Markan Sword

  "Very well behaved," murmured Tahena. "A credit to her owner."

  "Unnis? Yes, Sergeant Raynor is very proud of her. He spoils her though. We Eldovans don't usually tolerate such sulks from our sylphs."

  Tahena nodded.

  Lowst changed the subject. "Now we are alone, I want assurances from you, General Kelanus, on your honor."

  Kelanus glanced at his sword and spyglass. "Go on," he rumbled.

  "First, no attempt to escape, until we reach Eldova. What you do once you're out of my hands is none of my business."

  "Granted."

  Tahena looked at Kelanus in concern.

  "Second, no interference with the authority of myself or my officers."

  "Also granted."

  "And third. Nothing about Hingast. Not a single word. I only hope Raynor's sylph has sense enough to keep her mouth shut."

  Kelanus smiled. "When we reach Eldova, General Lowst, I will prove my words to you."

  Lowst smiled back. "When we reach Eldova, General Kelanus, you will no longer be my responsibility."

  ***

  "I say it is time to reconsider this foolish, insane plan!"

  Marshal Janost's deep blue eyes flashed as he spoke and General Mirrin listened carefully. Not because he agreed, but so he could raise considered counterarguments. Now his opposite number held Kelanus prisoner, Mirrin feared a revolt within his own group. He must hold this together, especially now.

  The wagon Grayar had moved from Marka boasted a canvas extension, a sort of tent in its own right, and Mirrin had commanded it to be erected this evening, with chairs placed within for all his Captains and Lieutenants. But Janost pulled rank, dismissing all but Captain Jediyah and Lieutenant Kadyah.

  "And replace that plan with what, exactly?" asked Mirrin, quietly. He watched Wenna, the sylph who belonged to Kadyah, pad around the table offering alovak; followed by his own sylph, Shashi, who carried sweetmeats.

  All the Markans were prisoners, except for the four remaining sylph scouts. At Mirrin's insistence, Belaika had been included in the meeting, though he stood unobtrusively to one side.

  "You seem to think Kelanus is infallible," snapped Janost. "Should we remain as separate groups, whoever commands over there will pick us off one by one. As a single group, we can defend ourselves if attacked."

  Mirrin hoped that would not happen. Those men captured alongside the Markans now marched with their fellow Eldovans. Mirrin wanted to avoid forcing Eldovan to fight Eldovan. Especially if some of those who had been marching with him this morning, might be fighting him tomorrow.

  "If I ever thought Kelanus infallible, that belief would lie in tatters since his capture," countered Mirrin. He glanced across the tent at Belaika.

  Mirrin found it ironic that he could trust a sylph – and an enemy sylph at that – more than some men he marched with. Infinitely more trustworthy than Marshal Janost.

  Belaika remained impassive at the insult leveled at his commander, but Mirrin had learned enough of this scout over the past year to realize he would memorize every word Janost uttered.

  Mirrin fought the temptation to ask for the scout's opinion. "Whoever commands will take Kelanus to Hingast," he pointed out. "Which is what Kelanus wants him to do."

  "And you think we should also continue to Eldova." Janost's deep blue eyes glittered.

  "Better than lurking out here, waiting for more men to reinforce those who would oppress us," said Mirrin. "We should stay close to those men already out here, and avoid battle for now."

  "We should do our best to kill these men while we outnumber them," retorted Janost, his three chins wobbling. "Merge the groups and turn on them in the morning, regain our lost companions."

  Mirrin shook his head. "We will need them all, once Hingast is replaced."

  "How will you keep contact?" pressed Janost. "They have sylph scouts, which is how they got an entire army past all our scouts today."

  "We also have sylph scouts," pointed out Mirrin.

  "Who were of little use," snapped Janost.

  Belaika stirred and opened his mouth to speak, but Mirrin silenced him with a quick shake of his head.

  "We had one sylph scout with each group," countered Mirrin. "Even Kelanus said that's not the best way to use them."

  "So why did he?"

