Efficient, deliberate moves. Not quite natural, still a puppet. Gorian smiled.
'Enjoy your new life, my Prince,' he said. 'It is the one ordained for you from the moment you joined me.'
He turned to the door back into the ante-chamber.
'Lord Runok!' The dull-witted, tattooed monstrosity walked in. Lord Tydiol followed him. 'Your army awaits you. They will be outside presently.'
'It is my honour to lead them,' said Runok. 'Will a Karkulas hold their key?'
'When it is practicable. Lord Tydiol, soon is the time to create yours.' Gorian began to walk to the door, suddenly desperate to feel fresh air on his face. 'Up there on the road and at the crag. Enough have escaped us while I was resting. It is time the rest fell into line, don't you agree?'
Chapter Thirty
859th cycle of God, 36th day of Genasrise
'He's in no pain,' said Dahnishev.
'No, that's what I'm in,' said Roberto. 'Del Aglios, that is not like you.'
Dawn was close. Hundreds had escaped up the crag path. Others waited and wondered if they would get their chance. Their comrades watched for the first signs the Tsardon had seen them. The cavalry was ready to move. All had their instructions.
Moving among the sick and dying, Dahnishev and his medics with triarii swordsmen were conducting the awful task of putting to death those who had no chance of escape. The sick sound of butchery - of legs to stop them walking, of heads so they were not forced to see as living dead - had punctuated the night in the triage centre. Only a handful were left. The begging of those who felt they deserved a chance when they did not have one would remain in the memories of survivors forever.
'Perhaps it isn't,' said Roberto, cooling his brother's forehead with a wet cloth. 'But I have sat in here or stood outside and searched myself and all I have done; and I find that I am to blame. No matter what you say, I was in charge of the army that Gorian rode in and it was me who allowed himself to be persuaded that Gorian should live. Dear God-forgive-me, Dahnishev, what have I done?'
'Showed mercy, Roberto. Demonstrated you are human, aye and fallible.'
'Others' mistakes do not lead to their brother's deaths. Nor to the toppling of their Conquord.'
There was a burning guilt inside Roberto that he had no desire to quell. Every heartbeat, events of his life played out before his unwilling eyes and every single one was shown to be a waste, because of his actions in that marching camp ten years ago. They had been moving relentlessly towards this doom and their eyes had been firmly shut.
'There is no sense in this bitterness, Roberto,' said Dahnishev quietly.
'What else is left, old friend?'
'Don't make me angry, Roberto. I share your pain but not your hopelessness. What is left is to show that the Conquord will not fall. That you will unite all who are left and strike back victorious.'
Roberto shook his head. 'The future is lying here, though. And it is dying. He is dying. I'm so sorry, Adranis.'
Dahnishev grabbed Roberto's face and turned it to look in his own.
‘I won't hear this, Roberto. And I won't have my legion hear it. We need you. Don't let it go. Not now. You didn't give up before and I will die before I let you give up this time. I trust I make myself clear.'
'What are you? My father? Who the hell are you to tell me how to act and feel?'
Dahnishev nodded and withdrew. He stood and walked across the tent to tinker with his instruments, placing them in their leather cases ready for the climb.
'I'm sorry, Dahnishev. That was uncalled for. Forgive me.'
'Time you did what you are here to do, Roberto,' said Dahnishev gruffly. 'The drink you gave him will stop his heart presently. Are you sure you don't want someone else to do it?'
'That would be the final betrayal, wouldn't it? He's my brother.'
Another nod from the old surgeon. 'I'll be outside.'
Roberto watched him go.
'Just you and me now, little brother.' Tears began to fall unchecked down his cheeks. He put a hand inside Adranis's shirt to feel his heartbeat. It was weak and irregular. 'Why did you have to fall, Adranis? It should have been me making the journey first to God's embrace. I should have been there to welcome you. The Omniscient will hold you close.'
Adranis's heart stopped beating. Roberto scooped up his body and held him close, sobbing into his shoulder.
'Goodbye, my brother. The Conquord will weep for you but none so hard as me.'
