A Spark Against Darkness

By William Fitzroy

A full length novel, approximately 130,000
words. Contains adult themes and violence.

The Empire of the Jasmine Throne has ordered the affairs of men for an age but dangers now beset it from every corner. Corruption plagues the court from within as the nobility fight for influence over the weakened and heirless Empress. The Dread Lord of the legions has abandoned his post to join a heretical sect even as whispers of rebellion fill the air.
Even worse, the Jhiyin; creatures of utter chaos who will enslave humanity to feed their insatiable appetite for souls, are plotting their return as the chains of majik that bind them slowly decay.
But for Omus Dumar these troubles are far away. Traveling the byways of the Empire on his pedlar’s cart his own problems lie safely buried in the past. But even in the backwater village of Glanders he is not safe from the shades of history and Omus will soon discover that dangers beyond his wildest dreams stalk the Wyndynwood. Accompanied by a wayward mercenary and a gifted young woman he will be forced to confront the demons of his own past if they are to to survive the Jhiyin’s opening gambit in a cataclysmic war for the future of the Jasmine Throne.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Fitzroy
• Release date: Jul 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465965233

Book preview

A Spark Against Darkness

by William Fitzroy

Copyright 2011 William Fitzroy

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Afterword

Dedication:

To Stacie,

Your long suffering is at an end.

With special thanks to Brian for help with all the hatemail.

Chronicles of the Jasmine Throne

Book one

A Spark Against Darkness

Chapter 1

A cart, heavily laden with a wide assortment of goods, made its rattletrap way through the Wyndynwud forest.  Atop it rode Omus Dumar, a stout man clad in well worn and loosely fitting clothing that marked him as a veteran traveler.  He held the reigns negligently in one hand using the other to work at his pipe. A thin blue-grey trail of smoke marked the winding road behind him for the tobacco was of a special slow burning and thick smoking variety.  Omus knew of only one place to get it, a tiny hut in the remote village of Glanders where an old woman expertly mixed the blend.

The woman had been an herbalist before Omus was born yet the deftness in her gnarled fingers always amazed him.  She ground the secret herbs in an ancient stone mortar, mixing them with the tobacco to give it the peculiar properties he sought.  Years of gentle prodding had failed to relieve her of the recipe and Omus hoped only that she still had a few good years left.  Though he made his living as a pedlar, he had never sold so much as a feather’s weight of the stuff.  He kept it only for himself and purchased a year’s supply at a time.  It was his only vice and  worth a week long side trip to obtain, but just barely.

Traveling through the Wyndynwud never failed to give him a creeping chill along his spine, even though the path to Glanders measured barely twelve leagues.  Half of the road merely skirted northward just inside the eastern border of the wood. Then, in a wide shallow valley, the Wyndyn river noisily made a lazy turn and the road did as well.  Across a well graveled bar easily forded in all but the worst of rains, the path veered sharply west toward the heart of the wood.  Here the very air grew heavy, thick with age and spite for anyone who braved the road. Twisted limbs bearded with dangling moss arched over the path, intertwining in a thick canopy that left little light to filter through even at the height of day.  No cool breeze ever stirred the air to ease his stifled breathing and rarely did Omus see an animal. Occasionally a raucous bird call shattered the still as though passing warning of his presence and sometimes nut shells would rain down upon him from a hidden bough followed by angry chittering.  During the seemingly endless nights his campfire was but a candle overwhelmed by the pressing dark and it never seemed to ward off the chills that plagued his sleep.

He drew deeply on the pipe and a twirling tendril of smoke sank from the corner of his mouth, slowly creeping along the side of the cart.  Clenching the pipe in his teeth, he reached across the seat toward a well worn sword hilt that jutted up from the floor boards.

His horse shook its head wildly and snorted as if it sensed the uneasiness that had crept over him.  The cart slowed as Omus peered sharply from side to side, unable to see more than a few yards into the shadowed under growth.  Suddenly, he grabbed the bowl of his pipe and burst into laughter. A fully grown man, blooded in many a battle, and he was unnerved by an empty forest!  Feeling the fool he took a fresh grip on the reigns and urged the horse forward with a cluck of the tongue and a gentle slap on the rump.

