A New Path E-Book

A.C. Donaubauer

• Herausgeber: via tolino media
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The battle for Takhan has been fought, but the danger may not yet be over. A foray into enemy territory may be the only way to put a long-term end to the conflict and finally begin the new life that beckons out there on the horizon. Provided, they survive.

Leseprobe

Contents

Imprint

Chapter One - A Misapprehension

Chapter Two - A Royal Surprise

Chapter Three - Difficult Conversations

Chapter Four - Northward

Chapter Five - A Detour

Chapter Six - Kar

Chapter Seven - The Day after

Chapter Eight - Farewell to the Enemy Territory

Chapter Nine - Return to Takhan

Chapter Ten - A Final Act

Chapter Eleven - Lose Ends

Chapter Twelve - A New Life

Chapter Thirteen - A Discovery

Chapter Fourteen - A Proposal

Chapter Fifteen - Troubling Insights

Chapter Sixteen - A Different Kind of War

Chapter Seventeen - Rising Masses

Chapter Eighteen - Belonging

First published in November 2023

Copyright © 2023

Astrid Donaubauer-Grobner

Hintere Ortsstraße 1/2

2325 Himberg, Austria

The author online:

www.ac-donaubauer.com

www.facebook.com/acdonaubauer

Cover: Biserka Design

Editing: Jürgen Donaubauer

Proofreading: Philip Scott

ISBN 978-3-904142-30-4

* * *

For Jürgen.

The last words spoken in this book were once yours to me. I have carried them in my heart for 15 years now.

CHAPTER ONE

A Misapprehension

Eryn stood by, still staring at the strangely clad figure that had yet to answer hers and Malriel’s enquiry. From one moment to the next the notion that they had Malhora of House Aren before them, a woman in her late seventies, was suddenly perfectly ridiculous. Apart from the fact that she had to be dead, they had just watched these desert nomads appear seemingly out of nowhere. Malhora had in Eryn’s presence never performed any athletic movements that would indicate that she was agile or swift enough to pull off a thing like somehow moving underneath the sand, then surging up and slitting a conveniently available throat.

Yet her eyes were glued to the slit in the headdress behind which fierce brown irises were visible. Brown eyes were not exactly rare in a country, where dark hair prevailed, that much she was aware of. Quite the opposite. Almost everyone born in the Western Territories had brown eyes. Which made Enric with his blond hair and blue eyes an oddity whenever they came to Takhan.

Chances were that she was only imagining that it was Malhora’s voice. But then Malriel had to be suffering from the same delusions…

Ram'an stepped forward to answer the question the apparition had asked. About how to employ the chain as a doorway through the barrier. Neither Eryn nor Malriel were in any frame of mind to reply.

“You simply lift it and then push it forcefully through the barrier. Then you can step through it.”

The figure followed the instruction, and a moment later it stepped through the shield, nodding appreciatively at a simple principle used most effectively.

A moment later the cloth covering the face was removed, and Malriel barely managed to slap a hand over her mouth to muffle the sob that had escaped her.

There she was in all her glory - Malhora of House Aren, to all appearances an honorary assassin of the desert tribes.

“Grandmother!” Eryn whispered, still not certain whether it was safe to believe her eyes. “You are alive!” She stretched out her arms, pulling the old woman into an embrace.

“Of course I am alive. Why ever would you think I am not?”

“Because everyone else at your estate was slaughtered!” Malriel shouted at her, making several of the bystanders flinch.

The Takhan locals took a few steps back. This looked like another Aren clash in the making.

“But among those you did not find my body, did you now?” Malhora replied calmly.

“I was mourning you, you selfish, inconsiderate, reckless old…”

“Mother, please!” Eryn tried to interrupt what was showing all signs of an impending nervous breakdown. Malriel was the Head Triarch of the Western Territories. People were not supposed to see her in such a state. It tended to undermine their trust in their leader’s mental stability.

“…monster!”

“Pull yourself together, Malriel,” Malhora shot back sternly. “Consider your position!” A moment later her head whipped to one side after a powerful slap in the face.

“Was sending a bird and letting me know that you are well too much to ask, mother?” Malriel snarled, furiously wiping away a tear from her own cheek.

“The desert tribes do not hold with birds, as well you know,” the old woman hissed out between clenched teeth as she beamed her daughter a murderous look.

Eryn’s gaze darted to the man who was still bleeding out on the ground outside the barrier. The idea of provoking a woman capable of such a thing was probably not the shrewdest of approaches presently.

She grabbed Malriel by her shoulders, imploring her in a fierce whisper, “You need to calm down! Now! People look up to you - they need to see you in control! I promise you can have a go at her later! Please!” Closing her eyes for a moment, she added, “I’m so exhausted I can barely keep myself upright. I don’t have the strength to knock you out and take you away from here.”

Eryn turned her head and saw Orrin and King Folrin with their men coming down the hills. A little late, she couldn’t help thinking. They had missed all the interesting bits.

Her gaze wandered to Enric and Ram'an, then Neled, who all looked as though in dire need of a bed, just like herself.

She lifted her arm and pointed at the residence from whence Etor Gart had fled not long ago, in the certainty that things would work out in his favour. “I’ll be up there, catching up on some sleep.”

“You can just as easily walk to the Aren residence, it is not much further,” Malhora called after her once she had set in motion.

“There is no more Aren residence, grandmother,” Eryn threw back over her shoulder, forcing one foot in front of the other, grabbing Enric’s hand as she passed him, pulling him along.

“What does she mean, there is no more Aren residence?” Malhora enquired of her daughter.

“He destroyed it, mother,” snapped Malriel. “So for now there will be no more fighting over who gets to use the master bedroom when you are in the city!”

