A Sword for Kregen (7 page)

When I offered him a brigade, somewhat diffidently, I must admit, expecting him to refuse, he accepted.

“Give me the brigade, majister. You will soon see my men will form the best brigade in the army.”

The appointment was warmly endorsed by the Presidio.

Thinking myself foolish for offering a command to a man half expecting him to refuse — a very poor way of going on — I wondered if Delia’s attitude had contributed to that feeling of inexplicable hesitancy. Naghan Vanki, the emperor’s chief spymaster, reported that everything Kov Vodun had said was true. Vanki gave him a clean bill of health, and my spirits lifted at that. Asked about the mysterious green-cloaked figure, Vanki gave his thin smile.

“He is merely an adviser to the kov, majister. He is one of the Wizards of Fruningen, a small sect but with some claim to serious consideration. They regard Opaz, I am told, as a single entity and not, as indeed they truly are, the Invisible Twins, one and indissolubly twins.”

I raised my eyebrows at this, for Vanki expressed an extreme view. Most people regarded Opaz as the spirit of the Invisible Twins made manifest. And I knew of the island of Fruningen, a small rocky scrap jutting out of the sea northwest of the island of Tezpor. Reports, amplified by Kov Vodun, told us that the Vad of Tezpor, Larghos the Lame, had been hanged upside down from his own rooftree by flutsmen. And, Tezpor lay due north of the large island of Rahartdrin. There was nothing simple I could do for Katrin Rashumin save pray to all the gods she was safe.

“So far I have not met a Wizard of Fruningen,” I said to Naghan Vanki. “They are clearly not to be compared to the Wizards of Loh.” At this Vanki let his thin smile indicate the idiocy of the remark. I went on: “But how stand they in relation to the Sorcerers of Murcroinim?”

“If one were to engage the other in wizardly combat, Majister, I fear they would both disappear in puffs of smoke.”

“At least that argues real powers.”

“Yes.”

Naghan Vanki had dealt with a few real powers in his time, powers of steel and gold; I did not think a sorcerer would discompose him overmuch. A tough, wily old bird, Naghan Vanki, always impeccable in his silver and black.

So Kov Vodun got his brigade and began smartening them up and putting a snap in their step and iron into their backbones.

Then, although it spelled misery and desolation for the unfortunate people involved, an event occurred which gave me a capital opportunity to delegate responsibilities in Vondium to the Crebent-Justicar, the Lord Farris, and the Presidio, and take off for action.

“So you are off again, then, husband,” said Delia as I strapped on my harness in our rooms and wondered just what selection of weaponry to take. “This time I think I shall go with you, for the folk of Bryvondrin have suffered much and yet they have taken in and cared for the people of the occupied provinces east of the Great River. And they are our people.”

What she meant was plain. Bryvondrin, situated in one of the tremendous loops of the Great River, the enormous central waterway of Vallia, was an imperial province.

“True. But what concerns me is that the enemy have got over the Great River. We regarded that as a first-class natural barrier. And, my heart, it is only seventy dwaburs away from Vondium.”

“Too close for comfort.”

“But that does not mean you will fly with me—”

“You would prevent me?”

I sighed.

“I would if I thought it would do any good. You know how I joy to have you with me — but if there, rather, as there is to be fighting—”

“Fighting!”

I felt suitably chastened. Truly, Delia of Delphond has served in her quota of battles, to my own dread despair.

Her handmaidens, Floria and Rosala came in all chattering and laughing, rosy, gorgeous girls. They brought stands of clothing over which, I felt sure, they would all giggle and try against themselves and spend hours deciding exactly what to wear.

Aghast, I said: “You are not bringing them?”

“Are you taking Emder?”

“Well — to be honest, no.”

“Then it will be as it was in the old days.”

So that was decided. As usual, the decision seemed to have arrived of its own accord.

Naghan Vanki reported that the invasion over the Great River was not in overmuch force. His spies had the composition confirmed by cavalry patrols from our small forces there.

There were some fifteen thousand fighting men, ten of infantry and five of cavalry, mainly totrixes with some zorcas. These men were formed and disciplined, professional mercenaries and although they were not in great force they were formidable. Their object, as I saw it, was to create a secure bridgehead for their further encroachments on our country. Certainly, they held all the land from the Great River to the east coast.

