The Throne of Crowns (The FirstLord Chronicles Book 1) Page 5

  Misgivings crossed their handsome faces for a moment, but they obediently withdrew with the Invincible officer, and Lanndra shut the door.

  “Please be seated,” he said. All three of them sat down in deeply cushioned armchairs.

  “Well, WarMaker,” said Hennat with a frown, “Jaddra has survived. Our efforts to undermine him have failed. So what are we going to do about the dangerous young idiot?”

  “Killing him is not an option,” replied Lanndra with the calm air of someone who had thoroughly studied the situation and had already come to a firm decision about it. “The Great and Minor Families, and the Populace too, would immediately suspect us as the culprits. Furthermore, deposing him without killing him is also not an option, since the Xunnish people would never accept the dethronement of Ammzal’s chosen Heir.”

  “So what can we do?” asked Sheenor in exasperation.

  “We must leave Jaddra on the Throne of Crowns but render him powerless,” answered Lanndra.

  “And how do we do that?” demanded Hennat.

  “A way has occurred to me,” replied the WarMaker, “but I think you’ll find it shocking.”

  “Maybe we will,” said Sheenor, “but let’s hear it anyway.”

  “It’s simply this: we must start a major war with the Far South!”

  Hennat and Sheenor were stunned into silence. Lanndra’s suggestion was more than shocking – it was terrifying.

  Finally Hennat said, “WarMaker, isn’t that a little … drastic?”

  “High Priestess,” answered Lanndra with a frown, “in a crisis of this magnitude, only drastic action will suffice.”

  “But what about the cost?!” exclaimed Sheenor. “We’ll lose an awful lot of our young men!”

  “Indeed,” agreed Lanndra, “there will be many casualties, but they will be a price well worth paying, in order to save the Xunnland from ruination at the hands of Jaddra!”

  Hennat and Sheenor didn’t look convinced.

  “I’m sure this strategy will work,” persisted Lanndra. “If the Xunnland becomes embroiled in a major conflict with its exterior enemies, Jaddra’s reforms will be postponed for years, and perhaps forgotten altogether. In time of war the security of the Xunnland is the only concern of the Supreme Government. No one will care about living conditions in the Slave Territories, or religious freedom, or any such nonsense!”

  “But if you start a war, Jaddra will remove you from office,” argued Hennat. “He might even have you executed!”

  “I intend to start the war without any blame attaching to myself,” explained Lanndra.

  “How?!” asked Sheenor sceptically.

  Unwilling to share the details, Lanndra evaded the question. “I have a plan in mind, but it will need very careful preparation, so I won’t be ready to move for quite a while.” He glanced at each of them enquiringly. “So … are you both with me?”

  Hennat and Sheenor were silent for a few moments as they anxiously considered the matter.

  “Count me in,” replied Hennat reluctantly. “But when you are ready to move, I want prior warning.”

  “Agreed,” said Lanndra. “And what about you, Sheenor?”

  The High Priest sighed with regret. “I hate the idea of a war, but Jaddra must be stopped, and a war is very probably the only way to do it … So yes, count me in too.”

  “Very well, then,” said Lanndra. “I’ll send word to both of you when my preparations are complete.”

  Without further ado he rose from his seat and bowed to them, thereby indicating that the meeting was at an end.

  Hennat and Sheenor left Lanndra, relieved to escape from the oppressive environment of MilCom Headquarters, but chilled to the bone by the secret they now shared with him.

  12

  54th day of Spring, 902 XE

  MilCom Headquarters, Zarr, Xunna

  “He has no right to do this!” whined Sannka Hennat as he paced to and fro in the WarMaker’s private office.

  Hennat, the Overseer of the Slave Territory Command, was referring to the Decree issued by the FirstLord at yesterday’s Supreme Council Meeting, announcing that in future Varrd would no longer be controlled by the SlaveCom but would instead be under Jaddra’s personal supervision. The Meeting had been a great success for the FirstLord, now emboldened by the fact that he had emerged unscathed from the recent political storm engineered by Lanndra. The WarMaker had sat in stony, sullen silence throughout while Jaddra had confidently launched the initial phase of his programme of social reforms.

