Cry of the Newborn (49 page)

'Prepare your people.'

Barely had the ships nudged berth and the gangplanks thudded down than the Gatherers were running into the heart of the city. Jhered led them out, nodding at some of the soldiers lined up along the dock. He heard many a comment but few were worthy of response or even acknowledgement. He was used to it. 'Here to collect the taxes, Exchequer?'

'Think the Tsardon might have got to them first, Exchequer.' 'Either that or we've spent them on ourselves for the first time in a decade.'

'If I were you I'd sail away right now, my Lord Jhered.' The tone of this one made him pause. He looked into the eyes of an old soldier. Well into middle age and sitting on a barrel. 'Nothing to be done here.'

'There is always something that can be done,' said Jhered.

'And in your case, that is leave, and alert any that you can, sir,' said the soldier, a centurion in poorly polished armour. 'Nothing can save Atreska for the Conquord now.'

'Stand up when you address a superior.' Jhered shook his head. 'You are a poor example for your men.'

The centurion spread his hands. Jhered frowned. Every other soldier they'd passed had been an Atreskan. This man wasn't. He was badly sun-burned and his accent too light. He was a countryman, a Tundarran. Jhered waved Appros Harin to continue.

'I was there, my Lord. At Scintarit. I escaped because I was guarding the camps that day. I'm sorry but this is as good as my armour gets these days.'

'What happened out there? What's become of Gesteris?'

The centurion glanced left and right, aware others were paying too much attention to his conversation with Jhered. He beckoned the Gatherer closer.

it was a disaster of a magnitude that will shake the Conquord, Lord Jhered, but you don't have time to hear about it, not now. Something's not right with what the Marshal is doing. He's been parleying with the Tsardon.'

'They're here already?' Jhered gaped.

'A few of them. Steppe cavalry.'

'What is there to talk about?'

The centurion raised sun bleached eyebrows. His scarred forehead wrinkled untidily. 'Old friendships?' he suggested. Jhered straightened. 'Name and legion,' he said.

'Autin, my Lord,' he replied, standing at last. 'Of the Tundarran Thunder.'

'You're relieved of all duties.' Jhered indicated to one of his levium. 'Take the centurion back to the ship. I would hear his stories on our voyage home, whenever that might be.'

Autin saluted. There was a slightly wild look in the man's eyes. He'd seen too much already. It was eating at his mind.

'Thousands of Atreskan soldiers were released back to the city this morning, my Lord,' said Autin before he moved. 'Armed and unharmed, prisoners from Scintarit. In advance of the weight of the Tsardon army. Why do you think they'd do that?' Another raising of the eyebrows.

Jhered turned to his nine remaining levium. 'It seems we have urgent work to do.'

Haroq was a classic walled and defended Atreskan city, and for that Jhered was grateful today. He could lead his people quickly along wide main thoroughfares kept clear for troop movements to and from the docks. And always he could see the castle set on a rise in the land and dominating the city from its centre.

Passing the western edge of the forum, he caught a glimpse of the real Haroq of today. Thronged with citizens who had nowhere else to go. Frightened, meandering and lost. Sleeping under the stars and waiting to hear the first thud of artillery. Jhered's mind was bleak. Perhaps they would not have to.

The Gatherers marched purposefully through the castle's courtyard gates. They did not pause for the horn announcing their presence to the keep. The place was in uproar. The courtyard rang to the sound of horses and the shouts of soldiers. Packed carts rattled over the cobbles. Messengers ran in a dozen directions. To the left, behind a cordon of legionaries, ordinary citizens waited to make their demands. Jhered did not think they would get a hearing today.

He spared the turretted, crenellated keep a glance as he strode beneath the gate house. It would ever be an ugly structure. Some efforts had been made to reflect Estorean architecture. Carved marble overlaid stone in places and carved columns had been erected from which hung the banners of the Conquord nations. It was supposed to be a glory walk but the banners were tatty and the marble unwashed. Yuran had otherwise clung to many traditions of old Atreska. Perhaps that should have worried the Advocate more deeply.

Beyond the gatehouse the untidy inner courtyard greeted them. A central fountain was being constructed about ten years too late. Like the hypocaust which Jhered doubted would ever be installed. The courtyard was a wide, circular, weed-grown cobbled space. The unbroken inner walls presented an imposing grey face, studded with veined glass and shutters.

Jhered pointed ahead. 'Stalos, you are coming with me to see Yuran. The rest of you, secure the Gatherer station. We will take any chests we have. Tell Menas and her team that they're leaving with us. Wait for me there.'

'My Lord.'

