——— 1 ———

⁠—⁠—⁠— I ⁠—⁠—⁠—

“You let them get away?”

The general did not raise her voice, yet its menacing tone was enough to make the hardened warrior blanch. Even the Gohran soldiers who stood nearby, red knights in stiff postures of attention under Count Ricard’s watchful eye, shifted nervously in their armor. The Hall of the Lion was filled with tension.

The target of the general’s wrath was an ugly giant of a man who stood with his white-plumed helm held to his breast. He was Vlon, one of the captains in Amnelis’ personal guard. “Please, your forgiveness, General! We were⁠—”

“Your excuses will not be necessary!” Her voice, now shrill, silenced the trembling hulk of a man. “I do not blame you for failing to capture them. We are all at the mercy of fortune.

“What I despise is your negligent decision not to follow them across the Kes, simply because you had received no such orders. You were aware of my desire to learn more of the strange company on that raft. Once you had found them, Vlon, it should have been clear to you that they were worth crossing the river to capture! Furthermore, you should have then sent a messenger to Alvon to report on the situation and to request reinforcements. I had Ricard prepare a troop and two squads, ready with rafts. They could have made the crossing quickly and captured the fugitives! Or perhaps you thought a crossing too risky?”

“Yes, General.”

Vlon broke out in a cold sweat. He was a nobleman himself, from a family of long lineage in Torus with ties to Archduke Vlad. Yet there was none in Mongaul who would wish to parry words with the leader of the white knights, let alone cross her⁠— after a manner, not even her father the archduke.

Amnelis had removed her white riding armor. In its place she now wore a long white robe that bared one shoulder, like a man’s toga. Beneath that she wore a pair of slender trousers. Her magnificent hair hung loose to her waist, shining with a brilliance purer than Alceisian gold. She was truly a beauty, but curiously, her beauty was one that nudged the beholder to think of her as a handsome prince rather than a fair lady.

Her mouth was small, her lips shaped like the petals of a flower opening beneath the aquamarine glimmer of her cold, mysterious eyes. The combination of that gaze and her crysalline voice was more than most men could withstand.

It was too much for Vlon. His scarred face twisted in a grimace, and his head drooped.

Amnelis looked at him a short while longer, then spoke more kindly. “Very well. I trust that you will no longer simply follow orders like an automaton and will take advantage of such opportunities as are presented to you in the future. Perhaps Count Ricard’s men are crossing the Kes as we speak. Let us hope that I worry for naught.” Amnelis turned away from her charge. “Count Ricard, attend me in my chambers, and bring the diviner Gajus with you.”

“Yes, my Lady,” said the count immediately, bowing deeply. He stood to watch the archduke’s daughter walk away, her white robes fluttering behind her exquisitely elegant form⁠—the slender, yet ruthlessly effective, body of a warrior.

He waited until she had left, then turned to the disconsolate giant.

“Bad luck, eh, Vlon?”

They were comparable in rank. Though Ricard, keep-lord of Alvon, commanded more men, Vlon was a white knight and a captain in the guard unit under Amnelis’ direct control. Like Ricard, Vlon was a count of Mongaul, and the two had been friends for many years.

“Indeed, I did not know the truth of what the lady suspected. I only realized when I heard the report your knights sent back from Stafolos. Had I known the orphans of Parros were among that strange lot on the raft, I would have crossed the river on horseback.”

“You did not know, and thus you are without blame,” said Ricard, relieved in his heart of hearts that the blame was not on him.

“I was always with the lady-general during the Parros campaign! I was also with her when we withdrew early, for her protection. She did not have any more information than I did. Yet what we see in that information is as different as night and day, it would seem.”

“And that is why she is a general, and the representative of the archduke, and you are not.”

“Aye, old friend. Though she has lived not half the years I have, she sees things a hundredfold more clearly.” Count Vlon sighed, then continued meditatively. “Ah well, that is past now… but what a strange country Parros is! It was an ancient land indeed, but that hardly explains the royal twins’ trick of traveling across the whole of the Middle Country in a night. And when I saw that leopard-man, I doubted my own eyes.”

