Heirs of the Enemy (76 page)

“I will not have my daughter being held prisoner,” scowled Baron Ohmson.

“She will not be held against her will,” agreed King Wendal. “Talk to her when the meeting is over, but do not reveal the identities of the people being held here.”

“She is not being held against her will,” smiled Queen Romani. “I have had a few talks with your daughter. She might have felt imprisoned when she first arrived in the Lair, but that is no longer true. She greets each day with a smile and has spurned my offers to escort her into the city for a break from the routine here. She is quite infatuated with Harry. She pursues him daily.”

“Harry?” echoed Baron Ohmson. “Does she not know who he is?”

“None of them know the identities of the others,” answered Baron Stikman. “It is safest that way.”

“If I might add to the discussion,” grinned Sigfrid, “Harry is also infatuated with Bonnay. In fact, he asked for a meeting with me to discuss magic. He felt such a strong attraction to your daughter that he asked me if it could be some sort of magical spell. I told him that his feelings were not magical in nature. He seemed quite perplexed.”

Several around the table chuckled at the sorcerer’s words, and even Baron Ohmson smiled.

“It would appear, Baron,” interjected Althea, “that your daughter is in love. Trust me when I say that she would gladly reside in a prison to be near Harry. You will not find her wanting to leave.”

Althea glanced lovingly at Karl, and the Knight of Alcea blushed. Eager to change the subject, Karl spoke.

“What of Prince Bultar? Have we run out of women for him?”

“Our purpose here is not to find mates for the heirs,” Garth responded. “We are to groom them to be proper leaders. If they find some personal happiness along the way, that is fine, but our goals should be to alleviate the suffering of the people. Introducing Bultar to the others should be undertaken cautiously.”

“He will be kept asleep for a few days so he does not realize how swift his transport was,” stated Wylan. “He is prepared to awaken in a strange place surrounded by new friends. As long as he receives a warm welcome, he should not be any trouble.”

“And how will he rule?” asked King Elengal.

“Candanar is not an aggressive country,” answered Sidney. “They are a threat to our plans because they control the routes through the Barrier, and they are aligned with the Federation. King Bartomir can be ruthless at times, but he doesn’t have the armies necessary to threaten his neighbors. Still, having Bultar mingle with the future kings of the Federation is an excellent idea. If he can be taught the benefits of ruling properly, he will become a better ruler than his father.”

“Put them all to the test,” Garth said. “Give Bultar a few days to mingle and then bring in someone new. The new person should try to steer the group conversations towards politics so that we can learn the potential pitfalls ahead of us. We have a short time until spring. Let us use it wisely and train these heirs as best we can.”

“A new addition to the Kings’ Nursery?” quipped Natia. “Who should that be?”

“Someone we can trust,” answered Garth. “I want to know if any of these future kings will prove to be as bad as the ones they are replacing. We have gone through a great deal to set all of this up. Let’s make good use of it.”

“I will personally supervise it,” offered Baron Stikman. “I vow that we will know the true nature of each of these heirs well before spring.”

“That is the goal, Baron,” stated Garth. “I will leave it in your hands.” Garth slowly gazed at each of the people around the table before continuing. “You have all been through quite a bit since our last meeting, and each of you deserve congratulations on your progress so far, but our tasks are far from done. In the spring, I fully expect the Federation to send two hundred forty thousand men to invade Alcea. Whether Alcea survives that onslaught is in the hands of others, but we are going to be left with more than sixty thousand soldiers here in Zara. Our remaining efforts should be directed towards defeating those armies. We must command every seat of power in Zara to ensure the destruction of the Federation. No single enclave must be left under the emperor’s control.”

Garth paused to let his words sink in before continuing.

“In the coming months, much is going to be demanded of each of you. While more than half of this continent remains frozen by the winter storms, each of you will be working to win the coming storm this spring. I want each of you to know that you are not working alone. Look around this table and see the wide array of allies you have. Remember their faces and their shared devotion at times when you feel like things are going against you. Call upon one another when help is needed. Only by working together can we crush the insidious Federation, and believe me, crush it we will.”

