by William King
“You are correct, Colonel,” said Azaar. “Time presses so we should be about our business. I wish to send Lieutenant Sardec as an emissary to Lord Ilmarec to open negotiations with him.”
“With your permission, I would like to accompany the Lieutenant,” said Lady Asea. “I know Lord Ilmarec. We were friends once. And I would like to study the Tower. There is something odd going on with the flows of magic in this area, and I suspect it is the nexus of the problem.”
Azaar looked at her for a moment, and Sardec knew he was considering the risks. Asea was the most powerful sorcerer in his army. Losing her would be as big a blow as losing a battery of artillery.
“Are you sure you will be safe?” he asked.
“I will have a strong escort I am sure. Lieutenant Sardec and I have been through some dangerous situations before and I have every faith in him.”
Sardec just looked at her. The last time he had been in a dangerous situation with Lady Asea he had lost his hand, and damn near his life.
“Very well,” said Lord Azaar. “We shall discuss the details later.”
What was the witch up to this time, Sardec wondered? He wondered until the staff meeting ended.
Rik watched the new recruits being sworn in. They stood in a long line in front of the table before which the Sergeant Major stood, and one by one advanced, placed their hand on a stone carved with Fyel, the Elder Sign of Faith, swore the oath and took the Queen’s silver. Their names were inscribed in the regimental register and they marched off. This evening they were soldiers in the army they had been fighting this morning.
“Most of those bastards will probably desert afore they hear their first shot fired in anger,” said the Barbarian.
“True,” said Rik. “But some of them won’t. Some of them will stay and make good soldiers. Anyway, it’s not our problem, is it?”
“Never a truer word spoken, Halfbreed,” said Weasel.
“Wonder when we will be heading on to Morven?” said Barbarian. “I could do with seeing a proper town and the inside of a proper tavern.”
“No idea,” said Weasel. “You’d think it’d be soon, but I heard Lord Ilmarec has turned against us and that Dark Empire troops are already in town.”
“Something is going on,” said Handsome Jan, breaking off from studying his profile in his little shard of mirror. “Nobody expected to be fighting so soon, did they? How did the bloody Purples get here so fast, that’s what I’d like to know.”
“I’m sure General Azaar will be over to explain it to you himself when he finds out about your displeasure at being kept in the dark,” said Weasel.
“Ha-bloody-ha. Hey, Halfbreed, isn’t that your girl?”
Halfbreed looked over and saw Rena, dark haired and beautiful as ever, walking into the camp, accompanied by two others. His heart skipped a beat. His mouth suddenly felt dry. He had not expected to ever see her again.
“She’s not my girl,” he said sourly.
Chapter Eight
Rik fought down the urge to slide away and hide out somewhere. He felt embarrassed and confused as well as afraid and angry. There was no reason he should feel this way. Rena was the one who had behaved badly. She was the one who had gone off with Lieutenant Sardec. Anyway, she was just a girl with whom he had a fling with for a couple of days a few months ago and had not seen since. He told himself all of these things, and none of them made the slightest bit of difference.
“I think she’s seen you, Halfbreed,” said Weasel, smirking. Rik remembered spending a long drunken evening whining to him about the business before the company had ventured into Deep Achenar. He had hoped that was forgotten. He should have remembered that in the Forager’s world nothing was ever forgotten. It was merely buried deep, to be dug up and used to make fun of you when needed.
“Go talk to the girl, Halfbreed,” said the Barbarian. “She looks as if she wants to talk to you.”
Rena smiled and waved and looked very happy, which rather surprised Rik, given the sullen circumstances under which they had last met.
“Probably wants something,” said Weasel. “Women always do.”
“Usually it's my manly body,” said the Barbarian. “And who can blame them?”
“Better talk to her before she throws herself at our Northern friend here,” said Weasel. “Sorry! Did I touch a raw nerve there?”
“You’re a nasty man,” said Rik.
“It was my upbringing,” Weasel said. “A cruel childhood followed by a lifetime of soldiering turned me into the miserable specimen I am today.”
“You say that as if you are proud of it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Rena and her friends were walking towards them. If he didn’t want the lads standing around and eavesdropping so they could joke about it afterwards, he’d better intercept her.
Rik strode to meet her. His face felt made of cast iron. He could not force it to take on any other expression except disapproval. He had always had a glib tongue and a deceptive manner, a professional thief in Sorrow needed one, but right now, his nerves were stretched tight and he did not seem to be able to dissemble in the slightest.
He met the girl in the muddy avenue between the lines of tents. They stood looking at each other. Rena looked radiantly pretty but it was obvious she was holding the smile on her face by an effort of will. Her friends stood a little distance apart, their hands over their mouths, trying to stifle giggles. Their attitude annoyed him as much as his own friends had. He disliked having an audience in what should be private moments.
