'The armies of Khuran cover the ground again. Their westerly progress is swift, an angry beast rumbling on mountain and plain. They have not scale but they have cruel purpose. Blood is in their eyes, it is all that they see. Something moves behind them and they dare not turn aside though fear bids them scatter. They will fall upon our friends. You are unready.'
Roberto found himself staring at Gesteris. All their joy was turned to ash. Both had spent long enough with Tarenaq to interpret nearly all she said first time around. And this message was simple enough.
'Where are they?' asked Roberto. 'How far have they got?'
'They stand south and east of us now. By the Gor of Halor. They travel our southern borders. Goscapita, surely their journey end.'
'The Halorian mountains? How can they be that close and you didn't tell us?'
Tarenaq passed on the question and Roberto saw Huatl frown as if it was obvious.
'Only our friends hear what we see. Yesterday, it was not written that you were. Today, you are.'
Roberto bit back a retort. Instead he nodded and turned sharply to Gesteris.
'My mother must hear of this immediately. Take your team and take the samples. Neristus and D'Allinnius will need them rather sooner than we thought. Send birds, send fast riders on the message service ahead of you. We must mobilise and we have no time.'
Gesteris thumped his right arm into his chest. 'My arm and heart are yours, Roberto. What about you?'
'I'm going to take a look for myself. Get numbers and weapons. Then I'm going to Gosland to command the defence. Make sure they know I'm coming.' Roberto slapped his palm on the stone rail at his side. 'Damn Khuran. Damn his ashes to the devils on the wind. How can he have rebuilt so quickly?'
He didn't really believe it. It could just be posturing. The Sirraneans might have got the intent wrong. But seldom were they so direct and detailed in their opening words on any subject. And that was something that worried Roberto more than he was prepared to say. Tsardon invasion. The Conquord simply wasn't ready.
Chapter Four
859th cycle of God, 1st day of Genasrise
Mirron walked with Arducius and Ossacer across the grand courtyard, with its fountains, lawns and marble-tiled paths. They passed the basilica and moved into the palace itself, under the flags of the members of the Conquord, some of whose allegiance remained in considerable doubt.
They were shown to a small, luxuriously appointed reception chamber. The day was growing cold and the hypocaust warmed the floor beneath their feet. But amongst all the splendour, the busts, the tapestries and the furniture Mirron would never quite get used to, was yet another surprise on this day of surprises.
'Paul!' she shouted and ran into his embrace.
The huge man enveloped her almost completely and she lost herself in his strength; the father she had never known and the man to whom she owed her life more times than she could easily count. Paul Jhered, Exchequer of the Conquord treasury.
'Happy birthday,' he said.
'So why weren't you at the party?'
'Affairs of state, that sort of thing.' He released her and stepped back, indicating a recliner. 'Talking of which, sit down, Mirron. All of you.'
'What's going on?' Mirron looked at her brothers. 'Well?'
'We just know the Exchequer wanted to talk to us all. That's why we were called back from Morasia,' said Ossacer.
'Former Exchequer,' said Jhered. 'Remember I retired on setting foot back on Estorean soil. Just plain old head of palace security now, and looking forward to my dotage.'
'Except ...' said Mirron, taking a seat and accepting a goblet of water from a servant.
Jhered sat opposite the Ascendants. He was looking good on his fifty-seven years, if a little tired from the journey back from Atreska. He had lost none of his authority. The crow's feet around his eyes gave him a fatherly look when he smiled as he was doing now.
'We had a disturbing conversation with the erstwhile King of Atreska,' said Jhered. 'Look, there's no easy way to say this. If Yuran is to be believed, Gorian is alive.'
Mirron's vision tunnelled and her senses closed in around her. She dropped her water. She felt heat across her face. She couldn't sense the energy maps of her brothers and Jhered any more and the isolation was dark. She was dimly aware she was breathing too quickly but did not have the coherence to stop it.
She closed her eyes and swayed as his name washed through her. Images flashed before her. His beauty, his fury. All from a time long ago that would always remain yesterday. A decade past that she could only ever push aside, never forget.
