The Right Hand of God (30 page)

Mahnum leaned towards them. 'The ground frozen so hard it drives the ice up into hillocks and makes paving patterns out of the plains. A wind from the east that drains your strength, no matter how well you protect yourself. Ice falling from the skies like shards of broken glass. A pitiless place, the Nagorj.'

'Nagorj?' Leith repeated, though as he, spoke he saw the word on his map.

'The Sna Vazthan name for the Gap. The land immediately to the west of the Gap is not really part of any Falthan kingdom, so harsh is the climate, and no one lives there. But nearest is Sna Vaztha, to the north, and Piskasia, to the south-east.'

'Sounds like the vidda to the north of Breidhan Moor,' said Perdu uneasily. 'And we plan to take an army there in winter?'

'It is worse than the vidda, and we go there because we must,' said Mahnum resolutely. 'The Destroyer showed me

his plans, remember, and they depend on a winter invasion. He has trained his army to travel in winter, and they will have the advantage over us.'

'So why do we not wait until they come down the river closer to Instruere?' Leith asked. 'It will be spring by then, we can fight on our own ground, and we won't have to march as far.'

'Because of what will happen to the farms and villages, the towns and the cities between here and there, if we do nothing,' replied his father, with old pain rimming his voice. 'The Bhrudwan army will tear any Falthan opposition apart on their way to Instruere. Look at the map! Piskasia, Redana'a, Favony, Straux; all will fall. And even if we were victorious, the Bhrudwans would be impossible to root out from Faltha's heart. We cannot allow a single Bhrudwan on this side of the Gap.'

'It's a risk we are taking, a grave risk,' said Jethart of Inch Chanter, his voice carrying across the tent from where he sat. 'The essence of successful warfare is to choose the ground that best suits your forces, and most disadvantages your enemy. We don't yet know the numbers or experience of our own army, let alone that of our foe. One blizzard could wipe out the lot of us.' He sighed. 'Perhaps no ground will suit us, perhaps no ground will disadvantage the Bhrudwans. Nevertheless. . . nevertheless, we must fight.'

'Yes, Jethart, we must,' Mahnum said, and something passed between Leith's father and the old man. I remember hearing them talk about this old fellow, last night in the Hall of Lore.

They said Jethart travelled into Widuz and persuaded the warriors of Adunlok to join the losian army. My father carries his sword, taken as payment for saving captives of the Widuz originally of Inch Chanter. There was talk about how he was

the greatest swordsman in the west, in his day. That day was clearly long past.

The insistent murmuring all about him drew Leith away from his thoughts, and in a few moments he became immersed in the planning around him. At one table people debated the best way to get supplies for the army up through Vulture's Craw, the notorious gorge where the Aleinus became non-navigable. At the next table, hunched over the best map of the Nagorj that could be found, a group of older men listened as one of their number held forth about tactics. Leith listened for a while, but could understand very little of what was being said.

Nearby another knot of officials sat opposite some obviously senior members of the losian army, and from what Leith could make out, the discussion centred on the chain of command.

At every table Leith was politely acknowledged, and asked to contribute his opinion, although he couldn't help but notice their furtive glances at the Arrow burning in his right hand, and the uneasy, even fearful glances he attracted.

Leith gleaned a great deal of information during the morning he spent in the tent. Spies had been sent out at dawn to scout the possible routes the army might take, to determine possible obstacles, food sources and level of support. Other riders on fast horses were already heading east towards the Gap, with instructions to find the Bhrudwan army and report on its strength.

'Knowledge, my lord, knowledge is everything,' people kept saying to him.

Emissaries had been sent, men whose job was perhaps equally risky, to make contact with the rulers of each Falthan kingdom. In some cases the message to be delivered was blunt: their treachery was known, and would be forgiven only if the king put his entire army at the new Council's disposal.

In other cases the appeal was friendlier, if no less urgent, informing the king of happenings in Instruere and beyond, explaining the threat to the east and witnessing to the return of the Jugom Ark. These ambassadors of the Arrow were to beg the kings' help, and would accept armsmen, supplies or gold. Much was hoped for from these emissaries, but little could be counted on. As yet.

