Wartorn: Resurrection (3 page)

I didn't know that. Weisel's voice was suddenly heavy and tired. It seems there is much I don't know about the military.

Having made his point, Dardas was inclined to be magnanimous. Cheer up, Lord. Matokin ,for all his magical secrets, knows even less about the military than you do.

Perhaps you can explain something else to me, then.

If it doesn't take too long.

Well, I was wondering about the attack on U'delph.

Dardas was suddenly wary.
What about it?

I know I don't know a lot about military procedure, but why did you deliberately order that massacre? Level the town, no prisoners, burn or destroy anything we can't take with us. Was that really necessary?

Dardas had his answer ready. In fact, he welcomed the opportunity to rehearse the speech before formally explaining things to Matokin.

It's simply a matter of long-term planning. While we're under orders to unite all the city-states under Felk rule, I don't relish the idea of fighting and taking casualties for every victory. Our

assault on U'delph may seem brutal, but it will serve as an example for any other city-states that consider resisting us. They will be more inclined to surrender peacefully and be assimilated rather than fight. Also, U'delph was an opportunity to demonstrate our ability to move through the portals those mages opened for us. That is an inestimable military advantage... and one I would like to have rumored about throughout the Isthmus, which was why I ordered a few of those citizens spared so they could propagandize for us, so to speak. I want the remaining cities to fear us, and what could be more frightening than an army that strikes out of nowhere and destroys utterly?

There was a longer pause before he received a reaction to this.

Again, I have to yield to your experience. There are subtleties involved here that I have never even considered.

There are indeed. Now, if there are no other pressing questions, I must turn my mind to other immediate matters.

Of course. Sorry to have bothered you.

Dardas managed to conceal his smugness until he was sure Weisel had withdrawn to the isolated recesses of his mind.

His aide returned, rather contritely, with his meal. The rations looked edible, and the portion was of decent size.

Dardas contemplated the portals he and his army had passed through. The magic was called Far Movement. How strange it had been to follow his troops through those narrow magical portals. They had passed through... through ... well, some
other
place, and had arrived on the outskirts of Udelph, finding the city-state woefully unprepared for their arrival.

Magic and war. War and magic. Did he still feel there was something unclean about mixing the two? Perhaps. But he was a warrior and a leader of warriors, and if those mages could provide him such a weapon, he would gods-damned well use it.

Matokin did indeed know even less about the military than did Weisel, and Dardas was counting heavily on that fact. It made them both relatively easy to fool. Of course, that task was made easier because they were both operating on an erroneous assumption. They both thought Dardas was fighting this war to win it.

While Dardas was thoroughly enjoying his second chance at life, he had no intention of living it at the whim of a magician. He had been resurrected, but magic that he didn't understand was necessary to sustain him in this new life. Somehow, he had to find a way to wrest control of his continued existence away from Matokin.

In the meantime, he had to see to it that the magician did not become too successful and powerful. The surest way to achieve that was to sabotage his campaign to unite the city-states. Fortunately, Matokin had placed him in the ideal position to do just that.

The destruction of U'delph was sure to send a message to the Isthmus's remaining city-states, one they would have to act on: Join forces against the Felk, or perish.

Dardas smiled to himself and started in on his dinner.

AS AQUINTS MIND forced itself into consciousness, the first thing he realized was mat he was lying under a bush. That momentarily puzzled him, even as he automatically noted and accepted that his

normal slow morning thinking was being further hindered by having to fight its way through the remnants of a haze of alcohol. He had gone through the process far too often not to recognize the symptoms: the dry mouth and the too full bladder, not to mention the dull ache behind his eyes that made his vision alternately fuzzy and jarring. All those sensations were familiar. But what was he doing under a bush?

He closed his eyes again and tried to force his whirling thoughts into focus. There had been a party ... not a party, a celebration. There were soldiers... he was a soldier now. That was right. In the Felk army. Sometimes he forgot. Sometimes he drank to forget. But last night there had been a party... a celebration after a successful battle. U'delph!

Like a bright, unwelcome ray of light, the name smote his struggling mind. Udelph! He had been drinking to forget. Now he remembered.

They had moved on U'delph through the portals that the magicians opened up right out of the air. Rumors had been circulating through the ranks about the powers of the army's mages, but this amazing ability had been kept from the troops until the last moment.

Aquint, like many others, had been frankly terrified to step single file through the narrow opening. The portals were like gaps in reality. Hah! That was
exactly
what they were. They led into some other realm of existence, a strange, uneasy, milky place, where everything was unfamiliar. But apparently when one crossed a short distance in this other domain, it corresponded to a vast distance in this world.

Thus they had completed the final several days' marching toward U'delph in a matter of mere moments.

Now they were camped just south of the place, and U'delph was no more.

