Sovereign (5 page)

He sensed rather than heard the enemy gather around him. He waited for the arrows to pierce his body. The night air was cooling now, evaporating the sweat that made his face and hands shine in the moonlight. When nothing happened after what seemed a long while he lifted his head. There were ten mounted Chetts forming a circle around him.

'Get it over with,' he said haughtily, and lifted his arms so their arrows could pierce straight into his heart and lungs.

'You stayed to slay your horse,' one of the Chetts said.

'If I'd tried to run away you'd have rode me down,' Salokan answered, trying to put a sneer into his voice.

'Truth,' the Chett admitted. He nodded to the dead animal. 'Was this your horse?'

'What do you think?' he answered with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

Surprisingly, the Chett grinned and dismounted. He drew a sabre and Salokan took a step back, automatically raising his own weapon to counter any attack, but the Chett ignored the king and used the sabre to pick up the crown. 'And is this yours?'

Salokan refused to answer. He knew he was going to die, and had no intention of amusing these barbarians any further.

'My friend asked you a question,' said a new voice from behind him. Salokan turned around. He was not sure which of the Chetts had spoken, but there was something about the posture of the shortest one that drew attention to him. The Chett had his wide-brimmed hat drawn low so Salokan could not see his face.

'I am King Salokan of Haxus. I don't talk with herders.'

The short Chett slipped easily off his mount and approached Salokan, stopping no more than two paces away from him. He lifted his chin and slipped his hat off his head.

Salokan gasped. The face he saw belonged to no Chett. Indeed, there was something about the man's features that were not entirely human. The skin was as pale as moonlight and had a slight lustre to it as if it was made from carved ivory. A dreadful scar ran from the right ear all the way to the jaw. And the cold brown eyes were like those of a wolf.

'My name is Lynan Rosetheme.'

Salokan was too surprised to speak. How could this creature be a prince of Grenda Lear?

'I wish to talk to you about a certain mercenary called Rendle,' the man continued, and took a step forward.

What drove Salokan to act then was something he never completely understood, but a mixture of fear and loathing made him raise his sword arm and bring it down in a mighty stroke.

And in the next moment his sword was spinning away from his hand and into the night. Salokan gasped in pain and grabbed his hand. Blood pumped from the stumps of three fingers. The pale prince was holding a sabre. Salokan had never seen anyone move so fast.

'My hand—!' he cried, then coughed as the point of the prince's sword jabbed into his throat.

'Do you want to die, Salokan of Haxus?' Lynan Rosetheme asked.

Salokan did not want to answer. He did not want to show this strange creature and his Chett warriors how afraid he was. But the pain in his hand was overwhelming, and he could feel his blood, hot and slick, running down his arm, and he could feel the point of a sabre pricking his windpipe.

'No,' he said weakly.

Lynan Rosetheme dropped the point of his sabre and smiled at him. 'Good. I'll need a governor to look after my interests in my new province of Haxus.'

CHAPTER 4

It was a cool dawn for this time of year. Ager, who thought he had grown used to the cold, could not help shivering. He looked over the gentle rolling landscape of Hume and tried to see only the woods and brooks and scattered farms, but he could not avoid seeing the bodies. Where the Haxus infantry had stood their ground and been scythed down by wave after wave of arrows, they lay in neat piles; where a fleeing column had been slaughtered soldier by soldier, bodies appeared in long straggling strings. Crows hopped over bloody heads and limbs, pecking at eyes and fingers. As the day warmed, the flies would come, great hovering clouds of them.

Ager shivered again.
It's the cold
, he told himself.

He felt bewildered. This time yesterday he had expected Lynan, defeated by Areava's army and shattered by the blow of losing Kumul, to retreat perhaps as far as the Oceans of Grass. Instead the prince had gone on the offensive. The night had been a long and bloody one, ending with the complete destruction of Salokan's army. The Chetts had the victory they needed to restore their morale and confidence.

It would be called the Battle of the Night, he knew. Such battles were very rare, commanders afraid of losing control in the dark, of banners and regiments attacking their own side by mistake, but Lynan had taken advantage of two facts—whereas Salokan had few cavalry, all his own warriors were mounted and so knew anyone on foot was an enemy, and a full moon had been up for many hours.

