Arshes Nei had eighty men in the mountains of the east. Eighty men out of the ten thousand that had once followed her. Her armies had been hit tri-fold over the years. First by Schneider himself when he had protected Meta-Rikan against her. Then battling Kall-Su while he was under Ansasla's control and finally against Ansasla itself. She had no desire to rebuild after that, with Schneider gone and the wars over. She had little desire to do anything. Her remaining forces scattered, returned to home and families in lands that she had taken and still held fief over. Only the most loyal stayed. Her knights, those whose lives had known nothing but war and following the Thunder Empress.
Gara had more. Gara's ninja were ever more elusive in battle than men on heavy horse and knights who sought out the front lines in the name of honor. His men struck from behind and in the shadows and survived more easily because of it. Still, he was damned short on men, considering the integration of southern forces under his command on the border. There had been marriages and liaisons between his men and southerners. Unions that it would be hard to break and harder still to betray if it came down to hostilities between Larz and the remaining Lords of Havoc. Damned inconvenient. And damned short on fighting men. What they did have on their side was an impressive array of arcane might. Gara and Arshes alone were the match of most legions. Of course so were Larz and his damned warrior clerics and the gods only knew what sort of power the Prophet had been hiding all these years. Gara hated going up against unknown enemies.
The only advantage to their limited resources was alacrity. A small force could travel quickly and quietly, where an army moved at a snails pace, requiring tremendous supplies and tearing a swath across the land that no one could miss. Of course word would get back to Meta-Rikan what they were doing. The men in the garrisons along the border who were not trusted enough for them to recruit would see that it did. No one would stop them or even attempt it. Gods knew no one of the southerners along the border knew what was going on in the south, but they would be honor bound to report it. Gara didn't fault them for that. They were good men and he hoped he never had to face a single one of them on a field of battle. He despised killing comrades.
It took two days to gather forces and supplies. To outfit them and find mounts for the lot of them and then they were off. Arshes was champing at the bit. Focused and more alive than she had been in years. The power and the strength radiated from her. Gara wished she might have found it before this. He mourned that her vitality seemed dependent on Schneider. Even if she never turned her heart his way, he would have wished better for her. Would have wished she loved herself enough to find happiness without relying on another living soul.
But wishes never came true and reality was a harsh and malevolent mistress. He was used to the crack of her whip and protested only vaguely. Accept and go on if a body wanted to live without the world on his shoulders. Gods help Arshes and even Kall-Su, who had never seemed to get that concept.
And then there was Schneider who never even worried about it.
There were cannons and explosions and various other nasty, painful things going on inside Schneider's head. His stomach rebelled violently at whatever substance he had partaken of last night. At least Yoko wasn't talking to him. That was one good thing. Otherwise he would have had to scream at her to be quiet and he had the notion that that would have only invoked her screeching back at him in an explosion of anger and frustration that had been building since the little scene with the forest bitch.
At the moment he could have cared less. At the moment he was soundly and thoroughly cursing Angelo's ancestors, any offspring he might produce and his black soul for depriving Schneider of the simple magic of banishing a hangover.
It was windy and rainy just to make the morning perfect. He stalked down the muddy road to Thraxtown with his cloak wrapped about him and his loose, sodden hair clinging to his face. Yoko marched before him, her hood up and her head held high, full of righteous indignation. They'd had a short, aborted fight this morning, upon her waking him, concerning the damned acorn and Glyncara's ambiguous instructions. It had started with her telling him what a fool he was and him telling her to shut up because the sound of her voice hurt his head and gone on to name calling and her throwing cloak, sack and a handy stick her grasping little fingers had happened upon at him, before she had stalked out of camp with the declaration that she was going to see if the curse had really been lifted.
He had held his head and cursed, then scrambled up to follow her just in case she did turn into a tree -- he wouldn't put it past that lying wood bitch -- and he had to mark the spot where she put her roots down for future reference. But, she didn't. She stepped out of the forest onto the muddy trail and stood staring out at Thraxtown, where a fair bit of activity was going on outside the town walls. She turned and gave him an imperious glare and announced.
"I'm going to find out if anyone there knows where Saldorn is. You can do whatever you want. I'm sure I don't care."
