Shanakan (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 1) (41 page)

He was brought through the gate and before Darius.

“You are Colonel Grand?”

Close up the man looked weak from starvation, but he did not stoop or bow, and looked the colonel in the eye.

“I am. We shall talk in my tent.”

The man did not move, but held out his hand.

“I am Sam Hekman, officer of the citizen army,” he said.

Darius took his hand and shook it. The grip was surprisingly firm. In spite of himself he found that he liked the look of the man.

They sat in the tent, and Darius had them bring food – a lot of food. He was demonstrating to the man that they were not short of supplies. He saw that his message got through.

“Please,” Darius gestured, “eat, talk. Whatever you wish.”

Hekman put a piece of meat in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He was silent for quite a while.

“I have heard many tales of White Rock,” he said eventually. “If only a few of them are true, then we owe you a debt.”

“I do not know what you have heard.”

“Your master, your lord Serhan, he is real?”

“He is.”

“He has defeated the Faer Karan?” Hekman’s face was well lit in the lamp light, and Darius could see a hunger there greater than any hunger of the flesh. He sensed that everything from now on hung on his answer.

“I was not present. None witnessed the battle,” he replied. “But Gerique is gone, Dragan is gone, the doorkeeper is gone. The Faer Karan lords of all the northern domains have gone. For weeks we have been visiting other Faer Karan fortresses and finding no evidence of them. Serhan says that they joined together to fight him, and all failed in the one battle.”

“You believe it, then?”

“I do.”

“And your lord was unhurt in this battle?”

“He was most gravely injured, but has been able to mend himself. He is quite recovered.”

“So that also is true? He is a mage?”

“He works magic, it is certain. We travelled by way of a black door directly from White Rock.”

“You answer me most carefully, colonel Grand, but I like your answers, and I feel you have been honest with me, and even that tells me that your position is strong, and we would be wise to talk to you. I must tell you though, that I do not have the authority to speak for Hagar Del and his protectorate.”

“I did not expect that you would.”

“However, I will tell you my story, and poor as it is, you will be able to glean something useful from it.”

“I have the time to listen, and indeed am keen to hear it.”

“I am a fisherman,” Hekman began. “Or I was. I had my own boat, a fine boat, and it made me a good living, fed my family, gave work to two or three other men. I had a small house, and a drying shed for the fish. I would have been counted as a prosperous man in the days of the Faer Karan.

“Things changed quickly when people believed that they were gone. Tarnell, the one who calls himself King, claimed Samara for his own, but we knew his ways, and none wanted to replace a neglectful tyrant with an attentive one, so there was resistance, and men banded together to resist. The street that I lived in was one of ten claimed by a small band, but they were not good men – no better than the King’s. I spoke out against them, did not do as I was told, and I was taken from my home and put in chains. They used me as a slave, fed me rarely, beat me more often. You can see what they did to me.

“After some weeks of this my luck seemed to change. The men that ruled my street were crushed by Hagar Del. You see, I knew Del before the chaos. He did work for me on my boat from time to time, hauled nets, rowed, steered. I taught him much about the trade because he was strong and quick to learn. In a small way I was his captain. When he found me chained in the basement of the house he released me, fed me, made me an officer. There were so few people that he trusted, and here was I, an old friend, bound to him by gratitude, or so he thought.

“I was indeed grateful. Del was a good deal better than the men he replaced. He saw that brutality alone would not work, though he was not shy of it. Now people can work, trade, feed themselves, but he does not allow his rule to be questioned. I had learned my lesson, and kept quiet. He has support among the people. Not all of them, by any means, but enough to keep him secure.

“What he wants, I cannot say. Perhaps he sees himself as the King of Samara, but I do not think that he has the skill for such a position. He does well enough in Gulltown, but in Morningside, well, he is not subtle enough, and as long as the King holds the citadel he will make no impression on the old town.”

“Do you think that Del knows this?” Darius was surprised that the man would talk so freely about the man who was his commander, but he was going to get all he could out of him.

“In his heart. I think he wants some position of power, now that he has a taste for it, but he also knows that he has limitations. He is not a bad man, colonel, nor a particularly good one, but he is strong and understands the people among whom he lives.”

“How many men does he have?”

“More than the King, but not trained. He would loose badly in an open confrontation.”

“So you think he will talk?”

“I think he wants to, but he is afraid of you and of the King. He will try to appear strong, he will not trust you. He thinks that you are more likely to deal with the King.”

They talked longer, until Darius thought that he had a clear picture of the situation in Gulltown. He would check with others, of course, but he was confident that what Hekman had told him was true, or at least that he believed it to be true.

“You have done me a great service,” he said. “But I am at a loss to know why. What do you want in return? Do you wish to join us?”

“Ah, now that is a tempting offer,” Hekman replied, smiling,” if only for the food. But I have a family, and Samara is my home. All I want is for the fighting to stop, and to look forward to a peaceful time. I have trader friends, and they hear many tales, but all the ones from White Rock are the same. They say that there is prosperity there, and justice. Give me this and I will be well paid indeed.”

