Sovereign

CHAPTER 4

It was a cool dawn for this time of year. Ager, who thought he had grown used to the cold, could not help shivering. He looked over the gentle rolling landscape of Hume and tried to see only the woods and brooks and scattered farms, but he could not avoid seeing the bodies. Where the Haxus infantry had stood their ground and been scythed down by wave after wave of arrows, they lay in neat piles; where a fleeing column had been slaughtered soldier by soldier, bodies appeared in long straggling strings. Crows hopped over bloody heads and limbs, pecking at eyes and fingers. As the day warmed, the flies would come, great hovering clouds of them.

Ager shivered again. It's the cold, he told himself.

He felt bewildered. This time yesterday he had expected Lynan, defeated by Areava's army and shattered by the blow of losing Kumul, to retreat perhaps as far as the Oceans of Grass. Instead the prince had gone on the offensive. The night had been a long and bloody one, ending with the complete destruction of Salokan's army. The Chetts had the victory they needed to restore their morale and confidence.

It would be called the Battle of the Night, he knew. Such battles were very rare, commanders afraid of losing control in the dark, of banners and regiments attacking their own side by mistake, but Lynan had taken advantage of two facts—whereas Salokan had few cavalry, all his own warriors were mounted and so knew anyone on foot was an enemy, and a full moon had been up for many hours.

Ager could not help feeling some sympathy for his foe, but he reminded himself that Haxus had long been a traditional enemy of all those living in the south of the continent of Theare, as well as the main base for the slave trade that once had preyed on the Chetts, including the Ocean Clan.

My clan, he reminded himself.

Morfast rode up beside him and gently grasped his arm. He squeezed back, sighing deeply. 'How many did we lose?'

'No more than thirty,' she said. 'But that includes all the adult members of the Delen family. They were surprised by Haxus cavalry and were cut down before they could react.'

'How many children?'

'Three. They will be taken in by uncles and aunts.'

Ager nodded wearily. 'A hard blow for a child to lose so much of its family.'

Morfast grinned savagely. 'Many more Haxus children were made orphans last night.'

The crookback's conscience rebelled against such bloody joy, but he knew the Chetts revelled in combat as no other people he knew, and he had been a soldier for most of his life.

'Was it like this under the General?' she asked him.

'The General?'

'In the Slaver War,' she prodded.

Ager snorted in surprise. Although he had once spent many years remembering his part in the Slaver War, revering the memory of General Elynd Chisal, Lynan's father, Morfast's question made him realise he had not really thought of those times since the first night he had met Lynan.

'Yes, I suppose it was like this. There was more reason to hate then, perhaps, and more reason to fight…' His voice trailed off when he realised what he was saying.

Morfast looked at him strangely. 'You think the White Wolf should not have crossed to the east with an army?'

He shook his head and said quietly, 'No, I don't think that.' He did not add that there was no time during the Slaver War when he doubted he was doing the right thing, but now he was part of an army that hoped to overthrow the legitimate ruler of Grenda Lear doubt seemed to fill him. He understood the political necessity for the invasion, understood it was not Lynan's fault that he had been driven to take this action by Orkid and Dejanus murdering Berayma—Usharna's eldest son and successor—and laying the blame on him, but none of that made Ager feel any better about going to war against the Kingdom which he had served for so long. Perhaps, just perhaps, Kumul—for whom serving the legitimate ruler of Grenda Lear had been his life work—died when he did because God had more mercy than Ager had ever believed.

And as for this slaughter of the army from Haxus, a traditional enemy, he could not help wonder if Salokan could not have been allowed to run home with his tail between his legs. Haxus had never been a serious threat to Grenda Lear itself, more a nuisance than anything else. Ironically, this was a possibility Kumul himself would never have considered; for him, the argument would run that Haxus was an enemy and you killed your enemies.

But I am not a general, and I am not a king-in-waiting, and I am not Kumul Alarn. I am Ager Crookback. I do not understand these things.

At midday Lynan called another council. The attitude of all the clan chiefs was noticeably different than the day before. When asked for their advice, all they would do was ask in turn what Lynan would have them do. Ager thought Lynan looked satisfied with this response, and it made him feel uneasy; yet when the prince asked him for his opinion, he had little to offer.

'We have two choices,' he said.

'And they are?' Lynan urged.

'To turn our attention again to the Kingdom, either by attacking the remnants of Areava's army or by attacking Daavis, or to retreat over the Algonka Pass and reconsider our strategy.'

Lynan nodded, as if in agreement. 'Will no one else add their thoughts?'

There were muffled refusals. Even Korigan and Eynon seemed content to forget their feuding and wait on Lynan's word. He had given them a great victory, perhaps the greatest in Chett history. He was the son of the General. He was the White Wolf returned. Who were they to question him?