Enric shook his head as he put an arm around his companion’s shoulders, dragging himself towards the hill ahead of them. Right now, without the excitement of the fight coursing through his veins, it seemed almost unconquerable. “Isn’t it marvellous how quickly things returned to normal?”

“Malriel is just lashing out at Malhora to keep herself from starting to cry, I think,” Eryn guessed. “I was right, you know,” she then added. “Malhora isn’t dead. I feel the need to point that out.”

“Well done, my love. I clearly underestimated how hard your kin is to exterminate.”

The King and Orrin had in the meantime reached them.

“Lord Enric, what is the meaning of all this? Who are these people?” King Folrin asked and pointed at the Loman Ergen.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” Enric replied, “someone else will have to answer that. Try Malriel. She could use some distraction right now. I need to take my companion to a place where she can lie down.”

Eryn frowned. “You won’t? You look almost as exhausted as I feel.”

“You are worse off than I since you urgently need to recover from the healing you received. I’m merely tired. I can go on for another few hours to take care of a number of things.”

“Wait for me,” Ram'an’s voice called after them. “If the mighty leaders of the Order can rest, then it must be permissible for me to do so as well.”

Enric refrained from pointing out that he himself would have to stay awake for a while longer yet.

Once Ram'an had caught up with them, he nodded at the King. “Your Majesty.” Then he pointed at the residence ahead of them. “You know who that belongs to, do you not?”

“I couldn’t care less as long as there is some shade and water,” Eryn replied wearily. “I’ll even make do with the floor as long as I can just lie down.”

“It belongs to House Roal, House Aren’s greatest adversary,” he felt the need to clarify.

She sighed and turned to look at him. “If you are going to be difficult, we can’t take you along. Shut up, Arbil.”

Ram'an shrugged and supported her with one arm around her waist in addition to Enric’s around her shoulders when she stumbled.

Arm in arm, staggering like drunkards, the three of them tackled the arduous climb.

* * *

Enric woke with the sensation of pain in his back owing to the slightly angular position of his body on the seating cushions in main room of the Roal residence. Eryn hadn’t even made it to a bedroom but collapsed on the first comfortable looking surface. Namely the cushions. When Enric had returned about five hours later, he had just laid down next to her. Judging from the faint light of what had to be early dawn, he had been sleeping for nearly fifteen hours. He didn’t feel particularly refreshed, although that was hardly to be expected after the exertions of the last few days. He had driven himself on with magic and would pay the price for that in the days to come. And then there was the fact that he wasn’t getting any younger, either, which his body didn’t tire of reminding him.

He tried to make out his surroundings in the faint light. Eryn was sprawled across the cushions next to him, her demand for copious amounts of sleeping space the reason why he himself had been forced to make do with a less comfortable position. With this woman a wide bed was not merely luxury but a matter of survival.

She was still wearing the greater part of her armour. Unlike him, she hadn’t even made the effort to try and free herself from any of the stiff leather parts.

At her feet lay Ram'an, who had managed to sequester another two cushions for himself, his legs hanging onto the floor.

Clumsily and grimacing under the strains in his muscles, Enric climbed to his feet, eager to avoid any noise that would awaken the other two. He needed to stretch, drink something and then find the bathroom. Since House Roal was not one of the circles members of House Aren were at liberty to move within to their heart’s content, he had never been invited to any of the social gatherings or celebrations in this residence and was therefore unfamiliar with its outline.

There were certain things that hardly differed from one residence to the next, such as the arrangement of the main room on the first floor, the kitchen adjacent to it, and all that comprised storage on the ground floor. Yet the other rooms, bathroom included, were a matter of personal preference.

He stepped out onto the terrace, breathing in the cool morning air, enjoying the luxury of for once not having to worry about either expecting or planning an attack. Stretching his arms and legs, he felt his joints move back into position with a soft snapping sound. His muscles remembered under protest that they were intended for moving. He took off his linen shirt next, exposing his skin to the brisk morning air.

Then he returned back inside, quietly moving towards where he thought the kitchen had to be in search of some water. Downing an entire carafe, he commenced his search for a bathroom.

Opening one door after the other in the first of two corridors, it took him a while to find what he was looking for. It was still almost completely dark inside the house.

In his head he went through the tasks this day would bring. They needed to contact their families, tell them that it was safe to return to Takhan, make sure the estates resumed their deliveries to the city, fetch the captives from the estate in the foothills, dispose of the bodies of the enemy soldiers as well as prepare to have their own fallen soldiers taken proper care of. Then the damage the city had taken needed to be assessed and in some cases repaired quickly. They needed the harbour, or they would neither be able to receive back those they had sent away nor properly deal with the goods Anyueel had to provide to their allies until they were able to manage on their own again.

And then he and Eryn needed to sit down with the Triarchy, Malriel and Neled - and now probably Horam - and discuss what was to happen next. There was one important aspect he had to find out about - namely what exactly that alliance between Neled and Horam entailed. What was it that Neled had promised them? Was it something that required giving up her position in Takhan? Or had she been so imprudent as to promise the Loman Ergen a place to stay in Takhan without consulting those in charge of the place first?

When he returned to the main room, he saw that in the interim Ram'an had woken as well. Eryn was still dead to the world. He briefly wondered whether to wake her just to make her drink something before letting her return to resting. He decided against it, opting for placing some water on the nearby table for her once she woke on her own.

Ram'an yawned and stretched, then climbed to his feet, following Enric out to the terrace so they wouldn’t disturb Eryn.

“What will happen now?” the Head of House Arbil asked, letting himself fall onto the seating cushions.

“We need to take the country out of the state of emergency and back to normal. Our first priorities are disposing of the dead before a pestilence comes upon us, and getting food into the city. Hardly any of the estates have been attacked, so I do not expect any trouble with the latter.”

