A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  The two kings stared silently into the fire for some time after I had finished speaking. General Korlaq was looking at me as if he would like to tear out my throat, but there was nothing new in his general hostility so I resolved to ignore the man. I was fast coming to appreciate why even Markos found the man hard to stomach.

  At length Janir rose and poured himself a generous measure of wine. Keelan followed suit passing a goblet to me and then to Korlaq.

  “And it did not occur to you to speak to me before this, Meriq?” Janir demanded angrily.

  I regarded the king somewhat stonily. I had already explained that I had never been susceptible to visions and Anubis had never taught me to scry or read the auguries. “I had no reason to suppose that it was anything but a bad dream, my king.”

  The king sighed and sat heavily. “I am sorry, Meriq. I am not angry with you, just with this situation.”

  “Your Majesties,” Korlaq said quietly, “you are considering an attack on Mederlana for no reason. It is entirely possible that King Varrin has spies here and as a result of intelligence provided by them he has conducted a pre-emptive strike.”

  The monarchs turned from the general to me. “Well?” they said in unison.

  “That of course is possible, but I think it improbable.” I paused to order my thoughts. It was, as the general said a possibility, and quite plausible. In point of fact it was more than likely that Varrin had spies in Kalina; no doubt he also had them in Alfasia, Cassandria and Morla. I was already receiving information from the agents Anubis had planted around the continent. But a pre-emptive strike? I rather doubted it. Varrin had never been a monarch who had any time for either magicians or even priests. I very much doubted that the Medran king had either the resources or the contacts to muster an army equipped with what were clearly extremely powerful arcane weapons. Anubis’ own sources in Medravia had indicated as much in their despatches to him.

  “And exactly how current is your intelligence, Ez’n?” Korlaq demanded in a tone I did not quite like.

  “Current enough for me to be reasonably certain that this army comes from elsewhere and not from Mederlana.” I answered curtly.

  Janir set his goblet down heavily. “Ez’n, assemble the White Guard without further delay and ride to Polis.”

  “As my king commands,” I answered.

  From the information gleaned from the Kosian herald, the Black Army was on foot. By my reckoning they would cross through the mountain pass at Kos and arrive at Polis in about ten or twelve days. The Kosian had been certain that there were no cavalry, only hoplites, halberdiers swordsmen and a troop of archers. Their black armour it seemed was impervious to conventional arrows although javelins and spears thrown from the walls had taken a number of them down although this seemed more a matter of luck than anything else with the spears and some arrows striking through joints or gaps between the plating.

  By my reckoning we could arrive in Polis a couple of days before the Black Soldiers if we were mounted.

  “And if we can get across the River Tarn,” Dthor-Aid’n stated.

  I groaned. I had not considered the river. The Kosian had crossed it on horseback, but with the winter breaking ever more rapidly it was entirely possible that the river, a good three days’ ride from the Capital, would be thawed and probably swollen by the time we reached it. The ford at Lira would like as not be impassable and it was equally unlikely that the cable ferry would be running.

  “I do not suppose it ever occurred to anyone to build a bridge?” I asked of no-one in particular.

  Dthor-Aid’n grinned. “The river is a natural barrier Ez’n. It is a powerful defence against any foes from the north—and we have none in the south.”

  “That is all well and good, Captain,” I retorted, “but it is at times like these when time and speed is of the essence that a bridge seems like an extremely good idea to me.”

  “As you say, lad, it would be useful at the moment.”

  “Well,” I said at length, “I suppose it is time for me to head down to the barracks and see who will join me on this foolhardy mission.”

  “You have my sword, Ez’n.” Dthor-Aid’n stated rising with me, “That is if you will have it,” he added quickly.

  “And mine,” Aenar added.

  “Mine too,” Jae’nt’s voice from the kitchen doorway brought be about, “Also if you will have it, Ez’n.”

  “May I suggest Malek and Thaze?” Aenar said as we made our way to the barracks.

  “The Kourbis lout?” Dthor-Aid’n sounded outraged.

