Markan Empire

  "This lot should give the foragers an easy time, sir," he said.

  They sometimes passed the remains of a boundary wall or the foundations of a farmhouse.

  "Empty land," muttered Fared. "A waste."

  "The people probably moved further west for security," said Samrita. "When civilization collapses, there is often trouble for those with no weapons to defend themselves." She looked angry and sad.

  Here and there, trees pushed skywards and Fared knew the land would soon revert to forest. Nature quickly reclaimed land humans had failed to keep for themselves.

  "Nobody has been here for decades," said Samrita, just to break the silence.

  "Except for merchants' caravans," said Fared. "Look at those ruts. Was this ever a paved road?"

  "Not one of the main roads," replied Samrita, "so I doubt it. They only paved the vital routes."

  "Which were always patrolled," added Fared. "In the days when people could carry a thousand gold marks from end to end of the Markan Empire in perfect safety."

  Samrita laughed. "A myth. There were always those who prefer to rob people, rather than make money for themselves. The difference is that they were far more likely to be caught and punished than today. These days, thieving is a viable proposition. For now."

  "When we reach those hills, do we turn more to the east? I suspect we've strayed too far south."

  "We're all right at the moment," replied Samrita.

  Fared nodded. "Many cities along the way?"

  "Nothing for us to avoid." A small grimace flashed across the gwerin's face. "I expect the villages are all gone, too."

  The sun climbed higher and Samrita's parasol came more upright. She even slung a thin blanket around her shoulders. When Fared suggested she might like to travel in one of the wagons for the shade, she refused.

  Nynra also avoided the sun. Most sylphs enjoyed sunlight and by now might have stripped off some of their clothes. But Nynra's pale complexion and strong sunshine did not mix.

  She walked or trotted beside Samrita's horse, but refused to climb up and ride. When they halted for a rest, she skulked in the nearest shade and drank as much water as she could hold. Despite her sun avoidance, she still tanned a deeper blue.

  "Scouts report, Captain! Merchant caravan in a panic."

  Fared stood in his stirrups and saw dust kicked up by cartwheels. "Certainly moving a lot quicker than normal," he said.

  "No sign of trouble, sir."

  "How many guards?"

  "Three, sir."

  Fared saw the pink parasol before Samrita. "This may be trouble," he told her.

  "From three men?"

  "Not the caravan, but they're moving at speed for a reason."

  The caravan soon saw the Shadow Riders and halted. Fared saw men standing for a better view. They looked to be arguing among themselves.

  "Now what are they doing?" asked Fared. "Why are they moving off the road?"

  "Avoiding us," said Samrita, quietly.

  "Sensible if they are wary of large groups of armed men." Fared gestured. "Signal the scouts to let them pass."

  The Shadow Riders and the caravan passed with a large gap between them.

  "They'll lose wheels if they're not careful," said Charel. "Why didn't they stay on the road?"

  After they passed, Fared looked back where the caravan had rejoined the road and again picked up pace. Men still watched the small army, fearing it might turn and give chase.

  "Strange," he said. "Charel, tell the scouts to keep their eyes open. Something upset that caravan and I'd rather not find out what that might be at the last moment."

  "Done, sir." Charel grinned.

  The hills seemed no closer when the advance scouts reported the next oddity. A sylph, running alone along the road.

  "Going to be one of those days," Fared reflected aloud.

  The sylph came into sight and Nynra watched in interest. She half-climbed onto Samrita's horse for a better look.

  The newcomer skidded to a halt when she realized she had company. A normal looking sylph, with silver-gray eyes and hair. One tanned by the sun. She stared in horror at the army and its banner. She looked to either side of the road, paused briefly, then cut across country.

  "What's the matter with everybody today?" Fared frowned.

  "They are all frightened of armed men," said Samrita. "We might find something unpleasant ahead."

  They watched the sylph go. She ran even faster and changed course several times whenever she glimpsed a scout. She was soon gone.

  "If anything is wrong, we can expect an ambush in the pass," said Fared. "Charel, tell the advance scouts to push ahead and check everything."

