Wrath of Kings

by Glen Cook

  He was nothing in this world. He was as powerless as a worm. How else could he punish their crimes?

  Sahmanan had followed him from the darkness. “How do I release you?” he asked.

  She tried to explain.

  “When next we meet,” he said, cutting her short. “I’ll give you my answer then. I have to think first.” He went to his sleeping place, curled into a fetal ball. He was learning a whole new breed of fear.

  Dreams came. They never stopped. And this time he did not waken for a long time. He lay in that one place for what seemed an age, unmoving, while the stone beast used the last of its power to show him the world, to proselytize him, to teach him what was needed of Nawami’s Deliverer.

  Seldom were Ethrian’s dreams diverting.

  TWO: YEAR 1016 AFE

  A TIME OF CHANGES

  “HE’S COMING! He’s at the Gate of Pearl!” Chu enthused.

  Ssu-ma Shih-ka’i looked up from the morning reports. He was a stocky, muscular man with a bull neck. He possessed a porcine air. He looked more like a wrestler than the Tervola-commandant of a legion of the Middle Army. “K’wang-yin, comport yourself as befits an Aspirant.”

  Chu snapped to attention. “I’m sorry, Lord Ssu-ma.”

  Shih-ka’i stepped from behind his desk. “You’re always sorry, K’wang-yin. I find your endless apologies offensive.”

  The youth stared over his commander’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i ground his teeth. This one was hopeless. Tervola-spawned or not, this one would not have been elected in the old days. War losses should not justify lowered qualifying levels.

  Shih-ka’i remembered the old standards with an almost reverent pride.

  Ssu-ma Shih-ka’i came of peasant stock. His brethren among the Tervola never forgot that his father had been a swineherd. He did not let them forget that he had come through his Candidacy in the days of the Princes Thaumaturge, when only the best of the best had scaled the slippery ladder leading to membership in Shinsan’s elite.

  Jokes about his paternity still haunted Tervola gatherings. They no longer mocked him to his face, but his successes had not changed their secret prejudices.

  He had learned much during his Candidacy. He had developed a thick hide and a perseverance which had carried him far beyond the heights his electors had expected him to attain. He was a stubborn, determined man.

  The Tervola made great show of keeping their ranks open to every child of talent, discipline, and determination. The show was mostly illusion. Ssu-ma would remain an outsider to the old-line aristocracy. He would sire no sons on their daughters. His daughters, if ever he fathered any, would not be mated by lean, pale sons of the Power such as this scatterbrained chela of his.

  K’wang-yin apologized again, killing the silence born of Ssu-ma’s moment of introspection. His commander fought the gratification such obsequiousness caused. He had them in his power for a time. He made or broke them. That was sufficient. Only the strong survived. He growled, “K’wang-yin, if I hear one more apology, you’ll do a month of primary training.”

  Chu began shaking.

  Shih-ka’i looked at pale, twitching cheeks and knew this one would never be accredited Select. Not while Lord Ssu-ma cast the deciding vote. He was too damned timid. “Make a proper report, K’wang-yin.”

  “Sir!” Chu spat. “Lord Kuo Wen-chin has approached the Gate of Pearl. He requests audience with your Lordship. Commander of the Guard’s respects, sir.”

  “Better. Much better. You’re on the right trail. Step outside. Wait two minutes. Compose yourself. Do it again. Knock before you enter.”

  Chu’s cheek twitched. “As you will, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i seated himself behind his desk. His gaze returned to the morning reports.

  He did not see them. Lord Kuo! Here! He was amazed. What did the man want? Why would he waste time visiting a peasant-born training legion commandant?

  Shih-ka’i’s legion was the Fourth Demonstration. It accepted a crop of three-year-olds each spring. Over the next eighteen years of their lives it made of them the most dedicated and feared soldiers the world had ever known.

  With the exception of a few brief postings, Shih-ka’i had been with the Fourth since childhood, his talent and will driving him upward against the prejudice and inertia of nobly born Tervola. He had been the legion’s commander for two decades. He was proud of the soldiers and Selects he produced. They advanced swiftly wherever they were posted. His superiors believed he was the best at what he did. They extended themselves to keep him happy with an assignment usually given Tervola in heavy disfavor. There were no honors to be won commanding a Demonstration legion.

