The Warrior King: Book Three of the Seer King Trilogy (37 page)

“No, it couldn’t,” I said flatly. “I’ve got mangoes and coconuts to plant.”

A snort came, and for a moment I thought it was his horse, then realized who’d made the sound.

“That’d be a waste, sir,” he continued. “Especially after all you’ve done for Numantia.”

“And
to
Numantia,” I said, my mood bleak for an instant, then returning to normal. “Suggest someone else.”

“I don’t know,” Lasleigh said, his eyes turned away. “I’m sure someone, someone with a proper record of bravery in this war, someone with the proper bloodlines, acceptable to everyone, someone who had no ties with the Maisirian puppets … there’ll be someone.”

I suddenly had a strange idea Lasleigh, Baron Pilfern, might be referring to himself.

• • •

Ahead was a long rise, a series of dunes, and on the other side we should sight the village on the Latane’s banks.

There was a dark line along the rise, and I thought it brush or perhaps small trees, then saw my vedettes, coming back at full gallop.

The dark line along the dunes moved, and I realized Tenedos had crossed the Latane and was waiting for us!

There was no panic, though, after the initial surprise, and we marched to a small curling hill and took its high ground for the center of the line. I deployed my army in three wings, sending the left and right out in extended order. My forces appeared slightly larger than Tenedos’s, and I hoped I might be able to encircle them if I could convince him to attack my center. To reinforce the center, I put the cavalry on either side, light to the front, heavy in the center.

Yonge’s skirmishers were ordered to harry Tenedos’s line, but to avoid casualties and fall back through the main positions the minute they were attacked in strength.

Then there was nothing to do but wait and feel the tramp of men’s feet shaking the ground as formations were shuffled and arranged, hear the discordance of both armies’ bugled signals, and the rattle of drums.

I asked Sinait if there were any spells being cast.

“No,” she said. “But the air reeks of sorcery. We’ll be ready for them this time.”

I hoped she was right but was worried. My scouts should’ve reported the river crossing, for I’d had them out along the river’s east bank for leagues. How’d they missed his crossing? Were we being drawn into a trap?

The ex-emperor’s army finally came to a halt, and silence grew between the armies, perhaps a million men on both sides, silence except for occasional shouts and the neighing of horses, very clear in the still, sharp air.

A breeze grew in the near silence, whistling across the desolation between the armies.

One horseman, on a white horse, came out of the enemy center and cantered toward us. He carried no banner but wore golden clothes.

I recognized him.

Laish Tenedos.

He pulled his horse in, cupped his hands, and his voice boomed:

“I am the Emperor Tenedos! I would speak to General Damastes á Cimabue!”

He lowered his hands and sat motionless. Waiting.

“Well?” I said, turning to my wizards.

“I don’t sense anything,” Cymea said.

“Nor I,” Sinait said.

Again, Tenedos raised his hands.

“General Damastes á Cimabue! Come forth!”

“I surely don’t trust him,” I said. “But I’m starting to look like a fool.”

“Sinait,” Cymea said. “Wrap yourself in your cloak, as I’m doing.”

“Why?”

“We’ll ride out, maybe halfway, with Damastes. Then stop, about halfway between him and the lines. He won’t be able to recognize us, cloaked, and shouldn’t chance any magic to find out who we are,” she said. “Maybe that’ll worry him a little and give us a bit of power over him. If he attempts anything against either Damastes or the army, we can respond immediately.”

“Good,” Sinait said. “Damastes, are you willing to stick your head in the lion’s mouth?”

“Do I have a choice?” I said, and tapped my reins on Swift’s neck. “It isn’t the lion’s mouth that worries me,” I said, trying to make a tiny jest, “so much as his breath.”

The sound of my horse’s hooves was very loud as I rode forward. Tenedos sat easily in the saddle, waiting.

The impression I’d had from the Seeing Bowl was confirmed — there was something skewed about his hypnotic stare, and the thought came that his gaze was that of a mad hawk. Then I wondered if all raptors weren’t mad, at least from the glazed hatred and arrogance in their eyes.

