The Sons of Hull (24 page)

Amarian jumped down and patted his mount appreciatively on the neck, then bowed as the king stormed up to him.

“My liege! I am sorry for my late arrival. Ovna here had to stop for a snack.”

Relgaré fought to keep his temper in check. It would not do to show dissension in front of the men. “Commander Hull. How glad we are that you could join us. I see that you’ve acquired new transportation.”

“I have indeed.” Amarian turned slightly as Gair was helped down by some brave soldiers. “And a new servant. Both, I think, will be useful in the fight before us.”

Relgaré did not bother to look at the bedraggled man. “I am happy to hear it. Would you mind accompanying me to my tent? We have a meeting with the generals soon and I would be grateful to have a word with you in private beforehand.”

Amarian bowed low. “It is my honor. Gair, see to my mount.”

With help, Gair reluctantly re-boarded Ovna to seek a more spacious landing place. Amarian watched him go, then followed Relgaré into his tent. Once inside, the king dropped his reserve.

“What in the Chasm were you thinking? Did you see what that beast did to my men?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, my liege. I believed that a show of power would—”

“A show of power? We want
our
power, not Zyreio’s!”

Amarian helped himself to a glass of wine. “Power is power. Now they know who is on their side.”

“What if they don’t want that kind of power on their side?” Relgaré had begun to pace. “Who wants to fight on the side of a dragon? And where in the Chasm did you get it?

“That’s not important. And those who fight alongside a dragon are those who want to win.”

“We will have victory with or without your theatrics.”

Amarian sipped his wine. “My liege, I think you’re making too much of this. She’s just a dragon. I’ve instructed her not to harm any of your men.”

“Many thanks.”

Amarian did not appreciate Relgaré’s sarcasm. Did he suspect how numbered his days were? “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I did not realize her presence would be so unappreciated. I’ll have Gair send her away.”

Exactly as he had planned, the king shook his head. “No, no. She’s already here so we might as well use her. I trust she’ll find her own food?”

“Of course. Perhaps soon she’ll lunch on the Cylini.”

“Hopefully by noon tomorrow.”

Now that the tense encounter was over, Amarian pulled up a chair. “Yes, I saw that your bridge was finished. How soon are we crossing over?”

“Tonight. The generals are coming any minute to discuss it.”

“I see. And what about General Chiyo? Will he be heading up the charge?”

But Relgaré coughed nervously and began to rub his wrist. “Chiyo has been sent on a separate job to explore the marshes. He will not be back in time for the main attack.”

Amarian received the news impassively. So the great Chiyo had fallen out of favor. While he was amused at the king’s fickleness, he was displeased to hear that the one general who might cause him trouble had slipped beyond his observation.

“I’m sure he will accomplish his task in a timely manner. Did he take many with him?”

Relgaré stared absently at the canvas walls. “No, not many. I allowed him to select fifty and he also took with him a young aide. The Sentries should be back to report on their progress any day now.”

“You sent Sentries?” Why had he not heard of this? Why hadn’t the Sentries reported immediately to himself?

“Yes, just to help us keep tabs on him. They’re fast messengers, as you know.”

The man’s ignorance annoyed Amarian. A few Sentries against fifty armed men? It was a stupid waste of resources; Chiyo would have ordered them killed by noon the same day. “My liege, may I say something?”

Relgaré jumped to his feet at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Make it quick. The generals are coming.”

“I do not know that it was wise to send Chiyo out alone. After all, he is one of your best men. Can you really spare him?”

The king’s answer was clipped as he moved back the flap of canvas to greet his officers. “Why not? I’ve got you now.”