Roberto clung on for what felt an age. So warm, the body of his brother. So recent, the life departed. And so wrong, what had to be done. Reluctantly, he laid Adranis on his bed and stood back. The axe lay on the ground near him, atop the boards that had to go beneath Adranis's neck and knees.
Roberto stooped to pick up the boards. He lifted up Adranis's head and slipped one board in; raised his legs and placed the other. He stared down at the axe and bitter bile flooded his mouth.
'That it should come to this,' he whispered. 'Gorian Westfallen, I swear on the name of Del Aglios that you will pay for all that you have wrought.'
Roberto knelt to the axe, kissed its blade, prayed for the sharpness of its edge and hefted it in both hands. He stood, shaking, and turned to his brother one last time.
'Forgive me.'
Roberto swung the axe.
Dina Kell heard Roberto's cries of despair. Many among the charnel that had once been the triage area did too. She found she didn't care if the sound of this most appalling of nights had carried to the Tsardon and alerted them in any way. Indeed she wanted them to hear the depths to which Gorian had forced the Estoreans.
She wished now that they had fled this morning before dawn. But she knew there had been no decision possible other than to stay with their injured and try to find a way out. Nunan had done his best, she knew, but it would never be good enough in the eyes of the infantry. So many were dead, butchered and being laid in the mass graves. Side by side and on top of one another. There had been no time or manpower for anything else. Julius Barias was yet more enraged, if that was possible. He hadn't volunteered to stay with those defenders who were to be left behind to run however.
Light was growing though it wasn't yet dawn. At any moment, the Tsardon would see the escape and rush to overwhelm it. They wouldn't find a single Bear Claw standing in their way. The legion had been pulled back as soon as they had fuelled the fires to hide their movements in the deep shadow behind the glare.
Perhaps they could have made the break out in the dead of night but that would have meant fewer getting away up the crag and more risking death at the hands of the Tsardon. Death that would mean hideous new life under Gorian's control. Whichever way you eyed it, the decisions had condemned hundreds to death. She, Nunan and Del Aglios would all have to live with that.
The plan was to ride hard down the cragside and back onto the road where the Tsardon had placed significant defence. They wouldn't expect an all-out assault and should be easily broken. But it was the aftermath that Kell worried about. An army six thousand strong chasing them to Estorr. They would be fast, full of the joy of victory and with the scent of the hunt in their nostrils. She would be leading a few hundred at best. Broken-willed, desolate, beaten.
The only thing that would drive them on would be the desire not to become one of the walking dead. The trouble was of course that the dead would not stop at night. They surely didn't need rest. Kell hoped Roberto had been wrong in that assessment but she didn't think so.
The man himself emerged into the pre-dawn light and the embrace of Surgeon Dahnishev. She saw Dahnishev speak words and Roberto shake his head. Dahnishev nodded to two triarii and the men disappeared inside the tent, appearing shortly afterwards with Adranis's butchered corpse in a blood-soaked blanket. Roberto touched it briefly and laid a sheathed dagger on it before the triarii walked away to the grave.
Kell felt compelled to offer support and walked over. The two men stood silent, side by side. Roberto's eyes shone wet and he was staring away
from the grave area and down the slope towards the castle.
'It's dark down there,' he said before she could speak. 'Odd that there is no light or fire glow above the castle.'
His voice was flat but bless the man, he was still thinking straight about their plight.
'Perhaps we'll have more time to get our people away,' she said.
Roberto looked at her as if noticing her for the first time.
'We cannot afford such hope,' he said. 'And you should be by your horse and with your cavalry. Dawn is close.'
'We must get as many away as we can. Are you ready?'
'Yes, Ambassador. But part of my duty is to see you and Pavel on the path up the crag.'
'And you know we have to wait until the Tsardon begin to attack,' said Roberto. He managed a smile. 'After all, the captain is the last man to leave the sinking ship.'
'And so Pavel will be last man up the path. But you are heir to the Advocacy and we have a responsibility to your safety.'
'I've been trying to tell him the same thing,' said Dahnishev.
