Cry of the Newborn (59 page)

'Victory!' called Kell. The cheer was taken up by the Hawks and rolled across the open plain ahead of them.

Roberto steadied the horses in their traces and dropped to the ground, tying off the reins. He walked back along the line of stationary wagons, congratulating his people. It had been a textbook attack. He found Kell examining the captured artillery. Other cavalry were in the covered wagons, searching their contents.

'Exemplary, Master Kell,' said Roberto.

'Hmm,' she said, barely looking up from the ballista that had caught her interest. 'The Hawks cavalry are an excellent unit. No more than I would expect from Elise Kastenas.'

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'This,' She patted the arm of the ballista. it's been refurbished but they haven't removed the maker's mark.' She turned to look at him. it's one of ours, taken from Scintarit.'

'Really?' Roberto looked back the way the supply train would have come. 'Seems a cumbersome thing to do. Are you sure you mean refurbishment, or modification?'

i'm not an engineer,' she said.

'Fortunately, I have a very good one.' Roberto smiled, i wonder what's in the rest of these wagons.'

The haul was valuable. Very valuable indeed. Eight heavy onagers, enhanced or not Neristus would be able to tell him. And four in two covered wagons that would fascinate the Conquord engineer. They were lighter pieces but each was mounted on a single axle and pair of wheels like a chariot. A design the Conquord had not made work. The other five wagons were weighed down by weaponry, repaired Conquord infantry armour and onager stones of eight different calibres. No wonder they were so slow-moving.

'What does this tell you?' asked Roberto.

'That we've been underestimating them ever since the start of this cursed campaign, General,' said Kell.

'Political statements later, Master Kell. What else?'

'That they are over-confident. These wagons were vastly under-protected. The situation in Atreska is probably worse than our most lurid nightmares.

'Right. Work to be done.' He turned and shouted. 'Hawks! I want these wagons drawn up to the fords. We'll camp there tonight. I want a messenger to the army. They are to march to our position. And I want three scouts to report to me immediately for work ahead and into Atreska.

'For the Conquord! Move.'

Chapter 49

848th cycle of God, 6th day of
Solasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy

The morning was dull and cloudy, providing welcome respite from the recent days of blistering heat. It was the first indication they'd had of a changing of the season towards dusas. And Roberto, for one, was praying for an exceptionally hard, cold season. It was probably the only thing that would truly stop the Tsardon advance.

They had broken camp three hours before dawn, taking with them every piece of timber. There was no second Conquord force coming behind them and he was damned if he was going to leave anything for the Tsardon to use. Armoured foraging parties were also travelling east and west of their position, taking everything they could find. The rules of the war had changed. On the way in, they had bought goods, avoided marching through settlements and begun to build relations with the local populace. On the way out, they destroyed buildings, burned crops and killed any that resisted them. It was a sad necessity.

'Refugees are expensive,' he had said to his command team. 'They are a drain on morale and they get in the way. Just ask Thomal Yuran.'

The raid on the supply train the day before had lifted the spirits of the army. Scouts were ahead, looking for information on the situation in Atreska and would report back in a few days. But he was not going to wait by the River Tarit for the reports.

He rode at the front of the column as he had most days of their hard march south. His extraordinarii were around him, significant forces of cavalry were guarding the flanks, and scouts were in the field, looking for any sign of the Tsardon.

Roberto marched his army straight across the battlefield. It was

pitted, torn and tough going. Wagons were driven slowly. Everywhere, the remnants of the rout were a reminder of what had happened here. Tattered cloth clinging to rock or grass. Shards of metal glinting in the daylight. And still the odd corpse, stripped by looters and eaten by rodents, lying dishonoured under God.

He would not let his people touch them. The plague was still a raw memory. But he wanted them to see the cost of defeat. He wanted them to feel the desire to save the Conquord from those who had done this. He wanted them never to forget that they represented civilisation. The Tsardon represented barbarism that had to be put down.

Beside him in his saddle, Neristus yawned. Lights had burned in his workshop the entire night.

'Sorry to cost you your night,' said Roberto.

'And for making me ride here?' asked Neristus, a smile on his lips.
‘I
was sleeping in my wagon.'

'There's things I need to know. Like everything you learned from your examination of our new artillery pieces.'

'Well, I'll start with those that began life as Conquord weapons,' said Neristus. He sniffed and wiped a grimy finger under his nose. 'They are not much changed but the bracketing shows skilled metalworking. Strong and yet quite light. And on a piece that can throw a three-talent stone, that could make a difference of two or three miles an hour when they are being brought in for deployment. It's significant.'

Roberto nodded. 'Undoubtedly.'

'But it's an enhancement of our own design,' said Neristus. 'And that means they have had such weapons in their possession a long time. Years. Unless they stumbled on the development by accident, they have surely had our weapons to look at since before the campaign began.'

'Atreskans and Goslanders selling on after their accessions?'

'It seems likely.' Neristus raised his eyebrows.

‘I
suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Costing us now though, isn't it? And them.'

'That depends whether the traders are Tsardon sympathisers or not.'

'Let's stick to your report.'

'Very good, General. Where was I? Oh yes. Finally, the timbers have been replaced with the same Sirranean wood we are now using on our scorpions. And that is not a surprise at all.' 'No indeed. And the single axles?'

