Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

  ‘I’ll coordinate a plan,’ said Devlin, offering him a way out. ‘Something that doesn’t draw down on our fighting strength too much.’

  ‘Very good. Cade?’

  She shrugged. ‘Fine with me. I’m sure you all know what you’re doing.’

  Why did she have to be so sarcastic?

  ‘Nutaaq? We could use your vargr, they can cover ground faster than anyone. Will you go with Devlin?’

  The Nidhal nodded. ‘I will go. Arluuq will follow.’

  ‘Thank you.’ So much depended on the Nidhal, if he could deploy them effectively.

  ‘General? What about their sorcerers?’ asked Fenner. ‘I seem to remember they are tricky bastards to deal with.’

  ‘We have our own. Nutaaq, your shamans, is there something they can do?’

  Nutaaq reached up and picked at one of his elongated incisors. ‘I will speak to them.’

  Owen clapped his hands and whistled. ‘Everyone, thank you. It’s going to be a busy night but try and get a few hours rest.’

  Everyone filed out and Owen watched them go. He watched Devlin already in conversation with Cadarn. Right now, he was grateful for the man’s skills. Though, as Cade sidled out, the discussion about loyalty might still have to be had. After.

  Killen stopped and smiled at him.

  ‘You need anything, Owen?’

  Owen rubbed his head and pulled the hand over his face, sighing heavily.

  ‘Around another thousand foot, five hundred cavalry and maybe a dozen more eagles?’

  Killen laughed. ‘Don’t worry, you’ve got some battle-hardened troops here, even if we look like a right bunch of odds and sods.’

  ‘As long as they fight.’

  ‘There isn’t anyone here who won’t put their lives on the line for the cause.’

  ‘Let’s hope we can save a few of them,’ said Owen.

  ‘Ah well, let’s get the plan right, then. And remember Owen, an old adage from my military schooling – no plan survives contact with the enemy. All you can do is think faster and react quicker than them.’

  Owen nodded. ‘Goodnight, Major.’

  Killen raised a hand as he left. ‘You too, General.’

  Finally, Owen was left alone. He looked down at the crudely drawn map. The elves were coming at them roughly from the southeast. To make them turn course would require work, but if they could find somewhere defensible it would be worth it. He looked out into the night. It was getting chilly. The weather was on the turn. It was autumn and in the old days the campaigning season would soon be drawing to a close. If rain was coming that could help, dampen spirits, but disguise tracks. Emperor? Can you deliver us rain?

  There was a tap on the door. Owen looked up to see Father Michael blocking most of the daylight.

  ‘Father.’

  ‘Please, it’s Michael.’

  ‘Michael. What can I do for you?

  He loitered at the door in the strangely cautious way that Owen had come to recognise in the big man. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Michael stepped through and took a position opposite Owen. He didn’t bother to sit.

  Owen put his arms on the table and clasped his hands. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘You heard my point about the Watchers?’

  ‘Yes. And I’m glad you made it. I’m already planning to send them out at first light tomorrow. If we can get at least two or three day’s warning of the enemy’s numbers and advance it will be useful.’

  Michael nodded. He stared at Owen with eyes that looked pained. ‘Then I would ask if you might … bend the Emperor’s agreement on the use of the Gifted.’

  Owen found himself frowning. This was interesting. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I believe that we waste valuable sword arms. Ones we need for the fighting to come.’

  Owen pulled his arms back and shuffled in his chair. Now he understood. ‘You think they should be used in the battle?’

  ‘Yes. Those that are fit enough to fight. They are all trained warriors. Some of the Readers are physicians. Even those who cannot wield a sword through infirmity can be used for communication.’

  Owen sighed. Michael made an excellent point. ‘You are right. Speakers on the ground can help when the fighting gets confused. The Watchers can maintain our flanks, the Readers can help with the wounded. And the Shapers can do what they do.’ Then he smiled. ‘As can the Eagle Riders.’

  Michael took a step forward.

  ‘Then you know why I ask this?’

  ‘I believe I do.’

