Free Witches of Kregen by Alan Burt Akers

they know the ground.”
    “Aye.”
    “Although soon you’ll be breaking beyond the river to the north and attacking the Racters in their own lands.”
    Then I told him of the astonishing request received from Natyzha Famphreon, the dowager kovneva of Falkerdrin, that, owing to the unfortunate but inescapable fact that she was dying — or considered herself to be dying — she wanted me to ensure the legal inheritance of her son Nath, who was regarded as a weakling.
    “But she’s the chief biddy of the Racters!” exclaimed Inch.
    “Certainly. But she seems to think I’ll make sure Nath gets his dues.”
    “As a Racter,” put in Brince, “his dues come at the sharp end of a sword, or the edge of an axe.”
    “But,” said Inch, and he put his head on one side in a most comical-wise fashion, “if the Emperor of Vallia ensures his safe succession, he might renounce the Racters and join us. That would be a stroke!”
    “My thoughts exactly.”
    “When—?”
    “When Natyzha shuffles off to the Ice Floes of Sicce. By Krun! The gray ones had better look sharp when she gets there.”
    The laugh came easily. The future did hold a gleam of brightness through the gloom. I told Inch I’d make arrangements to transport his troops. He said he was sorry to see them go, for they were veteran fighting men.
    “You’ll get ’em back the moment we’ve finished Jhansi. Then we hit north.”
    “Look after ’em, Dray. And those two archer regiments, splendid, splendid. Endrass’s Avengers, and Ernelltar’s Neemus, they’re dubbed. Fine fellows.”
    “We’ll hit Jhansi from the east, you’ll carve him up from the west, and when we meet in the middle, you’ll have your regiments rejoin.”
    Making it sound casual, as though it had already happened instead of only being in the offing, I  said, “I’m going to split Vennar down the middle, north to south. Turko will take his half into Falinur, and you your half into the Black Mountains.”
    Inch just said, after a pause: “I give you thanks, Dray.”
    “Now,” and I spoke briskly. “Where’s Salvation the Second?”
    “Do what?”
    “My fluttrell.Is he ready?”
    “He’s been fed and watered, and no doubt perched for the night—”
    “Then he’ll have to be dug out.”
    “You mean you’re off—”
    “Of course! By the Black Chunkrah! An emperor can’t spend his time lollygagging about when the empire is falling into wrack and ruin! You have to be up and about. I’m off to the Blue Mountains.”
    Inch opened his mouth, shut it, said: “Give the lahal to Korf Aighos for me.” Then he bellowed for his lads to ready the fluttrell.
    Very soon, under the Moons of Kregen, I shouted down the remberees and took off, flying south.
    “Remberee, Inch!”
    “Remberee, Dray!”
    The wind blustered into my face and the fuzzy pink moons light fell about me as Salvation the Second bore me on to the next stage in this venture.

Chapter eight
    A flying visit to High Zorcady
    Korf Aighos was pleased to see me. I flew into High Zorcady with the pangs of memory tingling, and made damned sure my portable possessions were firmly chained down.
    Great rogues and bandits are the Blue Mountain Boys. The province of the Blue Mountains owes the utmost devotion and loyalty to Delia. They knew my mettle from of old. They worshipped Delia’s children. Apart from those few, anybody else was fair game.
    High Zorcady remains always for me a place apart, lofting high on its crags above the pass, eerie and awesome, cupped by mountains, shielded by clouds. High Zorcady frowns down from the mists. Yet it is a place of color and liveliness, where Delia and I have spent many happy times.
    Korf Aighos, his eyes still that brilliant blue so unusual in a Vallian, still strutting with a swagger, and yet half cautious as well as half arrogant, not a tall man but possessing a massive chest and arms corded with muscle, made me welcome. I will not detail our transactions, for essentially they