Markan Empire

  "Press home!" bawled Kelanus. "Press!"

  Bascon still stood at his stirrup and Kelanus mentally cursed the stupidity of the sylph. Then again, he had not given the lad orders to stay back. The scout was only doing his job, though he must be terrified to suddenly find himself in the middle of a melee. He had sense enough to stay between Kelanus and Hanmer.

  For now, Kelanus concentrated on staying alive. Bascon must have hitched a lift with Hanmer, but scouts rarely rode.

  Swords flashed and rather more men went down than Kelanus would have liked. There were always casualties, but he took more than expected.

  He saw Lieutenant Yulman somewhere to his left and realized he and his men had pushed deep into the enemy ranks. If that was Yulman, then he and Kestan had joined forces again.

  "Janost is dead!" somebody shouted.

  The cry was taken up.

  "Janost is dead! Janost is dead!"

  Kelanus stared as men threw down their weapons and ran for the forest. Markans, fired with blood lust, chased until sergeants restored discipline.

  Troops without weapons were not much of a threat, but those still holding them were.

  "Let them run!" yelled Kelanus. "Reform. Press advantage!"

  Kelanus began to cut a way towards the gold-over-black standard. Whether Janost was dead or not, the standard marked the command post.

  Somewhere to one side, cheering erupted from Kestan's men. At least, Kelanus hoped it was cheering. More and more Eldovans broke discipline, but a good few closed in on the one remaining standard.

  Kelanus now saw Kestan.

  Another sylph joined Bascon.

  "Shouldn't you be in the field?" he demanded. "Instead of in harm's way?"

  Shyamon gave Kelanus a hurt look. "Been trying to give you a message for the past half hour," he said. "Commandant Treylfor has captured Mirrin and defeated his army. He requests instructions."

  Kelanus nodded. More good news. "Tell him to operate under his own initiative and then move north to join me."

  "Se bata."

  Shyamon returned to the other scouts to whistle the message.

  There was a brief lull in the fighting. Perhaps the Markans respected the few who remained to fight to the last. At least nobody had chased after those who had run.

  "Are they ready to surrender?" mused Kelanus. He took his spyglass from its case and viewed the remnant of the Eldovan Army. "Marshal Janost is not dead. No sign of Hanan or Hingast though." He put the spyglass away and tensed to spur his horse forward.

  Hanmer restrained his commander with a hand to his arm. "Not going alone sir?" asked the yeoman. "Still archers down there, sir."

  "I'm going," insisted Kelanus.

  "Then I'm coming too, sir," insisted Hanmer.

  Kelanus shrugged. "Let's hope they don't kill us, or they'll have signed their own death warrants."

  Hanmer smiled. "I'm sure Lance General Kestan will see to that, sir."

  Kelanus touched spurs to his horse and the animal sprang forward, with Hanmer riding to his left, the gold dragon's head on its dark blue field standing proud as he rode. Bascon had hitched a ride earlier; he was at it again now, on the far side of Hanmer's horse. Foolish boy; he should have been sent away with Shyamon.

  He halted far enough away so they should see any arrows before they had chance to land.

  "Marshal Janost!" he called. "Soldiers of Eldova! I salute your courage and respect your loyalty, but there is no need to die today. Enough men have spilled their blood and you are defeated. I offer mercy, but it is your choice to take it. Know it is not our way to murder prisoners. You all have loved ones. Must you be among those who will never see theirs again after today?

  "Men of Eldova! Your battle is done. You have fought like lions and you few have kept your honor as have the dead. Consider my words; I will return in one hour to accept your surrender with honor or to end this business."

  "No need for you to return." Marshal Janost rode out from his men, his bannerman beside him.

  Kelanus paused and waited.

  "He is armed, sir!" cautioned Hanmer.

  "So am I," replied Kelanus.

  Janost halted a short distance away. "What will happen to my men?"

  Kelanus bared his teeth in a mirthless smile. "You are my prisoners. In due time, you and your men will be repatriated, my word on it."

  "But they will be disarmed."

  "Of course."

  Janost nodded and viewed the abandoned weapons on the battlefield. "What of those who ran?"

