Nothing but Tombs

by Tim Stead

  The column reversed unscathed. By the time the rearguard were headed away the water had stopped rising. Doubtless it had found some other outlet. They would camp that night where they’d camped the previous night and then it would be three days to Fetherhill. There was no point in speed now. It would take a couple of weeks to get back to Great Howe and points north. Any preparations the rebels were making would be long since completed.

  83 Changes

  Pascha never grew tired. It had been a Benetheon blessing, this endless stamina, and it had not deserted her. Even so she did grow tired of things, like this endless dust and the grinding pace of their advance. She could be at Raven Down in the blink of an eye, or Fetherhill, or Great Howe. The world had become very small to her, a place without roads. Now that she found herself on a road again, she decided that she disliked them. The horse that carried her moved with an irritating gait. It had been years since she’d ridden. She could have run faster than the horse, but that would have been… undignified.

  Narak would laugh at her. He didn’t care about dignity. He was right, of course. Narak was always right. It was his most annoying quality, and one of his most endearing was that he tried to hide it. Narak cared about justice – or at least his own version of it. He cared about doing the right thing, even when he did the wrong one.

  Pascha, look here.

  The voice was in her head. Callista. She followed the thread of Callista’s thought and saw what she saw. It was a lake, a long, thin lake of brown water. Bits of rubbish floated on its turbulent surface – a glove, a scabbard, a body.

  Where?

  It’s a gorge just south of Great Howe. He blocked it. I saw him again.

  Pascha looked at the swirling water. There were other bodies, further away.

  Who died here?

  Some of Tamarak’s, a lot of Alwain’s. But the gorge is blocked. Alwain has turned south. He’s marching for Fetherhill.

  Fetherhill?

  Yes. Should I tell Fane?

  Pascha almost said no. The instinct not to interfere was so strong that she almost did it without thinking. But this had been a deliberate act by the unnamed god-mage. He had turned Alwain back, so she should make a counter move.

  Tell Fane. I don’t know what he can do, but he should know.

  There was a moment when Pascha thought Callista would say something else, but then she was gone. Pascha looked around her. It was like a game of chess between giants and these men and women were her pawns. She had no choice but to move.

  She was about to dig her heels into her mount to urge it forward, but instead leaned over and whispered in the horse’s ear. It surged ahead.

  She found Cain Arbak near the van, riding beside Sheyani.

  “General, a word,” she said.

  She steered them out of the column, up onto a low hill that overlooked the road. Cain looked worried.

  “Eran, what is it?”

  “Alwain’s path has been blocked. He’s turned south towards Fetherhill.”

  Cain said nothing for a while. He scratched the back of his head and watched his soldiers marching past. She could see that he was thinking.

  “Does Fane know?” he asked.

  “Callista will tell him,” Pascha said.

  Cain nodded. “But there’s not much he can do, even if he wants to. If the road is blocked, it’s blocked for Fane as well. We’ll have to do this on our own.”

  “We don’t have enough men,” Sheyani said.

  “We can choose the ground. That will make a difference. And we’ll have the element of surprise if we do this well.”

  But thousands will die, Pascha thought. This will be the final battle of the Avilian Civil War and after it nothing will be the same. The hatred will last for generations. Had she been wrong? Should she have told Narak to kill this war before it started?

  No. She didn’t want to make those decisions. She didn’t want to rule anything. But the familiar reasoning didn’t comfort her. She had unimaginable power. She could change all this, stop it, in a moment, and she had done nothing. Her confidence that she was doing the right thing had waned. This unnamed god-mage was changing the rules. But what to do? She would have to think about it.

  *

  Callista pushed her way into Fane’s tent. The single guard made no effort to stop her. He stepped aside.

  “Fane, there is a problem,” she said.

  Fane was sitting on his bed, back supported by a saddle, one leg on the floor, reading a book. He laid it down carefully beside the bed, but didn’t get up.

  “There is?”

