A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  “And could it not be that their actions were born from the desire to save what lives could be saved, and not just the behaviour of the self-serving?”

  “Your words are wise and just, Ez’n,” the Morlan said, conceding the point with a slight deferential bow. “Perhaps we were too swift to judge.” His face hardened as he turned to me again, “But if we were not . . .”

  “Then I expect the offenders to be punished to the fullest extent of the laws of our Treaty, majesty.”

  Janir cleared his throat. “There is no doubt but that they will be.”

  The discussion laboured on. Servants came and went with refreshments and the sun finally sank below the distant horizon. As night closed in around us and the mists began to settle, the Council slowly drew to a close as we reviewed our forces and discussed how best to deploy them.

  Our force now exceeded one hundred thousand men and women yet only a third of them were equipped to deal with the Black Legion. And even given our most recent victory, the losses had been unacceptably severe; doubtless they would have been halved had the Morlans been better armed for the battle. The victory was more a credit to their mettle and loyalty to their king and his allies than it could be to any great strategy. Force of numbers had carried the day, but this would not be an advantage that would serve us long if we exploited it recklessly.

  It was decided that the army would remain ensconced behind the protection of the chasms my magic had opened while the smiths and armourers upgraded the weaponry and armour of the new arrivals. The process would be quite arduous, and even given the incomparable skill of the alliance smiths it would probably take the best part of a lunation to manufacture the ordnance.

  It was a sound strategy. Almost the entire army had reached Mederlana, the Morlan reinforcements joining us swelled our numbers to a vast force not even the Pentageonate Wars had seen, and unless we were immeasurably outnumbered by the Black Legion our chances of ridding the world of their insidious threat appeared reasonably good. So while the smiths and armourers laboured over their forges and anvils, a small army of carpenters and joiners set about felling nearby trees and erecting archery towers and a barbican to protect the edges of the fissures and the rear of our position so that we could not be outflanked by a pincer movement and I opened more vents to give greater protection to the fortifications.

  Our foothold in Mederlana thus consolidated I elected to spend our waiting time in the company of the Kyr-Garrin.

  I had just finished the arrangements for a garrison dinner when Iannos appeared looking most disconcerted.

  “Your pardon Ez’n, but Ambassador Aldrigan is asking to see you.” Iannos said. “He has a number of Morlans with him.”

  “Send him in, Iannos.”

  The ambassador bowed low presenting the man accompanying him as Zarin, Commander of the Kaltharim. The man bent his knee. “May I present my sons, Ez’n?” The captain asked and in response to my consent beckoned in six of the tallest and broadest Morlans I had ever seen. The men were kitted out as archers, clearly not royal bowmen as they carried black arrows with white flights—terror archers, then, I concluded for their arrows were poison-dipped screamers. Standing a good head and neck taller even than Dthor, they formed a densely-muscled wall of colossi that was intimidating merely by the sheer height of them. Not only were they tall but they also seemed identical in every aspect. Zarin signalled to the nearest. “This is Tyrel, my first born,” Zarin said as the young man bowed. “He is the Lead Kalthar of the troop by virtue of being the eldest.”

  “And because he has the biggest mouth.”

  Zarin scowled. “The unspeakably insolent rogue at the end is Tariq, my youngest.” the commander said moving with the speed of a lightning strike to cuff his son for speaking unbidden, “the light of my eyes and the bane of my life.”

  The remaining four young men Zarin introduced in order of seniority as Kel, Rius, Lythor and Tal. It became clear very quickly that the young men were “sitarim” a multiple identical birth, rare in Zetaria and almost unknown in Morla. Zarin smiled. “They came as a great shock to me,” he said with obvious pride, “and an even greater shock to their mother,”

  “I can imagine,” I answered cordially. “It is a great pleasure to meet you.” I turned to Aldrigan, “And so, Lord Aldrigan. May I enquire as to the reason for your visit?’’