  Shih-ka’i had drifted into a professional cul-de-sac. He knew it. Recent changes in the political climate, with younger Tervola ousting Ko Feng’s older circle, made his future appear all the more bleak. Though apolitical himself, he was among the oldest and most tradition-bound of the senior Tervola.

  Lord Kuo had come. What could he want but to rid himself of another of the old guard? Already Ko Feng’s followers had been stripped of their army and corps and Council positions. They had been awarded unimportant postings in the moribund Eastern and Northern Armies. Ko Feng himself had been stripped of his immortality and honors. He had gone into a self-imposed exile rather than endure demotion. Had the purge acquired a life of its own, like a demon carelessly summoned? Had it begun to strike simply on the basis of age?

  Shih-ka’i was frightened. And he was angry. He had survived the Princes Thaumaturge, Mist, O Shing, the Pracchia conspiracy, Ko Feng, and had given offense to none. He was a soldier of the empire. They had no right, no grievance. He ignored politics and power struggles.

  The door responded to gently tapping knuckles. “Enter.”

  Chu stepped in and reported. This time he was perfection itself. He had conquered the electric excitement Lord Kuo generated wherever he appeared.

  “That’s better. Much better. Our first mission is to conquer ourselves, is it not? Lord Kuo, eh? What do you suppose he wants?”

  “I don’t know, Lord. He didn’t say.”

  “Uhm.” Shih-ka’i was not satisfied with the hand now guiding Shinsan’s destiny. From afar he perceived Kuo Wen-chin as too idealistic, naive, simplistic, and uninformed. Two years ago he had been a corps commander of Shih-ka’i’s own Middle Army. He was too young, too inexperienced. Still, he had momentum. He had charisma. He filled a need for new leadership, new ideals, given birth by the failure in the west. Maybe new perspectives could mend the wounds in the spirit of the legions.

  “Shall I greet him, Lord Ssu-ma?” The Aspirant glowed with eagerness.

  “Can you comport yourself with restraint and respect?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i was disgusted by the pleading note in the youth’s voice. Nevertheless, “Go, then. Bring him directly to me.”

  “Lord.” Chu whirled, and surged toward the door.

  “K’wang-yin. If you embarrass me, you’ll do a whole year in primary.”

  Chu froze. When he resumed moving his face was calm and his pace sedate. His frame stood rigidly erect.

  Shih-ka’i permitted himself a small smile.

  Lord Kuo Wen-chin waved a thin, almost feminine hand as he stepped into Shih-ka’i’s office. “Don’t rise, Lord Ssu-ma.” Kuo doffed his cruel silver-and-jet wolf’s mask. Perforce, Shih-ka’i accepted the informality and removed his own facepiece.

  This was his favorite jibe at his brethren. It mimicked a boar in a killing rage. One tusk was of quartz, the other of ruby, as if to imply that one tusk had just ripped an enemy. The mask as a whole had a carefully crafted battle-scarred look.

  Tervola invested a great deal of thought and Power in their badges of station. It was said that a skilled observer could read a whole soul from a well-made mask.

  “You honor us, Lord Kuo.”

  “Not really. I need you, so I’m here.”

  “Uhm?” S
hih-ka’i considered his visitor. Almost feminine features. Smaller than the run of Tervola from the older lines. Attractive, but in a female sort of way. He reminded Shih-ka’i of the Demon Princess, Mist, whom he had encountered occasionally during her brief reign.

  “You know what I represent. Change. New blood. A clean sweep of associations with Ko Feng’s ill-starred ventures.”

  “Don’t forget that Lord Feng’s group brought us annexations of epic scale.”

  Kuo waved one of those delicate hands. “Nevertheless… There’s Western Army. Twice defeated. Once under the Dragon Prince, again during the Pracchia gambit.” In this empire, an empire unaccustomed to defeat, even an appearance of defeat was unpardonable.