His hand on the pommel of his cavalry blade, Jhered trotted around the fountain towards the wide marble steps up to the Marshal's lavish living quarters. There was an uncomfortable quiet here. None of the activity they had witnessed in the courtyard that would reflect a ruler preparing for war.

'He'd better be here,' muttered Jhered.

'Exchequer?'

'Nothing, Addos. Just keep your eyes open and your hand to your sword. This doesn't feel right at all.'

Jhered knew the route well. He nodded to the guards on the steps, feeling their eyes on his back on his way into the cavernous, flag-hung hall. Inside, colonnades bordered mosaic pathways set on original stone. He headed left and up a wide flight of stairs and onto a carpeted landing.

A broad lantern-lit passage stretched away on a left-curving arc. Guardsmen stood outside the double doors to Yuran's dining hall. Their faces registered their anxious surprise at who approached them. Their spears crossed in front of the carved wooden doors.

'Tell the Marshal I am here,' said Jhered. Til speak with him now.'

'He is in council, my Lord Exchequer.'

'Evidently,' said Jhered. 'Interrupt him.'

The guards shifted. 'He cannot be disturbed, sir. Please?'

A burst of laughter came from within.

‘I
won't ask twice and your spears will not stop us. Now, one of you will tell him I am here or I will announce myself.'

The guardsmen failed to stare him down and removed their spears. He nodded.

'I'm sorry,' said one. 'I beg your pardon?'

The guard shrugged and opened the door. Jhered strode in. 'Marshal Yuran,' he said as he walked inside. 'I'm anxious to share your joke. I—'

The room was full of Tsardon.

Chapter 41

848th cycle of God, 26th day of
Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

Ten Tsardon. Yuran. Six of his council. Every head turned to him. The Tsardon didn't recognise him of course. But that was as far as his fortune went. Yuran swore and stood, his chair squealing backwards and rocking, almost falling. It was enough to have the nervous Tsardon do the same. Hands went to sword hilts. One of them said something, a question.

‘I
am very disappointed,' said Jhered.
‘I
didn't ever dream you'd turn traitor.'

Yuran stared at him, the ghost of regret passing across his face. 'Guards. Take him.'

‘I
don't think so.' Jhered turned his back on the dining hall and the concerted move in his direction. The guards blocked his passage out. 'Time to choose.'

A fragment's hesitation. Jhered smashed his forearm into the head of one. The guard's skull thudded into the doorframe and he crumpled. The other gasped and fell forwards. Stalos dragged his dagger clear. It was always a mistake to ignore a Gatherer.

'Run,' said Jhered.

The two men raced around the curve, steps echoing from the walls. Behind them the shouts were growing. They clattered down the stairs, through the hall and past the stunned gate guards. Jhered came left around the fountain.

'Levium!' he roared. 'We are betrayed. Let's go.'

One of his people was at the door to the Gatherer station. He turned and bellowed something through the opening. Jhered came to a halt, recognising him.

'You're the fastest man we've got. Straight to the docks. Don't

look back. I want the flags down, oars ready and the sails up. We're leaving. Go.' 'My Lord.'

A bell sounded. It was the rapid clang of an alarm call. From the Marshal's quarters, soldiers ran into the circular courtyard. There were footsteps behind him too. Levium. Four carrying chests between them.

'We're out of time,' said Jhered. 'Go. Drop the chests. The treasury will have to do without them. Free your hands to fight.'

He ducked as an arrow glanced off the wall to his right. Levium returned fire. Two men were downed.

'Good to see you, Menas,' said Jhered.

'And you, my Lord Exchequer,' she said, reloading her bow and firing again.

'And now all I want to see is your back ahead of me,' he said. 'To the basilica. We need to get the others.'

About twenty Atreskans were in the courtyard now. Shouts were ringing out from other directions too. The bell was taken up by others out in the main courtyard. The Gatherers ran headlong under the gatehouse. Jhered came last, urging more speed.

The confusion of movement in the main courtyard gave them brief advantage. The alarms were going but no one knew who they were looking for. And the Gatherers were an unlikely target. People stood and watched them go by and they were most of the way across the cluttered space before the order to close the gates was understood.

There was too much unwanted attention now. Jhered glanced behind and saw the pursuit building, people swinging up on to horseback. He lengthened his stride and ran around to the front of the levium. Menas came to his right-hand side. In the castle gatehouse, men put their shoulders to wheels and the gates began to swing shut. Counterweights rattled on chains, wood creaked and groaned.

'Buy me some time,' said Jhered.

Menas and another of her team stepped aside from the run to shoot. Jhered didn't pause. Drawing his sword he went hard at the handful of guards at the bottom of the gate.

