Prince of Wrath (28 page)

Astiras had achieved his wish. He’d ended the Duras threat to the east and had now disbanded his army, thereby saving any further cost to the treasury. The spearmen would return to Turslenka, the Hushirs were on their way back to Mazag and the Bakran archers were returning to their mountains. He would continue on towards Kastan City with only his own bodyguard.

Turn! Stand! Brace! Advance! Wheel! The commands went on and on endlessly, echoing across the bowl of the rebel camp. Zonis was suffering, the repeated barking cruelly inflaming his lungs and windpipe. There were few instances now that he wasn’t coughing up blood. He had to continue, however, and he knew it was his last job. He didn’t have too long to live as the disease dug its claws deeper and deeper into him. Part of him raged at the injustice of it all, and part of him wished it would hurry up and end it all. He was getting tired of the pain and discomfort.

The recruits had been drilled mercilessly, and they, too, were tired of the marching up and down across what had become the ‘parade ground’, which was no more than a worn out muddy patch of bare earth where the grass had been worn away by the hundreds of feet being put through their paces. They knew though, how to face armoured cavalry and how to deal with it. Zonis had made it clear to them that a battle against Prince Jorqel would involve the charge of the heavy equines led by him personally, so if the spearmen could deal with him and defeat him, then the battle could be won.

Lombert Soul had watched from the cave mouth on occasions and approved of what he saw. He was pleased with the two newcomers, ‘Sinoz’ for his professionalism and military knowledge, and the beautiful and sensual ‘Marta’ for pleasuring him at night. She was good, very very good, in fact, and he thought she might even be able to make a living out of the pleasure business. He pondered on that, but dismissed the possibility of hiring her out; he had no wish to share this stunning girl with anyone. Once he controlled Niake, then he would install himself as Duke of Bathenia and make Marta a duchess.

The Duras plan to turn all within Niake into mindless addicts was yet to show any progress, but the rebel leader knew that the leaf had been delivered over the walls. He had agents and contacts in the city and they had done their job well. All they had to do now was to convert the dry leaf into the easily sold form to smoke and give it away free. By the end of the spring Niake would be a mindless wasteland and all he had to do was to walk in and take the city. All the addicts would be slain; they would be useless and a burden on the new Bathenia he wished to rule. He would also destroy all remaining stocks of the leaf for he did not wish any of his men to fall to the temptation.

Clora had struck up a close friendship with the captive Sannia. She thought the noblewoman was so beautiful; it was no surprise she was to be Prince Jorqel’s wife. She was envious of the things Sannia told her of about her home in Lodria and of what the Prince had said and what he looked like. Clora’s wish to meet the imperial family grew. To her, they were a semi-mystical people.

Sannia cultivated her friendship with the red-haired Clora – or as she was called by the others, Martha. Sannia had been shocked when Clora informed her she was working for the imperial administration in Niake, and Sannia asked her to get word out to her betrothed that she was safe and well. Clora, given the freedom of the chambers during the day in order to clean them and make them presentable, agreed to pass on the message. She had surreptitiously done so to Zonis during one of their meetings. Zonis had insisted he continue to meet with his ‘niece’ as part of his contract in training up the rebel forces, and Lombert couldn’t see the harm in it. He saw ‘Sinoz’ as no threat, and realised the man was dying. Oddly, ‘Martha’ seemed unaware of the fact.

Zonis was tired. He knew his job was almost done, but there was still one big task to see through to the end. He had elicited a promise from the jealous Wottek that a messenger be sent to Niake. Wottek was prepared to betray Lombert Soul and got a promise from Zonis that his niece would be given to him once Soul was dead. The messenger had left with a package from Zonis a few days earlier, and had yet to return. It was a gamble, but to Zonis there was no other choice. Time was getting very short indeed and now was the time to reveal everything to his brother.

Kimel stood alongside the seated Zonis, watching the panting spearmen tramp up and down in line, spears pointed forward menacingly. Zonis held his cloth before his mouth, ready for the next bout of coughing. Some of them were pretty bad these days and once his strength faded the end would not be far. He had to keep going for Clora’s and Sannia’s sake. Both of them were in grave danger and he was their only hope at the moment.

