Chapter 26

“You didn’t bring Risingwind?” Corec asked while he and Shavala circled the village, examining the work being done.

“He’ll stay with Zhailai for now—the last thing I want is for him to see a battle. She’s going back to the forest to warn the elders about the army. They’re far enough away that it shouldn’t be a problem, but we still need to let them know.”

“Then you’re planning to stick around this time?”

“We’ve done as much as we can for the farmers, and Sarette told me the mercenaries were only a week away. I’ll be here until...” She gestured vaguely to the west.

“It’ll be good to have you back.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much,” she said. “Risingwind is doing well enough with people, but he’s getting bigger and I don’t always know how he’ll react to larger groups.”

“I know. I’ve missed you—Katrin has, too—but we understood. The work you’ve been doing ... well, you and Zhailai might be the reason we make it through the winter.”

She gave him a small smile, but didn’t reply.

They stopped at a group of workers who were digging around the edges of the hill where the earth had settled over time, providing too gentle and welcoming of a slope. So far they’d cleared a fifty-foot length, leaving a three-foot-tall vertical barrier where the new edge of the hill rose over the surrounding area.

“How’s it coming along?” Corec asked Enzo, who was overseeing the work crew.

“This won’t slow ‘em down much,” the soldier replied.

“No, but every little bit counts. And they won’t be able to get siege weapons up close unless they build ramps.”

It wasn’t much of a solution—the catapults and ballistae would still have the range to reach the fortress from beyond the hill—but with the distance and the lower elevation, the weapons would be less effective.

“How many entrances should we leave?” Enzo asked.

“Just the main road leading to the bridge. If we’re lucky, maybe we can convince the commander to funnel all his siege equipment through that one spot, and then Sarette can take it all out at once.”

Shavala, who’d been listening to their conversation, spoke up. “You decided not to build a wooden palisade?”

That was one of the earlier plans they’d discussed.

Corec shook his head. “Surrounding the entire hill would have been too much work for how little benefit it would give us. We don’t have enough archers to protect a palisade, and the ones we do have will be way back on the fortress walls, so they won’t have a clear shot. The mercenaries could just set the whole thing on fire or pull it down one log at a time.”

The logic made sense, but Corec was still debating whether he’d made the right decision. And now there wasn’t enough time left to change his mind.

Shavala looked thoughtful for a moment, then dug around in a pouch she wore at her waist until she found a small brown twig. She dropped it at her feet and unstrapped the staff from her back, grasping it in both hands and closing her eyes.

The twig grew tendrils which dug into the ground, and then new shoots of green sprouted from the other side, rapidly expanding into a tall shrub of a sort Corec didn’t recognize, with tightly intertwined branches sporting two-inch thorns. Dozens more of the shrubs burst up through the soil, making the work crew jump back with startled oaths.

The plants grew close to each other in a dense thicket, entangling their branches together to form a single hedge ten feet wide and ten feet tall, extending for the full length of the area the workers had cleared.

“That’s green enough that it won’t burn easily,” Shavala said. “Sarette and I can keep it that way with some rain.”

Enzo was just staring at it, wide-eyed.

“That...” Corec started, then shook his head. “We talked about blocking the road, but it never even occurred to me you could build a wall that way.” It was like a hedgerow for keeping livestock in an enclosed area, but much thicker and more impenetrable—and it hadn’t taken years to grow.

“This one’s called blackthorn,” she said. “You’ll have to warn everyone to be careful around it—the thorns can break off into the skin and cause an infection. Will it be useful? Should I keep going?”

“Yes!” Corec said. “If you can do that, it’s going to...” He trailed off. “Enzo, keep doing what you’re doing, and then Shavala, you can come back after they’re done.”

The thorn bush would be the more effective of the two efforts, but doing both would be even better, hopefully slowing down the enemy soldiers enough for Corec’s small army to mount a defense. Perhaps it would even make sense to move his siege weapons outside the fortress walls now to improve their accuracy, but then that would put them in the enemy’s hands once they did breach the hill. No, best to leave the weapons where they were at, even if it meant they were less useful.

Enzo saluted and went to collect his workers while Corec and Shavala headed back to the main road leading into the village—soon to be the only road leading into the village.

“Sarette told me there were Matagorans here,” Shavala said. “They want to take the keep?”

“They arrived yesterday with a bunch of documents from King Orlin,” Corec said. “I’ve been putting off speaking to them, but Bobo and I think we’ve worked out a plan to get rid of them.”

Bobo was the first to arrive in the meeting chamber. The new walls—still smelling of fresh-cut wood—separated the room from what used to be the great hall. He helped Boktar show Lord Alastair and Captain Elgin to their seats at the center of the table, one on either side.

Then, feeling mischievous, he took a position by the door to announce the others as they arrived.

“Lady Katrin of Tyrsall and Sister Treya of the Three Orders,” he started.

Katrin glared at him, though whether for the announcement or the fake title, he couldn’t be sure. He just winked at her.

