Markan Empire

by Nicholas A. Rose

  "Rescued. That stable door cannot unlock from the inside." Stanak snorted. "Sallis ti Ath is between jobs at the moment. We should employ his services."

  "Very tempting." Grayar considered for a moment. "But better in this instance to let events run their course. We have enough on our minds; Tangan is comparatively unimportant."

  "Sandev?" asked Stanak.

  Grayar nodded.

  "All right," said Stanak, "if we don't start doing more to get her back, or even to locate her, I think Caya will have a breakdown. She's walking the edge as it is. Now, I suggest we..."

  ***

  Faint shouts reached Marcus's ears as soldiers drilled. His hand gripped the balcony rail and guilt rippled through him. Zandra stood beside him and he wondered if she felt the same way. He had refused an audience with his general, the man who had won so many battles on his behalf.

  "I cannot like what I just did," said Marcus.

  Zandra stroked his arm. "But necessary," she said. "People in Calcan must believe you put them first, else you will lose their support."

  "Even so, Kelanus deserves to know I agree with him."

  "Remember what doing the right thing got you last time."

  Marcus turned. "You suggest I should have let him hang for a crime he did not commit?"

  Zandra shook her head and gave no verbal answer. "If Kelanus is wrong and acts because he believes you back him, it's the end of your claim. Finished."

  "But if he is right and he doesn't act because he fears a treason charge –"

  "Then it is over for all of us," completed Zandra. "But you know Kelanus. You know what will happen. You have neither backed him nor spoken against him. If he acts under his own initiative and he's right, then Zenepha is seen as being in the wrong."

  "I know." Marcus smiled. "I recognize the political advantage. That's not my complaint. It is right that Kelanus should know."

  "Not a course of action I recommend, my husband."

  Marcus and Zandra exchanged a long look.

  ***

  Preparations for the armies to ride out were now stepped up, to almost indecent haste. Horses, weapons, armor, tack, wagons, rockets, exploding balls, firepowder, victuals, camp followers, scouts, men...

  Once one thing was sorted, another needed to be dealt with and, sometimes, the first thing needed sorting again. Soldiers sent to the wrong camp had to be transferred back and there were squabbles over who got the scarcest resources, such as rockets or firepowder. Headache after headache after headache.

  Marcus Vintner looked in now and then, but fobbed Kelanus off. He ignored the General's complaints and told him these things were no longer under his control.

  Kelanus grew more suspicious that the Vintner family was more concerned about the lands they owned than they were for Marka. Zenepha, in the early days with Silmarila or Djerana – and sometimes both – in tow, also looked in. And a far more regular visitor than Marcus.

  Zenepha also avoided debates with Kelanus. The General even tried to take Djerana to one side, to ask her to apply pressure, to ask Zenepha to listen to what Kelanus had to say, but that plan quickly failed.

  The ilven listened to Kelanus, emerald eyes solemn. Confusion clouded her expression and she eventually interrupted.

  "I am sorry, General Kelanus, but human military strategy is beyond me." A quick smile, a blink and she had almost run away.

  "Thought you were the warriors of the Benefic Sephiroth," muttered Kelanus.

  Djerana heard, paused and turned back. "For me, not yet," she replied enigmatically. Moments later, she had disappeared from view.

  Silmarila reacted no differently, though she grasped better what Kelanus tried to tell her. She considered his argument for a whole day before returning with her answer.

  "What you say may be right," she told him, "but there are at least two assumptions in your reasoning. From what we know as fact, the course set out for you by Marshal Mikhan is the correct one."

  "Thought you people were supposed to be intelligent," growled Kelanus before stalking away.

  Silmarila was so upset by this comment that she refused to speak any further to Kelanus and avoided him whenever he tried to corner her. Every time she saw him, her earpoints went bolt upright.

  Soon, the Emperor was alone when he visited the army.

  There was only one bright point.

  Two days before the armies were due to leave, Bannerman Adrewa delivered a letter to Kelanus. No seal was impressed to the white wax and no name was written on it.