“They’re looking much better than they were ten days ago, wouldn’t you say, Kimel?” Zonis said, admiring the discipline of the line.

“Fair do’s,” Kimel said automatically. His face betrayed no emotion. Zonis supposed he wasn’t really capable. He wondered if the trustee actually thought about anything before he spoke.

“You wouldn’t want to face them in battle, would you?”

“Scary,” Kimel answered, “don’t need it.”

Zonis grimaced. He could have predicted Kimel’s words. Still, the trustee was as close to a friend as he had in this place, and he cursed the fates and the gods for bringing him so low that he was reduced to this. He also felt the need to smoke and damned his condition anew; he was rapidly becoming an addict himself. Ah to the depths of damnation with it, since he would be dead within the year, why worry? He lit up and sucked in the acrid, white smoke and sighed. The pain lessened and his nerves tingled. He could just lie here in the mid-spring sunshine and let the days pass without a care in the world, but damn it he had a job – two jobs – to do.

The two spear company captains approached, the same two who had been present when Zonis had first begun training the men. At Zonis’ insistence, these two men had been promoted to captain while the other squad leaders had remained just that. As a result Zonis had been looked upon more favourably by the two men. Zonis for his part was happy with that for the second captain was certainly an idiot. Any half capable opponent would send him and his men packing in no time. The other one was more intelligent but lacked initiative. He would have been better remaining as a squad leader but Zonis wanted him promoted out of his comfort zone into a position he wasn’t capable of coping with. All part of Zonis’ plan to ensure Lombert Soul’s army was incapable of facing the Kastanian Imperial Army.

He also didn’t wish for anyone showing promise or talent to be promoted, so he suggested to the captains not to allow this to happen for, as he said to them, they could well make the captains look less than capable. The two captains agreed; best they only show favour to fools rather than be shown to be fools themselves. Zonis smiled to himself; that was how the Duras operated – only promote incompetents to positions of responsibility and as a result make those in charge seem like beacons of brilliance. Hard luck if you have intelligence; that is a burden preventing progression.

“Well, gentlemen,” Zonis wheezed, “I’ve done just about as much as I can with these men; they are now disciplined enough to face cavalry and enemy spearmen. You should be able to use them as an effective weapon of war against the Koros.”

“I’m impressed, Sinoz,” the first man said. “You’re as good as your word, another example of how the Koros are letting capable people slip through their hands. How can we fail?”

“Indeed, how can you?” Zonis echoed, a faint smile on his lips. His message to his brother had detailed just how the various elements of the rebel army were composed and how they were trained. He had done everything possible to make sure they were ready with one exception.

How to tackle archers.

Within the cave complex, behind guarded and locked doors, Clora and Sannia sat talking. Sannia was, as always, in her cage sitting as comfortably as she could. Clora was on a low wooden three-legged stool next to the cage. She didn’t have a key to the cage, for only Lombert Soul had that, and he was away for the moment on other business. At times like this the two women talked, exchanging their fears, hopes and experiences. Sannia had never spoken to one of the citizen class before at length and she found Clora’s story both fascinating and shocking. To her prostitutes had always been women of loose morals and she had had a low opinion of them. Now, after hearing of how Clora had grown up with no parents and out of absolute necessity had been forced into a life of selling her body, her attitude had changed.

Clora had never been with anyone from the nobility before. Prior to this she had thought of them as a people apart, different somehow. Yet after a dozen or so days of cleaning Sannia and disposing of her soil bucket on a daily basis, she had come to understand that they were not so different. They just had more money and were better educated – or in comparison to Clora, just educated. The two had some similar beliefs and opinions on things and, despite her predicament, Sannia had even smiled and chuckled a few times with the low born girl who sold her body in order to get by.

Sannia was taken aback at the apparent cold bloodied manipulation of the girl by Demtro. Although Clora hadn’t said that, it was clear to the young noblewoman that Clora was being used and put in real danger. Clora couldn’t see it as that; she was grateful to Demtro for rescuing her from the seedy tavern life she’d had up to then. Sannia kept silent about what she thought as it may upset the girl and make her feel isolated by the very person whom they were depending on to get them out of their predicament.

