Wartorn: Resurrection

DARDAS (4)

"HALT!"

Dardas reined his horse. It was a fine beast, strong and robust. It tossed its head as it came to a stop.

He held a gloved hand high in the air. It was well past midday, and the air was cooler than it had been yesterday. Of course, this weather was nothing compared to an average autumn day on the Northern Continent. As for a Northland winter, well, he wondered if snow even fell here on this Isthmus.

As general, he naturally rode toward the rear of his army. So it was that he had an excellent view of its many units as they, too, gradually came to a halt, as word of his order spread. It was by now quite a vast army, swollen with troops from Felk, Callah, Windal, and Sook. They were all under his command. With a word and a raised hand, he had halted this vast military force here in its tracks.

A rush of exhilaration surged through him. What power he had!

His senior staff was automatically gathering. Dardas remained atop his horse, surveying his mighty military apparatus. Matokin might think this was his army. He was wrong. Armies belonged to their generals.

This was not a scheduled food or rest break. Dardas's officers were curious as to why he had ordered the halt. They were only two more days of traveling from Trael.

Berkant, too, was lingering on the edge of the gathering. The Far Speak specialist no doubt imagined the general would want to make an immediate report to Matokin in Felk.

"Bivouac!" Dardas called in the same thunderous voice of command.

His senior officers looked bewildered, but they relayed the order. When it became plain that the general had no further commands, they dispersed. Dardas watched, pleased, as his army set about making camp. They were becoming very efficient troops.

Eventually, he dismounted. His groom took the horse. Berkant, Dardas saw, was still loitering nearby. He called the mage over with a wave.

"Yes, General?" the young wizard asked.

"Are we in contact with the advance scouts? Those Far Movement mages?"

"Uh ... of course, General. But it's Mage Limmel that is in charge of field operations—"

"I know," Dardas nodded.

Those scouting parties, by necessity, included both Far Movement and Far Speak wizards. How else could the opening of a portal be coordinated between two distant points? Naturally, a squad of regular soldiers accompanied these parties.

"I want to know their exact positions around Trael," Dardas went on. "Report to my aide personally within the watch."

"Yes, General Weisel."

"And, Berkant."

"General?"

"I will be reporting to Lord Matokin later in the day," Dardas said, almost casually. "He'll no doubt want to know what we're up to here."

"I am at your disposal, sir," Berkant bowed, his guileless face unable to hide an expression of relief. Off he went.

Dardas allowed himself a small, private smile. Naturally he had no intention of letting Matokin in on his real plans. He already resented having to report to the Felk leader.

His latest aide was also hovering nearby. Dardas called her over.

"General Weisel?"

"I've made a special requisition from the food storehouses in Windal," he said. "A shipment will be arriving from there by portal very soon. I've ordered some cured meats set aside for our troops. Choice cuts. Should be a welcome change from the rations they have been eating."

Again, he smiled, this time letting his aide see. She couldn't quite repress an answering smile of her own. It was common knowledge among the ranks by now that General Weisel ate the same food as his troops.

Off she went as well.

Dardas saw that his pavilion had been erected. Instead of entering, however, he turned and strode off, snatching up an anonymous-looking cloak as he went.

IF ONE KNEW what one was doing, it was easy to move unnoticed through the camp.

Dardas avoided officers or anyone of rank who looked like they were in the mood to bark orders. His cloak hid his insignias. He looked like a nameless soldier, which suited his purposes perfectly.

This was something he had done from time to time in the old days, when he was leading his brave, ferocious troops across the Northland. It hadn't all been battles, of course, despite what history seemed to have recorded about Dardas the Butcher. Like this army, his former one had encamped regularly, pausing to eat, drink, rest, and tell ribald tales around their campfires.

Dusk was settling in. It made him even more of a vague shadow.

"Why're we stopped? Do y'think we got orders from Felk?"

"I'm just grateful for the rest."

