Thraxas and the Oracle

Chapter Two

North of the capital, east of the river, the Samsarinan plain stretches out for thirty miles or so before the land starts to rise towards the hilly region that separate Samsarina from Simnia. Mostly it’s farmland, but for the moment much of it has been requisitioned by the King as a base. The military encampment is growing every day. The Samsarinan army is gathered in full force, and troops have been arriving from the smaller states in the south, like Hadassa and Namaste. There are a few more battalions from further west, though less than expected. That’s a common problem. Preparations have gone fairly smoothly, but every allied army that’s arrived has been smaller than hoped for. That includes the Elves. They’ve been making their way up from the Southern Isles in their long ships, but most islands are sending less than last time.

King Gardos of Samsarina can’t wait much longer for late arrivals. Soon we’ll be heading north-east to join up with the Simnian army, then on to meet the Niojans. Moving such vast forces, and keeping them supplied, presents many problems. The major western nations are used to it, however. Much of the logistical support is still in place from the last time we repelled an Orcish invasion, less than twenty years ago.

In the space between the long lines of military tents and the city walls, in a grove of trees now festooned with messages pinned onto boards, there’s a gathering point for refugees, recruits, and all the displaced persons made homeless by the war. Mercenaries and northern barbarians arrive to join up with the army. Others search for lost relatives, or just a place to stay for a while. In amongst the confused mass of people there’s a large, square tent over which flies a Turanian flag. Sitting at a table in front of the tent is an official from the remnants of the Turanian civil service, an ex-palace employee. He’s keeping records of all survivors who’ve made it this far. The entire population of Turai is either dead or homeless, and refugees have been straggling into Samsarina all through the winter. Men of military age are assigned to the surviving Turanian regiments, and the others are housed as best as can be arranged.

I’ve known the Turanian official for a long time. His name’s Dasinius. He was a senior scribe at the Imperial Palace back when I was employed there as an official investigator. We never liked each other. That doesn’t seem to matter much any more. With our city taken by the Orcs, old feuds have lost their importance. As I approach, he shakes his head wearily. He knows why I’m here. Every day I’ve checked to see if there might be any sign of Gurd, or Tanrose, my old friends from the Avenging Axe. I don’t have any particular hope of finding them alive. I was lucky to escape from the sack of Turai and there’s no reason to be optimistic about anyone else’s survival. Even so, I haven’t given up hope. Gurd is a tough man. He wouldn’t lay down his life easily. If he did manage to escape, it’s not impossible that he’d end up here. Simnia is closer to the borders of Turai but Turanians have never got on well with Simnians. They’d be more likely to head for Samsarina, even if it mean a longer march through the winter landscape.

Finding no sign of my old friends, I head inside the city walls and get myself outside of two tankards of beer. Good beer, I have to say. With plenty of fine farmland, the Samsarinans know how to grow high-quality hops and barley. I consider taking a third, but control myself. Probably I shouldn’t drink too much when I’m about to start my official duties with Lisutaris. Not on the same day she warned me about drinking too much anyway.

I make my way to her military headquarters, meanwhile musing on my unexpected promotion to Captain. I’ve been a soldier and a mercenary many times, but never an officer. The highest I rank I ever achieved was corporal in a phalanx, responsible for keeping my row of men in line. Despite my fighting experience, commanders never thought it appropriate to promote me further. Mostly down to class prejudice, I’d say. The blinkered aristocrats who get to be generals are rarely able to appreciate the finer qualities of a strong working man like myself.

“If they’d made me a General we probably wouldn’t be in this mess right now. Maybe I’ll get some respect now I’m a Captain.”

It’s odd that Makri is now also in the military, with the rank of Ensign. Not an especially high rank, but prestigious in her case because she’s the personal bodyguard of the War Leader. That’s too important a position for anyone to dismiss lightly. For the first time in her life, Makri has a position which demands respect, even from people who are suspicious of her. It should make her life easier, though I don’t expect it will re-assure everyone. Since she won the sword-fighting contest, I’ve heard whispers that she owes her fighting skill to some dread Orcish sorcery. It’s rumoured she can talk to dragons, and called one down to help her win the contest. All nonsense of course, though understandable in a way. Her incredible fighting prowess is difficult for people to understand in any normal terms.

I call in at one of the many supply depots set up around the city walls to pick up my military uniform. I hand over the signed authorisation from Lisutaris. The standard grey military tunic they give me has a flash of colour on the collar, a small rainbow with a sword laid over it.

