The Righteous Blade

14

He could have had a palace. He chose a tent. He could have dined on banquets, but preferred army rations. He could have dressed in finery, but favoured humbler garb. He could have taken the lives of the vanquished, but dispensed mercy. He could have had his pick of riches and women, but kept to modesty and abstinence. He could have embraced tyranny, but showed forbearance.

For these and other qualities, his followers loved him. Almost enough to hide the fear they felt.

The warlord Zerreiss-Shadow of the Gods, the Velvet Axe, the Man Who Fell From the Sun, and bearer of a dozen other sobriquets not assumed but conferred on him-was perfectly unexceptional in appearance. Many found this surprising in one who had achieved so much. As though Nature should honour conquerors with a special aspect. But the truth was that in almost every respect he was ordinary. His physique was average at best, and his face, once seen, might immediately be forgotten.

Except for the singular vigour that animated it; a curious, indefinable potency that gave him an extraordinary presence.

For all that the world called him a barbarian, Zerreiss was

not a tyrant. But he was despotic. To many, this might seem a fine distinction. He was no tyrant in that he waged war as a last resort and strove not to waste lives unnecessarily. He was despotic in being resolute in his hunger for territorial expansion, and in his insistence that the gift he came to bestow, as he saw it, had to be accepted. It was only when thwarted in this regard that he made a rare display of a harsher side.

In the valley below, his army prepared for another siege, dependent upon an offer of clemency. They faced a formidable redoubt: a fortress of massive proportions, shimmering with myriad glamoured lights and magical discharges. Well soldiered, amply provisioned, it had never been taken. But his horde was in good cheer. They knew their warlord held the key to victory.

It was snowing. Winter always came much earlier in the northern wastelands, and as yet the weather was mild compared to what was due. But the onset of freezing conditions was a good reason to get the job over and done with. As no one doubted he would.

Zerreiss came into his command tent like any other man: no grand entrance, no fanfare, no retinue. Yet his appearance galvanised the generals and adjuncts working there.

He called over his two closest aides.

‘Has there been word on our proposal yet, Sephor?’

‘Not so far, sir,’ the much younger of the pair replied. ‘Should we send in another envoy?’

‘No. They have a lot to chew over. Let’s leave them to it for a while.’ He turned to the other man. ‘Wellem.’

‘Sir?’ The old campaigner instinctively came to attention, though Zerreiss seldom demanded shows of obeisance.

‘Everything’s ready in respect of our troops and their needs?’

‘All done, sir. They only await your order.’

‘Good. Let’s hope I don’t have to issue it. And how goes tracing the magic sources in these parts, Sephor?’

‘You were right, sir, about energy lines in the area. It seems at least three cross where the city stands. No doubt it was founded for that reason.’

‘The usual pattern. Wretched Founders,’ Zerreiss grumbled. ‘They have a lot to answer for.’

‘So we’ll probably be facing a full complement of magical munitions,’ Sephor added. ‘Or would have, depending on the outcome, of course.’

‘I think you can rely on the outcome.’ He looked to his other aide. ‘Tell me, Wellem, how do you think those below will respond?’ It was the sort of question the warlord was fond of asking, and his temperament was such that he encouraged candid replies.

‘No surrender. That’s what I’d say, sir, if I were in their position.’

‘That’s the answer I’d expect from an old campaigner, my friend. What are your reasons?’

‘Well, apart from the obvious reason that they find themselves under attack from someone they haven’t offended, I reckon they’d see no need to accept change. From their point of view you’re here to take something away, not to give them anything.’

‘A fear of the unknown, in other words. The standard response.’

‘Let’s hope we get the standard outcome, sir.’

‘In the end we will,’ Zerreiss assured him. ‘Though I wish it were possible to reach that goal without bloodshed.’

‘That’s war, sir,’ Wellem offered.

‘As you say.’ Their master’s tone was genuinely regretful. ‘Do you know the story of the Sythea?’

They did, of course; the ancient fable was well known in the northern lands. But it pleased him to occasionally put things in allegorical form, so they feigned ignorance.