  “Alwain has turned back towards Fetherhill.”

  Fane sat up. “Why?”

  “The one who killed the family at Red Hill. He blocked the road.”

  “How?”

  Callista was mildly offended by his abrupt questions, his lack of courtesy, but she understood that he needed to know and she’d never thirsted for deference, had not yet grown accustomed to it.

  “You know The Pinch. The gorge just south of Great Howe?” He nodded. “He raised up a section of it. The river flooded the road.”

  “Can you open the road?”

  She hadn’t thought of that. Of course she could. Not using her power had become such a habit, because it pleased Pascha, that she had not perceived the obvious.

  “Yes,” she said. “But I’ll have to be there.” There was another problem, of course. Their god-mage enemy might simply close it again, and Pascha wouldn’t like it, her helping Fane like that. But Callista decided that she didn’t care. She had to rely on her own judgement of what was right and wrong, and this was right, it was a balancing of deeds.

  Fane stood and poured water into a bowl. He scrubbed at his face with wet hands, slicked back his hair.

  “I don’t know what to do, Eran,” he confessed. “We are here because we need to be. If we meet Alwain in the open his cavalry will slaughter us. This place was meant to be our protection from that. If we abandon it…” he shrugged.

  “You are the General,” Callista said. “But would it help to know that five hundred of Alwain’s horsemen have become detached from the main force. They are this side of The Pinch, chasing Tamarak.”

  “It changes the balance,” Fane said. “But no. We have no cavalry to counter even the reduced force. Alwain must still have a thousand or more.” He sat on his bed again and poured himself a cup of wine. “On the other hand, if Alwain beats Cain he’ll rule everything in Avilian, saving Golt. He’ll come for us here sooner or later, and if we let him choose the time he’ll probably win.”

  “So…?”

  “I came here to help Cain. But these people expect more than a return to the old ways. A new set of lords over them is hardly what they’re fighting for, and I think as they do.”

  Callista smiled. She was familiar with this. “You’re a Johannist,” she said.

  “I’ve read the declaration,” Fane admitted. “Most people in this army have, but that doesn’t mean most are Johannists. Many would accept simple justice – freedom from the absolute word of their lord, a shift of power in their favour.”

  “That seems reasonable,” Callista said. She’d seen a far greater change in Afael and, so far, that was working out for the city’s people. “But power is two things – money and soldiers. They tend to go hand in hand.”

  “I do not doubt that it can be worked out,” Fane said. “But the details are immaterial. Will the king allow such a change?”

  “As long as he gets to keep Golt and his regiment I don’t see why not.”

  “I can see a hundred reasons why not,” Fane said. He sipped his wine. “So those same hundred reasons tell me to stay here and let Arbak and Alwain’s armies destroy each other and then march south with ten thousand soldiers and impose a settlement. That would seem the wise thing to do.”

  “Clever, yes. But wise?”

  “Why not?”

  “If Cain or Caster die in the fight, you’ll have to deal with Narak and Pascha.
They are all old friends. Neither will support you. They will see your reluctance to fight as a betrayal. Do you know what happens to people who betray Narak? You wear his ring.”

  “That is a powerful argument,” Fane admitted. “But what if the common folk matter more than me? Will Narak avenge himself on soldiers who simply obeyed their general?”

  “He’s done it before.”

  Fane emptied his cup, pouring the contents down his throat with a single, swift motion.

  “I know we have to go,” he said. “We’ll leave in the morning, but I won’t force the men. I’ll call for volunteers, and I won’t sugar-coat it. A lot of men are going to die.”

  Callista felt something tug at her awareness. It was a clear manifestation of her gift, her ability to know things that she could not possibly know. The dragons called it dragon gift, a different and more erratic thing than simply knowing a spoken lie.

  “I will be elsewhere,” she said. “But I will be with you before you reach The Pinch.”

  Fane nodded. She would not tell him what she knew, and she must seem to have left. It was all about opening the door.

