The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (148 page)

Looking past the various notables, including Amber’s own commander Colonel Uresh standing with General Vrill and a group of grey-swathed men he guessed were part of Hain’s entertainment, he saw a regiment of the Bloodsworn also assembled, still and silent. The fanatical cavalrymen were an intimidating sight, with their armour painted all in black, except for the Fanged Skull, which was bright, bloody red.

So that’s the message to the emissaries then, Amber thought as he led Captain Hain around Gaur to kneel before their lord. Inspect us as closely as you like. All you’ll see is that we’re every bit as big and scary as you’ve heard. Here’s another fight we’ll win without much effort. Just imagine what we could do if we tried. Amber had seen enough of the camp to realise Lord Styrax had only part of the Third Army assembled, probably seven legions’ worth of men.

As he watched, the men in grey cloaks were brought horses. They all looked short and fat to him, some almost too obese to be anywhere near a battlefield - but they all mounted with ease. General Gaur said something to them, a banner of negotiation was handed to one of them and they galloped off towards the city.

‘Gentlemen,’ Lord Styrax welcomed the newcomers, his voice deep and rumbling. Amber felt a flush of pride as he and Hain bowed; few career soldiers would ever be addressed in that way, this was an honour to be earned. ‘Captain Hain, will everything go as planned?’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Hain replied as they straightened up.

Lord Styrax stood the best part of a foot taller than Amber, and he was far broader, but he carried himself with a smooth grace that few large men could manage. His face was pale in the weak morning light, but it looked untouched by time or cares and was marked only by a single faint scar. Even after years of service, Amber couldn’t help feeling awe as he looked upon the massive white-eye.

Again he was reminded of his drill instructor’s words on his very first day of training in the army. ‘If you remember nothing else of today, remember this: there’s always someone better than you. However strong and quick you are, there’s always someone better; so being cocky is the fastest way to get dead.’

One young recruit had nervously asked, ‘What about Lord Styrax?’ Instead of cuffing the boy, as Amber might have expected, the instructor had nodded. ‘Our lord is the exception to every rule; he’s the one who stands above us all.’ Amber had never forgotten that moment, and the instructor’s words were as true now as they were then.

‘Major Amber, good to have you back - even if things didn’t quite go as we’d hoped.’

Lord Styrax’s words jerked Amber back to the present day. ‘Ah, no, my Lord, not at all as planned, but I learned a lot all the same.’

‘Excellent. We should always be open to instruction, even old men like me.’ The white-eye gave Amber a brief smile before turning to the men from Sautin and Mustet. ‘Emissary Jerrer, High Priest Ayel, don’t you agree?’

Kohrad shifted slightly to allow the two men past to converse with his father. Amber scrutinised their faces; Jerrer was obviously still trying to fathom why he’d been brought here to watch a siege, but it was impossible to tell what was going through the mind of the High Priest of Vasle. Amber had heard contradictory rumours about what was happening to the Land’s priests, but nothing that made sense to him.

‘What is the instruction you offer us today?’ snapped High Priest Ayel. He was a tall, proud-looking man, young for his position, not yet withered by years of service. ‘Cardinal Afasin will not fear this display of strength, such as it is. Your army looks remarkably small for one about to lay siege to a city as rich - and as full of mercenaries - as Tor Salan.’

‘Hah! A city full of as much cooperation as a bag of cats,’ snapped Kohrad Styrax as Amber felt his own hand twitch towards his scimitar’s hilt. The young white-eye appeared to be back to his normal bristling, belligerent self, a great improvement from the last time Amber had seen him, lying unconscious in Thotel, the Chetse capital… where the Menin had been forced to slaughter their own, that dreadful night.

‘Well, Scion Styrax,’ Ayel continued, his eyes wide with anger, ‘I invite you to march on Mustet if you wish instruction in how to conduct a defence; the Knights of the Temples will be happy to provide you with an edifying lesson.’

Amber felt his breath catch. Gods, this priest is insane. You don’t show you’re not afraid by riling white-eyes!

‘As the seal on that scroll has been broken, I must assume you have already read my offer,’ said Lord Styrax without a trace of anger as his son squared up to the mage.

‘I have read it, and my - ‘

‘Do not reply yet,’ Styrax said sharply, cutting the high priest off before he could make too great a mistake.

Flushed with anger as he was, Ayel still hesitated in the face of Lord Styrax’s glare. ‘Do not say something you cannot take back. You will leave today to take the offer to Cardinal Afasin.’

