A man in black armor and a ragged purple cloak stepped forward.
For a moment Ark thought the man was an Immortal, and his hilt dropped to the hand of his sword. But it was Imperial armor, not the ornate plate of the Immortals. The man wore no helmet, and his gray eyes lacked the eerie blue glow produced by the Immortals' alchemical elixirs. He was in his middle fifties, with iron-gray hair, and moved with energy despite his age.
Ark had only seen this man at a distance, but recognized him nonetheless.
Corbould, Lord of House Maraeus, and the Lord Governor of Marsis.
###
“How are you even still alive, my lord?” asked Ark.
They stood some distance away from the Legionaries, speaking in low voices. Lord Corbould had taken one look at Ark, and suggested they speak in private.
“Luck,” said Corbould with a scowl. “When that bastard Rezir betrayed our parley, my men tried to defend me. My horse was slain by an errant javelin. In the chaos, my guards managed to cut my way out, and we escaped back to the Plaza of the Tower.”
“Where you tried to make a stand with the remaining cohorts of the Nineteenth,” said Ark.
“Indeed,” said Corbould. “I hoped to hold the Kyracians and the Istarish at the Plaza of the Tower. I sent messengers to the Magisterium chapterhouse, commanding them to join the fight at my side. They did not come, the disloyal fools.”
“They're probably dead,” said Ark. “One of the Nineteenth's survivors passed the Magisterium chapterhouse. The place was on fire, and the roof had been ripped away. That stormsinger must have killed them all.”
“Gods of the Empire,” said Corbould. “I know what stormsingers can do, yet I’ve never heard of one powerful enough to call down that kind of lightning. Well, if you're here, you know what happened at the Plaza of the Tower. Those damned stormdancers broke our defenses, and the Istarish footmen and the ashtairoi poured over our earthworks. We held as long as we would, but in the end we had to cut our way out.” He shook his head, eyes filled with rage. “Not many of the Nineteenth escaped. We were making for the northern gate when those soldiers caught up to us. Your timing was excellent.”
“We thought you dead in the ambush at the Great Market,” said Ark.
“I'm not dead yet,” said Corbould. “Now, to other matters. Who the devil are you? I know every centurion and tribune in my three Legions, and you are not one of them.”
“I am a blacksmith,” said Ark.
Corbould raised one iron-gray eyebrow. “A blacksmith.”
“Aye,” said Ark. When he had been in the Legions, the scrutiny of a powerful lord like Corbould Maraeus would have filled him with trepidation. Now he was too damned tired to care.
And he was too worried about Nicolai to care.
“So how does a blacksmith wind up commanding what's left of the Nineteenth?” said Corbould.
Ark shrugged. “I was once the first spear centurion of the Eighteenth Legion. Now I am a guard in the employ of a merchant. When the attack came, we fled our inn. We encountered more and more survivors of the Legion, and their centurions had been slain. They needed someone to tell them what to do...so I told them what to do.”
“There's more to it than that,” said Corbould. “You're a Ghost, aren't you? I'd wager you were one of Halfdan's men.”
Ark said nothing.
“You needn't fear exposure from me,” said Corbould. “The Emperor's interests and mine are aligned.”
“Then you don't wish to see slavery restored in the Empire?” said Ark. “Or the magi returned to power?”
Corbould snorted. “The magi? The magi couldn't run a wine shop, let alone the Empire.” The old man drew himself up. “And I am the Lord of House Maraeus. My family can trace its lineage to the First Empire itself. One of my ancestors has served as Lord Governor of every province and held every Imperial magistracy. Slaves may be fit servants for the dogs of Istarinmul and the sea rats of New Kyre. But only free men are fit to serve the scions of House Maraeus. Slaves are...beneath my dignity.”
Ark nodded. Here, at last, was someone who could take the burden of responsibility from him.
“You've done well,” said Corbould. “I had thought the Istarish and the Kyracians would have taken the gates by now, but your attack stalled them. You’ve given us a chance to gather what survivors we can an abandon the city.”
Ark frowned. “You want to leave Marsis?”
“We cannot possibly hold here,” said Corbould. “Even with fortifications, our men cannot stand against the stormdancers. We will leave the city and join with Lord Commander Hiram's forces. Then we will return to Marsis and drive out the enemy.”
“Lord Hiram has only two Legions with him,” said Ark. “Twelve thousand men at most. If we leave Marsis now, we’ll never get back inside. We only need hold the gatehouse until Lord Hiram returns. A day, at the most. If he has to drive the Istarish and the Kyracians off the walls, he might not be able to take the gates.”
And Ark would never get Nicolai back from the Istarish. And even worse, both Nicolai and Tanya would be trapped inside the walls of Marsis.
“No,” said Corbould.
“But the northern gatehouse is a strong position,” said Ark. “Most of my nine hundred men will make it there. If we...”
