The Stormcaller: Book One Of The Twilight Reign (27 page)

The rune felt as if it had recoiled at his touch and he withdrew his hand hurriedly. He didn’t want to know why it had done that. He might not know much about magic yet, but he was positive some forbidden process had made this. At its very core, the sword knew the taste of elves - it had been quenched in the blood of one.

‘Rise; we can play formalities some other time.’

‘As you say.’ Certinse’s voice was cool as he stood. ‘You received my man with news of their forces?’

‘We did,’ broke in General Lahk, stepping forward to take control of the discussion. Vesna had already told Isak that Certinse would try to lead the battle if given the slightest opportunity. ‘Suzerain Torl has command of four legions of cavalry - he went ahead two days ago to harry their movements. How many men have you managed to bring from Lomin?’

‘All the infantry I could muster: four legions of spear and one of archers. None of the town garrisons have had a chance to get here, but with luck the rangers might be able to find a secure path for some to reach the battle in time.’

‘We’re short on archers then, with so many light cavalry away, but it will have to do. From what we’ve scried of the enemy, they have far greater numbers, although most are on foot. The group trying to outflank us is entirely horse; that means they won’t want to move the main bulk very far.’

‘They’ll take the northern end of the Chir Plain then.’

‘You know it?’ Lahk waved a hand behind him and immediately one of his staff thrust a map-scroll into it. Another man brought a table and the map was unrolled on it.

‘Here’s the plain,’ said Certinse, his finger stabbing down at the map. Isak moved forward to look over Lahk’s shoulder. With a grunt the general slid around the table to afford Isak a better view. The curves and lines meant little to the Krann but he kept quiet. A wagoner knew the lie of the Land from his own travels and the accounts of others, not paper, but he had to learn.

‘There’s a rise that runs much of that side, we can ride hidden behind it, but if they try to go over they’ll be in trouble. It’s too rocky to get down that slope. They will have to wait until they reach the cleft where a small river cuts the ridge. It’s wide and brings you right round the other side of the plain.’

‘What else is there?’

‘The river. That cuts through the ridge like this and runs that way - it’s not deep, though. There’s a steep, flat-topped rise here.’ Certinse moved his finger north-east of the river. Nothing was indicated on the map, but neither duke nor general looked surprised. ‘There are some old fortifications on top, nothing significant, but it’s a safe place to have a good view of the field. Other than that, there’s a slight up-slope running east and a nice big space to pick them off in.’

‘What will the river be like at this time of year?’ interrupted Isak. He’d dragged enough horses through enough rivers swollen by autumn rain as a child to know how difficult it would be for an army.

Certinse glanced up, a flash of irritation on his face, but replied, ‘Not too bad; even with the rain we’ve had it’ll still be possible to cross.’

‘Good,’ declared General Lahk in a decisive voice. ‘That’s where we’ll attack. We can take the heavy cavalry through the ridge there and hit the enemy in the side.’

‘Alone?’

‘Not quite. Your legion of archers will be on that rocky slope, protected by one of the Lomin spear legions. We have one legion of light cavalry with our group, and a division will skirmish ahead to draw the trolls off that rise—’

‘How do you know they will be there?’ the duke interrupted.

‘It’s protected from cavalry, therefore that is where the trolls will go, ready to attack our heavy cavalry once we commit it. The division will be doused in every bottle of perfume and scent our fair knights have brought with them. My Ghosts have already searched the baggage of every man with us. Your hurscals will submit to the same, Duke Certinse.’

The young man went red with anger at being ordered about by a white-eye, but Isak’s question came out first. ‘Perfume? Have you gone mad?’

‘Firstly, the scent of trolls on the wind will alarm the horses,’ the general explained calmly. ‘Hopefully, this will help mask their stench, which in turn will help us to keep our order tight. Secondly, a troll relies on scent and hearing - they can only see very short distances. The archers will also be burning all the incense our priests have. I am assured that the direction of the wind will be favourable. By moving quickly enough, and with any help the mages can provide, we can at least anger the trolls. They will follow the unfamiliar smell as much as the movement of the cavalry, and when our horse break south, out of the way, I believe they will falter in confusion.’

‘That’s lunacy!’ cried Certinse.