  Zarin and his sons bent their knees. “Aldrigan agreed to introduce me to you t’pahq so that I may make my petition. My sons would offer themselves to your service in the Kyr-Garrin.”

  As one man the archers cast their cloaks and bows at my feet and remained with their heads bowed awaiting my word, I turned to Dthor, who merely shook his head in disbelief. “Perhaps you would be good enough to show our new friends to the archers’ quarters, ‘b’zaddi? And I suppose you had best tell Iannos that we will have another six guests at our table this evening.”

  “We would not presume, Lord Ez’n.” Tyrel said, “We have not earned the right to sit at table with you. We must wait until we have proven ourselves to you.”

  “The fact that you fought alongside us this day is proof enough for me, and that will be proof enough for the others.” I turned to Aldrigan and Zarin. “Gentlemen may I offer you refreshment?”

  The ambassador and commander had not long departed when Keelan arrived with Markos and Jae’nt. The king took the goblet of wine I offered him with a nod. “Lord Ez’n, I have received news that I find deeply disturbing” he said gravely.

  “Majesty?”

  “I fear I am being usurped in the affections of my troops.”

  “I have heard no such thing, majesty.”

  “Well of course you have not,” Keelan replied craftily, “you are the one usurping me.”

  “I?”

  “Do not pretend with me, t’pahq,” the king said laughing at what I can only imagine was my expression, “Is it not true that this very day Zarin’s six titans removed themselves from my service and transferred their loyalty to you?” The king laughed again. “Well, good luck to you, t’pahq. Now you have to feed and manage the ogres, not I. I cannot even begin to imagine how Zarin has controlled them this past twenty cycles. A more wilful bunch of renegades I cannot imagine.” And with that the king bowed to me, wished me strength once more and took his leave.

  Markos was grinning all over his face as his father left and took great pleasure in acquainting me with the legend that was Zarin’s six sons. It seemed that many believed that Zarin’s wife had been seduced by Morgul Himself who in restitution to Zarin—because the god, though libidinous was, apparently, an honourable deity—promised that the sons that issued from his concert with Adri, Zarin’s wife, would be titans. “It is the only explanation.” Markos asserted when he finished his tale.

  “That or Zarin’s wife comes from extraordinarily robust Morlan stock.” I answered.

  “True,” Markos responded reasonably. “But I rather like the more romantic version of their birth.”

  People generally do, I thought. I said, “You have clearly been spending far too much time in Faedron’s company.”

  “I wonder if Tariq—or any one of them for that matter—might . . .” Jae’nt began a little wistfully but Markos cut across him.

  “Try at your peril Jae’nt. I hear that a young woman in Dinara, their home town, died after spending but a secta with Kel. Not even the most accomplished healer could stitch her. It is probably myth of course,” Markos added, “but are you feeling brave enough to find out? And of course,” he continued with calculated mischief, “he might tear you limb from limb and eat you for breakfast just for trying your hand on him.” The Crown Prince stared briefly at the roof of the tent before turning his gaze back to Jae’nt. “But I do not suppose for one moment that it is your hand, or even Tariq’s, that you are hoping to try is it, Jae’nt?”

  I left the princes to their banter to get ready for the dinner, smiling at the sounds of them sniping good naturedly at each other in a way I would have never c
onsidered possible but two lunations ago. Clearly their competition over me had waned with the development of my relationship with Dthor, but they still had to compete over prowess in whatever form it took and they seemed to thrive on it; Jae’nt with his teasing of Markos as being “incomplete” for not bedding with men when opportunities surrounded him and offers were so numerous and frequent, and Markos with his taunts that Jae’nt would probably swoon if a Morlan woman took a liking to him and that his manhood would shrivel like a salted slug at the merest suggestion that a ‘real woman’ would take him to her bed and make a “real man” of him.

