Interregnum

by S. J. A. Turney

  He made a gesture to Athas, who prodded one of the guards gently with the tip of his sword. “Come on boys.”

  Kiva cleared his throat again as the unarmed men were herded back toward the palace by the unit. “I’d avoid the shrimp broth, though!”

  Someone behind him laughed.

  The moon had already been high in its arc when Athas and the rest had rejoined Kiva and the islanders and they’d all made their way to the second hidden jetty. It had taken only a few moments for them to locate the disguised doorway and to make their way down to the dock. Two more boats of almost equal size to the first wave had awaited them and Kiva had heaved a great sigh of relief as the last islander climbed aboard and they set sail.

  The sea was fairly gentle despite the reefs lurking below the surface all around and Kiva sat at the prow of one of the two boats, keeping a careful eye on the swirling waters and the occasional eddies of foam that betrayed the more prominent dangers. Before the boats were more than a hundred yards from the entrance to the dock, travelling around the shore, the other three vessels carrying the rest of the islanders came splashing gently along in the pale moonlight to meet up with them. Kiva leaned forward further forward, peering into the moon-dappled darkness.

  “Minister?”

  Sarios returned the call from the lead boat of the other flotilla. “Caerdin. What now?”

  Kiva frowned. “You or I to lead the boats? I can’t imagine anyone else knows the routes like we do.”

  The minister laughed lightly. “After twenty years of having your head battered with swords I think I’d rather trust my own memory, general. I’ll take the lead.”

  With a nod, Kiva sat back heavily against the boat’s side and looked around him as the five-boat flotilla manoeuvred into a tight group at the minister’s instruction. Brendan sat at the other end of the boat, his features twisted with a look of concern and the still form of Marco propped against him. Mercurias and the Pelasian medic together were prodding at his side with worried glances. Kiva tried to see more of what they were doing above the gathered heads of the refugees and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

  “How is he?”

  Mercurias snorted. “Well, he’s not good. If we get him somewhere stable and quiet soon, he’ll probably make it, but I’m not convinced he’ll ever be a soldier again. He’s lost a lung at least and he’ll probably wheeze and slow down for the rest of his life.”

  The Pelasian medic nodded his agreement as he peeled more clothing aside from the wound. Kiva sighed and sack back once more. Another casualty to add to the long list. For two decades the Wolves had taken only minor losses but in the last few weeks they’d come down from twelve to five and one of those would never fight again. Some days the future looked hopeless. Strange really how he used to be comfortable with bleakness and gloom; had lived with it for so long, but in these last months thanks to Quintillian and the islanders, he’d begun to care again. Shame really. When you had no hope, there was nothing to lose, but now the loss of even a civilian prisoner was weighing heavily on his mind. He looked up to see Mercurias watching him.

  “You’re moving well,” the medic said accusingly. “You should be in a lot of pain at the moment. Who’s given you mare’s mead now?”

  Kiva shook his head. “Forget about it. Maybe I’m just a quick healer.”

  “Pah!” Mercurias turned back to Marco’s side.

  Kiva turned to look at the next boat, bobbing along behind and slightly to one side. Tythias sat aboard gazing at a different boat, smiling, as doctor Favio tended to his severed arm with as much patience as an army medic. A smile crept across the general’s face once more; the Lion Riders had a good captain in Tythias. The man had suffered some impressive wounding on the island, matching anything he’d had in the past, losing an arm and yet he’d never looked happier that he did right now, covered in scars and still dripping blood. Kiva didn’t need to turn around to see what it was the one-eyed captain was smiling at; or rather, whom. All in all, though tonight had seen its share of loss, given the odds and the conditions they’d been more successful then they had any right to be, and Kiva had no real complaints. He did wish they’d been able to take the bodies of Jorun, felled by a guardsman’s javelin, and the dozen Pelasians and islanders that had never made it to the shore, but the boats were loaded down enough as it is.

  Somewhere in one of the other boats, a man started to sing an old folk song about a sailor lost at sea. With a relieved smile, the general relaxed back as he listened.

