by John Marco
It was well past dawn, and he had yet to hear a single volley from the coast. Apparently, Kasrin had failed. Biagio bit back a curse. Without the Dread Sovereign to distract him, Gayle had been able to field a huge army.
“Redburn,” he said haltingly, “I’m sorry. I swear to you, I had a dreadnought prepared …”
Prince Redburn said simply, “Do not be sorry. You were always right. This is our war. We will win it or lose it on our own.”
“And without Triin help,” said Breena bitterly. “Or do you still expect them to rescue us, Emperor?”
“Breena, please,” said Redburn. “We’re allies now.”
“And I will do my best to defend your Highlands, my lady,” said Biagio. “You have my promise.”
Breena’s face softened. “Emperor, look out there. Please tell me we can win.”
“I cannot tell you that, because I do not wish to lie to you.”
“I didn’t expect the Voskans,” said Redburn. “Or the Gorkneymen. You have many enemies, Lord Emperor.”
“A present from Baroness Ricter, no doubt?” Biagio remembered how he had arranged the baron’s murder on Crote. Eleven Naren lords had died that day. It almost surprised Biagio that more of his enemies hadn’t come.
“And the Gorkneymen?” asked Breena. “What of them?”
“It’s better you don’t know about that, I think,” said Biagio.
Prince Redburn studied their flanks. Nearby, Olly Glynn stirred anxiously beneath his banner, a flag embroidered with a snarling bear. Of all the clan leaders, only Glynn had wanted war. He had even requested the honor of being first to enter the battle. Biagio supposed he would be up against the infantry. Or perhaps the Voskans.
“It’s time,” said Redburn. He turned to Breena. “Stay here, sister. Wait for me. If I’m killed, you know what to do.”
“I know.”
Redburn turned to Biagio. “Will he be expecting us?”
“He will think you are presenting terms,” said Biagio, “or perhaps asking for his surrender. I’m sure he’s hoping his show of numbers has frightened you. That’s why he hasn’t attacked yet.”
“Then I won’t keep him waiting.” Redburn raised a gauntleted hand, turning toward each of the clan leaders. One by one the clan heads broke ranks, riding out from the folds of their fighting men and coming to meet with Redburn at the center of their army. Olly Glynn was first at Redburn’s side.
“We’re riding out to make the challenge?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Redburn. He turned a grave smile on Vandra Grayfin. “Vandra, I’m sorry for this.”
The leader of Clan Greyfin shook her head. “Do not be. None of us were forced to come.”
Cray Kellen added, “It’s not your war, Redburn. Gayle started it. We will finish it for him.”
Biagio guided his horse out of the ranks. “It looks bleak, I know,” he told them. “But you have the latapi. And more than that you have the heart. Redburn, I’m going with you.”
The prince shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Besides, Gayle won’t come out himself to speak with us.”
“He will when he sees me,” countered Biagio. A sly smile crept to his lips. “War is a mind game, remember. And I think I can give us a little edge.”
On the east side of the Silverknife, Tassis Gayle felt supremely satisfied. Around him stirred an army of his best fighting-men. It had been many years since he had ridden into battle, and he felt young again. The sight of his enemies across the river made his blood gallop, strengthening him, and his mind was keen and alert. Next to him, Duke Wallach of Gorkney sat nervously upon his mount fretting over the number of Highlanders, while Count Galabalos of Vosk hummed softly to himself, confident of victory. In the absence of Ricter, the count was in command of his countrymen. In his long headdress and spiked armor, he appeared completely unconcerned about the mounted Highlanders across the river, and his hundred-strong force seemed to share his optimism. Major Mardek of the Green Brigade was also untroubled. The major rode from the vanguard of cavalry, hurrying up to Tassis Gayle and bringing his horse to a whinnying halt. His voice rang loudly from behind his demon mask.
“Shall we ask for their surrender, my liege?”
“Surrender?” answered Wallach. “They won’t surrender, you fool. Look at them!”
“Galabalos!” called Tassis Gayle. As the Voskan approached, Gayle asked, “Mardek wants to know if we should ask for surrender. What say you?”
“My men are here to fight, King Tassis,” replied Galabalos. “It is what our baroness would want, for the revenge of her brother.”
“Your baroness. Indeed,” said Gayle.
