Interregnum

by S. J. A. Turney

  The next time he awoke he was less sure. His head felt as though miners had been quarrying marble in it. There was light and birdsong. He vaguely remembered something about sudden pain and swimming blackness.

  A calm voice said “Don’t be a fool.”

  In urgency, he began to sit upright, but the build up of pressure in his head as he started made him halt mid-movement. Something about pain. He slowly lowered himself back to the oh-so-comfortable bed clothes. Something was wrong with his neck. It felt like someone had mortared it into position. Painfully, but slowly, he levered himself up onto one surprisingly weak elbow so he could look in the direction of the voice. The room came into focus again and Kiva found himself staring into the eyes of Quintus the Golden. His eyes widened in shock for a moment before he realised the wall was crammed with shelved busts of Emperors and great men. His eyes came down lower until he saw the bed; a large comfortable bed yet austere in some indefinable way. Lying in the bed was an old man in nightwear, with a bandage wrapped round his head. Confusion blossomed again in Kiva’s mind. What was this? A museum? A hospital? Both? He squinted at the figure.

  “I think you’re probably still not well enough to sit up,” the figure said amiably. “You fair proved that half an hour ago.”

  Kiva cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how dry he was and how much his throat hurt. It appeared to be sore, dry and almost blocked. With difficulty, he phrased a question: “Who are you?”

  The old man smiled again. “It’s been a long time Caerdin, but I find it hard to believe I’ve changed that much.”

  Kiva frowned, but the usual mixture of muscle contractions was surprisingly painful. It hurt when he frowned? The figure in the other bed was hauntingly familiar. He tried to picture the face a decade or more younger and his eyes widened.

  “Sarios?”

  The old man nodded. “I’m certain you’ve aged more than I, Caerdin, so I’m not sure I understand your surprise.”

  Kiva frowned again and regretted it instantly. “So I’m on Isera?”

  Again the nod. Kiva allowed himself to settle back into the soft bedclothes. “That’s not good. Velutio’s going to be looking for me more than he ever…”

  A sudden memory flashed across his eyes, causing him to gasp. A boy watching him in some surprise, a sword jutting from his chest. Kiva’s sudden violent curse at the recollection was masked by the creaking of the opening door. A figure wandered into his field of vision; a figure he certainly didn’t recognise.

  “Who’re you?” Kiva asked sharply, still reeling from the shock of his memories returning.

  “General” the man addressed him calmly, “you need to avoid all such excitement. For my sake as well as yours lie back and remain quiet.”

  Again Kiva forced himself as far upright as his strength would allow. Only now did he notice the thick bandages around his wrists and the various new scars above and below them.

  “I’ve got to get away.” His eyes narrowed. “How long have I been here?”

  The man smiled gently. “Almost two weeks. And as for getting away, it’s going to be at least another week before you’re ready to leave the bed and I wouldn’t think you’ll be able to walk more than a few yards for the best part of a month after that. You’re still wounded and you’re very weak.”

  Kiva snorted, but the retort died unspoken in his throat as the memory of the nail smashing into his feet came swimming back into his mind.

  “How bad am I?” he questioned, aware that he might not be truly prepared for the answer. The man, obviously a doctor of some sort, smiled reassuringly. “Not as bad as you were. And certainly not as bad as you could have been. Your friends brought two other doctors with them, a man called Mercurias who reminds me pleasingly of myself, and a Pelasian with some ideas that are a little outlandish but they certainly make you think.”

  He registered the look on Kiva’s face and shrugged. “I’m not sure you’d still be here if were just down to me.”

  “Mercurias made it here? And a Pelasian?”

  The doctor leaned down to Kiva’s feet and whatever he did there made the veins in his feet and legs run with liquid fire. He stifled a scream.

  “A vast improvement” declared the doctor, and then looked up with a smile as he realised he’d been spoken to. “Hmm? Pelasian? Oh yes… Far too many men here now. A big dark skinned man, Mercurias, a man with one eye, a big barbarian with a tattered throat, two men who argue with me all the time and tell me that you just need a drink and a fight, and about a half dozen Pelasians. Oh, and a young woman. It’s getting rather difficult to hide them all.”

