Cry of the Newborn (65 page)

Roberto nodded. He knew she was right but couldn't shake the feeling that God was testing him now. He had experienced a smooth run to the generalship. His army had worked almost seamlessly. He knew he could take credit for much of that and the victories that followed but here and now was a challenge that outweighed any enemy he had faced.

‘I
don't doubt myself,' he said. 'But I am seriously disappointed that the biggest problem I have faced doesn't brandish a sword in my face, it creeps up behind me wearing the uniform of the Conquord.' He blew out his cheeks. 'I might be able to stop them killing each other but I can't stop them talking. It's like a virus, Elise. You can feel the discontent. Tell me, did you consider my questions last night?'

‘I
thought of little else.'

'And right now, how does it look to you?'

Elise checked behind to make sure they were not being overheard. She pointed towards a rise in the ground ahead. It was flanked by steep-sided hills that ran east into the Toursan Lakelands and west into the plains of Atreska.

'If we meet an enemy on the other side of that ridge, we will be in serious trouble. A Tsardon army of equal size could well take us. We've all been speaking to our listeners in the army and there is little doubt that the trust between legion and ala is gone. Certainly in the hastati, and it goes further up the chain. In the cavalry, things aren't so bad. We are not an effective fighting force. I don't think they will turn against us but Atreskan hastati will not die for the Conquord today.'

Roberto took off his green plumed helmet and pushed a hand through his hair. 'Then we are not an army at all, but a column of citizens. How do you think we can win them back?'

He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from another.

'We can't,' whispered Elise. 'We are marching past their country and their families are there fighting for their lives and their futures. They can't understand why you haven't ordered them in to counter the invasion. They will not see the larger picture. We might be fighting for the Conquord but they have always been fighting to keep the Tsardon away from Atreska. It's the risk of the alae system.'

'You don't think the problems will calm once we approach Gestern.'

'They'll get worse,' said Elise. She smiled. 'Why are you asking me this? You already know. We'll be marching through southern Atreska. We've enough desertions now. Roberto . . .'
‘I
know. I know.'

The crushing weight of his disappointment grew. He turned in his saddle and looked back over the marching column, snaking away over miles of flat ground in the early dawn light. The sky was smudged with dust, alerting any watcher that an army was on the move.

'How many will we keep, do you think?'

'So many love you as their general. Davarov and Shakarov are wonderful commanders. In the end it's down to their desire to fight for you versus their desire to see their families safe and, for some, the desire to see Atreska liberated from the Conquord.'

'So it's a popularity contest.'

'I'm glad you're joking,' said Elise.

'Only just,' said Roberto. 'Yuran has much to answer for.' 'And he will.'

Roberto sat straight in the saddle, his decision made. 'Find the command team. When the camp build starts, I want you all with me. This must be handled correctly or we'll have more bloodshed tonight.'

'What do you suggest?'

Roberto met her gaze and felt his brooding anger threaten to overwhelm him.

'Every Atreskan will be given the same choice. To hold to the oath they swore when they joined the legions or to run back to their homes as cowards. And those who wish it will be stripped of their Conquord arms and put out of the camp. We will shadow them to the Atreskan border and leave them there. And I hope every man and woman who deserts this army is dead by dusas.' He looked back to the path ahead. 'I've got a war to win and I won't suffer such vermin in the uniform of my family.'

Chapter 54

848th cycle of God,, 18th day of
Solasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy

Pavel Nunan and Dina Kell presided over a stitched-together legion that its citizens had named the 'Gesteris Revenge'. They had no artillery, fewer than two hundred cavalry and a ragbag of weapons and repaired armour. But they had fire in their bellies, an anger their joint commanders were only too happy to stoke.

Nunan marched alongside infantry from the Atreskan Rogue Spears and Shark's Teeth; the Tundarran Thunder; the Gosland Spear and Firedragons; and the Bear Claws and the Hurricanes of Estorr and the Estorean Lightning. They made up the bulk of those who had mustered in the Tarit Plain. Just shy of three thousand in all. There were messengers and fast riders moving ahead of the scouts. Those still too sick to move were being tended by volunteers in the original hiding place. No room for sentimentality. Those injured did not expect to be rescued and those that left them did not promise to return.

General Gesteris had entered the fords at Scintarit with eighteen legions. All were represented in this tiny band, comprising less than five per cent of the massive erstwhile conquering army. They had no real idea what they could achieve but following contact with Roberto Del Aglios, now was the time to move.

