by Tim Stead
“I think it wants me to help it, but it won’t say how or why.”
The dragon didn’t speak for a while, but crouched on the path, blocking her way back to Col Boran. She waited patiently.
“There is something about Shadow that I do not like,” Bane said at last. “Something almost familiar. You should be careful in all your dealings with it. Do not trust it, Callista, not until you know more about what it is.”
“You recognise it?”
The dragon’s head moved side to side, an odd, human gesture. “No. But perhaps I should. I do not know and I do not like it. It has changed since you first saw it.”
“Sharper,” she said.
“Yes, sharper, as though it is becoming more real. What concerns me more is that it thinks that you can help it. Why would it think that?”
“I don’t know.”
Bane’s head moved lower until the glowing eyes were level with the girl’s own.
“There is danger in what we do not understand, Callista,” he said. “Great danger when magic is involved, and do not doubt that what you have seen is very old and very powerful.”
Callista made a small bow to the dragon, inclining her head and body respectfully. “My Lord Bane, you are ancient and wise and I shall heed your words.”
“Be sure that you do,” the dragon said, and without further ado he sprang into the air, the first beat of his great winds scattering dust and leaves and blinding Callista for a moment. When she opened her eyes again he was gone, and there was no sign of him in the night sky.
65 Kordanis Hold
They travelled quickly. Sandaray had formed them up for a march through hostile territory. He had sent outriders well behind the rearguard. If there was going to be any trouble it would come from the rear. Sooner or later, and Sandaray thought it would be sooner, Alwain would learn what had happened in Bas Erinor, and then he would know why Sandaray had been so keen to take his men north.
The colonel had a plan.
He knew that Colonel Karran and Blackwood’s regiment were less than a day behind him, and he regarded them as allies. Lord Blackwood was a proper northerner and would side with Cain Arbak against Alwain. Karran would know that. So would Alwain.
He suspected that Alwain would try to force them to turn south again, and failing that he might try to destroy them. Neither outcome was acceptable to Sandaray.
It all depended on the timing.
His plan was to reach Kordanis Hold before he was caught. The hold had once been a fortress, but had fallen, somehow, before the beginning of recorded history. Now it served no purpose, and was merely a constriction on the road that followed the river gorge north on the Avilian side. It was still a superb defensible position. What remained of the fortress, a mass of low and broken stone, rested on a high knoll beside the river. The road was reduced to a track cut into the knoll and adjacent to the gorge. It was just wide enough for two horsemen to ride side by side in comfort. The old fort dominated the road, and beyond it the knoll subsided into a steep and rocky scarp that stretched away to the east for miles. No horse could climb it.
The hold came into view before noon on the second day. Sandaray encouraged his men to ride up the narrow road and waited for a while as they passed him. He looked up at the rocky knoll, scattered with great stone blocks, and realised that it was even better than he remembered. The thought of assaulting such a position was quite daunting.
He rode up the path with the rearguard and found Willan waiting at the top.
“I’ve put archers on the knoll, among the stones,” the major said. “And the cavalry back from the scarp where they can guard against anyone foolish enough to climb it. What do you want to do about the road?”
“Shields and lances,” Sandaray said. “If we put twenty spikes in a shield wall no horse will charge it, and archers to cover them.”
“You’re really expecting an attack?”
Sandaray shrugged. “I’m hoping that Karran will get here by evening.”
The troops were deployed and Sandaray took up a position on the southwest corner of the ancient fort where he could look down on the road and see what might emerge from the trees to the south. The sun was high and it was a warm day for the time of year, but Sandaray sat and sweated in full armour. It was the least he could do. His men were all under the same order and he could hardly flap around in loose shirt sleeves while they waited for battle.
He made sure that water was brought to them all. Twenty men were tasked with bringing it fresh and cool from the river below and making sure that each and every soldier drank his fill.
They waited.
He sent the men for a late midday in batches, about a fifth at a turn with orders to waste no time. An hour passed like this.
“I see something.”
Willan was standing beside him, and just a little behind. He hadn’t seen the major there until he spoke.
“Where?”
“Those clearings on the next ridge. A single rider.”
Sandaray squinted. Willan’s eyes must have been sharp to see something that far away, but he caught a movement, just a flash of shadow across green grass, and then gone again.
“A single rider,” he said. “One of ours.”
“Karran must be close,” Willan agreed. “Either that or there’s some trouble further down the road.”
Or both, Sandaray thought.
It seemed an age before the rider emerged from the trees again, but now he was a mile closer, and Sandaray could see by the man’s colours that he was indeed a scout. He looked further afield once more but could see no sign of an oncoming regiment or army.
The scout galloped across the open ground before the hold, his horse lathered with the effort, and slowed only when he reached the men on the road below. They parted to admit him and he urged his tired mount up the last few hundred yards and dismounted among the broken stones of the old fortress. Sandaray waited for him.
“What news?” he demanded as the man approached.
“Blackwood’s are an hour away, Colonel,” the scout said.
“And?” There was an ‘and’ on the man’s face.
