Authors: S. J. A. Turney
Tags: #Historical, #Fiction, #Rome, #Fantasy, #Generals
Again that grating edge. To call Kiva a general in front of Velutio was bordering on insult, but the lord brushed it off. Definitely a change there from the old days. Behind Kiva, Phythian coughed.
Velutio sighed. “Yes captain, I have your money. Go through into the gardens and I’ll be with you presently.”
As Phythian and his men walked off through the next arch and Sabian’s unit left the courtyard, Kiva glanced around. There were few guards here, but enough to stop anything foolish. Sabian wasn’t risking anything, just giving Kiva a certain deference and respect though whether for his benefit or to irritate Velutio escaped him.
The lord turned to Sabian and frowned. “All the respected and feared units we have out looking for these men and the people who take them are virtual unknowns. Perhaps they could be useful to the city on a more permanent basis?”
Sabian shook his head. “That captain’s a short step away from complete madness and I wouldn’t want him in my army. Better to use him a long way away from home I think.”
Velutio glared for a moment and then shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right.” He turned to Kiva. “I must ask where the rest of your unit is. There are four of you here and Phythian informs me that he has the bodies of five more, but that still leaves four, including that sergeant of yours.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned a little closer to Kiva. “You may as well tell me now. You know I’m not above having the boy tortured for the information and though I know you wouldn’t break, I’d be willing to wager he would.”
The captain glared at Velutio, meeting his gaze. “Tythias found us in the hills. He managed to jump us surprisingly well considering how well I know his tactics. We were forced to make a hasty escape. Athas and the others played rear-guard for us and were to meet us in Serfium, but they never turned up. I think you can assume that the treacherous one-eyed bastard will turn up before long wanting the payment for four of them.”
The lord nodded contentedly. “Very well. I must go and deal with payments due, but I’ll leave you in Sabian’s hands and rest assured I’ll be down to visit you as soon as my schedule permits.”
With one last long look and an unpleasant smile, Velutio turned and walked away through the arch and into the gardens. Sabian squared his shoulders.
“Very well general. I apologise for the nature of your quarters, but the orders aren’t mine to give.” He gestured off towards a doorway.
Kiva smiled. “I know the way.”
As they walked, Kiva looked around at the palace for the first time since Quintus the Golden had been resident. Remarkably little had changed about the majority of it, with the exception of the removal and destruction of all the Imperial iconography. He turned his head in interest as Sabian began to talk, but not to him.
“So Quintillian, I’m glad to see you’re not badly wounded, though you’d have been better having never left the island.”
Quintillian nodded. “The world’s a big place though Commander, and the island’s so small. I’d still be a boy if I’d stayed. Now I’m a soldier.”
“Indeed,” Sabian replied. “I’d never have imagined seeing you so weather-beaten and military.” He smiled though his face betrayed his unhappiness. “You’d give Darius a run for his money now. They’re all quite worried about you on the island and I very much suspect with good reason. You do realise that his Lordship’s unlikely to ship you back off to the island now?”
Quintillian nodded. “As I said though Commander, the world’s a big place and possibilities are endless.”
Kiva broke in. “I heard talk of you Sabian, while I was north of Serfium. It seems you’ve a fair reputation. I suspected you might have been an officer from the Imperial days. I’m obviously wrong, but your men do remind me a great deal of the old times.”
Sabian smiled. “I try to do things the right way. The Imperial army worked and, as they say, if it’s not broken, don’t try to fix it.” He sighed. “I always regretted the fall when I was a boy. I have the suspicion I was born half a century too late.”
Kiva returned the smile. “It’s hopeful though.”
“What?” the commander questioned.
“To hear people your age talking like that. There are few people who speak fondly of the old ways these days. In other circumstances, I have the feeling we’d have fought together quite well.” Kiva’s mind raced on. If there was any kind of division between Sabian and Velutio, he needed to apply a crowbar and push them further apart. Any ally was worthwhile at this point.
Sabian nodded as they opened a door and walked down a set of dank steps toward the cellars and the infamous Dalertine prison. “Perhaps. Times have changed though, general. I used to read your campaign diaries avidly. They’re the foundation of all my tactical knowledge, but these days I only have the chance to field an army against a disorganised and inferior Lord or perhaps against rebels and dissidents. Nothing like the old glorious campaigns. There’s no one left who could stand against my army and the little wars we do have are becoming less frequent. Soon there may even be peace.”
Quintillian looked up into Sabian’s face and interrupted. “How are the others?”
Sabian sighed. “Good for the most part. Darius is coming on well; if he were a free man I’d have commissioned him by now.” He smiled. “Though you’re getting that way too now. Minister Sarios was wounded when he refused to tell his Lordship where you’d gone, but he’s having treatment at the moment and Favio thinks he may keep his eye. Minister Turus is still alive and well as far as I’m aware, though I was tempted to put an end to him at one point. All in all, things go well. There’s a small garrison based there at the moment under my best sergeant, but they’re getting on quite well with the islanders. They’re helping to repair and rebuild.”
Kiva raised an eyebrow. “Velutio approves of your men fraternising with prisoners?”
Sabian shook his head and smiled. “I doubt it, but we’ve reached a certain understanding since I became sole commander in the city. He leaves military matters to me now and in return I try to stop him doing dangerous or stupid things.”
