Adriko had not been idle. He sent companies of horsemen wheeling in at the confused enemy soldiers to launch volleys of javelins, then wheel away again. Far at the back of the Etoscan column, infantry of the rearguard were running their way, open and exposed on the plain. Adriko sent his swift light cavalry at them with javelins ready.
The great mass of civilians in the center faltered in their singing, and many now dropped to their knees, or fell flat to the earth in panic. Some continued singing in small groups, but lost their cohesion. Others seemed to quietly meditate.
With the destruction wrought by Talaos, and the slaughter made by the swift, wheeling groups of cavalry, organized resistance in any form soon came to an end. Most of the soldiers lay dead. Of the leaders and the special servants of the Prophet, there were none left alive.
Talaos remounted his horse and rode to roughly the midpoint of the unorganized mass of Etoscan civilians. He quieted his storm overhead and raised his own voice to thundering volume. He called to them in tones of pitiless command.
"Followers of the Prophet! Lay down your arms and all other gear of war! All of them on the ground! Do so, and you will be allowed to continue north. Refuse to do so, and you will be slaughtered. Choose now!"
There was stunned silence. After a moment, quiet voices passed among the milling thousands. There were still many priests among them, and these conferred. It went on for some time. At last, thousands of people placed weapons on the ground. Those few who had armor or shields removed them and dropped them. The majority were already unarmed, and simply stood by.
When it seemed good to him, Talaos spoke again in a thundering voice carrying for miles across the plain, "Now, you may go, but you may not return!"
Then, in their thousands, the refugees of Etosca, the followers of the Prophet, continued on their way. They had with varying degrees of complicity stood by as nearly half of their own people were put to death for whatever supposed sins. Even so, Talaos had spared them. They continued wearily north to Idrona. When they had gone sufficient distance to make further trouble unlikely, Adriko rode up to Talaos with an expectant look.
Talaos in turn nodded, and spoke, "Yes, gather it all up, anything of use or value, then follow me back to rejoin the main army outside Etosca."
Adriko smiled merrily as Talaos rode fast, back toward the dead city.
~
The council of war gathered in the command tent. Outside, the vast camp stretched across the plain. The night sky was black with clouds. Talaos sat on his chair of office as dictator of Avrosa. Around him were most of the key commanders of the army.
Gavro was speaking, and the tough, gray-haired, green-cloaked General of Imperi looked pleased. "Another thousand are on the way, ready to join us at Idrona. Word is that Maxano should have things in order in Kyras soon enough. There's talk of acclaiming him dictator. Some of the Prophet's followers were fleeing north toward Mileno, and others east to Idrona. I imagine Kurvan will have something to say about those."
The huge hillman warlord growled, and rose to speak in his turn. "Yep. I've got irregulars and hillmen in the country almost as far north as Namaia. We're not letting any more get to Idrona. With all the power we’ve brought to bear, the towns between here and Namaia don't seem too keen to fight. Some of 'em are sending troops to help us.
"I don't have anybody as far east as the coast north of Idrona, so trouble could still be happening up there and I doubt we’d know it yet. Out west, most of the hill chieftains have come around, and the ones that haven't have been running or dying off quick."
Talaos nodded, and added, "That's good news. My messengers are back from Namaia. The council there agreed to enforce my demand to exile the few of the Prophet's people they had, but otherwise they want to keep their neutrality. The smaller towns have so far all agreed as well, though there aren't many of the Prophet’s people until you get north of Namaia."
He then turned to General Lurios of Aledri, who he'd put in charge of most of the regular heavy infantry. The polished, trim, aristocratic young commander stood to speak.
"I've focused on reorganizing our troops by equipment, rather than leaving them ordered by city or town of origin. We're getting better cohesion and focus of loyalty on the army as a whole. While we siege Idrona, I'll put them through proper formation drill."
