Shira’s other captains entered the cathedral, both of them Isharites. While Koren was in charge of the Haskan troops, Roshanak was in charge of the Drobax—or, at least, in charge of the Isharites who controlled the Drobax. When Shira had been assigned control of the army she had some initial curiosity about how this was done, but as time had gone on, she decided she did not want or need to know. The Drobax seemed to behave like mindless animals in a lot of ways, but the Isharites had somehow trained them to follow strict orders, so that they could behave like a military force of sorts.
Mehrab, meanwhile, led the magi assigned by Erkindrix to Shira’s army. While they had contributed absolutely nothing so far, he still managed to take a superior tone, as if he were actually in charge. The thought that he might be, made Shira dislike him even more.
‘Well, you’ve chosen a lovely venue,’ he continued, waving his arms around the cathedral interior, the walls smeared in red blood. There was something rather comical in the way he did it, but Shira kept her lips tight and gestured to the chairs she had prepared for them. Both took a seat.
‘So, I take it there’s little of value left?’ asked Mehrab.
‘No,’ replied Shira. ‘I was hoping for some treats for our soldiers. Loot. Even some nice food. It’s good for morale. But I don’t think we’ll find anything.’
‘We caught them by surprise, and got lucky when Ellard over-committed himself and attacked us the second time,’ commented Koren. ‘But since then, to give him credit, Baldwin has done well. Slowed us down long enough to strip out the duchy and deny us any sustenance. I don’t think we’ll find anything `til we get to Burkhard Castle.’
‘How will that affect supplies?’ asked Mehrab.
‘We’re still getting enough provisions to feed the Haskans,’ answered Shira, ‘but it means no spare food for the Drobax. How are things with them?’ she asked Roshanak.
‘We’ve settled them, their camp begins about a mile away from the city. As for the food issue, I still don’t see any major depletion in our numbers. I will tell you if that changes.’
‘In which case, our objective is still secure,’ commented Mehrab.
And that is it, thought Shira. When she had been given this command, she had seen it as her chance to shine. But the nature of the task didn’t allow it. There were no genuine strategic decisions to take. She was just taking the Drobax to the Empire, whereupon they would destroy it. While Arioc would be winning praise and support for his daring invasion of the Grand Caladri, Shira was simply expected to succeed. Indeed, it was unthinkable that she wouldn’t.
Koren was looking at her, perhaps reading her mind. Shira had seen a chance to escape Arioc, but even hundreds of miles away, she was still in his clutches.
5
Of Wives and War
IN THE COURTYARD OF SERNEA, Belwynn sat on her horse and waited. Her friends Rabigar, Dirk and Elana were also seated and ready to go. They looked healthier and happier from having spent three nights at Sebastian’s home. Some colour had returned to their faces, though Dirk still had his racking cough, and was clearly in need of more permanent rest.
Belwynn suddenly felt a wave of sadness flow over her and she gripped the reins of her mount as she fought it away. Dirk had lost his health. Rabigar an eye. Belwynn’s twin brother Soren, and her closest friends Clarin and Herin, were captured by the Isharites, facing only Toric knew what kind of torments over the coming days. What price had already been paid, and was yet to be paid, for getting involved in this? The only thing keeping her going was a feeling that they were making progress. A journey somewhere always feels like progress, Belwynn considered—assuming, that is, that you do eventually leave.
Also seated on their mounts in the courtyard were the Counts Sebastian, Theron, and twenty of Sebastian’s retainers. They had been trying to set off on the road to the High Tower, the seat of the Knights of Kalinth, for some time. So far, they had failed. Just as they seemed ready, a servant would rush out from the house and load up some forgotten provisions. Or one of Sebastian’s soldiers would clamber off their horse and sheepishly run back in on some unnamed errand, returning to the sound of gibes and curses from his comrades. Even Sebastian himself was at it, remembering some gift to be presented to someone or other, but he couldn’t quite remember where he had placed it for safekeeping. Belwynn and her friends looked on somewhat bemused—they had so few possessions, that they were hardly going to forget anything.
