The Storm's Own Son (Book 3) (16 page)

They saluted him, and he returned it. He raised his right hand, and then motioned for them to go. They filtered out of the square in various directions, one trio at a time. Talaos returned to the command tent and readied to discuss plans with the senior leaders for some hours. After that, he planned to return to his tent for a time and use his sight.

~

The hour was late. Talaos sat alone in his tent on a small folding chair. He had a narrow folding cot bed, much as Sanctari had used, a chest for papers and other small items relating to command duties, and a rug for a floor.

He sat quietly and focused his mind. It was more difficult tonight, as he had a great many concerns. Still, he continued seeking clarity. He could see, sense, his tent around him, then his Wolf Adrus, on guard outside. Through inner sight, the man’s wolfish air seemed more pronounced. His short black hair and stubble framed high cheekbones, a strong nose, and piercing, alert eyes that gleamed in the torchlight as he stalked the perimeter.

The darkness of night affected Talaos’s inner sight less than it did his outer, and after a time, he began to perceive the wider camp. Then he swept his gaze in a circle. To the south, toward Avrosa and Ipesca, was greater clarity, but to the north the mist, the shadow of the opposing will, had grown denser. He wondered at the sheer power of the Prophet, who could shroud vast regions of the world around him, and at how far the Prophet's own sight must reach.

He considered that, whatever the Prophet could see, it still must have limits. Otherwise, he, Talaos, would be long dead. With such extraneous thoughts, his focus of mind weakened, and he returned to things closer at hand. Miriana’s circle of clarity had grown with each passing day, and within its reach, sight was easier. Something was odd though. It seemed to be shifting, moving. No, he thought, Miriana was moving.

She was moving his way, and would soon be at his tent.

With that, his focus failed, and his inner sight ended. He looked around him. There was a shadow, quietly creeping just outside the back wall of his tent. He smirked and made quietly for the spot, prepared to pull up the side of the tent and pounce. Outside, he heard a playful whisper.

"Nice try!" Miriana teased, "But I see you… in my mind, and I… Aiiieee!"

There was quick motion outside as Miriana was scooped up by someone much larger and stronger. Talaos rushed to the tent wall, pulled up a section of it, and looked outside. There, his quick-thinking guard, perhaps not as easy to see with inner sight as Talaos, held her like a rabbit. She was unsuccessfully trying to escape. Adrus looked at Talaos, humor sparkling in his eyes, and waited for instructions.

"Send her in," he smiled.

Adrus brought Miriana around to the front and none too ceremoniously dropped her to the rug inside the entrance. Then he saluted Talaos with a grin and returned to his post.

Miriana looked up at him from her position sprawled on her back. She had on put her skirt and top of the Western Isles, and had tightened up the long braids of her hair which now splayed all about. Her white cloth top had gone loose, half baring a breast. She was propped up on one side by an elbow, and her legs bent up at the knee, spread wide.

Talaos sat in his chair and laughed. "You might want to leave the stealth to Sorya."

She arched her eyebrows, propped up another elbow with her chest perking upward, then replied, "I saw
you
coming, and that was my goal."

"How is it," he smiled, "that you can be the woman and prophetess testing her power against the Living Prophet himself, and yet the girl sprawled on the carpet before me?"

"Being very young, as everyone reminds me, helps," she replied innocently. "But are you so different? How are you the master of the storm with lightning in his eyes, the commander of this huge army, and yet the sarcastic man who enjoys teasing everyone?"

"You could always find some nice, polite, normal merchant," he replied with a smirk.

"All right, I don't want normal, and I might like the teasing," she laughed, gazing into his eyes and absently pulling her skirt higher up her smooth, fair legs. "But, I'm not a girl, am I?"

"No. Thanks to me," he answered, arching an eyebrow.

"Thanks to you, I've been thinking of that night ever since… and whenever I could, hiding away at night to think of it in private, sometimes till my fingers got tired," she added, turning over onto her stomach and peering up at him with her big eyes. Her skirt was pulled up high enough to leave the end of her bare, pert cupped bottom peeking out. She spread her fair prone legs wide apart.

