‘This is a representative from King Ironfist—Carver Deepchest.’
The Kerwyn bowed his head slightly. ‘I am fluent in your language and I know your god, Jarudha. I have learned to be a believer.’
Vision assessed the man, noting that he had the physique and demeanour Vision associated with a soldier, despite his educated speech. ‘How did you get through the city’s defences?’
‘Defences are only as good as the men who keep them,’ Deepchest replied. ‘Not every man in your army is loyal to it.’
‘So a spy let you in?’
Deepchest smiled crookedly. ‘What is a spy?’ he asked as he bowed politely.
‘Get to your purpose,’ Vision ordered.
Deepchest nodded and said, ‘My Lord is willing to recommence bargaining with you on matters affecting us all.’
‘The diplomacy isn’t needed. What is your King proposing?’ Deepchest looked at Onyx. ‘What is said in this room is for Jarudha only,’ Vision added.
Deepchest nodded. ‘King Ironfist sees no point in a long war. The lands north and east of the city are already Kerwyn lands. It is only a matter of time before the city falls. King Ironfist knows well the prowess of the man who leads your army and respects him as a man who will make the war long and difficult, but King Ironfist will not rest until he is king of the whole western land and this might mean there is no city here when the war is over. He does not want to see that happen. He is asking you to convince the King to either surrender and be allowed to go east freely to settle anew, or to accept King Ironfist’s sovereignty and relinquish his ownership of the land, acting instead as a governor.’
‘Is that all?’ Vision asked.
Deepchest cleared his throat quietly and said, ‘King Ironfist offers important status for you and your priests. You would become advisers and your religion would be adopted as the King’s religion.’
A faint smile crept across Vision’s face and his eyes sparkled. ‘An interesting proposition. Let me see.’ He rose from his chair and continued to speak as he walked around his desk to stand before Deepchest. ‘The King here already gives us status. After him, we are the supreme authority and even he answers to Jarudha. He lets us build temples in the city wherever we please and he funds our needs from the Royal treasury without question. He is about to make the worship of Jarudha mandatory for all citizens. What has your King offered that we do not already have?’ He looked squarely at Deepchest, noting the V-shaped scar across the bridge of the Kerwyn ambassador’s nose.
Again, Deepchest nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I will convey what I have heard to my King.’
‘I think you understand well,’ Vision replied. ‘Go with Jarudha’s blessing.’ He instructed Onyx to ensure that the ambassador was escorted safely and secretively from the city. When the door was closed, Vision settled back to his reading.
The text was a work by his dead father, Seer Truth. Vision’s personal mission, to vindicate his father’s life purpose in finding the Conduit that would ensure the Demon Horsemen could be released, was consuming his private time with great passion. Truth had correctly traced the Conduit’s journey from the chest of a dragon slain by the Prophet Alun during the decline of the ancient Ashuak Empire, to Alun’s granddaughter and sister to Erin the Wise, and from there down the Kushel family generations to Samuel Kushel whose father settled his family in Shess. Certain that Samuel was the same man as an old soothsayer in a northern Shess village, Truth went in search of the Conduit, only to discover that Samuel had passed it to the Abomination—the woman, Lady Amber—who eventually killed Vision’s father in a strange duel that also cost her her life when the Demon Horsemen were apparently unleashed. So the Conduit was lost forever. Vision had arranged for a meticulous search of the area of that fateful confrontation, the area known as Whiterocks Bluff, but the Conduit was definitely gone—by all accounts from eyewitnesses, who came upon the scene within a day of the battle, it was in the belly of a great white shark.
But, as the Seers all knew, Jarudha worked in mysterious ways. The loss of the Conduit was compensated with their discovery of another path towards Paradise—through consumption of the mind-altering drug euphoria. Euphoria enhanced their Blessings—the magic they could summon. So far, it hadn’t replaced the awesome power that he knew the Conduit could command, but he was convinced that euphoria was the key they needed. The challenge was to learn how to harness and grow its potential.
Another knock at the door made Vision mutter an obscenity and close the book. ‘Who is it?’ he called.
‘Me,’ a familiar voice replied. The door opened and Onyx reappeared.
‘Is our friend safely underway?’ Vision asked.
‘Yes.’ Despite his acceptance of Vision’s leadership, Onyx refrained from using Vision’s official title. After all, the title was meant to be his.
‘Then why this additional intrusion?’
