Thumaar said, “Have you been an emperor, boy?”
Azmorgon shook his hairy head.
“No, of course not. You have no plaguing idea what it means to rule, to make difficult decisions. And what’s more, you have no idea what it is to lose your throne, your empire, your ability to do those things. But I am reclaiming what is mine. And your captain here is helping me do it, boy. That is all you need to know or concern yourself with.”
Azmorgon’s huge chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily. “As you say. My lord. But I ain’t a boy.”
“Then plaguing act like a man,” Thumaar said, maintaining eye contact for a few moments then turning away dismissively, as if the exchange had never occurred. “Now, Captain, it is time you explain precisely how you will help me.”
Braylar replied, “Presently. But before I begin, it would be helpful to know a few things that will ensure the success of this plan. You mentioned your men had set sail, were landing on the eastern shores of the Bonewash, yes? And others were converging from land already. Were you referring to the Anjurians, my lord?”
Thumaar looked impatient and irritated as he said, “Yes, yes. Brune’s men are marching from Alespell. My Eagles and the Confederates will have disembarked already and made for Sunwrack. What of it?”
Mulldoos and Vendurro looked at each other, and Soffjian asked the question they all seemed to be mulling, the lightning-bolt vein pulsing in her forehead. “The Confederates, my lord?”
Thumaar repeated it as if speaking to a young, slow child. “Yes. The Vortagoi Confederacy. Did you think I was simply licking my wounds this entire time? I have made preparations, Memoridon.”
Braylar was often inscrutable, and no less so now, but I thought there was a tightness to his jaw as well as he said, “And what size host have you assembled, my lord? That will dictate the best operation for stealing Cynead’s Memoridons.”
“His days of usurping will be over soon. As to the men, there are twelve thousand Eagles, forty-five thousand Vortagoi soldiers, and from Alespell . . .”
Thumaar looked at Brune who replied, “Eight thousand. My lord.”
Mulldoos tried to whistle, but it was mangled by his lips, and he cursed quietly to himself.
Thumaar called up the other men behind him. “These two men are from the Confederacy. They have pledged the necessary resources to help me regain my throne. Generals Tubarna and Luwatannis.”
The Vortagoi generals wore matching armor, circular plates on their chests with bronze lamellar plates radiating away from the center like rays from the sun, tall domed helms with three feathers sprouting from the top, and long skirts that nearly covered their sandals. Each had a beard oiled in ringlets, though Tubarna’s seemed to be hiding a weak chin and swollen neck.
Soffjian started to say something that sounded decidedly like an objection, but Braylar interrupted. “Well met. And very good. It is excellent to hear that you have gathered a formidable host. And it goes a long way to determining which strategy will work.”
Thumaar’s eyes were like turquoise stones under the silver brows, and equally as friendly. “Which is?”
“I was hoping you might finally ask that, my lord.” That earned some grins from the Jackals, and even a hint of a smile from Brune, though he hid it well, but none from Kruzinios or Thumaar.
Braylar continued, “I suggest you order your forces to head to Sunwrack.”
“Sunwrack,” Thumaar said, quietly. “We can’t exactly sneak up on them.”
“No, my lord. They will learn of your advance quickly enough—they have the greatest intelligence gathering ability ever assembled now—and Cynead will order Thurvacian forces to oppose you, though he won’t have much time. He will not believe you have risked late-fall storms crossing the Bonewash. So he might chance to order some army to try to impede you, but it will be difficult to do, given your decisive plan.”
“You’ve told me nothing I didn’t already know, and less about what you intend to do.”
“Indeed,” Braylar said, “I did in fact. I said ‘command,’ not lead. Kruzinios will personally lead your forces in the field.”
Thumaar seemed decidedly interested now. “Will he? And where exactly will I be?”
“You will be with us, my lord.”
“Will I? And where exactly will you be?”
Braylar smiled, and it seemed genuine and without edge. “We will be waiting for your forces to advance, closing in on Sunwrack. And about to sneak a small band through an aqueduct.”