“And the first? I assume you wish to take your dead soldiers and of course Order magicians back to Anyueel?”

Enric nodded. “We must. As the victors we have no other choice. We already had to bury those we lost in the desert, but those who fell in the city need to be taken home.”

“Particularly Lord Tyront, I would assume?”

“Yes, particularly him,” Enric replied quietly, thinking of how he would have to break the terrible news to Vyril. Provided the King hadn’t already informed her while Enric had been out hunting Etor Gart’s men in the desert.

“What about Etor Gart’s carcass? Will we feed it to the fish or let it rot in the desert the way he deserves it?”

“No. I wish we had that luxury. We will have to return it as proof that he has been defeated.”

Ram'an frowned. “You intend to travel to Kar to present them with the decaying remains of their warmongering leader? Or do you intend to release the prisoners of war and have them take it along?”

Enric stretched once again, suppressing a yawn. “I can’t answer that for certain. It is not my decision alone.”

Several seconds of silence ensued, then Ram'an asked, “About Malhora. Have you had a chance to talk to her yet? I think that must have been the oddest thing I have ever seen. I did not know the nomads can move underneath the sand like that - completely undetected from the surface! And what was Malhora doing with them, anyway?”

“Malriel wasn’t done shouting at her when I left them yesterday, and I haven’t seen either of them since. I was rather busy while you were resting,” he added pointedly.

Ram'an shrugged. “Well, I have not been trained for war all my life like you and your men. I studied to pursue a profession which requires books and writing material, not swords and magic. So I think you ought to give me credit for staying on my feet as long as I did.”

Enric sighed. He was right, of course. For a civilian he certainly had done well enough in all that. He had persevered until the end and never once showed fear when encountering the enemy.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disparage you.”

“Not to worry, my friend. What are we going to do now? Is there a chance I can return to my residence sometime soon and at least get myself a change of clothes, or am I expected to stay away as long as the King is still using it?”

“Getting yourself clothes shouldn’t be a problem. Just come with me, I’m heading there now anyway to see the King and Orrin. You are welcome to stay at my house in the meantime. Fortunately, it is still standing. Though it might be that Malriel and Malhora are there as well. If you accept my hospitality, be prepared for it probably not being a particularly quiet experience.”

Ram'an nodded gratefully. “I will accept that offer most gladly, thank you. What about Theá?”

“I’ll leave her a note and tell her to go home once she awakens. Though I suspect that she will sleep for another few hours yet.”

“Good. Then I shall make use of the bathroom and have some water while you write that note.”

“You don’t happen to have any idea where I can find the study for some paper and a pen?”

“None at all.”

Enric turned around to once again search the residence for the room he needed.

* * *

Eryn indulged in one final lengthy yawn before knocking at the main entrance door to the Arbil residence. Dawn was already announcing itself through a distinctly orange quality in the sunlight.

Getting up about one hour earlier, after waking alone and slightly confused in a place unfamiliar to her, she had dimly remembered that Ram'an had mentioned something about it being the Roal residence. Apart from the tastefully discreet furnishings, the building had left an impression on her of open, airy and modern. Obviously, it did justice to the House's reputation as capable builders.

Enric’s note on the low table told her to return to their apparently still intact home and clean herself up before coming to the Arbil residence. They would start going through a few of the issues without her, but for others they needed her present.

So here she was, patiently waiting to be admitted. Malriel was the one who opened the door for her and then stepped aside to let her enter before handing her a humid towel.

“How are you doing, Maltheá?” her mother enquired. “I hear the healing you received was rather extensive, meaning you will carry on feeling exhausted for a few days yet. Under normal circumstances we would tell you to go easy on yourself and sleep as much as you can.”

Eryn smiled. “Thank you, mother. I am aware of that procedure. I used to be a healer, remember?” How was it possible that people forgot about her skills in that area so quickly just because she was no longer actively pursuing the profession? Non-healers suddenly felt the need to explain the most basic medical principles to her.

“Forgive me. I am merely concerned.”

Eryn scrutinised her mother, remembering that she had been quite out of sorts back at the barrier, when they all had witnessed the dramatic incident with which Malhora had informed the world that the rumours about her demise were exaggerated and premature. None of that had left any trace on Malriel’s current appearance. She looked a touch more elegant than these last weeks, unmistakably to signal to people that they had entered into a new phase - one that was still far away from elaborate social gatherings in luxurious residences, yet was despite all the work ahead of them still a first step towards the normality they all longed for. Eryn wondered whose clothes she was currently wearing. Had she managed to retrieve some intact clothes from under the rubble of her residence? That tunic did look familiar, though…

“How are you, mother? Have you come to terms with grandmother’s unexpected return from the dead yet?” She took in the dark trousers that were cut a little less fitting than Malriel liked. Rather in the manner that a woman with a preference for moving around rather than looking alluring would prefer… “Are these my clothes?”

Malriel looked down at herself as if she needed to remind herself what exactly she was currently wearing. “Yes, they are. Enric was kind enough to offer me the pick from your wardrobe, since the only clothes I currently own are either sweaty, dusty and torn or buried under the ruins of my home,” she explained somewhat pointedly as if daring her daughter to object to having to share her clothes for the time being.

“That’s not a problem,” Eryn quickly assured her mother. And it really wasn’t. What slightly irked her, however, was the fact that she had not been able to recognise her own clothes right away because somehow the way she wore them made them look more… classy. It was not only how she had combined the single pieces, but also how they moved with her body, the way the light played with the folds in the fabric when she turned or walked.

“So, about Malhora…?”

Malriel sighed. “We fairly much resumed where we left off before her disappearance.”