  In the morning Fane was as good as his word. He summoned his soldiers and spoke to them. How many of the ten thousand and more that crowded the top of Raven Down could actually hear him she could not have said, but they listened with a quiet intensity to every word and pressed forwards to hear them.

  “You have followed me here,” he told them, shouting his words over the sea of heads. “Here we were supposed to face the tyrant Alwain, to see him break against the rock that is Raven Down. But Alwain is not coming.”

  He waited while a half cheer died away. They knew that he hadn’t finished.

  “So if he will not come to us, then we must go to him. It will be a hard thing. We must march south at speed to aid General Arbak, and we will fight without walls. Many of those that come with me will die, but those that survive to victory will have a voice, a claim on glory that will ring in the ears of King Degoran, excite the admiration of the Wolf and the gratitude of Cain Arbak. We who fight will change the world whether we live or die.

  “I do not command this. Each of you must look into his heart and decide. Will you march at my side and fight, or will you stay here?” He paused, waiting for his words to be understood. “There is no shame in staying here. I will not hold you lesser men for not wanting to die for the lords of Avilian, but Cain Arbak is my friend. He is a just, honourable and fair man, and if we choose his side, he is bound to us.

  “Those who would march with me should gather after the midday outside the gates of Raven Down. We leave today.”

  Callista thought it an adequate speech, and by the given hour there was a small army camped outside the winding gate of Raven Down. She had no skill at counting crowds, but she reckoned it was half the men – probably less than Fane had hoped, but more than Callista had expected.

  She sought out Bram Calpot. She liked the old man. He was quite avuncular, but there was a hardness under the kind face that she’d seen more than once.

  “You’re not going?” she asked.

  “I would, but I’m no soldier and he wants me to stay. But you’re going with him, so he’ll be all right.”

  “I’ll meet him at Great Howe. I have things to do elsewhere. But I promise I’ll keep an eye on him.” It was important that nobody knew what she was actually going to do. She was surprised by Fane and Calpot. They had become fast friends. Somehow, she saw them as very different, but they were both old men, and both had humble origins – Fane as a carpenter and Calpot pulling fish from the sea. As far as she knew both had risen to positions of respect through their various talents, but their appearance made them seem a thousand miles apart.

  Calpot poured wine. “One of the last bottles of Telan we looted from Red Hill before we burned it,” Calpot said, offering her a cup. “It seems to travel well, even on the back of a cart.”

  She took the cup and sipped the vintage.

  “You’re not worried about staying here in command?”

  “Why would I be worried? These are my people. We’ll stay here until Arbak and Fane have won, then we’ll disband and go home. It’s what we all want.”

  “You know some folk want more,” Callista said.

  Calpot smiled. “Some people always want more. Alwain is one of them. Even though he already had more than any man, he tried to steal from others. Greed like that is a disease, Eran. Why keep climbing when you’ve reached the top of the mountain?” He wagged a finger. “There are those who think removing the lords of Avilian will solve every problem, but they’re wrong. In time that might happen, but it’s too much just now. The higher the jump, the less likely you are to survive it.”

  “You’re full of aphorisms today, General Calpot.”

  “Blame Fane,” the old man said, laughing. “He claims to have got most of his from Lady Sheyani. It amuses me to make them up.”

  Callista wondered what would happen to Calpot when this war was over. Could he really go back to Berrit Bay? He had proved his organisational genius, and was far cleverer than she had expected. There would be better uses for such a man than mayor of a small fishing town.

  She drained her cup.

  “Time I was going,” she said.

  “I’ll not delay you, then,” Calpot said.

  Callista nodded, then vanished. A moment later she was in Col Boran and Calpot would be staring at an empty tent. She smiled to herself.

  84 Great Howe

  Tamarak’s eyes felt gritty. He’d been awake for thirty hours now and he was tired. He didn’t doubt that his men felt the same. The good news was that they’d made the eastern north-south road and the riding would be easier from here.