A moment later the foliage just ahead of him burst outward in a spray of twigs and leaves as something crashed into the path.  Omus pulled back hard as the horse reared with a scream.  The cart bounced wildly while Omus fought to regain control but his horse reared again pawing at the air and whinnying shrilly.  Only then did Omus see a slim figure standing beneath the flailing hooves.  He tried to call out a warning but the girl, for now he saw a golden braid spilling out of her hooded robe, reached out and grabbed the harness.  The horse calmed immediately and lowered its head as she spoke softly in its ear.  With a quick shake of its head the horse began to gallop even as she swung around and leaped lightly into the cart.  Omus forgot completely about his sword and stared in astonishment as she sat down next to him, reached over and took the reigns.  She turned to him and smiled sweetly, then put her attention to the road, urging the horse to even greater speed.  From the corner of his eye Omus saw another figure leap into the road only  twenty yards behind and he quickly spun around on his seat, unable to believe what he saw.

It was huge and covered in fur.  Standing upright upon hoofed legs, it threw back its head and howled in rage.  Omus thought he saw the face of a man beneath the widely branching antlers but the cart rattled around a corner and the creature was lost from view.  Another howl rent the air behind them echoing from the trees and then faded, leaving only the clattering and banging of the cart and its goods to disturb the silence.

Kruk’s leg! Omus breathed as he turned back around.  What in Sarythina’s name was that? but there was no reply from the girl.  Omus took a deep breath and looked closely at his new companion.  Her jaw was set in concentration and tiny lines around her eyes betrayed fear. Knuckles showed white on the reigns as she gave the horse its head.  Her hood had blown back and the golden braid was wrapped around her neck, the end bouncing and whipping her in the face as they sped.  Omus reached over and pulled the hair aside and unwrapped it, letting it trail freely behind.  She flashed him a quick grin of thanks and he returned it, then settled back into the bench.

Now that he could see her more clearly Omus realized that she was no girl. Faint lines across her forehead and at the corners of her mouth belied her youthful appearance. Her eyes were bright, yet Omus saw within them a great depth and strength. He guessed she carried a few more years than himself, but bore them rather more gracefully.  He leaned back as she let the horse run. But the road was not often traveled and dangerous for both the cart and horse at such speed.  Finally she pulled back on the reigns, slowing the horse to a trot, and then to its normal walking speed. With a flourish she turned and gave control back to Omus.

Well met sir, she said in a clear, steady voice as she pulled the hood back over her head.

Indeed, Omus replied.  Are you hurt?

I am well, she said and seemed  content to leave the conversation at that.  With a long sigh she closed her eyes and leaned back on the bench as Omus shook his head in wonder and drove them deeper into the wood.

Shadows along the road began to lengthen as night fall approached.  Omus reckoned that even with the short burst of speed there still remained four full leagues to Glanders; perhaps half a day of travel if all went well.  His companion had said nothing more, she seemed to be either asleep or deep in thought.  Omus let her rest, despite a burning curiosity about her and the thing that had been chasing her.  Now perhaps two hours later, daylight was quickly fading as though consumed by the forest's insatiable malice.

Omus stopped the cart near a grass covered hillock that rose out of the forest, its flattened peak brightly lit by the waning sun.  The road curved around its base in a wide semi circle and continued westward into the trees.  The slope of the hill was gentle and upon its crown a single small oak grew, its boughs spread widely as though it were greedily catching all of the light.   Omus had set camp on this hill many times over the years, grateful to be out from under the oppressive forest and beneath the open sky.

The woman stirred next to him as though waking.

Night is falling, Omus said, and I must stop for the evening.  Would you like to join me for dinner?

I would, she said with a smile. It has been long since I broke bread in company.

Omus climbed from the cart and quickly circled around to offer her a hand.  She took it and stepped down.  Her hand felt rough and calloused in his as though from long hours in the fields and her grip was strong.

Thank you, she said still holding his hand and looking into his eyes.  Omus blushed a little and released his grip.  Once again he could not help but be captured by her eyes, green and deep, like still water.

It's nothing, he said and quickly turned to go rummaging in the back of the cart.

He returned with a pack and two thick blankets, but the woman had gone already up the hill.  He could see her limned in the last light standing beneath the oak, arms outstretched in fair mimicry of the tree.   Omus slipped the horse an apple then shouldered the pack and climbed the hill after her.

You've chosen well your camp, she said as he crested the hill and neared the tree.  He set down the blankets and the pack and stretched.  A cool evening breeze played over the hill rustling in the oak leaves.

I like it here, Omus replied. The air seems light away from the canopy of the trees.