There were arms about her, trying to calm her. She couldn't settle her mind. She didn't know if she was going to laugh in relief or cry in desperation. For all they had grown to hate his memory, they had never wished him dead. But the knowledge of his survival brought such problems with it. It was a boulder dropped into the slowly calming pool of all their lives.
'What do we do?' It was her voice speaking, but distant as if through a closed door. 'What do we do?'
She felt the same heat in her gut she had first experienced when she was just a little girl, seeing his beauty for the first time. She cursed herself for it and for the confusion it sparked within her.
'Hey, it's all right.' Arducius's voice laid calm across the torrent of her mind. 'Take it easy. Come on. Have a drink.'
Mirron opened her eyes. They were fogged with her tears and she wiped at them angrily.
'Sorry,' she said, taking the goblet of watered wine from Arducius. 'Thank you, Ardu.'
'No, it is I who should be apologising to you,' said Jhered.
Mirron took a sip and looked at het brothers. Ossacer's face had fallen and he was biting back tears. Arducius just looked achingly sad.
'I think we all knew that he would resurface one day,' said Ossacer quietly. 'We haven't talked about it for years but I don't think any of us ever really believed he had died out there.'
Jhered's forehead creased. 'If you thought that, then we should have been searching for him all this time.'
'And where would we have looked?' asked Arducius. 'The Conquord is massive, Tsard an unmapped vastness. We would never have found him. He was always clever.'
'But we left him unmolested,' said Jhered. 'Roberto Del Aglios wanted him dead when we had the chance. We decided to let him go free. Will we live to regret that decision, I wonder?'
'He was just fourteen,' shouted Mirron, finding release for her anger. 'We were all just fourteen. And despite what he did, we couldn't stop caring for him, not for years after. Even you, Paul, because you supported us at the time. We can't afford to dwell on the past. What do we do now? And how is it he has reappeared?'
The Ascendants' attention switched back to Jhered.
'What did Yuran say?' asked Arducius.
Jhered leaned forward and took a deep breath. Mirron could see him recalling unsettling memories.
'You know he was actually relieved when he was deposed?' Jhered shook his head. 'When he began to speak I thought it was because he was scared at the prospect of his execution. I mean, he was, but that wasn't the whole of it, not deep down. Gorian terrified him. Used him to gain access to King Khuran and then deserted him when the Conquord was building to retake Atreska.
'Yuran says he has quickly grown to prominence in Tsard and is the key adviser and power behind the throne already. That's if you choose to believe it.'
'But that wouldn't scare Yuran on its own though, would it?' said Ossacer. 'He's done something, hasn't he? What?'
'This sounds absolutely ridiculous I know but Yuran says he is experimenting with animating the dead. And that he has succeeded. Yuran believes he has taken the ability to Khuran and wants him to begin a new war with the Conquord, using this new weapon.'
Mirron heard the words and felt the distasteful sensation of perverse sense. A memory as clear as yesterday filled her.
'You remember, don't you?' said Ossacer. He was exhibiting the same fear in his lifeli
nes.
Mirron nodded. 'He spoke about it in Lubjek's Defile. What did he see, I wonder?'
'Hold on,' said Jhered. 'What did he speak about?'
'Back when we saw all the dead in Lubjek's Defile during the war with Tsard,' said Arducius. 'We all stood about feeling sick and Gorian was fascinated. He said something about the dead having their own energy. I said it would be the rats under the piles of bones. He didn't buy that. Mirron's right. He saw something, he must have done.'
'You believe Yuran's story? It still may be the words of a desperate man, who'd say anything to save himself.'
'But you said yourself it wasn't to do with his execution. You saw him. What do you think?' asked Ossacer.