  He reined his horse to a stop and swung down from the saddle.

  “Ten minutes,” he called. “Feed and water the horses, then yourselves.”

  They hadn’t touched food for pretty much a day and a night, so they needed it. So did the horses. Both were near the end of their endurance. There was a stream here and Tamarak led his horse to its edge and let it drink. He filled his cupped hands with oats and fed the animal. It would graze while he ate, but the oats were more nourishing.

  He stuck his head into the clean, cold water. It felt good. He pulled it out and heard running footsteps. Ingris was sprinting down the opposite bank of the stream.

  “Colonel! Cavalry!”

  Tamarak forgot his hunger and swung back up onto his horse. He stood in the saddle.

  “South, sir,” Ingris said.

  South? He was expecting Alwain’s men from the west. He looked, and was shocked to see what looked like a column of heavy cavalry less than half a mile away. There was no time to run, not in their condition. How could Alwain have got behind them so quickly.

  “Mount up!” he shouted. “Form up on me! Five lines!”

  His men scrambled back into some sort of order, dragging their tired horses into five lines behind him, forty to a line in close order. Tamarak eased out in front of them. There was something wrong here. These men were approaching in marching order, three abreast. That was no way to attack. He squinted through the dust. The uniforms were wrong too. These weren’t the men they’d ambushed in The Pinch.

  The column stopped two hundred paces away and a pair or riders trotted out in front, stopped about half way between, and waited. Tamarak picked a random soldier from the line behind him.

  “You, with me,” he said. He rode forwards and, as he closed with the waiting officers, he recognised the uniforms. These were men of the King’s Own Regiment. Friends, he supposed. But what were they doing here?

  He stopped a few paces short and waited.

  “I am Lord Redcliffe, King’s Own Regiment, emissary to General Fane. You’re Fetherhill’s, or what’s left of it, judging by your rags. We heard that Fetherhill had switched sides.”

  “It’s true,” Tamarak said. “We fight for the King.”

  “And you are?”

&nb
sp; “Colonel Tamarak, My Lord. Forgive our weathered appearance, but we’ve been harassing Alwain, and now we have some five hundred horse on our tail.”

  “Five hundred? How many are you?”

  “About two hundred,” Tamarak said. “You?”

  “The same, but we have orders from the king not to engage the enemy. Where’s Alwain?”

  “Turned south. The road between Fetherhill and Great Howe is closed, My Lord. All his forces this side of the barrier are those horsemen that pursue us.”

  “How far behind you?”

  Tamarak looked west. “More than two hours, less than six. We rode all night.”

  “A fair enough gap. We’ll ride with you, Colonel.”

  “If you will, My Lord, we need a short break. My men have not eaten since this time yesterday.”

  “Of course, Colonel, but do make it a short one. We have our orders.”

  Tamarak rode back to his men and dismounted once more. Ingris was waiting for him.

  “King’s Own on their way to Raven Down,” Tamarak said. “But they won’t fight. Orders.”

  “Pity,” Ingris said. “They have a fearsome reputation, and I’d like some of ours to see how real soldiers do it.”

  “Still, I feel better for having them along for the ride.”

  Tamarak let his horse feed itself while he ate bread and hard cheese and washed it down with stream water. He refilled his water skin and hooked it onto the saddle. He climbed up again. His men were mostly doing the same. A few slackers were hurrying, stuffing food into their mouths as they tied gear onto their saddles.

  “Column on me!” he shouted and dug his heels in. They could not gallop, nor even canter in their weary condition, but the gap should be enough to see them north of Littlebridge. What then? He doubted he’d shaken their pursuers off in the night. Their trail would be easy to find and easy to follow. Sooner or later they would have to fight.

  He reined his horse back and waited for Redcliffe’s column. He rode alongside.

  “Something troubling you, Colonel?”

  “We can’t keep running,” Tamarak said. “It’s several days to Raven Down. They’ll catch us. Better to find a strong position and ambush them.”