Markan Empire

  Had been. Velisar still ran with them, though he shunned the camps. He sent reports, but avoided human contact and moved away once he completed his whistles.

  The handful of surviving Calcans and Markans clustered around Belaika, ensuring he had everything they could get him. They rarely stayed long, shooed away by Fared, who wanted to learn more about Marka. He only asked questions about the city and never the army organization.

  Nynra inspected him at every stop. Gentle fingers unwound the bandage from his chest and probed the bruised area.

  "Still nothing broken?" asked Belaika, with a grin. He barely felt the other sylph's gentle touch.

  Nynra shook her head and rewound the bandage. Her hand brushed against the scout's leather collar and she snatched it away as if burned.

  "What is wrong?" Belaika asked.

  Revulsion shone in the other sylph's strange near-white eyes.

  "It is only a collar," continued the scout. "See? It comes off. You want me to take it off?"

  Nynra blinked. "That is not necessary," she replied. "Wear it if you wish."

  Samrita replaced Nynra. The gwerin enjoyed his company and behaved in a peculiar childish way whenever with him. She exhibited this behavior only to Belaika and the scout saw Fared's puzzled expression more than once. But she grew serious enough once they settled to chat.

  Today, before Samrita began acting as if she was his daughter, the scout asked about Nynra.

  "Why is she bothered by my collar?"

  Samrita smiled. "She wonders whether to wear one or not," answered the gwerin. "In Kelthane, they do not practice ownership the same way as Markans. It is not even called ownership by humans, though many sylphs see it differently."

  Belaika blinked.

  "Life is harder in the north." The gwerin shrugged. "Everybody must work hard to survive, so all are equal. Up to a point."

  "So she is free," remarked Belaika.

  "Hardly. But not owned."

  "A cross between a wild and civilized sylph."

  Samrita laughed. "Something like that. She asks many questions about sylph customs in Marka and she is curious about collars."

  "What did you tell her?"

  Samrita's expression grew serious. "The truth. She is uncertain. Part wants the collar, yet her upbringing suggests she should not."

  Belaika nodded. He had grown used to Nynra's sylph dialect, but the gwerin now used Markan sylph, with only one or two borrowings from Kelthane. It made for easier conversation.

  "She is confused," he remarked.

  "Even more so when I wear my collar again," sighed Samrita. "She might not want to continue serving me."

  Belaika shot the gwerin a concerned look. "She probably will."

  When Samrita left, Fared returned. "Will the scouts tell me the moment they find Mirrin's army?" he asked.

  Belaika stared, before he remembered Fared was dealing with sylph scouts for the first time. He would learn.

  "When it is found, we will know," he replied. He nodded towards Samel, who sat to one side. "He will pass the message when received."

  "How does the whistling work?" continued Fared. "Why can we not hear it?"

  "Only sylphs can hear it." Belaika shrugged. "I do not know why."

  "How can the whistles so accurately duplicate speech?"

  "A whistle for each sound," answered Belaika. "Beyond that, I cannot explain." He shrugged again. "I am just a sylph."

  Fared chuckled. "That does not even begin to describe you." He jerked a thumb towards Samel. "Or them."

  "I have no other explanation," insisted Belaika.

  "An excellent idea," smiled Fared. "Wish we'd thought of it. Did you know we were coming?"

  "We knew you were there," said Belaika. "But not your intentions."

  "And now you scout with our scouts." Fared frowned a little. "And show them for fools."

  "Not our aim." Belaika shook his head. "We do what we can."

  "And do it well."

  Belaika changed the subject. "Someone else should carry the banner. I am better used scouting."

  Fared smiled again. "Nynra ordered rest and light duties."

  "The banner is heavy," pointed out the sylph.

  "In a fresh breeze." Fared stared pointedly at the still trees. "You're fine carrying it. Don't pout; girls pout."

  Belaika's earpoints wilted.

  Fared gripped the sylph's shoulder – on his uninjured side – and smiled. "You earned the honor," he said. "Come, time to move on, or we'll never catch up."

  "What happens when we do?" Belaika blinked, perhaps at his own forwardness.