  “Ko Feng could have won at Palmisano. He withdrew rather than risk losses which might have damaged the stability of the legions. He was a methodical man. He would have anticipated the cost to himself. He withdrew anyway.”

  Kuo looked irritated. He took a moment to control himself. “We can’t, of course, know what would have happened had he chosen to stand. Lord Ssu-ma, I didn’t come here to argue. I don’t want to exhume our yesterdays.”

  No, Shih-ka’i thought. You want to bury them deep, and with them everyone who made them. And with them all the good of them, lest someone remember and compare. “Tomorrows. Those interest us all, don’t they? Speak to me of tomorrows, Lord Kuo.”

  Kuo brightened. He smiled an effeminate smile. “You mis-estimate me. I’m not here to dismiss you. I do want to rusticate you, though. To Eastern Army.”

  Shih-ka’i’s stomach dropped a hundred feet. So. The purge had burst its political bounds. “I’m not a political creature, Lord. My business is the creation of soldiers. I do that quite well.”

  “I know. I did my Candidacy with the Fourth Demonstration. I’m sure you don’t remember me. You were a brigade leader at the time. But I remembered you. You impressed me.”

  “Uhm?” Shih-ka’i kept his feelings concealed. He did not remember Candidate Kuo. Was the man about to requite some slight?

  “Lord Ssu-ma, I want you to command Eastern Army.”

  The world fell away again. “Lord! I… I’ve never held a field command.”

  “You’ve directed the Fourth in field exercises. It’s been at corps strength because of our replacement demands. I think you can handle it. You’re the man I want. You have the stubbornness of Ko Feng without his limitations. You think on your feet. You get jobs done. More, you’re an older Tervola. You have no discernible political bias. You’ll fit into the gap between myself and the recidivists I rashly banished to what looked like a sessile frontier army.”

  Kuo’s brief rule had bewitched Shinsan with its amazements and marvels and unpredictable decisions. Here was another of the same.

  “But my background…”

  “Irrelevant. Completely irrelevant. You’re Tervola. You’re trained to command. If I set you to command, none will deny me. Lord Ssu-ma, will you accept Eastern Army?”

  Outwardly, Shih-ka’i remained a man of stone. Within, he flailed about, trying to grasp something, anything, that would give him a grip on a turbulent reality. Command of an army! Even of the diminutive Eastern Army… It was an honor he never had dared hope to attain.

  “When?”

  “Right away. I need you out there.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “No one is quite sure. For lack of anything better to do, they’re exploring the desert that stopped their advance. Patrols have vanished. They’ll fill you in when you get there. Will you accept the command?”

  “Lord… Yes. I will.”

  “Good.” Kuo smiled. “I thought you would.” He produced a small scarlet badge that resembled the face of a man with a beak instead of a nose. The badge of an army commander. There were just a handful in existence. It took the convocation of the entire Council of Tervola, with mighty sorceries, to create one. Shih-ka’i accepted it humbly, wondering who had worn it before him. He would have to learn its history and honors.

  “You should start east with whatever staff you need as soon as I find someone to replace you here. Your army will consist of the five legions currently posted. I had planned to withdraw two before the disappearances began. Northern Army will be available in reserve, though I’m reducing it to corps strength.” Kuo went on to explain that he was stripping all the armies in favor of the southern frontier.

  “But… we have twenty-six legions there already.”

  “The Matayangan situation is worsening. They’re trying to lure us into giving provocation for a pre-emptive strike. They want to hit us while the legions are still under strength. We’ll give them a surprise if they do.”

  Shih-ka’i nodded. Shinsan had expanded too fast recently. Civil and foreign wars had drained the legions. The army was strained, trying to hold the present frontiers. Losses denied it manpower usually devoted to assimilation and re-education of conquered peoples. The empire had become a fragile structure. “What about the west?” The Tervola feared the west more than the numerically stronger south.

  “I’ve told Hsung to normalize. To avoid confrontation. To shift his emphasis from the military to the political. They’re vulnerable in their disunity. Intrigue should be his weapon of choice. It could be decades before we avenge our dead. We have to digest what we’ve taken.”

