by John Marco
‘What now?’ Kasrin asked her.
Jelena’s voice was grave. ‘Now we sail for Talistan.’
‘No, I mean with the others,’ said Kasrin.
‘Vares is in command now. He will deal with the Narens.’
Something about the answer unnerved Kasrin, but he didn’t bother replying. He looked up at the ragged topsails, then back toward the flaming stern. Already his men had gotten the fire under control, dousing it with buckets of seawater. The Dread Sovereign was crippled again. The smell of her starboard flame cannons laced the air with spent kerosene, and her deck was littered with debris. But she was still alive. Remarkably, she was still on course for Talistan.
In the west, the sun had disappeared. By daybreak, they were to be in Talistan. With the Sovereign’s damaged sails, Kasrin knew it would be a tight run.
‘Look sharp, crew,’ he called. ‘We don’t have a minute to waste.’
As the Hammerhead turned back toward the battle, Vares noticed the waning defense of the privateers. Having seen the destruction of their flagship, the remaining vessels broke formation, desperate to flee.
But to Vares the battle had just begun. In their disarray, the privateers were the perfect prey, and Vares’ appetite for destruction had barely been slaked. Quickly he ordered a hard right rudder, bringing the Hammerhead about to cut off the Narens’ escape. Then, when his vessel was close enough, he ordered his signalmen to flash the flags, sending a simple message to his fleet – no prisoners, no quarter, no mercy of any kind.
Vares picked up his spyglass and chose his quarry. Like its namesake, the Hammerhead swam hungrily forward.
Forty Five
On the first day of summer, the forces of the Eastern Highlands gathered on the bank of the Silverknife. Under the command of Prince Redburn and perched atop their armored latapi, the clans of Greyfin, Glynn, and Kellen sat in the morning sun, ready for the coming battle. A small breeze blew across the meadow, stirring their flags. At the lead flew the brilliant crimson banner of the Red Stag. Other banners of blue, white, and gold flanked the prince’s standard, representing the gathered warriors of the Highland families. There was Olly Glynn beneath his bear flag and Vanda Greyfin under the standard of the shark, flanking Redburn and his numerous men. And behind them sat Cray Kellen upon his golden elk. The Lion of Grandshirl had come with two hundred men. With his fanged helmet and golden flag, Cray Kellen was daunting. He had a broadsword on his back and an emotionless expression on his face as he watched the force arrayed against them.
Across the river, the host of Talistan waited, hundreds strong and heavily armed. A line of cavalry held their vanguard, snorting beasts plated with green and gold armor and mounted by demon-faced lancemen. Behind their ranks sat Tassis Gayle resplendent in his own ornate armor and flanked by sword-bearing infantrymen. On his right were a contingent of Voskans, on his left a force of Gorkneymen. A line of long-bowmen bolstered their rear, standing in perfect formation as they awaited their instructions. A few lieutenants rode through the ranks, calling out orders to the various regiments. Atop his black charger, Tassis Gayle was still as stone. He wore a golden helmet carved with a grotesque reptilian face and winged like a gargoyle, and a gigantic sword dangled at his side. Hidden in his suit of metal, he looked far more vital than Biagio had ever seen him. He looked, to Biagio’s despair, formidable.
Like Tassis Gayle, Biagio was on horseback. He was among only a handful of the Highlanders not on a latapi, and because he had no antlers or armor on his mount, he felt diminished. Next to him, Prince Redburn was on a prize beast, a huge latapi with a wide rack and hammered iron plating protecting its neck and flanks. It was, Biagio believed, the most redoubtable beast he had ever seen, a creature to challenge the legendary lions of Chandakkar. It chewed its bit noisily, sensing the coming battle, never taking its eyes off its foes. Beside Redburn, Breena too was on an elk, a somewhat smaller but no less impressive beast. A worried expression twisted her lips. Other than Vandra Greyfin, Breena was the only woman on the field. Surprisingly, Redburn had not argued for her to stay at the castle.