Eryn grimaced. That meant there were back to considering each other formidable adversaries and harbouring the illusion that this was a kind of compliment they were paying each other, a substitute for a healthy relationship. And neither of them was brave enough to let the other see that they both wished things between them were different. Which, Eryn was convinced, was the reason why both Malriel and Malhora were now using the long-lost child - namely herself - to try and compensate for what they were each withholding from the other. So much for that Aren reputation, which Malriel had only a day ago claimed had no basis in reality; she was subjecting herself to it just the way people expected her to. So much for her oh so very reasonable words when they had discussed it right before the wall had exploded.

“Come along. We should go upstairs and join the others. Horam has arrived only a few minutes ahead of you, and I think you will be interested in hearing what she has to tell us.”

Eryn frowned. “That sounds as though you already know what that is.”

Malriel just smiled and walked ahead and up the stairs.

The seating cushions were rather crowded, Eryn noticed. The King, the Triarchs, Enric, Orrin, Neled, Horam, Valrad and now also herself. At a social gathering the host would rearrange the seating for such a large number of people. But right now they would just have to squeeze together.

She greeted them all with a warm smile, then climbed to a spot between Enric and Neled. Enric had opted for his preferred black attire to which he had added the dark red sash, turning his casual attire into a semi-formal one that reflected his position without having to put on armour or his robe, which were both decidedly uncomfortable in this climate.

“Lady Eryn,” the King nodded at her. “I assume you have recovered enough to resume your responsibilities?”

“I have, indeed,” she replied. Then she looked at Horam. “I am glad to see you again. You gave us quite a scare yesterday. Well, me at least. Neled knew what to expect.” She pursed her lips and looked at Malriel and the King. “And maybe you as well, I can’t help but suspect.”

Malriel smiled faintly. “Yes and no. I knew of Neled’s arrangement with Horam. She had already informed me of that when she first came to the city and accepted our offer to stay. Yet I was not certain whether the reinforcements Etor Gart was expecting were truly the Loman Ergen or regular soldiers from the Pirinkar army. My first impulse at spotting them from afar was panic, I will admit.”

Eryn remembered a conversation between her and Neled when they had been searching the south for enemy troops. Neled had hinted that there were certain things she was planning - things of which Malriel was aware.

King Folrin cleared his throat, casting a cool look in Malriel’s direction. “I, however, was not informed of any such agreement, and subsequently neither were the commanders of my troops.”

“Forgive me, Folrin,” Malriel purred, “it was not my secret to share. And as long as we could not establish for certain if and when they would turn up, there was no strategic advantage to be gained from sharing it with you.”

The King didn’t reply to that, yet his expression conveyed clearly enough how little he agreed with her.

Eryn hid a smile, thinking that it had to annoy him greatly to be on the receiving end of the treatment he preferred to give to others.

“You should be wearing your sash to have at least some visible sign of your position on you,” Enric whispered in her ear while everybody’s attention was on Malriel.

“It’s dirty with dust and dried blood,” she replied. “I had no time to wash it before coming here.” A quick look at Enric’s own sash showed her that it was clean. So obviously he had either taken the time to wash it himself or had someone else do it for him. Basically without servants present in the city, he had probably done it himself, putting to good use the skill he had involuntarily acquired up in the mountains, when Malriel had on their way back from Pirinkar insisted the men wash their own clothes, demonstrating to the tribe, whose guests they had been, the modern ways of city people.

King Folrin looked at Neled and then Horam. “My dear ladies, I would be most obliged to you if you cared to enlighten me and everyone else here as to the nature of your agreement. Horam, I understand that you are the leader of a group calling itself Loman Ergen, which I am told may be roughly translated as the Undaunted.”

Horam inclined her head. “I am of the Undaunted, that is correct. Yet we do not as such subordinate ourselves to any leader. I am merely an elder who is so fortunate as to enjoy the trust of many who seek my advice. I assume you were also informed that we have for centuries been a wandering people, always on the move to escape the oppression that due to our magic would otherwise be our fate. I myself was born in the city of Kar, given to the most cruel and vile of the temples as an infant. Just as with so many others, I was forbidden to speak and subjected to inhumane and degrading practises. I managed to flee and was found lost and alone in the woods by the Loman Ergen. I have remained one of them ever since.”

Eryn gulped. She remembered that Horam had told her about her rough start in life with the Followers of Amel Harp. Was this why she had decided to side with the people her countrymen considered the enemy? Because she wished to stand against those who had done such terrible things to her? A chance to pay back a society which not only tolerated but actively supported what was done to magicians in general and the poor sods ending up at the Temple of Amel Harp in particular?

When it became apparent that Horam was not about to continue, Neled took over. “We left Kar once we had finished our preparations - after I had finally made up my mind to take this step. The thought of joining the Loman Ergen has occupied my mind for years, but it obviously took the threat of being sent to war for our oppressors to make me act. I knew that losing the Bendan Ederbren left Etor Gart without magicians trained for fighting in a war against battle magicians, meaning that approaching the Loman Ergen was the logical thing to do for him. So I sought them out to warn them.” She smiled at the memory, her gaze far away. “Finding them is either a matter of chance or knowing where to look. Since I had no idea where to start and time was of the essence owing to our fleeing the country, I decided to try and let them find me. I dressed in my priest’s robes and spent a day and a half on an elevated clearing, hoping to attract their attention. I sent the others ahead and just kept a few of my people with me for protection in case eager obedient townsfolk tried to return me to the city. They did indeed find me, deciding to approach me when usually they would stay clear of strangers and merely observe them from a distance. Yet my robes had aroused their interest, just as I had been hoping. After another few days of riding I finally met Horam and warned her that it was likely that they would be contacted by the government, which would make them promises to induce them to fight in a war that wasn’t theirs - a war against a people that had done nothing to any of us but to be so unfortunate as to present a handy target to aid a single man’s bid for power. We talked the entire night. My initial objective in seeking them out had not been an alliance of any sort. I was a refugee about to throw myself and those under my care at the mercy of strangers who had no reason to trust us. There was little I was able to offer in any case. And even less I had a right to ask for anything. I merely wanted to warn them, implore them not to let themselves be used like that - and make the mistake for a promise of freedom or similar to give up their location to people who had been hunting them for so long, or even voluntarily sacrifice their lives for them.”

