A Shout for the Dead

by James Barclay

  Adranis blushed and Roberto almost sobbed at the humility.

  'I still have a lot to learn.'

  Kell snorted. 'Who from?'

  'So you don't think twenty-seven a little young and brash for such a command?' asked Roberto, winking.

  Kell met his humour blankly. 'Not in this case. You should see him.'

  'Perhaps I will have cause to. Little brother, all I shall say is this. Should I fall, the Conquord has an able deputy to the Advocate.'

  Adranis drew in a sharp breath and then gasped. He bit back sudden tears and managed a nod.

  'Thank you.'

  'Not necessary. You are born to it. I can see it in you instantly.' Roberto clapped him on the shoulder. 'Come on, let's eat and yarn. Don't know about you but I'm famished.'

  Chapter Seventeen

  859th cycle of God, 25th day of Genasrise

  Roberto banged the table and roared with laughter. He sat up on his recliner and drank some sweetened hot wine. On the table around which they all lay, meats, sauces, fruits and breads were still piled high. Servants had been dismissed. Outside, light was fading and the evening was cold. Rain threatened. In the banquet hall, the atmosphere was warm and the fire banked.

  'God-take-me-to-my-rest, I had forgotten that,' said Roberto when he could speak again. 'That bloody red Atreskan shield. I can recall it sticking out in the midst of battle like a fire in the night. As if Davarov wasn't obvious in the first place. If I hadn't so much faith in him, it would have terrified me. That was Herolodus Vale, wasn't it?'

  'That's right,' said Dahnishev. 'The day Arducius brought the blizzard and Mirron turned the Tsardon catapults to ash.'

  'That was some day,' said Roberto, sobering at the naming of the Ascendants.

  'Why did he do that?' asked Adranis who had been drinking in the stories of the Tsardon war all afternoon. 'Davarov, I mean. Why did he carry an Atreskan liveried shield? Why did you let him, Roberto?'

  'You haven't met him, have you?' said Roberto. Adranis shook his head. 'It is an education. He's one of a kind and Dahnishev will back me up on this. I have never met a man more impassioned about his duty to the Conquord, yet I have also never met a man more immovably cemented to his country of birth. He is the most ardent Atreskan you will ever meet, and he's against some stiff competition as you can imagine.

  'It was a difficult combination to command in the early days, but what I had to remember is that his loyalty to the Conquord was unshakeable and he brought all his charges with him on that basis. It meant that I could give him the latitude to express his individuality because in his case, it merely strengthened his belief in me and in us. You don't take a shield from a man like that, just like you don't treat him like any ordinary soldier. If you do, you remove his identity and make him less useful.'

  'But that's an open invitation to insubordination,' said Adranis.

  'Not so. Not so long as he understands where his boundaries are and his duties and loyalties lie. And Davarov always knew that. Passion wasn't and isn't everything with him. He is clever and charismatic and those are qualities to be encouraged always.'

  'Couldn't sing though, could he?' said Dahnishev. 'Remember the road to Neratharn?'

  'Remember?' said Roberto, putting his hands to the sides of his head. 'My ears still hurt on cold mornings.' He looked over at Adranis once more. 'But he did sing and it kept us all going when we might have given up. If you find a man like that, don't gag him, give him a platform.'

  They'd reminisced for a long time. Too long, really. Roberto felt a little foggy. He fell silent and let the mood quieten. He topped up his goblet with water this time.

  'You're thinking we could do with him here,' said Nunan.

  'No,' said Roberto. 'I look at what you have here and there is no immediate cause for concern. In any case, he may well have his own problems. Atreska's a mess. It seems always to have been so.'

  'So what is coming at us?' asked Kell. 'Your messengers talked about six thousand. Hardly an invasion force.'

  'No indeed, but the Tsardon do nothing without reason and the Sirraneans believe something larger is going on. I find it impossible that this is the only action they are taking. We must expect other forces on the move further south, and presumably more coming up in reserve. How they have rebuilt so fast I can't begin to guess but assume they have, that's all that matters.

