The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

"They'll execute you," Isak said, stabbing a stick into the fire like it was an enemy struggling to its feet with a blade in hand. "The only thing those Rodezians know about justice is how it benefits their dynasty." He glanced to Vida, who had joined them by the small fire built in the afternoon, not necessary for the relatively warm spring day but a nice diversion. Isak seemed about to apologize to her, considering her heritage from the region.

"No," she said, shaking her head vehemently, "you're right. This is a plot to make you the scapegoat, Laczlo. It's so thinly veiled it's insulting. It was launched as soon as the voivodess was spotted, confirming our victory here, mark my words. You can't go."

Laczlo sighed and paced. Stanilo also stood nearby, arms crossed and standing tall like the quiet monolith he was. Their temporary camp was next to the road in a patch of empty grassland used for grazing overlooking the rocky seashore to the south. The newcomers were set up at the opposite end, out of earshot and under the watch of the druzhinas Krajik and Makarii. Even the druzhina from Nova was put with them, just to be safe.

"Right, we can all agree this is designed to entrap me." He paced back and forth. Back and forth. His leg still ached from the battle, but he couldn't make himself sit still. "But say I argue my case well, then what? They can't execute a voivode of Vasia." He looked at Vida. "Can they?"

"I don't know," she replied, frowning off. "That's a diplomatic question. It would weaken Vasia, certainly, but maybe Varul is willing to accept it to get rid of you."

"Deus, after all his words of new beginnings and trust." Laczlo shook his head and made himself stand still with the others around the fire. He had to look in control, especially now. "What of the tsar, though? Surely he wouldn't accept this lying down?"

"If he knows about it," Isak muttered.

Varul didn't just keep the tsar in the dark but supported his drinking habits, which made him even less present than before. Over the last year, the tsar grew more reclusive and less involved in nearly every affair. Laczlo ran a hand through his hair. I wish Kapitalena were here. Or even Mikha. They'd know what to do. "Even if they don't execute me, I'm still trapped far from Nova for Deus knows how long. All while Varul plots a war in the east. One that'll bring Vasia disaster, stretched thin as we are." I should have gutted the bastard when he walked into the great hall with the tsar for the first time.

Stanilo crossed his arms, staring off. "Your hand is forced, sir. Give in, and you're dragged away from your men far west. Don't, and you're on the line of rebellion. But it's a line they might not want to cross."

"He makes a good point," Isak said, nodding along. "You've as many professional men as the Eastern Commander—better ones, too. Even Voiakh doesn't have as many druzhina—just levies and semi-professionals. Varul would be a fool to bring this to armed conflict."

"You think it's a bluff?" Laczlo asked.

"Maybe. But declare you a rebel? After everything?" He gripped the sword at his side. "The civil war's not over yet. A bad time to overreach."

Vida handed Laczlo a cup of warmed cider and said, "The more I think of it, the more it seems like he is antagonizing you into action. He knows you can't go along with this. So why push you unless he wants you to push back? Strike down the Warrior Prince before he is at his strongest. Rid himself of his biggest threat, even if he has been a useful asset thus far."

Isak nodded along, leaning in. "He's a man that wants power, Voivode. Absolute power. The tsar is weak enough to grant it, leaving just the voivodes to oppose him, but they are all scattered and weak. Except one. You."

"And I'm in that way, am I?" Laczlo asked. Then, a terrible thought dawned on him. "Maybe he's not actually going after the Free Cities, or they are a later target. What if he's threatening Vilsi?" The thought grew, becoming more dreadful by the second. "My family is in Nova. He could hold them hostage against me while threatening to take Vilsi by force if I don't cooperate. I'm in no place to fight him, even if I wanted to." His shoulders slumped in abject defeat with the sick realization. He felt impotent and naïve all over again.

"Or," Stanilo said with a mighty breath as if getting over some grand hesitance, "you march on Goroden and join forces with Voiakh. He wants the tsar back in power, right? And you're allies? He might be sympathetic."

