Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

Pavel Nunan, Master of Sword for the 2nd legion, the Bear Claws of Estorr, met Roberto's army two days after they had crossed the fords at Scintarit and turned south to skirt the Toursan Lakelands on their way to Gestern. He had approached their marching camp on horseback late in the afternoon, riding pillion behind one of thirty of Master Kell's cavalry, and shadowed by Roberto's forward guard.

  Kell had enveloped him in a long hug and brought him personally to Roberto's tent, where the next stage of their operation was being planned. Roberto stood for Nunan's salute before pointing him towards an empty stool among his command team.

  'Sit, sit,' said Roberto. 'And help yourself to food.'

  'Thank you, General,' said the sharp-featured Goslander.

  Roberto studied him. The effects of a shoulder injury were still apparent in the way he carried himself and his uniform was a maze of repairs. But his breastplate and helmet were polished and in fine condition. The scabbard at his waist without doubt held a sharpened gladius.

  'She found you. I knew she would.' Nunan looked fondly across at Kell.

  'And so here we are,' said Roberto. 'How many are you?'

  'We are still finding survivors from Scintarit,' said Nunan. 'Escapees from the Tsardon prisons, those who were lost in the Halorians or down towards the Toursan Lakelands whom we have contacted through our foragers and forward scouts. We'll never know how many are lost and never to be found. But we now have three thousand, four hundred and seventy-three, as of the day I left our camp. Many are not fit to fight. Some never will be. But we are making a difference. We have been disrupting supply to Atreska though we are coming under increasing pressure from steppe cavalry who are patrolling the area from the Tarit Plain south to the fords.

  'They'll know you are here and marching south and it will worry them. But I don't believe you will meet significant resistance until you reach Gestern or at the very earliest, cross the Atreskan border in the south.'

  i don't understand,' said Davarov. if they know their supply lines are being raided, why do they guard them so inadequately? The one we took down could never have stood up to a concerted raid, whether they saw it coming or not.'

  Nunan spread his hands. 'And in their overconfidence they are not unlike we were until very recently. I'm guessing but the fact that they marched so much of their army north, south and west suggests they are confident of victory despite supply disruptions. And that they have Atreska to supply them anyway.' He scanned those assembled in the tent, his eyes resting on the two Atreskans, Shakarov and Davarov. 'You don't know, do you?'

  Roberto felt a sudden chill. 'Know what?'

  'The supply train you attacked. I'm surprised it was crossing Scintarit at all. We haven't seen one for twenty days. We had assumed any reinforcement would be diverted north or south, particularly because of our presence here. And because they don't need to supply their armies in Atreska.'

  'What are you talking about?' demanded Shakarov.

  'Atreska has turned,' he said. 'They fight with the Tsardon, not against them.'

  Davarov and Shakarov were on their feet in an instant. Kell and Nunan followed them, she standing in front of him. 'You lie,' spat Shakarov.

  Nunan faced him evenly. 'Strike me for a liar if you believe it. But I have been here trying to stay alive for over fifty days, with Tsardon around every bend of every path and river. I'm here because I believe I must gather all the information I can and disrupt the supply as best I can. And I have seen with my own eyes the flags of old Atreska flying on every fort along the border. I have seen Tsardon standing on their battlements with their Atreskan allies.' He pushed Kell aside. 'Strike me for a liar.'

  Roberto didn't look at them. The ramifications of what he had just heard were falling through his mind like rock from a mountainside. He kneaded his forehead with his left hand.

  'Sit down, sit down. All of you.' He waited until he heard seats being retaken. 'Good. Now, I understand the emotions but we've been here before, haven't we?' He looked meaningfully at his Atreskan commanders. 'Please, let us think about this in a balanced way. Half the citizens outside this tent are Atreskans. And what Nunan has said affects them all.'

  'How far have your scouts penetrated my country?' growled Shakarov.

  'All the way to Haroq City,' said Nunan. 'The flags are flying on Yuran's towers.'

  Shakarov and Davarov were both hunched forwards. Big strong men, both of them, but both with eyes that shone damp in the lantern light.

  'There must be resistance,' said Davarov quietly.

