The congruent king, p.1
The Congruent King, page 1
part #5 of Congruent Mage Series
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: At the Green Magestone Quarry
Chapter 2: On a Bearskin Rug
Chapter 3: Queen Carys Consulted
Chapter 4: Placing Blame
Chapter 5: On the Side of a Mountain
Chapter 6: Underground Roma
Chapter 7: At Farnam’s Cabin
Chapter 8: A King’s Concern
Chapter 9: The Great Purple Dragon
Chapter 10: The Sweet Mission
Chapter 11: With the Fishing Fleet
Chapter 12: The King’s Justice
Chapter 13: New Servants
Chapter 14: Stranger Things
Chapter 15: The King’s Wisdom
Chapter 16: A Net Win with Dragons
Chapter 17: Invasion Preparations
Chapter 18: Robbing the Bees
Chapter 19: Côbb and Távi
Chapter 20: Three Mountains Valley
Chapter 21: Imperial Advisors
Chapter 22: Celéri the Spy
Chapter 23: Reporting In
Chapter 24: The Council Meeting
Chapter 25: Rapid Deployment
Chapter 26: Second Evacuation
Chapter 27: Up the Abbenoth
Chapter 28: Planning a Raid
Chapter 29: Wet Feet for the Emperor
Chapter 3o: Warehouse Liberation
Chapter 31: Nûd Sorts Things Out
Chapter 32: A Delayed Birthday
Chapter 33: Kobs and Gobs
Chapter 34: Guests of the Emperor
Chapter 35: Sword Lessons
Chapter 36; Offloading Barges
Chapter 37: Sírénae and Umbrose
Chapter 38: Callidus and Celéri
Chapter 39: Northern Clan Lands
Chapter 40: Réah and Callidus
Chapter 41: Distractions and Talismans
Chapter 42: Celéri Searches
Chapter 43: With the Seven Legions
Chapter 44: At the Imperial Palace
Chapter 45: Gathering Allies
Chapter 46: Nûd and Valentius
Chapter 47: Bonnie and Jenet
Chapter 48: Queen Carys
Chapter 49: Celéri’s Plan
Chapter 50: Eynon and Merry
Chapter 51: Kennig and Callidus
Chapter 52: Giérra and Belisaria
Chapter 53: Before Battle
Chapter 54: Distracting Dragons
Chapter 55: The Battle Begins
Chapter 56: Big Surprises
Chapter 57: Bogged Down
Chapter 58: Bees and Loyalties
Chapter 59: Celéri Gets Angry
Chapter 60: Parlay
Chapter 61: In a Dungeon Cell
Chapter 62: New Leadership
Chapter 63: Feast and Fellowship
Chapter 64: Reckoning
For more information
Map of Orluin
Map of Roma’s Imperium
The Battle of the Abbenoth
Other Books by Dave Schroeder
Dedication
Copyright
About the Author
Prologue
“I don’t know if I can do this,” said Nûd.
“Do what?” asked Bonnie who was cuddled up in the dark beside him, resting on a straw mattress and tucked under a heavy quilt. She had just arrived that afternoon through a newly made fixed gate joining a cavern in Tamloch with this one.
It had been more than a month since Sírénae’s forces had landed and the wizards of Dâron, Tamloch, Occidens Province, and Bifurland were only now connecting their underground refuges with fixed gates. Nûd and Bonnie’s private pallet was in a secluded passage of the cave-complex beneath the mountains of Dâron’s southern provinces where many people from that kingdom had hidden from the invaders.
“Be king,” Nûd replied. “I only know how to be a servant, not wear a crown.”
“Kings are servants,” said Bonnie. “They serve their kingdoms.”
“Yes, but they also lead armies into battle, wear armor, and swing swords,” Nûd answered. “I can’t do any of that.”
“Is sword-swinging an essential part of the job description?” asked Bonnie.
“It is for Dârio and Bjarni,” said Nûd.
