The Argument of Empires

by Jacob T. Helvey

  Tain roared. Grith could feel the power coming off the other Delver in waves, a physical thing, like ripples in a pool of water. Suddenly, his master’s face went slack, his expression neutral, his eyes glassy. He had gone far into the Deepening, plumbing the depths of that great ocean and finding the bottom.

  Tain leaped, clearing the barrier with little effort and landing with a crash amongst the Cutarans. Some were knocked away by the impact, falling off the bridge to their deaths. The rest soon followed, as Tain spun, swinging his sword in an arc that sheared through wood, flesh, and bone with ease.

  The Cutarans collapsed under the ferocity of his assault, falling back even as they were torn to pieces by Tain’s fearsome montante. Some came away missing arms, others with deep cuts that would have killed a human. Their surge, so confident only moments ago, collapsed.

  The Cutarans ran.

  Grith jumped the barrier, watching them go. There were maybe fifty left when he finally lost sight of them over the rise some half a mile away and above. The bridge was suddenly quiet, save for the moans and gasps of the dying. They lay scattered like broken marionettes, some almost pristine, the only signs of death the tiny holes where bolts had punched through their skin, leaving thin rivulets of blood in their passing. Others had been torn apart, their viscera scattered across the bridge’s surface.

  The smell alone was enough to overwhelm Grith. He wanted to vomit, but with a conscious effort, managed to hold down his meal. Many of the soldiers at the barrier and in the watchtowers were veterans. What would they think, seeing one of the men who was supposed to be leading them spill his lunch onto the boards at the first sight of gore?

  Tain came back to the barrier, doing his best to avoid the bodies. As he got closer, Grith could see he was shaking, but from weakness or shock, he couldn’t tell. Tain leaned himself against the blood soaked collection of stones without a care for the state of his coat and let out a long breath. “Tell the men they can’t rest,” he growled, breathless. “We have repairs to make. And this damn thing needs to be reinforced!” He shouted the last words.

  “What you need is food,” Grith told him. “And rest.” Grith had hardly fought at all, and still he felt the characteristic drain, same as in Erno, both physical and emotional. He couldn’t imagine how badly the last few minutes must have weighed on his teacher.

  “I’ll take the food. But we don’t have time to rest. Now…” He pushed off the wall and rose to his full height, barely hiding the tremor that ran up his body. “Help me over this barricade.”

  Twenty-Nine:

  Kareen

  “Blessed Tirrak,” Kareen coughed out, covering her mouth against the dust kicked up by the infantry column. “It’s as dry as the Kelil out here.”

  “If you think that, then clearly you’ve never had a visit to our Empire’s charming northern border.” Oranhur motioned to one of the small shriveled bushes that passed for vegetation out here. “I was stationed in the Kelil for three years. This place is paradise, by comparison.”

  Kareen tried to imagine a place drier than these red hills and dusty flats, and failed. It just didn’t seem possible that a place could be so devoid of water, life. “How far are we?” she decided to ask.

  “Only a couple of miles now,” Oranhur said in reply. “Xisa’s main force should have already arrived at the bridge. We just have to hope the defenders have slowed them down enough to stop an unchallenged crossing.”

  Kareen grimaced as her horse rocked back and forth on the uneven ground. Her thighs ached from days of riding, chaffing so badly she could hardly walk without affecting a gate that made her look like a simpleton. The march had been hard on everyone. They’d slowed their pace today, allowing the men, especially the infantry, a slight respite from the ravages of the past few days.

  The soldiers to her left looked less haggard than before. They didn’t stoop quite so much and carried their long pikes higher on their shoulders. We just might be able to win this, she let herself believe.

  They had left the Cutaran elderly and children behind days ago. With the supplies the Emperor had deemed to give them, they were as good as dead. She had wanted to argue for their lives, but it was foolishness. She was walking on eggshells as it was. She couldn’t afford to make things worse.

  “There are hunters among them,” Oranhur had told her. “They’re old, but they might be able to gather enough food to keep the children alive.”

