Shanakan (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 1) (42 page)

Serhan perched high on the walls of White Rock, feeling the warm stone at his back, and watched another contingent of fifty guardsmen approach across the plain. It was dry, cold, and thin trails of dust blew eastwards from boots and hooves. He had offered to bring them by way of a black door, but their commander had said, irritatingly, that they preferred to march. It was a slow process. They moved steadily at the tireless pace of old soldiers, and even from here he could see heads bent against the wind and the dust.

These were men from Far Delve, which at least was one of the closest of the old Faer Karan fortresses. There were already two hundred men from other domains gathered here. They talked as starved men eat, with a desperate friendliness that saw new comradeships burgeon amongst them. They argued, ate, drank and trained with cheerful enthusiasm and soon the babbling mass of them would be shipped out to Samara and it would be quiet again. Irritating as the noise was, Serhan was not sure that he preferred the quiet.

They now awaited men from High Green and East Scar. These were late additions to the alliance, and still recovering from the disappearance of their Faer Karan lords. East Scar had been allied with Gerique, and so followed the model that he had developed, but High Green was different, and its present ruler was the former Colonel Whin Navan, an impressive man.

High Green was an island fortress, and two days voyage out from Ocean’s Gate. In Faer Karan times it had become isolated, and the ships that plied the route had fallen into disrepair. Now Navan was trying to rebuild his fleet, but had sent one of the two small ships that he still had to the mainland to seek news. The officers he sent had landed in Blaye and from there, acting on what they had heard, split their group, half returning to the island and half riding hard to White Rock.

Lieutenant Kinsal and five men had ridden up to the gates no more than a week ago, boldly demanding entrance, and within a few hours of meeting them Serhan had travelled with them to High Green.

Before this he had known the name, as he knew the names of all the Faer Karan places, but he had never been there, and never had it described to him.

High Green was a place of high magic.

An age ago some great mage had created the place. It had not been built. The entire fortress was made of trees, living trees. Their great trunks and branches curled and curved about the place, making walls, parapets, floors, towers, and everywhere there was the green of leaves. It stood in the midst of the forest, unafraid of the encroaching trees, embraced by them. He suspected that the forest owed its allegiance to the fortress, and would rise to defend it if needed. There was no sign of weakness here.

Navan had quickly realised that without the magic of the Faer Karan the trees would probably become just trees again. The walls would no longer close up, and the floors would twist out of shape. He had begun to build a new fortress, a very human one, about a mile closer to the coast on a rocky promontory that looked over the blue water and faced the mainland. There was a small town here with a harbour. Its pretty white buildings decorated the coast for a few hundred yards, reaching out towards the twin headlands that protected the deep water between. The new fort on the southern headland cast its shadow over the harbour.

Not content with building, Navan had sent men to all the towns and villages on the island, and convened a meeting at which he established his right to rule. In essence he had done what Serhan had done, guaranteed security and peace in exchange for supplies.

Serhan had liked the man almost at once. He was calm, practical, and seemed intelligent. He had certainly moved quickly in the crisis that had followed the abrupt and shocking disappearance of the Faer Karan.

Navan also understood the importance of Samara, although it mattered less to him than many others, and agreed almost at once to send a hundred men, only asking a few days grace to select those who would serve.

He had taken Serhan back to the old place, the tree fortress of High Green, and Serhan had drawn in its great magic, had read the spells that shaped the place, and learned much about imagination and greatness. It seemed to him that each ancient mage, in creating his dwelling had sought to outshine the others, to create something unique and full of wonder.

So it was that he left High Green, promising to return, feeling the world a better place for what he had seen and heard.

Now he waited and watched the men of Far Delve march to White Rock. Tomorrow the High Green men would be ready, and the day after that he would travel to East Scar and collect another fifty. With those numbers Darius should have what he needed, and news from Samara was good. Soon he would go there himself, and one way or another they would find a solution.

“My Lord.”

He turned. It was Cora. She looked tired. She was now playing the role of White Rock’s colonel, shuffling the incoming troops around the various barrack rooms and messes so that contingents from various domains could stay together, trying to manage the excitement that gripped them all.

“What is it, Cora?”

