The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (25 page)

Seer Tenedos said he would put out magical wards, so no more than a third of my men were needed as guards. He sensed no spells being cast against us as yet.

The second day went even better, and I grew quite worried — the longer the wait, the nastier the surprise.

Captain Mellet chided me for my gloom.

“We
could,”
he said, “be the first Numantians to have good luck in Sulem Pass, now couldn’t we?”

We broke into rueful laughter at the same time.

That day we made fourteen miles, and the weather held as it’d been, cold, with a chill wind coming down from the mountaintops.

It was almost noon on the third day when the hillmen made their first move. The ground was no longer so open, and the icy river ran to one side of the road, so I had pulled my flankers back into the main column.

From nowhere about a hundred mounted men appeared in front of us, blocking the road. I heard cries of alarm from the civilians, but paid no heed.

The hillmen trotted toward us, only stopping when I shouted for them to halt or be fired upon.

One man walked his horse forward. He was tall, quite thin, and his beard was braided. He wore a long multicolored coat, made of different animal furs, and his long saber hung below his stirrups.

He pulled up about twenty feet from me.

“So you are the Numantians, eh?”

“Your perception is almost as acute as your eyesight,” Tenedos said.

The man grinned, showing blackened teeth.

“I am Memlinc, and my word is law in Sulem Pass.”

“I know some other Men of the Hills,” Tenedos said, “who might argue that.”

“Pah. Bandits, no more. They all kneel when I come before them.”

“No doubt,” Tenedos agreed. “So why have you honored us with your presence, Memlinc the Great?”

“I wished to see the
Ph’rëng
that pig Fergana ordered out of Sayana. You have some women I might fancy, or one of my warriors might like. One of my elders has the Gift, and he’s shown me, in a vision, a girl or two worthy of attending me in bed.

“Yes, women. And perhaps half your gold and jewels. I am a reasonable man, but since you must pass through my domain, I think it only reasonable for you to pay some sort of tribute, eh?”

Tenedos waited a long moment, then leaned forward and said softly, “Fuck you.” Memlinc blinked.

“To be precise,” the seer went on, “fuck you, fuck the whore who called herself your mother and fuck the father you never knew because he never paid for the first time.”

Memlinc’s face paled.

“You cannot speak to me like that! No one can and still live!”

“Ah?” Tenedos’s voice was still mild.

Memlinc’s hand flashed to his dagger, just as my blade slid half out of its sheath.

“Very well,” he said, and pulled his lips back into something resembling a smile. “Let your words carry their own penalty. I offered you peace … now see what my other hand carries.”

He picked up his reins, and made as if to turn his horse. Instead, he spurred it forward, straight at the column, in a full gallop.

I guess this was his way of showing his courage to his fellows. They shouted encouragement, and made as if to charge. My archers’ bows were up, a volley went out, and the hill-men’s ranks became a cluster of plunging, wounded horses.

Memlinc hurtled down our column at full speed. No one had time to draw a sword and strike at him, and he was too close for bow or lance.

But he didn’t reckon with Lucan. I spun my horse in his tracks and shouted him into a run.

A spear almost took the hillman, but he ducked under it, then drove his horse through the last few infantrymen into the column toward the second wagon. On it were a handful of women, a few old civilians, and some children. Riding beside the driver was one of Tenedos’s retainers, an assistant pastry chef named Jacoba. I’d noted her before — a small, exceptionally striking young woman, a year or two older than I was, with long, dark hair she normally wore tied into a bun — but had never so much as spoken to her.

She must have been one of the beauties Memlinc’s elder had magically pointed out, because with a shout of triumph the Kaiti leaned from his saddle, scooped Jacoba across it, spurred his horse away from the road.

I turned my own mount through the column after him. One of Mellet’s men was fumbling with his javelin, and I yanked it from his grip.

Memlinc rode for a twisting ravine. Once he was away from the road, no one would dare follow him. He was crouched in the saddle, his face far forward on his horse’s neck.