  She’d been left with no choice but to hope the general was right. It was simply one of the horrors of war, she told herself. It was disturbing how easily she could accept that sentiment now. She would never have stood for the treatment of those people before she had come to Fanalkir. But she had seen men die, hundreds of them, on both sides. Now, Kareen found, she simply couldn’t bring herself to care, as she had before. It was as if the better part of her conscience had retreated to some far corner of her mind, offended by what it had seen and unsure if it wished to return.

  The Emperor’s procession was ahead. Oranhur’s handpicked heavy infantry formed a solid outer layer of protection, with the Highlanders inside. Hadan sat astride a great warhorse at the formation’s center, followed by a retinue of advisors, scribes, and noble hangers-on.

  For all her mixed feelings about the man, she had to admit that he was resplendent in his crisp white uniform, like something out of a classical painting.

  A true warrior-king, she thought. Her tutors had made her read the histories of Hadan’s exploits—written by his supporters granted. But if even half the tales between those pages were true, then the Emperor had fought more battles than the next ten generals combined. Trebak Pass, the Sieges of Saleno and Heran Akk, and even the Battle of Anton seven years ago, all attested to one thing: Hadan did not enjoy sitting idle in his palace in Akiv. He preferred the rule of the saddle and sword to that of the scepter and throne.

  A horn sounded in the distance for the second time since they had left the Front. Three blasts of the trumpet came and went, clear in the dry summer air.

  “Enemy spotted!” Oranhur shouted to his clique of lieutenants and captains. “I’ll ride ahead to prepare the vanguard! If I know the Emperor, he’ll want to lead the main body himself!” He shot a glance at Kareen. “You stay with him!” It was not a suggestion, but a command. Oranhur was a kind man, one of the few kind men—Livran excepted—that Kareen had found on these plains. But there was no doubt that when he gave an order, it was law, and was to be obeyed as such.

  “Good luck!” she called to the bearish man as he rode out onto the field, flanked by his guard of heavy cavalry. The pikemen were already spreading out across the plain ahead, forming tight blocks, between which were placed double lines of crossbowmen. Cavalry, both light and heavy, took the field, presumably to fill any breaks in the line when battle was joined, and to flank the enemy if the opportunity presented itself.

  Kareen kept on her course towards the Emperors guard. Oranhur’s soldiers let her through without a second glance, and even the Highlanders refrained from causing trouble as she wove her horse between them. She tried to ignore the disdainful looks the noble noncombatants gave her as she came to the sheltered center of the formation. They hated her for her easy access to the Emperor, something many of them had worked years to achieve. Well, it wasn’t her fault she had valuable information, while they did not.

  “What would you say to this?” Hadan asked without preamble as she approached. “Do you think the force ahead is a rearguard, or the main body of the Cutaran army?” He even deigned her with a glance as he spoke, something he rarely gave to even his most trusted advisors.

  “Pardon, Your Highness?”

  “Xisa’s force. Do you think she would be bold enough to wheel about and attack us here?”

  “First, I would need to know how many men guard the bridge, Your Highness.” She didn’t like these questions. She always felt like she was being tested
, measured against some standard of unknown size, shape, and quality.

  Hadan waved his hand to the group of advisors who trailer a dozen paces behind. “Twelve men occupied the Sikara Bridge at last count, Your Highness,” said the old Curator who had been at their first meeting several weeks ago. “Led by a Sergeant Antis. A good veteran soldier, if his record is to be believed.”

  “They could be Delvers, Tirin,” Hadan replied. “And it would still be twelve against twelve thousand.”

  “As you say, Your Highness.” Tirin bowed his head dutifully and directed his horse back to a respectable distance.

  “And there is your answer, girl, whatever you seek to glean from it. And be quick. I will have a battle to fight in the coming hours.”