Upon his chestnut warhorse, Biagio counted the enemy ranks. Gayle’s cavalry numbered nearly two hundred, and his infantry at least that many. The Voskans, who had been a nasty surprise to the emperor, numbered perhaps a hundred, and the Gorkneymen maybe fifty more. Biagio looked across the river wondering which one of them was Wallach. The duke had spared no expense for his vengeance.
Even with all four clans represented, Redburn had fielded a force of less than five hundred, hardly enough to match the army that Tassis Gayle had arrayed. Though the Highlanders had their latapi to bolster them, they seemed no match for the better-trained Talistanians. For the first time since hatching his scheme, Biagio felt regret. He had forged the Highlanders into a weapon, but Gayle was a seasoned warrior. Tassis Gayle knew how to win a war, and seeing him again atop a charger made Biagio cringe.
‘They are so many,’ said Redburn. ‘I did not expect it.’
‘Nor I,’ Biagio confessed.
‘There weren’t supposed to be so many,’ said Breena. ‘Lord Emperor, where is your navy?’
‘I do not know.’
It was well past dawn, and he had yet to hear a single volley from the coast. Apparently, Kasrin had failed. Biagio bit back a curse. Without the Dread Sovereign to distract him, Gayle had been able to field a huge army.
‘Redburn,’ he said haltingly, ‘I’m sorry. I swear to you, I had a dreadnought prepared . . .’
Prince Redburn said simply, ‘Do not be sorry. You were always right. This is our war. We will win it or lose it on our own.’
‘And without Triin help,’ said Breena bitterly. ‘Or do you still expect them to rescue us, Emperor?’
‘Breena, please,’ said Redburn. ‘We’re allies now.’
‘And I will do my best to defend your Highlands, my lady,’ said Biagio. ‘You have my promise.’
Breena’s face softened. ‘Emperor, look out there. Please tell me we can win.’
‘I cannot tell you that, because I do not wish to lie to you.’
‘I didn’t expect the Voskans,’ said Redburn. ‘Or the Gorkneymen. You have many enemies, Lord Emperor.’
‘A present from Baroness Ricter, no doubt?’ Biagio remembered how he had arranged the baron’s murder on Crote. Eleven Naren lords had died that day. It almost surprised Biagio that more of his enemies hadn’t come.
‘And the Gorkneymen?’ asked Breena. ‘What of them?’
‘It’s better you don’t know about that, I think,’ said Biagio.
Prince Redburn studied their flanks. Nearby, Olly Glynn stirred anxiously beneath his banner, a flag embroidered with a snarling bear. Of all the clan leaders, only Glynn had wanted war. He had even requested the honor of being first to enter the battle. Biagio supposed he would be up against the infantry. Or perhaps the Voskans.
‘It’s time,’ said Redburn. He turned to Breena. ‘Stay here, sister. Wait for me. If I’m killed, you know what to do.’
‘I know.’
Redburn turned to Biagio. ‘Will he be expecting us?’
‘He will think you are presenting terms,’ said Biagio. ‘Or perhaps asking for his surrender. I’m sure he’s hoping his show of numbers has frightened you. That’s why he hasn’t attacked yet.’
‘Then I won’t keep him waiting.’ Redburn raised a gauntleted hand, turning toward each of the clan leaders. One by one the clan heads broke ranks, riding out from the folds of their fighting men and coming to meet with Redburn at the center of their army. Olly Glynn was first at Redburn’s side.
‘We’re riding out to make the challenge?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Redburn. He turned a grave smile on Vandra Grayfin. ‘Vandra, I’m sorry for this.’
The leader of Clan Greyfin shook her head. ‘Do not be. None of us were forced to come.’
Cray Kellen added, ‘It’s not your war, Redburn. Gayle started it. We will finish it for him.’
Biagio guided his horse out of the ranks. ‘It looks bleak, I know,’ he told them. ‘But you have the latapi. And more than that you have the heart. Redburn, I’m going with you.’
The prince shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. Besides, Gayle won’t come out himself to speak with us.’
‘He will when he sees me,’ countered Biagio. A sly smile crept to his lips. ‘War is a mind game, remember. And I think I can give us a little edge.’
