Demon King

by Bunch, Chris

  I was far too wise to voice my thoughts: Suppose King Bairan and the Maisirians don’t think they’re beat at all? Suppose Jarrah doesn’t matter to them, any more than the rest of Maisir they’ve given up? There’re still thousands of leagues to the south, north, and west where no one has ever heard of Numantians. For them, has the war barely begun? Are they still confident, thinking it can still be won?

  That brought a chill, for anyone who could believe that, with their capital and hundreds of leagues of their country in enemy hands, and never a battle won, was as alien as any wizard-summoned demon.

  “Not that it matters,” Tenedos said, forcing a lighter tone. “I — We have his capital, which means we hold Maisir. We’ll invest the city tomorrow, at first light.”

  I wondered what sort of triumph that would be, but smiled, agreed, saluted, and asked to be dismissed. I should’ve busied myself preparing for the morrow, which units should march where and so forth. But I had a staff, and so I let my heart decide, something I perhaps should have done more often. I told Svalbard to find Captain Balkh and have the Lancers ready to ride in ten minutes.

  I set forth on my fool’s errand, knowing how hopeless was my dream. We rode quickly through Jarrah to the southern outskirts, then continued on into the country. It was late, getting on toward nightfall, and the misting rain grew heavier.

  There was a tiny village ahead, and Svalbard pulled his horse beside mine. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir. But would y’ do me the favor of lookin’ in my eyes?” I was astounded, especially that this came from a closemouthed old soldier like Svalbard, but I obeyed.

  “Right,” he muttered. “I guess you’re not bewitched. Though how I’d know for sure’s beyond me …” He let his horse trail back into formation. My worries vanished, my dark mood ended, and I roared laughter. This no doubt made my Red Lancers even more unsettled.

  The village was not only abandoned, but had been looted and burned to the ground as well. We rode through into deep country, then rounded a bend, and the bluff with the gloom-ridden castle of the Dalriada reared above us.

  I saw movement at the castle’s base, and we went up the curving road at the trot, weapons ready. There were sixteen men a bowshot beyond the gate, men dressed in everything from tattered Numantian uniform to woodsmen’s motley to a couple in Maisirian tunics. My archers had bows drawn and arrows nocked, when one man ran toward me, waving his arms wildly. “Wait,” he shouted. “Don’t shoot. We’re your’n's. We’re Yonge’s men.”

  Their leader managed what I’m sure he thought was a very military salute. “Scout-Major Lanbay,” he said. “With Third Hun’erd, Yonge’s skirmishers.”

  “What the hells are you doing this far from the army?”

  Lanbay shifted and looked extraordinarily uncomfortable. “Uh … we was, well, sort of trying to see what’d happened to … to things.”

  One of my men snickered.

  “You mean you were looting?”

  “Nossir.” Lanbay searched his inventory of expressions, couldn’t find one for injured innocence, and settled for rounding his eyes, which made him look like a village imbecile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing something like that. Sir. Hangin’ offense, isn’t it?”

  There was more than one laugh.

  “Set that aside, Scout-Major, but be advised you’re a truly shitty liar,” I said. “Now, what were you doing out here at Dalriada? Try the truth. It might not poison you.”

  Lanbay took a deep breath, examined my expression, remembered I’d hanged more than a few Numantian soldiers for crimes of war, and decided to do what I’d suggested. “We was afraid of bein’ in the city, sir. Didn’t know what magics c’d be waitin'. Thought we’d find some-thin’ beyond Jarrah, then mebbe work back toward our lines.”

  His men came up beside him, relieved that I evidently wasn’t going to hang them in the next minute or so. “Thought we might find somethin’ in that village back yon,” one of his men volunteered. “But it’d already been combed through an’ torched. We spied this castle. Castle’s allus got things worth takin'. But it’s defended.”

  “Irisu on a rope,” I near-shouted, and I looked for cover as I saw a line of helmeted, grim-visaged men at the battlements. I was aghast at my, and my men’s, unbelievable carelessness. My Lancers scrabbled for cover, archers fumbling arrows to bowstrings.

