"Anyone?”
"Yes. People just let you down, I’d rather do it alone."
The driver smiled fondly.
"You see now Bo. Absence breaks children. Some like my son find surrogates in the worst of places, misdirecting their energy drinking, playing cards and fighting long into the night. Others like you, are perhaps more complex. You manifest an unhealthy ambition and I suspect push everyone who tries to get close to you away. I’ve met men like you. No less damaged Bo. No less damaged. You leave everything behind determined prove to the world you can be your own master.”
Bo was silent now and felt a hollowness in his gut gradually grow.
"Am I wrong? What drives you boy?"
Bo didn't respond, but he knew the answer. A truth he had never considered. A feeling he had never questioned.
Rage.
CHAPTER TWO
Narubez
"Imperator." The aged Palace servant said to the half-dressed man standing at the vaulted window looking out onto the city. The wrinkles on his neck below a near bald head marked him for at least fifty summers. Despite this though he was in excellent shape, standing straight with muscles visible under the fitted tunic.
Galtus did not turn from the window and after another respectful pause the aide tried again. "Imperator, it's time."
"Yes." His master finally replied, still watching the city buzz, light stretching out to the horizon far below the Imperial Palace.
"Is everything okay, Imperator?"
"I want to speak to Yarrian."
"Shall I cancel the dinner?"
"No, he's at home I believe. After".
"Good. You missed lunch. I’ll send for him immediately, but you must eat. Mendrus said it will make you ill-mannered and too quick to decide matters."
"Thank you, Loci." He said with no slight grumble.
He's worse than mother
The manservant left and Galtus pulled himself away from the view.
Where are my damned shoes? I am Emperor of all Narubez, yet still I must sit and listen to priests and merchants prattle.
The regularity of state meals would kill him one day, he was sure of that.
"Get my shoes!" The Emperor barked at no one in particular.
Two bells later the same aide whispered in his ear at the head of a long rectangular table packed with people and food. The Emperor judged he had been amicable enough to each guest, listened to a mix of court gossip and feigned sympathy for some injustice or another to befoul the wine prices.
Or was it olive oil?
As he had done countless times before, he departed early from disappointed guests due to unexpected and urgent business, seconds before the dessert was served.
Yarrian was waiting in his suite by the time he had made his way up to the residences.
"Yarrian, thank you for coming so quickly."
"I serve at your pleasure, Imperator. How was the meal?"
"A distraction."
"You need that every now and again, Imperator."
"Oh don’t you start Yarrian.”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. I can think of better ways to wind down anyway."
"Well, yes I suppose so."
"Why haven't the Assembly destroyed Komet’s fleets, Yarrian?"
"Oh." Yarrian said slightly surprised by the question. "They bicker over who should hold the honour, sir."
"Honour or trust?"
"Er... Both, but yes. Mainly trust. Not only that though, the pirates supply most of the slaves to the markets. Almost all the Senators have some interests in that. At the very least they require cheap labour for their farms and estates. Piracy raises transportation and indemnity costs, but it's offset by the cheap supply of human capital. Eradicate the menace and Carrid might find itself with a shortage of workers. Wages will go up until fresh supplies of slaves can be found somewhere else."
"Ha, they will have no shortages, half the desert is living in Carrid now and half of Carrideans are already out of work because of the slaves."
"They wouldn't do it though, sir. Not now, not slave work."
"See. Weak, Yarrian. The Republic is a mess, what right do they have to lord over any of us when they can barely keep their own house in order."
"Those old men, perhaps. Not the army."
"They're the head of the snake. Rot in the brain wastes everything else down."
"You want to make a move? Against Komet, don't you?" Yarrian said with a knowing smile. "I can always tell when you've been working on a plan."
"Loci can too." He laughed. "He keeps telling me to get some sleep. The cooks and manservants are the real power in the Palace, you know that Yarrian? A dozen orbiting tyrants ordering me to rest more and eat right." The Emperor joked.
"They worry you will burn out."
"I’m bored, not tired. Our forge is stoked, the hammer is hard. What we lack Yarrian, is something to pound."
"So, Komet."
"Yes." He said. Then grinning wryly continued, "to begin with... Unlike Carrid our politics can be considered stable. Everybody is in line with..."
"You, sir?"
"Exactly. Mostly anyway. We live in a harmonious house now. Almost fully re-armed and the Republic have all but congratulated us. Never said a word."
"There are many in the Senate who thinks the terms of surrender forced on us were too strong."
"As they should. At least some finally realise we were stabbed in the back. Made to take all the blame. Pay reparations to even damned Taleese, our fucking two faced ally."
Yarrian knew his Emperors position on the treaty that had ushered in a new era on the continent. The spy had often puzzled over the Imperator’s bitterness for a matter which most of his countrymen had forgotten and he, without question had benefited the most from. Galtus could never have ascended to such heights unless Carrid had shattered the traditional order of Narubez. An upstart needs chaos. A country in crisis, its people desperate for someone to return the order and predictability that made their society possible. Yet few men possessed the required vision and determination to walk into the civic storm and force upon the madness an in-human will.
Galtus made it look effortless.
