by Guy Antibes
Crissor ran Bollet through. As he pulled his sword out of the slumping body of the former commander of the Third Army, Crissor looked at the dwindling figure of Divvid Mustak riding west away from the fight. As both armies began to fight each other, the confrontation turned into chaos while Crissor forgot about Mustak’s desertion.
~
“We followed Blox’s coach south until he crossed over the Murgontian border. We sent a message to our Murgontian agent who trailed the coach to a deserted way station. Blox’s coach was nowhere to be found, but the agent discovered the bodies of Baston and Trell Blox, his mistress and the staffer who fled with them just behind the station. They were tortured and killed before their murderers kicked a little dirt over them. We also learned that at the same time our agents spotted Lorvad Pokkan visiting the vicinity with a detachment of his personal guard,” Corilla said to Lorna in her small study.
Lorna sat down in shock. She’d ridden with them into Gerellia, what if they had dragged her along? How would Panix react to the death of his ex-wife? What would the Marquessa think of her foreign minister dying on Murgontian soil? “When will we bring the bodies back? We can prove—”
“Murgontia is where they will stay. I have to protect my agent. The Murgontians will realize there are foreign agents on their soil if we touch anything.”
“Oh, I see,” Lorna said. She realy didn’t understand and would have to take time to think about Corilla’s words. It was hard for her to swallow the abandonment of a Pent official’s body. With a small voice she said, “There is a nasty side to this war.”
“I’m glad you see it as a war. It’s a silent war, fought with different rules, using a different kind of soldier. The rules aren’t very nice either, but you’ll have to get used to it,” Moshin said.
“Not much honor in killing King Tomlano, either.” Lorna had to stand and pace. The whole episode with Blox and Merra shook her sensibilities.
“Is there more honor putting siege to a city and killing tens of thousands of innocents in a military war?” Moshin slammed a hand in his fist.
Lorna thought about that and couldn’t come up with an answer.
“Remember different rules and some you just don’t like, but there are a lot less innocent people killed. Merra Gavid might not have deserved death, but the other three did,” Torbet said.
“I’ll bet Pokkan is playing his own game independent of Uven Kyrod. I think I will write an anonymous note to Uven,” Corilla said. Lorna detected the spine of steel in the woman and shivered. She felt left behind as the events and those that reacted to them slid past her.
~
Panix spent a wet night even though they covered the boat with his tent. Harlan set up his own in the soggy field. The rain caused Panix to bail out the bottom of the boat a number of times during the journey. His ribs and leg ached relentlessly even after Harlan splinted his leg with a cross brace. He examined the break and guessed it didn’t need setting. A healer would be the only person to know for sure. As he struggled with sleep, thoughts turned to the other army. Would they be able to make any sort of time through the fields and marshy lands that ran west from the mountains? It was a question he didn’t know the answer to. He had to focus on getting back to Gerell.
~
Crissor surveyed the carnage. A third of the forces lay dead, dying or injured on the muddy battlefield. The army would lose at least three more days struggling with the dead and consolidating commands of the combined armies. Pockets of fighting continued as the troops personally loyal to General Bollet fought on. That number dwindled as more of the men in Bollet’s 3rd Army fell ill with food poisoning.
At the end of the day, the Third Army officers sued for truce and put aside the hostilities.
The general now had the time to worry about Divvid Mustak. He was off to report to Nirov and he knew that his act was, indeed, an act of mutiny. He also knew that Wovir might not save him this time. Perhaps he might have to take over Pent and proclaim himself King. Such a drastic step was something to keep in the back of his mind. He had other things to do, now that the boil had been pierced, but at least he commanded the entire army.
As the day ended the General was in his tent attempting to go to sleep. A messenger called from outside his tent. “General, a message from the Third’s supply column.”
“Bring him in.” Crissor rose on one elbow from his cot and took the message.
“Who is in command over there?”
