Chapter 4
The Incorruptible
AN 1216 (AZ 1453) - Late Autumn
Outside Kalonis, Notos
The Zephyrians were in Notos in all their might. If they chose to march their legions across the land, the Alliance would stand little chance against them. Everything they had accomplished could be wiped away in a matter of days. What if this Darklands campaign was nothing more than a ruse, an excuse to crush the resistance once and for all, to throw away all pretense and make Notos nothing more than a province in a growing Zephyrian empire?
Rowland chose to strike first. If he could contain the Zephyrians in the West, the Alliance's hold on the rest of the nation would continue to be strengthened. Perhaps he could use the time to raise an army strong enough to stand against the Zephyrians.
It was said that Duke Cronos and the remnants of the Third Legion were garrisoned in Kalonis. Though Kalonis was the most loyal city to Zephyr, the badly beaten Third Legion was much weaker than the fresh legions from the mainland occupying Danton and Babophos. Best of all, the King and Queen of Zephyr were said to be staying in Kalonis. If they could be killed or captured, it would be a grievous blow to the enemy.
Simona was given her most dangerous mission yet. She was to find and kill Duke Cronos once and for all and then kill or capture the King and Queen of Zephyr. If they could be taken alive, they could ransomed for a high price, high enough for Notos to truly establish itself as an independent nation. The end of the war was in sight. She could not fail.
Because Simona's troupe did not make a habit of leaving witnesses, they could continue to operate openly. Traveling on the roads was less conspicuous so long as they could maintain the facade that they had nothing to hide and they were all quite good at playing a role.
About half a mile from town, campfires came into view. There were too many to just be an ordinary patrol of the outer perimeter. Was the Third Legion deployed outside the city walls? That could make their task more difficult. She was only expecting to have to bluff her way past a patrol or two before she got to the city walls.
Focusing her eyes and ears, she was able to take the measure of the group well before they could take notice of her troupe. They were not legionaries after all, but they were armed. Mercenaries, it would seem. She thought the Duke might be too proud to hire mercenaries, but apparently the string of defeats he had suffered made him shed that pride. Mercenaries would be easier to deal with than men of the Legion.
"What do we do, Mistress Simona?" Iacquo asked her.
"They seem to be mercenaries," Simona replied. "Just follow my lead and we will get past them."
"Understood."
They neither quickened nor slowed their pace. She doubted that the Duke would have given his men orders to attack first and ask questions later. So long as she was given the chance to speak, she could bend most any man to her will.
A couple hundred paces from the mercenaries' encampment, eight sentries with spears and leather armor challenged the troupe.
"Halt!" the lead man of the sentries barked, leveling his spear at them. "Who goes there?"
"We are a troupe of simple entertainers, good sir," Simona replied.
"State your purpose."
"We seek passage on a ship."
"Mighty dangerous travelin' by night," the sentry said suspiciously.
"With the rebels about, it is no less dangerous by day," Simona replied.
The sentry nodded.
"There's truth in that." He then told his fellow sentries, "Four a' you, take this lot to camp an' have the Captain sort 'em out. An' bring back a jug a' that wine when you come back."
Simona curtseyed to the sentry and the others did so in kind. Four of the sentries then escorted the troupe into their camp. There were about fifty men gathered around three campfires. There was a wagon laden with jugs of wine and the men were drinking freely. A drunk man could be dangerous but he was often more pliable and pliability was a quality Simona could make great use of.
One of the mercenaries—apparently a man of greater rank in their company because he was clad in mail rather than leather—took notice of the troupe and slowly lumbered over to them.
"What's this?" he asked one of the sentries escorting them.
"Entertainers, they says," the sentry replied. "Gwil'm sent us ta have the Cap'n sorts 'em out."
"He's sulkin' in his damn tent," the man in mail grumbled. "Thinks he can fool me. Turnin' in early, my hairy arse." He then took particular note of Simona and said, "Well, what've we got here?"
