One of his staff raised his head. 'Whenever you're ready, chief.' 'Now is a good time.' 'Yes, chief.'
Gesteris noticed that the man had no eyebrows. His faced looked red, too, like it had been scrubbed with gravel. He picked up a metal flask and walked it to the far end of the workshop. Meanwhile, the other two picked up a rough wooden carving of a man standing in a corner and walked it down to place it by the flask. It was clearly very heavy.
'This should be good to watch,' said Gesteris. 'That depends on whether you want to keep your other eye, Senator. Best to just listen and then look at the aftermath.' 'It's your demonstration,' said Gesteris.
'So it is. Step to the centre of the barricade.' D'Allinnius raised his voice. 'Set and light the taper at your leisure, Master Lagalius.'
The two statue-carriers returned at a trot, one of them closing the door to the workshop. Both looked excited but a little nervous. After a brief pause, Gesteris heard hurried footsteps and Lagalius reappeared. All three of them placed their hands over their ears, nodding at Gesteris to do likewise.
'It's loud,' said Lagalius.
The detonation came a few moments later. Gesteris, hands clamped to the side of his head, jumped half out of his skin, drawing grins from the scientists. Noise reverberated around the workshop and there was a brief rattling against the metal barricade. Gesteris was aware that the room had darkened. No light came from the other end of the workshop. Even with his ears covered, Gesteris had felt the force of the explosion and his head was ringing. D'Allinnius spoke, his voice sounding muffled. 'Come and see.'
They picked up lanterns from the small table and the five of them walked round the barricade. Gesteris's eyes widened. The wooden dummy was gone. Not merely damaged or broken but gone. Obliterated. Shards of wood covered the floor. Mere splinters really, nothing thicker than his thumb or longer than his arm.
'God-take-me-to-my-rest,' he said, his voice echoing in his head, ‘I don't believe it.'
D'Allinnius was resting on his cane, a self-satisfied expression on his scarred face.
‘I take it you approve.'
Gesteris gestured, his mind turning over a dozen possibilities. 'How can it be?'
'Come,' said D'Allinnius. 'I'll show you how it works.'
They returned to the office. A thoughtful clerk had left wine and fruit on the desk. Gesteris sat opposite D'Allinnius who sketched as he spoke, an edge of respect in his voice.
'There are two compounds. From the notes that came with them, it was clear very quickly that experimenting with levels of mix would give us a wide range of results. What you saw there represented perhaps one tenth of our supply.'
is that all?'
D'Allinnius raised his eyebrows. 'Small quantities make big bangs. What the flame does is ignite one of the compounds, some alloy of phosphorus and magnesium we think. The heat causes a reaction with the other compound, we aren't quite clear what that is yet, creating a spontaneous, violent, and complete combustion. It rips the container to shreds and those shreds plus a mass of expanding energy destroy the target. In this case, the figure. Oak, by the way. Tough wood.'
'Didn't the notes tell you what exactly the compounds are?' asked Gesteris.
'After a fashion. We're searching the libraries for translations though.
It seems the Sirraneans have no Estorean words for some of their metals and minerals.'
Gesteris nodded. 'That does not surprise me. Now don't take this the wrong way but having to light a taper to detonate this mixture would appear to severely limit its battlefield use. Good for bringing down walls, but no good in the front line, I'd say.'
'On the contrary, I am happy you are able to think clearly. We've been working on that and we found something. By accident, as so often is the case. Lagalius has no eyebrows for a good reason. In fact he is fortunate to be alive. We discovered this morning that impact force alone can trigger an explosion. Friction, it seems, is enough for ignition.'
Gesteris felt his face prickling with sudden warmth. 'That means—'
'Yes, Senator. Just imagine. A flask of this set amongst a net of stones and flung from an onager onto the heads of your enemies.' D'Allinnius's hands, clenched together as he began to talk, now pulled apart further and further in time with a rumbling sound he made by rattling phlegm in his throat.
Gesteris felt flushed. He couldn't keep the delight from his voice.