“No one is at present, sir. Bollet brought everyone who was able. This is from a squad leader who had taken ill.”
Crissor read the message. “Go get Colonel Reggor and bring him to me.”
The scout leader who suffered through a bout of twisted bowels wrote to the General describing his encounter with a spy called Panix. Who was this person who had the audacity to disappear with a boat, of all things? Did he expect to float away on the sea of mud?
“General, sir.” Reggor stepped through and stood before General Crissor who now sat putting on his bloody uniform.
“Still raining, I see?”
“Yes, sir. If the rain continues much more, I doubt we will be able to get to Pent in a month’s time.”
“I agree. But the deluge has to stop sometime. Look at this.”
Reggor read the dispatch. “a Pentish spy escaped on a boat with a broken leg? What did the squad leader have to say about this?” Reggor passed over the scrap of paper that Corilla sent to Panix.
“So they know what we’re up to.” Crissor’s eyes lost focus as he thought of the ramifications of Korvanna knowing each step they took. He shook his head and concentrated on the here and now. “I want you to get the supply wagons started. We can’t go anywhere without them. Be wary of those sink holes Bollet told us about.”
“Yes sir.”
“Take plenty of infantry to move the wagons through the mud.”
~
Panix’s horse lay on its side with a broken leg of its own, a victim of a hole covered with mud. Harlan had to slit the horse’s throat. The harness they had fashioned had broken as well and Panix doubted they could make a new one. One couldn’t just tie the boat to the horse with a rope.
Harlan suggested that they ride together, but Panix knew his leg couldn’t take it. He couldn’t ride, but rowing he could do, if he braced his leg right. He’d just have to grit his teeth and suffer through the pain in his ribs. He put the oars in the locks and magically lowered the height of the boat. He thought of his conveyance as no different than a floater. Harlan tightly wrapped up his chest, to minimize the pain in his ribs, and then Panix put the oars out and scraped the ground with the edges, pushing the boat. He was a bit surprised as it glided along. As soon as he got into the rhythm of the rowing, he had to slow up for Harlan and his horse. With no friction, the boat flew across the sodden fields.
Panix had to adjust his height a few times, but made remarkable progress. He found he could partially remove himself from his body to suffer through the pain, although the effort cost him more physical strength. He slept well that night underneath the tent-covered boat.
The new day brought along the rain of the weeks before. Not many people were about, but those that were, didn’t believe their eyes. A man on a horse and a man in a boat?
Panix stopped by a woman walking on a road perpendicular to his path. “Do you know where there is a healer close by? My leg is broken, my horse died and I need some patching up.”
She stood there gawking at the boat with a hand to her face. “A boat for a floater. I never even imagined such a thing.”
“A healer?” Panix reminded the woman of his question.
She pointed to trees on the horizon. “Over there is the town of Whitvale. There are two healers in the city. The one with the most talent, magical and common is a man from Sulliana. His name is Lesson Treller. He helped me birth three healthy children.”
“Thanks,” he said as he began to point his boat towards the town. He waved at the woman whose
eyes hadn’t left him. The boat kept gliding along even when he stopped rowing.
Harlan told him to go on ahead and he’d catch up with him at the healer’s house after buying some supplies. Panix soon lost Harlan in the distance. The boat created quite a stir as he made his way to the healer’s house. A man walked out and Panix stopped him.
“Is this Treller’s house?”
“Sure is. You hurt?” the man walked up and saw the splint. “Need help getting in?”
Panix gratefully accepted the man’s offer. Once out of the boat, he stopped the float and let the boat settle to the ground. The man’s visage showed disappointment. Panix thought if he’d left it floating, it would be gone when he came out.
Other people sat in the waiting room. Treller seemed to have a larger practice than Sorah’s in Hortwell. The three rows of chairs in a room twice the size were full of all kinds of people coughing, sneezing and trying to silence their children. White walls made the room seem a bit too bright and the hard wooden chairs seemed to be no person’s friend as he struggled to sit. None of the others in the room looked like emergencies. Treller came out and saw Panix’s homemade splint and helped him back into his treatment room.
