Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

‘The fool has an arrow in his leg but he’s refusing to come down,’ added Harwen.

  Owen looked at Jussi, his heart breaking. He stepped up to him and placed his hands on the lad’s shoulders.

  ‘Jussi, where are the others?’

  Jussi shook his head, sniffed thickly.

  ‘I … Anneli, I lost her. The brothers, they …’

  Harwen folded his arms. ‘They took down one of those last three buzzers. I saw one go left, the other right. They met in the middle and the whole thing just exploded in fire.’

  It was too much. They were his responsibility, his friends. They were only in the air because of him. He swallowed back the despair. Now was not the time. Owen rested his forehead against Jussi’s. ‘You lived. You were incredible.’ He looked into his eyes. ‘You all were.’

  Jussi nodded numbly, wiped a hand over his face.

  ‘I saw Cadarn. What he did …’ said Jenna, her voice fading.

  ‘He shouldn’t have–’

  ‘He did his duty!’ Jenna’s face was flushed, angry. She started to say more. Stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘He did it for you, Owen. This is your battle, your plan. We cannot lose you.’

  ‘The battle is almost done. We’ve got nothing left to throw at them,’ he said. That wasn’t completely true. They had that last move. And Nutaaq should be in the thick of it now. It all hinged on him and his Nidhal, the whole plan always had.

  The sound of horses made them turn. There was a surge of tension, weapons reached for.

  A small band of riders hove into view, perhaps a dozen or so. Devlin was leading them. He dismounted, joined Owen and inspected the surviving Eagle Riders with a frown. The old soldier looked ragged.

  ‘General. The cavalry broke off after the buzzers went down. The Plainsfolk I’d kept in reserve, protecting the rear, they’ve gone after them. I couldn’t stop them.’

  ‘No bad thing, if it keeps them from reforming. This all that’s left?’ Owen indicated the riders behind Devlin.

  ‘All left on horseback when we disengaged. Might be more injured, left on the battlefield. If we are still here in the morning, we’ll go looking.’

  If they were still here in the morning. That was the question

  ‘There might be some eagles still up there, too,’ said Jenna.

  Yes. It was possible.

  ‘Alright. Rest up the birds now. For as long as you can. At dawn, go looking. I’m going up the hill. If they attack, get airborne. Do what needs doing.’

  ‘Where’s Cadarn?’ Devlin asked.

  Owen shook his head. ‘Gone.’ He had nothing else to say. Devlin looked pained, a cloud of anger passed across his face, then his composure returned. He nodded.

  Owen squeezed Jussi’s shoulder one last time then stalked towards the steep slope.

  He was climbing for several minutes before he realised he wasn’t alone. Devlin was tagging along behind him. He stopped and waited for the man to join him. Devlin was breathing heavily.

  ‘Too much time on horseback,’ he wheezed.

  ‘Too much time on Arno,’ Owen agreed, his back was moist with sweat.

  ‘Owen, you know we have an opportunity here.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Devlin pointed north.

  ‘You hear any fighting now?’

  Actually, Owen couldn’t.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No. That tells me they are done for the night. And they didn’t get round our flanks. Our rear is open.’

  Ah. Owen understood. ‘You want us to withdraw?’

  Devlin shrugged.

  ‘Not my call, but we could pull back now, under cover of darkness. Make it back to Brevis by dawn. We can regroup behind the defences. We hurt them good, Owen. Better than we thought we would.’

  ‘True. I always expected we’d be surrounded on that hilltop. Fight them to the last Tissan, make them bleed so much they had no fight left in them.’ But that wasn’t the plan. They always intended to hold the hill. To keep the enemy focussed on them. ‘Let’s find out what’s happened, then talk to the Emperor.’

  ‘Fair enough. But I doubt we’ve much fight left in us.’

  That was true. Those mage fires might have done for them what Nutaaq intended for the elves. How many had they lost? How many more Highlanders? He’d given himself no time to think about it. But, after the Riders, the prospect terrified him.

