She tried to laugh, a feeble wheezy effort. ‘I am not sure I understand your analogy but thanks anyway; I do believe you are cheering me up.’
‘Good.’ He paced to and fro, stretching his legs. ‘Anaya is refusing to let you out of bed until tomorrow but I think Felmere wants you running about as soon as possible, so he can show you off.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to lie here for ever; I will see how far I can walk tomorrow, if Anaya allows it.’
‘Good. I will help support you, if necessary.’
‘Thank you.’ She was perking up by the second. ‘Marcus, what happened on the hill anyway?’
‘Never have someone my age hide flat out behind a tree for twenty-four hours. When the time came to sneak through the gate I could barely stand up, let alone walk. Anaya has given me a liniment to rub on my joints. By the Gods, I needed something! Apart from my decaying body, though, everything went as Felmere hoped. The garrison was watching the events in the field, the gate was opened for us, and the only thing that went wrong was the fire. I was a little overzealous when I ignited the catapults and a couple of them collapsed on the hill, setting the trees on fire. The knights and I tried to join the battle down on the plain, but the flames and smoke meant we couldn’t get out of the gate. By the time it died down and we could leave the town, we were only just in time to see your lightning show. As for the town itself, things were turning ugly when we left – the townsfolk were turning on the Arshumans. Retribution seemed to be the only thing on some people’s minds; they were rounding people up and herding them to the town square. Hopefully the soldiers will be able to restrain any excesses from the locals.’
‘Well, I am hardly the one to lecture them on the evils of revenge,’ she said. ‘Has the army moved into the town yet?’
‘The barons are already there and they are rebuilding the bridges the Arshumans destroyed when they took the town. When you are fit and well you can move up there with them. The rumour is that Felmere is not finished with pressing the enemy and may prosecute the war into the winter. But for now just think about getting better. Nothing will happen for a while yet.’
‘More fighting?’ she groaned.
‘Don’t complain about too much fighting,’ said Marcus. ‘Many people here have been slogging away for ten years and there is still no end in sight for them.’
‘I don’t know how they can bear it,’ she said. ‘It isn’t even the physical punishment that troubles me. You know how it is – the first time you cast a light spell you spend weeks practising, exercising your mind for it; you are nothing but nerves when you have to perform under the eyes of your mentor. The hundredth time you cast it, it is of no more import than scratching your nose. Seeing people, friends suffering in front of you all the time, death becomes just another mundane occurrence little different from slaughtering a pig for Winterfeast. It just seems ... wrong somehow.’
‘Imagine the First Aelven War or the one-hundred-and-fifty-year war between Koze and the kingdom of Hracja nearly two millennia ago. People were born and could live a hundred years all under the spectre of war, never seeing its beginning or its end. Just imagine that the next time you are called into battle.’
She tried sitting up again and managed to prop herself up on her elbow.
‘Am I moaning again? Sorry. I would like to say you were right about one thing. I am glad I have left the island. I could never spend my entire life there without going mad, watching the supply ships coming in and then leaving, wondering where they were going, what these countries looked like. I was worried sick about fighting, but, now it is over, I would like to thank you. If this is the only way I could leave, then it is as Artorus wills, and I am glad I have come here.’
Marcus smiled ruefully. ‘It is unfortunate that we come here to kill, I know, but a mind such as yours could never be constrained by our home. I will let you rest now; I will see you in the morning. See if you can remember how to walk.’
He left her then and, despite all his news, she felt an inexplicable wave of sadness wash over her. She couldn’t escape the feeling that last night’s conflict was merely the precursor of something greater and more terrible to come.
