He paused and looked into her radiant, faraway eyes. His own blazed with lightning.
"Talaos…" she gasped. Then her voice rose, soaring and strong, "Storm son of the Storm Father. Last of the old gods and first of the new. Life and death, creation and destruction in your hands. Storm Lord and Storm Father, and father of our children to be. They and me, one and three, three times three, and nine shall be. Please… let it be… oh please…"
He kissed her lips, then her forehead, and the world returned to her eyes.
"Tal…" she whispered.
"It is all right," he replied. "I have you, and you are safe with me."
She smiled. The light in her eyes faded, her body relaxed, and she fell asleep in his arms.
10. Clouds and Lightning
Nearly forty thousand men marched in power, northeast along the coastal road. Scouts rode far ahead. First in the great column itself were the vanguard of three thousand cavalry under Adriko. He wore mismatched, though expensive, armor, a dusty black cloak, and a catlike smile on his face. After the vanguard followed a hundred men, the Wolves fierce and grim. Next were seven mighty ones on six horses. The Madmen rode casually, confidently at their ease. Their eyes sparked faintly with light.
Behind the Madmen rode Talaos, in his black and silver armor and his gray cloak, with power in his eyes and lightning in his hands. At each of those hands rode a bearer with a mace. Sorya, Katara, and Miriana followed close behind him.
Next rode a body of commanders in armor of many kinds and colors; sharp-eyed General Aro, erudite Maxano; the General of Kyras and former leader of the enemy army; General Auretius, once a victorious commander of the Republic; Tescani, the cold, grim mercenary warlord, and many others. After the commanders came riders carrying the standards and banners of many cities and towns. Next followed soldiers with trumpets and drums, then messengers and aides on horses. After them came a body of infantry, massive men in varied heavy armor, bearing huge weapons and wearing fearsome expressions. The bronze-armored giant, Hadrastus, led them.
After Hadrastus’s shock troops marched disciplined companies of spearmen led by the proud, aristocratic Tribune Lurios. He walked on foot at their head. Behind the spearmen marched thousands of footmen and archers of many sorts in a long line, and behind them an immense train of baggage. At the rear rode three thousand cavalry more, led by General Gavro. He sat thoughtful and brooding under a dark green cloak.
On all sides swarmed hillmen under many chieftains, all led by Warlord Kurvan. He'd been gathering them from near and far as they marched, and those few chieftains aligned with the Prophet had fled north.
Ahead of them sprawled the great port of Teroia, the second largest city of Hunyos, and their ally. It made a great expanse of high, wood-tiled roofs and brick walls with bright paint. A long, tapering point of land curved east, out from the main part of the city, and sheltered a vast harbor. The golden domes of a council hall and a library gleamed in the distance.
Messengers from Teroia arrived with welcome, and rode swiftly back with his greetings. The gates of the city were open, and cheering crowds gathered outside them and atop the walls. Seeing that welcome, Talaos thought it was a good start.
Talaos made a grim smile with mixed emotions. He was glad for the welcome, but remembered his old commander Sanctari, who had been General of Teroia. Aides in his service carried Sanctari's books and effects, there to be delivered to his widow and such of his sons as had survived Teroia's many wars.
Ahead of the army, and well beyond Teroia now, Talaos's black storm rolled north, gathering strength with flashes of lightning. Overhead was a blue sky. Ahead of even the storm, his messengers fanned out northward across Hunyos.
He raised his right arm for the army to halt. Word passed and trumpets blared. Then, with only the Wolves and the command group, he rode forward past his own lines. Men saluted as he went. The army would be camping north of Teroia, but he had business with the council of patricians.
There they waited, standing at the garland-decorated gates. Fifteen men and women in purple cloaks and gold, laurel wreath diadems. As he approached closer, the vast crowd of Teroians watched his eyes and the power crackling around him. Some gazed with wonder, others with fear, yet others lowered their heads with averted eyes.