  "Sworn to secrecy, sir," explained Adrewa. "But my orders are to inform you that this letter cannot be opened until you are two days out of Marka."

  Kelanus smiled. "Thank you." He would keep the confidence, as requested. He flourished the missive. He had no need to open the letter to know who had sent it. "Has the Boss relented and let you go?"

  A scowl furrowed Adrewa's brow. "He wants me to stay in Marka."

  Kelanus nodded. "Bad luck." As he turned away, he caught a glimpse of Lance General Kestan.

  The junior man knew Kelanus had planned something that went against orders. He said nothing, but knew Kelanus well enough to know the senior officer did not agree with the plan.

  Kelanus and Kestan met every morning.

  "We must take every sylph we can lay hands on," insisted Kelanus.

  "Especially the wild ones." Kestan smiled. "They all insist on coming with me anyway."

  "How loyal of them," smiled Kelanus. Kestan's leadership of the so called "Free Tribe" of sylphs brought him some good-natured ribbing. The free sylphs clearly adored him, and those with interest and aptitude had proved themselves good scouts.

  "I'm emptying the school of every sylph with promise I can requisition," said Kelanus. "Even so, the only way we will have enough to maintain communication with each other is to use human scouts close to the main armies. That way, more sylphs can scout at a distance."

  "Why do we need that?" Kestan was already wary. He had enough men to deal with the smaller detachments of the Eldovan army, but not enough if the enemy decided to band together. And those soldiers who were trained scouts would deplete numbers still further.

  "Mikhan's plan is good, but I believe doomed."

  Kestan looked around, but he was still wary. "Go on."

  "The first rule of battle is that no plan is any good once battle begins. If you only have one plan, you cannot react if the situation changes."

  "True."

  Kelanus smiled. "I have another plan," he said.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  Marching North

  "I think summer has descended with a vengeance."

  Kelanus looked across at the speaker and smiled. Yeoman Hanmer had moved up to ride alongside him. Marka lay six days behind. Despite gaining a thousand or more pacas in altitude and traveling eighty milas further north, the weather baked them.

  Mornings and evenings were delightfully cool. Even during the height of summer that would be the way of it up here, but the sun strengthened quickly and remained so for almost six hours of every day before the air gradually cooled again.

  The hot weather made the march harder, but Kelanus insisted plenty of water was made available and the cart-borne water tanks were topped up at every opportunity.

  Kelanus looked around. The scouts reported a city lay over the small range of hills to the west, but he had deliberately avoided it. According to Hanmer, the city was Eman and Kelanus saw no need to terrify the inhabitants of a friendly city.

  Kelanus's hand touched his breast pocket. A letter – the letter – was in there. As commanded – and despite sore temptation – he had waited two days before opening it. Despite the lack of salutation and signature, he recognized Marcus's handwriting immediately. The letter's contents were so sensitive that the man had written it himself, not even entrusting the task to a scribe.

  Ultimately, the man on the ground must be free to make his decisions.

  Kelanus intended to do j
ust that, letter or no letter.

  But I cannot be seen to abandon my people to an enemy.

  So if you get it wrong, you're on your own, chum. Kelanus knew the language of politics. It even held a vague promise to protect him if things did go wrong. His expression hardened. Nothing would go wrong, though his chances of survival if it did were slim.

  Lance General Kestan's army would officially remain in company for another week. Few yet knew they would stay in company a lot longer than that.

  He was still to inform the captains and lieutenants about the change of plan. He had taken precautions to ensure that he alone would take the blame if everything went wrong. He would likely be dead, but that meant his junior officers needed protection even more.

  Another six, possibly seven, days until the Prefecture of Vivod was left behind. Then he would leave lands controlled by Marka and pass into Metton.

  But Kelanus had no intention of taking his command there.

  Many northern lands had made promising noises about returning to the fold, but as yet none had. It might be interesting to see how warm a welcome they would get. He could not afford to fight them as well as the Eldovans.

