The Ravens of Carrid Tower

by David c Black

  "My god Aldo... I can't believe he would…"

  Why? You have given him this window. This is all on you Consul.

  "Nevertheless, he has. We need to call the Defence Committee sir."

  "Yes of course" Jaro said, distracted and growing distraught.

  Overwhelmed, even.

  "I've sent Ditoria back with orders to track their progress."

  "Very good. Who’s in command?"

  "Dokra."

  "Damn. Damn you Galtus."

  "We have a small chance to stop this Consul, there have been no engagements yet. If we act quickly, send the monks between them and the capital. Make it clear to the Emperor, that continuing will result in war with us. Another continental war."

  "You think he is bluffing?"

  "If he learns that the immediate response from the Tower was to order the 7th to march through the desert and that Sea Fortress groups had sent into the theatre, I’m certain he will have second thoughts. Drorea is a prize for him indeed, but not at the cost of everything he’s built so far."

  "The desert, but we..."

  You can't can you Jaro, because you don't control the desert any more. You are in no position to fight. The 7th could have fast marched to aid Acalley. But they aren't there, are they…

  "...I must talk to Adderock."

  "The whole Defence Committee, sir. We can stop this."

  "Yes, we can. We have to."

  "Galtus thinks you're weak, Consul."

  Jaro looked shocked at those words. Anger and hurt pride flashed in the man’s eyes before he controlled himself.

  "A show of overwhelming strength and resolve will stop this war.” Aldo continued.

  "Thank you, Aldo, for coming so quickly. Tell my aide to come in on your way out. I'll summon the committee."

  You didn't like that admission did you Jaro. But it's true. You are weak. And trapped. Galtus must have known. The timing is too good, he knows you cannot act. But you must. You must even if it means falling on a sword to save the continent from another great war.

  "I will have more information for them when we meet. Two bells?"

  "Three, I must talk to Adderock first."

  "But..."

  "Thank you Aldo."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Drorea

  Dokra loved his Emperor. He had been with the army almost all of his life, starting as a young boy in the infantry.

  The Narubez armed forces were tiny back then, he recalled to himself fondly with a tinted perspective common to men his age.

  After the Great War the Carridean Republic forced the fallen empire to limit its military power. Two land armies were permitted to control Narubez's shrunken borders, neither were allowed to exceed thirty thousand men. A single fleet of coastal defence vessels was permitted to protect Naru's coast line from pirates and other small threats. Blue water warships were prohibited however, as were any machines of war.

  The Emperor was executed and with the help of Carridean ‘advisors’, the Emergency Council set about a quiet revolution, dismantling any semblance of imperial rule. The Democratic Republic of Narubez was born. Despite this the country tore itself apart. The aristocracy and most of the officer class were dead or in prison, leaving a vacuum for the ruthlessly, often criminally ambitious to claw together power bases. They stole the nation’s wealth and resources and left nothing for the people. Narubez stagnated for over half a century, never able to lift itself out of the swamp of crime and corruption. Until Galtus.

  The Emperor began his career as a favoured apprentice of one of Narubez's new elites. A mining and shipping magnate who controlled vast areas of land and paid little regard for the new democratically elected government in the capital, nor the people it claimed to represent. It's said that the apprentice became the advisor and the industrialist’s wealth grew spectacularly with his help. Galtus spied for him, organised efforts to destabilise their competition and seize more power. Control more land and lives. The republic of Narubez had become a patchwork of plutocratic principalities, warring amongst each other. The rule of law held no sway in the new order. Greed and the fear of violence were the currencies of power. Private armies protected their masters and intimidated the citizenry. Corruption had infected every level of Naru society and the people suffered silently in terror.

  Galtus persuaded his master to allow him to represent their enterprise in the capital to secure their organisation’s future with political support. Buy delegates, force legislation through the chambers and destroy any threats to their plans.

  As is now taught in all Naru schools, Galtus had a change of heart when he arrived in the capital's poverty-stricken streets. It is said the want and suffering on display disgusted him. Half-starved naked children begged in the road, gangs of cut throats controlled the various urban quarters and elected officials sold favours to anyone who had the coin. Galtus, it is said on that day had a divine revelation. A calling to help his people. Restore order and pride to the nation. Rebuild the glory of Narubez. The Empire.

  Dokra knew that truth and legend had departed from one another at some point during this tale. He did not care.

  Galtus did indeed have a revelation that day. A young man of thirty-five summers, already running his master’s fiefdom. Bored with no room to rise. What he saw in the capital’s streets was chaos. And opportunity.

  He sold out his master first taking over the estate and holdings. The other plutocrats would come next. In a public trial that captured the hearts of the Naru people, Galtus told the country how his master, and others like him, had kept the population subservient to the new order. Profited from their labour and horded vast sums of wealth while the common folk starved. He explained how elected officials sold their support, schemed with criminals and silenced any one unwise enough to object. Galtus told them everything and the people took to the streets in protest. Galtus' words were no revelation however. They knew what had happened to their country. What Galtus gave them instead was a person to rally behind. Someone to follow. Someone strong enough to protect them. If any of them had raised their outrage in the markets or inns, the next day they would simply disappear. But with such numbers, who could stop them. There were not enough town guards or soldiers for that matter, to silence the crowds now, gathering in their hundreds of thousands, shouting one phrase over and over again. 'Galtus! Galtus will restore us!'.