  “He is a little green,” Aenar conceded, “and despite his history with you, Ez’n, his skill with the blade is exemplary. The best I have seen in a long while. You could do worse.”

  “But not by much,” Dthor-Aid’n grunted then relented. “Actually I have to agree with the Provost Ez’n. I just don’t like the youth. And what of Malek? He is untried also is he not?”

  “He has a couple of campaigns behind him—that trouble with the bandits in the North for one.” Aenar answered, “He is also a little green, but again his heart is valiant and his skill is sound.”

  “I am content to be guided by your choice, Aenar.” I turned to Dthor-Aid’n, “and by yours also Captain Dthor-Aid’n.”

  In the barracks I found no shortage of volunteers. News that the White Guard was being assembled that very day had travelled as if by magic from the King’s quarters to the men’s. I had decided that I wanted only about a dozen men for the journey and since speed was of the essence every one of them would have to be able to ride.

  When I finally made my way through the crush of volunteers I found myself at the ingle a mere arm’s length from where Maegor was sitting cradling his tankard of ale. I picked my way over to him.

  “I am assembling an expedition to Polis, Maegor. I was wondering if you and Faedron would join me.”

  The sergeant regarded me rather coolly. “Well of course Faedron will go. I am surprised he is not already at your heels, Ez’n. For my part, I will think on it.”

  I felt as if the man had slapped me in the face. “Thank you Maegor. I would truly welcome your expertise and your company. Perhaps you will let the Captain know what you decide.”

  Suddenly the cloud was gone from the sergeant’s eyes and he rose. “Forgive me Meriq, I do not mean to be surly. I am not quite myself these days. It would be an honour to ride beside you.”

  “I am pleased you consider it so, my friend.”

  As I turned away from the table I found myself confronted by Markos and a handful of Morlans. The Prince made a formal salute before bending his knee to me.

  “I hear that you are planning an excursion in search of hostiles, Lord Ez’n. These men and I would be honoured if as part of our nations’ alliance you would let us join the White Guard under your command.” He turned slightly gesturing to each man in turn. “This is Ursus, javelin and sword, Kaleb, swordsman-cavalier first class, Tomas lancer and swordsman first class, Orrin, trapper, scout—and kayet.” The prince added quickly when he saw me scrutinising the crest on the man’s cloak. “Karyn,” Markos presented a young well-built woman of about twenty, “is a skilled fighter, shield maiden and an accomplished healer”. Each of the men saluted and bowed in turn; Karyn merely nodded her head. Markos turned once more bringing a young archer forward. “I believe you are already acquainted with Kylos,” the prince said, glancing briefly at Aenar, “cavalier-archer first class, dart master—and my younger brother.”

  “I am deeply flattered that such men should offer themselves, Prince Markos, but what has your father to say of this?”

  Markos looked slightly bewildered. “Why would my father have anything at all to say of it? I am my own man as are my brothers-in-arms. Morla and Zetaria are allies—one army are they not?”

  Dthor-Aid’n gave me a dark look that faded almost at once. “There is sense in the young prince’s words, Ez’n. It can only strengthen the bonds between our two worlds.”

  �
�Aenar?”

  “I am with the Captain on this, Lord Ez’n.”

  “And I,” Maegor said as I turned to him.

  I extended my hand to Markos. “Then it is settled. We are the White Guard.” I turned to Dthor-Aid’n. “Perhaps you would despatch Polo to the king and tell him the force is mustered and we will leave at dawn. Let us prepare.”

  The group set out just as the sun began to climb over the horizon. The men were quiet, almost subdued, as we rode to the main gate. Aenar and a couple of the men paused to throw a coin or two to some street-walkers who were still about making a tryst for their return. And who could blame them, I thought? Not I. Even if I did not hold with prostitution I could not find it in my heart to chastise the men for seeking comfort from the thought of warmth on their return, especially since Aenar and Malek both had family in Polis. Even a couple of the Morlans followed suit—a gesture which I observed Markos feigned not to remark even as one of the women approached him offering her favours on his return to the capital. The prince smiled thanking her for her gracious offer and politely declined. Jae’nt, on the other hand was not so coy and tossed the woman a gold piece. He gave Markos a pert, challenging smile before kicking his mount on to bring him level with me and Dthor-Aid’n.