  Fared did not seem bothered; perhaps he understood forward sylphs. "Until we catch up, no idea. But I'll think of something."

  ***

  Peytor crept forward, head and eyes moving all the time. Though the casual observer might believe he scouted alone, a sylph scout moved with him only a handful of steps away.

  These sylphs impressed Peytor. He knew they were not cowards – his parents' sylphs had not met their doom cowering in corners – but he never thought they might run with an army.

  And they were very good, as scouts at least. They could hide in plain sight, and betray hardly a hint of their passing.

  Something beside a tree moved and he stared at it. Nothing. Just imagination. The something detached from the tree trunk and stepped towards him.

  Peytor shook his head. "That paint is very good."

  The shape put a finger to its lips. The scout moved closer and leaned forward. "We have caught them," he whispered. "Move with care, in silence."

  Peytor eyed the apparition with its gray, green and brown paint, slashes of black across its face, chest and upper legs. "Which one are you?"

  "Fhionnen-y-Neffas."

  "Peytor."

  "Come. Silent!"

  Peytor decided the scout did not mangle his words as badly as some easterners. He followed Fhionnen for some distance – and almost lost sight of him more than once, despite fixing his gaze on the creature's back – before the sylph raised a hand.

  Fhionnen nodded towards a clearing.

  Not as many as he expected, but Peytor estimated perhaps five hundred men there. He followed the sylph's pointing finger and saw movement in one of the trees. An archer. A gray and green finger pointed to more trees; if not for the scout, Peytor would not have spotted them.

  Fhionnen and Peytor slowly moved back.

  "Where are the rest?" whispered Peytor.

  "Just the afterguard. Come."

  Three times, Fhionnen dropped to the ground; three times Peytor followed the sylph's lead, only to see patrolling enemy scouts moments later. Peytor had the sense to keep quiet, despite being full of questions. The sylph held a finger to his lips every time he thought his human companion might speak.

  Peytor felt almost amateurish in comparison.

  They waited and moved at Fhionnen's direction. When they finally reached the rest of Mirrin's army, silence became unnecessary.

  "Is this the same army?" asked Peytor, eyes wide.

  Fhionnen's earpoints twitched and the sylph nodded in reply. He held a finger to his lips again, though Peytor suspected that could shout over the noise of the army below. The sylph motioned they should withdraw. He took as much care in retreat as in advance and ensured Peytor followed his lead.

  When he felt safe, Fhionnen put his head back to whistle his report.

  Unable to hear anything, Peytor stared. "I don't understand how that lot managed to capture one of you."

  Fhionnen blinked. "It happened because Belaika got trodden on. We must move!"

  "Why?" asked Peytor, as Fhionnen led him to a different part of the forest, setting a fast pace.

  "They have sylphs who point when they hear whistles and soldiers come to run us down. We move, or they catch us."

  Peytor nodded his head. These lads had every angle covered.

  "Are we safe yet?"

  A smile flashed across the sylph's features. "We are n
ever safe," he replied. "Wait for orders. I must go. If you move, I will find you."

  Before Fhionnen had taken a dozen paces, Peytor could no longer see him. He marveled at the sylph's fieldcraft. Not even a hint of movement in the undergrowth. What an advantage for the Markan army!

  Drab clothing was not enough for good scouting. The paint these scouts used made excellent camouflage. Even without it, a sylph stood still could make himself impossible to see, as if they all possessed the Gift.

  The way they passed messages to each other and to their army also impressed. With their whistles – silent to humans – they could pass intelligence almost instantly, without sending messengers back to their commanders.

  But how had the Markans managed to persuade sylphs to become soldiers at all?

  He almost yelled in surprise when Fhionnen suddenly reappeared. Peytor had heard nothing. And this was only a partly trained scout? Belaika must have been careless to end up a prisoner.

  "If your captain wants to attack," began the sylph, "you will only die. They number many thousands."

  "I thought we traveled to meet more Markans," retorted Peytor.

  Fhionnen nodded. "We have not made contact yet," he replied.

  "Does Captain Fared know?"

  The sylph nodded impatiently and his earpoints flickered in irritation. "Unless he does not listen."