I stood in my stirrups, balanced … and cast. Perhaps he thought Numantians were gentlemanly at war, or fools, because I did not aim at him, but at the far better target. The spear took his horse in the haunches. It screamed, and fell, sending the woman and her kidnapper tumbling. I pulled Lucan up hard, skidding, and came out of the saddle as Memlinc rolled to his feet. His saber had been lost in the fall, and he ran at me, yanking a long dagger from inside his coat. His hand swooped down to pick up a rock as he came. As he started to pitch it underhand into my face my sword snaked out, and his hand, still holding the rock, fell to the ground. He had an instant to stare in disbelief at his blood pulsing out, then my blade ripped into him on the counterstroke, cutting deep into his chest, smashing through his ribs and into his heart.

Behind me I heard battle shouts, but paid them no mind. I ran forward, I lifted the stunned Jacoba, and turned to find Lucan. He was beside me, sensing that we had but an instant. I mounted, yanking Jacoba across the pommel of my saddle, and then we galloped hard for the safety of the train.

A handful of Memlinc’s riders had attempted to ride to the aid of their leader, but my men cut them off. There were a handful of bodies, men and horses, down in front of the column, and the rest of the bandits were fleeing up a wide draw.

I waved to Tenedos to resume the march. I returned Jacoba to her wagon just as she got her wind back. Her nose was bloody, her coat dirty from the fall, and I suspected she’d have a black eye on the morrow. She tried to find strength for words, but it had not returned as yet. I touched my helmet and rode back to the head of the formation.

As I rode past Two Column I heard a low whistle, the mocking signal the men used to show exaggerated awe at a particular piece of grandstanding. I buried a grin, and put a scowl on. Two Column would be my choice for rotten details for the next few days.

I pulled my horse in beside Tenedos.

“Now I wonder,” he said, without preamble, “if that was Memlinc’s plan from the beginning, or if he was merely improvising?”

“Probably the last, sir. I’ll guess he needed to do some showing off to make sure his men still thought he was worthy to lead them.”

“Speaking of showing off,” he said after a few seconds, “what, Legate Damastes á Cimabue, do they teach you at the lycee about a soldier who abandons his command to do something perfectly stupid, if noble?”

“Generally, sir,” I said, realizing I had been a gods-damned fool but not regretting it for a moment, “he gets praised, then taken behind the barracks, given a thumping by one of the bigger warrants, and told never, ever do something like that again.”

“My congratulations, then. When we reach Urey,” Tenedos said, “I may wish to borrow Troop Guide Bikaner for an afternoon. Until then, however, do me the favor of
not
performing any more daring rescues that can get you killed. I really do not wish to command a troop of Lancers in addition to my other responsibilities.”

“Yessir. And while we’re talking about responsibilities, sir, may I say how shocked I am at the language a professional diplomat sometimes uses?”

“Tut, young Legate,” Tenedos said, mock-magisterially. “Consider this: Our opponent is defeated, is he not? His forces have retreated, have they not? Our way lies unobstructed, and we wasted little time in the colloquy, correct?

“Perhaps,” he said, mock-mournfully, “I should have attempted similar tactics with our friend the Achim.”

That was the last time I laughed for a long time.

• • •

The next day the raiders came back — or perhaps it was a different clan of bandits. They lay concealed on the other side of the riverbank until the cavalry passed, then about thirty archers rose from concealment and showered arrows into the front two platoons of foot soldiers. The infantrymen instantly charged; the best way to survive an ambush is to attack the least-expected direction. The archers turned and splashed away through the shallow river without fighting.

On the other side of the road men darted out of their hiding places and ran toward the wagons, screaming war cries. They cut down the thin screen of guards, and in seconds grabbed what they fancied from the wagons and were gone. At the same time a third group struck the civilians. They stole ten Numantians — five women, including two of the KLI’s camp followers, a ten-year-old girl, a baby, and three men.

Then there was nothing but the keening of the wind through the rocks and the cries of the wounded and dying. Seven soldiers, six men of the KLI and one of my hillmen, died in that skirmish, and another half dozen were wounded.

We reformed and marched on.

An hour later, we heard screams from the rocks ahead. The Men of the Hills had begun their sport.

Around the next bend, we found the baby. Its brains had been dashed out against a roadside boulder and its tiny corpse left for us to find.

