Dubaku didn't speak as we came close to the first pair of twitching corpses; but as they stirred and bid us obey the brotherhood, he slumped in the saddle. I knew it was Quickmoon who straightened and took control of the horse under him, then took in his surroundings with a broad smile. He caught my eye and winked. Behind him, the first corpse jerked and slumped to hang limp.
Balaran turned in the saddle to study him as we passed. “What is that stinking priest doing in your company?”
“He is not a priest, he is a shaman,” I said.
“There is a difference?”
Quickmoon moved to ride along side me. “They say one name is as good as another, but if that is true why have one word for king and another for pauper?”
I ignored him. Balaran did not.
“Already you use words to hint at hidden meaning and secret wisdom; you won't persuade me to irrational belief, so save your breath, priest.”
“Save it for what? Another saying without sense; breath is only of use if you suck it in and blow it out; what sense in saving it?” He filled his lungs and sighed the deep breath out with evident pleasure. “Pity these pour souls who take no pleasure in so simple an act.”
I did. A sullen anger built in me as we rode on. I didn't mind that we were seen from the walls or that a force was sent to deal with us. I was content to let them come half the distance between us. My soldiers dismounted after a terse order from their sergeant and picketed their horses to one side of the road, then formed up in a line before us. They moved without seeming haste but with smooth skill and discipline. I counted the enemy, saw the black robe of a Necromancer at the head of thirty men on horseback. They were nearly two hundred yards away when I turned to Balaran.
“Deal with them,” I said. “Not fire,” I clarified. I didn't want anything much to do with fire.
He nodded. He had already been rubbing at the stone he wore set into a broad gold bracelet on one wrist. The earth jumped under me and I struggled to control my suddenly plunging animal, catching only a juddering glimpse of what happened as I fought the beast to stillness. Men and horses bounced into the air and came down in heaps within a broad depression some twenty feet wide. Not a man kept his seat and the horses scattered, even those that were lamed. I just had my mount under control and caught a glimpse of men pulling themselves to their feet and starting to move when the sudden slamming of the earth under me came again. A few seconds later it came again. In each of those few frozen moment of stillness I was aware of our own soldiers moving calmly back to their picketed mounts and taking charge of them, knowing that their own efforts would not be needed.
When I was sure Balaran was done and that my mount would not bolt at any instruction I gave it, I walked the beast forward until I came to the edge of the fissure that now lay between us and the town beyond. It ran for as far as I could see, ending in the river at one end. The bottom filled with rushing water that swept up bodies and dashed them down its length. I looked that way, following the line for what might be as much as half a mile.
“We'll have to go round,” I said.
#
“They are still ahead of us,” Balaran told me.
We had skirted Hederan without any further hint of interference and now followed a track north through sparse and stunted woods that sucked the earth dry around the banks of the river that ran more west now than north. The sun threw long shadows more or less ahead of us.
“Yes, but can you find out more?”
He shrugged. “Of course. What do you need to know?”
“How many, who, how fast they are travelling, the lay of the land and a hint of where they may be going.”
He smiled wryly. “You are feeling better.”
“Some,” I admitted, sounding far angrier than I thought the situation warranted. I had no idea what I was angry about or who I was angry at, the emotion simply flared up bright and hot and roiled about inside me, making muscles bunch and teeth clench. I tried to control my breathing and bring myself under control as I stared Balaran out for a few seconds, then deliberately looked away from his calm regard and glared at the horizon until the rage leaked slowly away. Its absence left me weak and shaky.
When I looked back he had dismounted and passed control of his mount to one of the men. He walked a few paces away and then sat down with his back to a stunted tree, made himself comfortable and then seemingly went to sleep.
I walked my horse in a circle ahead of my men, looking all ways and wondering how long I would have to wait. I caught Sapphire's gaze on me and met it. He shrugged and I smiled a half-laugh back, then fought down the emotion that threatened to bubble up out of control. Hysterical laughter would have hurt. Instead I concentrated on walking the horse in circles. It was in better shape than I thought it should be, then remembered that Balaran had worked some magic on all our mounts. My mind was still playing tricks on me but Balaran had been right. I was feeling better. Some better, at least. Maybe soon I'd feel up to picking up the pace.
I reached up one hand to touch my tender head but then thought better of it. Still no helm, I thought. Bandages instead. I'd have to be careful. No more head wounds, I promised myself. Never again.
On my next idle circle I swept my gaze over the mounted soldiers who waited patiently behind me. Veterans all. Experienced older men. Quality armor swathed their bodies and calm indifference masked their faces. Possibly the best my Uncle had at his disposal. Seven of them. Good. No phantom memory there, then. I had issued the order, sent one man back to bring a small force north to take charge of the twin town we had passed, where Balaran had wrought a fissure in the ground to swallow the men sent out to challenge us. An extravagant display of power that would probably pacify the place without any need of further action. As we had bypassed the town, no further force was attempted against us. Dust rising from within the walls had shown me that some buildings had collapsed. I hoped no one was killed. I'd resolved to be more precise with my instructions to Balaran. Still, I thought, his series of localized quakes had been deliberate and the horses had been saved, though perhaps that was chance; the series of minor quakes seemed wrought more to keep the town more or less intact. Who knew? I didn't know. I didn't feel like pressing for clarification.
