to the Rygian camp. The Battle of Victory Mountain, his men had dubbed it. Justus didn’t know the true name of the mountain, nor did he feel they were any nearer to victory, despite the numbers of dead Temanites. Dead Rygians numbered rather high this year as well.

Justus gave himself a moment to take in the quiet, knowing it wouldn’t last long. His sword still in his hand, he stepped into his own tent—blue and white striped. Leaving the flaps pinned back to let in the September breeze, he slid his shield off his back and set it on the ground at the entry, leaning against a tent post.

He tossed his sword onto a wooden table that stood in the center of the tent. Spying a stool in the corner, he plopped onto it and rested his aching arms on his knees.

A shadow darkened the entrance. Justus looked up and squinted at the face of Captain Kelsie, dirty blonde hair hanging in sweaty strings around his unshaven face. His blue cloak, nearly as dirty as his hair, caught a breeze and whipped outward as he stepped into the tent.

“I got word that some Temanites wanna make a prisoner exchange,” Kelsie said, his voice as rough as his appearance.

Justus nodded. “Do it.”

“Whaddaya mean, do it? Just like that? We could gain some extra advantage here.”

“No tricks,” Justus said firmly. “Just exchange the prisoners and be done with it.”

Kelsie stared hard at Justus but said nothing.

“Did you see King Medan off?” Justus asked.

“Yeah, he’s on his way. Told me ta tell ya that war council starts in three days. Be sure yer there and don’t be late. Them’s his words exactly.”

Justus nodded. “How far did you get?”

Kelsie pulled a parchment map from his tunic and laid it out on the table. “We took the next mountain south of here. One more mountain range and then there ain’t nothin between us and the main road to the Teman castle. A couple small villages, but they won’t be no trouble.”

Justus heard the demand in Kelsie’s tone, but he wouldn’t be bullied into a snap decision. “Teman’s castle is yet a full day’s march once you clear the mountains.”

Kelsie spat on the ground. “So?”

“So the men are tired and deserve a rest before pushing forward.”

“Ya wait any longer and the Temanites’ll settle in, build their strength round the castle.”

“I’m sure they’ve already done that—”

“We got the upper hand, Corden! Don’t be wastin’ it!”

Justus rose. “That’s general to you.”

Again Kelsie spat. These standoffs between the two of them had been slowly increasing since the beginning of the war, when Kelsie was passed over as general in favor of the younger Justus.

“This is the closest we ever got, Gen’ral,” he said with a sneer. “We need to move forward now!”

“Let the men rest. We’ve lost too many. If we try to stage a siege with numbers this low, there won’t be any men left come winter. We’d be foolish to barge ahead without a decent plan.”

“Are you saying you ain’t got no plan?”

“Not one that uses so few men. I wasn’t expecting our losses to be this high.”

“Well I got a plan.”

Justus crossed his arms and waited.

“First, we need to restock food supplies. I was expecting a wagon yesterday, but it got lost in the mountains.”

“Lost?” Justus asked.

“Fell down a canyon.”

“Typical,” Justus said. “So just how do you expect to restock supplies?”

“I say we raid the nearest Teman village—”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“What’s the matter, Corden? Ain’t gonna let the men take their due spoils?”

“Raiding civilian homes is not spoils. It’s robbery.”

“It’s our due! We earned it!”

Justus knew he couldn’t let the men—especially Kelsie’s men—start raiding villages. They’d take more than foodstuffs, he was certain. Fighting soldiers face-to-face was one thing. Satiating appetites on civilian stores and maidens was unacceptable.

“Any soldier caught raiding civilians will face immediate dismissal,” he said.

Kelsie’s eyes and lips narrowed into a grim sneer. “We deserve anything we find on their land.”

“You heard what I said, I won’t say it again.”

Kelsie grunted, but at least he didn’t press. He tapped a finger on the open map. “Come here, I wanna show ya something.”

Justus joined him at the end of the table, their backs toward the open tent flap. His eyes followed Kelsie’s dirty finger as Kelsie spoke.

“This here’s the hill we just took. The main road to the city runs along here. It’s a long stretch from here to there, full day’s march, like you said. But mebbe only about a half-day by horseback. If we get a move on, our mounted forces can overtake the king before he retreats to his castle.”

Justus listened, but something else caught his eye. Barely turning his head, he stared at his silver shield, still propped against a tent post, slightly behind him, near the open tent flap. A formless reflection crossed the shield’s shiny surface.

Keeping his eyes on his shield, he said, “Your plan puts Temanites at our front and at our back. I don’t like it.”

“Well, just what were ya plannin’ to do after takin’ the mountain pass?”

“I wasn’t expecting the war to drag on so long. I thought we’d have the pass long before now, with much fewer losses.”

The figure in the shield’s reflection grew larger. Justus recognized it as Teman by the red cloak. A Temanite officer. Feeling his own scabbard empty, Justus spied his sword laying on the far end of the table, out of reach.

Kelsie was still speaking, but Justus missed most of it. He did catch the end, though, when Kelsie said, “Don’t tell me yer losin’ the will ta fight. Not after what they did ta Gen’ral Rolland.”

The reminder was well placed. With a surge of anger, Justus grabbed Kelsie’s sword with his right hand and shoved Kelsie aside with his left. Kelsie’s sword slipped out of its sheath as Kelsie fell to the ground.

Justus twirled and plunged Kelsie’s sword into the Temanite’s side.

For a second the Temanite stood still, shock and surprise covering his face. But then his look softened. As he fell to his knees, he grabbed at Justus’ arm, a look of determination on his face, as though he had something very important to say, as though sheer will alone could keep him alive one moment longer.

Justus put an arm behind the man and held onto him, trying to keep him upright. With intense effort, the man spoke. The words he said made Justus’ strength fail him.

“I forgive you.”