  Jae’nt received the suggestion that once having experienced a Morlan woman he would never again think of anything else, let alone consider a man as anything that could remotely slake his thirst, with uncharacteristic aplomb replying that though a Morlan woman might take a man to the heavens and back to earth he doubted that even the most skilled of them could fill a man with the same contentment as an experienced Zetan soldier.

  Mind you, I had to admit that Thaze seemed to be doing remarkably well in his pursuit of Karyn; well, inasmuch as she had not broken his nose in response to his flirtations with her. And neither did she seem averse to his attentions despite the number of taunts she had to endure regarding his youth. Thaze took the teases regarding his manly endowments—or lack thereof being “but a child” as the Morlans liked to say—in equally good part pointing out to his tormentors that were he so lacking no woman would look at him, let alone a Morlan woman who by their own admissions only sought real men with equipment appropriate to the task. “And perhaps that is why she is not interested in any of you, my brothers.”

  I had to hand it to the young man that he handled himself well and had become much respected by his Morlan brothers-in-arms as much for his ability to match wits as for his talent in holding his own in a brawl. I had seen him best a couple of the Morlans in both friendly and hostile throw downs, and it had to be said that seeing him and Karyn fighting side by side was a real education in team work. She covered him from thigh to neck with her shield as she had done for Kaleb, and in battle each would strike high or low as the situation demanded with a fluidity that beggared belief and all without a word being uttered between them. And despite the repartee and the high jinks, it was abundantly clear that the Morlans and Zetans alike admired the pair. Even Keelan had remarked on their skill together commending them several times during the campaign for their expertise and courage.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Dthor as he returned from helping “the giants” find suitable quarters with the men. Their arrival, it seemed, caused quite a stir much as I imagined it would and there was currently much excitement and speculation amongst the companions as to whether or not the archers would avail themselves of their services as some of the Morlan Kyr-Garrin had been doing of late. Well, only time would tell on that I told my Consort but for now, all that was on my mind was the forthcoming dinner and the plans for the siege of Illios.

  †

  CHAPTER 27

  THE EYE OF ZOAR

  AS I HAD thought, it did indeed take the artisans almost two lunations to equip the remaining soldiers effectively enough for the War Council to order the storming of Illios. And much as I had imagined, the Black Legion’s builders and joiners had been as equally industrious as our own in making repairs to the city’s ravaged fortifications and had even managed to excavate a siege trench around the curtain wall. Atop its steep-sided motte the city, though far from being unassailable, was a good deal distant from being the softer target it had presented to the Legionnaires. And if the repairs and additional siege works were not sufficient, it seemed that there was a magic user in the city and one sufficiently powerful to prevent the walls from being breached by the ranged attacks from catapults and ballistae.

  The enchantments did not, however, prevent missiles from being fired over the walls and into the city. The fortress also depended on its water from a river that ran under the main curtain wall and though this, too, was protected both by the enchantment and a very sturdily constructed grille. The river itself, however, was afforded no such protection and was vulnerable to any attack we deemed to make.

  Initially there was talk of slaughtering some of the livestock to poison the water, but I had grave reservations about such a course. It would, no doubt, be as effective a way as any to create panic and bring about a breach of the city from within, but when Sirazj made this particular vision known I had to set my vote against it on the grounds that it would not just be the legion that suffered as a result but also those innocents still within the city and any in the hamlets beyond who might also use this river as a water source.

  “We do not even know that there are any innocents, as you put it, within yon city, Ez’n” the Seer rebuffed me haughtily.

  “Neither do we know for certain that there are not,” I responded with equal terseness. “And we are not here to kill the innocent either by act or omission. We are here to mete out justice not indiscriminate vengeance.”

  “The Ez’n is correct.” It was Balten who spoke, and his sudden apparent switch of support brought some suspicious muttering from several members of the War Council. “We must find a more acceptable method. Do you have any suggestions, my Lord Meriq.”

  I could see Dthor and the kings watching Balten and my reaction to him with intense interest.

  “As it happens, I do have an idea which though it will not give us so rapid a result as the suggestion put forward by our honoured Seer, it will, I believe be just as effective.”