  “No trysts for you Captain?” Jae’nt asked.

  “The Captain’s mind is on loftier matters,” Faedron stated before Dthor-Aid’n could answer. “Besides,” he added in tones not quite sufficiently low to be discreet, “the Captain is saving himself for his one true love.”

  “A man of character and principal, then?” Markos remarked as he drew up next to us. “One should respect such qualities, Faedron, not make light of them.”

  The frosted plains stretched out before us like a sheet of bleached parchment. The ground was firm, the going much easier than we had at first anticipated. The horses, stabled for much of the winter began to snort and champ at their bits, as if they sensed we were about to give them their heads across the meadows.

  We rode hard for most of the morning, covering as much ground as we could. It would be a good three-day ride to the river crossing and if the gods were kind the waterway would still be frozen well enough for us to use the ford.

  We reached the ford at the end of the second day. The ice had broken and the river was running fast and treacherous. I stared disconsolately at the torrent.

  “Well, it was worth the try,” Maegor said as we turned the horses south towards the shelter of a nearby dance of trees we had identified as a potential camp site should we need it. “The river will be a good deal slower downstream, and we will be passing Dragon Springs.”

  “Aye,” Aenar said with a smile, “and I for one could do with a soak in the warm pools just to get the cold out of my bones.”

  And so it was decided. Stopping at the hot springs would not delay us by much, no more than the detour had already thwarted us at any rate, and I had to admit the idea of bathing in the heated waters was most appealing.

  When the horses were settled I set out with Kylos and Orrin to collect firewood and as we moved among the trees I became acutely aware of the tracker watching me.

  “Is there something you wish to say, scout?” I asked eyeing the assassin’s crest pointedly.

  “It is not proper that you should be doing this,” he said, “You are a lord.”

  “Well, scout,” I answered, “I have decided to take a page from the Morlan book and not ask my men to do anything I am not prepared to do myself.”

  The man fell silent and moved away, disappearing into the shadows a few heartbeats later.

  “It is the way of the kayetim Lord Meriq,” Kylos explained as I peered after him, “their ways are a little strange. But,” he added as I passed we set to tying the wood we had collected into faggots, “we need have no fear of hidden enemies while he is with us. Even now I suspect he is observing from the shadows.”

  I gave Kylos a searching look. “I do not find that particularly comforting.”

  “You need have no concerns for his integrity, my lord,” Kylos said. “You are probably safer under his eye than your own Captain’s.”

  When we returned to the camp the men had already started several fires and Karyn and Faedron were engaged in preparing food and the others were organising the watches.

  As I settled by the nearest fire with Maegor, Ursus and Jae’nt, Dthor-Aid’n approached me with a piece of parchment. “The watches, Ez’n. I thought the princes could take watch together.”

  “I don’t much care for that idea,” Jae’nt responded as Markos joined us. “I would prefer not to have to try to watch my back all night.”

  A silence fell on the squad as if every throat had been cut. Markos gave a small smile, “An unreasonable concern, Prince Jae’nt, since this is not a barracks and I am not a Zetan.”

  “Enough!” Dthor-Aid’n said grimly and cracked their heads together. “This is the Ez’n’s Guard and I am its captain. You are soldiers and will do your duty accordingly. Now get to your watch!”

  The young men jumped to the feet and were gone in an instant, narrowly escaping the kick Dthor-Aid’n aimed at their backsides as they went.

  “Remind me never to annoy you Captain,” Faedron said as he began serving hot broth from the kettle.

  “You constantly annoy me, Faedron,” Dthor-Aid’n said with a smile.

  “What brought that on I wonder?” I said sipping the broth carefully.

  “Just two young bucks locking horns,” Ursus said.