  He formed his own party, intent on eventually replacing the chaos and corruption of the elected chamber with his own stable leadership. The people didn't want this Carridean democracy that had been forced upon them. Not if it meant cloaking the ambitions of lawyers, bankers and gangsters under a veil of faux morality and decency, while they carved up the empire’s remaining assets for themselves. They did not want liberty if it gave them only the freedom to starve. They wanted bread and jobs. They wanted their pride back. Galtus would give them that and more.

  He and his closest followers were given an overwhelming majority in the election the following summer after his visit to the capital. None had risen so fast, so quickly before. But then, never had there been so much need for change. So much desire for a man people could believe in. Narubez had to plummet to the depths before a hero could pull it back into the light. Galtus survived two assassination attempts, though some of his compatriots were not so lucky. The evidence was thin, yet Galtus seized the opportunity anyway to destroy the last few groups opposing him. A handful of merchant Princes and the militaries remaining old guard. It was they, he said, who plotted against him. Plotted indeed against Narubez herself.

  With the support of the people and a majority in the house, Galtus pushed forward his plans to rebuild the prosperity of the nation. But he needed ten cycles to do it. He would give the people what they desperately wanted, but he needed a decade of total control to fulfil his promises. ‘Would the people give it to him?’ He shouted out to the crowds who flocked around him in countless numbers. ‘Yes!’ They shouted back.

  After that he would
need the rest of his life. For Galtus, the once provincial consiglieri, now elected to office on a mandate of hope, would be granted dictatorship for life.

  Eighteen cycles. I never would have believed what could be achieved in that time.

  Dokra, despite his age and profession, always felt the pull of emotions when he recounted the story to himself.

  I had to wait almost all of my life, but it was worth it. Finally, we can be proud. Proud to call ourselves Naru again.

  Dokra did indeed love his Emperor.

  How can I not? Look at this! Look at what he has built. We have built. Magnificent.

  Dokra stared out at the sight before him. Legion upon legion of Narubez soldiers. They marched in two wide columns on the raised road, each ten men wide. The Field Marshal could neither see the start nor the end of them as the red and metallic lines of men snaked into the horizon. Wings of horses flanked the road in the distance pushing anyone stupid enough to come close to them, back out into the grasslands. Armed men would be killed on sight.

  War wagons would now be crossing the bridge his engineers had constructed earlier in the day. Massive, eight wheeled vehicles pulled by six heavily armoured war horses. The wagons had extendable blades on its wheels and flanks that could carve through enemy lines effortlessly. The carriages had two decks, the lower used to transport a score of soldiers, who could also add their own spears to the carnage outside. The top level was open roofed and the walls formed a crenelated parapet allowing archers to fire down on the enemy below. Medium grade ballisti were mounted on the front and rear of the wagon each manned by a pair of gunners. The war wagon was Galtus' own brainchild. Fully equipped with around forty men, there was very little that could stop it on the run and almost no shield wall strong enough to push it back. The horses of course were the most vulnerable, but the beasts were covered in thick plated barding that could deflect all but the luckiest arrows and blade thrusts. Enemy soldiers would learn to keep their distance, for if it wasn't the bow fire from above or the spinning scythed wheels which killed them, a savage bite from one of the beasts pulling it certainly would.

  Dokra turned to one of the officers beside him. "Ride to the front Captain and make sure they stop the march a couple of leagues before we reach the capital. I don’t want to arrive piecemeal in the dark."

  And tomorrow Acalley. I shall sleep in your bed. A great shame that you won't be there with me. I will have to settle for your daughter.

  By the end of the next day as the sun was starting to set the legions had halted. They had made use of a small, recently abandoned village on a hill that offered a view of the Palace and surrounding citadel.

  Dokra kept the flap of his command tent open wide so he could see the walls looming in the distance. The engineers had started digging earthworks around the city, though had been slightly confused with his order not to add parapets or any kind of defensible ledge on the inner side.

  If all goes to plan we won't need the trench. Not now anyway, but it might come in useful reversed once we take the city. Better to keep the boys occupied all the same.

  Trees were being felled from a small stretch of woodland south of the city that the carpenters had been excited to discover. The tall, straight, medium hardwoods were perfect for crafting siege engines they had said. Ladders, towers, rams and trebuchets. They too seemed taken aback when ordered not to assemble anything.

  We may need the wood for something else

  Dokra's cavalry wings had continued their relentless sweeps of the land surrounding the capital and his supply route. They had been divided up into small units of riders, no more than twenty per group. They were charged with searching any farms and villages that may hold supplies or be harbouring enemy combatants. Few had been found.