Cheers and applause rang out around the room, and King Wendal rose to his feet, raising a goblet of wine and extending it towards Garth.

“Crush it we will,” echoed the Koroccan king. “Already I have seen the impossible accomplished. I have seen wonders that I would have scoffed at a few months ago, including this Lair, populated by the princes of the Federation. While I rose to offer a toast to the guiding hand of Garth Shado, the toast is really meant for all of you assembled here today and the thousands of others working under your command. All of you have shown that not only can the peoples of Zara live in peace with one another, we can also work diligently together towards common goals. May this Council of War be the first step towards a time of eternal peace for the peoples of Zara and Alcea. To all of you,” he said as he raised the goblet in a toast. “May the coming storm shatter through our efforts.”

The wind roared out of the north, snow blasting horizontally across the frozen Black River. Governor Fernandez of Cordonia stood behind a pile of wood, his eyes peering through a tiny slit in the scarf wrapped around his head. He watched as the snow hit the side of a wooden façade and began to create a huge drift, threatening to topple the fake wall. Others also noticed the danger, and the governor heard shouted cries carried by the ferocious wind. Two dwarves ran through the knee-deep snow to the endangered wall. They quickly grabbed several beams nearby and propped them up against the wall in an attempt to save the structure, but they could find no footing for the beams. One of the dwarves drew a throwing axe from his belt and prepared to slice off the end of the beam to properly anchor it. The governor watched in amazement as Jenneva suddenly appeared, her voice carrying clearly through the storm.

“Stop! That beam is cut perfectly for the roof.”

The dwarf halted and looked up at Jenneva with a glare. The governor could see the dwarf’s lips moving, but he could not hear the words spoken. Curious as to what was being said, Fernandez left his concealment and hurried towards the confrontation.

“We have no time to spare cutting new beams,” Jenneva replied to the dwarf. “Prop it up as best you can and then step away.”

“It will never hold in this storm,” retorted the dwarf. “The whole wall will collapse.”

“Do it!” Jenneva replied sternly.

The dwarf grumbled under his breath, but he followed the instructions given by the Knight of Alcea. As soon as the dwarf moved away, Jenneva’s arm rose. A blast of icy blue energy streamed from her fingertips, forming a thick ice coating on the beam. The mage quickly moved towards the other dwarf who was holding the second beam. He needed no instructions. He propped the beam up against the wall and quickly stepped away. Jenneva sent another blast of ice forward, coating the beam and freezing it in place.

“I am sorry for shouting,” Jenneva said, her voice showing the strain she was under. “We have no time to waste, and cutting extra pieces for the structure must be avoided. Check the other facades and let me know if my help is needed.”

The dwarves nodded and moved into the raging snowstorm. Jenneva turned and saw Governor Fernandez standing behind her. Fernandez smiled sympathetically.

“You are driving yourself to exhaustion, Jenneva. Take a rest. The others can handle things in your absence.”

“There will be time for rest after the storm has passed,” Jenneva replied stubbornly.

“You are not very familiar with the northern areas. These storms can last for weeks. Oh, the wind might die down for a couple of hours, but it will pick right back up again. I remember during my childhood of hearing about a storm that literally covered Paso. It snowed every day for a straight month.”

“Did the people survive?”

“Cordonians are used to this type of weather. It was an extreme inconvenience for the people, but no one was hurt. The inside of their homes were protected, and they created tunnels to move about the city. We are a hardy people.”

“I wish we were using Cordonians on this project,” Jenneva sighed. “These poor Sordoans are not used to snow at all. I spend most of my time healing those who forget to cover up completely.”

“They are learning. We will get through this.”

“You are more optimistic than I am, Julio. Paso is only the first city to be built, and time is wasting. If the length of this winter is similar to other winters, we will not finish in time.”

“You think spring will come early?”

“Winter came early,” retorted the Knight of Alcea. “That does not mean it will be any longer in duration. Our calendar has changed, Julio. The definitions of our seasons are no longer valid.”

