Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four (13 page)

His first response was rage, yet now that he thought about it, Damon was probably right to judge his tempers with contempt. Temper would solve nothing here. In fact, what now resolved before him was opportunity, pure and simple. His father had warned him of this, numerous times. “The Goeren-yai will like this war at first,” he'd said, in one of those conversations they'd dared not share with Damon, and certainly not with Sasha. “They know nothing of the Saalshen Bacosh, save that their king has declared it a land to be conquered. But the eastern Goeren-yai will not like to fight the serrin directly, and in time, their discontent may spread. Lowland honour is not highland honour, and what Bacosh men may find glory in doing will not seem so glorious to many in Lenayin.”

King Torvaal Lenayin had been unsuited to the leadership of Lenayin. He had made a fine start, commanding victory over the Cherrovan invaders in the Great War, with the help of his general, Kessligh Cronenverdt. But that had been a matter of simplicity, Lenayin against the merciless invader. Clearly the gods were on Lenayin's side, and Torvaal had commanded with conviction.

Yet once the Cherrovan were defeated, few things in Lenayin were so clear. Torvaal had attempted to reach out to the Goeren-yai, and to Saalshen, with his Nasi-Keth Commander of Armies training Torvaal's eldest son Krystoff as heir to the Lenay throne. But the lords and the north had fought back, leading to Krystoff's death, Kessligh's resignation, and the departure of Sasha from the royal family. Verenthane power in Lenayin was too entrenched to accept the vision that Torvaal had proposed, and the gods had punished him for it.

Fearful of the gods' anger, Torvaal had spent the rest of his life attempting to appease them, and seeking forgiveness for the mistake that had cost him his heir. He should have known then, Koenyg had long thought, what the correct path was. And yet he had refused. Koenyg often thought that Torvaal's long period of retreat and prayer in temple was not purely about the death of his heir. Nor was it an attempt simply to regain the gods' affection for himself and Lenayin, as many suggested. His father had prayed to the gods to seek their forgiveness for the thing he should have done, and yet could not. The Verenthane faith was the great and growing power of humanity. A good king, a
real
king, would make clear to the population of Lenayin that such was to be Lenayin's destiny as well. A real king would
lead.
Yet Torvaal, devout Verenthane that he was, refused.

And now the gods had claimed him too.

Koenyg was determined that he would not repeat his father's mistake. It did not matter that much of the population of Lenayin would not willingly follow. In the new world that loomed, to be divided was to die, and he loved Lenayin too much to see it dismembered by the great new powers that would arise following the Saalshen Bacosh's defeat. King Soros had liberated Lenayin, and brought a degree of unity, but only a small degree. King Torvaal had defended Lenayin, yet in general maintained a status quo.

Now, King Koenyg would unite Lenayin, by whatever means he must. He had hoped that that unity could be achieved in the forge of war, with the willing participation of the Goeren-yai. But now the Goeren-yai refused, and sought to cling to their futile and dying ways. Well, he had known it might come to this one day, when he was king. It had happened earlier than he'd thought, and in a different location. But now, finally, the struggle to unify Lenayin, and make it strong for the challenges to come, had begun. And here in the lowlands, he had the united Army of the Bacosh to support him in his cause.

Shemorane was wet with rain. The Army of the Bacosh was filing through its main road, an endless line of men and horses. Ahead rose the great spires of the High Temple, and as the Lenay party rode toward them, even the hard faces of the northern lords began to soften, their eyes raised to the weeping sky with awe.

They emerged into the temple courtyard, and mounted knights made a cordon before the High Temple's steps, as the common men of the army marched past, kneeling to the priests who stood beside the road to bless them, their eyes also raised to the sky.

Within the knights' cordon, nobility gathered and climbed the stairs, and embraced with joy. There would now be a grand service, Koenyg suspected, for the return of the Shereldin Star. He was pleased at least that he would be present for that.

He left the horses guarded nearby and climbed the wide steps, past watchful Bacosh lords. Within, the High Temple preparations for ceremony were already underway, the hurried deployment of drapery along the walls, and rushing priests with candle holders and prayer shawls. In the middle of the long pews, talking in hushed tones with several lords, Koenyg spotted the Regent Balthaar.

Balthaar turned as he approached.

“So,” said the Regent, somewhat cautiously. He had heard. They all had. Now he expected Koenyg to grovel in humiliation. Koenyg refused. “I hear it is bad.”