  “Don’t fret, sir. They ain’t attackin'. Guess there maybe ain’t enough of ‘em to muster a good defense, an’ they’re waitin’ to see what we’re doin', eh?”

  I stared up, and realized there was something wrong. One face then another somehow touched a chord in my mind. I searched for the memory, then heard the creak of machinery, and the gates slowly swung up. A slender figure wearing a soldier’s greatcoat came out.

  A woman. She came toward us, and I recognized her, and I was out of the saddle and we were both running, tears pouring from my eyes and I quite unashamed. I caught Alegria in my arms and held her for a disbelieving eternity. I guess we kissed, I don’t remember, for my heart was too full, is too full now at the recollection.

  “How …” I managed to gasp.

  Alegria, too, was crying. She managed a smile. “Aren’t I supposed to say I knew you would come to me?”

  I pulled her close again, my mind stammering thanks to Irisu, Isa, Vachan, Tanis, even Saionji — gods I knew, gods unknown — for this.

  “Would you, and your men, care to enter my castle?” Alegria said.

  I tried to shout an order, but found my throat was clogged. “We’ll go inside,” I finally said, sounding less like my army’s first tribune than like a mewling adolescent. Then I recollected. “Warn your guards, please.”

  “My guards need no warning,” Alegria said. “They know my every thought.” She giggled.

  Heedless of my men, of anything except wanting, needing, to be alone with my love in a room with an enormous bed, I numbly walked through the gates.

  “My men, sir,” she said with a curtsy. “Perhaps you remember them for being known for … other duties.” I looked up at the battlements, and snorted in shock. All of the guards I saw were dressed for battle, wearing helmets and mailed shirts. Spears were propped beside them. But all were naked from the waist down, and none turned from their watchfulness to stare curiously at us. Even more oddly, all had cocks of various sizes, each very erect.

  Then I remembered where I’d seen them — when I’d peered through a door that shouldn’t have been open, and saw them lying on cots, cocks sticking straight up, waiting for the next group of students. Then I remembered what Alegria said the Dalriada called them: hobby horses.

  “The king’s soldiers came,” Alegria said, “and said we’d all have to leave, leave Jarrah, for the evil northerners were coming, and we must not be present for their savageries. All was a scurry and a frenzy, and in it, I hid in a place I knew no one would find me. For I knew you’d be with the savages, and I had nothing to fear.

  “But I realized it might be some time before you’d come, and didn’t want to … become acquainted with any Numantian soldiers who might not listen to my story. The guards, of course, marched off with the Dalriada. But the hobby horses were still here, and since they were perpetually boasting of their manhood, I thought I’d give them a chance to prove themselves. I found weapons and armor in one of the magazines, and used kohl to give some beards and mustaches, since the artisans that built them gave them all the same face. I’d say my men did quite well for themselves, wouldn’t you?”

  But my ears were barely listening. “Alegria,” I said hoarsely, my mind swirling. “I need you. Gods but I need you. Now!”

  “You order me, sir,” she said demurely.

  • • •

  “If I’d known you were planning to come that quickly, I would’ve loved you with my mouth,” Alegria said. “And I didn’t know any man could have that much in him.”

  “That and more,” I said. “For I’ve been with no one since you.”

  “I note you’re still as hard
as any of my men on the battlements, sir, so there’s no loss.” Alegria’s light voice changed, grew throaty. “Now, come love me again, for gods but I love you.”

  Our clothes scattered about us, we lay on a throw rug in front of a fire flickering into life. Still inside her, I picked her up by the waist. She wrapped her long legs about my hips, and I carried her toward the small bed. I saw something better — a long, knee-high padded bench to one side of the tapestry-hung room — and laid her down on it, her hips just at the end.

  “You came out,” she said, in disappointment. “And I’m leaking you.”

  “Not for long,” I said, going to my knees and sliding my cock back into wetness. I moved in and out steadily, almost coming out of her at each stroke, and she moaned and moved her legs up and down along mine.

  Her gasps grew louder, and she called words, obscenities, my name. Her legs lifted to my shoulders, and I held them tightly, deep inside her, moving her thighs around and about as she screamed in release.