  “Actually, he does have the right,” retorted the WarMaker, seated at his desk, placidly observing Hennat’s frantic behaviour.

  A skinny gawky man with a long wispy beard, Hennat was a slightly ridiculous figure. He bored and irritated Lanndra, but he was, nevertheless, a useful ally.

  “As you know very well,” continued the WarMaker, “concerning the Slave Territories, the FirstLord has the legal power to rule by Decree alone. Sorry, Hennat, but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “But don’t you realize what this Decree means?” protested Hennat, his voice becoming shrill.

  “It means the Varrdans will in effect be independent,” replied Lanndra with distaste. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but it can’t be helped.”

  “But the Varrdish scum will be a threat to the Xunnland’s security if they’re not kept in check!” argued Hennat.

  Lanndra laughed. “Don’t be absurd! The Varrdans are a dull, docile breed. They won’t cause any trouble – they’ll be too busy trying to feed themselves!”

  “But what if the FirstLord decides to liberate Onnz and Choth too? The SlaveCom will become redundant!”

  “That’s not very likely to happen,” answered Lanndra. “Even Jaddra knows the Onnzans and Chothans are dangerous creatures that need to be kept under SlaveCom rule. He won’t give them the same treatment he’s given the Varrdans. No, you can be confident that the SlaveCom will still be needed in the future. In fact, Jaddra will very soon need it more than ever.”

  Hennat turned and looked quizzically at Lanndra. “What do you mean by that?”

  Lanndra paused before answering. “What I’m about to say must not go beyond these four walls.”

  “I understand.”

  “Very well, then. Sit down, Hennat.” He gestured at the empty seat in front of his desk.

  Hennat obediently seated himself.

  In a near whisper, leaning across the desk, the WarMaker said, “Hennat, everything is about to change radically, for this simple reason: the Xunnland is soon going to be at war!”

  Astonished, Hennat uttered an expletive.

  “When this war starts,” Lanndra went on, “the slave rabble in Onnz and Choth will inevitably rise up in revolt. The SlaveCom will be kept very busy crushing their rebellions.”

  Hennat’s brain was doing somersaults. “How will this war start?” he asked.

  “You don’t need to know that. But war is certainly coming – so be ready for it! I’ll need your unquestioning support and cooperation. Do you understand what I’m saying, Overseer?”

  Realizing that he would get no more solid information out of Lanndra, Hennat replied, “Very clearly, WarMaker.”

  Lanndra stood up and offered Hennat a slight bow, saying, “And now I have other matters to attend to.”

  It irked Hennat to be dismissed like a petty underling, but there was no point in pretending that the two of them were equals. Hennat gave Lanndra a full bow from the waist, clearly acknowledging his inferior status.

  “Thank you for your time, WarMaker,” he said, still struggling to absorb the shocking news he had just been told.

  “All will be well, Overseer,” declared Lanndra as he ushered Hennat out of his office. “You have my word on it.”

  Once he was alone, Lanndra dropped the calm face he had put on for Hennat’s benefit. He poured himself a double Annshish brandy and downed it in one gulp, hoping to quell his rage. He was acutely aware that yesterday�
�s Decree was an act of defiance designed to undermine his own personal authority … and for now, he simply had to endure this humiliation.

  Whenever he felt burdened with anger, he found relief in cracking the whip over his subordinates. This reassured him that he was a powerful man – a man who was in control.

  He left his office and began to prowl around MilCom Headquarters, looking for victims to find fault with and punish …

  13

  54th day of Spring, 902 XE

  The Winthess, the Sorra Mountains, Varrd

  The messenger pigeon landed on the window-sill of Lazall Yentheen’s study. Hearing the flutter of its wings, he got up from his desk and went to the window.

  “Hello, my little friend,” he said to the bird, taking it in his hands and untying the tiny bundle on its left leg. He placed the pigeon in a wooden cage, where it eagerly ate from a cupful of grain.