‘I think it the most outrageous thing I have ever heard. And I wanted to believe that he was doing it simply to prolong his sorry life. But Megan was there too. We both questioned him. And we both came to the same conclusion. He believes utterly in what he says he saw. Now, whether he has drawn flawed conclusions, I don't know, but I do know that we can't ignore him just yet. Not until you have had the chance to speak with him yourselves. Not until you three and the Echelon have had a chance to establish whether this concept of reanimating the dead is possible or simply a, I don't know, an illusion or a trick of the light or something.'
Mirron stared at Jhered. Through their long friendship she had come to know him as a realist without peer as well as being someone with a nature far more generous and kind than his outward persona would ever show. But for the first time, she saw uncertainty there.
'This is beyond any of us,' said Mirron. 'If it's true, it's something we have never researched, never even considered.'
'Where's Yuran now?' asked Arducius.
'In the cells below the palace,' said Jhered. 'Look, I'm finding this hard to rationalise.'
'No surprise there,' said Ossacer.
'No indeed. But if there is a threat, we need to assess it. I'm going to see the Advocate now to brief her on what we know so far. She's going to want quick action on this so we have to assess the truth of it and also the potential of this ability, if it is true. We can't afford to place our border forces on alert unless we are sure Khuran is coming for the Conquord again. You know the delicacy of relations across our territories.'
'And we also know the delicacy of our own position,' said Arducius. Jhered nodded. ‘I was going to mention it. As and when this gets out, the Ascendancy will gain more enemies and have a lot of questions to answer. You will take the blame whether you like it or not. Be careful. All of you.'
Jhered rose and smiled unconvincingly.
'Go and speak to Yuran. Get your own account of this. Get the Echelon working on it. The trouble is, I don't really know what it means. Is it a theory that has no application or something else? Yuran was sure there was real weapon potential in it. I have to know if he's right. I have to know if we need to be gearing up for a war we do not want and may not be able to repel. I have to know what the legions might face.'
There was a prolonged silence following Jhered's departure. The void inside Mirron felt like grief. It wasn't hard to look forward and see the collapse of all that they had been building.
'So, he's alive, then,' said Ossacer.
'We have to be strong,' said Arducius. 'Don't let him obsess us or change us.'
'How can we possibly do that?' said Mirron. 'He's already got to the Exchequer.'
'I mean, the work of the Academy must go on. We have to believe in the ethos of the Ascendancy and never deviate from the education of our new Ascendants and of the wider public. But we have a blight on us now and we have to counter it.'
'That's all lovely talk Ardu, and I look forward to hearing you repeat it to the Advocate and the Echelon. But what are we actually going to do?' said Mirron.
'It's quite simple,' said Ossacer. 'I don't see the point of investigating whether Gorian can do what is rumoured. All we have to do is track him down to wherever he is hiding and when we do, kill him.'
'This is nothing more than opportunism. And you will regret it.'
Herine Del Aglios, Advocate of the Estorean Conquord, stood up from her recliner and walked to the open balcony. Estorr sparkled in the cool sunlight. The air was fresh, scented with dawn rain and drenched in the taste of the new season. But Herine's heart remained set in dusas ice.
'We regret the necessity, not the decision itself.'
Herine turned back and stared hard at Ambassador Tharin of Dornos. He had grown very old in the years since the Tsardon had all but torn the Conquord apart. His huge eyebrows were completely white now and his face had sagged alarmingly, giving him the look of an ageing bloodhound. Liver spots covered his hands and he was unsteady on his feet. His toga, slashed with Dornosean lilac, covered a body that was withering quickly.
Yet he was still proud and authoritative in his dealings. Herine had watched his position regarding Dornos and the Conquord harden. She had seen it from a number of her territories. Tharin, though, had played his hand with the assured timing of a master. Bahkir, under marshal law for four years now and with an Estorean consul sitting in the palace at Sungmai, should have watched him.
'That statement makes no sense, Tharin.' Herine sighed. 'You have waited until we are committed to the pacification of Atreska to take your disastrous course of action. Presumably, you feel we will ever be too weak to enforce our will on Dornos in the future. You will find that you are mistaken. Though perhaps you will be safe in the embrace of God by that time.'
