Invasion (Tales of the Empire Book 5)

by S. J. A. Turney

  A cloud of misery and suppressed rage hovered over him like the beating of a raven’s wings.

  ‘So the queen lives and is clearly well prepared for us,’ Bellacon sighed.

  Prince Suolceno hissed as the medic continued to stitch his shoulder even as he stood half-naked in the command tent.

  ‘Hold still, sir,’ the medic murmured. ‘I don’t want to cause too much of a scar. You were very lucky their arrows aren’t barbed. This was a relatively easy job.’

  The prince tutted irritably and gestured at Bellacon, eliciting another grumble from the medic.

  ‘There is more to it than preparedness,’ the prince said quietly. ‘My mother was well prepared for us, but her campaign against you is funded, supplied and informed by men within your own empire. She revealed as much to Convocus and me, before he died and I ran.’

  ‘Like that lot from the north?’ Bellacon asked, leaning forward in his chair. ‘They were sporting equipment from the empire.’

  ‘More than that, even,’ the prince said. ‘The army that met you at the river crossing in our southern territories was working on the orders of the queen. They were just a tool of hers. Some senator in your government has given her everything she needs to stop your campaign and turn you back. She believes she benefits from the deal as she keeps you out of Alba, though what he gains from the bargain is beyond me. But then your imperial politics often are.’

  Cantex lifted his dark gaze from the rug.

  ‘You wouldn’t have heard this treacherous senator’s name by any chance?’

  ‘I did, but if I am honest all your imperial names sound so similar to me.’

  ‘Could it possibly have been a man called Anicius Rufus?’ asked Bellacon, meeting Cantex’s eyes. The gloom and rage in his friend seemed to have been oddly tempered by this new information into a weapon of war, rather than one of self-destruction.

  The beat of a raven’s wings was becoming the scratch of an eagle’s claws.

  ‘That is the man’s name,’ the prince confirmed. ‘He sent gold and war machines and men to advise her. She has no conception of the possibility she could lose. She believes herself all powerful and impregnable in Steinvic, and your empire’s apparent willingness to cripple itself to support her does little to rob her of the notion.’

  ‘This is all rather difficult to believe,’ put in a new voice, and they turned to the ambassador, who sat in a corner in the gloomiest part of the tent, now clean shaven and in a fresh, dry tunic, though still with wild hair and filthy skin.

  Next to him stood a table with a jug of water and one of wine, both of which had taken some punishment since his arrival in the tent, as had the roasted chicken, the bread and the cheese that had made only a brief appearance at his side before going to fill some of the cavern of starvation within him.

  ‘That, ambassador, is because you have just joined us,’ Bellacon answered. ‘You have not had to experience weeks of infighting, treachery, betrayal, poor judgement and nasty surprises where none should be found. Trust me, sir, this comes as no surprise to us. Senator Rufus would have to bow low if he met a rat, the piece of treacherous shit.’

  ‘Then the senator should be brought up on charges.’

  ‘Oh the senator will pay, for sure,’ growled Cantex from his chair across the tent. ‘I promise you that. But first the queen must pay, in blood and pain.’

  ‘And she intends to make sure no imperial soldier leaves the island alive,’ the prince put in. ‘She now knows that if word of the senator’s deal gets back to your emperor, he will feel honour bound to send every soldier the empire has to crush her. It is in her interests to obliterate you. And she will come, once the tribes have gathered. Her army will be big enough to crush you utterly, if she brings in every man who owes her fealty.’

  ‘Then we have to take Steinvic before she can pull together her great army.’

  Another new voice rose from the periphery, and all eyes turned to Lissa as she swayed forward in a waft of smoky incense like some daemon from the Pelasian sands.

