Wrath of Kings

by Glen Cook

  He had the Seventeenth completely engaged. Sahmanan kept the Tervola occupied. Only a few demons roamed the contested slopes, and they had little effect.

  He had thought-space left for other maneuvers. Ten thousand tireless soldiers marched southward, to pass round the legion, form smaller units, and head west. When they left the desert they would begin “recruiting.” Perfection, Ethrian thought. Sheer perfection.

  He banked his mount and dropped lower, passing above the battle at a hundred feet. “Spooky,” he thought aloud.

  The battle was so quiet! Machines might have been fighting down there. He heard only the movement of feet and the clang of weapons. The dead had nothing to say. The soldiers of Shinsan were schooled to fight in silence. Few would cry out even when mortally wounded. Their sole voluntary sound was the rumble of signal drums.

  A ballista shaft screamed up. It ripped a hole through his mount’s wing. “Hey!” he said, more surprised than frightened. “That was too close.”

  They might not throw their magical shafts at his scattered men, but they would target him if they realized that he controlled their attackers. If he perished, the dead army would collapse. There might be nothing left when the stone beast reanimated.

  He wished he controlled the flyers. Now would be a good time to commit them. Bring them swooping in, blasting away, and scrub the Tervola before they could defend themselves.

  He thought at his snipers, telling them to take higher ground and concentrate on enemy commanders. They were no longer needed to cover the assault itself.

  He was losing men, but it looked good. Already several hundred of the enemy were out. The defense had begun to fray. Several strong points had yielded. His own fallen were rising again.

  They were worth ten live soldiers. They could rise and rise again… Omnipotence engulfed him. For a moment he knew how it felt to be a god.

  He felt for the enemy dead, tried to raise them, to confuse the legionnaires by making them fight among themselves. He found nothing. Dead men, yes, but none ready for his command. They were passing through the transfers before they cooled.

  Just for an instant he had forgotten that he battled the Dread Empire. There was no confusion on their side of the line. They would not lose sight of their mission. They would not panic. They were, as always, the best. He might end up taking but a single body into his own force, that of the last man guarding the last portal while the last corpse went through.

  Ethrian reached into the Seventeenth’s fortress, trying to find dead men there. He sensed bodies, but none he could touch. He would have to put his own warriors inside first. The enemy were too much in control right now.

  He was not disappointed. His strategy was working. The pass would be his. He laughed. Most of his soldiers had gone down at least once, but few had been badly mauled. They rose again and again.

  His laughter rang across the night. Sahmanan heard it. She called back, her voice merry with imminent victory. The Tervola heard it as well. They responded defiantly. The Seventeenth’s battle drums roared.

  The drums. Those infernal drums. He had heard his father tell of their endless, terrifying rumble, but never had he heard them before. Chills crept down his spine. Fear hit him. He began to doubt.

  Those were the drums of the Dread Empire, drums of promise, drums which proclaimed, “We of the Seventeenth do not stand alone. We of the Seventeenth know no fear. A hundred legions will rally behind us. Come find your doom, enemy of the empire.”

  Though his blood ran hot with the joy of victory, Ethrian could not help but hear the drums.

  He was winning. The mountains would be his. He would travel on and meet Shinsan again, round the fortress beyond desolation’s edge….

  There were other legions and other armies. A hundred legions might be an exaggeration, but, for certain, this victory would be a small one. A minor incident on the road. The great battles were yet to come.

  He had heard his uncle Valther describe the battles in Escalon, when Mist and O Shing had taken war to that once mighty kingdom. Compared to those this was a skirmish. For battles of that epic stature he would need all the might of his stone godling, and more.

  The moon was a sickle that night, and rose just an hour before dawn. Its wan silver light splashed the concluding movements of a battle determined and grim, clearly lost and won, yet still as vicious as when it had begun.

  The Dread Empire did not yield. Not a step. Before the last of her defenders fell, Ethrian lost forever his twenty-thousandth man.

  And yet he was joyful. He had seventy thousand left, and was knocking on the doors of lands where others could be conscripted into his cause.

