“But how?” The warrior’s amber eyes slitted. “You could not carry more than one or two of those creatures on the ship. Its appetite must be enormous.”
The ground shook more violently as the creature came closer. Nelesquin’s mount shied, and the Prince roughly reined it back under control. “We fattened them up in Anturasixan, then laced their food with Bloodstar orchid blossoms. The creatures slept, and the three you see here were wakened at the coast. They are docile and easily controlled.”
Nelesquin pointed to the creature’s long back. Between the creature’s shoulder blades sat a Durrani warrior. He manipulated two golden rods that looked to be the size of broom handles. “Those rods are driven down into slots in the vertebrae. The driver controls the beasts that way.”
Keerana nodded, watching, his hands imitating the motions of the driver.
Nelesquin smiled. From curiosity to shock to cunning. He measures the beast for combat. “Magnificent, no?”
“Yes, Master, incredible. I can have my men shape a platform for the back. Archers can shoot from it. Depending upon the fortification, the creature could smash walls, or we can step from its back to the top of a palisade.”
“Oh, no, no, no, Keerana, nothing of the sort. These creatures—which your people have dubbed kasphana—are for pulling wagons and ships. I have others for toppling walls. You shall be amazed.”
“Yes, Master.” Keerana smiled. “Please thank your lady, Nirati, for her part in this. I can see her gentle hand in its shaping.”
“Then your eyes deceive you, Keerana, for Nirati had nothing to do with the kasphana, nor any of the others I have brought. Certainly some of the failures reside in her realm, but not these. They were bred for war and, mercifully, she knows little of that.”
“She is too gentle a creature for war.”
“How very true.” Nelesquin frowned, thinking back to his reincarnation. He had emerged from nothing and had met the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. At least, that is the way he’d felt. There was something about her which seemed to answer his every need. She had been his perfect match.
At least such had been true at that moment.
Then he had met her grandfather, Qiro Anturasi, and recognized in the man’s hatred for the Nine Principalities a commonality. In no time, Nelesquin’s imperial designs and ambitions had been reborn. With Qiro as an ally, shaping an army to fulfill their mutual desire for revenge and justice had been child’s play.
Nelesquin labored under no illusions that he would have to destroy Qiro. He’d known that from the first, of course. Qiro wanted to destroy the nations so he could be raised above all others. Nelesquin knew he was above all others, and a rival was not something the Prince would tolerate.
But Nirati would not take her grandfather’s death well. That was the difference between them, for Nelesquin had helped plot his grandfather’s death.
A light burned in Keerana’s eyes when he mentioned Nirati. The Durrani worshipped her quietly, seeing her as a goddess of peace between battles. Keerana was blessed among his compatriots, for she had smiled upon him. He likely even loved her.
As I do. But Nelesquin hesitated, wondering if he did love her. He certainly had loved her—he remembered that much. The memory of her, her soft body, her bright green eyes, the scent of her perspiration after they had made love; all of these things brought a smile to his face. She was his Queen, no doubt of it, but did he actually love her?
Nelesquin reined his horse around and began to pace the black ships. Nirati had been everything he desired in Anturasixan, but since his return, things had changed. Here he was, on the cusp of victory, reclaiming that which was his by blood and right, and where was she? She had remained with her grandfather, blocked from joining him, no doubt by the old man himself.
And why was it that she would take the detritus of his experiments? What did she do with them? What did she want with them? They were dead ends, much as the Principalities were.
A new thought occurred to him, one he did not much like. She had brothers she loved dearly. And her grandfather was arguably the most powerful man in the world. Were he not so focused on revenge, he might seek to become a god or at least challenge the gods. What if Nirati had meant for Nelesquin to fall in love with her so he would go out, reconquer the Empire, then she would usurp him and establish the Anturasi family as the Imperial line?
That is not possible, is it? But Cyrsa had killed her husband to usurp his throne. It had been done before.
Nelesquin turned in the saddle. “How freely do you trust, Keerana?”
The Durrani’s eyes widened. “You, Master, utterly and completely. You are father to my race. We owe you everything and live to serve.”
“Your fidelity is most appreciated.” Nelesquin gestured and the warrior rode up on his right side. “But among your people, how easily do you trust?”
“Within my clan, Master, trust is complete. There may be rivalries, but this is only the way that we improve ourselves, as per your wishes. Outside of my clan, trust must be earned.”
“If you were given a wife from another clan, would you trust her?”
Keerana frowned. “She becomes one of my clan then, so I must trust her. If she betrayed me, it would benefit neither her nor her clan, for you would punish such treachery, would you not, Master?”
“I would indeed.” Nelesquin smiled. In creating the Durrani he had fashioned the greatest of warriors. Fierce, implacable, arrogant in combat, respectful in repose, they were everything a leader would want. Intelligent, too, for Keerana’s face already betrayed he was thinking more about the question he’d been asked.
“What do you expect of the enemy, Keerana?”
“They will be resourceful, but this will avail them nothing against us.”
“Well said, but Gachin was slain and his army thrown back from Tsatol Deraelkun.”
