Warrior (The Key to Magic) (24 page)

While deckhands and some of the waiting marines fixed the boarding ramp in place, Telriy took time to thank the captain, his officers, and the assembled crew for their assistance, then, with Lord Ghorn trailing close, moved ponderously to and down the ramp.  Rather than the boisterous mob of children and Auxiliaries that she had half-expected, she found a welcoming but solemn Yhejia standing with Mhiskva and a quarter-troop of fully armed marines.

"There is trouble in Khalar," the woman told her straightaway.  "The king has gone north."

Telriy pressed her lips together.  "I should go there to help."

Mhiskva saluted.  "My lady queen, a battle is no place for a woman that is so close to giving birth."

"My place is anywhere that I want to be," Telriy retorted with considerable ire.  Mar might be subject to the requirements of these Mhajhkaeirii, but she would not be.

"You'll be a distraction that he shouldn't have," Yhejia scolded.  "You know this is true."

Unable to come up with an argument to refute this that would not be patently disingenuous, Telriy just nodded

Watching Telriy keenly, Yhejia's eyes tightened, and then she leaned in to give Telriy an all enveloping hug.

"Look at you!  You're as big as a skyship!"

Instead of tossing off a cavalier remark, Telriy just gave a nod full of fierce pride.

The other woman, ever the mother, took her arm and Telriy felt her spirits begin to lift.  She had missed the practical-minded woman.

  "You come along with me," Yhejia ordered.  "You can't be more than a fortnight from your time and you shouldn't be traveling at all.  We'll get you a bath and something decent to eat.  I know you couldn't have had anything fresh on the skyship.  I'll send to the Monolith right away for Aunt Whelsi.  I've been a midwife a time or two, but I'll feel better with her here."

Telriy let herself be led into the palace.  A quick command from Mhiskva sent marines running down the stairs ahead of them.  She could not help but notice that all of the armsmen looked as if they expected to have to do battle at any moment.

THIRTY-SIX

143rd Year of the Reign of the City

(Fourthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)

Palace of the Empire, Mhajhkaei

At last, Ghorn allowed a grin to crack the deep worn scowl lines of his face, then reached out to take High-Captain Mhiskva's hand in a firm grip.  Fulfilling Ghorn's expectations of unshakable aplomb, the marine officer had made no demonstration when he had seen Ghorn behind the queen.

"My lord prince, I am pleased to see that the reports of your death are somewhat premature," the giant said in an everyday manner.

"No more so than I," Ghorn said with a thoughtful laugh. 

Mhiskva chuckled with him for a moment, then sobered. "The
Empress Telriy
has no polybolos, my lord prince.  With the king absent, she has no chance against a Phaelle'n attack.  Unless you have an objection, I am going to order her to the Monolith."

Ghorn nodded quickly.  "As you see fit, High-Captain."

Under the curious eyes of the motionless ranks of the remaining marines, he waited, idly gazing over the refurbished palace, the new, heroically-sized skyship entrance, and the greening grounds.  His thoughts turned naturally but not for the first time to a consideration of what his place would be in Mhajhkaei.  From facts that he had gleaned along his journey and discussions with Captain Thylbr, he knew that the king had named Mhiskva Viceroy of the city and just recently First Minister of the Empire.  Ghorn's former subordinate was now effectively the highest ranking officer in the imperial forces.

The king and the high-captain had carried on without him, exactly as he had wished that they would do.  Mar had taken the reins of power and become a king in deed as well as title and Mhiskva had assumed the role of his able and loyal lieutenant, advocate, and confidant.  Together they had driven the monks back and retaken The Greatest City in All the World.

Ghorn found with no surprise that he had a strong desire not to return to his former position of prominence.  There had been something exhilaratingly liberating about traveling the world as naught but a common armsman with a concise task and, his title of Prince-Commander notwithstanding, he felt that he had no right to supplant Mhiskva in the chain of command.  He did not believe that there was a better man to build an empire than the selfless and utterly courageous marine officer.

When the
Empress Telriy
had cast off, Ghorn accompanied Mhiskva into the palace.  As he knew that Mhiskva would not deem it his place to inquire, while they walked he relayed the basic details of his capture, escape and journey to return the queen.