  ‘I can see little now. The sight is always more difficult up close, while the distant future is often surprisingly clear. The coming days are dark and changeable in the smoke and fire, and the bones I have cast a hundred times tell me nothing but that there will be many more bones, and soon. But I do know that you will triumph. Bellacon at least, with his standards, will rise proud on the walls of Steinvic. And that means the queen’s army will not gather in time. Her riders will already be making for every tribe and every settlement, calling them to battle, but they will not be in time. You must move first. You will move first. The future is set, and you cannot alter it.’

  ‘I cannot see a way in, though,’ Bellacon sighed. ‘I’ve examined every angle. There is the possibility that with every siege engine and enough men we can pull down and swamp their south walls, but it will be so costly that I cannot imagine we would be able to hold the breach. It is simply too uncertain and dangerous. Of course, it might end up that this is our only option, but the number of men we would need to achieve any surety of success there is staggering, even with the prince’s force. How many did you say you had?’

  ‘Perhaps ten thousand can be here within a day,’ the prince replied, ‘if our agreement can be carved in stone.’

  Bellacon turned to the ambassador, who shrugged.

  ‘If you truly believe you can beat her together, then I will put my mark on a treaty with the prince in the name of the emperor, and not even your traitor senator will be able to break that. You will have the freedom to prosecute your campaign unhampered by politics, Tribunes. But bear in mind that I will only sign a sensible deal. The prince will become a client king with full imperial support and yet independent authority over Alba, but only upon the successful completion of your mission and the right to create colonies and supplement his force with a minor imperial garrison, especially in the peripheral regions where his control might need strengthening.’

  The prince nodded. ‘I shall send for my war band. Together we will have the numbers you require for the south wall, I think, Bellacon. Together, we can defeat my mother.’ He straightened. ‘I would like her taken alive if possible. She should be executed officially in front her own nobles, which will leave the Albantes in no doubt as to the identity of their ruler. I do not wish this to drag out into another war against my mother’s second-in-command.’

  Bellacon nodded, but Cantex was shaking his head.

  ‘If you’re lucky enough to find her first, it’s your prerogative what you do with her, Suolceno. But if I find her first, there won’t be enough of her left to execute. She killed Convocus, and I will repay the debt myself.’

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the prince and the glassy-eyed tribune glared at one another, and Bellacon cleared his throat, determined to ease the tension.

  ‘This is all immaterial until we figure out how to break Steinvic.’

  The silence stretched to a distressing level, and finally, the dark tribune tore his eyes from the prince.

  ‘I think I know the way in,’ Cantex said quietly.

  Chapter 28

  Bellacon stood on the grassy slope and fretted, arms folded and drumming his fingers on his elbows. Despite the danger and importance of the great siege and the flawed but successful ploy he had pulled off with the Vulture Legion in the south-west, nothing had prepared him for the tension he would feel at this point.

  He had been involved in some of the empire’s most vital, brutal wars over the course of his career, and while this one could hardly be matched up to the Khan’s attack on Velutio that had almost destroyed the empire, at least he had been just a soldier in that campaign, doing his duty. His responsibility had stopped at himself and his part in the plan alone. And on various smaller campaigns since then he had been an officer, but never had he faced more responsibility than command of a single unit.

  Even when they had come to Cantex’s rescue a week or so ago, somewhere in the heart of this
island, he had known as they attacked that they were simply winning the day with a given conclusion.

  Now?

  Now he – and Cantex, may the gods look after him – bore the entire responsibility for three legions plus associated support, as well as a native ally and his army, and the potential inclusion of an entire land into the imperial fraternity. The scale of the weight lying on his shoulders was staggering.

  His gaze slipped momentarily sideways.

  Lissa seemed calm. Damn the woman, but Lissa always seemed calm. Bellacon mused that perhaps having foreknowledge of the future brought such calmness with it automatically. That being said, he was not sure a certainty over his future would make him any more comfortable.

  His nervous eyes danced across the battlefield once more, languishing under an undecided light grey sky, cut by a chill wind that Lissa had described as ‘unseasonal’. Bellacon was fairly sure that cold and damp were the norm on this island.

