Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (22 page)

Lessur was only
twenty-five. He’d been eleven when Imperator Jarvos died, so he had
little memory of mages in his world. He’d been taught to believe
that all mages were of a dangerous disposition, untrustworthy,
tricky folk. Lessur was aghast when Veranta told him he would lead
a force into the Dark Realm. She mentioned in passing that she had
her doubts about General Whilk’s loyalty.

To Captain Lessur, the
General was a legend. His skill with a sword was to be emulated,
his quiet courtesy to be respected above all. Veranta had no idea
of Lessur’s hero worship of his General, but then, she was not an
astute woman. Ternik had expressed doubts about Lessur’s
capabilities which Veranta totally ignored. Before Ternik’s voice
spoke in his head, Lessur had opened sealed orders of his own.
Veranta had instructed him to do so when he arrived in the
foothills.

He read with terrified
disbelief a list of reasons, some feasible, most outrageously
unlikely, why General Whilk must meet with “an accident” on the
journey through the Barrier Range. On no account, Veranta
commanded, was the General to make contact with any citizens of the
Dark Realm. That was to be Lessur’s task, and she would prefer that
contact to result in the death of said citizens.

Captain Lessur sat in
his tent and thought, harder than ever before in his life. For the
first time, he realised some of the officers with him could well be
Veranta’s tools. Was Ternik contacting any of them? Had any of them
received secret orders? He folded the papers and tucked them inside
his shirt. He called for the sentry outside.

‘We will remain here
until General Whilk arrives,’ he said. ‘Ask the officers to attend
me before the evening meal.’

The guardsman saluted
and left. Lessur got up and went to the open tent flap. His gaze
travelled south, up over the gently rolling hills, up, up to the
majestic sweep of the mountains. He called to a man striding past
and the man swung smartly in his direction.

‘Camp Marshal, we will
be here several days. Make sure all is in order with the horse
lines, the latrines, and the patrols. The men are not to slacken
during this halt so make sure leaders organise the units as they
would in barracks.’

‘Very good
sir.’

Lessur gave a last look
at the mountains and turned back in to his tent. The queasiness had
left him, but now his head was beginning to ache. He realised he
would have to try and assess his officers and gauge which ones
would support General Whilk and which would follow Veranta’s orders
without question. As he wasn’t the greatest conversationalist,
neither was Captain Lessur the greatest thinker. He suspected his
headache would be far worse before nightfall.

But Lessur was not
skilled in subtlety or intrigue, and several of his fourteen
officers were. Lessur turned in to his bed roll later in a mood of
cautious optimism. He was almost cheerful the next morning,
anticipating the General’s arrival within the following two days.
It turned out to be one of his officers’ birthday, and a small
party was announced. The officer celebrating was named Strannik and
he was a year or so younger than Lessur. His wealthy banker family
had bought his commission and also provided some rather special
wine for just this occasion.

Lessur had no memory of
returning to his tent, and did not rouse until late morning the
following day. He tried to move and found he couldn’t. Turning his
head caused pain to flare behind his eyes. When he reopened them he
saw other bodies lying on the ground around him. Then he saw they
were tightly bound and knew he was too. He groaned with both pain
and humiliation. Someone else groaned and a body rolled over,
bleary eyes staring into the Captain’s.

It took a great deal of
time and effort to get themselves untied, but eventually they
pulled the ropes from each other and began to free the others.
Lessur counted six of his officers, roped and stuffed in his tent.
He knew what he’d see when he finally got the tent flaps unknotted.
An area of flattened grass. Patches of blackened ground where small
camp fires had burned. Ten horses were still tied on a small picket
line. But of four thousand men, five hundred horses, and eight
middle rank officers, there was no sign.

It took copious
draughts of the icy river water to clear their heads sufficiently
for them to evaluate their position and their next move. One small
tent still stood behind the line of ten horses and they found
supplies had been left them which should last until they reached
the last village. Little was said as twilight drew down, bringing a
stiff breeze from the higher land which carried the tang of snow.
They lit a fire and made a meal, although none had much appetite.
The youngest among them, Fent, poked the fire to a last blaze but
the chill in the air soon sent them into Lessur’s tent.