  "He had a plan that didn't work." Mirrin's dark brown eyes held no expression. "These things happen in war. We wanted oppo to fall on the central group, but he did something different instead. Tell me, how well did your plan to take Marka go?"

  Janost's eyes flashed again, but he subsided, though Belaika received a cold stare as the sylph restrained laughter.

  Mirrin continued. "I agree with you that we merge into one group again, and we can use the four remaining sylphs to best advantage."

  Janost grunted. He still seemed reluctant to believe the Markan sylphs were of any use.

  "I'll send human scouts with them," continued Mirrin. "They can carry messages, instead of the sylphs whistling. It'll take longer, but the risk of them running into enemy sylph scouts is minimized."

  Janost shook his head and, perhaps fortunately, never saw the look Belaika directed his way. "Should we send our prisoners to scout for us?"

  Mirrin blinked. "I do not think they are our prisoners," he said. "More our partners. Instead of staying as prisoners in Marka, we agreed to Kelanus's proposal and it's my understanding that we are still following that proposal. The situation hasn't changed, just that Kelanus is now in a different place."

  "Once Hingast gets his hands on him, the best Kelanus can hope for is to be displayed in a cage." Janost sniffed. "More likely a public flaying and salting."

  Belaika definitely gave the marshal a chill look now. Again, the sylph opened his mouth to speak.

  Mirrin scowled again at the scout to silence him. Didn't these sylphs understand discretion? One thing to be encouraged to speak your mind, quite another to foolishly offer opinions to your enemy. Strange to think of Janost as an enemy, instead of Belaika.

  Mirrin spoke to fill the silence. "Why did you come, Janost? Why are you here? To convert us back to the man who abandoned you, who left you to die? The man who's probably left orders for all returners to be quietly disposed of won't be very welcoming should you appear in Eldova."

  Jediyah coughed into his hand. "I believe we are best staying as one group and continuing to Eldova," he said. "If the man holding Kelanus captive intended us any real harm, he would have begun before now. Should he show signs of beginning a slaughter, we must ride to our former companions' aid; if he leaves them in peace, we should do likewise."

  Janost glared at Jediyah.

  "These are fellow outlandsmen we're talking about," said Jediyah. He smiled. "We know we don't exactly get on well together with ayepees, but I don't see them killing each other, so I reckon we can safely proceed."

  Kadyah joined in. "We should exchange envoys between our two groups," he said. "And I expect Kelanus will be working on whoever is in charge over there."

  Janost grunted. "You're right about Hingast being unlikely to welcome me – or you – home, but I do want to know why he abandoned us. I want to know why he fled the battle before it was even clear we had lost."

  "Why the prevarication?" murmured Mirrin.

  "Because somewhere out there, if not today then tomorrow, returning Eldovans will die. It is those coming along the North Road I fear for most, because they are the ones Hingast abandoned, the ones he definitely does not want to see again."

  "And what do you suggest?"

  Janost sniffed. "I think we should go meet the returners from the north and let them join with us into one large army. It is easier to question Hingast from a position of strength. I reckon that we can together form an army larger than anything he can muster in Eldova."

  "Delaying the inevitable," replied Mirrin. "A smaller force has more chance of infiltrating Eldova; they see a large army coming, and they'll shut the city gates to us. That means a siege, and
a siege means bad feeling afterwards. We want to heal Eldova, not tear her apart."

  "Going to Eldova is the worst possible choice," insisted Janost.

  Mirrin shook his head. "For all I care, you can stay out here for ever, Marshal Janost, and gather your men as you see fit. But I'm going to Eldova and so are the men with us."

  Janost narrowed his eyes. "I am your superior officer," he hissed.

  "In Eldova you are." Mirrin forced a smile. "But we're marching under Kelanus's ultimate command and he named me his first officer, not you." He gestured towards Belaika. "That's the reason why he, and the other sylph scouts from Marka, are not our prisoners. We're going to Eldova, where we will face what comes like men, and not cower from a butcher like sheep."

  Not even Mirrin could prevent Belaika from giving Marshal Janost a curt nod of satisfaction.

