'We wouldn't fight if you took me back home.'
Gorian's eyes flashed. Kessian backed off a pace.
'Last time,' he said quietly but in a tone of voice that made Kessian shiver. 'I mean it.' He reached down and grabbed Kessian's hand. 'Let's go. Keep quiet until you're spoken to.'
Kessian felt sick all over again. But he'd lost his appetite now. Gorian was gripping his wrist too tight. He wanted to pull away but dared not. Instead, he looked about him and tried to see what the fuss was about. The snow was all turned to slush where the soldiers had marched on it, churned with mud. It was very slippery. Kessian shook his arm to try and free his hand.
'It's all right, I'm not going to run or anything.'
Gorian looked down briefly and let him go. 'No, I don't suppose you are.'
They passed between two dazzling white cliffs and were heading up a slope towards more and more mountains and snow. The wind was cold in the valley and Kessian rubbed his mittened hands together.
'How far are we going?'
'Can you see those people at the top of the rise?' 'Yes.'
'There. That's where everyone is that I need you to see.' 'Why?'
'Because I said so, and because it will teach you some important things.'
More learning. It was always learning. Even at the Academy they had time to play. Here, there was no time at all.
'And don't think that about me, boy,' said Gorian.
'I wasn't thinking anything,' said Kessian, unable to keep the whine from his voice.
Unexpectedly, Gorian laughed.
'You know I was just like you at your age.'
'Were you?' Kessian didn't think it very likely.
'Of course. Like father, like son. Always picking at the corners, always kicking against authority, testing my boundaries. And so you should. It'll make you strong in mind.'
Kessian smiled.
'Just try and learn when to stop,' said Gorian, patting his shoulder. 'That's the difficult part.
Kessian wondered if he should try and be a bit like Gorian. At the Academy, understanding and tolerance were everything. Out here, being in charge was the best thing. And everyone listened to Gorian. They might even be scared of him. Gorian didn't seem to mind which it was.
'What did I help you do?'
'Watch out.'
Gorian's sharp tone stopped him in his tracks. At his feet lay a whole human arm. The fingers were curled around an axe and there was a ring on one finger. Kessian choked on a scream and stepped back, looking away. But suddenly, all he could see were arrows, spears, stones, blood and bones. Bits of people. And even one or two almost whole bodies, crushed and mangled. He gagged and put his hand to his mouth and nose though there was no smell. Just this horrible mess.
'What is it?' he asked weakly.
'This is a battlefield,' said Gorian. 'But a very special one.' Kessian wanted to back away. To turn and run. Dark was smeared over the slush. He'd thought it mud only it wasn't. 'Why?' It was the last thing he wanted to ask.
'Because if a man loses his arm on a normal battlefield, he falls beside it to die. Not our men, not our army. They carry on, do you see?'
Kessian shook his head. 'I don't—' 'Come over here.'
Gorian was moving to stand by a body with a spear in its lower back. A rock had all but crushed its head. Kessian tried to be strong but he gagged again. His heart was pounding and he thought he was going to be sick. It felt so bad here. Like sickness. Ossacer would know what it was.
Gorian knelt by the broken body and placed a hand on its neck. Kessian felt a rush of energy through the earth and the man's legs jerked and his fists clenched and unclenched.
'You're healing him!' breathed Kessian, his nausea forgotten.
'Oh no,' said Gorian. 'You cannot heal a man who is dead already. But you can make him live again. And move. Come and touch him. Tell me what you feel.'
Kessian backed off shaking his head but with his eyes locked on the reanimated man. The body twitched and writhed. It made no sound. He felt a pain low in his stomach. The man clawed at the back of his head, trying to move the rock that lay on his shattered skull. Gorian rolled it away, wiping gore off on his cloak. Kessian dropped to his knees and was sick. He couldn't help it. There was nothing left of his head. The whole back of it was splintered and the brain inside was smeared over rock, bone and slush. His face was pressed into the ground. He was trying to turn it up but he couldn't do it.
