Cold From The North, page 16
part #1 of The Onyxborn Chronicles Series
Sadie beckoned for Cohl to join her, and together, they shuffled away towards the top table towards Rowden.
‘The relationship between you and your captains is strange,’ Danrin said, taking a slice of meat from a platter on the table.
‘I can’t argue with that,’ Ogulf said. ‘I have a question for you, Danrin, since you were looking to discuss matters of war and invasion.’
‘I’m all ears,’ Danrin said.
‘Shingal has always had a huge army, unrivalled numbers. Is this still the case?’ Ogulf asked. Melcun dragged his gaze from the table to look up at Danrin. Like Ogulf, he appeared to be eagerly awaiting an answer. ‘The reason I ask is, if this army comes South, and I believe that they will, do you have the numbers to stave them off?’
‘It’s a good question. The short and most accurate answer is no.’ Danrin took small bites of the meat as he spoke. ‘Not here and now anyway. Peace is our motto and it always has been, but it’s weakened us, that much is undeniable. My father is a leader, that is certain, but I don’t think he’s ever held a sword when it mattered. I’d be surprised if he’s ever been in a physical fight of any means in all his years, so he doesn’t understand combat, he doesn’t understand war, and he doesn’t understand weakness,’ Danrin continued, looking up from his plate to meet Ogulf’s eyes. ‘All because we were never threatened. We gained peace through power and then diplomacy, but now we are a nation built on the strength of ancestors who are nothing but dust. Our enemies don’t fear the dead. I feel he might want to change this stance now that we are in peril, but I don’t know if he can do so fast enough. We’ve just grown lazy and careless.’
‘You said you were in charge of this earlier, can’t you make some suggestions?’ Melcun asked.
‘Yes, and I am lucky to have the backing of a few of our generals, who will help. Even though war has never been the Shingally way, we do have warriors here, and if we have the time to prepare, then we can defend our land–‘ He chewed his meat for a few seconds. ‘–From anyone.’
‘This army is different, Danrin,’ Ogulf said. ‘Even you were shocked to learn of Tran and Jargmire falling.’
‘I know, but I plan to use the time I have wisely. And I have to be optimistic about the chances I have to defend my own homeland,’ Danrin said, before taking a large swig of ale from his cup. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’
Ogulf couldn’t argue with that. Many factors could have played into the downfall of the citadels in Broadheim – the cold, the lack of food, the element of surprise, to name just a few. So, Danrin was right; if the Shingal could prepare, they would have a better chance of survival or possibly even a victory, though the latter seemed too difficult to consider for now.
The mood in the room stayed busy as more people joined the ensemble of yapping guests all trying to get Lord Hanrik’s attention. A handful of others stayed at their own tables and ate the food brought to them. Sadie was standing behind Rowden, talking while the Keltbran leader picked at a tray of cured meat and nodded along. Ogulf looked at his father, knowing all too well he would be taking Sadie’s council on something important.
‘I have an idea,’ Danrin said. ‘I know a place that serves the best mead in all of Western Shingal. Why don’t I take you there?’
Chapter 18
The place Danrin had led Ogulf and Melcun to was no bigger than the house that Ogulf had grown up in. Every seat in the place was filled with happy people drinking from mugs of ale and goblets of wine. Along the walls was a border of colourful shields, all of which were different shapes and sizes, none quite as ornate as the one in the feasting hall at the palace, but these were different; the scuff marks on them suggested to Ogulf that they had been used in tournament or combat. None was the same as the others around it and they wrapped around the walls of the room perfectly.
Many of the patrons stopped to give Danrin a handshake or a pat on the back as he moved through. Some of the greeters even extended arms to Ogulf and Melcun. Too polite to offend, they offered them confused smiles as they returned the gestures.
Danrin led them to a table in the far corner where three men offered to vacate their seats for the group in a gesture of respect. They smiled at Danrin and shook his hand as he accepted with thanks. Ogulf watched as the young knight looked around the room, faces beaming at him as he motioned to one of the serving girls to come to their table.
‘Liesa, could you bring us three mugs of Krutmere mead please?’ he asked politely.