“Surely, it is a mask of some sort.”

“I did not think so, for it seemed the leopard fur grew most naturally out of the skin of his neck and shoulders. Nor would most masks I have seen stay on after such a violent toss in the water.”

“I would not be surprised to find that the leopard-man is another reason for Amnelis’ keen interest in that raft,” said Ricard thoughtfully.

He could not have guessed the truth behind the destruction at Stafolos: that an evil spirit masquerading as the Black Count of Mongaul had been capturing Sem from the wildlands of Nospherus and murdering them, thus provoking the attack that destroyed the keep. Yet he had just heard the report from the signal fires that the fragmentary records that had been salvaged from the ruins of Stafolos included an astounding revelation. On the night of the attack, a strange, leopard-headed man and the twins of Parros had both been among the prisoners at the fortress⁠—a fact that Count Vanon (in truth the spirit who ruled in his place) had neglected to report immediately. Since they were seen on the Kes, it seemed that the three had, by some miracle, cheated death in the blaze at the keep. And now it seemed they had escaped Mongaul altogether.

“I heard nothing in the crystal city about a half-beast in the service of the royal family. Something looking like that would surely have set people talking in every tavern in Parros! Where could it have come from?” Vlon wondered aloud.

Ricard shook his head. “I have no idea⁠—I’ve not even seen this creature… My friend, I beg your leave. It would not do for me to keep the lady waiting.”

Vlon continued, seeming not to have heard him. “Parros was a cultured place, but militarily, it was no match for Gohra. The capital city was beautiful⁠—like a dream. When the crystal tower fell… I felt our victory was almost too easy. It is strange. Even though the royal family is no more, and their kingdom only a memory, there is something of Parros that lingers on in my thoughts…”

A page approached and reported to Count Ricard that Gajus Runecaster had already gone up to the lady’s chambers. Ricard hurriedly excused himself, but Vlon was too lost in thought to notice his friend’s departure.

When Count Ricard arrived at the ample, if somewhat stark, chambers he had appointed for the lady-general, Amnelis was already deep in discussion with the caster Gajus.

In the center of the room sat a wide, coal-black table set with goblets and a large platter piled with fruits. The wiry, needle-thin caster had not touched even a drop of his water. The lady-general sat next to him, the hem of her robe tucked back so her slender trousers could be seen beneath. In her milk-white hand she held a silver goblet from which she sipped honey mulsum between questions, as if to help her clear her thoughts.

She turned to the count, speaking as soon as he had closed the door behind him. “Count Ricard, if we are to keep the minimum necessary number of men at Stafolos to help with rebuilding and defense, and a full guard at Alvon, how many men does that leave free for other duties?”

Ricard knew better than to waste time on formalities. He replied immediately without ceremony, “I have three battalions under my command, as you know. If the squadron I sent to Stafolos were to remain there, and a full battalion to guard Alvon, I have at your disposal, my Lady, two troops of knights, three platoons of footmen, as well as a transport corps with supplies.”

“Gajus!” The general turned once more to the diviner. “Which will serve us better: to use what troops can be spared from the keeps of nearby Tauride and Talos, with reinforcements later, or to send to Torus for a battalion of red knights?”

The diviner rubbed his skeletal hands together and croaked in a raspy voice. “Borrow troops from Tauride and send to Torus for reinforcements.”

“But that will take too long,” Amnelis replied, the words lingering on her lips. Ricard could practically hear her mind churning. It was all he could do to resist the urge to risk seeming impetuous and ask what she was thinking.

“Very well,” she said with some finality. “Ricard, extra supplies will not be needed, but I must ask you for one more troop of knights. As for footmen a single platoon should suffice…  on second thought, no. The ground in Nospherus breathes poison⁠—lethal to anyone not mounted. Prepare three troops of knights for a river crossing. I will lead them myself⁠—”

“Into the no-man’s land, my Lady?” Ricard burst out in shock.

“You had some other place in mind?” A faint smile touched the general’s lips.