  "I'm sure they will return home, but if they instead terrorize the countryside, they will be dealt with."

  "The cowards broke and ran." Something glinted in Janost's deep blue eyes. Surely not fanaticism? "They deserve the sword."

  "All men break when punishment grows too much," replied Kelanus. "And most are young, too long away from home."

  Janost grunted. "I accept your offer of mercy," he said. Left-handed, he drew his sword, rode forward and offered it, hilt first, to Kelanus.

  Kelanus took it and bowed in his saddle. "Where is the man who calls himself Hingast?" he asked.

  "He left," replied Janost. "Part of the reason why discipline broke."

  "Ran?"

  "Not exactly. Just gone."

  "Sorcery." Kelanus nodded. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You must suspect the truth about him. Not the real metal."

  Janost shrugged. "Perhaps. What now?"

  "We have the dead to bury," answered Kelanus. "Then, after a night's rest, we head for Trenvera."

  Janost grimaced. "You are too late," he replied. "Trenvera is weeks away from here, but the Re Taurans will be there the day after tomorrow."

  ***

  "Well, if that is battle, I hope never to see another one."

  Janin smiled at Loran. "Same here," he admitted. "But the war might not be over."

  The two sylphs, still painted, rested on the bed of an empty cart, well away from the revelry already spreading through the sprawling camp. They had already eaten the choca given out as reward for their part in the battle.

  "That was a long whistle you sent," remarked Loran. "Asking for your owner."

  "Just a chance," he replied. "She might have been a prisoner with the other Eldovan army."

  "No answer yet," said Loran.

  "Any time now," he said.

  Just then, a loud clattering broke out from the kitchens, where somebody had knocked over a stack of pots.

  When the racket came to an end, Janin caught the tail of a whistle: "...is with Treylfor."

  He and Loran looked at each other. Janin whistled a query to the nearest scout and the answer came back almost immediately.

  "You come deaf? Sandev is with Treylfor."

  Janin whistled his thanks and smiled at Loran. "Want me to ask her about you?"

  Loran suddenly turned shy. "Not yet," she replied. "Where are you going?"

  "To ask permission to send a message to Marka. Not just me waiting for that news."

  ***

  A shy knock at the outer door caused Grayar and Stanak to look at each other. It was almost full dark in Marka and both men hovered by the study door while waiting for Caya to answer it.

  Perhaps Tangan had been found. Grayar itched to learn what had been done to him to act in such an unsylphlike manner.

  Caya looked much happier than for many months, her earpoints erect and twitching in contentment. A sylph scout came with her.

  Looking shy, he bobbed a quick bow to them all.

  "Enabsil-y-Feron," he introduced himself. "We received a message from the field for you. It reports that Sandev is with Commandant Treylfor."

  Caya smiled and her earpoints showed ecstasy, but tears streamed down her face.

  Grayar returned the scout's bow. "Thank you, Enabsil."

  Despite Caya's sudden happiness, it was Salu who showed the scout out.

  Grayar rested a hand on Caya's shoulder as Sandev's sylph shook with relieved sobs.


  "I told you she'd be found," he said, gently.

  ***

  The man who called himself Hingast looked at the few hundred men he had managed to gather. There were several officers and a few sergeants. These were the lucky ones who escaped. The man who called himself Hingast knew they were among those who had broken and fled. He knew what should happen to them and what would happen in most armies.

  But he needed them.

  "When we reach Eldova," he told them, "this is the story you will tell."

  He settled down to spin them the yarn they must believe if they were to stay alive. And if he was to hold on to the Throne.

  He could salvage something from the mess. But where was Dervra?

  ***

  Chapter 31

  Avenging Angel

  The moment he walked into the dining hall, Neptarik knew something was wrong. The other sylphs were less talkative than usual and all heads turned his way. Earpoints wilted, if not already in the position and all conversation ceased.

  They knew something he did not.

  He collected his stodgy breakfast – an oaty something nowhere near as tasty as the scouts' porridge – in silence and claimed a place on the long bench between Pedden and a breeder whose name he did not know.

