The Belromanticum

Chapter 58

An empire is, by definition, a single kingdom holding multiple kingdoms, lands, and peoples within it. Such an arrangement is a little more the nations we see in the Sixth Strata than the more independent lands I knew in the Fifth. These places that are not held at the sway of kings and emperors, but have united themselves by principle. The only principle of the empire is that while it is strong, its vassals are weak.

Unlike a modern nation, there is no reason for these domains to be united other than the will of a conqueror. Often a conqueror long dead, whose rule has fallen to a series of increasingly unworthy successors. Thus, an empire stays one piece thanks to its army, and as it spirals to decay, its army must take more and more of its resources to maintain the state while its people suffer the deprivations that come with that. Strain the army, and holding vassals becomes impossible.

Zhahllaia understood that better than perhaps any alive. Serving the Shahs of Old Qammuz had allowed her to observe how empires rise, maintain themselves, and ultimately decline. She was prepared for what would happen when my war had exhausted Heacharid resources and their army would have to focus ever more of its attention upon us. This was an integral part of the plan we had hatched so long ago, the next step that had to come to pass if we were ever to achieve victory.

The Heacharid Empire had begun to splinter.

In the histories that would be compiled, the rebellions that began to spring up around the empire would not be considered part of our war. The curse of the historian is that no single work can be both as broad enough to encompass all context and consequence while maintaining a narrow enough focus to be understandable. As legions of Heacharids fell trying to breach the Arkohnum, their grip on their vassal states loosened. As armies marched from their homes to die in the Golden Wastes, the vassals stopped sending taxes and conscripts. The most abused and the most distant among them broke into open rebellion.

As these rebellions flared like lightning striking a field of parched grass, I was pleased. When Qel Rylah broke away, I could wait no longer. But I am getting ahead of myself.

By this time, Allegeth and I had been married for a little more than two decades. We had not yet produced an heir, though we attempted properly a few times during our too-infrequent reunions. We were still bound by our oaths to our kingdoms and thus lived apart. My weariness for the war had only grown deeper. Do not give me your sympathy, or worse your pity. Reserve that for the fallen among the Zuunese, among the Khaltóg, among the bandit clans and the privateer fleets. Or if you must grieve for someone, grieve for my son Arkohnus.

This is not a sad tale. On the contrary, it is a tale of how I welcomed another bride into the Storm's Court. It began in a remote part of southern Aucor, west of the Jaggurzar Tundra, in the small kingdom of Qel Rylah. These were highlands, rugged mountains and dense forests that hid chilly bogs and mist-covered dells. This was once home to a race whose name for themselves has been lost to history. The Heacharids called them ogres, but they bore little resemblance to the brutes I knew from the mountains of Chassudor.

This race had intermarried with the local humans, producing a strange people known as the Theva. They claim that their progenitors carried the blood of the sky itself and I will not gainsay them, as one of my daughters carries the ocean in her veins. Like so many other kingdoms in Aucor, they wore the Heacharid yoke. They were few in numbers but occasionally one of the Theva would appear in the vanguard of a Heacharid attack where we would cut them down without mercy.

They were a distinctive people, standing at least a head taller than I. Their forms were long and lean, between the ethereal litheness of the elf and the utilitarian bulk of the human. Their strength was incredible, at least twice that of a comparably-sized man. Their skins were various shades of teal, their hair ranging from honey to platinum. Their eyes were the color of the sky and flashed with light. They were treated as chattel and curs by the Heacharid, marked as impure by their skin, and so I always regarded their deaths as a tragedy.

When word reached Zuunkhorun that Qel Rylah was in open revolt, my heart leapt. These could be formidable allies. Zhahllaia was by my shoulder as Tagadhur, my Master of Birds gave me the news.

"I remember when the lands of the Theva stretched all the way to the Ezar lowlands," Zhahllaia said.

"Were they subjects of Qammuz?"

"The Shahs would have liked that, but they were untamable. We had to content ourselves with alliances."

"What made them so deadly? Was it merely their strength?"

"They have power beyond the physical," Zhahllaia said. "Their battle-chaplains were terrifying, mustering the strength of their ancestors, and they rode upon the backs of creatures that seemed to spring from another, more primeval time."

