I waited until I was close enough that I wouldn't have to raise my voice before speaking. “Shield that fire. Then take your positions. Keep things as quiet as you can. No questions,” I added as one of the men opened his mouth to speak. Without a pause I moved on. “Get boxes or bales from the walls and get this fire shielded. Don't wake anyone you don't need to.”
A figure detached itself from another group and drifted my way, speeding up a bit when he saw that the men I'd talked to were moving. I recognized Tal Ephalan by his size; waving him forward I continued to the next nearest fire. No one awake here, so I kicked a man at random. He grunted and rolled onto his back to look up at me, then started and sat up.
“Wake the men here but keep things calm and quiet. Douse that fire and get to your positions.”
He was moving before I finished speaking. I didn't wait.
“What is it?” Tal Ephalan showed not a hint of agitation in voice or posture as he fell in beside me on route to the next fire.
Four to go I thought. “Get people awake. Douse or shield the fires. I want the men's eyes adjusted to the dark.”
“You expect an attack?”
I nodded. “If not we will call it an exercise. I want to see how fast and well the men react in any case and make a few adjustments to their orders. I can already see there is too much light here; if the boys on the roofs or the men on the barricades look here, as they are bound to do, they'll not see a damn thing when they look back into the night. Details, Ephalan, details that will get them killed if we don't do something about it. Get things moving, but quietly and calmly. I'll catch up to you later.” We were close to the next fire before I was done talking and two men had moved to meet us. They were Jek and Pradas, looking tired but alert; they took in Tal Ephalan as he moved purposefully away from me, then turned their attention my way as we met on the edge between light and shadow. The light on their faces dimmed as the fire behind me was shielded, their forms now outlined by the brightness of the fire behind them. Behind me I could hear people coming awake, voices raised and hushed, and most importantly, the sounds of people moving.
“Wake people. Get the fires down to nothing or well shielded, as you see fit, it's ruining your night vision. Then get your men to your positions. Keep things quiet and keep everyone calm.”
Jek nodded and turned away without a word, moving to the nearest sleeping man and shaking him awake. After a moment's hesitation, Pradas moved away purposefully.
Good, I thought, looking around. Now what? I knew what I expected, more or less. Now I needed to decide what I wanted to happen if we were attacked. Do as much damage to them as possible, of course, and at as low a price as could be managed. I headed toward the barricade where we had first entered the compound, thinking furiously, imagining the attack I expected and making it as bad as it could be, then picturing our response. By the time I got where I was heading I had a plan that was far better than how I had previously left things; just man the barricades with men and the roofs with boys with bows. It would never have served. Not even for one night. Not even if we were lucky and rumor did not spread faster than fire.
#
Tal Ephalan was looking at me askance again. “Hush,” I said. “Listen. Watch. Wait.”
He shrugged and turned back to the night.
We stood together on the roof of the warehouse closest to the town. I'd ordered some of the fires left shielded so that I could have light when I wanted it, if it was needed, as well as to protect the night vision of my men. Here, we wouldn't be silhouetted for any enemy to see, no bright blaze behind us. I took a look behind me, one more time, just to be sure, even though I had checked the job done and rechecked that and every other order over the last hour and more.
I'd issued new orders. If they carried planks to cross the barricade, let them cross. Move back just as they reach it and join the main groups. Let them come and fill the gap between the warehouses. Listen for the command, then fill the far end and hold them hard. The other two barricades were also lightly defended and I had placed a large reserve in the courtyard, well out of sight of any attacker. Wherever an enemy attacked would be swiftly and well reinforced. I didn't expect the first line to hold well, and I wanted it that way; let the line bulge, just so long as there were more men coming to lengthen and strengthen it. You can't kill them if you can't reach them.
If they came.
I'd let the men stand for another hour. I'd already passed the word that it was an exercise, but that the new positions were to be standard practice.
Would there be any oathbreakers in my command? Any who were agents of the enemy? Doubts and fears chased each other through my mind. How would the men do? Tal had some experience, his men were warriors fit to raid or chase bandits; but the rest were inexperienced and might break and run, or just die; how well would they hold? I had placed Dubaku close to the reserves with instruction to give aid where he could, but would it be enough? What could Hathen Elt bring to his people in the way of magical support? What spirits did he command? Would he lead his men or keep his distance and leave that task to another? Would Dubaku be tied up in countering his magic? Could he counter spirit magic? I fretted away an hour thinking of all the things that could go wrong with the plans I'd laid and explained and had repeated back to me by the commanders more than once, to be sure they were clearly understood, and then had them explained to the men so that they all knew what was expected of them. I wished Sapphire were here. I wished Meran and my maniple would march up and make things more clear cut. No one came.
I could feel fatigue stealing over me, making my eyes gritty and heavy with the desire to close, to rest. It was almost time to get some of them sleeping while the rest watched. If a threat didn't manifest itself soon I'd stand the men down; there was still much to do from dawn the next day and the chance of conflict would remain high. I wavered. Should I let it go? Admit I was wrong, that the enemy hadn't heard of what we did here, or didn't care as much as he should, or wasn't able to mount an attack? My bed was calling me and I was on the verge of giving in to the temptation.