The sound of running feet from outside the tent brought Darius to the tent flap just as a guardsman arrived.

“Colonel,” the man was out of breath, excited. “A large group of men has arrived from the north. They are still some way off, but carry lights. About a hundred, maybe two, it is hard to tell,” he added in response to Darius’s unspoken question.

Darius walked quickly to the northern side of the camp, aware that Hekman was following him, but by the time he got there the issue had been resolved. One of his officers, seeing him approach, called down to him.

“It is men sent by White Rock, colonel,” he said. “One hundred and fifty guardsmen from Stone Island to reinforce us.”

“Tell them I will meet them at the gate,” he called back. He walked again, and Hekman appeared at his side.

“You grow stronger, colonel,” he said.

“I expect more,” he replied. “There are at least three more domains that have promised troops to our cause.”

“And your cause is peace?”

“The stronger the force, the less fighting it must do,” he replied. “Give me ten thousand men and there would be no more wars.”

They met the new troops at the gate. Darius welcomed their commander, who named himself as Captain Horlor.

“I am glad to see you captain,” he said.

“Indeed I am glad to be here,” the man said. “I bring news, also.”

“From White Rock?”

“From all the northern domains. You may expect another four hundred men in the next few days, and it will be the greatest force of guardsmen ever assembled. They do not think your rank sufficient to command such a force.”

“Colonel not high enough? Then they will send a lord?”

“You misunderstand, sir. They have raised your rank. You are now to be titled General Grand, commander of the army of the northern domains.” Captain Horlor smiled. “Congratulations, General.”

Darius shook his head.

“It is unprecedented,” he said.

“Not so, my General,” the man seemed to relish using the title. “In the days when men were free it was not unusual for such a rank to be given to the commander of an army. We are again in the days of free men.”

Secretly he was pleased. Only a few days ago he had been a guard captain. Now he was a General. It meant nothing, of course. He was still the same man, still had the same job to do, but perhaps it would help in dealing with the King. He might take a general less lightly than a captain.

“So be it,” he said. “However, with all these extra men we will have to increase the size of the camp. Draw thirty men from the White Rock contingent and pick twenty of your own. Get them started on extending the walls. Four hour shifts. I don’t want them too tired to fight.”

“At once, General.”

Horlor was gone.

“General Grand,” Hekman said. He, too, sounded like he was tasting the words. “I will be sure to tell Del.”

“If you must.”

“General, you said that I was free to go at any time, and I think that I must go now. If my men have not run away I will have to get them back to Gulltown before sunrise. We would not do so well if the King’s men caught us out in the open at dawn.”

“I understand. Of course, you may go now as you wish.”

He made sure that Hekman got through the gates unmolested and returned to his tent. He needed sleep.

But seven hundred and fifty men – it was the equivalent of the entire guard force of White Rock, or Oceans Gate.

General Darius Grand. He smiled. He slept.

He had to admit that things were going well. Messengers from White Rock came and went, but so far Darius had needed no help. He still awaited the promised four hundred men, but word had spread in the city, and there had been two more visits from Hagar Del’s men in the dead of night; one from Sam Hekman and a second from a man who said that he was Del’s lieutenant. The man had been aggressive, but Darius had shown him respect, and eventually he had softened and begun to talk, revealing something of what Del wanted.

The King’s men had been around the camp during the day. Their first visit had been less promising than Hekman’s. The officer in charge of the group had come in with three heavily armed men and strutted round the camp like a bristling dog looking for someone to bite.

“You have no authority here,” he snapped at Darius.

“And yet I am here. You cannot afford to attack me even now – your losses would weaken the King’s hand even if you were to win, and I grow stronger every day.”

“The King has commanded you to go. White Rock has no business here.”

“My lord Serhan commands me to stay. You will forgive me if I see that as a higher authority.”

“You cannot impose your will on Samara.”

“You are fortunate indeed that my lord does not wish it so.”

“These tales you tell of his victory over the Faer Karan – I do not believe it. I think as the king does that they came to some end of their own devising, fought amongst themselves, or left for some reason that we do not as yet understand.”

“You may believe what you wish, Captain, but I know that some in your ranks see the truth for what it is, and you must realise that you cannot hold on to power with so few men.”

“Then why do you not join with us? With a thousand men we could stamp out all resistance and bring peace to the city.”

“If my lord Serhan will not impose his will on the city, I am certain that he will not impose the King’s.”

“So you offer no solution. We must prevail by force of arms.”

“We offer the chance of a solution, captain. We offer you the opportunity to talk with your enemies in safety – for all sides – so that you may understand how a resolution may be reached.”

The captain glowered at Darius. The General could see that he was not a man much given to talking or to compromise, but he knew that others were.

