The Forgotten War (181 page)

‘You two do not want a moment alone?’ said Syalin sardonically. ‘I will be waiting down the hill for you, Morgan, once you have finished here; I am sure it will not take
long.’ Before they could answer her she was on her way.

‘Before you ask,’ said Morgan. ‘I have absolutely no idea how she knows about the two of us.’

‘Do you trust her silence?’ Itheya questioned.

‘Yes. She will be leaving us soon in any case.’

‘Good.’

‘I thought you would be pleased.’

Itheya giggled. ‘You should know I am the jealous type.’

‘There is absolutely no reason for you to be.’

‘I know. But I do so like an argument.’

‘Get back to your camp! How is it even non-human women can be so exasperating?’

Itheya giggled again. ‘I need to be serious with you for a moment. My people will join you for this battle, but – and this is important – if things seem lost we will withdraw.
I cannot throw away the lives of my people.’

‘I understand fully.’ Morgan stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘You don’t even have to join us if your people object. You have helped far more than any human thought
possible, even Cedric.’

It was Itheya’s turn to be thoughtful. ‘I would like to see Cedric again before I return home. You know.’ She gave him a sideways glance.

‘Culleneron asked me to marry him again last night. Things have changed with me. I have no family left; sooner or later I should try for a child, even if it is with him.’

Morgan was silent.

‘Have you nothing to say?’

‘I cannot come between you and your people, no matter what my feelings for you. Some things are more important, especially with what has happened with your family. I will respect any
decision you make. Let us leave it at that for now.’

‘Thank you. My feelings will not change no matter what my duty compels me to do. My feelings for you, that is’

‘One question, though,’ said Morgan, looking even more thoughtful. ‘If you did have a child with him, surely it would be the other tribe that benefits. And if you marry him,
how can you continue to rule your own tribe?’

‘Oh Morgan.’ She laughed again. ‘In inter-tribal marriages it is the woman who decides. If we marry, he joins my tribe until his father dies, at which time we run our tribes
separately. Indeed, if he commands his tribe, there is no real need for us to ever see each other again. Any child will be a Morioka child, and that is final.’

‘You are so lucky you are not human, you elf women need to know your place.’

‘On top. Our place is always on top. Good night, Morgan, we will march with you tomorrow.’

By noon the following day the army was up and marching. Fearing no attack, they moved through the light woods in no formal order making good progress in the warm sunshine.
Morgan eschewed his horse and marched at the head of the infantry, glad to stretch his legs. Among the banners held proudly behind him was a new one that had obviously been created overnight
– a streak of flame on a dark background. Most of the men genuinely felt the Gods were with them and, as they marched, they sang the battle songs of Artorus, Mytha, Huaga, god of slaughter,
and others even more obscure. Alone among the men Morgan seemed raddled with doubt. Were they really eagerly marching into battle against a superior foe against the wishes of the Grand Duke?
Dominic, though, had no doubts. Since seeing his sister he had been possessed by a steely fervour, determined to carry out her wishes to the last syllable. He had also had a few choice words for
the Grand Duke since hearing of his part in his brother-in-law’s death. Words that could be construed as treason in the wrong ears. Morgan had frequently warned him about the need to be
discreet, but he might as well have been talking to the trees.

By the early evening, when camp was made, they had left the woods far behind and were near to the lake’s southern point. Before them they could see the silvery spans of the great Ros
Bridge, a dozen at least hopping from island to island over the marshes and the broad river, a river that scarcely moved here at its source, the swans gliding serenely over it under the rising
moon.

The following day was spent getting five thousand fighting men, two thousand horses and another thousand support staff, wagons, carriages and tents over the bridges. They varied in width but at
their narrowest point only about five men abreast could be accommodated. In terms of distance travelled, little was achieved that day but, when the camp was finally raised, the river was behind
them, they were on the lake’s east side and Roshythe was but a straight day and a half away along the water’s edge.