  He removed the leather wrapping from the bundle and unfolded the piece of paper inside. It was a short message from his friend and fellow Fayshonn, Masatt Kerann, who lived in the west of Varrd. He had written:

  Lazall, you were right about Jaddra Vallmar. He really is a Follower! He has proved it by decreeing that from now on he himself will rule Varrd directly. He has ordered the SlaveCom to leave our country! In all but name we will be independent! Blessings upon you.

  Masatt

  Yentheen opened the door of his study and called out, “Sherrafenn! Come quickly!”

  His daughter came running from her own study. “Father, what’s the matter?” she asked anxiously. “Are you ill?”

  Yentheen laughed. “No, my dear! Read this!” He handed her Masatt’s message.

  She couldn’t believe her own eyes, and re-read the note twice. “Astonishing!” was all she could say.

  “It certainly is!” agreed Yentheen. “But then, I was expecting Jaddra to do something like this, now that his faith in the Anthall has been made public knowledge.”

  “So what should we do now?” she asked.

  “Do? We should carry on as normal, of course.”

  “But surely this Decree means we and the other Fayshonns can come out of hiding at last!”

  “I think that would be premature, my dear. The SlaveCom are going to leave Varrd, but it still won’t be safe for us to live openly. The WarMaker and his faction would leap at the chance to eliminate us, and his arm is easily long enough to reach even into an independent Varrd. No, we Fayshonns must help our people set up a government, but we must remain in hiding until Lanndra and his minions have been deprived of their power.”

  “And how long will that take?” demanded Sherrafenn in frustration. “A year? Five years? Ten?”

  “I think it will come sooner than you might imagine. Trust the Anthall, my child, and leave it in his hands. His timing is always right.”

  “Yes, Father,” said Sherrafenn in a subdued tone.

  Yentheen gazed at her thoughtfully, for the hundredth time amazed that he and his wife had produced such a remarkable daughter – so beautiful, strong-spirited and wise beyond her years. He knew in his bones that she was destined to be the leader of their nation.

  “You’re a grown woman now,” he said. “Perhaps it’s time you left the Winthess and exercised your ministry as a Fayshonn among the people in the towns and villages. But you must do it secretly … and you’ll need the help of a strong husband.”

  Yentheen’s words had encouraged her. “Yes, I’ve been thinking I should marry soon,” she said.

  “We must see what we can do, and we must all pray about it … And now you should get back to your studies, my child.”

  “Yes, Father.” She kissed him and returned to her room.

  Yentheen went back to his work too, but he was saddened by the thought that his precious eldest child might soon be leaving him.

  14

  55th day of Spring, 902 XE

  The Takkra Hills, western Kralla

  “If your Majesty would please press this, the entire system will come on line,” said Vorrsin Zullhar, Governor of Kralla, pointing to a big green button on a console.

  Jaddra did as he was asked, thereby activating 900 wind turbines – shiny steel pylons over 100 metres tall, each with four enormous aerodynamic blades. Through the panoramic window of the control tower, he watched with pleasure as this newly built wind-farm became operational for the first time, generating enough power for the needs of a medium-sized city.

  As the blades turned slowly in the gentle breeze, slicing through the air with a swisssh and a thrumm, the crowd of Krallish dignitaries who had gathered for this opening ceremony clapped politely, then eagerly made their way out of the control tower towards the big white marquee in which refreshments had been laid out.

  “My Lord, if it’s not an inconvenient time, might I have a few private words with you?” asked Zullhar as he escorted Jaddra out of the tower.

  Shorter than average for a Xunn and showing signs of middle-aged corpulence and hair loss, Zullhar was not an impressive figure. Nevertheless, as Governor of this huge Territory and Overlord of the powerful Zullhar Family, he was a political force to be reckoned with.

  “Of course, Governor,” Jaddra answered. “Let’s have a little stroll, shall we? It’s a beautiful morning!” They walked up a grassy incline into the outer fringes of an upland forest.