The patricians at least mastered themselves and waited for him with calm expressions of welcome. Teroian soldiers in red-brown and officers in gilt breastplates stood by. The Wolves ahead stopped and parted, forming a corridor for him to pass.
Talaos reached the patricians, and they raised hands in welcome. He returned the gesture.
"Welcome, Dictator Talaos," said a dignified-looking, white-haired man in the center of their group. "I am Patrician Deneus, and this is the Council of Teroia. We formally extend you friendship and hospitality, and given the greatly changed composition of your army, we offer you and your commanders alliance under a new charter we have prepared."
"Thank you, patrician. I will review the new charter in your council hall with my commanders, and may have counter-proposals. Given the uncertain situation, the troops formerly with the opposing alliance have sworn oaths to me personally as warlord. Together with those of Avrosa and my other forces, the majority of the army are now in my direct service. That creates certain considerations."
The councilors now surveyed him with greater respect, and, he thought, nervousness.
He, however, had more. "Have you received my delegation of messengers?"
"We have," replied Deneus, "and we agree with your plans. The followers of the Prophet are very few in Teroia and do not operate in public. General Sanctari, when he served on the council, was strongly opposed to letting them preach here, and for that we are thankful."
"In regard to which," replied Talaos, "I have General Sanctari's effects, ready for return to his family. He was my mentor, and I honor his memory."
Deneus seemed to warm again at that. "He was a great man and a good friend. His widow will be at the council hall today, and I will arrange porters to help her transport them."
Talaos nodded, ready to begin, but Deneus seemed to have something more to add.
"If I may, Warlord," he said. "When our supply convoys returned from Avrosa, they had a great many things to say, which were confirmed by your messengers. If I did not see with my own eyes, I would have doubted them, or thought you were simply some sort of clever, if powerful, magus. They call you the Storm Lord in Avrosa, after an ancient hero of theirs. Is it true you are him reborn?"
"No, but the Storm Lord was my ancestor," replied Talaos, in a voice heard by all around, "and it seems I share similar purpose. He fought a pair of great fire drakes to defend Avrosa, while I fight the Living Prophet, and so defend Hunyos."
Deneus had one more question, and he looked doubtful of the answer. "Is it true that the storm which swept north this morning was summoned by you, and that you conjured the storm that destroyed the fleets of Idrona and Etosca?"
"Yes," replied Talaos.
There were wondering looks in the gathered crowd, and a growing wave of talk.
Talaos and his command group, with the Madmen, Sorya, Katara, and Miriana, followed the patricians and their entourage into the city. He liked the place. It had wide boulevards and open plazas. Dense brick and stone apartment blocks of three to five stories lined the streets, with shops on the first floor. Bright, decorative paint lined doorways and windows. The houses of the wealthy tended to open on the streets here, as they did in the Republic, and to his mind that implied a place of greater civic peace than feud-haunted Avrosa.
Though nothing like as large as Carai, Teroia was at least twice the size of Avrosa. There was much wealth here, and much strength. Teroia was said to be the greatest remaining center of learning and knowledge in Hunyos. He'd need them all for the war to come.
~
"I believe we are in agreement," said Patrician Deneus, "regarding terms of alliance."
As he spoke, the other councilors nodded. Ar
ound them the grand council hall of Teroia, rich with marble and the trophies of old wars, gleamed by lamplight.
"And the troops and ships?" replied Talaos.
The discussion had gone on for quite a while. As they'd wrapped up, he'd had the growing impression the patrician was holding something back, or had something hidden. However, at present, nods passed among the patricians.
"Yes," answered Deneus, "from between the force that had originally been intended to reinforce Sanctari and reserves pulled from the garrison, we can provide you with another three thousand foot and horse for the allied army. We will commit the surviving ships of our navy, provided the allied fleet agrees to operate under overall command of our admiral, Naxos."
"That is both acceptable and a good idea," replied Talaos. "Divided command was our weakness earlier. Remember that supreme military command rests with me. However, I'm no sailor, and will let Admiral Naxos do his job."
