Kingslayer (17 page)

“Payam, help me count. Your eyes are better than mine. How many do you think just fell?”

Payam slowly looked from one end of the line to the other, mouth silently moving as he counted to himself. Darius, with aide of his glass, did the same. “Almost two thousand,” Darius offered quietly. “You?”

“Lost count,” Payam admitted. “It be a megalo, though.”

Yes, it is a lot.
Darius did another quick count, mentally calculating as fast as he dared. If he had all of his numbers right, then Jahangir only had a little over four thousand troops left. If that were true, then…

“That’sh an evil shmile, shir,” Bohme observed curiously.

Temporarily ignoring his bodyguard, he turned to Payam. “Grab one of the other runners and get him up here.”

The boy didn’t even bother to salute, just dove for the ladder and scrambled down it.

Bohme had been hanging around and listening to enough planning sessions that Darius thought he’d understand the succinct answer. “Jahangir is down to four thousand.  That’s close enough.”

It took a second, but then Bohme’s eyes widened and his teeth shown in a feral smile. “Hoooo ish he now?”

The ladder clattered a little as two boys quickly ascended at a pace fast enough to put a monkey to shame. Darius didn’t know the other boy but he seemed of an age to Payam. In fact, he could be a brother, he looked so alike. Darius faced him directly and ordered, “Go to Commander Ramin and tell him these words exactly: ‘Close in from the right side and push them back. We’re forcing a retreat.’”

The runner slapped out a salute and repeated, “Close in from the right side and push them back. We’re forcing a retreat.”

“Good,” Darius acknowledged. “Go.”

He turned on one heel and descended the ladder as fast as he had ascended it.

Darius didn’t watch him go but focused on Payam. “Go to Navid. Tell him this: ‘Aster. Sunder the ranks and boot them hard.”

“This is the moment. Scatter their ranks and force a retreat,” Payam repeated with a toothy grin.

Despite the tension of the moment, Darius couldn’t help but snort in amusement. “I’m not sure who’s teaching who, here. You’ve got it. Go.”

Payam waved his arm in what charitably could be described as a salute before following the other runner down the ladder.

Bohme watched him go with a strange expression on his face. Darius didn’t need to be a diviner to understand what it meant. “I always phrase orders in the language of the commander when I can,” he explained as he turned back to the armies battling outside. “I’ve had too many mistranslations and misunderstandings before. War’s confusing enough without multiple dialects in the mix.” Sticking his head out the window he called down, “KAVEH!”

Several seconds passed by but there was no response. Frowning, he took a closer look at the ground and didn’t see the man anywhere. “Of all times for him to disappear….”

“Call for runner to find him?”

“No time,” Darius growled in frustration. Swearing under his breath, he left the tower as quickly as he could manage without breaking his neck in the process. Bohme followed after with more grace and speed.

He hit the ground running, moving at a quick lope through the camp. At this point, only the injured or the supporters were still in camp, with every able-bodied man on the front lines. He weaved in and around tents and stake lines, moving as fast as he could while avoiding barreling over something. The morning sun had not fully risen yet, but it rose in the sky at just the wrong angle, so that he had to avoid looking up or be blinded.

The few people that were around looked initially startled to find an able-bodied soldier not on the front lines. Then they took in his blond hair, the insignia on his chest, and their faces lit up in recognition before they darted to the side to give him room to pass. Aside from a quick scan of their faces to verify that none of them were the commander—or the commander’s staff—that he wanted, he paid them scant attention.

“General!”

Darius lifted his head, eyes darting around, trying to discern who called him. A skinny boy that couldn’t be more than eight or nine waved a hand over his head. “General Bresalier!”

A runner? No,
Kaveh’s
runner! “Is Commander Kaveh ahead?” Darius demanded, half-jogging to meet the boy.

“Yes, sir!” the runner responded, breathing a little hard. Sweat streamed from his temples and he wiped it absently with a forearm as he rapidly spoke. “He’s requesting permission to press ahead and forcing the enemy to retreat.”

“Where is he exactly?” Darius demanded, nearly vibrating with the urge to run.

“Straight ahead, sir.”

“Tell him permission granted. Drive them toward the mountains.”

“Yes sir!” the boy spun on a heel, sending sand flying in every direction, and sprinted back the way he had come.

He turned around, snagging Bohme’s elbow as he moved, and urged the bodyguard back in the direction they’d just come. He
had
to be able to see what everyone was doing. As much as he wanted to fight on the front lines, this battle was not the place. He couldn’t run at full speed as he once again had too many tents and people in his path.

He could still feel the sweat streaming down the center of his back and dewing on his forehead from the exertion under the blazing heat of the sun. The minutes ticked by relentlessly in his head as he moved. Not fast enough…he couldn’t get there fast enough, they were already moving ahead. He could hear the commands being yelled out, the horns blaring to signal the men moving. The archers had stopped firing altogether, and the only reason why they would do that would be if their own troops were in the way.

A victorious rumble rose and ebbed behind him. Darius had heard the like too many times to not know instantly what it meant. He stopped dead and spun about, heart beating, an incredulous sense of…something building in his chest. “We’re winning?”

Bohme blinked in surprise. “We are?”

Not answering, Darius started running even faster, feet digging into the sand.
Have to get to the watchtower. I can’t know for sure until I can see it.
Even as he cautioned himself, his blood started racing. He didn’t need to see to know.

He took the last turn around the line of tents and reached the base of the watchtower. From the second tier, an archer spied him and waved a hand, mouth stretched in a grin wide enough to reveal several missing teeth. “General!” he called down in a high, reedy voice. “We’ve pushed ‘em back!”