Galabalos straightened on his horse. “A pity she can’t be here for this. But we will make her proud.”
“I’m certain you will,” said Gayle. He looked at each of the men in turn. “Remember why we’re here, friends. For vengeance. Do not forget your daughter, Duke Wallach. Or your baron, Galabalos.”
Wallach nodded. “Or your son, Tassis.”
Tassis Gayle sighed. “Or my son.”
“My lord,” said Galabalos. He pointed across the river. “Look there.”
From the ranks of Highlanders came a group of riders. Gayle counted five in all, most upon elk, one atop a plain-looking horse.
“Redburn,” commented Mardek. “Perhaps he wishes to talk terms.”
“Yes,” said Wallach. “Our terms.” The duke squinted. “Who’s that with him?”
“The other clan leaders,” said Mardek.
“No, on the horse. Who is that?”
Tassis Gayle peered across the river. Through the eye slits of his helmet the strange figure took shape. He had golden hair and amber skin and was remarkably lithe and tall. He rode alongside Redburn with an arrogant gait, sitting high in the saddle and glaring across the Silverknife. Gayle took a long time to recognize him, but when he did he nearly fell from his horse.
“Sweet God almighty,” he gasped. “Biagio!”
Emperor Renato Biagio wore black leather armor and a mischievous grin. At his side dangled a silver sword, glinting in the sunlight. He rode purposefully, taunting Gayle with his presence.
“What is this trickery?” Gayle seethed.
“Emperor Biagio?” Duke Wallach’s wobbling resolve collapsed. “Is that him?”
“I don’t believe it,” spat Gayle. “The fop has found us out!”
The ranks of soldiers rippled with a worried murmur. Major Mardek looked at his king. “My lord? What shall we do?”
Gayle didn’t answer. He was too enraged to make a sound. As Biagio drew closer, Gayle considered what had gone wrong. He had been so careful, hadn’t he? And Biagio was weak. How had he orchestrated this waylay?
“A devil,” whispered Gayle. “That is what he is.”
“Tassis?” pressed Wallach. “What should we do?”
“What we came here to do, Wallach,” snapped Gayle. “This was always about Biagio. By coming here, he’s saved us the trouble of going to the Black City.” Gayle felt a sudden rush of pleasure. Just as he’d promised Ricter, he was facing Biagio in battle. “Let him come. Let him taste my steel.” Enraged, he bolted from the protection of his infantry, galloping toward the cavalry gathered at the river. “You hear me, Biagio?” he called. “Here I am! Face me, murderer!”
Across the Silverknife, Biagio’s grin widened. Gayle brought his horse to a stop at the bank of the river, shaking
his fist at the approaching emperor. Mardek and the others galloped up behind him.
“Tassis, get back!” said Wallach. “Don’t let him taunt you. That’s what he wants!”
Gayle ignored the advice, yelling, “Here I am, man-girl. I’m ready for you!”
“My liege, please,” begged Mardek. Quickly he brought his mount in front of Gayle’s. “Go back. Let us speak to these pigs for you.”
“I will speak for myself,” spat Gayle. “Back now; let him see me!”
Mardek, Wallach, and Galabalos all
surrounded the king, waiting for the emperor and Highlanders to reach the river. When they came to the banks, Redburn held up a hand, stopping his small company. The Red Stag glared at Gayle defiantly.
“Tassis Gayle,” he called. “For your crimes against my people, and for the slaughter of our sacred elk, we face you in battle. Today you will pay for your offenses.”
Gayle lifted his faceplate. “Bold talk, boy.” He pointed at Biagio. “Did you think bringing that creature with you would frighten me?”
Biagio laughed. “Surprised to see me, Tassis? It has been some time, hasn’t it? You’re looking fit for such an old man.”
“Do not bait me, fop,” warned Gayle. “It is you I seek to destroy. And as you can see, I am quite prepared.”
“Yes,” said Biagio, his eyes flicking between Gayle’s comrades. “I was told you’d invited Wallach into your brotherhood. How are you, Duke? I see you’ve been spending some of your famous fortune.”
“And what about me, Emperor?” challenged Count Galabalos. “Did you expect my army as well?”