'It's all right, Kessian. Don't be ashamed. This one doesn't look too pretty, does he?'
'We mustn't meddle with the cycle of life,' said Kessian. 'He should be returned to the embrace of God.' He retched and spat. His mouth tasted horrible.
'Direct from the Omniscient's scriptures no doubt,' said Gorian. 'But the scriptures are old. We are the new power and the Order is scared of us because of what we understand. We all worship the Omniscient, Kessian, but we must be allowed to do his work in the best ways we can.'
'But—'
'Do you think this man wants to return to the earth? I gave him another chance. Is that not a miracle?'
Kessian was confused. This man was broken beyond repair. He reached out with his mind and recoiled from what he felt. 'He is in agony,' he said.
Gorian looked across at him, a slight frown on his face.
'Does that matter? He was not breathing and now he is. Now, admittedly this subject isn't useful to me. His back is broken so he cannot support his torso and there is little muscle left in his neck to turn his head. It doesn't matter. The point is that I can do it and you can do it too, if I show you. And to answer an earlier question, your natural use of energies is amazing. I can use the well of power you draw in to help me make these people live again.'
Kessian heard him. He even understood all the words. But it made no sense.
'Why?'
'Come here.' Gorian's gesture was insistent and Kessian pushed himself back to his feet and dragged himself over to the body that was still jerking soundlessly. 'I know you can do this so just listen. Ossacer will have taught you. Place your hand where mine is and open your mind to the energy map of this subject. Remember, he was dead until I touched him. I want you to tell me how you think I managed to make him live and move again.'
‘I don't want to touch him,' said Kessian. 'Please don't make me.'
The wind was whistling north along the valley, gaining strength. He was cold and he was scared. He shivered, wanting the nightmare to end only he knew it wouldn't. Tears broke around his eyes and ran down his face. At his feet, the body twitched violently and was still.
'All right,' said Gorian, sounding irritable. 'He isn't in pain any more if that makes you feel better.'
Kessian felt some semblance of normality return to the earth and the world around him. The clamouring and complaint he sensed in the fibres of energy subsided.
'The earth is angry you did that,' said Kessian.
Gorian's eyes locked on to his, the power in that gaze almost overwhelming. But there was light in his eyes, and joy.
'You could feel that?'
‘I couldn't shut it out. Why do you think I was sick?' 'Don't get sharp with me, Kessian. This is important.' 'Why?'
'Because it means you can feel something it took me years to feel.
It makes you even better, even more useful, than I thought you were.' 'Oh.'
Gorian frowned. 'You should feel glad about that. This is a wild land. Power is everything.'
Kessian said nothing for a moment. He felt uncomfortable, like he'd seen something he shouldn't and was about to-be found out.
'I still don't know what we're doing here.'
'I've told you,' said Gorian. 'Taking the Ascendants from the shadows. Putting us where we belong.' 'All of us?'
Gorian ruffled Kessian's hair inside his cloak hood. 'All who believe as I do. Come on.'
Kessian stared down at the body one last time.
'Why do you want to make the dead live again?'
'Because we nee
d our own army. We have no country of our own like the Conquord or the Kingdom of Tsard and we must not rely on others. These people, the dead that I can give life to once again, will be ours to command. They will fight for us and be loyal only to us.' There was an odd light in Gorian's eyes, a grim delight. 'They will want nothing, they will need nothing but our blessing to continue walking. What do you think about that? Your own fighting force?'
Kessian had wooden soldiers at home. One of the carpenters on the Hill made him a whole maniple and a miniature catapult. Gorian's tone made the dead sound like toys.
'They should be granted rest in God's embrace,' said Kessian.
'These are soldiers!' Gorian's shout bounced off the valley sides and Kessian winced. 'There is not one among them who wanted to die or whose time had been called by God. Every one of them wanted to live on. I give them that chance. Don't you understand? I am helping them and in return, they fight for me. It's so simple, Kessian, why don't you get it?'
