Century of the Soldier: The Collected Monarchies of God (Volume Two) (92 page)

"As for me, my friend you have always been, and yet remain - whatever you might choose to believe."

Bardolin rose with the smooth alacrity of a much younger man. "Think about it, Golophin. At least do that. Farewell."

And he was gone, only a slight stirring in the air, a faint whiff of ozone to mark his passing. Golophin did not move, but stared into the firelight like a blind man.

Ten

T
HE
B
LADEHALL WAS
crowded, bubbling with talk that rose to the tall roof-beams in a babble of surmise. Virtually every senior officer in the country was present, with the exception of Aras of Gaderion, but he had sent a staff officer-cum-courier to represent him and to inform the High Command of recent events at the Gap.

The King entered without ceremony, limping a little as he always did when he was tired. It was common knowledge about the palace that most nights lately he slept in a chair by the Queen's bed. She was very low now, and would not last more than a few more days. Only the day before, a formal embassy had been sent out to Aurungabar on her express orders, and the court was still in a feverish frenzy of speculation as to what it might signify. It was as well to steer clear of the King, though. His temper, never particularly equable, had become truly savage of late.

The Hall hushed as he entered, flanked by General Formio and a tall, horribly scarred old man in travelstained robes who bore a haversack on one shoulder.. Corfe's personal bodyguard Felorin brought up the rear, watching the stranger's back warily. The little group came to a halt in front of the map-table and Corfe scanned the faces of the assembled officers. They were staring at his aged companion with avid curiosity.

"Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to the Mage Golophin of Hebrion, one-time chief advisor to King Abeleyn. He is here with tidings from the west which take precedence over all other matters for the moment. Golophin, if you please."

The old wizard thanked Corfe and then stared at the hungry faces that surrounded him much as the King had done. His mellifluous voice was without its customary music as he spoke.

"King Abeleyn of Hebrion is dead, as is King Mark of Astarac, and Duke Frobishir of Gabrion. The great naval armament which they commanded is destroyed. The fleet of the westerners has made landfall in Hebrion, and that kingdom has surrendered to the foe."

A second of stunned silence, and then everyone began talking at once, a tumult of horrified exclamations, questions lost in the clamour. Corfe held up a hand and the noise tailed away. The Torunnan King's face was grey as marble.

"Let him continue."

Golophin, unbidden, had filled a glass from the decanter on the table, and drained it at a draught. He smelled of woodsmoke, sweat, and another evocative stink much like the charged air of a thunderstorm. A vein throbbed like a blue worm in the hollow of one temple.

"Himerian troops are on the march. They are riding out from Fulk, down both sides of the Hebros towards Imerdon and the northern Hebrionese coast. An army has crossed from Candelaria into East Astarac and has defeated the Astarans in the foothills. Garmidalan is about to stand siege, if it is not besieged already. And if my information is correct, another Himerian army is making for the passes of the Malvennors as we speak, to take Cartigella from the rear."

"How do you know all this?" General Comillan asked, his thick moustache bristling like a besom.

"I have a - a reliable source in the Himerian camp."

"Won't they at least put up some resistance?" one Torunnan asked incredulously.

"Not in Hebrion. It has been agreed that there will be no pillage, no sacking of Abrusio, in exchange for a bloodless occupation. In Astarac the military has been caught off-guard, as have we all. They are in full retreat westwards. The garrison of Cartigella is capable enough, though, and will probably stand siege under Cristian, the Crown Prince." Golophin filled his glass again, peered into it as though it were hemlock, and tossed it off.

"But Cartigella's fall is only a matter of time."

"Gentlemen," Corfe said softly, "we are at war. The general mobilisation is under way. I signed the Conscription Decree not half an hour ago. As of now, this kingdom is under martial law, and every able-bodied man in the country is being called to the colours. No exceptions. Comillan, Formio, in the morning you will begin processing the first batch of conscripts. I want them knocked into shape as quick as possible. Comillan, the bodyguard will act as the kernel of the new training cadre -"

"Sir, I protest."

"Your protest is noted. Colonel Heyn, I am drawing up a command for you which you will take north to reinforce Aras within two days. Colonel Melf."

"Sir?"

"You also are to have an independent command. Once the Merduk contingents arrive from Aurungabar you will set off, and take it south, to the port of Rone. Your area of operations will be the southernmost foothills of the Cimbrics, where the mountains come down to the Levangore itself. The enemy may well try to sneak a column round our southern flank that way. You will be liasing with Admiral Berza, of course."

"Sir!" Melf, a tall, lean man who looked like a peasant farmer, beamed.

"What of the main body of the army sir?" Formio asked.

"It will remain here in Torunn for the time being, under my command. That means the Cathedrallers; your Orphans, Formio; and the bodyguard, of course. Ensign Roche, my apologies for keeping you waiting. What news from Aras?"

The young officer seemed to gulp for a second, then jerkily proffered a despatch-case. "Sir -"

"Read it out, if you please. All present needs must hear it."

Ensign Roche flipped off the lid of the leather tube and unrolled the paper within. He cleared his throat. "It is dated six days ago sir.

"
Corfe,

"
I write in haste and without ceremony. The bearer of this despatch will give you a fuller picture of conditions up here than my penmanship ever can. He has experienced them firsthand. But you must know this - we have been swept out of the Plains entirely by a large-scale advance of the enemy. Not one patrol can be sent out without encountering huge numbers of the foe, and in the past week we have lost heavily in men and horses. I have been tempted to essay a large-scale sally, but prefer to wait for your approval before attempting so major an operation. The Finnmarkans and Tarberans are still not yet up, thanks to our bridge-burning, but the Himerians have numbers enough without them, it seems. I would hazard that they have already stripped Charibon of much of its garrison. They mean to take Gaderion, that much is plain.