Lynan turned to Jenrosa. 'And what do the magikers say?'

Jenrosa looked up in surprise. 'They say nothing on this.'

'Has the earth been asked?' he insisted.

'The earth had no words.'

'Have the eagle and karak been asked?'

'The eagle and karak had nothing to show us.'

Lynan glanced quickly at the woman sitting directly behind Jenrosa. Lasthear, Jenrosa's teacher, nodded in agreement. Ager saw the exchange and was offended on Jenrosa's behalf, then guiltily realised Lynan knew Jenrosa would still be greatly affected by Kumul's death and may not understand everything her magik showed her.

'We need a base on this side of the Ufero Mountains from which to operate,' Lynan said.

'If we capture Daavis, we will have such a base,' Gudon suggested light-heartedly, and many laughed.

'Our army is made up of cavalry,' Lynan said. 'We have not the troops nor the wherewithal to assault a city.'

'Are you suggesting we build a base in Hume?' Ager asked, resisting the temptation to add that the Chetts did not have the wherewithal for that either.

'We need something more secure, more permanent, than that,' Lynan answered.

'What exactly are you suggesting then?' Ager prompted.

Lynan smiled at him. 'You said we had two choices. We move south, or we move west. There is a third choice.'

Ager looked blankly at Lynan for a second, then opened his mouth in surprise. The answer was so obvious he felt a fool for not realising it. He could tell by the expression on Korigan's face that she had seen the truth at the same time.

'Haxus,' Ager said.

'Yes. We have defeated its army. We have captured its king. Haxus is open to us… if we move quickly enough.'

'We need only march in and take it!' Eynon declared. 'A whole Kingdom will fall to us from one battle!'

Lynan shook his head. 'A whole Kingdom does not fall because it loses its king,' he said severely. 'Grenda Lear lost my mother Usharna and my brother Berayma in one season and survived easily enough. But our chances in Haxus are greater than our chances in south Hume. Another army could be marching north from Kendra right now to join the army already in the province. Grenda Lear has vast resources to draw on.'

'But in comparison, Haxus does not,' Ager finished.

'But Haxus does have the troops, the experience and the sappers we will need to besiege Grenda Lear's great cities.'

'Like Daavis,' one chief said, grinning like an excited child.

'Like Daavis,' Lynan agreed. 'And Spira and Pila and one day even Kendra itself.'

'He has ambition, your prince,' Lasthear said.

'You can't get much more ambitious than wanting the throne of Grenda Lear,' Jenrosa agreed. She was sitting next to a circle she had traced in the dark brown dirt of Hume. Good soil, she told herself. It reminded her of the soil in the village where she was born. In a pang of self-pity she wished she had never left the village, but almost immediately cursed herself for a fool. She had Bated her childhood, her mother nothing but a drunken sot, her father long dead or run away, her prospects no better than ending up as some farmer's wife.

In some ways she thought that fate would have been preferable to the one handed her. She was exiled from Kendra, the city she truly regarded as her home, and had lost Kumul, the only man she had ever truly loved. On top of all that she was afraid the Chett magikers had started regarding her as a Truespeaker, a great magiker that only appeared once every two or three generations. All she had ever wanted was a quiet life where she could use what she had once considered to be her modest magikal abilities for an equally modest profit. She had wanted a quiet and comfortable life, unconcerned with and untroubled by the greater world.

And then there was Lynan. She had tied herself to his fortunes first through necessity and later through genuine affection. For a brief period there had been four of them—Lynan, Jenrosa, Kumul and Ager—and although their lives had been dangerous, their simple aim to stay alive had created a strong bond between them. But now one of their number was slain, Ager had a whole clan to fill up his time, and Lynan…

Jenrosa shivered.

Lynan had become something more and perhaps something less than human, and that had been her fault. She had saved his life by giving him the blood of the vampire Silona, and in doing so had changed the fate of the whole continent. She wondered if she should feel proud for all that she, an apprentice and insignificant magiker from the Theurgia of Stars, had achieved, but instead could only feel a kind of numbing dread that combined with her grief over Kumul to make her feel lethargic and witless.

'I did not mean that,' Lasthear said after a while. She was sitting on the opposite side of the circle in the dirt.

Jenrosa glanced up at her. 'You are talking about this invasion of Haxus?'

Lasthear nodded. 'If he gains both Haxus and his sister's throne, Lynan will be the first to control the whole of the continent of Theare.'

'Is that important?'

Lasthear did not answer but started calling to the earth. Jenrosa joined her automatically. Their voices joined and seemed to weave a path through the air around them. A dust devil whirled between them for a moment and then was gone. Jenrosa blinked dirt from her eyes and looked down at the circle. The suggestion of words appeared, dissolved, reformed again.