  Kiva’s eyes gradually widened as he listened. He knew almost every individual from the description. The Wolves, such as they were now, were here on Isera with him. Including himself there would be only five now. And two of the Lion Riders were here? And Prince Ashar’s men? And a woman? Who was she? Momentary visions of a handmaiden of the underworld swam into his mind as he remembered water and the creaking of a boat. He’d failed them all. He let his head slump back to the pillow.

  The doctor sighed as he stood once more. “Each and every one of them has been in to see you more times than I’ve allowed them to in your current state. I’ll let them come in and see you again tomorrow one at a time. Not today though; today you rest.”

  Picking up his unopened bag of medicines, the doctor stretched. “I’ll be leaving for now. If you get into discomfort, shout out. There’s a servant in the other room who can fetch me.

  Kiva nodded and a thought crossed his mind. “Doctor, I had a flask…”

  The doctor smiled. “Yes, I’m well aware of that. Mare’s mead. Quite dangerous when you misuse it, you know? And you do, though from the look of you there’s a history there of misuse. You couldn’t have taken it anyway while you were out and your Mercurias fellow seemed to think it would be a good time to wean you off it. With two weeks’ head start you should be well on the way.”

  Kiva tried to growl, but it hurt his throat too much. With a scowl, he watched the doctor leave the room and then sighed as the door closed once more.

  “It’s the end anyway.”

  “The end?” asked Sarios, leaning on one of his elbows as he looked across at the man he’d shared his chamber with for the last fortnight. “The end of what?”

  Kiva gave a hoarse laugh. “The end of everything. You should never have sent Quintillian away from here, and then he wouldn’t have found me.”

  Sarios merely raised an eyebrow questioningly. Kiva made angry noises and settled deeper into his pillow.

  “I started to believe, you know? It’s been so long since I thought there was any hope for the Empire that it took a long while for me to get my head around it, but I actually started to believe. You’d done a good job with Quintillian; he reminded me so much of Quintus when I first served the man. You remember the young Quintus? The one who set out to make the world civilised?”

  Sarios nodded. A curious smile was slowly spreading across his face, not at all in keeping with Kiva’s mood or topic of conversation. The general scowled at him, but then sighed and let the scowl that took so much effort to maintain fall away.

  “We could maybe have done it too,” he continued. “Given enough time, we could have got everyone together; united the few lords still loyal and broken Velutio. It could have been done perhaps, but now it’s over.”

  Sarios’ smile was now wide and warm though Kiva failed to see the humour in the situation. “Why over?” the minister questioned.

  Kiva blinked. “The boy’s dead, Sarios. I saw Velutio run him through right in front of my eyes. I failed him at the end and now the bloodline’s gone. He was the last scion and without him there’s nothing for anyone to rally behind. Velutio’s won and us being on the island’s just bringing trouble your way.”

  “Thinking was never your strong point Kiva. You were always a genius on a battlefield, but in the court or the city you were too blinkered and trusting. You never open to possibili
ties. Think now why I sent Quintillian out from here. Why did I, Kiva?”

  The general sighed again. “Maybe you wanted him to get far away and out of the reach of Velutio. To hide him, yes?”

  Sarios grinned. “Don’t be idiotic, Caerdin. Your brain’s softened. The boy was very important to all of us, but I’m a politician, not his father. Why do you think I would risk him like that?”

  Kiva’s head whirled. He’d only been conscious for a few minutes and wasn’t at all sure he was up to this kind of depth of thought. Sarios had always had that effect on him though; the man could think in spirals where Kiva could only think in straight lines. He mulled for a moment as Sarios watched him, smiling. The smile was starting to annoy him.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me you sent him to find me?”

  Sarios made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand. “Sort of. Certainly Tomas and Enarion were given specific instructions to find you but why, Caerdin? Why?”

  Kiva’s brows knitted again in concentration but in the end he shrugged, another motion which caused pain throughout much of his upper body.