Lessur lit a lantern,
sat down and sighed. He reached inside his shirt and tossed the
papers into the circle the men had formed.

‘All of you read that
before we discuss anything more.’

The papers changed
hands until they came back to Lessur.

‘Your views?’ Lessur
asked.

His remaining six men
glanced at each other. Finally Ollister spoke.

‘I would follow General
Whilk to Simert’s Gates sir. None of those accusations are
true.’

Heads nodded around the
circle and Lessur relaxed a fraction. ‘I have to say that is my
feeling,’ he said. ‘I think we should wait until the General
reaches us and let him decide what action to take.’

The eldest of them,
Delk, pulled at the grass which carpeted the tent. ‘The General has
two choices as far as I see it. Turn back and face the Imperatrix.
No doubt charges of treason, corruption – whatever takes her fancy
– will be brought. On the other hand he could have the “accident”
requested in those orders sir. Or, he can lead us on, somehow get
round Strannik and the army, and warn the people of the Dark Realm
of their advance.’

Lessur stared at him.
‘Betray Kelshan?’

A look of irritation
crossed Delk’s face. ‘Of course not sir but I can’t believe we are
right to invade an unknown land in this manner. There has been no
aggression against us.’ Delk waved a hand towards the north. ‘You
know the wild clans make occasional forays into Kelshan farmlands.
No such raids have ever been reported along this southern border.
What excuse does Kelshan have to invade the Dark Realm?’

‘Besides,’ Fent
interrupted. ‘The stories tell of monsters and magic – Simert knows
what we might have to face.’

Delk slapped a hand on
his knee. ‘That’s not the point,’ he argued. ‘Think of the
reputation of the Imperator Jarvos – is this an action he would
consider let alone approve? It has to be said, and I at least feel
a relief in saying to you now, Veranta is a devious woman. In my
view, she is not fit to rule our land.’

Lessur closed his
mouth, stunned by Delk’s words. ‘That is treason,’ he
whispered.

‘Don’t you see, we are
in the same position as the General now sir,’ said Ollister.
‘Strannik must have assumed we would trot back to Kelshan, where no
doubt we would be charged with desertion.’

Heads nodded agreement
and Lessur rubbed his brow which was aching ferociously again.
‘Let’s sleep on it,’ he decided eventually. ‘Perhaps the General
will understand this crazy situation better than we
can.’

He reached behind him
for his bed roll and tried to settle to sleep. By unspoken
agreement, the lantern hooked on the central tent pole was left
burning. Delk, unnoticed, stayed on watch through the
night.

Lessur and the six
officers spent the next day checking the horses and what equipment
remained to them. Very little talk was exchanged, most men deep in
their own thoughts. Fent had taken one of the horses and ridden a
league down their back trail to see if the General might be
approaching yet. He returned at a gallop in the late
afternoon.

‘Five riders sir,’ he
reported breathlessly. ‘I saw them as they came over a hill,
perhaps three leagues to the north.’

‘Smarten up in case it
is the General, but be alert in case it’s a party sent to dispatch
us,’ Lessur ordered.

Ollister scowled at
Fent. ‘Get that horse rubbed down and cooled off. There was no need
for such reckless riding lad, no need at all.’

Fent blushed and led
his horse away. Ollister smiled grimly.

‘He’s a good lad sir,
still a bit excitable, but he’s got the makings of an
officer.’

‘Will we still be
officers tomorrow?’ Lessur wondered. ‘And still officers of the
Imperium?’

Ollister gave him a
genuine grin. ‘Like Delk sir, I’ll be an officer for the General.
He’ll never lead us wrong.’

Lessur looked around
what remained of the encampment. To the north the land sloped
gently, patchily cloaked with pine trees, but no sign anywhere of
human occupation. No smoke rising from any hidden steading, no
sound of cattle. Only the occasional scream of a great hunting bird
so high overhead to be barely visible. It had taken seven days for
the foot guards to reach this place after leaving the last tiny
hamlet.