  A few minutes later they arrived at the crest, threading their way through a multitude of wounded scattered among the trees. The hospital tent was blazing with light. Figures moved purposefully within. Further torches illuminated their way. It seemed that a decision had been made that there was no point in trying to hide. He knew he should go and visit he tent, should go because he was the General. It was on him, his responsibility. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

  ‘Hey, General.’ A hand waved at him. He turned and headed to a cluster of fighters spread out on the ground.

  ‘Cade. You made it.’ Of course she had. The biggest pain in his arse was always going to.

  She was sitting with her back against a tree swigging from a bottle. She saluted him by raising the bottle then passed it to her comrade. Killen, the source of the wave. He was stretched out on the ground, propped up on one elbow.

  Owen was cheered, just a little. ‘Major, it’s bloody good to see you.’

  Killen managed a weary smile, took a drink and passed the bottle back to Cade.

  ‘How are we doing, General?’

  ‘We’re still here,’ Owen replied. ‘Looks like they’ve pulled back.’

  ‘Let’s hope for good, eh?’

  ‘If Nutaaq succeeds.’

  Killen nodded at Devlin.

  ‘Too tough to die?’

  Devlin grunted. ‘Cursed to see everyone else go before me.’

  Killen grunted in return.

  ‘He’s under orders not to die,’ Cade waved the bottle at Devlin, who declined.

  ‘How are your scouts?’ In the dim light Owen could see only a few, and among them, some of his Highlanders. He felt his heart tighten again. Keep it together.

  ‘What you see,’ said Killen softly, seemingly reading Owen’s mind.

  ‘Rashad?’

  ‘Couldn’t find him. Somewhere on the hill. Sadad’s gone too.’

  ‘I’m, uh, I’m sorry, Killen.’

  ‘It is what it is, General.’

  ‘I’m heading to the command tent.’

  ‘Right.’ Killen started to push himself up. Owen reached out a restraining hand.

  ‘No. No, it’s alright. Stay here.’

  Killen tilted his head, didn’t argue, settled back down.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ said Owen.

  As he walked away, Devlin in tow, he heard Killen say, ‘Pass that bottle,’ and from Cade a second later ‘He never said it was good to see me.’

  They continued on, he looked into the hospital tent, Naimh was there, busy tending to someone. He sped up a little. The Emperor’s tent was also well lit and ringed by Nidhal. They parted to let Devlin and him in.

  Inside, the Emperor, in armour that still gleamed in places, was seated and talking to a standing Immayuk. He looked over, a smile forming on his mouth, yet his eyes seemed distant, cold even.

  ‘General. Major. It pleases me no end to see you both. I presume our left flank held?’

  ‘It did, Your Grace,’ Owen replied. ‘At great cost. The loss of their buzzers did the trick.’

  The Emperor nodded, he took a drink, stared out of the tent at some unknown horizon.

  ‘It was quite the battle, was it not? Glorious. I led a charge, slew some of the bastards. It felt good. I’ve waited a long time for that.’ He fell silent. Behind him Immayuk stood still, watching them with intent. Like he was suspicious of them.

  Owen glanced at Devlin and coughed gently. ‘Your Grace?’

  The Emperor raised his head sharply. ‘Uh? Yes?’

  ‘The elves never surrounded us. There is an opport
unity to withdraw.’

  The Emperor frowned. ‘Withdraw? In our moment of triumph?’

  Owen changed tack quickly. ‘I was thinking the wounded. Those who cannot fight.’

  ‘The wounded?’ The Emperor paused and shook his head. ‘No, they can stay. If they are to die, let it be here, on this monument to Tissan’s greatest victory.’

  Owen shared another look with Devlin. His face was one of open disgust. Fortunately, the Emperor was lost in his own thoughts again.

  ‘You should have seen the Nidhal. They were quite splendid. Magnificent. Just think, what we can achieve when the rest arrive. They will ride under the Sun banner and we will raze the East to the ground. The elves, the dwarves, the whole damned lot of them will bend the knee or burn.’

  While Owen approved of the prospect, it was still getting ahead of themselves. ‘Then I shall go and await news of Nutaaq’s successful raid,’ he said, bowing his head.

  The Emperor looked up and waved them off.

  ‘Yes. Return with him and we can begin planning the next stage of the resurgence of the Holy Tissan Empire.’

  Leaving the Emperor to his musing, Owen steered Devlin out and away from the Nidhal guards. He could feel the tension radiating off the man.