“They have contact behind them, sir: a regiment of horse, catching them rapidly.”
“Numbers?”
“Can’t say, sir. Hundreds, I think. Karran’s bringing them up as fast as he can, but he could do with support.”
A dilemma. He hated dilemmas. He had a strong position here. He didn’t need reinforcements to hold it against five thousand men, but if he sat here and waited Blackwood’s could be lost. If he gave up this position he could lose a lot of his own men.
Karran had a thousand men, but only about two hundred horse. If he was caught in the open by a large cavalry unit it could go very badly. He’d have to stand and fight. He suspected that Karran, a cautious man, would do the other thing – surrender and go back with Alwain. That would be bad. In the long run it would be worse than fighting.
“I’ll take two hundred horse,” he said.
Willan looked at him. “Sir?” The rest of the question didn’t need to be spoken.
“I need to make strategic decisions, Major. I can’t make them sitting on a rock five miles away.”
“Two hundred will leave us pretty thin on the ridge, sir,” Willan said. It was true.
“I don’t expect enough of them to get past us to trouble you, if it comes to it, Major.”
“How long should I wait?”
“If we’re not back by nightfall I doubt we’ll be coming. Hold an extra day after that in case there’s some pursuit, then take the men home.”
Sandaray had his horse brought and the orders were issued. They filed carefully down the narrow road past the contingent of spearmen and formed up on the broader space beyond. It was still hot, but somehow it was better that he was on a horse with something ahead of him. The necessity of planning drove all other concerns from his mind.
They set off at a steady canter. Five miles at the most, he thought, if they wer
e an hour away. An armoured infantryman could not move faster. It would take them no more than twenty minutes to cover the distance.
It wasn’t a great deal of time, but it was enough. Sandaray already knew that he didn’t want to start a war – a civil war – here and now. He hoped that Alwain’s commander would feel the same, whoever he was. Nobody had had the time to think it through, to work out which course was better for what cause
South of the hold the road narrowed. This was the most dangerous time. He had no scouts out ahead of him and a strung out column was more vulnerable. If Karran had folded quickly he might meet Alwain’s troops here, and that wouldn’t be good. He’d be heavily outnumbered and have no room to manoeuvre.
Luck stayed with him, or perhaps his judgement was vindicated. He was never sure either way. The road opened out after a couple of miles and he was able to adopt a better formation.
There was a horseman on the road ahead. Sandaray recognised him for what he was by his colours – one of Karran’s men. The man rode to meet them.
“Colonel, you are needed,” the man said as he rode up, relief sounding loud in his voice.
“Not too late then?” Sandaray asked.
“Better soonest, sir,” the man replied. They picked up the pace and rode hard across open scrub and over a low hill, ignoring the road which swept around it.
From its low summit Sandaray could see everything. Karran had been brought to bay and had taken the river as his rearguard. He had formed up in a semi-circle between the road and the gorge. It was a good position, but fatal if he lost. There was nowhere to run. Alwain’s cavalry had the road, and had cupped themselves around Karran’s lines, which left them rather thin. Strategically Sandaray had caught them flat-footed.
They saw him almost at once, and a hasty reshuffle turned the cavalry on his side towards him, drawing them away from the gorge, opening Karran’s doorway north. They couldn’t risk being caught between his two hundred and Karran’s full force.
Alwain’s man had brought about five hundred horse – more than he and Karran had together – but not enough to risk an engagement with any hope of victory. Karran had archers and spearmen already drawn up.
He signalled his men to spread out, filling up the gap between Karran’s regiment and the trees, and Karran’s horse moved out to join his line, strengthening and thickening it until the two cavalry forces faced each other.
“A flag,” Sandaray said to the officer on his right and the man handed him a pale cloth which he tied to his sword and raised above his head. This could be settled with talk, he was certain. He rode forward two lengths and waited.
It took a moment, but his gesture was answered, a small group of men rode out of the opposite rank and Sandaray rode out to meet them. They came together more or less in the middle of the field. He recognised the man opposite him of course – a major from Alwain’s own regiment.
“What’s this about, Orisan?” he asked.
“I could ask the same question,” the major replied. “Are you expecting trouble?”
“Nothing that can’t be handled,” Sandaray said.
Orisan looked across at Karran’s men.
“Orders from the duke,” he said. “You’re to come back with me.”
Well, that was bold enough.
“That was fast,” Sandaray said.
“What do you mean?”
“The duke is in Bas Erinor, last I heard.”
Orison looked down at his boot. “Duke Alwain requires that you come back with me.”
“I’ve had the news, Major,” Sandaray told him. “Alwain’s been degraded and Cain Arbak is Duke of Bas Erinor, duly raised up by the king.”
Orisan didn’t answer at once, but half glanced over his shoulder to where his men waited, perhaps wondering if he could force the issue.
“If you want to die here, we can oblige you, Major, but we’re not going back to Alwain’s camp. With what’s transpired I’m taking the regiment back to my lord to know his mind on the matter.” He leaned forwards in the saddle and dropped his voice so that only Orisan could hear. “You’re going to go up against Cain Arbak?” he asked. “For Alwain?” He shook his head. “You know that Wolf Narak is with the king?”