Cardinal Afasin! Amber smiled grimly to himself. Bastard was General Afasin last time I heard. Never a good sign when a white-eye gets religion. I doubt Knight-Cardinal Certinse will be much amused either. What does it say about the state of the Knights of the Temples when Afasin prefers to call himself priest rather than soldier?

‘Today?’ said Emissary Jerrer. ‘We’ve been here a week - why do you release us now?’ The Sautin diplomat was a nondescript man: greying, middle-aged, with weak blue eyes. His clothes were functional, not elegant, which meant he was either a lackey and sent as an insult, or he was some sort of spy master. After a few moments of scrutiny, Amber decided on the latter; he couldn’t possibly be as harmless as he looked.

‘Why today?’ Styrax repeated. ‘Because today is the day I hang my standard from the Sky Pillars.’

‘Today?’ spat Ayel, stepping in front of his compeer. A growl from General Gaur stopped the high priest moving any closer, but he continued to speak. ‘You have yet to even besiege the city; it is caution alone that has made the Council of Patriarchs bar their gate!’ He jabbed a scarlet-gloved finger in the direction of Tor Salan. ‘I have seen the Giants’ Hands at work; it will take them little time to decimate your army.’

Following the direction of Ayel’s pointing finger, Amber looked out over the fifteen regular humps, each surrounded by heaps of rubble, that dotted the ground outside Tor Salan. From that distance they looked far from threatening, but if the Menin camp had been much closer, the threat would have been significantly clearer. He pictured Lord Styrax’s fortress in the Menin homeland in his mind: even from a distance the Black Gates of Crafanc were a terrifying sight; up close they just got worse.

Lord Styrax raised a hand to stop Ayel. ‘I must confess I have not seen the Giants’ Hands in action, but I have studied accounts carefully. Tor Salan: city of a thousand mages - and some unique defences. It must be quite a sight indeed, those great arms of brass, steel and stone, surpassing the range and accuracy of any trebuchet-all driven by the magic of Tor Salan’s mages.’

‘And they have more ammunition to hand than they’ll need for this small force,’ Ayel added complacently.

‘I would quake with fear,’ said the massive white-eye solemnly, ‘but I have a city to conquer. General Gaur, signal the advance.’

Amber gave a start as the deep horns were sounded. He had not expected any troops to be put in the firing line. The horns were followed a moment later by the heavy thump of Menin war drums. Two teams of drummers working in unison, shirtless despite the cold weather, were clustered around the eight-foot high drums carried by massive ox-like beasts from the Waste. He felt a shudder run through his body at the hypnotic rhythm, the insistent background to all his years of fighting.

On his left he saw Captain Hain, grinning even wider than before.

‘Put that broken tooth away,’ Amber advised quietly as the Bloodsworn trotted off at a canter. He was unsurprised to see his own troops held position; even with Major Darn to command them it was unthinkable that he’d be excluded from their ranks in battle.

The two men looked out towards Tor Salan, straining to catch sight of movement there as the Menin cavalry regiments answered the call to advance and started out towards the city. In less than a minute there came from the city an answering call, a reply to their challenge.

‘Here comes your instruction,’ Ayel spat. ‘Mark it well!’

Amber saw a flicker of irritation cross Styrax’s face, a rare thing, and enough to warn those who knew the white-eye lord. In the blink of an eye Lord Styrax had taken a long stride back, drawn Kobra, his broadsword, turned with blinding speed and lunged forward, all in one smooth movement.

Captain Hain was unable to stifle a gasp at his lord’s unnatural speed, but no one moved as Lord Styrax stood with his arm fully extended over the high priest’s shoulder…

Then Ayel reeled away, clutching his head, and a girlish shriek cut the air as he fell to his knees. Amber looked at his lord’s sword: there, caught between the hand-length fangs at the sword’s point, was the high priest’s ear, severed as cleanly as if by a surgeon.

‘Kohrad,’ growled Lord Styrax to his son, ‘pick him up and explain a few things to him, would you?’ A practised flick sent the ear bouncing over the scrappy tufts of grass; what little blood remained on the magical blade was swiftly and greedily absorbed by the metal.