"But there's still the problem of the messengers…" Laczlo trailed off, noticing the steely expression his two druzhina wore. "Killing them would entice war. Rodezia would not set aside the slaying of their own royal messengers."

"Their silence would buy us a few weeks," Vida murmured.

"But then they'd attack. We're in no state for war with them."

"I'm not sure they would." Everyone looked at her curiously, so she continued hesitantly, "They know the Second Son is dead; that means a power vacuum has opened. He was considered a strong candidate for heir, though it was not yet fully decided. The First Son will position himself for power, incompetent though he is. But more importantly, his siblings may not give in so easily."

"And that could mean internal division?"

"Perhaps. I am not versed as I once was." She wrung her hands and said, "Kapitalena would know better than I."

"I need to warn her," he muttered. "If she and the children can flee…"

"Let me ride to Nova," Isak said. "I can warn her long before Varul learns of this."

"You're his head druzhina, Isak. You'll be noticed," Vida said, then looked at Stanilo before he could speak up. "And you as well. No, this is not the job of a druzhina."

"Vida…" Laczlo started.

"With two fast horses, I can reach Nova within two days. Maybe less. I can get in unnoticed better than anyone, you know that."

Laczlo groaned. "Yes, that's true, but..."

"So there it is," she said, certain and unshakeable. "Now, where should we meet you after?"

"Vilsi is still in danger, and as long as Nova is in Varul's hands, it'll be hard to cross." If only I had the fleet still. Two ships are simply not enough. Dammit. Besides, he'd already sent them to return to Nova. He stood and began pacing once more. "Vilsi isn't walled. Varul can take it with a few hundred men; meanwhile, I can't even threaten Nova with my numbers."

"Bring in the slaves," Stanilo said. "That'll give us another hundred. Maybe more."

"It won't be that easy. They'll resent me."

"Give them a choice: slavery or join in arms. Split them up among your druzhina and pay them. After a few years, they will be free to go home. It worked with us under Oskar."

Laczlo looked to Isak, who shrugged and said, "Might work. Still not enough men for Nova."

"If we're even considering that," Laczlo muttered.

"But with Voiakh's men, it's likley enough to dissuade Varul from attacking."

"Much rests on the commander and his loyalty." He looked into the fire, weighing the odds, considering all the things he couldn't possibly foresee or control. "Very well. Bring them to me near Vadin, Vida. I won't have them in Vilsi under threat if we can help it. As for what comes after—"

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"Don't. It's best if I don't know in case of capture," she said. "And what of the druzhina who carried the message, Voivode? He'll want to return and report."

"Let him think we're complying as you leave secretly." He nodded to the distant messengers and druzhina. "Isak, Stanilo, get some men to distract them. Make a show of interrogating them each for information. Kindly, of course. The druzhina, too—I would want to confirm his story before committing if I were being honest about it." They gave their affirmatives and went to leave when he added, "And do it out of sight. Set up tents for privacy as if it's the real thing."

When the messengers and lone druzhina were properly distracted and isolated, he saw Vida off. She was atop a horse with another at her side for an eventual change when exhaustion overwhelmed the first beast. He was worried for her, of course, and scarcely tried to put on a brave face.

"I'll succeed, Laczlo," she said as he walked her over the other side of the hill.

"I know." He swallowed what felt like a rock in his throat and looked at the ground, eyes watering suddenly, thoughts of his children being captured tormenting him.

"I'll ride quickly. We will be back before you know it. I'll bring as many of your household as I can quietly manage."

"Okay." He reached up and grasped her hand. "I'm putting my faith in you once again. It's more than just my family that's at stake."

"I know. I will succeed," she repeated, squeezing his hand before letting go to grasp the reins.