'So I respectfully request you move to the path now,' said Kell. 'Until you do, I cannot go to my horse.'
Roberto held up his hands. 'AH right. All right. But one thing, Dina. You know what you're doing. Every triarii running in your wake knows what to expect. Do not turn round and try to buy the infantry time. We need you and we need your cavalry. You are the ones getting messages south. Information is going to be more valuable than any coin in the Exchequer's coffer.' ,
'I hear you.'
Above the sound of the last of the legion moving into position, Kell became aware of a rumble in the air. She glanced up but the sky was clear. Roberto had heard it too and was staring back down the slope. She thought she could hear voices too. Shouting. She tensed.
'They're coming,' she said and raised her voice to a practised bellow. 'Move, Bear Claws. Positions. Remember your orders. Go! Go!'
Legionaries began to run. Across at the gravesides, earth was being piled on the bodies by soldiers and Order ministers. Julius Barias, surprisingly, was still there blessing the dead. At the crag path, the lucky few, for whom luck was just running out, crowded onto the steep, treacherous path in tighter numbers.
'Roberto, you have to go,' said Kell. 'Or you won't make it.'
But Roberto wasn't listening to her. The grief he radiated was masked temporarily by confusion. His frown was deep and his eyes searched the downslope. Sunlight crept over the horizon, bathing much of the woodland in new light, leaving patches in heavy shadow. It was a classically beautiful genastro morning.
'There's something wrong,' he said, half to himself. 'Dahnishev, go. Take your people, go now.'
'Roberto ...'
'Just do it!'
Dahnishev started, looked quickly into Roberto's eyes and gave the order to move. Roberto chewed his lip. 'What is it?' asked Kell.
'Listen to the noise. That's not a battle cry and it's not a system of orders.'
Kell listened. All she could hear was the multiple sound of voices and what had to be running feet. 'I don't—'
'Something's wrong,' repeated Roberto. 'That's not confidence, it's fear.'
'What can they be afraid of?'
Roberto shook his head. 'I don't know. Get to your horse. I think we're running out of time a lot more quickly than we thought.'
Kell still couldn't work out what it was that had worried Roberto but there were others sharing his concern. The last of the triarii were pulling back up the slope now, heading for the break-out muster point. They were being shadowed by archers and many of them were looking back over their shoulders, hurrying their pace. But some were even walking back to see what was going on. The woodland, which had hidden their positions very well, was working against them now, obscuring their view of the road and the castle.
‘I don't—'
Kell felt her fear rising. She smelled something on the air. Indefinable. Roberto grabbed her arm. 'Dina. Run!'
Roberto shoved her away from him and made to turn away to the crag path. A series of dull thuds echoed up the slope. Debris was thrown high into the sky above the tree line, floating gently down. It looked like vegetation; leaves, branches and even tree bark. Kell's heart began rattling painfully in her chest. Now she heard what Roberto had known was beginning. There was screaming and it wasn't coming from the Bear Claws.
Every eye had turned to stare. Swords were out of scabbards, held in nervous hands. Clutches of legionaries pointed. Individuals backed away toward the crag. From high up on the crag path, people were shouting, their vantage point giving them the view denied Kell and Roberto.
‘It's Gorian,' said Roberto, it has to be.'
Chaos descended. Tsardon were running headlong up towards the crag. Not a one of them had a weapon drawn nor cared who was in front of them. Individual Bear Claw legionaries remembered years of training and began to form up where they could find comrades. People were shouting. Kell added her voice but the loudest was Roberto's. For a moment, he was the great general once more.
'Claws. Break. Double to the muster point. Break out, break out. Move!'
His words rolled over them and they reacted. The final few and Kell ran with them. She couldn't afford a glance behind to see what became of her husband and the Advocate's heir. The crag was on her left, just a few paces away, and to her right something was tearing across the ground and it lent speed to her legs. Ahead of it, Tsardon warriors ran for their lives right into the teeth of what should have been a Bear Claw fence of steel. But the Claws were running too, the cavalry ahead of them already charging. Down the slope along the side of the crag to turn left along the road and away.