“You’re in a lot of pain, lad.” Treller was about sixty with a bushy head of white hair with long eyebrows to match.
Panix winced as the healer helped him on the examination table. “Ribs too. Beat up pretty bad. Where did this happen? Surely not in Whitvale.”
“No. Not in Whitvale, far to the east along the Pent-Murgontian Road.”
“Murgontians? They caught you, eh? We’ve heard about their war games.” The healer’s hands moved over Panix’s body and whistled. “What’s a powerful magician like you doing amongst them savages.”
“Let’s say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I know when to keep my mouth shut. How much time do you have here in Whitvale?”
“I’ve got to get to Gerell as soon as possible.”
“To see Corilla Westter, I imagine.” Treller paused and looked at Panix.
“Corilla and I have an understanding, lad. I give her information if I run across anything interesting.”
“Do you know Sorah in Hortwell on the border—”
“Sure I know her. Did she treat you at some time?” Panix pointed to his skull. The hair had grown out to a short brush. “Beautiful work,” Treller said as he felt the bump. “She puts my efforts to shame, but I make more coin than does she. I may disturb your hair again for the leg and two of your ribs.”
Panix felt the same heat and pain as Treller knit his bones. He could feel that Treller’s technique was cruder somehow in comparison with Sorah’s.
“There, now. Not quite good as new, but the pain will be gone from the breaks. I can give you some painkiller for all the bruises. They will heal just as well on their own.”
“I don’t have anything to pay you, except for a saddle and a bridle.”
Treller helped Panix to his feet. “That’ll be enough.” The man grinned.
Panix now felt well enough to grin back. “How’s my hair?” Panix looked at Treller, who gave him an evil smile.
“All gone, I’d say.”
He walked back out to the boat feeling much better, but the rain now poured down his bald head. Panix pulled out a packet of painkiller and poured some on his tongue. Time to get to Gerell. Harlan arrived with their food and a change of clean clothes.
In an hour, they arrived at a ferryman’s hut on the banks of the Green River, that flowed all the way down to Gerell. Harlan left his horse with the ferryman. They eased the boat in with Harlan at the oars and Panix worked the tiller, adjusting the boat’s height so it barely touched the water.
“Hey, this is fun!” Harlan said as he started to push himself. Panix felt the wind cool his head. The banks of the river started to fly by as Harlan continued to row and the boat began to glide over the rushing water. He laughed to see the ferryman scratching his head in disbelief. Soon they would be seeing the bridges that surrounded three sides of the city of Gerell.
“Who’d ever think that a boat could move faster than a carriage?” Harlan said. He continued to row until he stopped and snapped his fingers. “What if you floated a steamcar? Maybe put something on it that could push it along a road like a big wheel. That might revolutionize travel.”
Panix laughed. “That’s an ambitious thought. Continued work for magicians. Bring it up when all of this is over.”
“I will,” Harlan grinned. “We’re making great time. I’ll bet we can be in Gerell before nightfall.”
~~~~
Panix the Investigator
Book Five
Chapter 23
Sovad waited in the seedy bar, a smoky little hole down by the docks. More than tobacco smoke filled the air, mixing with the stench of sweat and urine. Nirov paused at the door and quickly made his way to Sovad.
Standing in front of him, Nirov said, “Out. I refuse to meet you in a place like this.” He put a handkerchief to his face. “We will meet on an empty dock.”
Sovad watched Nirov’s retreat from the bar, as he continued to leisurely sip his drink. When done, he threw a few coins on the table and left to find Nirov. He anticipated an angry scolding and found himself not caring.
“What are you trying to do? Telling me to meet you in a place like that. I stick out like a sore thumb.” Nirov paced back and forth in the gathering gloom. “You forget who I am.”
“I know who and what you are.”
