The Dusk Watchman: Book Five of The Twilight Reign (63 page)

She took another step closer and the figure, leaking fire from its various wounds, staggered back, but not quickly enough to avoid Zhia’s sword, which flicked out and sheared through the crude staples holding its front together. The corpse burst apart and collapsed to the ground like a discarded coat while a ten-foot figure of flame unfolded against the night.

Zhia punched forward with an open palm and the Chalebrat was thrown backwards a dozen yards, flames streaming in its wake. The fires of its insubstantial body guttered under the blow.

Doranei readied his sword, but the Chalebrat was making no move to attack; instead, it looked up at the night sky before vanishing, leaving only a trail of light in Doranei’s eyes.

‘Was that another lesson for me?’ Zhia shouted up at the sky.

Doranei followed her gaze and at last he made out the shape of a wyvern, lazily hovering above where the Chalebrat had been. As his eyes adjusted to the loss of light, Vorizh’s pale face became clear against the black clouds above.

‘A distraction!’ Vorizh called with a laugh as a sword entere Zhia’s back. ‘And now I leave you to your loving embrace.’

Doranei held her close and blinked back the tears. He had one arm around her, just below her throat, the dark green embroidery of her dress bunched in his fist. The scent of flowers filled his head as Zhia shuddered, a tiny gasp of air escaping her lungs. His hand shook, unable to let go of the weapon it held. The hilt pressed right against her back, but still he drove it forward as his guts turned to ice. Zhia tilted her head down to stare at the tip of the weapon now protruding from just below her ribs and gave a cough that could have been surprise.

She dropped her sword and Doranei felt her fingers reach up to clutch his hand, her usual strength absent, her hand closing about his like a lover’s might. Doranei closed his eyes and pressed his face against her neck, still holding her tight, and Zhia leaned her own head into his for a moment. Doranei could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears and the terrible pounding of his heart.

He felt her legs begin to sag, his grip the only thing holding her up, and gently he lowered her to the ground, sliding his black broadsword out and lying her on her back. She trembled only slightly as he withdrew the weapon and cast it aside. He cupped her face in his hands.

‘I will,’ Zhia whispered. A flicker of pain crossed her eyes, and then she was gone.

Doranei gave a strangled howl as the woman went limp. From nowhere a black mist rose from the ground, stealing up out of the scrubby grass to curl around the edges of her body. Horrified, Doranei fell back; he couldn’t take his eyes off Zhia’s corpse as the mist swarmed up and over her body, licking at Doranei’s discarded sword and his boots until he stumbled back a pace.

‘She will what?’ the Goddess marked lieutenant said in a hushed voice.

Doranei’s stomach lurched. ‘Before . . . this . . .’ he began, choking on his own words, ‘she knew . . .’

He sank to his knees, grief filling his vision. ‘I wanted to ask her a question.’

CHAPTER 31

Ruhen opened his eyes. ‘She’s dead.’

‘Good,’ Ilumene said, ‘I never trusted the bitch, never mind her little gift to you.’

The boy looked at his muscular bodyguard, just returned from his hunt in Narkang lands. Ilumene was dressed for battle, in white-bleached leather armour stiffened with painted steel strips. Beside him, Venn’s normal black was covered with a white cape. His ruined wrist was encased in a bright, milky crystal. He might carry only one sword now, but he had lost none of his Harlequin dexterity, and he carried a Crystal Skull. Venn was far from vulnerable.

‘What about the element of surprise?’

Ilumene shrugged, his grin wolfish. ‘Fine when you’re using it, but some never do. They just hold their surprise in reserve, waiting – always bloody waiting. You’ve been carrying that sword Zhia gave you for months. I know you’ve been wary of revealing that she’d sided with us. Now we know they’ve found out about Aenaris, there’s no reason not to use it.’

Ruhen blinked, and the shadows danced in his eyes. ‘I had best not disappoint you, then,’ he said at last and gestured towards the ornate doors of the Duke’s Chamber. ‘Shall we?’

The fine wall hangings of the lower chamber of the Ruby Tower had been covered by strips of cloth, collected by the white-cloaked devotees of Ruhen from all over Byora. The Knights of the Temples had spread far, and the response had been great. Even those states as yet unscathed by war had heard of the horrors inflicted – the obliteration of Scree and Aroth were all too easy to imagine when daemons roamed the lonely roads and woodlands, providing fertile ground for a message of peace.

