Chapter 3

Darrak Krun, still an impressive figure in his early forties, raised an agitated eyebrow at the nervous messenger standing before him. On the dais at the North end of his great hall, the lord of the Hai Krun had listened to the words from a throne made of the finest bone and deerskin without moving or speaking. His toe had not tapped impatiently against the cold stone tiles, nor had his hands tightened their grip against the leather arms of his chair. Yet the eyebrow had steadily risen above his steely-blue glare and it was obvious to those present that he had not the ear for the royal message being recited. Darrak, though he could have silenced the boy at any point, did not speak until the message had been delivered in its entirety. He had not kept his throne through impatience or imprudence, and he knew the value of listening even to the things he did not want to hear.

"I gave you specific instructions..." he began when the boy had at last closed his mouth and bowed his head. There was ice in his voice.

"My lord!" the boy cried, lifting his head. "They made me come! They told me it was urgent, even though I tried to explain your instructions to me, I..." The boy's voice died on his lips, silenced by a look, and he hastily returned his head to its proper bowed position.

"I know you tried. I know that you would not have been so stupid not to. That is why you'll not be beaten." Darrak saw the boy's shoulders slump a little at these words, as though he had been holding his breath. He continued, "Now I will tell you once more so you can be exactly sure what is required of you." A new edge came into the man's voice as he straightened up on his throne. "I do not care about news from the senate. I don't want any word from the mountain men in the North or the blasted sea people in the South. If I hear so much as another peep out of you about a fucking fireball from the sky, I'll have you castrated and your balls fed to you on a goddamn fork!"

"Yes, lord," the frightened boy muttered, edging backwards as the words echoed about the stone room.

"I want you to go back to Ninev. I want you to wait for Barrad to return, and I don't want to see your ugly face here again until you're certain that blasted Iosoan has sent his armies away from the cities!"

"Yes, lord," came the reply as the boy leapt to his feet and ran out of the room as though for his life.

The room was silent after the messenger had departed, save for the creak of Darrak's throne as he slumped back. He dropped his head into his hand and massaged his temples, locks of straw-colored hair falling over his face. The stillness in the room seemed almost to have a presence of its own as the court waited. At long last, a solitary figure approached the enthroned man; a figure who possessed the same striking features as his father.

"My lord," began Duain with a short but courteous bow. "Are we going to discuss the plans which..."

"Yes, my son," Darrak interrupted. "We will retire to my private council chamber." To a young page standing to the side he said, "Have captain Burke report to me at once," and the boy ran off to do as bid. To the remainder of those gathered in his great hall, he stood and announced, "I will receive no more visitors today. Those who seek my audience may do so in the morning and stay in the lodges tonight. I shall leave my man here," he nodded to the burly head servant, "to attend any matters which require immediate attention. That is all."

With that, people began to shuffle and mill around, most trying to leave but a few moving to the place where the servant was waiting. Darrak and Duain moved off to the left side of the dais where a rear doorway led back to the private part of the palace, down a long stone hallway, lit by torches and hung with antlers. The two men walked with sure, strong steps, their muscled arms swinging easily at their sides, their sandals making hollow sounds against the stone floor. They passed several hallways and large rooms, turning left or right several times, and climbing a tall spiral staircase made of thick blocks of granite.

When they had finally arrived at the council chamber they entered and closed the door. Darrak took his seat behind a large desk with a polished wooden surface and stone feet carved in the shape of a bear's paws. He sank back in his chair, his upper body disappearing from the dim circle of torchlight so that only his clasped knuckles were visible in his lap. His son, Duain, took his accustomed seat at the left of the desk; not in front as one who comes before the great lord, yet not behind the desk either. Duain sat more starkly upright in his smaller chair and the torch cast sharply defined shadows against his chiseled, hawk-like face, and through his shoulder-length, straw-colored hair. Anyone who entered the room at that moment in the presence of both father and son would have needed fortitude indeed if he expected any more than a whisper or squeak to escape his lips.

A moment passed before either man spoke.

"Father, we are close," Duain began. "Our armies have been training in secret for more than a year now. You have but to say the word and I'll begin my march into the forest."

"Patience, my son. Let us not discuss my army," Darrak placed a slight emphasis on the word 'my, ' casting a meaningful glance from the depth of the shadows, "until the captain arrives. For now, tell me what you know about our pirate friends."

"Yes, father. We know that Barrad has received all our messages so far and he is in complete agreement with our plans,"

Duain said, even though his father already knew this. "The pirates have recently been raiding the smaller villages of the Hai Lei, not just taking slaves, but also attacking the villagers. So far Iosoan has done nothing. It could be either because he does not know or he is hoping the attacks will stop on their own."

"No, Iosoan knows everything that happens within his borders, you can count on that."

"Father, the raids have been only on the very smallest of villages on the far Eastern edge of his fief, almost on the border of the Wastes. It's possible he does not know if there have been no survivors and no messages."

"It is possible." A beat.

"Whether he knows now is of no consequence. When Barrad begins to raid the larger villages, Iosoan will surely know, and when the raids continue he will have no choice but to send his army to deal with the pirates."