‘Absolutely, Danrin. Lovely to see you here again after so long. Your father- Well, let’s just say all of us are so glad to have you back,’ she replied, leaving the table with a flirtatious smile. Ogulf couldn’t help but smile at the exchange; it was nice to see things like this happen regardless of what was happening in the world around them.
‘You’ve been away from Luefmort?’ Melcun asked as the three men sat down and settled themselves into the comforts of the booth they occupied. It was comfortably warm in here, the kind of warm that Ogulf could cope with. All around them were laughs, happiness, and signs of inebriated banter. From the mood in the room, Ogulf assumed the news of Lord Hanrik’s statement had not yet reached the patrons here.
‘Yes. I only got back a few days ago and it’s been a bit of a whirlwind since then.’
‘Where were you?’ Ogulf asked. Just as he did, their mead was placed in front of them and a strong essence of honey came from the mugs as they swished from being placed down. The same serving girl had brought them and she came and left with the same lingering look at Danrin.
‘I was studying in the capital,’ Danrin said. He closed his eyes as he started to gulp his mead. As he brought the mug down, Ogulf noticed a thin line of froth across his top lip which Danrin quickly brushed away with the back of his hand as he let out an exaggerated breath. ‘I missed the taste of a good mead. The capital is more famous for wines and I myself am not a fan of wines, sweet or otherwise.’
‘Lucky that. We’ve been stuck with whatever we could ferment for the last two years. It’s not been pleasant, but occasionally someone would find a cask of only the gods know what and break it for the town to try. The taste was almost always vile, but by that point, we weren’t drinking for the taste. So, a tavern with options is a blessing,’ Melcun said with a smile to Danrin.
‘Do you mind me asking what you were studying, Danrin? I can’t imagine it was politics when you’re walking around with a sword like that on your waist,’ Ogulf said.
The sword on Danrin’s hip was indeed substantial, the kind any warrior would be envious of. Even Ogulf, who preferred an axe, was eyeing it desirously. It was long and broad, and Ogulf didn’t have to see the blade out of its scabbard to know that it would be made from wickedly sharp steel of the highest quality. The hilt of the sword had a symbol on it, a circle with a single line running through it, which Ogulf had not noticed anywhere else here. None of the other warriors had it on their armour.
‘A few things. I was training with the Academy of Swords to become one of The Fated Few. I studied war, military tactics, swordsmanship, and the importance of building diplomatic relations.’
‘In that order?’ Ogulf asked with a chuckle. Danrin and Melcun laughed.
‘You could say that. These are apparently all of the things you need if you are to be what the kingdom classes as an elite knight,’ Danrin said. ‘I was accepted into the Fated Few after my first year training at the school. Forgive me, you probably don’t know, The Fated Few are the custodians of the Kingdom of Shingal, and since Holatris himself, there has been at least one in every major citadel. I was lucky enough to be selected to represent and defend Luefmort.’
‘So, you’re a general?’ Ogulf asked, tilting his head to the side. He had heard of the Fated Few, but only in passing.
‘Of sorts. The strange thing is, I actually outrank a lot of the generals stationed here, which I struggle with at times, given that some of them practically raised me. They don’t seem to mind, though; I am not precious about the title, because at the end of the day, a leader is only as good as the warriors around him, so I still listen to their counsel,’ Danrin said.
‘Ha, if only Prundan knew that after what he said at the feast,’ Melcun said.
‘So, the peaceful ideology in Shingal, is it going to change?’ Ogulf asked. As much as he longed for the sweet taste of the mead, he still hadn’t touched it. His eyes scanned the bubbled patterns in the frothy top layer.
‘Not at all, but in order to keep peace, we must at least make ourselves formidable,’ Danrin said, brushing his long hair behind his ears. ‘My father is of the older ilk, the kind who come from much more traditional roots, a time when peace was unquestioned, but now – and this was true even before the rise of this army who took your lands – there are threats, and threats are not something we are used to, so change is necessary. Otherwise, someone will see our weakness and strike. The gods know there are rebel bands in the Southfields, none of substantial numbers or prowess by any means, but if you let them prosper–’ He sipped his mead, eyes closed again. ‘–If you allow their cause to grow, then who knows what they could do if they really took the time to rally a cause.’
