Page 38 of Flameborne: Fury (Emberquell Academy #2)

Need a visual? View a map of the territories in the opening pages of this book!

~ DONAVYN ~

“There’s no other conclusion that makes sense,” I snapped for the third time.

“One of these sources is either lying or misinformed. The question is, which has been planted, and which is telling the truth?” I frowned down at the maps spread over the long, thick table in the Council Chambers.

It showed all the major Kingdoms—Ashthorn to the north, Fyrehold between Ashthorn and the unclaimed lands that kept our borders separate.

The tiny nation of Sierral nudged into the eastern border of Fyrehold, and Draeventhall swallowing that from the east.

The King stood at my right, his arms folded. Olve frowned darkly at my left, his finger still hooked over one of the reports we’d sorted into piles—each of the three threads as he’d named them, offering a different conclusion than the others.

Alexi and I had seen the reports diverge months earlier, but it started so subtly, we didn’t grow concerned for weeks.

Yet, in the last couple of months there was no denying that different sources relaying the same events were drawing very, very different conclusions.

Too different to be accounted for by the vagaries of personalities in our spies, or simple political bias.

We all examined the map, frustrated.

It wasn’t uncommon for agents to send conflicting reports on specific events. Two men listening to the same conversation could walk away with very different deductions about what had been said, or what was meant by the same words.

But the tone and suppositions of these ongoing reports were consistent, and ran deeper than interpretation.

Alexi caught my eye, warning me to take care with my words. I gave him a barely perceptible nod and let my finger draw across the map, mentally reviewing everything we’d been told, and all the ways we may have been deceived.

At the top of the map, the Kingdom of Ashthorn possessed the land from coast to coast. At the bottom, our kingdom of Vosgaarde possessed all the land in the south and south-east. Our two nations were the strongest, and most powerful in the territories.

But pinned between us were three others: Fyrehold, the largest, and taking up most of the central-western landscape, had historically kept trade relations with both Vosgaarde and Ashthorn, while remaining politically neutral.

Not as large or as powerful as either of us, the Kingdom gained in prosperity by maintaining peace and trading with both, allowing us a conduit to trade with each other, yet keep our distance.

To Fyrehold’s east, an arrow of land pointing all the way to the coast, was Draeventhall. Well positioned for the merchant ships that kept it prosperous, but too small to present any kind of military threat to the rest of us.

Land-locked between Fyrehold and Draeventhall was Sierral—a small, powerless land, rich in cattle and mineral resources, but without the military might to expand its borders.

Sierral only remained a nation because its citizens were so uniquely skilled, none of the surrounding rulers wanted to disrupt their trade with a war.

A wedge of unclaimed land full of swamps and rocky plains, separated Vosgaarde from Fyrehold and the others, except near the coast, where Draeventhall shared our border.

Historically, the three nations at the center had continued to thrive by keeping both Vosgaarde and Ashthorn happy.

Either of the larger nations was capable of overrunning Fyrehold—but keeping the nation peacefully between our borders served us both well.

Because neither of us was able to bring a significant army to the other without overwhelming Fyrehold first—which would draw the attention and divert time and resources, allowing the preparation of the other—it removed the threat of an ambush war from the opposing, major power.

And so, for generations, Fyrehold, the largest of the three central nations, had remained politically neutral—yet quietly sympathetic to Vosgaarde.

Ashthorn was a frigid, brutal landscape that bred resourceful, callous people.

Fyrehold and the other central kingdoms had no inclination to attract Ashthorn’s wrath.

Having us at their back gave them some protection against the cold, northern forces.

But aligning too closely with Vosgaarde would pique Ashthorn’s suspicion.

And so, the political dance continued for generations.

But in recent months, the whispers had begun.

One spy claimed Draeventhall secretly schemed with Fyrehold—but was had been unable to determine whether the plan was to stand against Vosgaarde, or Ashthorn.

Another was certain Fyrehold only toyed with Draeventhall, with a plan to aid Vosgaarde by providing intelligence on the plot and winning goodwill.

