Black Legion: 03 - Warlords of Cunaxa (32 page)

Strategos Clearchus and Topoteretes Kleandridas marched past the waiting automaton and Black Legion forces inside the Citadel. Both wore their blood spattered Laconian armour with pride, their weapons held in both arms, and their crimson cloaks flowing behind them. It looked like the arrival of the conquering heroes, but the reality was far from clear. Ariaeus had apparently halted the battle in the Citadel, and Clearchus was determined to find out with his own eyes what was happening. He continued forward and through a gap created between two blocks of Terran spatharii. Every single warrior stood in silence, and the only obvious movement to his eyes were the myriad of medics dragging the wounded or the dead from the open ground inside the inner ward of the Citadel. He shook his heady angrily at the scene of Cyrus’ foolish final gambit, and for the difficult situation he had place the Legion in. Directly behind him marched over a hundred of his elite Epilektoi, led by the equally tired and bloodied Komes Artemis.

You fool Cyrus. You complete fool.

He marched directly to the front ranks of the army and stopped. At the centre stood most of the Dukas of the Legion as well as Ariaeus. The Medes commander was the only one lacking either dirt or blood on his armour. Clearchus did nothing to hide his contempt as he approached the group.

“Where is he?”

Dukas Xenias nodded to his commander, pointing to his left where Lady Artemas and her companions led by Dekarchos Xenophon were stood. On the ground, on a cloak taken from an Arcadian Komes lay the battered and broken body of Lord Cyrus, paymaster of the Legion, and their only reason for being in the Empire. Clearchus stepped closer and bent down to examine the figure. He looked at his armour, his skin and the expression on his face. Cyrus’ hand was still clamped around his sword, and even Clearchus felt sympathy for the fallen figure. He lifted himself up and glanced of those nearby. He locked his eyes on Xenophon.

“Dekarchos, you saw what happened?”

He nodded in reply.

“Yes, Strategos. The Emperor leading the battle was a double, a plant to draw in Cyrus. He managed to get close enough to attack Artaxerxes, only for the imposter to detonate a thermal plasma weapon. He was mortally wounded by the blast.”

“I see,” Clearchus replied slowly. He looked to the others for more information. “Dukas Xenias. Where is Artaxerxes?”

The Dukas turned and pointed ahead to a large group of Anusiyans. What caught his eye was that a small contingent of Terrans was stood with them. They wore Terran armour but Medes uniforms and weapons. One man in particular looked very familiar. As he watched, a delegation of Medes and Terran warriors marched forwards to the Terran line. Clearchus clenched his fist, tempted for the briefest of moments to launch into a bloody assault upon them.

Stay calm you fool; you have an army to protect.

Instead, he looked to the Terran commanders on his own side.

“Proxenus, Xenias and you, yes, Lady Artemas, come with me.”

He took one step and looked over to Ariaeus, the Medes General and until recently, the deputy commander of Cyrus’ Median contingent.

“You as well.”

He marched out, and alongside him marched the other commanders. Xenophon moved with them, standing to the side of Artemas. The four Terrans and two Medes marched out in front of their army, and to the blood soaked open ground. The Medes contingent was triple the size, but only a few moved at the front. As they reached a short distance apart, he recognised the form of Tissaphernes, the median noble whose troops he had just defeated. The others were new to him, apart from a man with the armour of the Zacynthians. They stopped and Tissaphernes stepped forwards.

“Strategos Clearchus, it is good to meet with you once more.”

Clearchus shook his head and did his best to stay civil.

“I see you managed to escape the rout of your own army.”

Tissaphernes smiled in return.

“And you managed to miss the battle; shame for Cyrus. If you had been here, perhaps Cyrus might have survived. Anyway, that is not why I am here.”

Clearchus interrupted him before he could say more.

“Who is this wretch?” he demanded, pointing directly at the Zacynthian.

The Terran nodded to Clearchus, showing a degree of respect to his fellow Terran.

“I am Arkeisios, second-in-command to Dukas Phalinus, the trainer of Artaxerxes conscripts.”

Clearchus allowed himself a low smile.

“Dukas Phalinus? Where is he now?”

Arkeisios said nothing, but Clearchus was well aware that his commander was still engaged in the massive space battle that continued above them, in orbit around Cunaxa. He’d been out of contact since arriving at the Citadel, but the news had been good so far. Pleistoanax had established a strong cordon around the world and was fighting off any surviving Median ships that tried to break the blockade. Though the main battle was over, a number of small vessels had tried to break past the Terran cordon and could be seen falling like shooting stars through Cunaxa’s atmosphere.

“Strategos, my master wishes to negotiate directly with you and your senior commanders. He asked me to express to you his admiration in this minor battle and that his respect for your martial skills is great.”

“Respect?” spat Dukas Xenias, evidently not in the mood for platitudes and niceties.

“Why doesn’t he give the order and let us end this, once and for all?”

Clearchus lifted his hand, instantly silencing the Dukas. Tissaphernes smiled, pleased that he both had the attention of Clearchus, and also that the Terran had just given him all the information he needed.

“The Great King himself has no interest in fighting you or your mighty Legion. I have already explained to him that you are mercenaries, adventurers and not invaders. What use would you have for a despoiled world such as this? The Great King can muster an army like this one before you a hundred times over.”