Simona was not particularly fond of humans anyway, but some were more repulsive than others. This was one such man. He was handsome enough as humans go, but his mind was a cesspit. With his large, sweaty hand, he took hold of Simona's chin and tilted it back and forth as he took stock of her face. As his thoughts seeped into her mind, her skin began to crawl, but she could not waste this opportunity. She went past his base desires to learn what she could about him. He was Raddai, son of Iessai, a lieutenant in the company of freelances known as the Hawks of Maranthe. Their captain was the free knight Ionathas, born in Notos but trained as a knight in Zephyr under the Duke's patronage. Ionathas and his men were responsible for thwarting the attacks on Iakobin and Maranthe. It was not likely this Ionathas could be convinced to change sides, so he needed to die, but perhaps he could first lead Simona to the Duke.
Simona was so preoccupied with her designs on the captain that she very nearly forgot about the lieutenant still holding her with his disgusting hand.
"You're gonna give us a show, ain't ye?"
With a false smile, Simona replied, "Of course, good sir." She eyed the wagon and added, "We have just the performance for a night like this when the wine flows freely."
Raddai laughed, quaffed what was left in his cup and then swatted Simona on the rear to usher her back to her troupe. She played along for the time being while making every intention of slitting his throat from ear to ear before sunrise.
Returning to Iacquo, she said in low voice, "Euhoe."
The ancient cry of the Maenads told him exactly which performance they would deliver to the Hawks of Maranthe. Simona and the other dancers cast off their cloaks and Iacquo donned a wreath of waxen grape leaves and took a lyre in hand.
As the members of the troupe were taking up their places, Simona stood at the front to address the company of freelances.
"Brave men," she said, "grant that we may tell you a tale of ages old, when men still revered the gods of fair Mount Olympus. Many were they who guided the fates of men, but none so loved by men of lusty hearts as great Bacchus the Twice-born. Bacchus the Liberator loved wine and revels. He drank freely, loved freely, and bid all his followers do the same. He was attended by his Maenads—we cannot call them maids—, who found the heights of ecstasy in his secret rites. These rites were once thought lost to the world, but we learned their secrets—we shall not tell you where—and share them with you this night."
She clapped her hands and said, "Come, wine! Come, song! Come, and dance until light of day!"
The freelances roared in assent, raising their cups and toasting Simona's troupe. Several of them hurried over to the wagon to bring fresh jugs over. And so they began their song to the whoops and cheers of the men. It was not difficult to please them. Simona and her dancers were well-practiced in their art. Soaking themselves in wine, they could not fail to seduce any man.
As she danced, Simona had to come to a decision. Would she let the wine do its work and fall upon the Hawks once they were helpless in a drunken stupor or would she attack sooner so that she might strike at the Duke before dawn? Before she could make her choice, the captain of the Hawks appeared, apparently drawn out by the sound of the revel.
The free knight Ionathas spoke to his vile lieutenant Raddai, then took a seat just outside of the circle formed by his men around Simona's troupe. She could not leave him be. She wove her way out of the circle and approached him. Even from a distance, she could sense his bitter temper. He would not be as easy to bend as the others, but by isolating himself, he left little opportunity for anyone to interfere while Simona worked her wiles on him.
"You must be the captain of this company of brave souls," she said. "Might I do you the honor of pleasuring you with a dance?"
She curtseyed low, but it had no effect on him. Not even a spark.
"You may content yourself by pleasuring my men," he told her, disinterested.
She tried to play off his rejection, giving a girlish titter as she said, "You have a keen tongue, sir. Not very gentlemanly."
"And you are not much of a lady yourself, miss," the free knight replied.
Their repartee was warming him up to her, if only a little. Her fleshly charms alone would not be enough to achieve the desired effect, but she actually found the challenge welcome.
Men could use distance as a shield between themselves and their desires, but without that shield, the will could not so easily resist the workings of nature. She drew closer to the free knight, taking the cup from his hand.
"Come now," she said, "my arts will do more to ease your burdens than this wine."
She could not be closer to him unless she threw herself bodily upon him. She did not dare going that far, not yet. He would likely just push her away if she tried that now and redouble his defenses. The slow blade would work its way through his armor and he would be pierced before he even realized it.