Herine stopped herself from scoffing at the expression of hurt on the man's face.
'Herine, please. We are friends.'
'Were. Be happy I am not having you tried for treason. Diplomats have many rights not granted to the common citizen. Sometimes I regret the passing of certain of my more inclusive laws.'
'I've been trying to tell you for years how badly we have been struggling. Yet still Jhered or his lackeys come every season with their criminal demands for levies, both men and money. We cannot, we will not, sustain it.' Tharin coughed. His whole body shuddered with the effort. A little blood flecked his lips.
Tharin wiped his mouth with a cloth. Herine signalled a servant to pour him some water. She looked away from the ambassador again, seeking to compose herself. She caught her reflection in a mirror glass hanging above an ornate, leaf-carved fire mantle.
Her make-up had covered most of the lines on her face but she was always careful to ensure she looked authoritative, ignoring the trend to try and appear as young as possible. That did not befit the Advocate at the age of eighty-two. She was proud of the grey in her hair. Signs of a life spent in the service of her citizens. Nonetheless, Herine still felt vibrant and refused to contemplate old age. She adjusted the circlet of gilded leaves in her hair and ran her finger along her nose, wishing as ever that it had been more sculpted. She smiled to herself before turning back to Tharin; that she should still suffer vanity at her age.
'You know there is a man not two hundred yards from here who could cure you, whatever it is you have. And there will be more like him. Able to save citizens who once had no hope.'
'They represent your greatest weakness, Herine,' said Tharin. 'I would rather die than have one of your Ascendants touch me.'
'You will undoubtedly get your wish,' snapped Herine.
'Don't you see they are the root cause of the Conquord's struggles since the war?'
'I know the job of education is not complete.' Herine retook her seat and stared across the table at Tharin, wondering where she had gone wrong with this man.
'Is that what they tell you? Your advisers and the Ascendants? The sweetened story that nothing is wrong that a little teaching won't cure?'
'You think I don't know the poison that the Order is spreading?' 'And there you sum up the problem you face,' said Tharin. Herine paused and frowned. 'Speak.'
Tharin took a deep breath and composed himself, dabbing at his mouth and his forehead. Sweat was on his brow.
'You are the
appointed representative of the Omniscient on this earth. And yet your disdain for your own Chancellor is common knowledge. In pursuit of your Ascendants, you have turned your back on your own religion.'
'Oh!' Herine threw up her hands in exasperation. 'A decade and still you don't understand? The Ascendants are part of the Omniscient, they do his work. They are not a replacement. You know what we have uncovered. You know this strand of our religion existed before it was outlawed by those who feared its capacity to undermine their power. That fear still drives Felice Koroyan. So be it. I no longer recognise the religion the Chancellor claims to follow. It is not mine. I only regret the Senate's refusal to let me remove her.'
'I understand exactly what you think you are doing, Herine. But the ordinary citizen has not seen what you have and you cannot be surprised that they remain scared of this new power they see you supporting. The citizen is confused. He no longer knows if the generations of Omniscient beliefs he has taken to his heart are true. He feels undermined by you, his Advocate, and he fears the violent influence of the Chancellor.
'He cannot trust what he always took to be the truth. You should talk to Felice. She'll tell you. For every citizen who keeps faith with her doctrine or who chooses to turn to the Ascendancy strand, ten revert to the ancient faiths that dominated before the Conquord came. You're breaking the Conquord more effectively than any action Dornos takes ever could.'
'You're attempting to render me responsible for Dornosean treachery? Ridiculous. Refusal to pay levies has nothing to do with religion.'
'No, no,' said Tharin. 'Your refusal to read the accounts has done that. Your confusing signals over the Omniscient are merely cement over the cracks. My people are poor and they are hungry. And they will not pay any more to keep you in wine, Estorr in fresh paint and your legions staffed to wage war. That time has passed. Peace and stability must rule. We want the friendship of the Conquord. We want trade and alliance. We can no longer suffer dominion. It is ruining us.'
A Shout for the Dead Page 4