Drenai Saga 02 - The King Beyond the Gate (21 page)

The legion riders charged again, only for their horses to hit the hidden trip wires in the long grass. Karespa ordered recall once more. Bereft of choices, he ordered his men to dismount and advance on foot, archers to the rear. They moved forward slowly, the men in the front rank hesitant and fearful. They carried no shields and were loath to approach the bowmen among the Skoda defense.

Just out of bowshot the front rank stopped, readying themselves for the hectic race. At that moment Lake and his fifty men rose from the ground behind them, discarding their blankets interwoven with long grass and climbing from the well-hidden trenches beside granite boulders. From his vantage point on the hilltop Karespa blinked in disbelief as the men appeared, seemingly from the earth itself.

Lake swiftly strung his bow, his men following suit. Their targets were the enemy archers. Fifty arrows screamed home, then fifty more. All was pandemonium. Ananais led his four hundred men in a sudden attack, and the legion wilted under the storm of slashing blades. Karespa swung in the saddle to order his bugler to sound retreat, then his jaw dropped in amazement. His bugler had been dragged from the saddle by a black-bearded warrior, who now stood grinning beside Karespa’s mount with a dagger in his hand. Other warriors stood close by, smiling mirthlessly.

Galand lifted the bugle to his lips and sent out the doleful call to surrender. Three times the bugle sounded before the last of the legion warriors laid down their weapons.

“It is over, General,” said Galand. “Be so good as to step down.”

“I’ll be damned if I will!” snapped Karespa.

“Dead if you don’t,” promised Galand.

Karespa dismounted.

In the trough below six hundred legion warriors sat on the grass as Skoda men moved among them, relieving them of weapons and breastplates.

Decado sheathed his sword and moved to where Acuas knelt beside the fallen Abaddon. There was no mark on the abbot.

“What happened?” asked Decado.

“His was the strongest mind among us. His talents were greater by far than any other’s. He volunteered to screen Karespa from the Templars.”

“He knew he would die today,” said Decado.

“He will not die today,” snarled Acuas. “Did I not say there were risks involved?”

“So a man died. Many have died today.”

“I am not talking about death, Decado. Yes, his body is slain, but the Templars have taken his soul.”

Scaler sat on the high wall of the tower garden, watching the distant mountains for signs of the victorious legion. He had been relieved when Tenaka had asked him to stay behind, but now he was unsure. Certainly he was no warrior and would have been of little help in a battle. Even so, at least he would have known the result.

Dark clouds bunched above the garden, blocking the sunlight; Scaler pulled his blue cloak around his shoulders and left the wall to wander among the sheltered blooms. Some sixty years before an aging senator had built the garden, his servants carrying more than three tons of topsoil to the tower. Now there were trees, bushes, and flowers of every kind. In one corner laurel and elderflower grew alongside holly and elm, while elsewhere flowering cherry trees bloomed pink and white against the gray stone walls. Throughout the garden an ornate path wound its way among the flower beds. Scaler wandered the path, enjoying the fragrance of the blooms.

Renya mounted the circular stairwell, entering the garden just as the sun cleared the clouds. She saw Scaler standing alone, his dark hair held in place by a black leather circlet on his brow. He was a handsome man, she thought … and lonely. He wore no sword and was studying a yellow flower at the edge of a rockery.

“Good morning,” she said, and he glanced up. Renya was attired in a light-green woolen tunic, and a rust-colored silk scarf covered her hair. Her legs were bare, and she wore no sandals.

“Good morning, lady. Did you sleep well?”

“No. And you?”

“I fear not. When do you think we will know?”

Renya shrugged. “Soon enough.”

He nodded his agreement, and together they strolled through the garden, drawn at last to the wall facing south toward the Demon’s Smile.

“Why did you not go with them?” she asked.

“Tenaka asked me to stay.”

“Why?”

“He has a task for me and does not want me dead before I attempt it!”

“A dangerous task, then?”

