by Tom Lloyd
‘They did not lie,’ Emin said. ‘Your lord is dead; your conquest of the West is ended. What you felt will also have been experienced throughout all the cities you had taken. Most likely your garrisons are all dead.’
‘This much we can guess.’
‘So what now for you? Where does your allegiance now lie?’
Arek looked insulted by the question. ‘To my tribe and my God, as they always have.’ The Menin’s fingers twitched.
Emin reminded himself how fanatically loyal the Menin soldiers had reportedly been to their lord; no doubt they hated him with a passion for what he had done. ‘And to your men?’ he asked.
‘They are Menin, they obey their orders.’
Emin shook his head. ‘No, I did not mean that. Is your loyalty to them, to their survival?’
‘Save your threats. We are Menin.’
‘General Arek, please – put aside your hatred of me for one moment,’ King Emin commanded. He took a pace forward, to the Menin’s surprise, moving within sword’s reach. ‘Do you wish your men to live or not?’
‘I do – but you remain our enemy.’
‘The war is over. You lost.’
‘Not while we still live. You will not take us as slaves.’
Emin exhaled, a long, weary breath. For a while he didn’t speak, then at last he gestured to Forrow, standing beside him. ‘My bodyguard,’ he explained. ‘He’s hoping you will go too far, say something that will allow him to kill you both. Narkang lost many soldiers at Moorview, far more than any general would like when his war is only just beginning. All of my soldiers are hoping you will fight, so they can exact revenge for the comrades buried on Tairen Moor, and the civilians murdered by your armies.’
‘Then attack. We are not leaving.’
Emin raised a hand to stop him. ‘All my soldiers want to fight, but I would prefer not to. I think there is an alternative that serves us both.’
‘What?’ Arek demanded rudely, his patience obviously wearing thin.
‘We do not fight – not each other, at least. Your mission in the West is over. There is nothing more for you here, but it’s a long way home and you will not make it back without help. I doubt you’d even make it much past Tor Salan, not with the Knights of the Temples consolidating their position there, but if you did get past, I’m damn sure you wouldn’t get further than the road approaching Thotel.’
‘You offer us a way home? Why?’
‘Because I need soldiers. The child Ruhen is my enemy, and I believe the Devoted will soon declare him the saviour their doctrine speaks of. The Order controls Mustet in the south and it will likely sway Sautin as well. In addition, the Order has troops in Raland, Embere and the Circle City. This is a war I can ill afford, but I must pursue it. Troops of your calibre would prove crucial to stiffening my armies.’
‘Mercenaries?’ Arek spat. ‘There is no honour in that life.’
‘Precious little, perhaps, but without my help you will never even make it to the Waste, of that I’m certain. Discuss it with your officers; see how many of them wish revenge for the death of your lord rather than the chance to see your homeland again.’
Endine illustrated the king’s point by affording them a glimpse of the Crystal Skull he carried at his waist. The threat was clear.
‘I will speak to them,’ Arek replied, having exchanged a look with Dorom, his tone noticeably less belligerent. ‘But how can we trust each other? There is too much blood between us.’
‘Let us not pretend trust is necessary,’ Emin said dismissively. ‘If both our purposes are served, that’s enough to begin with. As a gesture of goodwill, Dashain here can procure supplies, should you be running low. I would appreciate an answer in the morning. General, Colonel, good day.’
CHAPTER 13
‘And here we are,’ breathed Vesna as they rounded a sprawl of young oaks and spied the lights of a fort two hundred yards away. ‘Now we’re the faithful on pilgrimage to the holy city.’
‘I can feel the blessing of the Gods upon me already,’ Zhia commented. She slipped the shawl from her head and shook her hair out loose behind her.
The sun had set behind the hills more than half an hour ago. As twilight lay heavy on the Land they looked an otherworldly collection; the dark gleaming eyes of Zhia and Legana, Isak’s shadowed scars and Vesna’s ruby teardrop catching the last of the light. One thin cloud reminded Isak of a pike’s mouth against the dark sky, but he kept the thought to himself. His companions might not be a superstitious lot, but they were apprehensive about what they would find in Vanach, so no sort of omen would be welcome.