'But in that place you took me to ...' 'Wystrial,' said Gorian.
'They were not soldiers. Just ordinary people.'
Gorian sighed. 'There was a plague there. Terribly unfortunate. And you're right, it killed ordinary people. Some of those we managed to make live again and they helped us load ships, didn't they? And now they are returned again to God's embrace. But there were soldiers too. The garrison and lots of legionaries. None of these people chose to die. These were good honest people and a horrible death found them. I gave them life again and here they are. Is that not a good thing?' 'I suppose,' said Kessian.
'And if you were in their shoes, and your life was snatched from you even though you were faithful to the Omniscient, would you not choose to live and breathe and walk again if you could?'
Kessian considered for a moment and felt his mood brighten. 'I would.'
Gorian nodded and smiled. 'As would I. However briefly. And whatever I was asked to do. And if an Ascendant has saved them, is it not right that they leave their prior allegiance and work for that Ascendant?'
'I suppose so,' said Kessian.
'That's all there is to it. Now come on, come and meet the king and think on the good we are doing for the unfortunate dead.'
He was right, of course. No one chose to be dead. Old people, like very sick people, sometimes said they'd had enough and welcomed a return to the earth but that was about as far as it went. It was a strange thing to consider. You could get second chances at many things but never at life once you were dead. Until now.
'What does it feel like to be woken up after you've been dead?' asked Kessian once they were well on their way.
Ahead, he could see the slope rising up to the top of the valley. A lot of people were up there. They were standing in two groups. One was still and he realised who they were. The other was bigger and hard at work setting up a new camp. There were already a lot of fires alight. He could already imagine the warmth just as he could see it through the excited energy trails in the air. His mother had taught him loads about fire. He loved it.
'I don't know,' said Gorian. 'It's a very good question. We'll research it together, how's that?'
'Why don't we just ask one of them?' asked Kessian.
'Because they may not speak their opinion,' said Gorian.
'Why not?'
'Because they do not need to speak to do the work they must do. How do you think someone feels if their last memory is of death and they open their eyes on God's blessed earth once again?'
Kessian thought for a moment. 'I think they might be frightened. They might think it was their next cycle on the earth beginning but then they might think they were lucky that they had another chance at the old one.'
Gorian chuckled. 'I think so too. And because of that, there is no need to speak, is there? I speak for them instead.'
Kessian shook his head although it didn't make much sense. Gorian was sure and there were things he understood better than anyone. The two of them fell silent and Kessian found his eyes drawn more and more towards the reawakened dead standing or sitting silent up on the rise to his left. There was quite a distance between them and the regular Tsardon army.
Gorian angled them well up to the right and Kessian surprised himself by feeling a little disappointed. He wanted to know what they felt right now. But he knew the king wouldn't wait. It was a bit like having to see the Advocate. She made all the rules.
The two of them walked through the Tsardon army. Kessian drew closer to Gorian. The men were huge, covered in thick furs or dark metal and leather armour. Their voices sounded harsh and came from mouths full of broken and rotten teeth, surrounded by stubble and beard and mired in dirt and grime.
They looked down at Kessian and over at Gorian with obvious distaste and although some of them showed some fear, most wouldn't move aside for them. Some even got in the way. Gorian didn't react, just kept a firm hand on Kessian's shoulder and steered him through the camp. He was heading for a grand-looking set of pavilions with flying pennants, set a little way from the bulk of the army.
The king was standing warming his hands over a fire and talking to a couple of other men. Kessian could tell he was the king right away. The energy map surrounding him pulsed strong and calm like the Advocate's always did. Although he wore clothes similar to many of his soldiers, they were of fine tailoring. A chain of gold hung from his left shoulder to his right hip and a shining dark cloak was clasped about his shoulders. His face was clean and shaven, his mid-brown skin looked scrubbed and oiled in the firelight and his hands were adorned with thick gold rings. He had a single tattoo across his forehead depicting galloping horses.
