Prince of Wrath (10 page)

“Lord,” the man said, his voice shaking, “I would die if I told you!”

“From whom?” Elas asked. “Your paymaster? I do not see him here, so how could he kill you? You shall certainly die if you do not tell me this instant.”

The man looked at the third behind him. “He’ll tell. Kill him and I’ll tell you everything!”

The third man’s face twisted into a mask of fury. “Traitorous filth! You shut your mouth!”

“Kill him!” the second man screamed as the third stepped towards him.

Elas nodded to one of the archers. An arrow speared the third through the throat, and he sank to the ground, blood dribbling out of his mouth. “Now, to save your miserable life, tell me.”

“The-the Fokis. We were paid to kill the Princess there. Once that was done we were to ride back to our base and await further instructions. That’s all I know, honestly!”

Elas regarded the man for a moment. “Very well. You shall accompany us back to Kastan City where you will be questioned further. If what you say has value, your pathetic life shall be spared.” He gestured for the man to be put on equineback and then escorted by three of the archers. He then motioned for Amne to ride alongside him. “We rode hard to get here in time. It will take some time to return. I do not wish you to stray from my side in that time.” He looked at Lalaas. “As for you, start acting like a hunter and scout. Ride out ahead and guide us back to the city. I shall ponder on what I shall tell the Empress during our ride back about the two of you.”

“But Elas...” Amne began.

“Enough! You have caused me enough trouble as it is without testing my patience further. There is no excuse, no explanation necessary. I do not wish to discuss this matter any further. Ride on!”

The group began their journey back to the capital, Lalaas leading them, Amne silent and wondering what awaited her back in the palace.

Night had fallen in the camp, but the flickering lights from the many fires and torches illuminated most of the clearing. Zonis sat on the rudimentary stool quietly smoking in the centre of the camp, watching as the men went about their routines. Standing by his side was Kimel, a sort of trustee who had been appointed to look over him. Kimel was a short, dark haired man with long unruly hair and a pale complexion. Zonis didn’t mind being guarded in this manner; he was not going to make any break for ‘freedom’. In any event, Clora would then be left alone and he wasn’t going to abandon her.

She wasn’t with him anymore. Her ‘services’ had been good enough to move her into the quarters of the scar-faced guard captain and she spent her days there, pleasuring him or doing the domestics in his quarters. He had seen her a few times and they had exchanged a few words but the guard captain, a man called Wottek, was particularly jealous and didn’t want her speaking to anyone unless he was there, but since his duties were onerous and many, he was rarely around. Lombert Soul was fiercely insistent that security was watertight and Wottek had his hands full ensuring the guards knew their jobs at all times.

Zonis had been let out of the cage on the second day and told to behave, or else. Nobody took him seriously, since he was to all appearances an old, washed up former soldier, addicted to the painkillers he smoked. Not that Lombert Soul or Wottek were going to let him roam free anyway; Kimel had been introduced to him on the day he was allowed out by the guards, and he’d been told that he would not be allowed to go anywhere unless Kimel was with him. Kimel, in turn, was told never to leave ‘Sinoz’s’ side no matter what.

Zonis had yet not caught sight of the rebel leader, but he was talked of frequently by many. It seemed they were pinning a lot of faith in the commoner-turned-general to overturn the Koros regime in Niake. Nobody had much good to say about the Niakian militia or the governor, and common consensus was that they had to merely march on the city and it would be surrendered to them.

So Zonis sat on his stool, watching, smoking, taking note. The one good thing was that his furnishings had been returned to him and placed in the draughty cave assigned to him as his quarters. It was open to the clearing but he was told to put up and shut up. At least he had a shelter over his head and the days were getting warmer. Nobody envisaged them being there when winter came; they would be in Niake enjoying the fleshpots.

“What’s that, Kimel?” Zonis asked, jabbing the stem of his pipe towards a line of beasts of burden entering the clearing, fully laden with canvas covered goods. He couldn’t see what they were but there was plenty of things underneath their coverings.

“Dunno,” Kimel said, his rich, country accent rolling his syllables. “Bizarre.”

Zonis had come to know the limited range of diction possessed by the former farmer. He seemed to get by with about five stock phrases that covered most of life’s necessities. ‘Bizarre’ was one, ‘scarey’ another. ‘Fair shout’, ‘nightmare scenario’ and ‘don’t need it’ the others. From what Zonis had been able to learn, Kimel had fallen on hard times, lost his farm, and then got into some dark and dirty dealings that had ended up with him addicted to the leaf and he’d almost lost his mind. Fortunately he’d lost his money first and went through torment coming off the addiction, but he’d emerged with half of his mind and little prospects of getting a job, so he’d drifted into Lombert’s growing anti-governmental movement and had been given the simple jobs around camp.