  The south wall of Steinvic lay ahead, down a slope that was gentle and not enough to give them any real advantage. The ramparts were not tall, but with their stone revetment and the sloping earth backing, added to the deep ditch before them, they presented a formidable obstacle. The south gate of the place, little more than a postern, lay a short distance to the west of their main focus.

  They had chosen the southeast, which enclosed only farmland, for a number of reasons. Not least that the prince had requested they do their best to leave as much of the place standing as possible in the aftermath, since it would become his capital in due course.

  Strong walls, well defended.

  The equivalent of two legions’ worth of soldiers remained in position, in regimented ranks, awaiting the chance to move and do some real damage to Steinvic’s defences. They twitched and vibrated with impatience at the long wait that was endemic of sieges.

  The cavalry, along with the scouts, continually roved the surrounding lands, encircling the place at a distance, keeping out a wary eye for the queen’s reinforcements, who could put in an appearance at any time. But none of that – pensive legions nor roving cavalry – was the main focus of the fight.

  The artillery stood in ordered rows across the landscape.

  They had taken nine intact and fully-functioning catapults and fourteen heavy bolt throwers from the tribe they had fought at the bridge, but now that the supplies and support vehicles had arrived in the north that number had been bulked out by those engines the army had brought with them across the sea.

  Nine catapults had been bolstered by the contingents of the legions to become twenty-one. Fourteen heavy bolt throwers had become thirty-eight. And with the skill and experience of legionary artillerists, they were a great deal more accurate than they had been in the hands of a native tribe. The engineering officers had got together and planned the assault with only a nod to the tribunes to confirm the orders.

  Bellacon and Cantex had simply accepted their opinion. Only an idiot ignored an expert.

  There was a chorus of thuds, which dragged Bellacon’s attention back to the task at hand, as the throwing arms of the catapults hit the crossbars and their loads hurtled up into the air, whirring through the morning breeze to smash into the rampart.

  The assault had begun at dawn, the rest of the previous day having been spent in planning and preparation and the assigning of commands, roles, and positions. With the first glimpse of the sun over the eastern hills, the first shot had been loosed. Impressively – and prophetically, Bellacon hoped – the very first shot had struck the wall dead-on in exactly the position planned. The artillerists knew their stuff.

  Since then, and for the past five hours, boulder after boulder had been launched at the walls, each of three groups of seven catapults concentrating on one particular area. The results had been… unimpressive.

  There had been a rousing cheer when, after the first hour of pounding artillery, the stone facing of the rampart had cracked and then, with a tortured groan, had crumbled, stonework falling out into the ditch.

  It had quickly become apparent that the ramparts behind the stone facing would be a much different proposition. The earth banks, varying between forty and sixty feet thick in places, simply took the pounding of the catapults and absorbed each blow as though laughing it off.

  All four hours of constant bombardment had done was to remove the stone parapet and facing from sections of the defences. That would certainly make it easier for legionaries to cross the ramparts, but there was still the matter of getting across the open ground before Steinvic’s walls, under the barrage of their archers and slingers.

  Then the ditch would need to be negotiated. Then a high rampart stormed – even if there was no stonework there, it was a steep mound of earth which could be well defended. And, of course, there was no guarantee of victory even if they crossed the walls. The number of warriors upon which the queen could call might well prove a problem for the imperial forces once inside Steinvic.

  The road ahead was a constant series of obstacles with an uncertain goal at the end.

  ‘I hope Cantex knows what he’s doing.’

  The tribune blinked as a hand pushed its way through the arc of his folded elbow and held on. He turned to see Lissa standing close beside him, could feel the warmth of her body, the closeness, the faint aroma of smoke and incense that seemed to be her natural aura even when she’d been nowhere near a brazier.