We went on, and eventually the screams were lost in the distance.

An hour later we came on the village where the boy had tried to murder me with his grandfather’s bow. This time there was no one at all in the settlement. It was growing colder, so Tenedos suggested that we send a search party through the huts, to see if there were blankets or other bedding material we might acquire.

I kept the main column outside the village, and sent our searchers in on foot. The first two huts were empty, already stripped bare. The lance leading the search party set foot in the third hut, and a crossbow clacked and he came stumbling out, looking bewildered, and tugging at a small bolt, scarcely big enough to bring down a sparrow, stuck in his chest.

The crossbow had been cleverly rigged so anyone coming through the doorway would trigger it.

The lance cursed, pulled out the bolt, and tossed it aside, saying it was nothing. He started for the next hut, then screamed in pain, clawing at the tiny hole the shaft had made. He fell to his knees, then on his back, convulsing, biting his tongue almost through. Before anyone reached him, he was dead.

The tiny wound already smelled of putrefaction from the poisoned arrow.

We found only a few things worth taking, but when we went on the village was a sea of flames. I remembered the gift of life I’d given the boy, and grimaced. I’d learned how war was fought in these lands — to the knife, and the knife to the hilt. The Kaiti would learn that Numantia could fight as brutally as anyone.

The next two villages we also put to the torch, the second, after we’d spent the night in it.

Late in the afternoon of the sixth day, we reached the ford where I’d met Tenedos. We’d barely made camp when the long-threatening storm broke, and icy gales lashed over us, driving snow hard into our faces.

Tenedos cautioned us to be doubly alert, for he sensed sorcery swirling around us. I needed no caution, though. This was ideal weather for the hillmen. I put my men on half-alert, and doubled all guard posts.

Captain Mellet set up stoves next to the wagons, and stretched canvas roofs over them. After I’d seen to my men, and those off watch had been fed, Tenedos and I went through the line for our own supper. It was nothing more than rice with some meat in it, and herb tea, but praise the goddess Shahriya for her gift of fire, it was hot.

One of the servers was the young woman Jacoba. As I thought, she was sporting a wicked black eye. She looked at me, started to say something, then looked away. I was just as pointlessly embarrassed, and went on without speaking.

The little girl, Allori Pares, came up to me while I ate.

“Hello, soldier. Do you remember me?”

I did, and told her to call me Damastes.

“I’ve been helping that other soldier with the food.” She pointed to Captain Mellet. “He said he’s got a daughter just my age.”

I knew Captain Mellet was unmarried, and smiled inside myself at the craggy bachelor trying to be nice to the child.

“I like cooking. Maybe … if I grow up, I’ll want to have an inn.”

If
she grew up. Part of me wanted to cry, part of me wanted to lay waste to this whole gods-damned country.

“You’ll grow up,” I said finally. “You and I, we’re partners. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

“Is that a promise?”

“That’s a promise.”

At midnight, I went the rounds relieving my guards, then thought I could chance a bit of sleep, giving instructions to the commander of the guard to wake me when it was time for the watch to change.

The wind roared even louder, and the snow was drifting on the ground. I found a place to lie, thought wistfully of those civilians who had found sleeping room in or under one of the wagons, wrapped myself in Lucan’s saddle blanket and my cloak, and do not remember my head touching the saddlebag I’d set for a pillow.

The air was rich with the scent of orange blossoms and tamarind, I lay back on the silk pillows, wearing only a loincloth, feeling the houseboat move slightly as gentle waves washed under it. There seemed to be no other craft on the lake, its water echoing the blueness of the sky. A soft summer breeze touched me and was gone.

I felt a touch of thirst, picked up the goblet from the tray beside me, and sipped a cooling punch, its scent a marvelous combination of peaches and strawberries.

Jacoba lay on pillows beside me. She wore nothing but a sleeveless vest and flaring pants of a material thinner than silk.

She leaned toward me, and slowly undid the fastening of my loincloth and it fell away. My cock rose to meet her fingers. She bent, and her tongue flicked around its head, then caressed it down to its base, then she took me in her mouth.