  • • •

  “Would it not be wonderful,” she said dreamily, “if this night gives me your child?”

  Her words brought me back to reality for an instant. “Do you want that?”

  “Certainly,” she said. “I’ve become utterly shameless, Damastes, and anything I can devise to bond me more closely to you … well, that I’ll do.”

  “You need do nothing more than what you’ve already done,” I said truthfully. “For I’m yours, for as long as you wish.”

  “How long is forever?” she whispered.

  Sometime before dawn, sanity returned, and I realized I’d had no concern for my men, or for anyone’s safety. Muttering about my stupidity, I got out of bed without waking Alegria, dragged a cloak over my shoulders, and went to a window, fearing what I might see. There was a Red Lancer pacing the nearest battlement, and down below in the courtyard, a pair of guards were walking their rounds.

  No, they hadn’t needed me, and had granted me a few hours’ comfort. I knew none would ever say a word about my malfeasance, or about the favor they’d done. I swore these men would have the finest rewards for this fine favor as soon as I was able.

  Now I think how hollow, how useless, that vow was, for all I was able to give them was pain, death, and a desolate grave far from their homelands.

  • • •

  A second bit of coherence reminded me that the emperor was entering Jarrah in a few hours, and if his first tribune wasn’t present, there’d be words said. I prodded Alegria awake, and we dressed. She already had her few possessions ready. She smiled shyly and showed me the kitten pin I’d gotten her so long ago.

  Then, Alegria behind me, we rode back to Jarrah at a hard gallop.

  • • •

  The Grand Army of Numantia’s entrance into Jarrah was less a triumph than a dirge. Long lines of shabby men strode through the dripping rain, and there were none to cheer on the sidewalks. Half of our cavalry was dismounted now, and our wagons were motley and paint-worn. Our bands’ finery was tired and bedraggled, and too many musicians had died or gone sick, so the music was thin and shrill as it echoed against the dark-eyed buildings.

  But our heads were high, and our boots crashed against the pavement in ominous rhythm. Battered we may have been, but we were still ready to fight.

  But where was the enemy?

  Tenedos’s lips were pursed, and his face flushed. “Not a candle to Numantia,” he muttered. “Bah. This city is the best they have? All that it is is big. And where the hells is King Bairan? He ought to be waiting, his colors reversed to present me with this muddy-assed bleak kingdom.

  “Very well. If there’s little to be gained by taking Jarrah, I’ll at least ensure my soldiers have the best. Domina Othman!”

  His always-present aide pulled his horse closer. “Sir?”

  “Issue the following order, and make sure it’s understood:

  “Good soldiers of Numantia, you have bled and died for long. But your sacrifice has not been in vain. I grant you the city of Jarrah. In time, it shall be renamed, a name I’ll select to reflect your glory. Now billet yourselves in its finest mansions, and rebuild your bodies with the good meat and wine your quartermasters will secure.

  “But you are forbidden to loot, on pain of death. Jarrah is to remain as fair as it is today. Guard Jarrah well, for it is yours, and it shall reflect the glory of the Numantian Army for as long as it stands.

  “That’s not bad, now is it?” Tenedos said. “And, Othman, I want every commander who receives my order to realize I mean every word. I’ll hang any man, be he private, warrant, officer, or general, who breaks my commandment.”

  And so the army invested Jarrah. Every officer had a mansion, and almost every man his own house. Streets were given new names to fit the occasion, and there was Varan Guards Avenue, First Guards Street, and so forth. City squares stabled the units’ horses, and their wagons would be parked all askew along the curbs.

  Of course there was some looting, but it was fairly circumspect, especially after Tenedos proved he was quite serious and hanged two sergeants and a captain within hours of our sad parade into the city.

  We found a few Maisirians, for not everyone had obeyed the order to abandon Jarrah. Mostly they were older people, although there were some who’d thought they could profit from emptiness or from Numantia. Some, generally the women, were proved correct, and were absorbed into the army’s camp followers.

