The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (34 page)

The thoughts came to him then, however, now that he was so close. He tried to quell the stirring in his breast, but her face was there in his mind. He'd known her since she was a girl, and deep inside he'd always known she loved him, but she was his sister's friend, and he'd thought it the puppy-love of a child.

When he'd finally seen her as a woman, it was too late, and then it wasn't just her marriage to Igor Samson that drove them apart, it was the war, and finally she was taken from him, perhaps a prisoner somewhere, but most likely dead.

Amber.

"Miro, are you all right?" Marshal Beorn asked.

Miro realised he held his fists clenched at his sides. He forced himself to relax. "Yes, I'm fine," he said. "Pass the word. We advance."

36

"
W
OMAN
, you're staying here," Rogan said, putting all of the force that could command an army behind his voice.

"May the Lord of the Earth scratch me if I am," Amelia said, her brown eyes blazing.

"The fight is going to be dangerous, and if I'm worried about you, I'll be distracted," Rogan said, changing tactic.

"Then I'll have to stay right by your side, won't I?"

"You'll stay put here with Tapel," Rogan said. "I command it."

"You command it, do you? Listen to me, Rogan Jarvish, you don't command me. I'll do nothing of the sort."

"Please, Amelia," Rogan said. "The coming fight will be no place for a woman. I intend to be at the heart of it."

"No," Amelia said. "That armoursilk doesn't fit you anymore."

"What do you mean? Of course it does!"

"No, it doesn't," Amelia's voice softened. "You aren't a young man, Rogan. Yes, the armoursilk fits, but it is no longer right for you. You were badly wounded in that battle — you're a warrior, and you know it as well as I do. Bladesingers always go where the battle is thickest, isn't that what they say? Well, not you. Without you, the spirit will go out of your men. They need you, Rogan."

Rogan spluttered for a moment. "Don't change the subject, Amelia. We're talking about you, here, not me."

"We're talking about us," Amelia whispered.

Rogan suddenly couldn't speak. He was as speechless as he had been while recovering from his wounds. He simply gaped, staring at Amelia, looking into her eyes. Lord of the Sky, she was a beautiful woman. He stood silent and mesmerised by her. He realised he loved her smile, and her golden hair, the colour of wheat. What was she doing here, arguing with him?

"I'm not staying home either," Tapel said, his piping voice rising up over the silence.

Rogan and Amelia both rounded on the boy. "Yes, you are," Rogan and Amelia said in unison.

"You can't make me," Tapel said.

Rogan loomed over the boy, who suddenly cowered under him. He spoke slowly, in the voice that had handled countless boys a lot tougher than this one. "Yes," Rogan said. "I can."

"Will you come for me after?" Tapel said in a small voice.

"Boy," Rogan said, "I'll come for you after. I'll come for you after the battle, and I'll come for you the next day. Now, get gone with you." He cuffed the air, and Tapel ran away.

"Do you mean that?" Amelia asked.

"I do," Rogan said. He hesitantly reached forward and took her hand.

Amelia closed her eyes and breathed deeply, a sigh of mixed pain and pleasure, and when she opened her eyes Rogan was surprised to see moisture glistening there. "I'm coming with you," she said, "and I won't hear another word on it. You can wear your armoursilk and carry your zenblade, but I don't want you doing anything foolish, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Rogan said.

He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. He knew she was a good woman, and Tapel would be the son he had never had. "I'm going to say this now before I lose my nerve. I love you," Rogan said.

"I love you too," Amelia said, and then she was crying.

"And I'm not saying this for your benefit. I'll be a father to the boy too if he'll have me."

"He doesn't like it when you call him that," Amelia said, laughing through her tears.

"When he learns some respect, then I'll call him a man."

~

P
RINCE
Tiesto Telmarran, the man who would be High Lord of Raj Halaran, was obviously nervous. Dressed in full ceremonial gear, he wore a brown robe, the
raj hada
of Halaran — a hand with an eye in the centre — displayed on a torque around his neck. His hair was shaped tall and erect in the formal style, and his aides were clustered around him. Seeing Tiesto in this light, for the first time, Rogan believed that this man could become High Lord.