He watched her go, not another word uttered. A kind of professional parting, in a way, but it was fitting. Laczlo couldn't bear a more intimate one, even if he were willing to entertain it. He stared until she was a dot in the distance, swallowed by kicked-up dust, then turned and went to deal with the messengers.

…

"You won't need your men, Voivode Vilsky," the messenger Beden said to him on the morning of the second day on the road. They were both mounted, riding side by side. "We are near enough to your Vadin. Those without land can find work there, I would imagine."

He tried to ignore the messengers, keeping them under watch and within the middle of his caravan as best he could. But Beden had requested a meeting as they made toward the nexus of the western half of Vasia: Vadin—the tsar's home domain outside Nova. A cruel part of him thought of threatening Vadin should the tsar heed Varul when the time came. I saved his life. I saved Nova, Laczlo thought with biting resentment. The fool better make the right decision. More and more, he wondered how he let it all slip away. If he'd stayed in Nova as Kapitalena suggested and not taken the charge of bringing the fight to the rebels… but it just seemed so right, then, and Varul had hinted how pleased the tsar would be if he did. Lying prick.

"Voivode Vilsky?"

"Ah, yes," he mumbled, clearing his throat. "I'm not sending my druzhina home."

"What of your mercenaries? The impressed levies from your recent conquests?"

"Why do you care, messenger?"

He raised his chin imperiously. "I bear the honor of delivering word from the Great King, but I am no low-born. I am of noble blood. Indeed, I am a cousin of Duke Euric Menares of Keltil and Haltus, your father by marriage. Respect my station, if you would, Voivode Vilsky."

Laczlo spoke through gritted teeth, "And respect mine by not questioning my authority or intent. Would you speak to the duke so?"

"You are not the duke." The man cast a skeptical gaze over the marching army. "To enter Dynasty land with a force would be seen as an act of war. As one on trial before His Majesty, this may not be the best approach, Voivode Vilsky."

"Do not be concerned with my approach."

"If you will not shed your excess of men, I must report this act to—"

Laczlo reached over and grasped the worm by his cloak, yanking him forward till he nearly fell from his saddle. "You will remain as you are, where you are. You come demanding a voivode of Vasia to speak to a foreign king and plead his innocence. This is an insult not just to me but to Vasia itself. Don't push me." He shoved the messenger back, who floundered and grasped at his reins, barely keeping on as his mount twisted under him.

"Your tsar has allowed this—"

"My tsar was deceived." Laczlo wished he could simply ride to Nova and speak to the man. Try to make him see reason. But he couldn't get that close, not when Varul was building an army, drawing from reserves, calling upon the Eastern Commander's forces and leadership for his alleged eastern campaign. It was too dangerous, even if he trusted he could get through to the tsar. And he wasn't sure he could. Not anymore. Not with Varul whispering in his ear, drink muddling his mind, and rumors of a Warrior Prince circulating Vasia like the plague. "He was deceived by a poor advisor. What did you do to convince them?"

The messenger scowled and muttered under his breath, but answered steadily after a moment, "I simply presented the compiled testimonies of what you did in Delues, seizing the Second Son and killing his guard. Of how he was murdered under your watch in your capital. That burdens you directly. And your royal advisor saw fit—"

"Your men said you didn't even speak to the tsar. All this done without imperial consent."

His face reddened. "We received his seal and sent word with the letter, of course."

"Did you even know why your precious prince was in Delues?"

"It matters not, of course," he said, flustered, repetition showing the weakness deep in him. "He may go where he wishes—"

"Even if to incite rebellion in a nation you have a truce with?" Laczlo shook his head, then grinned. "The king must be furious that all his poorly invested gold and silver have been seized so easily. I'm richer now than any voivode's ever been. You know why?" He leaned in, sneering in the little rat's face. "Rodezian gold and silver, messenger, gifted to me through dead rebels. A few more heads, and I'll be richer than your snake prince ever was."

The blush turned to a furious red upon the messenger's complexion. "Such accusations cannot… You are… You are not preparing yourself well for the royal judgment, Voivode Vilsky. Not at all."