  “Aye,” Maegor nodded, “they will get over it. It’s probably something to do with a girl or a b . . .”

  “I would not finish that sentence if I were you, Sergeant,” Ursus warned.

  Maegor shrugged. “Ursus, young men are young men as well you must know. When the sap is rises the tree cares little for where the branch goes.”

  The javelineer gave a wry smile, “Zetan theory, I suppose.”

  “Experience.” Maegor replied raising his tankard in salute. Ursus knocked his own cup against Maegor’s to return the gesture.

  Well, I thought, whatever the cause of the apparently sudden acrimony between the young princes, it could not be over soon enough for my liking. Relationships between the two armies were at best tenuous and oft times strained. A conflict between two very public and significant figures such as the princes would do little to ease this and would, like as not, encourage dissention. The veterans’ reassurances that the youths would sort out their differences without any outside arbitration did little to set my mind at rest, least of all because Maegor, though polite, seemed almost reserved and quite ill at ease with me of late, and this was becoming more evident as we moved further away from the capital.

  My musing was interrupted by Karyn who knelt suddenly beside me with a platter of roasted roots and plains-fowl. “I hope it is to your liking, Lord Ez’n. Morlan food can be a little spicy for those not accustomed to it.”

  I took the plate with a nod. “I am sure it will be fine, my lady.” And indeed, it was better than fine. Not only was Karyn an accomplished healer and skilled fighter, she appeared to be a fine cook as well. The bird had been stuffed with various savoury roots and nuts and seasoned with some kind of hot, peppery spice. “My compliments to your skills, my lady. This is delicious.”

  We ate in silence, a tribute to the craft of the cook, so Ursus said. It was considered a good sign in Morla if a meal passed in silence—it meant that the food surpassed comment and was being enjoyed mouthful by mouthful. I found I had to agree with him.

  As we began to settle for the night the men began to pair off. Faedron set his cloak out near the fire and signalled to me. “In a moment, Faedron,” I answered. “I should like to sit a while.”

  The corporal settled himself, wrapping himself in one edge of his thick winter cloak to ward off the cold of the night air. Aenar passed me another tankard of broth, starting slightly as he found Kylos standing beside him, his cloak thrown back over one shoulder.

 
In the flickering gold of the firelight the youth looked like a statue carved from honey-coloured glass.

  “It seems you are one alone, Provost,” the archer observed gesturing to where Maegor and Dthor-Aid’n lay paired up next to Malek and Thaze. “May I offer you the warmth of my cloak for the night?”

  The veteran gaped like the victim of a surprise stabbing. “I—er—that is . . .” he stuttered.

  I almost laughed. The notion of a veteran of Aenar’s standing being tongue-tied by a perfectly routine offer seemed vaguely ludicrous.

  “I think the Provost may be concerned as to whether or not it is proper for him to accept.” I told the young man.

  Kylos smiled. “Ah! I see. But I would be repaying the debt I owe you for preventing my fall. It is my duty,” he paused and gave Aenar a smile that left nothing to misinterpretation, and leaning close to Aenar’s ear as he set his tankard by the hearth he added so softly that I barely heard it, “and it would much please me. Besides,” he added loudly enough for anyone to hear, “we will be sitting watch together, it seems only sensible.” So saying he took the dagger from his quiver strap and handed it to the veteran, his eyes only leaving Aenar’s to look directly at Kaleb who was watching him quite intently from the adjacent hearth. “Since you are the swordsman, this is probably better in your hands, ‘b’zaddi.”

  I awoke almost as soon as the sun cleared the distant horizon. A hefty hoar frost lay over the ground making it clear to all that had we failed to keep the fires stoked through the night we would most probably have frozen to death in our sleep.

  Beside me Faedron stirred sliding his arm over my chest and pulling me so close to his chest that I could feel the waking hardness of his loins in the back of my leg. I shifted slightly but with just enough movement to disturb him from his slumber.

  “Your pardon, Meriq, I was dreaming.”