Lessur stared at him. ‘Betray Kelshan?’
A look of irritation crossed Delk’s face. ‘Of course not sir but I can’t believe we are right to invade an unknown land in this manner. There has been no aggression against us.’ Delk waved a hand towards the north. ‘You know the wild clans make occasional forays into Kelshan farmlands. No such raids have ever been reported along this southern border. What excuse does Kelshan have to invade the Dark Realm?’
‘Besides,’ Fent interrupted. ‘The stories tell of monsters and magic – Simert knows what we might have to face.’
Delk slapped a hand on his knee. ‘That’s not the point,’ he argued. ‘Think of the reputation of the Imperator Jarvos – is this an action he would consider let alone approve? It has to be said, and I at least feel a relief in saying to you now, Veranta is a devious woman. In my view, she is not fit to rule our land.’
Lessur closed his mouth, stunned by Delk’s words. ‘That is treason,’ he whispered.
‘Don’t you see, we are in the same position as the General now sir,’ said Ollister. ‘Strannik must have assumed we would trot back to Kelshan, where no doubt we would be charged with desertion.’
Heads nodded agreement and Lessur rubbed his brow which was aching ferociously again. ‘Let’s sleep on it,’ he decided eventually. ‘Perhaps the General will understand this crazy situation better than we can.’
He reached behind him for his bed roll and tried to settle to sleep. By unspoken agreement, the lantern hooked on the central tent pole was left burning. Delk, unnoticed, stayed on watch through the night.
Lessur and the six officers spent the next day checking the horses and what equipment remained to them. Very little talk was exchanged, most men deep in their own thoughts. Fent had taken one of the horses and ridden a league down their back trail to see if the General might be approaching yet. He returned at a gallop in the late afternoon.
‘Five riders sir,’ he reported breathlessly. ‘I saw them as they came over a hill, perhaps three leagues to the north.’
‘Smarten up in case it is the General, but be alert in case it’s a party sent to dispatch us,’ Lessur ordered.
Ollister scowled at Fent. ‘Get that horse rubbed down and cooled off. There was no need for such reckless riding lad, no need at all.’
Fent blushed and led his horse away. Ollister smiled grimly.
‘He’s a good lad sir, still a bit excitable, but he’s got the makings of an officer.’
‘Will we still be officers tomorrow?’ Lessur wondered. ‘And still officers of the Imperium?’
Ollister gave him a genuine grin. ‘Like Delk sir, I’ll be an officer for the General. He’ll never lead us wrong.’
Lessur looked around what remained of the encampment. To the north the land sloped gently, patchily cloaked with pine trees, but no sign anywhere of human occupation. No smoke rising from any hidden steading, no sound of cattle. Only the occasional scream of a great hunting bird so high overhead to be barely visible. It had taken seven days for the foot guards to reach this place after leaving the last tiny hamlet.
The trail the scouts had chosen was wide enough for five men to march abreast. But Lessur had guessed it wouldn’t be such easy going once they got amid the steeper land. He didn’t need to look behind him, to the south: he could feel those mountains, brooding down at him. He stayed staring north, hoping it was the General approaching rather than Veranta’s assassins.
Klete and Fent had a good meal cooking. Delk had brought in four rabbits, surprisingly plump ones, which were baking in the embers, along with a large pot of stew, when the sound of hooves rang against stone and five riders came into view. Lessur and his men all felt a surge of relief: it was indeed General Whilk, and four men accompanied him. By the time the General’s weary horses were tended and fed, the first stars prickled in a pale green sky. The tip of a young moon just showed behind one of the mountains. The cold wind had risen again although the day had been clear and hot.
The dozen men squashed into Lessur’s tent, Fent and Klete bringing food in to them all. General Whilk read Lessur’s orders while they ate. He made no comment, merely passing the papers on to Kestis. Lessur reported what had happened two nights ago and then waited for the General’s opinion. Whilk put his empty dish in front of him.
‘An excellent and most welcome meal,’ was his first remark. He pulled his saddlebag close and rummaged in the smallest pouch to find the sealed packet he’d received from Veranta’s hand five days before.