If Nunan was honest, he'd waited in the hope that Kell would return to them. He was happy to have her guile and leadership alongside his. They had marched for ten days straight, moving light and fast and covering up to thirty miles a day, mostly on the Conquord's deserted imperial highways. The scout network was efficient and they travelled unmolested to within two days of the border.

Nunan had taken them north at that point and they had crossed into Atreska by the old road a day later. The border forts they passed were deserted and had clearly been that way for some time. It had felt good to be back on soil they considered the Conquord's own and Nunan had called for calm.

He was glad for continuing warm weather but even so, he and every citizen who followed him craved hot meat and drink. As it was, all they had was dried and cured meat and the crushed herbal drinks they'd invented during their long period in hiding on the Tarit Plain. The dark camps enforced on them to avoid detection were becoming tiresome.

The camp was quiet and Nunan sat with Kell on a fallen log in the woodland that had presented itself as the perfect hiding place for the night. The horses were picketed close by and he could hear their gentle nickering as they settled to sleep.

'We're going to have to cross the river near Gull's Ford or we'll be forced too far north. The Tsardon and Atreskan rebels will fight their way to Neratharn's south coast border. It's the only realistic point to cross such a force and the place where the Conquord will mass to repel them.'

In the light of a bright moon, and with their eyes adjusted to the gloom, Kell was scratching lines in the sandy soil with a stick.

'If Gesteris is still alive, you think he'll head there?' asked Nunan.

'I can't think of anywhere else. He'll know the situation in Atreska inside out by now and I can't imagine him mounting any form of guerrilla defence. It's not his way. He and whoever's with him will get somewhere they can stage a pitched battle and halt the enemy. Neratharn has to be it. We've all read the stories about how hard it was for us to get into Atreska that way. Let's hope it's the same on the way back, eh?'

Nunan smiled. 'Then perhaps they'll use the sea, much as we did.'

'Fortunately the Atreskan navy isn't of sufficient size and the Tsardon have no ships in the Tirronean at all. Besides, the Ocetanas will already be on station.'

'Could get interesting there,' said Nunan.

'Very.'

Their conversation was interrupted by a brief commotion and some angry whispered words. There was a scuffling of feet and a man in a light cloak, tunic and sandals was thrust into their circle.

Around them, heads rose from bedrolls to look at the new arrival. A pair of scouts stood behind him, blades in hand.

'How dare you treat me like this,' spat the man. He had a wild look in his eyes, fervent and driven. 'This is my country. You have no right.'

Nunan put a finger to his lips. 'A moment,' he said. He addressed himself to the scouts. 'What's this all about?'

'We found him striding up the trail back there, heading to the border by the looks. He said he was going to find his wife and son in Tsard.'

'On your own?' said Kell. 'It's a dangerous place for an unarmed man. And if you don't mind me saying, you don't have the footwear for dusas.'

The four Conquord soldiers chuckled. In front of Nunan, the man dusted himself down.

'Don't laugh at me. I don't deserve it. Not from you. Not from the Conquord.'

Nunan gazed at him with the genesis of interest. 'Where are you from? Not far, by your clothing.'

'I killed the last man who laughed at me. He was Tsardon but perhaps you are my enemy too. I'm beginning to think that everyone is.'

'He's rambling.'

'I had to leave. No one will help me so I am helping myself.' He held out his hands. 'I'm telling the truth. Let me go.'

Nunan looked at his hands. They were filthy. Stained.

'Am I supposed to believe this is blood? I'll ask you again. Where are you from? We aren't going to hurt you.'

'Gull's Ford.'

Kell raised her eyebrows and Nunan smiled. 'Get this man a drink and some food,' he ordered a scout. 'Sit down. I am Pavel Nunan, Master of Sword. This is Dina Kell, Master of Horse.'

The man didn't know quite how to react. He looked around for somewhere to perch and found a legionary had rolled a log up for him. He smiled nervously.

'Go on,' said Kell. 'Take the weight off those sandals. Perhaps we can find you something more suited to your road ahead.'

'You would help me?'

'We'll help anyone who kills Tsardons. It makes us allies does it not?' said Kell.