Tescani spoke next. The cold-eyed mercenary warlord now also had charge of siege operations. He spoke in a voice like gravel. "Idrona's got double lines of ditches all around the walls, and plenty of artillery. Word is plenty of supplies too. But they've been taking in a lot of refugees. Followers of the Prophet. Hard to say how many of them will be any use. Mostly I think they'll be trouble, and mouths to feed.
"On our side, we've got plenty of everything now, except wood. The forest north of Idrona will give us that. Besides what we build, I have confirmation the artillery and siege equipment from Avrosa is on its way by sea. Should get there a day or two after we do."
Adriko added, "And, I've got enough light cavalry and irregulars in the countryside south of Idrona to keep them from getting any ideas about surprising us on our way up."
Hadrastus then joined in, "The Stormhammers now number over a thousand, and we'll be ready for the assault, when the time comes."
Talaos nodded, and spoke, "All good. Aro, could you summarize our forces overall?"
The sharp-eyed, sharp-voiced general rose in his red cloak. and addressed the assembled commanders. "In total, we have forty thousand troops in the main force, five thousand in detachments inland as far as Kyras, and roughly ten thousand hillmen and irregulars in the countryside as far as Namaia. There are reinforcements of at least five thousand more coming in from outlying cities. Eighty ships block Idrona, carrying twelve thousand crew and marines."
Looks passed around the room. It was the largest collection of forces assembled at one time, in the service of one leader in Hunyos, since the fall of the old Empire.
Talaos smiled, then spoke again. "We should have more on the way later. I have word that Drenic and Lazla have at least expressed support for their existing alliance with Teroia, which effectively means us. I’ve heard nothing back yet from them regarding my personal messengers. Given the level of support for the Prophet in Kossos, we should make no assumptions about them continuing as allies. There’s no word yet at all from Mileno and Savaric.
"However, with Kyras switching sides, Idrona, Mileno, and Savaric will be the only cities left on the other side. If Idrona falls to us, we'll be in a strong position to put an end to the war, on our terms.
"One more thing. Since the Prophet's hunt for those with magical gifts makes them our natural allies, I've sent a second set of messengers across Hunyos in search of them. We'll see who turns up, and what they can do. Since the Stormguard will be their protectors, I'll turn to Auretius."
The old general now took his turn, speaking in his eloquent voice. "I've put my efforts into finding experienced soldiers with the right temperament and character, rather than training recruits. I have sixty men ready, and they are sixty I trust to stand fast."
Further discussion passed among the commanders, including plans for the rest of the march north and the initial encirclement of Idrona. When the hour grew late, Talaos raised his right hand to speak, and the group quieted.
"Commanders, it is good. We've taken the largest and most unlikely collection of troops in the history of Hunyos, and have begun to forge them into a united fighting force unlike anything seen here since the fall of the old Empire. We'll put it to the test at Idrona. But when we've won, we should consider what this means for the future, and for all of us.
"The enemy is still there, in Dirion, and across the eastern sea. Divided, we'll be picked apart one by one, as we almost were. Let's remember the lessons we're learning."
There were nods and words of agreement around the room. Then the commanders saluted him, and he returned it. They departed to sleep in preparation for a new day of work awaiting them. Talaos however,
had a night's work ahead of him. With so much to do, his study of the language of the Prophet had fallen off lately and he hoped to renew it. And, it would help take his mind off what he'd seen at Etosca.
~
Talaos had added a variety of cushions and extra blankets to the comforts of his tent. With them he'd made a kind of sprawling, informal bed or couch, and sat there reading by the light of a pair of lamps on his bookshelf. His back was propped against a pile of cushions in turn braced against his cot. He had a book in his left hand, and his legs stretched out comfortably.
Miriana was curled up at his left side, her head propped beneath his arm, between his chest and a big pillow. She was reading another of the Prophet's books. Her dusty clothes were piled in a corner, and she was wrapped in a blanket. Her masses of auburn hair flowed loose over his bare waist.
