A Shout for the Dead (23 page)

‘I
will not conduct a Work that results in death and neither will any of the new generation,' said Ossacer.

'You and they will do as ordered by your commanding officer,' said Herine. She pushed herself to her feet and loomed over Ossacer, who did not flinch. 'People that refuse orders on the battlefield are executed.'

'So be it. But I will go to the embrace of God clear of conscience.'

'And burned,' she said. 'Their ashes scattered to the winds.'

'You cannot scare me, my Advocate. I will not change who I am.'

'Damn you, war changes everything for everyone.' Herine's shout bounced from the stone and glass of the Chancellery. 'Have you so short a memory that you forget that? You have already killed in battle and in doing so saved the Conquord. Your conscience is clear to do so again.'

She turned away and bit her tongue against saying more.

‘I
think we should all take a breath,' said Arducius quietly. 'Tempers flare when our abilities are discussed in here as they do in the streets of Estorr. Ossacer, we all understand your position but even you might have to step away from it in the depths of war. And my Advocate, if I may, I suspect that you respect and even support Ossacer's stance.'

'Someone else who can read my damn mind,' muttered Herine. 'Am I such an open book?'

'My Advocate?'

She waved her hand. 'Never mind.'

'We will play our part in any conflict should it arise,' said Arducius. Ossacer opened his mouth and was hushed with a touch. 'What that part is will be decided at the time. As for the new generation, Herine, I don't know. They are untried and if war is as close as you think, there will be no time to school them.'

'You were untried and you were fourteen. Three years younger than the next five Ascendants.'

'And we are still paying the price,' said Arducius. 'We will never be free of the nightmares, the sound of the screams and the tumbling of rock. The sucking of water and the scream of wind. We have to live with what we have done. An individual soldier kills or is killed. We stand back and murder thousands.'

'Yes!' Herine smiled, aware the expression was inappropriate. 'And think how many Conquord citizens you save in so doing.'

'You would not think like that if the power was in your body,' said Ossacer. 'One step too far and we are no better than Gorian.'

'And I'm sure Gorian will exercise no restraint whatever.' Herine sucked her top lip. There was such passion in these young men. And such fear. She continued.

'I understand. I do. I do not envy you the weight upon your shoulders, the duty of care to those who follow you. But we all have responsibility to the Conquord and its citizens. Whether you feel it is a blessing or a curse, you have abilities that can make a significant, perhaps critical difference in times of war. I cannot ignore that.'

'As you cannot ignore the aftermath,' said Ossacer. 'I am offended by the assumption that the Ascendants are weapons first and foremost. We are not. We are people like you.'

'Wrong,' said Herine. She sat back down in her chair. 'Firstly, you are not like me or anyone else in this world. You are the first of a new breed of human beings, with all the glory and pain that comes with that. And second, it is your abilities that are the weapons, not you, Ossacer Westfallen. A farmer trains for war. He will be given a sarissa, bow or gladius, depending on his aptitude. That is his weapon.'

'I am not a soldier and I will not kill,' said Ossacer. 'And I will not allow my fellow Ascendants to be used so casually.'

'Allow?
You are neither Mother of the Ascendancy nor are you Advocate. We will decide what is allowed and what is not.'

'I understand that we must defend ourselves against invaders. I understand the necessity for war. But I live to heal, not to kill.'

'Then be a battlefield surgeon, damn you.' Another shout, another echo. 'And stop wasting my time.' Herine stood and moved towards the door. 'I will say it one more time and you will deal with it in an appropriate way. Should war break out, you and the five will be despatched to the armies, there to do what your commanding officer demands. Failure to do so will result in your execution for cowardice or insubordination. And where will your precious Ascendancy and principles be then?'

She tore open the door and stalked away down the corridor, past the bust of Father Kessian.

'Live in the real world. See what I see.' She let her voice drop. 'Idealists. God deliver me from idealists.'

Roberto Del Aglios had long admitted to himself a certain selfish pleasure in coming to Gosland, despite the reason for his journey. He had sent fast messengers ahead of him and a large welcoming party was waiting for him on the main border crossing. A border crossing bristling with weaponry.

'I knew you wouldn't let me down,' he said quietly.

In all his years travelling to and from Sirrane, he hadn't travelled this way, always taking to the river further north and rowing under the grand arch he was now about to cross. It looked ordinary from the river. From here it was a spectacular and imposing statement of Conquord power.

Seated ten miles south of the Sirranean border, the Gorneon Bridge over the wide, sluggish River Triesk had been a gateway for Conquord legions marching to the invasion of Tsard. The gatehouse on the Tsardon bank of the river was carved with heroic figures of the past and rose forty feet at its highest. Ballistae poked from tower windows, battlements were manned with archers and the huge iron-bound gates, wide enough for a column fifteen men across, were closed against the enemy. Flags flew from six places and statues placed in alcoves adorned the structure, daring any Tsardon to attack.

Those gates rumbled open when Roberto approached. He was welcomed through with cheers and salutes which he returned with a humble nod. The span of the bridge rose in front of him. Behind it, the fortifications on the Gosland bank were formidable. Concrete and stone towers and a fortress that would produce a withering fire on an enemy attempting a crossing. Looming into the sky and glowering down, a barrier that only a fool would attempt to bring down.

It was enough alone to banish any lingering doubts that Roberto might have had about the chances of the small Tsardon force breaching the Conquord borders. Standing in front of the honour guard of shining legionaries were a trio that warmed his heart.