  Sarios sighed. “He was a wild card, Caerdin. Just putting him in the world again would cause change; shake things up. If everything was allowed to run on the way it was, the result would be inevitable: the Empire of Velutio and the deaths of everyone we care about. It may sound harsh to you, but Quintillian was a political tool. If you’d made him Emperor, it would have far exceeded my expectations, but in the end he did exactly what I anticipated. Like a stone dropped into a lake, he sent out ripples throughout the whole world. And even when the stone’s sunk, the ripples are still moving. Do you follow me?”

  “As far as I care to” Kiva growled. “Like all politicians, you use people. But,” he said sharply, pointing a finger at the minister “whatever you hoped to achieve by sacrificing him has failed. Now we’re in a worse state than ever. More than half the Wolves are dead. The last Imperial blood is gone. Your ‘ripples’ are dying away and the stone’s still gone.”

  Sarios grinned again. “Don’t sell yourself short, Caerdin. These ripples could become tidal waves. Quintillian brought the Wolves and the Lion Riders together; he flushed a Pelasian ally out of the darkness.” His grin slipped as a serious look took its place. “And of course, it’s caused a great deal of upset in the city and beyond. There are rumblings of rebellion now even in Serfium after what happened to their priests.”

  Kiva sighed again. “All immaterial. We don’t have an Emperor any more and now there’s just more of us trapped and in hiding.”

  “You’re still not thinking, Caerdin” Sarios chided him. “Do you imagine for one minute that no one else could ever take the throne? What do you think Velutio plans to do?”

  Kiva shuffled uncomfortably in the bed. “What’re you suggesting? That there’s other possibilities?”

  Sarios clicked his tongue in irritation. “There are endless possibilities, Kiva. There always are. In the past we’ve had runs of Emperors who selected and adopted their heirs. You can’t believe it’s been one bloodline from the start? And even if you did want to follow the blood, there are others who carry the same blood; distant relatives of the line. Good grief, you yourself were married into the line and who could inspire an army like the great General Caerdin?”

  Another grunt and Kiva rolled over to face away from the minister.

  “It’s over. And soon us being here’s going to draw unwanted attention and Velutio’ll burn the entire island clean.”

  Sarios laughed. “You just don’t know how much things have stirred up. Your being here isn’t putting us in any more danger than we already were. We’re all to die soon and we know it. Velutio’s already sentenced us, but the date hasn’t been set. It seems that Commander Sabian wasn’t ready to execute you or us and he put his own career and his life on the line to send us a warning. That’s the kind of ripple I’m talking about, Caerdin. We’ve been using one of the secret routes out to ferry people off the island for the last fortnight.”

  Kiva rolled back over, his eyes widening. “You’re leaving?”

  A nod. “Only a few at a time and always at night, but slowly we’re going. We have to be careful. The sergeant on the island’s a good sort, but I doubt he’d side with us against his master, so we’re shipping out the less well known people first. They’re going into hiding in a community I know of. You see, you’ve not changed anything for us here and as soon as you’re well enough, you’ll be shipped out too.”

  Kiva opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sarios pulled himself a little further upright and called “enter!”

  The door opened and a young man appeared. He was tall, with dark hair and a neat beard. Unlike most of the prisoners on the island who wore soft robes or work clothes, this young man wore travelling leathers and had a sword slung at his side. Kiva blinked in surprise. The garrison allowed the islanders to carry weapons? Strange. The young man glanced once at him with mild interest and approached the end of Sarios’ bed.

  “Minister, I’ve had another message from the mainland. It’s com…” another glance at Kiva. “…the contact. He says he’s going to be going to Serfium, but he wants to speak to Cialo via the signals before he leaves. I haven’t answered him yet, ‘cos I wasn’t sure how good an idea that is.”

  Sarios nodded. “I wonder what he has planned for the good sergeant? I agree though; I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea. Ask him about his plans first. Let’s try and stop him getting himself into trouble. Darius, I’d perhaps better introduce you to General Caerdin.” He looked at Kiva. “This is Darius, one of the promising young men of our island.”