He waved a hand at her negligently, ushering her forth. She sniffed and started marching. He stood miserably at the edge of the forest for a few minutes, leaning against a young tree, massaging his temples. One supposed she deserved whatever reception she got upon entering Thraxtown. She would probably get a rather friendly one, considering the only women there were either ancient hags like the witch who bartered in goods to make their livelihood or whores who served the loggers. And bearing in mind the quality of the whores he had seen, Yoko would be a pearl in the midst of swine. If she got past the gates without being tumbled, it would be a miracle.
"Stupid bitch." He muttered under his breath and followed her.
There were wagons coming in from the forest, but they were not loaded with lumber. Rather they were filled with hundreds of tiny saplings. Befuddled loggers accompanied them past the town and out into the razed land where it seemed the majority of Thrax's men were cultivating the earth, pulling up dead stumps and planting the young trees.
Yoko got immediate attention before she even reached the gates. Men stopped their work to stare and make lewd suggestions. She ignored them, on her mission and Schneider glared and put his hand on the hilt of his sword when they made to follow her inside the gates. The hedge witch had closed her shop. The tent flaps down and fastened. He supposed she had put two and two together and figured her love charm had something to do with Thrax's sudden and erratic change in behavior. One hoped he never figured it out and took vengeance on the old woman.
Ahead, Yoko had stopped a man and was talking with him. The man, his hands full of shovels and pick axes was practically drooling down on her. Schneider stopped a few yards behind her and crossed his arms, moving his cloak enough to make the sword visible. The man's attention flicked to him, then back to Yoko, then nervously back to him, recognizing him as Thrax's new friend and making the bright assumption that he was Yoko's protector. The excited look died in his eyes to be replaced by a wistful one, and he answered her question with a shake of his head and went on his way, glancing back once to admire her from the rear.
"What are you trying to do?" he inquired. "Find a new profession?"
"Oh, go away. You're bothersome when you're hungover." She waggled her fingers at him in dismissal. He drew a sharp breath through his teeth, offended.
"Somebody has to make an effort to find out where Saldorn is?" she added, looking about for someone else to accost.
"And you think you're going to find them in this backwater pit? Dream on, Yoko. I haven't heard of anyplace called Saldorn and believe me, I've been around."
"Glyncara said it was in the mountains to the west. That's a lot of ground to cover."
"Well, I hate Glyncara."
Yoko waggled her fingers again, brushing aside his animosity. "I wonder what she meant when she said the Acorn would guide us?"
"I could care less."
She sniffed, tucked damp hair behind her ear and began to walk towards the tavern. He ground his teeth in frustration, figuring that even with his magic, Yoko was impossible to deal with when she was in a snit. And without it, he was not in the mood for a fight in a tavern to protect her virtue. What he had left of it, at any rate.
"Wait a minute, Yoko."
She turned to look at him inquisitively.
"I think I might know where we can find Saldorn."
"Really? Where?"
He shrugged. "Let me introduce you to Thrax."
Thrax was riding high the wave of infatuation. He was all smiles. His mistress's had been reduced to housemaids and were not happy with the demotion. He ushered Schneider and Yoko into his house, wrapped his arms about the former, to his distaste, hugging him and bowed to the latter. Yoko smiled in bemusement.
"I see you've wasted no time." Schneider remarked dryly.
"There is none to waste if I'm to find my way into my ladies heart. And her bed." He said the latter aside to Schneider, but Yoko heard and rolled her eyes. "And I've you to thank, Darshe. How you knew where to find her, I'll never know, but I thank the gods."
"Fine. Whatever. Might I look at your book collection?"
Thrax was willing to allow him anything. There was a volume Schneider recalled seeing on his first visit concerning the geology in the western hemisphere. He took the volume down and sat at the small gaming table before the fire while Thrax went on to Yoko about how lucky he was to have discovered his everlasting love for Glyncara. Yoko kept casting dark glances at Schneider as if she were not pleased with the man's gushing. Well, he couldn't blame her for that. It was getting old fast.
There were maps and maps and maps. On every thing from rock formation to glacial movement a million years ago. The old man who had written it had a grasp on science that hadn't been seen for over 400 years. It was mostly boring, dusty stuff, and going over it with a head aching from too much drink was not pleasant in the least. But there, finally, in a section devoted to listing provinces and ancestral claims on the mountains he came across the name Saldorn. A hundred miles of rocky, uninhabited land in the heart of the central western range. No one owned it or claimed it.
