A Shout for the Dead (51 page)

'Hungry, Julius?'

'Starving.'

'Well, the kitchens were well stocked when we left and I suspect they still are. Something tells me the dead don't need a great deal in the way of supplies.'

He raised his eyebrows at Julius, who nodded, gaze flickering over the scene. It was as if they'd just got up and marched away. In a way, of course, they had done just that but not under their own wills. Roberto led the way across the yard. The lantern light illuminated more debris abandoned on the ground. Very little of any use but Roberto looked for a good backpack and blankets that looked in any way clean. He directed Julius to do the same and by the time they'd reached the refectory, Julius held both lanterns and Roberto had an armload of equipment to sift. He dumped it on the end of the first long table. There were three dozen tables, covered in jugs, plates and rough cutlery.

Roberto wandered over to the serving tables that stood right outside the kitchens, the door to which stood open. Tapped barrels rested in racks and a huge upright water butt on the floor was still half full. There was a goblet on the table, sitting by several stained, empty iron cauldrons. He swept it up and turned the tap on the nearest cask. Dark liquid flowed out. He sniffed it.

'Hmm. Well, they knew their wine, anyway. This, if I'm not mistaken, is a Dornosean red. Better with water and a little honey in my opinion but right now, it'll be like balm in my throat.'

He tipped the goblet to Julius who still held both lanterns and raised it to his lips. A movement to his right caught his eye. The man came from the kitchen, shouting. He dived straight across the serving tables, his arms and upper body collided with Roberto, bearing them both to the floor, his legs dragged through the cauldrons, knocking two over and down with a booming clang that reverberated about the walls.

'No, don't drink it, don't drink it,' shouted the man.

The goblet was long gone. Roberto shoved the man back, slithered away from him and grabbed at his gladius. Julius had backed away too.

it's how he did it.' The man was holding up both hands in a placating gesture. 'He poisoned them all.'

He was not Tsardon, this man, though he wore similar clothing. His body was short, his limbs long, and his feet were bare but covered in thick hair. The hands that reached out were immensely strong. Roberto relaxed just a little but kept his sword out in front of him while he got up.

'You're Karku,' he said.

'Yes.'

'What are you doing here?'

The Karku studied Roberto before answering, looking at his armour, sword and cloak.

‘I
am trailing Gorian Westfallen. Looking for a chance to strike at him and his bastard son. They took that belonging to the Karku and we will have it back.'

'Then we are friends,' said Roberto. He sheathed his sword. 'And I think we have a great deal to talk about. I am Roberto Del Aglios.'

'The heir to the Ascendancy. I am Harban-Qvist. We share a friend in Paul Jhered.'

Roberto smiled. 'Now there's a man we could do with at the moment. But first things first. Are we safe here?'

Harban nodded. 'The last of them left before midnight. Gorian was with them. I couldn't get close.'

Roberto pulled out a bench and sat down, gesturing Julius to do the same.

'Speaker Julius Barias,' he said by way of introduction. Harban inclined his head. 'There is much work for your kind to do.'

'Yes, there is,' said Julius, with a glance at Roberto.

'This is the most peculiar situation,' said Roberto. 'So much has happened in the last few days and yet I feel I have missed the most important events. I'm stuck in a cold castle and the world is passing me by to the south. I would never think to see a Karku this far north. It gives me a chill that there is much more and much worse than I already understand.'

‘I
will tell you everything I know,' said Harban. 'But first, I have

found clean water and untainted food. You're hungry?' 'Never more so,' said Julius.

It was plain but it was delicious. Bread and cold sauces, honey and some dried meat washed down with cold water.

'You mentioned Gorian's son. This some Tsardon brat, is it?' asked Roberto.

Harban looked at him as if to check that he really was joking. 'Much has passed you by. Gorian's son is Kessian, whom he took from under the noses of the Advocate and the Ascendancy.'

Roberto nearly choked on his bread. 'Impossible.'

Harban raised his eyebrows. 'Not so. The two of them will bring about the tipping of the world. Paul Jhered knows. The Ascendants know.'

'All right,' said Roberto, raising a hand. 'But all I know is that the Sirraneans said the Tsardon were coming this way and so it has proved. I suspected more attacks further south. What has happened?'

'Your Conquord is failing,' said Harban. 'And with it will go Kark, and eventually even Sirrane. Gorian took the six Gor-Karkulas from Inthen-Gor. With them, he can control vast armies of the dead in as many places as he has them. Two travel with him from here. Two march through Atreska with the King of Tsard. Two more will be with the Tsardon in Gestern which is become a walking grave. Plague ships seek out fresh ports to kill more of your soldiers. Soon the dead will be rising all around Estorea. I warned them but they wouldn't listen. And now we will all pay the price.'

'You're saying more than one dead army is attacking us?' said Julius.

'So that's how he does it.' Roberto drained his goblet. 'He uses them to help him do his work. Like commanders on a distant battlefield. What are they, latent Ascendants?'

'You know a lot about this,' said Harban.

'It's my job to know. I'll be in charge one day. Then we'll see change on the Hill.'

'What do you mean, Ambassador?' asked Julius.

'Nothing. Forget it. Harban, let's say for a moment that I accept Gorian can manage armies over thousands of miles of land, and I know better than to dismiss it out of hand, no matter how preposterous it sounds. But Atreska is full of Conquord legions. One of my most trusted friends commands the armies. What happened here cannot happen there because no Ascendant was present to make a hurricane. They won't break through, not just sword on sword.'