“I will give you some advice, Captain,” he said to the man. “Like you I am a man trained in war. I have always sought to overthrow my enemies by force of arms and the use of strategy, but there are some things that a sword cannot kill, and others that should not be killed. You cannot win this with so small a force. You need help, and White Rock will not provide it, indeed we will see that no other does. The help must come from your own people. You must win them over.”

The captain stared at him for a minute, and then suddenly seemed to crumble. His shoulders dropped an inch, his eyes fell from Darius’s face to the ground, and his voice became quiet.

“You speak the truth, General, I suspect, but we have not the skill, and we obey only the King. He will not give up his throne.”

“Carry our message to your King, Captain. Tell him that we are here to help bring peace to Samara, but also that my lord’s patience is not infinite. Speak to your enemies, and you may find that they are not your enemies at all.”

So they had parted, with a spark of understanding between them, or so Darius thought. What the man said to the King he did not know.

The night was as busy as the day. The various militias and gangs that claimed authority over sections of the town came out in the dark, fearful of an open confrontation with royalist troops.

He was beginning to believe that he would achieve his mission effortlessly. The strength and authority of White Rock and their mere presence outside the city was beginning to have the desired effect, and Darius’s dark hints about what Serhan might do if no resolution was reached were shepherding the warring parties towards the conference table. Once there, things would be easier. Serhan himself would come from White Rock and his will would be known to all.

He was in a good mood then, sitting quietly on his own studying maps of the city and who laid claim to what. It concerned him a little that he had not yet heard from the trader guild. They seemed to control most of Morningside with their collected militias, but from what Serhan had told him they were connected to the King, though not controlled by him. It was an odd situation, but he had been told not to expect too much trouble there.

“General Grand.”

He turned and looked at the guardsman. The man seemed calm.

“What is it?”

“Sir, a black door has opened within sight of the camp, to the west.”

“Is anyone coming through it?”

“Guardsmen, sir, but we can see no colours.”

“I will come.”

He carefully folded up his maps and placed them in a leather satchel, putting that inside his tent. He wondered why Serhan had changed the location of the black door. Perhaps he thought it was time that Samara saw the forces available to him. It didn’t matter. Now that he would have the full strength of his command he could begin to exert real pressure. He had thought many times of taking troops into the city, and with these numbers it would be possible. Just a few patrols to start with, to gauge the mood of the people – those that weren’t running private armies.

He walked to the west wall and joined a small group of officers and men gathered there. Like the guardsman who had come to him they were calm, though like himself they seemed a little puzzled.

In the distance he could clearly make out the stark and obvious black rectangle of the door, and out of it poured a contingent of guardsmen. There were already over a hundred of them marshalling before the doorway. Like the others he could make out no colours to indicate if they were from Skycliff or any other domain.

As he watched them his puzzlement turned to unease. The contingent that had come through the door was forming up defensively to protect those still coming through. He would not have expected his reinforcements to do this. They knew that they were coming into a relatively safe situation. Because it was daylight there would only be a few of the King’s men patrolling in the area, and a force of four hundred would have nothing to fear from them.

Perhaps their commander was just being cautious. It was an admirable trait.

“How many men do you make it, Captain?” he asked.

Captain Horlor was clearly making an effort to keep track. His lips moved, his fingers worked to an unheard beat and his gaze was unmoving.

“About three hundred, sir.”

They watched a while longer.

“How many now, Captain?”

“More than four hundred, sir.”

The men continued to pour from the gate and take up defensive positions. Five hundred. Still more. It was a very large force. Perhaps Serhan had managed to put together a larger contingent than expected. Perhaps not.

“Captain, go down into the camp and have the men ready themselves. Make sure that the gate is secure.”

He was aware of the movement behind him, but continued to stare at the massive force emerging from the door. The most disturbing thing was not the size of the force. In a defensive position; even a rough and ready one like their own; he was sure that they could repel a force of that size. What worried him was the black door. The only person that he knew that was capable of creating such a thing was Serhan. Could there be another?

When the door closed he had counted around seven hundred men.

He stayed on the wall, wishing now that he had made it just a little higher, watching the men organise. They were a well drilled force, no doubt of that. In a swift ten minutes they had aligned themselves into a defensive position, but were making no move to consolidate it. Within the heart of the force he could see figures conferring, but they were difficult to make out clearly.

The lines of men opened up on the side facing him, and three men rode out. One of them was carrying a flag of truce.

Well, talking was better than fighting.

Darius scrambled down from the wall and walked to the gate to meet them.

“Open it,” he called to his men. “Three riders under a flag of truce.”

The gates opened and in a short while the three men rode through. Darius looked up at the officer leading the group and the man looked down at him.

“Captain Portina, I had not expected to see you here,” Darius said.

“I am glad to find you well Captain Grand, or is it colonel now?” Portina said as he swung down from the saddle.

“General Grand,” he replied, “Commander of the army of the northern domains.”

“General,” Portina said, “I am here to inform you that my lord Borbonil of Ocean’s Gate wishes to speak with you.”