“Yet despite this, we still ended up forging an alliance when the night was over,” Horam took over and smiled at Neled. “Two women, fleeing their pursuers, having little to offer to each other but determination and a shared feeling of injustice based on the abuse we had to suffer and watched others suffering.”

Eryn felt how the tension in the room noticeably increased as everyone was waiting for the nature of this agreement to be revealed. Everyone but Malriel, who already knew.

The woman claiming to not be the leader of the Loman Ergen continued, “I promised to let Etor Gart believe he had our support in the war, in case he truly intended to use us for his purposes the way Neled had predicted. It was better to let him think we would join the war on his side and teach him a lesson than refusing him and forcing him to come up with a different solution. In return, Neled pledged to return at the end of Etor Gart's efforts, whether they were successful or not, and march with the Loman Ergen to Kar to free our brothers and sisters from their prisons behind temple walls.”

Eryn felt her heartbeat quickening. After centuries, the Loman Ergen had decided to stand up against the oppressors instead of taking flight from them. The timing for this was excellent considering that this was the first time that they had allies who were not only magicians, but also trained warriors. Who had, thanks to Etor Gart, now even gained valuable battle experience that would help them stand firm against what was left of Pirinkar’s army. The question was whether that was still a force to be reckoned with, even though it consisted of non-magicians. A large enough number of skilled fighters was a danger to considerably fewer magicians - especially with gold-tipped projectiles at their disposal.

“So you will leave us soon if I understand this correctly,” Golir addressed Neled, his tone sounding worried. “I am immensely sorry to hear that, particularly considering that we cannot yet be sure whether Etor Gart’s fall will put an end to all hostilities.”

Enric smiled faintly. “If the Loman Ergen unite with the Bendan Ederbren to march against Kar, the government will have their hands too full to consider any more attacks on us for the foreseeable future.”

“We would be able to reduce the chances of another war with them considerably,” Eryn put words to something she had already mentioned to Enric and Ram'an on their way back to Takhan not long ago, “if we made sure that those in power were not inclined to attack us anew.”

The King raised his brow and looked at her. “Are my ears betraying me, Lady Eryn, or have I truly lived to see the day where you have proposed invading another country?” He shook his head in mock astonishment. “Dear me, what have we turned you into?”

“You have not turned me into anything I wasn’t before,” she retorted, for some reason irritated at his words. “I never was a person who was willing to accept a threat to innocent people, and this goes for both sides. Neither do I wish to raise my son in a place where peace is a fragile entity depending on whatever whim somebody in Pirinkar is currently influenced by, nor do I approve of how magicians in Pirinkar are suppressed, enslaved, tormented and persecuted. Your influence has merely led to my considering new approaches to enforcing my values.”

“Approaches such as an invasion,” King Folrin replied with a smile.

“If we merely supported Pirinkar natives in their endeavour to put an end to slavery instead of marching in there to take over the country, I whould hardly term it an invasion,” Enric spoke up.

The King gave him a direct look. “I see.” He paused for a moment as if thinking how to phrase his next words. “Am I correct in assuming then, Lord Enric, that in your capacity as Leader of the Order of Magicians you are informing me that you are in favour of sending our troops to Pirinkar?”

Eryn held her breath for a short moment. Enric had never really commented on her statement about marching against Pirinkar when they had been riding back after the battle. They had just continued on their way in silence for a while, then talked of other things. So she wasn’t at all certain what his reply would now be.

Enric lifted his chin slightly. “Indeed I am.”

Silence ensued. Eryn noticed how Horam and Neled were following the exchange tensely. Having the Order at their side would increase their chances of success significantly.

Torka’na began to speak, “If our main objective is protecting our country from future attacks, we may just as well raise the same kind of barrier our ancestors employed to keep the Kingdom of Anyueel away. We have rediscovered how to go about this, after all. The issue with interfering in Pirinkar’s internal affairs is precarious. We are basically siding with the instigators of a civil war. Should we find ourselves in the position to have supported the losing side, we may be certain of facing hostilities when before they were merely a possibility.”

Eryn bit her lip to stop herself from pointing out that this would certainly serve to keep the Western Territories safe, yet hardly those imprisoned in Kar. She knew that the primary concern for the Triarchy had to be protecting their own people. Torke’na’s point was valid; there was no use in pretending otherwise. Neither was there any use for being angry at what to Eryn felt like callousness. Torke’na had never actually seen what life in Pirinkar was like for magicians. And even if she had - a decision like this needed to be based on reason and good arguments, not on mere solidarity.

Malriel spoke up next. “I agree that in the case of a defeat Pirinkar is likely to retaliate. Yet it is also a fact that we cannot be certain whether they consider the current war to be over or not. They may see the defeat of their troops as reason enough for retaliation. We have by no means the luxury of being assured that we are at peace now. As far as another barrier is concerned, I must urge caution. Etor Gart found a way to walk right through those we erected around the city. We need to assume that this was not a recent discovery, but a technique known in Pirinkar, meaning they would be able to overcome even the mightiest magical shield we are able to erect.”

“Lord Enric,” the King began, “what if I decreed that the Order was to return to Anyueel and consider this war over?”