On the east side of the Silverknife, Tassis Gayle felt supremely satisfied. Around him stirred an army of his best fighting-men. It had been many years since he had ridden into battle, and he felt young again. The sight of his enemies across the river made his blood gallop, strengthening him, and his mind was keen and alert. Next to him, Duke Wallach of Gorkney sat nervously upon his mount fretting over the number of Highlanders, while Count Galabalos of Vosk hummed softly to himself, confident of victory. In the absence of Ricter, the count was in command of his countrymen. In his long headdress and spiked armor, he appeared completely unconcerned about the mounted Highlanders across the river, and his hundred-strong force seemed to share his optimism. Major Mardek of the Green Brigade was also untroubled. The major rode from the vanguard of cavalry, hurrying up to Tassis Gayle and bringing his horse to a whinnying halt. His voice rang loudly from behind his demon mask.
‘Shall we ask for their surrender, my liege?’
‘Surrender?’ answered Wallach. ‘They won’t surrender, you fool. Look at them!’
‘Galabalos!’ called Tassis Gayle. As the Voskan approached, Gayle asked, ‘Mardek wants to know if we should ask for surrender. What say you?’
‘My men are here to fight, King Tassis,’ replied Galabalos. ‘It is what our baroness would want, for the revenge of her brother.’
‘Your baroness. Indeed,’ said Gayle.
Galabalos straightened on his horse. ‘A pity she can’t be here for this. But we will make her proud.’
‘I’m certain you will,’ said Gayle. He looked at each of the men in turn. ‘Remember why we’re here, friends. For vengeance. Do not forget your daughter, Duke Wallach. Or your baron, Galabalos.’
Wallach nodded. ‘Or your son, Tassis.’
Tassis Gayle sighed. ‘Or my son.’
‘My lord,’ said Galabalos. He pointed across the river. ‘Look there.’
From the ranks of Highlanders came a group of riders. Gayle counted five in all, most upon elk, one atop a plain-looking horse.
‘Redburn,’ commented Mardek. ‘Perhaps he wishes to talk terms.’
‘Yes,’ said Wallach. ‘Our terms.’ The duke squinted. ‘Who’s that with him?’
‘The other clan leaders,’ said Mardek.
‘No, on the horse. Who is that?’
Tassis Gayle peered across the river. Through the eye slits of his helmet the strange figure took shape. He had golden hair and amber skin and was remarkably lithe and tall. He rode alongside Redburn with an arrogant gait, sitting high in the saddle and glaring across the Silverknife. Gayle took a long time to recognize him, but when he did he nearly fell from his horse.
‘Sweet God almighty,’ he gasped. ‘Biagio!’
Emperor Renato Biagio wore black leather armor and a mischievous grin. At his side dangled a silver sword, glinting in the sunlight. He rode purposefully, taunting Gayle with his presence.
‘What is this trickery?’ Gayle seethed.
‘Emperor Biagio?’ Duke Wallach’s wobbling resolve collapsed. ‘Is that him?’
‘I don’t believe it,’ spat Gayle. ‘The fop has found us out!’
The ranks of soldiers rippled with a worried murmur. Major Mardek looked at his king. ‘My lord? What shall we do?’
Gayle didn’t answer. He was too enraged to make a sound. As Biagio drew closer, Gayle considered what had gone wrong. He had been so careful, hadn’t he? And Biagio was weak. How had he orchestrated this waylay?
‘A devil,’ whispered Gayle. ‘That is what he is.’
‘Tassis?’ pressed Wallach. ‘What should we do?’
‘What we came here to do, Wallach,’ snapped Gayle. ‘This was always about Biagio. By coming here, he’s saved us the trouble of going to the Black City.’ Gayle felt a sudden rush of pleasure. Just as he’d promised Ricter, he was facing Biagio in battle. ‘Let him come. Let him taste my steel.’ Enraged, he bolted from the protection of his infantry, galloping toward the cavalry gathered at the river. ‘You hear me, Biagio?’ he called. ‘Here I am! Face me, murderer!’