When the chaos has metastasized, you must meet it in kind.
He didn’t seek to restore order at first directly on the crumbling state, instead preferring to knock down the last of the empire’s foundations. Private debt was cancelled, political enemies killed, almost all institutions abolished and re-conceived. The entire system was levelled.
A fresh start, that’s what we all needed. What the empire needed.
And history will be judge of that. Nevertheless, Galtus’ fresh start was particularly bloody and it took cycles before he finally felt stable enough to begin looking outward.
"They don't want a fight."
"Well they're going to get one."
"Sir?"
"If not us then someone else will step out of line first. Carrid will either have to move troops in or ignore it. In which case the curtain has fallen. Their reign of peace is revealed to be what it really is. A big nothing. Paper agreements signed by self-interested parties nearly a century ago. Well the times have changed and so have the interests. The alliance have royally fucked themselves in the Quoroubi and I’m not going to let them extricate themselves easily."
"We should not be the first to act though, Imperator." He said respectively.
Galtus almost snapped at this but checked himself before it had a chance to escape into his expression.
I like Yarrian. He is only concerned for the Empire. For me.
"Yes, Yarrian. I know that. However, we must be prepared for the inevitable. Carrid's hegemony is cracking in every corner and it is no position to do anything about it.”
"They may not want a fight sir, but if they feel threatened…"
"Naturally. If we take control, what will they have they left? Nothing. A skill-less populous, ancient infrastructure, a bickering and ineffectual
Senate."
"Disproportionately older citizens too."
"And as we've discussed that played no small role in the motivations for the Quoroubi campaign. So many people…"
"Where do the pirates fit into this?"
"Those damned pirates have spread like a plague. Carrid have the only active naval force capable of containing them and they've done nothing. This is an opportunity Yarrian. We will gain much support from the people, not just our own, if we crush them. Rid the world of the terror at sea. Do what Carrid chose not to do. What they had a responsibility to destroy. Dokra's always complaining about his men having no real combat training. Let's flex some muscle and not a snotty Senator or high-born Princeling can say a word against us. We're fixing a dangerous problem, that's all."
"Carrid will make a fuss about our fleets"
"They know about them anyway. Just pretend not to."
"Yes." Yarrian confirmed. "And what will we do with Komet's ships?"
"We keep them, of course. How many do they have?"
"Hundreds of warships now. More support vessels."
"Excellent."
"And the other... stuff?"
"I think it's time, Yarrian."
"Are you sure? We have achieved so much these last few cycles, but I fear we are not ready. They still outnumber us. They’ve got more land and resources. Bases and deep-water ports everywhere. I'm not sure if... If we could win yet."
"We can't at this moment. Soon though. We've had to sit here and watch them annihilate our allies in the desert. Every pathetic state around us thinks they can push their luck at any opportunity and then simply run back to the Assembly when we object. No, it's time. You and Dokra can spend the winter chasing pirates while we prepare for the next cycle.”
"Winter sailing is going to be dangerous. If we lose the fleet, that’s the only…"
"Indeed, it will. Pirates don't sail much then either I am told. I don't want to fight them at sea, Yarrian."
"What are my orders?"
"Locate their fleet, forts and officers. Infiltrate their ranks. Admiral Letimus will take command of our ships and escort Dokra’s legions in the transports.”
"I'll assemble the teams."
"Step by step, Yarrian. Get Dokra the information he needs, and we'll work out a plan that gets the job done quickly. Doesn't need to be bloody. Not Naru blood anyway."
"Yes, Imperator." Yarrian said before he paused. "Sir, would you allow me to come back to you with a few ideas for what my men could do. In a supporting role to Dokra of course."
"I was hoping you would, Yarrian. It's a lot of ships and we don't have the crews to man them, even factoring the academies. Make it clear to the prisoners that they either come and work for us or they die.
"They are not going to... integrate well."
"Well, give them something. Land, whatever I don't care. But they help us in the coming… Troubles."
Yarrian bowed and left the room.
"Send for Dokra!" Galtus shouted out to his aide, as he pushed himself back in his chair and clasped his fingers together.
I was expecting more resistance from him.
CHAPTER THREE
Quoroubi Desert
To the relief of all the Scout Rangers, the sun had finally dipped below the horizon and the welcome chill of dusk’s shadow crept towards them one dune at a time. Rill liked to watch the sun set in the desert, gazing up at the warm sky, beautiful strokes of red and burnt umber highlighting the clouds as the dimming rays reflected up from the scorched orange sands.
It was about the only thing he liked.
And not worth it.
Salt flies and over-sized mosquitoes competed with one another for space on exposed skin. The insects buzzed manically, determined to secure a purchase on these rare and prized sources of moisture moving slowly through the baked wasteland.
“We nearly there?” Canno asked no-one in particular, swatting away an insect from the back of his neck.
“Why don’t you ask Kellick.”
“He’ll just tell me to shut up.”
“I can save him the trouble, Canno.” Dash said with gruff impatience. “Shut your damned mouth! One more complaint and I’ll have you on latrine duty for the rest of the week.”
“I wasn’t complaining, sir. Just asking is all.”