City officials purchased food, weapons and medical supplies from all over Instruere.

According to the clerks, the City's coffers were being emptied at an alarming rate, though apparently a great deal of gold had been recovered from the private rooms of certain of the former Councillors of Faltha - some of the coin of obvious Bhrudwan origin - and was already proving very useful. Hal was out in the City, so Leith was told, organising the collection of supplies: a difficult job, apparently, with the firing of the Granaries only a fortnight earlier having depleted food stocks in Instruere. Traders scoured the countryside, buying up supplies from nearby towns and cities as well as directly from farmers.

The mighty Falthan army would march within three days, Leith was informed. This was the target he himself had apparently set for the citizens of Instruere, one which was repeated to him enthusiastically by those hard at work on his behalf, and the source of which he never tracked down. An army from Deuverre would join them on the plains north of Instruere, as would their king. They would then be ferried across the Aleinus to Sivithar, avoiding the vast swamplands of the Maremma, from where they would march across Westrau, the western province of Straux, until they reached Vindicare. There they would take ship on the Aleinus, sailing upriver directly towards the Aleinus Gates and Vulture's Craw. To keep to schedule they must arrive at the Aleinus

Gates within fifty days of leaving Instruere. Shipbuilders were already making the large rafts which would take them upriver from Vindicare to the Aleinus Gates.

'What about Straux?' Leith asked, interrupting a senior official as he explained this to him and other members of the Company.

'Pardon, my lord?'

'What happens when the army has left Instruere behind? Won't the King of Straux take Instruere for himself? I hear he has long desired it, believing it a natural part of his kingdom.'

'My lord, he met with you only a few days ago, and agreed—'

'He was named a traitor to Faltha, and I do not trust him,' Leith snapped. He looked at the map on the table, and slammed a finger down on it. 'We will leave from the southern gate, cross Southbridge and march to Mercium. We will demand a proof of his loyalty. He will supply us with his best soldiers, and he will accompany us eastwards on our journey, or he will be put to death as a traitor.'

'But, my lord, the agreement—'

'The agreement demands he support the Council of Faltha on matters of war. He will not be left behind to threaten the vulnerable citizens of this City,' Leith declared. Behind him a few onlookers cheered, then put their heads back down to the discussions they had been part of.

'Such a decision will cost us valuable time, boy,' said Kurr quietly. 'Are you so determined to undo everything your brother counselled?'

Leith turned to face the old farmer, and for a moment the Arrow in his hand flared brightly, flames surging dangerously close to the old man, who stood there, his arms folded, an unreadable expression on his face. Then the youth visibly took hold of himself, and the flame receded to a yellow flicker.

'Hal is not the only Mahnumsen with ideas,' Leith said flatly. 'I think this is the right thing to do, but I can't predict how these people are going to react. A year ago I was just some peasant child, and you were a sheep farmer. Can you honestly tell me that you know what the King of Straux will do?'

Kurr pursed his lips, obviously biting back a retort, and nodded his head reluctantly. 'You may be right, boy, you may be right,' he said. 'We've taken a thousand risks up to this point. Why not take a few more?'

The next three days passed in a blur of meetings. It rained on and off outside, a cooling drizzle that signalled the end of warm weather to the locals, though to Leith the temperature still seemed agreeable. It sufficed to remind them all there was little or no time to spare if they were to beat the worst of the weather. Leith began to assume command. He was the only one who shared in the knowledge generated at each of the tables, and gradually earned the grudging respect of his commanders. He left the tent only to sleep in a luxurious chamber attached to the Hall of Lore, a room that made him uncomfortable with its richness, its velvet curtains, its tapestries and exotic rugs, and the servants who stood outside his door. Most discomfiting, however, was the loneliness. He missed the sounds of his brother stirring, of the discussions they had, of him shuffling across the room in the morning. He didn't know where Hal slept, hadn't seen him for days.