  ‘There is a reason I left,’ Devlin whispered harshly. ‘A reason I could no longer prosecute the orders of lunatics and those who worshipped them.’

  Owen stopped.

  ‘It will be different this time.’ Damn that sounded lame even to him. And he realised he was not in this for the Emperor or for Tissan. He never had been.

  ‘It won’t be,’ said Devlin. ‘It’ll be worse.’

  A large figure appeared out of the shadows, walking slowly towards them. The priest.

  ‘Father Michael.’ Owen looked him up and down. Covered in soot, grime and blood, a blade shoved through a belt. He was without his robes, wearing nothing but leather bracers on his arms and a linen shirt that was torn in a dozen places.

  ‘You’ve been in the wars,’ observed Devlin.

  ‘I’ve played my part.’ Michael shrugged.

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘On the left side of the slope. We were penned in by the fires. Ellen got us out.’

  ‘Out? How?’ asked Owen.

  Michael flashed him a look, both fearful and mistrustful. The air coalesced with tension. Just for a moment. Then Michael took a breath.

  ‘She has something, a Gift, or … a different power. Something we have never seen before. She can do what the Nidhal shamans do. Maybe more than they can do.’

  Devlin let out a bemused grunt. Owen took a different view. This was news. This had potential. She was a Gifted, did that mean they all had that power?

  He leaned closer. ‘Is she still alive?’

  Michael took a cautious step back. ‘She is.’

  ‘And the other Gifted. Do you thin–’

  ‘Do you see any other Gifted still standing?’ Michael said harshly.

  Owen looked. How could he tell?

  ‘They are all gone. All that fought. They did it because it was their one way out. It was that or a life in servitude.’

  ‘I can’t blame them,’ agreed Devlin.

  Owen felt foolish. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest we make them …’ He struggled to find the right words but that was exactly what he was suggesting. Could he use them, turn them into tools, weapons?

  Michael waved him off. ‘It does not matter. It is not our decision to make, is it?’

  Owen supposed not. Speaking of which. ‘The Emperor seems a little distant, if you are going that way.’

  Another shrug. ‘He often is.’

  Michael stalked away, towards the tent.

  ‘That one carries a burden,’ observed Devlin.

  ‘Don’t we all?’ Owen replied. ‘Let’s see if we can get a count of numbers, find out who can still fight.’ It would give them something to do, while they waited.

  CHAPTER 79 – ELLEN

  Ellen returned to be with Gantak and the other shamans. She felt she had nowhere else to go. They at least accepted her with no judgement in their hearts. Not that they were talking much, not for the last few hours. They were all wiped out, and she was not sure if one of them was even alive. He looked still as a stone. So, be busy, do something useful. She fussed about the fire, stoking it up now the night had descended and a cold chill reached her bones. She also dug out Gantak’s pot and started to brew some tea. And now, as she waited for it to boil, she stared up into the sky. It was clear once more, those frightful storm clouds had gone on their way from wherever Gantak had conjured them. She hugged her legs tight to her chest. Reflecting on the day’s events, whatever happened next the cat was pretty much out of the bag. Her power had been seen by too many and with the best intentions her secret could not be kept. The Emperor would hear of it and, given the current climate, it was unlikely he’d be happy about it. But oh, surely he would rejoice at the sacrifice of her fellow Gifted, how they’d gallantly led the charge, held the line, bought time for others to withdraw. And wouldn’t Father Llews be delighted? The world rid of their taint.

  ‘Huh!’ she snorted. When did she get so bitter and cynical?

  Not far from her a Nidhal warrior looked over. She waved a hand to show all was well. Many had settled around the shamans, setting up their own fires. They had fought hard too, and no matter their natural strength, they were just as tired as she. They had lost many, the true accounting yet to be taken.

  The same Nidhal sat a little straighter, his head cocked.

  She waited a moment. Then she heard it, a distant howl. Nutaaq was returning.

  Now they would know.

  Beside her, Gantak stirred. He opened an eye and looked at her, then the fire. He grunted, leaned forward, sniffed at the pot. He collected a beaker and filled it, then he sat back and sipped, making appreciative noises.