  The last few drums spoke their defiance. He thought to his dead battalions. The dead gave voice to a battle cry. “Deliverer!” they rasped. All together, like a hellish choir. “Deliverer!”

  He smiled as they completed the demolition of Shinsan’s fabled Seventeenth Legion.

  NINE: YEAR 1016 AFE

  THE FORTRESS IN THE BORDERLAND

  Lord Lun-yu sent the message via Meng Chiao. “Lord Ssu-ma, they’re attacking again. And there’s a new mind in control.”

  “Oh?” Shih-ka’i had a cold feeling. “What makes you think that?”

  “Their effectiveness. Their tactics. Perhaps you should come see what we mean, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i considered the Tervola. Chiao was disturbed. His stance and little fidgety movements betrayed his inner turmoil. “All right. Pan ku. We’re going to the mountains.” He glanced at the big map. Everything was shaping up nicely. Eastern Army was coalescing. Should the dead break through the pass, they would find a hard knot blocking their path here.

  A few days more would help. Yes. Every minute would help.

  Shih-ka’i followed Meng Chiao through the transfer. He sensed the new mind immediately. He said, “We’re in trouble.”

  “Yes, Lord,” Tasi-feng agreed. “We won’t be able to hold them.”

  “I didn’t expect to. This was a delaying tactic. Stall them as long as you can.” He glanced skyward, where a woman in white circled on a small dragon. “Is she good?”

  “The best, Lord. Nearly as powerful as the Princess Mist. She’s given us no chance to support the men, so they’re not having much luck capturing enemy casualties.”

  Shih-ka’i glimpsed a second dragon. “Who’s that?”

  “We don’t know, Lord. Possibly the new control.”

  There had been two people atop the thing in the desert. “I don’t want to waste shafts, Lord Lun-yu, but if you get a good shot, call for one.”

  “As you command, Lord.”

  “I’ll return to the fortress. Guard your portals carefully.”

  “We’re shifting them now, Lord. We’ll fall back on them as they force us.”

  “Very well.” Shih-ka’i walked toward the nearest transfer. He told Pan ku, “This new mind is a dangerous one. I sense a whole different outlook.”

  “I felt it too, Lord.”

  “I think we can expect a siege.”

  The Seventeenth remained rooted longer than Shih-ka’i expected. A day passed and another night came before the last soldier retired.

  “How many did we lose?” Lord Ssu-ma demanded.

  “Less than a hundred, Lord,” Tasi-feng replied. “Permanently, that is. I assume that’s what you meant. Six hundred dead we got out.”

  “Good. Excellent. I want you to transfer your wounded again, once new portals are set. To Lioantung. We won’t have to worry about them again unless the enemy breaks through both us and Northern Army.”

  Tasi-feng no longer believed his commander was overreacting to an insignificant threat. He tried to buoy his own spirits by saying, “We estimate another twenty thousand bodies permanently destroyed, Lord.”

  “Any idea what they have left?”

  “Not reliably, Lord. At least fifty thousand. Plus the flyers.”

  “Plus the flyers. We may end up wishing we had our own flyers. Chang Sheng! Any
luck enlisting the dragons?”

  “None, Lord. They won’t explain, but their elders claim they know this evil of old. They won’t face it again.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s all they’ll say.”

  “Curious,” Shih-ka’i said. “That’s not like them. They’ve never been afraid of anything.”

  “They’re scared of this, Lord. It looked like they were ready to abandon their breeding caves.”

  “Ah? Where could they go?”

  “I couldn’t say, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i moved to the map. “Gentlemen, I’ve placed scouting parties along this arc. We should know their intentions soon.”

  Tasi-feng indicated a red arrow. It humped over the area of confrontation to spear the eastern shore. “What’s this, Lord?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just a job I gave Hsu Shen.”

  Had Hsu Shen gotten his boats assembled yet? The man’s last report placed him on the coast, preparing to cross to the island. Shih-ka’i was eager to place a portal there. He wanted to know if it were indeed the former headquarters of the Pracchia, wanted to see if anything interesting had been left behind.