‘Sounds like things are changing here, then. You said some were of an older ilk, do they feel the same about the need to do so?’ Ogulf asked, finally taking a drink of his mead, though he was careful to only have a sip. He let the mellifluous tones wash over his taste buds and the familiar feeling of calm brought on by cold liquids pulled the tension from his shoulders.
‘Some of them do, but not all of them. Prince Zickari is the driving force for change in the capital. As much as he is not yet king, the whole world knows he is in charge. His mother may have the title of queen and the comfort of the throne, but every major decision that affects our country is decided on by Zickari.
The boy is wise beyond his years,’ Danrin said. Ogulf squinted slightly when Danrin called the prince a boy given that the young Shingally knight was barely a man himself. ‘Zickari wants to change tact and stance to one of strength in the hope that those who perceive us to be weak are less likely to try us. As soon as he is king, which I think will be soon, he will put the plan in motion, but as long as his mother is on the throne, there will be people at court trying to slow him down.’
‘So, he is a kind of reformist – not what I expected from the Shingal; your ways seemed set for eternity. One thing I have been meaning to ask, do you think someone like the prince could have had advanced warning of a force planning to invade Broadheim? Could that be why he wants to change?’ Ogulf asked.
‘No, I don’t think he would have, and if he had, he would have sent word to warn your people. If anything, I think his decision to strengthen ourselves stems from what is happening in Esselonia. The war there has torn the country apart, and the struggles have come from the inside. I mean, that’s an understatement; the struggles have come from the same family there.’
Danrin went on to tell Ogulf and Melcun about the power struggle between Feda Essel and her uncle, Eryc. It seemed from reports that Feda remained in control of the North half of the Isle, propped up by the populace who were loyal to her father, while her uncle had control over the Southern territories where most of the wealthiest members of the Esselonian society resided.
‘The news of the war sent the capital into a frenzy when I was there; Esselonia is a key trading partner of ours and always has been. When the war started, the ships stopped. Most fisherman, merchants, and sailor folk decided against venturing out onto the Sea of Lost Souls for fear of being caught up in a naval scuffle or preyed on by the bands of marauders taking advantage of the situation.’
‘What an ominous name for a body of water,’ Melcun said. ‘Whose side did the Shingal take?’
‘None. Well, I say none officially.’ Danrin sipped his mead, cautiously glancing to his left and right. ‘But given I am surrounded by the ears of men who wouldn’t bother their backsides about this, I can tell you both that we have been sending supplies to the north of the island. Feda is up against a tough opponent, one with money, an army, and the backing of influential people who would see his succession come to pass. We support Feda because we couldn’t have the same relationship with a money-hungry elitist like Eryc, not now and not ever.’
‘He sounds like a tyrant. How do you send the supplies if the seas are so dangerous?’ Ogulf asked.
‘We have our ways. Once a week, we send one ship from Duchan and one from Luefmort. We use a certain type of courier, connected and respected on both sides. A shipment left the day you arrived, and they are due back into port here within the next few hours,’ Danrin said. ‘When we were in the palace, you mentioned Esselonia, did you have plans to go there?’
Ogulf glanced at Melcun, and was met with a shrug from his friend.
‘Not us, our chieftain, the one we lost on the Trail, he wanted to go there. He knew of it and thought it could be the perfect place for us to seek refuge.’ Ogulf took a deep breath in before forcing the air back out through his nostrils. ‘But his plans were met with a lot of resistance.’
‘I mean, he wasn’t wrong,’ Danrin said. Ogulf gave the young knight a strange look. ‘It was a paradise, a place of true prosperity, and a place where people could thrive. Things change, though. It will be chaos now.’
‘The thing is,’ Ogulf said. ‘I feel like there may have been another reason he wanted to go to Esselonia.’
Ogulf felt a sharp pain in his ankle. He looked over at Melcun. ‘Ogulf. Do you think it’s wise to burden Danrin with such things?’ He was speaking through gritted teeth.