  ‘Should we not meet them?’ Ellen started to stand, eager to hear the news.

  Gantak scowled. ‘Why? He will come.’

  Ellen settled back down. Only Gantak could get away with that. Even Nutaaq, the Father of his People, was a little afraid of him.

  ‘Alright.’ She reached for the tea. ‘We wait.’

  Ten minutes later a crowd began to gather. The Emperor emerged from his tent, and Nidhal circled him as he strode towards the north slope. Others joined, emerging from the night, others from their camp fires.

  Ellen stayed with Gantak, even lent him her arm, which he accepted wordlessly. They pushed through the crowd, getting level with the Emperor. On his far side stood Owen, and beyond, Michael. But he did not see her. All eyes were fixed on the small group of Nidhal marching towards them. Other warriors were coming from the hilltop, surrounding them. Beside her Gantak growled softly. Something was wrong.

  As the two groups met, the Nidhal who stepped forward to face the Emperor was not Nutaaq. It was Arluuq. And his face was terrifying. She reached out. Pulsed gently. ‘Arluuq. What has happened?’ He turned, shot her a fierce look. She took a pace back.

  ‘Gone,’ Gantak whispered.

  ‘Arluuq? What news?’ demanded the Emperor.

  Arluuq turned back to him. Uttered something almost unintelligible. Yet around him the effect was palpable. The gathered Nidhal started to howl, like they were vargr themselves. Immayuk appeared, ran to his brother and hugged him. Ellen shivered, the sound of grief piercing her soul. And, as the Tissans looked on in confusion and no little fear, the howling spread.

  CHAPTER 80 – MICHAEL

  As dawn broke Michael gathered with the others at the top of the slope. Every Tissan and Nidhal who could stand and hold a weapon waited in the trees, waited for the next assault. It was possible the enemy would try and encircle them again. In which case, so be it. The only fighters not gathered were Devlin’s riders. Against the Emperor’s wishes, his handful had returned to Brevis to carry news and, if necessary, prepare for what might come next.

  The light creeping over the smou
ldering charred remains of the trees to the left of their position revealed the truth of the battlefield. It was carpeted with bodies, human, Nidhal and elf, stretching all the way down to the ford and a little way beyond. Where there was open ground, it was stained black. And the smell! Michael had hoped a breeze from the sea might have cleared it away, but there was nothing from the west, and the stink of death, voided bowels and spilt blood merged with the heavy odour of burned wood and flesh.

  Ellen moaned a little. ‘Save us,’ she whispered, her face pale even in the emerging light. She held a hand to her nose, it still clutched the shortsword he’d found for her.

  Michael had no way of providing solace for her but Fenner was on hand.

  ‘We gave them a good whipping. No shame in that. Just paying back a little of what they dished out to us.’ He was right. And the attack on the elf camp had gone well, despite the tragedy. There had been a slaughter, the wounded were not spared and more importantly supplies had been fired. Just as Owen had planned.

  ‘But there will be more, won’t there?’ Ellen asked. ‘If not today, there will be more.’

  ‘Well that all depends on our lords and masters, doesn’t it?’ Fenner observed, his voice a little quieter, so only they and his marines could hear. ‘Personally, I’m in no mood to bear any grudges. I’d rather go back to Brevis, have a beer and sleep for a week.’

  ‘With you on that one, boss,’ Wendel chipped in.

  Michael looked to the centre of the line. There the Emperor stood ready, the Sun banner held behind, surrounded by Nidhal. Now that had been a thing. After the news of Nutaaq’s death, burned by magecraft, had sunk home, he’d seen both Immayuk and Arluuq going at each other. Until Gantak had gotten involved. Things had settled down, and it looked as if Arluuq had taken charge of the remaining Nidhal warriors, perhaps two hundred. But not of Immayuk and his guard. They remained with the Emperor. Michael decided that argument wasn’t over. Of the Emperor’s own Tissan soldiers, most had also fallen. He counted but half a dozen who had joined with the marines. Perhaps a handful more were still in the hospital tent. Captain Shepherd had died, supposedly in the first elven charge. Michael would not have been surprised if he’d fallen to a Gifted’s blade. And he couldn’t find it in his heart to blame them.