The woman nodded.  The forest is ancient and strange to those who do not understand its ways.

Indeed.  Well I must go see to the horse's comfort.  I shall return shortly, Omus said.

 My name is Luyanya, she said as he turned, and I am in your debt.

He stopped and inclined his head in a tiny bow.  I am Omus, and it's my pleasure to meet you.

She laughed and the sound was like chimes caught in a sudden gust of wind.  See to the horse, we shall talk later.

Omus grinned and made his way down the darkening hill back to the cart.

On the road back under the trees darkness had fallen and the horse stamped impatiently as Omus found a lantern and lit it.  He could not help but look nervously from side to side, the memory of the creature still fresh in his mind. After a moments consideration he removed his sword from the cart and buckled it around his waist. Surrounded in a wavering puddle of ruddy light Omus unhitched the horse and took it to the base of the hill for its picket.  It sighed happily, munching on tall grass as he brushed it down and brought from the cart a tub which he filled with water in several trips.  Finally, he brought a pan of oats and set it down on the grass.  As the horse bent over eating, Omus scratched it between the ears.

Good night, he said and the horse stopped chewing long enough to snort a reply.  Omus laughed, retrieved the lantern and went up the hill to his own camp.

To his surprise he found that Luyanya had been busy. A small fire blazed in a hollow near the tree so that the light was hidden from below.  A tripod nestled over the flames, and from it hung a small cook pot on an iron chain.  She crouched nearby stirring the pot with a long spoon but she rose as he approached.

I hope you don’t mind, she said gesturing with the spoon at the pack he had brought up.  I took the liberty of going through it while you were busy.

Omus hung the lantern on a handy tree limb and unbuckled his sword leaning it upright against the bole. Not at all, he said. Though it was I who offered you dinner.

You are the guest in my wood tonight, it's only fitting that I serve the meal.

She crouched back down beside the pot humming to herself, stirring a little, then adding a pinch of something from a small pouch that hung at her waist.  Omus busied himself in the pack removing the last few items; bowls, spoons, cups, a half loaf of crusty bread wrapped in cheese cloth and a skin of wine.  He spread one of the blankets for them to dine upon then sat down in the grass across the fire from Luyanya.  A rich aroma rose from the pot as she stirred, thick with vegetables and crowned by herbal scents.

It smells wonderful, Omus said leaning forward a bit.

Thank you.  I have a few secrets to guard, Luyanya said patting her pouch. It will be ready shortly.  She set the spoon across the top of the  pot and sat down pulling her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around them.  But for now let me try to answer some of your questions.  She paused for a moment then pushed the hood back from her face with one hand as though baring herself to him in a manner she was unaccustomed to.

You asked what you saw earlier.  That question I cannot answer in certainty, nor in brief.  The Wyndynwud is ancient, and there are parts of the forest even I have not seen.  Who knows what may still dwell in dark hollows, content to stay hidden. However the creature you saw was something else I think.  To cut to the quick of the matter, Omus, the wood is troubled and I have sought the cause of the illness.  The creature, I believe, was a symptom of that imbalance.

It was chasing you, Omus said quietly.

That's true, she admitted. I don't believe we have more to fear from it tonight though," she said with a nod toward his sword.

That's comforting, Omus observed dryly.  You speak of this forest as though it were your child.  Who are you?

Luyanya sighed.  Let it suffice to say that I am a hermit and here have I chosen to dwell.

And I'm a pedlar.  It matters not, Omus said.  Though for my part I would know more.

Perhaps Omus that shall yet come to pass.  I deem our meeting to hold more than blind chance but I would not bind you without cause.  Knowledge both lightens the load and increases the burden upon those who posses it.  Come let us eat now, and leave these matters to rest for a time.  I  have questions for you, if you do not mind talking of lighter issues while we dine.

As you wish, Omus replied rising from the ground.  He brought the bowls to her and she filled them with generous portions of the stew.  Omus set them on the blanket, and poured two cups of wine from the skin as Luyanya sat.  He handed a cup to her and she sniffed it, then smiled.

This is a rare evening, she said raising her cup.

Omus tapped her cup with his. Health, he said.

And wisdom, she replied and they drank.

The moon began its slow transit overhead as they sat beneath the oak in a small circle of fire light and ate.  The forest was still, except for the rustle of leaves in the oak overhead and occasional noise from the horse below. Luyanya took another sip of wine.  Tell me Omus, what brings you here?