“I did not expect to see you again,” he said, cursing himself for the way the words sounded, stilted and formal and stupid but something deep within him seemed to want things that way, was determined to make everything as difficult as possible. He remembered such moments before with Sabena, his first real love, where he had wanted to say one thing, and yet an entirely different set of words had emerged from his mouth as though scripted by a stranger. He could tell from Rena’s expression that this was not what she had been hoping to hear.
“I thought I would see you here,” she said. “I mean, I hoped I would.”
“Why?” he asked. His voice was cold. He was locked into the role now. He could not have stopped himself even if he had wanted to. She looked away towards where the pavilions of the Terrarchs stood.
“I thought…” She stopped and chewed the lower part of her lip. She looked really very lovely. Rik saw that her friends had stopped giggling and were looking at him disapprovingly, belligerently even. Let them, he thought. He did not care what they thought. He did not care what anyone thought.
“You thought what?” he asked. Other soldiers were looking at them now. He knew why; three new girls in camp, without any male companions. Rik glanced at them, and something they saw in his face made the soldiers move on.
“I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I thought you might be glad to see me.” I am, he wanted to say. “I’m not,” his angry vindictive voice said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth and he saw the damage done, he regretted it.
“You’re a bastard,” she said.
“I know. I told you that.”
Regret flickered across her face. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t care what you meant. I don’t care why you are here. Maybe you should try Lieutenant Sardec. I am sure he would be glad to see you.”
He turned and strode away.
“You really told her,” said the Barbarian. “She’s crying.”
“Piss off,” Rik told him.
Rik lay on his back and looked up at the stars. He lay on the soft hillside, far from the tents. He did not want to be with his friends at the moment. He wanted to be alone, to calm down. He could hear the sounds of the camp settling down for the night: soldiers arguing, children crying, women chatting. In the distance wyrms bellowed sleepily. From somewhere came the sound of a small group of Terrarch officers playing their complex and weirdly beautiful music. It di
d not help. He still seethed with rage: at Rena, at his stupid friends, at Sardec, at Asea, at the world.
He was surprised by the deep well of emotion he had found inside himself. It was like opening a magic door and discovering a whole new continent of anger and resentment. He realised how much he had been keeping these feelings on a leash over the past few months. He saw the rage that was in him still, against the world, the Terrarchs, the things that had killed Leon, and would most likely kill him. And he saw that, somehow, some connection had been forged between Rena and that world of emotion and betrayal. He had let his guard down for just one instant, he thought, and she had hurt him. And he was not going to allow that to happen again.
How was it that a woman he had known for such a short time had managed to get so completely under his skin?
She was out there now. He could find her if he wanted, and tell her exactly what he thought of her. His pointless futile rage demanded it of him, that he should find her and rend at her emotionally, as she had torn at him.
She had clearly expected him to behave differently. Did she think he was stupid? Did she really think he would want to be with her after what had happened?
A shadow fell on him. Rik looked up and was surprised to see Karim standing there. Either he was very distracted or Karim was very quiet, or both. The Southerner studied him for a moment. “It has cost me a great deal of effort to find you,” Karim said. His eyes caught the light like those of a dog. What had been done to this man, Rik wondered?
“You must have a good reason to keep you at it for so long. Would you like to share it with me?” He immediately regretted the flippant tone of his words. Karim gave the impression of being someone he did not want to get on the wrong side of.
“My mistress desires your company.” Karim’s words were polite. His tone was calm and yet somehow he managed to seem immensely threatening. Rik told himself it was just his imagination, but he knew it was not.
“Then perhaps you should lead me to her.”
“Follow me,” said Karim. Rik was glad of the distraction.
Sardec walked through the camp. After the battle and the meeting of the officers, he had a sense of letdown at being left with his own company. He did not want to go back to his tent. He did not want to try and sleep. He was not sure what he wanted. He was restless.
Soon he would have to leave for Morven. He would have to escort Lady Asea on her mission to talk with Lord Ilmarec. His role was pre-ordained and subordinate. Although Asea had no formal military rank, he would be serving her. She was of the First, and enjoyed the confidence of both Queen Arielle and the General. She knew Ilmarec of old, so she was a far more suitable emissary than he.
He turned and stalked down through another line of tents, where the humans sat round the camp fires and talked. Whole families had gathered there; mothers holding children, fathers telling stories. Sardec felt something like envy. He knew he should despise the humans for their weakness, for their constant breeding, for their lack of self-control, but he could not help but wonder what it would be like to part of one of those families.
Among Terrarchs children were rare. Sometimes they came decades, even centuries apart, often they never came at all. There was often a greater gap in age than there was between those human children and their parents or even grandparents. The relationships he had with all his relatives, even those he loved and admired like his father, were cool and distant.
Had he missed something growing up? Servants and tutors had raised him, and many of those had been humans, forbidden to get close to him, although he could see now what he had never allowed himself to see before, that many of them had cared for him in ways that they were not allowed to express. He told himself that it was absurd that he should care about that or the feelings he had never shared with his ayahs and teachers, but he found that he did.