And then they came; like smoke, drifting shadows in the dark, hints of movement that I wouldn't have seen if there had been a fire near enough to take the edge off my vision. They were moving slow and quiet, but not slow and quiet enough; just a hint of movement in the dark, sighs of sounds. They were as unpractised as my own men, not taking things seriously enough; a scrape of wood against metal betrayed them, a hissed reprimand. They were coming, and I was going to hurt them.
I was far from confident of a decisive victory but any victory at this stage would be perfect; and for them a defeat, any defeat, would be a major blow, would make it that much harder to bring them to battle again.
I slowly bent my knees and sank down so that I was certainly shielded by the roof's edge from their view. I turned slowly and duck-walked with great care the few paces I'd already established would take me out of an enemy's view when I stood. The boys were watching me, pale faces barely visible in the shadow from the low light of the shielded fires. Still I could see that they were nervous, sweating, pale and wide eyed.
I came close to their leader, kept my voice low. “Don't answer, just nod. You understand your orders?”
He nodded.
“When they are in the gap, don't hesitate to put arrows in them,” I felt his hair move against my face as he nodded again. “Don't think about it. Just do it. Then javelins if you run out of arrows, then darts. Just keep pouring fire into them for as long as they are in the gap. Understand?”
He nodded again.
“Then stop. Your job will be done when there is no one in the gap. And the last thing?” He hesitated. “Remember it, lad, it's important, just whisper it too me.”
He twitched, remembering; his whisper was fierce with excitement.“If they fire on us, get down and if they use ladders to get up here here, then we get down from here, into the compound.”
“Good lad. Stay calm. Protect your people.” On
e more nod and then I moved on, heading for the stairway that led down into the warehouse.
Thank fate for flat roofs, for the low rainfall and little snow that made them a viable option, that here the builders had not used thatch and a sloped roof. There was plenty of room; they wouldn't be in each other's way. If the roofs here had been sloped I would have put the boys in the compound, firing over the heads of their kin, wasting arrows in the dark and risking the careless or panicked release that would put an arrow in the back of one of their own.
I had wanted to get the boy to repeat back his instructions one more time, just to be sure, but I didn't have time for more. The enemy were coming and there were other men to talk to, to steady and prepare as best I could. Tal Ephalan hadn't waited for me and I picked up my pace a bit, heading for the small room that shielded the top of the stairwell from the weather.
I worried about the youngsters. I knew that the enemy would likely have bows and some men who could use them. Firing into the gap between the walls wouldn't do them much good, and the men down there had armor and shields. These lads had nothing. I didn't want to lose any of them; the women wouldn't stand for it; their men, maybe they would take it, knowing they stood to defend their lives and homes and families, but their boys? Not their boys. I needed the women as much as the men and if the women turned against me the men would be half a step behind.
I let the matter rest; I'd done what I could in the time and would do better later, with luck.
The tight stairway down would have been hell to negotiate in the dark; I'd allowed a couple of well shielded lanterns as a concession to necessity. The faintest easing of the pitch dark illuminated a small patch a couple of paces away from the doorway into the stairwell. It had taken what seemed like an age before I was satisfied that nothing would show from the ground. Still, I took the stone stairs with care. A misstep with wet and muddy boots would lead to a fall that would spook the enemy, make them hesitate, make them think again. I didn't want that.
The interior of the warehouse was also sparsely lit, just enough for me to pick out the passages but not enough for me to see what it was I stumbled over, coming down on both knees and sliding off something bulky and swathed in cold metal. The impact threw my head forward, sudden light flashed and a hollow sounded echoed through my skull. I heard myself moan as ice seemed to run through my veins and I tried to crawl away on limbs that were shaky and cold. The hollow sound rang out again and the rest of the world went away.
#
The light was so bright it hurt, twin daggers piercing my eyes; that pain in stark contrast to the evenly paced throbbing in my head that threatened nausea.
I attempted to get to my feet but the world spun violently when I tried to manoeuvre limbs that twitched weakly and felt three times the right size; the combined confusion of motion left me on my hands and knees, vomiting violently and believing that my head would explode. The pressure in my head was enormous, pushing behind my eyes so that I knew they were bulging out of my head. Sounds were confusing. Over the atonal metallic drumming, there were too many other sounds and their temperatures varied too much to make sense of them; hot laughter, freezing screams, and tepid sobbing that tasted of vinegar.
I forced my eyelids down over my too-large eyes and squinted at the ground, trying to make sense of it. Blood and vomit pooled in mud.
“What happened?” The words scoured my throat. I couldn't think where I was. I couldn't remember anything that might help me guess.
I crawled backwards, away from the stink and sight of the blood. Not recognizing it was mine. My feet bumped into something soft and a high pitched curse and ineffectual blows batted against my calves and thighs. I tried to turn around as the beating dissolved into hysterical sobbing and a mad scrabble of movement. The attempt made me dizzy and I stopped and tried the other way. Words were spoken nearby, and shouted, and screamed at me. Too many and I could make no sense out of any of them. I focused for a moment on what was important; a string of bloody snot slowly extending down to the ground, some of the blood had clotted and the snot was grey. Puke. Had I gotten puking drunk? Was this a hangover? And blood. I must have fallen, drunk in the street. I looked at my four hands, pressed into the mud, and wondered why no one was helping me to my feet. I never drank alone. That was for sad people.
