Wrapping the Keeper Stone tightly about them all, he finished the spirit jump the Empress had started. The three of them burst into the Royal Palace before an array of startled faces.
He saw at once the Empress had taken Butha and Andrian prisoner, along with Butha's daughter, and the young man who had waited in the lane when they first came by. Onjed peered out in wonderment from behind them, and several of the black-clad bodyguards stood nearby.
Damn the Empress, thought Mudge angrily. Somehow she'd tracked down an innocent family that had simply been hospitable to strangers. At least she hadn't found the rest of the travellers.
Mudge looked around. He was in the same high-ceilinged room with its opulent furnishings as before. The long table was still there, laden with maps and documents, but the courtiers and attendants of the Royal Palace were absent. The atmosphere of the place had changed. It was on a war footing now.
Commander Uttan was present. This time he presided over a full company of the council bodyguard. There was also a very noticeable squad of Gorlen. Mudge saw a flicker of movement at one end of the long hall, and recognised Ottar Bey. The First Elect was in his full leadership regalia, surrounded by a contingent of soldiers.
Mudge almost smiled. No one went to a showdown hampered by a costume like that. He had a moment of compassion for the puppet king. The man was too frightened to take an active part in the battle for his kingdom, and too uncertain of his position to stay away. His dream of power must have long since become a nightmare.
Mudge doubted Ottar Bey, or the Empress, had any idea that the boy they had taken prisoner was the son of Usef Bey, the governor who would have taken the position of First Elect in more normal times.
The tall, solid shape of the Empress was the first to recover from Mudge’s sudden appearance. She hissed something in a language that the prince didn't recognise. It certainly wasn't Xaanian. It sounded much older, like one of the ancient languages of power.
The consonants slipped and changed as he listened. They were indecipherable to the human ear, and Mudge didn't have time to force them to reveal their true meaning.
The Gorlen marched forward, forming a line between Mudge and the Empress. He noticed how precisely they kept in step. Then the Empress hissed something else, and the black-clad guards around his new-found Xaanian friends stepped up and twisted their heads to one side. They pointed long daggers at their throats.
So, thought Mudge. A threat to be overcome and a promise of death to the innocent. She’s trying to panic me into making a rash move. He suddenly noticed how he was above it all, how calm he was. Maybe Ultrich's centredness training was making sense somewhere inside him at last.
He knew he couldn't afford to make decisions based upon his emotional response. Emotions were too easy for others to manipulate, and emotions always twisted the facts. He would go over his feelings about the situation later, when all this was over, but not now.
Luce and Jago left his side, drifting toward the bodyguards. Mudge could feel their outrage at the Empress' actions toward the innocent.
Two of the black-clad guards twitched momentarily, their eyes glazing over. The other guards looked nervously around. Mudge realised he was the only one who could see the spirit shades of his friends taking control of the guards. It was a brave move, but it wasn’t that sort of a fight.
Mudge reached out and took away the life energies from the bodyguards around Butha and her family, and they slumped to the ground unconscious. Then he did the same, though more gently, for his Xaanian friends. It was best for now that the Empress took no more interest in them. Jago and Luce drifted away. It was Mudge's fight now.
The Gorlen marched toward him, unsheathing their weapons. Mudge tried to gain control of the slave spirits that animated the creatures. It proved a fruitless task. The Empress had shielded them from outside interference using a number of spirit wards. Mudge didn't have time to unravel them.
He took control of one of the creatures, wresting it away from the slave spirit that animated it. He could control the Gorlen, but he couldn't disable the slave spirit, and it made controlling the cumbersome body difficult. Using all of his willpower, he made his new body turn in mid stride. Then he made it cut off the head of the creature to its left.
The wounded Gorlen stumbled, and Mudge drove his sword into its back, searching for the shell-like creature that controlled it. He stabbed again, and this time heard a satisfying crunch. The lifeless body fell to the floor.