Brune laughed. When Thumaar looked at him, the baron said, “An aqueduct is an inspired choice, I will grant you that.”
The former emperor said, “So. We sneak into Sunwrack through an aqueduct. Slay numerous guards. Likely in the middle of night, of course. And?”
“And,” Braylar said, “We make for the Citadel. That is where Cynead’s frame is, whence he derives central control of the Memoridons.”
“And . . . he will be in the field, or en route, to destroy my outnumbered army, unwilling to hide behind the walls when he has the larger force and the Memoridons besides, is that right?”
He might have been burning from the inside out with ambition and vengeance, but Thumaar was a quick study, that was for certain.
“Exactly so,” Braylar said. “He will relish the chance to crush you once and for all. So, timing is critical. We can only strike the Citadel when it’s evident he’s ridden forth, but we can’t wait so long that he has time to engage and destroy your forces.” He looked over at Brune and the Confederacy generals. “No offense meant, my lords, but Cynead does have the superior numbers, and, what’s more, all the Memoridons.”
“So we are merely bait?” General Luwatannis asked.
“Yes,” Braylar replied, smiling broadly. “It is very good to see you understand your role. I was worried this might take some compelling rhetoric to make everything clear.”
Kruzinios reached over and put a hand on Thumaar’s shoulder. “My lord . . . you cannot risk this. One false step, and you fall to your death, or find an Imperial arrow in your neck, or worse, get captured and delivered into Cynead’s hands. And everything you have waited for will be lost. Everything. You cannot.”
Thumaar gave his old general a kind smile and looked at Braylar. “I am assuming I need to be close. To the frame, I mean. When you reverse what Cynead wrought and transfer control to me.”
Soffjian said, “Yes, my lord.”
Braylar agreed. “We believe that is the best chance of success, yes.”
“Very well.” Thumaar seemed to stand taller. “It is decided then.”
General Tubarna’s bulging eyes somehow managed to achieve froglike status, if frogs could go purple in the face. With that odd northern lilt, he said, “This is ridiculous, my lord! The Confederacy only agreed to assist you if you commanded the forces yourself. You cannot—”
Thumaar replied, “Do not dare to tell me what I can or cannot do, General. And do not forget who you are speaking with. Your Confederacy agreed out of greed. Nothing more. You want sovereignty over your own people. And I am granting that in exchange for the troops marching towards us now. But make no mistake, General—I am issuing the commands. And if my men here say this is the best means of achieving my goal—which means achieving your goal by proxy—then you will obey those commands, or I will bury you and find someone who will. I’ve expressed myself clearly, I hope?”
The general seemed apoplectic but forced himself to lower his bulging forehead and spit out, “As you say, my lord.”
Brune said, “I would never be so bold as to tell an emperor, sitting or otherwise, his business. But allow an observation, if you will.”
“Speak,” Thumaar said. “Briefly.”
“The last time this man concocted a plan in my presence, his oratory skills were equally sharp. And despite my own trusted advisor urging me not to trust him, I did so, against my own good judgment, even. And wished I hadn’t. The man is a viper. How do you know he is n
ot leading you into a trap in Sunwrack, or intends to turn you over to your fearsome enemy? That does seem to be what he does best, my lord.”
I hoped Thumaar would shout him down or threaten him into silence, but he only looked at Braylar closely, seeming to suddenly recall he was branding the Jackals heretics only two days before. “Your response, Captain?”
“The man,” Braylar replied, “is easily duped, both by me, his clerics, and likely anyone else in his inner circle, save the stalwart loyalist, Captain Gurdinn, but only because that man is too obtuse to be disingenuous. You, my lord, have only been deceived once, and through no fault of your own. Cynead is as cunning as they come, and makes any of my machinations seem the playthings of children. But if you require convincing—”
The deposed emperor seemed unmoved. “I do.”
“Then I need only remind you: I fled the capital and was pursued by imperial troops for days, losing the majority of my company in the process, including Lieutenant Hewspear. We have bled mightily to meet you here, and are willing to bleed more to see you to the throne.”
Brune said, “This could all be part of an elaborate ruse.”