“King Bjarni swings an axe,” said Bonnie.
“Same difference, at least for the Bifurlanders,” said Nûd. “It takes a lot of time and practice to be good with either weapon.”
“You’re good with a crossbow,” Bonnie noted.
“That’s different. With a crossbow, you just point and shoot.”
“I think you’re underestimating the part about aiming,” teased Bonnie.
“Maybe,” said Nûd. “It did take a lot of practice to hit what I wanted.”
“See,” said Bonnie. “If you put in the time, you can learn how to swing a sword with skill, too.” She squeezed his upper arm and kissed Nûd’s cheek. “You already have strong biceps. That should make learning swordplay easier.”
“Have you seen King Bjarni’s arms?” asked Nûd.
“The ones that would be legs on most people?” Bonnie answered. “I think you should look to Dârio for comparisons. His build isn’t that different from yours.”
“Maybe,” said Nûd. “It’s just that Dârio has known he’d be a king all his life. I’m new to the idea.”
“Why don’t you ask your cousin for help, then?” asked Bonnie. “I’m sure he’d be glad to teach you king things.”
“Dârio is busy with his own challenges,” said Nûd. “I don’t want to bother him. Tamloch needs a lot of help to recover from the late King Túathal’s mad mischief.”
“His delusions of grandeur, you mean,” said Bonnie. “At least Dâron didn’t have to endure more than a few years of Princess Gwýnnett.”
“True enough,” said Nûd. “Is this where you tell me to stop feeling inadequate and do something?”
Bonnie spoke a soft pair of magical syllables and the tip of her index finger began to glow. She moved it close to Nûd’s face.
“What’s that for?” Nûd asked.
“I wanted to see your eyes,” she said. Bonnie stared into Nûd’s for a moment. “As I thought,” she continued. “I didn’t need to tell you. You told yourself.”
Nûd smiled and so did Bonnie.
“I still appreciate your wise counsel, dear scholar-mage,” he said. “What should I do next?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
Nûd’s smile turned into a grin. “Answering a question with a question must have been the first thing you learned at the Institute in Bhaile Pónaire.”
“That was the second thing,” said Bonnie. “The first was where to find the refectory.”
“Of course,” said Nûd. “Even scholars care where their next meal is coming from.”
“Scholars especially care where their next meal is coming from,” said Bonnie. “Thinking is hard work.”
“I think I should find another skilled instructor to teach me the art of the sword,” said Nûd.
“Do you have anyone particular in mind?” asked Bonnie.
“The person who taught Dârio?” Nûd suggested.
“I expect Duke Háiddon would be pleased to instruct you,” said Bonnie.
“We’d have to find somewhere private for my lessons,” said Nûd. “I don’t want people watching me make mistakes.”
“Could you use Fercha’s tower?”
“No, it’s too tempting for Sírénae’s wizards,” said Nûd. “She’s removed all her property and has changed the trigger words on the gates there, but it still radiates so much magic Umbrose’s spies will seek it out the minute they get that far west.”
“What about somewhere in that hamlet Eynon is from? Haystack or something like that?” asked Bonnie.
“Haywall,” said Nûd. “There’s an empty milking barn there that could work, but I don’t relish falling into old cow manure. I expect to do a lot of falling as I’m learning.”
“There’s that quarry where Viridáxés was sleeping,” Bonnie suggested.
“That’s too open—and I’d rather fall on cowpats than jagged stones.”
“Understandable,” Bonnie replied. “You sound like you may have somewhere in mind?”
“I have some friends who live south of Melyncárreg,” said Nûd. “They have a nice broad lawn that should be covered with soft green grass by now.”
“Wonderful,” said Bonnie. “How can I help you get out there for training?”
“A gate between the two locations would be ideal,” said Nûd. “Eynon’s been there. He can construct one end.”
“And I can handle the other,” said Bonnie. “I’ll get started in the morning.”