He watched a man and a woman stride off into the dark arm in arm, and he knew what they were about. It drove his thoughts to another darker turn, to the events of Solace night when he had slept with that human girl. It had been the most erotically charged moment of his life, a shameful pleasure that he had thought he would enjoy again, but had not, for shortly thereafter he had been dispatched to Deep Achenar, and had lost his hand. The next few months had been spent recuperating from his wounds, listlessly enduring spells and surgery and drugs that dulled his senses and his appetites. Now he found his mind turning to thoughts of sex again, and of other things, he did not want to discuss with his fellow officers.
He knew there were others who had done such things, who sated their lusts, but it seemed to him to be a very coarse thing, and not something to be talked about. To be honest he had not seen another human wench who had moved him the way the first one had. Perhaps it was the wound, or perhaps it was the circumstances on that fatal night had been particularly unfortunate.
Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, he caught sight of a strangely familiar face. It was so odd that he had to look again to be certain that he was correct and he was disturbed to discover that he was. It was the human girl, Rena, sitting near a fire with two other women, and two men. They seemed to be arguing about something, and Sardec would have walked past had not one of the men lunged at the girl, half-playfully, half angrily, seemingly determined to have his way by force. It was the sort of thing that Sardec supposed must happen often in the camp. Certainly none of the passers-by seemed disposed to interfere, but it struck him as wrong so he strode over and said:
“What is going on here?” The man looked up angrily, about to utter a curse until he noticed who and what Sardec was. His face went calm and cold for he feared the whipping that Sardec could order if not shown the correct degree of respect.
“Nothing, sir. Just having a bit of fun.” Sardec turned to the girl. She looked astonished, for she had obviously just recognised him. Sardec found himself stirred by her lush beauty as he had been before.
“Is that true?” he asked.
“I am sure Jamis meant no harm, sir.” She sounded torn between telling the truth and getting the man into very painful trouble.
“A word with you, girl.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“In private.”
The others took the hint and moved away. They look relieved to be going. Rena looked nervous. Now that they were alone Sardec found that he did not quite know what he was going to say.
“I did not think I would see you again,” he said. “You did not seem like one of the girls who follows the army.”
Her eyes locked on his quite boldly. He held her gaze.
“I was not happy at Ma Horne’s, after the army left. It was not so busy and the men were not so…interesting. And there was someone with the army that I was fond of although we were together but for a little time.”
Sardec has not realised he had made such a deep impression on the girl. He was astonished to find he was even a little touched. “I am pleased to see you.”
She looked as if she did not know whether she wanted to laugh or to cry. “I am glad someone is,” she said. Her words seemed odd to him, but he had not much experience of these situations.
“Do you have a place to sleep?” he asked.
“We came with a merchant caravan out of Redtower. We have only just arrived. That is what we were discussing with those soldiers. My friends and I wanted a place to stay. We were talking about it, when you arrived.”
It was quite common for some of the officers to keep human women. It would not be difficult for him to arrange a place for her to stay if he wanted. The question was whether he wanted to. Did he need this complication to his life? There was not much left to be ashamed of. His younger fellows knew what had happened on Solstice and seemed even to respect him more for it. The trip to Deep Achenar and his wound had gained him a lot of prestige and his defence of the fort and reception by Lord Azaar still more. He doubted a thing like this would hurt his reputation and he did not care.
Something had happened to him at De
ep Achenar. He raised the hook to look at it. He had almost died in that hell-pit. He might well die during the course of this war. Why should he care about appearances? Why should he not have what he wanted, if he was willing to pay the price? He wanted this girl and he found he even sympathised with her a little.
“I will arrange it,” he said. He spoke it as a Terrarch should to a human, peremptorily, with every expectation of getting no objections, then he saw she too was looking at his hook. It struck him that perhaps she felt revulsion towards it, the way he sometimes did, and he realised that he did not want her there if she could only look on him with horror so he added; “If you wish.”
She raised her hand to her mouth and looked at him. He wondered if she had read his own feelings on his face. “My friends, sir. They have no place to go.”
“I will see to it that they are looked after as well.” And he would. He had come to a decision. Even if the girl could not stand the sight of his hand, he would see to it. He would do it because he wanted to, and it pleased him to do so.
“I will go with you, sir,” she said. There was trust in her voice. That touched Sardec too.
“Is something bothering you, Master Rik,” said Karim. He paused to look around. They were in the Terrarch part of the camp, and in the distance, he could see Rena and her two friends walking along in the company of none other than Lieutenant Sardec.
“No,” Rik lied. He might have bloody well guessed. What had he expected? It had not taken her long to find her Terrarch lover had it. He did not know why he had expected better. Sardec was an officer. He was rich. It did not matter to her that he would use her and discard her once he was fed up of her. She could not see past the glitter of his noble title. She deserved what was going to happen to her, and he was glad.
Only why did it have to be Sardec? He could have accepted any of the other officers, but not him. Sardec had made his life miserable from the get-go. Sardec hated him for being who he was. She must know that too. It was as if she had deliberately chosen this to annoy him.