From the rock he stood on, Utgar could see the whole of the Volcarren force, laid out before him in a disorganized line. He had called a halt, and the Volcarrens had stopped mostly where they stood, sitting down on the sandy ground, pulling some meager rations from their packs, or sharpening their weapons.
It was these Utgar watched. He had been in a fighting force before; he could recognize the tension before a battle. Those kyrie who sat, running stones over their blades or swinging axes experimentally – they expected a fight. Most of them probably even wanted one.
But Utgar couldn’t afford a fight. There were several reasons why, not the least of which was Runa’s safety. But now, looking out over those who had followed him, he realized another: he couldn’t afford to lose any Volcarrens.
He might be a Valkyrie, but he wasn’t invincible. He could probably slay an army in a matter of minutes, but a single assassin could just as easily come up behind him, and knife him in the back. If things turned to open battle – which Utgar knew was a very real possibility – then he would need as many men guarding him as possible. And right now he had less than a thousand.
There had been more, of course. Over a thousand Volcarren raiders and barbarians, well trained in combat. But they were dead, along with Vraen, slain by Ahnvad. Taelord had caused that.
Taelord. Utgar didn’t quite know what to do with him. He believed him, he had decided that much. The boy hadn’t meant to get Vraen and his army killed. And neither had he meant to put Runa in danger. But he had still done both.
There had been a time – long ago – when Utgar would have killed Taelord just to simplify things. He wasn’t that person any longer. Taelord had shown that he could be useful, even if Utgar couldn’t trust him. Besides, Runa had insisted that he had done everything he could to keep her safe, even if most of his plan had failed. She trusted him. Utgar doubted the soundness of his daughter’s judgement in the matter, but still… no, Taelord could remain alive. He would keep an eye on him, however.
The scout Utgar had sent on ahead returned, landing before him. He was a soldier from Srung. Utgar would have preferred to use a Volcarren, but only the soldiers could fly. “I met with one of their scouts, Lord Utgar,” he said, kneeling and bowing his head. “They wish to meet. The delegation is on its way.”
“Do not bow to me,” Utgar said. He shaded his eyes and looked across the Red Flats as the scout got slowly to his feet. Yes… Yes, he could see them. Across the perfectly flat ground, he could make out a faint black speck, just on the horizon. He could almost discern its movement, the dark smudge growing closer as he watched, its shape distorted by the heat of the ground. They would be here soon. Under an hour, if he was correct.
“Very well,” he said, lowering his gaze back to the scout. “Tell them that I will await them here.”
The scout nodded and leapt back to the air, clearly only too glad to escape from him.
Vydar approached, the loose black clothing he wore rippling softly in the breeze. “You think their intentions are peaceable?” he asked, watching the scout retreat back to the Imperial delegation. His voice was slightly muffled by the black cloth wound loosely around his head, covering everything except his eyes.
“I doubt they are hostile,” Utgar said. “They wouldn’t be coming to talk if they were.” He turned to the Vel. “I want it clear, Vydar: I want peace. I don’t want anyone attacking the Imperials the moment they show up.”
“Of course,” Vydar said, inclining his head briefly. “My Vel will not attack.” He turned and retreated towards the column of black-clad warriors.
Utgar watched him go with a frown. He wanted war just like the others. He was only willing to forgo it because Utgar had the Wellspring. They were allies, but it had been clear from the beginning: were their positions reversed, and Vydar Valkyrie, they would be preparing for war, not peace. Still, they were in this together. They were both Volcarrens, they had both fought the Empire, and in a way, Utgar trusted him.
He turned to another scout standing just behind him. “Spread the word,” he said. “Tell everyone that the Empire approaches. I will speak with their delegation. Make it clear that no action is to be taken against them.”
“Yes, Lord Utgar,” the scout said, saluting. Then he leapt away, spreading the word down the line.
Utgar watched as the whispers spread through the Volcarrens, rippling away from his location like a gentle breeze. He knew full well most of those with him wanted to fight the Empire, generations of hate fueling their anger. But if there was to be any chance of handling this peaceably, Utgar would take it. He had the Wellspring. That was something the Empire couldn’t ignore, the one inescapable advantage he had. The Imperials might have armies at their command, but they couldn’t afford to fight him.
That gave Utgar hope.
The delegation arrived later that day, consisting of a handful of Imperial soldiers in gleaming armor, and several kyrie in close-fitted leather doublets. Although the clothing looked simple, it was etched with many intricate designs. It still seemed like an odd choice of apparel for the representatives of the Empire.