Ager could not help feeling some sympathy for his foe, but he reminded himself that Haxus had long been a traditional enemy of all those living in the south of the continent of Theare, as well as the main base for the slave trade that once had preyed on the Chetts, including the Ocean Clan.

My clan
, he reminded himself.

Morfast rode up beside him and gently grasped his arm. He squeezed back, sighing deeply. 'How many did we lose?'

'No more than thirty,' she said. 'But that includes all the adult members of the Delen family. They were surprised by Haxus cavalry and were cut down before they could react.'

'How many children?'

'Three. They will be taken in by uncles and aunts.'

Ager nodded wearily. 'A hard blow for a child to lose so much of its family.'

Morfast grinned savagely. 'Many more Haxus children were made orphans last night.'

The crookback's conscience rebelled against such bloody joy, but he knew the Chetts revelled in combat as no other people he knew, and he had been a soldier for most of his life.

'Was it like this under the General?' she asked him.

'The General?'

'In the Slaver War,' she prodded.

Ager snorted in surprise. Although he had once spent many years remembering his part in the Slaver War, revering the memory of General Elynd Chisal, Lynan's father, Morfast's question made him realise he had not really thought of those times since the first night he had met Lynan.

'Yes, I suppose it was like this. There was more reason to hate then, perhaps, and more reason to fight…' His voice trailed off when he realised what he was saying.

Morfast looked at him strangely. 'You think the White Wolf should not have crossed to the east with an army?'

He shook his head and said quietly, 'No, I don't think that.' He did not add that there was no time during the Slaver War when he doubted he was doing the right thing, but now he was part of an army that hoped to overthrow the legitimate ruler of Grenda Lear doubt seemed to fill him. He understood the political necessity for the invasion, understood it was not Lynan's fault that he had been driven to take this action by Orkid and Dejanus murdering Berayma—Usharna's eldest son and successor—and laying the blame on him, but none of that made Ager feel any better about going to war against the Kingdom which he had served for so long. Perhaps, just perhaps, Kumul—for whom serving the legitimate ruler of Grenda Lear had been his life work—died when he did because God had more mercy than Ager had ever believed.

And as for this slaughter of the army from Haxus, a traditional enemy, he could not help wonder if Salokan could not have been allowed to run home with his tail between his legs. Haxus had never been a serious threat to Grenda Lear itself, more a nuisance than anything else. Ironically, this was a possibility Kumul himself would never have considered; for him, the argument would run that Haxus was an enemy and you killed your enemies.

But I am not a general, and I am not a king-in-waiting, and I am not Kumul Alarn. I am Ager Crookback. I do not understand these things.

At midday Lynan called another council. The attitude of all the clan chiefs was noticeably different than the day before. When asked for their advice, all they would do was ask in turn what Lynan would have them do. Ager thought Lynan looked satisfied with this response, and it made him feel uneasy; yet when the prince asked him for his opinion, he had little to offer.

'We have two choices,' he said.

'And they are?' Lynan urged.

'To turn our attention again to the Kingdom, either by attacking the remnants of Areava's army or by attacking Daavis, or to retreat over the Algonka Pass and reconsider our strategy.'

Lynan nodded, as if in agreement. 'Will no one else add their thoughts?'

There were muffled refusals. Even Korigan and Eynon seemed content to forget their feuding and wait on Lynan's word. He had given them a great victory, perhaps the greatest in Chett history. He was the son of the General. He was the White Wolf returned. Who were they to question him?

Lynan turned to Jenrosa. 'And what do the magikers say?'

Jenrosa looked up in surprise. 'They say nothing on this.'

'Has the earth been asked?' he insisted.

'The earth had no words.'

'Have the eagle and karak been asked?'

'The eagle and karak had nothing to show us.'

Lynan glanced quickly at the woman sitting directly behind Jenrosa. Lasthear, Jenrosa's teacher, nodded in agreement. Ager saw the exchange and was offended on Jenrosa's behalf, then guiltily realised Lynan knew Jenrosa would still be greatly affected by Kumul's death and may not understand everything her magik showed her.