Koenyg shrugged. “A pagan rebellion. It is unfortunate. Yet the cream of Verenthane Lenayin remain with me, and are loyal to the cause.”

“More so than ever,” Heryd added from behind, with hard certainty.

Balthaar's eyes flicked to Heryd for a moment, then came back to Koenyg. “You have lost…three-quarters of your strength?”

“At least,” Koenyg agreed.

“An embarrassment.”

“Pagans,” Koenyg repeated. “A dying breed. Their dying shall begin here.”

Balthaar's lips pressed thin. “This could create for me a problem. We outnumber them greatly, yet pagans or not, this betrayal now strengthens the hand against us. You are certain they will fight?”

“Eastern pagans are leading them, they always liked the serrin. They'll fight.”

“And yet you brought them anyway,” observed one of Balthaar's lords, coldly. “Even knowing how dubious was their loyalty.”

“They are Lenay,” Koenyg replied. “That was supposed to be enough. Evidently not.”

“And now the numbers against us grow,” Balthaar continued. “Enora's losses were large, and Rhodaan's even larger, yet with Lenayin to bolster them, to say nothing of those troublesome
talmaad
, whose numbers will assuredly grow larger as we draw closer to Saalshen, our difficulties increase.”

“Elisse commits large forces,” Koenyg replied. “Most of your allies have kept many in reserve, yet Elisse owes you everything, and sends everything. Your other feudal allies now hear word of your successes, and are terrified that they are missing out on their share of this great triumph, and thus the spoils to come. I do not know feudal manpower in the Bacosh as you do, yet I should guess at several more tens of thousands there, who could reach across the Enoran border before we cross the Ipshaal River…if indeed the enemy does retreat to Jahnd as we expect.

“And then there are the Kazeri. I have word of a deal between them and the Chansul of Meraine.”

Balthaar looked mildly surprised. “You have sources.”

“My skills are not limited solely to warfare,” said Koenyg. “Should the Kazeri send the numbers being suggested, then we are in the process of building what shall be by far the largest force of men ever assembled in the history of Rhodia. Yet for all your core of strength, your primary weakness remains in cavalry, especially against the
talmaad.
Northern Lenayin remains with me, and it is almost entirely cavalry, the finest in all lands. We shall be your cavalry core. With Lenay command of cavalry, you cannot lose.”

Balthaar considered for a moment. Then he put a hand to Koenyg's shoulder, and steered him away from the others.

“Brother-in-law,” he said quietly in the hush of the temple's vast space, “I shall tell you of something more. My brother Prince Dafed reports from Rhodaan where we have made some great discoveries. There are workshops in Rhodaan, in towns near Tracato, where artillery is made. Steel artillery.”

Koenyg stared at him in amazement. “They were supposed to destroy it all before it was captured.”

“Yes, well, much to everyone's amazement, it seems that the Steel have many spare. The logistics of operating such things, I suppose, means that there are only so many units of artillery that a certain-sized force can utilise before it becomes unmanageable. These artillery were supposed to be moved by road to join the retreating army, or destroyed, as you say…only some Rhodaani lords hoping to curry favour with my army intervened and have now handed them over to Dafed.”

He stopped, and could not restrain a smile. “We have hellfire,” he added. “They were making it in the same town. We have great stores of hellfire, all captured. And even some men who will instruct us in its use, as the Rhodaani nobles have some friends who know such things.”

“My gods,” Koenyg breathed. “Can it be transported?”

“As soon as possible, though we may have to wait a little for its arrival.”

“We shall have to wait a little for the boats to cross the Ipshaal.”

“Indeed, so no loss.” Balthaar was assembling a large force of boat builders and carpenters, a surprisingly simple task with such a huge force at his disposal. “The enemy's only hope is that the Ilduuri come to their aid in force, and from what I hear, I do not think that at all likely. But I would ask you, brother, do not speculate on these things too often with the other feudal lords. Some things I would rather kept just between us two.”

Koenyg was astonished. He had assumed that his obvious loss of face, with three in four of his men deserting him, would result in a similar loss of influence with Balthaar. Now this. But then, he recalled, he had been hearing other things, about relations between the Regent and his allies of late.

“Your friends squabble over the spoils,” Koenyg said. “Well, be assured of one thing, brother—we Lenays are not concerned with your spoils. I fight for a Verenthane Lenayin, and a strong, Verenthane Bacosh to be our ally, nothing more.”