The soldiers eyed the Volcarrens through visored helmets. Utgar had seen plenty of soldiers in the Volcarren, but none like these. They wore armor on practically every inch. Even their wings were armored, two spikes jutting upwards at the bend, where the wings folded. They each carried a single spear, somewhere between a lance and a short-spear. Utgar imagined they had to be hot in all that armor under the desert sun, but they didn’t show it. They stood straight and powerful, the sun gleaming off their armor.
The delegation erected a pavilion a short ways away, two kyrie having carried the poles and canvas necessary.
Utgar leaned to the side, where Kirav stood. “Stay here with Runa,” he said, keeping an eye on the delegation.
Kirav nodded once, hand on his axe.
Utgar glanced at Runa, who stood nearby, silent, watching the delegation like everyone else. He turned, nodded to a Volcarren behind him who had been a commander under Vraen, and they stepped forward. Vydar detached himself from the column of Vel nearby, a single guard with him as well. Together, they approached the Imperials.
There were only four soldiers. They stood at each of the four corners of the pavilion, erect and silent. They didn’t turn their heads as Utgar and Vydar approached, but remained motionless, standing straight as the spears they held rigidly before them. The only sign of life was an almost inaudible clinking, as their plated hands tightened slightly on their spears.
Utgar and Vydar walked under the pavilion, the canvas top blocking the glare of the sun, allowing Utgar to see the delegation. None of them wore weapons that he could see. Their skin was light, varying between faint yellowish to deep blue, and their hair was white, yellow, or light brown. The feathers of their wings were several shades lighter than their skin. They couldn’t have been more different from the Volcarrens, all of whom had dark red skin, black or dark brown hair, and leathery wings, thanks to the Wasteland.
“Greetings,” one of them said, stepping forward and offering a hand. “I am Yiven, ruler of Helsng and regent of Kinsland. I speak for the Empire.”
Utgar took the offered hand briefly. Before he let go, he noted that Yiven’s skin felt soft. These were no warriors. Nor were they hard-working kyrie. He doubted Yiven had ever lifted anything heavier than a goblet.
“I am Utgar,” he said. “I lead the Volcarrens. And this is Vydar, leader of the Vel.”
“Y-Yes…” Yiven said, glancing at Vydar. He seemed frightened of the Vel.
Utgar couldn’t blame him – Vydar was taller than he was, the black shroud adding to his imposing appearance. His guard stood behind him, silent, his hands hidden within dark folds.
“Utgar,” Yiven said, returning his focus to him, “we know what has happened in the Volcarren. We know of your dealings with Ahnvad, and of the existence of the Wellspring. You can understand our… concern upon hearing that you had entered Kinsland. May I ask your intentions?”
Utgar regarded Yiven silently. The man spoke with hesitation, as if afraid that Utgar might lash out at any moment. Utgar had met men like him before: cowards, easily swayed to the will of others. This was the regent of Kinsland?
“My intentions are simple,” Utgar said. “I seek peace. I and those with me seek only a new life in Valhalla. Let us have this, and there is no need for further conflict.”
Yiven bowed his head as one of the other members of the delegation – all of whom had stayed at the back of the pavilion – leaned forward to whisper to him. Yiven whispered something back, and the other kyrie nodded.
“I am relieved to hear that you seek peace,” Yiven said, straightening. “We will be happy to let you settle anywhere you wish, once the Wellspring is sealed.”
“Sealed?” Utgar repeated.
Yiven seemed to pale at the single word.
Utgar frowned. “Why would I seal the Wellspring?”
The kyrie stepped forward again and whispered urgently to Yiven. Utgar’s frown deepened as Yiven whispered back. The kyrie shook his head, and Yiven looked worried. He straightened once more.
“The… The Wellsprings are all sealed,” he said, with what Utgar guessed was an attempt at composure. “They have been for centuries. Ever since the days of the archkyrie. Why,” he said with a tense laugh, “if they hadn’t been sealed, we would probably still be at war, fighting amongst ourselves over their power. Only by sealing them was the war ended. Having one open now would only restart that conflict. Surely you wish that no more than we do?
Utgar watched Yiven silently for a moment. The regent seemed to shrink under his gaze. “I have no desire for conflict,” Utgar said. “But neither do I plan to seal the Wellspring.”
“But Utgar—”
“Let us not pretend. Without the Wellspring, your armies could force me back into the Volcarren. I will not allow that to happen.”
A different delegate approached, and whispered urgently with Yiven.
Yiven glanced at Utgar. “With the Wellspring,” he said carefully, “you could destroy the peace we’ve enjoyed since the Uprising. You can understand our request, surely.”
“And you can understand my position,” Utgar said evenly.
“I c-can,” Yiven stammered, “but your fears are unfounded. We don’t want conflict. Seal the Wellspring, and we will let you live anywhere you want. In peace.”
