Dark Healer (An Empire Falls Book 1)

by Harry Leighton

  “That is perfect sir, perfect.”

  “Good. Let me get dressed and you shall take me on a tour of your army. We will see what it’s made of.”

  *****

  Storn took mere minutes to dress, and he emerged in a uniform that still fitted him perfectly.

  “Get me a knife, Larly, from the kitchen,” he said as he packed a knapsack.

  “Of course, here we go. What do you want it…?”

  Storn took the blade, and cut the insignia from his jacket. “I was an imperial commander. Now I am a rebel. Your army will need a symbol, something it can be recognised by. There is no time to organise pomp, so give everyone a strip of red fabric and tell them to tie it around themselves.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Now, direct me.”

  Soon three horsemen rode through the wood, Gaken seething with the affront.

  “I do have one question for you,” Storn began.

  “Yes?” Larly replied.

  “Are you surprised the legion hasn’t attacked yet?”

  “Er, grateful, sir, rather than surprised.”

  “I see. If I’d been in charge of it I might have charged you the moment we arrived. I doubt you’d have held.”

  “May God hear our prayers.”

  “God doesn’t alter battles, not the ones I’ve been in. No, this general is up to something. We will need to keep an eye out for that.”

  “I will inform the others.”

  “Good. Now, have you brought a map with you?”

  “No.”

  “I have,” came a voice from behind them, dripping with desperation.

  “Well done Gaken, you are redeeming yourself, bring it up. Right, you two, look at the map. Actually, that’s not a very good map, we shall use mine.”

  “Why did you ask…”

  “To see who did. Now, look at the map. I take it you still hold a portion of the city, that it is divided between rebel and imperial?”

  “Yes, no change unless it’s been in the last few hours.”

  “Right. In that case I will order a full withdrawal from the city the moment I take charge.”

  “Why withdraw? There are walls?”

  “Your forces are stretched out. They are neither within the walls or in an advantageous position away from them. You are exposed and liable to be split and defeated in detail. We can’t take the whole city without a fight, and even then all we’d have is a siege with no one coming. So, we pull everyone out and occupy this point here.”

  “Fields.”

  “Fields which will give us good position in a battle. The crest of a slope, earth we can dig in, a nearby river, it is perfect.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t, but that’s why you asked me. So, we pull out, dig in and defend this.”

  “I agree.”

  “No, no Larly. This isn’t something you agree to. I tell you, and you do it.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “That is more like it. Now, have many of the other retired soldiers joined you?”

  “A large quantity sir.”

  “And what have you done with them?”

  “Spread them out.”

  “That’s not how I’m doing this. Get them back together and form them into units.”

  “But … we were going to use them at multiple points to keep lots of localities focussed. That would work?”

  “I will build our army around core units of veterans who I can rely on. Being spread out isn’t much help if people run, then you just get a lot of veterans alone. And, must I stress this Larly, no buts.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. Are you scared Larly?”

  “Sorry sir?”

  “Scared. Does the thought of going into battle against an imperial legion frighten you?”

  “I … hadn’t given it much thought. There was so much else to organise. But the rebellion is strong, we can sweep them aside.”

  “The bad news, Larly, is that you’re a fool. No rebellion possesses earth-moving power. Don’t confuse moral force for violent people with weapons.”

  “Oh.”

  “The good news is that I’ve been pondering how to fight a legion since I was retired, and those options have only increased with recent news. I am frightened Larly, but I can see a way to victory. It’s when you can’t see any way that you consider backing out.”

  “Are all generals as cynical as you?”

  “All the ones who last, yes.”

  “I think, sir, that I won’t feel as frightened with you in charge as I might with someone else. Anyone else.”

  Storn nodded to himself. He could still inspire. And he would have to if this was going to turn round.

  “I am going to commence a training regime that will upset a great deal of people. I want your council telling people it is their only hope. I also want them telling people I am a bloody genius. Turn me into a hero. I haven’t earned it yet, but by God don’t people react well when they can put all their faith into someone else.”

  *****

  Garrow was also paying attention to the supply side of marching a legion into a new area. He, however, could be rather more persuasive when it came to reluctant peasants.

  “Send out armed units along the route we just marched and rustle up as many supplies as you can. Avoid sending anyone out into the rebel areas yet, we will handle that after.”

  “Yes General. Also pleased to report regular wagon trains are arriving from our base.”

  “Good. Old base, but good.”

  “And one final thing to report General.”

  “Yes?”

  “Governor Erland is waiting outside as you requested.”

  “He came. That is, in itself, interesting.”

  “Actually sir, I might have arranged for him to be brought.”

  “Fair enough. How long has he been waiting?”

  “All morning.”

  “Given he’s had an armed guard around him, that should be enough. Show him in.”

  The aide left, and Garrow walked around his travel table and sat down. Then he poured himself a mug of wine, and looked up.