Sebastian seemed a little ill at ease, anxious even, and it appeared to be rubbing off on those around him. Not Theron, however, who seemed to be taking great delight in the proceedings, and laughing heartily at each delay. It made Belwynn wonder whether Sebastian had ever had a wife. She thought things might be running a bit more smoothly if he did.
When, at last, they did get going, Theron fell in with Belwynn and began chatting in his easy way, pointing out local landmarks. In truth, Belwynn found the area around Sernea to be quite monotonous; a hard and dry landscape, very different to the lush farmland of home. She listened politely, enjoying his company, but turned the conversation to matters of more interest to her.
‘I was wondering, Theron, about Sebastian. I was thinking this morning that he does not have a wife...has he ever?’
‘No, never. The Knights of Kalinth do not take wives.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that,’ Belwynn was taken aback by the news. ‘So, you are sworn to be chaste?’
‘Well, I didn’t say that, did I?’ responded Theron, giving Belwynn a look. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to make her blush, but having spent so much time in the company of Herin and Clarin, it took a lot to make Belwynn blush.
‘So why can’t you take wives?’
‘It makes us better soldiers. Men with wives have their heads cluttered with other things. Usually money.’
Belwynn made a face at him but let him continue.
‘Men with children have other priorities, are wary of risking their lives—rightly, of course. When you become a knight, you join the Order. Your brothers in the Order are your family. You have to be prepared to give your life for it.’
‘I can understand that. But to never have children?’
‘Not never. Not for most men. Most knights serve for a limited time only, often ten years. Then, if you want to leave, you are given some land, and you can find a wife. And raise some boys to be knights!’
This prospect seemed to please Theron and he had a big beaming smile on his face.
‘But Sebastian has served for more than ten years, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes. Those who choose to rise high in the Order, the commanders and officers, must stay in the Order. Those are the men who devote their whole lives to the Knights. By doing so, they win the respect of the soldiers.’
‘So how important is Sebastian in the Order?’
Theron shifted in his seat, suddenly looking more serious about things.
‘In influence, my uncle is second only to the Grand Master, Galenos. But more popular than he is.’
‘Why?’
‘Galenos continues to follow a policy of absolute loyalty to King Jonas. The King has made a peace with the Isharites, and has forbidden any military action against them. The most cowardly, cynical act I’ve ever witnessed.’
‘You disagree with Galenos?’
‘Of course I do. The Knights of Kalinth are sworn to protect the people, but most of them are standing by while raiding parties from Kharovia and elsewhere pillage, burn and rape with impunity. The king’s own soldiers do nothing, but sit whimpering behind their walls—’
‘I see,’ said Belwynn. ‘And you?’
Theron looked around him, in case anyone was listening. ‘Can I trust you, Belwynn?’
‘Of course.’
‘I and others of my comrades have been forced to take action. We go by the name of the Kalinthian Defence League. We ride out and intercept the war bands when possible. But we are few in number. And we must keep our identities secret. People
suspect that the League is made up of knights, but if our identities were discovered we would be expelled from the Order.’
‘Does Sebastian know?’
‘He knows alright. We’ve had plenty of arguments over it. But he’s the one who can change things, not me. And I think what you told us yesterday about the power of Ishari, the weapons, what’s happened to the Caladri—all of that—that might have done more to persuade him than all the arguments I’ve tried. The fact that we’re all going to the High Tower today is a start. We need to be prepared for a confrontation.’
Oh Gods, thought Belwynn. As if we are not in enough trouble. I seem to have started a civil war.
Farred was exhausted. But equally, he felt lucky to be alive, as he always did after a raid.
