Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (35 page)
“Ho,” he called to the men. “I am King Akeela of Liiria. May we come ahead?”
“You may come,” answered a sentry, “and ten men with you. No more.”
Akeela shook his head. “I won’t walk into a lion’s mouth without protection. I have fifty tired men with me, and they all need rest and food.”
“And I have my orders, King Akeela,” said the sentry. “King Mor has said ten men only may enter.”
Breck leaned over, whispering, “Refuse.”
Akeela hesitated. If his plan was to work, Mor needed to think him a coward. He called to the sentry, “Twenty men. Otherwise I will not enter.”
The Norvans mumbled amongst themselves. Finally their leader relented. “Twenty men is agreed. Come ahead.”
“And you will see that the rest are fed?”
The sentry agreed, and Akeela had Breck count out twenty of the Royal Chargers. Together they rode forward. Akeela took careful notice of the gate as he passed through it. If their plan was to succeed, they would have to keep the gate open as long as possible. The sentries in the courtyard bowed slightly to Akeela as he entered the courtyard, taking his horse. Akeela dismounted, surveying his surroundings.
“This is Lieutenant Breck,” he told the wing-helmed sentry. “He will accompany me everywhere, is that understood?”
“King Mor expected you to have a bodyguard,” replied the leader. There was a trace of humor in his tone. “He’s waiting for you inside.” He began to order the fortress gates closed. Akeela quickly interrupted him.
“Don’t you dare close those gates until my men are taken care of,” he said sharply. “I want them fed, and I want feed for their horses as well.”
The sentry reluctantly agreed, telling his companions to see to their “guests.” “The rest of your men can take their ease here in the yard,” he said. “We’ll see to their horses as well, but they’re not to accompany you to the meeting. And they’re not to draw their weapons for any reason.”
“Then don’t give them reason to do so,” said Akeela.
The guard seemed to smile beneath his helmet. “Your bodyguard may accompany you to the meeting. And as I said, King Mor is expecting you.”
With Breck beside him, Akeela followed the sentry out of the yard, through a portcullis and into the main keep. A wide hall full of torchlight greeted them. Soldiers and servant boys walked the stone floor. Akeela felt his pulse quicken. Up ahead was a large pair of wooden doors guarded by two more soldiers. Both wore the ornate armor of Norvor, polished to a luster, and sported winged helmets. As Akeela approached, they uncrossed their halberds and bowed, then turned to open the creaking portals, revealing a large, dark chamber. Akeela stepped across the threshold. In the room was an oval-shaped table, laden with bread and cheese and flasks of wine. Three men were seated at the far end. Two of them rose when Akeela entered. Mor, seated in the center, did not. His watery eyes watched Akeela; his thin lips parted in an amused smile. A spotless white cat lay in his lap, purring as Mor stroked its long hair. Mor had dressed for the meeting, wearing a resplendent emerald cape and an elaborate collection of gem-encrusted rings. His pate was speckled with age spots, making him look even older than the last time Akeela had seen him. His dark gaze drifted over his guests.
Akeela bowed. “King Mor. It’s good to see you again. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
Mor inclined his head. “You’ve come quicker than I’d suspected, young Akeela. Anxious for peace, are you?”
“I am, my lord,” said Akeela. “I’m hopeful we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
The Norvan king continued stroking his pet. “You know Nace and Fianor.”
The two men remained standing, bowing slightly to Akeela. General Nace was Mor’s top military man, now in command of Hanging Man fortress. The younger man, Fianor, was Mor’s son. As next in line for the Norvan throne, he accompanied his father everywhere. The prince had strange, mismatched eyes and platinum hair that harkened back to what his father might have looked like in youth.
“This is Breck,” said Akeela, “a lieutenant of my Royal Chargers and one of my closest aides. He’ll be staying with me inside Hanging Man.”
The sentry that had brought them to the chamber said, “My lord, King Akeela has brought about fifty men with him. Twenty of them have been allowed inside the courtyard.”
King Mor smiled. “Twenty? Bargaining already, King Akeela?”