‘The men of the Sythea,’ he began, ‘who lived deep inside

the Bariall caves, always held that they were in a state of grace. They had shelter and warmth in their underground burrows, and fungus to eat and water to drink from subterranean rivers. They even had some light from glowing minerals and phosphorescent lichens. The Sythea were dimly aware that another world existed far above them and the occasional hardy soul ventured out, never to return. But these troglodytes weren’t concerned with other worlds. Why should they be? Their domain had everything they needed, and they believed themselves and their dingy warrens to be protected by their underworld gods. Do you know what happened to change that?’

Of course they did; they’d heard the story many times. ‘A flood, sir,’ Sephor dutifully replied.

‘A flood, yes.’ Sometimes Zerreiss seemed for all the world like a children’s tutor or priest-scholar in the way he spoke to people. But somehow he had the knack of not making it sound patronising. ‘Their underground rivers and lakes swelled because of unusually heavy rainfall on the surface, though of course they didn’t know that. The water level kept rising and they were forced to move higher and higher, until eventually they had no choice but to leave their caves and risk the alien surface world. This was a cause of great fear to them, and many stubbornly clung on to what remained of their underground kingdom. Eventually, they perished. But others, bolder or more desperate, did venture out. Those who braved the surface, near-blinded by the light, found a world of wonder and fecundity. And of course the legends say that they became men as we know them. Some believe that the gods of this world sent the flood to force them from their caves so that the true race of men could begin.’ He paused, almost theatrically. ‘I am the flood.’

‘Not a god?’ Sephor ventured, half humorously. It was a measure of his master’s tolerance that he could make such a comment.

Zerreiss smiled. ‘No, not a god. Though some would try to see me that way. An instrument of the gods, perhaps, if such things as gods exist. Don’t look so shocked, Wellem. You know my views on this matter.’

‘Yes, sir. It’s the way I was brought up, I suppose. Sorry, sir.’

‘I’ll have no one apologise for what they believe, my friend. You have never seen me suppress any faith in the lands we’ve taken, nor will I start now. I believe that in time people will come to their own conclusions about the truth or falsity of these things.’

‘That does you credit, sir.’

‘You know, commanders of old had aides whose job it was to whisper in their ears that their victories and triumphs, like life itself, were all transient. If not actually illusions.’ He smiled again. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t require that of you two. I have no need of such. That voice has always been here, in my head.’ He lifted a hand to his temple. ‘I stray from the point. But I think you see what I was getting at with the story of the Sythea. The people of the city below are troglodytes, through no fault of their own, and see no need to come out of their comfortable caves. Our mission is to bring them into the light. The true light.’ He let that soak in, then said, ‘Why do you follow me?’

Had the question been asked by a true tyrant, his minions would have been quaking for fear of giving a wrong answer. But this was Zerreiss.

‘Because you are a great conqueror, sir,’ Wellem said.

‘Exactly what I’d expect from an old soldier.’ He looked to his other, younger aide. ‘Sephor?’

‘Because you are just, sir, and seek to make your peoples’ lives better.’

‘I want to bring them into the light, yes. But I say you follow not me, but what I have, what I

am

. Not the man but

the tinder he carries inside, let’s say.’ He seemed pleased with the analogy. ‘We are firm in our resolve? As one in the legitimacy of our crusade?’

‘Yes, sir!’ they chorused.

‘Then I’m blessed.’ He turned a benign grin on them. ‘To more mundane matters. What do we know of the two ships the empires sent our way?’

‘They’re making a race of it, sir,’ Sephor reported. ‘It’s difficult to say which will enter your waters first.’

‘When they do, we must be ready for them.’

‘Do we meet them as friend or foe?’

‘I’ve yet to decide on what response would be appropriate.’

‘With respect, sir,’ Wellem said, ‘would it do to antagonise Gath Tampoor or Rintarah?’

‘I think the question is better put the other way about: would they be wise to antagonise me?’

‘Perhaps they simply need assurances of the limit your influence will extend to, sir,’ Sephor suggested.

‘We push further south.’

‘Yes, sir. But where do we stop?’

‘Stop? We’ve hardly begun.’

The arrival of a messenger put paid to the discussion. He was blue with cold and caked with snow. Shivering, he stamped his boots while delivering a salute. ‘We have tidings, sir.’