  Kareen thought she knew how Xisa would react to the arrival of Hadan’s army, but still, to think and to know were two entirely different things. Could she really trust her gut, when the lives of thousands of men, and indeed her own skin, were on the line. She sighed inwardly. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter. Hadan expected an answer, and he would receive it, one way or another.

  She thought of the way Xisa had killed Livran, how she hadn’t given him a second to gain his bearings before cutting him down. The rules of honor had been all well and good when the chieftain had been able to take advantage of them. But when they no longer suited her needs, she had cast them off, revealing the brutality that sat at her rotten core. “Xisa wants us to think she’ll make the crossing, Your Highness,” she told Hadan. “But it is likely all to draw us into an ambush of some kind. She knows she’ll have to fight you eventually. Why not do it here, while she still has the advantage?”

  “And this is your final answer?” Hadan asked, glancing her way, searching her out with those piercing blue eyes of his. “Understand, I am placing trust in you that I would not put in the hands of men I have known for half-a-century.”

  Kareen bit her lip and thought for a moment. She had to say something, and this was the right answer. It had to be. She nodded. “Yes, your Highness. When you reach the Divide, you will find Xisa’s army waiting for you.”

  * * *

  Hadan spent the next hour in silence, something Kareen was more than happy to oblige him. She needed time with her thoughts, to mentally prepare. They were about to face Xisa, the woman who had taken Livran’s life and the lives of his men. Although she couldn’t wield a sword, although she couldn’t fight, Kareen would have her satisfaction today, one way or another.

  She had prepared herself for this moment since leaving the Front. Where others wore armor, she wore a dress, white with floral accents. It wasn’t exactly battle raiment, but it was light and comfortable in the equatorial heat. She couldn’t have picked a better costume for the final battle between two nations. Between to species, she reminded herself.

  Hadan spoke quietly with several of his advisors, including the elderly Loen and Renna, who had been present the first time she had met the Emperor.

  They spoke of the merits of certain pike formations, whether their archers should be spread out amongst the army or used in force, and the best methods for deploying their heavy cavalry—all things unimportant to Kareen. She knew little of the finer points of tactics and strategy. She wouldn’t think for a second to tell Hadan how to do his job when the battle was joined. Still she was nervous.

  A little over an hour after Oranhur’s departure, a rider, bearing the general’s colors, rode through the lines and towards Hadan’s retinue. He was quickly intercepted by a group of Highlanders, who questioned him for several long moments before letting him through.

  “Your Highness,” the man said breathlessly as he rode to within speaking distance of Hadan. He bowed so deeply in the saddle that, for a moment, Kareen thought he might have fainted. He was young, a few years older than Kareen herself, but already bore a disfiguring scar that ran from his jawline up to the ruin of his left eye. “General Oranhur has engaged the Cutaran rearguard. He is winning, slowly, but he requests that you move your force forward to reinforce.”

  “And what of Xisa’s main army?” Hadan asked.

  “We aren’t sure, Your Highness. We hadn’t made it to within sight of the bridge before I departed.” Kareen’s heart sank. If Xisa had made to cross the Divide, then they might be too late.

  “Tell the General that I will move to reinforce his position. We will annihilate this rearguard and push onto the bridge. Tell him we end this war today.” There was excitement in his voice, real excitement like Kareen hadn’t expected to hear from a man who had lived four centuries.

  “Marching order!” Hadan shouted as the messenger rode back to inform Oranhur. “Double time!”

  At the urging of their officers, the infantry advanced to a slow jog, the cavalry to a trot. Kareen remained at Hadan’s side. He didn’t seem to be angered by her miscalculation, but admittedly, he didn’t seem to be angered by much of anything.

  How would she get out of this bind, if Hadan wanted to her punished? A thousand ideas rolled through her head, all of them fantastic in their absurdity. She’d never been good at these kinds of things, planning and conniving. She had always left that to her father, and then later to Livran. But as far as she could see, her only option now was to stay, and hope that the Emperor would show her mercy if this battle did not go the way he had planned. It was a small hope, but all she had.