"And the Heacharids subjugated them."

"Qammuz never had the endless legions of the Heacharids. We were a light on this continent and would not destroy in order to possess."

"The Heacharids seek only to extinguish." I considered my next words. "How did the Shahs manage alliance with so fierce a people?"

"The only way it has ever been done. Marriage."

"I see. Do you believe this is a possible avenue for us now?"

"You know well how charming I find you. I think it not unreasonable a Theva woman might have the same reaction."

"I have no wish to marry once again. I have children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, all of whom could cement an alliance."

"True," said Zhahllaia, "but I also know what happens when you see a beautiful woman."

"Come now, I have some willpower."

"As you say," said my Wazira, favoring me with her most enigmatic smile.

I rose from my chair and made my way to the map of Aucor. The war had been harder to prosecute now that it was no longer a siege. My Master of Wolves directed us upon our campaigns and in this I ceded my authority to his skill. I learned much about the arts of warfare from him. Each army was marked with a piece on the board, in the shape of the familiar of the wizard attached to them. My feathered serpent sat in the capital. Lysethe's skymander was in the north, where she carved a great swath of destruction. I believe she wanted to free Arcanoir, the land of her birth, but she would never admit to so sentimental a motive.

I picked up the feathered serpent and placed it upon Qel Rylah. "I will leave at first light tomorrow."

I kept my word. I took with me Maireili and a modest bodyguard. My son Kelephas, recently finished with his oaths, rode with me as a fully-fledged knight of the Order of the Black Rose. His armor was a gift from Allegeth, enameled in sky blue. He was a handsome lad, his light still undimmed by the world. He had not yet received his either sobriquet he would later claim, and so he was merely Kelephas.

It was late spring, the chill of winter in rapid retreat. We crossed the Golden Wastes, heading southwest. What had once been Heacharid land was as free as it would ever be. The villages that dotted the great golden sea were perhaps culturally Heacharid, but they were far from the foul heart of the empire.

I rode at the head of our group, on the back of my elvish riding stag. Maireili was on my right, Kelephas on my left, and Quiyahui soared on the wind above us.

"All of this should be Zuunkhorun," said Kelephas. Sunlight gleamed off his armor. I believe Allegeth had a soft spot for the lad thanks in part to the timing of his conception, and the armor reflected that fondness.

"We are not conquerors," Maireili said.

"Mama Maireili, you are a kind and gentle woman," protested the knight. "These are matters of war."

"You think your mother does not understand the language of violence?" I asked.

Kelephas looked to Maireili and I easily read the expression on his handsome countenance. He was remembering how gentle she had been with him his whole life, who she played with him when he was small and held him when he was hurt, and how he had slept on her when he was ill. "I mean no offense, Mama Maireili."

"Don't trouble yourself, love. I do not think of these things the way you do. You are a soldier. I am something else entirely." She did not say the wordassassinbut I believe she thought it. "We do not kill for the sake of killing."

"This is not killing. This is about expanding the borders of Zuunkhorun."

"Which leads to slaughter," I said. "The people here were nominally ruled by the Heacharids. They will not welcome other masters."

"Jaggurghar already have their eyes fixed upon this place."

"Reaching past the Arkohnum is a mistake," I said. "The Zuunkhor Mountains are the perfect defense, the perfect border. They are why I chose Zuunkhorun to begin with. Moving out past them makes is vulnerable."

"It makes us Heacharid," Maireili said, so softly it was almost inaudible beneath the hoofbeats of her mount.

"Yes," I murmured. I raised my voice. "Perhaps Jaggurghar will take it, perhaps it will become its own kingdom. Perhaps something else. We can make allies of them when that happens."

"They will worship Xomera and that will make them hate us."

"The Heacharids aren't evil because they worship Xomera. She is merely the excuse for their desire to control. Their desire to hurt. I have no desire to stamp out her worship."

"Besides," Maireili said with a sharp-toothed grin, "There are other cults."

My face grew hot.

"What do you mean, Mama Maireili?" asked Kelephas innocently, but mischief danced in his blue-green eyes.

I sighed. "Yes, I have heard of the Cult of the Feathered Serpent."