Utgar regarded Yiven. He couldn’t seriously think Utgar would accept that. Trust the Empire? After they had spent the last century keeping the Volcarrens imprisoned? “I have no guarantee you will keep your word,” Utgar said, frowning.
Another kyrie stepped forward to whisper with the regent.
“Can you not speak for yourself, Yiven?” Vydar said unexpectedly.
Yiven blanched further, glancing at Vydar. He turned back to Utgar. “We have money,” he said, whetting his lips. “Riches. Take all you want; go to any corner of Valhalla you wish. We’ll let you go in peace. We’ll give you safe passage. You have my word. But the Wellspring… it must be sealed.”
Utgar’s frown had turned to a scowl as Yiven spoke. “You seek to bribe me?” he said. “I have no need for your wealth. What I ask is simple.”
“What you ask is impossible,” Yiven whispered. “We… We cannot allow the Wellspring to remain open. We can’t. P-Please understand.”
Utgar frowned, tightening his grip on his axe without thinking. The slight motion was noticed by all four Imperial guards. To the untrained eye, they didn’t move, but Utgar could tell they had shifted their balance towards him. They remained still, tense, waiting.
Peace, Utgar thought. We must have peace. He relaxed his grip.
“Surely we can reach an agreement,” he said. “What if we left Valhalla, settled elsewhere? The Volcarren is isolated, the Wellspring could be easily guarded.”
“Perhaps,” Yiven said slowly, glancing at the other delegates behind him. One of them shook his head. “But the Wellspring?” Yiven said. “You would leave it open?”
“Of course,” Utgar said.
Yiven shook his head, grimacing at the ground. “I’m afraid that an unsealed Wellspring, guarded or not, would be a threat. Even now, Utgar, there are rumors of rebels massing in our remote towns, thinking your arrival marks the beginning of some sort of revolution. You see, Ugar? The mere idea of a Wellspring is dangerous.”
“Then we have a difficulty,” Utgar said, mentally noting Yiven’s words about rebels.
Yiven glanced at him, then back at his advisors.
Utgar watched him calmly. He wasn’t afraid of the Empire, not with the power of the Wellspring in his veins. But they must have peace. How could Utgar accomplish that without sealing the Wellspring, the one guarantee they had?
Yiven and one of the advisors seemed to be communicating non-verbally. She nodded, looking grim, and Yiven turned back to Utgar. “Haukeland,” Yiven said. “Haukeland will solve our difficulties.”
“What is Haukeland?” Vydar asked, sounding suspicious.
“An island,” Yiven said. “A large island, east and north of here. It is far from Valhalla, so far that it hasn’t been mapped since the days of the archkyrie. It is said that it is fertile, forested… You could go there, start a new life for yourselves.”
“And the Wellspring?”
“It… would need to be sealed,” Yiven said delicately. “But,” he added as Utgar frowned, “Haukeland is so far that you could take Wellspring water with you. As much as you wanted. Your powers would remain intact well after your departure. You would have your guarantee of safety, and we would be able to seal the Wellspring.”
Utgar considered for a moment. He was loathe to give up the Wellspring – every instinct told him not to – but he was also wary about pushing the Empire too far. He wanted peace, not war.
“Why has no one settled on this Haukeland?” Vydar asked.
Yiven glanced at him. “Myths,” he said dismissively. “Children’s stories.”
“What stories?” Vydar said, his eyes narrowing.
“It… It’s said that… that the island is cursed. That some… evil force lives there. But it is just a tale. It’s not true. Just a myth created because the island is so far. Because it’s unknown. They are pure fabrications. Haukeland would be perfect for you.”
“I will speak with Vydar,” Utgar said, cutting off the Vel’s reply. He turned, and Vydar reluctantly followed him back out into the glaring sun. They walked a short distance away from the pavilion, their guards remaining behind.
When they were out of earshot of the soldiers, Utgar turned to face Vydar.
“You mean to consider this Haukeland?” the Vel guessed.
“I feel we must.”
“It is the Empire who must consider our wants,” Vydar said. “We have a Wellspring. State your terms, Utgar. Demand to live here, in Kinsland, close to the Wellspring. They dare not refuse us.”
“Perhaps,” Utgar said. “But I feel such a demand would lead to war eventually, Wellspring or no.”
“Then let us fight them. What can they do? We have a Wellspring. You could destroy them, Utgar. You could overthrow the Empire.”
And he could. Utgar knew that. But that wouldn’t lead to peace. He would live out his days in fear, surrounded by guards, watching every shadow. Maybe he could live like that, but could Runa? He didn’t want to find out.
