Read Online Tracato: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Three by Joel Shepherd - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joel Shepherd
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with the vanguard, and has headed back to his part of the column.”
“Well, that’s Lenayin for you. I don’t know why you let it bother you, Damon. Division is the nature of our kingdom, and always shall be.”
“That doesn’t bother me,” Damon replied tiredly. “It’s just…I don’t know how this is going to work, Sofy. Everyone fights differently, everyone’s in the war for personal advantage and glory. I don’t believe there’s any certainty that the great lords will even obey commands from Father or Koenyg in the heat of battle, if they think they have a better idea. Or if they see the order as advantaging a Lenay rival.”
Sofy did not reply. She was thinking about her sister Sasha. Sasha was Nasi-Keth, and thus loved the serrin. Sasha also loved Lenayin. Yet Lenayin was now marching to make war on the serrin…or at least, on their Saalshen Bacosh allies. Gods knew what Sasha felt, wherever she was now. Sofy was a Verenthane, as were all Lenayin royalty, and most of the nobility. The war was being fought in the name of the Verenthane faith. Yet for all the grand pronouncements of Archbishop Dalryn, and of the devout nobility, and from the northerners in particular, she could not feel any enthusiasm for this war.
The serrin had never chosen to make war on anyone. War had been made upon them, and the occupation of the Saalshen Bacosh had been self-defence, nothing more. They were gentle and kind, save where human aggression had forced them to fight for survival. What the serrin had helped the Saalshen Bacosh to build, in two centuries of occupation, seemed wonderful. And now, her father King Torvaal of Lenayin was leading an army of her countrymen to marry a Lenay princess to the Larosan heir, and forge a holy Verenthane alliance that would bind Lenayin’s future to that of the Verenthane lowlands forever.
That alliance would necessarily mean the reconquest of the Saalshen Bacosh, and the destruction of all the civilisation the serrin had brought to those peoples…but that mattered little compared to the holy Verenthane future of Lenayin. The future was Verenthane, they were told. The Gods had ordained it.
“I’m far less worried about the squabbling of stupid nobles than what the Goeren-yai think,” Sofy said. “Half of this army is not Verenthane, yet we askthem to fight and die for a cause that has not always treated them well. Many of the eastern Goeren-yai have long ties to the serrin, and do not march willingly to fight them.”
“They’ll fight,” Damon replied. “It’s a question of honour. You can question their willingness all you like, but never question a Goeren-yai’s honour.”
“I know they’ll fight,” said Sofy. “I’m just…” She could not complete the sentence. Dare she say it? Even here, to her most trusted brother and confidant? She swallowed hard.
“You’re not certain you want us to win,” Damon said sombrely. “Are you?” Sofy stared at his dark gaze, and bit her lip. She nodded, faintly. Damon took a deep breath. “These are our people, Sofy. We owe them everything—our lives if need be.”
“Oh, I know that! I know that as well as anyone! But…some of these people are evil, Damon. These Larosans. What they’ve done to serrin and half-castes across the border in Enora and Rhodaan—”
“I know,” said Damon. “I know. But it is the future of Lenayin at stake. We have no choice.”
For a while, there was no sound but for the creaking of wheels, the thudding of hooves, and the jangling of harnesses.
“And how is your riding coming?” Damon said after the pause.
“Well, I tried using the rein as you showed me.” Sofy smiled. “Dary was quite impressed. He thinks I’m a little dense, but he tolerates me.”
“Koenyg complains you should not be riding a dussieh. I could get you a warhorse if you’d rather?”
“Never!” said Sofy. “I’ll not trade my little Dary for anything. Besides, Koenyg was just telling me he doesn’t
“Well, that’s Lenayin for you. I don’t know why you let it bother you, Damon. Division is the nature of our kingdom, and always shall be.”
“That doesn’t bother me,” Damon replied tiredly. “It’s just…I don’t know how this is going to work, Sofy. Everyone fights differently, everyone’s in the war for personal advantage and glory. I don’t believe there’s any certainty that the great lords will even obey commands from Father or Koenyg in the heat of battle, if they think they have a better idea. Or if they see the order as advantaging a Lenay rival.”
Sofy did not reply. She was thinking about her sister Sasha. Sasha was Nasi-Keth, and thus loved the serrin. Sasha also loved Lenayin. Yet Lenayin was now marching to make war on the serrin…or at least, on their Saalshen Bacosh allies. Gods knew what Sasha felt, wherever she was now. Sofy was a Verenthane, as were all Lenayin royalty, and most of the nobility. The war was being fought in the name of the Verenthane faith. Yet for all the grand pronouncements of Archbishop Dalryn, and of the devout nobility, and from the northerners in particular, she could not feel any enthusiasm for this war.
The serrin had never chosen to make war on anyone. War had been made upon them, and the occupation of the Saalshen Bacosh had been self-defence, nothing more. They were gentle and kind, save where human aggression had forced them to fight for survival. What the serrin had helped the Saalshen Bacosh to build, in two centuries of occupation, seemed wonderful. And now, her father King Torvaal of Lenayin was leading an army of her countrymen to marry a Lenay princess to the Larosan heir, and forge a holy Verenthane alliance that would bind Lenayin’s future to that of the Verenthane lowlands forever.
That alliance would necessarily mean the reconquest of the Saalshen Bacosh, and the destruction of all the civilisation the serrin had brought to those peoples…but that mattered little compared to the holy Verenthane future of Lenayin. The future was Verenthane, they were told. The Gods had ordained it.
“I’m far less worried about the squabbling of stupid nobles than what the Goeren-yai think,” Sofy said. “Half of this army is not Verenthane, yet we askthem to fight and die for a cause that has not always treated them well. Many of the eastern Goeren-yai have long ties to the serrin, and do not march willingly to fight them.”
“They’ll fight,” Damon replied. “It’s a question of honour. You can question their willingness all you like, but never question a Goeren-yai’s honour.”
“I know they’ll fight,” said Sofy. “I’m just…” She could not complete the sentence. Dare she say it? Even here, to her most trusted brother and confidant? She swallowed hard.
“You’re not certain you want us to win,” Damon said sombrely. “Are you?” Sofy stared at his dark gaze, and bit her lip. She nodded, faintly. Damon took a deep breath. “These are our people, Sofy. We owe them everything—our lives if need be.”
“Oh, I know that! I know that as well as anyone! But…some of these people are evil, Damon. These Larosans. What they’ve done to serrin and half-castes across the border in Enora and Rhodaan—”
“I know,” said Damon. “I know. But it is the future of Lenayin at stake. We have no choice.”
For a while, there was no sound but for the creaking of wheels, the thudding of hooves, and the jangling of harnesses.
“And how is your riding coming?” Damon said after the pause.
“Well, I tried using the rein as you showed me.” Sofy smiled. “Dary was quite impressed. He thinks I’m a little dense, but he tolerates me.”
“Koenyg complains you should not be riding a dussieh. I could get you a warhorse if you’d rather?”
“Never!” said Sofy. “I’ll not trade my little Dary for anything. Besides, Koenyg was just telling me he doesn’t
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