The trail the scouts
had chosen was wide enough for five men to march abreast. But
Lessur had guessed it wouldn’t be such easy going once they got
amid the steeper land. He didn’t need to look behind him, to the
south: he could feel those mountains, brooding down at him. He
stayed staring north, hoping it was the General approaching rather
than Veranta’s assassins.

Klete and Fent had a
good meal cooking. Delk had brought in four rabbits, surprisingly
plump ones, which were baking in the embers, along with a large pot
of stew, when the sound of hooves rang against stone and five
riders came into view. Lessur and his men all felt a surge of
relief: it was indeed General Whilk, and four men accompanied him.
By the time the General’s weary horses were tended and fed, the
first stars prickled in a pale green sky. The tip of a young moon
just showed behind one of the mountains. The cold wind had risen
again although the day had been clear and hot.

The dozen men squashed
into Lessur’s tent, Fent and Klete bringing food in to them all.
General Whilk read Lessur’s orders while they ate. He made no
comment, merely passing the papers on to Kestis. Lessur reported
what had happened two nights ago and then waited for the General’s
opinion. Whilk put his empty dish in front of him.

‘An excellent and most
welcome meal,’ was his first remark. He pulled his saddlebag close
and rummaged in the smallest pouch to find the sealed packet he’d
received from Veranta’s hand five days before.

‘You say you heard
Ternik’s voice in your head – before you opened your
orders?’

Lessur
nodded.

‘Well, I have heard no
voice, and I am at the camp where you were commanding officer of
the full force, so I think I should now open my orders
too.’

‘Perhaps outside?’
suggested Delk.

Whilk grunted. ‘Perhaps
so.’

‘May I see the packet
sir?’ Delk asked, when everyone was outside again. He studied it
closely, turning it over to catch the last light from the dying
fire. He folded it so that the seal was at an edge, then he wedged
it between three rocks. ‘You’re the best with a throwing knife,
Klete. Knock that seal away.’

Klete drew a thin blade
from his belt and walked round the packet. He moved several paces
back, his eyes fixed on his target. With a flick of his hand, the
blade flew to the packet. The detonation knocked them all flat and
sent the horses into hysterics. Fent was first up, hurrying to the
picket line, crooning soft nonsense to the frantic
animals.

General Whilk sat up.
‘Well, I think that’s one question answered.’

Lessur was rubbing his
eyes, seeing only the afterimage of a blinding flash of light. Delk
was crouched beside the crumbled rocks where he’d wedged the
papers, and sniffing the air. One of the General’s men, Eltim, was
helping Fent calm the horses and Klete prowled around Delk, looking
for his knife.

General Whilk stirred
the fire back to blazing life and settled the large kettle above
it. He’d brewed a herb tea by the time the men
regathered.

‘You seem unusually
familiar with mage traps,’ he remarked mildly as Delk accepted a
bowl from him.

Delk squatted beside
the fire. ‘It is unhealthy to admit to such knowledge sir.’ He shot
a sidelong glance at the General.

Whilk snorted. ‘If I’d
opened that damn packet, I wouldn’t be too healthy right now. I
think honesty between us is a necessity now. And I will
start.’

He took a gulp of his
tea and began. He told them of his true lineage, among the wild
clans, of his father’s faith in the Imperator and of his own
devotion to Jarvos. He spoke of his increasing concerns at
Veranta’s rule, but he made no mention of the Spiders’ Web to which
he belonged. When he finished, there was silence, then Delk spoke
up.

‘It is true I know of
mage traps – to a certain extent. There have been those in my
family through many generations who have certain – talents.’ He
shrugged. ‘Some could see the future, some could heal, some had
affinity with animals and birds, or with metals. But such talents
receive the death penalty over the last fifteen years. Those of us
lucky enough to come from families who understand such things are
taught early how to conceal our true selves from all others. Those
who are alone are quickly found out.’ He looked across the fire at
the General. ‘That seal felt wrong to me sir. I cannot explain
more, it just felt wrong. The explosion was a mage spell, no
chemicals were involved, such as some miners use in the
east.’