  "Will do, sir. Want me to send more horsemen?"

  "Do."

  Before Charel could pass on the orders, a messenger called out. "Heliograph, Captain!"

  "The hills are clear," said Charel, "but there's something they want you to see, sir. They haven't said what."

  As the Riders reached the hills, carrion birds circled above thin smoke that reached lazily into the sky. The sun stood high, but halfway from its meridian.

  "A raided caravan," Fared told Samrita. "Very recent, perhaps today."

  The gwerin nodded. "I do not think Nynra wants to see this," she announced. She looked at the sylph until the latter inclined her head and stalked to the wagons.

  "Neither do you," said Fared, quietly.

  "I have probably seen worse." The gwerin's earpoints were slanted forwards in determination.

  "Very well." Fared detailed several men to investigate the remains of the caravan with him.

  They rode downhill, where Deren and Peytor joined them.

  "Raiders, Captain," announced Deren. "Not been gone long, either."

  "Scum," added Peytor, under his breath.

  "Where are the rest of the scouts?" asked Fared.

  "In the pass," replied Deren. "Where the tracks from whoever did this appear out of nowhere, and disappear back into nowhere."

  Fared frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

  Samrita nodded; she understood. "We shall look at the tracks later," she said. "I expected something, but not this."

  "You should take a look, Captain," insisted Deren. "Here."

  Carrion crows already feasted and flew away on lazy wings as the humans approached. Once they had passed, the birds landed again. Bodies sprawled in the dust among looted wagons. Four wagons and only one burned.

  "Doesn't look like they took much," remarked Fared.

  "Food and valuables," said Deren. "We think."

  "There were twenty wagons here, to judge from the tracks," said Peytor. "Most escaped."

  Fared's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Did they now?" He exchanged a look with Samrita. "Careless for raiders to lose so many."

  Four arrow-riddled corpses looked like guards. They might have stared in surprise at the attack, if they still had eyes. Carrion always went for those first.

  "You should see this, sir." Deren's voice was quiet.

  Merchants usually traveled with their families; some of those bodies were small and others lay in pools of blue blood. Even the horses had been slaughtered.

  Deren held up a battered helmet.

  "Looks like one of ours," said Fared.

  "And this." The lancepoint Deren now held up, with perhaps a few incas of broken shaft, looked familiar.

  "Poor quality," said Fared. "But the shape we use."

  "And this, sir."

  Fared's breath caught. The black banner had two white dragon's heads facing each other. The dragons were painted onto black canvas, instead of silver thread on silk, but the design was clear.

  Samrita nodded. "Somebody has sent us a message," she said. She glanced at the bodies, but seemed unaffected by them.

  "Looks like they hit the wrong people," said Fared. "Did any caravans flee east?"

  Peytor shook his head. "West, north and south."

  "Probably the ones trying to avoid us," mused Fared. br />
  "They were allowed to go," said Samrita. "They will spread what happened here. I doubt if it will be safe for men with dragon's head banners further west from now on. And perhaps not to the east, either. Few local lords like to share their lands with lawless bandits."

  "You think Dervra had something to do with this?"

  "Not precisely his style, but I wouldn't be surprised. He wants to make sure we stay out of his lands and never return."

  "If we had time, I would hunt the men who impersonate us and hang the lot." Fared's eyes flashed, but he raged impotently.

  "If they'd left tracks beyond the pass, I would gladly hunt them for you." Peytor shook his head. "But the tracks disappear. The Gift?" He looked at Samrita.

  "More likely sorcery." Samrita shook her head and returned her attention to Fared. "What will you do?"

  "Bury the dead and continue east," replied Fared. "The pass is clear?"

  "Yes sir," nodded Deren. "Whole way through."

  Fared looked at Peytor. "Still an admirer of Turivkan's Prefect?"

  The boy gave him a level look in return. "Not if he's responsible for this."

  "Good. If not for him, these people would still be alive."

  ***

  After passing the mountains, they turned east again.

  Fared increased the pace and they covered more milas each day, as if Marka exerted a stronger pull the nearer he came. Or else he wanted to leave the attacked caravan further behind.