"Me too. Cavalry and officers ride horses. We infantry go it on foot."

The men and women were sprawled around the campfire. A bottle of something was being passed around. Dardas lingered within earshot.

"But what about Trael?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't we supposed to be invading it? I mean, why stop here, a day or two away?"

It was the oldest among the circle who answered, a jowly sergeant. "The general has his reasons."

"What makes you think Weisel ordered this?" a younger soldier with a wispy mustache retorted with a sneer. "Everyone knows that spook Matokin is pulling the strings from all the way up there in Felk."

The sergeant looked flatly at him. "Kid, do you really think a mage could command an army as good as the general has?"

The younger soldier shrugged, making it look insolent. "Why not?"

"Because, ass, Matokin isn't even here in the field with us. You can't just receive reports by Far Speak and study maps and know what move to make. Not unless you're some kind of incredible war theory genius. And Matokin's not that. He's a godsdamned clever wizard, and he'll make a great emperor when we're done conquering his empire, but it's General Weisel who is leading us here. Don't you forget that!"

The bottle was passed to the sergeant. He took a generous swallow, while the soldier with the wispy mustache sulked.

Dardas furtively studied the other faces around the fire. They seemed to be on the sergeant's side. That was good. He moved on silently.

Similar conversations were taking place throughout the camp. He paused to sample them, covertly. The majority of his troops supported him, he found. Certainly there were some malcontents, but that couldn't be avoided. Dardas took note of only the most vitriolic ones. He could have them dealt with later, if he chose.

Berkant had probably already delivered his report about the scouts' positions around Trael. Dardas should get back to his tent soon.

But he had one more task.

Still hidden in his cloak, he skulked into an area of the camp where a mixed unit of wizards had their tents. It was not the same company to which Raven was attached.

Here Dardas felt a palpable tension among the encamped mages. It was the same tightly wound stress that was evident in most of the army's wizards. The general hostility between magicians and the regular troops couldn't entirely account for the anxiety and strain.

That Academy in Felk, whatever it was, was apparently turning out accomplished wizards. But it was also producing personnel who felt persecuted and paranoid.

Dardas ducked low now, moving fast. Magic was an incredible tool, and these practitioners probably deserved more respect than they got. But they were also cooperating with Matokin in that conspiracy of silence that kept any useful knowledge of magic from Dardas.

He was glad once again that Weisel kept his body fit. Weisel's consciousness hadn't made a peep in some while now, and Dardas didn't miss those mental conversations with his host.

He rolled silently on the ground, drawing a knife and slicing cleanly through the side of a small tent. He rolled right on through the rent, onto the individual lying alone inside.

The Far Movement mage tried to make a startled squawk, but Dardas jammed a hand over his mouth. He also pinned the wizard's body with his own, and touched the very sharp point of his knife to the tip of the mage's nose.

Dardas had seen the mages open portals. He knew— without understanding the meaning of the actions—that complex chants and gyrations were involved in Far Movement magic, much like that rejuvenation spell that Kumbat had performed.

This mage wasn't going to get the chance to work his magic and escape this tent. After a few moments he stopped struggling beneath Dardas. Now he began to tremble in fear.

Dardas grinned in the tent's darkness.

"Now," he whispered, "you're going to answer some questions, earnestly and wholeheartedly."

BERKANT WAS CLUTCHING a shred of fabric in one hand. It looked like it had come from a

piece of clothing. Dardas had noticed this before, whenever the mage was communicating directly with Matokin.

They were in Dardas's tent. Berkant had brought maps that indicated the locations of the scout parties. Dardas would make a few adjustments, place them just so around the city-state of Trael.

At the moment, he was explaining himself to Lord Matokin. The indignity of reporting to a "superior" chafed him.

"I am making preparations to use the portals," Dardas said. 'That's why I've halted the army."