“What’s that?”

“Badge of the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment,” says the supply sergeant.

I’m frowning as I take the garment. Being a Captain is all very well, but in truth I’m not that keen on being in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment. Most of their work involves protecting sorcerers on the battlefield. It’s not so bad, I suppose, but it’s not ideal. People have been known to mock the SAR for not being proper soldiers. People like me, for instance. I don’t want to spend all my time shepherding hapless sorcerers around the place. It’s not as if every sorcerer is a big asset in wartime. A powerful magic-user like Lisutaris is invaluable of course, when there are dragons pouring out of the sky, but I’ve seen young sorcerers arrive on the battlefield full of themselves one minute, before turning tail the next as they realise they’re not up to the task.

I walk on, through the city gate, and along the road that leads to Lisutaris’s headquarters. The road is busy with supply wagons, messengers and government officials. Such is the bustle that I’m surprised, on presenting myself at the mansion, to be shown straight in. With so much going on I’d have expected to wait. Waiting a long time for anything is standard in wartime.

A Samsarinan corporal leads me along a corridor and up a broad flight of stairs. He does address me as Captain, noting the rank on my sleeve, but I’m not certain he’s as respectful as he should be. I’m shown into a waiting room and am once again surprised to be summoned right away. A young female sorcerer leads me through to a room where Lisutaris and Makri are standing in front of a large map, studying it intently. Lisutaris is draped in a plain grey cloak with the rainbow motif of the sorcerers guild embroidered discretely on each shoulder. Other than that, I can’t see any indication of her rank. Makri is wearing armour which looks suspiciously like the light Orcish armour she wore back in Turai, skilfully wrought from chainmail and leather. I’ve no idea where she might have obtained it from. One might have thought it would be more tactful not to wear Orcish armour, given the circumstances, but Makri isn’t known for her tact.

“Captain Thraxas,” says Lisutaris. “Thanks for arriving promptly. And only drinking two flagons of ale.”

I don’t know if that’s just an accurate guess. Maybe she used some sort of spell.

“Are you ready to take up your duties?”

“Do I have to be in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment?”

“What’s wrong with the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment?”

“They’re not renowned as warriors. And they have a foolish rainbow badge.” I glare at my epaulet.

“We have a serious problem,” says Lisutaris. Presumably she doesn’t mean my rainbow badge. “You remember Deeziz?”

“Of course.”

Deeziz the Unseen is the most powerful of the Orcish sorcerers. A few months ago she infiltrated Turai, undetected by either the city’s intelligence services or our Sorcerers Guild. She outsmarted us completely. It was her actions that led to the fall of the city.

“I believe she may be headed this way.”

That does sound like a serious problem. I wouldn’t mind a face-to-face encounter with Deeziz, because there are a lot of things I’d like to pay her back for, preferably with my sword, but it’s not likely to happen that way. If she turns up in Samsarina it’s going to be difficult to spot her. Deeziz moved into the Avenging Axe in Turai, my home tavern, and was so well-disguised that even Lisutaris couldn’t detect her. Her sorcery fooled everyone. She pretended to be a popular singer called Moolifi, and did it so well that poor Captain Rallee fell in love with her. When she turned out to be an Orcish sorcerer, it was quite a shock. We didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as she swiftly brought down the north wall of Turai, allowing the Orcish army to march into the city.

Lisutaris is scowling. When Deeziz did finally reveal herself, she’d mocked Lisutaris for spending too much time at parties, squandering her power, while Deeziz herself had practiced and studied, increasing her own strength. The way things turned out, it was hard to argue with her.

“Deeziz the Unseen has by far the strongest powers of concealment I’ve ever encountered,” continues Lisutaris. “No one had an inkling she was in our midst. Even Horm the Dead was fooled. In the past weeks I’ve made efforts to develop my detection spells. I saw her aura that day in the tavern, and there’s a chance I’d recognise it again. Since we arrived in Samsarina I’ve been looking east for traces of her. Two days ago I thought I sensed something. It was the merest flicker, for a fraction of a second. I could be wrong, but...”

“But she could be riding into town disguised as a tavern girl?”

“Indeed. Her powers of concealment are so strong I’m not even sure she’d have to remain female. She might be able to take on the form of a man and join up with the army, or the mercenaries.”