On my next lazy circle I looked around, wondering why we were waiting, then caught sight of Balaran resting in the shade of a tree and remembered.
How long was this going to take?
#
We rested from sundown to moonrise, but only because I didn't remember until we were moving again that Balaran could grant man and beast sufficient night vision to keep moving. That and the fact that I had fallen asleep in the saddle and didn't have any say in the matter until I woke in the night. The moon seemed painfully bright to my eyes.
I came to my feet too fast, staggered and caught my balance. Waited until the dizziness passed. Sapphire had got me out of the saddle, ignored whatever protest I'd made. We'd camped and I had eaten something, I remembered. I hadn't had a drink. I hadn't wanted a drink. I couldn't remember the last time I did.
I didn't want a drink. The thought struck me again as I stood in the night, feeling reasonably alert and maybe almost myself. The watch was changing; two men were returning to the damped down fires, and I picked out the two fresh guards watching the night. Doubtless their movement is what had wakened me.
“We move on now, as soon as the men are ready,” I said to the nearest of the two returning men.
He saluted without a word and began waking men at random.
I was hungry. And thirsty. But I didn't want a drink. There was food and water, so I ate and quenched my thirst as men prepared themselves. Balaran and Sapphire joined me at the fire.
“Tahal and two blackrobes,” I mused on Balaran's report earlier in the day. “That will be,” I couldn't remember their names, “the two necromancers we know about. And Jocasta. And twenty men at arms, warriors who don't come close to our own men. No indication where they are heading?” I aske
d again.
Balaran shook his head. “Not really. North and west, yes. Toward what the locals call Battling Plain but not necessarily so far, and they may change direction yet. I'll monitor them.”
“Good. I think I can travel a little faster.”
“Not in the night,” Balaran warned.
I shrugged. “No, not in the night. But come the dawn I think I can move a bit faster.”
“Don't push yourself,” Sapphire warned, talking around a mouthful of goat meat. He swallowed. “Head injuries can be funny. They can kill you days after the event. Suddenly. For no apparent reason.”
“Blood clots on the brain,” Balaran supplied. “I've been checking while you were sleeping. The wounds look like they happened a week ago. Everything's holding together nicely. I won't let you push it, though.”
“Dizziness? Blurred and sometimes double vision? Bad memory? Confusion? Intermittent ringing in the ears?” I got bored with listing symptoms and ran on without giving him a chance to answer; “Won't let me?”.
“All normal. All may pass. Your uncle was specific. Make sure you don't get yourself killed. I assume your father would be upset also.”
“May pass?”
He shrugged. “In time usually all symptoms pass, but not always and some are more prone to stay. How's your sense of smell and taste?”
The goat's meat tasted just the way it usually did. “Fine.”
He nodded. “Good. Once lost they don't usually come back.”
I was getting tired already. Not physically; if anything I was far less shaky than I remembered being. But too much information seemed to make me want to sleep.
By mutual unspoken agreement the three of us got to our feet and moved away from the fire as a soldier began to bustle about his business of stowing gear.
“How fast are they moving?”
“They were moving faster than us. Pushing their horses pretty hard.”
I frowned. “Get us some night vision and let's get moving.”
“Not you,” he said.
I wasn't surprised.
#
The river trended north and east through lowlands that sprawled between rugged hills. Here and there tight communities were compressed within green patches of fertile soil, dozens of these oases visible at any one time, clinging to the surrounding slopes or nestled tight against the river. The fertile areas and the bunched dwellings at their hearts were walled. Outside the walls, goats and sheep were herded in small flocks. Inside, figures were busy among the fields. The buildings clustered together to form an inner defence; they had a shabby and neglected aspect. We followed the path close to the river, often coming close to the scattered communities as we pressed on. We were seen, watched, but not threatened. Livestock were swiftly herded into the enclosures, the workers in the fields hurried to the walls and in readiness the people watched but made no move to act against us, seemingly content to protect what they held from our potential depredation.
Every mile along the rode a crucified corpse hung in rank decay and muttered its bleak message.
'Obey the brotherhood.'
Each time we came close to one of these grisly threats, Dubaku paused and released the spirit. Every time he did so, Balaran baited him, and always Dubaku ignored the slight. He had not said a word in my hearing since the night of the fire that consumed Learneth. I began to wonder if he would ever speak again. He did not look at anyone, and never met my gaze should I look at him. He rode alone at the back of the column. He was with us, but not one of us.