Several Gorlen on the right of the creature he controlled grabbed its arms, and one to his left set about systematically dismembering it. Mudge relinquished control, and the creature fell to the floor. It tried to push itself upright on the stump of one arm. In time it would regrow its missing limbs, but for now that was two of them out of the fight.
Mudge realised his delaying tactics would only work for so long. He would have to retreat, but he didn’t want to leave his Xaanian friends in the clutches of the Empress.
He needed to remove the threat the Gorlen posed, and nullify the remaining bodyguards. Only then could he think of engaging the Empress in a contest based on spirit power. He looked at the Gorlen again. There were too many of them, and there was only one of him.
Mudge felt the beat of the music before he heard it. He knew why he suddenly felt more optimistic. Then he heard the music itself. The strange rhythm quickened his step, and made him feel glad in his heart.
There were Mesoans all around him. They had told him how difficult it was for them to exist outside their homeland, yet here they were.
As wisps of light materialised inside the Great Hall of the Royal Palace, the Empress gave up the pretence of being a Xaanian noblewoman. She reared upward, turning into the smoky, black shape that Mudge had seen her take before.
Then she coalesced into a towering daemon shape. Mudge recognised it from the old writings he’d seen in his studies at the Priatic School.
This was Esharla, one of the three daemons of the cycle of destruction. The old writings had said she would destroy all life at the end of the world. Mudge eyed the gross and repellent thing suspiciously. It was more likely the Empress was taking this form for her own ends.
One of the wisps of light touched Mudge on his arm, but it didn’t turn into a copy of him. Perhaps it was easier to exist outside their homeland as light. Then he realised it had passed on knowledge to him.
Suddenly, he understood the long history of enmity between the Mesoans and the Empress. Both had been there at the beginning of creation, but on opposite sides.
Some of the light beings present in the beginning had rebelled. They had wanted to make worlds of their own, but the others had known the rebels' understanding was too limited to accomplish such a task. They would only create a hell for themselves, and more importantly, for all beings within their new creation.
The rebellious ones had been imprisoned inside this world, buried deep within it. They were unable to influence the world above them directly. The Mesoans were one of the groups that had imprisoned them. They had chosen to stay on in the world, protecting it in case the prisoners ever managed to get free.
Mudge shook his head in wonder. It seemed incredible that the world had its own guardians. Was the Keeper Stone another one? The Stone didn't answer his question.
One thing, though, was clear. The Mesoans were sworn to undo everything the Empress intended. As Mudge realised this, the daemon Esharla screeched a challenge. The discordant sound conveyed its hatred for the living, and the free.
The remaining Gorlen closed on Mudge, and he tightened the Keeper Stone’s shield about him. He wondered if it would be enough. Numerous Mesoans now converged on him also, and the Gorlen drew back from the brightening columns of light among them. The Mesoans swarmed over the Gorlen, surrounding them with pulsing light. The slave spirits inside the animated creatures burst into flame.
Mudge saw the Gorlen split apart and collapse across the floor. He saw them return to the simple clay and ve
getable materials they had been constructed from. The bright Mesoan columns of light were left standing, undiminished by the destruction of the slave creatures.
The people of the dance had done more than Mudge had expected of them. He knew that survival in his world was hard for their kind, and he wasn’t surprised when they began to fade away. The music of the dance faded with them.
The Gorlen had been cleared from the hall, but there would be more of them somewhere in the palace, and the Empress would have already called them. The remaining bodyguards, and the soldiers around Ottar Bey, began to move forward.
They were more scared of what the Empress might do to them than what Mudge might call up next. Mudge decided his best strategy was to retreat from the hall.
He turned, and restored the life energies he’d taken from Butha and those around her. Then he hurried to help them to their feet.
“This way!” he urged, as they moved unsteadily to follow him.
“Hurry, we have to run!” he called back to them.