'You had better pray your friend is still among the living then, Roberto Del Aglios. Because I know the border is already overrun and the dead are marching to Neratharn. It is why more Tsardon went there. He can make a huge host in Atreska.'

Roberto rubbed his hand over his head, unwilling to believe Davarov had been beaten on his own border. 'So why, if what you say is true, did Gorian come so far north? The main force and the King of Tsard are both in Atreska. What is he doing up here?'

'It is because here, killing the king's son did not carry so much risk.'

'What? Rhyn-Khur was here?'

Harban nodded. 'Gorian doesn't want to topple the Conquord as a subject of King Khuran. Our writings are quite clear on the matter. He wants it for himself.'

Roberto held up his hands once more. 'All right. All right. Let's go back. I'm getting lost in some of this, I think. Tell me everything you know. Tell me what Paul Jhered is doing in all this, what the Ascendants and my mother said when you spoke to them and what is going on in Gestern, if you know that. Tell me which Karku writings you are referring to, and what exactly it is they say.'

So Harban did and when he was done, Roberto felt the cold of despair like he had in the wars of a decade past. At least he knew what had to be done. The trouble was, no one was in the right place to do it.

Twenty miles south and west along the highway that led south along river and mountainside, Dina Kell had also heard words that had turned her remaining hopes to so much ash. The Tsardon prosentor could have been lying but the look in his eyes told her every word he spoke was the truth. Three armies made up of Tsardon and dead and all heading through the Conquord, bound for Estorr and the gates of the Advocate's palace. Three armies who could communicate over vast distances because of Gorian and some kind of Karku priest. She didn't begin to understand but then, neither did the prosentor know how. He just knew that they did.

Ruthrar feared for his king much as Kell feared for her husband and her Advocate. Ruthrar did not think Gorian's mass murder was an act of spite or vengeance but a plan to rule in Estorr himself. And that meant King Khuran's days were numbered and that he would live only while he remained useful.

From the little Ruthrar knew about Atreska, the Tsardon and dead were marching freely across the country because no one would stand in their way. As for Gestern, the country was already as good as lost, so Ruthrar said. The dead there were massing in ports and awaiting ships to carry them across the Tirronean Sea.

And no one knew they were coming. Not one beacon had been lit if Ruthrar was to be believed. There was still a hint of pride in his voice when he spoke. An invasion supremely planned and executed. But within it, a sense of wrong that he couldn't be putting on, because Kell was sure he didn't realise he was doing it.

'So what would you want to do, in an ideal situation?' she asked him.

'Find my king in Atreska. Warn him. Take our people from the Karkulas and capture the Dead Lords.'

'You think Gorian could pull this disease trick from so far away?'

Ruthrar shrugged. 'Who knows what he can do. There may be other means, I don't know. But I must warn my king.'

‘I
understand,' said Kell. 'But there's the problem. I have to report back to Estorr and I'm not about to let you out of my sight on Conquord territory.'

'The risk is worse if my king walks willingly to his death.'

'And Estorr will fall if no one realises what is coming at them.' Kell leaned back against a tree. 'Look, Ruthrar, for what it's worth, I think I believe you. But before I agree to go with you to the Neratharn border, I have to be certain my messages will get to Estorr and be treated with the gravity they deserve. If everything you say is true then the Bear Claws, what's left of them, will be best placed at the Neratharn walls anyway. We have some time before we have to make a decision and we've other problems to sort out before then, not least what's coming behind us. We can't let them march on unwatched.'

'General?'

Kell looked up. 'Captain Dolius.' 'Permission to order the march on.' 'We've had our hour already, have we?' 'Yes, General.'

Kell nodded. 'Permission granted. And Captain. We won't have to do this for long. We'll lose them eventually, surely. They are already five miles adrift. I mean to increase that. Make sure everyone knows that.'

Dolius smiled. 'We'd march and rest this way forever if it meant not becoming like them.'

The dead might have been well behind but Kell could feel the menace of their march nonetheless. That and the two hours double-time march, one hour rest she intended keeping up for at least two days were the only constants they had. They were learning about the dead and their limitations and their one-paced march was one she intended to exploit.

Kell pushed herself to her feet and turned to Ruthrar. Dolius's order rang out around the small camp.

'Thank you, Prosentor,' she said.

'For what?'

'For your honesty in fear. In another life, we might have been friends.'

Ruthrar inclined his head, got up and brushed himself down.

'Such is war. Those on the front line carry only the hate their masters seed in their minds. We bear the Conquord legionary no personal malice but we hate your Advocate. She gave the invasion order. We're only fighting to preserve our way of life, just like you are.

'Your Advocate's decision to go to war fifteen years ago haunts us to this day. It's why we're standing here now. Let us not allow a second tragedy to happen because we once were enemies. We cannot afford our past to taint our decisions now or Gorian will win.'

Kell stared at him. His face was mostly hidden by the dark but his eyes were shining.

'I hear you, Prosentor. But the wounds of yesterday remain raw. Come on, let's ride.'

Chapter Thirty-Six

859th cycle of God, 37th day of
Genasrise

Paul Jhered switched his gaze from left bank to right, and wondered whether the storm would have broken across Kirriev Harbour before their ship arrived. He had no idea what they would find there. The
Hark's Arrow
should be in the Gatherer berth but that was by no means certain. People were flooding towards the port and, he had to presume, every port on Gestern's western seaboard, looking for an escape from the dead marching unhindered across their country.