by Anthony Ryan
He smiled and shrugged. “Something to ponder on the trail, I suppose.” All humour faded from his face as he turned back to Vaelin. “Don’t die here, brother,” he said before striding onto the barge.
Vaelin watched the craft draw away from the mooring and join the line of barges, soon slipping beneath the huge iron portcullis that guarded the entrance to the harbour. The portcullis fell as soon as the final barge departed, chains rattling and iron squealing. It birthed a tall wave as it crashed into the water, causing the few remaining barges to bob at their moorings.
“Won’t the Tuhla try to block the canal?” Vaelin asked Sho Tsai.
“Commander Deshai assures me they could never cover the distance in time,” the general replied. “Why would they when they have so many other fleeing people to amuse themselves with in Keshin-Ghol?”
Sho Tsai called out to his son, who duly hurried over and snapped to attention. “General!”
“Burn those.” Sho Tsai pointed to the bobbing barges. “Any avenue of retreat, however slight, may weaken the men’s resolve.”
“At once, General.”
“I thought you might have promoted him by now,” Vaelin said as the apprentice officer hurried off, shouting orders for the Red Scouts to light torches. “He’s performing the duties of a captain, after all.”
“He has been a soldier for less than two years,” Sho Tsai replied. “The Merchant King decrees at least five years’ service before promotion can even be considered.”
“You still cling to such things? Even now?”
“Do you throw off your Queen’s Word simply because times are troubled?”
“No, but I will endeavour to find room for interpretation.”
“Brother!” Vaelin turned at the sound of Ahm Lin’s call, finding the mason hastening across the quay. “The tune,” he said, coming to a halt, face grim. “It changed.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“How many?”
“See for yourself.” Sho Tsai stepped back from the spyglass and gestured for Vaelin to take his place. Peering through the eyepiece, he was struck by the clarity of the image, the steadily approaching riders appearing close enough that he could make out the details of their armour. Taking hold of the glass’s tripod, he tracked the device across the ranks of the Stahlhast, making careful note of the banners he saw.
“I count six different Skeld,” he said, pausing the glass in surprise as it alighted on a familiar sigil, a hawk, wings spread wide. “All told, over thirty thousand strong, I’d say. The Ostra amongst them,” he added to Luralyn.
Together with Ahm Lin, the three of them had climbed the tall tower rising from the centre of the city to view the Stahlhast’s arrival. The spyglass, a giant tubular contrivance far larger than any Vaelin had seen before, sat atop a brass tripod in the centre of a bare platform covered by a tiled roof but open on all sides. As a result, a constant northerly wind swept through the chamber, buffeting those inside and forcing them to converse in raised voices.
“I was expecting the horde entire,” Sho Tsai said.
“This is just the vanguard,” Luralyn told him, her braids whipping in the wind. “They will scout the surrounding country, kill any patrols you send beyond the walls, watch for reinforcements from the south. You can expect the full army within a day or so.”
Vaelin raised a questioning eyebrow at Ahm Lin. The mason, still feeling the effects of the climb, rubbed at the ache in his back as he spoke. “I’m not sure,” he said.
“Sure of what?” Sho Tsai enquired, his face intent. Ahm Lin’s success in guiding them to Sherin’s location had apparently convinced the general of the usefulness of the man’s gift.
“The song speaks of imminent battle,” Ahm Lin said. “And deceit. There is more at work here than just the scouting of an advance guard.”
Vaelin stepped aside as the mason moved to press his eye to the glass, grunting softly. “Can’t see them, but I also sense at least one Gifted soul amongst this lot.”
“Deceit,” Luralyn repeated. “It could be Sehga. Deception is her art. But she needs to be in close contact with a victim for it to work. She can’t just cast it out like a torrent.”
“Then who?” Vaelin asked.