“Ah, yes,” drawled Biagio. “The Voskans. Where is your mistress, dog? I thought she would be here, pining for her dead brother.” He smiled. “Baron Ricter was a brave man. I heard he didn’t cry at all when the Lissens cut his heart out.”
“Pig!” Galabalos cried, racing for the riverbank. “Come across and say that to my face!”
“No!” roared Gayle. “Biagio, you are mine. These others may have claims on you, but I will be the one to take your head!”
The emperor feigned surprise. “Taking heads? Hmm, what an interesting idea. What do you think of that, Wallach?”
“Butcher!” cried the duke. “How dare you speak of my daughter that way!”
“Me?” said Biagio. “Oh, my poor, misguided Wallach. Do you think it was I who killed the Lady Sabrina?”
Wallach’s eyes narrowed. “You wretched beast …”
“Enough,” said Gayle, anxious to change the subject. “We all know your crimes, Biagio.”
“Oh, but I don’t think the duke does, Tassis.” Biagio looked at Wallach. “My apologies, Duke. Yes, I did order her killing, I admit that. But it wasn’t I who raped her and decapitated her.”
“Silence, devil!” thundered Gayle. “We won’t listen to your lies.”
Biagio smiled. “It was Blackwood Gayle.”
Duke Wallach swayed unsteadily on his mount, looking dazed. Gayle rushed to explain.
“Do not believe him, Wallach. He is a liar.”
“Oh, Tassis, please,” said Biagio. “We were allies then. Why, I spent many days in your castle. I remember perfectly dumping the Lady Sabrina at your son’s feet. She was a gift, you see, Wallach. And Blackwood was so happy with her. He couldn’t wait to—”
“Is it true?” Wallach demanded. He put his hand to his sword. “Tassis?”
Gayle’s face hardened. “What will you do if it is? Biagio is the enemy, Wallach. Not me!”
“But you betrayed me!”
“I did not,” bellowed Gayle. “That fiend gave the order for your daughter’s execution. My son had no choice but to obey!”
“Well, let’s be accurate, Tassis,” said Biagio. “Rape was never actually part of the order.”
“Shut up!” growled Gayle. It was all coming apart suddenly and he couldn’t contain it. “Wallach, listen to me …”
“And you want me to fight for you?” cried the duke. “After what your bastard son did to my daughter?”
“You never loved her, Wallach. You know you didn’t. Not like I loved my children.”
“She was mine! And you took her from me!” Wallach looked across the river at Biagio. “Both of you took her. You had no right.” He took the reins of his horse and turned it toward his waiting mercenaries. “We will not fight for you,” he said. “Not today or ever.”
Tassis Gayle tried to remain calm. “Wallach, do not abandon us.”
“Burn in hell, Gayle,” spat Wallach.
“Wallach …”
“Don’t try to leave, Wallach,” cautioned Biagio. “If you do, he’ll kill you just like your daughter.”
Wallach turned to Gayle. “You may try to kill me, Gayle, but if you do, my men will fight you. And then you will lose this war for certain.”
Gayle was too enraged to answer. Wallach began trotting away. His men spied him curiously as he approached. Mardek made to follow, but Gayle stopped him. There was nothing to be done.
“Fifty men,” Gayle said. “Practically nothing. We still outnumber you and your rabble, Biagio.” His gaze shifted to Redburn. “I will spare you, Prince, if you turn this demon over to me. You and your clans can return home with your lives. All you have to do is give me Biagio.”
Prince Redburn laughed. “A month ago, I might have agreed to your bargain, but that won’t bring our latapi back. Now you have a battle on your hands.”
“Look around, Redburn,” suggested Gayle. “You can’t possibly defeat us. We will slaughter you, just like we did your elk.” He looked at Biagio. “You’ve lost, Emperor. Face it.”
But Biagio didn’t reply. Instead, the emperor cocked his head, as if listening to something very faint. Gayle frowned, then heard it too. From far in the east a rumble sounded.
“What’s that?” Gayle asked Mardek. “Do you hear it?”
Biagio began laughing. “Those are flame cannons. The guns of dreadnoughts, Gayle!”
“What?”
“You fool. Did you think I’d come here alone? Even now the Black Fleet is hammering your coast.”
“No!”
“Oh, yes. And they have orders to lay waste to your shore.”
“Impossible! Nicabar is dead.”