__________

It had been harder to slay the Sentries than Hunoi had anticipated, but there were no casualties in the minor fray except, of course, the reptilian watchdogs. The first captain shuddered. Those things were pure evil and although he took no joy in their death, neither did he feel any remorse. No matter what the king thought, the Sentries were never allies. But now his attention was occupied by concern over his general. Ever since they had left camp a few days ago, Chiyo had not been himself. The only person he would speak to was his aide, Bren, and even then only in sharp commands. Hunoi could only wonder what the king had said to him in their final interview. He had asked his friend several times, but each time he was rebuffed. This evening, however, he was determined to crack the shell. They had just forded the Preshin and were about to enter the marshes far west of the Ergana; the men would need their leader if the Cylini decided to engage them.

He found Chiyo gazing into the fire by his small tent, long limbs folded in contemplation. Chiyo had never acquired a proper officer’s lodging, since his conferences were often held in the field and he considered himself a man with minimal need for sleeping space. Hunoi’s arrangements were similar to his leader’s, but as long as they had pack animals, he had not seen the point in denying himself a cot and a small table and chair. Chiyo always sat on the ground; whether he was setting a good example for his men or merely being stubborn, Hunoi had yet to decide.

He stood at a respectful distance. “General.”

Chiyo did not look up. “Yes, Captain?”

“May I request a word, sir?”

“You may request it. Speak all you want.”

Hunoi tried not to be annoyed. Chiyo was his general, yes, but also a man who was being purposefully difficult.

“May I sit, sir?”

Chiyo finally looked up, his face the blank mask that Hunoi had dreaded. “Of course, Hunoi. For goodness’ sake, sit. Have you had dinner?”

“Yes, sir.”

Chiyo glanced around as his friend lowered himself onto a fallen log. “Enough. You don’t need to call me ‘sir’ in private. Why did you come?”

“To speak with you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“There will be if you don’t change your behavior.”

Hunoi was dismayed to see that Chiyo’s expression was not altered by the reprimand. How depressed had he become? He leaned forward, forcing Chiyo to look at him.

“Chiyo, what is wrong? You look as if you’ve given up.”

“And if I have?”

“You had no right to.”

“Hunoi, you have been with me a long time. Too long, I suspect. Remember when we came to Keroul? Relgaré was only a boy then and we were little older—but he was so energetic, quick both to act and to take counsel. We were proud to serve him first as our prince and then as our king; he made us forget even our longing for home. We have fought many battles under his banner, but this new threat is different. The Cylini are nothing. And Relgaré is—” Chiyo paused before saying something completely alien to his training. .” . .nothing, except he is being a fool and delivering our brave Keroulian army into the hands of Zyreio himself. When Vancien comes back from his Dedication, what army will be there to greet him? If the gods choose an open battlefield, who will be there to fight?”

Hunoi stretched his arm in the direction of their men. “There are these. They would fight.”

“Fifty against thousands? There wouldn’t be enough for a rout.”

“You sound like you doubt what Kynell is doing.”

“I doubt very much what Kynell is doing. He has lost before.”

“So you’ve said.”

“What’s to keep him from losing again?”

“What’s to keep him from winning? I thought you were a faithful servant of the Prysm. Surely you remember that our mothers and fathers sent us because they
knew
we would die before abandoning Kynell. If they had thought us weak, would they have let us go? They sent us because, young though we were, we knew that Kynell’s power does not rest on men and arms.”

“Then why did he allow Tryun to go to battle in ignorance? Why not give Heptar a chance to fight, instead of letting him be brought down in his sleep? What if he has such a fate in store for Vancien? Then what would become of our high ideals?”

Hunoi was not a priest and his answer was not eloquent. But he suspected that a scholar in the high towers of Lascombe would not disagree with his response. “His Advocates are not sorry to give their lives for him. Perhaps he chose to be defeated.”

Chiyo snorted. “For what reason? To plunge Rhyvelad into a thousand cycles of misery?”

“Perhaps. But think of it this way. If he were truly defeated, then why didn’t Zyreio destroy him? Obsidian had plenty of opportunities and ample motivation. Do you think that, if given the chance, Zyreio would have allowed a remnant of the Prysm to survive?”