Tenedos was no longer soft, untrained, but lean, sinewy, almost too thin. He wore gold, with a single circlet around his forehead, much like the crown I’d placed on his head long ago in Nicias. I noticed he favored one arm slightly, and hoped Yonge’s arrow wound was unhealed and festering.

“Greetings, General Damastes,” he said as I closed. “It’s a lovely day for a battle.”

I inclined my head. “I greet you, as well, although I doubt if there are any good days for killing. Forgive me for not using a title, but I don’t know what that should be.”

“Emperor sat well once.”

“That was once.”

He scowled, and I met his gaze without flinching. His eyes flickered, and he looked away for an instant, then back.

“I must congratulate you on ridding Numantia of its greatest enemy,” he said.

I could have made a truthful answer — that greatest enemy was just in front of me, not dead in Urey, but held my silence.

“Interesting,” he went on, “we … you, I, all Numantia, tried so hard to bring the bastard down, and it cost us everything. Then you succeed with a handful of men and a bit of magic, if the tales I’ve heard are correct.”

I shrugged. “Time, circumstances were right, I guess. And maybe the gods favored me.”

“Yes,” Tenedos went on. “Saionji howled in glee when he came back to her, I wager. I wonder what form he’ll be allowed next? A worm? A dog?”

“I’m not on speaking terms with gods,” I said, “so I wouldn’t hazard a guess.”

“Damastes, my once-friend,” Tenedos said, his voice becoming familiar. “There’s no need to speak to me like this, just as there is no need for those two behind you. I would guess they’re magicians, but you have nothing to fear from me, not this day.”

“There was no need for you to attack my family, either,” I said.

“Would you believe that was not done, or even authorized by me, but by one of my ambitious wizards? I promise you I had Gojjam treat him as he treated your people.”

I stared at him.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No,” I agreed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Very well then,” and now there was anger in his voice. “I wished to speak to you because I want to strike a bargain.”

“There can be no bargain,” I said. “Unless you cast that false crown you wear aside and make total surrender. If you do that, I promise … and I’ve yet to break
my
word
…
I’ll do my best to make sure you’re not executed.”

“Now,” he said, voice reasonable, “you know I can’t do that. I have a million and more, people I’ve given my word to. But more than that, more important, is Numantia itself. I’ve vowed my kingdom must be restored to its proper glory and power.”

“And you’re willing to lay waste to it accomplishing that end?” I said coldly.

“There are two armies on this field,” he said. “I could say the same to you.”

“And that is why we’ll fight,” I told him.

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Because you’ve changed the balance with your removal of King Bairan.” I waited.

“I’ve cast spells from the moment one of those beings I can summon told me of Bairan’s murder, then the Maisirians’ flight back through Kait toward their own lands.

“Their path is littered with bodies and their loot, and I’m afraid precious few will ever see their homes.”

“Not unlike what happened to us in Maisir,” I said bitterly.

He gave me a hard look, didn’t respond, went on:

“Those that return to Maisir, what will they find? No king, no chamberlain, no ruler, but rather the mad obscenity of chaos, with all those pissant little lordlings we so despised groping for power. Chaos! Anarchy! If Numantians cannot handle anarchy, still less can the Maisirians.

“Now is our chance, now is the time when we must set aside our differences and reunite Numantia immediately. With you and me together again, do you think those idiots Barthou, Scopas, and that general of theirs, Trerice, would stand for long? We must bring peace back to Numantia and make our people content once more, as they were.

“Then we must move into Maisir and bring order to them, the stability those peasants must have.

“Damastes, I’m offering you a kingdom! I want you to rule Maisir and for your line to go down in history as the first proper kings of that barbaric land, from now until the ending of time.

“I know you and know you’re the only man who can bring peace and unity to the Maisirians.”

“I think you forget something,” I said. “We weren’t defeated by King Bairan, but by more powerful forces. King Bairan may be gone, but King Winter and King Peasant still hold the land.”

“Pah!” Tenedos said. “We were virgins then, but now we’ve taken full measure of our enemy, and once a problem is recognized, it can be solved. Put aside those minor quibbles, Damastes! Consider what I’m offering you! Immortality! The greatest of power! Think of what I’m offering Numantia!”