He tapped one sharp nail on the map in irritation. A whole damned chain of mountains, Glyncara gave him to search for this Mother, who might or might not exist at all.
"Thrax." He snapped, interrupting the man's conversation with Yoko. They both looked at him in surprise. He was not feeling pleasant or courteous enough today to care. "I need horses and not those damned draft horses. And supplies."
Thrax blinked at him, love charm or not, not a man used to being ordered about. Yoko touched his arm and smiled. "Of course we have gold."
"He already owes me gold." Schneider said, closing the book, but not before surreptitiously tearing out the map of Saldorn. If he was going to embark on this, he might as well have a ghost of a clue to where he was going.
Four hundred miles from the foot hills of the Great Northern Range to the plains where the north and the south met. There was no exacting border. No city -- at least not anymore -- that claimed the vast plainlands. One just ceased to be in the north at some vague point and gradually delved into southern territories. Over two weeks of constant riding and lent strength or not, the horses were at their limit. Kall-Su was at his. It was one thing to sustain a single horse, but fifteen was pushing it to the breaking point. When he slept at night, he was too tired to dream. That was some slight consolation. They passed a small farming town and bought three remounts, the only horseflesh of good quality the town had to its name and they relieved the pressure some small bit.
His lieutenant wisely pleaded that they slow the pace, having covered incredible distance in so short of time and Kall consented finally. The plan had been to stop at the next village, give the horses a barn to rest in and good grain to put the fat back over their ribs. Planted fields told that they were not far from a settlement. A narrow, muddy track wound through them, leading the way. The rain had been a predominate companion for the last weeks. There was only so much complaint one could utter, considering the forces one had set in motion to send the bad weather south. There was standing water in the fields and the horses hooves made suckling sounds as they plodded down the track.
Over the rise and the small town spread before them.
"My Lord." One of his men exclaimed and Kall-Su looked up, wiping wet hair from his eyes. One the road before them, riding up the rise was a band of armored men. And beyond those, peppering the area about the town were many more.
His men moved for their weapons, road weary and easily agitated. He held out a hand to halt them. "No blade drawn save on my word." He said quietly, scanning the men that had hesitated on the track at the sight of them, but now road forward warily. Eight armed men. Two archers among them. All of them outfitted for speed. Scouts more than likely. They approached and stopped a few yards from Kall's party and their leader held up a gauntleted hand in greeting.
"Ho there. What business have you on this road?"
Kall lifted a pale brow. "I was not aware that one needed particular business to travel these lands? Have the border lands been claimed by some sovereign state?"
The leader narrowed his eyes in consideration, taking in the armor, drenched and road dirty though it was, the quality of the horses and tack and came to the conclusion that these were not common travelers. "They have not. But for the safety of my men, I must ask anyway. Who are you and what business have you here?"
"My business was to find dry stables for my mounts, but it seems from the look of things that the stables are full."
"They are." The leader agreed. "You didn't say your name, traveler?"
"No. I didn't."
A frown. The man did not like the answer, or perhaps he was leery of his duty. "My orders are to detain all travelers, who do not live in these parts. You clearly do not. Until I know your business and that you are no harm to the men that follow, I must ask that you come with me."
Kall's men rustled, indignant at the threat. Kall sat unmoving, eyes calm. "Who's orders?"
"King Larz of Meta-Rikan."
"Ah. And is he hereabouts?"
"I see no reason to answer your question, when you won't answer mine."
Kall allowed the ghost of a smile to touch his lips. "Lord Kall-Su. Tell him that I would very much like to speak to him."
The man's eyes widened. The men behind him exchanged nervous glances. Hands drifted to weapons, which caused Kall's men to shift uneasily. The scout leader whispered something to the man next to him and that one whirled his horse and galloped off down the track towards the town. The leader of the scouting party straightened his back and eyed Kall with more deference.
"My lord, forgive my brusqueness. Are there more men than these?"