  Samrita looked for landmarks and noted each as they passed. Many were strange things, remnants from the past. Weird spires, dishes and smooth pyramids made from some black material no tool could mar. Gray plinths, some cracking at the edges and others intact. Metallic objects glinted in the ground. Nobody knew what any of these things were for. Nobody recognized the metal they were made from.

  "I remember these," said Samrita. "Those pyramids are dwarves compared with the one outside Marka." She smiled in fond memory.

  "Where are they from? What are they for?" asked Peytor, not scouting ahead today.

  "The world is a stranger place than we know," replied Samrita. "These are relics from the first civilization."

  "You don't know what they are for?" Peytor sounded incredulous.

  "I am long-lived, not immortal." Samrita's lack of knowledge irritated her more than Peytor's persistent questions. "The first civilization was dust thousands of years before my birth."

  The land changed too.

  Once past the ancient relics, they came to a plain, high and yet fertile. Green pasture and farmland, much with growing crops. There were even hamlets and villages.

  "There is a town further south," said Samrita. "The farmers here supply it."

  "Looks safe from raiders," said Peytor, who looked around in interest.

  "Looking safe and being safe are different things," countered Fared, as always the pragmatist.

  The few people they saw eyed the army with curiosity and poorly masked fear. Taller mountains reared at the far end of the plain. Despite the season, they were snow-capped.

  "Those must be high," said Fared.

  "There is a pass," said Samrita. "No snow there."

  "Good."

  "Somewhere in those mountains is the greatest relic of all that dates from the first civilization," continued Samrita. "And nobody can reach it today."

  Most of those within earshot stared up at the mountains.

  "Have you been there?"

  Samrita's eyes focused on Fared. "No, but I would love to, however unlikely."

  "What is it?"

  "Magiere."

  "The fabled city of the Gifted," explained Fared, when he saw the mystified look on Peytor's face. He glanced at Samrita. "With emphasis on fabled."

  Samrita laughed and shook her head.

  "How can a city survive up there?" demanded Fared. "Nowhere to grow crops. No roads leading to it."

  Samrita's smile widened. "Believe what you will, but ilven do not lie."

  Fared winked at Peytor. "More fables."

  Samrita looked at him. "You will discover the truth behind my fables when you reach Marka, Captain Fared. I spent many days with Siranva's daughters before the end came."

  After a night spent in the winter-cold open, with only Nynra feeling at home, they reached the end of the pass. There, a road – some of it paved – led them out of the mountains. They stared at it, a twisting road in the middle of nowhere. Most sections were little more than compacted dirt, but the line was clear.

  And the paving!

  Built with an obvious camber, the surfaced parts of the road were paved with white stone, now rutted and stained. The drainage ditches to either side were mostly silted up, but everybody could see what they were.

  "Are we close to Marka now?" asked Fared.

  Samrita had not forgiven him for his earlier disbelief.

  "Closer than yesterday," she replied.

  The Riders passed through more forests, which thickened again as they left civilization behind. The scouts were even more vigilant as forests could hide many dangers but, fortunately, these scouts trained in some of the densest forests in the world. Samrita pointed out that they should avoid wild sylphs, assuming these forests sheltered their colonies. The existence of feral sylphs caught Nynra's interest, and she looked around eagerly for evidence of their presence.

  They found no sign of wild sylphs, but remains of human camps were everywhere. Some were huge, with cookfires for thousands, and others small, perhaps for a handful of men.

  "Seems there are a lot of soldiers milling about," remarked Fared. "But why?"

  "Hiding from something?" suggested Samrita.

  "Or waiting," replied Fared. "I just hope they're not waiting for us."

  A day later, Nynra and Samrita, earpoints twitching, realized something very strange was going on.

  "Whistling?" Fared raised an eyebrow. "Sure it's not one of ours?"

  "It's not human whistling." Samrita gave Fared one of her level looks. "Pitched too high for your ears. The cadences are wrong for tunes."

  Fared became serious. "Which of you heard it first?"

