Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

'Come on, Neristus, make this your best shot.'

  Roberto rode hard down towards the left flank where Davarov still fought hard among his exhausted infantry but they were all flagging. The cavalry had wheeled for yet another tired pass and that was the signal the engineer had been awaiting. Ten stones whistled by overhead. Roberto heard his tutor speaking to him as if it was yesterday. Never fire on your own people. Never demonstrate that you care nothing for them. No matter how desperate, never he tempted.

  He saw people running from the ramparts. 'The Omniscient spare them. And God help me if this goes wrong.'

  The stones fell, plunging into the back of the Tsardon attack on the wall and battering into the stockade wood at its centre point. Roberto punched the air.

  'Again, Rovan!' he shouted though Neristus wouldn't hear him.

  Ahead, Davarov had seen the stones fall. The triarii surged into one last desperate assault, taking the Tsardon by surprise. Confusion fed through them and into the mess came Cartoganev. He broke through on the far left and an infantry maniple drove in after him. Roberto prayed for the breach to hold. There were great dents in the stockade wall. The rampart was clear. Behind, Neristus would be adjusting some of his trajectories. He fired again. This time every shot fell on the heads of the Tsardon.

  Cartoganev continued his attack. Davarov took the triarii further in. A maniple turned to block enemy support from the right. Three more battered their way to the wall. In front of them, the Tsardon were falling back in disarray. The Conquord had broken them. The onager rounds had savaged Tsardon defender and attacker alike and they weren't going to stand and wait for more.

  Already, Roberto could see more enemy running around from the back of the stockade to block the breach. In turn his hastati, his weary but extraordinary hastati, pushed harder. He heard horns sounding from behind the stockade. Not Tsardon, Conquord. The remaining levium clattered into the back of the enemy ahead of Davarov. The battle began to turn again. The stockade was smothered in smoke and flame but inside enough would be standing rested and ready to fight.

  One panel of the stockade behind Davarov came down, folding outwards to slap on to mud and bodies. Gesteris's legions surged out, spreading round to bolster Cartoganev and to provide flank for Davarov. Roberto felt his heart warm. The enemy were rippling, unsure.

  'Harder, Conquord,' he bellowed, galloping down behind the lines. 'We have them on the turn.'

  Horns. Horns from every quarter. From the engineers, the principes, the triarii and God-surround-them, from the surgeons. Roberto knew what it must mean. He swung in his saddle and stared up at the Gaws. The great gold and white banner snapped at the mast, reflecting the firelight and shining out.

  Estorr was secure.

  Every Conquord throat howled celebration and took up Davarov's song. Energy flowed through aching muscles. Swords fell faster and harder. Bewildered, the enemy had no response. Neristus dropped more stones and bolts in their midst. From the gates, Tsardon spilled out backwards. There was fighting again in the gatehouse.

  'We're going to do it,' said Roberto, listening to the song roll over him. Tears stood in his eyes. 'We've won. I don't believe it, we've won.'

  Jhered directed the corsair to the Gatherer berths. The dockside was thronged with Estoreans come to welcome the victorious fleet into port. The Advocate was there in the centre of it all, taking cheers and waving at her citizens. She applauded every ship that was announced by the horns at the harbour entrance.

  It meant Jhered could dock at the extremity of the harbour almost unnoticed. Almost. There were people running down the dockside.

  People who should know better than to be so undignified. How they were there he didn't know but the Echelon were in Estorr, there to greet their loved ones. The children who had saved the Conquord from destruction.

  Jhered had Arducius in his arms. The boy was barely conscious, his pain dulled by Ossacer who had a hand on his body and was flooding him with anaesthetising energy. Mirron stood ready, tired but unable to contain her excitement at those she saw approaching. The corsair nudged home and marines leaped out to tie her off.

  'Thank you, Commander,' Jhered said. 'You have done a service greater than you know.'

  Iliev only nodded and the eyes of the crew followed the Ascendants while they left the boat. Jhered heard prayers.

  The Echelon enveloped them. Tears, laughter and unrestrained joy exploded all around him. He kept them away from Arducius, refusing to let him go. He would walk the boy all the way to the palace if he had to. He'd seen enough, he needed rest. God-surround-him, they all did.