The warrior’s expression sharpened. “Gachin dismissed the clues to what awaited him as aberrations. The force that broke out from Kelewan later ambushed our troops in the forests, and stood against him at Tsatol Deraelkun. Because they struck from hiding and ran from the siege, he perceived them to be cowards.”
“But you do not?”
“I expect a viper to coil and strike. That it does not fight claw with claw surprises me not at all.” Keerana pointed off to the northwest. “Tsatol Deraelkun is well positioned for defense, and having an able warrior leading troops makes it still more effective. It is an interesting puzzle to be solved.”
Nelesquin smiled as a large, leather-winged, short-legged creature hopped up on the lead ship’s wales. A warrior sat in a saddle fastened where long neck met body, and gold control rods had been inserted into the creature’s spine. The beast threw its triangular head back and shrieked, then launched itself. It swooped low over the river to pick up speed, then beat its wings and rose easily to where it could float on the air currents above the land.
Nelesquin pointed to the flying beast. “That is a jarandaki, and I mean it for use in scouting. I supposed a couple of archers could be put in a saddle on its back, but they would have to master shooting while in a swoop.”
Keerana recovered himself and nodded. “It would not do for them to shoot the jarandaki in the wing.”
“No, not at all. The nice thing about them is that they will provide perspective on a battle. Had Gachin had a scout up on one, he would have known of the ambush that took his troops.”
“It is possible, Master, but even with that knowledge, he might not have reacted correctly.” Keerana bowed his head. “Those who fight beneath the Ram Crest are often given to vainglorious displays. Gachin might have dismissed the threat, or assigned a subordinate to deal with it.”
Nelesquin regarded his warlord closely. “You would not make such a mistake?”
“I could not, Master. I do not serve myself; I serve you. To fall prey to such an ambush would be an abrogation of my duty. My service to you is paramount.”
“Have you deter
mined your strategy for taking Tsatol Deraelkun?”
“My plans shall be revised to account for the wonders aboard the ships, Master, but I have studied the matter and have worked out a strategy.” His eyes became keen. “To win Tsatol Deraelkun’s wall one must attack strongly at a single point. Relentless pounding will win through at least the first set of walls.”
“But if you attack that way, you allow your enemy to slip a force out to harass your flanks.”
“So I cannot allow myself to be flanked.” The warrior gestured toward the black ships on the river. “I will deploy my forces in depth. An attack against my flank will be repulsed by an attack against the enemy’s flank. With the jarandaki, signaling between units will be much easier and more direct. If the rider carries a flag aloft, he will be able to communicate information between the units.”
Nelesquin clapped his hands. “Brilliant. Your attack must be relentless and swift.”
“I beg your pardon, Master, but it is likely to be one or the other.”
The Prince frowned. “Enlighten me.”
“The line between swift and haste is thin. So is the line between relentless and obdurate. To move fast is to surrender flexibility. Relentlessness can become stubborn support for strategies that are not effective. I would not waste your troops, Master, in an effort unworthy of you and incapable of victory.”
“Yet is there not a chance that by remaining too flexible you will refuse to push at a time when one more effort would carry the day?”
Keerana’s expression hardened. “A coward might, Master.”
Nelesquin nodded approvingly. “And you are no coward. Good. And flexibility means you will employ my gift to you in the proper way.”
“Have no fear, Master, Tsatol Deraelkun shall fall. It is your will, and I am the instrument of your will.”
“Exactly.”
The two horsemen headed off into the forest, letting the kasphani draw the ships toward Kelewan. They passed through a vale and crested a low hill. Nelesquin reined back quickly, while the Durrani rode forward and interposed himself between the cloaked figure which revealed itself on the road and the Prince.
Nelesquin snarled. “Why do you play at this game, Kaerinus? I find you lurking, and Keerana is again prepared to kill you.”
The sorcerer smiled and turned toward them, holding out a hand. A black-and-emerald butterfly clung to one finger. Kaerinus smiled, then puffed breath at it. The insect took flight and quickly vanished in the branches above.
“It is not out of disrespect, Prince Nelesquin, but urgency.” The vanyesh shrugged. “I have spent so much time away that I sometimes forget Imperial manners. Wonderful creatures you have there. I pray the winged ones do not eat my butterflies.”
“They prefer somewhat bigger prey.” Nelesquin rode around Keerana. “What is so urgent?”
“Do you recall, my Prince, Mount Shanfa in Moryth?”
“You know I do.” Nelesquin glanced back at Keerana. “It was a nasty place, dark and dismal, a stone thorn shoved up through the world’s flesh. Virisken Soshir spent much time there.”
“I recall the place from my brief campaign in the Five Princes.” Keerana nodded slowly. “This tells me much of value.”
“Good.” Nelesquin returned his attention to Kaerinus. “What of that place? I’d sooner forget it than remember.”
“Then you are in luck, my Prince.” Kaerinus pointed to the south. “There have been reports. The mountain is gone.”