YES!
Darius waved back in acknowledgement but didn’t slow down until he reached the ladder and even then he scrambled up it so quickly that he almost slipped and broke his fool neck twice before he made it safely up. Ignoring the spy glass hanging on the wall nearby, he braced both hands against the window’s ledge and looked out.

Ramin’s troops to the south-east had done their job and pushed the remaining Brindisi troops hard until they’d broken. Even now, they were fleeing from the Niotan soldiers for the Songhor Mountains. Kaveh had brilliantly maneuvered his own troops to back Ramin’s up and they were driving the Brindisi soldiers further north as well. Even though the troops in the center hadn’t lost yet, the ones in the back felt like they had because of the retreating eastern flank and they were turning and running as well. Word spread forward like a wave and Darius watched the domino effect of the Brindisi men in the very front lines losing their will to fight and turning in a quick retreat.

Navid must have pushed his western flank at the same time as Ramin’s, for his men were in an even position with the opposite end of the battlefield and the Brindisi soldiers were nearly gone. As they were the ones closest to the Songhor Mountains, they were already heading to the pass. Proving himself a man that could think quickly on his feet, he had also split part of his force and had sent them to help Kaveh to strengthen the central line.

Darius relaxed into a smile. “Good work.”

Bohme stared outside for a long moment, looking just like a man that had been smacked in the back of the head. “We…won.”

Clapping him on the back, Darius confirmed, “We won.” Only the battle, though. Not the war. “But that means the work is only just beginning. Come on. We’ve got a lot to do ahead of us and only about four months to do it in.”

“You shaid they won’t be back for five!” his bodyguard objected in confusion.

“I said if we’re
lucky
they won’t make it back for five months,” Darius corrected, already heading for the ladder, scratching irritably at the scraggly side of his face. Did he have time to shave the rest off before they left? Probably not. “Besides, Darr likes to torment me by messing up my orderly plans. I don’t give him any more openings than I have to. I’ll make this place defensible in four months or go mad trying.”

Darius barely had his feet on the paving stones of the palace stable yard when a palace runner came skidding to a stop nearby. “General Bresalier, the queen requests an audience.”

He mentally translated
requests
for
demands
without effort. He’d hoped on the ride here that he’d at least have time to wash off the worst of the dirt and sweat and change into a clean uniform before meeting with her but…judging from the runner’s agitated expression, he wouldn’t have the time. “I understand. Show me to her.”

No one could simply head for the doors, not in this mad confusion. Every officer that had an official posting in the palace had followed Darius here, and they were all dismounting at more or less the same time. Stable hands were rushing forward to claim the horses and leading them away, the men were all grabbing saddlebags and issuing quick orders to their personal servants. In spite of the wide yard they were in, a man couldn’t move two paces in any direction without risking life and limb. Really, if Darius didn’t have blond hair, then the runner probably wouldn’t have been able to find him so quickly in this melee.

As Darius tried to follow his guide, he glanced behind him to confirm that Bohme had kept up. To no surprise, he had, and even now shadowed Darius’s footsteps. Satisfied, he looked around for Sego, who would be easier to spot. Because of his leg, the aide couldn’t ride and had instead come by small carriage. The carriages were stored on the other side of the yard, away from the majority of the crowd. This worked in Darius’s favor as he could wave a hand to catch Sego’s attention and be reasonably sure the man would see him.

In fact, Sego spotted the motion quickly and paused half-off the carriage with a questioning look on his face.

Darius almost called to him, then reconsidered. The noise level around him made even thinking difficult. He could be loud, yes, but
that
loud? No, better to send Bohme as a messenger. Actually, considering the dangers of just crossing the courtyard at this point, Sego might need Bohme anyway. “Bohme, go get Sego.”

His bodyguard instinctively froze up, a protest ready to fly.

Darius raised a hand to stop him, smile wry. “This is probably the safest I’ve been since arriving in Niotan. After that victory, no one can be
that
displeased with me.” Except any fools that were jealous of the political power he might now wield…hopefully Bohme wouldn’t think of that. “I’ll stay right outside the doorway and wait for you, but make sure that Sego makes it. Tell him that the queen has summoned us.”

Clearly unhappy, but unable to dodge a direct order, he just sighed and turned to do Darius’s bidding.

Darius followed the page to the doorway, dodging horses, servants and soldiers with the ease of long practice. As he’d promised, he stopped with one foot in the doorway of the palace and waited.

The runner stood on the other side of the doorway, nearly hopping from foot to foot, eyes pleading for the general to
please
get his arse in motion. Normally, he’d just ignore such behavior and silently snicker at the boy’s antics. But he’d just come off a campaign that had taxed him mentally, physically, and especially emotionally. After staying awake for hours a night after that assassin’s nocturnal visit, he especially didn’t have his usual patience.

He shot the boy a quelling look from the corner of his eye. It worked beautifully. The runner instantly froze and with a nervous gulp, meekly put his feet together. Good. Now, with him settled…Darius turned back toward the courtyard. What he saw made him frown. This trip had obviously been harder on Sego than the man had let on. He was clearly limping, the cane taking most of his weight with each step. His expression didn’t betray his pain but his skin looked almost grey. Not good.

Swearing softly, he stepped out of the doorway and went to meet them halfway instead of forcing Sego to come to him. Bohme looked clearly relieved by his general’s approach as he had been hovering around the other man without actually
hovering
, as if he wanted to help but didn’t know how. Well, with Sego’s pride, the bodyguard might be worried about losing a hand attempting to help.

“Sego,” Darius started once he was relatively sure the two men could hear him over the ruckus, “the queen has summoned me. All things in consideration, you should take the rest of this day and tomorrow off. I’ll probably do the same. But first—” he turned to Bohme, making his voice firm to make sure the bodyguard understood that this order could not be debated “—Bohme, take him to a healer and get his leg seen to.”