Chapter Seventeen The Lands of the Kindred
As they rode, the Prince began reviewing what the Imperial scholars had told him about the lands of the Kindred, and also what he had been able to glean from forbidden texts in the secret Fortress Libraries that held the accounts of the generals who had attempted to invade the Kindred’s sanctuary.
What it came down to was that while the Empire had far superior numbers, strategists, and resources of war, they could not bring these things to bear on the Kindred.
The Pass of Roarke forced the Empire to invade through a single narrow point that thinned what force could immediately be brought to bear.
A number of times, a sea-based attack had been tried, but the shores that bordered the land were a series of treacherous cliffs and murderous tides, impossible for a large force to navigate.
What sea-going the Kindred did conduct was run out of secret harbors in hidden bays that were similarly defensible by a small and dedicated force.
But even these obstacles the Empire should have been able to overcome with enough time and men. What held them off was the ingenuity of the Kindred themselves, and their enchanted defenses.
Any invading army that managed to pass beyond Roarke, through the mountains, and into the land of the Kindred found itself wandering aimlessly through lands that turned from desert to forest overnight.
Rivers would erupt from bare rock, cutting an army in two.
Days and nights were not fixed: darkness would fall sometimes hours after the sun rose, and sometimes day would continue on for an entire week.
The only man who had been able to successfully invade the Kindred lands was the Prince of Oxen, and only because he had pushed his army with no concern for his men’s wellbeing.
Twice he had invaded with a force numbering in the hundreds of thousands and tracked down the Exiles, and twice he had been repulsed, his army too worn down by attrition to win the day.
The Prince had never heard more than wild speculation as to how the Kindred were able to manipulate the land.
Some said it was an ancient magic that had existed before the Empress had come from across the sea; others said that one of the servants who had come with Her had betrayed Her and taken Her secrets to the farthest part of the Empire.
Still others, the most zealous of Her followers, insisted that it was the Empress’ will to allow the Exiled Kindred to remain, and that She would, on a day of reckoning, lead an army into the heart of the Kindred lands and wipe them from the face of the earth, turning illusion into reality.
The Prince didn’t know what to believe, except that he was about to learn for himself what it was like to travel the Seventh Principality.
Once they had descended from the mountains, he was informed by the Exiles that the city of Vale, nexus of the Exiled Kindred’s power, was located barely more than a full day of travel from the Pass of Roarke. The Prince reined in his horse abruptly and the others all stopped to look at him.
“What?” he asked in shock. “That’s impossible!”
The red-eyed eshendai laughed; the sound rang out with a rich baritone quality that, again, seemed to mock the Prince.
“I thought you said he was one of the Most High,” the young man said to Leah. “I thought he’d be more intelligent.”
The Prince’s blood boiled, and he had to fight to keep his hand from reaching for the dagger at his belt. Tomaz seemed to have read the Prince’s mind and broke in hastily with a deep rumble.
“The magic of the Council of Elders makes it so that anyone without an Anchor is unable to see through the protections we have in place. It’s the greatest of our defenses against the Empire.”
Davydd, still chuckling, rode on ahead with Lorna, and the Prince followed sullenly, Leah and Tomaz hanging back with him.
“What’s an Anchor?” he asked.
“It’s a kind of totem, unique to each person who carries it,” Tomaz responded. He gave the Prince a brief look of interest mingled with excited anticipation. “I wonder what will happen to you without one.”
“Why can’t you give me one?”
“What part of ‘unique to each person who carries it’ didn’t you understand, princeling?” Lead asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Even if we somehow had a spare Anchor it wouldn’t work for you.”
“Why not?”
“An Anchor is only given to those who have sworn loyalty to the Council of Elders and the nation of Aemon.”
“What is Aemon?”
“Aemon was the first Exiled Kindred,” Tomaz responded. “He founded the Kindred with the help of the land’s original inhabitants.”
“The savages?” the Prince asked, skeptically.
Leah and Tomaz exchanged a glance.
“Keep that opinion to yourself,” the big man rumbled.
“Most of the Kindred are not Exiles from the Empire like we are. We joined them, yes, but they have been here for longer than living memory—before the Empress came. The people who live in Vale are their descendants, mixed with those like us who they took in.”