With great deliberation, I cleared my throat and spat.
The light was too bright. I closed my eyes but that made the nausea worse. Dry heaving would kill me. I wished something would. I tried to get to my feet but the world spun thrice and threw me violently to the ground.
I lay on my back and cried. Hot tears dripping down my cheeks and into my eyes.
“What happened?” My voice broke on the words.
I was whimpering every time I breathed out. Breathing took over my world and everything else went away suddenly and then rushed back. My stomach rebelled at the sudden movement; I twisted onto my side as my belly heaved, doubling the pain in my head, and when the fit subsided I was left weak and shaking and cold, curled into a ball with puke on my arms and hands.
The shadow didn't make much difference to the pain. Two men were leaning over me. I didn't recognize either of them. They spoke, lips moving in synchronized whispers that felt like a hot brand close to my face.
“My father was a fool to trust a drunk to bring his daughters safely home. I expect you have spent most of your days crawling in your own vomit. Watching you drink all damn day long made me sick that I had even thought to trust you. Well, that thought soon passed.”
“What happened?” I looked from one to the other, searching for sense and meaning in the noises he was making and finding nothing.
“I hit you on the head. Twice. Hard. I expect it hurts. It certainly looks like it hurts. But don't worry, I expect Hathen Elt will take the pain away soon enough; then you can stagger around as a corpse warning everyone of the consequences of opposition, like my father now does.”
The light hurt my eyes. There was pain. I was crying and I couldn't think why. Where was I? “What happened?”
“I betrayed you after your drunken foolishness betrayed me! He has my wife and children as well, Sumto. How old am I? Didn't you think to ask what hold he had over me? My sisters I might risk to your feeble efforts, yes, but my children? My wife? Never!”
I tried to close my eyes from the glare but my eyeballs seemed too large and dry to force the lids over. It was frightening. I tried to move away from the light, rolling onto my side so that I was face down in the dirt. It didn't help. Slowly, twitching arms that moved unwillingly, I again curled into a ball. Maybe if I got small the pain would get smaller too. A solid kick in the side rolled me onto my side. I gasped and whined with the pain and confusion that seemed to come from everywhere, pressing into my head from all sides.
The two men were back, looking up at me from where I hung over a pale sky, feeling as though I might fall at any moment. “I told the people that your maniple was a fantasy. They are at Darklake and Duprane will have crushed them by now, aided by the army of Alendi that Ishal Laharek long since ordered to find and follow the men he knew you must have at your back. They walked into a trap. They are all dead, do you hear me? All your clients, all your men are dead. Except me and I was never your man. I broke no oath. You have been out-thought every step of the way, you and all your kind. The city will fall and a true empire will take its place. One that is not afraid to rule.”
“And what of freedom?” It was our guiding principle, our golden rule, the very heart of who we are and what we do, and I had to say it.
“Freedom? You fool, what freedom is there? There is no freedom for anybody. You have to exist somewhere, in some society of some sort, in some context. Try living anywhere and being just you, living as you choose and being only yourself and saying only what you think is true. There is no freedom, we are all slaves, there is only slavery of one sort or another. The only choice is what kind of slavery you will accept, what form of slavery you can live with!”
The world went white then. I think he struck me. “There is no freedom for anybody, ever!”
It was too bright. The noises the men made too confusing, too hot. I manoeuvred one arm to cover my eyes. The muscles felt wrong, full of an odd tingling that washed in waves of discomfort up and down the length of my arm. I continued the movement, rolling slowly to one side and then getting my hands and knees under me. I'd stand up in a moment. Find out where I was and what had happened.
“You haven't heard a word, have you? How pathetic you are. To think I almost threw myself behind your leadership, almost betrayed my benefactors. Well, I'm glad I brought you down, Sumto. Hear me? I will be a King and I'll have you as part of my court in Darklake, a stark warning to my subjects of what happens to those who oppose me. I'll have you kneel before me every day to show my subjects that I am your master and that the feared Lurians can and will be brought low.”
I started crawling. Maybe I could find something to climb up and get myself to my feet. It would all be better when I was standing. I crawled through something warm, wet and sticky. It seemed to take a long time to get anywhere. I wondered what those men had been saying to me. I wondered why they hadn't helped me to my feet. I never drink alone. Meran should be here to help me home.
#
Looking at the confusion around me, I tried to think of a reason to move and couldn't think of a single one. It was cool here and something solid supported my back and pressed gently against my arm. I had to concentrate to keep my head from wobbling on a neck that seemed too weak and brittle to hold it up. I found that turning my head slowly from left to right seemed to help. It was a gesture of denial but I couldn't remember what it was that I was saying no to. Something. A slow and constant no, no, no, as my head throbbed with an all consuming pain.
The Key To The Grave (#2 The Price Of Freedom) Page 22