'But first, an exchange of information,' said Nunan. 'Tell me about Gull's Ford and more particularly its river crossings. Then perhaps we can advise you in return, maybe persuade you from your quest. What's your name?'

i am Han Jesson and nothing will keep me from finding my family.'

i can respect that,' he said. 'Tell me. This Tsardon you killed. Who was he?'

'He was the sentor of the garrison occupying my village,' said Jesson. 'He insulted the memory of my wife. I found him drunk on the street when I was leaving and now his own knife lies among his entrails.'

Nunan saw Jesson's hands trembling. 'Never killed a man before?' he asked.

Jesson shook his head. 'I've never thrown a punch before and now I am a murderer.'

if you're worried I'll see you stand trial,' said one of the scouts, bringing up a plate of cold food.

'Hey,' said Nunan. 'Enough.'

'Thank you,' said Jesson.

'How many of them are there?' asked Nunan.

'A couple of hundred, at most,' said Jesson. He brightened, seeing Nunan's expression. 'You don't mean to skirt the town, do you?'

Nunan shook his head. 'Where's the next nearest Tsardon garrison?'

'Don't hurt the people. They let the Tsardon in but they had no choice. They didn't understand.'

'Where is the next nearest Tsardon force?'

'Most towns have them but most of them are moving towards Neratharn or occupying Haroq. There is resistance in the Grand Central Plains but they have marched round it, most of them. That's what I've heard.' Jesson fidgeted. 'Don't hurt my friends.'

Nunan shrugged. 'We'll do what we can. But if there are sympathisers we cannot let them prosper. Look where you are now. Tsardon crawling all over your town.'

Jesson's eyes darkened. 'No one was a sympathiser until the Conquord ignored our pleas for help. You have brought this on yourselves. It is we who are the victims.'

Nunan raised his palms. 'Calm yourself, Han Jesson. This is not

the place to be airing your grievances however justified you think they are. Not everyone will understand.'

Jesson sat back a little. 'They are not sympathisers,' he said quietly. 'They had no choice.'

'Most of the people sleeping in this woodland were once citizens just like you and the good people of Gull's Ford. They learned to fight.' He stood, looming over Jesson. 'There is always a choice.'

He walked away to find a place to rest, leaving Kell to tell the man about the folly he was so determined to undertake. Tomorrow. Tomorrow the Gesteris Revenge would taste first blood.

Arducius put his head down, hunched his shoulders and let the mule pick its own path. The wind howled along the valley, driving icy sleet and snow into their faces. It whipped in gusts that threatened to pitch them off their mounts and found its way inside their furs, chilling their bodies. The snow under the mule's hoofs was at least a foot deep and covering a layer of ice on which it often slipped, sending his stomach cart-wheeling.

Try as he might, Arducius couldn't keep his eyes fixed ahead or on his animal's head. And every time he looked left over the drop he felt sick, deep in his gut, and his head spun. Jhered had said that morning that they were twelve thousand feet up. It felt more like twelve thousand miles. Nothing had prepared them for this.

They were eight days out of the horrible border settlement of Ceskas. Arducius was sure only Jhered's sheer presence had stopped them being attacked. They had only spent one night there while the two Gatherers bought animals, furs, supplies and whatever else they thought they would need but it had been a long and sleepless one.

Out here, the Conquord technically held sway but there were no legionaries, no House of Masks and no basilica. A clutch of a couple of hundred wood and stone dwellings clinging to a barren hillside. Their only purpose, so far as Arducius could tell, was to overcharge prospectors travelling into Kark from the west and to buy goods from the Karku cheaply and sell them on into Gestern at huge profit.

Jhered had shrugged when Arducius had told him and repeated that line about the reality of life outside of Westfallen. But he'd also seen Jhered talking closely to Appros Menas and later on Gorian had said that the Gatherers would be coming to call when the war was done.

No one smiled in Ceskas. All they did was stare and calculate what profit they could make out of the new arrivals, dead or alive. Arducius was glad to leave, as they all had been. Now he wasn't so sure. Now he'd do anything to see another face and know there was civilisation of any sort around the corner.

Beneath him, his mule swayed sickeningly as it walked along the narrow path that climbed inexorably higher and higher into the Karku mountains. Arducius couldn't believe anyone lived here, let alone that an entire race apparently thrived in this desolation. He dared another look around him, trying to convince himself that he wasn't as scared as he felt.