“Not seen them before, then?”

Kimel shook his head. “Supplies, I’d say.”

“From where? They look like expensive beasts of burden, and the coverings are decent quality. I’d like to look them over. Any chance?”

Kimel looked worried. “Out of bounds; they don’t let me near any of them. Daren’t risk it, it’d be a nightmare scenario.”

Zonis nodded. He expected that sort of reply. He stood up and stretched. The smoke had eased the fire in his lungs. He’d asked about more supplies of the painkiller and had been told there may be some in camp. That was a surprise, as it wasn’t that easily available. People tended to frown on its use in public because of the addictive nature of the plant, and the smell was very distinctive. He slipped on his cloth mask, covering his mouth and nose. Only his eyes were visible. “Well, time to visit the conveniences.”

Kimel looked concerned. “Best wait till they’ve passed – you’d have to go through them.”

“Can’t wait. Get to my age and once you need to go, you need to go. Don’t want an accident, hey?”

“Don’t need it,” Kimel said automatically. He paused, confused, then set off after Zonis who was striding purposefully over towards the supply train, which was passing across the clearing towards the far end where the offices and leaders were. Zonis’ cave was on the other side of the animals, and he pushed quickly in front of one animal which was being pulled along by its drover. A guard put out a hand to grab him but Zonis was already past. Kimel stopped, cut off by the animals and stood helplessly, with Zonis out of his line of sight.

The former Kastanian army general stumbled as he jumped out of the way of the next pack animal and his hand reached out, grasping the canvas. The contents underneath rustled and gave way easily. Zonis corrected his stumble and released his grip, resuming his route towards his cave. Two guards closed in on him, their expressions stern, their poled blades threatening, but Zonis was already walking away, seemingly unconcerned, so they relaxed and resumed their trek.

Zonis sniffed his hand as he got to the cave and his eyes widened. He turned and regarded the supply train and counted. As the last crossed from right to left, Kimel skipped round the back and came running. “That was a nightmare scenario!” he panted. “Nearly got done there!”

“Relax,” Zonis said. “Emergency averted.”

“Fair shout.”

Zonis rolled his eyes. “Think I’ll turn in for the night. It’s been a tiring day and I need to catch up on sleep.”

“Fair shout.” Kimel had a berth in the same cavern. He had been given specific instructions not to allow the newcomer to go anywhere without him, so he’d set up his bed in the same place.

Zonis prepared his bed, set at the rear of the cavern, masked from the clearing by his furnishings and a cloth screen, and lay awake for a while, staring up at the rock ceiling above him. He’d not expected Lombert Soul to dabble in drug supplies, but the evidence was there. Where they had managed to get hold of such a large consignment of the Leaf was anyone’s guess, but he needed to get a message to Niake fast. If what he suspected was going on, then the rebels intended to flood Bathenia and maybe even the rest of the Empire with the highly addictive plant which would create havoc. He’d never seen so much in one place before, even in his time in the backstreets of Niake, and the difficulty in getting it to Kastanian lands from Adnea and the distance involved usually meant only a small amount found its way to the streets, which made the price high.

He felt chilled. The amount he guessed was underneath those canvas coverings was immense. It would bring the price crashing down and anyone – anyone – would be able to get hold of it. Kastanian society would be reduced to mindless zombies en masse.

The next morning he woke, tired. He’d not had a good night. His mind had been full of worries and fears, and it had only been after a long time he’d drifted off, but his dreams had been bad. He splashed water from the bucket by his bed over his face, grabbed his knife, sharpened it, then scraped off his stubble. He had to look presentable. He was due to present himself that morning to the guard captain Wottek who no doubt had some work for him. If he had no value to the rebels he was sure he’d been dragged off somewhere by now and knifed to death.

Kimel hadn’t shaved and looked like death warmed up, but was ready for him. Zonis smiled and slipped his mask on. It made him look like a particularly ugly specimen of the Epatamian King’s harem. Not that he knew what Epatamian women looked like.; he assumed they were slim, fleshy in the right places, possessed huge dark eyes and long dark hair and were all too willing to inflict upon a man any pleasure he could think of, and then some more. Not that he indulged in that any more, anyway.

Undoubtedly they’d look like the rear end of a herd beast and had the temper to match. He waved Kimel to accompany him out into the sunlight. “Shall we go see Wottek?”