The general straightened up to face the duke, but still no trace of annoyance showed on his face, let alone anger at the insult. ‘Well then, it is unfortunate for all of us that Lord Isak has approved of the plan, and it is he who was specifically appointed commander of our army,’ he said quietly.

‘Lord Bahl did not know a duke would be present!’ snapped Certinse in return. ‘If my father had been alive he would have been granted command as soon as he rode in. I demand the same right, as is the privilege of my rank.’

Isak raised an eyebrow at Vesna, but the count was not paying attention. His hand was creeping closer to his sword as the Lomin hurscals edged closer to the group.

It was up to Isak. ‘Demand whatever in the name of the dark place you like,’ he bellowed. The venom in his voice froze every man to the spot and rippled out through the air to reach the Ghosts camped all around Isak’s tent. Hands reached instinctively for weapons as they caught sight of Certinse’s hurscals and they immediately closed the respectful gap between men and generals. General Lahk was an emotionless bastard who’d sacrifice a division if he had to, but he’d kept them all alive time and time again for that precise reason. They trusted him as much as Lord Bahl and had no affection for the arrogance of household knights.

‘The first man who draws a sword here, I’ll call mutiny and run him through. That also goes for the first who tries to take my command, whatever his rank is,’ Isak continued. ‘I’ll answer to Lord Bahl for my actions, but no one else commands me.’ He glared around at every man there. ‘Now, does anyone wish to take issue with the plan?’

A moment of silence followed before Certinse opened his mouth again and blurted out, ‘The enemy’s numbers are too great. We’d have to cut our way through several legions to reach the trolls.’

‘General Lahk, would you care to explain further?’ Isak’s voice was quiet and controlled; something Bahl had said to Isak had emerged from his memory:
the eye of the storm is when men have time to fear the other side. Show your anger, and then don’t use it further. They will expect it to return, and hesitate. One pause is all a soldier needs.

‘Of course, my Lord. To the south will be the rest of the foot, the Palace Guard infantry at their fore and the rest of the light cavalry. The Ghosts and cavalry will advance, then falter at the sight of the enemy before retreating in a chaotic fashion. I would prefer to keep the Ghosts up with our group, but they are the only ones trained for this manoeuvre.’

‘What manoeuvre?’

‘Flee under orders. Our enemy likes nothing more than a running foe; their commanders will not be able to prevent a pursuit. There can be no doubt of that. The fleeing men return to our line and reform - please trust me, Duke Certinse, I have seen to it personally that this will be done - and wait for the attack. The ground will become open enough for us to take the trolls without becoming surrounded.’

‘But it means we are dividing our forces against superior numbers,’ the duke said. ‘That goes against one of the most basic principles of warfare.’

‘And thus demonstrates Eraliave’s assertion that all tenets of war are fluid and a good general must be able to adapt to the current situation,’ finished Vesna. The duke glared at him, but obviously accepted that this was not the time for further argument.

‘Indeed, Count Vesna,’ the general said. ‘Now, with your permission, my Lord, I will give orders to the legion colonels.’

Isak gestured for Lahk to leave, even giving the general a nod of respect. It was hard for him not to smirk as the other men there did the same. Certinse had no choice but to follow suit, bound by the rules, laws and traditions of his class.

Suzerain Fordan then cleared his throat, his face a picture of innocent helpfulness. A pitcher of wine had not dimmed his intelligence: he could see that Certinse was about to leave and impose his own will on the execution of the plan. General Lahk was known for his utter obedience to authority; the last thing they needed now was for him to have to face down a superior.

‘Duke Certinse, Lord Bahl wrote to me recently expressing a concern that soon the dukedom of Lomin might be without an heir, knowing how ill your beloved father was. Since this unhappy situation has now arisen, and we have so many of your peers at hand, this would seem the perfect opportunity to discuss a betrothal.’

The duke squirmed for a moment and then shrugged. He had the sense to know when he was out-manoeuvred and forced a smile at the craggy old man, who beamed in return. It was over an hour before the matter was settled: a magnificent dowry would accompany his marriage to Suzerain Nelbove’s daughter. Nelbove was close to Tirah, and the suzerain knew he was suspected of treachery so he’d not risk angering Lord Bahl further.

With the evening’s work done, the nobles retired to await the morning.

 

‘Now then, My Lady, don’t you think you’ve spent long enough in here for one week?’