The snow had abated for a moment and through the narrow slit in his scarves, the world was white and terrifying. He could brush his right hand along an ice-covered rock face that soared much further than he could see. Ahead of him, peaks galloped away into the distance, getting higher and higher, dominating the land and lowering down, daring them to come further. And looking down past his left boot, the ground fell away onto the endless teeth of rocks.

He was behind Jhered, his mule blinkered like all of them, plodding on stoically in the tracks of the Exchequer. Ossacer rode behind him, then came Mirron, Gorian and Kovan. Appros Menas brought up the rear. All of them were covered in snow. Ice was building in the fur trim of their heavy coats and over the front of their thick, wool-lined leather mittens.

And this was one of the principal routes along the Karku border, so Jhered said. Others that went deeper into the country were easier but much longer and the Karku guarded them jealously. That was where they lived in great numbers so the stories went. In beautiful stone-built houses, set around high mountain lakes where the air was crisp and fresh and the grass green and hearty. It sounded idyllic. And a ridiculous notion.

Arducius sighed. The only vegetation he could see were a few gnarled trees clinging grimly to the mountainsides, and short brush and heather flattened by the wind and ice. How it lived here was a marvel but there it was. Arducius could feel the life energy pulsing slow and determined through the roots and into the leaves. They were like oases of light in the dead, cold, bleak rock. The only other energies he could sense around their small party were the fleeting lights of birds and rodents.

Ahead, Jhered pushed them on as fast and as far as he could each day. Arducius had watched him get ever more serious and concerned as they made their slow progress. He said little whenever they stopped, consulted his maps, gazed out at the ranks of mountains that hemmed them in on all sides. It all looked the same to Arducius. Awesome, but still an unending canvas. How easy it would be to enter here and never ever find the way out.

Like every morning they had risen before first light, eaten a hot breakfast and been on their way as dawn crept over the eastern peaks. They rode without further food, pausing only to rest the mules or walk them if they could, until the sun began to set. It was a short day and a long night here. Further up, where Jhered appeared to be heading, they would enjoy more light.

They had travelled up steep clefts, over broad plateaus, through staggering gorges and across bleak low plains where the wind had battered the vegetation into submission. They had been on this path, winding higher and higher up, for two days now. Last night they had slept in a tiny alcove that had been hacked out of the blank mountain side by someone ages past.

Today, they had been more fortunate. An hour or more before the sun set, they came across a wide natural cleft in the rock. It was sheltered from the worst of the weather. Tough-barked trees grew up its sheer faces, heathers dug their roots into the thin layer of frozen earth and moss grew on every rock surface. The southern face was covered in snow and ice. The northern face was a riot of colour, quite at odds with almost everything else they had seen in the last few days. Jhered had not even paused to consider moving on and it was not long before their bivouac leather was staked to the walls and a fire was roaring in the lee of the cliff.

The Ascendants and Kovan had climbed gratefully from their mules, which were now tethered to trees at the back of the cleft, and had huddled together around the fire to thaw slowly. Jhered had set a pot over the flames Mirron had created and a thick vegetable and mutton soup was bubbling away.

In front of them, the snow was thickening again, blowing past the entrance to the cleft in a cloud of huge flakes. Jhered was staring at it from beneath his perpetual frown. Arducius saw that Gorian and Mirron were looking out at it too and the reason why had never changed.

'Just think,' said Ossacer. 'Thirty days ago, we were swimming under Genastro Falls and Father Kessian was helping us understand how to harness the wind energies.'

Gorian was smiling sadly, his head nodding at the memory. Mirron's eyes had filled with tears just like Ossacer's, and Arducius felt loss pulling at his heart.

'So short a time and it seems like forever,' said Mirron.

'And it's still hot in Westfallen,' said Gorian, rubbing his hands together harder over the crackling flames.

He, like all of them, had experimented with keeping himself warm by drawing on the energies around them. But high up here that meant using the mules or the scattered life of plants; and the former made the mules scratchy while the latter made the Ascendants too tired. It had been a great disappointment to Gorian not to be able to get one up on Jhered, who felt the cold like all of them. Of course he and Menas never complained.

'Get used to it,' said Jhered, not turning. 'Wishing yourself back home won't get you there. Winning the war will.'

'So you keep saying,' said Gorian.

'Because you refuse to accept what is front of your faces.'

'We've only got your word we should be doing this. Vasselis's men had it all worked out and it wouldn't have meant us freezing to death.'