“So, you weren’t about to say it’s getting dark?”
“Err… Well.”
“Exactly, quit your moaning.”
Canno increased his pace, muttering to himself. Rill watched his friend’s familiar, slightly bowed gait as he walked ahead. The ranger was far shorter than most of the other Ravens, but unusually broad. He had the appearance of a pit bull, huge shoulders carried on stubby legs.
With a sigh, Rill turned to give the lieutenant a knowing smile. The rest of the Ravens were as hot, tired and bitten as Canno, but all knew to leave any complaints, and rebuke for them, to him.
Every company has at least one man like Canno. Angry. Honest to a fault. Lost. We’re all lost though aren’t we. Broken men each and every one of us. If it wasn’t for the army, we’d probably be dead by now. Funny that. Rill thought to himself, starting to lose his own temper again with an exceedingly tenacious gang of flies.
And the soldiers marched on, bell after bell, single file dragging their feet through the sand. Forty-five of the Republic’s famed Ravens. Elite warriors and heroes of every young boy in Carrid. The tower’s barbed arrow. Slighter men than typically made up the rest of the infantry. Rangers tended to be wiry, quicker in body and thought. The Pikes drilled relentlessly in the flawless execution of manoeuvre while the Swords excelled in shield work and breaking through the pinned ranks of the enemy. By contrast, the rangers operated far behind enemy lines, working autonomously in small units, making an art out of ambush and lightening strikes. They alone, with the exception of the Republic’s spies, monks and mages were trained to think independently and act decisively.
Dangerous qualities in a soldier. Which is why they’re always checking up on us.
Canno wasn’t alone in his disdain for the war in the Quoroubi, they all hated it. The desert tribes were not playing the right game, at least not the game the Ravens wanted them to play. The Chieftains had standing orders not to engage the Republican forces, preferring instead guerrilla tactics, in which they almost outclassed the Rangers.
Almost… Depending on the day. It’s their backyard though.
Mounted warriors would appear out nowhere from behind dunes and crags, firing a volley or two of razor sharp flint arrows from their saddles into the unsuspecting soldiers before disappearing again just as quickly. Rarely did the missiles kill, but the wounds were terrible. Flint did not leave the body easily.
That of course was their plan. Wear the Carridean forces down. Drag out the war for as long as the Republic still had the will to fight. Stay in the game and send as many wounded soldiers back to the Capital as possible.
Injured men cost the Republic more than the slain. They still needed paying.
The tribal elders lead their people in a traditional, perhaps even by Carridean standards, backward manner, but they had the measure of their enemy well enough. Their greatest ally were the Carridean people and with enough crying mothers the republic would be forced to withdraw at some point. What is total war for them is little more than opportunism for Carrid.
Except they aren’t going to last that long. That may have worked, but the Shaa is in the field now.
“Lieutenant.” Captain Kellick called, and Dash jogged up to the front of the line.
“Yes, sir?”
“We’ve got company. Don’t look.”
“Don’t look where?”
“Anywhere. But they’re North-East. At least two riders.”
“There will be more then.”
“Aye.”
“So, we can’t make camp yet.”
“Actually, I was thinking we should.”
“Sir?”
“Up there.”
He pointed to a rock formation jutting out from the sands three dunes ahead. “Pitch the tents, light a fire and wait for them to come. They will expect us to have our guard down.”
“Yes, sir.” Dash said with a nod. Kellick had no shortage of good ideas. “Company!” He shouted, loud enough for all to hear. “We make camp yonder!”
The Ravens pitched their shelters and then silently abandoned them. Waiting instead in sandy foxholes bow distance away, hidden from view. The orange pastel sky grew darker, fading into blackness as the temperature plummeted. The Ravens waited, bows strung watching their warm fire grow dimmer in the distance, the sweet smell of whatever Bor had put in the pot adding to their frustration. The moons wheeled in the sky and still the men waited. No one had come. No one had slept.
Gods, I hate this war. Rill sighed to himself, shivering in the cold as the blue morn broke the darkness far off in horizon. The flies hadn’t slept either, but at least they had eaten.
CHAPTER FOUR
Drorea
"Oh, let him in." She said, waving at the door.
Only her son Citalley, would dare to argue with the large battle-scarred soldiers who personally served the Danor family in the Palace. Dalia too, though perhaps differing in method.
"He will only keep yelling." She finished, speaking mostly to herself while inspecting the nails of her left hand. The sole heavily armoured guard in the room strode towards the door, steel capped boots clicking on the stones with every step. The door seemed to open almost before his gauntleted hand had a chance to rap on the iron frame reinforcing the timbers.
A young man dressed in formal funeral wear stormed through the opening, red faced, continuing his verbal assault on the two men. He halted in front of the Queen, who was dwarfed by the massive darkly stained wooden chair, on which she appeared to perch rather than sit.
"This is outrageous, father never..."
"Oh, calm down Citalley. They are only following orders." Acalley replied as her gaze moved to fix on the polished arm of her husband’s throne. "I told them I needed some time alone to think." She continued, sliding her hands along the varnished surface, still not looking at the Prince.
The Ravens of Carrid Tower Page 2