'I'm still too young,' said Kessian. 'I can't do much.'
'Really?' Gorian's voice dropped low and he felt pride through his veins when he spoke. 'I have felt you ever since you were born though I was thousands of miles away. It is how I knew the time was right to come for you, to free you.'
'I don't—'
'Shh.' Gorian held a finger to his lips. 'I'm speaking. Listen to me. You can do so much more than any other Ascendant of your age, can't you?'
'No,' said Kessian sharply. 'Everyone knows that I won't fully emerge until I'm thirteen or fourteen.'
'Everyone but you and I,' said Gorian. 'Your mother doesn't look so she doesn't see. But I have. I felt it happen across the endless miles but it was so brief a thing that even those closest to you missed it. You emerged, didn't you? Over the course of a few hours not days like everyone expected. And early. Years early. I have touched your life energies and I know. Don't deny it, Kessian. You have the power at your fingertips now, today.'
Kessian's head dropped and he scratched the top of his head. Gorian put a hand under his chin and tilted his face back up.
'What's wrong?'
'Everything!' shouted Kessian. 'It shouldn't have happened. It means I'm not like the others. Not normal. It means something is wrong with me.'
Gorian drew in a sharp breath. 'You're
ashamed?'
Kessian nodded. 'I have to hide it until I'm ready.'
'No, no,' whispered Gorian, happy to accept the gift he had been given. He stroked Kessian's beautiful blond hair and for the first time the boy didn't recoil from the gentle touch. 'Don't be ashamed, be proud. Can't you see why I was right to liberate you from the Academy? From your mother just for now? You felt you had to hide what you were because you think they won't understand. And you're right, they won't. They'd want to study you, hold you back until they thought you were safe to be taught again.
'With me, that won't happen. You are far ahead of any other Ascendant. Far ahead of where I was at your age. But I'm not scared by that, I'm excited by it. Because it means your potential for shaping your abilities in the right way is that much bigger.'
Kessian's face had cleared a little and Gorian felt that for the first time, he actually had his son's attention.
'I will teach you to understand what you are feeling and how to tap the well of your power. I'll teach you the things you would never have been taught at the Academy. The things they think are dangerous but are the birthright of every Ascendant. You want to learn, don't you?'
Kessian nodded.
'Well, I will help you and in return, you will help me. I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to do. You won't harm anyone, I promise. And neither will I harm anyone who believes in me. In us. And one other thing I promise is that you will see your mother again. I can't say when but you will. One day, we will all stand together. A proper family.
'So, what do you say? Do you want to try?'
The confusion was back on Kessian's face. Gorian could understand it readily enough. He smiled and ruffled the boy's hair before standing up.
'All right, look, this is all too much to take in, isn't it. I'm sorry to have to do it to you, all right?'
Kessian nodded and the tiniest smile appeared.
'You're scared, you don't know me and you don't know where you are or where you're going. Hey, are you hungry?' 'A bit.'
'All right then, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to leave you to think about all that we have spoken about. And then I'll bring you some food and see what you think. And Kessian. Let me promise you one thing more. I will never let anyone harm you. While you are with me, you are safe and secure. You're my son, whatever you think about that right now and that makes you precious beyond measure.'
Gorian pulled the curtain across the opening and walked back to the stair and up to the deck. Whether he had turned Kessian at all, he was unsure. But one thing was certain. He had been right about the enormous capacity for his power. And it could be tapped and used. It would make Gorian ten times the man. More.
The first keystone was in place. He looked west towards Gestern and imagined the snow-capped heights of Kark.
'And you're next,' he said into the wind. 'Then it can truly begin.'
Chapter Nine
859th cycle of God, 8th day of
Genasrise
Katrin Mardov, Marshal Defender of Gestern, asked an aide to bring back the messenger from Wystrial. She rested her head in her hands as she sat at her desk in Skiona's basilica. It had been impossible to ignore the signs for some time now but this was a direct strike. This was an act of war.
The Tsardon had been camped in some numbers to the north of Kark throughout dusas. Estorr had dismissed the move as posturing but Mardov had reinforced the northern border with Atreska and offered troops to Kark nonetheless. A thousand legionaries were in the mountain country even now, scouting and advising. She didn't like the tenor of the reports she was getting.
And now this. She'd always said Tsard would be back to finish the job they'd so nearly completed ten years ago. That they were better prepared in every respect. Only Paul Jhered really listened to her. Everyone else in the Conquord hierarchy was too busy assuming Tsard would be in a position identical to their own: no funds, no armies of any real significance, licking deep wounds and considering reinvasion a monumental folly in the short term. They didn't know the Tsardon mind like she did.
The messenger returned and stood in front of Mardov's desk in the small office. She was tired but had been granted time for a wash and a change of clothes. Mid-height, young and plain, she stood to attention until waved to be at ease.
'What's your name?' asked Mardov.
'Fleet Corvanov, Marshal.'
'Really? A bit young to be a Fleet already, aren't you?' Corvanov blushed.
‘I
ride well,' she admitted.
'That much is clear by your timely arrival.' Mardov paused. 'So tell me. Any exaggeration in this message?' 'No, Marshal.'
'And how do we know it is Bitter's Plague?'
'I suppose we don't know for certain. But it's what sea rats from Tsard typically carry, so the doctors say.' 'Assume the worst, eh?' Corvanov dropped her gaze. 'Yes, Marshal.'