Outside, a gentle wind blew, and a squad of men, both Wolves and Stormguard, stood on duty. The Madmen had taken up a rotating command on watch, and Halmir was in charge at the moment. From outside the cloth door of the tent, the Northman spoke in the informal way that only he, his fellow Madmen, and a handful of others still used with Talaos.
"Talaos, Sorya and Katara are here. They would like to visit you," he said.
Talaos smiled, "Send them in."
Miriana peered curiously up over the top of her book as the two women entered, then smiled. Sorya nodded at them. Katara bowed her head to Talaos and smiled at Miriana.
Talaos observed them with curiosity, then spoke with a teasing glint in his eyes, "The wind is a bit gentle to have blown you randomly to my tent, particularly in those clothes."
Though wrapped in cloaks, Sorya and Katara were both clad lightly in dresses, and looked well cleaned and washed. The two women looked at each other, then back at Talaos.
Sorya spoke, "Tal… We were… missing your company tonight. I know this is the first quiet night you've had in a while, I do… but…"
He smiled, "I wouldn't mind the company, and it wouldn't hurt if we all shared a little quiet. There's room."
Katara surveyed the array of cushions and blankets, and made a little smile, "My lord, it is as if you expected us."
"In truth," he said, "I did."
Miriana beamed at them, "I've never seen you both in dresses at the same time before… and Katara, you hardly ever. You look beautiful!"
Sorya seemed unsure how to reply, but Katara smiled. Then the Northwoman had another thought, and added, "Thank you, Miriana, and you as well. I wondered, could I borrow that book of the Prophet's history? I am curious about what lies he has to tell."
Miriana smiled, "I just finished it today, in fact. If you can get past his preaching, it actually has a lot of interesting stories. It's over there, on Tal's table."
Sorya gave Miriana a lopsided smile. "How you manage to ride a horse and read at the same time is completely beyond me."
"It's relaxing," replied Miriana casually, as if it was a common thing.
For her part, Katara walked over to the table, undressed without any sign of self-consciousness, picked up the book, and walked over to Talaos's right side. He kissed her. She rested her head against a pillow at his shoulder, pulled up a blanket, and began to read. Miriana watched her curiously the entire way through.
Talaos watched Katara with interest as well. Literacy was said to be far from common in Vorhame, still less so in the Imperial language. But tales, history, and poems told from memory were great and valued things there. Katara had once said that her father, before they fell out, had acquiesced to her curiosity and given her a tutor. That tutor was a highborn, scholarly young woman captured from the Seven Realms by raiders of Narhame, who had later escaped to Vorhame. Katara had learned much from her.
While Katara acted, and Talaos and Miriana reflected, Sorya stood there in some apparent discomfort. At last she spoke, "Ah… I, um… Miriana. I didn't know you'd be here. I guess I should've thought this out. It's a little bit…"
Miriana seemed undisturbed. "I don't understand why you're shy with me. You and Katara sleep in the same tent, and you used to share the same cabin on the ship. You must have seen each other naked many times. Why would I be so different?"
That only seemed to increase the awkwardness of the moment for Sorya. "Yes, but she and I have known each other a while, and we've been… together… with and without Tal."
"I know. I pictured you together, even before I met you," replied Miriana, as if Sorya had stated some obvious fact about the weather.
"All right, but Miriana, aren't you jealous of us dropping in like this?" continued Sorya.
"Why would I be?" Miriana replied. "We make a kind of family. Husband and wives."
"Again, who said we were Tal's wives?" replied Sorya, though she'd at last given up her struggle and begun to undress.
"Aren't we, in our hearts?" Miriana answered.
"Yes," replied Katara, without looking up from her book.
Sorya finished undressing and walked over to Talaos's left side. Then she asked him, earnestly, in a quiet voice, "Do you really have room in your heart for the three of us?"
"Yes. I love you all, and who can define the limits of love?" he answered reflectively. Then, with a hint of his more usual edged humor, "There might only be so much time and attention in life, but we're all here together in one spot, and that simplifies things."