Churning blackness flooded across the wooded slope faster than a man could easily run. A mist of spores or dust travelled at its crest like spray on a wave. Kell stumbled in her run but could not drag her eyes away to look where she was going. She was in the midst of a knot of legionaries, and ahead of a stream of blacksmiths, Order ministers, medics and other non-combatants responding to the order to run.
There was no discipline in it. As the black wave rolled up the hillside it became a stampede. Ahead of Kell, she could see the dust of the cavalry and hear their shouts. And she could see Tsardon too, abandoning their positions and joining the rush.
In the air back down the slope to Kell's right, a cloud of brown and black was thickening. Every few moments, more of the dull detonations could be heard, more debris thrown up into the sky. She ran harder. Screams reached her ears. Horrible sounds of terror, cut off abruptly. Panic was spreading across the whole hillside. Conquord and Tsardon ran together, allies in fear.
The blackness was gathering pace. Kell could see it clearly now. It ate up the ground and crawled up trees. Trunks rippled, branches vibrated, wood split, hurling sap, bark and leaf high into the sky and setting a rotten stink on the breeze. On the ground, Tsardon warriors were sprinting hard, desperately trying to outrun the wave. She watched it gather in a line of men, swarming up their bodies like tentacles, grabbing them and bearing them down beneath it, shrieks turning to silence. There was a rumble through the earth. Kell could feel the vibrations in her legs.
She was breathing hard. No time to urge others; this charge needed no further impetus. The wave was rushing faster and faster. She streaked along in front of the crag, seeing the darkness racing to cut her off before she reached the road which remained untouched, a haven for them all. Whatever Gorian had done, it only affected living things.
Bear Claws and Tsardon alike were turning left and disappearing from view. With every one that made it, she felt a tiny sense of satisfaction. But she could hear the popping of grass and flowers, and the thuds of splitting trees so close now. And the begging of men reduced to corpses in moments as the hideous diseased rotting cloud engulfed them.
One more glance behind her before the down slope stole her view; She wished she hadn't. Men and women fighting each other to get on to the crag path. A crowd of people reduced to anima
ls, scratching, pulling and biting to survive instead of those who had been friends as dawn broke. The wave and spore-ridden cloud washed against the crag. So many dead in an instant.
Kell dragged in a breath and focused forwards, desperate not to trip and so to die. The wave roared in her ears and hissed in her skull. Closing, closing. She forced more pace into aching legs. Screamed. Twenty yards to go. The black, roiling filth grabbed more victims, destroyed the hillside, ate everything in its path.
Ten yards. The wave cruised along the verge at the roadside. She could smell the foul stench. It stung her eyes and burned in her throat but she would not stop. Five yards. It was going to beat her to the crag base. She took another two paces and jumped, diving forwards. Beneath her, the wave splashed against the bare rock and fell back. Spores and dust kicked into the air. She held her breath. Down she came. Her hands struck gravel. She turned a forward roll across the road and slithered further, hearing her cloak rip and her armour shriek against the hard surface.
The moment she stopped moving she leapt to her feet and turned. The wave was fading. The smell was of rot, disease and death. Stagnant and fetid. She turned her head and vomited onto the road. Her heart was thrashing so hard she thought it would explode up her throat. Her body was shaking with exertion and fear. Her eyes were running with tears, trying to wash away the itching that spread across her whole face. She coughed and spat. Looked round again.
The whole hillside was gone. Dead half-trunks still stood, split open and oozing pulp. The grass was a memory. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. But it wouldn't be that way for long. She backed away. There were others on the road with her, standing and staring. Bear Claws and Tsardon alike, all thoughts of friend and foe forgotten.
Down at her feet, a Tsardon warrior was sitting nursing a gash in his left leg. His shoulders were wobbling and he looked up the slope, his mouth open, unable to believe. He turned, sensing Kell's eyes on him. There was fear in him at the sight of her but she just shook her head.
And held out her hand.
A Shout for the Dead Page 31