  'Yes,' said Nunan. 'Throughout the country as far as we have seen. There is good news within the gloom, my friends. It is easy to cross the border if you are a native Atreskan and I have plenty with me from the Rogue Spears who remain loyal to the Conquord. We have had contact with legions fighting a rearguard all the way to the Neratharnese border. Across the country, loyalists strike at them but their numbers are overwhelming and Yuran's legions are with them. The Conquord forces cannot hope to stem the advance and the fact of the civil war played into our enemy's hands. For every citizen who would strike them down, there are three who will feed and heal them.'

  'Is it organised, this resistance?' asked Roberto.

  'Barely,' said Nunan. 'But if the rumours are right, General Gesteris is there, somewhere in the south-west. We are going to find and join him. Take the fight back to the Tsardon at Neratharn. Reform the Bear Claws.'

  Davarov turned to Roberto. 'General. Roberto. Please, we must join this fight. We still have eleven thousand in our force. We can break them.'

  'Wait,' said Roberto, raising a hand. 'Nunan, what do you know of the forces moving south to Gestern.'

  Nunan's face was grim. 'They've diverted at least seven thousand more to that front. It's clear that they don't expect significant resistance until they reach Neratharn and the force going north to Gosland I suspect to be a holding one only.'

  'Then they will get a bloody nose from Atarkis,' said Roberto. 'Good. I don't think they've accounted for us at all. At least, not properly.'

  'Don't say it, Roberto,' said Davarov. 'It makes Gestern the critical front for the Conquord, I know.' 'Nunan? What of Gestern?'

  'I have very little information, General,' said the Master of Sword. 'But you aren't going there for no reason, are you? There are now upwards of twenty-five thousand Tsardon on their way there. Jorganesh was already having trouble in the south with steppe cavalry and Tsardon infantry. If he retreats, as is likely, it will add pressure on the Gesternan border. If he stands, he risks being cut off.'

  'And whatever his decision, it has surely already been taken,' said Elise Kastenas. 'Assuming he received your messages or has been contacted by the Gesternans.'

  'I think the point is this,' said Roberto. 'Whichever direction we take, we will be chasing the Tsardon. But there is clearly more risk to the Conquord through the loss of Gestern than Atreska, simply because of the weight of defence that exists in the wider territories. We will continue our march as planned. And you, Nunan, still determined to head into Atreska?'

  'Absolutely,' said Nunan. 'General Gesteris is my commanding officer. It is my duty to try and find him.'

  'And mine,' said Kell. 'I am a Claw.'

  'I respect that,' said Roberto. 'Gesteris is a lucky man. We could do with soldiers like you. But before you and Kell go back to your people, tell me how you've managed to keep your Atreskan legionaries from deserting or betraying you. I think Davarov and Shakarov would be fascinated to know.'

  'It's quite simple,' said Nunan. 'I and the Rogue Spears Master of Sword have questioned each one separately about their loyalty to the Conquord or to an independent Atreska. Those who speak the former have removed their Atreskan insignia. Those who speak the latter are no longer with my army.'

  'You let them go home?' asked Shakarov, frowning.

  'Oh no,' said Nunan, eyeing the two Atreskans warily. 'We have too many enemies already. I will not willingly add to them.'

  'War begins to bite,' whispered
Davarov. 'The Conquord must prevail.'

  'Lift your heads, Ascendants,' said Jhered. 'You are among friends here.'

  They all looked to Arducius who nodded, though he felt suddenly anxious. Their heads came up to look at Marshal Mardov, and the small, luxuriously appointed reception room in which just she and they stood. His heart fell and he wondered if they would ever really have friends outside of themselves.

  The Marshal saw their eyes and covered her mouth with a hand to hide her gasp. She took a step backwards. She made the encircling sign of the Omniscient over her chest and stared. Her eyes eventually dragged to Jhered.

  'What are they?' she asked.

  'Ask them yourself,' said Jhered. 'Please, they are just children.'

  She turned back to them and her look was reluctant, suspicious. Beside Arducius, Ossacer had returned his sightless gaze to his lap. Mirron took her lead from Gorian who was staring at the Marshal with a mixture of pride and anger. She struggled to frame words.

