Garanth smiled and those teeth had Roberto feeling at his own with his tongue.
'You expect me to say King Khuran but you worry it is another. My master is he who commands the dead. Who sees the energy we can only feel and who brings fresh hope to all who fall.'
'Gorian,' muttered Roberto. 'And what does he want?'
'As the Karku know and the Sirraneans fear, he wants to tip the world. And he will. You cannot stop him.'
'And what does the King think about all this?'
Garanth shrugged. 'He does not understand. It will cost him as it will you.'
'Tip the world?' asked Nunan.
'Cast down the old powers and install the new,' said Garanth evenly. 'And he intends to do all this with armies of ...' said Roberto, struggling still with apparent reality, '... the dead?' 'Who will stand before them?'
'It passed your notice that we have just defeated your abomination of an army?' said Nunan.
'That army was a tiny drop that will become an ocean across the Conquord. An experiment from which my master will learn.' Garanth closed his eyes. 'It is beyond your conception what awaits you.'
Roberto felt the chill through his body.
'And that is why you are here,' said Nunan. 'To enlighten us.' Garanth shook his head. 'I think not. My work is done. I go to seek my master.'
'You are going nowhere,' said Nunan. That smile from Garanth again. 'Not yet.'
He collapsed to the floor. Nunan knelt by him and felt for a pulse.
'He did say he could feel the energies of the dead.'
'Let's hope it brings him no comfort whatever,' said Roberto. 'You need to have him taken away and rendered useless. Pick your method.'
Nunan's smile was grim. 'I think perhaps fire is not the tactful course.'
'Julius will be pleased.'
'Do you believe him?' Nunan stood up from Garanth's body.
'That what we faced today is just the vanguard? What's not to believe? We've seen it with our own eyes. We know the effect even a small force has on elite legionaries. We need that Sirranean powder to be as good as they hinted it was.'
'Where is it?'
'Gesteris took it back to Estorr for analysis.'
'Then someone should get back there and get some.'
Roberto sighed. 'Pavel, we just need to get as many as we can up this crag and away. Gorian's coming and until we can bring the Ascendants and any new weapons into play, I have to agree with our erstwhile friend here. Who will stand against him?'
Nunan's gaze snapped back down to Garanth's body.
'Something wrong?' asked Roberto.
‘I could have sworn I saw his eyelids flicker.'
Kessian's head was pounding. It was late in the afternoon and he had only just been allowed to rest. Gorian had called it a great victory, with more to come, but the songs that the Tsardon warriors had sung on the ice fields of Kark were absent here. He knew it was a different army and everything, but all the ones he'd seen looked unhappy. None more so than the prince. Gorian said it was because they hadn't had the chance to use their swords, and Kessian didn't really understand that. He thought they'd be pleased they hadn't had to risk their lives.
Kessian lay in the large room he shared with Gorian. Most of the Tsardon soldiers were outside and the very few most recent dead Gorian had brought back were standing outside too. Kessian had kept them on their feet. That was easy. But no one thanked him for it. And now he was tired. The storms Gorian had created and made him sample had been so painful inside. He knew he had a lot to learn. Gorian had promised to show him.
But right now, Gorian was sleeping across the other side of the room and none of the shouts echoing in the castle would wake him. Kessian couldn't sleep. He found himself sitting by Gorian and staring down at his face. He had hated him when they left Kark. Hated him for humiliating him by throwing him in the water and making him walk with the dead.
Gorian had changed, though, when the sun had begun to warm them. Got so much more friendly and helpful. Happy, even. And Kessian had learned a lot by having to walk with the dead. None of those ones were here now. They'd all been left behind on the Atreskan border with three of the Dead Lords and two of the Gor-Karkulas. Some of them had gone back to the earth and the embrace of God. Gorian had said their work was done but Kessian thought it more likely the smell had got too bad. The worst hadn't been able to grip swords any more and the rot in their skin made them very weak.
