Prince of Wrath (64 page)

“Hello, Argan, Kerrin. We’ve heard that Venn have sent an army towards us; they are looking as if they will march to this spot.”

“Oh, right here? Will there be a battle, father?”

Astiras smiled slightly. Boys. They had no idea how ugly and violent a battle could be. “Most likely. We’ll have to see if they do come here. I can’t make any plans until I know for sure.”

Argan stepped into line with the emperor as they made their way back towards the castle. Kerrin walked alongside Argan. “Will we be needed to fight, father?” Argan asked, his face bright.

Astiras looked at his son and ruffled his hair. “I doubt it – you’re still not big enough to wield a proper sword yet, either of you, and we can only fight enemies who have big weapons with proper ones ourselves. You’ll both be in the castle if we are attacked.”

The emperor wondered what would happen to Argan – and the rest of his family – should Venn storm the walls and get in. They would pay in blood, that was for certain. What would the other Venn army do in Epros? Would they invade Makenia now? Could Kastania cope with two invasions? And what of Cratia? Venn would be building up a force there for certain, and if that was the case would they sail to Pelponia, or Lodria, or Zipria? Astiras felt chilled. It was now up to Venn to determine the course of events.

___

Alcazui slowed, his mount coming to a halt. The land fell away to either side in graceful grassy sweeps with woodland and forests in the middle distance. Hills and mountains reared up in the far distance, but it was a welcome change to find some level ground at last. The road ran away north-west across the land and away, and dotted about across the vista were a few farms and other buildings he couldn’t identify.

“Kastania, sire?” his senior captain queried, reining alongside.

“Kastania, yes. We’re now inside their territory. Pass the word along the lines. We should pray to Sonos.”

The priests with the army held a service and the army all knelt and listened to the words of the clerics. They were told they were doing the will of their god; the evil heretical polytheistic Kastanians would soon come to regret worshipping false gods, and any who refused to convert would be burned. The army was encouraged to use whatever means they could to bully the populace into compliance, and if it meant killing and burning, so be it. Only Sonos was permitted to exist in their lives, and if they refused, then death would be their reward.

The service over, the soldiers marched along the floor of the vast valley, heading along and to either side of the single road.

Eyes watched their progress, and the word was passed back. It wasn’t long before the Venn army realised they were being shadowed, for the riders on the horizon stayed with them, and kept them in sight. Once Alcazui sent a group of knights chasing after one of them but the scout vanished, galloping off into the vastness of the countryside and the knights returned disappointed. It reinforced the general attitude amongst the Venn soldiers that the Kastanians were cowards who were too afraid to face them in battle, and would skulk behind walls and rocks.

Seven days after invading Kastanian territory Alcazui began to get daily reports of thefts from the camp and unknown shadows gathering in their wake, always moving in at night to rob from the stocks piled up. Guards were doubled but the thefts continued. It was irritating. They came to a village but it was empty; all the items of value had gone and tracks around the settlement spoke of the population fleeing a short time before.

Alcazui ordered the place burned to the ground nonetheless. The villagers watched from the hills with hate in their eyes. The Kastanian scouts amongst them pointed to the soldiers and told them that this was what lay in store for them if they accepted Venn rule. They were encouraged to prey on the invaders. The Bragalese villagers needed no encouragement.

A day after leaving a pall of smoke in their wake the Venn army came to a halt; standing across their path was another army, shields lined in a wall, spear points gleaming in the late spring sun. Alcazui sat in the saddle glaring at the line of men blocking his path towards Zofela, now only four or five days distant. The flags fluttered green and dull red, the colours of Mazag.

He waved his diplomat forward. “Go speak to those people; tell them we have no argument with Mazag. Remind them of our unity under Sonos against the heretics. If they refuse to listen, invoke the wrath of Sonos upon them. Take the priests with you.”