  Darius made a curt bow, his hand on the pommel of his sword. “General, I’ve heard and read a great deal about you. Your reputation precedes you.”

  Kiva struggled a little further up in the bed, ignoring the pain shooting through his limbs. “So you’re Darius. Quintillian held you in the highest regard. Perhaps when I’m a little more mobile we should talk?”

  Darius bowed again and then stepped back toward the door. “I’ll leave you both now. Favio says you’re both to be disturbed as little as possible and he already thinks I break the rules too much.”

  With a final nod at Sarios, he opened the door and went to leave the room. Kiva cleared his throat. “Darius…”

  The lad turned and waited. Kiva put on a pained expression. “Your doctor also won’t let me have my flask. I don’t suppose you fancy breaking the rules a little more?”

  Darius smiled a knowing smile. “Hmm. I’ll see what I can do, but Mercurias has it now and he won’t want you to have it. Leave it with me though.” With that he turned and left the room.

  Kiva and Sarios exchanged glances.

  “He’s very sure of himself for such a young one” the general muttered.

  Sarios smiled. “And you weren’t? I remember you when you first came to the Capital and met Quintus. You were a fresh faced northern lad with the manners of a goat herd, and yet you strolled around the palace as though you were born to it. Darius is one of my pet projects, as was Quintillian. He’ll be one to watch in future if we get off this island fast enough.”

  Kiva nodded. “Who is he? Darius I mean.”

  Sarios shrugged. “Do you remember the Commander of the Munda camp? Spent quite a lot of time at the palace?”

  Kiva nodded. The man had been a passing acquaintance, though his duties often kept him at the training camp. He’d been fairly highly placed. Not as high as Kiva and the other three marshals, but as the man responsible for the army’s training regime, he’d been seen around the palace fairly regularly.

  “His son,” confirmed the minister. “Commander Fulvius was one of the earliest victims of Velutio’s proscriptions. His son was somehow saved as he was in the city at the time.”

  Kiva nodded again. “I can only presume the ‘contact’ Darius was speaking of was Sabian? He seems a good man. In the old days he’d have made it a
long way in the army; maybe as high as me and he’s not the sort of person that betrays his position, so why’s he doing this? You’re the political one.”

  Sarios shrugged. “I think perhaps Commander Sabian has too high a moral outlook for his current career. He’s playing a very dangerous game, I believe. He trusts he can do the right thing by us and still be indispensable to Velutio. He’ll have to be extremely careful or he’s going to end up taking your place on the cross and to be quite honest, I don’t think he’s devious enough to pull it off. He’s still in service at the moment though. If he’s going to Serfium, it’ll be as the armoured fist of Velutio to dispel any thought of rebellion.”

  Kiva growled. “So Velutio moves his army into there again. Strange how history repeats itself. So where are your people going?”

  “I don’t think I want to tell you yet,” Sarios mused. “Let’s just say that there are a number of secrets I’ve carried under three Emperors and beyond that not even they or you knew about.”

  The minister sighed and locked Kiva with his piercing eyes. “I think our other problem though may require your help.”

  “Other problem?”

  Sarios nodded. “Soon we’ll get to the point where absences will be extremely noticeable and then we’re in great danger. The sergeant here’s a good man, but he’d be forced to deal with us then. We may have to resort to dealing with the garrison first. That’s what I mean by your help.”

  Kiva frowned and drew a sharp breath as the pain returned.

  “You need to take out the whole garrison as soon as possible. I presume you’re not talking about murder?”

  “No” confirmed the minister. “I don’t want to kill good people unnecessarily.”

  “I’m sure Quintillian appreciates that” Kiva replied with a touch of acid.

  Sarios ignored him. “Perhaps we can drug them and lock them away somewhere?”

  Kiva nodded. “That would be my first suggestion.”

  The two fell silent for a moment, deep in their own thoughts until Sarios leaned back. “I think perhaps this can wait until tomorrow. Your friends will be coming in and we’ll need to discuss it with them. You need your rest anyway.”