"A popular new religion, spreading like wildfire," said Maireili with barely concealed amusement. "Nothing builds a faith like victory. I hear it whenever I venture into their cities. They believe Xomera has lost her lofty position and the coatl devours her whole. Better worship the serpent than be its prey."

Quiyahui was a ribbon in the cloud-dusted sky. "That is wisdom," I said.

Qel Rylah was always defined by the highlands that led into Rylaggur Mountains. A kingdom bordered it to the north, Ohl-Azar, an ancient land that had been a vassal for the Heacharids almost from the beginning. The old borders were still marked by a line of castles gazing south as the terrain rose into the craggy Rylah Highlands. When the rebellion started, this border had caught fire as the Theva slipped between the fortresses to cut away at the empire's soft underbelly.

As we passed the first of the fortresses, my gweyir, the elven riding stag, expelled a few nervous breaths. The creature had lived most of his long life in Zuunese stables. He had not my qobad's experience. That poor bird was long in her restful grave. I resolved that on Tanyth's next journey to the Red Wastes I would ask that she acquire a cock and several hens that I might breed my own mounts. A passing thought, that soon had gone from my mind.

The stag though, was intuitive. The castle was half-ruined, stained with smoke. The Theva had sacked it and the castle appeared abandoned. It carried a scent of death that was not literal, but that I felt in a chill along my flesh. As though to confirm, Diotenah's whispers snaked into my mind. Perhaps what remained of her longed for a home such as that.

A few days later, a Heacharid patrol happened upon us. They attacked, I suspect because they did not see Quiyahui hidden in the glare of the sun. We slaughtered them for their trouble. In my pride, I allowed a single survivor to escape. As I watched him gallop madly away on his wounded mare, I smiled to myself, unaware of the trouble he would cause. He would make a nuisance of himself when he found a company of Heacharid rangers, but that was still in the future. The few stormwights I had made of his fellows shambled east, destined for their place in the Deadwall.

We steered our mounts into the highlands. The roads were broken, torn apart and pounded flat by Heacharid legions. Forests had been cut away, leaving headless trunks rotting in the cold spring sun. My adversary could go nowhere without despoiling the very land.

The maps of Qel Rylah were vague. "Shelat, the closest of their cities, will be around here," Zhahllaia had told me, indicating an area on the map that was still nominally lowland.

"We do not know for certain?"

"Theva settlements move."

I nodded, thinking of the nomadic bandits who until recently had migrated across the Golden Sea. At the base of the Rylaggur Mountains, I chose the road that had been the most abused, thinking that if the Heacharids had used it so extensively, it would be because Theva lived at its terminus.

My reasoning was sound and two days into our climb, we found a town. It was located in a strangely flat place between three low peaks. Bent structures I took for art formed arcs at its border, the ends driven into the rock of the mountains about it. I was surprised to find not a single wall. The defenses looked to be confined to short, open-topped towers spaced evenly about the border.

Theva stood sentry up there, a tall, handsome people. Each carried a bow the size of a dwarf and just as stout. I imagined their arrows easily punching holes in Heacharid armor. They watched us as we came up a bend. Then, in one motion, a Theva brought her bow up and let an arrow fly. It thunked into the pass before us, quivering with the impact. I held up a hand and my column stopped. Quiyahui, who had been cavorting in the clouds, flew down to take her place beside us.

I whispered a few words and opened my hands. A blue-white bird, its feathers dancing with lightning, spread its wings and flew to the tower. I waited as it bore my message of greeting.

A moment passed and I felt the spell leave me, the aerilean energies dissipating into the air. The archer at the top nocked another arrow, drew her bow, and then undrew it, returning the arrow to its quiver. I don't know if she knew the source of the traditional Zuunese salute, but she managed a facsimile.

"We may proceed," I said.

"Father," Kelephas said. "Let me go first."

"Nonsense. We come as friends. Had she wanted to put that arrow in my chest, that is where it would be."

We followed the winding road to where it entered the settlement. The demarcation was sudden, from a road mostly dirt and torn apart to perfectly maintained cobbles. Inside, the Theva town bore no scars from the battle. It was a collection of stone buildings in a pastoral setting. I would later learn that it possessed a spiral symmetry that echoed Hegalite aesthetics.