“The Exiled Servant,” the Prince said slowly.
“What?’ Leah asked sharply.
“A story,” the Prince explained, “that I was told when I was growing up. A servant who came over with my… with the Empress when she crossed the sea. He stole one of her greatest secrets and fled, taking refuge in the mountains. He was never found.”
“Aemon,” Tomaz said, nodding. “That man was Aemon.”
The Prince blinked—and found himself in the middle of the strangest forest he had ever seen.
“AH!”
He pulled his horse around so violently that the beast almost kicked him off before he could regain control.
The world had changed completely. There was foliage as far as the eye could see, including large trees he had no name for that dripped long plant ropes that he thought from his reading must be vines.
A bird the size of an eagle flew over his head with a bill made of the colors of the rainbow.
There was no sign of the mountains they had just crossed, and heat lay heavy on him like a wet blanket.
“How—how are we in forest?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice calm.
“A forest?” Tomaz asked excitedly.
“Yes, a forest!”
“We’re not in a forest, princeling,” Leah said. “We’re walking through a field.”
As soon as she said the word ‘field,’ the world gave an odd sideways lurch as if someone had pulled a tablecloth out from under a table set, leaving all the Exiles and their mounts in place but completely changing the backdrop behind them.
The Prince saw a field of wheat flowing around them, felt a cool breeze on his cheeks, saw that the sun was dipping down toward the horizon—and then the world lurched back, and it was a forest again.
“So… so this is the defense you were talking about.”
His voice came out somewhat choked.
“Yes,” Leah responded with a grin. “And it looks like it’s working.”
“So, you don’t see that rather large… cat? Over there?” the Prince asked, pointing off to their right.
“Nope. And neither do you.”
“No, I see it, it’s standing right there. It’s huge!”
“Your mind isn’t Anchored,” Leah said. “You see whatever you cobble together from past experiences, things you’ve read or dreamed or lived as a child. But it’s all illusion.”
“Whatever I imagine seeing?” the Prince asked. Leah nodded.
“The genius of the defense is that it doesn’t change your mind at all,” she said.
“It simply makes the world look like a blank canvas. Your brain fills it in however it sees fit. Your default image of a new and exotic land must be a forest, or a jungle like we have in the east. Like there used to be south of Tyne before Rikard cleared it all. Strange. I would have thought you’d be walking through the corridors of the Fortress or the streets of Lucien. ”
As soon as she mentioned the Fortress, the world gave another lurch, this time so violent that the Prince felt his stomach protest and bile rise in his throat.
He was in a long stone corridor, tapestries on either side of him depicting famous battles, a small alcove to his right holding a gaudy golden chalice.
The forest—jungle?—returned, and the Prince abruptly leaned over the side of his horse, feeling he was about to retch.
“Whoa there,” Tomaz said, reaching over and holding onto the neck of the Prince’s shirt. “What did you see that time?”
“Fortress,” he managed to get out, breathing heavily, his stomach slowly settling back down.
“Interesting,” Leah said. “Is it because I mentioned the Fort—?”
“Don’t say it!” the Prince snapped. The world did a half-lurch, but the Prince was able to squint his eyes and keep himself in the jungle. “How long is it going to take to get to Vale?”
“We’ll have to camp for the night, and then we’ll get there early morning tomorrow.”
“Shadows and light,” he cursed. They lapsed into silence and the Prince noticed that the forest had begun to shift unsteadily at the edges of his vision. A twist in the contours of the land reminded him vaguely of a stream he’d seen in the Elmist Mountains.
“Keep talking,” he pleaded as a stream suddenly sprang into being and ran alongside them.
“About what?” Tomaz asked.
“Anchors,” the Prince said at randomly. “How are they unique?”
“It’s the nature of valerium,” Tomaz responded.
“You mentioned that before. What is valerium?”
“It’s a type of metal,” Tomaz began. He was cut off abruptly by Leah.
“It’s a type of alloy,” she corrected.
“Well, why don’t you tell the man about it?” Tomaz responded with a grin, motioning her to continue. She smiled apologetically but kept talking.