Clearchus was now becoming impatient. He looked to Proxenus and Xenophon, neither of whom had yet said a word. Even Ariaeus was subdued. Tissaphernes spoke directly to him, but none of the Terrans understood the fast language. It didn’t take long before Ariaeus bowed and stepped forward to Tissaphernes’ side and turned to face Clearchus. He lifted his hand and spoke no more than a dozen words into his military communication node. Almost as one, the Median troops alongside the Black Legion dropped their weapons and lay down prostrate on the ground. Only the few hundred surviving mercenary Taochi and the thousands of Terrans remained, each poised for what they expected to be a bloody last stand.

“The Great King has issued a full pardon for all Medes involved in the revolt. I have given up my command of these forces and am joining Tissaphernes, as ordered by the Emperor.”

He then spoke directly to Artemas, and a bitter exchange followed. She spat at his feet, turned to Xenophon and then to Clearchus.

“He says I am the only Medes that will not be pardoned. I must stay, on account of my crimes and support for my uncle. If I attempt to leave, Tissaphernes will order his fleet to reengage our ships.”

Xenias and Proxenus both took a step forward, but again Clearchus held them back.

Tissaphernes tilted his head slightly, looking curiously at Clearchus.

“I see it is only you that can hold back your Terrans. Cyrus chose you well.”

The two Dukas kept their calm and instead turned to Clearchus. Xenias moved closer, speaking as quietly as he could.

“What is the plan?”

Clearchus took a deep, slow breath before answering.

“To live, old friend. I intend for the Legion to go on living.”

Tissaphernes indicated with his hand towards the Royal buildings in the Citadel.

“The Emperor wishes to discuss terms with your commanders. There are tasks throughout the Empire for which your warriors are eminently suited.”

Clearchus shook his head.

“I have no interest in travelling through the Empire running errands. Either we will leave this place, peacefully and with our wounded and honour intact, or...”

He took a step closer to the right-hand of Artaxerxes.

“I will order the Legion to sack this place. Every Medes warrior here will die, your civilians will be enslaved, and we will strip the city of everything of value.”

Tissaphernes’ expression altered just a fraction, and Clearchus sensed the enemy commander was starting to feel unsafe. He tried to remain calm and collected, but his eyes told a different story. They darted about desperately, probably looking for friends and allies nearby in case Clearchus carried through his threat.

“That is not necessary,” he said finally. He then beckoned to the top of the steps where dozens of civilian automatons appeared, carrying heavy containers.

“I have been ordered to provide you and your soldiers food, water and provisions for your voyage home. It will be a long journey, but I’m sure we can negotiate a safe and mutually agreeable path for your fleet to follow. The Great King has also promised to pay your troops the rewards offered by the usurper, in way of compensation for your troubles.”

The civilians moved past them, and Xenophon noted they were carrying fruit, meat and vegetables. There were even a number of medics with the equipment of their trade. However, Tissaphernes moved back and proceeded to walk up the steps to the Royal Quarters of the Citadel. Halfway up he stopped and turned back.

“Bring your senior commanders and meet me in the Royal Chamber,” he explained and then pointed to one of the spire structures.

“We will arrange your compensation and journey. In the meantime, we have grounded our air operations. You may commence your withdrawal procedures immediately. Perhaps while your forces pack up, you might come inside and give the Great King’s offer some consideration, as well? Please make sure you bring the niece of the traitor with you. She belongs to us now.”

He then bowed down low with both arms extended out to the side. Xenophon reached out and placed his hand on Artemas’ side. She felt his hand immediately and knew her friend would not let her go without a violent struggle.

“You are under no obligation, of course,” he finished with a smile.

Tissaphernes then turned his back on the Terrans and marched up the steps. His entourage followed, leaving the Terran senior officers and commanders out in the open and away from their men. The silence within the confines of the fortified Citadel was choking, and Xenophon looked back to see his comrades waiting patiently in the front rank of the newly arrived Laconian spatharii. Clearchus took a single step back and looked to his commanders.

“Well?”

Proxenus shook his head angrily.

“I don’t like any of this. Until we are back in space, our ground troops are vulnerable. Our supplies are low, and the route home is treacherous. I say we pack and leave immediately, before the Emperor changes his mind.
Sophaenetus
and Kratez nodded in agreement, leaving just Meno and Xenias.

“I disagree,” Meno stated firmly. “We cannot be beaten in a stand-up fight, and Tissaphernes knows this. We can assault and capture this place in less than an hour.”

He turned and looked to the Terrans.

“Look at them. Have you ever seen such a sight before? Terran warriors from a dozen worlds, many enemies and yet all are here, to fight under your command. It is something that has not happened in our lifetimes.”

Clearchus was surprised at this attitude. He had little, if any respect for Meno, yet his suggestion had some sense to it.

“Xenias? You’ve not spoken. Speak.”

Xenias, the most wounded of the main command, looked unimpressed at any of the options.

“I don’t like any of this. I don’t trust these Medes any further than I can throw them. If we leave, we will go empty handed. I suggest we bargain, but from a position of strength. Until we leave, this planet is in danger, and we can use that.”

“What would you suggest we do instead, then?”

Xenias said no more. But Xenophon indicated he wanted to speak.

“Yes, Dekarchos. You’ve experience of the Medes and their ways. You have something to add?”

Xenophon swallowed, well aware of the precarious situation they were in. He might lack the speed of Artemas or the strength of Glaucon, but his great advantage came from his mental capacity. He’d always been a quick thinker, and he sensed great peril in this place.