“They make me feel safe, my lord,” replied Akeela. He remembered how he needed to play the weakling. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes,” drawled Mor. He stroked his cat and studied Akeela. “Sit, my friend.”
Akeela took a chair across from Mor. Breck remained standing. The significant distance between the two kings added to the air of mistrust. Akeela took notice of the room and the placement of the chairs. Tomorrow, he would have to be much closer to Mor. A servant came from the corner of the room, filling Akeela’s goblet with wine. King Mor raised his glass toward his guest.
“To you, King Akeela,” he said. “And to our meeting. May it be fruitful.”
“That is my fondest hope,” said Akeela. When he had drank, he put down the glass and looked at Mor earnestly. “King Mor, you know why I’m here. You threaten war with Reec, and even with Liiria. I’ve seen the buildup of your forces here at Hanging Man. But I can tell you honestly, there is no need for this.”
“No need? King Akeela, you surprise me. You make a treaty with my enemy, and yet you say there is no need for me to worry?”
“I made a peace treaty with Reec, my lord, that is all.”
“Words, King Akeela.” Mor waved off his remarks. “You gave them rights to the Kryss. You didn’t even think about us here in Norvor. We are like nothing to you. Well, as you can see, we will not ignore such shabby treatment. And we will not let Reec have the Kryss. If we must, we will take it.” King Mor leaned forward threateningly. “And not even Liiria will stop us.”
Incensed, Akeela wanted to spit across the table. Mor’s arrogance was boundless. But Akeela held his tongue, summoning the coward Mor expected him to be.
“No, my lord, please. We must avoid such a thing. Liiria doesn’t want war with Norvor any more than we wanted it with Reec. We must do what we can to stop it.”
Mor sighed, considering the cat in his lap. “Frankly, I am out of ideas. I made my anger plain to you in our last meeting, yet you have chosen to offer us nothing. Unless . . .” He looked up with a smile. “Have you come to offer something?”
“Since I cannot have war with you, I’m prepared to bargain.”
“I am listening, King Akeela.”
“First, the Kryss is no longer mine to give. You know that. We traded it for peace with Reec, and to take it back would invite war with them. But we still have rights to it, rights assured us by King Karis. If you are willing, Liiria will pay you tribute for use of the river. If you allow our ships to sail south past Hanging Man, each one will pay a toll of gold.”
Mor looked intrigued. “And Reec? What of their ships?”
“We will pay their tribute as well,” said Akeela. “It will come from our own coffers, provided you make no aggression against them. And provided you move your army back from the border.”
“Your own coffers? You would pay for Reecian ships just to avoid war?”
“My lord, you have given me little choice,” said Akeela. “If you attack Reec, Liiria will be forced to intercede. And we have no wish to fight you. I’m not happy about it, but I see no other options.”
Prince Fianor snickered. “You could act like a man.”
His father glared at him, warning him to be silent. But when he looked back at Akeela, he said, “My son talks out of turn, King Akeela, yet I fear he’s correct. Your father wouldn’t have come here with such an offer. He would have fought. But you’re not your father, are you?”
“My father sent thousands of men to die in useless wars, my lord. I am trying to avoid such waste of life.”
“By bleeding your treasury?” Mor laughed. “Well, if you are willing to offer such a deal, I am willing to accept it. Will you sign a treaty saying so?”
“Of course. Have your people draft a paper of intent. Have it ready in the morning, and we will both sign it before I leave. We can work out the particulars of the payments later.”
Mor’s grin lit the room. “Then we are concluded, my friend. But you must stay the night in Hanging Man, of course. And your man here with you.”
“Fine. But I must leave on the morrow,” said Akeela. “I’m eager to return home.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” Mor hid his disdain very poorly. “The papers will be drawn tonight. We’ll wake early and sign them, and you can be on your way. But I should warn you, King Akeela, I will hold you to your word. If payment is not made on every ship that passes south, my army will return. And I will not be so willing to bargain.”
Akeela frowned. “I am a man of my word, King Mor. You should know that by now.”
“Indeed.” Mor lifted the cat from his lap and held it to his breast, then rose from his chair. “You should rest now, King Akeela. You look exhausted.”