“What makes you say so?”

“You said ‘attempt it.’ That sounds as if you doubt your ability to succeed.”

He laughed grimly. “Doubt? I don’t doubt—I
know
. But it doesn’t matter. No one lives forever. Anyway, it may never come to that. First they must defeat the legion.”

“They will,” said Renya, sitting on a stone bench and drawing up her long legs onto the seat.

“How can you be sure?”

“They are not the men to be beaten. Tenaka will find a way to win. And if he has asked you to help him, then he must be sure you have a chance.”

“How simply women view the world of men,” commented Scaler.

“Not at all. It takes men to make the simplest things sound complex.”

“A deadly riposte, lady. I am undone!”

“Are you defeated so easily, Scaler?”

He sat down beside her. “I am easily defeated, Renya, because I don’t care too much about winning. Just living! I run to survive. When I was young, assassins were all around me. My family all died at their hands. It was Ceska’s doing—I see that now—but then he seemed a friend to my grandfather and myself. For years my rooms were guarded while I slept, my food tasted, my toys checked for hidden needles bearing poison. It was not what you would call a happy childhood.”

“But now you are a man,” she said.

“Not much of one. I frighten easily. Still, there is one consolation. If I was any tougher, I would be dead by now.”

“Or victorious.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “perhaps victorious. But when they killed Orrin—my grandfather—I ran away. Gave up the earldom and went into hiding. Belder came with me—the last retainer. I have been a great disappointment to him.”

“How did you survive?”

He grinned. “I became a thief. Hence the name. I climbed into people’s homes and stole their valuables. It is said that the Earl of Bronze began his career in this way, so I believe I am merely carrying on the family tradition.”

“Being a thief takes nerve. You could have been caught and hanged.”

“You have never seen me run. I move like the wind.”

Renya smiled and stood to glance over the wall to the south. Then she sat down once more.

“What does Tenaka require of you?”

“Nothing complex. He merely wants me to become an earl again and retake Dros Delnoch, subduing ten thousand soldiers and opening the gates to allow a Nadir army through. That’s all!”

“Seriously, what
does
he want you to do?”

Scaler leaned forward. “I have told you.”

“I don’t believe you. It’s insane!”

“Nevertheless …”

“It’s impossible.”

“True, Renya, true. However, there is a certain irony to the plan. Consider it: the descendant of the Earl of Bronze, who held the fortress against Ulric, is now commissioned to take the fortress and allow Ulric’s descendant to pass through with his army.”

“Where will he get this army? He is hated by the Nadir even as he is loathed by the Drenai.”

“Ah, yes, but he is Tenaka Khan,” said Scaler dryly.

“So how will you take the fortress?” she asked.

“I have no idea. I will probably march into the keep, declare my identity, and ask them all to surrender.”

“It’s a good plan—simple and direct,” she said, straight-faced.

“All the best plans are,” he said. “Tell me how you came to be mixed up in this business.”

“Just born lucky,” said Renya, standing once more. “Damn it! Why don’t they come?”

“As you said, we shall know soon enough. Will you join me for breakfast?”

“I don’t think so. Valtaya is in the kitchens; she will cook you something.”

Sensing that she wanted to be alone, Scaler made his way down the stairwell, following the delicious aroma of frying bacon.

He passed Valtaya on her way up and wandered on to the kitchen, where Belder was plowing his way through a heaping dish of bacon, eggs, and long beans.

“A man of your age should have lost his appetite by now,” observed Scaler, slipping into place opposite the gnarled warrior.

Belder scowled at him. “We should have been with them,” he said.

“Tenaka asked me to stay,” pointed out Scaler.

“I cannot think why,” snapped Belder, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “Just think how handy we would have been.”

Scaler lost patience. “I may not have said so before,” he remarked, “but I am getting pretty sick of you, Belder. Either keep your mouth shut or keep out of my way!”

“The second option sounds like a pleasure,” said the old warrior, eyes blazing.