‘You say you heard Ternik’s voice in your head – before you opened your orders?’
Lessur nodded.
‘Well, I have heard no voice, and I am at the camp where you were commanding officer of the full force, so I think I should now open my orders too.’
‘Perhaps outside?’ suggested Delk.
Whilk grunted. ‘Perhaps so.’
‘May I see the packet sir?’ Delk asked, when everyone was outside again. He studied it closely, turning it over to catch the last light from the dying fire. He folded it so that the seal was at an edge, then he wedged it between three rocks. ‘You’re the best with a throwing knife, Klete. Knock that seal away.’
Klete drew a thin blade from his belt and walked round the packet. He moved several paces back, his eyes fixed on his target. With a flick of his hand, the blade flew to the packet. The detonation knocked them all flat and sent the horses into hysterics. Fent was first up, hurrying to the picket line, crooning soft nonsense to the frantic animals.
General Whilk sat up. ‘Well, I think that’s one question answered.’
Lessur was rubbing his eyes, seeing only the afterimage of a blinding flash of light. Delk was crouched beside the crumbled rocks where he’d wedged the papers, and sniffing the air. One of the General’s men, Eltim, was helping Fent calm the horses and Klete prowled around Delk, looking for his knife.
General Whilk stirred the fire back to blazing life and settled the large kettle above it. He’d brewed a herb tea by the time the men regathered.
‘You seem unusually familiar with mage traps,’ he remarked mildly as Delk accepted a bowl from him.
Delk squatted beside the fire. ‘It is unhealthy to admit to such knowledge sir.’ He shot a sidelong glance at the General.
Whilk snorted. ‘If I’d opened that damn packet, I wouldn’t be too healthy right now. I think honesty between us is a necessity now. And I will start.’
He took a gulp of his tea and began. He told them of his true lineage, among the wild clans, of his father’s faith in the Imperator and of his own devotion to Jarvos. He spoke of his increasing concerns at Veranta’s rule, but he made no mention of the Spiders’ Web to which he belonged. When he finished, there was silence, then Delk spoke up.
‘It is true I know of mage traps – to a certain extent. There have been those in my family through many generations who have certain – talents.’ He shrugged. ‘Some could see the future, some could heal, some had affinity with animals and birds, or with metals. But such talents receive the death penalty over the last fifteen years. Those of us lucky enough to come from families who understand such things are taught early how to conceal our true selves from all others. Those who are alone are quickly found out.’ He looked across the fire at the General. ‘That seal felt wrong to me sir. I cannot explain more, it just felt wrong. The explosion was a mage spell, no chemicals were involved, such as some miners use in the east.’
‘You sensed danger, yet you sensed nothing amiss with that officer’s wine?’
Delk looked embarrassed. ‘I did not sir. I did not expect such action, but I will be constantly alert now, you have my word.’
‘So what do we do now General?’ Kestis enquire, trying unsuccessfully to smother a yawn.
‘That can wait for the morrow. Get some sleep, all of you.’
The men crowded in to the tent, only then realising how cold they’d become outside. The General poured another bowl of tea and offered the kettle to Delk wh
o’d stayed with him by the fire.
‘What do you know of Spiders, Delk?’ the General asked softly.
Delk stiffened, then relaxed. ‘The Spiders form a Web. Those who can, read information from their many strands.’
The General smiled.
The next morning the sky was cloudy and the wind blew more strongly. When they’d eaten a small breakfast, the General looked to the south.
‘Make ready to travel.’
They followed the route Strannik had taken – over four thousand men on foot left a clear trail. The terrain rapidly grew steeper and when they halted at midday, the General told Klete and Barlis they were to ride ahead when they moved on.
‘I don’t for one moment think that Strannik will imagine we’re following, but they will be travelling far more slowly now. We don’t want to trip over them unexpectedly.’
They’d stopped among a group of giant boulders, protected from the constant wind. The sun pitched down, strangely hot when they knew that just beyond the boulders the wind was bitter cold. Fent was tightening the saddle girths when Kestis shouted a warning. Heads turned, weapons were drawn.