  Officers had expressed surprise at the number of sylph scouts. If anyone guessed why he had brought so many, they passed no comment. And using humans as near scouts also raised eyebrows. The more experienced sylph scouts questioned why they had so little work, if secretly pleased by light duties.

  Everybody would learn soon enough and the sylphs had best make the most of their easy work.

  "Never thought I would miss winter, sir," continued Hanmer.

  "Too hot for me, also," replied Kelanus. "It's never this warm in Frodger." Not that he remembered anyway. When had he last been home?

  "Should be cooler on the coast, sir. More to our taste anyway."

  Kelanus smiled. "Better fishing, too."

  "Fishing, sir?" Hanmer frowned.

  Kelanus decided to change the subject. The man knew very well what he meant. "Have the captains and lieutenants in my tent when we stop, Hanmer. Bring Lance General Kestan and root out Tynrasa for the scouts."

  The yeoman smiled and nodded, as if a doubt had been settled. Kelanus knew the rumor mill had fed speculation for days. Everybody wanted to know why Kelanus spent his nights writing letters.

  Not even Shyamon – the sylph scout assigned as his servant when the army stopped – knew what those letters contained. For the first time, Kelanus was thankful most sylphs were illiterate. Had Neptarik been assigned to him, that would be a different story. The contents of the letters would be all around the army before the ink even dried.

  He hoped Neptarik was well and keeping out of trouble, wherever he might be.

  "Before eating, or after, sir?"

  Kelanus considered. "They can eat as we meet."

  "Very good, sir." The yeoman fell back, keeping a discreet distance, if still close enough to overhear everything the General said.

  Kelanus glanced down at the sylph scout who strode easily at his stirrup. "Anything, Bascon?"

  The scout looked up and shook his head. "Only pingers. Nothing out of the ordinary, donenya."

  "Pleased to be back in the field?"

  Bascon blinked. "I am, donenya."

  Kelanus nodded. "Missing your wives yet?"

  Bascon almost stumbled and stared at Kelanus with unblinking eyes. "What good husband could do otherwise?"

  Kelanus tried not to laugh at the evasion. As sylphs measured these things, Bascon's wives were rather domineering and always took the same side against him. Sylphs were naturally democratic, so he had little choice but to concede to their wishes.

  "With any luck, we'll be home long before summer's end," promised Kelanus.

  Bascon shrugged and his earpoints twitched violently. "Winter festival after next is fine with me."

  Kelanus laughed and straightened in his saddle. "Keep your ears open."

  Bascon looked at the General as if he had been told the obvious, but held his tongue. Most of his race did, but Kelanus had grown used to the company of more forward sylphs, such as Belaika or Neptarik.

  He was alone again with his thoughts.

  Though mostly drawn from the armies of the two Vintner claimants, his command held a smattering of Markan volunteers and foreign mercenaries. Most officers had served with him before. Some when he still generaled for Branad Vintner; most from after he changed his allegiance to Marcus Vintner.

  Not all these officers liked him, particularly those who had served under Branad. Sometimes it seemed that no matter what a man did to clear his name, some dirt would never clean away. And others hated him for going over to Marcus Vintner. He knew that when he explained his plan, some of these men would start looking for him to fall, ready to take his place and pleased to see him gone.

  Kelanus smiled. They would be sorely disappointed.

  He was always most creative as a tactician when allowed a completely free rein. If he failed and survived to return to Marka, his head would probably be separated from his body. Disobeying orders, as he planned to do, stood half a step below treason in military circles. But he would not fail.

  No ifs. He was right; his instincts were good. Yes, some men here would love to see him in disgrace again, but everybody happily followed a successful commander.

  He had always been successful, eventually.

  He mulled over his plans again and tried to find out where he might have gone wrong. Most people believed weapons were the tools of warfare, but Kelanus knew using the field to best advantage and knowledge of your enemy were better tools. Many generals believed the former meant always choosing where to fight, but Kelanus knew sometimes it meant running away.