  Sympathy filled Pedden's silver-gray eyes. His earpoints were completely wilted.

  "What is wrong?" asked Neptarik.

  "Tektu arrested Mya." The other male sounded close to tears. "They came for her before she was even out of bed."

  Neptarik's mouth fell open. Mya had been arrested?

  "Why?" He hoped he did not sound too strangled.

  "Tektu says she is a spy," replied Pedden. Something in his expression hinted he knew that Neptarik and Mya were close. And both were outlanders.

  No wonder everybody stared at him!

  Now she had been arrested, there was little chance Mya would hold back for long. Unlike humans, sylphs would not even try to resist torture. The moment Tektu began work, Mya would squeal. And who could blame her? He would, were the positions reversed.

  Neptarik felt terror for her. And, he admitted with shame, for himself. Unlike Mya, he had seen Tektu's handiwork.

  He ate breakfast mechanically, mind whirling. He felt Pedden's hand on his arm.

  "We know you were fond of each other. We are sorry," he said. The other sylphs nodded, all solemn.

  Neptarik blinked back welling tears, angry that he had no idea what to do next.

  "We still are close," he replied, only just restraining a snarl. Think!

  He finished his tasteless breakfast quickly.

  He all but fled the dining hall and sylphs' tower, hoping no sympathetic souls wanted to follow. He headed towards the sulking room and, despite feeling in need of that room, instead turned down the steep winding staircase. The stink of the dungeon – a hideous mixture of straw, vomit and worse – almost turned him back.

  He did not turn away, but instead wriggled into a recess to wait. He grew more used to the smell and soon barely noticed it. Sure enough, a guard mounted the stone steps and left a tray for collection. Neptarik's nose and ears twitched at the sight of a bowl with remnants of the stodgy sylphs' breakfast.

  There was definitely a sylph prisoner.

  He must get Mya out before Tektu questioned her.

  But how?

  So little time to act. The sylphs would soon muster for their daily work detail and he expected Tektu would be waiting to catch him, too. She knew about their relationship and probably suspected his involvement. Except she had it the wrong way around.

  Think fool, think!

  This wasn't fair; sylphs shouldn't have to consider these things. A sylph's lot in life was to obey...

  He pushed these thoughts away. Scouts were supposed to think on their feet.

  Returning to the sulking room, he glanced towards the Mametain's towers, tempted to go and confess everything, provided Tektu released Mya. Would that work?

  Might they hang a sylph? He'd put nothing past Tektu and believed none of the guff that she was not allowed to harm sylphs. If the Mametain thought he and Mya were a threat, he would encourage his own sylph – thing, whatever she might be – to do her worst.

  His gaze slid to the southeast tower, with the laboratory. Where, so Mya told him, the old Mametain had conducted dangerous experiments. So dangerous, that an elaborate alarm system had been installed. One they still tested every week.

  An alarm system that worked.

  A bell to warn of attack. One for fire. And one to...

  A smile bloomed on Neptarik's face and his earpoints lifted.

  ***

  Mya crouched at one side of her cell, hugging her knees and wrapped in misery. Last night's realization that she was not alone had been a high. Today a definite low. The guard pulling her from bed, the touch of Tektu's hand on her shoulder and the familiar glower. Given time to scramble into her clothes, then down here.

  Alone in the dark.

  Tektu would come soon. Doing to her the things she had done to Mya's owner. Did she have Neptarik held in another cell? Had she already begun work on him? Mya wondered if she was cursed to bring misfortune to everybody she loved.

  Other than a quick flash of light when they gave her breakfast, she spent the time in darkness. Thankfully, she could see more than would human eyes. A sturdy door and the stone bed beside which she crouched. A foul-smelling bucket sylph instincts would not permit her to use, because a human had already used it.

  Mya knew she would talk. What she might say barely worried her, but she hoped to hold a lot back. Neptarik? Just a friend, a dupe used for her own plans. Certainly not a sylph she had fallen in love with. Not a sylph who had proved himself an excellent spy. Yes, she enjoyed diving out of windows in the night and swinging from laundry lines to get back for bedtime.