"Run along now. Don't come speak to me again unless it is to beg forgiveness for your king's arrogance." He nodded off dismissively. The other man gawked, then swallowed something surely uncouth and rode back to the others kept in the middle of Laczlo's column. He turned his attention ahead to the long, poorly patched road leading into Vadin. As the minutes passed, so did his anger, and regret soon replaced it. Deus, what was I thinking? He might be inclined to run off now. He thought about the conversation and admitted to himself that he'd lost control. But perhaps it wasn't all bad. Kapitalena would say I put on a good bluff, showing indignance and anger, confirming my reluctant commitment to their cruel justice. If I were calm, they would be more suspicious. Still…

Soon after, Isak approached, wearing a familiar grin. The kind he often had after a good battle. "What'd you say to the poor man? He ran away with near tears in his eyes."

"I was perhaps too antagonistic." Laczlo shook his head. "What has this all come to? Our own leaders selling us out to the enemy? Nothing but infighting and war? We won't have a population left to rule if this keeps up."

"The downsides of a weak tsar."

"What?"

Isak cleared his throat and looked at least slightly ashamed. "Forgive me for saying so, Voivode, but none of this would happen if Vadoyeski the Second were a stronger man. Not your war, not this rebellion, not Varul—none of it. A tsardom is like an army. They both rise and fall with their leaders."

"You need not forgive honesty, Isak. After all, well, you're not wrong."

"Of course. Still, it's our tsar. Makes me feel like one of them." He nodded to a nearby cluster of men from Kolomsa who didn't accept Laczlo's offer to join as warriors. They would be sold as slaves instead, likely in Vadin. "Some plotter. Someone without honor."

"You have honor. A good deal of it."

"Perhaps, but what's more honorable? Loyalty to your tsar or your subjects?"

The question struck Laczlo into silent consideration. He replied quietly and almost hesitantly, "Some days, I think it's not about the tsar himself but the title."

"Loyalty to Vasia. The imperial throne, maybe?" Isak shrugged. "It's a young dynasty. Two generations is all. Rotaal knows I mean nothing by it, but Vadoyeski the First took the throne with the sword and some deception."

"What are you saying?"

"Ah, sometimes it just seems like everyone's got their own justifications for power. Dynasty and honor, loyalty and truth… I mean, the tsar stood there and did nothing as you negotiated Daecinus away from killing us all." He shook his head, then gave an apologetic and dismissive wave. "Just thinking, Voivode. Maybe now, with all this shit happening to us, we best put in some consideration ourselves."

He left Laczlo to ride alone, deep in thought. There was much to think about. Much to be grim over. A year ago, Isak's words would have him worried about the man's Vasian loyalty, but now? Well, there was some truth to his nearly treasonous insinuations that left Laczlo's guts twisting inside him in a confused tangle.

Laczlo was a loyal voivode, a good voivode. A good man. He knew it, even if he erred, even if he made all kinds of blunders and errors in his ways. But he was trying. The people in his life deserved that out of him, at the very least. His family. Deus, his family! He worried for them, fretted over them. What would Varul do if they were caught fleeing? Laczlo knew he couldn't fight back if that happened. He'd give in, and that would be that.

But if they escaped? If he got to Goroden and found Voiakh agreeable to his pleas? Pleas for what? What will you be asking of the man? Laczlo stewed in the question, horrible, sinister answers nearly on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say them. All that was divine as his witness, he was a good man and just couldn't say them.

But what of his family? What did they deserve? What kind of Vasia did they deserve?

He thought of Radokh Vadoyeski's oldest son. That fearless look the boy had. Laczlo's uttered words to his wife, planting a seed he didn't even think about consciously, almost as if a secret part of him knew what to do in a case such as this. How he told her about the boy, about how different he was from his father, and how much better he could be when he eventually became tsar.