A man stood atop one of the boulders. He held his empty hands clear of his body as he jumped lightly down. He was young, of average height and build, with dark curly hair and brown eyes.
‘General Whilk?’ he enquired politely.
‘I am Whilk.’
The man walked towards him, halted, and gave an odd salute: left thumb to brow, lips and chest. ‘We heard from mutual friends you would be in this area. My name is Serida.’ He smiled. ‘I think you know my aunt, Seola?’
The General sheathed his sword, his men following suit. ‘And you are here in what capacity?’ asked the General.
Serida’s smile widened. ‘To open a gateway for you.’
‘A gateway?’ Fent interrupted. ‘Is there a fortress up here then?’
Serida tilted his head to study Fent. ‘Unfortunately not. I mean a very different sort of gateway.’
Chapter Thirteen
Having explained that horses did not like gateways, Serida suggested they be turned loose and sent back down the trail.
‘They are not stupid creatures,’ he pointed out. ‘They will find safety for themselves.’
General Whilk and his men now carried their packs, saddlebags and riding equipment. Serida beamed in approval.
‘If you would gather a little closer,’ he said.
Eleven officers of the Imperium Guards, together with their General, staggered, after a period of tumbling though darkness. Some had their eyes shut tight, their complexions faintly green tinged. Most though, stared open mouthed. The boulders had vanished, the mountains were gone. Instead, they found themselves in almost familiar surroundings. They were in an open yard with buildings which were unmistakeably barracks opposite where they stood. The General managed to stop gawping and cleared his throat.
‘And where exactly might we be now?’ he asked Serida.
A voice spoke from the shadows of a colonnade. ‘You are at the Karmazen Palace, General, in the Dark Realm.’
Whilk peered into the gloom and saw a slender man of indeterminate age, although he would have guessed older rather than younger if pressed.
‘I am Corman, Palace Master to the First Daughter. I bid you welcome.’
‘So do I.’ Another man emerged from the shadows, walking out into the open sunlight.
Whilk stared at the young man. He wore a black uniform and his bearing was confident but modest. Whilk looked into hazel eyes beneath tawny brows the same colour as the man’s hair. The eyes were blue in the father, he remembered. General Whilk unceremoniously dropped his burdens, drew his sword and offered it, hilt first, to the young man before him. His officers watched in bewilderment.
‘I am yours to command Prince Jemin, as I was your father’s, the Imperator Jarvos.’
He was unaware of the indrawn breaths from his men, but he did hear the click of boot heels as they snapped to attention. Another man stood at Jemin’s side, not quite so tall and considerably older. Jemin introduced him.
‘This is Shield Master and Armourer Garrol, senior officer in the Dark Realm.’ He grinned. ‘And a cruel taskmaster to recruits.’
Whilk noticed that although the man smiled in welcome, there was worry in his eyes. Something troubled the man but the General felt it concerned matters unconnected to their arrival here.
‘We have a great deal we must discuss General,’ said Jemin. ‘We have to get to know each other. May we use your office Shield Master?’
‘Of course Jemin. You know where I can be found should you need me.’
‘Leave your gear here. It will be taken to the barracks.’ Jemin led them in under the colonnade.
General Whilk glanced at the Palace Master who still stood in the shadows. The General’s step faltered when he met the man’s eyes: they were like ancient gold coins.
Many floors above, in the apartments shared by Gossamer Tewk and Shea, it was very quiet. Shea had retreated to her room with Akomi, who seemed to have no objection to being Shea’s companion. Gossamer Tewk sat by her window, her mind feeling slow. The time in the Splintered Kingdom, with the strange scenes through the windows, had shocked her enormously. She needed to think, to try to make some sort of sense of what those scenes meant. Sergeant Essa had offered to accompany her and Shea back here, but Gossamer refused. She thought Essa understood her need to be alone for a while, and she also suspected Essa had been ordered to remain near the Dragons.