  I signalled to Jalin who brought forth a design I had been working on. He unrolled the scroll carefully, using a couple of flacons to hold the plan open.

  “And this is what, exactly?” Sirazj sniffed dismissively.

  “Plans for a dam.” I answered. “We block the river and divert it into the chasms.”

  Janir rose and leaned forward to inspect the design. He began to smile and turned to Keelan who joined him in the scrutiny of the drawings.

  “Masterful!” Keelan said. “And readily reversible when we take the city. My congratulations Ez’n.”

  “And mine,” Janir added. “Let this be started at once. The sooner work begins, the sooner we will break the Legion’s hold on this beleaguered city.”

  As the kings commanded, the builders started work at once, and it was only a matter of days before the river was partially blocked and the construction of the header dam began in earnest as the level of the river began to rise and trickled over the temporary sluice.

  By the end of the settan the builders had completed enough of the header dam to begin the diversion of the water into the defensive chasms where it simply drained away. I did not want to stay the current completely at first. I wanted the Legionnaires to realise that something serious was happening to their water supply. We would then send a herald to offer terms of surrender before cutting off the water completely.

  If the Black Legion refused to accede, they would soon be placed in the unenviable position of having to fight a battle on two fronts, one from outside the city and one from within. A portion of its own ranks would rebel as thirst took hold and the citizens of the city itself would be emboldened by the crumbling discipline of the invaders.

  By my reckoning it would not be too long before the city’s reserves ran out, especially given the fact that we would soon be launching fireballs and volatile oils into the city. I calculated too, that it would only be a short time before the Legion became desperate enough to launch a counter attack in an attempt to destroy the dam and restore the water supply in which case we would simply rebuild and start the process again.

  Locked inside the city with extremely limited supplies of water and no means of acquiring fresh food without attempting to breach our siege lines I felt quietly confident that we could probably breach the city and take it with the minimum loss of life. And though it was clear to me that Balten and his cronies were put out by this more moderate approach when they were almo
st baying for battle, the Crown Prince kept both his personal displeasure and that of his cohort very much in check, and his public face remained very favourably inclined towards me while his private views were much less so, or so Jalin’s intelligence informed me.

  I was quite content with this particular state of affairs. Balten would not stand against me publicly for fear of alienating his most powerful ally to the degree that I might sabotage his plans to take Janir’s throne once the king became too ill to continue. For my part, I had no intention that either my strength or the king’s would fail before we had completed this final campaign. Whatever fate then befell Balten would be determined by his own actions.

  Scarcely had the herald finished delivering the Kings’ conditions for surrender than there was a flash of light and a shaft of fire burst forth from one of the towers and reduced the unfortunate man to ash. And it did not stop at the herald. The flaming lance cut a swath across the plains before destroying the first three ranks of the siege line. Four hundred men vanished in the crescent of fire as the deadly lance began to scribe an arc around the base of the city some thirty cubits beyond the siege trench while those close by were blistered and burned by the intensity of the beam. The men continued to fall back pursued by the flames until eventually the bright beam flickered and failed only to renew its assault further along the apparent limits of its range to where the siege machines and archers were stationed.

  With the element of surprise gone the men were able to move the catapults, siege towers and ballistae beyond the range of the fiery eye atop the tower, and they continued to retreat as the sun gathered strength and the range of the beam increased until its strength began to diminish as the sun passed its zenith and began the slow descent into the west.

  “What in the Name of the God is that?” Janir demanded as I rode to his side.

  I had to confess I had no idea of what it could be, but whatever it was it had a remarkable power and I could not help feeling that we should be grateful that the weather remained cold and damp otherwise the losses would have been far greater. The Medran prairies were renowned for their sudden blazes. A fire deliberately set and as deliberately directed as this weapon allowed would have decimated the assembled troops and destroyed a good part of our ordnance whether we moved it beyond the range of the burning beam or not.