  The journey through the reefs was long and treacherous; more treacherous than Kiva remembered. The sun’s rays were already tentatively brushing the horizon as the lead boat ran up on to the gravel beach with a crunch. Slowly the occupants stepped out, stretching their cramped legs and loosening their muscles. For many of the islanders this would be the first time they’d ever set foot on the mainland and there were grins and expressions of wonder abounding.

  Kiva smiled as he watched a young girl with her arm in a sling crying with worry at this whole new world. Her father crouched and put his arms round her, a wide grin on his own face. The islanders were collectively overwhelmed, but Kiva’s attention was drawn back to the present as his own boat grounded with a crunch that jarred him. As the occupants filed out, one of them stopped to help the wobbly general over the side. With some effort he reached the gravel and leaned heavily on his companion as his legs struggled to support him.

  Other boats grounded now and the crowd on the beach grew at a rate of knots. Kiva, with the aid of the helpful islander, struggled across to the rocks that stood proud of the beach and hauled himself up onto them with surprising ease. The flask of mare’s mead was diminishing rapidly, but thanks to its numbing and soothing effects he was able to ignore and overcome the pain and discomfort his wounds caused. Minister Sarios clambered up onto the rocks beside him and the two stood silently until the crowd gradually fell silent and faced them in a huge semi-circle.

  “Ok everyone. Listen carefully. We’re currently trapped on this beach. Somewhere on the other side of these low hills is the entire army of Velutio marching toward Serfium. We cannot go inland, and north along the coast will take us straight to Serfium, which we must avoid at all costs. South from here will take us to the city, and I’m sure none of us want to go there. So, make the best you can of this place for now. No one goes far enough away to be out of sight. If you do that, you could find yourself in most unpleasant circumstances.”

  Kiva smiled. “By this time the guards will almost certainly have escaped the kitchens on the island, but Commander Sabian assured us that it’ll be at least a week before the next ship to the island and, no matter where they check, the guards will find that we’ve scuppered every other boat on the island and brought every signal lantern with us. While it is possible they’ll find a way to draw attention to the island it will take time, particularly with Velutio and the army away campaigning, so we have some time to play with.”

  The general nodded at the minister and Sarios stepped forward to speak.

  “Now that we are clear of the reefs, we will rest and then move again at dusk. There are sails stowed away among the gear and we have a number of competent sailors. Once the light starts to fail, we will set off by boat once more, looking for all the world like a small group of night fishermen. It will be too dark for our numbers to be too visible and we are unlikely to attract any unwanted attention. We will sail for however long it takes, I’m afraid, so be prepared for a long journey in some discomfort. The route will take us around the island of Isera once more, this time outside the reefs, to a point south of Monte Bero and the city of Velutio. There, the general and his men will procure transport for us and we will begin the journey into the mountains to a hidden location where we will be safe from our enemies.”

  He smiled as he continued. “It will be a long and difficult journey by sea and then by mountain path, but remember while your legs are cramped on board and your feet ache with walking, that every ste
p takes you further from your enemies and that we will be safe and sound at the end of the road.”

  Kiva nodded thoughtfully and announced “time to do as you please, so long as you stay within sight of this rock. I would suggest someone starts organising breakfast.”

  With that, he turned to the minister and gestured to the rear of the rocky outcrop. Sarios helped the general hobble over to the other side, away from the dispersing crowd.

  I know this hidden place of yours is secret, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to share it with me now. I need to know what transport we’ll need and, if you clarify where we’re headed, I might be able to make something of it in future planning.”

  Sarios raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said we had enough trouble with the present and that we didn’t have the luxury of planning for a future?”

  The general growled quietly. “To be quite honest, I was never entirely convinced we’d get everyone off the island. Now we’ve no choice. If we do nothing, Velutio’ll take it all and in the end he’ll come looking for us. We need to move ourselves and try to stop him from gaining any more power. Times change, now just tell me where we’re going.”