  Lord Kuo impressed Shih-ka’i now. His inflammatory demagoguery had been, apparently, a device to push Ko Feng aside. Today he was talking a more realistic response to the empire’s problems. Maybe he could reverse the trend toward chaos that had set in with the deaths of the Princes Thaumaturge.

  Their swift parade of successors had shattered stability by warring among themselves while launching unwise foreign adventures.

  “I’ll be pleased to command Eastern Army. I’m honored that you think me competent. I’ll begin selecting staff today.”

  A faint irritation flickered across Kuo’s face. He was being dismissed—he. Then he smiled. Ssu-ma could not shake old habit. Younger men were trainees… He rose. “I wish you luck, Lord Ssu-ma.”

  “Thank you.” Shih-ka’i wasn’t really listening. He was engrossed in his work once more.

  He had to hide in the training reports for a while. This stroke of fortune would take some digesting.

  Shih-ka’i found that he had to guard thirty-four hundred miles of border with thirty thousand men. The eastern legions were, at least, at strength. None had been involved in the ill-starred western campaign.

  He also had to govern and keep the peace in the military frontier zone.

  His predecessor had done the obvious and employed local auxiliaries. They weren’t much. The peoples of Shih-ka’i’s new proconsulate were all savages. Only a few tribes had a Bronze Age level of technology, though storytellers spoke of a past age of greatness. They had revealed a few ruins in support of their claims.

  Shih-ka’i followed the lead of his predecessors and made his headquarters with the Seventeenth Legion. The Seventeenth’s zone of responsibility faced the questionable desert. The legion had taken all the reported losses.

  The Seventeenth had raised a stout new fortress just miles from the edge of the badlands. Shih-ka’i arrived to find the commander engaged in a vigorous program of exploration. One wall of the fortress’s main hall had been plastered smooth. Legionnaires were painting in a huge map, bit by bit, as exploratory teams contributed details. Shih-ka’i did not bother visiting his new quarters before going into conference.

  He strolled along the one-hundred-fifty-foot length of the wall, studying and memorizing each detail. At one point he asked, “Does it truly begin this suddenly?” He indicated a line near the floor, where green gave way to brown along a well-defined line.

  The commander of the Seventeenth, Lun-yu Tasi-feng, replied, “Virtually, Lord Ssu-ma. It fades from forest to grassland to dust and sand within a mile. Were the wind not blowing consistently eastward, the desert would crawl this way like an unstoppable army.”

  “R
ainfall?”

  “Considerable, Lord. Both here and there. In the desert you can watch the clouds pile up against these mountains, but nothing grows.”

  “Uh-hmm.” Shih-ka’i studied the sketchy outline of the mountain chain. “Rivers?”

  “Several flow out. The only life we’ve found is a few fish that have swum upstream. They don’t travel far. They find nothing to sustain themselves.”

  Shih-ka’i let his gaze wander. In time, he asked, “Elements of the Seventeenth were involved in the war with Escalon, were they not?”

  Tasi-feng replied, “I was there myself, Lord.”

  “Does this compare to the desolation created there?”

  “It’s even more thorough, Lord. The thought occurred to me too. I’m operating on the assumption that the land was smitten by the Power, though we’ve yet to find certain proof.”

  “Historical research?”

  “Nothing on record anywhere, Lord.”

  “It’s very old, then. What about oral traditions among the tribes? I’ve heard there are ruins in the forests. Have you tried to determine their age?”

  “The tribes say there was a war among the gods. The ruins are at least a thousand years old. Probably a lot older. I have my leading necromancer working in the best preserved city. He hasn’t been able to determine more.”

  “Have you consulted Outside?”

  “Demons either don’t know or won’t tell.”

  “I see. How many men have you lost?”

  Shih-ka’i listened to an exact recitation of every detail known about a dozen group disappearances. Tasi-feng indicated their last known positions on the map. Each party had reached the mountains. No other pattern was apparent.

  “Have you tried high altitude search?”

  “Birds refuse to fly over the desert, Lord. I wanted to send a dragon, but my request was refused. Too many perished in the western campaign, they say. They say they need to breed their numbers up. Personally, I think they’re as frightened as the birds.”