“If it were just a question of steel, I would agree,” said Corbould. “But we cannot fight sorcery, not without sorcery of our own. Lord Hiram has battle magi accompanying him. When he returns, his magi can handle the stormdancers. Our best course of action is to find Lord Hiram and join his strength to our own.” Corbould turned to face the men. “We shall leave at once.”
“No,” said Ark, voice quiet.
Corbould seemed not to hear him. “Your men are already converging on the northern gate. Once they've gathered, we'll march from the city at once. We...”
“No,” said Ark again, louder this time.
Corbould blinked. He looked so astonished that Ark could have pushed him over with a feather. “What do you mean, no?”
“We will stay and hold the gatehouse,” said Ark.
“I already told you that...”
“I have failed to make myself clear,” said Ark. “I am going to stay, and I am going to hold the gate until Lord Hiram arrives. Most of my men will probably stay with me, as well.”
“You cannot be serious,” said Corbould.
“I am,” said Ark.
The old man's gray eyes narrowed. “I am the Lord of House Maraeus and the Lord Governor of Marsis. I am not accustomed to having my commands questioned.”
“I doubt you are accustomed,” said Ark, “to being run out of your own city, either.”
A vein throbbed in Lord Corbould's right temple. “I will command you, and you will obey.”
“You won't,” said Ark. He was defying one of the most powerful lords of the Empire. Yet he didn't care. Halfdan had given Ark his orders.
And Ark would do whatever he had to do to save Tanya and Nicolai.
“And just why is that?” said Corbould, his voice ice.
“Because I am only a blacksmith,” said Ark. “Not one of your tribunes, or one of your centurions, or one of your Legionaries. Only a blacksmith. You can’t command me.”
“Very well,” said Corbould. “Then I will order your men to follow me. The veterans are discharged and may do as they wish. But the Legionaries are bound by oath and law to obey the Lord Governor of Marsis.”
“Unless I tell them to stay,” said Ark.
Corbould scoffed. “You seem sure of yourself, blacksmith.”
“They followed me because they thought you were dead,” said Ark. “You failed them. Under your command, half of Marsis has fallen to the Istarish and the Kyracians. When they've been listening to me, they gave the enemy a bloody nose and sent them running.”
“I am their Lord Governor,” said Corbould.
“Some of them will follow you,” said Ark. “But most of them will follow me.”
Corbould's voice was low, quiet, deadly. “This is a mutiny, blacksmith, and I will not tolerate it.”
“You don't have a choice,” said Ark. “Would you really split the men in the face of an attack? If you want, go north to Lord Hiram...and return to find us holding the gates.”
“You damned fool,” said Corbould, and for the first time Ark caught a hint of weariness in the old lord's voice. “I will return to find your men slaughtered and the enemy holding the walls. You have no way to fight the stormdancers and that blasted stormsinger. None. You might fight off an attack or two. And then Rezir will lose patience, the stormdancers will attack, and you will be defeated.”
“Stormdancers are mortal, like any other man,” said Ark. “They can be slain.”
He wished he believed it.
“Perhaps,” said Corbould. “Or I could order the men with me to execute you here and now. What do you think would happen?”
Ark made himself meet the old lord's gaze. “Then we would have bloodshed. But why kill each other, my lord? The Kyracians will do it for us.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“I could order you and every last one of your men crucified for mutiny,” said Corbould.
“Your lordship can hardly afford to lose several hundred capable veterans,” said Ark.
“No,” said Corbould. “I cannot.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Corbould’s fist opened and closed, over and over again.
“All right, blacksmith,” said Corbould. “We will attempt to hold the northern gate until Lord Commander Hiram returns.” He raised a finger. “But when the battle goes against us, I will order us to withdraw north. Understood?”
Ark nodded. It was the best he could hope to achieve.
“And you've made an enemy today,” said Corbould. “I will not have my authority challenged. Certainly not by a blacksmith. If we live through this, you will regret your impudence dearly.”
“If we live through this,” said Ark.
Corbould shook his head. “Fool. Why are you doing this? Because Halfdan ordered you to see to it that the city did not fall?”
Ark hesitated. Halfdan had ordered him to see that the northern gate remained open. But Ark did not care about Marsis. Tanya and Nicolai were here. And he would do whatever it took to save them, to make sure he did not fail them again.
Even if it meant dying at the northern gate.
Even if it meant having Lord Corbould crucify him as a traitor and a rebel after the battle.
“I do,” said Ark, “what I have to do. That is all.”
Corbould gave him a brittle smile. “As do we all, blacksmith. Give the orders.”
Ark shouted the command, the men falling into formation.
###
A short march later, they reached North Gate Plaza and the northern gate at last.
The walls of Marsis stood forty feet high, gray and thick and scarred from ancient battles. The towers of the gatehouse rose twice that, topped with ballistae and catapults. The gate itself stood between the towers, wide enough for four horsemen, and the Plaza itself was the size of Foundry Square.