'We need a base on this side of the Ufero Mountains from which to operate,' Lynan said.

'If we capture Daavis, we will have such a base,' Gudon suggested light-heartedly, and many laughed.

'Our army is made up of cavalry,' Lynan said. 'We have not the troops nor the wherewithal to assault a city.'

'Are you suggesting we build a base in Hume?' Ager asked, resisting the temptation to add that the Chetts did not have the wherewithal for that either.

'We need something more secure, more permanent, than that,' Lynan answered.

'What exactly are you suggesting then?' Ager prompted.

Lynan smiled at him. 'You said we had two choices. We move south, or we move west. There is a third choice.'

Ager looked blankly at Lynan for a second, then opened his mouth in surprise. The answer was so obvious he felt a fool for not realising it. He could tell by the expression on Korigan's face that she had seen the truth at the same time.

'Haxus,' Ager said.

'Yes. We have defeated its army. We have captured its king. Haxus is open to us… if we move quickly enough.'

'We need only march in and take it!' Eynon declared. 'A whole Kingdom will fall to us from one battle!'

Lynan shook his head. 'A whole Kingdom does not fall because it loses its king,' he said severely. 'Grenda Lear lost my mother Usharna and my brother Berayma in one season and survived easily enough. But our chances in Haxus are greater than our chances in south Hume. Another army could be marching north from Kendra right now to join the army already in the province. Grenda Lear has vast resources to draw on.'

'But in comparison, Haxus does not,' Ager finished.

'But Haxus does have the troops, the experience and the sappers we will need to besiege Grenda Lear's great cities.'

'Like Daavis,' one chief said, grinning like an excited child.

'Like Daavis,' Lynan agreed. 'And Spira and Pila and one day even Kendra itself.'

'He has ambition, your prince,' Lasthear said.

'You can't get much more ambitious than wanting the throne of Grenda Lear,' Jenrosa agreed. She was sitting next to a circle she had traced in the dark brown dirt of Hume.
Good soil
, she told herself. It reminded her of the soil in the village where she was born. In a pang of self-pity she wished she had never left the village, but almost immediately cursed herself for a fool. She had Bated her childhood, her mother nothing but a drunken sot, her father long dead or run away, her prospects no better than ending up as some farmer's wife.

In some ways she thought that fate would have been preferable to the one handed her. She was exiled from Kendra, the city she truly regarded as her home, and had lost Kumul, the only man she had ever truly loved. On top of all that she was afraid the Chett magikers had started regarding her as a Truespeaker, a great magiker that only appeared once every two or three generations. All she had ever wanted was a quiet life where she could use what she had once considered to be her modest magikal abilities for an equally modest profit. She had wanted a quiet and comfortable life, unconcerned with and untroubled by the greater world.

And then there was Lynan. She had tied herself to his fortunes first through necessity and later through genuine affection. For a brief period there had been four of them—Lynan, Jenrosa, Kumul and Ager—and although their lives had been dangerous, their simple aim to stay alive had created a strong bond between them. But now one of their number was slain, Ager had a whole clan to fill up his time, and Lynan…

Jenrosa shivered.

Lynan had become something more and perhaps something less than human, and that had been her fault. She had saved his life by giving him the blood of the vampire Silona, and in doing so had changed the fate of the whole continent. She wondered if she should feel proud for all that she, an apprentice and insignificant magiker from the Theurgia of Stars, had achieved, but instead could only feel a kind of numbing dread that combined with her grief over Kumul to make her feel lethargic and witless.

'I did not mean that,' Lasthear said after a while. She was sitting on the opposite side of the circle in the dirt.

Jenrosa glanced up at her. 'You are talking about this invasion of Haxus?'

Lasthear nodded. 'If he gains both Haxus and his sister's throne, Lynan will be the first to control the whole of the continent of Theare.'

'Is that important?'

Lasthear did not answer but started calling to the earth. Jenrosa joined her automatically. Their voices joined and seemed to weave a path through the air around them. A dust devil whirled between them for a moment and then was gone. Jenrosa blinked dirt from her eyes and looked down at the circle. The suggestion of words appeared, dissolved, reformed again.