  'For that reason, I have asked the Advocate for a full mobilisation. It's expensive, I know, but the Exchequer is in full flow once more. We can probably just afford it and we can also drive the Tsardon back into their hinterlands for good this time, if we are ready for them. We're well served up here in the north. Gosland has good legion strength and we can call on Dornos and Tundarra, even Phaskar, though they may send to Atreska via Neratharn. What?'

  Around the table, the other four were looking at each other, faces suddenly glum.

  'You've been away a long time, Roberto. You're missing out on recent events,' said Dahnishev. 'Like what?'

  Kell nodded for Adranis to speak. 'Dornos has left the Conquord.'

  'They've wh—' Roberto stopped, stunned. He frowned. 'They can't. That's ... that's unbelievable. Bastard traitors. They'll regret it.'

  'Will they?' Adranis shook his head. 'Not in the short term. They know we aren't strong enough to impose martial law and we can't afford to invade. Atreska bled us dry a second time. They think they can avoid us altogether if they ally with Omari. And we're hearing reports that Tundarra might go the same way.'

  'No better than the rats in their Conquord-built drains,' said Roberto. 'God-embrace-me, I would build a road to Cabrius and flag the Tsardon all the way. And then I'd laugh when the Dornoseans came crawling back for mercy.'

  'We all know how you feel,' said Kell. 'It makes us isolated up here. It's half the reason the Bear Claws weren't redeployed further south.'

  'But they won't attack,' said Roberto. 'We'll pull Estoreans and loyals out and close the borders, right?'

  'Already happening,' said Nunan. 'But it leaves us woefully short of strength should the Tsardon prove to have greater numbers than we suspect.'

  'All the more reason for a full mobilisation of what we do have. Has the message reached you from Estorr yet?'

  'No,' said Nunan. 'At least, it hadn't when we left Goscapita ten days ago. Your messenger intercepted us on the first leg of a see-and-be-seen tour. All very exciting stuff. The message will break where the river conjoins with the Bysane a hundred and fifty miles south of here. We'll get the news before Gosland's Marshal.'

  'Good, because you're in the front line, let's face it. All right, what do we have here?'

  'The full legion, 2nd Estorean, the Bear Claws. We have five hundred of the 4th Ala, the Gosland Spear acting as they always do in peacetime, as roving border guards. That gives us five thousand in all but in truth there's little behind us. The Spear are undermanned to the tune of a thousand foot and horse. The 30th Ala, the Firedragons of Gosland, are mainly north on the border with Omari. Still difficult up there. Best to assume we're it if Tundarra sends no one.'

  Roberto nodded. 'Good enough. For now at least. Those following me won't get across the bridge and I suspect your onagers can reach bank to bank anyway. No reason why we can't keep them back from the gatehouse even without placing you all on the Tsardon side.'

  'The same assessment we made,' said Kell.

  'That reminds me. Who's in charge of the legion today?' Roberto smiled. 'Still can't believe our Marshal General consented to this husband-and-wife-on-campaign idea. Actually, I can. Elise Kastenas has a dreadfully romantic heart beneath that sparkling armour of hers. It doesn't really work, does it?'

  'We have no complaints,' said Nunan. 'And anyway, it was either have us both here or lose us both from the legions. Simple choice really.'

  'Blackmail,' said Roberto.

  'Such an ugly word,' said Kell, face cracking. 'We prefer to call it familial negotiation.'

  'And one day, I will ask you how you divide the t
ask and keep the legion happy. Or perhaps I'll ask Adranis in private.'

  'It's not important right now though, is it?' said Nunan. 'We understand you are assuming command of the Gosland defence forces.'

  Roberto felt uncomfortable now it came to it, sitting in front of two such competent people.

  'We can work it for mutual benefit,' he said.

  'Not at all,' said Nunan. 'To have you as our commanding officer would be an honour. You must assume control. Take a look at Adranis's face if you want to know the effect you'll have on morale.'

  'Come on Roberto, don't be bashful.'

  'That's you digging the latrines, little brother.'

  They all laughed. Roberto refilled and raised his glass. Wine again this time.