  A Tervola named Yen Teh, from one of the southern legions, ran toward Shihka’i’s group. He was without his mask. His face was pallid. “Lord,” he gasped. “Lord, I’ve just heard… Matayanga… They attacked. With two million men.”

  “Two million?” Shih-ka’i murmured. He could not encompass the number. There was no way to support an army that size.

  The Matayangan strategy must be predicated on an expectation that heavy casualties early would reduce their forces to manageable size. He peered at his map. “Two million? Gentlemen, we’re on our own. There won’t be anyone to help us.”

  The hall became very still. No one had believed the southern situation could deteriorate this far, that the Matayangans would dare attack. For centuries no nation had been that foolish. But two million men? Inconceivable. The Matayangans were risking everything on one pass of the dice. Their losses would cripple them for generations, considering what would happen after Southern Army assumed the offensive.

  “Trying to swamp us with the first rush,” Shih-ka’i observed. “And they might do it. But that’s not our problem. Ours is out there. Lord Lun-yu, take charge of the recon patrols. I want to know exactly when they’re going to attack.”

  “As you command, Lord.”

  The enemy again baffled Shih-ka’i. He did not pursue a rational strategy and immediately assault the fortress. He came from the desert, but in no rush. He gave Shih-ka’i four more days to prepare. Shih-ka’i assembled the bulk of Eastern Army. Those on the march elsewhere would arrive within days. So many men were on hand, in fact, that most had to remain in fortified encampments outside the fortress. Eastern Army would provide a hell of a fight. Northern Army would have ample time to prepare positions along the Tusghus, against possible failure here.

  During the respite Shih-ka’i visited the island in the east. He and Hsu Shen wandered long-abandoned halls. Nothing of value remained, though there was adequate evidence that this was indeed the island of Lord Ko Feng’s memoirs.

  “Someone stripped the place,” Shih-ka’i said.

  “So it seems, Lord.”

  “Curious. Most curious.”

  “Lord?”

  “Ko Feng says they left in a hurry, planning to return later. When later came, he was the only conspirator left. He never came back. So who stripped the place? Can you suggest a culprit?”

  “I’d suggest Lord Ko, Lord. After he was banished.”

  “I don’t think so. I’d try a divination if our stone friend weren’t right over there.” The thing could be seen from the ramparts, if one had Hsu Shen’s eyes. Shih-ka’i could see nothing but rusty vistas.

  Pan ku came galloping up. He gasped, “Lord, the legion commanders request your presence.”

  “Very well. Hsu Shen, sit tight. I’ll give you a century. I may want you to hit the stone thing from here.”

  Hsu Shen appeared distrait. “As you command, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i chuckled. “Of course. Pan ku. Let’s see what they want.”

  In minutes he entered his map room. He scanned the big picture. An arc of enemy markers glared in from the desert. “Lot of them out there now, eh?”

  “Fifty thousand, Lord,” Tasi-feng replied.

  “Still showing no inclination to attack?”

  “None, Lord.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Lord, we have a few matters to bring to your attention,” Chang Sheng said.

  Shih-ka’i turned. His legion commanders faced him, standing shoulder to shoulder. Their underlings had stopped work. “Yes?”

  “Uh…” Tasi-feng stammered. “We had a report from fifth cohort, Twenty-Seventh.” Tasi-feng moved to the map, indicated a position four hundred miles south. “They encountered an enemy force shortly after dawn, here.” The point was well behind the desert line. “One thousand dead soldiers, accompanied by several hundred tribesmen, both living and dead.”

  “A recruiting force?”

  “Apparently. Leading Centurion Pai Mo-Jo engaged immediately and destroyed all but a handful. The escapees were all live tribesmen.”

  Shih-ka’i listened patiently while Tasi-feng appended the required report on casualties and equipment losses. Then he said, “An outstanding accomplishment, considering the man was outnumbered and had no wizardry of his own. Send my personal commendation. Recommend him for decoration. I applaud initiative in the ranks, Lord Yuan.”