“There is a disagreement between the captain from Skycliff and the Lieutenant from West Plain, and they will not accept my ruling. They ask that you arbitrate.”

“I see.”

This was happening more often. Robbed of their colonels the officers were seeking to assert the independence of their own domain, and the only higher authority they would accept was Serhan. It had to stop.

He followed Cora down to the courtyard. Many of the men turned to watch him as he passed, and conversations died away. He briefly greeted one or two of the men to whom he had been introduced, and watched their surprise that he should remember them.

The disputing officers were in the courtyard. The Lieutenant looked hot. The Captain looked self satisfied.

“So, colonel, what is the issue?” he asked Cora, ignoring the men.

“Rank, sir. The Captain insists that as he is a higher rank the lieutenant must accept his orders. The Lieutenant insists on the independence of his contingent.”

“And your recommendation?”

“That the Lieutenant be made up to Captain for the duration.”

“That seems equitable.”

“My lord,” the captain protested, “he has not the experience.”

Serhan looked at the man and the captain stepped back, shut his mouth, dropped his eyes.

“Captain, you are ill advised to question my decisions, the decisions of my colonel, and the decision of this officer’s lord, who has seen fit to entrust him with this contingent. You and he will both take orders from General Grand, and while here in White Rock from my colonel. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Serhan turned to go. He was annoyed that these men should seek him out to solve their trivial problems. They respected him, yes, and would abide by his words, but he had expected something more.

He had taken no more than ten steps on his way back to his rooms when a shimmering of the air caught the corner of his eye. Guardsmen moved quickly to be out of the way. Some leaped to one side, some retreated. He heard swords drawn.

Soul Eater was in his secret chamber, many yards from here.

He turned and stepped into the walls of White Rock, knowing that he had to reach the sword, while behind him, in the midst of the assembled guardsmen, the black door formed.

“It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

Tarlyn Saine stood on the balcony overlooking the city. It was a picture of chaos. Even from here they could see fires and barricades in Gulltown, and the streets of the old town were deserted. At least in the upper reaches of Morningside they were safe for the moment. The guild members had combined their militias into an effective force, shielding themselves from the unpleasantness taking place the other side of the river. The king was busy elsewhere, and did not chose to trouble them, but he felt sure that things would come to a head soon enough.

“Surely there is some hope in White Rock?” Ella replied.

“They have adopted a clever strategy,” Tarlyn conceded. “But they do not know everything that is going on.”

“You could tell them.”

“Ella, we must look to our own survival. If I warn them now it will seem that I am taking sides, and if White Rock should fall here, then we would fall with it.”

“It is just a message, father. I could carry it myself.”

“I forbid it.” Tarlyn spoke quickly, and his voice was firm, his face concerned. This was just the sort of hasty action that his daughter would undertake. “The plains outside the city now swarm with spies and soldiers. It is far too dangerous.”

“Then what must we do?”

“Hold to ourselves, and look to see who wins. They must allow trade, and it is to the victor that I will give my loyalty.”

“Then you have none.”

“Ella!” They were probably the harshest words that she had ever spoken to him, and it hurt that she should say such a thing. “My loyalty is to the house of Saine, to my family, to you.”

“Then there is no right or wrong?”

“You are young and idealistic,” he said. “We must be practical. We cannot force events, but must ride them. What happens is just that. Right or wrong have no part in it.”

“White Rock will win, father.”

Tarlyn sighed and turned from the city to face his daughter again.

“You have an idea that White Rock somehow represents goodness, justice, and the right way, but I can tell you that all tyrants are the same, even when they start out with a good heart. Nobody rises to power without wishing for it, and once there nobody stays in power by being fair and just. Then there is this idea on the streets that this Serhan person, Gerique’s seneschal of all the foolish notions, has defeated the Faer Karan. You think this is likely?”

“I believe it to be true, father.”

“We will see what happens when they arrive. You must learn not to prejudge events, Ella.”

They both turned to a clatter on the stair and Corban arrived. He looked as though he had run all the way up from the town.

“What news?” Tarlyn asked.

Corban held up his hand for a moment while he regained his breath, then took a cup of water and drank it down before answering. His face was red with running, and his flushed features were grim.

“Three days, father. They will be here in three days,” he said.

“What else?”