“Someone I’ve yet to meet.” Luralyn gave a helpless shrug. “If they are going to attack, it’ll be tonight. My people will battle in open country in daylight, but they always attack a stronghold under cover of darkness. Also, they won’t attack in one place. You should expect at least three separate assaults, probably launched at the same time.”
Sho Tsai moved to the edge of the platform, brows furrowed as he surveyed the city below. “We double the strength of the regiments on the outer wall,” he said. “Master mason, you will patrol the battlements under guard to gauge the point of attack.”
“Whatever their stratagem they’ll still need to scale the walls,” Vaelin pointed out. “Cavalry can’t charge a stone barrier twenty feet high. And they no longer have Varij’s gift to crumble them.”
“They’ll have grapples and ropes,” Luralyn replied. “Ladders too most likely.”
“Ropes burn, so do ladders,” Vaelin said, meeting her gaze. “So do people.”
She gave a sober nod. “I’ll warn the twins to be ready.”
“What of your own abilities?” Sho Tsai asked. “I’m given to understand you can see the future.”
“I see what the True Dream chooses to show me, and it shows me both past and future. But it has always been capricious. I have tried to summon it every night since we came here, but all I see are fragments, usually chaotic and meaningless. It’s as if the future is in flux somehow. That could be a good thing. If the outcome of the battle is uncertain, then at least we have hope.”
“Prophecy is all too often a liar,” Vaelin said. “It lies to the prophet as much as the believer.”
“I’ll keep trying,” Luralyn promised the general.
He nodded and started for the stairs. “Lord Vaelin, muster your scum and guard our allies close.”
“Skulls,” Vaelin said, the hardness of his tone causing the general to pause. “Not scum.”
“What?” Sho Tsai asked.
“They’ve taken to calling themselves the Skulls,” Vaelin explained. “Considering themselves already dead men. Soldiers do like their names, and that is what they are now. Soldiers. And I’d thank their general to refer to them as such.”
Sho Tsai locked eyes with him for a moment, perhaps perceiving some form of challenge, but then grunted and began to descend the tower. “As long as they fight, I’ll call them whatever name they wish.”
Luralyn lingered a moment before following him down, gazing out at the expanse of the Iron Steppe to the north. The spyglass might have revealed her people’s approach, but to the unassisted eye the horizon remained bare. “The Ostra were always his least ardent followers,” she said. “Strange that he should choose them to lead his vanguard.”
“Skeltir Varnko tried to convince me to leave,” Vaelin recalled. “I assumed at your urging.”
“No, that was his own act. He has long known that Kehlbrand’s rise means potential destruction for the Stahlhast. If the Darkblade wanted you, it couldn’t be good.”
“And yet the Ostra still came to do the Darkblade’s bidding.”
“The dream of riding to the Golden Sea resides in the heart of every Stahlhast. Perhaps even Varnko couldn’t resist it in the end.”
Luralyn gave a sorrowful sigh and started down the stairs. Vaelin began to follow but stopped at Ahm Lin’s mutter. “She lied, brother.”
Vaelin turned to see the mason once again looking through the glass. “What a marvellous thing,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped back to run an admiring glance over the device. “What I wouldn’t give to open it up. The lenses must be ground with incredible precision.”<
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“She lied?” Vaelin prompted.
“Oh, she didn’t lie to us,” Ahm Lin said. “She lied to herself, about her True Dream. It showed her far more than fragments.”
“What did it show her?”
“Something her mind can’t accept. Not yet at least. But I have a sense we’ll all need her to remember very soon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Handle it only when wearing gloves.” Vaelin handed one small vial to Nortah, Ellese and Juhkar. “Even the smallest drop on bare skin could be fatal. And I’m told you shouldn’t sniff it unless you want to permanently lose your sense of smell.”
“What’s in this?” Nortah asked, holding the vial up to the fading late evening light. The liquid inside seemed to have the viscosity of plain water and was mostly clear with a yellowish tinge.
