The Heron Kings

by Eric Lewis

  Two days after the fires of the Lenocca military camp were put out, a watch captain was discovered in his tent, lying on a pallet soaked with blood and piss with a gaping hole in his throat. A day later a patrol went out looking for some lost new recruits and never came back.

  In Eikenstead, a woman who’d gone missing and presumed dead along with her babe turned up with an unbelievable story of capture and rescue. One of those lost recruits overheard the telling of it, and between the two the village went wild with rumor and speculation. Soon after, a band of local brigands who robbed the villagers under pretense of ‘foraging’ for the queen’s army was surrounded by an emboldened mob armed only with pitchforks. The day ended with the brigands tied to horses and torn into quarters, and the pieces piled at a nearby crossroad under an effigy of a woman labeled ‘The Warrior Priestess Sends Her Regards’.

  In Carsolan, a ragged caravan of smugglers arrived unusually tight-lipped regarding their journey through the war-ravaged country, but after a few days in the tavern district tongues loosened a bit, much to the interest of Vinian’s many paid informants.

  * * *

  Vinian herself was much surprised when Carthagne Fadhlan ven Xedrusia himself arrived in Lenocca with a letter of safe conduct and a company of mercenaries. He presented Vinian with another letter bound by Engwara’s seal, and marked in all the secret ways Vinian had shown her that ensured that it hadn’t been opened.

  V,

  I’m writing this with my own hand because I do not trust any other. I cannot believe what you’ve told me, though I must because it comes from you. A peasant uprising! It is beyond unimaginable!

  I have commanded Taurix and Ludolphus to advance immediately, together, to stop this treasonous plague from spreading. That is my only command to them, and to you. By any means necessary, is that clear?

  The banker has volunteered the use of his mercenaries. I do not know why, but he claims it is to secure the bank’s investment in the form of our victory. Maybe. He seemed to become most distressed only when I mentioned the location of the disturbances.

  Make what use of them you may but act in haste, for when Taurix arrives I fear his methods will be far less precise. And be careful.

  Work your magic for me, Vinian. I need it now more than ever. Remember how I love you and I know you will remember your faith to me. It is my only comfort.

  Engw Q

  * * *

  A flash of warm indignation seized Vinian. Remember my faith? Did Engwara mistrust her baseborn spymistress, whatever the letter claimed? Or was it just paranoia? And to sign it with her official signatory title….

  Vinian shook the thoughts from her mind and looked up at the banker. “An intriguing offer, Mister…what was your name again?” She said it just to needle him.

  Carthagne rolled his eyes dramatically. “As if you don’t know. As if you haven’t been spying on me from the moment I landed on this accursed continent. But I suppose ‘banker’ will do. My name seems to be a matter of some local difficulty.”

  “Fine, fine. But tell me the truth, why are you involved in this?”

  He inclined his head just a bit, paused. “It’s embarrassing but…I sent a messenger this way with some, er, important financial documents to an associate of mine. He’s yet to return and I fear he may’ve fallen victim to this unpleasantness.”

  Vinian raised an eyebrow. “That was stupid. This way? Where?”

  Carthagne sighed. “Very well. To Vin Gannoni. I said nothing because the city is still under Pharamund’s control and I didn’t wish to present the appearance of a conflict of interest. Completely unrelated bank business, I assure you. Profit flows everywhere, my dear. But I would know the truth of it.”

  “It would’ve been safer to take a ship and come down from the north. This county’s a choke point going west to east – you sent your man right into the jaws of the beast.”

  Carthagne opened his mouth to say something, but paused. Then a weak smile. “Time was…of the essence, I’m afraid.”

  He was lying. She could’ve told that even without her agents’ reports. Oh, he was a master of deception, no doubt. But only so far as his job required, and thus Vinian’s job necessarily required her being better than that. Best to keep him under close watch. I shouldn’t be convinced too easily, though.

  “Well, I’m accustomed to using my own people. People I trust. Why should I be inclined to use your…personal security contractors, as you put it?”