“Alwain is my lord,” Orisan replied.
“That’s open to debate,” Sandaray said. “Your regiment draws from one of the Duke’s holdings.” Orisan’s face betrayed his uncertainty, and that surprised the colonel. A battle here was pointless, especially now. Sandaray and Karran had a definite edge. The latter’s archers could more than swing the balance. One last try.
“I understand loyalty,” he said. “It’s what makes us who we are, Major, but you must feel loyalty to your men as much as to your lord. Why sacrifice them here? Think about the cause, and about the inevitable outcome. You cannot think that Alwain will win.”
Sandaray had already placed his left hand on the pommel of the dagger he had tucked into his saddle. Orisan was close enough to kill with one blow if it came to that.
“Avilians should not kill Avilians,” he said.
“I cannot fault your words,” Orisan said. “But I have clear orders.”
“And no discretion?”
Orisan smiled a bitter smile. “Alwain isn’t a man for discretion, Colonel. Are the rest of your men on the road?”
It wasn’t the sort of question that a commander should answer, but Sandaray knew his position was strong. “They’re at Kordanis Hold, waiting for whichever of us rides there,” he said.
“So we lose here or we lose there,” Orisan shrugged. He began to turn his horse to ride back to his men.
“Wait. Major, this is madness.”
Orisan paused. “I regret that I have no choice, colonel,” he said. “My orders were very plain.”
“Exactly what orders, Major? Exactly.” Sandaray had always considered himself a master of the interpretation of orders. He thought it a necessary skill for a good soldier.
“I am to return with you or not at all,” Orisan said.
“Those exact words?”
“Close enough.”
Sandaray smiled. “Why, then I see no problem at all. You must obey him to the letter.”
“What?”
“He gave you a choice. Fight and die, or do not return. Ride north with us. You will be welcome and may depart when you have a better view of the situation. Nobody will prevent it, and it fulfils the letter of your orders.”
“You know full well that is not what Alwain meant.”
“A soldier is not required to read his commander’s mind, Major, simply to follow his orders.”
Orisan stared at him. “That’s ridiculous,” he said.
“You’d rather die than engage in a little sophistry?”
Orisan’s stare broke into a grin. “Gods and demons, Sandaray, did anyone ever get you to obey a plain order?”
“I’m better at giving them,” Sandaray said. “It’s why they made me colonel.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Of course you can,” Sandaray said. “It’s a simple choice – live or die. Honour, like duty, is a strange beast and you must take it where you find it, even if it lies in deliberate misunderstanding. There’s no honour in the death of your men and mine in a cause you don’t believe in.”
Orisan looked back over his shoulder. His men were lined up, showing good discipline. They were waiting for his word. Sandaray could almost see the major’s mind working, trying to accept the new door that had been opened for him.
“Have you met Cain Arbak?” the colonel asked.
“No. I’ve been to the tavern, of course,” Orisan said. They all had. It was a sort of ritual in the Avilian army. Sandaray didn’t know an officer who hadn’t taken a cup in The Seventh Friend in honour of the general. “You?”
“Seen him twice,” Sandaray said. “Never had an excuse to speak to him.”
Orisan tightened the reins on his mount. “Well,” he said, looking up at the sky, “if he’s t
he duke I’ve got to report to him for orders.”
66 The Hand of Circumstance
Francis didn’t mind being pushed aside. He had no desire to rule Afael. Everything he had done, the plotting and the killing, had all been for the good of the city and its people. Indeed he did not distinguish between the two. Yet for all that he could not help but feel frustrated at the direction the council was taking, the foolish decisions they had made.
They had begun a witch hunt. The only thing preventing the city dissolving into chaos was the reluctance of the city regiments to cooperate. Francis had made sure that they would feel this way by speaking to the general, and the people the council sought had suddenly become hard to find.
He understood. The councillors were new to power, and they had yet to master its moderation. They had been oppressed for years, suffered at the hands and boots of fractious dukes who cared little for their subjects and took shameless advantage of the king’s weakness. But Francis believed that emulating the people they had overthrown was foolish, wrong and likely to see them meet the same fate, and he had said as much in open session. They had ignored him.
Dock Ward had been at this game longer than most of them, and Francis had quickly learned that a little foreknowledge was essential. He had established a network of informants throughout the city in the weeks since the first council meeting, and so he was the first to know.
It was pure chance that the information came to him on the morning of a council meeting, and he decided to hold back. It was a risk. Another councillor could learn of it and steal his thunder, but he was prepared to take the chance.
He was deliberately late. The council was in session when he entered with Keron at his side. The man who was speaking stopped, frowned his disapproval, then continued with his oration. He was decrying the need to spend money on rebuilding in the wards close to the city wall. Francis took his seat and nodded to Keron. Keron walked around the table and leaned between two of the delegates and wrested the speaking stone from the speaker. Other members of the council stood and shouted their disapproval, but Keron strolled back around the gathering and handed the stone to Francis.