Closest to Prince Tiesto were Marcus Toscan, the soldier who had been by his side since the beginning, and Salvatore Domingo, a stiffly abrupt loremaster Prince Tiesto had named High Animator.

They were in the manse of a Halrana merchant who was playing the delicate and dangerous game of sycophant to the occupiers, while giving every aid to the resistance. The merchant's house was close by the storehouses of Ralanast's cargo district, which made it the perfect place from which to organise themselves.

"Ah, Blademaster Rogan, how go the preparations?" Prince Tiesto asked.

"Just Rogan," he growled, "and the preparations go as well as can be expected. The men are ready. We are in communication with Lord Marshal Miro. In three days, we put the plan into effect."

There was a soft knock at the door, and everyone in the room exchanged glances. Marcus went to the door and opened it, speaking quickly to someone outside before shutting it again.

"News," Marcus said. "The allied army is just outside the city. From a high vantage our men in the city say they can see the green and brown banner."

The men in the room erupted in cheers, while Prince Tiesto smiled. The High Animator looked as dour as ever.

"This is the best opportunity we will have, Prince Tiesto," Rogan said. "The morale of the men is high, and with news of the army just outside the people of Ralanast will need only a little push for it to turn to a full-scale revolt."

"What about the Halrana Lexicon?" High Animator Salvatore Domingo asked.

Rogan sighed, while even Prince Tiesto looked exasperated.

"It's in Altura, with High Lord Rorelan," Rogan said. How many times had the man asked?

"When will we get it back?"

"When Halaran is safe enough to send it through to you, High Animator," Rogan said. "Or, you could depart Ralanast and go to Sarostar to get it yourself?"

The High Animator harrumphed and walked away, while Marcus stifled a grin.

"He is a skilled man," Prince Tiesto said, "one of the best. He simply cares for his craft."

"I know," Rogan said. "When this is over, I'll apologise."

"Have you heard from the Alturan woman again?" Prince Tiesto asked.

"Amber says she's ready, but I'm still concerned. The prison camp is on the opposite side of the city to the allied army, in a region well-defended by the Tingarans. To reach the camp, we first have to get past the city walls, which are heavily fortified, and then through a series of smaller checkpoints until we reach the farmlands. The camp itself is also fortified, with a steel fence and a nearby encampment of guards."

"Must we stake everything on freeing the camp?" Prince Tiesto said. "Between the allied army and the men under your command…"

"We must," Rogan said with finality. "At least half of my men won't fight unless we free the friends and family being held in the camp. Then there's the rest of the city folk. We're counting on their help, and they'll be as hesitant as the fighters, probably more so."

"Go on," Tiesto said.

"We'll divide into two groups. The first, larger group, led by Your Highness, will lead the revolt here inside the walls of Ralanast. Your objective is to wait for the right moment, and then to let the people know you're here. Shout the message loud and clear, and take out every man in black you can get your hands on. Then you must head for Ralanast's eastern gate, where the second group, led by me, will need to get back into the city with the prisoners."

"Understood," Marcus nodded. "Gather men, open the eastern gate."

"That's right," Rogan said. "A simple plan is a good plan. You know timing's critical, so keep your eyes on your timepieces."

"What about you?" Tiesto asked.

"Obviously I'll need to get my men out of the city. That's going to be difficult. We'll leave in small groups throughout the day. We'll be disguised as farmers and workers, and there'll only be a hundred of us."

"Is that enough?" said Marcus.

"It'll have to be. Each man has been hand-picked — sorry Your Highness, but I've got the best of 'em — and we're actually replacing a hundred real farmers and workers, who will give us their clothing and wait here in the city while we exit in their stead."

Marcus coughed. "It's risky."

"Nothing comes without risk," Rogan said. "These workers we're replacing also have loved ones in the camp. My hundred men will each have a new name, new clothing, a new family, and a new home. Let's just hope our enemies don't notice the deception."

"Which is why we've planned it for the day of the new guard rotation," Marcus said.

"That's right." Rogan smiled grimly at the young soldier. "We'll leave during the day, then after sunset I'll assemble my men in the forest outside the prison camp. When we get the signal from inside, we'll strike."

"What signal?" Tiesto asked. "What if you don't see it?"

"Amber is an Alturan enchantress, Your Highness," Rogan said. "She said she would raise a green light — green for Altura. She'll make sure we see it. And when we see the light, that's when we strike."