"This sorcerer, Waleck, is not sane," Mhiskva ventured when Ghorn had finished.

"I have no doubt.  However, his ability to see futures gives him great power.  When he told me about the queen, I had no choice but to follow his instructions, but I do not care to continue as a pawn."

"Is the king's magic strong enough to overcome the sorcerer's?"

"I do not know," Ghorn replied honestly, "but I hope that it is.  Give me an overview of our current situation."

"The Brotherhood has withdrawn from Plydyre and we hold the island with a light and inexperienced force.  Most of our strength, both legions and skyships, is moving toward Lhinstord and Zlhahv and making preparations to begin an attack on the monks in Mhevyr.  Yesterday, Master Khlosb'ihs sent word of fighting in Khalar, but he had no knowledge as to its nature or extent.  We are not in contact with Lord Purhlea.  The king immediately flew Number One north with an extra section of legionnaires packed aboard.  He ordered me to stand fast here until I received direct orders from him.  I have dispersed the unarmed skyships and placed the marine brigade, with Maidsear Berhl in command, on alert."

"No messages since the king's departure?" Ghorn asked for the sake of confirmation.

"None."

"The
Defenders
are in Lhinstord?"

"The Steo Hills."

"Do you have any armsmen available to reinforce the king?  I could take them to Khalar."

"We have the marines of Brigade B, who are currently assigned to guard the Citadel and city gates and the Palace.  There are also the trainers and recruits of the new sections that belong to the III Corps.  In addition, we could announce a levy for volunteers."

Mhiskva's tone made it clear that he thought stripping the city bare of defenders in the absence of a demonstrated drastic need was unwise.  Though it grated to simply wait, Ghorn found that he could not disagree.

"Without knowing the situation in Khalar, any impulsive move, especially with untrained armsmen, would be foolish."

"Aye, my lord prince."

"Then I suppose that I have no option but to stand by."

"Aye, my lord prince."

Gawking at the new grandeur of the skyship entrance, Ghorn said nothing further until they entered the anteroom at the bottom of the stairs.

"I shall ask the king for a forward command.  As Prince-Commander of Mhajhkaei, my duty is in the field against the enemy."

After a long moment, Mhiskva said, "The
Defenders
, the
Reapers
, the Elboern Legion and the legions of the Sister Cities are trying to form into an army west of Lhinstord.  Dealing with the competing prerogatives of the various high-borne foreign commanders will be a thankless and oppressive task."

"A task that is therefore fit for a prince of Mhajhkaei."

"Aye, my lord prince."

The matter resolved, Ghorn ignored his better judgment and indulged an irrational but nevertheless intensely personal impulse.  "Has there been any trouble from Lady Rhavaelei while I have been away?"

"Aye, my lord prince.  She assaulted the king.  He ordered her put in chains and cast into the dungeon."

THIRTY-SEVEN

Just an hour after daybreak, with every man aboard her standing to arms, the polybolos crews at their stations, and the deck between the steerage and the cabin section crowded full of tense marines armed with crossbows, Mar brought Number One down into the Plaza of the Empire between the obelisk and the Library.  The large group of swordsmen who had been standing guard there, their tabards showing the colors of numerous Houses, scattered to the south, but immediately tried to rally under the haranguing orders of a thin fellow who Mar would have taken as a scribe.

Hovering above the cabin deck near Truhsg, Mar ordered "Let them have one sphere."

The legate snapped an order and the nearest polybolos on the starboard side spat once. The charge of infused sand fell a few paces short, but all of the three score or so were flattened.  After a second or two, most got up and began running away.  The thin officer was one of those who did not get back to his feet.

"Deploy the legionnaires," Mar ordered Truhsg.

The legate called out an order that a fugleman stationed at the hatchway relayed below deck.  On either side of Number One, the cargo doors opened and ramps slid down to the pavement.  As soon as the iron end plates of the ramps struck, the section, one file to starboard and one to port, marched down and formed ranks.  A third of the section was armed with crossbows, including two specialists with bows that would fire sand spheres, and the rest swordsmen and shield bearers.  As soon as all of the armsmen were on the pavement, the two files, shields to the fore, marched around the bow of Number One and merged to form a defensive square. 