  The Twenty-Seventh’s commander bowed slightly. “Mo-Jo is one of my best, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i drew himself into the stiff parade-ground stance he had used to intimidate the Fourth Demonstration. “What did you really want to discuss?”

  Tasi-feng exchanged glances with his fellows. The others were not forthcoming. He said, “Though it may be premature to mention this, Lord, we felt you should be informed.”

  “Informed? Please inform me, Lord Lun-yu.”

  “Sometime soon, Lord Kuo will be unseated. We legion commanders and our senior deputies intend to support his successor. Likewise, our brethren of Northern Army.”

  “I see.” Shih-ka’i’s stomach tightened into a hard little knot. Politics had caught him after all. He was considered beholden to Lord Kuo. He remained stiffly erect. “What does that have to do with the business at hand? We’re an army at war. Consider the situation map. We’re nearly surrounded. Southern Army’s situation is worse. The empire is in dire peril. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Silence! For me, it’s a matter of supreme indifference who sits the imperial throne. I’m Tervola! I am an officer of the imperial army. My sole function is to defend, preserve, expand. Your function is to help me fulfill mine. It’s neither my right nor yours to crown or uncrown emperors. It is of no moment who sits a damned throne four thousand miles away. Even so, the games you play on your own time are yours. Make kings if you like. But on my time you make war. And, gentlemen, when Lord Ssu-ma Shih-ka’i makes war, he does so every second of the day. Resume your posts.”

  He thought that would do it. He had allowed emotion full vent, and they had quaked before its gale.

  Lord Chang responded, “Admirably spoken, Lord Ssu-ma. We hear the voice of an elder age. It tells us what we need to know.”

  Pan ku’s sword whispered from its scabbard behind Shih-ka’i. Shih-ka’i glared at Lord Chang. Sheng stared back. Shih-ka’i thought, I should’ve known they wouldn’t bend. They’re not recruits. They’re veteran intriguers.

  Sheng said, “I suggest we carry out Lord Ssu-ma’s instructions. The Deliverer cares naught for our aspirations, either.”

  The legion commanders turned away. Their underlings resumed work. Shihka’i allowed himself a moment to relax. Then, “Lord Chang.”

  Sheng turned. “Lord?”

  “You said ‘Deliverer.’ What did you mean?”

  “Lord Yuan’s man Mo-Jo took
live captives. They called the leader of the dead Deliverer. They claimed that was because he came from the land where gods dwelt in the age before the desert. They think he’ll restore a lost paradise.”

  “Does the idea have currency with the tribes?”

  “No, Lord. The majority are fleeing across the Tusghus. They have a full measure of the savage’s fear of the dead.”

  “Good. I’ll be in my quarters.” He whispered, “Pan ku, put that ridiculous toad-stabber away.” He did not wait to see if his directive were accepted. He knew Pan ku.

  He slept for a few hours, then wakened suddenly. Something had disturbed him. For a moment he thought it was concern about his commanders. But no, that was settled. They had spoken their pieces. A decision had been reached. He commanded Eastern Army. His writ stemmed from the empire, not its ruler. They would follow him while he remained faithful to that ideal.

  No political concern had wakened him. Was it a prescient flash? Were the dead about to begin battering the next obstacle blocking their westward path? He stared at the ceiling, allowed his Tervola-trained senses to roam.

  He could detect nothing.

  Pan ku burst in. He did not apologize for his presumption. “Flyers, Lord.” He snatched up Shih-ka’i’s mask and stationed himself by his master’s armor.

  “They’re attacking?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  In minutes Shih-ka’i stood on a balcony overlooking one of the drillyards.

  The night was full of dragons; he guessed at least five hundred. The waning moon illuminated them perfectly. They dropped to deposit riders. There were two aboard each, the usual skullface and another behind. Most of the skullfaces remained mounted, urging their beasts back into the air while hurling bolts of power into the fortress. They took no particular aim.

  The dead warriors rushed here and there without apparent purpose. When they encountered members of the garrison, they fought.

  Chaos ruled. Shih-ka’i spotted a half-dozen fires.

  The dragons raced back to the desert to collect another wave of invaders.