Braylar dropped his hand to Bloodsounder, and all glibness and charm disappeared in an instant. He rasped, “Say the death of my lieutenant is a ruse one more time, Baron. Please. Do. And it will be your blood staining this dirt floor red.”
Thumaar raised a hand. “That is enough. I am satisfied.” He looked at Brune, Kruzinios, and the Confederacy generals. “General Kruzinios, you will ride with the other esteemed officers here, and lead our troops south. Baron Brune, you will wait three days and then do the same with your army. Captain Braylar, where will we be that they can get word to us they are closing in?”
Braylar looked at his lieutenants, and Vendurro said, “There’s an abandoned copper mine, close to the aqueduct in the foothills east of the Moonvows, west of a wee village. You know the one?”
“Aye,” Thumaar said. “Any emperor who doesn’t know the map of his own land isn’t fit to sit the throne. And it’s high time the rightful emperor reclaim his.”
Braylar said, “Very good.” He turned to Kruzinios. “Send a rider to the mine when you’ve advanced on Sunwrack, General. During the day. We will wait on your word. That night, we make for the capital.”
Thumaar took a few steps back and addressed everyone. “We are unlikely allies. Maybe the unlikeliest. And you have misgivings. Doubts. Suspicious. I understand that. But you will burn them. Each of you. They are nothing. Let them go entirely. You are part of the grandest enterprise imaginable. You all risk much, but the rewards will be immeasurable. Do you understand me? In less than a tenday, each of you will receive what was promised.” He took a moment to slowly scan each face in front of him. “That is all. Dismissed.”
We all started to file out of the barn, the disgruntled Vortagoi generals and Baron Brune heading out the other entrance with Thumaar, and us walking back towards the north entrance.
Kruzinios called over to us. “A word, Captain.”
Braylar stopped and waited for the old general to catch up. “You use what soldiers you see fit to accompany my liege, and your Memoridon. But you will take an equal number of Eagles.”
Braylar tilted his head sideways. “Why, General, you do sound as darkly distrustful as a certain Anjurian who shall remain nameless.”
“I do not like this course. Do not agree with it. But I trust you to do your job. Just as it is my job to protect our liege. I will not send Thumaar into Sunwrack without doing everything in my power to ensure his survival.”
“Understood, General Kruzinios.”
The older soldier said, “So. How many men will you require then?”
Braylar looked at his retinue.
Mulldoos said, “A hundred thousand ought to plaguing do the trick.”
Vendurro took a more realistic tack. “We got to keep it smallish. Need enough blades to dispatch any Leopards we come across, but not so many to raise an alarm.” He looked at Soffjian. “You know where the frame is, layout, guards, what have you. What do you reckon?”
Soffjian thought about it and said, “No more than thirty.” She looked at Braylar. “Fifteen Eagles?”
Braylar nodded. “Fifteen it is. Send them to our camp. We will leave immediately after.”
Kruzinios nodded. “And the remainder of your soldiers? Will they ride for our forces after you head to Sunwrack?”
The captain said, “Once we have mounted the aqueduct, they will hold that position. I would have them there if we need to escape. This is a gambit, for certain, but you knew every action would be. Still, I will abandon it and withdraw with Thumaar if it proves untenable.”
The general nodded, they all saluted, and we left the pisshole village for what I assumed and hoped was the final time.
We rode for six days, taking goat tracks and seldom-trod paths and avoiding anything resembling a highway, and certainly staying well clear of any of the Syldoon’s stone roads with all their heavy traffic. Our party was small enough that even with the fifteen new soldiers riding with us, avoiding detection wasn’t that difficult, especially with the scouts ahead directing us around any populated areas.
With the translation complete, and little noteworthy happening on the journey there to require heavy recording of any kind, I mostly just observed and listened. Not surprisingly, Thumaar and the Eagles kept to themselves, and I made no overtures to introduce myself or join. I already had one Tower I barely fit into—that was enough.