I am making for Glanders, there to offer my wares to the townsfolk and have Eoryn mix for me a supply of pipe weed to last the year.

Luyanya nodded.  Eoryn knows well the lore of herbs.

You know her?  Omus asked, just a little surprised.

I have met her from time to time.  She used to seek herbs in the wood now and again.

Have you been often to Glanders? he asked.

Luyanya shook her head. The wood provides for all my needs.  I prefer to remain here.

But surely you must get lonely.

Luyanya chuckled a little.  Nay, though I must admit that I am enjoying our dinner, especially the wine.

I too am grateful for company tonight. I would ask you for the recipe to your stew but I am sure that like all herb mistresses, it is a secret that cannot be parted with.

Luyanya laughed again.  You see with clear eyes Omus, she said with a smile that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. I wish my own vision was so. With a sigh she rose and walked to the edge of the hill and stood silently, staring out over the dark forest.

Omus drained his cup and followed.  He stood behind her, then placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

Can you feel it Omus?  Even here on the edges of the wood the soil cries out in pain.  I hear the trees weeping, and I can do nothing.  There is a veil over the forest that is beyond me.

The night is black, and ever this forest has been strange.  Perhaps things will seem not so ill with the coming of dawn.

And perhaps the dawn will not come.  There was a moment of strained silence between them and suddenly Luyanya spun to face him.  She took his hand in both of hers. You're right Omus.  I'm sorry to burden you with my fear. You've been nothing but kind to me and I have repaid you poorly.

My stomach says otherwise, but friendship freely given is no burden in any case.  Come, take your rest while I tend to the scullery work.

Luyanya smiled.  You comfort me,  she said.

Luyanya sat near the fire while Omus made a trip to the wagon for water.  On the way he checked the horse who was rolling in the grass.  He at least seemed happy in the forest.  Omus filled the pot with water and left it hanging over the fire to heat.  Before long it was steaming hot and he took the pot down.  In the hot water he washed the bowls, cups and utensils and finally the pot itself.  Carefully he dried and re-packed everything including the tripod.  Luyanya was still, but the fire had burnt low and the cool breeze had turned chilly.  Omus brought one of the blankets to her and draped it over her shoulders.  She gave no sign of noticing.  Omus put out the lantern, then laid down under the tree wrapping himself in the blanket they had dined upon.  He checked one last time to be sure his sword was close at hand then closed his eyes.   The last thing he saw was Luyanya’s face glowing in the light of the embers.

Sleep well Omus,  Luyanya called softly but there was no reply; he had already fallen asleep.

The sun already stood high overhead by the time Omus awoke.  He unwrapped the blanket and sat up rubbing his eyes.  Never before had he slept so soundly in this wood.  He shook his head and rose looking for Luyanya but she was gone.  The blanket she had used was neatly rolled and sat under the tree near his sword.  Upon the blanket was a small sheet of parchment weighed down by a strange pendant on a woven cord.  Gently he removed the pendant and picked up the note.

‘Thank you Omus for your kindness and hospitality.  I have little to repay you with, but please accept this small token.  It would give me comfort if you chose to wear it under your tunic while you remain in the wood.  Also, your horse requests new shoes.  Farewell.’

Luyanya’s hand was graceful and steady and the ink glistened as though it had been crushed from a dark berry only moments before.  Where she had gotten the paper from he could only imagine, but it was rough and brown.

Omus then picked up the pendant.  It was carved of wood, cunningly worked and finished so well he could not see a single cut.  It resembled a wagon wheel with three spokes, though they were strangely unbalanced in a sort of lopsided Y.  Omus held it up and upon closer inspection saw that it was in fact a representation of a tree.  As light caught the carving, details sprang into view and he whistled in amazement.  The carving was immensely complex; he could see individual leaves upon the outstretched branches and the bark of the trunk was gnarled with age. What seemed at first glance to be solid spokes were actually clusters of branches.  As he looked the depiction seemed to take on depth, until it appeared as though a living tree had been shrunk down and placed inside the confining circle.  He shook his head and the illusion vanished.  The carving was the size of a large coin but for a moment it had seemed much larger, as if he had been standing before it looking upward.  Thinking of Luyanya’s note, he slipped the cord over his head and under his tunic.  The pendant felt warm and smooth against his skin.  The note he carefully folded and slipped into a pocket.  He stood, then on a whim turned to look at the oak behind him.  Just below the first out thrust limb he could see a small scar in the bark.  But the wound was old and healed leaving only a dark circle of smoothness in the bark.  He shrugged, then gathered up his things and returned to the cart.

