He sighed and leaned back.
“But I think the general will not outlast this campaign. The army must not hear about this under any circumstances. I’m sure you can all understand why.”
“So…” Darius straightened again. “Tythias. As soon as Caerdin gets back you need to find out what his plan is. We need to know in case he doesn’t live to see it through. In the meantime, we need to think about any necessary reorganisation. I would like Sithis to take the position of third in command so that there’s still two senior officers should anything happen suddenly to the general.”
There were nods of agreement among the long and unhappy faces in the room. Brendan stood and straightened himself. “Mercurias is right though. Kiva’s strong. ‘E’ll surprise us all yet.” Turning, he saluted the Emperor. “Is that all, highness? I got a regiment ter get mobilised.”
Darius nodded and the officers began to stand and dissipate. The world here was a vastly different place to the confines of Isera where he’d had to make no decisions affecting other folk. Now he was forced to plan the fate of thousands; maybe millions. In the past weeks, Kiva had been with him constantly, suggesting and nudging him in the right directions, making sure he did what was best and right without having to handle the crucial decisions himself. In the last week, though, the general had begun to pull away from that, spending more and more time alone; admittedly often because of convalescence. Caerdin seemed to spend all his time now with Cialo and Balo, even eschewing his own unit, and his lack of counsel was a loss that Darius felt deeply.
As the commanders in the room stood and made their way bowing and saluting to the door, Athas stepped toward Darius. Waiting until the last of the others had left, he pulled a seat closer to the Emperor’s and collapsed heavily into it.
“You worry a great deal about losing Kiva, don’t you?”
Darius nodded. “Of course. He’s the linchpin that holds the army together and our strategist…”
“I’m not talking about that, Darius, and you know it. Sarios spent his entire life on the island preparing you for this, but he was never close to you, was he? I know how close Sabian was to you. I suspect he even felt like family; an uncle or some such?”
Darius looked down at the floor and nodded slowly.
“And now he’s gone from you,” the big black captain went on. “He’s the enemy and that’s hard enough for you to deal with. And then you got to know Kiva and he’s taken much the same role with you: protector, advisor, even father-figure perhaps. And now you know you’re going to lose him. It’s going to be hard on you; you’re still a young man, Darius. It’s cutting me up deep inside knowing in a few weeks he’ll be gone from us. I’ve known him almost all my life and I’ve never been as close to anyone. He’s been a brother to me since we met on the battlefield at the Galtic Narrows and the rest of the Wolves feel much the same. Mercurias deals with it by being angry at him for what he sees as shortening his own life for the sake of the campaign. Brendan’s in denial; he thinks Kiva will live forever. Marco’s all but stopped speaking to people and I notice he’s started drinking quite heavily. And I’m bottling it all up, because someone has to keep control. That, I suspect is why he’s spending so much time with Balo, Cialo and Favio. He can’t be with us at the moment, because it’s distracting. He needs to concentrate on what he’s doing and those three are less interested parties; outsiders if you prefer.”
Darius lifted his head and Athas was not surprised to see the tears in his eyes.
“I’m just not prepared for all this,” the young man said, his voice thick with emotion. “Battles and campaigns I was expecting, but there’s too much more than that; too much personal trouble. I always thought Sabian would somehow help us; I couldn’t believe he’d bring an army against us for that man. If he leads his force against us; against me… It feels like my family are betraying me or deserting me. Sabian’s going to fight me; Kiva’s going to leave me. Gods alone know how many of the rest of us are going to die in the next week. Even if we win this, who’s going to be left? I might be alone.”
Athas nodded. “It’s a distinct possibility. But you’ve got to plan for every eventuality. You’ll always have a good civilian support even if all of your commanders die. Sarios, Favio, Sathina and all the elders of the island will be able to help you after this is over. I have to admit I’m surprised Sabian is still with them, but he’s a man of his word. He took an oath to Velutio and he’d rather die than betray that oath. His loyalty may be misplaced, but that’s the kind of honour the world’s sadly short of. If we lose, he’ll have been proved right. If we win, it won’t be him we’ve beaten; it’ll be his master. Either way, he’ll fight honourably and fairly and you can’t ask more of him than that. I’d certainly rather he was in command of the enemy than someone with no morals.”
The Emperor shuddered as the tears fell. “I just don’t know if I can do it Athas. This last quarter of an hour actually hurt. I spent three hours steeling myself to have to say the things I did, and I think Brendan’s angry with me now too.”
Athas shook his head. “As I said, Brendan’s in denial. He’ll not blame you. We need to get the army moving and you need to dry your face and stand up straight. You’re the Emperor, remember, not just Darius of Isera now.”
The young man gave him a weak smile as they stood slowly and walked slowly toward the exit. Darius wiped his face on his sleeve and held his head high. Outside, the camp was a blur of activity, as regiments packed up or moved into position. Athas’ engineers and supply wagons were already on the move, having set off under armed escort as soon as the sun had risen. The rest would catch up within the hour and they’d be safe from trouble with Tythias’ scout units constantly monitoring the surrounding area and reporting any sign of a life. Tythias and Athas had made the decision to remove some of the safeguards from the slow-moving units in order to speed up the general movement rate of the entire army.