  The minister leaned back against a rocky protrusion. “Hadrus, Caerdin. We’re going to Hadrus.”

  Kiva frowned. “Hadrus was destroyed by an earthquake. I remember all the fuss and the refugees.”

  “True… all true, but it was also rebuilt on Quintus’ orders for the imprisonment of people he didn’t want found. Funny, really, isn’t it?” We’ve escaped from a prison made from the Emperor’s refuge and we’re seeking refuge at the Emperor’s secret prison!”

  Sarios laughed and the general couldn’t help but smile at the irony.

  “Ok, minister. Tend to your people and get them organised. I’m going to speak to Ashar… and Darius, of course.”

  Sarios smiled again, knowingly. “Of course…”

  As the minister wandered over toward the chefs who were unloading a case of foodstuff from one of the boats, Kiva scanned the beach and spotted the Pelasian Prince in conversation with his doctor. Hobbling slowly along the rock and climbing down the lowest part with the aid of a helpful islander, he tottered unsteadily across the uneven surface of the beach until he reached the two swarthy black-clad men.

  “Ashar, I need to speak to you. Alone” he added, glancing at the doctor. The man nodded and walked away across the beach, leaving his master alone with the general.

  “Kiva? You’re walking better all the time. I wish I could say it was my doctor’s doing, but I know you better than that. What can I do for you?”

  “You tried to convince me not long ago to go to war against Velutio. Quintillian’s gone, but you said it didn’t matter. I’d be your banner.”

  Ashar nodded seriously.

  “Well,” the general continued, “I’m still not Emperor material and never will be, but we all know someone who could be. Will you add your banner to the cause for a different Emperor?”

  Ashar smiled; slowly at first, but then breaking into a broad grin.

  “You know you’ll have to create some spurious link to the Imperial line for him if you want people to follow him?”

  Kiva nodded. “It’s been done before on many occasions. I’m sure Sarios can find some convincing evidence.”

  “Very well,” the Prince nodded. “You put him on the pedestal and I’ll help you carry it. I need to find the rest of my men then.”

  “Hadrus,” whispered the general. “That’s where we’ll be.”

  Ashar laughed. “The Emperor’s prison? That’s priceless.”

  “Some day you’ll have to tell me how you find out about things like that. But, yes. We’ll be at Hadrus. I’ll start pulling everything together, but I’m afraid I need another favour from you.”

  The Prince raised an eyebrow and the general patted him on the shoulder. “I need you and your Pelasians to track down a number of people and send them to me.”

  Ashar nodded. “Other captains, I presume? The ones you were sending for before the disaster at Serfium?”

  “Yes. Filus and Sithis should both come without question if you can find them. They should both be somewhere south east of Burdium.” The general pulled a scrap of paper from his tunic and thrust it into Ashar’s hand. “This is a list of other captains that should be open to persuasion and a few Lords who’ll likely want to help. It’s not much, but it’s a start. We need to pull a few units together before we can start building any kind of army.”

  The Prince nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be at Hadrus inside a month. Stay safe until then and try not to end up in Velutio’s hands again.”

  Kiva smiled. “I take it you’ll be ok heading inland from here. You can get around without drawing attention, I know.”

  Ashar grinned and scanned the beach. “I’ll take my men, but you take my doctor. You’ve over a hundred people here and you may need a lot of medical attention by the time you get to Hadrus. Go safe my friend and stay lucky.”

  Kiva clasped hands for a moment with the Prince, wincing briefly at the pressure it put on his damaged wrist and then watched as the lithe, black figure jogged along the shore to the small knot of Pelasians and started to make preparations.

  The general sighed for a moment as a nagging worry caught him. The last time they made this sort of plan it had cost them Quintillian and almost been the end of the Wolves. Was it tempting fate for a cursed man to try a second time? He scanned the beach for Darius and spotted the young man collecting stones from the ground and hurling them out into the sea, trying to hit a small outcrop that jutted amidst foam from the water.