  ***

  General Gusor often felt the weight of command, but never before like right now. As General commanding the North Road (all right, so he had awarded himself the title, but it did sound good), his duty included overseeing all the tired soldiers straggling home after last year's defeat. Simple enough in itself, especially as his orders from Hingast were clear.

  Encourage those men to return to the field, guarding Eldova's outer borders from the expected Markan retaliation, or to begin raids on Markan territory again.

  Or else he must massacre them.

  Gusor had never flinched from massacre before. No matter how unpleasant, the option had always been open, especially after defeating an enemy, or annexing a neighboring Prefecture. But massacring your own soldiers felt a very different thing, leaving a sense that one's soul had been damned forever.

  He had served with many of the men struggling home, had commanded some, and followed others. Even if individuals were unknown to him, many were brothers, sons, fathers, uncles or cousins to people he did know.

  No matter how forcefully put, Gusor refused to believe that all these men were cowards and traitors. Soldiers knew discipline kept men alive in battle and he could not imagine so many would desert the battlefield. Even if the battle had been lost. Eldovans knew their enemies could employ massacres, too.

  His orders commanded him to commit fratricide, but where did the responsibility ultimately reside? With the man who had given those orders, or with himself, prepared to carry them out even though he knew them to be morally repugnant, if not worse?

  If orders were orders, he must follow them. And his were indeed so clear that a man far more stupid than himself could follow them.

  But.

  There was always a but.

  And this but had appeared in the form of a horseman catching up with Gusor two days after he left Eldova, bearing a missive purportedly from Hingast, secured with a blob of blue wax, impressed with the Prefect's great seal. Gusor kept that missive on his person at all times, because when he returned to Eldova, he suspected only that would keep his head on his shoulders.

  Even a paper shield was better than none.

  The orders within contradicted those Hingast had given. Oh, the options he must give the returning troops remained the same, only these orders exhorted Gusor to "avoid massacre as far as possible" and to "negotiate with men returning from the field".

  He knew many of his contemporaries viewed him as among the least intelligent in the officer corps, but he was far from stupid. Or less so than they believed. These orders had not come from Hingast, a man not in the habit of sending riders with messages two days after giving his commands.

  If Thur Ran Racken had not written this letter, Gusor would run naked through the streets of Eldova with bells tied to his private parts. Still, it gave him an excuse to shrink from one of the more unpleasant duties Hingast expected from his commanders.

  Gusor had traveled further into the Barren than intended, but he hoped that would encourage returners to turn around, while they still had sufficient food. In case they did not, half of Gusor's men were usefully employed buying foods to be handed over.

  He looked up as he heard the outer guard's voice.

  "Scout Ryvern, Sir!"

  "Send him in." Gusor refolded the missive and tucked it away again, as the scout ducked into the tent.

  Ryvern, a human scout – Gusor remembered a time only weeks ago when he had no need to qualify the race an army scout belonged to – entered the tent. Dressed in drab clothes, and with some sort of paint liberally applied to his exposed skin, only bright blue eyes showed the man's humanity.

  "Another group, Ryvern?" asked Gusor.

  "Yessir," replied Ryvern. "Roughly two hundred strong and a handful of camp followers. They'll be with us in about an hour. The sylphs spotted them leaving the forest."

  Gusor nodded. "Still not won over?" he asked, quietly. "They do seem to be very good."

  "The sylphs, Sir? I reserve judgment until I see them in battle."

  Gusor smiled. "Of course. Have whoever commands these men brought to me as soon as you make contact."

  "Very good, Sir."

  Gusor returned to his administration after Ryvern left the tent. Requisition forms for the food (contrary to popular belief, the Eldovan Army only plundered food from foreigners; they must pay for food requisitioned from any Eldovan Prefecture), requests for promotion, reports on all those met and turned away...

  This last still bothered him. Not so much the soldiers – after all, he was saving their lives, even if they did not initially realize it – but their camp followers. Civilians who served, waited on, made small items, repaired weapons, armor and carts, officers' sylphs. Even they were sent back into the field.