Having already given Ulor instructions to hold position in the plaza and to secure it against all comers, Mar flew up from the deck as soon as the section was ready to advance.

Coming in, he had taken Number One along a circling path that allowed him to make a cursory scout of the situation in the Old City.  Though smoke still rose from areas in the Lower City, none did so from the Imperial Seat.  A number of charred buildings were in evidence on the rise between the rivers, but the damage appeared to be relatively minor and suggested that the arson had been speedily contained.  While there were no mobs roaming about here, he had also not seen any normal traffic on the streets.  The common daily bustle of the Old City had been completely interrupted and everyone seemed to have locked themselves indoors.  There were a large number of merchant house armsmen in evidence and these appeared to be in control.  Stationed at the main intersections and plazas, the river docks, and at the guard posts on the bridges, many of these sported the red and gold sashes of Korhthenr.

Soaring to ten manheight, he made a quick circuit around the plaza to check for opposition forces.  The temples and other main buildings were all shut up tight, including the small, unassuming temple of the Seneschal of Hospitality, Sloe'mhyl, though he did catch sight of priests, acolytes, and other functionaries in interior courtyards and peering from balconies and rooftops.  The fleeing merchant armsmen had all managed to get themselves out of sight and he saw no other potential enemy in the adjacent stretches of the streets and avenues leading away from the plaza.

Satisfied, he sped back toward the waiting legionnaires.  His initial plan was to use ethereal wind and fire to sweep the streets clean of any opposition, and then lead his armsmen to secure the bridges and other strategic points within the city.

As he neared Number One, he saw armsmen appear from beneath the portico of the Viceroy's Library, and changed course to intercept, but almost immediately realized that most of the small group bore the blood crown tabard.  Judging by the style and fit of their armor alone, those wearing the tabards were native Khalarii.  Constant association had trained his eyes to instantly catalogue rank badges and as he grew nearer he readily identified the two leading armsmen, a blocky fellow with an aristocratic nose and a decided common individual with a nonchalant air, as a legate and ceannaire respectively.

Four others without armor but all bearing swords accompanied the legionnaires.  At thirty armlengths, Mar placed two of these as members of the Viceroy's Personal Guard, though he remembered only their faces and not their names.  The other two, on the other hand, were quite well known to him.  Lord Purhlea, bedraggled and holding his bandage-wrapped left forearm and hand out stiffly, walked in the midst of the group, and Mar felt a moment of elated relief upon seeing the Viceroy of Khalar alive.  Much to Mar's surprise, however, the man scuttling with nervous hesitation beside Lord Purhlea was none other than Grand Commandant Erskh.

Mar privately though Erskh a spineless, culpable wretch, but had come across no reasonable excuse to disabuse him of his office.  Depending upon what he learned, he might need to correct that error.

Mar zoomed down to land in front of the group as it neared the widening curve at the bottom of the perron.

Lord Purhlea immediately stepped forward between the legionnaires and fell to one knee on one of the broad steps. Head bowed, he made the imperial salute.  "My lord king, I have failed in my duty to you and to the Empire.  The fault for all that has occurred here must fall upon no other but me.  I hereby gladly accept any punishment that you decree and shall immediately resign my post."

Mar gave the Mhajhkaeirii a hard look.  "You'll resign when I tell you to resign.  Your duty is to do what I tell you to do and I have lots for you to do.  Now get up and tell me what's wrong with your arm."

Lord Purhlea rose instantly, but seemed otherwise unfazed by the rebuke.  "I broke the arm and hand when I fell into the sewer."

If his mood had not been so dark, Mar would have been amused.  "You can explain that later.  Stand still.  I'll see what I can do."

Delving Lord Purhlea's flesh, he was happy to find that he could easily decipher the flux modulations of the knight-commander's bones and swiftly set to work making the several fractured pieces of his forearm and finger bones mend themselves using a stout sighing-orange-gold twist of flux. He accelerated the process more than he might have had he had the time to take his time, generating excess ethereal byproducts that made the air sparkle and snap around the bandages of the injured limb.  A number of threads in the cotton were singed, giving rise to pinkish wisps of smoke.