Clora was excited by Sannia’s hoped for marriage to the Prince. She wanted to know all about it, what dress was Sannia going to wear, how was her hair going to be made up, what the Prince was like, what had he said to her and so on. Clora clasped her hands against her breasts and smiled as Sannia described the moment he had proposed to her in her house. “Oh, I hope one day to get married myself! It won’t be anything as wonderful as yours will be, but its something I’d love to happen to me! It’d be marvellous, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” Sannia smiled in agreement, “it’d be your special day! You’d look so beautiful in a summer dress. Where would you want to get married?”

Clora sighed. “I don’t know. You know, Lady Sannia, its just the thought of marrying someone I’ve thought of, not anything like where it’d be or who to invite. I wouldn’t have anyone to invite,” her face fell. “I have no family and those who have known me in my life are either dead or people I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me. Demtro would have plenty of people.”

Sannia put an arm through the bars of her cage and squeezed her arm. “You might have me, you know.”

“You?” Clora was shocked. “But–but you’re far too rich and famous for me!”

Sannia shook her head. “A friend is a friend, no matter who or what they are, aren’t they, Clora? It wouldn’t be right for you to have nobody. And really, I can’t think of you as anything but a friend; you’ve been lovely to me these past days. All those horrible men staring at me. You have no idea just how welcome you are to me.”

Clora sucked on her lower lip. She didn’t know whether to cry or not. She had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat. “I-I’m not used to people being nice to me. All I’ve been to people before is someone they can use and then go. I’d love to have you there, Sannia….” and she couldn’t speak anymore, ending on a high pitched note as she broke into tears.

The noblewoman held her hand and Clora threw both arms through the cage and round Sannia. The two woman embraced through the bars, holding one another for a long time. Eventually Clora slid backwards, her face red and puffy, tearstained and her nose running. She sniffed loudly. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know what’s going to become of me, I honestly don’t. Men can be so horrible at times. These men here are just like those I knew back in Niake. They see me just to pleasure themselves. That Wottek is the worst of the lot but Zonis says I must play at fancying him as he’s our way to passing messages to Demtro. It’s horrible.”

Sannia looked at her in sympathy. “You’re a beautiful woman, Clora, and I’m not just talking about the way you look. You’re such a lovely person to know. You’re kind, generous, honest and truthful. Don’t ever change, you hear me?”

Clora smiled wanly, lowering her eyes. “You’re just saying that to cheer me up, Lady Sannia.”

“No I’m not. I’m being honest. Look at me, go on. That’s better. Now smile. There, see? Lights up your face. No wonder Demtro loves you.”

“Oh, I hope he does, Lady Sannia! He’ll make sure you and me are safe, won’t he?”

“Of course,” Sannia said. “His brother is here isn’t he? And my betrothed is doing everything he can to come rescue us. You wait and see.” Sannia smiled encouragingly but inside felt chilled and afraid; here in the cage she felt anything but hopeful for the future.

A short while later the door opened and two guards stepped in. Lombert Soul entered and regarded the two women. “Everything cleaned up, Martha?”

“Yes, Lord,” Clora answered, lowering her head as she had been told to do, and pushing her breasts forward slightly. Lombert looked down her cleavage, wondering whether he had the time to take her at that moment. No, there were issues he needed to deal with immediately. He waved the girl to sit on his desk and look decorative. With a last contemptuous glance in Sannia’s direction he sat down and waited, contenting himself by stroking Clora’s thigh. He would take her later. It would be good; she was always a willing and submissive vessel for his lust. He even slapped her across the face a few times if he’d had a particularly frustrating day, and she said nothing, merely accepting it. Yes, the perfect woman. Submissive, knowing her place, accepting the dominance of her man. Lombert smiled to himself. He would come to dominate Bathenia in time like this woman.

The door opened and in came Captain Wottek. Lombert’s face assumed a scowl. The man was a fool, but when people were hard to come by one had to make do. Once he got a proper governing body established in Niake he’d get rid of the imbeciles like Wottek. In the meantime he’d content himself by openly fondling the fool’s former woman. That would impress upon him who was in charge.