The Dusk Watchman: Book Five of The Twilight Reign (81 page)

‘Colonel Cerse!’ Vesna bellowed, and the commander of the Ghosts ran up, still pulling on his heavy armour. In his wake came Suzerain Torl, dressed in the lighter armour of the Dark Monks.

‘Here, Vesna,’ Cerse replied. ‘Your orders?’

‘The battle order remains the same, but you’re leading the Ghosts,’ Vesna said. ‘Make General Lahk proud of his men. Torl, you have command of the Farlan forces.’

He started back towards his tent to put on the rest of his own armour, but hesitated when he realised the soldiers were all still staring at him in awed silence.

‘Move yourselves!’ he roared, jerking them into action. ‘May Karkarn’s blessing shield you all. The Farlan ride to war!’

‘At last we meet,’ came a distant voice through the darkness, ‘my most useful of playthings.’

Isak raised his head and muzzily made out a small figure standing a few feet in front of him. A small, slender boy, looking barely fourteen summers, but with the presence of a king. He was dressed simply, with a wrapped sword bound on his back, and he dominated a view containing Harlequins, mages and Demi-Gods. Even the one blind eye and scar on his face served only to enhance his unearthly air.

Isak recognised Ilumene standing close to Ruhen’s side, while on the boy’s other side he saw a black figure with teardrops tattooed on his face: the black Harlequin, Venn. Ilumene grinned malevolently at Isak, but the best he could manage in response was to look straight through the man, as though he wasn’t worth noticing.

‘But as you see,’ Ruhen continued with a small, secret smile, spreading his hands to indicate himself, ‘I am growing up. The time has come to put aside my childish things and you, beloved toy, have almost served your purpose.’

‘Fuck off,’ Isak croaked.

Ruhen’s smile widened. ‘Ah, you do not disappoint. Always the white-eye, even after all I’ve put you through.’

Isak took stock of himself. He was on his side, his right hand pulled tight against his chest and a chain of silver looped diagonally around his torso. The sky was oppressive, sullen grey clouds with a taste of rain on the wind. He could see a perimeter of cut stones, both standing and fallen, and fractured paving slabs underneath him. It appeared that they were standing on the remains of an obliterated temple. His senses told him he was on the bare hill their scouts had spoken of; Aryn Bwr had described it as a barrow. The air hummed with power and the stones beneath him trembled at the artefacts gathered in one place.

He pushed himself up with his left hand until he was kneeling, then hunched forward and retched until the waves of pain and dizziness passed. His hands were trembling and his head swam; even the simplest of movements was exhausting. It was a huge effort just to turn his head enough to see Tiniq’s hooded head behind him, a grim expression on the ranger’s face. The end of the chain that bound him was in one hand, the Skull of Ruling in the other.

‘Traitor,’ Isak managed, but even as he said that a shocking pulse of energy ran up through his arm, setting the nerves aflame and his bones creaking until Tiniq quietened the flow.

‘I think you should be more civil,’ Ruhen warned. ‘It’s only the link he holds that is keeping Termin Mystt from shredding what’s left of your mind.’

Despite the boy’s words, anger and hatred continued to growl unabated in Isak’s gut. ‘Stabbed your own damn brother in the back?’ Isak hissed, blinking away the stars that burst before his eyes. ‘Did you let him see the face of his killer – or were you too much of a coward to let him know what his brother was before he died?’

This time the pain was worse, and Isak’s vision went white as power ran rampant through his body and his ears filled with his own screams. Eventually Tiniq relented and cut the flow again, leaving Isak panting and sobbing in a heap.

‘My brother needed no such burden,’ Tiniq hissed. ‘He died clean and quick. You all used him like a dog and you think to condemn me? Piss on you all, the whole damn tribe of the Farlan who’d have hung me in an instant had they learned what I am.’

Isak grunted and rolled over so he could again see Tiniq through his blurred and wavering eyes. ‘What’s that, then?’

Tiniq’s face became stony. ‘There’s no name for what I am: twin of a white-eye,’ he spat, ‘an impossible birth. I shouldn’t have survived; your kind don’t share, except my soon-to-be dead mother was infected by something almost as strong as white-eye’s blood.’

‘You’re a
vampire
?’ Isak croaked in disbelief.

Tiniq sneered, ‘And to think the Gods placed you above my brother. There’s no name for what I am. I was infected by the vampire blood, but sharing a womb with one touched by the Gods. For years I fought the thirst, knowing my own people would kill me if they ever discovered the truth.’