That quieted the young man, but Nirov’s glare of hatred told Sovad he didn’t assuage his temper. “Humpf. I have a new assignment. I want to upset the court even further. The Pentish Foreign Minister and his cousin the ambassador have gone missing. You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”
“No. They’re in our pay. Blox probably panicked after the King’s death and the rumors of Pent being behind it.”
“Why wasn’t I told?” Nirov furrowed his brow. “Why would they leave without consulting me?”
“I’m sure Baston Blox would want to get out before any investigation started. Lorvad Pokkan is their paymaster and if they have set foot in Murgontia, I’m sure they’re dead.”
“Great. That means we can’t use them, anyway.” Nirov paced back and forth. Too many wheels for this boy to comprehend, thought Sovad.
“Why use them at all? Just have Jorlan keep up the pressure. You don’t have to do anything else, just stall for time until the army is in Pent.” Sovad could see Nirov dismissing his suggestions.
“I want you to kill the Westters,” Nirov said. “That will throw everything up in the air.”
“And point right at Murgontia. Who would people think did the killing? Jorlan? He’s known to be your sponsor with the King. It would hurt his chances at the throne and get us all kicked out of Gerellia. That would result in having no hope of restoring relations with any of our northern neighbors, Gerellia, Pent or Bentonnia.”
“You overreact,” Nirov said. “Kill them or kill yourself. Those are my orders.”
“They are not an easy pair to destroy, Nirov. Corilla is as good an intelligence agent as you’ll find, and that includes her fighting abilities. Tobet isn’t far behind, he’s no soft bureaucrat,” Sovad paused for effect. “I would reconsider your order. If you need to have them killed, it should be well planned.”
“You don’t get months. I want them killed before morning the day after tomorrow. That’s an order—from me and from the cabinet.” Nirov made a cutting motion with his hand.
“Yes, sir. I will make the attempt but in my professional opinion, I will not succeed and the attempt could very well cost me my life.”
“What is your life really worth anyway, Mustak?” Nirov sneered at Sovad and walked away.
Sovad looked at the river flowing past, looking at the far shore barely visible in the dim light of the sunset, but then something else caught his eye. Two men rowed a boat to shore impossibly fast. H
e blinked to make sure of what he observed. Someone had turned a boat into a floater. How novel. It might be something he would have done if he had that much talent. He turned and walked into the city before the boat made it to a dock.
~
The sun finally shone on the city of Murgon. The recent rains made the air sultry in the summer heat. The Murgontian pocket cabinet met in the Council Room. The men had removed their coats and they all fanned themselves with various implements at hand. Lorvad Pokkan entered last.
“Ah, Pokkan. I’m glad you could join us. I just received an interesting letter about you.”
“Who would possibly want to write about me?”
“We will get to that. But first, the progress in Gerellia. The King is dead and now there is a fight for the throne. Our man is first in line to replace King Tomlano and is meeting with some political resistance. We probably have another week or two, depending on Bollet’s progress, then it won’t matter what happens in Gerellia. Nirov planned on accusing Pent of assassinating the King, but with their embassy closed and Korvanna vouching for the Marquessa and pushing for a resolution of succession, our plans remain in flux.”
“It still seems that we are close to victory,” Wilton, the Head Councilor, said, feeling that he had to show a positive face in the sweltering heat.
A messenger brought in a letter for Wovir Yetter. All eyes were on the head of the military, reading his face for any hints.
“Bad news by pigeon.” Wovir’s face was pale. “General Crissor and General Bollet’s forces fought three days ago.” The General waved the letter. “This letter doesn’t say why, but General Bollet is dead and Crissor has taken command. The forces are depleted, but perhaps enough to do the job.”
“How can this be?” Wilton said. So all wasn’t well with the army’s advance.
“We’ll get a full report in a few days. It ends with saying the conditions of the road were much worse than thought. They are barely halfway to Pent.” Wovir sat down.