Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  'How many?' asked Yuran.

  'Soldiers and riders of the 9th ala, the Rogue Spears and the 8th ala, the Shark's Teeth. Over six thousand men and women. We are sorry for each one that had to die at Scintarit. These we return to you freely and fully armed.'

  Yuran started at that last statement. Rensaark noticed and nodded.

  'You cannot beat us,' he said. 'Any of these brave citizens will tell you that. There is no risk in freeing them into your care. Don't let more Atreskan blood be spilled on behalf of a Conquord that is incapable of defending you. Send your people back to their homes and villas. Have them work in peace in their fields and in their workshops. Declare your independence today. Do it, Marshal. Because we won't turn away. War is coming to the Conquord. Don't let it be your war.'

  Yuran had awoken with the knowledge well before he had been urged from his bed. In the end there had really been no other choice. Yuran looked past Rensaark at his citizens. They were there. Ready to be released back to their homes and their families. Armed and armoured.

  'If I do this, I will need the most secure of assurances from your king. I will be hunted from within and without my borders by the agents of the Conquord, as will all who stand with me. And I invite you in with no certainty that you will ever choose to leave.'

  'Your concerns are natural and respected,' said Rensaark, bowing and smiling. 'And that is why I and my general will sit down with you in your castle before the Tsardon army takes one more step into your territory. This is the first step on your path to liberation for you and all your people. Open your shrines. Smell the freedom on the air.

  'We are your friends. Your allies. Together, we can bring down the Conquord.'

  'Together?'

  'Oh yes,' said Rensaark. 'Tsardon and Atreskan will march side by side to Estorr. Independence is your gift. Bringing it to others is your destiny.'

  The River Teel was a wide free-flowing river, tidal at its outflow into the Tirronean Sea. Paul Jhered and the levium paused only for essential supplies at Byscar, where the bulk of the Atreskan navy was at anchor, before entering the river delta. They made excellent use of the tides in the lower reaches of the river and the strength of their crews to move them quickly through the upper flows towards Haroq's deep-water docks.

  Under the flag and embroidered sail of the Gatherers, making speeds of up to eight knots under a wind that allowed them to ship oars and enjoy a full sail, the Hark's Arrow and her sister ship, the Hark's Spear were unmistakable vessels. Jhered was used to the steady gaze of those they passed in the dozens of riverside settlements and on the busy river itself. But two days from the docks, that traffic had increased dramatically. Likewise, activity on the riverside had been overtaken by build-ups of Atreskan legionaries and in the distance, cavalry could be seen patrolling plains and lake lands. Smoke from beacon fires smudged the horizon.

  Jhered had watched it while an inevitability built up inside him. He'd seen this sort of thing before. He'd been through it in his own country as a boy. Atreska was invaded; or at least they thought they were. All the signs were there and it made sense of the abuse that had been thrown their way. Eventually, he'd ordered a detachment of levium take a long boat and intercept one of the overladen river craft heading south-west. He'd seen the short exchange on board and heard the report from his addos. He could scarcely believe it. At least messages were already being relayed to the Conquord and Estorr; it gave him leave to continue his journey.

  And now with the largely empty berths in sight while the dock-side was full of men and weaponry for transport, he addressed his command team of ten.

  'Whether or not Atreska is facing an invasion is still open to debate. Rumours of rout are often exaggerated. But whatever the true picture, the city will be on edge and we are not liked at the best of times.'

  'Perhaps a disguise for you, my Exchequer,' said Appros Harin to general laughter.

  Jhered nodded the best-known face in the Conquord at him. 'And perhaps I should strap my legs up and walk on my knees to further fool them.' He held up his hands for quiet. 'But the point is well made. Do not wear your cloaks or carry your badges of office more prominently than you need to. We must do everything possible to avoid arousing the anger of the city.' He paused, allowed his expression to harden.

  'You have all travelled with me to Haroq and wider Atreska before and that is why you are with me now. We were here to remove Yuran from office and see Consul Safinn take temporary control. This may now not be possible so not a word of it must pass. Here is what must be done.