“I would comply, of course, Your Majesty. For as long as I am your subject and hold the office of the Order’s leader, I shall bow to your wishes.” Enric left unspoken the words that his term in this capacity was nearing its end, and that after that nothing and nobody would be able to hold him and Eryn back from lending the Bendan Ederbren and Loman Ergen their support. The King’s pursed lips were a clear indicator that the message had been understood. Enric continued, “I am certain the Western Territories would not hold it against you if you decided to look after your own people now that you have fulfilled your promise to assist in the war. And I am equally confident that if the need to return in order to defend them arose again in the times ahead, you would not hesitate to do so.”

Eryn had to admire the way his brain worked. He had cleverly hinted that he would march against Kar as soon as he was free of the King’s hold on him, and also indicated to King Folrin the possible political implications of a refusal to take what some might consider steps towards ending the conflict with Pirinkar in a more enduring manner. Plus having to return to a war one had failed to put a proper end to in the first place would not exactly increase the King’s popularity among his own people.

The corners of Malriel’s mouth twitched for a brief moment, then her face resumed its neutral expression. Of course the Queen of Darkness would appreciate an underhanded reply such as that.

The King’s piercing gaze remained on Enric, when he replied, “Of course we will continue to lend our support in whatever measures the Triarchy deems essential in establishing and securing peace.”

Ah, Eryn thought, and now he had delegated the decision to the Triarchy.

Malriel smiled at him. “We are infinitely grateful to hear that, Folrin. Yet considering that our system works somewhat differently from Anyueel’s, where you hold the ultimate power to decide, we need the Senate to vote on it. As currently only a part of it still remains in Takhan, we shall have to wait another day or two at least until the others are back from the mountains with their families.” She looked at her two colleagues. “I suggest the Triarchy discuss this matter. We need to decide whether all of us can agree on what must be done or if we should split and each present to the Senate arguments to support our point of view. Should the Senate decide against sending troops to the north, I will put forth the motion of allowing those of our citizens willing to join our friends’ cause to do so of their own accord.”

Our friends’ cause, Eryn thought. A none too subtle reminder that the Western Territories were indebted to the Loman Ergen at least. It could be argued that the Bendan Ederbren had merely fulfilled their duty in exchange for having been granted shelter and a new home when they had fled their country of origin. Though it was still Neled’s agreement with Horam which had put a quick end to a decisive battle, the outcome of which would have been unclear. Meaning the war might have been dragged on and maybe even been lost. So one might also consider that Neled was being owed support if not a debt.

Well, at least it was clear which option Malriel favoured. And she would certainly not fail to make an impression on the Senate, no matter where the two other Triarchs stood. Malriel had taken the lead when Golir hadn’t risen to the challenge, had risked her life to save her daughter’s companion when he had been reported missing up in Pirinkar, and it was her very own mother who had slain the commander of the opposite side in a most spectacular manner, the account of which would surely outlive Malhora. Malriel herself and later her daughter had ventured up north to do everything in their power to avoid a war, and Malriel had lost both her home and one of her House’s estates - and almost her mother. House Aren had been invested in avoiding the war for some time and then contributed more than their share to winning it. If Malriel of House Aren spoke before the Senate, telling them that they wouldn’t be safe until the people accepting Etor Gart’s course of action were made to see reason, then they would listen.

It was odd. Eryn was strangely energised by the notion of returning to Pirinkar when instead she would have expected to long for an end of this whole matter and return to her old or rather new life quickly. But the matter hadn’t been ended properly yet. Not for herself, and not for the Loman Ergen or Neled.

The truth was that Horam had two options - either returning to a life in hiding, since there was little chance that anybody else in Kar would feel obliged to uphold Etor Gart’s promises, or seizing the moment and taking down the government now that she had enough support to actually have a chance of success.

It was a good thing that Malriel was in favour of helping the two women. Though somehow Eryn wondered if there wouldn’t be a price to pay. Malriel was not normally a woman known for being driven solely by philanthropic motives.

“Should we be able to aid you in taking Kar,” the lead Triarch addressed Horam and Neled with a smile, “we shall have to talk about sharing your very advanced technologies and knowledge with us.”

Ah, yes, Eryn thought with grim satisfaction at having judged Malriel correctly - there it was.

* * *

“Where is grandmother, anyway?” Eryn enquired of her mother as they left the Arbil residence. Night had fallen in the meantime. Since most of the city’s residents were still on their way back, there were only few lights. “I didn’t see her when I went home to wash and change my clothes a couple of hours ago. I assume she is staying there?” Where else would she stay with her family residence gone? Neither was returning to her own estate an option since that had been destroyed as well.

“She told me she wanted to inspect the ruins of our residence to see whether the underground structure is still intact.”

Eryn nodded. That made sense. The hidden vault under the building was after all the storage place for most of the gold of House Aren. And for the private reserves of the Head, of which in the current case, however, not much was left, after most of it had been invested in the construction of an orphanage several years ago…

It was not as if the family was on the verge of bankruptcy even if the reserves were irretrievably lost, but the construction of a new residence would probably have to be financed by other means for the time being.

House Aren's numerous enterprises and production facilities provided a reliable, secure income, which would make any House willing to grant a loan. Especially House Vel'kim, and also House Arbil, as long as it corresponded to their current financial opportunities. Ram'an had since his father's passing away rehabilitated the House and led it into a financially stable situation with wise, prudent investments, but it would take a few more years until the original prosperity was restored.

And then there was the companion of the future Head of the House, who could easily come up with such a sum. And also would. After all, he himself was a member of the House and also intended to live in the new residence to be built.

Nevertheless. Being dependent on assistance was not desirable for any House. Therefore the question of the intact reserves below the building was a relevant one.