  Too quickly, the excitement subsided. The two missing boys were a void that stole laughter and stilled celebration. In all the wild commotion consuming the harbour, Jhered felt alone in the middle of a chasm of silence. Vasselis was marching down the path towards them, guards surrounding him. The Echelon opened to let him pass. Mirron was talking to Meera. Gorian's mother. She was too stunned even to cry. Jhered wondered what Mirron was telling her.

  But most of their questions had been aimed at him. He had answered as best he could, keeping from them the worst, saying only what he must. To Arvan Vasselis, though, he had to say not a word. Vasselis knew. The expression on Jhered's face told him everything. Vasselis swallowed hard and took in the three Ascendants.

  'You got three of them back, then,' he said. 'Well done, Paul. It was more than any of us dared hope.'

  'Arvan, I'm so sorry. Kovan died a hero of the Conquord. He took a javelin meant for Mirron. He saved her.'

  Vasselis even managed a smile. 'If he had to die, then that is the most fitting reason.' He clamped his lips together against their quivering. It was a time before he could continue. 'I'm glad you were there. I'm glad he didn't die alone.'

  Jhered would have embraced him but for Arducius in his arms. Here, amid the cheers, Vasselis's heart was broken. He made no attempt to hide the tears that dripped from his cheeks.

  'Come on,' said Jhered. 'It's time we got these children somewhere warm.'

  They walked from the dockside, happy to let the incoming Ocetanas deflect the attention of the city away from its true saviours.

  'What's this,' said a voice thick with hate. 'Evil entering the heart of the Conquord?'

  Jhered raised his head from Arducius's pale and sick features. The Chancellor had emerged from the crowd, bodyguards either side of her. The Echelon stopped moving. Vasselis tensed and drew himself upright.

  'Back off, Felice,' said Jhered. 'This is not the time or the circumstance for your poison. You will leave these Ascendants alone.'

  'They will never be left alone,' said the Chancellor. 'Every breath they take is an affront to the Omniscient. But only three, I see. At least that is one less to plague us. And Vasselis, why is your son not with them? I told you God would extract a heavy price. His blood is on your hands.'

  Vasselis started to go for his sword. The Chancellor's bodyguards moved a pace forwards. But none of them saw Hesther. Jhered could feel all the pent-up rage, frustration and injustice behind that slap. The Chancellor's head snapped back and right, a deep red mark growing on her cheek. Her lip was split.

  'You stupid, stupid woman,' spat Hesther. 'How dare you? How dare you speak of our children like that? But for them you would have a Tsardon dagger in your heart. And I would have cheered it as it plunged in.' The Chancellor balled a fist at her side. 'What are you going to do, strike me like you did Father Kessian. Coward.'

  'Enough,' barked Jhered. 'Felice, get out of my way. If I have to put this child down to make you, I will not stop at a slap across your cheek.'

  'Come on,' said Vasselis, his voice lifeless. 'Too much breath has been wasted already. And none of us knows when one more will be our last.'

  The Tsardon horns had sounded the retreat within an hour of the critical breakthrough. The enemy commander had done well to stop them routing but he knew his situation was fast becoming hopeless. There was nothing better than new belief to turn a battle. The two sides h
ad parted and resorted to jeering at each other across a distance of a couple of hundred yards while Roberto met his opposite number in the centre of the no-man's-land, along with General Gesteris. All that remained was to give the Tsardon a chance to withdraw.

  'You fought a brave battle,' said the Tsardon. 'You will make a fine ruler of your Conquord one day.' 'We have one already.'

  The commander shook his head. 'She has made a grave mistake. She invaded Tsard. We will not be taken. It's a shame so many had to die to prove it.'

  'It is the way of great empires to seek to expand. It has been the making of the Conquord and your Kingdom.' Roberto managed a smile. 'But I doubt we will be setting foot on your territory again for quite sometime.'

  'A wise choice. And Atreska?'

  'Atreska, we will take back. Atreska is ours. I would advise your king not to maintain a force there. You will be attacked. Just as I advise you to withdraw now. Leave your weapons and my territory. I do not wish to order more death on you.'

  The Tsardon commander eyed him for a time. 'And the rebel Atreskans?'

  'Can sit inside their borders and live in fear of the day we return.'

  He surprised Roberto by laughing. 'You have courage and you have fire. We should be allies, the Conquord and the Kingdom. Not enemies. Perhaps one day we can sit at a table as friends, General Del Aglios.'

  'Don't look to my arrival any day soon,' he said. 'You will withdraw?'

