By the end of the third day the rollers had already started making inroads to the plain and the main tents gradually began to disappear to be replaced by sleeping spots as the men prepared to take up the march once again.
Dawn of the forth day broke to a light drizzle. The roller-men rose quickly tacking up the horses and harnessing themselves. They set the equipment into motion and began ploughing into the vine at an alarming rate keen, it seemed, to prevent the briar from taking on water.
Fortunately the shower remained very light and lasted just over a secta. Enough to cause slight problems in some parts of our planned route, but nothing that was likely to result in serious harm. The sky lightened steadily and the heat became more and more intense with each passing secta. By mid morning the roller-men were having to stop more frequently to water the horses and themselves, but it meant that as noon approached the army could begin to march on across the plain. If the weather remained as hot as it was at present we would be through the briar by noon of the next day.
Not wholly satisfied with my prediction the kings ordered the rollers to work through the night and for the men to march on behind them. Janir was determined we would lose no more time than we had to as much, he said in the privacy of his tent, to ensure that I did not exhaust myself keeping his health. He would not risk me any further than he already had.
Sunrise found me still in the saddle, tired and aching. The days spent in the comfort of the marquee sleeping on the palliasse with Dthor had softened me. I had initially grown able and almost accustomed to riding all day and then through the night, but not so much on this day.
When the sun was well clear of the horizon the generals ordered a halt so that the men might rest and eat. We would take two sectas to rest up before setting out again.
“I think this is a mistake,” I confided to Dthor as Aarin poured out his brew and began to work his culinary genius on the field rations. He had a knack with the dried meat, it seemed and had managed on several occasions now to render it edible and even appetising—much to Faedron’s chagrin, but the youth being somewhat fond of the corporal always managed to make that little extra which he would pass on to Maegor. “Just to annoy the corporal,” Aarin said with a little smile.
Dthor took the bowl from Aarin’s outstretched hand and glanced to where the generals and royals had settled. “In what way error?”
“Well, we have marched the men solidly for four days and two of those we marched and ridden through the night. We are in hostile land with no idea where our enemy might be since we were unable to scout through the briar. Now we are stationary with an entire army of very tired men who will be hard pushed to fight should the need arise.”
“Do not underestimate the mettle of our men, ‘b’zaddi. Both the Zetans and the Morlans are build from strong stock. They will find the means should the need arise.”
“I hope that is so.” I answered. I turned to where Polo was sitting just shy of an arm’s length from Dthor’s feet. “Polo. Will you be good enough to summon Orrin for me? When you have finished eating, Polo,” I added quickly as the boy leapt to his feet almost overturning his breakfast bowl. “Nothing is so urgent that you should upset your meal!”
“Your pardon, Lord Ez’n.” The boy went the colour of rubyspike and settled back by his Captain.
“That boy takes his duties extremely seriously,” Dthor said laughing as Polo downed the broth and shot off has if he had been fired from a ballista.
“He is certainly keen!” I smiled.
Moments later Orrin and a couple of other kayetim arrived. I despatched them almost at once to scout over the area.
The plain had lost much of its level and had now given way to a series of fells and rolling hills. These were not particularly high or steep but rather long slow rises which reduce viewing distance considerably. I, for one, did not want to go marching up one side of a hill to come marching down the other side of it straight into a battalion of the enemy. Superior numbers or not a surprise encounter would do the men no good at all and, like as not, we would end up either with significant losses, heavy injuries or both.
Keelan, Janir and the generals received news of my scouting initiative with mixed reactions. Korlaq, uncharacteristically and rather disturbingly, supported the decision stating that he thought it strategically perfect. Balten, too, gave his unwavering support and even Queen Eilen, who had spent much of the march and all of the meetings placing herself in conspicuously out-of-the-way locations during proceedings, voiced approval. Janir gave me a dark look which I affected not to notice, and when I was certain no-one was looking I shot him a small grin and winked. Clearly he was unsettled by the sudden disappearance of the usual acrimony, but given the agenda I had developed with Balten it was quite clear to me that he had briefed his cronies on the importance of keeping me “sweet”.
“I think it unwise to delay longer,” Keelan said suddenly. “We should push on.”
I leaned forward slightly. “I would advise that we wait a little longer, Your Majesty. We should wait on what the kayetim report. We are marching blind at present.”
Orrin and his men retuned just as the kings were about to order the men on. Much as I had suspected there were Legionnaires waiting just over the second rise. Orrin estimated around four thousand, but he had his men had not wanted to venture too close in case they were spotted.
“There was a group of ten men about half a cord from the main troop under the White Pennant.”
Janir shot me look. I shrugged. The White Pennant was an indication that the men wanted to talk, though Zoar alone would know what they wished to discuss.
Keelan frowned. “Why the white pennant now?”
I considered for a moment. Orrin reported approximately four thousand men. Clearly this contingent would be no match for any army numbering over fifty thousand; they were outnumbered more than ten to one. Tired or not the men would wipe them from the plain in one charge.
Janir turned to Keelan and the Council. “Then, gentlemen, I suggest we take a stroll towards them and find out what it is they want.