Onyx shut the door. ‘Our friend shared an interesting rumour,’ he explained.
‘I’m listening,’ Vision said.
Onyx casually sat in a padded armchair, one of three reserved for the office of the spiritual leader of the Seers. ‘The Kerwyn are getting reports of a witch upsetting their warriors in the southern parts of the Whispering Forest.’
‘A witch?’
‘It’s the term the Kerwyn use for women who use magic,’ Onyx explained.
Vision snorted. ‘I know what a witch is. And I know they don’t exist.’
‘Occasionally women copy the tribal shaman,’ Onyx reminded him.
‘False magic. Fakers,’ said Vision dismissively. ‘The Kerwyn have been fooled by some pranksters.’
Onyx nodded. ‘Perhaps. But the ambassador considered the rumour important enough to share with us.’
‘Looking for a quick answer,’ said Vision. ‘Is that all this was—a rumour?’
Onyx took the hint and stood. ‘I thought you’d at least want to know,’ he said and headed for the door again. ‘Goodnight.’
Vision was glad to hear the door click shut. He picked up his book, opened it and focussed on where he’d reached, but he couldn’t concentrate. Annoyed, he shut the book and leaned back into his chair, toying with the dark blue material on the arm. The Kerwyn king’s overtures were tempting and he would ensure that option remained viable. The Kerwyn assault on Port of Joy was about to recommence with the end of the season of Shahk and he knew that life in the city would degenerate rapidly for the people as the siege took effect. The fate of the Shessian kingdom was in the hands of Warmaster Cutter, a soldier who’d proven his mettle when the fall of the kingdom seemed inevitable, and it was possible that he could engineer another victory against impossible odds so the Seers would be foolhardy to change allegiances before the outcome was certain. But continuing a relationship with King Ironside was sensible. Whoever ultimately ruled Shess had the responsibility of ensuring the Jarudhan faith prospered.
He drew a deep breath. The experimentation with euphoria was gaining momentum, although Seer Reason was warning that the drug had limited use unless they could refine it to make it stronger. Vision was convinced that it was the key to Paradise. The dream of the Conduit died with his father, but the reality of bringing the Demon Horsemen to cleanse the world of evil remained strong.
He stood and lowered the wick on his lantern, leaving a tiny glow to light his way to bed, picked up the lantern and walked barefoot across the paved floor, enjoying the cool sensation in his feet. In his bedroom, austere and small, furnished with a single bed and a small dark four-drawer cupboard, he slipped out of his blue robe and underclothes, blew out the lantern and climbed under the woollen blankets. The Kerwyn rumour of the witch eased back into his thoughts as he relaxed to sleep. It was an annoying thought, and he dismissed it as nonsense, but for its own strange purposes it wouldn’t let him rest.
White sails flooded the western horizon, like a long thin bank of cloud rolling in under the blue sky, and a stiff north-westerly breeze ruffled the wave
s and made Warmaster Cutter’s hair dance. ‘Estimates are that there are three hundred ships,’ said Kneel Goodman, who stood with the Warmaster on the castle parapet.
Blade Cutter kept his gaze fixed on the distant sails. ‘How many ships do we have ready?’
‘Shipmaster Dockman told me there were sixty-two vessels able to put to sea. Twenty-one are fitted with the big thundermakers.’
Cutter remembered Dockman—the shipmaster who led the small fleet against the Kerwyn blockade before the storms settled in. ‘Tell Dockman to weigh his options carefully. He has my permission to plan accordingly.’
‘That will be passed to him, Warmaster,’ Goodman confirmed.
Cutter faced the dark-haired Intermediary. ‘Where’s the King?’
‘His Highness is in bed with an unfortunate cold and said he would visit you in a couple of days when he is feeling better.’
‘Better health to His Highness then,’ said Cutter as he headed for the steps. He stopped at the top with Goodman and continued, ‘I’ve seen enough from here. My guess is that the Kerwyn will start the assault within two days. I’ve received reports that the new Warlord, Broadback, is bringing siege machines that our own Seers designed when they were helping the King take the throne from his mother. Ironic, don’t you think?’
‘Circumstances change,’ Goodman remarked.