"Are you doing that on purpose?" Talaos said with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

"No!" she replied with a pout. "Well, maybe a little. I have really missed you."

"Miriana, come to me," he said in an offhanded tone, sitting comfortably.

She squirmed forward out of her skirt and propped herself up on all fours. The hair in one of her braids came partially loose and fell half over one of her eyes. She peered up at him and crawled forward the short distance to his chair. Then she kneeled back, sitting on folded legs and nude below the band at her breasts.

He put a hand to her cheek, and she thrilled to the touch.

"Still no fear," he smiled.

"No, not with you," she answered, eyes adoring. Her voice became a bit deeper and more womanly, "Or what I really mean is, I master my fear with you. You are danger itself, but you're my protector."

Talaos untied the knot that held her top in place, and it fell from her chest. She shivered with expectation, and her full, high, firm breasts heaved above her small waist. Her pink nipples were hard, and as she leaned forward, they almost touched him.

"And here you are, naked before me," he smiled.

"Naked before you, and before the lightning in your eyes!" she said, watching them with fascination. "I don't understand why so many people are afraid to look at them. I could stare into them forever."

He raised her chin, and her lips quivered. He leaned forward and kissed them.

Then, like a sudden fire blazing into light, she threw her arms around him and kissed him, over and over, lips roaming his mouth, then his neck and back again. He gripped his fingers in her hair, tilted her head to the side and kissed, then bit her neck. She gasped.

He stood up, feet planted on either side of her knees, with his body immediately before her. He pulled his tunic up and off. He felt her hands at his hips. She pulled his undergarments off, slipping them to the floor. He looked down.

Miriana was staring at his erect hardness, fascinated as if seeing one up close for the first time, which he realized, she was. He smiled down at her.

"I was never this close, never like this, when you made me a woman," she said, as she reached to touch him gently with her fingers.

He thrilled. She gently, tentatively, kissed the end of it and peered up at him from under her long lashes and through wild, loose strands of hair. He ran his fingers along her cheek. She experimentally ran her tongue along his shaft. He moaned. She beamed proudly and slipped her mouth around the end. He took her gently by her hair and pressed himself deeper in her mouth. She gasped in surprise, then relaxed, taking him deep.

Talaos began to thrust in her mouth, slowly and gently at first. He looked down into her luminous eyes, and she gazed up into his as they blazed with lightning. A hint of mischief appeared in her eyes, and she twirled her tongue around him. He laughed and released in her mouth. She reacted with a start, but didn't pull away as she swallowed. Then she smiled. He pulled out, and she licked her pouting lips with a kind of triumphant smile.

Then he gently pushed her back, onto the carpet. She beamed at him, radiant with joy and expectation. She ran her hands wildly over his body as he spread her legs apart. She kissed his chest and neck with eager, intense desire.

He gripped her hard in his arms, kissing her ear, neck, shoulder, and nipple, then biting his way back up them. He felt her skin prickle as she moaned, then screamed with delight. She met his eyes again, and he could see the luminous power in hers.

With a teasing smile on his lips, he slipped two fingers inside her.

"Oh!" She gasped as he curled and thrust in her with his fingers, hard and fast. She screamed and released. He felt the juices flow over his hand.

Then he pushed her legs back and up, resting on his shoulders. She looked surprised for a moment, but immensely pleased.  He thrust himself inside her, hard and pounding deep. He held her petite body tight with one hand while bringing the other between her legs, playing with her as he thrust wildly inside.

Moaning and gasping, she released again.

Talaos thrilled with the raw power and pleasure of the moment. There she was, this beautiful young woman beneath him, fair and delicate. Yet not so delicate, for he could sense her own power, the radiant clarity, like light, that shone from her, growing ever stronger. Miriana, woman and prophetess. So unlike him, yet his kindred soul. His lover. His love. His.

He unleashed inside her, and she screamed, releasing with him.

Then, without pause, he turned her over; her smooth, fair little body on all fours again. He kneeled behind her and thrust furiously as she screamed in ecstasy, releasing once more. Roaring with primal, furious lust, he unleashed in her again as she screamed and joined him.