Balthaar looked relieved. “It is so nice,” he said mildly, “to speak to a man whose word I can trust. Just one.” Things were quite bad then, Koenyg decided. “I have a mind to put such a man in command of our cavalry, as you suggest. I understand all of the nobility of the rest of Lenayin's provinces have remained loyal?”

“Very loyal,” Koenyg agreed. “This war shall reshape Lenayin, brother. The pagans shall be dealt a crushing defeat here that it was not possible to deal them in Lenayin itself. Feudal power shall be expanded upon my return, and Verenthane power too. With the pagans diminished, more warriors of Northern Lenayin shall be freed to assist you, should you need them. The north has only sent a small portion of its forces, as it faces threats from Cherrovan
and
its Lenay neighbours. Soon that number shall increase. You have seen how we fight, brother. Lenayin remains a friend well worth having.”

The ceremony to replace the Shereldin Star in the High Temple was very grand, for a thing so hastily organised. Koenyg did not understand much of it, for services were in Larosan, yet the certainty of it all impressed him. Choirs sang in heavenly reverence, and priests in robes marched slowly up the aisle. Here was a force that could unite men, and cease their constant bickering. Lenayin needed this more than it needed anything.

Emerging from the temple in the late evening, the Regent's army was still filing past and paying their respects. Such a volume of men surely could not lose. Satisfied, Koenyg stretched stiff shoulders, gathered his lords about him from the crowd emerging from the temple, and walked down the steps toward where their horses were stabled at the neighbouring monastery…when suddenly the street erupted in flame.

Koenyg fell, as men all about fell, hands up to ward off the glare and heat. And then it was fading, Koenyg lifting himself from the steps as huge clouds of smoke boiled upward into the overcast sky. Buildings all up the street were aflame, as were hundreds of men. They ran screaming, falling on the ground, as others leaped forward with coats to smother them. Horses galloped in terror, threw their riders, and a cart team went hurtling through crowds, as more men scattered.

“Hellfire,” Lord Heryd said grimly, regaining his feet.

“Kessligh,” Koenyg muttered. “One might have thought our allies would have enough wits to search the buildings along their route of advance.”

“He fights dishonourably,” another lord observed. “To be expected, from one who fights with the demons.”

“He fights to win,” said Koenyg, watching as flailing, burning men ceased their struggles and fell still. “There is more honour in victory than defeat. He would like me to underestimate him, as some of our allies do. I shall not.”

S
asha wanted to move, but General Rochan had other ideas. In a great intermingling, the Enoran and Lenay armies made a temporary camp across the fields by the road, while commanders from both forces gathered on the grassy ridge beneath a wide oak tree, and debated.

They had barely begun when a new party of cavalry arrived, thirty strong and mixed equally between Nasi-Keth,
talmaad
, Enoran, and Rhodaani. Most paused on the camp's perimeter, while a few continued through the throng of Lenay and Enoran men who talked, shared food, and laughed. Sasha got up to watch them approach, suspecting, but barely daring to hope.

Leading the horsemen was Kessligh. He dismounted by the oak, strode to her, and embraced her. Strangely, Sasha did not feel any tears. Instead, she felt satisfaction.

“I had a feeling,” Kessligh said warmly. “When I let you go from Tracato. I had a feeling it would lead to this.”

“
I
have a feeling the Army of Lenayin would have chosen this path even without me,” said Sasha.

“Perhaps,” said Kessligh. “Or perhaps they would simply have turned and marched home. But they knew you would never do so.”

“They know this is their fight,” Sasha said simply. “This is a fight for Rhodia, and coming here, they realise for the first time that Lenayin is a part of Rhodia. This war determines Lenayin's fate as much as any other. That much of my father's war they agree with. They merely disagree with him on the matter of sides.”

Rhillian was there also, with a quick embrace, and then Sasha saw Aisha, with a cheerful smile, and that embrace was longer. Then there were some Nasi-Keth friends from the Tol'rhen in Tracato, including Daish, a young, freckle-faced lad with a mischievous tongue, and Sasha hugged him too.

And finally, amidst the other greetings as the party was welcomed by Enorans and Lenays alike, she saw Errollyn. He leaned on his huge bow, and gazed at her. Sasha smiled back. She put her hands on her hips, and raised her eyebrows, as though to ask, “Where have you been?” His faintly exasperated smile replied, “Waiting for you.” Sasha laughed. She ran at him, and grabbed him fiercely.

“Isn't it odd,” he murmured, “that as
du'jannah
, I do not feel the unspoken pull of my fellow serrin, yet with you, I need no words?”