  'We are the future,' said Gorian. 'And Lord Jhered says we will win the war for the Conquord. That is what we are.'

  Arducius found a smile crossing his lips. Mardov was taken aback by Gorian's confidence. And for once, the fiery Ascendant had not chosen belligerence.

  'How?' she asked.

  So they told her, Arducius mainly, but by the time they had finished, all had had their say. Mardov was seated by then, caught in the tale they were telling. And if he didn't mistake it, Jhered was actually proud of them.

  'Please,' said Ossacer in conclusion. 'If there is one thing you believe in all that you have heard, it is that we are not against God, we are with God. We serve Him and the Conquord.'

  'Manipulation of the elements?' Mardov shook her head. 'Can it really be true?'

  'Think of the possibilities,' said Jhered. 'Do you want a demonstration?'

  'I'm not sure I do. Does that make sense? Maybe later,' said the Marshal. 'You understand this is all rather difficult to take in. I'm not surprised the Chancellor has reacted the way she has. This is . . .' She blew out her cheeks, unable to string the right words together.

  Arducius regarded her, wondering what she really thought about them. No doubt her friendship with Jhered had swayed her to listen to them. But in her eyes remained the look that was becoming all too familiar to him. Misgiving. Anxiety. And the unhappy wariness that led so quickly to fear and hate. Funny. He had been desperate to feel dry land beneath his feet, the security of walls around him and a comfortable bed on which to sleep. He had been here only a few hours and now he wanted to leave.

  ‘I will help you, though, Paul,' she said. 'I don't know where you're going with this but I know you well enough to trust you.'

  'It's all I ask,' said Jhered.

  'And it's all we ask too,' said Arducius. 'Just to be given a chance. Not judged before the act.'

  'Very well,' said the Marshal. 'So. Where are you going? Despite what I've just said, I don't think you can fight your battles here. We are desperate but not so much that my people will take on something this new, this . . .' She waved a hand ineffectually.

  'Different,' said Gorian.

  'Uh, yes.' The Marshal smiled, embarrassed.

  'How are you desperate?' asked Jhered. 'I thought your borders well defended. And with Kark to your east . . .'

  'The Tsardon are marching south very quickly. There is no real resistance in Atreska, as you well know. Their numbers and equipment suggest they mean to breach us, not hold us. Again, not a surprise. I need Jorganesh. We hear nothing from him. He has four legions and they were up against lesser numbers, though the steppe are a real handful as always. With him at my forts, I consider myself content. Without him, I won't last long into dusas.

  'The Tsardon have a lot of ships in the Bay of Harryn. I can't take my legions or my navy from the east for fear of invasion from the sea. There is no reinforcement coming from the mainland. You know the problems, Paul. Overstretch. Scintarit and Atreska were the lynch-pins. Both are broken. Whatever you think you can do, it needs to be done quickly.'

  Arducius looked at Jhered. Plainly the news was a surprise. He had spoken to them about the pressure that Gestern would face but something was not as he expected.

  'I had thought Jorganesh to be here by now,' he said quietly.

  'No,' said Mardov. 'And my scouts cannot find him, nor will my Karku contacts give me anything. I am praying he is in Atreska, perhaps engaged with an enemy I had no knowledge of. Out in the harbour, we aren't supplying, we're evacuating. This town is being made into a barracks.' She looked at the Ascendants dubiously. 'They are but four, however powerful you think they are. If Jorganesh is gone, over thirty-five thousand Tsardon are coming here and I cannot defend against such numbers. Not even if I had a wall across my northern border. Paul, where are you going with them?'

  Jhered took a deep breath. 'I need to find Roberto Del Aglios. I have to get him to accept the Ascendants. It is the only way to ensure they can be used without the Order or the armies railing against them. I have to get up towards the Sirranean border and his last known position. I'd thought to track along the Karku border and skirt the Lakelands.'

  'Dear God-who-embraces-us-all,' said Mardov. She glanced again at the Ascendants and Jhered motioned her to continue. 'Are you mad? Sirrane is a lifetime away, and that assumes Roberto is still there. If he has word of Scintarit he will either be on his way back through Gosland or heading to the fords himself.'

  'And that would truly be a blessing.'