The following day was even hotter; summer had truly come early to this part of the world. For the first time the army marched in battle formation over meadows dotted with bluebells, anemones,
primroses and even clusters of early poppies, painting the landscape with washes of bold colour over which hummed legions of drowsy insects, bees and dragonflies. Morgan, at the head of his men,
strode along the old elven road with the army fanning out left and right alongside him. The road, a ribbon of green-streaked marble, had become uneven over the years; some of its tiles were cracked
or split but it was still a striking landmark in this natural landscape. It was a covered road, too, pillars supporting a roof of slanted terracotta tiles, many of which no longer existed, leaving
great spaces over which grew ivy or even patches of yellowed moss, Morgan was constantly sheltering his eyes as he marched from shaded cool to blazing sunlight several times in a minute.

Finally, as the lazy sun started to slide indolently westwards, Morgan climbed up a gentle ridge and, at last, for the first time in his life, saw it. Roshythe. The city whose disputed
possession had started a war that had shaped his entire adult life, his and that of many of the men with him. It was too far away to see distinctly but Morgan could make out its flags and spires,
the marble used for its construction standing out like a pearl in a great green sea – so different from the black stone of Felmere. The rolling meadows separating them were populated only by
herds of wild cattle, headed by great shaggy bulls with horns longer than a man’s arm.

They marched on a little further and made camp. A dawn start tomorrow would bring them to the gates of Roshythe by noon. Even Morgan attended the priest’s service that late afternoon.

Esric Calvannen had joined them a few days back with a token force of two hundred infantry with a similar-sized force of Emeric’s cavalry. Until that evening Morgan had had little chance
to speak with him, but now the two of them and Syalin were in Morgan’s tent where Esric was speaking effusively.

‘Once the south was pacified we waited for the weather to turn, crossed the river and took Calvannen. There was no resistance; the Arshuman garrison saw us coming and just moved out. I
have my ancestral seat back after all these years, and I am married, too. The south is secured, Morgan; what you started I have finished. Calvannen is part of Tanaren again! The celebrations are
still going on!’

‘I am amazed you have come here after all that. Messengers had given me the news, of course, but so many of your barons had rebellion on their minds, it would be a while before I would
have been happy to leave them to their own devices.’

‘Easily resolved, my friend,’ said Esric. ‘The most truculent of my barons are all dead. For now my position has never been more secure. I did not want to but ultimately I had
to use fear to bring them to heel. I hope in time I can be more pragmatic and less brutal, but right now only the Gods can see what the future holds. The revolt is over, but violence breeds future
resentment and ultimately only conciliation will stop it from festering in years to come.’

‘And what of Terath and the problems in the Endless Marshes?’

‘No clear news.’ Esric kept fidgeting, standing and strolling back and forth in the tent before sitting down briefly, then standing again. ‘I believe the situation has been
resolved and resolved happily. There are no more refugees; many have indeed returned home, though a small community of Marsh folk remain on my lands. I have accorded them the same status as any
other of my countrymen. Until I know exactly what has happened down there it seems a prudent course of action.’

Morgan drank gloomily from a wooden goblet at the table. ‘Well, keep me informed. You have heard of the dragons in the west, I trust?’

‘Who hasn’t? I hear they have even called a symposium to discuss such things in Chira. Such an event has every noble from the Red Mountains to the Kozean Jungle jumping at shadows.
If any more were awoken and sent into this world, no one could count themselves as safe.’

Morgan did not answer; he seemed lost in thought until Esric interrupted him. ‘And now I have finally pinned you down, what exactly are you planning tomorrow? Why are we not waiting for
the Grand Duke? Surely you have no faith in this “sign” from the Gods?’

‘Well, let me just say that the men saw something. Divine or otherwise, it was a remarkable sight and one that seems to have fired the men up. Tomorrow we will march up to the gates of
Roshythe. What happens after that is entirely up to their king. By all we have been led to believe, they do not have the men to trouble us, so either we wait for the Grand Duke to arrive and talk
terms or they attack us. If they have misled us about the numbers of their men, then it is better we receive the brunt of their ire rather than the Grand Duke himself. Either way, we are doing
Leontius a favour.’