Aquint forced the memories away to deal with more pressing matters, like emptying his bladder. He considered rolling onto his side and relieving himself where he lay, but decided against it. While he was no great advocate of cleanliness, uniforms smelled bad enough when you lived in them without adding urine to the bouquet. With a sigh that was almost a groan, he gathered his legs under him and pushed himself to his feet. He was by no means old, but he certainly wasn't a youth anymore, either.

The bush was actually a small clump of scrub that covered him to his waist as he stood. That gave him an illusion of privacy as he relieved himself, not that it mattered. There was little room for modesty in an army, and the soldiers—men and women—were used to performing their natural functions in full sight of each other. After a while, one simply didn't notice.

As he finished, Cat rose from where he had been sitting on the ground just outside the bushes and moved to his side. The boy's presence was no surprise to Aquint. Cat was always around.

"I figured you'd be needing this when you came to," Cat said, thrusting a large earthen mug of water into Aquint's hand.

Aquint drained it greedily, then held it out for Cat to refill from his waterskin, which the boy did. Aquint drank another half mug before pausing and heaving a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, lad. That helps."

Cat topped off the mug again, then restoppered the waterskin and sank smoothly back into his seated position. Aquint joined him, though he groaned slightly as he sat.

"Tell me, my young friend," he said as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair, "did we have a good time last night?"

Cat favored him with a level stare before his gaze returned to its normal pattern of scanning the immediate environs.

"I think you had enough fun for both of us."

The boy always had a proprietary, vaguely disapproving attitude toward the older man. Rather than being offended, Aquint found it amusing.

"That's right. You don't drink, do you?"

"I'm a thief," Cat said, bluntly. "A thief has to keep his wits about him more than a businessman ... or a soldier."

It was an old conversational argument between them. Stretching all the way back to the day they had first met.

Aquint had been running his freight-hauling business in Callah, with an unadvertised side in smuggling

and black marketeering, back in those not long ago days before the Felk had come and captured the city. A patrol of city constables had come into his warehouse in pursuit of a cutpurse who had eluded them in the crowds outside. Aquint had sworn to them that there was no one on the premises other than himself and an alley cat he kept around to chase vermin, blandly ignoring the quick glimpse he had caught of a young sinewy boy slipping through his door just ahead of the patrol. After the constables had moved on, Aquint had expected the lad to vanish back into the city streets and alleys. Instead, the boy had remained and become his inseparable shadow. When asked for a name, he had simply shrugged and said, "I'm your cat... just like you told the patrol." And Cat he had been ever since.

When Aquint went into the army, Cat had followed, though he was never actually officially enlisted. Whether the other soldiers thought of him as Aquint's son or bed partner, they kept their opinions to themselves, simply ignoring the boy as they did the other camp followers who traveled with the army in their southward sweep. That army had come out of the Isthmus's northernmost city-state, Felk. It had moved south, capturing Aquint's home of Callah, then the neighboring city of Windal... then farther on, to U'delph.

"For once, I'll have to agree with you, Cat," Aquint said, darkly, sipping at the water while he stared straight ahead. "It doesn't take much in the way of wits for a soldier to do what we did yesterday. In fact, the fewer wits, the better."

"Don't start again," Cat hissed, looking at him sternly. "You said more than enough last night. They don't like critical talk in this army."

"I'm sorry, but it makes me sick," Aquint insisted. "That wasn't a battle. By the madness of the gods, it was butchery."

"It's the job of the generals to make decisions and issue orders," Cat said.

"That pitiful garrison folded in a matter of two watches. After that, we could have accepted their surrender and claimed the city-state. There was no reason to go to the extremes that we did."

"It's the job of a soldier to follow those orders," Cat said. "That's how an army is run. If every soldier tried to make their own decisions and plans, it wouldn't just be ineffectual, it would be chaos."

"Are you saying you approve of what was done?" Aquint asked.

"I'm saying that my approval doesn't matter... and neither does yours. Even if you had been consulted about the battle plan—"

"Which I wasn't."

"—which you weren't, you would have been overruled. You couldn't change it then, and you certainly can't change it now that it's over. All your complaints and criticisms can do now is put you in jeopardy if you insist on voicing them."

Aquint drew a deep breath and blew it out. The lad was articulate for a thief who'd haunted Callah's streets and alleys.

"All right," Aquint said. "You've made your point. I'll try to keep my mouth shut."

"It may be a little late now," Cat said. "You mouthed off last night enough to get arrested for treason. I only hope you satisfied Sonya."

"Sonya?"

Cat favored him with another prolonged stare.

"The little corporal from Third Squad," he said. "The one with the muscles and the bad teeth. She was your companion there under the bushes last night."

Aquint winced as the vague memory struggled to surface in his still befuddled mind.

"Bugger. I must have been really drunk," he said. "I've been dodging that one for weeks now."

"Count yourself as lucky." Cat shrugged. "If she hadn't been so eager to get into your pants, she could have reported you for what you were saying."

"Well, I'll try to watch it in the future," Aquint said. "Bedding Sonya is too high a price to pay for the privilege of shooting off my mouth."

"I'd hold any plans for the future for a while, if I were you," Cat said softly.