‘You look perished, lieutenant,’ Zerreiss told him. ‘A warming drink for this man!’ He moved closer and asked, ‘What’s their decision? Yes or no?’

‘They refuse to surrender, sir.’

Zerreiss sighed. ‘Then it comes to my intervention again.’ He walked to the open tent flap and looked down at the city and the great fortress it suckled. Its shimmering lights and the driving snow made it all seem unreal somehow. His aides joined him. ‘Let’s be done with this,’ he decided. ‘Make

ready the troops. We move to the endgame.’ He lifted his hands.

What happened next had those around him thinking that perhaps he was a god after all.

As yet, whatever the warlord did had little effect in the temperate south. Besides, they had pressing problems nearer to home.

In a run-down, near lawless quarter of Valdarr, not far from the docks, a secret hide-out had been hastily established. It was in a deconsecrated temple that had seen its congregation go down along with the area. A new, empire-built place of worship in an adjoining, more salubrious neighbourhood had taken the rest. Now it was boarded-up and dusty, and ideally situated for Resistance purposes.

In one corner, Phoenix and Caldason stood before a wall-mounted, luminous map. For once, the sorcerer wasn’t trying out a magical disguise.

‘See it?’ he said, pointing to one of numerous specks off Bhealfa’s northern coast.

‘Just about. And you’re sure that’s the place?’

‘There’s nothing totally certain about it,’ Phoenix admitted. ‘But Covenant’s been studying the mystery of the Clepsydra for years, and all the probabilities indicate this islet.’ He tapped the map with his finger.

‘Probabilities,’ Caldason repeated.

‘It’s the best we can offer, short of going there.’

‘Which I hope you’re not thinking of doing, Reeth,’ Karr said. He’d approached without them noticing. ‘At least, not unless you’re part of a Resistance mission.’

‘We have an agreement, don’t we?’

‘We do. But I know how frustrating it must be for you having to wait.’

‘I asked Phoenix to show me where the thing might be

because I’m curious. But there’s a limit to my patience, Karr. Do you have any idea when I’ll get to go?’

‘No, frankly. What with the move, and now what’s happened to Kinsel. And there’s still the question of getting the gold to Darrok.’

‘I thought that might be on your mind.’

‘Well, at least you don’t go into a sulk whenever it’s mentioned. I suppose that’s some kind of progress.’

‘I’m thinking about it.’

Karr brightened. ‘I’m glad to hear that.’

‘But don’t take anything for granted. Like I said, I can only be patient for so long.’

‘Shouldn’t we be getting on with the business at hand?’ Phoenix reminded them.

‘Yes, of course,’ Karr agreed.

They moved off to the main part of the hall, where there were more people, some on benches, a few making do with the floor. Caldason shoved in next to Serrah. Kutch was there, too, along with Quinn Disgleirio. Phoenix joined Karr’s indefatigable administrative officer, Goyter, carrying her inevitable wad of documents, at the side of the room.

The remaining twenty or so people were all known to Caldason to a lesser or greater degree. They consisted of high-ranking members of Covenant, the Righteous Blade and several other groups affiliated to the movement. No more than half of them sat on the United Revolutionary Council, as care was taken never to have every important operative present in the same place at the same time.

Karr went to the front of the group, and addressed them without preamble.

‘We’re all far too busy to spend too much time here, quite apart from the security considerations, so I intend keeping this as brief as possible. I don’t have to tell you that we’ve taken on a massive task. The coming move has to be one of

the biggest endeavours in recent history, and so far things are going more or less to plan. Which is remarkable considering the pitfalls we’ve encountered, not least the fact that the authorities are bearing down ever harder on the civil population.’

‘He doesn’t look any healthier, does he?’ Serrah whispered.

‘A little worse, if anything,’ Caldason replied.

‘The purpose of this meeting is two-fold,’ the patrician continued. ‘First, it’s for you to report on the progress of your particular areas of responsibility. That way, we can all get an idea of the larger picture. Second, it’s an opportunity for you to meet your counterparts, exchange ideas and maybe help each other out with any problems you’re encountering. We’ll keep it simple. There’s no need for names, just remind us of your position or function and tell us how you’re doing. Got that? Good. Who’s first?’ About half those present raised a hand. ‘Yes, you.’ He pointed at a heavily built, full-bearded man in the front row.