  'Harin, take the ninety and split around the city. The basilica, the hospitals, the garrison and the legion complex. Find out what you can, preferably from battle-front refugees if such are to be found. If you can find none, it tells its own story. Make yourself known to the commanders of local forces. They'll be less likely to panic, more so to give you a balanced picture.

  ‘I will take the ten and go to the castle to make contact with Appros Menas, her team and our soon-to-be-erstwhile Marshal. Ladies and gentlemen, we will be travelling on foot. It isn't too great a distance from the dockside to anywhere and I don't want a flurry of horses giving us unwanted attention.' He scanned them, checking they had understood.

  'Communication will be via this ship or messages passed through to the Gatherer station at the castle. Keep an eye on the harbour. Should we lower the Gatherer flag, it means we need to leave fast. In any event you are all to report back aboard by nightfall.' He paused. 'It may not be as desperate as we have heard but there is no doubting something has spooked Haroq and Yuran badly. Keep your eyes open. Don't ignore anything. Trust no one but your levium and the armour of the Conquord.

  'Prepare your people.'

  Barely had the ships nudged berth and the gangplanks thudded down than the Gatherers were running into the heart of the city. Jhered led them out, nodding at some of the soldiers lined up along the dock. He heard many a comment but few were worthy of response or even acknowledgement. He was used to it. 'Here to collect the taxes, Exchequer?'

  'Think the Tsardon might have got to them first, Exchequer.' 'Either that or we've spent them on ourselves for the first time in a decade.'

  'If I were you I'd sail away right now, my Lord Jhered.' The tone of this one made him pause. He looked into the eyes of an old soldier. Well into middle age and sitting on a barrel. 'Nothing to be done here.'

  'There is always something that can be done,' said Jhered.

  'And in your case, that is leave, and alert any that you can, sir,' said the soldier, a centurion in poorly polished armour. 'Nothing can save Atreska for the Conquord now.'

  'Stand up when you address a superior.' Jhered shook his head. 'You are a poor example for your men.'

  The centurion spread his hands. Jhered frowned. Every other soldier they'd passed had been an Atreskan. This man wasn't. He was badly sun-burned and his accent too light. He was a countryman, a Tundarran. Jhered waved Appros Harin to continue.

  'I was there, my Lord. At Scintarit. I escaped because I was guarding the camps that day. I'm sorry but this is as good as my armour gets these days.'

  'What happened out there? What's become of Gesteris?'

  The centurion glanced left and right, aware others were paying too much attention to his conversation with Jhered. He beckoned the Gatherer closer.

  it was a disaster of a magnitude that will shake the Conquord, Lord Jhered, but you don't have time to hear about it, not now. Something's not right with what the Marshal is doing. He's been parleying with the Tsardon.'

  'They're here already?' Jhered gaped.

  'A few of them. Steppe cavalry.'

  'What is there to talk about?'

  The centurion raised sun bleached eyebrows. His scarred forehead wrinkled untidily. 'Old friendships?' he suggested. Jhered straightened. 'Name and legion,' he said.

  'Autin, my Lord,' he replied, standing at last. 'Of the Tundarran Thunder.'

  'You're relieved of all duties.' Jhered indicated to o
ne of his levium. 'Take the centurion back to the ship. I would hear his stories on our voyage home, whenever that might be.'

  Autin saluted. There was a slightly wild look in the man's eyes. He'd seen too much already. It was eating at his mind.

  'Thousands of Atreskan soldiers were released back to the city this morning, my Lord,' said Autin before he moved. 'Armed and unharmed, prisoners from Scintarit. In advance of the weight of the Tsardon army. Why do you think they'd do that?' Another raising of the eyebrows.

  Jhered turned to his nine remaining levium. 'It seems we have urgent work to do.'

  Haroq was a classic walled and defended Atreskan city, and for that Jhered was grateful today. He could lead his people quickly along wide main thoroughfares kept clear for troop movements to and from the docks. And always he could see the castle set on a rise in the land and dominating the city from its centre.

  Passing the western edge of the forum, he caught a glimpse of the real Haroq of today. Thronged with citizens who had nowhere else to go. Frightened, meandering and lost. Sleeping under the stars and waiting to hear the first thud of artillery. Jhered's mind was bleak. Perhaps they would not have to.