Talaos pushed Miriana to her stomach with her legs spread wide. He thrust deep inside her, pressing her beautiful, curved hips hard to the carpet, and the hard ground beneath. He pumped and thrust and pounded her as she released, over and over.  She made small panting gasps. He took her furiously with bright-burning eyes, unleashing in her again and again.

Then at last, he paused, and kissed her neck as she lay there panting.

He turned her back over.

As he did so, he sensed something.

She smiled, eyes otherworldly and piercingly intense. A visible light shone in them.

He paused and looked into her radiant, faraway eyes. His own blazed with lightning.

"Talaos…" she gasped. Then her voice rose, soaring and strong, "Storm son of the Storm Father. Last of the old gods and first of the new. Life and death, creation and destruction in your hands. Storm Lord and Storm Father, and father of our children to be. They and me, one and three, three times three, and nine shall be. Please… let it be… oh please…"

He kissed her lips, then her forehead, and the world returned to her eyes.

"Tal…" she whispered.

"It is all right," he replied. "I have you, and you are safe with me."

She smiled. The light in her eyes faded, her body relaxed, and she fell asleep in his arms.

10. Clouds and Lightning

Nearly forty thousand men marched in power, northeast along the coastal road. Scouts rode far ahead. First in the great column itself were the vanguard of three thousand cavalry under Adriko. He wore mismatched, though expensive, armor, a dusty black cloak, and a catlike smile on his face. After the vanguard followed a hundred men, the Wolves fierce and grim. Next were seven mighty ones on six horses. The Madmen rode casually, confidently at their ease. Their eyes sparked faintly with light.

Behind the Madmen rode Talaos, in his black and silver armor and his gray cloak, with power in his eyes and lightning in his hands. At each of those hands rode a bearer with a mace. Sorya, Katara, and Miriana followed close behind him.

Next rode a body of commanders in armor of many kinds and colors; sharp-eyed General Aro, erudite Maxano; the General of Kyras and former leader of the enemy army; General Auretius, once a victorious commander of the Republic; Tescani, the cold, grim mercenary warlord, and many others. After the commanders came riders carrying the standards and banners of many cities and towns. Next followed soldiers with trumpets and drums, then messengers and aides on horses. After them came a body of infantry, massive men in varied heavy armor, bearing huge weapons and wearing fearsome expressions. The bronze-armored giant, Hadrastus, led them.

After Hadrastus’s shock troops marched disciplined companies of spearmen led by the proud, aristocratic Tribune Lurios. He walked on foot at their head. Behind the spearmen marched thousands of footmen and archers of many sorts in a long line, and behind them an immense train of baggage. At the rear rode three thousand cavalry more, led by General Gavro. He sat thoughtful and brooding under a dark green cloak.

On all sides swarmed hillmen under many chieftains, all led by Warlord Kurvan. He'd been gathering them from near and far as they marched, and those few chieftains aligned with the Prophet had fled north.

Ahead of them sprawled the great port of Teroia, the second largest city of Hunyos, and their ally. It made a great expanse of high, wood-tiled roofs and brick walls with bright paint. A long, tapering point of land curved east, out from the main part of the city, and sheltered a vast harbor. The golden domes of a council hall and a library gleamed in the distance.

Messengers from Teroia arrived with welcome, and rode swiftly back with his greetings. The gates of the city were open, and cheering crowds gathered outside them and atop the walls. Seeing that welcome, Talaos thought it was a good start.

Talaos made a grim smile with mixed emotions. He was glad for the welcome, but remembered his old commander Sanctari, who had been General of Teroia. Aides in his service carried Sanctari's books and effects, there to be delivered to his widow and such of his sons as had survived Teroia's many wars.

Ahead of the army, and well beyond Teroia now, Talaos's black storm rolled north, gathering strength with flashes of lightning. Overhead was a blue sky. Ahead of even the storm, his messengers fanned out northward across Hunyos.

He raised his right arm for the army to halt. Word passed and trumpets blared. Then, with only the Wolves and the command group, he rode forward past his own lines. Men saluted as he went. The army would be camping north of Teroia, but he had business with the council of patricians.