So I tried to eavesdrop and occasionally sit and join Jackal conversations when I could. Braylar had shared our orders with the soldiers, and though I expected him to hold back the specifics regarding the other players involved, he did no such thing. So I frequently heard discussions and arguments about the merits or lack thereof of such a strategy. The prevailing opinion seemed to be that expecting foreign soldiers from the opposite edge of the empire to do Thumaar’s dirty work would only end in betrayal or disaster, or, if he somehow managed to secure his throne again, it would be a tenuous reign at best, considering the deep hatred the Syldoon had for the Anjurians, and the gall and bile that would readily flow at the thought of giving the Confederacy any real kind of true independence, as seemed pledged.
More than one Jackal quietly pointed out that Thumaar’s promises to Brune and the Confederate generals ran counter to all his previous agendas, but I heard Mulldoos shut that down quickly, stating the deposed emperor’s agendas were no concern of ours, only our orders.
After listening to the thirtieth or so such debate, and watching the captain quietly observe the conversation as well, I asked him privately why he had divulged those things.
He seemed amused and irritated as he replied, “When you first joined us, I certainly cloaked much of my doings from you—you were untested, a civilian, and a foreigner. There was absolutely no reason to trust you. Whereas my men are the only ones I do trust in the known world.”
I said, “Fair point. But aren’t you worried that this particular bit of knowledge might poison the well, so to speak?”
“No. I am not. Would you like to know why?”
I nodded, and he continued, “Because the one thing the Jackals have in common with every Tower, every other soldier in the Syldoon empire, is that we are professionals. We do our duty. Our leaders will allow the soldiers to know the pertinent information that impacts their missions, their objectives, even give them rein to gripe and argue and brew some minor dissent in candid conversations. I allow it with my retinue, hear their complaints and objections, provided they do not question my orders when it matters, in front of the men.
“Our emperors give the commanders equal opportunity to air grievances, even that wily bastard Cynead, the last Caucus notwithstanding. But when it matters, and blood needs spilling, the Syldoon are thoroughly committed, and their loyalty is to their brethren and their officers in each respective Tower is manifest and unassailable. Professional to the last, you see.”<
br />
I kept pace with him as we walked further from the troops, into a glade, though less wooded than regions further south in Anjuria. “And yet the Towers distrust each other, actively work to outmaneuver most of the others, and form uneasy alliances only so long as necessary.”
“Yes,” he replied. “You have spoken nothing remotely false.”
“I doubt I will ever understand that.”
“I share your doubts. You are not Syldoon.”
We kept walking for several paces, and he added, “Though you have become far more embedded than I imagined possible. It has been interesting to watch. Exasperating, but also amusing and interesting. You have proven yourself to be far more competent than expected, Arki.”
I was unsure how to respond to that spiky praise when Mulldoos intercepted us and grabbed my upper arm. “You and Cap about done with your little stroll here? Because if there’s no quill in your hand, there sure as spit ought to be a sword. Come on, scribbler.”
Braylar twitch-smiled. “You see? Who could have ever imagined that you and my gruff lieutenant would be getting along so smashingly now?”
Mulldoos replied, “Oh yeah, my sword is smashing into that stupid kettle helm left and right. And his thigh. And his sword arm. And every other place he can’t seem to block worth a plaguing hell. We’re really cozy now. Come on then . . .” The lieutenant dragged me off and continued administering welts and trying to teach me how to prevent them.
There was nothing cozy about it.
The following day, we started to encounter defunct smelting pots and furnaces in the hills. I understood little of mining and metallurgy but was aware that the contemporary smelting sites were once right alongside or in close proximity to the source of metals, and these looked old enough to confirm my suspicion that we had to be near our destination.
The scouts entered the site, circled it, and made broader circles in the surrounding wilderness, but saw nothing to give alarm, so our company rode down a gravel trail that was mostly overgrown. The trail wound around the lip of the excavation, and as we broke through some tanglebrush and creak-backed pines, I saw the abandoned copper mine below in the center of a large rock pit. There were wooden shacks that had rotted and fallen over, and larger, thicker timber structures, equally derelict, warped and broken and collapsed and rummaged through, decades earlier from the looks of it.
Chains of the Heretic Page 40