30
The droplets from the silver fountain caught the bright noonday sunlight and cascaded into the pool in a spray of rainbow-coloured mist. There were several of these fountains in the oval pool, constantly refreshing the water for the large golden carp that shunted along in its depths or occasionally peeked out from underneath the olive-green lily pads and water iris that decorated its surface. The pool had a marble surround carved with recesses and these housed a variety of dark-green waxy-leaved plants that needed constant watering. Overhanging the pool, supported on four exotically engraved ebony-wood poles, was a sheer-silk pavilion that let in the light while keeping everything under it unseasonably warm. There were benches for those who didn’t wish to stroll around this courtyard and one giant fountain behind the pool whose rose quartz base was cunningly fashioned in the shape of intertwining leaves, branches, vines and ivies. This fountain, however, was not in use at the moment and sat gloomily overlooking the courtyard as though in a deep sulk. The courtyard itself was tiled, walled in brilliant-white stone with heavy black doors at its front and rear. On the high and broad walkways surrounding the inner walls were planted several trees, with thin silver grey trunks covered in broad leaves that smelled of sharp but sweet lemon. Despite the time of year, not a leaf had fallen from them and an army of small garrulous songbirds greeted the new day from their branches. It was a haven of tranquil serenity.
Not that King Aganosticlan VII, ruler of Arshuma, was feeling the serenity at the moment. He loved the pool and would spend many hours strolling past it, throwing titbits to his fish. No, there was nothing wrong with the pool at all. Rather, it was the company he was keeping at the present time. The King himself wore a long purple silk robe, embroidered in gold and black, with wide sleeves and a broad collar, both encrusted with tiny gems. His hair was long, black and lustrous – combed to a fine sheen it spilled behind him like one of the legendary black rivers of the south. His pencil-thin moustache, hiding under his high-bridged nose and his small pointed beard were trimmed and waxed so that not a single hair was out of place. His fingers were encrusted with gold rings and kohl framed his large brown eyes giving him something of the appearance of an owl. He positively dripped opulence.
The figure walking alongside him, however, could not have been more of a contrast. Everything about him was severe, from his close-cropped grey hair and hard-chiselled face to his keen grey eyes that burned hard and merciless. His tunic, though well made, was a simple red colour, his black breeches and weathered boots were of good quality but severely utilitarian. At his belt was a simple ceremonial dagger, more a badge of office than a useful weapon, and although he wore soft black leather gloves, it could be seen that two fingers were missing from his left hand. What was apparent was that being in the company of a king overawed him not one whit; in fact, it was the other man who seemed unnerved by him. As Aganosticlan absently threw black bread for the fish, his companion spoke to him, his voice stern and uncompromising.
‘The news of your latest defeat has reached the ears of the Emperor. Needless to say, he is displeased. For ten years he has allowed you to pursue this war as you have seen fit. Now, however, his patience wears thin. He desires to know if indeed you have a plan to bring victory to your people or whether or not you will be approaching Grand Duke Leontius to negotiate a peace; this, at least from his position in the Imperial Palace in Chira, seems to be the most sensible of solutions.’
The King looked uneasy. ‘Ambassador Hylas, before entering into your current honourable profession, you served with distinction in the Imperial Army for many years. You should be as aware as anyone then that this was not a decisive defeat. A setback, yes, but little more than that.’
The Ambassador stopped walking; the other man followed suit.
‘How many men d
id you lose in this battle?’
‘About two thousand, along with the mage you so kindly supplied for us.’
‘So I heard.’
Hylas sat down at a bench. The king clapped his hands and a young serving girl, clad in a white tunic that skirted the bounds of decency, stepped forth bearing a beautifully fashioned silver plate which held a variety of fruits. The Ambassador took an apple; the King waved the girl away. Taking a bite out of the apple with a satisfying crunch, Hylas spoke again.
‘His Imperial Majesty has asked me to remind you of both your status and your responsibility to the Empire. When he ascended to the grand office of Emperor fifteen years ago Ucarioth decided to fix the boundaries of the Empire and to halt the policy of constant expansion, drain as it was on the Imperial coffers and detrimental to the wellbeing of its citizens. To that end, he offered all nations bordering the Empire the status of client kingdom, with the promise that there would be no war or invasion of these nations as long as they were prepared never to act contrary to the interests of the Empire and to supply an annual tribute amounting to seven per cent of each nation’s calculated wealth. This meant that, for a small price, kings such as yourself could continue to rule your lands free from our interference – unless of course that interference was requested.’
