by Lucy Hounsom
It was Anohin’s.
38
Hagdon
They came with the drrumm drrumm of hilts on shields. A shattering warsong more promise than warning. The smoke from burning settlements rose in their wake.
That was how the scout told it.
Hagdon listened expressionlessly. One thought filled his mind: Now I know how it feels to receive news of my own advance. A storm on the horizon. Thunder before him, blood in his footprints, the rain that washed it away.
Instead, Iresonté was the storm. She’d cut a swathe through southern Rairam, firing villages, killing any who stood in her path. Kyndra had warned him, Hagdon thought; Rairam was powerless to stop Sartya. It made him smile bitterly. With what absurd ease would he have taken this land if he still served his emperor.
Now he was here to defend it.
It would be a close thing. They could move faster than Iresonté and her vast army; she had less distance to cover. And Hagdon didn’t know what they’d find on reaching the capital. What was Rairam’s capital like? Did it even have proper walls? With a sinking feeling, Hagdon suspected it might not. This land had been at peace for five hundred years. As he’d done a dozen times already, he shook his head at the direction his life had taken.
And yet, unexpectedly, he was happier in himself than he’d been in a long time. Despite the inescapable battle that awaited them, despite the all-too-real likelihood of death, he felt this was where he was supposed to be.
He looked to his left. Irilin rode there, her horse keeping pace with his. Hagdon found himself smiling. ‘Your Rairam is very beautiful,’ he said. They’d left the rocky lands around Naris behind and were moving through a series of lush valleys.
Irilin’s hands tightened on the reins. He thought her smile a little strained. ‘It’s nothing compared to Calmarac.’
‘Calmarac is overrated because of the wine.’ He lowered his voice mock-conspiratorially. ‘To be honest, I never much cared for it.’
She laughed. ‘Me neither. But Kyndra was very taken with it. Did you know she used to work in an inn serving drinks?’
‘You must be joking.’ With her cold face and serious eyes, Hagdon just couldn’t imagine the Starborn squeezing between tables with a tray. ‘That has to be the most surreal thing you’ve ever said.’
‘I only met her when she came to Naris,’ Irilin replied, her expression still a little distant. ‘She was confused and scared. She missed her home. But she was defiant too, determined to escape her fate.’ She slid him a look from under lowered lids. ‘In the end, she decided to face it.’
When he didn’t answer, Irilin touched his arm. ‘What is it, James?’
If she knew the real him and even half of what he’d done, Hagdon thought, she would not speak his name so gently. ‘I never pictured myself defending Rairam,’ he said.
‘I never pictured myself riding in an army, but here I am.’
‘Here we are,’ he agreed. ‘Have you been to this Market Primus?’
She shook her head. ‘Kyndra has. Brégenne and Gareth too. They had a lot of trouble convincing the Trade Assembly that Acre had returned.’
‘Rairam returned.’
‘Matter of perspective.’
‘How do you think they’ll react on seeing us?’
‘Shit their collective pants, I expect.’ Mercia pulled her horse alongside theirs.
‘What a colourful image,’ Hagdon muttered. ‘I was speaking seriously.’
‘Right. Sorry.’ Mercia grinned. ‘I doubt I’m far wrong though.’
She wasn’t far wrong.
It was hard to miss a force the size of theirs, considering the flat terrain that surrounded the city. Hagdon ordered a white flag flown when they came within sight of the walls. There were walls, but, true to his fears, they hadn’t been built to keep out an army. As they rode closer, he saw cracks in the stone, forced open by climbing ivy. That meant the foundations were weak too. No siege, then. He couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved. He much preferred open battle to the drawn-out grind of a siege. But against an army the size of Iresonté’s … he had to admit the odds were in her favour.
Unless Kul’Gareth and the Wielders joined them.
He rode up to the gates, accompanied by Kait and Mercia. ‘I’ll handle any arrows, should things go badly,’ Kait said with equanimity. He’d noticed a change in the tall woman since the other Wielders had left. She’d stalked about the camp at first, simmering with a nameless emotion only Mercia seemed able to diffuse. The two of them had become fast friends.