Godin Terbar, the diplomat, took his cue and, accompanied by two priests dressed in black and holding their sun symbols of Sonos, walked out ahead and crossed the distance between the two forces and halted in front of the Mazag line. He announced himself and the commander of the Mazag army, General Vanist, a tall, lean man with deep-set eyes and a hard, cruel mouth, rode out with his aides and faced the Venn delegation.

“Greetings, noble Mazag friend,” Godin said in heavily accented Mazag. He doubted the peasant Mazag would have bothered to learn a refined tongue like Talian. “Venn brings you blessings of the day upon you.”

Vanist eyed the delegation in front of him coolly. He had little time for priests and their fanaticism; they got in the way of enjoying life with their don’t do this and don’t do that policies. As for the diplomat, he looked typical of his kind; furtive, dishonest, false and slippery as a slitherer. He’d rather have them all erected on poles and left to rot in the sun and leave people like him to go on with matters in a more honest and direct manner. He merely nodded and awaited Godin’s next words.

The diplomat cleared his throat and opened his arms wide. “We are all followers of the one true god, Sonos, so there is no reason for you good people to protect the idolatrous Kastanians. We merely wish to convert this region to Sonos, an act I am sure you and your king will approve of.”

Vanist’s eyes roamed over the heads of the delegation and came to rest on the Venn army. He quickly assessed their fighting strength and composition, and knew that although he was slightly outnumbered, he had enough spearmen to thwart the opposition should they try to force the route to Zofela. “Will he?”

Godin’s face clouded and he turned to the priests. The senior priest stepped forward, a stern self-righteous expression on his face. “Dare you oppose Sonos? Dare you risk bringing down the wrath of Sonos upon the heads of you, your army and your kingdom by this foolish act of standing up for cowards who do not have the stomach to face us here in their own land?”

“I do not speak to priests,” Vanist declared. “Go pray to Sonos away from men who have better things to argue over than your false belief that Sonos listens to your foolish prattle.”

The priest gasped in shock. Nobody had ever dared speak to him like that before. “You heretic! You shall burn on the Holy Pyre for such blasphemy!”

“And are you going to try to pull me from my equine, cleric? You try and you’ll be riddled with arrows.” He signalled with his gauntleted hand and a company of rough-looking archers stepped through the ranks of spearmen and raised their bows. “Now go away and bother me no longer.”

The priests held up their symbols. “Sonos will protect us!”

“Not from these archers. They are from Kral, mercenaries I have recruited. I believe they fled from the burning of their kinsfolk by your fellow priests. They have little love for Sonos. Now step back or they shall be too tempted to exact revenge for the deaths of their countrymen.”

The priests paled and retreated back to the safety of the Venn ranks. Godin was now left alone to face Vanist.

The general continued. “What you require is for me to go back on an agreement – an alliance, no less – signed between representatives of the King of Mazag and the Emperor of Kastania. I cannot break that bond without authority from my King, therefore I am afraid you will have to wait here until word comes back from my capital. It should take no more than two cycles.”

“Two cycles?” Godin was outraged. “We cannot sit here until the autumn! We don’t have the supplies! This is madness.”

“Invading Kastania is madness. It is not for me to explain away why Venn had decided to take this step, but no doubt you see your recent territorial gains as a prelude to greater things. Bragal is not only in the Kastanian area of influence, it is in Mazag’s too. As is Kral,” he glared at Godin, and then the waiting Venn army.

Godin breathed out a few times, trying to keep his rising temper under control. “A clash here between us would achieve no purpose, would it? I’m sure a little reasonable bending of the alliance wording wouldn’t go astray.”

“A clash, you say?” Vanist once again regarded the Venn army. “I have four hundred and fifty spearmen and a company of archers. Try to attack and your army will bleed to death on my spear points. You have cavalry which my spearmen absolutely love, believe me, and while your general is trying to work out how to extract his dying shock troops from my defence, my archers will fill your peasants with so many shafts they’ll run back the way they came. You’re not facing children here, diplomat; you have Mazag’s Army of Valchia in your face.”