Darius and the burly, dark-skinned man strode across the grass in front of the command tent and were about to go their separate ways when one of the gate guards came running, out of breath, up the hill to the officers. He stumbled to a halt and saluted clumsily.
“Your majesty? Sir? There’s a man at the gate… whole load of men with him… doesn’t know the password but demands to be let in… Says he’s the Prince of Pelasia, sir.”
Darius turned to Athas, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The first good news he’d heard in days. He sighed as some of the tension fell from his shoulders and nodded at the soldier. “Go and find Prefect Tythias and tell him to join us at the gate. Then come back down, but don’t run. You’ll do yourself an injury; look at yourself man… you’ve gone purple!”
Athas laughed and patted Darius on the shoulder as they strode slowly down the hill toward the west gate. Already the first and second regiment were moving down the hill toward the gate with their full packs. Men ran everywhere organising and busy, though each and every one stopped in mid-run to salute their Emperor. Darius stopped one of them.
“What are you doing now?”
“Sir! I’ve gotta go fetch the standards for the third regiments, sir.”
Darius smiled. “Ok, but go via the command area and tell my guard to pack up and get my gear loaded on the wagons. And have one of them bring my armour and horse down to the west gate.”
“Yessir!” the man saluted again and then jogged off up the hill.
At the gate, Ashar stood with his arms folded watching them approach. Behind him the entire Pelasian unit sat ahorse, watching with interest. Ashar grinned as Athas and Darius approached the blockade.
“Quite an army you’ve got here now, young Emperor.”
Darius returned the smile. “Ashar. Your intelligence must be slipping if you don’t know our watchwords.”
“Ha.” Ashar leaned over the barrier. “’Stadium’, yes? And yesterday was ‘fish sauce’, the day before was ‘provincial’. Need I go on?”
“Then why wait at th
e gate?” Athas enquired.
Ashar smiled. “I’m not actually part of your army. It would be impolite of me to enter a foreign nation’s military capital under false authority. Plus, I owe it to the Emperor here to treat him with the respect I would hope he would treat me.”
Darius returned the smile. “When this is over, Ashar, and we’ve rebuilt the Empire, this army will be travelling with you to put you back on your own throne. Rest assured the terms between our two countries will be good as ever they were if not better. In the meantime…” He leaned round the prince to address the Pelasian riders. “Go ahead and get yourself a bite to eat. The mess hasn’t been packed up yet and the cook should still be able to find you something. Have an hour’s rest, because by then the last of the army will be ready to move out.”
He turned back to Ashar. “Sorry to speak to your men over you, but we’re a little pressed for time.”
The prince nodded. “Agreed. I saw Caerdin and a few other men riding out a few hours ago. We passed them down on the Tosco valley trail. I presume that’s where you’re planning to meet Velutio?”
Athas nodded. “Kiva hasn’t confirmed it yet, but that’s where we’re making for. He’s gone ahead to check out the ground.”
“Yes. It would be somewhat amusing. And a good spot so long as you get there first. How large is your army now?”
Darius squared his shoulders. “Just under fifteen thousand, split into nine regiments and other cavalry and missile units under independent command. Then there’s engineers and their weapons and the supply train.”
Ashar nodded. “It’s starting to get a lot more even. I couldn’t get an exact count, but if you’d met Velutio’s army a week ago, they’d have walked across you without stopping to see what they’d trodden on. Now I shouldn’t think it’s even two to one anymore. There’ve been whole units of deserters we’ve come across in the last week.”
Darius smiled. Perhaps whatever plan Caerdin was working on was already having an effect…
Late in the afternoon Kiva rode slightly ahead of the group, down a narrow track and round the side of a hill to see a wide valley open up like a saddle. The sun was setting slowly ahead of them in the low point of the valley in the direction of Serfium and Velutio, as well as the direction that would soon see Velutio’s army on the march to meet them.
Reining in his horse, Kiva turned around as best he could in the contraption that held him rigid in place and surveyed the valley. Just like he remembered from all those years ago. There’s been less cavalry involved then, but he’d had the high ground and they’d held the saddle against their enemy. He looked back at the others. Balo was frowning.
“Problem, Balo?”
The scarred man shrugged. “Twenty years since, but Velutio’s got a long memory. D’you really think he’ll meet you here again in the same circumstances?”
“I think it’s kind of poetic really. I brought Avitus to battle here in support of an Emperor and beat him. Now it’s a different Emperor, but the generals are the same, so why not the place. I think Avitus or Velutio or whatever the hell he wants to call himself these days will meet me here. In fact, I think he’ll be eager to. See, he doesn’t like to be beaten and he holds grudges. He’ll want revenge for the last time and he’ll want to do it right; to do it here. The important question is which one of us will get the best positioning and that depends who gets here first. The best thing we’ve got going for us is that I doubt Sabian will be happy with this place. Velutio’ll have to order him to fight here and that might help drive the wedge between them a little further.”