Ashere liked to vary the time when they attacked the army of Ishari, to maintain the element of surprise. This last time, he had chosen sunrise. They had never done this before, mainly because it meant travelling through the night from their base to reach the enemy, a manoeuvre with so many difficulties it was usually avoided. However, Ashere’s forces, made up of his own North Magnians, Farred’s South Magnians, and the Middians under the leadership of Brock, had united into an effective and disciplined force under his leadership. They were also much more confident about the terrain, having traversed the borderlands of Kelland and Rotelegen many times now.
This time, Ashere had taken Farred and about seven hundred men to the enemy camp. Farred, like most, had not got any sleep before they set out, nerves getting the better of him. They then had a long, protracted journey north in the dark, trying to locate the enemy camp without being identified themselves. Usually, Ashere targeted the Haskan soldiers in these raids. This was because they had things worth destroying: supplies, horses, transport. This time, however, they approached the Drobax.
The sun had risen enough for them to be seen as they approached. But, unlike the Haskan positions, the Isharite generals rarely set up watches over the Drobax. They didn’t seem to see the point, and had a general disregard for the well-being of these monsters. So, as Ashere led the charge, there were no warning calls, and the Drobax were still asleep, mostly lying on the cold floor with no protection from the elements.
Farred felt the usual surge of excitement as they swept in on horseback. The attack provoked chaos as the Drobax, waking from their stupor, ran in all directions, and were slow to organise an ordered resistance. They killed freely for minutes, until Ashere ordered the retreat. He was wary of his small force getting caught, and so they sped away again.
Turning round in his saddle, Farred could see the bodies and the blood left behind. But the Drobax who remained seemed unconcerned. They would march as normal today, and inch their way closer to the imperial forces in Burkhard Castle. It made him wonder what they were doing. The futility of it. The other soldiers seemed to share his mood, and it was a quiet and sombre journey back to the base.
When they got there, Ashere ordered an evacuation. The enemy were getting too close, he judged. They were going to relocate to Burkhard Castle.
Ashere made sure that he rested his forces, rarely taking the same man on two raids in a row. He was scrupulously fair about this. The only exception was himself. He had led every single attack. If Farred was exhausted, he wondered how the Prince kept going. The effects on his body were clear to see. He had always been a striking figure, with jet black hair and light brown skin, that seemed to glow with health. But now he seemed permanently drained of colour, with hollowed eye sockets. Like a ghost. The men liked this. They admired him but also feared him, whispering about supernatural powers. They liked to think that this dark prince brought fear to the enemy.
The emotions Farred felt as he came within sight of the Empire’s mightiest fortress, he knew were shared by the rest of the soldiers. They were tired but more united than they had been before they left. They felt overwhelmed at the numbers of their enemies, but proud of what they had achieved.
The two giant outcrops that formed Burkhard Castle loomed ever larger until they reached the small settlement at the foot of the castle. It was noticeably busier since they had left for Rotelegen, with soldiers from different parts of the Empire now stationed in separate camps. Tradesmen had arrived to set up shop, since wherever there are soldiers, there are goods needed, and money to spend. They even rode past what appeared to be a makeshift brothel, a wooden hut outside of which two women called out to the men as they passed, offering a night to remember.
But the space set aside for the Magnian forces when they had first arrived had been kept for them, and the men returned to their old tents. Furthermore, plenty of food and drink had been provided, much more than the sparse rations they had been living off over the last few days. Ashere was informed by an official that the castle had been told of their arrival, and that someone would come down to meet them. Farred looked up at the battlements on top of the nearest outcrop. It looked like a tiny toy castle had been placed there, precariously, by a giant child; and that it might, at any time, slide off the edge.
As the soldiers prepared their camp fires, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air, Farred and Brock waited with the Prince for a messenger to arrive. Eventually, Brock gave a whistle. He had caught sight of a group of half a dozen men making their way down the path. Farred looked over at the group and got something of a shock.
‘It’s Baldwin himself.’