  “Oh, they’re quite skilled in domestic pacification techniques. Good hunters and trackers too. Why, I recall a nascent rebellion against a Pelonan doge in Ayala that was put down with exquisite speed and precision by the company I employ. It was simply a matter of locating the leaders’ children, appropriating them all at once then returning them a little bit at a time, if you take my meaning. The affair was over within a week. They’re Cynuviks, primarily. Hardy and strong, inured to pain and toil. Gods help me but they consider this country soft. Most of all they’re sworn to absolute obedience. Even without your trust they could prove useful.”

  “Hmm.” Vinian shouldered past Carthagne, making a bit of a production of circumnavigating his bulk in the small tent. Outside, the mercenaries busied themselves tending to horses and erecting tents of their own. They were an ugly, muscled troupe of brutes sporting either long flaxen hair or none at all. Blue tattoos adorned their bare chests and shoulders that defied the cold. They grunted at each other in their own tongue, sounding to Vinian like a ward of consumption patients. “Any of ’em speak ’Vani?”

  Carthagne smiled. “A few, though none be great conversationalists.”

  “Then I hope you paid them well. I plan to put your claims to the test.”

  “A plan already? I’m impressed.”

  “Oh, I’ve been stuck here brooding long enough to come up with dozens. I’ve got an idea of where these rebels are – I just need to pin them down. Thanks to some…recent events, I couldn’t risk using any of these.” She waved a hand contemptuously over the camp of edgy soldiers. “Let’s waste no more time. I just need to grab a few props and we’ll be off.”

  “Props?”

  “Let’s see…cart with horse, couple of sloggers, dogs—”

  “Dogs? I don’t comprehend, mistress.”

  “Hungry ones. And a few of those trash pickers out there. Yes, that’ll do nicely….”

  PART THREE

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Total War

  “It’s right here, m’lord. We left it just as we found it, so you could see for yourself.”

  Taurix glared up at what was left of the boy. Looks like I’m in the right place. The cold held the worst of the smell back, but Taurix wrinkled his nose anyway. The flesh had started to rot away yet still hung lashed to the crossbeam, arms wide as if to say, “Behold, the fortunes of war, my lord.” And it was indeed a sight to behold. The wreckage of the manor house had not weathered the winter well, the foundation and frame all that remained of the place. That and the Qassorian oak door. The soldiers hadn’t even bothered to bury their comrades. Taurix couldn’t really blame them for that – bodies had become part of the landscape, no more remarkable than the snows that covered them or the scavengers that fed on them. But in this case….

  “And you’re telling me this is the work of peasants? Why exactly are we spending all this money on weapons and armor and training when some underfed dirtfuckers with sharpened sticks can do this?”

  “W-well, Marshal, we think they at-attacked at night, like cowards they did—”

  “Oh, well,” Taurix said, tongue dripping acid sarcasm, “a night attack, was it? That’s completely different, of course.” Taurix stepped forward and the soldier stepped back, pinned against his horse. “Truly cowardly. Tell me, which do you think is more useful to my purposes – cowards that win or a pile of burnt fucking corpses?” He grabbed the
man and shoved him face-first into the festering hangings on the cross before them. “You think this does me any good, eh? Idiot!” Taurix threw him into the muddy slush. “You could take a lesson from those cowards. Get up! Did you question the villagers?”

  The soldier wobbled to his feet, fighting to hold back tears. “Y-yes lord, of course! We put half of them to torture. They all said the same thing – the folk what done this robbed their food stores and left weeks ago.”

  “And where did they go?”

  “They wouldn’t tell them. But they claim the band hasn’t been seen since.”

  Taurix sighed. “Then the village is of no use to my purposes either. I want you to round them up.”

  “Them? Who?”

  “Everyone. Every single peasant, villein, laborer – anyone you can get your hands on. Everyone. Bring them here and hold them. You have one day.”

  “But, my lord, that would take—”

  “Whatever it takes, do it! That’s what an army’s for. Now go!”