The younger white-eye bounded forwards and grabbed Ayel by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to his feet. He proceeded to slap the man around the face until his cries of pain quietened into sobs. ‘That you are still alive is a gesture of goodwill towards your lord,’ Kohrad snarled, his face barely three inches from Ayel’s, ‘but I promise you, if I ever see you again after you’ve carried our message to Afasin, I’ll feed you to the minotaurs.

‘Now, stand up and bear witness to what happens here today so that you may report every detail faithfully. Perhaps this will teach you about underestimating the Menin. You think we’re savages because we crossed the Waste? You think we’re fools, just because we’re not natives of these parts?’

Amber caught some garbled words of protest, some begging, but it was cut short when Kohrad smashed a mailed fist into the High Priest’s gut.

‘Heard of Eraliave? The Elven general? No? Some say he was even better than Aryn Bwr, because he survived to old age.’

Amber could see the burning intensity in Kohrad’s eyes. When Amber had left the Menin Army to travel north last summer, surgeons and mages had been trying to remove the magical armour that had been driving Kohrad insane with bloodlust. Amber had heard the experience had left Kohrad a shadow of his former self, but he saw now a spark still remained.

‘In that old age, Eraliave wrote the classic treaties on warfare,’ Kohrad continued, hauling Ayel forward to a good vantage point. ‘One of his favourite sayings is particularly appropriate for this current situation: “A good general identifies his enemy’s weakest point and attacks it; a genius identifies his enemy’s strongest point and destroys it.”’

‘The very words Lord Styrax spoke to me,’ whispered Hain beside Amber, ‘the day he gave me the assignment.’

‘The idea was yours?’

Hain gave a small shake of the head. ‘I wish I could claim it, but he led me to it by his words. Only a fool wouldn’t have worked it out.’

And so begin the lessons on how to think like more than a soldier, Amber thought wryly. I remember them well! Sadly, you won’t enjoy all of them quite so much.

And further conversation was precluded by a new sound coming from the city. There were faint stirrings of movement on each of the hills. This far away it was hard to make out any detail, but because of what he had heard of Tor Salan’s defences, Amber had a good idea what was happening.

Curled up on the ground was an enormous hinged arm of steel, stone and brass, fifty feet long. The ‘shoulder’ of this arm was connected to a rampart of reinforced stonework, from which ran four narrow passages, like gutters. A throne-like seat of stone was set into the front, where the lead mage would sit facing the plain beyond. There were a dozen more mages in each of the channels, all feeding their power into the lead man, who focused it and used it to animate the arm. As blistering trails of magic ran up and down the arm’s brass rods, so the gigantic fingers would begin to twitch, then rise and flex as the arm itself rose up into the air. Within moments it would be ready to start grabbing rocks from the piles stacked untidily around the position and lob them with uncanny accuracy into any approaching army. The Giants’ hands would quickly decimate the troops; total destruction would not be far behind.

‘Look; there’s the first, far right,’ Hain whispered.

Amber saw the jerk of movement as one of the arms lifted into the air. From where they stood it looked like a stalk of corn shooting up in a field. No, Amber corrected himself, nothing so meek; a dog raising its hackles, perhaps, or a porcupine its spines.

In quick succession the other Hands rose jerkily into position. Amber couldn’t begin to estimate the amount of magic required to lift such weights; he guessed every one of the mages would be stretched to their utmost limits.

As the cavalry regiments cantered towards the Giants’ Hands in neat formation, the men in grey bearing their banner of negotiation had reached the halfway point. They were riding hard, as if desperate to keep ahead of the soldiers.

Let’s hope the dog doesn’t get nervous and snap at the first hand it sees, Amber thought.

The enormous weapons twitched as the grey men passed the range markers and continued. Several dipped, moving with remarkable speed and grace to grasp boulders and twist back into a throwing position, knuckles resting on the ground so the mages didn’t have to hold the weight indefinitely.

‘Come on, you bastards,’ breathed Hain, craning forward, ‘wait for your orders before firing, I don’t want to have to explain that to Lord Styrax.’

Despite himself, Amber grinned. Seconds passed and Hain’s prayers were answered as the group in grey passed unharmed, no hail of enormous bits of rubble filling the sky.

The Bloodsworn and the cavalrymen were still well short of the thousand-yard marker, and they would stop before they reached it, for they were only a feint. The battle - and the siege - would be won by that handful of men in grey cloaks. Amber found himself holding his breath as the delegation reached a safe point and stopped, supposedly waiting for emissaries from the city to come out and negotiate with them one final time.