  Erland entered the tent looking bright red. Garrow knew people turned different colours when they were stressed, and he was always interested to see what the next one would be, even if no one had been able to tell him what this meant.

  “Ah, Governor Erland, I would offer you a seat but you don’t deserve one.”

  It’s going to be like that is it, Erland thought. I “Greetings G—”

  Garrow put a finger up. “What am I, Erland?”

  “Sorry?”

  “What am I?”

  “The general of an imperial legion and a wa—”

  “A general. Yes, I’m a general. Do you know what a general is, Erland?”

  Where was this leading? “One of the top ranks in the imperial military.”

  “Indeed. And what, Governor Erland, is your nephew?”

  “Ah. I can only apologise for…”

  “Did you know I could have him executed for that?”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes. Your region is in rebellion, a banner has been raised against the emperor and the empire. I have the power to execute just about anyone to restore order.”

  “I thought the emperor actually had to send you.”

  “Ah, you see, Erland, you’re not a stupid man. You know some things. You’re not a coward. I just implied I was going to have you killed and you argued back. I presume this is how you were a governor of a region.”

  “Were?”

  “Yes. You are, as of this moment, no longer employed by the authorities.”

  “I thought that would happen.”

  “You are also a prisoner until you can be tried for causing this.”

  “So there will be a trial?”

  “I’m not here to be a dictator Erland. I’m here to crush a rebellion.”

  “If I might speak, General, why haven’t you crushed this rebellion?�
��

  “I could change my mind and execute you if you keep talking. But if you’re thinking it so are the rest of your former citizens. We have not attacked yet because I am waiting for every rebel in this area to gather in one place, in an army. Then we will attack them, crush them and slaughter them all. I am not sending my troops on a police action to crush disparate rebels, I am not presiding over weeks of trials. I will smash them in one go and make sure no one thinks they have escaped.”

  “Brutal.”

  “I’m a soldier. That’s how I do things. You were the governor.”

  “Point taken. So why do I get a trial?”

  “You’re not a rebel Erland. You’re just a fool.”

  “I see.”

  “And because life isn’t fair.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you there.”

  “I suppose you’re wondering if you could escape our camp.”

  “I’m not stupid enough to start sneaking around here in the night, you’ll probably string me up as an assassin.”

  Garrow smiled. “Well that’s something. You can build on that.”

  “What will you do with my nephew?”

  “He also isn’t a rebel, and is a senior figure, so should have a trial unless I deem his death a useful expedient.”

  “Can I say any words in his defence?”

  “You could, but it wouldn’t reflect well on your own competence. I’d stick with ‘he went out of control’ at your own trial.”

  “He isn’t a bad person.”

  “That’s irrelevant if you’re not a priest, which I’m not and you probably should have been.”

  “Don’t the legions have priests?”

  “Yes. But we don’t let them give orders. Perhaps you should have done, can’t have gone any worse.”

  Time to play the trump card and win some ground back now the General had exhausted himself. “I can offer you my knowledge of the city and the region.”

  “Oh, excellent. I do have a question.”

  “Of course.” Here we go, Erland thought, take the punches then move in with your own attack.

  “Are any of the locals liable to rebel. if, say, someone mismanages things so badly because they clearly don’t know anything about their own region?”

  Erland looked at the ground, then back up. It was years since anyone had been able to speak to him like that. He supposed everyone would be able to do that forever more now.

  “So you don’t want my help.”

  “If it goes that wrong, I will be sure to call upon you. But I think I’d have to be dead.”

  “I’ll go to my cell now.”

  *****

  Remir stood respectfully waiting outside the tent. He looked at the soldiers around him. Well dressed, polished and upright. He looked down at himself. Oh dear. He tried polishing his boots on the back of his leg but it was hopeless. The Governor hadn’t minded a bit of dust on the men. This was war or something close to it after all. Speaking of whom…

  There were some ugly rumours that the Governor had been arrested but that couldn’t be right. Still, he hadn’t been seen in some time and now Remir had been summoned. He’d been waiting outside the tent for a while. He assumed that was just a tactic to make him feel small. It was working. He had another go at his boots.

  “Send him in,” came a stern voice from inside the tent and an aide emerged, catching him mid-polish and gave him a slightly disdainful look. Remir removed his battered helmet and tucked it under his arm and was guided into the tent.

  An immaculately dressed soldier sat behind a desk, studying some parchments intently.

  “Captain Remir, I have a job for you,” the General said, still not looking up.

  “Might I ask where the Governor is?” Remir said.

  Garrow looked up at that. “You’re a bold man Captain,” he said after a moment.

  “Ah, please excuse my manners, General sir. It’s been a long couple of weeks,” Remir said.

  “Indeed. Though perhaps if I didn’t need you for something I might have some manners flogged into you anyway.”

  “I’m sorry sir.”

  “Captain of the watch. Part-time soldier. Something of a disgrace of one from your appearance.”