“We must fly out in sufficient force to make very sure of the victory,” I told my assembled chiefs when, dressed in war harness and with Delia at my side, I rode out to see the army off. We were constrained to leave strong forces in Vondium, for obvious reasons, and I had had to pick and choose the units to go. Everyone wanted to be in on the act, and there were some long faces decorating those hardy warriors I had to leave behind.

Firstly, the Phalanx. Nath insisted on accompanying me and he would bring the Third Kerchuri of the Second Phalanx. With foot soldiers, Hakkodin and the attached archers, the Third Kerchuri amounted to some eight thousand men.

Secondly, three brigades of infantry, the sword and shield men. One of the brigades, the Nineteenth, was that commanded by Kov Vodun. These three brigades amounted to some four thousand five hundred men.

Thirdly, two brigades of archers, around three thousand.

And, fourthly, a brigade of the skirmishers.

That formed the infantry corps, and a fine body they looked as they marched out with a swing to board the sailing fliers. The weird constructions, more flying rafts, we had been forced to use before had now given place, with the time and the rebuilding program, to more sensible flying ships. These possessed hulls with real wooden walls, so that the men would have shelter during the flight. Their sail plan was deliberately kept simple, a fore, main and mizzen with jib and headsails. We rigged courses and topsails, not caring to go further into the fascinating ramifications of the typical Vallian galleon’s sail plan. They would fly, and with their silver boxes upholding them in thin air and extending invisible keels into the lines of ethero-magnetic force, they could tack and make boards against the wind. They were sailing ships of the sky, and subject to the vagaries of the weather, quite unlike the vollers of the Hamalese.

For cavalry we took a division of totrix archers and lancers, just over two thousand jutmen, attached to the Phalanx. One division of totrix heavy cavalry, two thousand strong, and one division of zorcas, two thousand one hundred and sixty in number, were joined by a regiment of the superb heavy nikvove cavalry, five hundred big men on five hundred great-hearted nikvoves.

Our tail consisted of engineers, supply wagons, medical and veterinary components, and a goodly force of varters.

Also, I took the whole of the Sword Watch, leaving merely a small cadre at my officer’s pleas to carry on with their program of recruitment and training.

In all we were nearly thirty thousand strong. The plan called for us to land, debouch, deploy and then thrash these upstart invaders and send them packing. That was the plan.

Chapter Five

Of the Theatre, a Gale and a Surprise

On the evening before we left we visited the theatre. The idea of pomp or pageantry in a simple visit by the emperor to relax for an evening’s enjoyment at the play was anathema to me, so Delia and I and a few companions went quietly to our seats in the Half Moon, an old theatre of Vondium and one in which many famous actors and actresses had trod the boards and spoken their lines.

The building was mainly of brick and stone and only the roof had burned in the Time of Troubles. The seats were arranged in a horseshoe fashion, tiered one above the other, and the acoustics and vision were alike first class. As I sat down on the fleece-stuffed cushions and looked about at the black and ugly burn marks high on the walls, and the licks of fresh paint, and saw the stars glittering high and remote, I reflected that the times of troubles were not over yet, by Vox.

An awning had been erected over the stage. During the performance a light rain began. The performers were shielded, and as they were the important part of the night’s proceedings, we in the auditorium perforce sat and got wet. Only a handful of people left. Watching the play absorbed us, and a little rain was nothing.

The play was a new one, recently completed by Master Belzur the Aphorist, called
The Scarron Necklace.
Although my mind was filled with Army Lists, and the problems of supply and transportation, and the natural concern for the morrow, I found I was held by the action of the play. Of one thing I was pleasantly sure: there were still playwrights left in Vallia.

As was often the case, a purely entertaining middle section had been incorporated, in which choirs sang the old songs of Kregen. On this night a new touch had been added. I sat up, and I heard Delia’s delighted laugh at my side.