  ‘It makes me uncomfortable even voicing it. But I know it is the right thing,’ said Michael thickly.

  Owen stood. ‘I’m not blind to what the Emperor is saying. My Riders are not – I am not – Gifted. I bear no mark. We have stayed loyal. But that may not matter in everyone’s eyes.’ He stepped around the table to face Michael and looked up into his concerned face. Looking at the scarred, angular features, it was almost odd to see the humanity radiate from it. He liked Michael more and more. ‘You know better than I what the Gifted did. But I know they have all been tarred with a brush. Those who whisper in the Emperor’s ear may well decide that, marked or no, an Eagle Rider is but a Speaker.’

  ‘Then we must give him a reason to question that thinking!’ said Michael. ‘Give them a chance to prove themselves through the shedding of their blood. There is no greater sacrifice. Perhaps then, the Emperor will see they have value.’

  Owen understood the nature of sacrifice. And loss. All the better if it was for a cause worth fighting. ‘Michael, I fear for the Riders, they are my friends, but I ask them to follow me into a battle where perhaps none of us will survive. I will not shirk from that, I must carry that burden, it is the choice I made.’ He smiled at Michael. He wanted to give this man some hope, even if it was a false. ‘As for the Gifted, I see my orders and authority clearly. I must use all available means to win. I will speak to the Gifted and I will tell them they now fight under my command. Though …’ He raised a finger. ‘I think Yarn had better stay in chains. I don’t want to push my luck.’

  Michael smiled with genuine warmth. ‘I think Captain Shepherd might resist your orders.’

  ‘Captain Shepherd can shove it up his arse. I’m the bloody General.’

  Michael laughed out loud. It was a hard, grating sound, but Owen grinned nonetheless.

  ‘Thank you, General.’

  ‘It’s Owen.’

  Michael nodded and reached out a hand. ‘Owen. I hope you get to spend time with the Admiral. I think you two would get on.’ He stopped and looked thoughtful. ‘Or you might just kill each other.’

  Owen clasped the offered hand. ‘Let’s hold off on that for a bit, then?’

  ‘Good idea,’ Michael replied. ‘Good night.’

  ‘It’ll be a long one. Good night to you.’

  Owen watched him go. What a strange beast he was. But then this army he was trying to put together was one big mess of people. He returned to the table. He wanted to go through in his head what he was going to brief the Emperor on.

  Another shadow fell upon him. He looked up, feeling irritated, yet when he saw both Nutaaq and his shaman in tow, he thought better of it. ‘Hello again.’

  ‘Gantak will help.’ A pause as Nutaaq thought for the words. ‘We want a Gifted.’

  That was remarkably timely.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We want Ellen.’

  CHAPTER 50 – CADE

  Cade strolled through the shadowed streets of the Big Island content to enjoy the nightlife, though it was a little more muted that she was used to.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Did you hear about the war going on?’ asked Issar, hurrying behind her.

  ‘Oh, that,’ she sniffed.

  ‘It’s kinda got on people’s minds.’

  ‘Yes, well. They should be enjoying their last few nights of … whatever.’

  ‘A lot are already at the barracks.’

  ‘And Devlin’s
lot don’t get much of a choice anyway, I suppose,’ she mused. ‘That’s why you want to get me wearing a uniform.’

  They took a right turn as they passed through the square.

  ‘I thought you said you were the commander of the militia?’

  Cade raised a finger. ‘A commander. I think of myself leading small unit of special troops.’

  ‘Cade’s Irregulars.’ said Issar.

  ‘Why, yes, as it ha–’ She stopped. ‘What the fuck is that?’

  Cade pointed towards the church. There was light flooding out from the open door and she could swear she heard some kind of chanting.

  Issar shrugged. ‘The faithful are gathering at their time of need.’

  ‘Like buggery. Since when did this become a thing?’

  ‘After that priest with the Emperor showed up.’

  ‘The little one?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t think Father Michael is the praying type.’

  ‘The Emperor. Or not. Come on.’

  She led the way to the door and peered inside.