  Taurix turned back to the dead boy, considering. Mockery, he thought. They’re mocking us, mocking me. Putting him up there like that for all the world to see. They’ll live to regret this. But not for long. He sent for his engineers – they had much to do and not much time.

  * * *

  It was a pathetic haul, all told – less than a hundred souls, all too old, too young, weak or sick to run away. But they’d had only one day. There’ll be more to come, Taurix thought as he looked at them. Plisten was no walled town and the county boasted no castle of note, but it was difficult to herd sheep without a fold so the mass huddled and wept within an enclosure improvised by the engineers.

  He mounted the tree stump set before the human cattlepen. Would these southerners even understand his words? No matter. He cleared his throat and blew a glob of phlegm onto the ground. “My name is Taurix. Baron of Ólo and of Vin Gannoni, Lord of Phenidra, Count of the Northeastern Marches, Defender of Bergovny, Chieftain of Ar’Vaddhfa Edrai, Admiral of the North’rd Fleet and High Marshal of the armies of K— er, of Queen Engwara of Greater Argovan. I am also the last spectacle most of you are ever going to see.” He paused for effect. If they did understand they gave little sign.

  “In the brief hours or days before you die, I wish you to tell any that pass by here the cause of your grievous sentence. And that cause is the most unspeakable, unthinkable, unforgivable act that a vassal can dare to commit – open, violent rebellion against a sworn lord. The gods themselves have ordained the order of this earth in which some must rule and others obey. Defiance of that order is not only a sin against mortal law, but against the very divine universe. And who, I ask you, who can be against the gods? None!” He almost laughed at the hypocrisy of his words, and he glanced briefly at the units under Ludolphus for any rolling eyes.

  “Your queen,” he continued, “in Her infinite mercy and love for Her loyal subjects, has decreed that this perfidious plague of insurrection must not be allowed to spread further. Therefore, take comfort in the knowledge that the example of your punishment will stanch the flow of this pestilence, and restore peace and prosperity to this most blessed of lands. May the gods light your path, because I certainly will not.” He stepped down.

  Beside him Ludolphus stood scowling. “Nice speech,” he muttered.

  “Thank you, I so rarely get to declaim these days.” Taurix motioned to an engineer, who motioned to another farther off, who motioned to another. Finally from behind a stand of trees came a line of soldiers marching one by one. They each held a cross.

  A cry went up among the penned villagers. If they did not understand the Marcher lord’s words, they certainly took his meaning now. A few tried to jump over the two-yard-high planks of the fence, only to be beaten back by watchful sentries.

  “Ah,” said Taurix, “much like when a kitten realizes it’s being drowned and there’s nothing it can do about it. Sort of beautiful, isn’t it – that moment of terrible inevitability.”

  “Positively captivating,” Ludolphus said, wearing a bitter frown. “Let’s just get on with it.”

  Taurix regarded the old general with deliciously false sympathy. “Oh that’s right, I forgot – you come from humble roots yourself, don’t you? It must feel like I’m crucifying your own people. Well, I’m sure your ancestors weren’t so squeamish about doing the same for mine when you drove the Marchmen into the mountains. Just be thankful we’re both on the right side of history this time round. And you haven’t long to wait – see, here they come now!”

  Taurix strode toward the enclosure escorted by a retinue of spearmen and ordered the gate opened. The wailing peasants shrank back before him, but he finally picked out his prize – a young, heavily pregnant woman, sprawled on the ground and nearly senseless with fright. Perfect, he thought.

  “No,” she whimpered when she knew she’d caught his gaze. “No, please—”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, yes. Come here!”