  “You need me for something General sir?” Remir said, doing his best to stand straight.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, as it seems. The Governor recruited assistance from a number of neighbours I understand.”

  “I believe so, yes sir.”

  “It seems most of them ignored him. It looks like he’s not the most respected of leaders.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  “I do. Careful Captain. I could send someone else.”

  “Send, sir?”

  “Yes. Send. One of the neighbouring governors has sent help. Quite a bit of it actually. Something of an army in its own right.”

  Remir stood silently at attention.

  “You’re learning,” Garrow said. “Slowly. The rebels are still scattered around the countryside and I don’t want whoever is in charge trying to bring them to battle yet. You, as one of the Governor’s men and someone who knows the area, will go to them and lead them safely here.”

  “Yes sir,” Remir said.

  “Without battle,” Garrow stated.

  “Without battle. Yes sir.”

  “My men will lead you to your horse. And find you a proper uniform. Dismissed.”

  Remir bowed, backed off and retreated out of the tent. Well, he was alive so that was a start. A strong hand descended on his shoulder. Remir tried not to flinch. Here it comes.

  “Please come with me,” a deep voice said.

  Remir turned to look. A husky looking man, scarred and grizzled, clearly something of a veteran. A non-commissioned officer by the look of his uniform, but given the lack of respect he was being given in the camp, the fact that he was being man-handled by one, though wrong, was probably to be expected. And it was also probably unwise to point it out.

  “The General said we were to find you a proper uniform,” the soldier said.

  “He did,” Remir said.

  “We can’t put you in anything official. You don’t belong.”

  Remir swallowed his next comment. “I’m not of your legion, no,” he said after a moment.

  “I’ve got a messenger’s jacket you can wear,” the soldier said, “since that’s what you are now.”

  “I should probably keep my epaulettes,” Remir said. “To give me some authority to pass on the General’s message to our incoming allies.”

  The soldier gave him an amused look and led him to a tent. Remir entered alone, at least thankful that the soldier wasn't coming in to dress him. He looked around. There was a pail of water and a smartly pressed jacket and trousers laid out for him. He looked at the water gratefully. He’d not washed properly in days and as someone who had previously prided themselves on their appearance, a proper chance to smarten up was welcome. He stripped off and washed himself down, drying himself gingerly with the least dirty bits of his old clothes. He dressed in the new uniform. The fit wasn’t great but it was nice to be clean. He looked at his old jacket. Epaulettes. He fitted them to his new jacket. There. They looked a bit odd, but he didn’t want to be mistaken for a common messenger. Watch or not, he was still a captain. He used the last of the water to rinse off his breastplate before buckling it back on. His helmet was a lost cause really. No matter how clean he got it, it was never going to look presentable without the attention of a blacksmith. He gave it a quick wipe and put it on anyway. He looked himself up and down. There, an officer again. He strapped on his sword and walked back out of the tent. The soldier had been waiting and gave him an amused look.

  “Ready?” the soldier said.

  “Of course. Lead on,” Remir said, doing his best to sound authoritative.

  He was led through the camp, doing his best to ignore the amused glances of the soldiers he passed. One even wolf-whistled him which raised a roar of laughter. Let t
hem have their moment he thought, gritting his teeth. When this was over they’d be off to die on some forgotten battlefield somewhere whilst he’d make watch commander in a nice office. When this was over.

  “Your horse,” his guide said, handing him the reins. Remir mounted and looked back around the camp. He’d pass on the message alright, but so what if they did get into battle and crush the rebels by themselves? What could the General say then? He could hardly criticise them for victory.

  A squad of outriders rode up to join him. To make sure he did as he was told, he supposed. He sighed to himself as they rode out of camp.

  *****

  Brand squatted by the old stone wall and peered over at what was on the other side.

  “Looks like a farmhouse Sarge,” Corporal Finn said, crouched next to him.

  “I see that. We secure it and move on,” Brand said. He motioned behind him and the squad fanned out along the track, taking up positions along the wall.

  "How do we secure it exactly? We leaving someone here?"

  "Hard night was it last night Corporal?"

  "I did have a drink or two, yes Sarge."

  "You're still new at this Corporal."

  "Done my training like all the rest," Finn said, looking hurt.

  "How did you get made Corporal again?"

  "Training Sergeant said I stood out."

  Brand sighed. "I'm sure you did. Did he also tell you not to drink heavily before a long patrol?"

  "I don't think it came up."

  Brand sighed again. These greens would be the death of him. "No we're not going to leave anyone behind. No one is getting a rest in a convenient farmer's bed to sleep off their hangover."

  "Walk it off like the rest of the lads. Right you are Sarge."

  "You're learning," Brand said distantly, eyes now fixed on a bush to the left of the farmhouse. Had it moved? No wind. There, again.

  "Movement left," he said, low and urgently.

  "You think it's the rebels?" Finn said.

  "Hope for the best, assume the worst," Brand replied, readying his bow.