For, onto the stage pranced files of half-naked girls clad in wisps of crimson and wearing fluffed out felt helmets that might, if you did not look too closely, pass as the bronze-fitted vosk-skull helmets of the Phalanx. The girls all carried wands — and then I realized they were intended to represent the pikes of the pikemen. They were only some five feet long; but the girls made great play with them, marching and countermarching and singing a foolish, lilting, heart-lifting ditty. The words were something to do with a soldier being always able to command the vagaries of a girl’s wayward heart. This was the song that was afterward called the “Soldier’s Love Potion.”

“They march well, majister,” said Nath, leaning across and not taking his gaze from the spectacle. “I could do with a few of them in the Phalanx, by Vox!” And he laughed.

The girls weaved patterns across the stage, their wands circling and rising and falling, and thrusting. I found it extraordinarily difficult to laugh. By Zair! I approved of this flummery, for it did a power of good for morale — but in the reflected radiance of the mineral oil lamps limning those slender girls out there I seemed to see the clumped and solid ranks and files of the Phalanx and heard the awful clangor of battle. Playacting, make believe, a light-hearted evening’s entertainment — why should I make such heavy weather of it and refuse to take the joy? Why this continual questioning of my motives, when I had made up my mind, grimly, and intended to unite Vallia once again and then hand all over to Drak? Why? Why torture myself with regrets? Life is life, and it whirls along and we all get dragged with it willy-nilly no matter how desperately we cling to the deceptively substantial acts of everyday.

I half-expected to see that damned Gdoinye come sticking his arrogant scarlet-feathered head out over the proscenium arch and summon me off to jump about for the Star Lords. By Krun! But that would stir the old blood up.

Delia sensed my mood, half-desperate, half-defiant, and she pressed my hand, and so I turned my fingers over and gripped hers.

“We sail in the morning.”

“I think I shall be glad to shake the dust of Vondium out of my head.” I felt her fingers in mine, warm and trembling slightly. “I wish Drak were here.”

“He will come home with Queen Lush,” she said, and I caught the amused puzzlement in her voice. “I have invited Silda to visit us. Her work — well, she will have news of Lela.”

“When that young lady deigns to return home to give a Lahal to her father, I shall have a few words to say—”

“Now, then, you grizzly old graint!”

Then the mock-soldiers on the stage, their crimson draperies swirling and their bodies gleaming splendidly, performed their final triumphant charge, and vanished into the wings, and the rest of
The Scarron Necklace
began.

* * * *

So, here we were, a little army flying off with the wind across Vallia toward Bryvondrin to meet these upstart foemen who would not leave us alone.

The wind held fair and we bowled along. Standing on the quarterdeck I looked around on the empty spaces of the sky. How odd, how weird, thus to see an armada of sailing ships billowing grandly through the air! Their sails did not gleam, for they were patched brown and pale blue, dappled with camouflage. But the sight of massive ships upheld in the air, bowling along with all sails spread... incredible.

A sniff at the air and a closer look at the cloud formations ahead gave me unwelcome news. The captain came over at my call and he agreed that we were in for a change in the weather.

“In for a blow, majister — and the breeze will back, I think.”

“Aye, captain. I am not as sanguine as I was that we will reach Kanarsmot before the gale strikes.”

“We can but pile on all canvas and trust in Opaz, majister.”

“Aye.”

The plan had been to land near Kanarsmot, a town on the Great River situated where, on the southeastern bank of the river, the boundaries of Mai Makanar to the north and Mai Yenizar to the south marched. By this stratagem we would array our forces in rear of the invaders, cut their supply lines, free the town, and then be in a position to hit them in flank and rear and dispose of them with little hope of escape.

But the wind gusted and freshened. And, as we feared, it backed.

Well, weather is sent by the Hyr-Pallan Whetti-Orbium, the meteorological manifestation of
Opaz,
and we must do what we could. We battened down. There were no seas to come leaping and crashing in over the bulwarks; but as the breeze blew with ever greater strength and backed around the compass, our yards were hauled farther and farther around. Soon we were facing a stiff easterly. The rushing roar of the wind stuffed our mouths and nostrils and half-blinded us. On the ships staggered, lurching as their invisible keels gripped into the lines of force. At last, when we were within only three dwaburs of the town, it was apparent that we could make no further headway.