The Wolf's Call

by Anthony Ryan

  Vaelin raised his gaze to meet hers, finding it wary. “Ahm Lin has heard his song for a lifetime,” he said, keeping his tone gentle. “He knows it well and I trust his judgement.”

  “And I know the True Dream. I have told you all it has told me.”

  “I have seen much that makes me question the value of prophecy. But the legends of my homeland speak of it as a thing that comes unbidden, an unwanted gift. You appear to be different. Because you can summon it, can you not?”

  “Usually. And, as I told you, it is . . . inconstant in what it chooses to show me.”

  “Have you tried since we came here?”

  She looked away once more, head moving in a small shake of negation.

  “Why?” he asked. “With so much at stake?”

  She retreated from him, arms tightening about her waist like a shield. “It has shown me much that I would never have chosen to see,” she told him in a thin whisper.

  “So you fear what it might show you now?”

  She blinked and a tear rolled down her otherwise impassive face. “Kehlbrand hid so much from me. For years, he lied as I loved. What . . .” She hesitated, swallowed and spoke on. “What if this, all of this, is what he wants, what he always intended? Would that not make us all just his puppets? He twitches the strings and we dance like the fools we are.”

  “Not puppets. Pieces on a Keschet board.”

  “Keschet?”

  “A game from the Alpiran Empire but beloved of my queen. I doubt there is anyone in the world who could best her at it, even your brother. I asked her once what the key to victory is in Keschet. She laughed and said there isn’t one, for every game is different, but the key to defeat is always the same: predictability.”

  “You wish me to seek another dream, divine the outcome of this siege.”

  “I wish you to pluck the thorn from your mind.” He smoothed hair from Jihla’s forehead. “So that her sacrifice, the sacrifice of her brother and so many others will not be for nothing. Will you do it?”

  She unfolded her arms, wiping her tears away and muttering something in her own tongue.

  “What was that?” he asked her.

  “Mercy is weakness, compassion is cowardice, wisdom is falsehood.” She gave a faint laugh, shrugging. “The mantra of the priests to the Unseen, spoken as truth for centuries and cast aside at my brother’s whim. He saw no use in it, for a god needs no words but his own. But I cast it aside because I knew it to be a lie. Mercy requires strength, compassion demands courage and wisdom compels truth.” Her humour faded and she moved to a stool at Jihla’s bedside, reaching out to take her hand. “I’ll seek the dream when she wakes. My mind will be too unsettled otherwise.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  No assaults were launched for the rest of the day, nor any the day that followed. Fires continued to burn unchecked in the lower tier, but mercifully the screams had long faded. As the fires began to dwindle, Tsai Lin, now recovered from his encounter with the exploding apothecary shop, used the spyglass atop the tower to conduct a methodical counting of the dead visible in the streets.

  “Four thousand three hundred and eighty-three,” he told his father, the general having summoned him, Vaelin and Governor Neshim to the library in order to plan the defence of the second tier. “But,” the Dai Lo went on, “I would submit that the count can safely be doubled in light of the number of dead rendered unrecognisable by the fire.”

  “Call it eight thousand then,” Vaelin said. He had spent the morning drilling the companies under his command whilst occasionally surveying the charred expanse beyond the walls. Only a half-dozen fires were still burning, soon to shrink to nothing whereupon Kehlbrand would surely make his next move. “A grievous blow to be sure, but hardly fatal for a host of this size.”

  “It must have unnerved them,” Governor Neshim said. He still wore his ill-fitting armour, though it sat more easily on him now, his girth having diminished over recent days. His fear, however, had not and Vaelin found himself assailed by the sweaty stench of the man.

  “Seeing so many comrades perish in such a terrible manner,” Neshim continued, “would test the strongest of hearts.”

  “I would agree,” Sho Tsai replied. “Were they an army that fights for pay or plunder. But they are not. They fight for a man they believe to be a living god, and I doubt he is done with us.”

  “Then where are our reinforcements?” Neshim proved incapable of keeping the whine from his voice as he stared at the general with barely restrained desperation. “The Venerable Realm can call on countless spears, yet every day dawns with no sign of them.”