  The Gatherers marched purposefully through the castle's courtyard gates. They did not pause for the horn announcing their presence to the keep. The place was in uproar. The courtyard rang to the sound of horses and the shouts of soldiers. Packed carts rattled over the cobbles. Messengers ran in a dozen directions. To the left, behind a cordon of legionaries, ordinary citizens waited to make their demands. Jhered did not think they would get a hearing today.

  He spared the turretted, crenellated keep a glance as he strode beneath the gate house. It would ever be an ugly structure. Some efforts had been made to reflect Estorean architecture. Carved marble overlaid stone in places and carved columns had been erected from which hung the banners of the Conquord nations. It was supposed to be a glory walk but the banners were tatty and the marble unwashed. Yuran had otherwise clung to many traditions of old Atreska. Perhaps that should have worried the Advocate more deeply.

  Beyond the gatehouse the untidy inner courtyard greeted them. A central fountain was being constructed about ten years too late. Like the hypocaust which Jhered doubted would ever be installed. The courtyard was a wide, circular, weed-grown cobbled space. The unbroken inner walls presented an imposing grey face, studded with veined glass and shutters.

  Jhered pointed ahead. 'Stalos, you are coming with me to see Yuran. The rest of you, secure the Gatherer station. We will take any chests we have. Tell Menas and her team that they're leaving with us. Wait for me there.'

  'My Lord.'

  His hand on the pommel of his cavalry blade, Jhered trotted around the fountain towards the wide marble steps up to the Marshal's lavish living quarters. There was an uncomfortable quiet here. None of the activity they had witnessed in the courtyard that would reflect a ruler preparing for war.

  'He'd better be here,' muttered Jhered.

  'Exchequer?'

  'Nothing, Addos. Just keep your eyes open and your hand to your sword. This doesn't feel right at all.'

  Jhered knew the route well. He nodded to the guards on the steps, feeling their eyes on his back on his way into the cavernous, flag-hung hall. Inside, colonnades bordered mosaic pathways set on original stone. He headed left and up a wide flight of stairs and onto a carpeted landing.

  A broad lantern-lit passage stretched away on a left-curving arc. Guardsmen stood outside the double doors to Yuran's dining hall. Their faces registered their anxious surprise at who approached them. Their spears crossed in front of the carved wooden doors.

  'Tell the Marshal I am here,' said Jhered. Til speak with him now.'

  'He is in council, my Lord Exchequer.'

  'Evidently,' said Jhered. 'Interrupt him.'

  The guards shifted. 'He cannot be disturbed, sir. Please?'

  A burst of laughter came from within.

  ‘I won't ask twice and your spears will not stop us. Now, one of you will tell him I am here or I will announce myself.'

  The guardsmen failed to stare him down and removed their spears. He nodded.

  'I'm sorry,' said one. 'I beg your pardon?'

  The guard shrugged and opened the door. Jhered strode in. 'Marshal Yuran,' he said as he walked inside. 'I'm anxious to share your joke. I—'

  The room was full of Tsardon.

  Chapter 41

  848th cycle of God, 26th day of Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  Ten Tsardon. Yuran. Six of his council. Every head turned to him. The Tsardon didn't recognise him of course. But that was as far as his fortune went. Yuran swore and stood, his chair squealing backwards and rocking, almost falling. It was enough to have the nervous Tsardon do the same. Hands went to sword hilts. One of them said something, a question.

  ‘I am very disappointed,' said Jhered. ‘I didn't ever dream you'd turn traitor.'

  Yuran stared at him, the ghost of regret passing across his face. 'Guards. Take him.'

  ‘I don't think so.' Jhered turned his back on the dining hall and the concerted move in his direction. The guards blocked his passage out. 'Time to choose.'

  A fragment's hesitation. Jhered smashed his forearm into the head of one. The guard's skull thudded into the doorframe and he crumpled. The other gasped and fell forwards. Stalos dragged his dagger clear. It was always a mistake to ignore a Gatherer.

  'Run,' said Jhered.