She sighed, "That it does. Wife? Hmm…"
Then Sorya slid her slender body over both Katara and Talaos, kissed him passionately, and then slid back to squirm out a space between their hips. She put her head on Talaos's stomach and curled herself tight between them, an arm around his hip and legs twined with hers. Miriana's wild hair spread around them all.
Talaos smiled, in wonder at the beauty of the world and love for the women with him. Several times Miriana had called the three of them his wives. The first time perhaps in jest, or half in jest, but quite seriously now. Three wives. Three women who'd come to him from the far end of the world, braving danger and the teeth of war to ride at his side and share his tent.
He thought too of Liriel. She had once said he'd freed and conquered her as he'd freed and conquered Avrosa. Both she and her city had submitted to him, given themselves to him, and loved him. Yet, they remained very much their own. Liriel had chosen to remain in Avrosa, as was her right.
But these three were here, now, together with him. They'd returned across half the known world and cast their fates with his, come what may. If any women in the world had claim to be his wives, had earned it with their hearts, minds, and deeds, it was these three. Of course, for centuries in this part of the world it had been rare, even scandalous, to take more than one spouse.
Then again, he reflected, why? It was said to be otherwise in the Southlands. Even here, such mores had never in practice prevented the powerful from keeping concubines, or the unscrupulous from carrying out affairs. He considered his role as leader, and that everything he did was watched by those who followed him. However unprecedented his deeds, he still operated firmly within the laws and customs of Hunyos, and the expectations that went with them. Someday, he thought with a smile, he might change such expectations, but probably not now, in the comfort of this moment.
He sat happily for a long while, reading in the lamplight with Miriana and Katara at his sides doing the same. Sorya, at his hip, quietly fell asleep. A while later, Katara began to yawn as well, and put down her book. She turned to him, and he put a hand under her chin as he kissed her. She smiled and ran her hand along the muscles of his chest and arms.
Musingly, she said, "Husband… Lord and husband of my heart."
He smiled and gazed into her eyes happily. She curled herself against him, head at his shoulder, breasts pressed against his chest, and body pressing Sorya between them. She put an arm across them both, then fell almost immediately to sleep. He wrapped his right arm around her, and with it held the two of them close.
Miriana continued to read intently for a long time, until at last e
ven she grew tired. She yawned, put down her book, and turned over to face him. The blanket fell from her fair, voluptuous little body. She stared for a while, with fascination, into the lightning of his eyes.
Then she said, wistfully, "It must be wonderful not to grow tired. Sleep is such a bore."
"I always thought so," he replied, "and life is short."
"Not if you become a god."
"We shall see."
"And we would be your three wives… one and three… three wives, three loves, three fates bound with yours… three fates…" she whispered, with a hint of lofty distance rising in her voice.
"Peace, my love," he said, gently.
"Ah… sorry," she smiled, then some new thought grew in her eyes, and in an intense voice she added, "No matter what comes, I love you. No matter what!"
She leaned over, legs folded under her and breasts brushing him. He kissed her for a long time with his hand around her bare, smooth waist and hip. Then he gently guided her back, and she curled up with her head on his chest between Katara's and Sorya's. She sighed, and slept.
He no longer had a comfortable way to hold his book, but he didn't mind. He put it down, and his left arm around her, and then sat deep in his thoughts through the hours until dawn.
~
The lofty walls of Idrona, largest and mightiest city of Hunyos, were packed with soldiers. Artillery engines of many sorts sat ready atop the towers. Others had been positioned on recent-looking wooden platforms built along the walls. The great port city surrounded a vast circular harbor, and that harbor was full of ships bottled in by Talaos's now greatly superior fleet.
From seashore to seashore around the roughly half-hexagonal walls of the city, a trench had been dug; or rather, an old one deepened and reopened to the sea. Beyond it stretched a shallower trench full of sharpened stakes. The space in between looked to be a perfect killing zone, where assaulting soldiers could be cut down by ballistae and archers.
The Storm's Own Son (Book 3) Page 21