'You can manufacture this stuff, can't you?' he asked.
'I would prefer to discuss the method with my Sirranean counterparts while delivering them the knowledge they will no doubt want from us in return.'
'There may not be time. The Tsardon are already on the move.'
'So I understand. Don't be surprised to hear that we are working every moment on understanding both compounds and modes of manufacture.'
Gesteris stood up. 'Bless you, Orin. May the Omniscient smile upon your every breath.'
D'Allinnius's face darkened immediately. 'There is no God, merely blind faith. I have no time for the Omniscient belief nor the perpetrators of its evil. If you want real faith, look to the current incumbents of the Chancellery. That is our future, not the scriptures of intolerance and repression.'
'We can debate theology another day,' said Gesteris. 'But let me assure you that our future lies in no small part in your capable hands. Crack this one, deliver us this weapon, and your name will shine forever in the pantheon of Conquord heroes.'
D'Allinnius cracked a crooked smile. 'Just make sure my bust is modelled on the face of my youth. I do not wish to still be frightening children long after I am gone.'
Chapter Twenty Two
859th cycle of God, 35th day of Genasrise
'God-take-me but I hate the night watch. Darkness, chill and not even a Tsardon song to hurl abuse at.'
Centurion Charikus looked the few paces along the rampart path to Lissa Helanius. She was a bleater at the best of times. But give her the dog watch on the Gosland border looking out over the bleak plains of Tsard and she was abandoned to misery. He wondered why she'd joined the legions in the first place. Mind you, she could fight. And fire a bow. She should have gone a long way but her mouth always let her down at the wrong moment. Some never learn.
'You know what, Lissa. If they had a gilded leaves for whining at the games, you would be feted on the balcony every time.'
'Well, it's true, sir. Look at us. All lined up here, what, twenty of us on this platform? And for what? To make Ambassador Del Aglios sleep more comfortably in his bed.'
'That's General Del Aglios now, isn't it? And I tell you something, legionary. If Del Aglios wants us up here, it has nothing to do with his beauty sleep and everything to do with something he knows. He's won more battles than you've had lovers, and that's saying something.'
Helanius thought to retort but chuckled instead. 'Very funny, sir. I suppose so. It just doesn't seem worth it. Three people could give enough warning of an approach. There's four maniples on standby under my feet and the onagers are oiled. Let's face it, they aren't coming and this is just a show.'
'We'll see. All I know is, he wants eyes front, not to the side and not dreaming of tea and fires. So I suggest you point yours in the right direction.'
'Sir.' Helanius thrust her hips at him and turned back to the Tsardon night.
Charikus suppressed a laugh, managed to force a frown and shake of the head and followed his own orders. He saw the arrows a heartbeat before they washed over the ramparts and found their way between the crenellations. Far too little time to give a warning. Charikus didn't even have time to shout. He staggered back a pace, saw the shafts protruding from his chest and felt a dragging heavy pain in his throat. He clawed at the wounds, feeling blood gushing over his hands. Dimly, he saw Helanius tipping backwards but perhaps it was he who was falling. He closed his eyes.
And gasped in a breath.
If it was a breath.
Charikus was lying on his back. His mind was jumbled. He couldn't feel his body. But there was
something. A rushing through his insides that felt like voices. He was aware that was an odd notion. Voices didn't feel like anything, or they shouldn't. But he couldn't force his mind to think anything. It was like someone had closed a door and he couldn't get in.
Memories bled in. Arrows. Coming from the night and drenching them in death. Them. Those that were with him. Standing. Looking into the dark. Falling. Blood. Charikus closed his eyes. He knew that because the light he saw had gone but he had no sensation.
He felt fear. A swarming anxiety that flooded his muddled mind. But immediately following it came calm. Like a hand on a fevered brow or an arm around the shoulder. The relief cascaded along his spine and filled him from within. He opened his eyes again.
Charikus could see stars above. And gentle cloud moving across the dark sky. Light about him caressed him. He felt warm. A tingling built inside him, building through his back and bringing him sensation in his fingertips and down into his feet. He could feel a breeze on his face.