Dragons. First, that mysterious creature Dabray, deep below the Palace. Then the Dragons she’d glimpsed through those windows. The grey one with its disfigured face. The much larger purple Dragon, flying slowly over a devastated landscape. And then to find two Dragons here. What did it all mean? That young woman with the green silvered eyes, she felt a connection there. Gossamer sat, watching the sunlight dancing on the waves, and tried to make sense of the impossible.
The chamber adjacent to the First Daughter’s apartments had emptied considerably. The healers had mostly returned to their usual duties and Lady Emla had joined Nesh who supervised Sket’s recovery in the Palace infirmary. Of the invalids, only Farn lay, unmoving, in the middle of the floor, his mother still at his side. Tevros sat at a table to one side of the great hearth, writing, and Tika stood by the open archway which led onto the rooftop terrace.
She had found her pack and was dressed in blue trousers and shirt, but her weapons remained on a table across the room. Khosa wound round her bare feet and she bent to lift the small orange cat in her arms. She held her slightly away from her, looking into the turquoise eyes. Khosa was very badly distressed. Tika spun towards the Dragons, but there was no change there. She took a step outside.
‘What is it Khosa? Tell me.’ Tika sent the words on a singular thread to the cat’s mind alone.
Khosa didn’t reply, only wriggled, indicating she wanted to be put down. Once at Tika’s feet again, she glanced up at her. ‘Come, but very softly.’
Khosa padded to the right, vanishing behind a chair. Tika looked over at Tevros but he was lost in thought over his reports. Bare feet as silent as Khosa’s paws, Tika followed the cat. Tika heard voices ahead, then Khosa went through a narrow arch. Tika crept closer. There was only friendliness in the tone, so clearly Khosa was not unwelcome here.
Tika reached the arch and peeped into the chamber. A man sat on the edge of a vast canopied bed and Khosa had crept up to crouch beside the person lying there. A woman turned as Tika crossed the threshold. She made to speak, hesitated, then smiled and held out a hand. Tika took the hand automatically and let herself be drawn to the bedside.
She looked down at the white haired woman, so still, so pale. She saw the broken bones of the face, the jaw deformed and twisted. She saw one of the woman’s shoulders was a shape no shoulder should be, and an arm above the bed covers was withered like a winter tree.
The woman who’d led her here, stood behind Tika. She sli
d both arms round Tika’s waist, her chin resting on Tika’s shoulder. She spoke very softly, but Tika knew their talk would not wake the woman in the bed.
‘We believe the First Daughter went deeper into the Dark than anyone before. She had to protect Farn when they began to rise. She took it upon herself, and she chose to do so freely. Now we wait for her to return to us.’
Tika made no attempt to touch the First Daughter’s mind: she knew it would be barricaded against all whilst she battled to retrieve herself. She glanced at the man sitting on the bed, gently stroking a thin but apparently undamaged hand.
‘Do you mind if Khosa stays, or if either of us visit sometimes?’
The man smiled sadly. ‘You are welcome, and this little cat too. She told us she would bring you. I am Mull and this is Cutha.’
The woman, Cutha, tightened her arms briefly, kissed Tika’s cheek and stepped back. ‘Indeed you are welcome.’
Somehow Tika got herself out of that bed chamber without mishap but stumbling tear blinded down the passage, she ended up in another chamber. Sergeant Essa was speaking to an elderly man, but they both turned when Tika swayed blindly in the doorway. Essa scooped her off her feet and deposited her in a chair while the man tutted in concern. Tika sobbed, and sobbed.
The Sergeant took her out of the chair and held her on her lap, rubbing Tika’s back with one massive hand. The Sergeant understood that this small woman had reached a point where grief after grief was suddenly too much to be borne. She didn’t know what might have triggered this outburst but knew it would only do good. So Sergeant Essa sat, holding Tika while she cried.
And Tika knew she cried for Gan, for Maressa, for Seela, for Farn, for Sket, for Mim, and for the woman lying, so nearly destroyed, in the bed chamber close by. When at last Essa felt the sobs slackening she lifted Tika back to the chair and sat close enough to touch if needed. The older man returned, carrying a tray on which tea bowls steamed with fragrance. Tika managed a shaky laugh, wiping her sleeve across her face.
Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series Page 16