  Weapons and even tactics were only part of the story. The most important tools of warfare were determined and disciplined men. They won the battles. A commander could site his army perfectly and equip it with the best weapons available but, if the men were no good, or were a rabble, it counted for nothing.

  Such captains lost their battles.

  Kelanus knew his enemy was crafty. They loved misinformation and diversionary tactics. Kelanus must think the same way. He had to try and read the mind of whoever really led the Eldovans.

  "Water, sir?"

  Kelanus surfaced from his thoughts as the yeoman brought his horse alongside him again, on the other side from Bascon.

  "Thank you, Hanmer." He accepted the waterskin, drank deeply and passed it to the scout.

  If seeing a sylph share water with a free man shocked Hanmer, he hid it well. Then again, he'd had plenty of time to get used to Kelanus's ways, so very different from those most men used.

  Kelanus would share food and water with any of his men, and he included the scouts as part of the army. They might not fight directly, but what they did was of incalculable value.

  "Mutydo." Bascon passed the waterskin back to Kelanus, who handed it to Hanmer.

  The yeoman discreetly cleaned the nozzle before taking a draft himself. Hanmer gave Bascon an unreadable look, which the sylph ignored so pointedly he may as well have returned it.

  Not everybody was used to Marcus Vintner's bright idea of sylph scouts, though most by now understood their importance, and those who harbored reservations wisely kept their mouths shut.

  After crossing to Marcus Vintner's side, Kelanus had ranked among the doubters. Most cultures proscribed the use of sylphs for warfare; the creatures themselves were mostly pacific and violence unheard of, even from irritable examples. Not that he had met many irritable sylphs. He doubted their efficiency in any battle.

  One by one, those reservations were demolished. Within months of joining Marcus Vintner's army, he became an enthusiastic convert. Now, he would not think of using any but sylphs for scouting.

  The only problem was that they could not be used in any fighting. He felt sure they would prove themselves if it ever happened. They had ebatela, but that was purely defensive fighting and did not involve physical contact.<
br />
  But the sylphs' presence granted another advantage, albeit an unforeseen one. The men performed better because they didn't want to be shown up by sylphs, who displayed courage and discipline like badges.

  Three years on and he was still as impressed by the sylphs' skills as the day he first learned the scouting corps existed. In the future, all armies would use sylphs as scouts. Even if they never completely replaced humans.

  But that was a worry for the future.

  As he rode, the sylph scouts were pushed into the background and he concentrated his mind on the task at hand. On what he planned to do.

  ***

  Pleased to be away from the training school, Janin-y-Sandev took deep breaths of fresh air.

  Officially, he still continued his training, the school far from finished with him. All students with promise had been dragged onto this mission, simply because there were not enough trained sylph scouts available. Not that he had any complaints, glad for the run out.

  As a beggar he had never left Marka and now he was far from the city. Since his adoption by Sandev, he had enjoyed several forays outside the city walls, but never before been out of sight of them.

  Six days from the city and he loved every moment. He certainly had far less to do than at the scout training school. So many scouts were here that there was not enough work to go around. How could Kelanus and Kestan justify bringing so many? For the moment, Janin rested on the back of a cart, lying on sacking, legs trailing over the end. His eyes were half-closed as he basked in the sunshine.

  Although all the far scouts were sylphs, most of the near scouts were human, with a smattering of sylphs for passing messages. None to pass on yet, as they did not report the pingers used by scouts to keep position.

  But there must be a reason for so many scouts.

  Janin's cart rumbled along near the rear of the army, and he worked opposite Hepheta. One of the wild sylphs, Hepheta aroused the former beggar's curiosity. A lot of the wild ones scouted with the army.

  As he rested, letting his mind drift, Janin kept his ears open. Even off duty, he would miss little; sylphs could concentrate on more than one thing at once.

  He thought on how he had managed to escape the city.

  "I want a word with you," said Sergeant Ryen, smiling at Janin. Though a strict overseer, the sergeant still tolerated failure. Provided one didn't fail too much or too often. He clearly had a deep concern for those under his command, and understood what made a sylph work well. "They want scouts to go into the field."