"Excellent," replied Deneus. "I must also thank you for healing Tribune Valanus. Given the pressures of time, we intend to formally promote him to General of Teroia without delay."
"I was glad to. Now, as for my requests from the library of Teroia?"
Here Deneus seemed more hesitant.
"The maps and recent books are, of course, easily done. So too the book on magic, though I admit with some reluctance. However, the other text you requested, the set of leather scrolls, is some thirteen hundred years old, and the only artifact of its kind we have left to us from early Imperial times."
"And do you have any scholars that can read it?" asked Talaos.
"No," Deneus admitted, somewhat uncomfortably.
"I do. General Auretius, from the Republic. We can prepare copies of the translation, and return one to you with the original scrolls. Until then, I will keep them safe and under guard."
Looks passed around the table, and quiet conversation. At last Deneus replied.
"Very well. We will arrange for them to be sent with you."
"Thank you," replied Talaos.
Looks passed around the table, and he could see that they had something more.
"If you don't mind," said Deneus, "we also have an emissary from Megasi, who was sent here to speak with you."
"Of course."
Deneus spoke with an aide, who left the room and after a short while returned with a trim, brown-haired man of medium height and about Talaos's age. He wore tunic, breastplate, and cloak in the black and purple colors of Megasi. The emissary greeted Talaos with a salute.
"Greetings, Dictator Talaos," said the man. "I am Captain Garion, sent as emissary of Megasi, and bearing word of friendship and alliance from my city."
"Of course, Captain," Talaos replied. "I'll be ready to discuss specific terms when I reach Megasi, but I'll guess you have something more."
"Yes, Dictator," Garion answered, "I must report that the countryside and roads near Megasi are threatened by a warlord of the coastal hills named Larikos. With so many of our own soldiers away on campaign, we haven’t been able to deal with him ourselves."
"And you want me take care of the problem?" smiled Talaos. "Do you know how much support he is getting from Etosca and Idrona?"
"None, Dictator," answered the emissary. "Larikos remained neutral in the war. By all reports he became a follower of the Prophet some years ago. However, around the time news of your victory at Avrosa reached our area, he executed the Prophet's emissaries in his territory, and, it seems, proclaimed some new faith of his own."
"A new faith? Centered on what?"
"Him, it seems," replied Garion. "We'd assumed he'd gone mad, at first. But reports are that he wields sorcery, and he’s been gathering followers.”
Talaos considered the news. A man who'd started out interested in the teachings of the Prophet had then decided he'd rather be the teacher. It brought Cratus to mind, and particularly the way in which the latter had revealed himself as a sorcerer. However, Cratus had been secretive about it all, while this Larikos had openly broken with the Prophet. And also, he’d known Cratus all too well, while he knew nothing of Larikos. He decided to avoid any assumptions about what might really be going on. He replied to the emissary with an arched eyebrow. “Are you sure he isn’t a potential ally?”
The latter replied in gravely serious tones, “He has declared against both the Living Prophet, and you."
“Even so, I plan to begin by talking to him. What kind of following does he have, how many warriors, and does he have a stronghold?”
"His followers are largely folk of the coastal hills from his clan and those related, but they’ve been growing. We believe close to a thousand are equipped for war. He’s based in a ruined fort, deep in the hills. It is said to be some centuries old."
Talaos considered the information, but had further questions, "Once you no longer feel threatened, what additional forces can Megasi provide for the war, and what has been done with General Pelias?"
"At least a thousand troops, Dictator, as well as our fleet. As for Pelias, we agree with the reports you and your officers sent with him by sea, and he is currently stripped of all rank, under arrest, and awaiting trial. We have also expelled the followers of the Prophet from our city, as per the request of your messengers."
"Very good," said Talaos. "Convey my support to your council of patricians."
"I will, sir," replied Garion, smiling. With a sharp salute, he turned and departed.
~
"So, what are the hillmen in this region like?" asked Talaos.
"Those aren't hillmen," replied Kurvan, as a frown crossed his weathered face. "Hillmen, like me, like Imvan, live in the western hills next to the mountains. Have since before the Empire, since who knows when."