‘Shipping,’ the man declared bluntly as he got to his feet. ‘Our fleet’s up to about two-thirds of what we’ll need, though it’s as ragtag a navy as you’ll ever set eyes on.’ There was some laughter at that. ‘We could use more ships, naturally, any class; and we’re especially short on experienced seamen to handle them.’ He sat down.

‘We’re doing what we can about that,’ Karr assured him. ‘We’ve increased the parties we have out buying and stealing vessels, and we’re looking into the possibility of building our own. They only have to be capable of the one crossing, so that shouldn’t prove too difficult. Now…’ He looked around. ‘You.’

A thin, bald, middle-aged individual stood up. ‘Transport, including supply of horses, mules, oxen and other working animals. We’re fortunate in having a renewable resource, and

we’ve already got a number of breeding herds ready to go. A good stockpile of wagons, too.’

He sat, and a mature woman near the front got up. ‘Food and water,’ she announced. ‘We’re renewable too, of course, and as far as drinking water goes we know the island is well provided with springs and wells. We’ve got good stocks of most dried foodstuffs, but I am a bit worried about a possible food gap.’ She half turned to explain to the audience. ‘That’s the period of time that might exist between the food we take running out and the first harvest. I think my colleague in charge of agriculture may have something to say about that.’ She nodded to another woman, who took the floor.

‘I’m fairly confident about the prospects for farming. The island’s central plains are fertile; the soil’s good and well drained, though naturally there’s no accounting for unexpectedly bad weather. There are some gaps in our seed stores, and I’d be pleased to hear from anybody who could assist with that. And I could do with more people to help with the crops and animal husbandry, not to mention experienced fishermen.’

Karr picked another speaker.

‘Gives you some idea of the scale of the thing, doesn’t it?’ Kutch remarked in a hushed tone.

Caldason nodded.

It was the turn of a short, muscular man with mousy, shoulder-length hair. ‘Armourer,’ he explained. ‘I also speak for fletchers, sword-wrights and the weapon-making brotherhood generally. We have substantial arsenals secreted. Blades are ample, as are bows, arrows, spears and axes. Shields, chainmail and helms we could use more of. That’s down to a shortage of suitable materials rather than skilled labour.’

‘Buildings and island fortifications,’ the next man stated. ‘We have a materials problem too. Wood is plentiful but it

won’t last long once we get started. There’s some stone out there we can quarry, and we can adapt the existing buildings, but we’ll have to consider importing it. The workforce isn’t too big a headache because a lot of the requirement’s for menial labour. And I’d guess that if nothing else they’ll be plenty of people about.’

‘You should be able to count on it,’ Karr agreed, ‘gods willing. Quinn, what about you?’

Disgleirio rose. ‘The Fellowship of the Righteous Blade is handling island defences, martial training and general security. We’re meeting our targets on all those. But let me remind you that we’ll be forming a people’s militia as soon as the island’s secure. That’s anybody who can lift a weapon, basically, and it’ll be Blade members who instruct them. Beyond that, we’ll be building a standing army as fast as we can. So spread the word that we’re willing to consider fit, motivated men and women.’

He was replaced by a chubby, weather-beaten man with black hair and a goatee. ‘I speak for artisans. That includes blacksmiths, wheelwrights, carpenters, glass-blowers, potters and the rest. Our trades are well represented in the Resistance ranks. Like others who have spoken before, the problems we see are the supply of materials to work with, and fuel for our stoves, braziers and furnaces.’

Phoenix talked of magical provisions and the part Covenant would play. Goyter, in charge of logistics, appealed for more clerks, and scholars with a head for numbers. And there were others, covering every imaginable aspect of state-building from scratch. They related their achievements and shortcomings, their needs and difficulties.

At last, everyone had spoken, and Karr took charge again.

‘Many of you are wondering when the move will happen. Of necessity, we have to keep that flexible. All I can say is that the most favourable time will be chosen, and that you’ll

be given as much advance warning as possible. We already have people on Batariss, smoothing the way. So, in a sense, the exodus has already begun.’ He paused and looked them over. ‘Now that I’ve given up the political forum to devote myself unstintingly to the cause-’ there was clapping and a few shouted compliments ‘-I’ll be working as hard as I can to bring nearer the day of our departure.’