'He's from a steppe cavalry high family,' said Gorian when Kessian asked about it. 'And royalty in Tsard always displays its lineage like that.'
'What happens if he stops being king?'
'I don't think the thought has ever crossed his mind,' said Gorian.
He marched them straight up to the fire. None of the guards near the king challenged them or gave them any more than a glance. The king noticed them, dismissed one of the men and nodded at the other to make him see who was coming. The man turned round and Kessian's breath caught in his throat. He was so ugly. His face looked like it had been hit with a rock. His small eyes stared out of a face absolutely covered with tattoos. Kessian couldn't make any of them out. They were just meaningless squiggles and dots and lines. But it wasn't just the face that made Kessian scared, it was his aura. It was cold. Cold like death though he was not a reawakened one. Whoever he was, he bowed to Gorian.
'My Lord Gorian,' he said in a thick accent. His voice was like stone dragged over stone.
Gorian nodded to him but bowed to the king. 'King Khuran, if I may?'
The king shrugged and gestured.
'Condition?' demanded Gorian of the tattooed man.
'Significant damage. Wear was considerable. Projectile impacts from that height are difficult. I am suggesting forty per cent will not go further without repair. A waste of thread and subsequently a waste of your energy, my Lord.'
'Muscle depletion?'
'Mostly. Some limbs. Fractures of legs and lower back are common. They will walk but they will decline quickly and the drain on you will be out of proportion with their worth.'
'Suggestion?'
'I will sort them. You can inspect at your leisure and administer the touch to those you agree are of no further use.'
Gorian nodded. 'You seem a little saddened, Lotd Hasheth. I do hope you aren't developing any emotional attachments.'
'They are my boys and girls,' said Hasheth, a smile cracking his face and revealing painted teeth, the centre ones sharpened to points. 'Every general cares for his charges.'
'Thank you, Hasheth, I will inspect later. Dismissed.'
Hasheth bowed once more and marched away through the Tsardon ranks. Kessian watched him go and saw how every soldier stepped aside even if they weren't looking in his direction. He was desperate to ask about Hasheth but the king was waiting
and everyone knew you didn't keep kings waiting.
'And despite all that you consider this a success, do you?' Khuran's face was stone.
'You did not lose a single man to the enemy, my King,' said Gorian. 'None has so much as a scratch.'
'And the dead did not land a single blow,' said Khuran. 'No new dead, no dead army, wouldn't you say?'
Gorian looked confused for a moment. 'One can always create dead. The battlefield is the most convenient place but it is by no means the only resource available to us.'
Khuran's eyes narrowed and his face flushed. 'You know what we agreed, Gorian. You know the weaknesses in your "other resources". You know why we must have fresh fighting dead, not fat town garrison soldiers.'
Gorian glanced quickly at Kessian who had felt a chill across his body that wasn't due to the weather. He wasn't sure why but what Khuran said left him deeply uneasy all over again.
'My King. We are all of us new to this warfare. We will perfect our tactics.'
'I do not have the weight of arms to win the fight we have started,' said Khuran sharply. 'The mathematics are very simple indeed. If you do not deliver, or if I think for one moment you cannot deliver me what I must have, I will withdraw. I will not leave my country open again. Do you understand me?'
'You worry unnecessarily,' said Gorian smoothly. 'We are halfway to Inthen-Gor. When we take what we came for, the entire front north to south is at our mercy. We cannot lose this, Khuran. Trust me.'
Khuran let his gaze linger on Gorian before he turned to Kessian. Kessian gulped, feeling as if the weight of those powerful, confident eyes would be enough to drive him to his knees.
'Your Majesty,' said Kessian.
'And you are?'
'I am Kessian,' he replied, bowing his head. 'Your Majesty.' 'Oh dear,' said Khuran.
Kessian felt as if he had been slapped. Next to him, Gorian tensed. 'This is my son,' he said. Kessian raised his head and knew that he felt pride. With it, came guilt.
A Shout for the Dead Page 13