“She wouldn’t tell me,” Vaelin said. “But you can be sure that any penetrating wound with a blade or arrowhead coated in this will undoubtedly prove fatal. Remember your instructions. Stay with Juhkar. He will guide your aim. Corporal Wei’s squad will guard you. No haring off on your own, regardless of how tempting it might be.” These words were addressed solely to Ellese, who began to reply with a roll of her eyes before noting the hardness of his gaze.
“I understand, Uncle,” she said.
He left them at the north-facing gate and sought out Ahm Lin on the western battlement. The mason was flanked on either side by Alum and Sehmon with the full company of Skulls arrayed in two ranks behind. Vaelin paused to straighten the stance and spears of a few, taking a measure of satisfaction from the controlled trepidation he saw on most faces. A complete absence of fear would be more worrying than outright terror. Contrary to expectations, none had deserted during their forced march beyond the walls, although he suspected this was due to pragmatic self-preservation rather than any dutiful impulse.
“Corporal,” he said, coming to a halt before the man known as Cho-ka.
The outlaw came smartly to attention with a well-practiced salute. “My lord!”
“You know your orders?”
“Preserve the mason’s life at all costs.”
The strict formality of his tone and bearing contrasted with the defiant smuggler Vaelin had met in the dungeons, causing him to wonder if the man might be harbouring some hidden mockery. However, careful scrutiny of the fellow’s rigid features revealed nothing beyond soldierly resolve.
“Quite so,” Vaelin said. “If he falls, so does this city. Make sure your men know that.”
“I will, my lord.”
“What tune do you have for me tonight?” Vaelin asked, joining Ahm Lin at the shoulder of one of the triangular crenellations that topped the wall, looking out into the gathering dark.
“The low growl of an approaching storm,” the mason replied. His pensive gaze tracked from east to west, Vaelin noting how his hand twitched on the haft of the spear he insisted on carrying. “All around. The Stahlhast woman was right. They won’t strike in just one place.”
“And the Gifted?”
Ahm Lin could only shake his head. “They’re out there somewhere, but as to their ability . . .” He trailed off with an apologetic shrug.
They began to hear the enemy as twilight faded into full darkness. The sky was clear, revealing a half-moon and a vast swathe of stars that would have been captivating at another time, but the gloom beyond the walls betrayed no sign of the Stahlhast. Instead, their approach was signalled by the drum of hooves and the weirdly musical jangle of massed armoured riders on the move. Vaelin saw Ahm Lin straighten as the noise abated, his head snapping to the west.
“What is it?” Vaelin asked.
“The song is loudest there.” Ahm Lin pointed in the direction of the west-facing gate. His features bunched as if in pain and he added in a hiss, “There’s a truly ugly note to it, brother.”
“Stay here,” Vaelin told him. “Guard him well,” he added to Alum before sending one of the Skulls running to fetch Juhkar, Nortah and Ellese. He ordered the rest to follow as he made for the west gate. This section of wall was held by regular troops from the city’s garrison, all hard-faced men with more than one battle in their past. He found Commander Deshai atop the small diamond-shaped bastion that housed the gate, sword already drawn as he peered at a row of flickering lights a few hundred paces from the wall.
“Torches?” Vaelin asked, coming to Deshai’s side.
“Looks like it.” The stocky commander rubbed his broad chin in consternation as more torches blazed to life until at least a hundred bobbed in the gloom. “Can’t see the purpose to it. Stone won’t burn and the gate is made of iron.”
A series of shouts sounded along the wall as the bobbing torches seemed to blaze brighter in unison, each one growing into a large fireball. As the glow increased, Vaelin was able to make out the sight of large bundles of what looked like entangled gorse or sapling branches, each one bursting into flame at the touch of a torch. The lighted bundles glowed brightly for only a second or two before becoming dimmed by a thick pall of smoke. It swirled and eddied in a dense mass, its apparent immunity to the prevailing northerly wind convincing Vaelin that what he witnessed was far from natural. Some unseen hand had command of this miasma.