  Soldiers bathed, and found new apparel, and silk or the softest wool was none too good for the lowliest private. And every man had a hidden pouch or even pack stuffed with real riches — at first silver, then gold, then only the choicest gems. Certain sutlers who knew a bit about stones became very popular and charged hard cash for their opinions.

  Riding the streets, or even finding a spot out of the chill wind and rain and watching the army’s antics, was well worthwhile. Here a band would be playing from a covered stand in a park, there soldiers were cleaning equipment while the best storyteller held forth. Officers strolled here and there as if we were at peace. But there were few people to be seen not in uniform, and fewer women.

  No one seemed to grudge me Alegria, however.

  Those were not the only lacks I noted. There were wine, candies, exotic teas, brandies, and jarred morsels of the rarest sort. But there was no fresh meat, or animals on the hoof, to butcher. There was no bread, only dry crackerlike loaves in sealed containers. We set up our mobile bakeries, but then we encountered another problem: There was almost no grain, either for bread or, more importantly, for fodder.

  The weather worsened as the Time of Change began and winter drew near.

  Tenedos was struck with some sort of inertia, and spent hours in King Bairan’s libraries, although what he studied no one knew. I guessed he was waiting for word from King Bairan, word of a truce, word of a surrender. But nothing came.

  I asked his plans, and he said we’d be forced to continue our pursuit of the quick-heeled Maisirians, and to chase them to the farthest sea if necessary. I suggested the army was hardly in the best shape to continue the campaign, particularly with winter coming on. He said I was being deceived by its motley appearance. Warm Maisirian clothes would do as well as Numantian uniforms, even if the ranks did look somewhat mottled. Besides, replacements were reaching us every day.

  Tenedos was right, but he hadn’t gone to the depots and seen the new men. For every hundred men who crossed the Numantian border into Maisir, fifteen would die at the hands of the bandits or the Negaret. Another eighteen would succumb to sickness. Another twenty-eight would hobble into Jarrah sick or wounded, fit only to further fill up the mansions we’d converted to hospitals.

  Word came from our rear of disaster. Bandits, partisans, who’d massed in the Kiot Marshes, crossed the Anker River secretly and attacked the garrison in Irthing. They wiped them out to the last man, and held the city for two days.

  Only by great fortune did a newly formed Guard Corps, headed by an experienced gene
ral, send scouts forward before entering the city. He attacked, and Irthing was ours once more — but that Guard Corps was forced to become the city’s garrison, instead of reinforcing our ranks.

  • • •

  Alegria straddled me on the long dining bench, tongue moving on mine as she ground against me, then gasped as I grabbed her buttocks, yanked her hard to me, and came. She collapsed, head on my shoulder, and her body throbbed around my cock. After a time, she lifted her head. “Am I heavy?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You’re just saying that to be polite.”

  “No. I like the feel of your breasts all squashed like that.”

  “What a charming way to put it.” She sat up, yawning. “I suppose we should think about sleep.”

  “We should,” I agreed. “I’ve got to get up early, and find out why those gods-damned Guards seem to think the army’s bakeries are exclusively for them. And then I’ve got the court-martial of an idiotic young captain who not only broke all regulations by challenging his domina to a duel, but had the utter bad taste to kill him as well.”

  We’d been in the middle of a very late supper, no more than a thin soup and biscuit, which should give an idea of how scarce food was becoming, when passion took us.

  She went to a window and looked out at the night. We occupied an enormous palace, which had belonged to the Maisirian rauri — commander of cavalry — and my occupying it seemed appropriate.

  “What comes next?” she said, her mood changing abruptly, something characteristic of many Maisirians.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Captain Balkh said something today about our wintering here in Jarrah, then continuing the war in the spring.”

  “I don’t see how that can be,” I said. “What will we eat? What will we feed our horses? If we remain here, all that’ll happen is we’ll grow weaker and weaker.”

  “You know, Damastes,” she said carefully. “Don’t misunderstand me for what I’m going to say. I love you, and I’ll stay with you as long as you want, do whatever you wish and go anywhere you do. But don’t think I’ll ever be a Numantian.”