“They have taken the city of Pek, and bypass Darna. They march directly for Samara.”

“What news of Pek itself?”

“Hundreds dead, perhaps thousands. Many buildings are burned. The King of Sarata commands, and has, by most accounts, over two thousand men. Many of them are guardsmen who he has persuaded to his cause. Some say that two entire domains march with him.”

“So many?”

“Some say more.”

Tarlyn turned to Ella.

“Now do you see,” he felt vindicated, but it had a bitter taste. “White Rock has less than four hundred men camped on the plain. They will be overrun. The King, too, will fall before such an army, and if the King will fight alongside White Rock it is still not enough.”

“We must protect Calaine, father,” Corban said.

“As much as it grieves me, my son, she is the heir to the throne, and will stand with her father, whatever his fate. I do not see a good end to this, not for them.”

Just three days. So the army had crossed the Sybelline River, would even now be marching towards the unsuspecting troops out on the open plain. They would have a couple of hours warning, nothing more. It was the largest army in the world and would sweep all before it.

Ella looked upset, and Tarlyn knew well the source of Corban’s horror.

“I am sorry,” he said to them. “I am truly sorry.”

“Did I hear you right, Captain Portina?”

“I spoke clearly enough, General, so I think you heard well enough.”

Darius looked round at his circle of officers. Not all were here, but enough would have heard the name. So Borbonil was not gone. Serhan had been mistaken when he thought the Faer Karan eliminated.

All certainty now evaporated. What had been a secure position and a job well done was suddenly weakness and approaching disaster. There was no way that he could fight a Faer Karani, not even one. He would have bet on the White Rock guard to hold their positions against Ocean’s Gate, even outnumbered nearly two to one, but there was no defence against magic.

But I still have one card to play. Serhan.

“I will come with you,” he said to Portina.

A horse was brought and he mounted it.

“Hold here until I return,” he said to his men. It was all he could think of to say to them. “If I should not be back and some need arises, I give the necessary authority to Captain Horlor.”

The men saluted, a sombre gesture.

They do not think I am coming back.

He rode out of the gate beside Portina, the two other Ocean’s Gate men following them. It was a not a long ride across the plain, but about half way there Portina glanced back at his own men and rode a little closer to Darius.

“You have nothing to fear, General,” he said in a low voice. “They will not harm you or your men. I can guarantee it.”

Darius looked across at Portina, and to his surprise he saw that the captain was smiling. It was barely a smile, a secret, suppressed thing, but there was no doubt.

“How can you know this?” he asked.

“I have seen what I have seen, and heard what I have heard. I think you will enjoy this audience.”

They spoke no more, and in a short time they came to the lines of Ocean’s Gate men, which parted in an orderly way to let them through, and closed behind them. Within the walls of men there was a space of two acres, Darius judged. One tent had been pitched at the centre, and it was to this that they rode. Men took the horses as they dismounted and they stood for a moment.

“Enter,” Portina said. “It is you that they wish to see.”

He stepped through the opening. For a moment he was confused. There were two men sitting inside the tent on relatively plain seats, but it was the dim light that made his eyes lie. Then he saw their faces.

They were in the shape of men.

“Darius Grand,” one of the figures said. “We are pleased that it is you.”

The voice was not in the least disguised.

Darius did not bow. He did not follow any of the protocols.

“Lord Borbonil,” he said. “I did not expect to see you again.”

The Faer Karani did not behave as though he had been insulted. His tone was conversational, even warm.

“Will you have a seat?”

“Certainly.”

A man came in with a seat and placed it opposite the others. Darius sat.

“We have always recognised you as a man of considerable ability, and a man of honour, Darius Grand.”

“Unlike yourselves.”

“You should not be hostile, General Grand. It is true that we employed methods that were unfair, and outside the rules that we ourselves had laid down, but we did it for the best of reasons.”

“To kill me?”

“Not you especially. It is true that you were a great asset to our enemy, and your loss would have benefited us, but we sought to kill the one called Serhan. His abilities are of a different order to your own, and we thought him dangerous, even to our entire race. Events have proven us to be correct.”

“You did not join with Gerique.” It had come to him suddenly. These two were Gerique’s enemies, and in that vital moment when Gerique had summoned the strength of the Faer Karan to fight Serhan’s spell they had stayed apart.