Wearing a chain mail vest, the Emperor came marching over towards them, flanked by his most powerful allies. Walter, his younger brother and Marshal of the Empire, whose job it was to organise the defence of the fortress. Arne, his father-in-law, and Duke of Luderia, who had brought his own contingent of soldiers with him to the castle, second only to Baldwin’s in size. Rainer the Chamberlain, chief administrator, and the man entrusted with the Emperor’s money. And finally, Gustav the Archmage, known as ‘the Hawk’, who seemed, to Farred, to walk as if he were the one who was really in charge.
Ashere walked over to meet them and gestured for Farred and Brock to follow.
Baldwin beamed as the two groups met and grasped Ashere on each arm, in a kind of half-hug.
‘Prince Ashere, my Empire owes you a debt of gratitude I hope one day to repay. You have done far more than I could have hoped for,’ Baldwin said earnestly, nodding at Farred and Brock as he delivered the words. ‘I trust your men are settled well?’
‘Yes, thank you, Your Majesty. You have been most generous with your supplies.’
‘Please, Baldwin will do. I will need to catch you up on some developments. You and your two lieutenants have got rooms in the castle. Eventually we’ll get your men up there as well.’ Baldwin clasped Ashere on the shoulder and began leading him up the path.
‘I hope you will notice that we have been using the time you have bought us well. Our defences are now much improved.’
As they began heading up the path Farred fell in with Walter. The Marshal began to point out the improvements he had made to the fortress, no doubt picking out the same features Baldwin was explaining to Ashere. Since this was the only path up either of the two huge rocks that constituted the fortress, it was the obvious point of attack for the enemy.
Walter had built a series of wooden gates along the path, each a foot thick and bound with metal, which could be used to stop attackers. In addition, ledges had been constructed along the path which wound its way around the rock above them. This allowed defenders to rain down missiles directly over the heads of attackers, and yet remain safe. The combination of the gates, and the height advantage provided by the ledge, was murderous, and trying to attack them seemed suicidal. Despite being well aware of the size of the force that Ishari was about to deploy here, Farred felt a little more confident that they could be stopped.
Although Rainer had taken them up when they had first arrived at Burkhard, a week ago, Farred was no less impressed by the defences the second time round. They took the left-hand path as they approached the summit, Farred smiling as he re
called that the middle and right paths led nowhere—just another way to bottle up the enemy. As they reached the top of the crag, Farred could see that the walls and five towers of the Duke’s Keep had been heightened and strengthened. Baldwin led them across the stone bridge to the larger castle atop the other rock, known as the Emperor’s Keep.
In the main hall, the Emperor and Prince sat down in a corner, intent on their own conversation, ignoring everyone else. Farred got a sense, perhaps, of why Baldwin was so keen to talk with Ashere. The weight of leadership and responsibility must have lain heavily on him. Ashere was one of the few men who could talk to him as something of an equal.
Walter gestured for Farred and Brock to follow him. He led them to the far tower and up the stairs until they were at the top of the battlements.
‘This is the best view from the castle,’ said the Marshal, resting his elbows on the wall and leaning out. He pointed to the east. ‘You can see the Great Road for miles in either direction. To the south, the lands of the Empire. Mostly undefended. To the north, the horde will be heading down this road. They could go on past. But they won’t.’ Walter turned to look at them. ‘You’ve seen their army. And you’ve seen this castle.’ He looked at them, his eyes asking an unsaid question.
Farred and Brock looked at each other.
‘We’ll kill many,’ said Brock.
A flicker of pain crossed the Marshal’s face. He looked at Farred, who tried to choose the right words.
‘You’ve done well, Walter. I think you’ll hold out for a long time.’
He nodded, a resigned look now on his face. ‘I see. Thanks for your honesty. Then we’ll kill as many as we can and hold out for as long as we can.’
A brief silence fell on them, since there was nothing much more that could be said on that topic. Walter turned back to look out from the battlements. He pointed again, this time south down the Great Road.
The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set Page 41