Isak led them to the fort where a regiment of Ghosts was waiting, formed up in two neat company blocks and ready to receive them. The men had been sent on ahead to reinforce the fort’s permanent garrison, ready to provide military support should Isak call for it. It was a compact place, one of a string of six along the Vanach border, too small to cope with the additional hundred soldiers and their horses. Isak counted more than a dozen three-man tents pitched behind the fort; a makeshift corral had been set up within a cluster of ash trees beside that.
‘My Lord,’ called a soldier not wearing the Palace Guard livery; Sergeant Ralen, once one of Isak’s personal guard, approached them and saluted the white-eye he still considered his commander. ‘You’ve made good time. We only got here yesterday.’
‘Where’s Major Jachen?’ demanded Vesna as Isak slipped grimacing from his horse.
Ralen’s expression wavered a fraction. ‘Ah, ill, sir.’
‘Drunk?’
‘Sure it’s somethin’ he ate, sir.’
The Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn advanced on Ralen, who had taken a few steps back before he even realised. ‘I don’t care, Sergeant,’ Vesna said quietly. ‘Moorview hit Jachen hard; we all saw that before you left.’
‘Still sure it’s somethin’ he ate, sir,’ Ralen insisted. ‘Major’s always been prone to thinkin’ too hard, I’ll admit, but he’ll be right next time you see ’im.’
‘That’s good enough for me,’ Vesna said. He turned to the rest of the party as the last of them dismounted. ‘We eat quickly, then we’re off again.’
‘Off?’ Ralen echoed in surprise. ‘But it’s dusk. You’re travellin’ at night?’
‘It is part of our pilgrimage,’ Isak explained, easing his way down to one knee and allowing Hulf to clamber up his thigh. These days he had a permanent frown on his face: partly because of his scars, but also because of a sense of disconnection with the Land around him, one that eased when he felt Hulf’s thick fur under his fingers. ‘If we’re to make it to the Grand Ziggurat we’re going to have to pass bands of Carastars and Black Swords, and the commissars will be watching everything we do. The first step is to travel only under Alterr’s light – to claim the sanctuary of her gaze.’
‘Sounds like jumpin’ through hoops to reach your death,’ Ralen commented, ‘but the Menin lord couldn’t stop you, so this lot don’t have much chance – they’re all fuckin’ starvin’ anyway, so I hear.’
Isak couldn’t help but look past the man to the empty plain beyond the fort. He knew there would be Carastars watching it – the mercenaries were permitted free rein along the Vanach border to dissuade the population from fleeing – but their camps were not near any potential invasion route. They weren’t being paid to defend the state, just to terrorise those parts the commissars didn’t.
The Black Swords, Vanach’s army, was a less known quality. The soldiers served as both religious enforcers and police, under the direction of the commissars, but both Leshi and Shinir said they rarely ventured into the borderlands.
‘Let’s hope they’re not too hungry,’ Isak muttered, raising his still-bandaged left arm. The bite-wounds and burns were much improved, but the scar tissue remained sensitive. ‘I’m not yet healed from the last time something chewed on me.’
Ralen laughed and gestured towards the food being brought out for the party. ‘Don’t worry, sir; all the buggers
’ll be after Daken first. Plenty of time to get away while they’re eatin’ him.’
Beyond the border, with night fully fallen, seeking the sanctuary of Alterr’s light proved more literal than Isak had expected. Several among them had excellent night vision, with Legana and Zhia most obviously unhindered by the dark, but the rest were forced to rely on their comrades to choose a safe path. Trade between Vanach and Narkang had dried up years back, and what had once been a road was no longer anything more than a strip of relatively level ground, so barely a minute went by without someone needing to point out a hazard to those behind.
Vorizh Vukotic’s journal stated that only a party of twelve, the number in the Upper Circle of the Pantheon, would be afforded Alterr’s sanctuary; the clear implication being that it had to be exactly a group of twelve for the commissars to honour that agreement. So they rode two abreast, with Zhia and Doranei in the lead, no one going ahead as forward scouts in case they were attacked on sight.
After a couple of hours of unimpeded travel, Isak began to wonder if there was anyone around at all.