Frowning, Aquint followed the youth's gaze.

There were three of them. A lieutenant and two guards. They were at the squad campfire speaking to

his sergeant. As he watched, the sergeant looked around, then pointed directly to where he and Cat were sitting.

As the trio approached, Aquint briefly considered running, but discarded the notion. He was in the middle of an army encampment. There was no place to run to. Instead, he rose to his feet and saluted as the group came to a halt in front of him.

"Is your name Aquint?" the officer said.

"Yes, sir."

"You will come with me. Now."

With that the lieutenant turned on his heel and strode off, leaving Aquint little choice but to follow behind. As he did, he noticed the two guards were now positioned on either side and behind him. Cat had faded from sight as the contingent had approached, but Aquint had little doubt that he was watching from somewhere else.

Aquint wondered for a moment what would happen to Cat if he, Aquint, were imprisoned or executed, but shrugged it off, turning his mind instead to his own predicament.

Actually, he wasn't all that worried. This was far from the first time in his life that he had been hauled in front of the authorities, and so far his wit and glibness of tongue had saved him from any serious consequences. If this was about his comments of the previous evening, he would simply claim to have been drunk and to have no recollection of having said anything that could be taken as treasonable. If cross-examined, he would have no difficulty claiming support and loyalty to the army and its policies. Except...

Aquint blinked as a sudden realization struck him. Except that a part of him wanted to be punished. Maybe that was why he had allowed himself to voice his criticisms in front of so many people last night. What was more, it wasn't just the guilt of having participated in the destruction of Udelph.

He had made a suggestion, an observation, really. A forced quick march, leaving the supply wagons behind, would allow them to attack U'delph days earlier than if they stuck to the tradition of moving the army in its entirety as they had been doing since Callah, he had said. Hit them fast, before they had a chance to consolidate their defenses, and the city-state could be taken with the least possible losses on both sides.

A mere watch after he'd made this comment the army had halted and the various unit commanders had announced that the portals would be used to transport the troops the remainder of the distance to U'delph.

It was, in effect, a variation on his own plan. He couldn't help but wonder, in some irrational corner of his mind, if his suggestion had been passed up the line. What he had envisioned came to pass, except... he hadn't known the decision had already been made to make an example of U'delph.

Instead of a simple surrender, virtually every one of its inhabitants—man, woman, and child—had been put to the sword without mercy, and the city itself razed to the ground. Only a very small group was spared, survivors that were deliberately allowed to flee southward, to spread news of the might and terror of the Felk army and its wizards.

It was a startling revelation that he was taking the blame for that on himself. Now that he was aware of his deeper feelings, however, Aquint set his mind to quickly correcting them. Subconsciously seeking punishment was one thing. When one's life and limb were actually about to be put on the line, however, it was time to focus on self-preservation.

The lieutenant paused at the entrance to a large command pavilion.

"Wait here," he said, and disappeared inside.

Aquint ran his fingers through his hair again and tried to dust the twigs and blades of grass from his uniform. It looked as if his case was to be reviewed by the company commander, and trying to put on a presentable front couldn't hurt. Perhaps he could get off with a reprimand and a warning.

The lieutenant reappeared, holding the tent flap open and beckoning Aquint to enter. As he did, the lieutenant pointed to a spot at the center of the tent, then left, letting the tent flap close behind him.

Aquint moved to the indicated point and stood, forcing down an impulse to fidget. Looking exceptionally nervous or overly innocent would only label him as guilty even before the conversation

began. Instead, he worked on appearing patient and curious.

The commander was seated behind a low table, scribbling on one of several pieces of vellum scattered across the table's surface. He did not look up or otherwise acknowledge Aquint's presence.

The only other person in the tent was a thin, pale woman in dark robes who sat in the tent's corner. Wizard, Aquint thought. He didn't often see them up close like this. It was incredible to think that this creature and her fellows had opened those portals, that any beings could have such power. It was rumored that they could also communicate directly with the city-state of Felk through magical means and often relayed orders from Matokin himself.

People, in Aquint's experience, generally feared magic. It was an ancient practice. But the Felk had embraced the art apparently, absorbing it into their own army, a tactic that had never been used in the history of the Isthmus. These wizards—wherever they were coming from—were formidable.

Aquint did his best to ignore the one in the corner. Looking at her only reminded him of how frightened he'd been to step through that portal.

"You are Aquint?" the commander said at last, looking up from his writing.

"Yes, sir."

"The same Aquint who came up with the idea for the quick march?"

Caught off guard by this line of questioning, Aquint hesitated a beat before answering.

"Yes, sir."

"Could you explain to me how that idea occurred to you?"

Aquint decided there was nothing to be lost by telling the truth.

"Well, sir," he said, "before I joined the army, I ran a small hauling and freight business in Callah. We charged different rates, depending on the size of the load and the urgency of the delivery. It just seemed to me that if I had run things the way the army has been moving troops, I would be out of business."