"I agree with you on that. He may be a lover of peace, but when put to it he will fight if he feels it necessary. We have, therefore, to make him feel it necessary."

"Yes, father. Barrad has discussed new techniques he will employ to inflict damage and humiliation even beyond what he has already been doing. This will surely draw our enemy out of his precious palace into the forest."

"I've heard something about these techniques. Tell me more."

"Our pirate friend has taken time to create some new weapons he'll use in his raids. I have seen one myself. The beauty of the design is the simplicity. They are but large wooden clubs, each tipped with the teeth of the marguar. A blow cast with such a club will not kill a man outright, but leave him to die slowly and painfully. The death comes eventually either from loss of blood or from the poison in the teeth."

"That sounds like exactly the thing we need, my son. The use of such a weapon against his own people will surely draw Iosoan out of his sanctuary and leave his cities empty."

"My lord," called a voice from the closed door. "The captain is reporting as ordered."

"He may enter," answered Darrak from the shadow.

The door creaked slightly as it opened and closed, admitting a single figure dressed in the standard Hai Krun military uniform. His leather sash was polished to a shine and adorned with seven bone rings to mark his status among the troops.

The blood-red Hai Krun dragon on the breast of his tunic gleamed angrily in the flickering torchlight.

He strode three paces into the room once the door had been shut and stood with his hands clasped behind his back in the traditional formal stance for one who is awaiting orders.

"Captain Burke," said Darrak, only his knuckles visible. "Please, take a seat."

The captain moved to do as bade, hiding any apprehension he was feeling very well. He stepped around the leather-bound chair positioned in front of the large desk and backed down into it. Obviously pleased that he had been asked to a council meeting, then asked to sit, he was doing a marvelous job of hiding his personal feelings and remaining focused on the task as hand. The chair squeaked a little as he settled his weight, and then he sat, anxious to find the purpose of his summons.

"My son tells me that the training is nearing completion," the great lord said to his captain.

"Not nearing, my lord. Done," the captain answered with obvious pride. "All squads have completed the courses with excellent results and have performed beyond all expectation in training. Your army is ready at your command."

"We will see how they perform against the army of the Hai Lei. Don't forget that he once bested the combined forces of three great houses."

"That fact has been foremost in our training, my lord. Our allegiance with the pirates will solve that problem, and leave our armies easy access to their capitol."

"The best-laid plan may still fall short of perfection," said Darrak, quoting Somoni. "Be sure that you do not fall short. Do not underestimate our adversaries."

"My lord, we will not fail."

"Father," Duain cut in, "I have been curious for some time. How do you plan to deal with the Hai Consul once they receive word of the invasion?"

"I have already dealt with the Hai Consul, my son. Now, you must concentrate on your task. Later, all will become clear.

Now let us discuss our next phase; please, Captian, continue your report."

"Yes, lord. As you know, we have designed our training schedules in shifts to make it difficult for any of Iosoan's spies to count our true number. We have, at present, an army five thousand strong which has spent the past year training for this campaign. Our current estimates of their numbers are under three thousand."

"Remind me, Captain, how you have finally divided the troops. Was it three thousand for the forest?"

"That's right. Three thousand for the forest and two thousand for the empty cities. Those numbers will more than overwhelm the Hai Lei in both places."

"Very well. Duain, you will lead the party which takes their capitol," the prince nodded, "and Captain Burke will lead the war party in the forest. We have, then, but to wait for word that our pirate allies have done their job."

While the dark voices of dark men rolled round the dark room, in another palace many leagues distant, the delighted squeals of a young girl rang out. This palace, nestled between the upper foothills of the Mahlners and the Northern edge of the Khokuri forest, was constructed almost entirely of wood in contrast to Darrak Krun's stone monster. It was the palace of Iosoan Lei in his capital city of Iordantan. Built to welcome his guests and subjects rather than to intimidate them, the air in and around the sprawling complex seemed both lighter and more open. Windows were larger and more frequent, and the shades were kept back even at night. From every building flew the green banner of the Hai Lei and from every village came streams of the happy and lighthearted, eager to visit the city of their great lord.

The squeals echoing down the hallways in the palace might have been from any young girl's over excited playfulness, but any one of the palace residents would have known otherwise. It was no great secret that was going on in the prince's bed-chamber. But to say everyone knew would leave the wrong impression. Rather, nobody so much as paused to listen or give the matter a second thought. In truth, the only three people who really cared about the source of the squeals were the same three currently inside the room from which they came.

Iordan, the powerfully built, silver-haired prince was nude in his canopied bed. Kneeling beside him was Mia, his eleven year old servant, running her hands across his muscled shoulders and humming softly and happily to herself.

Beneath him, writhing her lithe body sensuously, was his twelve year old servant Mikka. She was his obvious favorite, though he did his best to treat them both equally. Iordan had personally selected the two young servant girls for his chambers a year before and, though their sleeping chamber was a separate room off of his own, the bed in that chamber had not been used once. Though the girls' combined ages did not equal his own, nor their combined weight, they both performed marvelously in their services to him, and he in turn made sure to take care of them.