‘I am aware of my responsibilities to the Empire,’ said the King haughtily.
‘Are you? As I recall, you baited a fool Tanarese baron to attack one of your cities, using his attack as an excuse to launch a full-scale invasion of that nation, an attack that stalled and petered out within a year. Tanaren is not an enemy of the Empire’s; it has a powerful navy and is a key trading partner. Your invasion of its territory therefore technically constituted a breach of your contract with the Empire, acting as you did in a manner contrary to its interests. The amount of work I had to do to convince the Emperor, the generals and the first citizens that you had not lost your mind and had not abused your client status will live with me to this day.’
‘And for that, Hylas, my gratitude is still strong.’
Without warning, Hylas grabbed the King’s shoulders, pulling him close so that the two men’s faces were barely a foot apart. He shouted at him, his spittle spraying the King’s face.
‘Is it? Is it? Ten years later and we are having the same poxy arguments about it. Well, I am here to give you a final warning. You have one year. One year! If there is no peace or victory in that time, our boys will be marching through the passes and pissing in your pool before you can say annexation!’
King Aganosticlan retained his composure. ‘Believe you me, Hylas, within a year the war will be over and I will be drinking the finest Tarindian wines in Baron Felmere’s mansion.’
The other man seemed placated, to a degree. Though his eyes still burned with anger, he released his grip on the King and joined him strolling about the pond.
‘One other thing, Your Majesty,’ (the honorific was practically spat out) ‘you are still hiring mercenaries and presumably you will be replacing your recent losses. How exactly are you financing yourself? The pecuniary assistance I negotiated for you ended some three years ago. Surely that money has run out by now?’
‘I have other means, Hylas. I am no pauper and my nation has its own wealth. I am working the gem mines to capacity, though these days I have to use forced labour – prisoners and the like. So you see, it is in my interests, too, to end this war swiftly, my coffers may not be yet exhausted but they are not bottomless after all.’
Hylas looked grim. ‘On my way here I passed through villages where everyone was saying how the food stocks would not last through the winter. You may be confronted with an unpalatable choice. Feed your people or fight this war.’
Aganosticlan stroked his beard. ‘Pah, peasants! They live to serve the nation, as, indeed, do I.’
Hylas looked at him with little love. ‘Odd is it not, that your service to the nation seems so much more lucrative than theirs. Anyway, I have delivered my message, I will leave now; a day’s hard riding will see me over the border and back with the army. If you are not aware of it, we are camped just the other side of the eastern Derannen Mountains, within a few miles of your nation.’
‘I am aware of it. Fare you well.’
‘You too. Artorus deliver you victory.’
The great black doors swung open and Hylas was gone. Aganosticlan did not bother watching him leave; he had already turned and was heading indoors to his palace.
The throne room was a long rectangular affair clad in white stone and colonnaded with marble. The King of Arshuma sat on an ornate wooden throne covered in gold leaf and carved in the likeness of a lion, its forearms acting as the armrests and its head, with the mouth open in a terrifying roar, looking over the top of the throne glaring at the King’s subjects as they approached him. The room’s high windows, arched and graceful, illuminated the red-carpeted walkway to the throne, while keeping the throne itself in relative darkness, which was probably the reason for the burning braziers located to its right and left. There was a certain sterility to the room, a cold remoteness which the King liked. It gave a certain frisson to his less popular judgements, something to make the common populace quail when they heard his words.
Not that he cared about that now. Entering the room, he stormed towards his throne like a bull chasing a farmer. Hurling himself on to it, he rang a small gong placed at its feet. A black-clad servant approached.
‘Get me Obadrian. Now!’