Kessian wondered what had happened in Atreska by now. He wasn't quite sure why Gorian had made them go so far north. It was a very long way round to Estorr. But Gorian had wanted to come here, and so he did. Not even the King had made him change his mind and from what he had heard, the King had wanted him to travel through Atreska with the royal party. That left Gorian always arguing with
Rhyn-Khur. There were lots of questions he wanted to ask but Gorian wouldn't wake for a while.
There was something odd about his father's look today. Some discoloration on his skin. Like bruising, only a little green. It was on his neck and temples and a little bit in his cheeks. Kessian reached out a hand to touch it and recoiled. It was hard, like fired clay.
Gorian's eyes opened. Every colour of the rainbow swam across his eyes, settling on a calm pale grey. He smiled.
'You should be sleeping,' he said. 'You worked very hard last night.'
'I'm not tired,' said Kessian, yawning.
'Really? Well, it doesn't matter. Too excited, I expect. See how easy it is to win?'
'I suppose. But not everyone is happy.'
'I can't help that,' said Gorian, sitting up. 'But they'll see.'
The door to the room opened and in came Rhyn-Khur, flanked by four guards. He didn't look happy at all. Kessian sprang up and stood to attention. Gorian just rubbed his eyes.
'Lucky we were both already awake. Are we not worthy of rest despite what we have achieved for you today?'
The prince marched to the centre of the room where he stopped. His men spread out, hands on their sword pommels like always when he was with Gorian.
'You will stand before your prince until you are given leave to sit,' he said.
'I have earned my rest just as I should have earned your respect,' said Gorian. 'Are we not beyond such posturing?'
'You will stand and pay me the respect I demand,' said Rhyn-Khur quietly. 'You forget that you are my father's subject. You swore your allegiance to my family.'
Kessian tried to shrink away but there was nowhere to go. Rhyn-Khur and Gorian stared at each other. The guards fingered their swords hilts. It was like they were waiting for a reason to draw them. After an age, Gorian shook his head, blew out his cheeks and stood.
'If it makes you feel better,' he said.
'At least, now we may speak as equals. Your assumption of superiority is not one I will bear.'
Gorian smiled. 'And now, may I sit?' 'Now we may all sit,' said the prince.
He snapped his fingers and one of his guards brought across a chair.
He sat down and waved Gorian and Kessian to do the same. He smoothed his robes, finespun wool woven with gold braid. His guards stood behind him, fierce-looking men, scarred from battle and wearing the metal helm and brown cloak of the king's royal elite.
it remains as it did when you walked in, an honour to sit in your presence,' said Gorian.
'You think too much of your position,' said the prince. 'Every man in my army knows you are but one man. Storms and walking dead will not save you from a knife in the night.'
'Oh, my Prince, your father and I got over this a long time ago. We should be friends. We even share the same age.'
Rhyn-Khur ignored what he said. Kessian felt scared. Why it had to be like this every time they spoke, he didn't understand. He thought they ought to be friends too. It would make things much easier.
'You denied my army battle and victory,' said Rhyn-Khur. 'Again. I thought my father had made himself clear in Kark. A Tsardon warrior needs blood on his blade or he fee
ls his steps are wasted. We were ready to drive them away ftom their dead, scatter them and bolster your foul force. We had a plan.'
'We've been over this already today and anyway, I saw a better one.'
Rhyn-Khur's face darkened, ‘I do not agree.'
'What do you mean? It was plainly better.' Gorian stared at him as if he was simple. Kessian sat on his hands to stop them shaking. 'We have forced them into a trap. We can harvest them at will. You won't have to lose a man.'
'You undermined me.' The prince's voice was hard like concrete. 'My men are looking at me like I am no longer in command.'
'That was not my intention.'
'No?' Rhyn-Khur pushed himself up from his chair and loomed over Gorian. 'You strut around here puffed up by your importance and make enemies everywhere you tread. You are pushing me, Gorian Westfallen. And I will be pushed no further. You have not deigned even to report on the advances in Atreska and Gestern. You seek to weaken me by keeping information from me.'
‘I merely needed to sleep, my Lord. If I am to march to glory in Estorr, I need my rest.'