Charikus opened his mouth and air sighed from his lungs. He would take more in but there was no rush. Serenity suffused him. He knew where he was at last. He felt the embrace around him, supporting him. All of them. Because he could sense them too. Others who had made the journey to a rest that would be spent in glory until the time was right for his return to the earth.
Rise.
Charikus rose. The tingling, more a vibration now, fed through his feet and moved through him, making him complete. Around him, others rose too and he experienced a closeness that tasted like family. He was safe here. He looked about him. He recognised this place. From his memories. Down at his feet, the ground was stained. A moment's sadness. He had died here but now would move forward to the next task set for him.
In front of his eyes, the air seemed to shimmer. He waved a hand in front of him to disperse it but it changed nothing. He saw others doing the same. He recognised them too. Family. A woman stood just a few paces from him. An arrow jutted from her stomach. Another from the side of her neck.
But they were all safe from arrows now. And from pain and from longing and from fear.
Enemies.
Charikus tensed. The woman did the same as if she had heard the same word, sensed the same threat. Charikus drew his gladius. It felt familiar in his hand. God needed him to work in death as he had in life until his cycle came again. That was right and good.
Enemies below. Enemies behind you.
They began moving towards the stairs from the ramparts. Some others came from hidden places and moved across the platform, past the catapults and stones. They would need to be turned if the enemies behind were to be defeated. Some began that task.
Charikus led the rest to the stairs. His people, all as one, sure of purpose. With every pace, his vision cleared a little more and the closeness he felt to the rest, the connection like a rope linking them together, grew stronger, more comforting. He didn't want to be separated from them. Not ever. All of them, touched by God and blessed to do his work beyond the mantle of death.
All that are not you can be made you. Bring them.
Clarity.
Charikus walked down the stairs and inside a room. There was light here. Harsh. It was fires. There was noise too. Movement. Enemies. There were seven with him. And all these enemies had to be made into them all.
Enemies. Your blade will release them.
Of course.
An enemy turned to him. There was a look on his face like he did not believe. It was a look that saw the arrows he had within him. The enemy spoke but the words were indistinct. They were unimportant.
Charikus moved towards the enemy. Those others of him spread to bring other enemies to them. The enemy was shouting. A word kept repeating and he could almost hear it. The enemy was afraid. Charikus would release him from fear.
He raised his gladius. The enemy fell over a chair and sprawled on the ground. In the room the shouting had got very loud, overcoming the muffling of the ears. He heard that word again.
Charikus!
He paused.
Enemy.
He struck.
Adranis awoke with a start. It was a shout that had broken his sleep but he couldn't be sure if he had dreamed it or not. In the bunk next to him, Roberto slept on. There was the experience of countless campaigns and the noises of the army camp. Adranis felt comforted. If the shout had been real, or a warning, Roberto would surely have woken.
He heard it again. It was distant, probably from across the bridge. He couldn't make out the tone. Perhaps the Tsardon were playing one of their games.
Finding himself fully awake, Adranis pushed himself up from his bed and pulled on boots, thick wool toga and cloak. A breath of air might do him good and he was needled by the shout. He closed the door quietly behind him and walked the short distance to a flight of stairs that would take him towards the grand gatehouse balcony overlooking the span of the bridge.
Lanterns and a brazier fire gave the balcony a warm glow. It was not a cold night. Genastro was in full flow in Gosland and he was not alone in welcoming the season of growth after a long, harsh and icy dusas. There were four guards on the balcony, all of them looking out across the bridge towards the forward gatehouse. Lights and fires speckled the concrete and stone. Soldiers moved about on the bridge.
'Everything all right, centurion?' asked Adranis.
The four legionaries snapped to attention. Adranis waved them to ease.
'I think so, sir. There was some shouting over at the border gate but it seems to have subsided.' 'I thought I heard something.'
'Probably a fight over cards or something, sir,' said the centurion. 'All quiet now.'