The preachers had brought back prayers back from every village, town and city, and Ruhen could
smell
the power in them, growing drip by drip. Currently that power was out of reach – daemons and Gods alike were shaped as well as sustained by the worship of their followers, while Azaer had refused to become dependent on mortal followers. This was a time of transformation however: the Land would be remade, and he would too.

‘I still don’t like this,’ Ilumene said at last, not moving from where he stood. ‘We’re wasting a lot o’ men.’

‘Learning compassion, Ilumene?’ Venn inquired, a look of sour scorn on his face. ‘I hadn’t thought old dogs of the Brotherhood capable of such tricks.’

Ilumene gave him an unfriendly look. ‘Aye, and I can juggle too. I’d teach you how, but there ain’t much fucking point, is there?’ He turned away from Venn and squatted down to look Ruhen in the face. ‘You gave me command of the armies, remember? Making sure they deliver is my responsibility.’

‘And thus far their job is to be defeated,’ Venn continued. ‘Success isn’t admirable until you’re asked to do something difficult.’

Ilumene ignored him, waiting for Ruhen’s response.

The boy showed no emotion at the squabbling of his underlings. ‘You are concerned we might lose the support of the Devoted?’

‘They ain’t happy about Emin’s armies cutting through ’em, but backing out at this stage ain’t an option, not with the losses they’ve taken. Continuing to take my orders, though – that might be harder if we’ve done nothing but lose ’em men. You provide the Devoted with legitimacy for their expansion, but Telith Vener and Afasin still see you as just a figurehead, one to be used and dropped if it costs them too much. We can disabuse the buggers of that, but it’ll stall us at a time we really don’t need.’

‘Afasin speaks with no voice now his army is broken,’ Ruhen said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. ‘The others know that.’

‘He still speaks within the council and that’s enough.’ Ilumene straightened. ‘The Knight-Cardinal’s yours, body and soul, but he’s the only one of ’em. Lord Gesh too, perhaps, but on military matters his opinion ain’t worth much. If you show your power now, folk might start to ask why we’re retreating away from the Circle City in the first place – and certainly why we’re doing so while sacrificing ten legions or more, whether or not they’re our weakest troops. It’s a half-arsed commitment to battle, a sop to Karkarn’s will that will convince no one and loses too many in the process.’

‘What does my general advise, then?’ Ruhen asked, one hand raised to stop Venn’s objections.

‘Either send most of your forces, or beat the retreat for them all. What else is there? Defeats paint a picture that serves our purposes, I know, and every report of savage sorcery and inhuman combat brings more followers to the cause, but we ain’t following the old plan very closely any more.’

Ruhen nodded slowly. ‘This mortal vestment remains something I wear, and you do well to remind me of mortal concerns. But this defeat would serve us.’

‘So we make it a defeat, but one we’re truly escaping from, rather than leaving in our wake. Provoke a response to truly flee from. We’re at the point where we need to take risks – to show them as a real danger, they actually need to
be
a real danger to us. We’re leaving the Circle City anyway, but your followers don’t know that. They need to feel there’s no choice before they flee.’

‘You suggest a flawed battle-order?’ Ruhen asked. ‘One that will go wrong quickly enough to require a retreat for all forces?’

‘For starters, but we need to sacrifice more than that. Our surprise is gone, you know that. So we can’t hold back the power you wield or Emin won’t buy what we’re selling. He’ll know using Aenaris will come at a cost for you, but he’ll be just as suspicious if you refuse to use it when you’re finally faced with your enemy.’

‘And we then pray for controlled disaster?’

Ilumene shook his head. ‘Leave the prayers to the Devoted. I’d prefer to trust our enemy: give them something on which to concentrate their ferocity, a sign of your power that the whole Land’ll take note of. It forces them to meet power with power, and in the sight of the Land yours is the more palatable.’

‘You’re suggesting we stay here?’ Venn demanded, advancing on them to force himself into the decision. ‘How long – days? A week? Are you
so
certain of our scrying that any delay does not risk us being trapped?’