“Odd is one word for it,” said Sasha, and kissed him. That lingered, forcefully. Sasha broke away with effort, and noticed that nearby men were watching, some grinning, others astonished. Surely gossip had told of her serrin lover, yet now they saw it for real. “I'm sorry, we can't do this here.”

“I know,” said Errollyn. “It's hard for you to hold their respect when one of those who follows you is fucking you.”

Sasha gave him an incredulous stare. Then grinned as Errollyn laughed.

“Oh, they won't mind that,” she said dismissively, “they know I'm wild.” She had spent the past weeks wishing nothing more than to lose herself in his arms, but now that the opportunity presented, this was all she could manage. It mattered not, he was here now, and they were on the same side once more. He seemed different, though. As though a darkness clung to him, somewhere behind the smile. But the leadership group was re-forming, and she had no time to query further.

They resumed their places in a circle beneath the oak, where stones fallen from paddock walls had been rolled into place. Damon was there, nursing wounded ribs and in obvious pain. He claimed that pain had prevented him from the jolting gallop to the head of the column, but it did not explain why he had not ridden out with Sasha to face General Rochan. Sasha suspected other reasons.

“Where have you been?” General Rochan asked Kessligh.

“Shemorane,” said Kessligh. “We arranged an ambush of sorts for the Regent, I think we may have cost them close to a thousand. A large part of the town was set afire to do it, but I think it worth the price.”

“You didn't burn down the High Temple after all?” Sasha asked. “Andreyis went to some lengths to save it.”

“No,” said Kessligh. “The flames were too far away, and the roofs all wet. The Regent's soldiers will have put it out before it spread.”

“Good,” said Rochan. “You cause them further confusion. We should stand here, before they resume their march.”

“No,” said Kessligh. “We have not the strength.”

“We concede too much to them already!” Rochan retorted. “They have lost three-quarters of the Army of Lenayin, while we have gained them. We are outnumbered no more than three to one and we have triumphed against worse odds than that before.”

“Our scouts intercepted a messenger,” said Rhillian. “He was Kazeri.”

“Kazeri?”

“The Kazeri were divided,” Rhillian said grimly. “There have been those amongst them who campaign for closer ties to the new, greater Bacosh. Verenthane Kazeri, much as in Lenayin. A few weeks back it seems the Verenthanes won, and the horsemen of Kazerak ride to the Regent's aid. Kazerak is a land of horsemen. The messenger was adamant on forty thousand.”

There was silence about the circle. Sasha only knew tales of Kazerak. It was huge, with hot summers and wide plains where little grew but grass. Its people were nomads, mostly horsemen, who fought largely amongst themselves. There were said to be many Kazeri, but no one knew precisely how many, because they had few towns and no cities. In past centuries, the priests had made inroads for the Verenthane faith, and Kazeri warlords had embraced the gods. There had been talk of Kazeri warlords riding to assist the Regent in his war, but no one had known for certain.

“All the more reason to stand and fight here,” said Rochan, unmoved. “If we beat the Regent first, we can stand and face the Kazeri before they join forces. Better to fight two smaller forces than one large one.”

“Except that neither force is small,” said Kessligh. “Both are larger than us…”

“Size has nothing to do with it.”

“…and should we gain a victory against the Regent,” Kessligh continued, “it shall cost us so dearly that the force which stands to face the Kazeri will have little chance of victory. The Kazeri are fast and skillful cavalry—neither the
talmaad
nor artillery gains us much advantage against them.”

“We think they're barely a week away,” Rhillian added. “It would take days just to engage the Regent, and he would delay, knowing the Kazeri ride fast.”

“And the Regent has some captured artillery from the Rhodaanis,” Kessligh finished. “His men will not use it well, but use it they will. The success of Steel formations has always been predicated on the assumption that its enemies shall not use such weapons back against them. One catapult alone would do terrible damage to tightly packed Steel formations.”

Rochan stabbed at the turf with his sword, and said nothing. Sasha recalled Kessligh's prediction in Tracato, that if the Steel lost, it would lose badly. The Steel were accustomed to victory and advance. Retreat and defensive withdrawal were not things they had any talent for.

“We need the Ilduuri,” said Kessligh. “What news of them?”

“Nothing,” Rhillian said grimly. “Not even a messenger.”

“I know them,” ventured Formation Captain Petisse, Rochan's second-in-command. “I studied at their school, and I have family there. Leading members of the Ilduuri Council favour isolation. They have their mountains—they see no need to risk destruction to come to our aid.”