“You are perceptive. We believed that he would fail. We did not wish to fall with him.”

“But now you have a problem,” Darius went on. “A problem called Serhan. You are the only two left?”

“There may be a third, but it is not certain. It does not matter.”

“He will do to you what he did to Gerique.”

“It is that which we wish to avoid.”

“And you think that I will help you?”

“We ask it.”

“I will not do it.”

“We ask very little, only that you carry a message.”

“I will be blunt. The Faer Karan are hated. You are hated. Not a man in the world would lift a finger to save you, least of all myself.”

“The alternative is worse.”

“What?”

“We will attack your camp. When that is destroyed we will attack Samara. We will kill everyone, and when we have finished we will move on to Darna, then Pek, then Sarata. At some point Serhan will stop us, but it will not be today, and it will not be in Samara.”

“You would do this out of spite?”

“We will make the taste of his victory bitter.”

Darius was horrified. It was true that Serhan did not look this way all the time. These two could probably kill tens of thousands before he caught up to them.

“And if I carry your message?”

“The troops that we have brought with us are yours to command. Our message is a simple one. We wish to offer our surrender to your lord, and our service to whatever cause he sees fit, but in return we wish to remain in this world, to hold Ocean’s Gate, and to be allowed our titles and privileges.”

“Your argument is compelling, but why do you not carry the message yourselves?”

“He trusts you. We would be attacked as soon as we showed ourselves, anyone else we sent would not be trusted.”

“So if I carry this message to Serhan you will give me your troops and wait for judgement? I cannot guarantee my lord’s answer.”

“Just as you say. If the message is carried in good faith.”

“And how do I know that this is not a trick, a way to defeat Serhan?”

“He will choose the time, place and conditions of our meeting. He will be prepared. We cannot give him greater advantage.”

Darius looked at them, and he realised that they were afraid. The mighty Faer Karan were negotiating for their existence. Portina had been right. He was enjoying this.

“Today I believe that you are honest monsters,” he said. “I will carry your message on one additional condition.”

“Which is?”

“That you do not move from here and show yourselves to nobody until my lord has had time to instruct you.”

“It is acceptable, but we would prefer to wait at Ocean’s Gate. We will take a hundred men with us when we go, and the rest will remain with you.”

That might be better. They would be well out of the way, and difficult to stumble across, and a long way from other people.

“You may travel to Ocean’s Gate.”

“But first the message.”

“Now?”

“Yes. There is no reason for delay. We will transport you to White Rock, and you may deliver it at once.”

Darius felt uncertain again. He was worried about leaving his troops, even though Horlor seemed a competent officer. He would have to get Serhan to send him back almost at once. It felt rushed, though. He would have liked to have had more time to think about it. Even so, there was little more that he could have got out of the situation. An extra six hundred men was more than a useful advantage, and carrying the message would give vital intelligence to Serhan.

“Very well,” he said. “I will go now.”

He could see that they were pleased. Borbonil in particular. The Faer Karani went through the motions and incantations that created a black door and it appeared within the tent.

“You understand now,” he said to Darius. “We surrender. We ask to be of service. We will meet with him at a place and time of his choosing, and we will wait at Ocean’s Gate until we hear from him.”

“One more thing,” Darius needed to allay one more fear. “The troops that you leave behind here; they must be commanded by Captain Portina.”

“As you wish, General. We agree. Now go.”

He stepped through the door, and felt the momentary coldness that was so familiar and still so discomfiting.

And he was in the courtyard of White Rock. Fifty swords pointed at him. He heard the impatient creak of bow strings drawn tight, ready to release, and in the eyes all around him he saw apprehension, fear, confusion.

He stood very still.

“Darius?”

He turned slowly, and saw Serhan walk towards him. The black sword was in his hand, drawn and ready to cut.

“My lord,” he said.

At a gesture the swords and bows were lowered. The people still stared.

“What are you doing here, Darius? And this?” he gestured at the black door, which promptly disappeared.

“It is a story that I am happy to tell you, my lord, and I carry a message, but perhaps in a more private place?”

Serhan nodded.

“Follow me,” he said.

Darius followed.