Tila flinched in her chair, hands reaching for the armrest to push herself up until she realised it was only Swordmaster Kerin standing before her. He grinned and eased himself down into the seat opposite, sighing with pleasure as he turned his attention to the fire. Tila had kept it banked up throughout the day; by Kerin’s reaction she guessed it was bitterly cold outside now night had fallen. The Swordmaster was dressed in his formal uniform - as he had been every day since Lord Bahl’s departure - and it didn’t look nearly as warm as the leather and woollens he normally wore.

‘I’ve spent quite a lot of time in here,’ Tila admitted, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she inspected the Swordmaster, ‘but I don’t have any real duties until Lord Isak returns - and as you can see, I’ve quite a way to go yet.’ She gestured at the books and scrolls on the walls with a weary smile.

‘You intend to read them all?’

‘I intend to read anything I think might be useful to Lord Isak.’ She raised the book resting in her lap so Kerin could read the curling writing on its cover. ‘A collection of prophecies about the Saviour.’ She grimaced.

‘Do you think—’ Kerin began.

Tila cut him off. ‘No, but there’s been talk of all kinds since Lord Isak received his gifts. You must have heard the preachers out on the Palace Walk.’

‘I’ve heard
about
them,’ Kerin said, ‘but I’ve got better things to do than listen to a bunch of unkempt madmen. Anyway, as Knight-Defender, I can’t leave the palace until either Lord Bahl or a general relieves me of my duty; otherwise it’s desertion of duty and that means a trip to the nearest tree and a quick drop.’ They both smiled: the thought of Swordmaster Kerin even considering dereliction of duty was laughable.

‘My men have been bringing back reports of all kinds of preachers throughout the city, and talking about the Saviour isn’t their only favourite subject. There’s been no trouble though; they’re not rabble-rousers, just barking mad.’

Tila sniffed. ‘You might find one of them to be a real holy man, then you’ll be in trouble for dismissing them all as insane.’

‘Oh Gods, they’d be worse!’ Kerin exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat to emphasise his point. ‘As any man involved with keeping the peace will agree: merciful Gods, save us from the religious.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’

‘I mean I’ve seen how some who claim to be truly religious behave, and I tell you, Lady Tila, no creature of the Dark Place would ever turn on its own kind for such small reasons as these will. Religious folk’ll burn or hang a man for smiling wrong.’ Kerin wasn’t smiling now. He sat gripping the armrests of his chair and glaring fiercely.

Tila thought better of trying to explain the difference between fanatics and the devout: some people had no interest in seeing one. ‘Well then, if people are going to act that way it would be sensible to be prepared for it,’ she said calmly. ‘We should be able to recognise whatever dogma they’re obeying.’ She tapped the open page of the book. ‘Have a read of this one and tell me what you think.’

She handed the book to Kerin who frowned as he scanned the lines of text. The prophecy she meant had come down on a stableboy in Embere one hundred years ago; apparently no one, not even the scholar who had written this book, knew quite what to make of it. The Swordmaster’s lips moved as he read - Tila recognised that amongst the palace’s soldiers who’d come late to education - and his expression became graver at every sentence.

‘Well I don’t understand half of it, but this is no Saviour I’d like to meet,’ he growled.
‘A shadow rising from the faithful of the West; his twilight reign to begin amid the slain.’

‘Comforting, isn’t it?’ Tila took the book back, placed it on the table beside her and stood up. Automatically, Kerin rose as well. ‘But it is better to know what madness our enemies might follow than to wallow in our ignorance.’ She presented her arm and nodded towards the door. ‘Come on then. If you think I’ve been locked away in here too long, let’s go and find some form of entertainment.’

From one of the towers still standing he saw the damage to his beautiful home. From up there the ruin had an almost glorious quality, an air of decadence. Like paint on canvas, great sweeps of the brush had carved rents in the ground and spread the stones of the fallen towers with careless abandon. He remembered the rage of his return, and the misshapen beasts capering in the destruction. Heavy jutting muzzles gnawed with relish; curling tongues lapped at the dark pools of dirt and blood. They’d screamed as they died, knowing agony for their crimes, and yet there had been so many. Wounds unhealed had been overlaid by fresh burning hurts, and as he lay beside those dear to him, broken and alone, they tasted his blood.