‘I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.’ Hagdon squinted up at a distinctly ramshackle watchtower, which overlooked the crude gates. Faces peered from it, anxious faces that eyed their white flag with great suspicion. He could feel the arrows trained on him.
The gates opened to let a delegation through. The smell of sawdust still hung in the air and Hagdon guessed they’d been hastily made. The woman who led it was perhaps ten years older than he, with a proud, angular face and coiffed hair. She and the two men behind her wore some kind of state robes, the emblem of weighing scales sewn upon the breast.
‘Declare yourselves,’ she ordered and Hagdon gave her points for bravado, particularly in the face of their superior force.
‘Commander James Hagdon.’ He rode forward, hands held loosely away from his body, hoping none of the watchtower soldiers let their fingers slip. ‘I don’t know how much you were told about the threat to your city –’ he faltered under her stony gaze – ‘but we are here to aid you.’
It hadn’t been an elegant or especially informative introduction, but the woman seemed unsurprised by his words. ‘We are friends of Brégenne, the Wielder,’ Irilin spoke up.
‘Who left my home far too precipitously,’ the woman said. ‘I still have her horse in my stable.’
‘She did what she had to.’ Irilin paused. ‘Are you Astra Marahan?’
‘I am,’ the woman said with a twitch of her eyebrows. ‘And you are?’
‘Irilin Straa. I’m a Wielder too.’ Irilin glanced at Hagdon. ‘What Commander Hagdon says is true. Brégenne warned you about the Sartyan Fist. They will be here in a day.’
‘We’ve had reports,’ Astra said crisply. Her eyes narrowed. ‘A large force burning everything in its path, be it village or people.’
‘Then you know the threat is real,’ Irilin said. ‘The army is led by a woman called Iresonté. She means to seize this land for her own, starting with Market Primus.’ She turned in her saddle and said, with a gesture that encompassed their whole force, ‘We mean to stop her.’
‘I see,’ Astra said. ‘And are we to let our city be your battlefield? The streets are already full of homeless we cannot house.’
‘We will not enter the city,’ Hagdon said. ‘It’s indefensible. And it would be impossible to prevent civilian casualties.’ He could not quash a flicker of dread as he added, ‘We will fight Iresonté head to head.’
‘Wait a minute, Astra.’ One of the men behind her pushed forward. ‘We don’t know any of these people. Who is to say they are not the force that has pillaged and murdered its way to our city?’
Irilin’s mouth opened in disbelief. ‘How dare you? We’ve gone without sleep to get here before Iresonté and that’s your response? To accuse us of her crimes?’
‘Gentlemen,’ Astra said firmly, looking at Irilin’s flushed face. ‘This is not the time. Brégenne—’
‘You trust the word of a woman who brought her own battle to your door?’ the other man demanded. Despite his attitude, he looked pale beneath his thick beard. ‘She and those magicians of hers set fire to your carriage.’
‘I never liked it anyway,’ Astra said. ‘I’ve made up my mind, Talmanier. If they were here to kill us, do you think we’d be having this conversation?’
Talmanier opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a loud whirring. Hagdon realized he’d been hearing it for some time as a background noise that had grown steadily louder. As one, they
looked up.
Hagdon’s mouth fell open. It was a flying ship. An actual ship, complete with figurehead and angled sails, held aloft by two huge balloons. He gaped as it banked in a smooth circle of the city; the whirring came from two paddles that spun at its rear. It landed in a nearby field, spraying up a great shower of dirt.
‘Argat.’ It was more growl than name and Hagdon glanced at Astra. Her face was steely.
‘He seems to possess a special ability to punctuate a conversation,’ Talmanier said and then winced at the daggers Astra glared at him.
The paddles slowed, stopped. A small group disembarked. Astra’s expression became even chillier as she watched them close the distance. A man led them, leather coat snapping in the breeze. Hagdon tried to focus on him, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the glorious ship. ‘And it flies without ambertrix,’ he murmured wonderingly.
‘It beggars belief, Argat,’ Astra said, ‘that you dare to show your face here again.’
‘Oh come now.’ Argat was clearly enjoying himself. ‘Isn’t it time we put all this unpleasantness behind us?’
‘You’re a thief, Argat, and a liar. That ship –’ she stabbed a finger at it – ‘is the property of the Assembly.’