The two women took seats near the head of the table, with Katrin sitting to the right and Treya to the left, facing each other—the traditional spots for a wife and concubine. Their warden binding runes glowed clear and bright, drawing the visitors’ attention. The group had spent a good hour discussing whose runes should be visible and whose should remain hidden.

“Stormrunner Sarette, Captain of the Guard.” That probably wasn’t how Sarette’s titles should be worded, but it was hard to combine them in a way that sounded impressive. Her rune was showing.

Alastair seemed uncertain how to react, settling for a brief nod. Had he ever seen a stormborn before?

“Sir Kevik, Knight of the Dragon.”

Kevik’s eyebrows shot up, but judging by the smile that played at his lips as he came through the door, he approved of the appellation.

“Mage Knight Ariadne of Cordaea.”

Ariadne was too touchy for Bobo to risk giving her a fake title, or to mention Tir Yadar. Her rune, too, was glowing, though it wasn’t quite the same shade as the others.

“The druid Shavala of Terrillia.” Shavala didn’t need a fake title, and her rune was hidden from sight.

Alastair’s eyes widened and he gave her a half bow from his seated position.

“Her Exalted Highness, the Lady Ellerie di’Valla, Royal Ambassador of Terevas.” Ellerie’s real titles were more impressive than anything Bobo could come up with, though no one was supposed to mention she was also Corec’s chancellor. She was wearing robes of state made from elven silk, and like Shavala, her rune wasn’t visible.

The baron’s face went pale and he lurched to his feet.

“Exalted,” he said with a deep bow. “I didn’t realize Terevas had sent a representative.”

“It’s been a long time, Lord Alastair,” Ellerie said, her voice cool.

“Yes, Exalted. Twenty years, I believe, since I served as ambassador to your mother. I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

Ellerie acknowledged that with a nod. “And now my sister has sent me here to negotiate for our interests in the area. I certainly hope you don’t intend to make my job difficult.”

“I ... pardon, Exalted, but is there truly a need for an ambassador here, of all places? A royal ambassador?”

As far as Bobo knew, the inclusion of the word royal just meant Ellerie was a member of the royal family, but perhaps to a diplomat it had some connotation beyond that.

“Of course,” Ellerie said. “Warden Corec is a close ally of the di’Valla family.”

Alastair swallowed. “I see.”

The two of them sat down, Ellerie taking her designated spot. Normally everyone sat on the long benches along the sides, but for this meeting, she’d suggested bringing in two chairs—one for Corec at the head of the table and one for herself at the foot.

That left one last participant for the meeting.

“Warden Corec Tarwen.” That title felt insufficient, but if Bobo got too creative with his lies, Corec might get annoyed and break the illusion they were trying to weave.

He was wearing a well-tailored gray vest that left his arms bare, the seven warden binding runes glowing blue. Bobo hadn’t realized Razai’s rune was active again—was this the third time Corec had bonded her? One spot remained open on his left arm, leaving room for an eighth rune. An invitation, but for whom?

The young man had come a long way since Bobo had first met him. Corec had always been reluctant to acknowledge his position as a leader, but, for now, that reluctance was nowhere to be seen. He carried himself with an air of command as he took his seat at the head of the table.

“Lord Alastair,” he started, “I’ve had a chance to discuss your proposal with my advisors. It appears to omit a few key details.”

“Which details would those be?” the baron asked.

“Matagor abandoned the area fifty-four years ago,” Corec said. “By free-lands tradition, any holdings here were up for grabs immediately. Even under Matagoran law, land owners who abandon their property lose any claim to it after ten years.” Bobo had provided him with that last detail.

“Abandoned land in Matagor reverts to the Crown,” Alastair pointed out. “Or to the local lord if it falls within their domain.”

“Within the borders of the kingdom, yes, but if you insist this land was part of Matagor itself, then the Crown holds a duty to protect its citizens. When you abandoned the area to the dragon, you also abandoned the people. By our estimate, over ten thousand families lost their homes, lands, and shops.”

Alastair scowled. “Matagor never claimed anywhere near that much territory. We’re not responsible for those outside our influence.”

Corec nodded. “A fair point. Four hundred families, then, for the region you did claim. There’s also the little matter of compensation. While your offer of one hundred gold coins for removing the dragon is generous, our actual costs came to just under seven hundred. Not to mention clearing the roads, which has been another two hundred so far, and repairing severe damage to the curtain wall and the bridge. Let’s call that another two hundred.”

Repairing the stonework hadn’t been anywhere near that expensive, but Ellerie had insisted that stone-shaping should be priced according to what it was worth rather than what it cost her to do it.

“Eleven hundred gold?” the baron said. “You can’t be serious.”

“Maintaining a fortress in the free lands isn’t cheap,” Corec said. “I’ve heard your offer, so I’ll make one of my own. I’ll give up my claim to the region in exchange for full reimbursement of our expenses, plus appropriate compensation to the descendants of the four hundred families who lost their homes in Hilltop Village and the surrounding area.”