The horse greeted him with a cheerful whinny as he passed and he grunted a reply.

After stowing the gear he retrieved an apple and brought it to the horse who took it from his hand crunching happily as Omus checked its shoes.  Indeed, he found that they were past due for a fitting.  The horse nuzzled his shoulder as he dropped its hoof.

Yes, yes, it's only half a day to Glanders,  he said and the horsed tossed its head as Omus took him off of the picket and led him to the cart.

In but a short time the horse was hitched and they were back on the road.  Omus guessed that it was yet two hours until noon and he felt light of heart as they rounded the  base of the hill and plunged once again into the darkness of the wood. This day the gloom held no terror, and by the time the sun has risen fully overhead Omus was even grateful for the shade.

Ever westward the road traveled, though rarely in a straight line.  It wound around giant moss covered boles and across shimmering rills on their way to join the Wyndyn in its journey to Lake Grypph far to the south and east.  Great boulders, taller than the cart sat like silent sentinels now and again next to the track.  Omus could not imagine how they came to be there but he counted at least two dozen along the way.  At last the road began to rise ever so slightly and Omus knew that his journey was nearly over.  Now that he was close, the desire to be done with this trip came over him.  Though the day had been pleasant, he had not forgotten the creature, nor the troubled hermit.  Whatever was happening in this forest was none of his concern, and he resolved to simply pay the old woman whatever it took to procure the recipe for his tobacco.  He made little profit on this trip and now it seemed to be getting dangerous as well.  The road took one final turn to the north, then the cart crested the final rise and the village of Glanders lay spread out below him.

Glanders sat in a large valley, hemmed in by the forest.  To the north the land rose in a series of steep, wooded hills which shielded Glanders from the dark heart of the wood.  Most of the valley had long been cleared and turned into farmland for the loamy soil was rich and crops grew in abundance.  Corn, squash, pumpkins, potato’s, and beans were the main staples, and the valley was full of long, well tended rows like a living checkerboard.  The road traveled through the center of the fields, across the valley to the far northern side where it ended at the very door of Gustav’s Inn.

Gustav's occupied the center of town, and was by far the largest building.  It boasted a large common room and two private rooms for the rare travelers, as well as housing Gustav’s family in comfort.  Next door to the inn was a smaller but no less important building, the shrine dedicated to Sarythina, the Empress God.  Other structures dotted the valley; the small smithy where tools were repaired and horses shod, a dozen farmsteads and Eoryn’s hut which rested in a small grove of trees just east of the inn.

Perhaps a hundred souls dwelt in the valley as their ancestors had for many generations and few of them would ever leave it.  He could see many of them in the fields tending the crops or herding livestock in the pastures.  Omus had often considered moving to a village like Glanders once his wandering days were past, remote from the troubles that plagued more civilized lands.  But somehow it never seemed to be the right time to settle down.

Omus clucked his tongue and urged the horse forward. The road descended gently in long curving  switch backs and soon Omus was riding through the fields.  Men stopped their work to wave friendly greetings to him as he passed and he waved back with a smile.  As he neared the inn a scruffy dog ran into the road yapping at the horse who ignored it stoically having been so harassed many times in the past.  Finally Omus pulled up in front of the inn and stopped with a gentle tug of the reigns.  A youth ran from around the back.

Ho Drin, you've grown! Omus called, setting the brake and climbing down from the cart.

My father says I'll be taller than he is soon! Drin gushed.

Omus stretched as the boy climbed into the wagon and drove it to the stables around the back of the inn.  He hadn’t taken two steps when the door of the inn burst open and a young woman stepped out, one hand raised in greeting.

She was the daughter of Gustav and Omus remembered well how the innkeeper had beamed when he had presented her to him on his first visit to town twenty years past.  She had been but two months old then, a smiling chubby child.  Now she was grown but slender as a reed and she moved with the natural grace of a cat.  But the smile that had charmed him so long ago had not changed.

Hail Omus, what news? she asked.

Omus laughed and raised his hands in self defense.  Peace Chandyce, my journey has been long and dusty, and my throat is dried.  Perhaps a tankard of Gustav’s ale would loosen my tongue.

It's waiting for you inside of course,  she replied and stepped forward to embrace  him warmly.  It is good to see you again.