“That will not do! You must not go! As the loyal servant of his Excellency the Archduke, I cannot allow you to⁠—”

“There is no time, Count Ricard,” said Amnelis, reaching out a slender hand towards Gajus’ crystal divination sphere. “I will not expose myself needlessly to danger, but should the path I must walk be fraught with it, I have no choice but to press on.

“Still,” she said after a pause, “there is no need to go without taking necessary precautions. As I was about to say, your troops will build a temporary bridge across the river, and later a simple fortification to hold it on the far side, as we have been planning for some time now. The three troops I will lead once they have crossed into Nospherus. The unpredictable nature of the Kes has prevented us so far from making anything more permanent, but the bridge need only hold until reinforcements from Tauride and the expedition forces from Torus arrive. Then we can begin the main invasion of Nospherus.”

“I-Invasion?” stammered Ricard loudly. Ever since the river-crossing exercises had been ordered he had suspected that the Golden Scorpion Palace had its eyes on Nospherus for some reason, but never had he expected a full invasion. What could they possibly see in that noxious, accursed land?

“The Golden Scorpion Palace takes the fall of Stafolos Keep quite seriously,” Amnelis explained. “The border that runs from Stafolos to Alvon and on is not only a line of defense for Gohra; it is also the northern edge of the Marches. Stafolos was the key outpost of the Marches defense. Our greatest fear was that the remnants of those loyal to Parros might somehow join forces with the barbarian tribes of Nospherus and attack Gohra from her rear… a fear that has grown with the escape of the Parros orphans.

“It is vital that we hunt them down and question them before they join with the Sem. Even if our fears were groundless and the Parros-Sem alliance an imaginary threat, it would not do for us to sit idly by. Stafolos has fallen and there must be retribution! It falls to us now to campaign against Nospherus, and to destroy the main tribes of the Sem. You understand, Count Ricard, that especially now, when we have stretched our arms far into the Middle Country, we cannot suffer the depredations >of our enemies here in our own backyard. Know also that the Mongauli attack on Parros was entirely my father’s doing. He did it, of course, for the greater glory of the three archduchies of Gohra, and so Tario of Kumn and Olu Khan of Yulania have praised him well for that. But Mongaul’s expansion has upset the balance of power between the archduchies. It has, shall we say, strained our relations with our neighbors. It is not unthinkable that Kumn and Yulania might join forces to put Mongaul in its place, should they feel the need.”

“For Mongaul!” shouted Ricard, spontaneously leaping to his feet and drawing his sword. It was the Gohran salute.

“Yes… so you see why we⁠—why Mongaul⁠—needs Nospherus.” Amnelis’ eyes shone with an emerald light in the dim room.

“As… a bastion to protect our backs?” ventured Ricard, hesitant to put what he was thinking into words.

The lady-general, sitting there in her men’s robe and trousers, gave a deep, throaty laugh.

“Yes, that is one reason.”

“So, you mean to say that Mongaul will go to war with⁠—”

“Count Ricard, this is a matter of the highest secrecy. Even in the Golden Scorpion Palace only a few are entrusted with full knowledge of our plans.” Amnelis’ voice was quiet but stern. She looked at Ricard directly. “Let me just say this. The no-man’s land of Nospherus is of vital importance, and we must move quickly before anyone outside of the Golden Scorpion Palace realizes this as well.

“Gajus!”

“My Lady?” answered the diviner in a hoarse croak.

“What say the stars?”

“Ah, I was just gazing at them while you spoke.”

The aged caster set his divining board and divining sphere side by side, as if to compare what they told him, and rubbed their surfaces with his spidery fingers. “Not good… not good at all, what the stars say. Their positions are most peculiar.”

Amnelis sat poised and still, waiting intently for his prediction.

Gajus groped at the diviner’s cords around his neck. “Frankly speaking, I do not clearly understand their message. Yet I know something is beginning to move, to take shape⁠—something quite extraordinary… Something, perhaps, that shall sway events in the Middle Country for a long time to come. The stars of battle and providence, and the pole star that sits on the northern throne all pull against each other⁠—soon they will enter the same house!”