I was shaken for an instant, thinking of the thousands and thousands of leagues that could be mine. I could rule as I chose, if I chose, rule harshly and still be thought a kinder king than any the Maisirians had known. My kingdom, under …

“I’d be subservient to you, of course,” I temporized.

Tenedos inclined his head. “Technically, yes. Maisir and Numantia must stand together, for there are other kings, other kingdoms beyond known borders that my magic has spied out who have great power and are more evil than any Numantian can imagine. Yes, you’d be under my vassalage, but not in practice, save in the most important areas. You would reign alone, in fact. I’d hardly waste time second-guessing you.”

“You certainly wasted no time when I was in Kallio,” I reminded him.

“I was in error,” he grudged. “I was livid and wasn’t thinking. But I’ve changed, learned from my mistakes.

“Now come, Damastes. Look around. What in this wasteland is worth fighting for? Why couldn’t we join together, bring Numantia together, and end this pointless slaughter?

“Things could not return to what they were, at our greatest moment, but be better, be more glorious.

“You don’t trust me … at least not now. But once you’re in Jarrah, sitting your own throne, you’ll realize that was a momentary aberrance. Besides, when there are those thousands of leagues between us, how could trust or not-trust enter into it? I’d hardly send armies across the
suebi
because of some minor disagreement, and I can’t see anything worse than that. Remember how many years we ruled … yes, I use the word ‘we,’ for you helped create my policies, my actions, more than anyone besides myself. Why not accept this final recognition, this ultimate honor from me?”

I could feel his will, perhaps his magic, batter at me. I started to say something, stopped, considered, while his eyes burnt. I chose what I was going to say very carefully, was about to speak.

Suddenly his lips thinned, and he flushed with rage.

“Very well,” he said, almost shrill. “Very well. You’ve turned away, turned away from your rightful emperor. So be it.

“Damastes á Cimabue, you’ve made many mistakes in your life. But this is the worst, for now you’ve brought complete doom on yourself, and on those fools you lead.

“You will not take my hand, will not accept my offer of peace.

“Then let it be war, total war, until either you or I have been spun back to the Wheel.

“And I promise you this: It shall not be me Saionji takes into her final embrace!”

He kicked his horse into a gallop and thundered back to his own lines.

I rode back to where Sinait and Cymea waited. “You heard?”

“I did not,” Sinait said. “I felt you and the once-emperor would value privacy.”

“I have no such honor,” Cymea said firmly. “I listened as best I could, and unless you forbid it, Damastes, I’ll tell Sinait what happened.”

“You have my permission,” I said, “and I wish what was said repeated to your Tovieti and the army.”

“Good,” she said. “I hoped you’d say that, for it gives us strength to know you refused a crown.”

Sinait’s eyes rounded.

“It wasn’t quite that nice,” I told her. “With Tenedos I’d be more likely to get seven inches of steel between my ribs than a gold ring on my pate. But come. We’ve got a battle to fight.

“I’ve had enough of that wizard and his wordplay.”

If it had been my battle for the winning or losing, and I were still Tenedos’s first tribune, I would have let the fight come to me. The rebels — my forces — had long lines of communication, longer than Tenedos’s, and had slightly greater numbers.

But perhaps his rear, however he’d crossed the Latane so secretly and swiftly, about two leagues wide here, wasn’t as secure as I’d thought. So far, none of Kutulu’s men, Yonge’s skirmishers, nor our magic had been able to report how the feat had been accomplished.

About an hour after the parley, such as it’d been, failed, drums snarled, and Tenedos’s army attacked.

There was no subtlety — he began with a frontal attack on my positions. I wasn’t surprised, nor did I think Tenedos was careless or incompetent. His magic, whatever it would be, needed blood, and it mattered not whether it was shed by his soldiers or mine.

They came at a walk, breaking into a trot no matter how their warrants shouted, across the open ground and up the slight slope, and our arrow storm met them. Heads down, shields up, they forged ahead. The front rank went down almost to a man, the second came on, was broken, and the third wave trampled their own wounded and dying fellows to get at us.

They closed with my front line, and the battle became a dust cloud, with swirling knots of fighters smashing forward, falling back, milling about, or holding around standards or on a slight rise or even no distinguishable feature at all, swords rising and falling, spears darting, occasionally a spatter of arrows going home.