  “I remind you that we serve at the pleasure of the Merchant King,” Sho Tsai said, voice flat. “And he will only act in the best interests of the kingdom. Therefore, if he has chosen not to send reinforcements, I trust he has sound cause.”

  “I do not question the wisdom of the great Lian Sha. But I do appeal to reason. We have done more than enough to satisfy honour.” The Governor attempted a resolute posture, forcing the quaver from his voice as he spoke on. “I believe, as duly appointed Governor of this city, it is time to plan for our escape.”

  “Escape?” Vaelin enquired.

  “Well, yes. ‘When all hope of victory is denied you, there is no shame in retreat and conservation of remaining forces.’ The words, need I remind you, General, of the Most Esteemed Kuan-Shi, the greatest philosopher of the Emerald Empire.”

  “A remarkable mind indeed,” Sho Tsai said. “So great in fact that, after he cut Kuan-Shi’s head off, the emperor had it pickled.”

  Neshim flushed but ploughed on with a determination Vaelin found oddly admirable. “Nevertheless,” the governor said, “his wisdom echoes through the ages and we should abide it. I took the liberty of consulting our former governor’s books.” He unfurled a scroll showing a map of sorts, the lines having been set down in a somewhat unsteady hand. “It transpires history provides a parallel for our current dilemma. The fall of Juhlun-Kho in the late third century of the Divine Dynasty. The city commander used a screen of cavalry to shield his forces, which he divided into two columns, one numerous but poorly armed and consisting of his least effective troops, the other smaller but composed of well-armed veterans. The former was, in an act of regrettable necessity, sent on a course that would place them closest to the enemy. However, their resultant destruction bought sufficient time for the more valuable troops to make good their escape.”

  Sho Tsai maintained a placid demeanour as he took the scroll from the governor’s trembling hand. “A clever stratagem indeed,” he said after a brief consideration. “One I’m prepared to consider. However,” he added, freezing the governor’s relieved smile, “only if you agree to take personal charge of the weaker column. Please know I ensure word of your selfless sacrifice will be spread far and wide.”

  Neshim’s throat bulged several times before he stepped back from the map table, bowing low. “I was remiss,” he said, still bowing. “Military matters are, of course, your province.”

  “That they are.” Sho Tsai tossed the governor’s map aside, gesturing impatiently for him to stop bowing. “Our supply situation?”

  “We remain well provisioned. If anything, it might be worthwhile increasing the men’s rations since some of the food is likely to spoil if it isn’t consumed soon.”

  Vaelin saw no satisfaction in Sho Tsai’s bearing at this, the reason being easy to divine. They had food to spare because he had lost so many men. “Very well,” he said. “Please go now and see to it.”

  The governor bowed again, huffing in obvious relief as he made his exit.

  “Respectfully, General,” Tsai Lin began, “having a coward in such a high position . . .”

  “He was brave enough to stay when it would have been easy for him to flee before we closed the gates,” Sho Tsai interrupted. “No man is immune to weakness, which is
a lesson I thought you had learned long ago.”

  He stared at his son until Tsai Lin lowered his gaze, a shameful frown on his brow.

  “The notion of escape is not entirely without merit,” Vaelin said, retrieving the discarded scroll from the table. “At least for some. With a diversion of sufficient size, the cavalry could be got away.”

  “Along with your companions, I assume?” Sho Tsai asked.

  Vaelin saw little point in dissembling. “I doubt they would go, but yes, if I can persuade them. They’ve followed me far enough.”

  “I need every blade for the walls,” the general said, shaking his head. “Besides, any cavalry force we could muster would be chased down and wiped out by the Stahlhast or the Tuhla before they could travel more than a few miles.”

  “Not to mention we may need the horses later,” Tsai Lin added. “For meat.”

  “Our Blessed-of-Heaven ally,” Sho Tsai said. “Does she have any fresh intelligence to impart regarding her brother’s intentions?”