‘March the Embere troops out with everything the Circle City has to offer,’ Ilumene urged. ‘Keep Certinse’s four legions from the West in reserve. Send the army beyond the fens to meet King Emin head-on. The faithful masses will follow them, and they’ll take grave losses, but the survivors will scatter, taking word of what happened far and wide. We lose what we lose and accept that. They’re recruiting hard in Embere, Raland and Tor Salan, and after this loss they’ll bring together every soldier they can.’

‘Who will lead this disaster?’ Ruhen asked.

Ilumene smiled. ‘Express your confidence in General Afasin – white-eyes are born for war, after all. He’ll be cautious, unwilling to commit, and Emin will break him. Telith Vener will support Afasin over Chaist, and Certinse won’t oppose if I tell him not to.’

‘We get word of the defeat and flee with the remaining troops, carrying word of their ungodly crimes in battle. Perhaps plague and ruin marches alongside our enemy? Rojak, does your bride-in-chains think she could manage that?’

Venn’s lips became a tight little smile as the dead minstrel came forward in his mind. He gestured with his crystal-bandaged hand and a flash of dark light burst onto the tiled floor at his side. Ilumene blinked, and then there was a ragged figure kneeling on the floor, her head bowed. Slowly the Wither Queen looked up, staring with undisguised hatred through her matted grey hair.

‘My queen would be delighted to aid your holy mission,’ Rojak said, savouring every word.

The former Reaper and Aspect of Death spat on the floor between them, and the spittle became a pale maggot wriggling on the ground, until Ilumene stamped on it. The action caused her to flinch, but the hatred in her dead eyes remained.

‘I am your slave,’ she hissed at last, ‘as I knew you would always make me.’

Ruhen shook his head. ‘Lord Isak made you this way; it was he who made you dependent on Venn’s power. But if you continue to serve, your price will still be paid: you will still have your place in the Pantheon, and before we are done you will see the truth of my words.’

‘I see only lies and false hope.’ She bared her broken, decayed teeth. ‘But still I have no choice.’

With that, she was dismissed and Rojak receded once more, leaving Venn in control of the body they shared. ‘The decision is made,’ Ruhen said after a long silence. ‘Let us go to the Devoted council and offer our wisdom.’

He reached behind his head and touched the weapon wrapped entirely in leather that was strapped to his back. The sword was enormous and unwieldy, but he bore it as though it weighed nothing.

‘Perhaps it is time we gave their sceptical souls a little encouragement.’

‘Your Majesty,’ the scryer croaked, looking up from where he knelt at the roadside, ignoring the splattering rain and the ground churned into mud by the soldiers. ‘The enemy has halted and taken position on the plain to the northeast.’

‘Scouts confirm it,’ Dashain said. ‘Looks like they’re all together, and actually offering battle for once. Can they think choosing the ground will win it for them?’

King Emin shook his head and scowled. Neither Vesna nor Isak commented. They were surrounded by a full regiment of both Kingsguard and Tirah Palace Guard, providing personal escorts to the two men, and the sight of the Ghosts’ distinctive black and white tabards had added fire to the bellies of their untested recruits.

‘How many?’

‘Your Majesty, I lack Master Holtai’s skill,’ the scryer said, a quaver in his voice. He tried to summon the image clearly enough to estimate the Devoted numbers. ‘Soldiers? Perhaps twenty thousand? Fifteen of infantry, five of cavalry, I’d guess.’

‘But?’

‘There are others – or
something
, at least. Civilians, or barbarians from the Waste—’

‘How many?’ the king demanded.

‘I have no idea,’ the scryer admitted. ‘I cannot even guess – several thousand, at least, but they are just a formless crowd. I have no means of comparison.’

‘An army of the devoted,’ Vesna commented sourly. ‘They’ve found their saviour. The people of the Circle City have come to fight for their new lord.’

‘The shadow would throw away its worshippers so easily?’ Dashain asked, but her voice was more hopeful than aghast. She had seen enough of Azaer’s work to know compassion was never a factor.

‘It doesn’t need so many now,’ Isak explained, his great shoulders more stooped than normal. ‘My actions have seen to that. Those it would overthrow are weakened. The shadow doesn’t need the power it had planned for.’

‘Not just your actions,’ Vesna said pointedly, ‘Zhia’s too – and handing Aenaris to Ruhen was deliberate, not the consequence of something else.’

‘We can save the blame for another day,’ Emin muttered, casting a quick glance towards the huddled figure of Doranei, still mounted and waiting on the edges of the king’s guards.