They went on horseback as they talked, riding northwest along the inland road with Hadrastus and his vanguard of heavy foot. To their right was the tangled mass of wooded hills between the friendly city of Megasi and enemy Etosca. On the left was a fertile farm country of gentle rolling valleys. Gray, hazy clouds loomed overhead. Talaos turned again to the warlord.
"Who lives in these hills then?"
Kurvan scratched his chin. "They're a mix. Partly of folk not too different from people in the towns and villages around here, or Megasi even. That and something else. Another folk going back a long way, but not kin to mine. They've got a tough reputation, and not in a good way. Lots of fighting their own cousins, old feuds, bandit work, that kind of thing."
Talaos surveyed the steep, dark tangled hillsides. "Is that the other reason why there are no good roads through those hills?"
Kurvan growled, "Most likely. It's too bad, because if there were, we could cut days off the march to Etosca. Even after visiting Larikos."
The warlord was right about that, thought Talaos. The hills continued east and became a wide peninsula stretching into the eastern sea that then broke up into a tangle of thinly populated islands. Those islands had been the scene of the long naval standoff earlier in the war. It was a formidable obstacle by land and sea, made worse now.
"First we've got to visit him, and see what needs to be done." said Talaos. "And for that, we'll need to cut down on the chances of things going wrong. Meanwhile we keep the main army marching on its way. How many hillmen can you spare?"
"Whatever we send into the hills will also be our cover on that side. So, probably close to half. The other half can keep their guard on the plains."
"Good," replied Talaos, "I'll let you decide how you best want to use them, so long as they keep the country around tied up, and prevent any surprises while we go in."
With that he turned to Hadrastus. The giant walked alongside them in his bronze plate armor, with his helm off and a reflective expression in his pale blue eyes.
"General Hadrastus, your job will be to follow behind me, to be on hand at the right time if we have trouble. You’ll be backed by the Wolves. If we come under attack by large numbers of warriors, try to keep them pinned down while I deal with Larikos himself."
/> Hadrastus nodded, but then replied, "You'll be taking a great risk."
Talaos and Kurvan laughed.
~
Talaos, the Madmen, Sorya, and Katara stalked through the dense forest of the valley bottom under a gray sky. Woods-wise Imvan scouted ahead. Sorya and Firio crept silent and stealthy along the flanks. All of them wore light outer cloaks of forest green. Talaos, at the head of the main group, had his hood pulled very low to cover the light in his eyes. He compensated for the reduced visibility by use of his inner sight.
For a moment, he was reminded of the assault on Drosta's camp, but this was a far more uncertain situation. They would use stealth to get as far as they could, but there would be no unnoticed dispatching of guards or casual walks to the center of power. In any case, only two miles behind followed Hadrastus's force of five hundred, and few of them were stealthy.
Larogwan walked close by, and said in a low voice, "It's a little too quiet, all in all."
"Kurvan's got a lot of men advancing on either side back there," replied Talaos, "so I'd expect to hear something soon."
Imvan suddenly stopped in his tracks. Talaos motioned for the others to do the same. The young hillman paused for a long while, surveying ahead, then crept back to Talaos's position.
"Village ahead," whispered Imvan, "recently lived in, but no one there that I can see."
Talaos nodded, turned to those with him, and motioned for them to gather around. "It looks like we're expected," he said, "which means it is time for speed to take precedence over stealth."
Kyrax and Vulkas both brightened and grinned, while Halmir and Katara took on grim, yet expectant expressions. Larogwan shrugged, and Epos was silent in his helm.
Talaos called Imvan, Firio, and Sorya to him. "You three, though, should try to stay stealthy. Keep apart from the main group, and if we meet any trouble along the way, be ready to give them a surprise."
"I love surprises!" smiled Firio.
Sorya smirked and nodded to Firio, "You and I flank, with Imvan in the lead?"
The Storm's Own Son (Book 3) Page 15