'A ruler,' Jenrosa said aloud.

'A tyrant,' Lasthear added.

'A woman.'

'She owns the Keys of Power.'

'A dead city.'

'The price.'

The dust devil reappeared and destroyed the circle. The two women leaned back in sudden exhaustion, their eyes closed. When Jenrosa opened her eyes again, she saw Lasthear looking at her with great earnestness.

'You think the answer was there, don't you?' It was more of an accusation than a question.

'You are the Truespeaker,' Lasthear said. 'You tell me.'

'I don't believe we see the future.'

'Neither do I. Magik no more determines our fate than spying a distant land from the top of a mountain means you will one day visit that land. Magik gives us glimpses of history, past, present and future.' Lasthear reached out and took Jenrosa's hand. 'Only the Truespeaker can interpret those glimpses of history, draw real meaning from them.'

'I don't believe we see the future,' Jenrosa repeated, taking her hand from Lasthear's. 'And I don't believe I am the Truespeaker. I am not a Chett.'

'We are all Chetts,' Lasthear said without irony.

It took Lynan's army five days to reach the border of Haxus. Scouts ranging far and wide quickly found the fort Salokan had established as a staging post for his invasion of Grenda Lear, and also where he kept his reinforcements, mainly heavy infantry with a few squadrons of light cavalry for picket and scouting duties. Chett outriders reported that the fort commander was overconfident and lazy; the gates were open and unlocked, and the few pickets were relieved like clockwork, making it easy to plan an assault around their movements.

Because it was a fort, Lynan's army had to take it quickly or be forced into a siege, something the Chetts were temperamentally unsuited for and Lynan could ill afford to waste time on. Nor could Lynan risk moving deeper into Haxus with such a large enemy force behind him, and he was unwilling to detach a whole banner to cover his rear. The fort had to be taken by a sudden assault, and Lynan planned for the attack to start well before first light. If things went well, his riders would occupy the fort by sunrise; if things went badly, his army had a whole day to retreat to a safe distance. He gave command of the main attack to his Red Hands under Gudon; they had been trained to fight on foot using the short sword, and once inside the fort horses would be more hindrance than help. They would be followed up by Ager with his Ocean Clan, warriors who were proving to be among the toughest and most fanatical of the Chetts; Ager also commanded the remnants of the lancers, the banner savaged so fiercely by the knights of Kendra's Twenty Houses. Korigan and Eynon would lead the rest of the banners, eliminating any forces outside of the fort and maintaining constant archery fire against the fort's walls.

Two hours before first light, scouts reported to Lynan that the enemy pickets had been eliminated and replaced by his own riders. Before ordering the banners and their commanders to take their places, the prince had Salokan brought to him. The king was thin and pale, his right hand bandaged to the wrist. Under instruction from Lynan, no one had talked to him since his capture, nor had anyone mistreated him. At this stage he was baggage, and Lynan wanted him to understand that.

'Does this fort have a name?' Lynan asked him.

Salokan blinked sleep from his eyes and peered at the walls of the fort, not much more than a distant white line in the night. 'Typerta,' he said.

'That was your father's name, wasn't it?'

Salokan nodded. 'It is a strong fort. You will not be able to take it.'

Lynan arched his eyebrows. 'Truly? What would you suggest?'

'You don't really believe I would help you, do you?'

'You could order the garrison to stand down and surrender.'

Salokan did not reply, but stood more stiffly and jutted out his chin. He had regained some of his courage since the Battle of the Night.

Lynan seemed disappointed. 'As I expected.' He turned to his commanders. 'We take no prisoners. Slaughter everyone.' He met each commander's gaze; only Ager seemed unsettled by the order, but he said nothing. The prince turned back to Salokan. 'You will stay here by my side and watch.'

Gudon, Ager and their troops covered the first two thirds of the distance to the fort dismounted to lower their profile. They walked double file through depressions and around hills until they came to a natural bowl just over a league from the fort, led there by scouts posing as Haxus pickets. There the Red Hands mounted and formed two long lines. On Ager's advice, in case their charge ran into Haxus cavalry and to boost their morale after losing their leader Kumul, Gudon placed the lancers in a single line in front of the Red Hands and put them under the command of his brother Makon; they would be first into the attack, and their task would be to disperse any enemy horse and then peel away, giving Gudon and the bodyguard access to the fort's gate. Behind the Red Hands, Ager organised his own warriors, the only Chetts in Lynan's army who fought together as a clan and, with the Red Hands, the only Chetts Ager had trained to fight on foot.

Gudon and Ager embraced quickly and mounted. It was thirty minutes from first light and the changing of the Haxus pickets when Gudon gave the order to attack.