  There was something oddly intimate about the connection, beyond a simple linking of arms, and he felt a faint tingle run through him. This, he had not been expecting. And in truth he was very much unprepared to work through the ramifications of what he was experiencing right now.

  ‘Cantex knows exactly what he is doing,’ she said quietly. ‘That, in fact, is what worries me. His future is a closed book to me. Last night I prayed until I was hoarse and cast the bones and viewed the divine fire time and again – for many things, in fact, but for Cantex as much as any. Nothing. The gods have shrouded him from me. He knows what he is doing, Lucius’ – Lucius, another first – ‘but the question is: what is he doing? Is he attempting to win the walls of Steinvic and succeed in your campaign, or is he seeking the head of the Albante queen, with all else as mere inconvenience. Vengeance always carries an unacceptable price. The gods make sure a vengeful man pays a heavy toll.’

  Bellacon shivered again. That very question had been plaguing him all night. Cantex had always been the calm one. The unshakeable and good-humoured one. Convocus had the mind and Bellacon had the strength, but Cantex had the spirit. And it had almost broken Bellacon yesterday to look into his friend’s black-circled, haunted eyes.

  That spirit – that essential spark that had made Cantex what he was – appeared to have been snuffed out with Convocus’ death. Never before would Bellacon have worried about his friend’s motivation. If he said he would do something, he would do it.

  But now… Cantex was different.

  And the very success of all they sought to achieve might well ride on the man.

  Cantex liked to gamble, but Bellacon wasn’t sure he wanted to gamble on Cantex.

  But there was no turning back, and there had not been since before dawn, when Cantex and the prince had left to put their plan into action. Now all Bellacon could do was to continue on with the siege and hope his friend and the prince were capable of succeeding in their task.

  Bellacon sighed and scanned the ranks of the men once more. Would they be enough? Could they hope to get over that rampart and, if they did, would it even matter?

  Was this how generals felt before any battle?

  He’d not had time or leisure to worry about such things at the bridge. Convocus had gone about the task of surprising the enemy and all he and Cantex had done was react and adjust to the enemy’s moves. Now, he had nothing to do but contemplate whether their plan might bring them Alba or whether it would just feed the crows many thousands of imperial corpses and ruin a few careers into the bargain.

  They had to be successful.
How else would they seek vengeance on the queen for Convocus and upon Senator Rufus for sacrificing an entire army?

  He fretted, picking at his sleeve.

  Over the rhythmic thuds of the catapults there was a constant rattle of bolts being released by the war machines. Their missiles were useless against the defences, but the range and power made them ideal for dealing with the defenders on the wall top. It had taken less than an hour for the Albantes to learn a hard lesson about the bolt throwers and since then they had kept their heads down below the rampart, where they were relatively safe.

  The artillerists had asked whether to halt their bombardment, as they were no longer taking out an effective number of the enemy with each volley, but Bellacon had shaken his head, telling them to keep at it. Occasionally they found a target, and many of the bolts were coming down on the far side of the rampart. Who knew what damage they were doing there? But most importantly, this was their one chance of victory, and they had plenty of ammunition. Better to use it all up now even if the results were minimal. What was the point in saving ammunition for when they had lost the war?

  ‘Will it rain?’ he murmured, trying to take his mind off the pressure weighing it down.

  ‘Hard to say,’ Lissa answered, peering up into the grey. ‘This season in Alba is changeable.’

  ‘Some seer you are,’ Bellacon said with a smile.

  Lissa threw him another look he wasn’t entirely prepared for and he was attempting to formulate any kind of answer that didn’t make him sound like a blithering idiot when there was a disturbance nearby, which saved him the trouble. A rider had reached the command post’s guard and dismounted. His sword was removed, and he was escorted by two of the guard to the command post, where he approached Bellacon and saluted.

  ‘Sir, compliments of Tribune Cantex. They are in position and at work. The main assault can be launched at any time with appropriate warning.’

  Bellacon nodded. ‘Thank you, soldier.’