Butha was the first to regain full control of her body. She dragged Onjed toward the exit Mudge indicated, and shouted at the others. Seeing what was happening, the Council bodyguard broke into a run.
The prisoners made it through the door just in time. Mudge was delighted to see a heavy bar, and anchor points, on the back of the door. He closed the door and slammed the bar home, and turned to look behind him. A long corridor ran off into the distance, where it split left and right.
Was this all that was left to them, he wondered, as they hurried along the corridor. Running and hiding until they were caught?
SEVENTEEN
Ultrich looked out over the scarred battlefield from the top of The Lion. He recalled the events of the last few days with a considerable amount of satisfaction.
The League forces had made the High Steppes their own. They had cowed the Xaanian army sent against them, and completely obliterated the troublesome Xaanian horse archers. The actions of the League had forced Ottar Bey to send reinforcements.
He hoped this would take some of the pressure off Yeltar and the Independent Kingdoms. By now they would have left Taire valley and be entrenched behind their new positions at Thebes.
The Legatus considered the First Elect of the Xaanian Council more carefully. He had suspected for some time that Ottar Bey was a puppet leader, and now Rossi had confirmed it. His son was up against – what? A human power behind Ottar Bey, or something much worse?
The unknown Empress troubled him. Some things in the netherworld were best left alone. If they were awakened, whole civilisations could be destroyed. He hoped the ‘Empress’ that had arisen in Xaan wasn’t a supernatural being of that order.
Sergeos pointed to a plume of dust on the horizon. The Xaanian troops seemed to be never ending. The array drawn up in front of the pass was already as big as the first one the League had defeated.
On his other side, Cinnabar drew herself up to her full, aristocratic height. She snorted disdainfully at the new arrivals. He felt her awaken her farsight, and send it out toward the distant column.
She had been so different lately, he reflected. She seemed brittle around him, finding excuses to be elsewhere. He had accidentally discovered how she felt about him, but rather than bringing them closer it seemed to have opened an unbridgeable gulf between them.
Her feelings for him had come as a complete surprise to Ultrich, but he had to admit he didn’t mind the idea of a new relationship. Maybe it was time, finally, for someone to take the place of Rossi’s mother.
How he would get past Cinnabar’s considerable defences and make a case for her affections, would have to wait. The many problems facing the League needed to be resolved first.
“Legatus, you’ll want to see this,” snapped Cinnabar beside him. “There’s something in the middle of that damned column and it doesn't look right. If I was pressed I’d say it wasn’t human!”
One interesting side effect of her crustiness was the use of the occasional swear word. It made Ultrich smile. He engaged his own farsight, and got his first look at the advancing Gorlen.
Rossi had been right. There was more than a hundred of them. According to his son a smaller number would be on their way to fight Yeltar’s forces at Thebes. Ultrich blew out a breath. It was just his luck to get the larger share of the indestructible creatures. Almost indestructible, he reminded himself. Rossi had given them enough information to give the League a fighting chance.
He had wanted the bulk of the Xaanian forces here at Rotor Valley Pass, and his wish had been fulfilled. The bottleneck in the mountains and the short supply lines back to the Marches made it an ideal place to grind down an enemy. But a hundred plus supernaturally empowered Gorlen had not been in his original plans.
He wondered what Yeltar would do when the Gorlen arrived there. Ultrich had sent the column of armoured horse he had promised at their earlier meeting. The armoured horse should arrive at Thebes before the Gorlen did, but it wouldn’t be enough to turn the tide against overwhelming Xaanian forces.
He glanced at the battle lines on the plain below. The League still had some hours before the enemy launched an attack. Their reinforcements needed to be properly bedded in to their new positions, and that meant an attack was unlikely before late in the afternoon.
Ultrich had faced up to the fact his League forces might not be able to hold against the mix of Xaanian troops and Gorlen-led reinforcements, and adjusted his plans. He had ordered a last line of defence to be built at the furtherest end of Rotor Valley pass, where it narrowed the most. Past that point it dropped away into the Scion Kingdoms, and then the Marches.