The five long lines of cavalry climbed out of the bowl, losing some of their orderliness. As they walked over the lip and onto level ground the lancers broke into a canter. Gudon counted slowly to thirty then ordered the Red Hands to a canter as well. By now they were only a league from the fort and he could see Haxus guards rushing along the high walls in panic. He glanced left and right, saw his own sweeping lines, watched his riders holding back their horses from the charge. Further afield he could see the great dark masses of the banners under the command of Korigan and Eynon as they surged forward. He saw Makon raising and then lowering his sword; the lancers burst from a canter to the charge, their long spears held overhand, their line still tight. Gudon smiled at the image, and wondered at what Kumul had wrought. And then it was his turn. He raised and lowered his own sword and kicked his horse into a gallop. The Red Hands matched him, and with one voice they screamed their war cry.

Ahead he could see the fort gate still open like a cavernous mouth. Some soldiers ran around in front of it, but none of them made an attempt to close it. Then someone seemed to organise them and they started pushing two huge wooden doors into place. Gudon felt a terrible knot in his stomach as he realised the Red Hands would not make it in time, then watched with elation as Makon led the lancers straight for the gate instead of peeling away. The Haxus infantry in front of him scattered and the lancers burst through into the fort, and seconds later Gudon and his warriors followed them through. As soon as he was past the gate Gudon sheathed his sabre, dismounted and drew his short sword. The few enemy armed were already fleeing in all directions, the rest were still in their tents or just now tottering out half dressed and wondering what all the noise was about. Gudon assigned one troop to guard the entrance while the others spread out and started the slaughter. At first he stood back, making sure that pressure was applied whenever it looked like the defenders were starting to organise, but when Lynan himself appeared he surrendered command and joined in the fight, revelling in the bloody fury that filled him.

Lynan forced Salokan to watch. The massacre went on for most of the morning, the last few hours being nothing more than the final mopping-up where scattered enemy soldiers were rooted out of hiding places or found feigning death among all the bodies. When all was done and not a single enemy was left alive, Lynan escorted Salokan around the fort. So much blood had been spilled that the ground was covered in a red mud; it crept over the toes of the king's boots. He tried to turn his face away from the slaughter, but whichever way he looked he saw thousands of his soldiers turned into carrion. He closed his eyes, but then he could smell the blood and the shit and hear the panting of the exhausted Chetts. In the end he was more afraid of the dark than the light. When Lynan had finished his tour he leaned over and whispered in Salokan's ear: 'I will do this to every fort and camp, every farm and village, every town and city in Haxus that you do not order to surrender to me. And every time I do it, you will bear witness.'

Jenrosa refused to enter the fort. She could hear the buzzing of flies two hundred paces away. Her stomach heaved and she turned away, but something stopped her from leaving. She groaned.

'We must listen to the earth again,' she said urgently to Lasthear. The two of them knelt down and scratched a circle, but before they could begin the calling a rivulet of blood from the fort met the circle and started to fill it. Lasthear cried out and tried to erase it, but Jenrosa grabbed her hand. 'Let it finish,' she ordered. In horror she watched as the circle became a swollen red disk. She called to the earth and the dust devil came and spat specks of blood against their faces. Words formed in the pool and Jenrosa recited: 'A red monarch.'

She waited for Lasthear to speak the words she saw, but the woman's mouth was clamped shut. To Jenrosa it looked as though invisible fingers grasped her jaw.

'A red woman,' Jenrosa continued uncertainly.

And still Lasthear would not—or could not—speak.

'A red city.'

'And then the dust devil returned, spitting more blood, and ended the spell. Lasthear cried out in pain and shock. Jenrosa tottered to her feet, her breathing ragged, and started to cry. She shouted in anger and furiously wiped the blood and tears from her face.

Lynan was in the grove where even sunlight seemed liquid and green. There was no sound of bird or insect, but all the trees and ferns seemed fit to burst with life. He was lying on his back. He could smell the grass, sweet and young, and beneath it the earth, dark and moist. Above him a wind rustled the canopy. He looked down the length of his body, admired his hard white skin. He noticed he had three of the Keys of Power. He moved aside the Key of Union and the Key of the Sword, and there lay the Key of the Sceptre, the Monarch's Key. He sat up, surprised. When did he get this? Who gave it to him?

He held it up to study it in better light and dropped it with a start. It was covered in blood. He tugged its chain over his head and threw it away with all his strength. It sailed through the air, slowed and then stopped, suspended.

'This is mine,' said a too-familiar voice.

Lynan searched among the trees for her.

'I gave it to you to keep for me,' she said.

'I will not win the throne for your sake,' he said.

Silona laughed, and the sound came from every direction, from the very forest itself. 'You do everything for my sake,' she said.