“The worst thing imaginable,” Enric pointed out, “would actually be that the vault has caved in and we have to excavate it to retrieve the gold. We would have known if Etor Gart had sent someone back to Pirinkar with a considerable amount of the Aren gold. Several chests filled to the brim are hard to transport, even for magicians. You would need an entire convoy for it since no waggon would be able to carry more than two chests at once if that many.”

“He could have retrieved the gold and hidden it somewhere else in that part of the city under his control,” Eryn contradicted.

“Why would he do such a thing? It would not have benefited him in any way,” Malriel frowned.

Eryn shrugged. “Just to spite us. It would have caused us considerable trouble if we were unable to find it again. I wouldn’t put it beyond him to hide the gold even though there was no benefit for himself in it.”

Enric nodded. He shared that belief.

In silent agreement, they took the direction that led towards the Aren ruins and thus to Malhora.

Eryn chewed her lip for a moment, then looked at her mother. “You said something yesterday. When we were lying in wait for any of Etor Gart’s men to flee. About something that Malhora did being the reason for this distance between you. Will you tell me what happened between the two of you? People kept telling me that it is typical for the Aren family that mothers and daughters don’t get along, the reason being that our mothers are our most formidable adversaries and so teach us what we need to know to be outstanding leaders. Even if that were true and not just another piece of the Aren picture everyone cherishes, there was clearly something more between the two of you. Will you tell me?”

Malriel’s jaw muscles clenched visibly as she kept walking with her eyes directed ahead. “It was a long time ago, Maltheá. Before your birth even. Something did happen back then, and it struck me hard. Yet despite it all I would not wish for this to destroy your own relationship with her. I am glad that you and she have found a degree of closeness that was not possible for me. I do not begrudge you that, at least no longer. I admit I found it rather hard to bear that the two of you were getting along so well at a time when you could not even stand my company.”

“That is all very well, mother, yet by now you ought to know me well enough to be aware that withholding information from me for my own good is not something I tolerate.”

Enric nodded. “She doesn’t.”

“If my relationship with Malhora is dependent on my not knowing what she has done to you, then it is fragile anyway. And only a matter of time. Because since I now know that there is something to be found out, I won’t rest until I know.”

The Triarch sighed wearily. “Let it be for now, Maltheá. One day, when things have returned to normal again, we shall sit down and talk.”

Eryn ground her teeth. Being put off to an indefinite day in the future like a child was frustrating. And it showed her that Malriel and she were not on eye-level from her mother’s point of view. That would turn out interesting once Eryn herself would take over House Aren. Since Malriel was a Triarch, she couldn’t just be banished to a remote estate the way other Houses liked to do with their former leaders. She saw in her immediate future the need to keep reminding the former Head of House Aren that looking over her successor’s shoulder was not something she welcomed. At least not unasked.

Enric took her arm and pulled her a little closer towards him so that he could murmur, “Think back to the evening before the battle in the foothills.”

She blinked. What an odd thing to remind her of right here and now. “You mean when you and I were in the bathtub…?”

With a chuckle he shook his head. “No, my love, not that. What we were talking about around the fire. With Golir.”

Eryn suddenly stopped in her tracks and slapped her palm against her forehead. Once again she had been stupid. She was in possession of all she needed to know and merely lacked the ability to connect the bits and pieces. Luckily enough, Enric was much better at this than her. She would definitely keep him close once she was a mighty Head of House.

The sound of skin hitting skin made Malriel turn her head. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Obviously she was guessing that Eryn had arrived at a possible explanation.

“Omed of House Tokmar,” Eryn exclaimed. “Your father!” She cursed herself for having failed to arrive at that conclusion sooner, remembering that she had even wondered whether Malhora’s role in her companion’s demise had somehow affected the relationship with her daughter, whether this might have something to do with the distance between them.

Malriel’s face told her that she had hit the mark.

“Leave it be, Maltheá. I will not talk about this. If you wish to satisfy your curiosity, I suggest you ask your grandmother about it all.” With that, Malriel turned back and adopted a rather more brisk pace then before.

After a few more minutes of walking in silence, they reached the hill upon which until not long ago a magnificent residence bearing witness to the House’s success had sat resplendent. Ahead they saw several lit torches, their light faintly reflecting off the debris. So Malhora was still up there.

When they had almost reached the ruins, they found her, killer of enemy leaders, kneeling on the ground and pushing aside a large wall fragment from the unassuming door that marked the entrance to what looked like a root cellar on the inside, but was in truth an antechamber permitting access to the secret vault door. Provided one was one of the few initiates who knew what to look for.

“Ah, children,” the old woman grinned and waved them closer.

Children, Eryn thought with an affectionate smile. She herself was not a great friend of being addressed with child by Malriel, so for her mother it had to be even more irritating considering that she was in her mid-fifties. Right now, Malhora seemed like a sprightly grandmother, dusty and active, nothing like the embodiment of vengeance wrapped in cloth, a blood-dripping dagger in one hand.

“I have good tidings. The floor under the ruins is intact, so the vault was neither discovered nor has it caved in. The riches of House Aren are safe,” the old woman pronounced grandly.

Malriel nodded, but without smiling. It seemed she was still slightly shaken by the conversation with her daughter only a few minutes ago.

“It is a shame,” Malhora sighed and looked around. “It was a formidable building. I myself had several improvements made to it over the years. I have never harboured any sentimental attachments to outdated things when new developments and discoveries would bring more comfort.”

“Yes,” Malriel murmured, “sentimental you never were, that is hardly something anyone could blame you for.”

Malhora’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I assume we are no longer talking about the residence, are we? Out with it then, Malriel. You know I have little patience for cryptic remarks. Say what you have to say or keep your mouth shut. Anything in between is a waste of my time.”

“Oh dear,” Enric breathed. “This has the mood as though a storm is brewing.”