Cutter descended quickly to avoid the formalities associated with arriving at and leaving the palace. Mounted, he led his small entourage of Elite Archers out of the palace and through the old castle precinct, heading for the perimeter of the Northern Quarter. Circumstances change, he considered as he rode. Circumstances might change again. He knew he couldn’t rely on the Seers. The dead Queen was never able to successfully guarantee the Seers’ loyalty in her long struggle with her son for the throne, yet some of them had been more than eager to lend the Rebel forces a hand. The Kerwyn arrived in Shess with their thundermakers, powerful and deadly magic conjured by the Seers, to support the Prince’s usurpation of Queen Sunset’s throne. Once the Prince was the new King and the Kerwyn plot to take control of Western Shess uncovered, the Seers changed sides and provided King Future with even more potent magic. The Seers changed sides to suit their own ends. Of that fact he was certain. He didn’t want to trust them, but he couldn’t afford to have them turn against him either.
Warlord Cleaver Broadback stroked his finely trimmed beard, his single selfish concession to his rank, and studied the first war machine as the bullocks pulled it forward. It took eight bullocks to pull each wood-and-metal machine. There were a hundred machines in total, constructed from designs provided to King Ironfist by the Shessian Seers, and Broadback had ordered the machines to take up positions along the northern and north-eastern perimeters of the city. Each machine could hurl a large thunderclap more than a thousand paces—a full walk—and they could be reloaded quickly to maintain a steady rate of fire. The thunderclaps could destroy a house in a single explosion. With a hundred machines at his command, Broadback expected to level most of the city of Port of Joy in a few days if the enemy were stupid enough to resist. The stormy season was over, the Kerwyn army was replenished with recruits from the north, the Kerwyn navy was assembled and ready to descend upon the Shessian ships and Broadback was eager to recommence the war.
Wheeling his horse, Cleaver Broadback cantered along the road and then angled through the bushland, heading for a tall hill overlooking the city. He startled a mob of grey kangaroos that went bounding through the mallee at the base of the hill. Shessian animals were strange creatures, all legs and tail, tasty when cooked, but harder to hunt than the bears of the Kerwyn mountains. Broadback had acquired a taste for the animals, but, like the Shessian barbarians, he knew that the kangaroos and other weird animals would be culled once the land was Kerwyn land.
Waiting at the crest of the hill under the shade of a broad white gum were familiar faces among the troop of soldiers. Doghunter nodded as Broadback reined in and Lance Shortarms was wearing a big grin while he restrained three Kerwyn war dogs on chains. Broadback swung down from his mount, letting a soldier take the horse for currying and a drink while he embraced his friends and half-brother. ‘Where’s Slayer?’ he asked.
‘Marshalling a war band to make some preliminary raids over the river,’ said Shortarms. ‘He wants the barbarians to know that we’re back.’
‘Good,’ Broadback declared. ‘I can already smell blood.’
The surrounding entourage laughed. ‘You’ve got a visitor,’ said Doghunter, who gestured towards a solitary figure wrapped in a dirty brown riding cloak with the hood up and guarded by four Kerwyn soldiers. ‘He came in unannounced this morning.’
‘Barbarian?’ Broadback asked, studying the man.
‘Worse,’ said Doghunter and he spat.
Broadback strode over to the prisoner, but halted as the man dropped his hood to reveal his white hair. ‘What do you want?’ Broadback demanded.
Seer Onyx’s expression remained impassive. ‘I expected better treatment,’ he said bluntly. ‘Your friends don’t understand the concept of etiquette.’
Broadback raised an eyebrow quizzically and remarked, ‘Fancy words and fancy manners have no place on a war field, priest, and wise men answer questions when their lives are worthless.’
Onyx’s face hardened. ‘Blunt. So be it.’ He glanced malevolently at Doghunter before saying, ‘I’m here with a simple message then. Jarudha’s purpose is sometimes not clear to our limited minds. He may have very different plans to what we intend and events may not turn out as we expected.’
‘Get to the point, priest,’ Broadback warned.
‘Be assured that the Seers will look favourably on whoever is the victor in the coming days. We serve Jarudha, not any earthly ruler.’
‘And?’ Broadback prompted.
‘And what?’ Onyx asked.
‘You offer nothing more than assurance that you have no loyalty?’
‘We’re offering loyalty to you if the will of Jarudha is that you are victorious,’ Onyx reiterated.
Broadback put his hands on his hips and laughed, and his companions laughed with him. Then he held up his hand for silence and said, ‘You have two choices, priest. Run back into the burial hole that is the city and wait for us to come and gut you, or stay here and enjoy the spoils of victory when the city yields. One thing is certain—Port of Joy will fall, and your King will be put to death for his treachery. As will all who followed him. What is your choice?’