By the time we reached the top, five women waited in the road ahead of us. They were dressed in traditional Theva fashion, long dresses made of skins with heavy furred cloaks over their shoulders. Their jewelry was fashioned of bone, amber, and quills. Though these five were unarmed, they needn't have worried if we had violent desires. Guards on the towers watched, all with their stout bows, but more frightening were the beasts that followed the women.

There were two of the creatures, carrying features of predatory cats and reptiles in equal measure. Their heads were long, their jaws heavy, sporting fangs the size of a man's forearm. Their claws were thick, giving them excellent grip on soil and stone. Quills sprouted from their muzzles and shoulders. I would come to know these as vorghal, fierce creatures that were both mount and hound for the Theva.

The five women were beautiful, looking to be in their late middle age, their blond hair more silver than honey. The eldest of them, who stood in the center, spoke. "Hail. Can your message be true? That you are the Tyrant of Zuunkhorun?"

"My message was true," I said. "I will not begin a friendship with a lie."

"His Majesty seeks to begin a friendship?"

"Indeed I do. I have journeyed hither to seek an audience with your great king, Three Skies."

She cocked her head, her lips quirking with amusement. "His Majesty does not know much of our people."

"Forgive me, I do not."

"We have no kings. Three Skies is the leader of our rebellion, but due to ancient custom, when the rebellion is won, he will hold no place of leadership. But for now, he is who you will speak with for any kind of alliance."

"Where might I find him?"

"He makes his home in Qibahz. We will show you where he might be and send you on your way, but first, allow us to show you hospitality worthy of your station."

***

***

We ate in the main hall of the tower at the center of the town. The food was rich and flavorful and by the time I was ready to retire, my body buzzed with warmth. They installed us at the top of the tower, which I understood to be a place of honor. We had a cozy chamber with a fire roaring in the hearth, fighting a losing battle against the mountain cold. I undressed, burying myself beneath several furs. With the frigid air snaking through the narrow window, it made me think of the Red Wastes.

Maireili stripped off her tight costume, revealing her lithe form. She crouched by the fire, warming herself. The gold light danced over her gray skin. I found myself mesmerized by her alien beauty. She had eaten well, though our hosts had been somewhat confused when we explained she could only eat spoiled food. They were as familiar with ghouls as I was with the Theva.

I pulled the furs back and rose, shivering in the sudden cold. I went to her side, brushing my fingers over the smooth expanse of her scalp. She turned her head and broke into an amused smile as my manhood hung before her face. She took me gently in hand and pressed an affectionate kiss onto the head. Her sharp-toothed smile widened as she watched me grow hard.

She turned, getting onto her knees. She began to stroke, licking and teasing me, before taking me into her mouth. She moved so quickly, so efficiently, that she had stoked me to arousal before I could even reflect upon her ardor.

I sighed, stroking her head. "Maireili?"

She took me from her mouth, continuing to stroke. "Hush, love. I've been thinking about this for weeks."

"We need more privacy on our journeys."

"Indeed," she said impatiently. "Now be silent and fill my belly."

I am a fool, but not that great of one. She was swift in her attentions and when I filled her, she swallowed greedily. I swept her into my arms and took her to bed where I filled her womb. We lay in the warmth of our love, her head on my arm, my body cuddled against her back. She toyed with my fingers.

"When I fell in love with you, this was not what I imagined," she said. "A kingdom, war, intrigue."

I kissed her shoulder. "As long you are happy, so am I."

"I look forward to a time of peace."

"We are in accord, my love."

***

***

The Theva of Shelat sent us to the south and west with a bone scroll case bound with charms of bird and moon. They showed us where Qibahz might be found, a concept I still did not understand, but also said that Three Skies would find us long before we would find him.

"In all likelihood, he knows you're coming already," said our host.

The lowlands were covered in green grass and gray lichen. The local aurochs were shaggy beasts with long horns and thick muscles. Great herds of striped deer gave us a wide berth. More than once, wyverns darkened the horizon.

As the journey continued, the air began to feel like glass, the wind like shards. We all drew our furred cloaks about us. I reflected with amusement on how my Kharsoomian flower would have complained had I brought her. Maireili handled the chill without protest, as she was accustomed to the frigid dark of the deep places.