Eryn nodded, fascinated at how the atmosphere had suddenly shifted into something that felt slightly precarious. Two formidable women, stubborn, proud, dangerous and strong in magic, standing amidst the fire-lit rubble of what either of them had for many years considered her home. Somehow it felt as though this dramatic setting was literally crying out for an epic confrontation. And both seemed to be in a mood willing to oblige the circumstances. No one could accuse an Aren of missing a fabulous opportunity for conflict.

“Yes,” Eryn replied dryly, “good thing the building is already in ruins.”

If either of the two women heard that remark, they decided not to react to it.

Malriel lifted her head. Her hands were balled into fists. “On our way here, your granddaughter wanted to know exactly what you did that caused this break between you and I. Would you like to answer that, mother?”

“I wish I were in a position to do so, daughter. Yet you never deigned to inform me of exactly what you are holding against me.”

Malriel’s answering laugh was bitter. “Yes, I never did confront you about it, did I? I was so convinced that putting words to something that obvious would have been an insult to you.” She pointed at her daughter. “She managed to guess it, so I find it hard to believe that you, gifted with one of the great minds of our time, would fail to realise it for more than three decades.”

Malhora sighed, suddenly looking tired and a lot older from one moment to the next. “Three decades… Tell me this is not about your father.”

“Why would it not be about my father? Is it a great disappointment to you that I am not quite that casual about killing others as you are?” She threw her hands up into the air, crying out at the sky, “Malhora of House Aren, slayer of the people’s enemies - and unfaithful companions!”

Malhora stood still for several seconds, before she said in a calm voice which was somewhat in contrast to Malriel’s yell, “You are a fool, Malriel. I never thought I would need to tell you not to fall for the rumours created for the public. Rumours that helped both our House’s reputation as well as your father’s. For more than thirty-five years you have been under a misapprehension. And instead of confronting me and clearing the air with a fight, you decided to let it simmer and push us apart. I raised you better than this.”

Malriel looked as though she had just received a slap in the face.

Eryn felt somewhat sorry for her, yet at the same time strangely comforted by the fact that Malhora had the same power over her daughter than Malriel did over Eryn - the power to make them feel small and insecure. And in case of Malriel of House Aren that certainly meant something.

Malhora shook her head as if unable to believe what her daughter had just accused her of. “So you truly thought I killed your father. What incredible nonsense.”

“He was cheating on you!” Malriel cried out as if desperately trying to justify herself. “A man being unfaithful to a mighty Aren - he brought this on himself, did he not? He dared look for something in another woman’s arms he obviously did not find in yours!”

“Sit down, you idiot,” Malhora growled.

Eryn flinched slightly. That term had probably been a touch harsh when applied to a woman who looked to be on the verge of losing her composure.

Malriel just folded her arms and remained standing.

Her mother shrugged and took a seat on a halfway even-looking piece of wall. “Suit yourself, then. How ironic that we will be discussing the ruins of our relationship among those of our home.” She took a deep breath, then began, “You are aware of how I became pregnant with you - I never made a secret of that. I used your father to get out of a companionship agreement my own mother would have forced me to honour. This approach to letting our young people decide for themselves is more modern than it was in my time. I chose your father because he was a handsome, good-tempered sort of man. I will not lie to you and pretend I was in love with him. It was a decision made with a clear head, not under the influence of some fleeting infatuation. And I never regretted it. I knew of his philandering a lot longer than anybody else did.”

Malriel smiled cruelly. “And of course you did not object to it.”

“Why would I? I had my share of lovers as well. We agreed to be discreet about it to protect our reputation. And in doing so protect you. Omed may never have felt more than physical passion for me, yet you he truly loved. I respected your father, Malriel. He found himself with a child he had not planned on fathering, yet he never even once gave me the feeling he resented me for it. And I know for certain that he never made you feel like you were unwanted. We even occasionally shared a bed.” She smiled at the memory. “It was like having an affair with my own companion. Sometimes we would have a glass of wine together and then spend the night in one bed. Our relationship was affectionate until the end, even though we were never in love as such. The fact that you perceived the relationship between your father and myself as mostly free of tension and comparatively harmonious was not a result of my ignorance with regard to his affairs. It was a result of a grown-up arrangement which was to the benefit of all involved.”

Eryn stared at her grandmother, fascinated at the revelation of such unexpected aspects of her life. Malriel seemed a little shaken as well, very likely at the thought that her parent’s relationship had been so completely different from what she had believed so far.

“How did he die, then?” Eryn couldn’t stop herself from asking. “If you didn’t kill him…”

“You may not believe this, but he died of natural causes,” Malhora sighed sadly. “Unnecessarily so, if you ask me. I constantly urged him to have regular health checks at the Clinic, especially as he was not averse to rich food and wine. But he just laughed and called me overly cautious. But I suppose he died the way he would have wished for - in the arms of a pretty young thing. They were meeting in one of the wine cellars his House owned. His heart failed him. Pretty and young his little lover may have been, yet someone with a clear head and basic healing abilities would have served him better in that situation. The girl ran to his Head of House, hysterically reporting what had happened instead of seeking out a healer. When they arrived at the wine cellar, he was already dead. They called me to the scene. I had a long discussion with the then Head of House Tokmar. We agreed that we needed to adapt the facts around his death for the public. The little Roal girl could not be relied on to keep her mouth shut.”

Eryn lifted a hand to interrupt. “Roal?”

Malhora snorted. “You did not truly think our resentment towards House Roal was to this day based on nothing more than this little fraud business one-hundred and fifty years ago, Maltheá? Do not be ridiculous.”

Her granddaughter shook her head in confusion. “But if you knew about the affair and had no objection to it - why would you resent House Roal for it? Or is this just for the public?”