'Damn protocol,' said Roberto, sliding from his horse and striding quickly up the slope. He was aware he was grinning like a fool but more keenly he felt guilt that he had ignored them for so long.

'Hello Roberto.'

'Dahnishev, you sly bastard, what are you doing here?'

Roberto crushed his old friend, the man who had served as his surgeon for so many years on campaign, into a huge embrace. The Goslander miracle-worker. Still going strong.

'Hey, careful of an old man's bones,' grunted Dahnishev.

Roberto laughed. 'You will never grow old.'

And he didn't look it. He must have been pushing eighty and had the appearance of a man thirty years younger. A man Roberto's age. Tall, slender and with that sparkle of genius still in his eyes.

'Anyway. Heard you were coming. Thought you might want a check-up.'

'I may take you up on that,' said Roberto, breaking away. 'That Sirranean food is challenging.' He moved along the line.

'General Kell.' She proffered a hand but he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. 'Dina, it has been too long.'

'For me also, Roberto. Wonderful to see you.'

'And finally, if it isn't Pavel Nunan.' The two men clasped hands and Roberto clapped him on the back. 'Fatherhood been good to you, General ?'

Nunan chuckled. 'Ask Dina. She's the one that sees me in action.'

'He had a lot to learn,' said Kell. 'He treats the three of them like a little legion. I'm surprised they aren't lined up here in front of you rather than in Estorr with their grandparents.'

'She exaggerates. They may have wooden swords but they also have horses and I can't think where the cavalry influence comes from.'

'A noble calling, and it would have been a pleasure to see them. Later perhaps. But talking of family, where is my little brother? Where is Adranis?'

'Not so little, I can assure you,' said Kell.

She turned and looked along the bridge to where the honour guard stood. She made a beckoning gesture and the lead horseman dismounted and marched towards them. Roberto's heart swelled. Adranis removed his impeccable plumed helmet and swept his cloak over one shoulder to reveal equally perfect armour. His bearing was assured, his pace even. Kell was right, he was not little. Adranis had grown into a powerful figure. Tall, black-haired and with a face that had surely broken hearts already. He kept his expression professionally neutral and came to a stop just behind the two generals. Kell glanced at him and raised her eyebrows.

'At ease, Master Del Aglios, for God's sake.'

Adranis glanced quickly left and right before handing his helmet to an aide and rushing forwards to embrace Roberto. He felt the air burst from his lungs and the emotion surge inside him.

'You make me so proud, Adranis. You honour the name of Del Aglios by the very beating of your heart.'

'Where have you been, Roberto?' Deep and melodic, Adranis's voice sounded in his ear. 'Is Sirrane really so enticing you could not break away until now? Until trouble?'

Roberto pushed back and looked into Adranis's eyes.

'Is that admonishment?' he asked, smiling.

'Maybe a little. I've missed you.'

'But I haven't missed news of you. Mother was right to give you to General Kell, I see. Twenty-seven and Master of Horse for the Bear Claws. You're some rider, I understand.'

Adranis blushed and Roberto almost sobbed at the humility.

'I still have a lot to learn.'

Kell snorted. 'Who from?'

'So you don't think twenty-seven a little young and brash for such a command?' asked Roberto, winking.

Kell met his humour blankly. 'Not in this case. You should see him.'

'Perhaps I will have cause to. Little brother, all I shall say is this. Should I fall, the Conquord has an able deputy to the Advocate.'

Adranis drew in a sharp breath and then gasped. He bit back sudden tears and managed a nod.

'Thank you.'

'Not necessary. You are born to it. I can see it in you instantly.' Roberto clapped him on the shoulder. 'Come on, let's eat and yarn. Don't know about you but I'm famished.'

Chapter Seventeen

859th cycle of God, 25th day of
Genasrise

Roberto banged the table and roared with laughter. He sat up on his recliner and drank some sweetened hot wine. On the table around which they all lay, meats, sauces, fruits and breads were still piled high. Servants had been dismissed. Outside, light was fading and the evening was cold. Rain threatened. In the banquet hall, the atmosphere was warm and the fire banked.

'God-take-me-to-my-rest, I had forgotten that,' said Roberto when he could speak again. 'That bloody red Atreskan shield. I can recall it sticking out in the midst of battle like a fire in the night. As if Davarov wasn't obvious in the first place. If I hadn't so much faith in him, it would have terrified me. That was Herolodus Vale, wasn't it?'

'That's right,' said Dahnishev. 'The day Arducius brought the blizzard and Mirron turned the Tsardon catapults to ash.'

'That was some day,' said Roberto, sobering at the naming of the Ascendants.

'Why did he do that?' asked Adranis who had been drinking in the stories of the Tsardon war all afternoon. 'Davarov, I mean. Why did he carry an Atreskan liveried shield? Why did you let him, Roberto?'

'You haven't met him, have you?' said Roberto. Adranis shook his head. 'It is an education. He's one of a kind and Dahnishev will back me up on this. I have never met a man more impassioned about his duty to the Conquord, yet I have also never met a man more immovably cemented to his country of birth. He is the most ardent Atreskan you will ever meet, and he's against some stiff competition as you can imagine.

'It was a difficult combination to command in the early days, but what I had to remember is that his loyalty to the Conquord was unshakeable and he brought all his charges with him on that basis. It meant that I could give him the latitude to express his individuality because in his case, it merely strengthened his belief in me and in us. You don't take a shield from a man like that, just like you don't treat him like any ordinary soldier. If you do, you remove his identity and make him less useful.'

'But that's an open invitation to insubordination,' said Adranis.