Esric seemed to accept this and left shortly after, leaving Morgan alone with Syalin. They looked at each other and understood.

‘I shall be going now,’ she said. ‘With a horse I can get there while it is still light.’

‘Yes,’ said Morgan. ‘You know what you have to take.’

‘I do. Goodbye, Morgan. Likely as not, you will not see me again.’

‘Goodbye, Syalin. I will not thank you for trying to kill me, but I will thank you for everything you have done since. Where will you go once you are finished?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I do not know. I have never been able to exercise my own will before. I could return to you if you wanted, but there might be problems if I did. I believe Chira will
already know that I have been hired by the other side, but if they find out I am working for you, well, it might cause trouble and I wouldn’t want that.’

‘I can understand your concerns but, as far as I am concerned, you are freelance now and I have no problems with telling any Chiran envoy the same. You would be welcome here if you were to
return, but it is a big world and I am sure you are thinking of other options.’

‘I told you before, there is still a way to accomplish my mission and return to the Emperor’s side covered in glory.’

‘By killing me?’ Morgan raised his eyebrows.

‘That is one possibility,’ she admitted. ‘But there are others. Killing plays a part in all of them, I am afraid, but let’s face it, it is all I am here for; it is the
only thing I know how to do well.’

‘I do not agree,’ said Morgan. ‘There is a lot more to you than that. Why don’t you return home to the mountains?’

‘My people would kill me, or I would kill them. I can never go home, not as a Strekha. Returning to you would be desirable, but it is a life without purpose; you need a shave more than a
bodyguard, if you ask me.’

Morgan stroked his chin, noting the thick layer of stubble.

‘Does life have to have a purpose? Do you need to serve anyone? As far as I am concerned, the priests have never answered these questions properly. I still remain to be convinced that we
are nothing more than bags of blood and flesh who wander round aimlessly for a completely arbitrary period of time before falling over and being eaten by worms. So, why do anything other than what
you
want for a change?’

She seemed uncertain. ‘You have a most prosaic view of life; every day must be full of fresh and exciting possibilities for you. As for me, I have never done anything else. I would not
know what to do with boundless free will. You think me a slave, don’t you, just as your elf girl believes?’

‘I do not,’ said Morgan kindly. ‘Your destiny is your own, not your Emperor’s; you no longer need to be a slave to him or anybody else. You would make a good mercenary.
Ever thought about that?’

She laughed, suddenly seeming very feminine. ‘I would rather kill for honour than money. Goodbye, Morgan. May your Gods keep you safe whether you believe in them or not.’ She came
over to him and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. ‘It is believed that blackroot poisons the saliva, so we are not allowed to kiss anyone on the lips. You are the first recipient of my
newly discovered free will. I have never kissed anyone of my own volition before, apart from my father. Ironic, isn’t it, that I killed one of you and almost killed the other. Back in my
mountain home, we say ‘See you once the snows have ended.’ It means goodbye, but not for ever. Win your battle, Morgan, win it for me and maybe we can meet again in happier
circumstances.’

She went to open the tent flap but stopped short and turned to look at him.

‘Your elf girl...’

‘How did you know about the two...’

She raised her hand airily. ‘It was obvious from the way you looked at each other the first time I saw you meet. It was not lust, but something much more powerful, a strength of feeling
that separates soul mates from mere lovers. Fear not, what I was going to say was that your secret is safe with me. No one else knows. But you know that the nobility of their kind do not approve of
... fraternisation with us.’

‘I know.’ Morgan nodded reflectively.

‘Then it seems free will is not that free after all; we are all bound by conventions of one sort or another. Get your army ready, and your fancy sword. If I live through the day, then you
will need both on the morrow. When the snows have ended, Morgan, then I will see you again.’

A second later and she was gone, the tent flap hanging limply in the breeze and for the first time in what seemed an age Morgan was left alone.