  The two men raced around the curve, steps echoing from the walls. Behind them the shouts were growing. They clattered down the stairs, through the hall and past the stunned gate guards. Jhered came left around the fountain.

  'Levium!' he roared. 'We are betrayed. Let's go.'

  One of his people was at the door to the Gatherer station. He turned and bellowed something through the opening. Jhered came to a halt, recognising him.

  'You're the fastest man we've got. Straight to the docks. Don't

  look back. I want the flags down, oars ready and the sails up. We're leaving. Go.' 'My Lord.'

  A bell sounded. It was the rapid clang of an alarm call. From the Marshal's quarters, soldiers ran into the circular courtyard. There were footsteps behind him too. Levium. Four carrying chests between them.

  'We're out of time,' said Jhered. 'Go. Drop the chests. The treasury will have to do without them. Free your hands to fight.'

  He ducked as an arrow glanced off the wall to his right. Levium returned fire. Two men were downed.

  'Good to see you, Menas,' said Jhered.

  'And you, my Lord Exchequer,' she said, reloading her bow and firing again.

  'And now all I want to see is your back ahead of me,' he said. 'To the basilica. We need to get the others.'

  About twenty Atreskans were in the courtyard now. Shouts were ringing out from other directions too. The bell was taken up by others out in the main courtyard. The Gatherers ran headlong under the gatehouse. Jhered came last, urging more speed.

  The confusion of movement in the main courtyard gave them brief advantage. The alarms were going but no one knew who they were looking for. And the Gatherers were an unlikely target. People stood and watched them go by and they were most of the way across the cluttered space before the order to close the gates was understood.

  There was too much unwanted attention now. Jhered glanced behind and saw the pursuit building, people swinging up on to horseback. He lengthened his stride and ran around to the front of the levium. Menas came to his right-hand side. In the castle gatehouse, men put their shoulders to wheels and the gates began to swing shut. Counterweights rattled on chains, wood creaked and groaned.

  'Buy me some time,' said Jhered.

  Menas and another of her team stepped aside from the run to shoot. Jhered didn't pause. Drawing his sword he went hard at the handful of guards at the bottom of the gate.

  'Levium! For Estorea!'

  The rest took up his shout. Arrows flicked by his head. One sank deep into the throat of an
archer at the gate. Another took a gateman in the back of the neck, sending him tumbling across the wheel. Jhered held his sword in front of his body, only moving it in the last pace before contact. He took it round in an arc down and right, using the pace he generated to continue the swing up and left. The powerful move struck the spear from his target's grasp. The man had the speed to reach for his sword but not to draw it. Jhered chopped back across his body, his blade biting hard into the guard's side and sweeping him from his feet.

  Levium were left and right of him now, facing four remaining guards. Jhered could hear running footsteps and horses on the gallop. Shouts and screams had filled the air, almost drowning out the alarm bells which tolled as if at great distance. He sensed a shadow above him and stepped back sharply. A body struck the ground before him, an arrow protruding from his eye.

  The fall had surprised the Atreskans more and the levium drove forward into the space. Jhered cracked a left-hand punch into the side of a guard's head. He knocked the man down with a sword pommel into his nose. Blood sprayed across his vision. Another body fell across his path, the man gasping his last breath.

  'Clear!' he shouted and they ran through the gates and out into the city.

  On the wide stone parade ground outside the castle, people were standing and staring. Alarm bells were sounding across the city and the unmistakable sounds of a building panic echoed across the clear sky. Twenty or more soldiers were running towards them.

  'Keep it tight,' shouted Jhered. 'Attack on my word only.'

  He identified the leader of the section.

  'Centurion, trouble in the castle,' he said as they approached. 'Tsardon infiltrators.'

  'What?' The man clearly recognised Jhered but didn't believe what he'd heard.

  'We're going to get help from our ship. Yuran is safe for now. Go.' 'Yes, sir.'

  Jhered glanced back over his shoulder to see him go. The gates had closed behind them and he heard men yelling for them to be reopened. Yelling for people to stop the Gatherers. The centurion came up short and turned. He was thirty yards distant. It would have to be enough.