In fairness, a deliberate attack by a plague ship was the only likely explanation and hence the only likely plague was Bitter's. Mardov sighed. It would reduce Wystrial to a ghost port. So-called because of the bile that eventually clogged the throat, Bitter's Plague was a virulent blood disease that carried in the air and attacked through the lungs. It could be passed by touch too.
It killed ninety per cent of the affected within five days, poisoning the bloodstream, starving the vital organs of nourishment so that they simply shut down. It was a painful and frightening way to die. The only reason Mardov knew Corvanov was not a carrier was that she was still alive. The grace, if it could be termed such, was that the airborne spores died quickly and could not travel far without a new host.
'How effective is the quarantine?' asked Mardov.
'It was in place as I left but some may have escaped the net,' said Corvanov. 'I think we're all relieved Wystrial is remote.'
'Indeed. Damn but this is low even for the Tsardon. No reports of naval build-up offshore?'
'None,' said Corvanov.
'Something else that confused me. A note Harbour Master Lianov made on the message. Here
...
"They seemed impervious to our arrows, though they appeared to wear no armour. Yet when we boarded the ship after the rats had fled into the town, all on board were dead." Presumably they took their own lives?'
'That isn't my understanding, Marshal,' replied the Fleet. 'If the reports are accurate, they all appeared to have been dead for some days. There was decomposition evident in them all.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'I'm sorry, Marshal, but it was the last I heard before Lianov had me leave to lessen my chances of contracting the plague.'
'It makes no sense. Whoever made the report must be mistaken, surely some ship-borne problem or they were all dying of the plague themselves. Makes you wonder what sort of man will willingly sail to his death, doesn't it?' Mardov shook her head. 'And Lianov?'
'I don't know. He wouldn't come close to the messenger post. He shouted the message to us from the gates and had me read it back to him. That's why there is no seal.'
'I guessed as much. Well, decisions are simple. Tsard will invade through Wystrial and the western coast, I have no doubt. Corvanov, I will give you a choice. You can either take my messages to Estorr and speak to Exchequer Jhered and the Advocate or you can travel ahead of whatever force I can muster to defend Wystrial. Which is it to be?'
Corvanov shrugged. 'Wystrial is my home. I would be nowhere else.'
'Good answer. Go and get some rest and you'll receive your orders at dawn tomorrow. But before you do, go to the messenger office and send me the best two Fleets there. Someone has to go and tell the Advocate I was right and someone else has to warn the Karku, assuming they don't already know.'
Corvanov slapped her right fist into her chest. 'Marshal'
'Dismissed. And thank you.' Mardov watch Corvanov go. She called over her senior aide. 'I'll need signals sent across the country to prepare for war. I'll need a fast ship and the coastal flags to alert Kester Isle. I need the military and naval councils convened and I have to have some Gatherers sent to Wystrial to enforce the quarantine, together with the Order to sanction the burning of bodies as necessary. Some must fall to protect the mass. And I need it all to happen right now. We can't afford to lose a single day.'
'Anything else?' the aide had a small smile on his face as he finished scribbling the instructions.
'Yes. I want a miracle because I have no idea how we are going to repel a full scale invasion if such it is.'
The smile disappeared. 'I'll report back before dusk.'
Mardov pushed her hands back through her thick grey hair. Something about all this wasn't right. It was piecemeal, a sort of poking at the seams too see if anything tore. But not organised, as if King Khuran was breaking in a new warmaster. Unless she was missing something. One thing she did know was that it smelled bad. Gestern was going to be the front line in a new war and in the quiet of her chambers that night, she would let herself weep at the pain her citizens were going to face.
Roberto Del Aglios was confused. The Sirraneans had taken leave of their collective senses. The force they had described needed to be somewhere in the region of forty thousand strong to believe it could fight its way south to Estorr via Goscapita. Roberto had come to the edge of the forest country to see the Conquord's doom approaching.
And there they were a mile to the south, marching towards the Gosland border. Roberto put down his magnifier and turned to his retinue of six immaculately turned-out green-cloaked palace cavalry, having left the bulk of his people under cover with their Sirranean guides.
'This is either a joke in poor taste or I am looking at the vanguard of a far larger army that we have no intelligence of at present. Captain?'
The young palace guard captain shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
'We are assured this is the full complement,' he said.
'Really,' said Roberto. 'The Sirraneans' definition of an invasion force is clearly somewhat at odds with my own. Invasion farce would be more accurate. This is a hunting party, isn't it?'
'Perhaps a little more than that, my Lord Del Aglios,' said the captain.
Roberto glared at him. 'Just bring the guide to me. And don't ask him the definition of irony while you're there or you'll never learn.'
He took up his magnifier again and had another look. Six thousand men, no more. No horses, a handful of catapults pulled by oxen, a scattering of supply wagons behind them. This was by Tsardon standards of war a force designed for skirmishing, causing trouble and provoking a response, no more. They were still many days from the Gosland border and Roberto was certain they would not cross it. While the Goslander borders were not heavily manned due to their straitened circumstances, they would, given any sort of warning, be capable of holding off this small army.
'So what are they doing?' he asked himself.
'My Lord?' ventured a soldier.
'Nothing, nothing,' said Roberto.
It had to be some sort of show of force or future intent. Either that or they were engineers coming to build fortifications and staging. But there was no other army within a season that the Sirraneans knew about. Ridiculous. Behind him, his captain cleared his throat. Roberto turned.