  Hannsto Vallmar and one of his platoons followed discreetly a little way behind. Overhead circled ten heavily armed Bodyguard skyships, scanning the local area for any potential threats to the FirstLord’s safety.

  “My Lord,” began Zullhar, “I’d like to talk to you about the Krallish Independence Movement.”

  This was no surprise to Jaddra. The KIM had been a thorn in the side of Kralla’s Territorial Government for many years, waging a low-key guerrilla war. They were the most fanatical manifestation of Krallish nationalism.

  Although the Kralls were ethnically Xunnish, they saw themselves as a nation in their own right. While only a small minority actively supported the KIM, most Kralls longed for a measure of independence for their homeland. Jaddra knew that handling this thorny problem would be one of the major challenges of his reign.

  Zullhar himself had been born and bred in Kralla, but since he and his Family were a highly privileged part of the Xunnland’s establishment, he had no sympathy whatsoever with the nationalistic aspirations of his fellow Kralls.

  “Speak your mind, Governor,” replied Jaddra.

  “Until recently the KIM were merely a nuisance, not a major security threat,” began Zullhar. “But all that has changed with the assassination of the FirstLord Ammzal …”

  Fearing that he might offend Jaddra by speaking of his father’s death, Zullhar paused and bowed his head respectfully.

  “Please go on,” said Jaddra.

  “It was a major political victory for the KIM,” continued Zullhar. “Now droves of hotheaded young Kralls are secretly joining them. In short, my Lord, the KIM have become a problem that I can no longer contain without greater support from the Supreme Government – especially from the Military Command.”

  This was news that Jaddra didn’t want to hear. “It goes against my principles and my policies to use military power to control our own citizens,” he said. “Nevertheless, I admit that the situation in your Territory is unique. Nowhere else have Xunns resorted to armed rebellion.”

  “So may I expect some MilCom assistance?” persisted Zullhar.

  “You may expect help, but not from the MilCom,” answered Jaddra. Military intervention in Kralla would enhance the WarMaker’s political power – something Jaddra was determined to avoid. “I will ask Overseer Dassan of the Civil Command to bolster the ranks of your Territorial Police with detachments from the Elite Police. They will, I believe, be more effective than soldiers against a terrorist network such as the KIM.”

  Zullhar was disappointed by this but sensed that it was the best offer he was going to get from the FirstLord, so he decided to accept it graciously
rather than press for more.

  “Thank you, my Lord,” he said with a bow of gratitude.

  “And now,” said Jaddra, “perhaps we’d better rejoin the others.”

  Together they made their way back down the hill to the marquee, where the throng of dignitaries were drinking Krallish red wine and talking the talk of the rich and powerful. Jaddra made polite conversation with a few of them, but after a short while he took his leave and boarded his skyship with Hannsto and the Bodyguards.

  As the ship took off he breathed out a great sigh of relief, glad to be escaping from this troublesome Territory – the homeland of his father’s murderer.

  15

  56th day of Spring, 902 XE

  SciCom HQ, Zarr, Xunna

  As the WarMaker entered the spacious brightly lit gleaming-white-panelled entrance lobby of Scientific Command Headquarters, Hexxna Lisstra, the SciCom Overseer, bowed deeply to him.

  Lanndra responded with a less vigorous bow. This summed up the relationship between the two men: Lisstra was a powerful figure in his own right, but compared to the WarMaker, even he was a second-rate political player.

  “Good day to you, Overseer,” said the WarMaker in a tone that was civil but not friendly.

  Lanndra liked very few people, and he certainly didn’t like Lisstra – a tedious little man who spent most of his time in laboratories. He had even cut off his beard some years ago, claiming that stray hairs were a menace to his experiments. Lanndra was sure there had to be something wrong with a man who refused to wear a beard! However, there was no doubt that Lisstra had a first-class scientific brain. Moreover, he was one of Lanndra’s key political allies.

  “You honour us with your visit, WarMaker,” replied Lisstra in his flat toneless voice.

  “This is an informal visit, Lisstra. I want there to be no official record of it.”

  “Of course, WarMaker, if that’s your wish.”