We fall silent for a moment. There’s no need to stress the damage it could do if the most powerful Orcish sorcerer is allowed to operate undetected in our midst.

“I’ll keep working on detection spells. I can’t devote as much time to that as I’d like, with all my other responsibilities, but I’ve instructed several other sorcerers to work on it as well. Meanwhile I want you to take this in hand, Thraxas. I’ve made you my head of security. If Deeziz the Unseen arrives, find her.”

“That sounds almost impossible.”

“I know. But I need you to do it.”

I nod my head. “I’ll think of something.”

“If Deeziz attempts to infiltrate the army - or to assassinate me, another possibility - she might not be alone. Even for a woman as powerful as her, there has to be a lot of risk involved in straying so far from home, among so many enemies. I wonder if she might have some support. A network of agents, to provide her with shelter, perhaps. At the very least, I’d think she’d require another agent to send messages back to the Orcs. I doubt she’d risk sorcerous transmission herself. Our own sorcerers are checking for that sort of thing constantly.”

“Do you have any means of identifying her? If I find a likely suspect is there some sorcerous test that will expose her?”

Lisutaris shakes her head. “Not so far. My new Sorcerous Detection Unit is trying to develop a more advanced spell that might work.”

“Who’s in this unit?”

“Irith Victorious from Juval, and two of his guild. Do you know him?”

“I knew him a long time ago. I met him again at the Sorcerers Assemblage.”

I’m troubled to hear Irith’s name, though I don’t let it show. I first met him when I was a young soldier, fighting in the south. When he appeared in Turai at the Sorcerers Assemblage, a few years ago, we did a lot of drinking together. Then I robbed him when he was drunk. I was obliged to steal some information that was vital for our city. I didn’t feel very good about it at the time. I don’t know if he ever learned about it. He probably did.

“They’re working in secret so don’t mention them to anyone. They haven’t come up with anything yet but I’m hopeful. Meanwhile you’ll just have to manage without magical assistance.”

“It’s going to involve a lot of trekking round, looking for suspicious characters. I could use some help.”

“I’ll be assigning you staff,” says Lisutaris. “Meanwhile, I’ve asked someone else to assist.”

Lisutaris snaps her fingers, causing an internal door to fly open. A small dark figure walks silently into the room.

“Hanama?” I make no effort to hide my displeasure.

“Captain Hanama. New Chief Intelligence Officer of the Commander’s Personal Security Unit.”

“Captain? Chief Intelligence Officer? You do realise she’s an assassin?”

“Not relevant in the circumstances, Thraxas.”

“Not relevant? She kills people for money.”

“Well, we are soldiers,” says Makri. “You could say that about all of us.”

“It’s not the same! Why are you employing her? Are you sure she’s even on our side?”

I glare at Hanama. She’s quite a small woman, with short dark hair. She looks very young and her skin is very pale. Probably from spending most of her time sneaking round at night, assassinating people.

“Of all the people I’d hoped escaped from the wreck of Turai, you weren’t one of them.”

Hanama doesn’t deign to reply.

“How did you get here?” I demand.

“I walked.”

“You should have kept on walking.”

“Enough!” says Lisutaris. “I trust Hanama and that should be good enough for you. As Chief Security Officer and Chief Intelligence Officer you’ll work together, without argument, or I’ll have something to say about it.”

I wish I’d had another beer. Hanama, number three in the Turanian Assassins Guild - maybe higher these days for all I know - right at the heart of the war effort. I can’t believe it’s a good idea.

“I should get started right away,” I say. Partly because I’m keen to get started right away, and partly because I’m annoyed to find myself in the same room as Hanama.

“Good. I’m assigning Anumaris Thunderbolt to your security staff. You know her, I believe?”

Anumaris Thunderbolt walks into the room on cue. She’s young, recently qualified and without much experience. Even so, I’m reasonably pleased to see her, because I did encounter her on the battlefield outside Turai. For a young sorcerer, she did well. Didn’t lose her head, and fired a few powerful spells at the rampaging Orcs.

Surrounded by Lisutaris, Makri, Hanama and Anumaris, I feel like asking Lisutaris if she’s planning on recruiting any actual men to fight the war, but I hold my tongue. Anumaris tells me that there’s an office upstairs we can use until the army marches. I follow her out. In the corridor outside there are a group of fair-haired Elves waiting to see Lisutaris. None I recognise, though from their clothing and insignia they’re important figures. Even if their numbers are fewer than we’d hoped for, it’s a relief to see the Elves. Without them we’d have no chance of defeating Prince Amrag and his Orcish horde.