‘It’s uncharacteristically thoughtful of my brother,’ Zhia said to the Land in general, ‘to ensure we can travel only under cover of night. He was never usually one for practicalities.’
‘Self-interest,’ Doranei grunted from her side. ‘He wants someone to find and use Termin Mystt or he wouldn’t have left a journal in the first place. So he might as well tailor his directions to the two most likely to do what he wants.’
Zhia patted him on the arm affectionately. ‘That’s a little too direct a thought process for him, pretty one.’
‘It all sounds rational enough,’ Veil said, riding behind Doranei. ‘Might be he was having a good day?’
‘You don’t build a state in a day,’ Zhia replied, ‘and that’s what Vorizh did in Vanach – rebuilt the whole society according to his needs. That requires more than just one good day. It takes time even with skilled underlings to carry out your orders. The hierarchy of Vanach is a strict one, with every citizen finely graded. Only Black Swords, commissars and priests can travel between provinces at all, let alone head towards Vanach City. Vorizh coopted an entire nation and imposed these rules upon the people, but don’t expect all of it to be rational or obvious.’
‘Well, ain’t you just a ray of sunshine?’ Daken muttered from further back. ‘Still, I’m fine with leavin’ you to figure out what yer bugshit-crazy brother is about. I’m just looking for something t’kill.’
‘Then you’ll get your wish soon enough,’ Zhia replied cheerily. ‘We’re being watched.’
Isak tore his gaze away from the ground beneath him and sat upright, but couldn’t spot anyone. There were trees beyond the fifty yards of open ground on the left, while their path ran beside the tree-line on the right. ‘Where?’ he asked.
‘Ahead,’ Zhia said, ‘under cover of those tall pines: there’s a company of men.’
Isak still couldn’t make anything out under the trees, but they were still a few hundred yards away from the spot Zhia had indicated. If they continued on their current course they would pass within a dozen yards.
‘I can smell them,’ Zhia confirmed, flashing Isak a quick smile. ‘One is carrying an injury; his blood is on the wind.’
Isak nodded and closed his eyes briefly. With one finger he brushed the Crystal Skull hanging from his belt and opened his mind to its stored energy. A dizzying burst of power fizzed through his mind and he hunched low over Toramin’s neck, gripping his saddle tightly until it had passed. After the initial discomfort came a more familiar sensation: the warm metallic tang in his mouth as magic raced through his veins and traced a delicate path over his many scars.
He felt a lurch as his senses caught a breeze and drifted up into the night air. The starlight prickled faintly on his soul as he moved up above the trees; the lesser moon, Kasi, a warm, familiar touch, with Alterr a sharp, clear flavour in his mind. The cool presence of clouds hung above him as he reached out with the dew drifting slowly down and caressed the grass ahead.
The Land was dormant there, with few night creatures anywhere nearby, but Isak could not tell whether that was because of the scent of a vampire, or the distant presence of Ghenna that occasionally appeared on the edge of perception. A breeze shivered through the trees and Isak gave a soft gasp as it seemed to run right through him, but he continued his questing and soon found the waiting soldiers.
Moving outwards, he drifted away from the excited clicks of the bats darting around the treetops and plunged down into the woods on the right. His nose was full of the scents of bracken and bark, but he found no bright human minds shining in the dark there and soon let the wind carry him back to the warmth of his body.
He opened his eyes and blinked down at his huge horse, still walking patiently behind Daken’s smaller steed. Beside him, he saw the whites of Mihn’s eyes looking up at him. The small man already had his boots off and the magic of his tattoos was gathering the night around him.
‘Go – Veil and Leshi, you too. When Alterr next goes behind a cloud, circle around behind them. They’ll be expecting to ambush anyone coming this way and we can’t be sure there’s a commissar among them.’
‘Did you sense a mage?’ Zhia asked as Mihn looked up at the greater moon.
Isak shook his head. ‘You might see more.’
‘Certainly, but I’m more interested in gauging the extent of your remaining powers. You’re not long returned to the Land, and Vorizh is certain to have some surprises in store for whoever takes Termin Mystt.’
‘Planning on being elsewhere?’