“Eynon will need more magestone dust for the gate,” said Nûd. “We’re running low with all the gates we’ve built to interconnect our various caverns.”
“I’m sure a mage as powerful as Eynon will have no trouble finding more magestone dust,” said Bonnie. “He can get plenty from Viridáxés’ quarry.”
“Agreed,” said Nûd. “I feel so much better now.” He took a deep breath and felt his muscles relax.
“You know,” said Bonnie as she canceled the spell causing her finger to glow. “Kings have other duties beyond swinging swords.”
“They do?” asked Nûd. “Such as?”
“Fathering heirs,” said Bonnie, whispering into his ear.
“Isn’t that just sword-swinging of a different sort?” teased Nûd.
“I hope not,” said Bonnie. “I expect you’ll be more of a considerate lover than a cocksman.”
“I’m not very experienced,” said Nûd.
“Neither am I, as you know quite well,” said Bonnie. “Neither one of us has had much opportunity.”
“We’ll have to learn together then,” said Nûd. “Are you sure you want to do this before we’re formally married?”
“I don’t care about the formalities, though I expect we’ll have to have a big ceremony, with you being the king and all,” said Bonnie.
“I don’t either,” said Nûd. “I feel like we’ve made a commitment to each other and I’m very glad you’re willing to endure the burdens of being a queen.”
“I wouldn’t do it for any other man,” said Bonnie. “But you make me want to try.”
“Shall we start by seeing what this heir-making burden is all about?” asked Nûd.
“That’s one royal duty I’m excited to take on,” said Bonnie.
“So am I,” said Nûd. “I understand it’s an acquired skill.”
“Practice makes perfect,” said Bonnie. “Is that one of Ealdamon’s epigrams?”
“I think it’s far older,” said Nûd. “And I’ve heard that lovemaking doesn’t have to be perfect to be good.”
“For a first time, I’ll settle for not-too-painful,” said Bonnie.
She slid off her nightgown and pressed herself against Nûd, then helped him remove his nightshirt.
“This feels wonderful,” said Nûd when they were finally skin-to-skin.
“Your Majesty,” said Bonnie tentatively.
“Uh, yes?” said Nûd.
“Kiss me.”
Chapter 1
At the Green Magestone Quarry
“Look out!” shouted Merry from the other side of the ring-gate.
Eynon turned and took a step back. His feet slipped on the wet floor of the green magestone quarry and he nearly landed on his backside before catching himself and throwing up a shield of solidified sound. With a whistling shriek of displaced air and an impressive crunch, a jagged rock the size of a cow smashed into the space he’d just occupied. The rock shattered into hundreds of shards and Merry activated her own shields to intercept the sharp slivers of stone coming through the ring-gate toward her.
Chee, Eynon’s raconette familiar who’d been exploring nearby, sought shelter behind a boulder that protected him from the lethal barrage. Merry had to hold back her familiar, Ace the rockhound, to prevent him from jumping across the ring-gate and into the fray.
Through the haze of pulverized stone dust surrounding Eynon, Merry saw five wizards in motley brown and gray robes descending into the quarry on flying disks. Two were preparing fireballs, two were charging up for lightning blasts, and one held a crossbow armed with a quarrel big enough to take down a charging wisent.
“Step through,” she urged Eynon, encouraging him to cross the open ring-gate interface so she could close it and they could both escape the attackers.
“Not yet,” Eynon replied. He modified his shield to make it a lens with an inner and an outer layer. The new shield absorbed the pairs of fireballs and lightning bolts, storing his opponents’ magical energies between the layers. The wizard with the crossbow fired at Eynon’s lenticular shield and the outer layer of the shield vanished like a popped soap bubble, releasing all the accumulated energy back at the motley wizards in one massive burst of power.
