Ascendant's Rite (The Moontide Quartet) (92 page)

Something germinated inside Ramon’s skull, the flower of an idea. He dragged his eyes from Korion’s majestic army to the Dokken slave. ‘You can
sense
them,’ he said breathlessly, ‘can you
reach
them?’

*

‘It’s a white flag, sir!’ one of Kaltus Korion’s aides called eagerly.

Kaltus acknowledged impatiently. The whole army could see the parley flag, but there was always someone who felt the need to state the obvious. He looked for intelligent life; with Rhynus Bergium dead in the north, that wasn’t easy to find among the cluster of sycophants and political appointees in his current entourage. Eventually he sighed and waved forward young Tonville. ‘What would you do here?’ he asked, pretending he was grooming the young man for higher things, when in fact he wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed now they were here.

Tonville looked flattered. He bit his lip, considering. ‘I think this is a situation that requires delicate handling, General,’ he said carefully. ‘It’s not good for men of Yuros to fight each other on foreign soil. And . . .’ Tonville hesitated, then to his credit ploughed on, ‘well, that’s your son down there.’

‘My former son.’

‘Yes, sir. But Seth Kor— Fetallink has been your acknowledged heir for a long time. That’s not something a proclamation can erase overnight. It wounds your family name, I believe, for you to be in open conflict.’

‘You think I should have stayed in the north, Tonville?’

Tonville swallowed. The news from the north, that some unknown group of magi had trapped and destroyed Rhynus Bergium’s entire high command, had shocked them all. Barring the junior battle-magi, the First Army had been stripped of leadership. Although they were holding position on Ebensar Ridge, there were more desertions every day, a positive flood of them – and they were all living in dread of renewed assault by the sultan’s army.

I should be
there
, not here
, Kaltus thought
. But this situation must be resolved and the gold secured if I am to secure my future . . . and wrest the throne from Constant.

‘No sir, you were right to come south,’ Tonville replied. ‘But if you can resolve this peacefully, it would enhance the honour of your House.’

Kaltus mused on that. ‘My thoughts exactly,’ he replied eventually. ‘The dirty laundry of a great House must be washed below-stairs, as my mother used to say. Make arrangements for the parley.’

Tonville saluted and hurried away, while all the courtiers gazed enviously at his back for having shared an intimate conversation with their noble commander. Kaltus gritted his teeth and looked up at the circling flock of drakken and venators, imagining how it would feel to unleash them.

*

Seth Korion trotted towards the enemy lines, flanked by Evan Hale and Jelaska Lyndrethuse. He’d asked for Ramon, but he’d been told that the Silacian was ‘too busy’ by a scruffy ranker from Ramon’s personal cohort. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, especially when the ranker had added in a low voice, ‘He said on no account is you to surrender, gen’ral.’

Perhaps Ramon has a plan after all?
Seth didn’t enquire: best not to know when he was about to stand before his father like a recalcitrant child.

Three khurnes detached from the cluster of glittering mage-nobles in the centre of the Rondian lines and trotted down to meet them, stepping in unison and tossing their horns. He recognised the riders: his father had obviously decided to bring two young aides, both magi from renowned families.

His father saluted with casual condescension, as to a junior officer. ‘General Fetallink,’ Kaltus Korion drawled ironically. He made his introductions with a perfunctory air, then waited expectantly.

‘This is Jelaska Lyndrethuse of Argundy, and Evan Hale of Andressea.’

‘Magister Lyndrethuse is known to us,’ Kaltus said, his voice suggesting she wasn’t known in a good way. ‘Not Magister Hale.’

‘I’m related to House Korbriene,’ Hale said nervously; the Korbriene line had been wiped out in one of Lucia’s purges, but the Hale half-bloods of Andressea hadn’t been implicated in anything. Yet.

Kaltus raised a faintly contemptuous eyebrow, glanced at Hale’s wooden left arm, then fixed his predatory eyes on Seth. ‘I think this is best resolved between you and me, don’t you?’

Seth glanced at Jelaska; she gave him no sign, so he nodded. Kaltus dismounted silently and approached, and Seth did the same, very conscious of how very
unsafe
he felt. They stopped, almost close enough to touch, but Kaltus didn’t offer his hand and Seth had to lower his, snubbed. Close up, he thought his father looked much older, his iron face showing deep fatigue, the sheer exhaustion of playing tabula with emperors and kings.