“Then do it! And forget the sanctimonious lectures. You have been on for years about my profligate ways, my fears, and my failings. But you didn’t stay with me out of loyalty; you stayed because you are a runner, too. I just made it easy for you to hide. Tenaka asked me to stay, but he didn’t ask you; you could have gone.”

Scaler pushed himself upright and left the room. The old man leaned forward on his elbows, pushing the plate away.

“I
did
stay out of loyalty,” he whispered.

In the aftermath of the battle Tenaka wandered off alone into the mountains, his heart heavy and a terrible melancholy settling over him.

Rayvan watched him walk away and moved to follow, but Ananais stopped her.

“It is his way,” said the giant. “Leave him be.”

Rayvan shrugged and returned to the business of treating the wounded. Makeshift stretchers had been put together using the legion lances and cloaks. The Thirty, stripped of their armor, moved among the wounded, using their awesome skills to remove pain while stitches were inserted.

On the open field the dead were laid side by side, legion lancers alongside Skoda warriors. Six hundred eleven lancers had died that day; 246 Skoda men lay alongside them.

Rayvan wandered through the ranks of the dead, staring down at the corpses, bringing the names of her warriors to mind, and praying over each man. Many had farms and crofts, wives and children, sisters, mothers. Rayvan knew them all. She called Lake to her and told him to fetch paper and charcoal to list the dead.

Ananais washed the blood from his clothes and skin and then summoned the legion general, Karespa, to him. The man was sullen and in no mood for conversation.

“I am going to have to kill you, Karespa,” Ananais said apologetically.

“I understand.”

“Good! Will you join me in a meal?”

“No, thank you. My appetite just left me.”

Ananais nodded his understanding. “Do you have any preference?”

The man shrugged. “What does it matter?”

“Then it will be a sword thrust. Unless you would rather do it yourself.”

“Go to the devil!”

“Then I will do it. You have until dawn to prepare yourself.”

“I don’t need until dawn. Do it now, while I am in the mood.”

“All right.” Ananais nodded once, and pain like the fires of hell exploded in Karespa’s back. He tried to turn, but darkness blanketed his mind. Galand pulled the sword clear and wiped it clean on the general’s cloak. Moving forward, he sat beside Ananais.

“Shame about that,” said the black-bearded warrior.

“We couldn’t let him go, knowing what he did.”

“I suppose not. Gods, General, but we won! Incredible, isn’t it?”

“Not with Tenaka planning it.”

“Come now; anything could have happened. They didn’t have to charge; they could have dismounted and sent in the archers to drive us back.”

“Could have. Might have. They did not. They went by the book. According to the cavalry manual, the obvious move for horsemen against irregular foot soldiers is the charge. The legion riders are disciplined men and therefore bound to operate by the manual. You want me to quote chapter and verse?”

“It’s not necessary,” muttered Galand. “I expect you wrote it.”

“No. Tenaka Khan introduced the most recent alterations eighteen years ago.”

“But just suppose …”

“What’s the point, Galand? He was right.”

“But he couldn’t have known where Karespa would wait with his bugler. And yet he told Parsal and me to make for that hill.”

“Where else could Karespa watch the battle from?”

“He might have gone in with his men.”

“And left his bugler to make the decisions?”

“You make it sound so simple, but battles are not like that. Strategy is one thing, heart and skill another.”

“I don’t deny it. The legion riders didn’t fight at their best. There are many good men among them, and I don’t suppose they relished their task. But that’s in the past. For now I am going to ask the men of the legion to join us.”

“And if they refuse?”

“I shall send them out of the valley—where you will be waiting with one hundred archers. Not one man will leave alive.”

“You’re a ruthless man, General!”

“I am alive, Galand. And I mean to stay alive.”

Galand heaved himself to his feet. “I hope you do, General. And I hope Tenaka Khan can produce another miracle when the Joinings arrive.”

“That’s tomorrow,” said Ananais. “Let us enjoy today.”

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