Chapter Thirteen
30th day, Month of the Hawk, Year of the Rat
Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th Year since the Cataclysm
Tsatol Deraelkun, County of Faeut
Erumvirine
The army that came to destroy Tsatol Deraelkun was not what I had expected. I was not foolish enough to imagine that my half brother would bring the same army he had led ages ago when we fought a mock battle for our father’s pleasure. Of course, our father had not bothered to watch. Even if he had, he’d not have noticed how Nelesquin and I strove against each other.
We’d not come to hate one another yet.
I stood at a tower window with Count Derael seated in his wheeled chair beside me. “I believe you are right, my lord—the hammer-headed ape creatures are meant to hurl stones as a catapult might. The other long-armed ones are climbers. The bony shield around their necks covers their shoulders as they scale the walls.”
His voice did not waver despite the tremor running through his limbs. “They’re very pale and have no eyes to speak of. They must operate by scent. We can deal with that.”
I glanced down at him. “I imagine they will scent-mark the walls. Something hurled.”
He turned his face up at me, surprise flashing there for a heartbeat before his general fatigue returned his face to impassiveness. “Did you not notice the little white things, over there, on the left in the shadow of the woods?”
I looked. “I’d taken them for sheep, my lord, though they have the body of spiders.”
“Yes, and their wool is spun webbing, ready for deployment. Given how the climbers are segregated from the woolspiders, but keep sniffing when the breeze blows across, I suspect the climbers eat them.” Count Derael inhaled laboriously. “The woolspiders will be sent against us. When we kill them, their ichor will mark the battlements and perhaps even drive the climbers into a frenzy.”
“And then the kwajiin come.” I slowly shook my head. The invaders had assembled nine thousand warriors and had their entire force arrayed against the southeastern corner of the fortress. A conventional army would have found that approach difficult. The only suitable staging area for siege machines was at the edge of their range and below the castle’s ground level. While they could still hit the walls, it would take a long time to bring them down, and then the troops would have to race uphill to engage the defenders.
“Do you see any tunneling beasts, Master Soshir?”
“No, but that does not surprise me, either.” I crossed my arms. “Nelesquin had no great love of tunnels after we scoured a Viruk labyrinth of pirates. He was lost for a time, and once we had destroyed the pirates, he wanted nothing more to do with tunnels.”
“And yet, because this prejudice is known to you, I must assume he has worked against it.” The man’s eyes burned intensely. “This complicates the defense of our home.”
“It cannot stand.”
“This I know, Master Soshir.” He twitched a hand to the right, and the gesture seemed to exhaust him. “If you could turn me to the maps.”
I dutifully turned the chair and rolled him across the round room to where maps had been hung on the opposite wall. Diagrams of every level had been drawn in great details and marked with sigils and signs I could not decipher.
“I have my engineers opening the false columns below. We will light fires in them. They will bring fire to key stones. You know what happens to granite when it is heated, yes?”
“It can powder.”
“Exactly. Within an hour or two this fortress will collapse. With any luck, it will take the bulk of the invaders with it.”
I nodded. “A couple of hours is enough to get everyone clear. We’ve already stationed the First Naleni Dragons and the Keru in the mountains to hold the gaps as we evacuate. The messages we’ve sent to Moriande should bring more troops. We’ll live to fight another day.”
“You may, Master Soshir, but this is my last battle.”
I crouched and laid a hand on his. His flesh was cold, but I still felt life in him. “This is not your final battle. The previous times the walls have fallen did not signal the end of the Derael family. You might think, had you not become ill, this place would never fall. You could have held it—through the first assault and the second. Perhaps a third. But all the Mystics Empress Cyrsa led into the Wastes could not stop Nelesquin from taking this fortress. Just as he brought his invaders and his living siege machine
s, he would bring more and more terrible creatures. Losing this fortress is not defeat, but surrendering because of its loss is.”
The man hung his head for a moment. “You do not understand how it is, Master Soshir. I am Fortress Derael. My weakness is its weakness. We die together. There is no dissuading me from this.”
Another voice, a young man’s voice, broke in from the doorway. “I shall not dissuade you, Count Derael. I order you to evacuate.”
The count did not look up. “You honor me, Prince Iekariwynal, but that is an order with which I cannot comply.”
The young Virine prince strode into the room in white armor with a red bear rampant crest on the breastplate. “You are my champion, Count Derael, and I need you. I will not have you die here.”
“But I am useless in your service.”
“No. I heard Master Tolo lecture his troops on the way about how it was more important to make the enemy worry about death than it was to kill them. These kwajiin know no fear, but they can learn it. Your very survival will inspire fear. Your knowledge will be the seed of their defeat.”
“Better the two of you conspire to defeat the enemy than convincing me of my worth.”
But before either of us could comment, a horn blew from the battlements outside. I ran to the window and the Prince wheeled his champion forward. There, in the distance, came a massive beast with a pavilion on its back. The creature plodded along slowly, but such was its size that it closed the distance swiftly. This made it easy for me to read the pennants flying above the pavilion.
“Nelesquin has arrived.”
The Prince pointed. “Look there.”
Evil looking bat-birds drifted along over the treetops, then climbed and began to circle like vultures. “They have archers on their backs.”
“So they do, Highness.” The count’s eyes narrowed. “This changes things. He will begin the assault now.”
The New World Page 9