Chiyo was silent for a moment as he remembered the many atrocities he had witnessed in his lifetime: the brutality of war, the madness caused by grief, and the bittersweet taste of killing. He shook his head. The work of Obsidian was thorough. There was no mercy for the innocent or the brave.

“I see your point. Keep talking.”

Hunoi eagerly took his cue to express an idea he’d been rolling over in his head for months now. “Think about it, Chiyo. It has been the opinion of some priests that there exists a great balance in our world, that Zyreio has not been annihilated by Kynell because Kynell doesn’t have the power, and vice versa. But no true believer in either the Prysm or Obsidian believes this. If the battle will continue for eternity, why fight at all? Somebody
must
win out in the end; such a victory would result in the complete destruction of ‘the balance.’ The Ages say that Kynell conquers all. But how can he conquer all when he loses twice? Unless he has chosen to lose. Unless he has a plan that we do not know about. We either believe in him fully or not at all, Chiyo.”

Chiyo’s fog began to clear as he reluctantly entered the debate. “So if Kynell can conquer all by himself, why does he use the Advocates?”

“To allow us to help in the victory? To give evil the chance to repent? I don’t know. But I do know that if Commander Hull—Amarian—wins this victory, it will not be because he has the greater army. It will be because Kynell did not bring Vancien success and he did not forbid Amarian triumph.”

The fire crackled as the Hunoi’s words hung in the air. Finally, Chiyo stood. “You will make a fine theologian someday, my friend.”

Hunoi stood as well. “If I am so ordered. But for now, your men need a leader.”

Chiyo nodded. “That will be all.”

Hunoi disappeared into the darkness. Chiyo watched him go, then entered the tent. They would be in the marshes by tomorrow evening; this could be their last sleep on dry ground for some time. Hopefully, his men would enjoy it.

__________

The lunos were bright as Relgarés battalions silently tramped over the bridge. The waters of the Preshin rushed under their feet, causing several of the younger soldiers to watch the waves suspiciously. It was said that the river was guarded by sea-beasts whose razor teeth could slice a man to pieces, that occasionally they would jump from the water and snatch their prey from dry land, or in this case, a dry bridge. Of course, as the men looked around at the fennels and Sentries who accompanied them, they could not forget that the real threat marched by their side. Not a few of them wondered what had possessed their king to invite such unwelcome guests.

The first battalion had just set foot on the opposite shore when the Cylini attacked. Their war-whoops filled the air as they emerged from the trees guarding the southern bank and swept down upon the troops. The army was too well-disciplined to panic, but there were still two full battalions bottlenecked on the long bridge, and the battalion already across was heavily outnumbered. Flaming arrows rained down, threatening not only to decimate the trapped soldiers but to ignite the bridge itself. The officers in charge hesitated to respond. If they ordered a full retreat, they would give the Cylini a swift victory that could only encourage them. If they ordered a charge, the bridge might very well burn down around their ears and leave whatever soldiers had crossed at the mercy of the enemy. Such an order would sacrifice too many men and accomplish nothing. A trumpet sounded the retreat.

Amarian watched the disaster from the air. He had known the Cylini would attack and known the bridge was a foolish idea. Yet he had not argued with Relgaré, who was now stupidly pushing his way to the front of the fray, shouting at his men to press forward. In a few seconds, the moment would be perfect. Just let him set foot on the shore. . .there. Amarian barked a command to Ovna, who obediently folded her wings and dove straight into the battle.

At the cry of the dragon, both Keroulian and Cylini men looked up in terror. Relgaré ignored her, slashing at whomever was in his way in a mad dash to get to the archers before they torched the bridge. A small company followed him. They had almost made it to their goal before Ovna was there, her teeth and claws tearing into the enemy and catching a few unfortunate Keroulian soldiers, as well. The Cylini archers tried bravely to bring her down but she was too quick for them. Helpless, they fled, but both dragon and king relentlessly pursued them. The men on the bridge, seeing their enemy retreat, shouted a victory cry and surged forward to complete the massacre.