  A number of people, a good two score, were gathered, sitting upon several rows of benches. At the front, on a low dais with his back to everyone, the unmistakable robed form of Father Llews. He was the one making all that racket. He was facing a sun symbol set upon a table.

  ‘Seriously?’ she whispered. Only then realising her deference, despite it all.

  ‘It’s hard to give up your faith, Cade. It’s only natural. The Emperor is back, he has a priest. It’s like the old times.’

  ‘Which got us into this mess.’ She shook her head. Who was that right at the front? She nudged Issar and pointed at the kneeling figures just behind Llews.

  ‘Is that bloody Rabb?’

  Issar nodded. ‘And that’s Heled next to him.’

  ‘What are they playing at?’

  ‘Supporting their Emperor. You’ve heard how excitable Rabb gets. He’s all for the war.’

  ‘He’ll be sucking the Emperor’s cock next,’ Cade grumbled. ‘Come on. I’ve seen enough.’ She stalked off, hearing Issar jogging to catch her.

  ‘You might have hit on something, Cade,’ he said, reaching her shoulder.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘We might all be in imminent danger of being slaughtered, but I reckon there are some folk thinking about the future.’

  Cade snorted. She was too.

  ‘Tell me the tavern is open?’

  ‘Did you say it could shut?’

  ‘Good point.’

  As she looked forward to dealing with her thirst, Cade also thought about what Issar had said. If he was right – and she didn’t doubt him on this one – when the fighting stopped, minds would start turning towards gaining advantage and favour. A power play. She could name a few people who might like her put in her place. But if it came to that, Cade had a bit of experience in that field herself.

  CHAPTER 51 – OWEN

  It was well into the dark of night as Owen finally took to star-pricked skies. He felt himself frowning, frustrated at the delay. He had wanted to go earlier but preparations on the ground had kept him too busy. At least the running commentary of both the on-station eagles and the Watchers had been enough to keep him steady, because he knew he was barely holding it together. Everyone kept looking to him for answers and to cap it all, the Emperor had finally arrived with his entourage.

  Owen had hoped that he would have stayed away, left it all to him and the commanders on the ground. He should be so lucky. Now he felt compelled to defer back to the Emperor on matters that should be left to him, the General, to decide. Not that the Emperor was being particularly obtrusive, but he was just … there.

  Owen sighed heavily, feeling the heat against his face as his breath was blocked by his scarf. It was too late to worry now. Everything was in place. Gods Below, please tell me I haven’t missed something.

  Arno kept them close to the ground, perhaps a hundred paces up, as they flew at a sedate pace roughly southeastwards. The temperature was definitely cooling down after a day of clear and bright weather. The change from warm autumn days to cold pre-winter nights was beginning. They’d even had rain the two days previously. Sent by the Gods or the Emperor, it did not matter, it had helped them no end, having slowed everything down in all the right ways.

  After a few hours of flight, he spotted the lights of the camp ahead. It was still some way off, but it was hard to miss. Arno had spotted the glow lighting up the night sky miles back, as hundreds of campfires spread out among the gently rolling hills that bordered the plains. It was a pretty sight, magical even. Like a nest of glow-worms that Owen had often found when exploring caves and caverns back in the Highlands. It enticed him with promises of warmth and comfort. He had not seen so much life in one place in an age.

  Pity.

  There were thousands camped there. Estimates had it at perhaps as much as ten thousand cavalry, infantry and supporting personnel. Rather more than he’d expected. More than he would have thought the elves would have wanted to commit to stamp out a ragtag bunch of Tissans. The elves were playing for keeps. And so am I.

  He reached out with his Gift, looking for the eagles that now prowled the skies. Who was out here? Whereas during the day they had deliberately maintained only one eagle in the air, at a respectable distance, at night there were no constraints. No sentries could see them and, as yet, no sorcerers had shown their hand. Were they playing a waiting game, just like Owen was, or were they just overconfident? Either way this was the last night. Tomorrow it wouldn’t matter.

  ‘Jenna? Bryce?’

  A few seconds later, a soft, familiar voice entered his head.