  Kareen could hear the sounds of battle before she saw them. The army was coming to a rise a half-mile ahead, where the ground dropped away. At their current speed, the first infantry blocks would reach the decline in a matter of minutes. Oranhur was already up there, leading his vanguard. She just hoped that he was making good progress. He should have been within sight of the Bridge by now.

  They passed bodies as they rode. Many were Cutarans, shot through by crossbow bolts and the occasional arrow from a Toashani nobleman’s longbow. The Cutarans hadn’t routed however, that much she could see from the placement of their corpses. They had fought on even as they had been pushed back. There were horses and men alike skewered with the massive spear-like arrows. Others had been split open by oversized weapons. Flies were already swarming the bodies in the heat, and the smell of viscera and bodily fluids was enough to make her gag. She turned away from the ugly sight, and tried to keep her eyes forward, mind focused.

  “A skirmish,” Hadan said in reply to a question Kareen hadn’t heard. “Oranhur used his archers to break up their line.” He pointed to stretch of dusty ground where the bodies were thickest. “And then rushed in his cavalry to exploit the Cutarans’ lack of cohesion.”

  “Then the actual battle is being fought now,” Renna concluded. “Over that rise.” The elderly advisor kicked her horse forward so that she came between Kareen and Hadan. “We should send the cavalry forward, Your Highness. If the Cutarans are crossing the bridge, our horsemen will find easy prey-”

  Hadan held up a hand to silence the woman, and kept his eyes on the horizon as he gave his reply. “Best to hold them back for now. It will take the Cutarans hours to cross the Divide. Hours in which we can prepare and work out a less reckless battle strategy.”

  “But Your Highness-”

  “That is enough, Renna!” Hadan barked.

  She paled at the outburst. “Y… Yes, Your Highness,” she mumbled as she fell back to ride with the other advisors.

  “Damn woman…” Hadan turned to one of the Highlanders who stood closest to him. “Give the order to form our heavy infantry into a fist,” he told her. “Four blocks wide and four deep. Send them up the middle to give Oranhur support. Move the cavalry around the flanks to encircle the Cutarans. Hold the pikes and archers back for now. If this is a trap, we’ll want a sizeable force in reserve.” The commands came so quickly that Kareen found it impossible to keep up, but the soldier only saluted and ran off to dispense the orders among the lower level officers.

  The heavy i
nfantry lurched into motion like some great formation of armored, parti-colored ants, carrying halberds, two handed warhammers, and greatswords. Beside them rode the heaviest of Hadan’s cavalry, the lancers, so armored that even their horses were encased in steel. Kareen had seen how effective one horsemen could be against the Cutarans. Livran had wreaked havoc among their ranks before being unhorsed. What could hundreds do?

  Another horn sounded ahead, reverberating from where the rise made its descent to the Divide. Five short blasts followed by a single long note. Blessed Tirrak! She was beginning to hate that sound.

  “A retreat?” Renna barked from the behind them. “Bah! The old man has lost his bite!”

  Hadan didn’t respond. His face was the picture of cool composure, but his eyes were filled with an unquenchable fire. “Oranhur would not call a retreat unless the situation ahead was absolutely untenable.”

  As he spoke, the first of the general’s men came over the hill. Many still carried their weapons, miraculously, but this was no controlled withdrawal, as had been made by the Cutaran rearguard. It was a full route.

  Kareen gritted her teeth. Many of them were badly wounded. She could see arrows sticking from some. Others stumbled along with obvious effort, nursing deep gashes and broken bones.

  “Pull the soldiers back!” Hadan roared. “Reform the lines!” Yet more runners were sent off to the various units.

  “What about the cavalry, Your Highness?” Kareen asked. “You could save those soldiers out there.”

  “And give up one of our only advantages. If it’s a trap, as you said, better to waste a few grunts, than my finest men-at-arms.”

  “We can’t just sit here and do nothing! There are men out there. Dying men!” Kareen held up a hand, as if emoting would somehow change Hadan’s mind.