Jhered turned and his gaze on Gorian was baleful. 'No, it would have meant you blundering into Atreskan rebels or Tsardon armies instead. If you think that a better path, then take your mule and go back.' He stirred the soup. 'Your argument is single-tracked and tedious. I don't care if you trust me or not. I don't care if you hate me or not. But you will do your duty to the Conquord as directed by me.'

'Why you?' said Gorian. 'What makes you so special you can order us around?'

Arducius saw Jhered's hand tighten on the spoon but his face didn't twitch a muscle. 'Because I am the commanding officer of any I demand. And I demand it of you.'

'Do you think we can really make a difference?' asked Arducius. 'How can we win a war that all the legions cannot?'

Jhered looked at him, at all of them, and his frown lifted for a moment. 'I really don't know. All I do know is that we have to make an attempt. We have to try. The Omniscient will welcome us into His embrace if we do so. If we do not, we deserve nothing and will get nothing.

'What part you will play and when, I can't see yet. But I do know this. What you have causes fear. And fear is the greatest weapon an army possesses. We could lose the Conquord unless we can turn the tide of the Tsardon advance soon. We have to try anything we can. We have to take their belief and turn it into fear.'

‘I
won't hurt anyone,' said Ossacer. 'That is not what I was born to do.'

'Perhaps you won't have to,' said Menas, coming to the fire from tending the mules.

'How can we avoid it if we are to beat the Tsardon?' asked Mirron. 'How can you ask us to do this?'

'Because you are part of the Conquord and you must fight to save it!' shouted Jhered. 'God-embrace-me, girl have I not got through to you at all? If you ever want to return to the peace you knew in Westfallen you have to act now.'

Kovan stood. 'Exchequer Jhered, please. We've had enough. We're tired and cold and hungry.'

Jhered nodded and a brief smile crossed his face. 'All right, young Vasselis. Let's talk of anything else if it'll make you happier. But think on this. There are many ways to win wars and only one of them is to strike your enemy down and kill him. Think of your powers. Think of what they can do—' He stopped suddenly. '—what's wrong, Ossacer?'

Arducius turned round. Both Ossacer and Gorian were distracted, sampling the trails. Arducius couldn't sense anything out of the ordinary. His head and body were full of the power of the weather that he knew would not abate for days if they stayed here in the heights.

'There's something . . .' began Ossacer, clutching Arducius's arm.

The mules began to buck and strain at their tethers, catching some scent on the wind that howled like a thousand wolves around the opening of the cleft. Jhered, Kovan and Menas were on their feet in moments, swords from scabbards, shields grabbed from the ground.

'Get behind us,' said Jhered. 'Keep behind the fire.'

Arducius beckoned the Ascendants to him. Glancing back, he thought he saw shapes moving on the sheer faces of rock but it had to be a trick of the firelight.

From both sides of the path, creatures padded in, crouched low to the ground and ready to spring. There were four of them and at first, Arducius thought them dogs. But they were more like lions with the bulk of bears. They were completely white, from the tips of their snouts to their long tails, which were cocked like scorpions' stings above their backs. Their legs were powerful and their jaws packed with yellowed teeth for tearing and crushing. They had large eyes hooded by heavy brows and long hooked claws gripped the ice.

'Gorthock,' said Jhered. 'Get your shields in front of you. They'll work in a team so if they go for you, cover yourself. The other two of us must work fast and clean. Those jaws crush armour. Don't hesitate.'

Arducius caught the fear in Jhered's voice and knew they were in real trouble. He heard more skittering behind him and looked again but the walls were empty. It must be the sound of branches on rock. He turned back and Gorian was walking forwards.

'Gorian, stop.' Mirron's voice was panicked.

Jhered glanced left. 'Gorian, get back. This is not the time.'

'It is always the time,' said Gorian.

The gorthock had switched their attention to him now and he was already in front of the swords, too far from defence. Arducius heard low growls and the scratch of claws on rock and ice.

'What's he doing?' asked Mirron, clutching Arducius's sleeve.

'Watch,' said Ossacer

With his heart pounding, Arducius fixed on the scene in front of him and prayed that Gorian wasn't demonstrating fatal over-confidence. There was nothing Jhered or the others could do now. Gorian was kneeling on the ground, his arms outstretched in the direction of the gorthock. If they chose to strike, he would be killed.