Kall shrugged, not willing to ease anyone's mind about the forces at his command. The scout looked as if he hadn't expected an answer. There were more riders coming up the slope, leaving the northerners fairly outnumbered. There was nothing to do but cooperate unless he wished to bring magic into play and Kall did not just then. Really, if one wanted to find out if the rumors concerning Schneider were true, then one ought to go to a reliable source. Though the presence of these men and the hint of an army behind them was evidence enough to suggest that Larz was after something.
"If you would come with us, my lord." The scout asked, aware that if Kall did not wish to cooperate there was no way their small numbers of men could make him.
Kall merely inclined his head and urged his tired mount into a trot. The southerner's surrounded his men, wary and looking none to happy about the duty. They bypassed the town, riding across newly harvested fields. The rain had begun again, this time a drenching downpour that obscured the sound of the horses passage. A man cursed the weather. The shower obscured the land in a gray mist. Visibility was limited to mere yards. It shrouded the vast encampment until the very last and then only the outline of tents were discernible. Hundreds and hundreds of tents, staked to the sodden earth, hiding an army beneath their canvas roofs. Men looked out from beneath the flaps at their passage. Dim, miserable faces besieged by unnatural weather.
A rider sloshed through the mud to intercept them. He and the scout leader exchanged low words.
"My Lord," the newcomer said, a man in a tunic and armor that might have been very fine dry, but was sodden dark material in the rain. "Your men must stay here. They may not venture further into the heart of this camp."
"No." Kall said simply.
"My lord, it is the will of the king and for the protection of the king. Please abide by his word and he shall grant you guest rights in his camp."
"Guest rights? I have come here under armed guard. What guest right is that?"
"My lord, it is a delicate situation. Please. You have my word that your men will be safe. As will you."
The man waited, earnest desperation in his face. Kall thought at least that this one man did not lie. What vows Larz would break remained to be seen. He inclined his head, motioned to his men to cooperate and rode past his guard in the company of the king's man. Through rows upon rows of tents, enough for him to estimate that no minor force bivouacked in these waterlogged fields. The tents grew larger, officer's quarters, and the guards grew more numerous. A large tent seemed the center of a fair deal of traffic. Men stood on duty outside it in the rain. His escort ushered him in, nodding to the guard as he passed. They did not bother to ask he give up his weaponry, not fools enough to assume he would be helpless without it. An outer section housed administrative staff. A harried man sat behind a field desk, conducting the business of an encampment this size. He looked up -- they all did -- at Kall-Su's entrance.
"My lord." His guide said. "Let me take your sodden cloak."
Kall waved him away. "No need." With a whisper that was barely a breath from his lips he cast a spell and dried himself. It was not vanity, precisely, more a desire to meet Larz on equal footing, rather than as a drenched rat appearing before a lofty and dry cat. Someone exchanged whispers from a corner, one priest to another, the both of them fingering holy symbols at their chests, no doubt to protect themselves from the evil in their midst.
His guide held the flap to the inner sanctums of the tent aside and Kall walked through. There was lantern light and warmth from a brazier behind that flap. A spacious inner room protected from the weather, but little more luxury than that. Larz had never been particularly vain. A field desk, a broad cot, a wooden stand which held the king's armor, a small table upon which a bottle of wine sat. The king stood with his hands to the brazier. He looked up, and was not so political to smile in greeting when Kall came in. Kall did not himself, but stood waiting for Larz to make the first move.
"Well, you're a bit far afield from your normal haunts, Kall-Su." Larz moved over to the table and sat down, motioning Kall to take the second chair. Kall did, carefully, gauging his response.
"As are you. Practicing maneuvers in the borderlands, are you?"
"Ah. One can never get enough practice marshaling troops in the rain."
Kall didn't answer. He folded his hands before him, watching Larz's face. Not vain, Larz, but impassioned. What he believed in, he believed wholly in. He could be, as Kall well knew, a deadly enemy.
"I had heard you no longer cared to visit the south, Kall-Su."
"Did you?"
"Do you come casually, or is there an agenda planned?"
Larz knew exactly why he was here, Kall could see it in his eyes, in the faint pensive smile that touched his lips.
"I've heard a rumor, your majesty."
"Have you? What will you do about it?"
"I haven't decided. It would depend, on whether it holds truth or not."