The servant scuttled off and Aganosticlan impatiently drummed his fingers against the throne’s armrest. Shortly afterwards, through the open door came a man in his early fifties with long silver hair. He was clad in black and carried a large staff of a similar colour, symbol of the office of Lord Chamberlain. The King barely let him finish his low bow before venting his spleen.
‘I cannot believe the way that jumped-up politician talks to me! I am a king, and yet he, a man little more than the Emperor’s wiper, comes in here laying down the law and threatening my person and my very office! I should have sent him back to his precious army in tiny pieces.’
‘His army being the Western Army of the Chiran Empire, Your Majesty, that would hardly be an advisable course of action.’
‘Advisable or not, it would be a strong warning to all those who think nothing of baiting a king! He has given me a year to finish the war, Obadrian; I must have Keth’s own luck. Can you not find me a general that can at least point the army towards the enemy and not have them run back here at the first sign of trouble! Ach, my head hurts so.’ He paused for breath. ‘How many survivors of the battle were there anyway?’
‘Some three hundred men have returned, Your Majesty; it appears the enemy deployed devastating magic against us.’
‘Yes, we have to neutralize their wizardry if we are to make further progress, and quickly, too. As for the men, execute fifteen of them; keep them in gibbets to show what happens to cowards who would rather soil themselves than fight. Then get another two thousand men enrolled; see what mercenaries we can hire, too. This war continues through the winter.’
‘As you wish, Your Majesty, though our coffers may not stretch to too many mercenaries.’
‘Nevertheless, see what you can find.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty.’ He shuffled uneasily. ‘Your Majesty, that delegate, the one you wanted kept away from Ambassador Hylas, shall I send for him now?’
‘Yes, bring him before me. Keeping him in chambers outside the palace was hardly ideal but there was no way Hylas could see him.’
‘Your Majesty, do you really think speaking to him is such a good idea? Playing both ends against the middle like this is a risky manoeuvre.’
Aganosticlan left his throne and walked the short distance to the room’s back wall. There, displayed on wooden panels were a variety of finely crafted weapons – swords, daggers, maces – many encrusted with jewels, nearly all gifts from other countries.
‘We have no choice, Obadrian. If we a
re to deliver victory in a year we need their money, especially since Hylas stopped sending us the stuff. The concessions they want are painful, but ultimately it will be a price worth paying.’
‘If the Chiran Empire finds out, Your Majesty...’
‘Do not question me! Now go and get him.’
‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’
It did not take long. Aganosticlan was still dreamily looking at the weapons on his wall when he heard footsteps on the carpet.
‘Your Majesty, I bring salutations and the warmest affection from the Eternal Empire. Koze and Emperor Gyiliakosh are delighted to include you among those nations friendly to its cause. I hope our meeting will further strengthen the burgeoning ties between our peoples.’
If Hylas style of dress contrasted sharply with the King’s, then Hem-Khozar, emissary of Koze, could have been his darker-skinned cousin. His green and black silk robes flowed elegantly behind him; his beard, long, braided and waxed, reached down to his belt of silver and gold. His hair was as long as the King’s, although it was greying at the temples and his skin, olive coloured and soft, told the tale of a man used to sunnier climes. He smiled warmly at Aganosticlan, showing a mouth full of gold-capped teeth.
‘And greetings to your good self, Hem-Khozar. I hope and trust your voyage from the far south was a smooth and pleasant one.’
‘Indeed it was. Although the storm season is almost upon us, we kept ahead of the worst of the weather and a following wind brought us here in good time.’
Aganosticlan shook the man’s hand and embraced him, kissing him on both cheeks, the traditional greeting for a man from the ancient empire of the south.
Koze had once been merely a powerful city state, but some three thousand years ago it had started to expand, first swallowing up the surrounding islands and then the deserts and jungles on the mainland. It was as much a trading empire as a military one, forging ties with the barbarian human kingdoms of the north and, in a more profitable enterprise, with the elves of the plains and the sea. There were even tentative links with the underground peoples, with their iron, gold and gems.
The Forgotten War Page 44