  Slowly, the general picked his way down to where the lad stood, far enough away from the crowd to allow a little privacy. Most of the islanders were concerned with unpacking goods and arranging food, and paid little attention to the two figures further along the beach.

  “Darius.”

  The general reached out and plucked a stone from the young man’s armful and, taking aim, hurled it towards the rock. It fell woefully short and slightly off target. Darius laughed.

  “I think it’s going to be a while yet before you’ve the strength for that, general.”

  “Shows how much you know,” replied the older man. “Even at my best I’d be lucky just to hit the water. That’s why I favour swords, not bows.”

  The young man smiled, took one last throw, and then dropped the rest of his collection back to the ground. “What’s on your mind, sir?”

  Kiva swallowed. This was difficult ground. How to say what he needed to say without warning the lad off.

  “Let’s see just how clever you are, Darius. Tell me why you and Quintillian were taught the things you were on the island when all the other youngsters have been taught trades.”

  Darius shrugged. “They had something else in mind for the two of us. Perhaps they were trying to make us useful enough that Velutio wouldn’t kill us.”

  Kiva frowned. Not a bad angle, and one he hadn’t considered, but still not the right one.

  “You were both being groomed for the throne. Quintillian and you both. You may think that Sarios is a kind man, but he’s not. Don’t argue” he added forcefully as anger rose in Darius’ face. “The minister is a politician and nothing he does is without purpose. Sarios would use either of you to rebuild what was lost at whatever cost. He uses me and the Pelasian Prince and any others he needs the same way.”

  A frown crossed the young man’s face. “And yet you go along with it because you agree with his goal? His aspirations? I can see that, yes. But Quintillian had a claim to the throne; the best claim you could have. I’m not even remotely connected… and I’m not a politician. I think you’re wrong. I think Quintillian was being groomed for the throne, but I was being trained to be what you were for his uncle.”

  Again the insight the young man displayed made Kiva blink. Another thing he’d never considered, and a observation that was very persuasive. For a moment he found himse
lf wondering whether Darius was right and the minister had been dissembling again. He shook his head; either way it made no difference now.

  “That’s a possibility I suppose, but it makes no difference. You have the brain, the charisma, the learning and the guts to lead a nation. What do you think?”

  Darius stood for a long moment with his chin resting in his hand. “I realise that you want me to leap up with glee and say that I’m the man for the job, but it’s not that simple. I need to think about this.”

  Kiva laughed. “And I said you were clever! If you were the sort to leap at the chance, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. I don’t expect you to want to do it, or even to agree with it. I want you to think long and hard about it and come grudgingly to the same conclusion as we have: that you are the only person who can do it.”

  Darius’ frown deepened. “I have no claim.”

  “Claims can be manufactured; just watch how fast Sarios finds a link.”

  “Yes, I’d bet he can at that.”

  The two stood for quite some time, staring out at the waves with the smell of frying fish drifting along the beach. Kiva studied the young man for a while and finally squared his shoulders.

  “I’ll leave you alone to think.”

  Darius shook his head. “Wait. Don’t take this as a yes, but would you like to tell me what you have in mind?”

  The most momentous occasions are often heralded by peace and quiet. The waves crashed on the rocks and seagulls crowded over the breakfast site as two men stood alone on the rocks and decided the fate of the world.

  Part Five: Change & Rebirth

  Chapter XXV.

  Kiva Caerdin, General of the rebel army, strode purposefully across the square. The changes the sojourn at Hadrus had wrung in him were extensive and those who remembered the sullen, old Kiva of the Grey Company marvelled anew every time they saw him. In the two and half months since their boats had landed on the coast south of Velutio, he’d recovered from his wounds at astonishing speed. Though still far from his old form, he was moving well and even found at sword practice at least once a day. Mercurias had washed his hands of the general’s state of health, declaring him a lost cause and putting his speedy recovery purely down to an increased and dangerous addiction to the mare’s mead that had been part of his life for decades. Whatever the cause, the effect was impressive.