Godin bared his teeth. “Duke Dominik will not be pleased to hear that you, General, have defied his decree that Bragal be conquered in the name of Sonos.”

Vanist sneered. “Sonos? I think not – it will have been in the name of the glory of Venn and Duke Dominik. And, besides, the Duke isn’t here so I don’t know whether your words are true or not. I cannot let you pass until I receive an order from my liege.”

The Venn diplomat spun angrily on his heel and stamped back to Alcazui. He gave the army commander a brief description of what had transpired. Alcazui rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The Mazag general had been right about the abilities of his troops. Only a fool would charge a line of prepared spearmen, and the majority of the Mazag troops were just that. They had decent archers too, better than anything he had, and Vanist’s bodyguard were better armoured and armed than his cavalry, although in a fight he was sure his cavalry would win, albeit only by bleeding themselves virtually dry. There was no option but to find another way round the roadblock.

He nodded to Godin. “Take a diplomatic mission to Zofela. I want to find out what their attitude is. I doubt they’ll take kindly to your presence, but I must know how prepared they are and what their situation is. Your mission will be permitted to pass through. Take two men. You should get there in a couple of days without being weighed down by the baggage we have here.”

The diplomat nodded and went off to prepare for his journey. Alcazui beckoned his captains to gather round. “Very well, this is the situation. That Mazag force is blocking our direct route to Zofela. I want scouts to go out and find another way through. It won’t be by road so we may have to take what supplies we can from the wagons and abandon them here. At least it would free us to move faster. Ensure the men all have a sevenday’s supply of food and drink with them. It all depends on Godin’s findings at Zofela. Make camp here in the meantime and make sure it’s fenced – I don’t want any damned brigand sneaking in and stealing from us.”

Godin was allowed through by Vanist, who even provided an escort for the three Venn men. The general simply didn’t trust them to go directly to the town. They may have worshipped the same god but he disliked any Talian instinctively.

Godin followed the road and it wound its way past a few large mountains and rises, bending, twisting, but heading north-west all the time. Finally they climbed a ridge in between two heavily wooded mountains and at the top saw the valley stretch before them. Godin took in the panorama carefully. Zofela was half dismantled. He chuckled. They wouldn’t be able to stop any attack.

Astiras was advised of the approaching delegation and summoned Ganag Meri to his chamber. He sat himself in his makeshift throne, Isbel next to him, and Argan was sat next to Isbel, to watch and learn. Vosgaris stood quietly alongside Astiras, while two palace guards stood at the foot of the small dais. Other members of the Court stood in the background, crammed into the small space. At an announcement from Pepil, Godin was shown in and bowed low before Emperor Astiras I Koros, ruler of Kastania.

“I bring you greetings, your majesty,” Godin began. “Duke Dominik has charged me to bring you a proposal which he says you would be wise to accept.”

Since Godin didn’t speak Kastanian, Mr. Sen had been brought in to translate. Astiras’ face turned dark with anger. “Your Duke says I should accept his proposal, with one of his armies in my territory?”

Godin spread his hands widely, his swarthy face showing a regret he didn’t feel. “My Duke is a forthright man, and speaks his mind. He proposes you vacate the province of Bragal, grant the valiant Bragalese freedom and independence and in return the Duke offers to step in and protect their newly won independence. He furthermore proposes that in order to keep the peace between our nations, he will accept a minimal tribute of a thousand kromas per half year. Your empire will then enjoy the security of Venn’s protection.”

“What the black demons of the underworld are a thousand kromas?” Astiras demanded.

Frendicus cleared his throat. “Sire, that equates to around two hundred and fifty furims.”

Astiras snorted. “So, let me get this right. Venn demands we grant Bragal independence, leave and pay Venn a tribute for them not to attack us. Venn then take over the running of Bragal as ‘protectors’ of an independence that they have no intention of allowing?”

Godin’s smile slipped. “I would not put it in those terms, sire.”