Berkant's face was vacant. His eyes stared forward at nothing. But he was still hearing Dardas's words and relaying them magically north to distant Felk. In turn, Matokin was able to send his own messages here. It was, admittedly, an amazing feat.

Someday maybe Dardas would educate himself about the methods of Far Speak, just as he now knew much more about Far Movement magic than he had before.

"Why have you waited until you are so close to Trael to do so?" Berkant asked, in a voice that barely sounded like his own. "It seems to me that the greater the distance you cross, the more effective the portals are for a surprise attack. The people of Trael no doubt know you intend to invade there by now."

"But what defenses can they raise?" Dardas countered. "My scouts tell me it is a typical Isthmus city-state. Their army is no match for... yours."

He had nearly said "mine." He silently chided himself.

"That does not answer my question, General," Berkant/Matokin said. "Why have you waited?"

Dardas lowered his eyes. It took a great effort to make himself look humble, but he didn't know if Matokin could see through Berkant's eyes as well as hear with his ears.

"I..." he said hesitantly. "I... am not comfortable going through those portals."

"What?" The Far Speak mage conveyed Matokin's surprise.

Dardas shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "I don't entirely trust that particular magic, Lord Matokin. I must admit that stepping into one of those portals, I don't know if I'll step out the other side again."

There was silence. Berkant's eyes stared dully.

Then he said, "General Weisel, that is ridiculous. Whatever fears you have, you must overcome them. I am disappointed that you have allowed this bias to affect your battle strategies in any way. I have provided you with the best mages possible to aid you in this war. You will make use of them. Is that clear?"

Contritely, Dardas said, "Yes, Lord."

A few moments later the communication ended. Dardas watched Berkant recover himself, blinking as if he were waking from a dream. The mage immediately stuffed the shred of cloth back into his robe.

"Are you all right?" Dardas asked.

"Yes, General Weisel. I—"

"You're dismissed."

Berkant exited the pavilion. Dardas didn't know if the Far Speak mage could overhear the messages he relayed, but it was shameful the way Dardas had had to abase himself before Matokin ... even if it was all a ruse.

Dardas told his aide to fetch Raven to his tent. He was informed that the special foodstuffs had arrived via Far Movement from Windal and were being distributed among the troops. He acknowledged this with a nod.

When Raven entered, Dardas's gaze lingered candidly over her. It really was a vast improvement. Groomed and decently clothed, she was decidedly attractive. Raven didn't shy from his stare, either.

"You called for me, General?" Her voice was exaggeratedly husky.

He was careful not to laugh. Let her enjoy her new-found sensuality. It was all part of the plan to attach her more firmly to him. He needed allies among his army's mages. He thought it best to start with her.

He wondered, briefly, if she would struggle under him like that Far Movement mage had. Dardas liked his bed partners to put up a bit of a fight.

Of course, that mage hadn't been a lover. Dardas had questioned the wizard, who was very forthcoming with that knife against his nose. Then, when Dardas had what he wanted, he had flicked the sharp tip of the blade across the mage's upper right arm, just a tiny cut. The poison on the blade acted fast. Dardas escaped the tent the way he'd come in, and flitted invisibly away through the falling night.

The mage, whenever he was discovered, would appear to have died from a seizure of some sort.

"Sir?" Raven was still waiting, looking a little nervous now.

Dardas favored her with a smile. "Now, don't frown, girl. I've told you how pretty your smile is. There, that's it."

She didn't blush this time, but proudly displayed her smile, even instinctively thrusting out her breasts for added effect.

"Raven," he said, quietly now, "I have need of you."

Her face went still, expectantly.

He took a step toward her, laying his hands on her shoulders and squeezing slightly. He stooped so that he could peer directly into her eyes.

"How can I serve you, General?" she asked.

"I know the secret of Far Movement," he said. "I know which world it is the portals lead into. I intend to use those portals in a way your wizards haven't yet thought of."

Raven was listening very solemnly and intently.

"And I want you to help me."