‘Until the shadows spoke to him,’ Ruhen added, delight in his voice as he savoured the words and his own triumph. ‘Until I gave him the strength to survive its growing call – to become more than a man in hiding from his own nature.’

‘What are you going to offer me, then?’ Isak said, weakly pushing himself back to his knees.

‘Offer?’ Ruhen cocked his head to one side. ‘Why should I do that?’

Isak tried to smile as he gestured to the black hand bound tight to his chest. ‘Got anyone else who can hold this? You reckon your pet Jester could stand it?’

Ruhen turned and looked around Ilumene at the tall, grey-skinned Demi-God not far behind. ‘Koteer? I think he might, yes: a son of Death with Ruling in his hand and Aenaris nearby – yes, if you forced my hand, I think he would.’

‘But would you trust the bastard to follow orders?’

If Isak stirred anything up, he couldn’t see it. Koteer remained impassive, and Ruhen was more amused than anything else.

‘Trust? Koteer’s brothers have died for the cause. Loyalty like that buys everything they were promised and more.’ Ruhen looked past Isak. ‘But I don’t think you will press the matter. Your friends might yet break through to meet you. It would be a shame if Ilumene had already taken your head before Emin manage to conjure something.’

‘We wouldn’t want them to be disheartened now,’ Ilumene agreed. ‘They might give up and leave us to it.’

‘You don’t want that?’ Isak coughed.

‘Of course not,’ said Ruhen. ‘The greatest magic is always consecrated by blood, after all, and the presence of power is almost as important. I don’t need your cooperation, you see, just your presence. With a majority of Skulls and the rest nearby, magnifying the presence of Demi-Gods and Mortal-Aspects . . .’ The boy laughed. ‘It will be more than enough; you overestimate any resistance the Gods are likely to mount.’

Isak had nothing to say. Under the assault from Termin Mystt and Ruhen’s carelessly spoken words, he felt enfeebled. He found himself unable to move from his position of subjugation, kneeling, head bowed, before the shadow eye of Ruhen.

‘Ilumene, set your pieces,’ Ruhen said to the former King’s Man, and Ilumene nodded and beckoned forward a white-eye in bright robes and a Farlan man Isak hadn’t noticed before. The former had to be Lord Larim, the Menin mage who was Larat’s Chosen – they hadn’t found his body at Moorview, and no one had dared to hope the man would be dead. The sickly-looking Farlan had dark circles around his eyes and gaunt cheeks. The armour he wore was that of a general of the Knights of the Temples and Isak realised belatedly this had to be Knight-Cardinal Certinse, the last living member of that troublesome family.

‘Definitely going to make sure I kill you,’ Isak declared in a heavy, slurring voice. ‘Get myself the full family set.’

If the Knight-Cardinal reacted, Isak didn’t see, for Tiniq struck him on the back of the head and sent him sprawling to the ground, pink and black stars bursting before his eyes.

‘Close order infantry on both hills, archers behind and space for the cavalry to descend. Give them leave to range around the rear of the hill. I doubt an attack’ll come there, but we still need to watch for troops like the Legion. What we can offer Emin is the lower rise – this flank’s the best one to attack but it leaves them badly open. Larim, you’re the heart of the defence,’ Ilumene began in a business-like voice. ‘Yours will be the only Skull outside the barrow.’

‘What? The rest are going in with you?’ Certinse blurted out.

Ilumene nodded. ‘Six Skulls and Aenaris are what the master needs, so you’ll make do with what you’ve got: seventy thousand troops to stop them taking one fucking hill, so don’t whine.’

‘Seventy thousand closely packed soldiers facing five Crystal Skulls amongst Narkang and Tirah’s élite?’ the man protested. ‘It’ll be a slaughter – how long do you expect us to last?’

‘Long enough. Don’t worry; we’ve a few cards still to play.’

‘Those damned fanatics? Last I heard you’d poisoned them all; they’re just lying on the hillside like they’re bloody dead.’

‘They’re resting – conserving their strength,’ Ilumene assured him as Larim gave the Farlan a reptilian smile. ‘Most of ’em anyways. Probably.’

‘Unarmed and too ill to move, if they’re not already dead!’

Ilumene draped a comradely arm around Certinse’s shoulders and the slender man shrank under the touch. ‘Haven’t you learned to trust me by now? They’ll give a good account o’ themselves, and they’re not the only tricks our friend has up those big sleeves of his.’