All five wizards were blown off their flying disks and began to fall toward the quarry’s floor. Eynon intercepted them three feet above the ground with hemispheres of solidified sound. He then merged the half-globes together, so the quintet of wizards was packed tightly and held in place with new bands of red-tinted force Eynon created on the spot.
Mary watched Eynon carefully from the other side of the ring-gate.
“That wasn’t very nice,” said Eynon to the wizards. “You could have killed me.”
The five captive mages looked sullen and stayed silent. Eynon tightened the magical bonds that held them until one of them decided to speak.
“I wish we had,” said a sour-faced woman in brown robes with red-ochre trim and black feathers around its neckline.
Eynon wasn’t prepared to hear such a blunt response. He saw the woman’s eyes grow wider when she saw his red magestone hanging from a gold chain around his neck.
“You’re him!” spat the woman. “The thrice-blasted wizard who brought down the side of the mountain! You killed six of my cousins.”
“I’m sorry for their deaths,” said Eynon. “It wasn’t my intent to kill anyone, but we were at war.”
“We’re always at war,” said the woman. “Three of those cousins were better off dead, anyway, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to live.”
“Brave words from someone I’ve captured,” said Eynon matter-of-factly.
“You don’t need to be brave to speak the truth,” said the woman. “Just stubborn. We Southern Clan Landers know how to hold grudges.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Eynon. “Wouldn’t it be better if we could forget old hurts and learn to get along?”
Merry almost laughed at Eynon’s optimistic naïveté but she maintained a serious expression on the outside, at least.
“Hah!” said the woman. “My family still holds grudges back ten generations.”
“I’m sorry for you,” said Eynon. “In the Coombe, we only manage one or two generations.”
The Southern Clan Lander wizard smiled.
Eynon saw the glint of an agate magestone affixed to a leather bracer on her forearm. “May I have the honor of knowing who I’m feuding with?” he asked.
“Brùtha of Bald Peak, a wizard of the Falcon Clan,” said the woman. “And you’re Eynon of Haywall. We know about you.”
Eynon nodded in acknowledgment. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“That’s no business of yours, Dâroner dolt.”
“Now, now,” said Eynon. “I didn’t call you names.” He squeezed and slightly relaxed the bands of force around Brùtha and her companions to remind them he had them in his power. “What possible reason could you have to be in this quarry?”
“Magestone dust,” said a man trapped next to Brùtha. He wore a small brown jasper magestone on a leather headband.
“Quiet!” Brùtha commanded.
“It won’t matter what I say,” said the man. “We need magestone dust to build wide gates so we can move to the Coombe and the Rhuthro Valley.”
“I knew we shouldn’t have taught Merrillōn’s friends how to make wide gates,” Eynon muttered softly.
“What?” asked Brùtha.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Eynon. “We didn’t have a choice.”
“You could choose to let us go,” said the wizard with the jasper magestone.
“And have you occupy the Coombe? I don’t think so,” said Eynon.
“You’re not using it,” said Brùtha.
“Because the Siren Hawk’s forces would kill or enslave us if we stayed,” said Eynon. “We plan to starve them out, so they’ll leave.”
“That’s not our problem,” said Brùtha. “Your lands lie empty, and they’re far better than ours. If you choose to hide like frightened rabbits, the Southern Clans will take your land.”
“And the Roma invaders will make you their slaves and steal whatever crops you manage to grow,” shouted Merry from the other side of the ring-gate. “We should work together to fight the invaders and drive them from Orluin.”
“It will be years before Sírénae’s legions march this far west,” said Brùtha.
“But days or weeks before her scout-wizards fly over this region,” said Eynon. “If I led the Southern Clan Lands, I’d much rather fight the kingdom of Dâron’s small army than the emperor’s forty legions.”
“He has a point,” said the wizard with the jasper magestone.
“Hush! Let me think,” said Brùtha. “One thing’s for certain, this young fool doesn’t lead the Southern Clan Lands.”
“Maybe it would be better if…” began the jasper-magestone wizard.