“They're fools,” Rochan muttered. “Do they think to make terms with the Regent and his priests once we are defeated? It may not come immediately, but one day he shall march on them, and even their mountains shall not protect them.”

“The Ilduuri are isolated,” said Aisha. “I've travelled there, for study and
talmaad
business. They have never favoured engagement with their neighbours.”

“But I hear the Ilduuri Steel is strong?” said Kessligh.

Rochan nodded. “Strong, yes. And more friendly to our cause than most Ilduuris—Ilduur society is isolated, but their army is not; we often train with contingents they send to us. They have less artillery—it's hard to use in the mountains. Their cavalry are good, but less so than Rhodaani and Enoran cavalry. Their infantry is the best of us all. Fewer formations, more individually skilled. Longer blades. I warrant they'd give you Lenays a fair contest.”

“Unlikely,” said Sasha. “But good to hear.”

“And no use to us at all if they will not fight,” Rochan finished.

“We must persuade them,” said Kessligh. “Councils are never unanimous. If Ilduur had a king, then likely his mind would already be made, and all our asking would count for nothing. But councils have factions. Probably there will be one faction that will want to help, but is currently outvoted, even if it is only the Steel.”

He looked to Aisha and Petisse for confirmation. Both nodded. Rochan, Sasha noted, was watching Kessligh intently, while seeming not to. Did it rankle the great general that this foreign usurper was slowly winning command? Rochan commanded the Enoran Steel, General Geralin the Rhodaani, and Rhillian the
talmaad.
But only Kessligh could see the whole picture, and knew how to forge all the distinct forces together into a working defence. From the look on Rochan's face, Sasha thought that he was reluctantly reaching the same conclusion as she.

Now, if she could only corner Damon, and figure out once and for all who commanded the Army of Lenayin.

“We will send a delegation from the front,” said Rhillian. “We can appeal to their emotion. We have seen the crimes that unfold here, and we can foretell what further crimes shall come, to us and to them.”

“Who?” Kessligh asked.

“It must be me,” Rhillian replied. “The Ilduuri have never liked their Bacosh fellows, not those in the Saalshen Bacosh, nor those across the hostile border. They distrust Saalshen too, yet Saalshen at least retains access to Andal, and will be listened to. A senior of the serrinim must lead the delegation. It must be me.”

“Who will command the
talmaad?”
asked Rochan, with some alarm.

Rhillian levelled a finger at Errollyn. Errollyn stared back at her. Kessligh looked thoughtful. Then he nodded.

“Excellent choice,” he said. Errollyn said nothing.

“Aisha must come too,” said Rhillian. “As a scholar she is invaluable. Kiel's council too I value. And I will need warriors. I think it likely there is more than merely ideological differences holding the Ilduuri back. A general may have taken power over the council, or perhaps some other tyrant. We may need to fight.”

“I'll go,” said Sasha. All looked at her.

“Are you not in command of the Army of Lenayin?” asked Rochan.

“Prince Damon commands the army.” Sasha decided then and there. “He is better trained in large formations than I, many men are. I would do a good job, but others could do better. In the Northern Rebellion, I was surrounded by experienced warriors who did much of the thinking for me and presented me with decisions.”

“I too, even now,” said Rochan. “Your uman as well, I'm certain. Half the skill of good command is choosing able seconds and thirds. Admitting such a thing does not make a commander less capable.”

“Have no fear, General,” Sasha said with a smile, “no one who knows me would accuse me of modesty.” There were more smiles at that. “I merely speak the truth. Where I have
true
skill and experience is in irregular warfare. And politics. I will be more useful with Rhillian.

“My main purpose with the Army of Lenayin is as figurehead. But men do not need to see me here every day to know I am on their side. Staying here may cause complications, as not all the men of Lenayin love me and my pagan ways. Of Damon, there can be no dispute.”

Damon was watching her, grimly. Like Errollyn, he said nothing.

“She's right,” said Kessligh. “She has talent for command, but her primary strength is alone. She's wasted tied down to a large formation. She can also speak for Lenayin, and the example of an army of foreigners, who now fight to save Saalshen and her friends. She can be persuasive.”

Sasha caught Errollyn looking at her. Reunited for barely a moment, and now she was leaving him. Her look was apologetic. But she could see that he understood. If they were to have any future together, first they would have to win. That was all that mattered now.