But then, a third suggested the rumors around Draeventhall were a distraction. That the true threat came from Fyrehold planning to take both the other central nations, to present itself as a much greater threat—or asset—to either Ashthorn, or Vosgarde.

The possibilities were as plentiful and complex as a child’s imagination—but no matter what was true, it all added up to a murky picture of political schemes and plots, without any certainty of the true heart of the threat.

The day Bren had been Chosen, I’d sent off a team to infiltrate Draeventhall to sniff out the truth of the whispers we’d heard.

It was a risky strategy, breaking up established squads to select young, inexperienced Furyknights who could pass as reckless mercenaries and hopefully be snapped up the King of Draeventhall, who envied our dragon forces and held few of his own.

Unfortunately, our team’s reports were irregular, and there hadn’t yet been enough time to truly infiltrate Draeventhall’s royal society.

It would likely be months before even one of them would get close enough to real power to provide detailed intelligence of this magnitude.

But in the meantime, those men were in position to be called to action if Draeventhall moved—we wouldn’t be ambushed from that quarter.

But that didn’t solve the problem that we believed there was a threat appearing to the north and west, and we were running out of time to figure out who moved against us.

Alexi was the strongest ruler in the territories, and Vosgaarde the most powerful nation.

Our King had done a masterful job over the past four decades of growing our trade and keeping lines of communication open on all fronts.

But even our forces couldn’t stand against an alliance if Fyrehold and Draeventhall truly allied with Ashthorn.

And worse, either nation was in perfect position to distract us from any subterfuge from the other.

Then again, could it be true that Fyrehold—its ruler an adept negotiator and political player—truly was attempting to uncover the plot, to solidify our alliance?

Everyone’s peace with Ashthorn was tentative. But Vosgaarde’s brittle truce with the nation creaked under the pressure of conflicting cultures and near-equal wealth.

Given Ashthorn’s brutal landscape and position, without the aid of the central nations, they’d never reach us before we were able to turn them back.

But there was also a chance that the King of Ashthorn—referred to as Ashthorn in the person because the arrogant prick believed he was the nation—had the same reports we did that the three nations between us were building an alliance.

If he believed that, he’d scheme to wait until we were locked in battle against the others, then move in behind whichever nation could overwhelm us.

Or had he somehow orchestrated this scheme to make it appear Vosgaarde should turn its defensive focus to its neighbors?

Ashthorn couldn’t conquer the other nations alone. And every ruler in the territories was aware of the ruler’s brutality and ruthlessness. No one was eager to poke that particular bear.

Alexi’s diplomacy and intelligence in reminding other nations of Ashthorn’s brutality was a safeguard for us, and incentive for our neighbors.

Or, it had been.

Had Fyrehold or Draeventhall finally been convinced to work against us?

My head spun trying to keep it all straight. We’d been debating the clues for months. But there was no longer time for speculation or investigation.

Bren had unwittingly identified a small army of warriors with Ashthorn banners on the unclaimed lands between Fyrehold and Vosgaarde.

At first glance, that meant either the reports of Fyrehold’s betrayal were true, and he’d let them march across his Kingdom to reach us—a very, very risky proposition if those same troops decided to take Fyrehold while they were there.

Or, Fyrehold remained loyal and Draeventhall had let them cross to the east, and they were now drawing north through the unclaimed lands to separate us from the aid Fyrehold would offer.

But pinning themselves between our nations? And with a small force? It made no strategic sense.

Unless they weren’t from Ashthorn at all, but another nation, carrying banners to divert attention.

The only thing we knew for certain was that whoever these soldiers were, they’d been able to keep their troops hidden, and we’d only stumbled on them in the unclaimed lands by the grace of God.

There were no answers. Except this: There were troops within a day’s travel by dragon from the Vosgaarde border. Troops that at least appeared to have originated from a distant state.

While I stood there, silently considering all of this, the Captains and King’s Advisors around the table muttered, debating the options, but their conversations continued to run in circles. It was only hours until dawn and we’d made little progress.

I leaned into Alexi’s ear. “I’d request a private word when this is done,” I muttered, our pre-agreed signal to be used when others could hear us, indicating that one or the other of us was about to divert attention from the truth.