Serrah and Reeth exchanged apprehensive glances amid the applause.

‘To less happy matters,’ Karr went on, stilling it. ‘Many of you will have heard that a great supporter of our struggle, and a man I count as a dear personal friend, Kinsel Rukanis, has been arrested. We don’t know what charges, if any, will be brought. I’m sure that your thoughts and prayers will go out to him and his loved ones. Kinsel is a man of honour, who would never dream of telling what he knows about our activities. But…realistically, he’s being held by determined and unscrupulous enemies well versed in cruelty. We must assume the worst and act accordingly. Before you leave here tonight you’ll be told of certain safe houses to be avoided, contacts it would be best not to approach, and any other information concerning Kinsel’s knowledge of us you’ll need to know about. I’m sorry to end on a sad note. Now, please, take this chance to mingle, talk and exchange ideas.’

As everyone began to mill about, Serrah and Reeth approached Disgleirio.

‘Any word on Kinsel?’ Serrah asked.

‘Nothing. And not for want of trying. I’ve got more ears to the ground than…well, than I can usually spare. But they’ve got him sealed up too tightly. How’s Tanalvah?’

‘About as you’d expect. She’s with some good people at the moment, and well guarded. I’ll go there myself after this.’

‘What do you think his chances are?’ Caldason said.

‘Of what?’ Disgleirio replied. ‘A quick death? A long prison

sentence? I don’t mean to be facetious, but there are a limited number of options in a situation like this.’

Serrah looked unhappy about that. ‘We can’t just give up on him.’

‘Nobody’s suggesting that. It’s a question of what’s possible.’

‘Lots of things are possible given the will,’ Caldason told him.

Phoenix came by at that moment and Disgleirio collared him.

‘Tell these two what you told me earlier.’

‘What was that?’ Realisation dawned. ‘Oh,

that

. It’s not the sort of thing I like making a fuss about, Quinn.’

‘What is it?’ Serrah asked, curiosity whetted.

The sorcerer didn’t answer, so Disgleirio did. ‘Phoenix here is shortly to celebrate his hundredth birthday. That makes you and him contemporaries, doesn’t it, Reeth?’

The Qalochian regarded him stony-faced.

‘Er…Congratulations, Phoenix,’ Serrah said, hoping to move things along.

‘Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have many people to talk with.’ He moved off.

‘I believe he was

embarrassed

,’ Disgleirio reckoned. ‘That must be a first for the old boy. But I have to say, Reeth, that you’re wearing a lot better than he is.’

It was probably intended as friendly mockery, but from the look on Caldason’s face, Serrah wasn’t sure he saw it that way.

She need not have worried. The guards had let in a messenger, and he made straight for the Righteous Blade man. They had a whispered conversation before Disgleirio dismissed him.

‘Well, we have some news,’ he told Serrah and Reeth. ‘It seems somebody very important just arrived from Gath Tampoor.’

‘Who?’ Serrah asked.

‘We don’t know yet. But it warranted a fast chartered ship and a very heavy escort to paladin HQ.’

‘You’re assuming this has something to do with Kinsel?’

‘It’s a fair assumption. Some top official arriving so soon after such a high-profile arrest; it’s hardly likely to be a coincidence, is it? And we’ve heard nothing about an official visit being due.’

‘Any hunches?’ Caldason wondered.

‘Only nagging worries.’

‘Such as?’

‘Suppose they’ve brought in a really skilled interrogator, or a master torturer?’

‘I would have thought they had enough perfectly able ones here already.’

‘Know what I think? I think Karr’s underestimating the damage Rukanis could do. He knows quite a bit about our operation and if…

when

he talks, he could take us all down. We should do everything we can to prevent that.’

‘What are you saying, Disgleirio?’

‘He’s been an asset. Now fate, or betrayal, has turned him into a liability. I don’t want to sound hard-hearted about it, but if we can’t rescue Rukanis…’

‘Go on.’

‘I’d recommend assassinating him.’