Keelan nodded his agreement. “I will take my honour guard, my mounted kaltharim and two companies of infantry. The rest can follow at their leisure.” He turned to Korlaq. “See it is done.”
The General saluted and left to muster the officers and men.
Markos shot his father a look. “K’val, Abbu. Varathniya ‘adrinlech!”
Keelan smiled. “Of course it could be a trap. You think I have grown so old and stupid not to have already considered it?
Markos bowed his head. There was something in his demeanour that made me feel suddenly uncomfortable. It was as if some kind of unseen and dangerous signal had passed between them. Markos straightened up and looked his father squarely in the eye.
“Atishan, Abbu?”
Keelan smiled and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Vir an atishan, abbi, dovar?”
Dthor frowned at me. I signalled him aside.
“If not now, my son, when?” I translated. “At least that’s the gist of it. I am liking this whole situation less by the minute.”
Dthor nodded. “I feel this is not going to end well.”
For Janir’s part he elected that the White Guard should flank him and he would take the same type and number of troops as Keelan. Balten would bring the main army with Korlaq and the officers and hold them ready to attack should the need arise.
We moved slowly and deliberately towards our waiting enemy, carefully pacing ourselves and remaining acutely aware that even the horses would be tired from the previous days’ exertions. We could at least try to be as fresh and alert as our physical conditions would allow.
As we mounted up and began to move Orrin ran up beside me catching hold of the hem of my cloak. “A moment if you would. T’pahq.”
I reined Vyrnath in. The kayet indicated that I should dismount, a request which made me feel even more disquieted that I already was. Vyrnath lowered himself for me. �
��Orrin?”
“Walk with me.”
I stepped up and began to stroll with him. Vyrnath loped behind us. He began initially talking of little nothings, the actual scouting process he and his men had used to gather the intelligence but once we were a more discrete distance from the main body of troops this changed.
There was something wrong with the ground ahead of us. He did not know what, but he suspected there might be spike pits or some similar traps waiting. The disturbances in the surface of the plain were not something he could identify with any certainty—he did not, after all, know anything of the area and it all might be nothing. I somehow doubted this. Orrin nodded gravely.
“There is one more strange thing,” he added as I went to mount.
“As if we need more strange,” I quipped laconically.
“I broke away from the main scouts and went about ten cords to the south. There is some kind of movement there. There grass is very long, well over man height but something is coming through it. I could not detect any glow of crystal even through the long-eye. But something is coming.
“Probably re-enforcements for our devious friends,” I hazarded.
“I do not think so, t’pahq. But I think you should warn the Council.”
I nodded, finished mounting and cantered off to find Janir and the generals.
Janir and Keelan groaned simultaneously at the news of the disturbances to the south. They greeted the intelligence regarding the topography of the intervening ground with a modicum of caution and agreed that should the need for a charge arise, the men would be warned to watch where they put their feet.
“I am still extremely unhappy with this whole situation, Majesties,” I said as we started to crest the hill.
“Ah, Meriq,” Janir said patting me cavalierly on the shoulder. “I do not recall telling you that the office of Ez’n would bring you joy.”
“No,” I answered flatly. “you did not.”
“Then I am certain you will find some solace in my lack of deceit.”
The king gave me a broad, immensely self-satisfied smile and rode on.
†
CHAPTER 33
A SACRIFICE TO JUSTICE
SURE ENOUGH, as Orrin had told us the Legionnaires stood ranked row on row about a cord beyond the second rise. They lay like a tar pit across the plain staining the bright green grass with just their mere presence. And again, as Orrin had reported there stood the group of ten men mounted on black horses resting under a long, broad white pennant. Janir moved to where Dthor and I watched positioning himself between us. He put his hand on Dthor’s forearm.
“Lord Consort? Opinion?”
“I think the pennant is a lie,” he said turning to face the king square on. “I do not believe these men are honourable in any manner.”
“You are probably right, Dthor,” the king answered reasonably, “But we are men of honour and we will not serve The God or ourselves well if we make ourselves into our enemy.”
With that the king returned to his own guard. Dthor turned to me. “That is true enough, but I do not like this, little dragon.”
“Just be ready.” I told him. “Jae’nt!”
The Prince Royal spurred his mount around to my call and trotted up, closely followed by Tariq who now never left his side. “Take Tariq and his brothers, watch your father—and theirs—closely but discretely.”
“As you command, t’pahq.”
We rested on the crest of the hill watching as our ten-man truce delegation rode slowly down towards the legionnaires. As the men approached several mounted archers moved out from the front rank of the legion to form a crescent. The coalition delegates paused momentarily and then rode on.
As we watched and waited I found myself growing ever more restless and anxious. The talks seemed interminable. Then, as if in answer to my growing frustration, one of our delegates turned his mount and began galloping back towards us. Even with his mount and full run it appeared to me that he took forever to reach us.
“Your Majesties.”
“General Kalen,” Janir nodded. “You have news.”
The general coughed and smiled. “I have. They want us to turn around and go back.”
“No surprises there, then,” Dthor observed.
Keelan and Janir exchange glances a little short of amusement and astonishment.