"And if it does?" Larz reached for the wine, poured himself a glass and motioned at a second with the lip of the bottle. Kall shook his head. Larz shrugged and sat the bottle down, taking up his glass.
"Is that why you're here? Chasing rumors?" Kall asked.
"Oh, very much so, Ice Lord. I'm very much committed."
"Well then, it seems as if our purposes may clash."
"That would be unfortunate. Quite unfortunate. I value trade from the north."
"As I do from the south. I've heard disturbing things. Perhaps you might enlighten me as to the truth of the matter."
"Ah-- and then we come to the truth. Yours, mine or his ? There are so many to choose from and so little chance of you believing any but that which benefits your dark lord."
"I owe allegiance to no one. "
"Really, Kall-Su who are you trying to deceive? Me or yourself?"
Kall looked away, into the bright center of the brazier. Larz was baiting him. For what purpose he could only guess. He chose not to rise and take it. He did not need to ask questions to get the answers he wanted. Since Larz and his army were parked here, they had not located Schneider. Since they sent scouts along the northwestern road, then they sought him in that direction. Arshes had mentioned the Great Forest, which might have been two or three days ride from this position to the south west.
"I think," he said slowly. "That I've tired of this conversation."
He began to rise. Larz held out an hand. "I can't let you interfere in this."
Kall lifted a brow inquisitively. "Shall you try and stop me now and save yourself the trouble later?"
Larz put down his glass, meeting Kall's eyes steadily. "I would hardly be an honorable host, if I did."
Kall realized of a sudden that Larz did not wish to be here. In this place, doing this thing. Oh, he performed the task because he thought it needed doing, but there was a weariness behind his eyes that spoke of distaste. Larz did not want a fight with him, but he would if pressed. Larz had always gone against the odds. And at this moment, with an army behind him and who knew how many clerics at his beck and call hidden among those many tents and Kall's own exhaustion from weeks of magic draining travel, he might actually win.
"I hope, that we do not meet save under better circumstances." Kall said, a veiled pleasantry at best. "Shall I find my own way back or will your man take me?"
Larz waved a hand. "He'll take you."
Fifty miles to the south, a second great force traveled at the fringe of the Great Forest. Holy knights on heavy horse, church foot soldiers in talberts that bore the symbol of the High God. Angelo rode at the fore, beside a standard bearer who held the emblem of the church proudly. His demeanor was quiet and fragile as befit a man who had only recently recovered from an assassination attempt. His men were awed at his strength of will to take to horse after such grievous wounds and follow in the footsteps of his king. Well, almost. Larz had gone north and Angelo had directed his forces more westerly, claiming to have had a vision urging him in that direction.
When he closed his eyes in meditation, the men around him hardly spoke in fear of disturbing him. He sought after something not at all holy. It was a frustration, tracking the location of the wards, when it should have been a thoughtless task. They swam in and out of focus as if something blocked their presence. Some contrivance of Schneider's to throw him off his track. But it wouldn't work. Angelo had enough of a glimmer from the wards he knew so well, to lead him in the right direction. He sought after them now, concentrating on locating a magic that stood out from the mundane world around it. There were presence's in the Great Wood that tickled at the edge of his awareness. Great magics and small ones, but none of them what he sought. And to the north he felt the familiar presence of Larz -- a dim throbbing power that had the tell tale traces of the greater power he had been infused with over twenty years past when he had defeated Schneider. The spirit his circle of clerics had summoned to possess him was gone but some of its residue remained, making Larz greater than he was. And with Larz was something else. Something more potently magic. Something cold and familiar.
The Prophet's eyes snapped open. He drew a breath in surprise. He had expected the Ice Lord eventually, but not so soon. And not in the same vicinity as Larz. He focused his inner vision, and saw nothing but rain and mist. And the Ice Lord was leaving. Angelo felt a sudden irrational anger at fools and kings. Larz had him in his grasp and he let him go. The incompetent. God curse the fate that placed Angelo fifty miles from Larz and incapable of stopping the Ice Lord himself.
Priests of his were in that camp though. Men who were well used to their lord and master using their eyes and ears for his own. He sent a message with strict instructions to his man and cursed under his breath afterwards.
"Your holiness, is something amiss?" The standard bearer asked in concern. The Prophet smiled serenely. "Nothing my son. Nothing at all."