  The thorn in her mind remains unplucked, Vaelin thought, deciding it would add nothing of value to the discussion. “Only that he will attack again,” he said. “In fact she seems surprised he hasn’t already done so.”

  “The walls of the second tier stand ten feet higher than the outer,” Tsai Lin said. “They may well be constructing taller ladders.”

  “Weak points?” Vaelin asked. “I once took a city because its governor forgot to secure a drain.”

  “Keshin-Kho was constructed more as a fortress than a city,” Sho Tsai said. “All drains were built too small to allow passage of a man, or even a child. If the Darkblade wants his victory, he will need to scale the walls and hold them, meaning he will have to use his best warriors. When he does, we’ll cull his army of the bravest and most skillful souls he possesses. Then let him try to take the Venerable Kingdom with a mob of untrained fanatics.”

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  He was woken by Alum sometime after moonrise, the hunter taking a careful step back as Vaelin started from slumber, hunting knife in hand. “The mason had a dream,” Alum said. “A bad dream.”

  Vaelin rose from his bedroll, reaching for his boots. He and the others had taken to sleeping in the temple grounds, making a home of sorts beneath the roof of a centuries-old shrine. The others woke with a variation of curses or resigned sighs as Alum moved to kick them awake.

  “What did you see?” Vaelin asked, moving to Ahm Lin’s side. The mason sat with shoulders slumped, his gaze distant, stirring when Vaelin placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “A tiger,” he said, Vaelin feeling him shudder as he mastered himself, speaking on in a firmer voice. “A tiger assailing a mountain, tearing at it with tooth and claw. It bled as it fought the mountain, teeth shattered, claws torn away, flesh raw and bleeding. But still it tore at the stone, growing fresh teeth, sprouting new claws and in the end it was the mountain that fell.”

  “We’ve heard no alarms all night, my lord,” said Sehmon, who had been on watch with Ellese. From the tousled appearance of both, Vaelin concluded they had been doing more than just watching, but that was of scant importance just now.

  “Gather your weapons,” he told them all. “We’ll take a tour of the walls. Sehmon, find Tsai Lin and tell him I believe we have a troubled night ahead. I leave it to him whether he wishes to advise the general so.”

  The walls of the second tier featured only two gates, one facing north, the other south. They were barred by thick doors of oak braced with iron. Additional defence was provided by a heavy portcullis, which had been permanently lowered since the army’s retreat from the lower tier. Sho Tsai had also taken the precaution of stationing two full regiments in close proximity to each gate. These consisted of veterans rather than the recently raised conscripts that filled the ranks of most other companies.

  Vaelin checked both gates in turn, finding nothing amiss, before conducting a full circuit of the walls. He had ordered the regiments mustered in full battle order, stationing the bulk of the crossbowmen on the battlements above each gate. After an hour of pacing ranks of mostly young men, who clearly wanted nothing more than a return to their bunks, Ahm Lin’s tiger had failed to appear.

  “What do you sense?” he asked, coming to Juhkar’s side. The tracker stood alongside Ahm Lin above the north gate, both staring into the gloomy, ruined maze of streets below. The moon was full this night, silver-blue light catching the tumbled walls and debris from which smoke still rose in places.

  “Just the Darkblade,” Juhkar said, eyes roving the ruins. He had a poison-coated arrow nocked to his bow, fingers tensed on the string. “He’s out there, waiting.”

  “No other?” Vaelin pressed him.

  The tracker shook his head. “Whatever stirs tonight, it will be of his making.”

  A chorus of formal greetings sounded to the left, indicating the arrival of their general. “These men can’t stand to all night,” Sho Tsai told Vaelin, striding towards him across the battlement. “Not if we expect them to fight tomorrow.”

  “Something is coming,” Vaelin assured him, nodding to the two Gifted, who continued to peer into the gloom with undaunted scrutiny.

  Sho Tsai sighed, stroking his chin as his gaze roamed over the assembled troops, no doubt taking note of the many lolling heads and misaligned spears. “One more hour then,” he decided. “Then the watch will be reduced by half . . .”