“Four thousand mongrel pisspot cleaners are telling an army of this size to retreat,” Keelan scoffed, “I think I will declare this day a National Rest Day when I return to Morla just to celebrate their sheer gall.”
“There are probably more of them further ahead.” I offered.
Janir just laughed. “Then let them come.” He turned his attention to General Kalen. “Tell our friends we have considered their offer, and generous though it appears we must respectfully decline.”
Keelan was less diplomatic. “And for my part tell them to go shaft themselves with Bane Briar.”
Kalen coughed. “I think King Janir’s message will be better received,” he replied and turned his mount.
“Mayhap,” Keelan grinned, “But mine would have been more amusing and entertaining to watch!”
Again we sat, watching and waiting as Kalen returned to the delegation. I guessed he had barely finished speaking when we saw the archers level their bows. The delegates were downed and their horses breaking for our lines before any of them realised they were dead. Not content with taking the men, the front rank of archers loosed volley after volley the horses until the last of them fell.
Keelan let out an enraged roar and drew his battle swords. Dropping his reins he kicked his mount bellowing something to it in Morlan. The steed reared angrily, kicking at the air with its forelegs and the monarch charged down the hill followed and eventually flanked by his selected cohort.
The sudden explosion of action from Keelan startled Janir’s horse and it was a little while before he managed to gather the beast. “What in Zoar’s name does that mad man think he is doing?” The king shouted.
Markos glanced at me, and I swear I could see tears. He turned his attention to Janir. “He is doing what he must, King Janir.”
“He’s committing suicide. Go! Go!” This to his own guard as he kicked his own horse on and fled in pursuit of the Morlan.
“This is the biggest, most incredibly stupid piece of shit strategy I have ever seen in my entire life,” Dthor declared. He turned to me, “Ez’n? What now?”
I gave my Consort a pained look. “Now? Now we follow our king—it is what we do. Polo, sound off.”
As Keelan’s contingent crossed into the flat ground hides burst open all around them spewing out Legionnaires. The black clad men took full advantage of their element of surprise, leaping up and dragging startled men from their saddles before driving crystal daggers into their necks.
The Kyr-Garrin, on the other hand, were not to be taken by surprise having followed on. The titans, skilled as they were loosed deadly triplets of tipped screamer arrows taking the attacking infantry out.
“Tariq! Behind you!”
Jae’nt’s warning came a breath too late as a legionnaire jumped on to Tariq’s mount and grabbed him around the neck. The archer caught the man’s knife hand more by chance than design and large though he was the young man simply could not shake his off his lithe attacker who had successfully locked himself to the archer’s back winding his legs around the young man’s waist to give him the extra purchase he needed.
Jae’nt dropped his reins and jumped up on his horse’s back. “Valdek!” he shouted and the horse turned as he shifted his weight and began to gallop towards Tariq.
I had always known that Zetan cavaliers were skilled horsemen, but I had never seen anyone execute the manoeuvre Jae’nt was now engaged in. As he drew close he pulled his spike axe from his belt and launched himself. He landed just behind the attacker bringing the gold dipped spike down in the centre of the man’s head. The black casque exploded into dust and the ferocity of the Prince’s blow d
rove the axe clean down to the man’s shoulders.
The force of the encounter took all three men to the ground. Jae’nt clambered to his feet blood spattered and equally blood mad. He shoved Tariq aside. “You will not have him.” He bellowed again and again as he hammered the axe into the fallen man. After allowing him a few blows Tariq grabbed Jae’nt’s arm.
“Peace, ‘b’zaddi. He is gone.”
Jae’nt eyes cleared momentarily and he took Tariq’s arm. “They will not have you. Not while I yet breathe.”
Leaping back on their mounts the pair rode on.
I cast around, trying to find some sign of Janir. I spotted him some way off, hacking his way towards Keelan who was fast becoming swamped by the sheer numbers who had made him their primary target. Markos too, was fighting on foot alongside a group of Kyr-Garrin hoplites trying to reach his father.
It was then that I caught sight of Zarin struggling with a couple of assailants who were trying to unseat him. “Jae’nt, Tariq!” I shouted signalling towards the Commander. The pair nodded and whistling to the others as they headed towards the stricken man.
By the time the group reached Zarin he was already being dragged down by half a dozen men. Jae’nt jumped from his mount to Tariq’s startling the archer and unseating him. Even with his momentum interrupted the prince reached Zarin’s attackers sinking his dagger in one and splitting a second man’s jaw with the axe in his off hand. The titans crashed over the scene like a massive siege engine, using their darts, knives and bladed bows to kill anything that was in reach.
With the immediate area clear Jae’nt moved over to Zarin and offered him his hand as the man struggled to rise. Zarin merely glared at the prince and stared over to where Tariq sat slightly winded from his second fall. The man hauled himself to his feet ignoring the offered hand and stalked off to where his mount stood waiting. He did not even bother to acknowledge the prince.
Then it came. A blood chilling howl rent the air with such force that it seemed to still the very sounds of the battle. It was Markos. Never had I suspected that a man could make such a sound but as Keelan disappeared under the sheer weight of the men attacking him the Crown Prince let out such a cry that I though his very soul had been torn out through his chest.
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