“Fair shout.”

“Hopefully he’ll give me something to do. Don’t fancy being sentenced to death for being useless.”

“Don’t need it.”

They walked across the clearing, now empty of any animals. Men walked here and there, mostly carrying weapons. Training devices were set up in various places and men were just beginning to commence their practicing. Sergeants were shouting at them to look the part, and it was a hard task. Many looked like peasants who had been pressed into the fledgling army. Zonis knew the type. He glanced left, right and up. Guards patrolled at irregular intervals, cradling crossbows, either along the clearing or up on the rocky heights above. There was no way anyone could approach the officer’s and administration quarters unseen.

Two guards barred the way to the entrance as usual and one sent a message back that Sinoz and Kimel were reporting as requested. They weren’t kept waiting long and were soon standing before Wottek in his office, Clora sat on his desk with just enough clothing on to hide her modesty. There really wasn’t much left to the imagination. She had a set of new clothes – if the brief strips of cloth could be called that – and her hair had been made up.

“Present from the boyfriend?” Zonis asked Clora.

“If I want you to speak I’ll tell you, and then only to me!” Wottek snapped irritably.

“She’s my niece,” Zonis countered mildly. “I’m concerned as to her welfare.”

“She’s got nothing to complain about,” Wottek stated forcefully, “although she moans a lot,” he added with an evil leer. Clora smiled on cue. Zonis winked at her with the eye furthest away from Wottek so he couldn’t catch it. Clora lowered her eyes.

“You wished to see me?” Zonis addressed Wottek.

“Yeah. I’m reliably informed you’re some genius with training. My contacts in Niake tell me you were the best before you got ill. They didn’t want you, did they? All that hard work and it’s thanks and now get lost.”

Zonis decided he really disliked Wottek. The man had the social grace of a pile of droppings. “That’s why I turned my back on the Koros. If they reward years of dedication to a job with dismissal and no pension, they can take a long walk off a short plank.”

“Huh?” Wottek frowned. “You a sailor or something?”

“No,” Zonis said, surprised. “I was merely making an expression.”

“Well don’t. You don’t get nowhere here being clever with me! Stick to plain talk, got it? Right, so you’re good at training soldiers to fight. The boss wants you to train up the soldiers to fight the regulars. You can do that?”

Zonis thought on the problem for a moment. To train anyone up would take time; it depended on the equipment available, the willingness of the subjects, enough space to be able to practise the manoeuvres he thought were necessary, and overall the help he would need from sergeants.

Wottek was impatient; he took Zonis’ hesitation as a refusal. “You don’t do it then we got no use for you. We don’t need no sick old man who’s no use to anyone. You can go dig latrines.”

“I’ll do it,” Zonis said, “but it’ll take time. I’ll need to see how good the soldiers are to start with before I know how much needs to be done. You have a collection of peasants and militiamen, yes?”

“You’ve got a few sevendays, that’s all. Then we’re moving.”

“Impossible,” Zonis countered, shaking his head, “I can’t transform untrained rabble into an army in that space…….”

“Then you ain’t no good,” Wottek snapped. “I was told you was the best, but that clearly ain’t true.”

“I am good, but I’m not one of the gods; time is what I need.”

“I say it can be done in three sevendays so it can be done! You ain’t no good, grandpa, you can dig shit holes till you drop dead.”

“Alright,” Zonis slapped his thighs in irritation. Wottek really was one of the most stupid, dense and hidebound people he’d ever encountered. “I’ll train them up to conquer the world in three sevendays. Happy?”

“You’d better, because if they don’t win their first battle, I’ll cut your head off personally.”

Zonis sneered behind his face cloth. Wottek couldn’t see it, obviously, so he didn’t react to it. Zonis wasn’t worried, the guard captain would probably have to be told that the expression was a sneer, and then told what a sneer meant. “Right – so now I’m on the payroll, I wish to spend a few moments with my niece. I haven’t seen her for a few days and I want to catch up with her.”

“What for? She’s fine. She’s happy. That’s all you need to know. Now get going and train those men up.”

Clora slid off the desk. “Oh, please, Wottek, its just for a few moments; I do miss my uncle. I’ll be a very good girl if you let me talk to him. Please?” She leaned over him and slipped her herd-beast hide brief tunic down, freeing her breasts, pushing them into the guard captain’s face. She rubbed them in his face for a moment. Wottek made a pleasured sound and guzzled on them for a moment, then pushed her away, his face red. “Yeah, yeah, sure. You can, as long as you promise to do that thing I like after I come off duty.”