  He grabbed the woman and lifted her up. So near starved was she that she put up only a token resistance that evaporated after a single blow. Amused that not a one of her neighbors dared to defend her, he carried her out of the pen and tossed her on the ground next to the first cross-bearing soldier. “Witness,” he yelled in his best divine retribution voice, “the wages of treason!” He took a dagger and speared the woman’s wrist straight through to a crossbeam, and she howled in agony. Cries of “Butcher!” and “Chthonii take you!” rang out among mostly incoherent moans. The soldier tied her arms and legs to the beams and used a large construction staple to nail her other wrist down, then he and another carried the cross to the nearby stretch of road where a post hole had been dug, leaving a trail of blood behind them. They hoisted the whole ghastly assembly, and the center beam sank home to stand upright. The cross was thicker and twice as high as the one that’d held Lupold and then the boy, and bore its victim to the sky to be seen from far off, as Taurix had ordered. The woman jerked, then sank into merciful oblivion.

  “Wake her,” said Taurix, “we ain’t done yet.” He pulled out his sword. The woman writhed in half-awareness after someone tossed a bucket of cold water up at her. He stepped back, taking care to judge the distance just right, then raised the long gray blade. Most of the soldiers turned away with tight grimaces, knowing what was next. Taurix swung the sword up, grazing the woman’s belly just enough to open it. Blood sprayed everywhere, and then her skin exploded like a lanced boil and her unborn child tumbled out. The red little thing swung from its umbilical cord, quivered once, twice, then dropped to the ground with a string of ripped entrails flailing behind. It stilled, and the woman sank into shock and did not recover. Taurix turned back to the panicked villagers, face splattered with blood. “Now. Who’s next?”

  One by one they went up, man and woman and child. Some fought while being dragged to their assigned place, most didn’t. Some fainted or even died from heart attack before their turn, but they went up anyway. Many of the soldiers had to leave to vomit after doing their bit. The crosses were spaced about fifty yards apart, all along the road like signposts pointing the way to hell. The screams flew over the treetops and flooded the valley, stretching on over hours and miles while each of the condemned succumbed to blood loss or exposure. Only one remained. When it was his turn at last, Taurix stood over the brewer Ludrig, smiling his bloody smile. “Now. You my friend are having a very lucky day. Very lucky. I’ve a task for you, so listen carefully.” They gave him food, coin, warm clothes and even a horse and told him to ride far and wide and tell all what he’d seen.

  The work was hard and took all day, and when it was done Taurix rode past each one, looked each in their eyes and smiled.

  * * *

  “You know, I think I might be getting used to this damnable cold at last.”

  “Indeed. Might I ask a…philosophical question, my lord?”

  Taurix lay on the table in his t
ent while his secretary Tobius worked oil into his aching joints. “By all means, General Ludolphus. My intellect is feeling invigorated today.”

  “What exactly is the point of this butchery? And that speech? If you were going to execute them anyway, I don’t understand—”

  “It wasn’t just for them,” said Taurix.

  Ludolphus frowned. “It wasn’t?”

  Taurix waved the secretary away. “Give us two minutes, Tobius, then come back. No, it wasn’t. You read that spy’s report – the things these rebels have done. My guess is they’ve at least one good soldier among them, leading or giving advice. Maybe even officers. Deserters. That display, well—”

  “Was meant for my army,” Ludolphus finished.

  “Our army. We foul things up enough and we’re just feeding these terrorists more recruits. They’re still out there, you know, hiding in the forest like the cowards they are, just waiting to welcome the weak-minded with open arms and then turn their spears against me. But trust it, after today that’ll be less likely. You smell the stench of puke in the air? It’s sweet to me, general – the more afraid they are the more afraid they are to betray me.”

  “You mean, to betray us.”

  Taurix nodded. “Precisely. Now, if you’ll excuse me – it’s been a long day and we’ve as much to get done tomorrow. Tobius! Get back in here!”

  * * *

  When Taurix moved on he peeled off the least useful five hundred from his army and sent them to relieve Lenocca’s garrison. Those so relieved in turn made their way back to Carsolan and carried with them the stories of events both lived and heard from their comrades, and the Crucifixion of Plisten was foremost among these. Like the smugglers before them their words spread through the lower city and grew with each retelling. Two nights later three city guards were found floating in the harbor with their bellies slit open, bloated and fish-eaten. In response, Engwara ordered six taverns and the fishmongers’ and dockworkers’ guildhalls burned to the ground.