I climb the stairs with Anumaris. “It will be exciting going into battle with Elves,” she says.

I nod. I wouldn’t call it exciting, but it’s re-assuring. “They’re more reliable than some of the lowlifes I’ve found myself sharing a phalanx with, anyway.”

“Lowlifes?”

“Turanian phalanxes weren’t made up of the cream of society. Dregs of the earth, half of them. They’d have collapsed in battle without a man like me in the middle, supporting everyone else.”

“I see.”

“If it wasn’t for me the Turanian infantry would have crumbled years ago. Turai too, I expect. Is this our office? Isn’t there somewhere bigger?”

“It’s only for a short while, till we march north.”

I look around. I’m not very impressed. “Where’s the couch?”

“There’s a chair. Won’t that do?”

I look sternly at Anumaris Thunderbolt. “A chair? Anumaris, what rank are you?”

“Storm Class Sorcerer, Sorcerers Regiment.”

I’ve no idea what Storm Class means. I let it pass. “Well, Storm Class Sorcerer Anumaris, if you’re going to be working in my security unit, there’s some things you need to know right from the start. Most importantly, your chief officer needs a couch. I can’t sleep properly in a chair. Find me a couch.”

Young Anumaris looks perplexed. “Surely you won’t be sleeping in your office?”

“Of course I will. The ability to sleep in difficult circumstances has carried me through more campaigns than you’ll ever see.”

“But what about when we’re on the march? Out in the field?”

“We’ll improvise. Or rather, you will. You’re a sorcerer. I expect you to be able to produce a couch when necessary.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Stick with me and I’ll get you through this war. Lisutaris said she was assigning me staff. Where are they?”

“It’s just me so far.”

“Really? Well, you’ll have to do, I suppose. As well as a couch, I need beer.”

Anumaris screws up her face and looks uncomfortable.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m not allowed to bring you beer. Orders from Lisutaris.”

I stare at her suspiciously. “Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, War Leader and supreme Commander of the forces of the west, specifically instructed you not to bring me beer?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Very strange. You’d think she’d have better things to do. Like organising armies. It hardly inspires confidence.”

Anumaris doesn’t reply. I get the impression that’s she’s someone who will not lightly ignore orders from out War Leader. That could become irritating. I notice her rainbow cloak is in good condition. So are the rest of her clothes. She doesn’t look like a young woman who’s gone through many hardships recently.

“How did you fight your way out of Turai?”

“I didn’t,” she admits. “I was outside the city walls when the Orcs attacked. I’d been visiting my parents on their farm. I tried going back but it was hopeless. All the refugees told me the city had fallen. So I headed west, looking for other Sorcerers. That’s what we’ve been trained to do.”

“I see. I had to fight my way out in a bloody struggle, rescuing Lisutaris and Makri at the same time. After that I navigated our way here on a leaky old boat and helped establish Lisutaris as War Leader. Remember that next time you start criticising me about couches and beer.”

I try the chair for size. It’s not satisfactory. Not built for a man of my size. “Were there any other Turanian Sorcerers with you?”

Anumaris shakes her head. “No. And hardly any have shown up here.”

That’s bad news, both for the war effort and for the City-State of Turai. Turai is small in comparison to many of our neighbours, but we’ve always had plenty of sorcerers. Our superior magic has protected us.

“Perhaps we’ll find some when we meet up with the Simnians. They might be waiting for us.” I rise to my feet. “Now, about Deeziz the Unseen. We need to find her.”

“Where will we start?”

“The nearest tavern.”

Anumaris looks concerned. “You’re really not supposed to - ”

“Don’t you know anything about military discipline? We’re not going to get very far if you start arguing every time I issue an order. Deeziz’s last appearance in a human city was in the Avenging Axe, a tavern. Prior to that she’d been working as a singer in a theatre, also a popular drinking haunt. So it’s quite likely that if she’s arrived here, we’ll find her somewhere similar. We’ll start at the local taverns and work our way outwards. Does this office have any funds?”

“There’s a safe in that wall. I’m not sure how much is in it.”

“Do you have the spell to open it?”

“Yes.”

“Then gather up the money and follow me. You’re about to get your first lesson in security work.”