Akeela got to his feet. “Yes, I am. But so are my men. We’ve ridden for many days, my lord. I’m wondering—may they come inside as well? They need rest, a proper roof from the sun and wind. If you could see fit to letting them stay within the courtyard at least, I would be most grateful.”
Mor chuckled. “You try to be so strong, King Akeela. Yet here you are, in my council chamber with just one man to protect you. What will you do if I refuse your request?”
“To refuse would be unjust, my lord, for as you’ve chosen to point out, I’m no threat to you. I’m only concerned about my people.”
Mor thought for a moment, turning again toward the sentry. “Fifty men, you say?”
“Yes, my lord. And twenty are already inside the courtyard.”
“I would say that twenty Liirians are quite enough,” Mor concluded. “But they may shift if they like. When the first twenty are rested, twenty others may take their ease in the yard.”
“My lord, that’s not very helpful,” said Akeela.
“But it’s all I am willing to grant.” Mor gestured to the door. “Take your rest tonight, King Akeela, and be glad I’ve allowed even that many of your cowards into my fortress.”
At dawn the next morning, Akeela and Breck waited for Mor’s men to come for them. Akeela had hardly slept at all. He had dressed and he had planned, and he had checked and rechecked the dagger beneath his cape. The room Mor had given them was on the north side of the fortress, and Akeela had spent much of the night staring off at the dark horizon, hoping that Hogon and Raxor were prepared. They were to use the cover of night to advance on the fortress, ducking behind the hills and mountains to hide their advance. An hour past dawn, they would attack. Now that it was dawn, Akeela supposed they were very near. But he couldn’t see them from his window, and he wondered if they were there at all.
“It’s almost time,” he noted. The sun was rising, exposing the terrain. The dark mountains took shape and the river began to glow, but there was no sign of Hogon. Akeela turned from the window. “Maybe they haven’t come. Maybe Raxor wouldn’t join them.”
“No, they’re out there somewhere, my lord,” said Breck. Throughout the night he had been the voice of reason. Now he sat in one of the chamber’s spartan chairs, waiting. He watched Akeela with the cool gaze of a seasoned soldier. “Don’t worry about Hogon. Just keep your mind on the task at hand. And remember, you have to get close to Mor.”
“I know,” said Akeela impatiently. “I’m just worried about the timing.”
“Don’t be. Mor loves to talk, so keep him talking. Start him bragging about his army or something. We just need enough time for them to get a glimpse of Hogon.”
“And Raxor,” added Akeela. It felt odd for him to be taking orders from Breck, but the reversal of roles was necessary. As he was too often reminded, he wasn’t a soldier. He said, “I just hope he’s come as well. Do you think—”
A knock at the door interrupted Akeela. He jumped, staring at the portal. “Yes? Who is it?”
The door opened and Fianor appeared. The prince was alone. He smiled wryly at Akeela. “Good morning, my lord. I see you are ready for your meeting with my father.”
“I’m ready,” Akeela replied. “Have the papers been drawn?”
“Drawn and awaiting your signature, my lord. May I escort you downstairs?”
“Is your father already there?”
The prince seemed to laugh. “My father is anxious to see the treaty signed, my lord, and hardly slept at all last night. You said you wanted to leave early, so he made himself ready for you.”
“And my men? What of them?”
“Your men are still in the yard,” said Fianor. “They’ve been fed and sheltered.” The prince snickered. “They seem eager to be on their way.”
Akeela took the insult without flinching. “Yes, well, they’re a long way from home.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed. “Now, let’s go sign that treaty.”
Chancellor Hogon was exhausted. He and his army had marched hard through the night, following the river and ignoring the dangers of darkness. With Raxor’s army beside them, they had kept close to the hills bordering the Kryss, periodically sending forth scouts to make sure their advance went unnoticed. Their horses were tired and in desperate need of rest, and the feet of the infantry bloomed with blisters. Hogon himself had hardly been able to keep himself erect in the saddle. Desperate for sleep, he had nevertheless pushed his old body to its edges, for time was his enemy and Akeela needed him.
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