Ogulf didn’t expect this, it wasn’t like Melcun to be this cautious, so he did stop to think for a second before he decided to reveal anything about what Wildar had said to him before he fell. For a moment, he thought he was being too quick to trust Danrin, but at the same time, he didn’t want to waste any more time avoiding something he considered urgent.
‘Our friend here has confided in us, Melcun. I think it’s only fair that we do the same. Do you want answers or not?’ Ogulf said in an attempt to force Melcun’s hand.
Ogulf watched the puzzled expression work its way from Danrin’s eyes to his brows and finally into the squinted purse of his lips. He leant over, closer to the Shingally knight, and lowered his voice without compromising the seriousness in his tone.
‘Before he died, our chieftain told me that a woman named Feda was the key to all of this. He said that she was our only hope for survival. He told me to take this axe to her, that she would need it to save us and stop a prophecy. I rarely gamble, but I would bet my life on the Feda that he mentioned being that same one fighting for her crown in Esselonia.’ Ogulf took a deep breath and a big gulp of his mead before he continued. ‘Our problem is that we have no ties to the Esselonians. We have no idea how Feda is supposed to help us. And with her current situation, how can she be in a place to help anyone?’
Danrin looked confused and began to stroke the blonde stubble visible on his chin as the candlelight around the room caught the angles of his jaw. He took a long, drawn out drink of his mead before the hollow cup echoed as he thudded it down onto the table. He waved over the serving girl, Liesa, and requested another round of drinks.
‘I can’t say I know of any other Feda’s, and I know this one is important, very important, but you’re right… I imagine she needs help right now, and it’s not like she commands the type of army that could stand a chance against a force that took your lands the way it did anyway,’ Danrin said. ‘Perhaps you should send word to her, see if she knows more about what your chieftain said?’
‘That seems like a weak option,’ Ogulf said.
‘Falling short of us going ourselves, what other option do we have, Ogulf?’ Melcun asked.
Ogulf smiled. There was no other viable option in his mind; he wouldn’t trust a letter or the word of someone he didn’t know if they returned with a message. What he would trust would be an audience with Feda, one where he could find out once and for all if she could help them, and if she couldn’t or she refused, then that would be the end of it. He felt foolish as he thought about what he was considering as these ideas raced through his mind, this was madness, but surely Wildar wouldn’t send them on a Brait’s quest for nothing. He didn’t need it, but he wanted his father’s blessing for the journey. Leaving Rowden now was not something Ogulf wanted to do; he wanted to be there while his father found his feet.
‘You’re right, Melcun, we will need to go ourselves,’ Ogulf said. ‘We will seek out Feda in Wildar’s name and ask for her help.’
‘And supposing she says, ‘I’m so sorry, but I am in the middle of a war and can’t possibly spare a soul for your cause’,’ Melcun said, putting on a mocking feminine voice which made Danrin smirk but only irritated Ogulf.
‘Now isn’t the time to joke, Melcun,’ Ogulf said. ‘Broadheim is likely in ashes, only the gods know how many of our people have died, and Wildar’s last words before plunging to his death were that this woman could save us all. I think we should seek some answers.’
‘It seems your chieftain knew more than he was letting on,’ Danrin said.
‘Exactly,’ Ogulf said, feeling the need to be blunt. He had made his mind up and there was no use trying to will himself toward another path. ‘Danrin, can you get us to Esselonia?’
Ogulf sipped at the fresh mug of mead placed in front of him, savouring the flavour even more with this mouthful. Waiting in Luefmort would get them nowhere, this wasn’t the path he needed to take. It wasn’t really a path at all, it was staying still and waiting for fate to take its course without his input. But by going there, seeking Feda and seeing if there was truth in Wildar’s words, words that Ogulf had trusted his whole life, then perhaps a new fate would await them. The refuge offered by the walls of Luefmort wouldn’t last forever – eventually the people of Keltbran would have to choose their own way, so now Ogulf would take the first step on that path, even if he wasn’t certain that something beyond him was guiding his steps.