  Many had died, whether from disease or fights against people seeking revenge (Gusor still felt a flush of anger now he knew that General Kelanus had disarmed the defeated Eldovans). Many more had died from hunger and cold through the long winter when people had no food to spare. Many more had simply taken arms in the service of the many petty lords and small Prefectures that lay along the road leading home.

  Some had even already suspected what alternative might await them if they returned home.

  What most of the men Gusor had interviewed said about Hingast he did not dare report.

  Eventually, Ryvern returned with a young Lieutenant. Gusor relaxed in his chair, leaning back and clasping his hands on his stomach, his papers still spread across the desk between him and the young officer. He seemed vaguely familiar from somewhere.

  This boy had led his men across more than a thousand milas and managed to navigate the Barren to stand before him today. His armor now rusty and his uniform worn, he had proved his leadership. A thin fuzz of a mustache decorated his upper lip, which put him at... seventeen, eighteen? A beardless boy. Yet those dark blue eyes stared coldly and watched everything intently. He had seen battle and death.

  "Good morning, Lieutenant. I am General Gusor."

  The Lieutenant inclined his head, though his eyes did not change. "Dagban Shedry," he replied. "Sir."

  Gusor ignored the slight gap before the boy said "sir". Now he knew why this one seemed familiar. "Is your father Raynor Shedry?" he asked.

  Dagban blinked. "He is, Sir."

  "I served with him a few years ago. A talented code breaker."

  Dagban nodded. "He is good at whatever he turns his hand to," he replied.

  "Then you deserve to know that I am not here to welcome you home."

  Nothing showed on the boy's face, which suggested he had already guessed that. If he had half the intelligence of his father...

  "His Majesty seems keen to see your men patrolling the Barren," continued Gusor, managing a smile that even touched his hazel eyes. "Or better still, raiding small lands between here and Marka."

  "My men are exhausted," countered the young officer.

  Gusor grimaced. The boy was not the first to be overprotective of his men. A sign of a good officer. He glanced down at his notes. "Lieutenant Dagban, your care for your men is commendable, but His Majesty made his orders quite plain. You are n
ow under my command, and my orders are to secure the Northern March against infiltrators and spies."

  Dagban scowled. "My men have been away from home for almost two years. They have done their bit and earned their rest. Sir."

  "I appreciate that, Lieutenant, but you and your men must now join my command."

  "To walk up and down the North Road to protect those in the city who have done nothing for the past two years. Which is more than you've been doing. I can tell this camp has been here for weeks. Where were you when we were repulsed from Marka? Where were you when we –"

  Gusor smacked his hand down on his chair arm. "Enough, Dagban! I have had my orders and I have followed my orders, as have you."

  Dagban stood bolt upright, dark blue eyes even colder. "I will return to my men and make it plain whose orders prevent them from seeing loved ones again. I am sure they will insist we proceed to Marka."

  "Blame whoever you wish, Lieutenant, but let me show you what my orders actually are." Gusor slid the original parchment across the desk.

  A muscle twitched in Dagban's cheek as he scanned the orders. Tendons stood out in his forearms as he resisted the urge to crush the parchment in his hands.

  "I have shown these to nobody else," said Gusor. "And I show you only because of the respect I have for your father."

  Dagban's eyes burned with fury when next he looked up and Gusor reassessed his opinion. This was no boy, no matter how young.

  "Cowardice and treason?" hissed Dagban. "Hingast and a few of his men abandoned us. They left us to die. And so we would have, if Marshal Janost had not surrendered." He gestured at the parchment after tossing it back onto the desk. "This has it the wrong way around. The traitors and cowards are in Eldova, not out here."

  "So others have told me," said Gusor.

  "How many have you murdered?"

  "None," replied Gusor. "But neither have any passed."

  "If I give this to my men, they might decide to tear us to pieces," said Dagban. "They have seen much and want only to return home."

  "That is understood," replied Gusor, "but safer if they do not. I urge you to choose life; Eldova will need all her sons in the days to come."

  Dagban sighed and his shoulders sagged. A moment later he firmed himself again and his dark blue eyes simmered with resentment. "Where do you want us to patrol?" he asked.