Radast took one look at the siege engines and headed toward the towers.
Looking at the gates brought up memories in Ark’s mind. He had passed through these gates five years ago, intending to look upon the sea one last time before he drank himself to death. On his way, he had come across some bandits attempting to rob a lone woman and driven them off.
The woman had been Tanya.
A few weeks ago he had entered these gates with Halfdan and Caina, hot on the trail of Lord Naelon Icaraeus.
And now Ark was going to die here.
Most of the remaining men of the Nineteenth and the veterans from the foundry had gathered below the gates. Tarver and Korbulus hurried to join Ark, and their eyes widened when they saw Lord Corbould beside Ark.
“Gods and devils,” said Korbulus, “is that...”
“Lord Governor,” said Tarver. “We thought you were dead.”
“I almost was,” said Corbould. “Our bold blacksmith came along in the nick of time.” He looked at Ark. “I suggest you make ready to defend the gate. We shall need to hold until Lord Commander Hiram Palaegus arrives to realize us.”
Ark wondered if the others heard the challenge in the old lord’s voice.
“Get some men onto the ramparts,” said Ark. “There will be crossbows in the gatehouse's armory. Rip down whatever walls and dig up whatever cobblestones you have to, but get an earthwork built halfway across the Plaza. Make sure to leave a gate – we'll want to make sure Lord Hiram's men can enter when they get here. And have Radast target those engines at the Avenue of Champions. The biggest mass of enemy forces will come from that direction.”
Tarver and Korbulus ran to carry out his orders.
“You seem sure of yourself,” said Corbould.
“I'm not,” said Ark. “But you cannot show doubt in front of the men.”
Corbould gave a slow nod. “I learned that lesson myself. Long ago.” He titled his head. “The men are gathered here, and I am their Lord Governor. What would you do if I commanded them to execute you and follow me out of the city?”
“Die, I suppose,” said Ark. A flash of insight came to him, something that Caina would have said. “But you won't.”
“And just why not?”
“Because of all the things you said about the history of House Maraeus,” said Ark. “You are Lord Governor of this city. And is it not beneath the dignity of a scion of House Maraeus to lose his city to the enemy?”
Corbould glared at him for a long moment.
“You Ghosts,” he said, “are a damnably clever lot.”
Ark nodded and went to take charge of the defensive preparations. Lord Corbould followed him like a black shadow, nodding magisterially, and the troops saluted him. Ark kept expecting him to take command, to push aside Ark and order the Legionaries out of the city.
But he never did.
Chapter 20 - Infiltration
Caina looked with dismay at the Istarish troops flooding into the Great Market.
Some of the Istarish troops bore wounds, and many more had the hunted look of soldiers fleeing a battlefield. That meant things were not going Rezir Shahan's and Andromache's way. But the sudden influx of panicked soldiers would make far harder to take Nicolai.
She looked toward the ruined merchant stall where Nicolai lay bound. A large knot of Istarish soldiers stood there, arguing with one another. Caina edged closer, hoping to avoid their argument. Then an inspiration struck her. If their argument devolved into a fight, she could use the distraction to seize Nicolai and make her escape.
Or she might get killed in the resultant brawl.
Caina took a deep breath and started closer.
“This is madness, Harzim,” said one of the soldiers, a squat man in bloodstained scale armor. “We should return to the Plaza of the Tower at once! The emir is not kind to deserters!”
“The emir has led us to die in a foreign land, Karzon!” said Harzim, a tall figure with a gaunt face. “You saw what happened when we marched to the gates. The emir promised us that the enemy had been defeated. Yet the damned Legionaries were everywhere!” Harzim shook his head. “They sprang at us from the alleys and cut us to pieces. Everywhere we turned there was another foe with steel in his hand.”
Karzon spat. “You are as craven as a woman, Harzim. Run home and hide behind your mother's skirts.” He slammed a fist against his armored chest. “Myself, I will follow the emir. When we drive out the Imperial dogs, the spoils of the city will go to those who were loyal! Cravens like you can toil on their farms.”
“Gold and women are no good to a dead man,” said Harzim. “Go and die, if it pleases you.” He looked at the other men. “We should go to the harbor and steal a ship. Then we can make our way to the Free Cities and leave this foolish war behind.”
Karzon laughed. “Do you even know how to sail a shi
p?”
Caina decided upon Karzon. He looked to have the shorter temper.
“Follow me, lads,” said Karzon. “We'll whip these Imperial dogs, and take their treasure and their women for ourselves.”
Caina let out a long laugh, loud and derisive.
The men looked at her, Karzon's expression thunderous.
“Spare me this rot,” said Caina in Istarish, keeping her voice gruff and harsh. “You talk big, Karzon, but your sword is weak. I saw you at the battle. When the first Legionary came out of the alley, you turned and ran.”
Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) Page 22