All the humor left Biagio’s face. “Nicabar may be dead, but I am emperor. And the Black Fleet goes where I tell it. You are doomed, Tassis. Surrender!”
“Never!” hissed Gayle. He drew his sword. “I will never bow to you, murderer! Not while there is breath in me!”
“Defend your land, then. Because you have more than these Highlanders to face today.” Biagio sidled his horse into the river. “You have dreadnoughts to deal with, Gayle. And guess what else?”
“Games!” wailed Gayle. “Games and lies!”
“Triin,” said Biagio. “Check your maps, old man. You have a twofront war today.”
Major Mardek galloped to the riverbank. “My liege,” he said, “if this is true …”
“It’s true,” said Biagio. “The invasion of Aramoor is underway. Richius Vantran has returned, and he’s brought a Triin army with him.” His laughing eyes fixed on Gayle. “It isn’t I who have lost, Tassis. It is you!”
“My liege, we must defend the coast,” urged Mardek. “And Aramoor …”
Tassis Gayle hardly heard him. “Lies,” he whispered. “All lies …”
Biagio retained his mocking grin. “You don’t have to believe me. You can all stay here and die.”
“Big words,” seethed Gayle. “But all I want is you.”
“No,” said Redburn. He steered his elk to Biagio’s side, the other clan leaders following. “We are allies, Gayle. Fight Biagio, and you fight us all.”
“Fine then, whelp. Prepare to die.”
Gayle whipped his horse around and rode back through the ranks of cavalry. Mardek was close behind him.
“King Tassis, we must see to the coast!” urged the major. “Please, let me send some troops. To Aramoor as well. I beg you …”
Slamming down the visor of his helmet, Gayle said, “Send fifty horsemen to the coast. No more than that, understand?”
“And Aramoor?”
“Damn Aramoor,” said Gayle. He still didn’t know if Biagio was lying, and he wouldn’t waste the troops. “Let Elrad Leth fight for himself.”
“Sir,” said Mardek cautiously, “if the emperor is right, then we are in peril. We should retreat.”
“What?” sputtered Gayle. “Retreat? When Biagio is so close?”
“But the
dreadnoughts …”
“We will not retreat!” thundered Gayle. He looked across the river again. Biagio and the Highlanders were going back to their armies. At the left flank of the Talistanians, Wallach and his Gorkneymen were leaving the field. Raising his sword to heaven, Gayle stood up in his stirrups and screamed, “Are you listening to me, cowards? We will not retreat!” He pointed the tip of his weapon at Mardek. “Major, prepare the archers.” Then to Galabalos he said, “Count, you will be first. Make ready to avenge your baron.”
Gayle dropped back into his saddle, staring at the backs of Biagio and the clan leaders. A painful ringing sounded in his head. He knew it was the madness, come once more to claim him, but he clamped down on it, trying to banish it from his brain. Yet he knew he was too enraged to squash it completely. Today in battle, he would be a berserker.
FORTY-SIX
Two hours past dawn, the Dread Sovereign hobbled into Talistanian waters. An hour later, she had located a target, a tall fortress buttressed against the shoreline. With her trio of starboard cannons, she opened fire.
It was rote work for Kasrin, who had bombarded countless Lissen strongholds from the deck of his dreadnought, and who knew the range of his guns perfectly. He had noticed the fortress through his spyglass and had quickly turned his cannons against her, seizing the target to get Tassis Gayle’s attention. The Dread Sovereign’s journey to Talistan had been difficult, and her ruined topsails had dragged at them like an anchor. She was very late for her rendezvous in Talistan, and Kasrin didn’t know what had become of Biagio, or if Richius Vantran had launched his attack on Aramoor. He knew only that he had pledged himself to do this, to distract the armies of Talistan with his warship’s powerful weapons. As the gunners worked the flame cannons, Kasrin directed their fire from the gunwale, watching through his spyglass as the Talistanians abandoned their fortress. Already the Sovereign had punched a gaping wound through their approach ramp and had turned her attention to their main watch turret. Onshore, soldiers pointed helplessly at their assailant, unable to stop her lethal pounding. Kasrin carefully avoided turning the guns against them directly. The little ghost-girl from Liss was perched on his shoulder, whispering to him to be merciful. This time, Kasrin listened. Today, he didn’t have to be a murderer.