'Amazing,' said Neristus, and Roberto had to laugh at his obvious respect for his fellow engineers. 'Our problem hasn't been so much the fixing of a single axle on these pieces but the fact that the pressure of the firing action flips the piece and tends to buckle or break the axle after a few rounds. Remember?'

'I'll take your word for it,' said Roberto.

Neristus waved a hand impatiently. 'Well, anyway, they've developed a metal spring and again, they've kept it remarkably light. It's a mimic of the wooden assemblies we've developed and that adorn every wagon in your army. A great piece of work. It allows quick deployment, quick movement, and can be dragged by a team of four men quite easily if necessary. And the wagons carry ingenious counterweight arms as well as fixing spikes. Clever stuff.'

Roberto whistled. 'And can you copy it?'

'Of course. Not instantaneously but we're already working on it.' 'Good. You've got half the time you think it'll take you,' said Roberto.

'You should get one back to the Conquord engineers in Estorr,' said Neristus. 'Put in on a ship out of Kirriev Harbour.'

'You have read my mind, dear Rovan,' said Roberto. 'Now, get back to your wagon before you fall asleep and off that horse.'

'Thank you, General.'

'If she bolted, we'd lose a valuable mount.'

They rowed north about a mile off the coast of Gestern, enjoying calm water but little wind. Jhered had sent birds to Marshal Defender Katrin Mardov in Gestern's capital city of Skiona. The city lay three hundred miles south of his chosen landfall but if he was fortunate, she or some of her representatives would be available to him when they docked at the port town of Kirriev Harbour, at the end of its namesake inlet. Kirriev was only a couple of days from the Atreskan border, and, in combination with the proximity of Kark, offered them their best chance of finding their way north to Sirrane and Roberto unmolested. It was a bizarre twist of fate to have to consider Tsardon lands safer than those of the Conquord but these were changed times.

Jherd was standing in the stern of the
Hark's Arrow,
watching Mirron and Gorian playing in the water behind, sporting with the dolphins that appeared whenever the latter was close by. He'd thought it was coincidence the first couple of times but now he had no doubt the boy could summon them like Jhered could his horse. Extraordinary. Kovan Vasselis stared down at them too, his hands gripping the aft rail, an expression of pure frustration and helplessness on his face. Jhered hadn't tried to help him. Nothing could be done for a young man chasing something he would never catch. He had to work that out for himself.

Jhered had maintained an air of confidence and normality for the sake of his crew while the Ascendants had practised their art over the last few days. All of them had seen sights they never thought to see and he was proud of how they had reacted. And the Ascendants had responded in kind.

Indeed, the only reason Arducius and Ossacer were standing with him now rather than swimming was that the one had overdone it bringing up a wind earlier in the day to speed them along and give the rowing crew a rest. Ossacer had also conducted a surgery for the many minor ailments that befell sailors on long voyages. Blisters, infected cuts and the odd broken bone. Nothing serious. Consequently, both were tired and looking drawn.

'Tell me again why you get like that,' ordered Jhered. 'Old-looking, I mean.'

'It's because everything we do is based on the lifecycles of the energy we manipulate,' said Arducius. 'If you think about it, if we make a tree grow, we are also making it older, forcing its lifecycle to speed up. It is the same if I draw a breeze into a wind, or form cloud from a little moisture in the sky. It is forcing the potential of the energy into reality and hurrying it along. Because this is all channelled through our bodies we inevitably use our own life energy as catalyst. The more we use, the older our bodies get. Though at least for us it is a temporary effect.'

Jhered frowned. 'Why is it temporary for you?'

Ossacer shrugged. 'Because the unbound energy in everything that lives replenishes us.'

'Obviously,' muttered Jhered.

'Don't you understand?' asked Arducius, his eyes sparkling mischief.

'Don't task me, boy,' said Jhered, though his chiding lacked any real weight. 'I understand a great deal more than you think. Though perhaps in this instance, Orin D'Allinnius should have been here. He would have enjoyed your explanation more than I did.'

Arducius nodded and his expression sobered. 'Will he be all right?'

'I don't know,' sighed Jhered. 'He was very sick when I saw him but he's got a strong mind.'

'It's a shame,' said Ossacer. 'I liked him.' 'Everybody does,' said Jhered.

'Not everybody,' said Kovan, tearing his eyes from Mirron and Gorian. 'The Order has a great deal to answer for. And answer it will.'

'No,' said Jhered, raising a finger. 'Not the Order. Just certain of those who wear its robes and hide behind its scriptures. And yes, she will be held to account, have no doubt. You know, young Kovan, if you are to follow in your father's esteemed footsteps and achieve high office in the Conquord, you need to learn to choose your words with greater care.'

Kovan shrugged. 'If you say so.' He turned back to the sea.

'I think he has other things on his mind,' said Ossacer, chuckling.

'Shut up, Ossie,' snapped Kovan, a blush spreading around his neck.

Jhered smiled broadly at Kovan's back but at the same time, was piqued by unease. He looked at the blind youngster.

'How can you know that, Ossacer?' he asked.

'It's been the same for years,' said Ossacer. 'And anyway, I can see his shape in the trails if I want to. And whenever he looks at Mirron his map pulses very bright in my mind. That's how.'

'Really. And what does mine tell you?'

Ossacer looked at him briefly. 'You'll live a long time because you don't waste your energy. But you don't know what to make of us. We make you nervous and you aren't used to being nervous. I can see that because your map ripples whenever you are around us and it is normally so still and controlled. And you don't like children much, do you?'

'What?'