  'Let us toast the Advocate, the Bear Claws and the inevitable defeat of the Tsardon.'

  The Ascendancy guard and the levium soldiers had all brought fuel. Fires were alight all over the cavern, shimmering stars in a tiny firmament. But still it was cold. The chill set in slowly, soaking into the bones and leaching through every muscle. From their vantage point, high up on the south wall of the cavern, looking down over the island and away to the outflow of the lake to the north, Mirron gazed on a sight she knew no Karku had ever expected to see.

  Drinking in the warmth of the fire around which she sat with Jhered, Harkov and Harban, Mirron scanned the results of a day's feverish planning. Karku had been flooding into Inthen-Gor the whole time, bringing stories of the advance. Worrying stories because while the Tsardon army was being tracked and harried all the way, the dead had to all intents and purposes disappeared. No scout knew where they were. No Karku brave enough to follow them had come back.

  The Karku thronged the island and stood at the opening to every pathway. Boats littered the lake in case they should appear from any stream outflow. And in amongst them stood the two hundred Estoreans giving out advice, conducting training in weapons and tactics. It was a tiny effort given the time but anything might help swing the oncoming battle. The noise of organisation echoed, sometimes painfully, from the scarred rock that enclosed Inthen-Gor.

  Mirron tasted the energy. It was fevered, nervous and laden with an inevitability that felt like defeat. By now, the Tsardon would have reached as many entrances to the cavern as they could. The tragedy of the rout of the Karku was happening up there somewhere. Murder, torture and slaughter, with information the prize.

  A fear had gripped the Karku, spreading like disease across every mountain and flooding into every valley. For all Harban's words and his strength of will, it was not shared by enough of his countrymen. Their doom was upon them. Mirron could hear it in the way they talked and see it in the way their eyes roved the pathways and entries into the cavern.

  Not enough had come here to make the last stand against the dead. Too many had scattered into hiding places deep underground or on ridges no Tsardon or dead walker could reach. What was written was coming to pass and most were just waiting for the end. It made Jhered furious and he had let Harban know often enough this last day. Mirron had winced at some of his words. He didn't understand what underpinned Karku faith. But Harban took it all. Just like now. He was probably the only one looking forward to the battle starting. At least it would get Jhered out of his ear.

  'God helps those who help themselves,' said Jhered.

  'Your God, perhaps.'

  'Yours have not built these mountains on sand. You are strong here, or you should be. But what have you? Two thousand scared rabbits standing on an island, waiting for it to be swamped by a tide of the dead. If three times that number had come, we would win this. Now we cannot be sure.'

  'I hear you. Yet what can I do? The path of a Karku is his to choose. When the paths to Inthen-Gor have been traversed and the passage to adulthood is made, our destinies are our own.'

  'Right,' said Jhered and he shook his head. 'And you expect me to believe that most of you have chosen to let your society fall and your most sacred place be raped?'

  'I expect you to believe that the Karku will do what they believe to be best for those they must protect.'

  'And let the mountain fall?' Jhered shot to his feet and took a step perilously close to the edge of the path, spinning round to jab a finger at Harban. 'You say your people are bound to their faith, that it is the centre of their lives. How much more important can it get than to protect this place? Surely, to keep Inthen-Gor intact is to keep their loved ones safe. It's basic mathematics, isn't it? If losing this place is said to be the end of the Karku, then what other choice did any of your bloody free spirits really have to make?

  'I've brought two hundred here prepared to die on your account. What happened to the rest of you?'

  'Then go, Exchequer Jhered.' Harban's voice was quite calm, his face betraying no anger. 'Take your people away. If you think this is no longer your fight then I will bear you no ill.'

  'Damn you, Harban, you told us it was everyone's fight. That's why we dragged ourselves into this freezing tomb. Pity you couldn't sell it as well to the rest of the Karku. People who should know better and have the guts to stand up for their beliefs.'

  'Paul, I think you should step away from the edge and sit back down,' said Mirron, who winced every time he moved his feet a fraction closer to a drop into the lake a hundred feet and more below.