“No,” he said. “If we destroy the Empire, we’ll still have no end of enemies. And if I force them into a deal they don’t like, all we’ll do is sow the seeds of war. I want to do this right, Vydar. If I can make a deal with the Empire, here and now, which we can both live with, we could have peace forever.”
“Even at the cost of the Wellspring?”
Utgar frowned. “I never wanted that Wellspring,” he said. “All I wanted – all I still want – is peace. If the Empire insists the Wellspring be sealed, then perhaps this Haukeland is the best compromise. Some water can always be set aside, preserved, in case we need to open a Wellspring again.”
Vydar nodded slowly. “That is true,” he said. Then, “But that is true. Utgar, surely the Empire has seen that. And letting you keep your powers, going to Haukeland with unlimited water? Why would they suggest such a thing? It benefits you alone. Sealing the Wellspring means nothing when you could easily just open it again.”
Utgar paused. Vydar had a point. “You think they are planning something?” he said.
“I don’t know,” Vydar admitted. “But the Empire tried to make its fair share of deals when I commanded the Vel, and this one feels wrong. There’s nothing preventing us from setting up on Haukeland, then sailing back here and annihilating them. That’s not a deal. It’s a ploy.”
Utgar nodded, thinking fast. “We’ll need to agree to something,” he said, “or our men will eventually grow restless enough to start a war on their own.”
“You think we should play along?” Vydar said. “Accept but delay, see what the Empire is planning?”
Utgar nodded. “And perhaps, during that time, an opportunity for a real agreement will present itself.”
Vydar nodded, and they returned to the pavilion.
“I will accept your offer,” Utgar said, stopping before Yiven, who looked as though he might faint from relief at the words. “We will go to Haukeland, taking Wellspring water with us, and you can seal the Wellspring behind us. However,” he added as Yiven opened his mouth, “I wish to send a party of scouts first.”
“Scouts?” Yiven repeated blankly.
“Of course,” Utgar said. “You said Haukeland was cursed.”
“It is a myth,” Yiven protested. “A fable. Just an old story.”
“All the same,” Utgar said, “I will want to know that Haukeland is safe before I send my people there. I suggest we both select three scouts. They can travel to Haukeland, search it for whatever dangers might be there, and then return. If their reports are favorable, then I and those with me will depart immediately.”
Yiven stammered incoherently for a moment, until one of his advisors leaned forward and whispered to him. He regained his composure as she spoke.
“This is suitable,” he said, facing Utgar once more. “However, Haukeland is a week’s journey away by boat. It will take the scouts two weeks to get there and back, not including however long it takes them to determine the safety of the island.”
Utgar had expected this. “Then we’ll have to stay somewhere,” he said calmly. “Helsng, perhaps.”
“Helsng?” Yiven squeaked. “Utgar… There’s a Wellspring there… Surely you can understand… Appearances…”
“Helsng will be convenient,” Utgar said, stepping forwards. Yiven stumbled back. “When the scouts return, you will doubtless want to hear their report as well. Besides, Helsng is closest. My men are hungry, and tired of sleeping on the ground. The least you can do, after keeping them imprisoned in the Volcarren for the last century, is give them a bed and a good meal.”
All four guards had shifted to face Utgar, spears held tightly. He ignored them.
Yiven spluttered in Utgar’s shadow. “I – But – Helsng, Utgar! The – The Wellspring! You realize how that will look, you staying there? Remember the rebels I told you about? They’ll think you’re going to open it. Start a war.”
“I have no intention of starting a war,” Utgar said, “and I will be happy to say so to any who ask me.” He looked down at Yiven. “But we will await the scouts at Helsng.”
Yiven seemed to wither before him. “Yes… Yes, of course. It’s just… Very well. We will await your arrival.” He stumbled backwards, and his aides surrounded him, whispering urgently.
Utgar and Vydar retreated back to the column of Volcarrens.
“The Wellspring?” Vydar whispered once they were out of earshot. “Is that why you insisted on Helsng?”
Utgar nodded. “I’m sure that even now the Empire has scouts in the Volcarren, searching for my Wellspring. Should they find it and seal it while we’re waiting, I’ll need to open another. Helsng is closest. But Vydar,” he added, stopping the Vel, “tell this to no one. I mean to avoid war if I can. This is merely a precaution.”
“Of course,” Vydar said. “I will tell my Vel where we are going, and nothing more.”
He left, and Utgar watched him go. Had he made a mistake by insisting on going to Helsng? Certainly there were any number of villages they could stay at while they waited. But no. The Empire couldn’t be trusted. Utgar needed to be near that Wellspring.
He only hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.