"
There is more. We are encountering something new, something which the bearer will be able to inform you of more fully. These
Hounds
, as they are called - they are beasts of some kind, or men that can become beasts at will. The rumours have been flying about the continent for years, as we all know, but I have had patrols, demi-tercios of good men, slaughtered like rabbits by these things, always in the night, half-glimpsed. Our intelligence-gathering is non-existent now. I believe that soon we will be under siege.

"
Man for man, we are better soldiers than the foe, but this new thing we do not know how to fight, and there are no Dweomer-folk about to advise us. I need reinforcements, but also I need a way to fight back. I need to know how to kill these things.

"
Officer Commanding Gaderion, Nade Aras."

There was a concussive silence, as though the wind had been taken out of all their mouths. Corfe spoke first. "Ensign Roche, you have encountered these things General Aras speaks of?"

"I have, sir."

Corfe flapped a hand impatiently. "Tell us."

Briefly, tonelessly, Roche recounted the fate which had befallen his patrol two sennights before. The attack of the huge, half-seen beast, the death of his sergeant.

"We found the bodies in the wood after it had gone, sir. They had been torn into pieces, twelve men. We had only heard that one shout. We saddled up what horses remained, doubled up in the saddles, and made our way back into Gaderion that same night."

"You left the bodies unburied?" Comillan snapped.

Roche ducked his head. "I am afraid so, sir. The men were panicked, and I -"

"It's all right, Ensign," Corfe said. He turned to the old mage who stood at his side listening intently. "Golophin, can you enlighten us?"

The wizard sighed heavily and stared into his empty glass. "Aruan and his cohorts have been experimenting for years, perhaps centuries. They have taken normal men and made them into shifters. They have taken shifters and twisted them into new forms. They have bred unnatural beasts for the sole purpose of waging war, and these are now being unleashed upon the world. They destroyed the allied fleet, and now they will take part in the assault upon Torunna."

"I ask you Aras's question; how do we kill these things?"

"It's quite simple. Iron or silver. One nick from a point or a blade made of either and the Dweomer which flows through the veins of these creatures has its current disrupted, and they die instantly."

Corfe seemed slightly incredulous. "That's it?"

"That's it, sire."

"Then they are not so fearsome after all. You hearten me, Golophin."

"The swords and pike-points of the army are made of tempered steel," Formio said wryly. "They will not bite, it seems. Nor will the lead of our bullets." He looked quizzically at the old wizard.

"Correct, General."

"We must get the smithies busy then," Corfe broke in. "Iron blades and pike-points. And I'm thinking maybe some kind of iron barbs which can be fitted onto armour. We'll make of every man a deadly pincushion, so that if these things so much as lay a paw on him, they'll send themselves off to Hell."

The mood in the Bladehall lightened somewhat, and there were even some chuckles. The news from the west was bad, yes, but Hebrion and Astarac were not Torunna, and Abeleyn was no Corfe. The very sea itself might be subjugated to the will of Aruan and his cohorts, but there was no force on earth that would stop the Torunnan army once it had begun to march.

"Gentlemen," Corfe said then, "I believe you all know your duties for now, and Lord knows there's enough to be getting on with. You are dismissed. Ensign Baraz - you will stay behind."

"Corfe," Formio said in a low voice, "have you thought any more on our discussion?"

"I have, Formio," the King replied evenly, "and while you make very valid points, I believe that the possible gains outweigh the risks."

"If you are wrong -"

"There is always that chance." Corfe smiled, and gripped Formio by the shoulder. "We are soldiers, not seers."

"You are a king, not some junior commander who can be spared to hare off on a whim."

"It's no whim, believe me. If it succeeds, it will bring down the Second Empire. That makes the gamble worthwhile."

"Then at least let me come with you."

"No. I need to leave behind someone I trust - someone who could be Regent if the worst occurs."

"A Fimbrian."

"A Fimbrian, who is my closest friend, and most trusted commander. It must be you, Formio."

"The nobility will never wear it."

"The Torunnan nobility is not the fractious beast it once was - I have seen to that. No, you would have the backing of the army, and that is all that matters. Now let us hear no more of this. Continue the preparations, but discreetly."

"Will you let him into our little secret?" Formio asked, nodding at Golophin, who was conversing with Ensign Baraz on the other side of the hall. Nearly all the other officers had left by now and the fire cracked and spat loudly in the sudden quiet. Felorin stood watchful as always in the shadows.

"I believe I will. He may be able to make some suggestion. There is always that bird of his anyway, a hell of a useful thing to have around."

Formio nodded. "There is something, though, Corfe - something about Golophin that does not feel right."

"Explain."

"Nothing, perhaps. It is just that sometimes I feel he should hate more. He has seen his King slain, his country enslaved, and yet I sense no hatred, hardly any anger in him."

"What are you now, some kind of mindreader?" Corfe grinned.

"I find myself not wholly trusting him, is all."

Corfe clapped him on the back. "Formio, you are getting old and cantankerous. I'll see you later down at Menin field. We'll go over those new formations again. But talk to the Quartermaster-General for me. Let's see how much scrap iron we can come up with."

Formio saluted, spun on his heel, and left as crisply as a young officer fresh off the drill square.

"A good man, I think," Golophin said, walking over from the fire. "You are lucky in your friends, sire."

"I have been lucky, yes," Corfe said. Formio's words had unsettled him. He stared at the old wizard closely. "Golophin, you said you had a reliable source in the Himerian camp. Would it be out of place for me to ask who it might be?"