Omus patted her on the back.  It's good to return, he said as the door swung open again.

Put down my daughter and come rest your weary bones!  Gustav boomed, filling the doorway with his large frame.  Chandyce let go of Omus and he stepped forward and took Gustav’s outstretched hand.

Welcome Omus,  the innkeeper said.

Thank you kindly.  Now I would greet your ale, Omus replied and Gustav clapped him on the shoulder.

Come then, drink and make yourself at home.

Gustav’s Inn was cool even toward the end of a summer day, and dark.  Low rafters hung overhead and a layer of sweet hay covered the dirt floor of the common room.

A small fire burned in the central pit, its smoke drawn upwards and out of the tavern through a vent in the roof.  A haunch of pork filled the room with a spicy tang, roasting slowly on a spit over the fire.  Omus sat at one of the long tables and Gustav brought him a foaming tankard of ale.  Omus drank deeply as Gustav took a seat across from him while Chandyce hovered near the taps.

Thank you Gustav, the ale is excellent as always, Omus said.

You're welcome Omus, and a welcome sight as well.  I hope you remembered to bring a bottle or two of Lemosian Red.

Ahh business must wait for the morrow,  Omus replied with a twinkle in his eye.  He had brought six bottles in fact; Gustav would gladly trade the vintage for Omus’ room and board as was their long custom. Omus took another drought of the ale and wiped foam from his mouth with the back of his hand.  Tell me, what's new in Glanders?

New? In Glanders? Surely you're jesting.  Naught has changed in this valley since the beginning of time I suspect.  But the harvest looks promising this year.  The son of Japeth and the daughter of Trall were married perhaps ten months ago.  In fact, there should be a birthing soon isn’t that right Chandyce?

Like a full moon is the mother, she replied drawing Omus another tankard of ale and bringing it to the table.

Ten months eh? Omus said with a raised eyebrow and Gustav laughed.

The marriage came in the nick of time I suspect.  Ahh to be young again.

Indeed, speaking of the young, Eoryn is well I hope.

Aye, ageless she is, and Chandyce does well in her studies or so I am told.

Yes father, Eoryn is a good teacher,  she said with an exasperated look toward Omus who hid his laughter by finishing off his first tankard.  Chandyce took it back to the taps and washed it in a small bucket.

Now that you have been refreshed Omus, tell us what news, Gustav said.

Omus leaned back and put his hands behind his head.   Rumors and gossip, he said,  but Sarythina has yet to produce an heir, or at least no news of one has come from the Jasmine Throne.  Of course there are a  hundred rumors each worse than the next to explain this, but who can say what is the truth.

Still, Gustav said,  it is worrisome.  What would happen if she were to leave no heir?

That I do not know, never before has such a thing occurred.  But the Empress still has many years left to produce a daughter, it is unlikely that she will not do so.  I suspect though, that if such a thing were to come to pass, it would mean dark days indeed.  It's no secret that in some of the more distant provinces there are grumblings of rebellion already.  If there were no Empress to command the legions who can say what would result.

Is Dread Lord Lyster still her consort?

Yes, but Lyster is consumed by his feud with the traitor, Onan.  He spends too much time away from the Jasmine Throne searching for the barbarian.  Rumor has it though, that Lyster led a legion northward in the spring, so perhaps he is near to ending it.

Gustav nodded.  I hope so, a schism in the legions endangers us all.

Well, apparently few legionnaires sided with Onan and he fled into the wilderness.

Perhaps back to his barbarian fellows, Gustav said.

Why did Onan betray his vows?  Chandyce asked.

No one knows, Omus replied.  Perhaps it was his failure to produce an heir with the Empress.  Though I've heard it said he refused his duties as consort completely.

Bah! Gustav replied.  Who would be so foolish as that?

Certainly not I, Omus said with a smile. But the barbarians are a strange folk.  How one rose to Dread Lord is probably a much more interesting tale, though I doubt it shall ever be told.

Truly spoken, but the legions are freely open to all men of the Empire and a man of merit can rise far,   Gustav said.

I don't know about that, Omus said.  It seemed always to me that the better the man, the less chance he had of promotion.  He shrugged.  But such has been the complaint of soldiers since the beginning of time I suspect,  in any case three years of marching and standing guard were enough for me.

I suspect you are overly modest Omus, your sword has not the appearance of a ceremonial weapon.  But be that as it may the news is still troubling.