‘Father,’ he began, though, ironically, given what he was about to say, he’d never felt less akin to this man, ‘you
are
my father. We both know that. I’ve got your face, your eyes, your build. Whatever you might have paid Mother to say otherwise, it doesn’t change the truth.’

‘Truth? What is truth?’ Kaltus scoffed. ‘Let me tell you: truth is what people believe, and they believe what they’re told to. In a few months few will remember I ever had a son called Seth. In a few years, you’ll have never existed. But my name will live on for eternity.’

‘That won’t make it true.’

‘It’s the only truth that matters: it’s what the histories will say. In a few years’ time, Arcanum students will hear of the destruction of a band of deserters led by someone called Fetallink and wonder how they could have been so foolish as to defy the great General Korion and the might of the Rondian Empire. Perhaps the only thing they will truly recall this moment for is the first combat deployment of drakken in Antiopia. Or perhaps you and your
rabble
will simply be forgotten.’

Seth bit his tongue, stifled his helpless anger.
I should have told someone else to do this.
But leadership included doing the unpleasant tasks too. ‘My men have marched across Kesh and back,’ he snapped. ‘They deserve your respect.’

‘They’re deserters.’

‘They fought their way out of a trap at Shaliyah, as I’m sure you know, given that you set it.’

His father made a dismissive gesture. ‘Unprovable, even if it were true. Jongebeau read you the charges; they haven’t changed. You and your magi will be arrested, tried and executed. Those of your men married to Noories will be executed, and the remainder decimated. The Noorie women and children will be sold as slaves. That is all irrevocably set down by the Imperial Judiciary.’

Before Seth could protest, Kaltus went on, ‘You claim to be a Korion, Seth: then listen to me, the head of that House. If you were truly a Korion you would know that a Korion acts only for the good of his House. We must protect its reputation. Your mother understood this. That honour now requires of you the ultimate sacrifice. In time, I’m sure to be able to find a way to ensure that your sacrifice is marked in some way.’

‘What? You’ll cut me loose and let those bastards behead me, but if I keep my mouth shut, you’ll give me a grave-stone? What the Hel kind of father are you?’

‘I’m the Father of House Korion.’ He bent closer, his voice an urgent whisper, ‘Listen, Seth. There is some room for manoeuvre: I’m the commander in the field, and I set the rules here. Give us access to your command records and your baggage without resistance or deception and I will ensure that things go easier on you. I’m not unaware of the feats of your command. When the gold you have is mine, I will swiftly be answerable to no one, here or in Pallas. Justice will be what
I
say it is, and history could write something entirely different about you.’

‘So if I let you have this gold to fund a coup, you might let me live?
That’s
the honour of House Korion?’

‘For Kore’s sake, Seth, don’t be such a damned
child
! There is only one rule in the eternal struggle for dominance: win by any means. Honour is just a cloak we wear to enlist the allegiance of the weak-minded. That’s the world we live in. No one cares
how
the victory is won, only that it is! Freeing Rondelmar from the Sacrecour tyranny is worth
any
sacrifice.’ He jabbed Seth in the chest with his forefinger. ‘If you wish to be my son again, prove yourself a Korion!’

They stared hotly at each other, nose tips almost touching.

All I ever wanted was to be worthy of him . . . Holy Kore, is this what that means?
‘Father,’ he said thickly, ‘I need to return to my men and make preparations.’ He turned to go.

Kaltus swore under his breath. ‘I need to know your purpose, Seth,’ he said slowly, as if to a stupid child. ‘I will destroy your forces if I don’t have a clear indication that you will comply.’

‘It’s not just my decision.’

‘What? You still can’t make a decision on your own?’

‘This decision is not mine to make. The lives of almost fourteen thousand human beings are at stake here. We will decide our fate, in our time.’

‘Not
your
time, Seth. You’ve got until midday tomorrow. Any who seek to run will be hunted down – as you will have noticed, I rule the air here, and I can see everything you do.’

‘It hasn’t escaped me. Tomorrow then.’ Seth saluted perfunctorily, and walked back to his mount.

‘How did it go?’ Jelaska whispered.

‘Badly. I thought there were things worth dying for, but apparently there aren’t.’

‘Sure there are,’ Jelaska told him. ‘You just need to choose them carefully.’ She pointed back to their lines and the faces of their people, anxiously watching. ‘These reasons here will do for me.’