Our path led through the heart of only one village, bringing us close enough to see the men and women who manned the walls, though I ordered that we skirt them and offer no threat as soon as I came close enough to see them. The wall was fieldstone and no higher than those that might enclose a field; the gate was just as low, of wood and poorly fashioned. The men and women spread along a short length of wall; they were no more than fifty, and not a credible threat. Uniformly they were wearing rags, and were as thin and sickly as a beggars, their expressions bleak and devoid of hope or expectation. Men, women, teenagers and children all gathered to protect what little they had with fire-hardened spears, stone axes and rocks. There was no hint that of any one of them fared better than the rest. No sign of a headman or of warriors there to protect them. I guessed that whatever such men there might be kept themselves out of sight within the heart of the community; or that no such guardians existed.
At the gate another corpse twitched, impaled on a stake and positioned to face the trail as it passed through the wall. It mouthed its message of obedience bleakly so that any who passed in or out of the community would hear it. The voice was the only sound heard in the stillness while I assessed the silent watchers as they waited apathetically for events to unfold, and decided to ride round and leave them in whatever peace I might vainly hope they had. Their expressions were not much less vacant and uncaring than the corpse who was staked between us. Not one of them was clean or cared for.
“We go round,” I said bleakly, even as Dubaku made to ride forward. A few rocks were raised and bodies tensed in readiness. “No, Dubaku,” I called out. “Not this one. Not now.”
He had already stopped, not a horse-length ahead of me. He slumped in the saddle and straightened as Quickmoon, grinned at me, then turned the horse to cross before mine. “He won't let them be, you know. No sense asking him to.”
The corpse twitched spastically and fell still and silent, just a rotting corpse. On the walls a gasp of horror and fear rippled through the tattered remnants of people as they became aware of what had happened. The first rock arced our way, followed not more than moments later by dozens of others.
“Leave them be,” I ordered, concerned that Balaran would retaliate. I protected my head with one arm just in case a lucky throw should strike me and with the other turned my mount's head and guided it into the broken ground beside the path.
“If they come out from behind their wall we will have to kill some of them,” Balaran said.
The sound of a stone striking a raised shield punctuated his remark and I snarled silently to myself, angry both at Dubaku who had made the defenders react and at Balaran for suggesting we harm them. What harm did he think death would be to those pitiful remnants of humanity? “Leave them be,” I commanded. “Throw up a fog or darken their sight or whatever other harmless distraction you can think of, but do not harm them. That is my order, do you hear me?”
“I hear you, commander,” Balaran responded. “Don't look back,” he shouted.
A sudden brilliant flash of light threw black edged shadows of man and horse ahead of us and was gone in an instant.
I controlled my startled mount and came to a stop. Balaran pulled up nearby and I glanced back over my shoulder at the sudden chaos he had wrought, then back at him. “They will recover?”
Balaran snorted in disgust. “From what? The blindness? Yes, almost certainly all of them. From the rest of their afflictions?” He shrugged. “Did you see them? Malnutrition causes permanent damage in the young and I don't think there was a one of them without the trace of some disease or other written on their bodies. Keeping them alive might not be much of a kindness.”
Yet it was all I could offer for now.
I continued to stroke my horse's neck, as I had been doing since the sudden light spooked it, and tried not to listen to the wails and cries of despair and fear that washed up from our wake. I don't think I had ever felt so depressed or dejected in my life. I couldn't think of a thing to say or even a thing worth thinking, so after a moment I eased back in the saddle and urged my mount to move.
“We will go round them at a distance in future,” I said after a time. “Unless we come to one where the Necromancers gather. When we reach that one we go in and destroy them to a man, Balaran. No restraint and no mercy.”
“No restraint,” he confirmed calmly. “No mercy.”
I looked back one time at that community, seeing nothing but its abject and
enforced poverty. The people of Learneth should see this, I thought. All those men and women who had thrown in their lot with the Necromancers should see the lives they had really wanted for themselves and their children. What horror they had seen already was just a foretaste.
We moved on.
#
“They are gathering a force,” Balaran reported, climbing to his feet.
“Then they know we are coming,” I said.
We were resting the horses and taking the opportunity for Balaran to determine the location and movements of those I followed. I didn't ask how he was gathering the information; I didn't care. He was a battle mage and tactical and strategic information gathering were part of his job. As long as he did his job I didn't care how it got done, or care to know.
Balaran shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Know or merely guessed that someone would follow them; that is not an unreasonable assumption as they well know that our forces are in the field and on the move.”
I glanced around our group. Six soldiers, Sapphire, myself, Balaran and Dubaku. Our forces. It wasn't much. With Balaran it would be enough. Probably. Of course, he hadn't meant us. Ishal Laharek and Tahal would know that a maniple had been engaged at Darklake. Hathen Elt would know that a force had attacked Learneth.
“How many?”
“Depends if we let them gather. Our quarry now numbers forty and are still moving hard away from us to join a hundred men and as many dead men moving at no great pace from what might loosely be called a town some twenty miles ahead of us, and there are sixty more in small groups coming out of the hills to meet them. There are also many similar groups heading for the town but they are too distant to be a consideration. If I enhance the horses and we ride hard we could hit those we pursue before those disparate forces join together.”
The Key To The Grave (#2 The Price Of Freedom) Page 26