  "What are we going to do now?"

  "We wait." The sylph scout smiled. "In silence."

  ***

  Not long after their previous rest, Fared called a halt. He had no wish to get too close to the Eldovans. Riders had already deflected or killed several enemy scouts, so General Mirrin should be aware of their presence.

  Fared wished the prisoners were no longer with him. Unfortunately, the only other option was to kill them, and that went against his instincts.

  Although Captain Jediyah ate with Fared, he kept his conversation minimal. That did not bother Fared, who needed no intelligence. Thanks to the sylph scouts, interrogating captives was unnecessary.

  After checking with Gorst to ensure the prisoners were secure and guarded, Fared returned to his tent. Belaika accosted him before he reached it.

  "I am more use in the field than with that banner," began the sylph. "There are not many trained scouts here, so you need every sylph who knows what he is doing."

  "A long speech from you." Fared resisted the urge to grin. Despite the sylph nagging him on this subject, he had decided he rather liked Belaika. "Do you only speak so eloquently when you want something?"

  Belaika's earpoints wilted a little, but he did not back down.

  "Let us see what Nynra has to say."

  "She is only an infertile," protested the scout. "I cannot –"

  "She's the one looking after your health," countered Fared. Used to sylphs speaking their mind, he drew the line at interruptions. "If she says you are fit, then you take your turn scouting. But if not, you stay with the banner."

  Belaika muttered under his breath.

  Unfortunately for the male sylph, Nynra was not very far away and happy to check Belaika.

  "Wave your arms like this," she suggested and demonstrated by moving her arms in large circles in front of her, then to one side.

  Belaika groaned as he tried it.

  "Still not ready," said Nynra. She turned to Fared. "No scouting."

  "But you need trained scouts." Belaika went unheeded.

  The infertile turned back to the scout. "Na alut batut."

  Earpoints bolt upright in shock, Belaika stared at Nynra for a long moment.

  "Keep carrying the banner, lad," said Fared. "And sulking is as bad as pouting, so stop it."

  Nynra smiled peaceably despite Belaika's displeasure. She watched as the scout smoothed his expression for Fared and touched a fist to shoulder, before stalking away. She sighed.

  "He'll do as he's told," said Fared and gripped the infertile's shoulder. "You're doing good work."

  Nynra merely nodded. "His frustration grows," she said.

  With the infertile still following, Fared joined Samrita. The gwerin sat on her heels, staring into the middle distance.

  "Thinking?"

  Samrita's eyes focused and her earpoints twitched. "A lot of men ahead," she said, "and we have a few more of their friends here, as prisoners. The situation is delicate, if not dangerous."

  "Very astute."

  The gwerin smiled at the irony and continued as if he had not spoken.

  "There are just enough prisoners to become a nuisance if they wish. Is Jediyah's word trustworthy? The Markans speak of Eldovans as if they cannot be trusted in anything."

  "Just good old-fashioned mistrust of foreigners," remarked Fared.

  Samrita smiled. "Perhaps, but that was never a Markan characteristic."

  "These are from Calcan," pointed out Fared. "Not Marka."

  The gwerin nodded. "Experience teaches that human promises are only good as long as expedient. You are all opportunists." She did not turn her head, but her earpoints twitched in the direction of the prisoners. "Jediyah may still be young enough to believe that honor and honesty are always bedfellows."

  "Felnar has been speaking of how Dekran used to conduct lightning raids against a superior enemy. Should we raid the army ahead?"

  Samrita considered, then shook her head. "Those raids were conducted by a small force unknown to the Eldovans. According to the sylphs, General Mirrin knows how many of us there are and probably where we are. Enemy scouts and raiders have failed to reach us so we should wait. And move regularly. Something else the scouts recommend we do."

  Fared nodded impatiently; he would have moved his small army in any case. He needed no advice concerning that.

  "The sylphs are sending out whistles to see if they can contact more Markans," continued Samrita. "They've heard nothing yet."

  "Belaika says Dekran led them too far west, chasing after Mirrin. They did not expect to stay so far west this long."

  "Mirrin's army stayed in contact with the rest of the Eldovans." Samrita grimaced. "Thanks to Belaika, we know how they managed that without their own sylph scouts."