Indeed it was. Adranis felt a little silly. He'd tried to do the nonchalant enquiry but they all knew he'd hurried up here because something had made him that touch nervous. They didn't know why and neither did he but career soldiers would chat and inevitably he'd be the butt of a few jokes. Roberto always said you should let the rank and file see your human side. Adranis didn't think he meant it in quite this way.
A breeze blew across the bridge and into his face. Almost like someone blowing air directly at him. He frowned. The wind was across them, surely, and directed downstream.
'Did you—?' he began.
The air stilled. Adranis heard a rumbling sound, emanating from beyond the border gate. In moments, the noise had eclipsed his every thought. It became a battering roar. Just before the torches and fires were snuffed out on the border fort, he saw windows and shutters explode outwards, sending lethal splinters down towards the bridge. And what looked like a dark cloud streamed around the gate and surged across the bridge.
'Oh dear God,' muttered Adranis. 'Down! Down!'
He had no idea if the others could hear him. He dropped to the ground, dragging the centurion with him, yelling for the legionaries to take covet. The cloud impacted the fort and gates. It thrashed across the balcony. Adranis covered his head with his hands. He heard a thrumming on castle stone and a beating against wood and marble. Somerhing fell across his legs. He was peppered with dust and what felt like small stones. Wind howled around him. The balcony shook, the very foundations of the castle were rattling and vibrating. Distantly, he thought he could hear screams but he dared not look up into the maelstrom.
It went on and on, a purgatory that he feared would have no end. The dust thickened around him, making him cough. Adranis had to raise his head from the floor of the balcony to avoid choking. His face was raw where particles had scoured him, even here behind cover. His hands, he could just about see, were covered in dust. The lanterns and fire on the balcony had long since been extinguished but the pale moonlight swam through the thick cloud.
The wind dropped. Briefly, grit and dirt fell like rain.
Adranis became aware of several sounds at once. Shouting, alarm, orders and pain. He heard moaning nearby. He dragged himself to his knees, feeling the weight fall from his legs. He felt faint and shook his head to dislodge dirt and wha
t he saw now to be sand. He knew he had to move fast. No doubt the Tsardon would be able to take advantage of the sandstorm, if such it had been, sent on a wind that tasted bitter and rotten.
'Start small, be right,' he said to himself, Roberto's words a comfort. 'Keep calm. Assess the immediate.'
The centurion was moving and looked unhurt. Adranis turned and had to stop himself gasping. The weight on his legs had been one of the legionaries. No one but God could offer him hope now. His face was gone. Scoured clean. His eyes were full of blood and bone showed through the skin around his jaws, nose and brows. The other two legionaries were moving but struggling.
'Centurion?'
'I'm all right, sir. What happened?'
'Let me worry about that. See to your men, those you can help.'
Adranis stood up, feeling his heart thumping hard. He looked out over the balcony. He'd read that when a volcano erupted, the ash covered everything. It was just like this. Every outline was indistinct, almost like it had snowed. There were drifts of dust against the gates and bodies lying on the bridge. Soldiers who had been afforded no warning and no opportunity to find cover.
He looked to his left, and quickly to his right. The towers and artillery platforms were dark, looming shadows. He thought he could make out movement but it was vague. Some people were alive but he was only certain of that because of the screams and shouts. Somewhere, calls for order were being made. A lantern flared in the darkness above and to his right.
Adranis's ears were roaring, his eyes beginning to adjust to the half light and gloom. At his feet, one of the legionaries moaned, deep in agony and barely conscious.
'It's all right,' said the centurion. 'You'll be fine. Help is coming.'
He looked up and caught Adranis's gaze. He shook his head.
'What happened?' he asked.
'A dust storm, I suppose,' said Adranis. 'Never seen anything like it.'
'How can it be?' An edge of panic was in the centurion's voice. 'It came from nowhere. It isn't dry enough. And look. There are stones. Chips of granite. Like someone picked up the road the other side of the gate and threw it at us.'
A Shout for the Dead Page 22