“Well, that complicates things,” Nortah observed, coming to a halt at Vaelin’s side, Ellese and Juhkar close behind.
“Can you sense them?” Vaelin asked the tracker.
“They’re close,” he confirmed, grimacing in frustration as he viewed the thickening smoke. “But not close enough.”
More shouts rippled along the battlements as the smoke seemed to convulse, throbbing and expanding as if possessed of life. It grew paler as it spread, coalescing into vague, ghostlike shapes that began to drift towards the walls. The smoke gathered pace as it drew nearer, the shapes within it taking on clearer form, seeming to lope across the plain with swift, predatory energy. The shouts rose in volume, taking on a panicked edge that was only partially quelled by Deshai’s barked orders commanding silence. The commander himself seemed only slightly less alarmed than his men, wide-eyed horror creeping over his face as he gaped at the fast-approaching host, a single word slipping from his lips in a fear-laden whisper: “Harbingers.”
They were fully formed now, snarling as they sped towards the wall, each one the size of a horse, striped in black with eyes that glowed like silver orbs. “These are not the Harbingers of Heaven!” Vaelin called out as fresh panic swept through the ranks. “They are illusions! They cannot harm you!”
Such reassurance, however, found no purchase on the soldiers as the oncoming monstrosities reached the base of the wall, sweeping up and onto the battlement with hardly a pause. Shouts became screams as men reeled back from the slashing, snapping phantoms, well-ordered companies dissolving into chaos in the space of a few seconds.
“Stand where you are!” Vaelin barked at the Skulls, seeing them begin to waver, the first rank starting to edge back from the wall. “Smoke cannot pierce armour!”
Vaelin turned back to the wall to face a tiger as it clambered into view. “Watch!” he ordered, rushing forward to meet it. The tiger whirled towards him as he closed, mouth gaping in a roar that emerged as a howling gust of choking smoke. The sight of the cat’s seemingly solid fangs and scythe-like claws birthed a momentary doubt regarding its harmlessness, but it was too late to avoid the collision. Vaelin found himself enveloped by the smoke, the tiger’s blows like hard gusts against his armour, but inflicting no wounds. It dissipated as he wafted his sword about, leaving him coughing in the fading tendrils.
“You see?” he called to the Skulls, all staring in blank amazement. “These are phantoms. No more than mummery—”
Vaelin’s exhortations died as Ellese sprang forward, bow fully drawn and aimed directly at his face. He instantly dropped to his knees, the arrow snapping the air above his head. Jerking around he was confront
ed by the sight of a tall Stahlhast warrior with an arrow jutting from the visor of his helmet. Sherin’s poison swiftly fulfilled its promise, the warrior immediately collapsing onto the battlement, blood frothing from his mouth as he twitched once and lay still.
The corpse was quickly dragged from sight as another Stahlhast clambered to the top of the wall, teeth bared as he hauled himself up using the iron grapple lodged onto the crenellation. Seeing Vaelin, he reached for the sabre on his back, stiffening in death a heartbeat later as the Order blade speared him through the throat. Vaelin drew the sword clear, letting the man fall, casting his gaze left and right to take in the sight of the Stahlhast labouring up the wall wherever he looked. The battlement above was now fully shrouded in smoke, the soldiers within it milling in confused fear.
“Forward!” he called to the Skulls, pausing to hack the hand off another Stahlhast as they crested the wall. He saw the one-time outlaws hesitate, some still distracted by the smoke-crafted tigers wreaking chaos amongst the other soldiers. But then Corporal Cho-ka lowered his spear, gave a brief shout of command and charged forward. The Skulls followed, the carefully drilled tactic of repelling attackers with a disciplined advance of two well-ordered ranks forgotten as they surged in an untidy mass. Despite its lack of cohesion, the speed and violence of the Skulls’ attack was enough to dislodge a score or more of Stahlhast at the first thrust of the spears.