Argat’s expression immediately cooled. ‘No, Astra. She’s mine. And I will not be giving her back.’ His gaze ranged over Hagdon and those gathered behind him. ‘Where’s Brégenne?’
‘In Naris,’ Irilin said, ‘gathering the Wielders.’
‘I wish her luck with that.’ Argat nodded at the city. ‘The Wielders didn’t look at all happy to see her last time we were here.’
‘Do you have news of Gareth?’ Irilin asked him. ‘Is he coming to help us?’
Argat nodded. ‘I estimate they’re two days to the north.’
‘They’ll have to march through the night to reach us in time,’ Hagdon said with a frown. ‘And tired men don’t fight well.’
Irilin gave him a searching look before turning back to Argat. ‘Have you seen Iresonté and the Fist?’
‘Camped a day behind you.’ Argat’s grin was wolfish. ‘Did their best to shoot me out of the sky.’
‘They have artillery, then.’ Hagdon shook his head. ‘I feared as much.’
‘We saw at least five,’ Argat said, running a hand over his thinning hair. ‘Huge things spitting blue.’
‘Cannon, yes. They’re difficult to take down. Unless you’re a Starborn,’ Hagdon added ruefully, remembering those reports of Kyndra melting them like ice in the sun.
‘By the look on your face, I’m guessing we don’t have one to spare.’
‘Kyndra has her hands full with the Khronostians.’ Hagdon gazed around at them all. ‘This is our battle.’
A day wasn’t long in which to formulate a strategy, especially a strategy that depended on forces they didn’t have yet. ‘As we are, we can’t face Iresonté head-on,’ Hagdon confessed to Irilin. He’d set up his command tent on the summit of a small hill that offered a view of the terrain. They’d dug earthworks, aided by Kait and, tonight, Irilin. With their help, the defences had gone up more swiftly than Hagdon could have hoped. Mikael’s Alchemists were camped off to the west, the Republic to the east, leaving his Sartyan forces in the middle. They were his strongest asset, as far as he was concerned. The Republic had received only basic training on their journey here and, despite numerous stories about the Alchemists, he had no real idea of their capabilities. Mikael was notoriously tight-lipped on the subject, only assuring him that they could hold their own. Hagdon ground his teeth. Trying to plan a defence without all the facts drove him mad.
‘The Wielders are on their way.’
‘What about Kul’Gareth?’ Hagdon began to pace. ‘Captain Argat claimed his forces number several thousand. They could well tip the balance.’
‘They can only move so fast,’ Irilin said. ‘We will have to trust they’ll be here.’
‘Trust is not enough. There’s no time. They need to be here.’
‘James.’ It was almost a snap. ‘They will be.’
Hagdon stopped pacing. ‘I want you to stay out of the battle.’
‘No.’
‘Irilin.’ Her pale hair framed her face, gleaming in the lanterns that lit the tent. ‘You cannot fight in daylight. And I cannot protect you,’ he added in a low voice.
‘I don’t need protecting,’ she retorted. ‘I can look out for myself.’
‘If Iresonté realizes how much I—’ Hagdon broke off, suddenly unable to look at her. ‘If she finds out how important you are to me,’ he whispered to the tent wall, ‘she will kill you.’
Irilin was silent. He heard her swallow. ‘James,’ she said after a few moments, ‘will you do something for me?’
Immediately he turned back to her. ‘Anything.’
‘Will you – will you kiss me?’
Hagdon stared at her. The world seemed to slow so that it held just the two of them. His heart began a furious pounding in his chest.
Her eyes searched his face. ‘If you don’t want to –’
‘I’m not very good at it,’ he heard himself say.
There was a voice in his head, warning him not to, but Irilin filled his vision. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. They felt too big for him; his fingers looked rough against her cheek. Her skin was unfairly soft, a little flushed from the evening chill. As her arms crept hesitantly around him, he bent his head and brushed his lips across her forehead.
Irilin made a sound in her throat. Her hands tightened. Before he could draw away, she tilted her chin up and found his lips with hers.