There they waited, standing at the garland-decorated gates. Fifteen men and women in purple cloaks and gold, laurel wreath diadems. As he approached closer, the vast crowd of Teroians watched his eyes and the power crackling around him. Some gazed with wonder, others with fear, yet others lowered their heads with averted eyes.

The patricians at least mastered themselves and waited for him with calm expressions of welcome. Teroian soldiers in red-brown and officers in gilt breastplates stood by. The Wolves ahead stopped and parted, forming a corridor for him to pass.

Talaos reached the patricians, and they raised hands in welcome. He returned the gesture.

"Welcome, Dictator Talaos," said a dignified-looking, white-haired man in the center of their group. "I am Patrician Deneus, and this is the Council of Teroia. We formally extend you friendship and hospitality, and given the greatly changed composition of your army, we offer you and your commanders alliance under a new charter we have prepared."

"Thank you, patrician. I will review the new charter in your council hall with my commanders, and may have counter-proposals. Given the uncertain situation, the troops formerly with the opposing alliance have sworn oaths to me personally as warlord. Together with those of Avrosa and my other forces, the majority of the army are now in my direct service. That creates certain considerations."

The councilors now surveyed him with greater respect, and, he thought, nervousness.

He, however, had more. "Have you received my delegation of messengers?"

"We have," replied Deneus, "and we agree with your plans. The followers of the Prophet are very few in Teroia and do not operate in public. General Sanctari, when he served on the council, was strongly opposed to letting them preach here, and for that we are thankful."

"In regard to which," replied Talaos, "I have General Sanctari's effects, ready for return to his family. He was my mentor, and I honor his memory."

Deneus seemed to warm again at that. "He was a great man and a good friend. His widow will be at the council hall today, and I will arrange porters to help her transport them."

Talaos nodded, ready to begin, but Deneus seemed to have something more to add.

"If I may, Warlord," he said. "When our supply convoys returned from Avrosa, they had a great many things to say, which were confirmed by your messengers. If I did not see with my own eyes, I would have doubted them, or thought you were simply some sort of clever, if powerful, magus. They call you the Storm Lord in Avrosa, after an ancient hero of theirs. Is it true you are him reborn?"

"No, but the Storm Lord was my ancestor," replied Talaos, in a voice heard by all around, "and it seems I share similar purpose. He fought a pair of great fire drakes to defend Avrosa, while I fight the Living Prophet, and so defend Hunyos."

Deneus had one more question, and he looked doubtful of the answer. "Is it true that the storm which swept north this morning was summoned by you, and that you conjured the storm that destroyed the fleets of Idrona and Etosca?"

"Yes," replied Talaos.

There were wondering looks in the gathered crowd, and a growing wave of talk.

Talaos and his command group, with the Madmen, Sorya, Katara, and Miriana, followed the patricians and their entourage into the city. He liked the place. It had wide boulevards and open plazas. Dense brick and stone apartment blocks of three to five stories lined the streets, with shops on the first floor. Bright, decorative paint lined doorways and windows. The houses of the wealthy tended to open on the streets here, as they did in the Republic, and to his mind that implied a place of greater civic peace than feud-haunted Avrosa.

Though nothing like as large as Carai, Teroia was at least twice the size of Avrosa. There was much wealth here, and much strength. Teroia was said to be the greatest remaining center of learning and knowledge in Hunyos. He'd need them all for the war to come.

~

"I believe we are in agreement," said Patrician Deneus, "regarding terms of alliance."

As he spoke, the other councilors nodded. Around them the grand council hall of Teroia, rich with marble and the trophies of old wars, gleamed by lamplight.

"And the troops and ships?" replied Talaos.

The discussion had gone on for quite a while. As they'd wrapped up, he'd had the growing impression the patrician was holding something back, or had something hidden. However, at present, nods passed among the patricians.

"Yes," answered Deneus, "from between the force that had originally been intended to reinforce Sanctari and reserves pulled from the garrison, we can provide you with another three thousand foot and horse for the allied army. We will commit the surviving ships of our navy, provided the allied fleet agrees to operate under overall command of our admiral, Naxos."

"That is both acceptable and a good idea," replied Talaos. "Divided command was our weakness earlier. Remember that supreme military command rests with me. However, I'm no sailor, and will let Admiral Naxos do his job."