  “It’s starting!” Ahm Lin cut in. He pointed to something in the depths of the ruins, Vaelin moving closer to make out the sight of a large column of infantry approaching the walls. Their chanted prayers soon reached the battlement, this time voiced at a higher pitch that spoke of near hysteria.

  “Two thousand?” Sho Tsai said.

  “More than three, I’d say,” Vaelin replied. Peering closer he blinked in surprise. “No ladders that I can see. Nor any kind of ram.”

  The column came to a halt two hundred paces from the gate, too far for any but the most optimistic archer to score a hit. Their chants, already discordant with fervour, now took on a more frenzied note. They were close enough for Vaelin to identify them all as Redeemed, men and women in their mismatched armour, which, to his astonishment, they all began to discard. Breastplates, hauberks and greaves flew into the air as the Redeemed cast them away, their prayer chants becoming something that resembled the baying of animals. Bared to the waist they milled together, embracing, before joining hands and reforming their ranks, this time fashioning themselves into a narrow column four abreast aimed directly at the gate like an arrow.

  “They don’t need a ram,” Vaelin heard Ahm Lin say. “They are the ram.”

  The column surged forward at a run that soon became a sprint. The crossbowmen above the gate began to loose their bolts before Vaelin even shouted the order. He saw a hundred Redeemed fall at the first volley, others keeping on despite the bolts jutting from shoulders or arms. Some of those that had fallen scrambled to their feet and ran to rejoin the column as it closed on the gate. Another volley slashed down before they connected with the oak doors, Redeemed falling by the dozen. The gate heaved under the assault, wooden beams shuddering but failing to break. The surviving Redeemed below reared back, stepping on the corpses of their slain brethren, then joined their bodies to those following behind and once again threw themselves at the gate.

  “This is plain insanity,” Sho Tsai said in appalled wonder as the hail of bolts continued to claim yet more victims amongst the Redeemed. The column shrank as it pummelled the gate, bodies piling up before it, some rising to add their weight to the assault despite having been pierced with multiple shafts. The gate boomed as the fist of close-packed humanity struck it once more, but as yet showed no sign of breaking, Vaelin hearing the sharp crack of breaking bones amongst the tumult.

  “General!” one of the sergeants called from close by, pointing at another column
approaching from the north. They numbered the same as the first cohort and were also composed of Redeemed. Their screaming chants had already begun, and like their comrades they had discarded their armour. Despite their obviously unreasoned minds they kept a tight formation as they charged, running through the rain of bolts with no more regard than if it were a light drizzle. The second column slammed into the remnants of the first, another boom from the gate, more snapping bones. The dense mass of flesh roiled against the gate, pushing ever harder as they screamed out their prayers and died.

  Hearing a shocked curse from one of the crossbowmen, Vaelin raised his gaze, seeing another column charging from the gloom, with another two behind. He turned to Sho Tsai but the general was already shouting orders.

  “Captain, shift every crossbow from the south gate to the north! Sergeant, light the oil and throw it over!”

  The third column suffered the same losses as the first two, the remnants of which were now piled against the gate in an ugly confusion of compressed, twisted bodies. Undaunted by the flaming oil that rained down from above, the Redeemed smashed their bodies into the piled flesh. Then Vaelin heard a squeal of protesting iron amid the boom of impacted oak.

  “Take charge of the regiments before the gate,” Sho Tsai ordered Vaelin. “They cannot break in, regardless of the cost.”

  Vaelin nodded, pausing at Alum’s side as he moved to the nearest stairwell. “Get the mason back to the temple,” he said.

  The Moreska replied with a grave shake of his head, hefting his spear. “I fear you have need of me this night. The mason will go with the young ones.”

  Sehmon and Ellese were swiftly despatched to the third tier with Ahm Lin, though not without protest, which Vaelin had been quick to quash. “You’ll have plenty of targets before the night’s out,” he told Ellese, moving closer to add, “and I need someone to guard Sherin. Chien’s blade won’t be enough if this gate falls.”