Thought dissolved. The kiss seemed to encompass every glance they’d exchanged, from first to last, from enemies to friends. One hand in her hair, tumbling it free from the knot she’d tied it in, the other at her back, so he could pull her harder against him. She gasped against his mouth, her fingers creeping to the skin beneath his collar, to the top of his chest.
‘Commander.’
The voice was outside, its intrusion a cold gust through an open window. It froze them both.
‘Commander. There’s something you need to see.’
Hagdon raised his head, coming back to himself. ‘A moment,’ he called.
‘It’s urgent—’
‘Gods, man, I said a moment.’
There was silence. Irilin reached for him, but he caught her hand, held it away, all the while fighting the urge to kiss her again. Her lips were slightly swollen; the sight sent a delightful heat through him, but he couldn’t. All his misgivings, so unimportant just a moment ago, crowded him, and Hagdon felt ashamed at how easily he’d given in. He let her go and stepped back, dragging a hand over his face. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why?’ she asked softly.
‘Commander,’ the voice came again, ‘you really need to see—’
‘Yes.’ He snatched his gauntlets from a table, pulled them on. Irilin stepped closer again and he felt his breath catch, but she only straightened the collar she’d earlier pushed aside.
‘I know what you said before,’ she murmured, briefly touching his cheek. ‘But can we at least talk about it?’
Hagdon couldn’t bring himself to say no. He could still feel the pressure of her lips on his, as he held the tent flap aside for her. Irilin gave him a look from under her lashes as she passed, a look that caused him to tremble anew.
A black-cloaked soldier waited outside. Silently, he pointed.
Hagdon squinted at the sky. Something was racing the sunset – somethings, he amended, attempting a count. Perhaps twenty. He could hear the leathery slap as wings struck air. A roar echoed through the hills and distant screams rose from the city, carried to him on the evening wind.
Of course, Rairam had never seen the Lleu-yelin. He found himself grinning.
‘Are those dragons?’ Irilin whispered, her eyes huge. She’d never seen one either, Hagdon realized. The Lleu-yelin were almost upon their camp. Fingers pointed and heads tilted upwards to watch as they
came in to land.
Each dragon had a rider. A rider and several humans. Hagdon made his way over to the largest. Close up, it was even more impressive, with deep blue scales the size of his spread hand. Wicked talons tipped each foot, and a mane lay sleek against its neck.
Its rider’s scales were topaz, pointed face distinctly feminine. ‘Commander Hagdon?’ she asked, dismounting and stalking over to him. Hagdon had to look up – she was at least seven feet tall, with horns and talons that appeared as lethal as her partner’s. When he nodded, she said, ‘I am Sesh. I speak for the Lleu-yelin.’ The words were a little sibilant, as if they did not sit naturally on her tongue.
‘Well met,’ Hagdon answered politely. ‘If you’ve come to lend us your aid, you are very welcome.’
‘We owe the Starborn a debt.’ Sesh shrugged as if the titanic battle awaiting them were a small thing. ‘We will fight this once and then return to Magtharda.’ Her cat-eyes narrowed. ‘We have meddled too much in human affairs and paid the price.’
‘I am grateful for your help,’ Hagdon said sincerely. ‘Iresonté has a number of weapons we cannot hope to match. Five ambertrix cannon and, I imagine, multiple munitions including ambertrix cloaks.’ His look was speculative. ‘Can you do anything to tip the balance?’
Sesh considered him. ‘Perhaps. We are unfamiliar with the many shapes you humans have forced amberstrazatrix to assume. In many cases it is almost unrecognizable. Nevertheless, we should be able to counter it.’
‘Take out those cannon and you will have repaid any debt tenfold,’ Hagdon said, shuddering at the thought of the potbellied weapons he’d once stood behind. ‘Just one could ruin us.’
Sesh nodded, unperturbed. ‘Humans cannot be trusted with power. Always in the end it leads to death.’
‘I think we can agree on that.’
‘Give me your sword,’ Sesh said suddenly.
Hagdon blinked. He reached over his shoulder and drew the greatsword from its sheath.
The Lleu-yelin turned it in her hands, tapping the blade with a claw. It looked like a child’s toy in her grasp. ‘This is one of ours. The metal carries our scent.’ She held it out to her partner. ‘Would you, my love?’