Kiva nodded. “I’d heard something about you and the captain of his guard coming to blows. I take it he’s buried deep now then?”
“The guard captain was a devious, conniving power-hungry megalomaniac. He wasn’t a good commander and he wasn’t a good man and he coveted my job. He tried to bring me down, but with the help of a few friends I managed to turn the tables on him. You are remarkably well informed for someone who’d been so far out of everything, General.”
Kiva smiled. “I like to keep abreast of things.”
They reached the lower floor and walked between the cellar doorways until they reached the prison, known in the days when Basianus had been incarcerated here by his own priests as ‘the pit’. A bare room carved from the rock with no windows and no decoration. Two flat wooden pallets lay on the floor to serve as beds and a bundle of straw in the corner for warmth. No toilet and no front wall, just bars an inch thick and three inches apart that would require a team of horses to bend. A soldier sat on a stool at the opposite wall and came to his feet at attention as they entered before leaping forward to open the prison door.
Sabian sighed. “First time this has been used since I’ve been in command. Hopefully the last time too.” Reaching to his belt, he withdrew a dagger and, leaning forward, cut the bonds on their wrists one by one. Ushering the four into the cell, the soldier closed the grill door and turned the keys in the two heavy locks before coming back to attention.
“I can leave a guard here if you wish” the commander said “though it’s quite unnecessary from our point of view. Just in case you need anything?”
Kiva shook his head. “I think we’d value the privacy if it’s in your power to grant that.”
Sabian nodded and gestured up the stairs. The guard marched off.
“Sergeant Iasus will be down here shortly with food and drink and a doctor. I will stop by once in a while.”
And with that the commander saluted them and then stalked off toward the stairs.
“A good man, commander Sabian” noted Quintillian.
“Yes,” Kiva replied. “I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. At least bad men can be bought or bargained. Good men have the tendency to be incorruptible and to carry out their orders regardless.”
He shuffled over to one of the pallets and sank onto it, opening and closing his hand. The blood was beginning to clot now. With a frown, he withdrew the coin from his pocket; around an inch across with one edge sharpened to razor point, the coin displayed the flying horse of Pelasia on one side and an image of the eastern Moon Goddess on the other. His frown deepened as he rubbed his finger across the coin, smearing the blood. Standing once more, he moved over to the bars of the cell and smiled ironically.
“What is it?” Alessus asked as he lowered Julian to the pallet and then sank to the floor himself.
“A pointless note from a friend.” He smiled again. “Ashar’s man dropped it to me from the city gate. There are marks on it, but they’re in the linear script of Pelasia and I haven’t the faintest idea what they mean.”
Quintillian limped across the room and grasped the coin from the captain’s hand.
“Careful, it’s sharp.”
Quintillian brushed the concern aside. “I studied several languages on Isera. This is fairly simple, much like the languages the eastern provinces used to speak before they were brought into the Empire.” He grinned. “It’s amazing how much text you can fit into such a small space with this kind of language.”
Kiva tutted. “All very fascinating. What does it say?”
Quintillian turned the coin in the extremely low light.
“Four assassins. Twenty five archers. No chance. Wait for better timing.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the captain. “So they’ve waited until we’re in a cell. Very helpful.”
He slammed his fist on the cell’s bars in annoyance, but he knew the words were right. Ashar probably didn’t even know they’d been captured yet. These would just be four Pelasians he’d sent to the city to gather information, and they stood precious little chance against Phythian or the army of Velutio. It would be down to him after all.
Quintillian handed the coin back to him. “What do you think’s going to happen, sir?”
Kiva shrugged. “Death” he said with a cold certainty. “I’m surprised we made it past the courtyard to be honest; it’s most unlike him. Perhaps he’s having trouble deciding how gruesome to make it?”
The lad shuddered. “Then it’s time we start making some plans. Shame Darius isn’t here. All the best plans we ever put into action were made by the two of us together.”
Kiva yawned. “There really isn’t anything to plan. There’s no way to get out of here. Nobody’s coming to the rescue, and any time we actually get to leave the cell, we’ll be in the middle of a palace guarded by an army in a hostile city.”
“So there’s no hope at all?” Quintillian asked, his voice incredulous. ”That’s not you. You always find a way round things. You’re a survivor, captain.”
Kiva rounded on the boy angrily. “If you think I’m that clever, why are we here? Do you think I can conjure an escape tunnel out of my pocket?”
He turned away. “Ahhh shit. We’ll be lucky to see another dawn. I hope Athas and the others have been sensible enough to lose themselves somewhere. Our only faint glimmer of hope now is that we can drive a wedge between this Sabian and his Lord. It looks suspiciously like they’re already on the way.”
Alessus stood and walked over to join them. “Are there any escape routes from the palace? Plenty of Emperors have been paranoid.”
Kiva shook his head. “I’ve heard rumours, but you can guarantee that Velutio’s had every inch of this place checked and sealed. I wouldn’t hold much hope out for that.”
“What about the gardens? They’re out in the open.”
Kiva shook his head. “Almost one hundred and fifty feet of sheer rock face with jagged rocks and reefs at the bottom. Then there’s his guards patrolling the edge and his men in boats patrolling the bay. And that’s only if we could get out into the gardens. I think that’s reaching. If we find ourselves out in the open at any point it’s going to be a matter of taking any opportunity we see, rather than planning in advance.”