I wouldn't make too much of it my friend.  The Empire could have withered unto dust a decade ago and no one in Glanders would know.

Gustav threw his head back and the common room resounded with his laughter.  If the tax collectors were to stop coming I certainly wouldn't investigate, he said.

Both men laughed and Omus leaned forward taking another drink of ale. Talk to me not of the tax collectors, he said.  It seems that the fewer legionnaires patrol the roads, the more tax collectors await you at your destination.

Are the roads unsafe?

Omus mulled the question over for a moment, thinking about the road to Glanders. Unsafe?  No I wouldn't say that.  But it's true that they aren't maintained nor patrolled as well as they once were.  Near to the Jasmine Throne, of course, the way is wide and safe.  But the same cannot be said for all the roads.  I've heard that banditry is on the rise in certain quarters though I have been fortunate in this regard. Then again, my cart is no great prize.

Chandyce sat down next to her father giving up all pretense at working.  How widely have you traveled Omus? she asked, her eyes glittering with curiosity about the wider world.

Omus leaned back in his chair putting his arms behind his head. In my time I have seen most of the settled lands in the Empire.  I was posted far to the south near the Nemean border as a legionnaire.  As a pedlar I have been as far east as Tunish where the sand ocean stretches beyond ken.  I have looked into the black waters of Grypph lake and have seen ships sail away toward the Burenai islands in the west.  Glanders marks my furthermost journey north, but there are wild lands beyond the wood where the barbarians live.  Other strange lands lie west of Glanders, beyond the mountains.  To these lands I have not been but I have traveled in the dark lands south and west of Nemea.  They are not, strictly speaking within the Empire and heed not the wishes of the Empress, though I understand that once, long ago all men bent knee to the Jasmine Throne.  As he spoke a cloud seemed to pass behind his eyes, darkening his features as though his memories of those lands were ill.  But Chandyce seemed not to notice.

Have you seen the Jasmine Throne itself? Chandyce asked.

Omus shook his head.  Nay, and rare indeed will be the person you meet who has.  I've been to the city, but only into the outer circle.  The Jasmine Throne sits behind nine walls, each higher and thicker than the last.  Inside each wall dwell those who serve in one capacity or another.  To pass through each gate, a different signet is required, and they are given only to those with business within.

I'd love to see it, Chandyce said.

There's no other city like it.  Even in the outer circle where the common folk dwell, the roads are wide and paved.  Towers rise gleaming in the sun and giant aqueducts bring water to all quarters. During the night the main thoroughfares are lamp lit.  It bustles with throngs buying and selling, seeking influence and every pleasure of the flesh.  It's overwhelming, and I didn't like it much, Omus said. I prefer the open road.

They all looked up as the door opened and a huge man entered. He wore a long beard plaited in twin braids and his eyes were guarded.  He was dressed in a simple cotton tunic that showed the characteristic stains caused by armor and leather trousers.  A long dirk hung from his belt and he wore it naturally as though he would be naked without it.  Omus had no doubt that the man knew how to use it for more than eating fruit. Chandyce scrambled to her feet and went at once to the taps as Gustav stood.

Omus, I meant to tell you that by luck we have another visitor in Glanders this summer.  He is Durgis Deboer, a fighting man recently come from the West but I will let him tell you his tale.  Gustav strode across the room and greeted Durgis warmly, obviously giving him an introduction to Omus.  Durgis’ lips curled up slightly at the corners in a wary smile, and he came to sit across from Omus as Chandyce set a flagon in front of him.

Well met, he said to Omus in a rumbling baritone. I am Durgis Deboer as you no doubt have heard.

I am Omus Dumar, it's a pleasure to meet you.  The pleasantries aside, both men tipped a flagon to the other and drank the drink of greeting, an ancient custom that Omus was always more than willing to observe.

Gustav says you are come from the West, how did you end up in Glanders?  Omus asked.

Ah, that is somewhat of a tale,  he said as a preamble but it was clear he did not mind telling it. As you may know, west of the forest lie the Panjani Plains.  It is a wide grassland, but little civilized, for the nomads who dwell there prefer to be left alone.  They give fealty to the Empire and pay tithes, but small mind do they give it otherwise.  They abide by their own law and suffer any interference poorly.  The Empress declared some thirty years past that all legions were to be withdrawn from the area and in that time the Dhaj, as they call themselves, have become increasingly antagonistic.