And now three days had passed, and he sat astride a tall white horse, weighed down by ceremonial armour, a sword held awkwardly in his left hand, the Arrow in his right.

Another duty to perform. It was a fog-bound morning, and the Falthan army - really three thousand of the Instruian Guard accompanied by ten thousand ill-trained civilians and the losian Army of the North - was ready to march. Ahead of him the mostly-rebuilt Struere Gate stood closed, awaiting his order to open. Behind him the Company sat uncomfortably on their mounts, none more so than Indrett. Though Leith himself, and Mahnum his father, begged her to stay behind, she was coming east with them. Beyond all expectation she had proven to be tactically astute, regularly defeating the generals of the Falthan army on the wargaming table through an unfathomable combination of conservative and outrageously risky tactics. A legacy of years at the Firanese Court, she explained. The defeated generals, far from being resentful, requested Leith to allow her to come with them. 'She may save many lives with her tactics,' they told him, and he relented, secretly pleased.

In the end none of the Company was left behind. Even the slave girl they had rescued from the markets of Ghadir Massab came with them, unwilling to be separated from Indrett, to whom she attached herself as though a long-lost daughter. The government of Instruere was to be managed by a committee of businessmen, all of whom had been made aware of the price of treachery. Most frustrating to Leith was the necessity of leaving behind a thousand of the Instruian Guard, but there had been no sighting of the Arkhos of Nemohaim since the Battle of the Four Halls. No one wanted to return, whether in victory or in defeat, to find the City held against them.

So now all was made ready for their departure. Or, at least, as ready as three days could make.

Leith stood up in his stirrups, raised the Arrow high above his head, and cried: 'Forward!' at the top of his voice. Crowds gathered in the

square in front of the Gate, on the balconies of the tenements and all along the City wall, cheered and shouted as the Struere Gate opened and their army filed slowly out of the City and across the partially repaired Southbridge, soon to be lost in the swirling fog. All too soon.

The army vanished, and the citizens made their way home or to their places of work, steeling themselves for the long wait ahead.

The Company and the leaders of Instruere had thought hard and planned carefully for the campaign ahead, making the best of the experience they had and the little time at their disposal. But they had forgotten one man. That man now stood alone in the shadows of the Struere Gate, his blond locks hidden by a hood. Tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd in front of him, he directed a stare of pure hatred at the youth on the horse. This was not how die Most High had ordained it; the words he heard from the Most High himself had been sabotaged by the glory-seeking Company. But now they were gone, and he could make those words come true before they returned. With a sweep of his blue robe the man turned on his heel and strode away into the depths of the city. With luck the army would not return.

Stella awakened to a sickening motion. Everything around her glowed a bright white.

Disorientated, for a moment she thought she lay in a cave of ice, though she felt warm, not cold. As she came to herself she realised her dazzling surroundings were made up of pillows, sheets, lace, hangings and curtains; not the snow and ice she had taken them for. Everything was in motion, a regular rolling from side to side as she was borne forward in a conveyance of some kind. In the few moments before the awful memories flooded back, Stella imagined she was in a palace somewhere, a resting place on the Company's journey to Instruere, the sort of grand place she dreamed of seeing on her travels, not all those backwoods hovels the others seemed to delight in.

But then the cruel memories returned, and the Stella who now huddled in the small white chamber, arms wrapped protectively around her knees, was not the Stella who might have complained at the rustic accommodation of the Great North Woods. Her dreams had been pulled apart by a man infinitely more cruel than the boy Druin - now a distant and almost pleasant memory, a boy who did little worse than trapping moths and pulling off their wings.

She was a remnant, something discarded after the essence had been distilled from a person, something that found itself centred around an immense inner ache, a sea-deep sense of loss, and an uncontrollable fear of what was to come.

The curtain jerked aside and a round-faced, shaven-headed man smiled emptily at her. 'Is the Shining One ready?' His voice, soft and oddly high, was respectful.

'What shining one? What do you want? What is happening to me?' Each question was higher pitched, more frantic. Before the man could answer her, she pulled back from him and began to weep.