  ‘I’m here, Owen.’

  He smiled to himself. It was still good to hear her, after such a long time.

  ‘How goes it?’

  ‘All’s quiet. Bryce is on the far side of the camp, doing a circuit, he’ll be along soon.’

  Owen scanned the sky. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Western edge of the camp. They’ve got a watchfire on the hill. I’m circling above it, using the thermals.’

  Owen looked left, saw the fire, higher than those nearby, larger too. ‘Nice of them to help. I’m coming to you.’

  He turned Arno to the fire and bid him gain a little height. He looked for any dark shapes in the night sky but couldn’t see Jenna. He passed over the fire, spotting a few figures standing around it. Where was she?

  ‘Behind you.’

  Owen whipped his head around as Jenna dropped on to his rear left flank from above.

  ‘Damn Jenna, you scared me.’

  Laughter echoed in his mind. ‘Owen, you were always too easy to catch out, never watching your ass.’

  She was right. He’d forgotten that. He’d been the lead Rider for his own little squadron and had not had to worry about tails. Nothing had been chasing him for a long time.

  ‘Alright. You got me. Lucky they’ve got no buzzers.’

  ‘Not that we know of. And what about gryphons or manticores? They haven’t gone away.’

  Right again. Not their usual hunting grounds but then the elves had a way of guiding them along.

  ‘I’ll be careful,’ he pulsed.

  ‘You’d better be, General.’

  Why did he feel like he was suddenly the young novice again?

  ‘I just wanted to have a look at this before it all started. I haven’t had a chance yet.’

  ‘Well, here they are. Taking it slow and steady. But they are coming. Is everything ready?’

  Owen hoped so. ‘Pretty much. Everyone is in place. They should get a good night’s sleep tonight. Except for those waiting behind me.’

  ‘We got lucky with the weather. It slowed their scouts down too.’

  The elves had outriders ranging several hours ahead of the main force. Thankfully they had been a few miles short of the Tissan positions when they had camped for the night. All being well, those lead outriders would have been dealt with by now and the last messengers woul
d have reported no sign other than the trail they had been following for weeks. His thoughts turned to Cadarn, who had taken Owen’s Riders to locate other elf scouting parties. It would do his bunch good to see how a proper Leader did business.

  ‘Owen?’

  ‘Huh? Sorry, miles away.’

  ‘You going for a circuit round?’

  He thought about it. ‘No. I’ve seen enough for now. I’m going to head back and get this thing started. You and Bryce take care. When it all kicks off remember to liaise with the other Riders. We need to keep those bastards off our people.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘See you back at the line.’

  ‘See you there, Owen.’

  Owen bid Arno turn northwest and they winged away from the camp. When he had gone a mile or so, he dropped down low to the ground. A small rocky outcrop hove into view. Unusual to find such a thing hereabouts, which made it a useful marker. Arno swung around it and landed. Owen did not dismount, rather he raised an arm towards the small group of riders gathered on the northern side of the outcrop. All of them raised their horn bows in response. Matching their black and brown-skinned mounts, all the Plainsfolk were garbed in dark clothing, their weapons covered or carbonised. Slowly they moved off. There was no need for speed or sound where they were going. Owen waited until they were out of sight.

  ‘Come on, Arno.’

  Into the sky once more. But not to fight. He had to watch, if only the start. He went a little higher than before, not wanting to draw attention, unsure where exactly the strike would hit. He lost track of time as Arno used the thermals to sweep along the camp perimeter. He spotted an eagle but didn’t try to reach out. A picket fire flared a little, then stabilised. He flew beyond it. A gust of wind rushed past his ears. Was that a shout? He twisted in the saddle looking back. He was too high, all he could see was Arno’s tail.

  ‘Arno, turn. Tight!’

  Arno banked. Down below Owen had a clear view of the camp. There was movement. Lots of it: like ants swarming around their nest. And lights. A lot of lights. Torches sputtering into life. And yet he still couldn’t see the Plainsfolk. A brilliant flash blinded him, he covered his eyes, but it was too late. Arno screeched in distress.