He looked around again, smiling with reminiscence. “This is definitely it. This is where it’ll happen. We need to get Tythias and the others moving faster. I want the high ground here and the sun in their eyes early in the morning.”
Balo nodded. “It’s nice ground, I agree, but why are we here now ?”
“You need to remind yourself the lie of the land and where the lines will be drawn. I know you were there, but it’s been a quarter of a century and we need to be prepared.”
He stopped and glanced around the low hills surrounding them and the spurs of land on either side that jutted out like horns. Balo’s gaze followed the general’s. At some places on the hills the land had been terraced for farming and fields of vines and groves of olive trees surrounded picturesque white villas. Some of the buildings here were fairly grand affairs being, as they were, the centre of large estates belonging to wealthy landowners. He squinted. His initial observation in the slowly fading light had been misleading. These villas, including the two expensive ones in prime position on the spurs of land, were empty and had stood empty for some time. Though there was no sign of damage or neglect from this distance, the lack of sound or movement was disconcerting and saddening, and no smoke rose from the buildings. No animals barked or lowed and no peasants or slaves moved around the tangled fields. War had loomed and struck here several times before this and the villas’ owners were gone or dead some time since. Quiet reigned in the valley, disturbed only by the whistling of a gentle breeze and the rummaging of some animal in the undergrowth nearby.
Cialo coughed. “I’ve no idea why we’re all here general, but if there’s something you need to tell me, I guess now is the time?”
Kiva nodded. “Yes. This is it. I figure we’ve got two days; three at the most before both us and Velutio are here. We ride back to camp tonight after we’ve had a little rest and a little sightseeing and I think we’ll be there around dawn to join the column. Balo, you know what you need to do here. Keep your eyes peeled and take in absolutely everything you can. You’ll need it. Favio, you stay with Balo for the time being.” He turned to the man who’d served Velutio for two decades until his conscience would let him no more. “Cialo, I said I had a job for you, and I do. Come with me and I’ll explain.”
Chapter XXXIII
Sabian gripped and ungripped both fists rhythmically as he strode from the command tent. The sound of his teeth grinding together drowned out the sounds of camp being broken after the night. He swept his gaze back and forth around the camp. Since the disappearance of Cialo, he’d no one to talk to on a personal level. His position was becoming untenable in this place. Velutio was making command decisions and then forcing him to deal with them and the various lesser lords in the army were bypassing him and taking their gripes directly to the old lord. He might as well not be here other than the fact that Velutio still claimed he valued Sabian’s battlefield expertise. True enough that he’d taken Velutio’s army through months of warfare and their army had suffered only minor losses and no defeats, but morale was at an all time low now. They’d lost more men in two weeks of desertions than they’d lost in months of battle. So far no individual lord had tried to pull out, but Sabian had a feeling such a state wasn’t all that far away. Perhaps he should’ve been more decisive in those days on Isera. If he’d taken up with Caerdin then, none of this might have happened. Equally, if he’d not let the islanders and the Wolves leave, the same applied. It was his fault directly that this was happening and, having given his oath to Velutio and supported his stand against Darius as a rival claimant. The most irritating thing was that less than a half dozen people the world over knew that Darius actually had a direct claim to the throne rather than some spurious one that Sarios had invented. Velutio, on the other hand, had no claim. In all truth, he was supporting a usurper, but it was too late to do anything about it. All he could do was bring the army to the Tosco valley as Velutio had ordered and try to beat the rebels there and claim the high ground. All he could do was try his best to win the battle before their entire army deserted.
And yet…
He strode down the hill from the headquarters and kept his eye on the troops folding tent canvas and gathering their equipment; perimeter guards relinquishing the night’s passwords and heading back to their units. In the last few days the camp guard were much more concerned about people crossing the boundary from the inside than the ou
tside. Was Sabian the only one who thought of that as a sign?
Perhaps he should just give up and walk away. There would be no dishonour in that. Not desertion, of course, but resigning his commission. He could turn round and stride back into Velutio’s tent and leave his sword and uniform there. Walk away.
No. Not now.
He continued to march down the hill, anger still flooding through him. Velutio was being unusually sentimental wanting to re-fight an old battle with Caerdin and he could see why, but Caerdin had almost certainly engineered it to happen this way. Sabian knew he was a good strategist and a damn good commander, but could he hope to beat Caerdin on level terms and especially on ground Caerdin knew and had the advantage on?
Damn… damn… damn!
He spotted Lord Dio standing outside his tent in full armour, slugging back watered wine from a goblet. Dio was a man who in the right circumstances would have been a friend and probably a staunch imperialist. He’d served Quintus as a governor in the last days of the Empire and had been a friend to Caerdin. Steeling himself, he changed tack and made for Dio’s tent.
The elderly lord placed his goblet on the small table next to him and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He turned and smiled at the approaching man.
“Commander. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Sabian regarded Dio. The old man had long, grey hair tied back neatly after the fashion of the northern barbarians from whence his family had come many generations back. He was clean shaven with startling blue eyes and a tall, thin frame. He certainly didn’t look as old as Sabian knew him to be.
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