Rhyn-Khur raised his eyebrows. 'You? You march to glory? Well, well, well.'
'Words meant to encompass us all,' said Gorian. Kessian could see the frustration boiling within his father. 'We must make the best use of our resources. Your soldiers should be kept for the final battles.'
Rhyn-Khur put a finger to his own chest and barked his words. 'I. I will decide how our resources are used. I will decide when and where my men are entered into combat. I will choose the manner and place of our battles to come. And you. You will do nothing without my express consent. Or you will die, and your son will become my servant and speaker for the dead.'
'And as I fall, so will your chance of breaking the Conquord. Back away, Rhyn, you cannot afford for me to die. This war will be won through fear. Fear of my dead. You know it, I know it. So does your father.'
The prince glanced back at the impassive faces of his guards and gestured towards them.
'I know this. I know that every man of Tsard here is loyal to me and me alone. I know that out there, my warriors do not feel invested. They feel unsettled and I have sympathy for them. They question whether Tsard is being supported by you or supporting you and the dead. To believe, they must know they are the authority. That I am the authority. I stand on Conquord soil. You have done the hardest job for Tsard here, and in Atreska and in Gestern. No, no, say nothing. I know we have triumphed there because your smug ego would have cracked if we had not.
'I suffered you this far but I think you should ask yourself this. Who is it that needs who? And what will I do if my men begin to openly speak against you?'
'They all know I am in command because he does not trust you.'
Rhyn reached for a blade. His men clutched hilts tighter.
'That is a lie you will pay for, Westfallen.'
'You cannot scare me, Rhyn-Khur. For all your words you will not throw away your principal weapon. I will concede that we need each other. I will seek to keep it that way for as long as I possibly can.'
'You are not in sole command and you will not use your Works again until I give you leave. You are one pace from death, Westfallen.'
'And you one pace from failure in the eyes of your father. Now please go. I have to regain my strength or your invasion of the few against the many will fail.' Gorian leaned forward. 'And we do both know that. Don't we?'
'I mean what I say.'
'So you are fond of repeating,' said Gorian. Rhyn-Khur turned to go. 'My Prince? Enjoy the wine tonight. I understand it to be the end of a fine vintage. And don't worry. Tomorrow, you'll be looking on the world with entirely new eyes.'
The prince scowled and left.
'Will you let him attack tomorrow, Father?' asked Kessian.
'In a manner of speaking,' said Gorian. He smiled broadly and placed a hand on Kessian's shoulder, dropping to his haunches in front of him. 'Now I want you to go to sleep. We have a great deal to weary us tomorrow and every day until we each Estorr.'
Kessian felt a thrill of excitement. 'Estorr?'
'Just like I promised you. Didn't I promise you we'd be going to Estorr? We'll be staying here a while but you'll be seeing your mother as soon as I can make it happen.'
Kessian sucked back a sob. 'Thank you, Father, thank you.'
'I told you to trust me. And I haven't lied to you once, have I?'
'No. I'm sorry I doubted you.'
'Your journey is almost complete. But go to sleep now or every other pace will be more difficult.'
Kessian hurried across to his bed, thoughts of his mother, his friends and his sailing boat crowding his mind.
'What are you going to do?' he asked Gorian as he slipped under the blanket.
'I'll show you in the morning. Don't worry, I'll wake you.' Kessian closed his eyes and slept amidst the comfort of his memories.
General Davarov sat in a high tower in the royal castle of Haroq City and gazed out beyond the city walls to the east and Tsard. And he could not believe his memories nor the sight that was approaching deliberately and inexorably. Each time he looked through the magnifier he shuddered and rubbed at the wound on his shoulder. He'd been the only one standing in the face of them when he'd received it. And had it not been for some of his loyals determining to rescue him he would be just like those in the vanguard of the invasion force marching through Atreska.