“What does that mean, Gajus?”

“It is a foreboding of change⁠—of chance meetings and sudden decisions⁠—of destiny in turmoil, my Lady.”

Amnelis fixed the caster with a stony glare. When she saw that he had nothing further to add, she lightly shrugged her shoulders and turned to Count Ricard.

“You see, my dear keep-lord, diviners are all the same. They appear to know, but then they do not, and nothing they say is ever of practical value.”

“The stars do not predict the future, Lady Amnelis,” croaked the diviner, “they are merely a mirror, reflecting what happens in our world. It is men who make things happen, and fate⁠—the threads of fate are many and tangled. We walk from one to the next and even the greatest prophet cannot tell with certainty where they lead.”

“Yes, yes, I know all that,” Amnelis waved her hand dismissively. “What you’re telling me is that you don’t see any omens, good or bad?”

“I do not⁠—which is to say that the struggle of the stars I see is not one that bodes good or ill, nor are their final positions clear⁠—but it seems to me that the fate of many shall change… yes, it shall come like an avalanche, and soon.”

“What about the leopard-man? I must know what he is!”

Ricard raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, his peculiar appearance is probably the result of scarring from some illness, or perhaps a well-crafted mask…”

The count’s words trailed off into the silence of the room. He remembered what Vlon had said down in the hall, and it occurred to him that Amnelis might not care to hear his opinionin any case. After all, he had not actually seen this half-man.

Amnelis did not honor him with a response, but instead turned back to Gajus.

“Well, Runecaster? Can you explain it? The world is wide, and the Marches are deep and full of strange monstrosities. Is there any record of a half-man such as the one I have seen?”

Gajus rapped the divining board with his long fingers and pondered. “I have delved into many mysteries during my years as a caster, but most of these were but aspects of man’s everyday life, approached with the skills of my ancient craft so that they may be seen with new insight. But this creature you speak of is from an entirely different realm altogether: the realm of myth, not sorcery.”

“Myth… Ah, was there not a myth regarding such a halfbeast god? Cirenos, yes…” Amnelis reached out an ivory-white hand, took her goblet, drained it, and slowly stood. The folds of her robes swirled around her slender figure. “Regardless, if we capture them, part of the mystery will be solved. Indeed, we may find out all there is to know about this leopard-man.”

“May I ask why my Lady shows so much interest in this creature?” asked Gajus abruptly.

Amnelis stopped and turned back to face him, seeming almost startled.

“My Lady senses something, does she not? I said the stars are gathering toward one house⁠—it is the House of Leo, and the Lion is not unlike a leopard. It lies waiting in the very center, a great carnivorous beast. They are moving towards it, changing their paths. And… my Lady, daughter of the archduke: of the many stars that now approach the Lion, there is also the one that shone most brightly over the Golden Scorpion Palace on the eve of your birth.”

The caster appeared to have fallen into a trance now, his eyes half-closed. The white edges of his eyes beneath his heavy lids shone startlingly bright against the weathered tan of his face. For a moment it seemed to Ricard as if the old man were listening to some sound from far away, but strain as he might, the count could hear nothing. The deep hood Gajus wore cast his face in a shadow, making his bony visage look like a skull with jaws agape, trying to say something but lacking a tongue with which to form the words.

Amnelis stood a moment, saying nothing. Her green eyes shone with something that was neither shock nor rage nor embarrassment, yet was all of these things at once. Her lower lip moved as though she wished to respond, but was unsure of what to say, Ricard held his breath.

Then, to the count’s great surprise, the general’s face broke into a warm smile.

“Really, these things you say, Gajus! I think you have become addled by your years of staring into that silly ball!” Amnelis laughed heartily, then with a light rustling of her robes, she exited to make preparations for her expedition.

Left by themselves, the two men glanced at each other, and quickly turned away⁠—Count Ricard seeming perplexed, and Gajus Runecaster not wanting the other to read the thoughts in his eyes. Neither of them spoke.