  Fared shook his head. He'd rather not think about it. "Not just Dervra, but Nicolfer. What are we getting ourselves into? And is Sandev really on our side? Will she help?"

  "Sandev fights against everything Dervra and Nicolfer believe in," replied Samrita. "I do not think she will help us directly, but that does leave a lot of wriggle room."

  "Which makes no sense at all." Fared shrugged. "Sorry, just a little jest."

  Samrita's glare faded. "Neither Dervra nor Nicolfer understand military strategy and tactics," she said. "Sorcery is a very selfish discipline and sorcerers tend to acquire knowledge for themselves only. These armies exist to make Marka feel uncomfortable. There are bigger plans of which we are unaware."

  "That's always the path warfare takes," muttered Fared. "There is always more."

  "I say that the sylph scouts are quite capable. If they advise we do not attack, we should heed them."

  "They're only scouts," protested Fared. "Belaika is the only fully trained one here since Velisar disappeared. They are good at scouting, but they know almost nothing of tactics."

  Samrita raised a finger. "They have experience of an army's composition." She raised a second finger. "They have experience of Eldovan tactics." A third finger joined the first two. "They know how the Eldovan commanders react to situations, so they will also have noticed any mistakes." A fourth finger. "They know where the Eldovans' weak points lie."

  Fared sighed. "All right, so we won't attack. Yet." His expression firmed. "Now we know why Dervra didn't bother about us at Turivkan."

  "If he was ever there," replied Samrita.

  About to leave, Fared paused. "When you are with Belaika," he began.

  "What about it?" Samrita looked defensive.

  "This foolishness, treating him like he's your father... Just an act, right?"

  Something flickered in Samrit
a's eyes, but her earpoints remained upright. "Concentrate on keeping us safe, Captain Fared."

  ***

  Sandev was always grateful to hitch a lift whenever Mirrin pushed his column hard. The sylphs trotted easily alongside the wagons and never seemed to tire. Their light weight probably helped.

  Mirrin pressed all the time for greater speed and ignored the grumbles this brought. Rests between running spurts grew less and less. Whatever message Nicolfer had brought spurred him onward, but he never said anything about it.

  For Sandev, these were familiar lands and she could escape whenever she wished. Now she knew where she was. A couple of the ownerless sylphs under her care came into sight and smiled at her.

  She felt some responsibility toward them. No matter how strong the temptation to break free and reclaim her rightful place in Marka, she could not abandon the ownerless now. They might never fully trust a human again.

  Sylphs still pointed whenever they heard a whistle, so Sandev knew the Markans were still in contact. Soon, they would hear new whistles from scouts posted to listen for fresh armies coming from the west.

  Or so Sandev hoped.

  Finally, Mirrin called a rest for the night.

  Given recent events, Sandev was surprised there were no more orphans for her to look after. Five hundred men under Captain Jediyah, lost. Thirty scouts and horsemen sent to run down sylph scouts and whatever was left of the Markans, lost. The attrition rate had become so high that Mirrin had stopped sending men out, except to run down the whistlers.

  Officers' sylphs looked increasingly worried and dashed about their tasks. Sandev felt sorry for any who received the rough side of their owner's tongue, but she had little sympathy for the officers themselves.

  Only Shashi appeared unaffected and remained cheerful. At least General Mirrin understood what made sylphs tick. As Sandev had learned.

  "You are free from chores tonight?"

  Sandev looked down. Of the six sylphs she looked after, Gajaran had become a firm favorite. She was the one she wanted to take with her, the one who didn't care if she returned to Eldova or not. If only Sandev could explain that one of the scouts Gajaran detested so much belonged to her. She nodded.

  "Mirrin wants to see me," she replied.

  "Mirrin-ya," corrected Gajaran, absently. "It is not right that you do chores," she continued. "Chores are for us." She looked about to say more, but her silver-gray eyes focused properly on Sandev. She smiled and wandered across to the mess tent.

  Sandev watched her go. What was that about? Gajaran rarely displayed her intelligence and, like all sylphs, saw far more deeply than she would ever admit.