"Excellent," replied Deneus. "I must also thank you for healing Tribune Valanus. Given the pressures of time, we intend to formally promote him to General of Teroia without delay."

"I was glad to. Now, as for my requests from the library of Teroia?"

Here Deneus seemed more hesitant.

"The maps and recent books are, of course, easily done. So too the book on magic, though I admit with some reluctance. However, the other text you requested, the set of leather scrolls, is some thirteen hundred years old, and the only artifact of its kind we have left to us from early Imperial times."

"And do you have any scholars that can read it?" asked Talaos.

"No," Deneus admitted, somewhat uncomfortably.

"I do. General Auretius, from the Republic. We can prepare copies of the translation, and return one to you with the original scrolls. Until then, I will keep them safe and under guard."

Looks passed around the table, and quiet conversation. At last Deneus replied.

"Very well. We will arrange for them to be sent with you."

"Thank you," replied Talaos.

Looks passed around the table, and he could see that they had something more.

"If you don't mind," said Deneus, "we also have an emissary from Megasi, who was sent here to speak with you."

"Of course."

Deneus spoke with an aide, who left the room and after a short while returned with a trim, brown-haired man of medium height and about Talaos's age. He wore tunic, breastplate, and cloak in the black and purple colors of Megasi. The emissary greeted Talaos with a salute.

"Greetings, Dictator Talaos," said the man. "I am Captain Garion, sent as emissary of Megasi, and bearing word of friendship and alliance from my city."

"Of course, Captain," Talaos replied. "I'll be ready to discuss specific terms when I reach Megasi, but I'll guess you have something more."

"Yes, Dictator," Garion answered, "I must report that the countryside and roads near Megasi are threatened by a warlord of the coastal hills named Larikos. With so many of our own soldiers away on campaign, we haven’t been able to deal with him ourselves."

"And you want me take care of the problem?" smiled Talaos. "Do you know how much support he is getting from Etosca and Idrona?"

"None, Dictator," answered the emissary. "Larikos remained neutral in the war. By all reports he became a follower of the Prophet some years ago. However, around the time news of your victory at Avrosa reached our area, he executed the Prophet's emissaries in his territory, and, it seems, proclaimed some new faith of his own."

"A new faith? Centered on what?"

"Him, it seems," replied Garion. "We'd assumed he'd gone mad, at first. But reports are that he wields sorcery, and he’s been gathering followers.”

Talaos considered the news. A man who'd started out interested in the teachings of the Prophet had then decided he'd rather be the teacher. It brought Cratus to mind, and particularly the way in which the latter had revealed himself as a sorcerer. However, Cratus had been secretive about it all, while this Larikos had openly broken with the Prophet. And also, he’d known Cratus all too well, while he knew nothing of Larikos. He decided to avoid any assumptions about what might really be going on. He replied to the emissary with an arched eyebrow. “Are you sure he isn’t a potential ally?”

The latter replied in gravely serious tones, “He has declared against both the Living Prophet, and you."

“Even so, I plan to begin by talking to him. What kind of following does he have, how many warriors, and does he have a stronghold?”

"His followers are largely folk of the coastal hills from his clan and those related, but they’ve been growing. We believe close to a thousand are equipped for war. He’s based in a ruined fort, deep in the hills. It is said to be some centuries old."

Talaos considered the information, but had further questions, "Once you no longer feel threatened, what additional forces can Megasi provide for the war, and what has been done with General Pelias?"

"At least a thousand troops, Dictator, as well as our fleet. As for Pelias, we agree with the reports you and your officers sent with him by sea, and he is currently stripped of all rank, under arrest, and awaiting trial. We have also expelled the followers of the Prophet from our city, as per the request of your messengers."

"Very good," said Talaos. "Convey my support to your council of patricians."

"I will, sir," replied Garion, smiling. With a sharp salute, he turned and departed.

~

"So, what are the hillmen in this region like?" asked Talaos.

"Those aren't hillmen," replied Kurvan, as a frown crossed his weathered face. "Hillmen, like me, like Imvan, live in the western hills next to the mountains. Have since before the Empire, since who knows when."