As they rode back, someone called out, ‘Three cheers for General Korion!’ The call was taken up, all along the line, a swell of noise that cracked the veneer of his composure. As he closed on them, he had tears running down his cheeks. They were met by men breaking ranks to shake his hand, pat his thighs, his calves, his horse, and Hale’s too. The bravest kissed Jelaska’s hands, then fled. It took an hour to get back to his pavilion and get his magi together.

Ramon Sensini arrived last, the look of suppressed excitement on his face enough to silence the room. He took in their gloomy despondency and exclaimed, ‘Don’t say we’ve already surrendered?’

‘We’re debating our options,’ Seth replied. ‘So far we’ve got three: surrender to save lives, fight to the death, or run like Hel and hope they can’t catch us all. Do you have any better ones?’

They waited with bated breath as the Silacian pulled some ambiguous faces, then struck a theatrical pose. ‘
Si!
I have found a way to fight them!’

‘But there’s no point unless we can win,’ Evan Hale said tiredly.

‘I only fight to win,’ Ramon replied. A slow smile crept over his face. ‘It’s about the worst plan I’ve ever come up with, a hundred things could go wrong, but . . . there’s a
chance
that come tomorrow it could be us accepting Daddy Korion’s surrender instead.’

Seth stared. At best he’d hoped Ramon might have some way to escape, but
victory
?

*

Ramon slipped into the circle of cook-fires just after midnight, his brain fizzing, his body keyed up. The sentries were posted and three magi were watching the aether, but the Rondian camp, a mile away on the rise, was quiet.

‘Anyways, why not go back east?’ Bowe was saying, ‘I’ve got nothin’ left in Pallas anyway.’

‘There’s always the mercenary legions,’ Harmon said, then he noticed Ramon’s approach and fell silent. The whole cohort followed suit, watching his face to gauge his mood. Ramon looked for Pilus Lukaz, and found him sitting in the background with the dour Baden, the bannerman. Lukaz often did this, letting the men talk unimpeded, giving them a chance to blow off steam.

‘Bowe’s jus’ tellin’ us how ’e’s only ’ere cos’ you’ve got a plan, sir,’ Vidran put in. ‘Hope it’s a fuckin’ good one.’

‘Lads,’ Ramon began, ‘Baby Korion asked us magi to go through the camp and gauge the mood. You’ve likely heard all sorts of stories about what we’re going to do, but here’s the truth: we’re going to try something on, just before dawn, because that’s when sneaky
bastidos
do their thing. If it works, we still mightn’t win, but to my thinking, that’s better than surrender. How do you lot feel?’

The men looked at each other, then Bowe put his hand up. ‘Like I was jus’ sayin’ boss, some of us was thinkin’ of headin’ back to Ardijah, see if’n Bondeau might hire us. But it’s a bloody long way, yeah?’

‘An’ Bondeau were always a wanker,’ Vidran added, to general amusement.

‘Mostly it’s you, boss,’ Harmon said to Ramon. ‘We figure on seein’ what you do and taggin’ along. Seems best way to get out alive and flush.’ There was a murmur of agreement around the cook-fire.

Ramon was oddly humbled by their faith. ‘My plans don’t always work out, and they can get people killed.’ He grinned. ‘I was thinkin’ of Ardijah myself for a while. But I’m staying, because I think we’ve got a chance here. And let’s face it:
anything’s
better than crawling back to Renn rukking Bondeau.’

The men all laughed.

Lukaz called out, ‘So what do you want from us, Magister?’

‘To hold this piece of the line. I won’t be here, but I’m placing you beside Kip’s Bullheads.’

‘Those mad fuckers?’ Vidran grimaced. ‘I’d feel safer tied up in the women’s camp.’

‘We’ve all ’ad that dream, Vid,’ Manius chuckled. ‘Why’dya put us alongside those nutters, boss?’

‘Simple enough: Kip’s a mage, an’ you’ll have Jelaska’s Argundians on your left as well. The rest of my maniple are in the rear, but you men are rankers, and the line needs you. You’re the best we’ve got.’

‘Aw, pooty!’ chuckled Bowe. ‘We’s the best! It’s official now!’

‘“Pooty”?’ Ramon asked.

‘Great. Fabulous,’ Harmon clarified, giving Bowe a withering look. ‘It’s a baby’s word.’

Bowe frowned. ‘I’ve said it all me life—’

‘Exactly.’

Lukaz waved for silence. ‘So, we jus’ hold the line, boss?’

Ramon nodded. ‘Just until we can spring our surprise, then it’ll be all about staying alive. I’m going to set something in motion and then I’ll get back to you as soon as I can – but it relies on factors out of my control.’