  With Talnan's death, hope died in Mya. She had wanted to follow her owner to whatever came next. And lost her way.

  Then Neptarik rekindled her zest for life. He offered to take her away; she could be with one of her own kind. They would live together safely, free from fear. Part of her would always belong to Talnan, but instinctive lust encouraged her to share her heart with Neptarik.

  Now this.

  Torture and inevitable death waited.

  ***

  Neptarik stared at the three levers. All were clearly marked and, not for the first time, he silently thanked Tahena for teaching him his letters. Of course, had she not, he would be scouting elsewhere and not in this mess. A battle star had better be forthcoming for this task, or he would be falling behind the others. The quicker he was done here, the sooner he could return to scouting.

  He reached for the required lever, and pulled it.

  For whatever reason, the water cascade powering the alarms was in a contrary mood. Moments passed while nothing happened. He heard water pouring into the bucket, but the bell remained stubbornly silent. Gravity eventually asserted itself and tilted the bucket as usually happened during tests. The bucket filled the next bucket and the chain that controlled the hammer began to turn. The movement pulled the hammer back, until the links passed over the slip.

  The noise almost deafened Neptarik and made him jump, even though he was used to hearing the bell.

  Now gravity had taken over, the water cascade settled to behave normally and hammer strikes on the tocsin increased in intensity.

  ***

  Guard Eleric heard the evacuation bell. Stunned, he stood and stared as the bell clanged away. It was not testing time, or even testing day. Which meant...

  He grasped the cord that led to his own evacuation bell and paused. False alarm or not? Should he wait for someone else to start? Well, whoever had pulled the lever had started it: safe for him to copy their lead. He moved the cord quickly and forcefully.

  As the evacuation bell rang out across the baileys, he knew it was too late to worry. If he'd made a mistake, everybody could return later. Always best to err on the side of caution,
and after all, his instructions were specific.

  Guardsmen in the other towers copied his lead and, soon, evacuation bells echoed throughout Castle Beren.

  ***

  The Master of the Kitchens turned the dampers to block the flames. She opened the ovens to pull out the loaves and pies baking inside. Two sylphs in various stages of terror helped. The Master felt certain this must be a false alarm, but if she did not pull everything out and shut down the ovens, there would be a real emergency.

  "Is the castle falling down?" wailed one of the sylphs.

  The Master tried to soothe the frightened infertile by rubbing her shoulder, despite the temptation to slap her for foolishness.

  "Not with us inside," she said, before realizing that sounded like an admission something seriously bad was happening. "Out we go!"

  ***

  Nijen da Re Taura and Tektu watched the pandemonium below. Humans and sylphs ran everywhere, some in completely the wrong direction as they panicked.

  Neither said a word until the inner bailey had emptied and the castle's inhabitants jammed the outer gates, fighting to leave.

  "You've done well," said Nijen. "You've flushed out our spy and forced him to make his move."

  Tektu, earpoints slanted forwards in determination and excitement, nodded agreement.

  "I'll wait in the study," continued Nijen. "You in the laboratory."

  Tektu nodded again. She must go somewhere else first, but she would end up in, or nearby, the laboratory sooner or later.

  ***

  Mya heard the alarms' clamor. Difficult to miss when the bells were supposed to be heard by half-deaf humans everywhere in the castle. The guards' standing orders were to release prisoners whenever fire or evacuation alarms were sounded for real. This Mametain did not conduct dangerous experiments and the bells weren't due to be tested today, but the general evacuation alarm kept ringing.

  Her thoughts turned to Neptarik and she smiled.

  She raised a hand to protect her eyes as the bolts on the cell door were drawn back. The door swung open.

  "C'mon you; out!"

  A hand grasped her shoulder and helped her out of the cell. The guard then pushed her towards the stairs. She paid no mind to the other prisoners – not that she recognized any – and obeyed the order. Up the steps, turn right, follow everybody else.

  Suddenly, Neptarik was beside her.

  "Get to safety," he said in a low voice. "I will grab the plans and catch up with you later. Wait near or just inside the city." He gave her a roguish smile and his earpoints twitched. He was enjoying himself! "I will find you."