Governor Fernandez frowned heavily. He glanced around at the vast construction site that was to become a city and slowly nodded his head. His eyes landed on a group of Sordoans sheltering inside a shell of a building. One of the Sordoans pointed towards the governor, and Fernandez recognized the coming grievance.

“You may be right about the timing,” Julio said softly as he nodded towards the gathered workers, “but we have a more immediate problem. The workers are about to revolt.”

Jenneva sighed deeply and nodded as she saw the group of workers dash out from cover and race towards her. A tall man led the group with a noticeable limp, and he walked right up to Jenneva. The others cowered behind him.

“We refuse to work under such conditions,” declared the leader. “This is insane. We will go back to work when the storm is gone.”

“What is your name?” asked Jenneva.

“I am Peshar, and I speak for all of the Sordoans.”

“Are you from Gortha, Peshar?”

“Pontek.”

Jenneva nodded, her eyes gazing at the group behind Peshar. “Do you have friends and family in Trekum, Peshar?”

“Many,” replied the worker. “My wife’s family is from Trekum. What does that matter? We are complaining about the storm. We cannot work under such conditions.”

“This storm,” Jenneva said loudly as she waved her hand towards the blowing snow, “is nothing compared to the coming storm. When spring arrives, hundreds of thousands of Federation soldiers will be swarming all over Alcea. The cities of Gortha and Pontek will be destroyed, and great armies will march on Trekum. If this city is not built by spring, our armies will have to be diverted to protect Cordonia. Are you willing to sacrifice thousands of Sordoans because this storm makes your work here difficult?”

Peshar frowned, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “I do not understand. If our homes are to be attacked, why has the king sent us up here? We could be building a wall around our own cities.”

“King Arik is using you up here because you would die in Sordoa. No wall would save you because the enemy soldiers will magically appear within your city. It was my hope that if all of you were gone from the cities, the Federation would see no need to destroy your homes. That is still my hope.”

“But we are freezing,” complained one of the other workers. “You cannot expect Sordoans to work in the snow. Most of us have never seen snow.”

“Anyone who wants to return home will be allowed to.”

“But you just said that we would die,” frowned Peshar.

“Yes, I did. And if this city is not completed, thousands of Cordonians will die. Is your comfort worth more than their lives? Many Alceans will take up arms in the spring to protect our lands. Many of them will die trying to protect the rest of us. You have the opportunity to save thousands through your efforts here. I know that the weather is extreme, but I will not allow any of you to die. I cannot be any more straightforward than that.”

Peshar nodded silently and stared at the ground. After a moment, his eyes rose to look at Jenneva’s face.

“You make me ashamed of my complaints. Were I fit to fight the enemy, I would do so, but my leg would never carry me onto the battlefield. We will finish your city, but I will hold you to your promise. Keep my people well.”

“I will do that and more,” promised Jenneva. “I will try to find a way to protect you from the worst of the weather, but we cannot halt the work while I try to devise a way of doing that.”

Peshar smiled slightly and nodded. He turned and led the workers back to their jobs. General Fernandez and Jenneva watched them leave and then Jenneva woke her fairy.

“What are you up to?” asked Julio.

“I was not aware that these storms could last so long. I am sending for some magical help. If we can get some more mages up here, we may be able to erect some kind of shield to block the worst of it.”

* * * *

Adan, King of the Gypsies, stood staring at the new bridge in the swamp north of Danver Shores. He watched as the men retracted the bridge and then moved it back into position. Two Lavindan men immediately crossed the bridge and walked up to Adan. Laman wore his perpetual grin, but Kyle was frowning and shaking his head.

“It works like a charm,” Laman announced as he approached the gypsy. “Do you want to try running your wagons over it?”

“A gypsy caravan is no test for this bridge,” grumbled Kyle. “It has to withstand sixteen thousand infantry and four thousand cavalry. It needs to be stronger.”

“Nonsense,” retorted Laman. “It is strong enough for one hundred thousand ogres to trample across. Besides, if we make it any stronger, it will be harder to remove.”