  Jhered turned his face to her, thought to say something but simply nodded instead.

  'No high diving today, you think?' he said, a smile dragging itself on to his face.

  'Not in that armour, no,' she replied. 'I've been down to the deeps to save you once before. I don't really fancy a repeat performance.'

  'It's cold enough up here,' said Jhered, poking a boot at the fire. 'Here, let me help.'

  Mirron took his hands and opened her mind to the chaotic energies of the flames in front of them. She teased open a break in the circuit and let the warmth flood into her and over her. Her skin warmed from the inside and Jhered jerked in surprise when she allowed it to flow through her hands, into his and away into his body. The hard, tense energy lines that pulsed in him began to soften as the heat eased away the cold and his mood.

  'That's quite some trick, young lady. Is it tiring?'

  'Not at all,' she said. 'Well, a little. I could channel the fire through me directly but it would go out and that wouldn't be much help. So I'm boosting the energies myself. I shouldn't do it for too long.'

  'No. We'll have need of all your stamina all too soon, I fear.' He looked across the fire at Harban. 'Sorry, my friend. But you can understand my frustration, can't you?'

  Harban nodded, ‘I share it. We know why so few are here. Besides those in places so remote the message hasn't even reached them, those that do know are scared. We none of us willingly place ourselves in the path of that which terrifies us. Most of us, anyway.'

  'Those who have come will find their place by God should they fall,' said Jhered. 'We must just pray that we are enough.'

  The echoes of urgent shouts sounded from all around the cavern. At four entrances to the north, green Conquord signal flags were waved. Jhered was on his feet again, Harkov with him, already barking orders.-

  The Tsardon were in the passages. They were coming.

  'But where in God's world is Gorian,' muttered Mirron.

  Abruptly, she felt a slam of rotten nausea that took her breath away. The temperature in the cavern plummeted. Her breath clouded in front of her. The fire sputtered before regaining a little substance. All over the cavern, flames wavered. Some were extinguished. Jhered cut off his next order and crouched by her.

  'Mirron, are you all right? What is it?'

  'God-surround-me, it feels like a suffocation of decay,' she said. 'He's here. He's close and he's doing something. Something big. I can't—'

  The temperature dipped again. Sharply. Dampness on the rocks turned to frost. Cries of disbelief and fear rose to a clamour from the island. Mirron dragged herself to her feet and looked out over lake.

  'Oh dear
God-take-me-to-rest,' she breathed. Ice. From the outflow of the lake it spread like a wave sluicing a sandy shore. Gorian was turning the lake to ice.

  Chapter Eighteen

  859th cycle of God, 25th day of Genasrise

  'It's a bridge!' Jhered was already running down towards the island to make himself heard. 'He's going to use the lake as a bloody bridge!'

  Mirron just stood and stared. Unconsciously, she had taken energy from the fire at her feet to warm her while the ice formed on the walls of Inthen-Gor and marched across the lake. She felt the energy drain around her like it was pulling at her skin, trying to drag it from her bones.

  'How can he control this much power?' she whispered. 'How is it possible.'

  The lake was vast, the outflow river long and deep. Crusting the whole was a Work that should be beyond the four of them together. She shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold. A paralysis gripped her and she felt helpless but to look at the march of the ice. Hypnotic. It chased the water south to north across the cavern faster than a man could run.

  She dragged her eyes round to the island where a swell of noise was growing. Karku and Estorean alike were backing away from the shore. It didn't matter what previous experience they had of the Ascendants, no one had seen the like of this Work. No one. She stared at terrified faces. Those in the front had forgotten their drawn weapons.

  Mirron could hear Jhered and Harkov both bellowing for some form of order. Screaming at the defenders to look past the ice rushing across the Eternal Water and to prepare for what was coming after it. But their words were getting lost in the increasing clamour in which panic grew, threatening to explode.

  Yet there was a fascination in Mirron that would not be ignored. The sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach and climbing into her throat told her the dead were very near. She could imagine the dead walking under Gorian's control, moving inexorably forward, just as Harban had told them.