Across the Silverknife, Biagio’s grin widened. Gayle brought his horse to a stop at the bank of the river shaking his fist at the approaching emperor. Mardek and the others galloped up behind him.
‘Tassis, get back!’ said Wallach. ‘Don’t let him taunt you. That’s what he wants!’
Gayle ignored the advice, yelling, ‘Here I am, man-girl. I’m ready for you!’
‘My liege, please,’ begged Mardek. Quickly he brought his mount in front of Gayle’s. ‘Go back. Let us speak to these pigs for you.’
‘I will speak for myself,’ spat Gayle. ‘Back now; let him see me!’
Mardek, Wallach, and Galabalos all surrounded the king, waiting for the emperor and Highlanders to reach the river. When they came to the banks, Redburn held up a hand, stopping his small company. The Red Stag glared at Gayle defiantly.
‘Tassis Gayle,’ he called. ‘For your crimes against my people, and for the slaughter of our sacred elk, we face you in battle. Today you will pay for your offenses.’
Gayle lifted his faceplate. ‘Bold talk, boy.’ He pointed at Biagio. ‘Did you think bringing that creature with you would frighten me?’
Biagio laughed. ‘Surprised to see me, Tassis? It has been some time, hasn’t it? You’re looking fit for such an old man.’
‘Do not bait me, fop,’ warned Gayle. ‘It is you I seek to destroy. And as you can see, I am quite prepared.’
‘Yes,’ said Biagio, his eyes flicking between Gayle’s comrades. ‘I was told you’d invited Wallach into your brotherhood. How are you, Duke? I see you’ve been spending some of your famous fortune.’
‘And what about me, Emperor?’ challenged Count Galabalos. ‘Did you expect my army as well?’
‘Ah, yes,’ drawled Biagio. ‘The Voskans. Where is your mistress, dog? I thought she would be here, pining for her dead brother.’ He smiled. ‘Baron Ricter was a brave man. I heard he didn’t cry at all when the Lissens cut his heart out.’
‘Pig!’ Galabalos cried, racing for the riverbank. ‘Come across and say that to my face!’
‘No!’ roared Gayle. ‘Biagio, you are mine. These others may have claims on you, but I will be the one to take your head!’
The emperor feigned surprise. ‘Taking heads? Hmm, what an interesting idea. What do you think of that, Wallach?’
‘Butcher!’ cried the duke. ‘How dare you speak of my daughter that way!’
‘Me?’ said Biagio. ‘Oh, my poor, misguided Wallach. Do you think it was I who killed the Lady Sabrina?’
Wallach’s eyes narrowed. ‘You wretched beast . . .’
‘Enough,’ said Gayle, anxious to change the subject. ‘We all know your crimes, Biagio.’
‘Oh, but I don’t think the duke does, Tassis.’ Biagio looked at Wallach. ‘My apologies, Duke. Yes, I did order her killing, I admit that. But it wasn’t I who raped her and decapitated her.’
‘Silence, devil!’ thundered Gayle. ‘We won’t listen to your lies.’
Biagio smiled. ‘It was Blackwood Gayle.’
Duke Wallach swayed unsteadily on his mount, looking dazed. Gayle rushed to explain.
‘Do not believe him, Wallach. He is a liar.’
‘Oh, Tassis, please,’ said Biagio. ‘We were allies then. Why, I spent many days in your castle. I remember perfectly dumping the Lady Sabrina at your son’s feet. She was a gift, you see, Wallach. And Blackwood was so happy with her. He couldn’t wait to—’
‘Is it true?’ Wallach demanded. He
put his hand to his sword. ‘Tassis?’
Gayle’s face hardened. ‘What will you do if it is? Biagio is the enemy, Wallach. Not me!’
‘But you betrayed me!’
‘I did not,’ bellowed Gayle. ‘That fiend gave the order for your daughter’s execution. My son had no choice but to obey!’
‘Well, let’s be accurate, Tassis,’ said Biagio. ‘Rape was never actually part of the order.’
‘Shut up!’ growled Gayle. It was all coming apart suddenly and he couldn’t contain it. ‘Wallach, listen to me . . .’