  "Nynra," replied Samrita. "Being younger her hearing is sharper. We can hear it, but humans cannot, so this comes from sylphs."

  "Wild or domestic?"

  "Good question. If armies pass through here regularly, I doubt if wild sylphs would stay around. And we have seen no hint of them here. And the lack of farmland makes domestic sylphs unlikely as well. But this is definitely coming from sylphs."

  "Whistling sylphs aren't likely to be a threat," said Fared. "If not wild or domestic, then what?"

  "Depends why they are whistling." Samrita gave a small smile. "Some sort of warning? I could chase it down with one of the Riders. There are at least two out there, because one whistle is strong and the other faint."

  Fared's instincts tingled and he reached a decision. "We'll all go."

  "All of us?" Samrita blinked.

  "This is strange so we should investigate. Armies moving, yet going nowhere and sylphs who are neither wild nor domestic whistling non-tunes to each other." Fared nodded. "They are communicating with each other."

  Nynra nodded. "There is a pattern to them," she agreed. "It could be that."

  Samrita gave the pale sylph a pat on the shoulder. "Good girl," she said. "I should have realized that myself."

  Fared turned to Charel and, moments later, the wagons pulled off the road and formed a defensive circle. Twenty Riders were left with the families.

  "You ride with me," Fared said to Samrita. "Nynra, if we must ride fast, you might be left behind. Better if you stay here, please."

  The infertile looked for Samrita's nod before inclining her head. "Se bata."

  Fared suppressed a momentary flash of irritation. The sylph followed Samrita, not him, and she was not a Rider under his command.

  The Riders followed Fared and Samrita at a reasonable distance, so the thunder of their passage did not disrupt the gwerin's hea
ring. She led them deeper into the forest.

  The few tracks quickly faded to nothing. They pushed their horses through the undergrowth as best they could. The scouts ranged to either side and not ahead, because Samrita effectively led the way.

  As they neared the forest edge, Fared halted and stopped Samrita from riding further.

  "It grows stronger," whispered the gwerin.

  "Deren, Peytor!" Fared waited until the two scouts were before him. "Proceed on foot and see what lies beyond the trees." He turned back to Samrita. "The whistling?"

  "Stronger; we are close now."

  Fared sent a messenger back to bring half the women and older children forward to join the Riders.

  Samrita gave him a puzzled look.

  Fared smiled. "So others think we have more fighting men. Just in case."

  The gwerin shook her head. "Gut instinct again," she muttered. "Seen it before, never understood it, but you were right last time."

  "Just experience," retorted Fared.

  Deren returned a few minutes later, while Peytor remained at the forest edge.

  "A strange one, sir," Deren reported. "Two armies, one smaller than ours, the other larger. The smaller one has a dragon's head banner." He nodded to their own banner, two silver dragonheads on a black field, the old imperial army's colors. "Theirs is gold on blue, sir."

  "Let's take a look. Samrita?" Fared was pleased he had left Nynra behind. Two armies probably meant fighting.

  The gwerin nodded and, together with Deren and Charel, picked her way to the edge of the forest to join Peytor. She still heard whistles, clearer now the rest of the horsemen had fallen silent. They all expected an order to join battle at any moment.

  Fared halted his horse and lifted his ancient spyglass to an eye. The smaller army held a small hill, wagons and pikemen formed in a defensive square. Just as Deren had said, they held a dragonhead banner, gold on dark blue. He saw lancers and a few cavalry, but no archers.

  "Long odds," he murmured. "Five to one, or thereabouts."

  The larger group had surrounded the hill, waiting. They had archers, which would prove an advantage.

  Silence.

  Shouting, from hundreds of throats.

  "Strength and victory!"

  Fared exchanged a look with Samrita.

  "Going to help them?" asked the gwerin.

  "Help who? Looks like a spat between two rivals." Fared smiled. "Marka has an Emperor and we serve him."

  Samrita said nothing.

  Fared swung his spyglass up to the top of the tor once again. He stiffened. "So Shiorj wasn't lying about sylphs wearing paint," he said. "Two sylphs are up there, and one of them's painted. Wonder if they're your whistlers."