  'One that you are counting on, I suspect.' Jhered raised his eyebrows and inclined his head. 'I understand your thoughts, Paul, but it isn't realistic. You can't travel in Atreska now. My best scouts are being picked up. The Tsardon forward riders are everywhere. And even where they aren't, the Atreskan traitors are.'

  'Then what do you suggest, Katrin?'

  'You only really have one choice if you want to get into Tsard but you couldn't take the numbers that you have brought on your ship. You, these four and a couple of others at the most, if you aren't to be deemed a raiding party and slaughtered before you have travelled a mile.' She shrugged. 'You'll have to go through Kark.'

  The forum in Gull's Ford was full of Tsardon soldiers. There was not enough ale and wine to go round, it seemed, and there would be trouble again. Like there had been night after night since Atreska's so-called 'liberation'. The Tsardon slept where they felt like, used the basilica as an administration office and officer's quarters, took everything and paid for nothing. And this was supposed to be preferable to Conquord rule.

  Han Jesson was hearing the same excuses Yuran had been giving them for a decade. How peace and plenty would follow war and austerity. He stood on the steps of the forum with Praetor Gorsal, whose words he heard but whose smile was brittle.

  'You have to give them time.'

  'To do what?' he said. 'Destroy the rest of the town that escaped the raids? Look about you. This isn't liberation. This is occupation.' A familiar knot of cold loss gripped his stomach. 'And where is my family?'

  'In time,' said Gorsal. 'In time.'

  Jesson stared at her. 'Not good enough.'

  He walked down the steps and onto the forum floor. The place stank of sweat and alcohol. Citizens reduced to little more than servants. All pretence at a working economy was gone. And when the food was exhausted, they would be abandoned. Jesson had only agreed to defect because he had been assured his wife and son would be returned to him. That had been almost sixty days ago. But no one had been returned to the homes from which they were snatched those six long years past.

  The Tsardon commander was drinking with his men at the corner taverna. He was an arrogant man. Overconfident in his authority and ignorant of the feeling Jesson could sense building in the town. He barely spoke the Atreskan dialect and they had been forced to adopt a halting border language none of them had used in a long time.

  Jesson breasted through the Tsardon warriors, trying to keep his courage afloat. They paid him no heed.
After all, he presented no risk. The Tsardon commander, a sentor named, Hareshin, looked up a little blearily as he approached. Dusk was hours away and this man was drunk. Jesson feared the darkness.

  'You come to offer me something?' he asked, straightening a little. 'Some word of thanks or a prayer for our Gods?'

  Immediately, attention was focused on them.

  'No,' said Jesson. 'I come to ask you to prove that you are really my ally.'

  'Prove it?' The sentor smiled and raised his cup. 'That we are here is proof enough. That the Conquord is banished from here, and soon the face of this world, will be more proof than any should need. Go away. Better still, get me another drink. This one is warm.'

  He slopped wine in a puddle on the table and poured the rest away very deliberately.

  'Your raiders took my wife and son from me,' said Jesson, finding courage at the end of his despair. 'Prove you are better than the Conquord. Find them for me.'

  Hareshin laughed in his face. 'Back. When were they taken?'

  'Six years ago. Sentor Rensaark took them.'

  'Six years?' Hareshin looked to his men and the volume of the laughter increased. 'Did the Conquord take your mind as well as your country? They are gone from you. Sold on.' His smile became a sneer. 'Your son is a slave, if he is not dead already. And your wife. Imagine. She is moaning under the man she now worships as he thrusts inside her willing body. The man whose seed swells in her belly. The man who will not let others take her. A Tsardon man.'

  Jesson stared straight back at him. His rage burned inside and he kept it there.

  'She is happy. Now.' Hareshin sat back in his chair. 'Let that be good enough.'

  'Well, it's not,' he said quietly, it's not good enough at all.'

  Chapter 51

  848th cycle of God, 8th day of Solasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  Jorganesh spurred his terrified horse back down the long single column of his army and yelled for order. Futile or not in the barrage and the panic, he had to try.

  'Shields overhead. Set defence up the slopes. I want to see sarissas, I want to see walls of steel and timber. Show them the Conquord crest!'