Davarov had sent messages back to Estorr. Rumours were already reaching him of huge defeats in Gestern. Atreska once again was a battleground and the only solace was that it would not be one for long. The Tsardon had no interest in occupation. But there was tragedy in that. Because they would fight and kill every Atreskan or Conquord man they could on the way because that was how they would grow their army.
Davarov shook his head. Megan Hanev, his Marshal Defender, was at the Solastro Palace. He was the de facto ruler in her absence. And in less than a day, the forces he had assembled along the border had been humiliated. Slaughtered on one wing and routed into the hunting lands and the central forests on the centre and remaining wing.
The thought that he had never seen anything like it and could never have hoped to defend against it was of no comfort whatever. The notion that he was more scared of this than he had been of overwhelming Tsardon odds ten years before was one he faced with no shame.
He had no idea what to do, barring what was already done. They weren't coming to Haroq City. They were marching a little way to the north and would skirt the capital of Atreska unless attacked.
And Davarov knew he should attack.
'But what would be the point?' he asked.
'Of what, General?' asked his Master of Horse, Cartoganev, looking away from the magnifier. A man who had eschewed the opportunity to command, preferring to keep to the saddle.
'Of attacking them,' he said, gesturing out of the window. 'It is like fighting a flood by pouring water into the river. We get weaker, they get stronger.'
'But we would not be giving up.'
'No, we would not.'
'And there are thousands of Tsardon who I presume do not want to join the walking dead either,' said Cartoganev.
'But we can even the odds by merely keeping our distance. Or at least, not worsen them. I do not know what to do. I am unworthy of command.'
'Nothing is unworthy about you, barring that statement,' said Cartoganev. 'But within it lies a tactic' 'Go on.'
'We have been watching them, those of us who can bear it, from as close as we dare. They may walk, these dead, and they may fight unless we remove their capacity to do so. But in a most important way, they are clearly still dead. They decay. Every day, they get weaker. It is a slow process but it is definitely happening. We can clear a path for them. Ensure they meet no resistance. And we can try and find the one at the centre of the abomination.'
'I already know who that is. The air on the battlefield stank of rogue Ascendant.'
'Yes, but where is he? Remove him and
you take the head from the monster.'
'But one day we must fight or this small army will march uncontested to the gates of Estorr.'
'And every day, we gather strength to place in their path when that day comes. Think, General. Today we are fractured, in twenty days we might not be.'
Davarov smiled at last. 'Aye, and in twenty days, we can have tactics and weapons to combat them. All right, let's get messages to anyone ahead of them north to Gosland, south to Gestern and let's you and I take our legions west ahead of them. We'll do it your way, Master Cartoganev, or we'll perish in the trying.'
Cartoganev nodded.
'One thing.'
'Yes, General?'
'I will not become one of them. If I fall, I want my body burned if it cannot be dismembered. Do I make myself clear?'
The cavalryman sucked on his top lip, frowning. 'Burning? My General, do you know what you're saying?'
'That I would rather end my cycle of life forever than walk against my friends as one of the dead? Yes, I think you could say that I do. Well?'
'Orders are orders,' said Cartoganev. 'Yes. Indeed they are.'
Chapter Twenty-Nine
859th cycle of God, 36th day of Genasrise
Nunan's extraordinarii had formed a ring around the base of the crag path. Thirty of them prepared to keep back as many legionaries as they needed to. A case of naphtha stood behind them out of sight but Nunan had authorised its use if the anger turned to riot. Kell and the cavalry were on horseback and had formed a line in front of them. Down the slope on the front lines, multiple fires burned, to throw the crag base into as much shadow as possible to hide the ascent of the fortunate.
What had begun peacefully as a tap on the shoulder following discussions with centurions had been slowly unpicking as the import of not being chosen sank home in the chill hours of night. Entreaties and desperate pleas had to be ignored. Every man and woman had people who would miss them should they not survive the break-out. But it didn't dampen the personal feelings of betrayal and Nunan was beginning to fear a total breakdown of order. Swords were not as yet unsheathed but the numbers breaking off from their duties on the pickets and in the trees as defence were worrying.
A Shout for the Dead Page 29