  The commander inclined his head. 'The season is cold. Only a fool steps across his threshold when the snows come.'

  'There at least, we can agree.' Roberto offered his hand and the commander took it. 'By nightfall. My cavalry will shadow you into Atreska. Don't turn back.'

  Roberto inclined his head and turned away. Gesteris walked with him back to his lines.

  'I'm getting too old for this,' he said.

  'Nonsense,' said Roberto. 'You've just saved the Conquord, General. My mother needs men like you.' 'Behind a desk, I hope.'

  'There'll be a job for you anywhere you choose.' Davarov had bustled his way to the front and stood square in front of Roberto, not quite managing to look fierce. 'Well?'

  'Tend your blisters and secure your gear. War's over.'

  Davarov enveloped him in a bear hug, overbalanced and the both of them fell to the floor. The cheers of the army couldn't cover their laughter.

  The three days of joy and reunion had been tainted by the loss of Kovan and Gorian. Mirron hadn't the heart to tell Meera all that had happened and they had agreed to let it lie for now that he had run off and become lost after one too many arguments. It was close enough to the truth.

  Those three days had passed in a fog for Mirron. Everywhere she went, the people of Westfallen were waiting to welcome her. The Marshal had brought them all to the safety of the palace complex. Mirron had never lived in such luxury before. Her own private baths, a servant her own age to whom she chatted to and never ordered to do a thing, and a bed so comfortable she had slept in it for a whole day before the sound of celebration reached her once again.

  And now they were in the presence of the Advocate. The Advocate. Herine Del Aglios herself was sitting on an uncomfortable-looking throne. Mirron sat with Ossacer and Arducius on chairs in front of her, with the Echelon behind them. Arducius was still drawn. Ossacer had been too tired to help him at first and one of his legs was still splinted. None of them smiled, though. The memory of Kovan being snatched from their grasp was too fresh.

  Jhered stood nearby, unwilling to be far from them even now they were in the bosom of safety. Only one other person was missing. How Father Kessian would have been proud to see this moment. Acceptance, if that was what it was to be, of all he had striven for his long life.

  'The Conquord owes you a great debt,' said the Advocate. 'And it owes you an apology too. I owe you an apology. People fear what they cannot comprehend and I was victim to that, too. You were hounded from your homes and hated by everyone you tried to help. Yet here you are, saviours of our great empire. And that is something I will never forget.

  'But with what you have comes a great responsibility, which falls upon my shoulders as it does yours. To imagine you will be accepted by all is naive. You have powerful enemies and so you will have my protection so long as you remain loyal.

  'But we cannot let that cloud the great deeds you three have done. The countless lives you have saved and the maturity you have shown. The Exchequer was right to believe in you.'

  The two of them shared a glance and Mirron failed to hide her smile from him. He winked back at her though his expression was stern and neutral.

  'And I will never be far from you,' he said. 'I owe you my life. You will always have my arm and my heart. All of you.'

  He thumped his right hand into his chest. Mirron's heart swelled.

  'All that remains is to decide what to do with you,' said the Advocate. 'After all, abilities such as yours cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands or be abused.'

  Mirron froze. Beside her, Arducius and Ossacer's life maps flared with their anxiety.

  'I have here a report signed by senior members of the Conquord, including the Exchequer, recommending your being housed here in Estorr while you are investigated. I have accusations laid by the Chancellor. I have complaints by the dozen about sightings and troubles all attributed to you. And I will soon have the Order knocking on my door, demanding I arrest you for assuming the place of God by meddling with His ocean. These will be dangerous times for young Ascendants in Estorr. And, I as the appointed representative of God on this earth, have a duty to serve the Omniscient, do I not?'

  Mirron found herself nodding.

  'I cannot have you running around my streets. Not when there is somewhere far more appropriate and secure for you to go.' 'Prison?' managed Ossacer.

  The Advocate's peal of laughter echoed around the room. 'Oh my child, what kind of monster do you take me for? I have only told you all this because you, and all those who stand here, must understand the burden as well as the joy you carry. It is a burden which you can never shirk and that is why you must be in the best care possible. Mother Naravny, please.'

  They turned to look at Hesther who stood up and held out a hand.

  'Come on, you lot. Time to go back to Westfallen. Time to go home.'

  Mirron screamed with delight, hugged her brothers and burst into tears.

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