"The timing's tight," Tiesto muttered.

"It is," Rogan said. "We only have the night to free the prisoners and march with those who are able back to Ralanast's eastern gate, keeping the enemy at bay the entire time. Your Highness, you must start the revolt at dawn."

"And finally…" Marcus said.

"Finally we all march through the city for the main southern gate, where the Lord Marshal and an army of Alturans and Halrana will be itching to get in."

"It's a good plan," Tiesto said, nodding. "But it all comes down to the prison camp."

"It comes down to a lot more than that, Your Highness," Rogan said.

"Marcus, please, leave us alone for a moment," Prince Tiesto said.

Marcus placed his hand over his heart and looked briefly at the ground, before glancing at Rogan and then departing.

"Look, if this is about the High Animator's request, I'm afraid this is one battle that won't be won by magic. In three days time, it's the hearts of men that will be the deciding factor between victory and defeat. Without essence, and a lot of time…"

Prince Tiesto smiled. "No, Marshal Rogan…"

"Marshal…?"

"This isn't about the Halrana Lexicon, Rogan, this is about you."

Rogan scowled. "What about me?"

"It isn't right to call the man who trains bladesingers 'just Rogan'. Like it or not, you are a leader, and you need to have a title accordingly."

"Who says so?" Rogan asked.

"I say so," Prince Tiesto's voice firmed, and Rogan's eyebrows went up. "Here," the prince said.

The Halrana noble handed Rogan a device to be worn on his breast. It was a
raj hada
, with the hand of Halaran on one side and the sword and flower of Altura on the other. The colours green and brown were interwoven. The insignia was that of a marshal.

"What is it?"

Prince Tiesto snorted. "Don't be a fool, Rogan. You know what it is. I'm making you a marshal, and don't think High Lord Rorelan or Lord Marshal Miro won't back me up."

"Don't expect me not to wear armoursilk," Rogan said.

"Marshal, underneath that, you can wear whatever you like. Lord Marshal Miro is a bladesinger, why should you be any different?"

Rogan thought about what Amelia had said. Perhaps this was his destiny?

"Fine, Your Highness." Rogan frowned, taking the badge. "Marshal it is."

As the newly promoted marshal turned to leave, Prince Tiesto spoke again. "And Marshal Rogan?"

"What is it?"

"Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you for helping my people."

"Prince Tiesto?"

"Yes?"

"You've got a busy few days ahead of you. You'd better get to work."

37

"
I
SWEAR
that's what the guard said," Samora said. "Moragon's away in the east, and the babe went with him. I'm sorry, Amber, don't be upset."

"I just hate not knowing where he is and if he's safe." Amber wiped at her eyes.

"It's better that the babe isn't here. He might get caught up in the fighting."

"I know," Amber said. "Scratch it, I know. But how will I ever get him back to me?"

"You'll find a way," Samora said.

"Thanks for doing that for me, I know it wasn't easy."

Samora shrugged. "He just wanted a grope. I've had worse."

"You'd better go," Amber said. "In fact, we'd better not speak again until tomorrow night."

"I understand." Samora nodded. The Halrana woman squeezed Amber's shoulder, and then left the tent.

When she was alone, Amber waited for the space of twenty breaths, and then lifted up her sleeping pallet to reveal a place where the dirt had been recently stirred. With her wooden plate she scooped at the loose dirt, digging deep and forming a pile at the side of the hollow. Finally she hit something hard, and with her breath running hard, she dropped the plate and felt in the hole with her hands. She withdrew the big glass bowl, and then a moment later Amber withdrew the tiny flask of essence and the scrill that just a few days ago Lina had brought her.

In the time since Amber's son had been taken from her, the unlikely friendship between the two women had grown. Lina was a tall, stern Halrana, with an unforgiving manner and the lines of a hard life written across her face. In contrast, Amber was young and had often been told she was pretty, with dimples when she smiled and gentle eyes. Yet here in the prison camp, both women were determined, more than any of the rest, and both shared the loss of a child. Lina had seen her babe trampled to death at the battle at the Bridge of Sutanesta, but still the woman hadn't given up. Amber knew she, too, would never just fall down and die, like so many others in this terrible place.