‘No – but he might well test you alone.’ She returned her attention to the Carastars ahead just as a cloud began to advance across Alterr and the moonlit ground around them began to dim. ‘What’s more, the closer we get to Vanach, the more likely there will be mages, and I doubt any are tolerated outside the Commissar Brigade. If they see how strong we are, they may perceive us as a threat.’
‘You want to kill every mage we meet?’
Zhia laughed. ‘No – I’m saying we might have to.’
They rode on in silence. Isak tried to follow the three men he’d sent off on foot, but they had disappeared entirely before they had gone twenty yards and he quickly gave up staring out across the still plain. When he looked down, he realised Hulf was also gone, but the dog had vanished just as silently; he had adapted to the witch’s tattoos as quickly as any of the Brotherhood or Ghosts. He realised there was nothing he could do about it; he’d have to rely on the fact that Hulf wouldn’t attack a man unless he was going for Isak.
No Carastar will see or hear him. Maybe it’s better Hulf keeps away; he’ll most likely get trampled in a fight.
They covered the remaining ground quickly, the soldiers among them surreptitiously loosening the ties on their weapons as they rode. Half-anticipating the flash of a crossbow bolt at any moment, Isak found himself angling his scarred belly away from the trees where the mercenaries were waiting.
‘That’s far enough!’ called a gravelly voice in the Narkang dialect. ‘Throw down your weapons and dismount.’
Doranei glanced back at Isak, who nodded to him.
‘Why?’ The King’s Man demanded on behalf of them all. ‘Sounds like a stupid idea with all the dangerous sorts round here.’
‘Your choice,’ laughed the Carastar. ‘Keb!’
Nothing happened. A hail of arrows failed to leap from beneath the trees. In the hush, Isak thought he heard a grunt of puzzled consternation before the speaker gave another shout: ‘Keb, Dass – shoot him!’
Still nothing happened, and after a minute or two Doranei gestured for the group to keep on moving – at which point two men armed with spears broke from cover and charged towards them. Before anyone else could react, Daken had hurled his axe over-arm; it caught the nearest in the chest and smashed him to the ground in a spray of blood. The second mercenary yelped and threw himself to one side, abandoning his spear in his terror an
d ending up on his knees with his friend’s blood running down his cheeks.
The white-eye slid from his saddle and walked unconcernedly over to him to retrieve his axe. Another Carastar ran to intercept him before he could retrieve his weapon, but Mihn appeared from the lee of a tree, swinging his staff. He caught the man in the gut and sent him wheezing to the ground.
A second appeared, lunging with a spear, but Mihn had already skipped out of the way as though performing some dainty dance and before the mercenary could react he had lifted one leg and slapped his bare sole against the shaft of the spear, sending the head plunging down into the ground. Without pausing, Mihn snapped his leg forward and kicked the Carastar in the face with enough force to knock the man flat.
‘Enough!’ shouted a new voice from the trees. ‘No more killing.’
Doranei cocked his head at the new speaker: this one wasn’t a Narkang mercenary, as the first had been; most likely that was a Vanach accent, which meant he was a commissar.
‘We claim the sanctuary of Alterr’s light,’ Doranei announced, hoping it meant something to the man.
There was a pause.
‘The first sign?’ the commissar asked in a stunned voice, more to himself than any other. The shock of Doranei’s claim seemed to have driven the wind from his lungs, and when he emerged into the moonlight the man walked as though dazed. He was a large man with thick limbs, much to Isak’s surprise. They were renowned as blackmailers and cruel bullies, using fear and spiteful words to turn men against each other, so Isak had expected some sort of rat-faced weakling who hid behind his authority.
The commissar wore a basic brown tunic and trousers, his lack of armour and the pale scarf around his neck making him stand out from the merceneries. In the dark it wasn’t clear what colour it was, but Doranei guessed at pale yellow, an echo of the greater moon above them, since Alterr was the dominant God here.
‘You claim Alterr’s sanctuary? I – forgive me, it has been a long time since my days of instruction. I had almost forgotten—And the mysteries of . . . ’ He tailed off, but then visibly rallied as he remembered what he had learned when first inducted into the ranks of the commissars. ‘You must number twelve.’