Onyx understood that his diplomatic mission was in tatters. He met Broadback’s grim gaze, measuring the man’s brutality. ‘Can I have some time to consider your offer?’
Broadback grinned fiercely. ‘You have time right now, priest. Stay or leave.’
I can always escape if the siege fails, Onyx decided. He bowed his head, saying, ‘I will serve the spiritual needs of the Warlord because it is clear that Jarudha favours him in the time to come.’
Broadback appreciated the unsubtle sycophancy in the man’s decision to stay in the Kerwyn ranks. He knew about the barbarian priests—how they were untrustworthy—but having one on his side, even for a short while, was a good omen and a strategically sensible arrangement. ‘Find the priest a tent,’ he ordered, and strode away.
Onyx stared blankly at the Warlord’s retreating back, but inside he was seething with anger. Vision’s decision to send him directly to the Kerwyn Warlord was more than a diplomatic mission. It was more than a considered plan to ensure the Seers’ survival whatever the siege’s outcome. Vision knew Onyx’s aspirations and sent him on the chance that the Warlord would respond by executing him. He was convinced of that. He smiled wryly. It seemed the Warlord also saw value in cultivating the Seers’ favour. Vision would be disappointed to learn that Onyx had been accepted among the Kerwyn, but then again the diplomatic mission was successful. It was a complex world.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Word is the bastards are planning another assassination attempt,�
�� said Drinkmaker, and he wiped the froth of his beer from his lips. He was happy to share a few words of rumour with his favourite patrons, Pipe Tapper and Keeper Shillingsworth. With the siege underway, business was fast vanishing from his tavern, the Bounding Kangaroo, as people used every last penny to pay exorbitant prices on the burgeoning black market for the dwindling supplies of food smuggled into the city. Almost no one came to the tavern after dark because the rampant rumours and fears that Kerwyn death squads were sneaking into the city to kill people indiscriminately were keeping most people at home. At least Tapper and Shillingsworth seemed able to find tuppence to buy a beer and the courage to defy the Kerwyn.
‘I heard the King’s still sick,’ said Shillingsworth. ‘Scared sick,’ Tapper grumbled.
‘Who wouldn’t be with that lot outside your city?’ Drinkmaker reminded them. ‘Warmaster Cutter can’t be everywhere. And sooner or later we’ll all starve.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Shillingsworth.
‘Me too,’ agreed Tapper and the three old friends clinked their mugs to share their solidarity. A projectile whistled through the air above them, smashed through the roof of the Bounding Kangaroo and exploded in the tavern bar, flattening the building. Three more buildings along the street were engulfed in flames as thunderclaps crashed into them. The few people travelling the streets scattered in panic, running to escape the fiery explosions that turned the streets into devilish tunnels of flickering firelight and swirling smoke.
Warmaster Cutter glanced at the sign of the Bounding Kangaroo dangling from one chain on the pole outside the burning shell of a building, and three dazed, soot-covered men wandering through the ruin, before he called his troop to order and they galloped out of the site of the latest Kerwyn bombardment towards the city perimeter. Cantering through the chaos of burning buildings like human incarnations of the Demon Horsemen, Cutter’s troop ignored the people calling to them for help. Cutter was frustrated. The Kerwyn had a new weapon that terrorised the people trapped in Port of Joy—siege engines hurling thunderclaps over a distance that let the Kerwyn set up on the other side of the River of Kings and out of bowshot—and Cutter’s men were struggling to eliminate the threat. The Seers were to blame. Having given the Kerwyn the idea for the new machines when they were engineering the downfall of Queen Sunset they were now being used against King Future—a twist that would have had a flavour of ironic justice were it not for the fact that it was causing the deaths of hundreds of innocent people. Cutter’s latest ploy to nullify the impact of the new weapons was desperate and dangerous. Seven Groups of Elite Mounted Archers stationed behind the enemy lines had the singular purpose of finding and destroying the thunderclap-throwing engines. One Group had already successfully destroyed a pocket of the engines after they were used for two successive nights to bombard the city’s Northern Quarter. Hoping that a Group was bearing down on the engines used in this night’s bombardment on the Farmers’ Quarter, he was riding out to see what transpired.
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