"Thank you, but I must decline," he told her.
The free knight was no common country oaf like so many of his men. He had been trained in the gentlemanly manners of Zephyr and Simona could use that against him.
Making a feigned display of wounded pride, she asked him, "Does it not shame you to insult a lady so?"
Striking at his pretension of being a gentleman proved to be the most effective angle of attack yet. He genuinely regretted his treatment of her, the poor fool. Were he not such a bitter enemy of Notos, she might have felt some sympathy for him.
"You are froward, miss," he said, his defenses beginning to crack at last, "but it isn't my intention to give you offense. Alright then, show me your dance."
"With pleasure, sir," Simona replied, curtseying once more.
Simona's smile was a true one. She had him. Soon he would be completely under her power.
She took a few steps back, drained the contents of the free knight's cup and tossed it aside. She stamped her foot, then clapped the cymbals at her fingertips. Inaudibly, she started to chant and her dance began. Her chanting like the dance itself started slow and steadily she began to quicken her pace. The hidden words of her lips and the motions of her body did their work, creeping upon the hapless free knight and tearing down his resistance. She intended to place him under her spell more deeply than she had ever tried with another man. She had never needed to go so far before. Perhaps the only other human with the same strength of will was Rowland himself, not that she would ever dare to use her powers on him.
As her dance reached a fever pitch, there was little the free knight could do against her. To seal the spell, she climbed on him. There was still a part of his mind out of her control but it was not strong enough to take command of his body. He would be hers and he would lead her to victory.
And then her blood ran cold.
She was frozen in place. She could not move. It was power unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The fear that overcomes the mouse in the presence of the serpent gripped her. She who had seen so many horrors in her time, what could inspire such fear?
Standing only a few paces off was a tall woman, but that was only a borrowed form. She was one of the Sky Kings, her power great and dread. It felt like the power of the Alari but a hundredfold. It was only to be expected. It was an ancient sire of her kind who first gave the Alari their powers.
With Simona's hold over him broken, the free knight was made aware of the Sky King. He too feared her, but unlike Simona, his was not gripped with mortal terror to the core of his very being. Rather, he simply had the fear of a man caught in the arms of another woman. Simona would not have the presence of mind to marvel at such idiocy for some time.
"Co, Corona!" the free knight stammered. "It, it's not what it looks like! I can explain!"
"No need," the Sky King—who apparently went by the name Corona—said in a voice that held the very cold of the bitterest winter. "She is the one who needs to explain herself. What is your kind doing here?"
The Sky King's eyes flashed and Simona was knocked back. Her spell of illusion melted around her, exposing her true form.
The free knight rose with a start, exclaiming, "What is this!?"
Simona's plan had failed. Breaking free of the chains of fear that bound her, she drew a hidden dagger and threw it at the Sky King. It was a vain effort, she knew, but she had to do something. Before the dagger could come anywhere near its target, the Sky King opened her mouth and a jet of golden flames streamed out. The dagger was consumed effortlessly and the same fate would have befallen Simona if she had not immediately transported herself away from the scene.
She reappeared many miles away, about halfway between Babophos and Kalonis. She had marked the spot in case she had need of a hasty retreat and there was little need greater than the rush of a Sky King's flames. She remembered then hearing stories of a Sky King that appeared when the Duke tried and failed to retake the capital. She did not pay much heed to the story at the time and even if she had, she would not have expected the Sky King to appear in the camp of those freelances.
Her heart was still beating quickly. She gave herself a moment to calm her nerves before heading back toward Kalonis. She needed to regroup with her comrades, if any of them survived. Also, her troupe was but the vanguard. The Eastman and the Mountain-dwellers were supposed to launch an attack on the city as soon as she gave them the signal. Knowing their impatience, they might attack anyway and with the Zephyrians alerted to their presence, it would prove to be a slaughter.
She had to hurry, even if it meant facing the Sky King once more. Her devotion to Rowland would be her courage. She could face those terrible flames again for him. There may yet be a measure of victory she could salvage from the debacle of this night.