The Hill Tribes were already moving their herds through the pass, and down off the mountains. Enough grass could be found for them in the lush lowlands of the Marches. He’d told his governors to put their minds toward finding a solution.
His engineers had recruited the most experienced builders for the last line of defence. Now they were piling up logs and rocks in a massive construction across the last section of the pass. It would give the League the advantage of a higher position at the narrowest part of the valley, but would it be enough to stop the Gorlen?
Ultrich turned his mind toward preparing the troops for the coming battle. He drew Sergeos and Cinnabar to him in preparation. There was a barely audible pop as they vanished from the top of The Lion, and a more audible crackle as they reappeared behind the tents below. A sentry scurried out to investigate the sound, and snapped to attention when he saw who it was.
“Find Porteous,” said Ultrich as the three spirit walkers hurried past. “Tell him we’ll be addressing the League forces as soon as he joins us at the flag.”
The sentry saluted briskly and left at double time for the operations tent. Porteous and Gosan met the spirit walkers a few minutes later by the flag of the Karnatic League. It had been erected in the middle of the long crescent of League forces, ahead of the tents and behind the troop positions.
The federation flag was a simple map of the constituent territories. Fluttering to the left of it was the bold red flag of the Karnatic Defence Forces. Equally imposing on the right was the castled emblem of the Monhoven line. It was in honour of the current holder of the Throne of Power. The many flags of the Marches, Scion Kingdoms and Hill Tribes stood behind these three.
Ultrich could already hear the commanders calling the companies to order, preparing their troops for inspection. Then there was one mighty cheer, rolling like a wave as it swept out along the ranks and reverberated off the foothills. The troops stamped the ground with their feet and beat weapons against shields and breastplates. The clash of metal hit the spirit walkers as an almost physical blow. It built to a crescendo, before slowly dying away.
Ultrich extended his spirit senses along the League lines. The troops were getting used to his spirit speeches by now, though some still looked a little nervous. His voice rolled out of thin air, the same in front of each and every company.
"Yo
u are free men and women!" acknowledged Ultrich, his iron will very clear in the tone of his voice. "You have come with your friends and neighbours to defend your homes and families.
“No one commanded you to do this. Every one of you came for yourself and for your fellows. You came so that together we could defend what the League has built up, and what others want to tear down!"
He paused for breath, and decided his speech was going well. Perhaps he'd gained something from listening to Yeltar's impassioned oratory. He smiled at the memory of his friend. Then the harshness of the struggle ahead of them sobered him.
The Karnatic Defence Forces would need all their courage to fight the Xaanian troops in the days to come. They would need to remember at every moment what they were fighting for, and the loyalty of the men and women they were proud to be fighting with.
Ultrich had no doubt the situation would become desperate, and many of the troops would lie dead on the battlefield before the day was over. The chances of holding the pass, even at the fall-back position they had prepared, were probably less than half.
Regaining his momentum, he finished his speech in a few more sentences. He waited until the roar of approval died down, and retired with Porteous to the operations tent. There was still work to do on the League tactics. It was already well past noon, and Ultrich expected the Xaanian forces to attack soon.
He would have liked to be at Yeltar's side, helping him face the Gorlen at Thebes, but he was needed here. Everything he knew about the animated creatures had been sent to his friend, and it was up to Yeltar to make the best of his situation now.
It was late in the afternoon when the war horns sounded the first Xaanian charge. The attack followed the same pattern as the previous day. The spirit walkers on top of The Lion scoured the ebb and flow of troops with their farsight, relaying anything new to Porteous.
Ultrich noted the Xaanians were still woefully short of horse archers on the right flank. That pleased him greatly. The League forces on the left flank were already dug in with long pikes. It was unlikely the Xaanian cavalry on the left would commit themselves to a full charge against such a defence.
The Unsound Prince Page 22