Larim who bowed his head to acknowledge Ilumene’s words; a strange gesture of deference given the reputation of the Chosen of Larat, Isak thought. But then he remembered what Doranei and King Emin had told him about Ilumene – if anyone was to command the respect of savage and callous men, it was him.

‘Don’t bring them in too early,’ Ilumene added for Larim’s benefit. ‘Feel free to tire their mages first. Blood must be spilled this day, the blood of thousands – our ritual demands it.’

‘And if they do manage a breach?’

‘Then they’ll be vulnerable to your surprises, but don’t let it get to that. Our positions are fortified, our troops disciplined. The Knight-Cardinal and his generals know their trade well enough; soften them up as they approach, outflank them with cavalry and let them exhaust themselves on the shield-wall.’

‘It’s the Legion of the Damned I’m more concerned with,’ Certinse said in a subdued voice. ‘They can break the line and open us up.’

‘So you find ’em, Larim, and you break ’em,’ Ilumene declared. ‘They’re not invulnerable and they’ll be at the heart of Emin’s assault. The Knight-Cardinal’s right, the Legion is their greatest weapon – but how many do they number now? Five hundred? They can’t recruit, and every skirmish with General Vener’s troops has reduced their numbers. You direct your magic there and use Vorizh – his presence with those wyverns will counter their impact.’

‘Questions?’ Ruhen asked, prompting all three men to turn and shake their heads. ‘Excellent, then we will delay no longer. Venn, Koteer: summon your troops. It’s not that I lack faith in the Knight-Cardinal’s abilities, but if King Emin does break through we will be fighting in near darkness.’

Ilumene came towards Isak and before the white-eye had managed to focus on him properly, the man had slipped a leather noose around his neck and yanked it tight.

‘Come my little pet,’ Ruhen said with delight as Ilumene dragged Isak stumbling forward on hand and knees. ‘It is time we went to meet our Gods.’

Standing high in his stirrups, King Emin cast around to check the army was ready. It was an impressive sight by most standards, but nagging doubts still lingered. The bulk of the army was infantry, arrayed in two lines on each side of him and angled like a flattened V, since they would be charging an enemy set at an angle. At the centre of the army was an arrowhead of heavy cavalry, serving as the hinge between their forces, Kingsguard and Palace Guard, with the remaining Ghosts on foot behind, alongside the Legion of the Damned.

Between the three sets of troops were gaps of fifty yards, space enough for the cavalry to manoeuvre or the advance units of skirmishers and light cavalry to retreat. They had already engaged with the Devoted’s ranging cavalry, but neither side was keen to get embroiled in a standing fight and it had been short-lived.

On his right were the four heavy infantry legions of the Kingsguard and the same number of Menin, while the left flank was headed by the mercenary legions and the battle-clans of Canar Fell. Behind both were the Narkang regular spearmen, and cavalry and archers ranged on both flanks. Emin had ordered there be no reserve at all, unable to contemplate retreat or even a protracted battle.

‘Endine, is Nai ready to provide our decoy?’

‘He is, your Majesty. The battle mages know to wait for him to act first. Wentersorn and Morghien are ready too.’

The king took one last look around at the men and woman riding at his side. Count Vesna shone darkly at the head of the Ghosts; Legana was a gleaming emerald thorn amidst her spear-bearing sisters. Doranei and Veil clapped each other on the shoulder and Daken snarled with barely restrained blood-rage, already sinking into the white-eye battle-fury. Carel, a still, silent figure behind him with his face hidden by his helm, was steeling himself for the slaughter to come.

‘Brothers!’ King Emin called, drawing his sword and holding it high for as many as possible to see. ‘Our time has come – our place in history is at hand!’

There was a roar from the soldiers around him, one that was taken up by the savage battle-clans before the rest joined in. Soon even the fanatical Menin added their voices and the air shook with murderous intent.

With Endine’s assistance Emin continued, this time with a voice that echoed like thunder down the assembled ranks. ‘My brothers: the enemy lies before us, the enemy of the Gods themselves! There can be no retreat, no respite or surrender. Here is our moment. This day we determine the future of the Land itself! The songs of heroes will bear your names, each and every one of you fêted by the Gods themselves.

‘We go to fight, we go to die. This nameless place shall forever be remembered by those who speak of glory. Your names, your legions, will be whispered with reverence by all peoples to come. This is our war – this is our purpose. Come, my brothers – the Gods await us!’