  Two battalions of Drorean soldiers had been spotted trying to make their way to the capital by cavalry scouts sixteen leagues out and Dokra sent in heavy lancers to harass them back. He was almost disappointed in Acalley.

  Not disappointment. I never expected her to be prepared. More like Pity. There wasn't a single road block, iron spike or even one brave soldier in our path. She's given it up so easily. We haven't lost a man. Well except that idiot wagon driver who couldn't control the horses on the bridge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ja Deist

  From a distance it was difficult to make out Ja Deist from the arid mountains behind it. The sandstone bricks and columns blended with the desert and was shrouded further with the ever present dust clouds that swept and swirled over the Quoroubi. It was not a large city, but had historical significance, being one of the only major settlements in the desert itself and for reasons unknown to Kellick, had been one of the last civilisations to fall under the control of the first empire centuries ago. A tiny pocket of resistance in the middle of nowhere.

  Perhaps they just forgot about it.

  Weathered, pockmarked walls stretched around the city built with columns and sandstone bricks cemented between them. More columns formed the southern gate, though the Captain knew them to be purely aesthetic. It was the huge sandstone blocks that offered the real protection for the settlement.

  Or maybe once had. They are so damaged now, every edge is soft, you can practically rub the sand and mortar off the walls, half of the bricks up there above the gate look like they are about to fall and there are far too many holes. Everywhere. That will be the first job for the winter season. Making a proper perimeter. Even so though, this place isn’t defensible. It’s basically ruins.

  And yet a vibrant society had maintained itself in this place long before the first annals had been penned. Forty thousand citizens or so made Ja Deist home living off the grain that grew on black flood plains along the river to the city’s western side.

  Probably the only stretch of fertile land for a hundred leagues.

  They had seen rulers of all stripes come and go, pass the city between the hegemons of ages and still they persisted on.

  Proud people. I’m not sure if that will be of help or not?

  The Captain, who had been escorting the monk Azon from the south gate swiftly through the streets, reached a four storeyed building that stood between the temple and administrative districts near the heart of the city. Mak had requisitioned it on the first day the Ravens arrived, seeing it had a covered roof garden that would give him a vantage point over most of the settlement.

  “Azon say’s the Shaa arrived, sir.” Kellick announced, walking into a room with Mak half asleep on his cot.

  “Cillius lied to you, General.”

  “Yes, Azon.” Mak sighed sitting up.

  “There’s more.” Kellick added. “Tell him Azon.”

  “He’s coming here next.”

  “How do you know that?” Mak asked the monk sceptically.

  “I jumped back after they had breached the tribe’s fortifications.”

  “You watched?”

  “I did”

  “What did you see?”

  “Unspeakable cruelty, General. The worse I have ever seen…” Azon said, his words trailing off almost to a whisper. Both officers gave the monk a moment to compose himself, in the four cycles he had been attached to the Ravens, they had never before seen any break in his usually stoic demeanour. After a short time the visible grief-stricken monk looked at the men. “They were eating them. Tearing them apart and gnawing on limbs like animals.” Spitting out the last words, fury and disgust stirring again within the man’s heart.

  “Aldo warned us a few moons back that reports of cannibalism were coming from the more remote areas of the southern desert.”

  “There have always been some strange rituals in the Quoroubi.” Kellick considered.

  “This is no Ritual, Captain.”

  “Subsistence?”

  “Yes. Before coming here I jumped to the areas Command said the 7th have been garrisoning units. The Alosi, Garrot Rock and Ki’hiver near the Eel.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. It’s empty Genera
l. Every town is deserted. There’s a few open graves, but not enough bodies to account for the disappearance.”

  Mak pushed himself out of the cot, walking quickly over to a box filled with maps. As he reached in to grab one of the smaller rolls, he said “You’ve been saving the worst news until the end haven’t you, monk.”

  “I have, General.”

  “How many?”

  “Two hundred thousand at least. Three maybe.”

  “God’s, the supplies needed to feed so many… Oh.”

  “That’s why Azon thinks they are coming here next, Mak.”

  “They have to.”

  “They will soon run out of food and water up there. After that, there is only one place within a couple of weeks march that could come even close to sustaining the flock.

  “Here.” The General said, mostly to himself as he rolled out the paper and weighted the sides. The cartography depicted most of the Northern desert, Ja Deist near the bottom right and at the other end was Fort Rand. Two weeks march away.

  “We have to leave Mak” Kellick said. “Evacuate the city.”

  The General said nothing, staring at the map on the table.

  “Mak?” He tried again before catching himself in a moment of impatience. The Captain had many virtues, but forbearance wasn’t one that came naturally to him.

  “Can we get any evidence of this Azon? Anything to show the Defence Committee? Otherwise, all of this is just going to be laughed at in Rand. Jaro has only just declared peace here and they will never believe the numbers we’re talking about. They’ll say you’re taking too many minerals Azon.”

  “Yes, General. We have Cillius.”

  “Cillius? Of course! That’s what he’s been doing. Not just checking on us but dealing with the Shaa too. How else could they have coordinated the timing of the attack in that mountain” Kellick answered for himself.