'Levium! For Estorea!'

The rest took up his shout. Arrows flicked by his head. One sank deep into the throat of an archer at the gate. Another took a gateman in the back of the neck, sending him tumbling across the wheel. Jhered held his sword in front of his body, only moving it in the last pace before contact. He took it round in an arc down and right, using the pace he generated to continue the swing up and left. The powerful move struck the spear from his target's grasp. The man had the speed to reach for his sword but not to draw it. Jhered chopped back across his body, his blade biting hard into the guard's side and sweeping him from his feet.

Levium were left and right of him now, facing four remaining guards. Jhered could hear running footsteps and horses on the gallop. Shouts and screams had filled the air, almost drowning out the alarm bells which tolled as if at great distance. He sensed a shadow above him and stepped back sharply. A body struck the ground before him, an arrow protruding from his eye.

The fall had surprised the Atreskans more and the levium drove forward into the space. Jhered cracked a left-hand punch into the side of a guard's head. He knocked the man down with a sword pommel into his nose. Blood sprayed across his vision. Another body fell across his path, the man gasping his last breath.

'Clear!' he shouted and they ran through the gates and out into the city.

On the wide stone parade ground outside the castle, people were standing and staring. Alarm bells were sounding across the city and the unmistakable sounds of a building panic echoed across the clear sky. Twenty or more soldiers were running towards them.

'Keep it tight,' shouted Jhered. 'Attack on my word only.'

He identified the leader of the section.

'Centurion, trouble in the castle,' he said as they approached. 'Tsardon infiltrators.'

'What?' The man clearly recognised Jhered but didn't believe what he'd heard.

'We're going to get help from our ship. Yuran is safe for now. Go.' 'Yes, sir.'

Jhered glanced back over his shoulder to see him go. The gates had closed behind them and he heard men yelling for them to be reopened. Yelling for people to stop the Gatherers. The centurion came up short and turned. He was thirty yards distant. It would have to be enough.

'The basilica,' he said.

He took the levium away at a sprint down the wide empty main street leading back towards the dockside. Menas ran alongside him.

'They're through the gates, sir. Riding hard. They'll catch us easily.'

Jhered nodded. They'd passed two side streets already, both packed with confused, frightened citizens. At the third, he took his levium right. Keeping his sword high above his head he shouted and pushed his way through the crowd which ebbed and flowed in front of him. In the mass of citizens around them, he lost the sounds of pursuit. Horsemen would be seriously hampered through here but would have guessed where they were headed. Foot soldiers would still be after them.

He took the next left turn which sloped down to the back of the oratory. It was lined with businesses, mostly closed and boarded. People were sitting beneath awnings where they could find space. Some had obviously chosen it as their place to live during the expected siege. Jhered couldn't spare the time to wonder how most of these people would react when they found out their Marshal Defender had betrayed the Conquord. He felt like giving them the rope to string him up.

A celebratory arch put in place when the Conquord accepted Atreska made the north entrance to the forum. People Jhered knew were depicted on its sculpted faces. People who had given their lives to bring Atreska to the glory of Estorean rule. Beyond it, two flights of stone stairs. He took them three at a time, barging people aside, the last of his patience in tatters.

The basilica ran almost half the length of the eastern side of the forum. Jhered could see it was heaving with refugees seeking respite from the sun, which shone down with unremitting goodwill. It was open-sided like its sister structure in Estorr. The levium flew up its steps in a line.

'Levium!' roared Jhered. 'To the Exchequer.'

He saw his people detach themselves from knots of refugees, officials and battle-weary legionaries. At second glance the place seemed more hospital than camp. It would have been a mine of useful information if they'd had time to glean it. He was happy to see Appros Harin among those coming to him. The pursuit was closing in. Soldiers were coming down the stairs and riders were entering the south of the forum.

'No time to explain. We have to get out now. Get runners to anyone elsewhere in the city. They are not to identify themselves as Gatherers to anyone, it'll get them killed. If the ships are gone, they all know the pick-up point on the lake. We'll wait as long as we can.' His shoulders sagged. 'Harin, we are in a city of traitors.'

Harin was desperate to ask questions but held himself in check. He turned to the growing number of Gatherers in the basilica and called a few names.

'The rest of you, here,' said Jhered. The noise outside the building was growing. People were hurrying from the centre of the forum. He could hear screams and angry shouts. The bells still rang out. Fear mingled with the smell of sweat and disease inside.

'Assume every Atreskan soldier to be an enemy. There are Tsardon in the city. Stalos, take twenty down to the ships. Set up a perimeter. The rest, let's give them the way out then defend their backs. Any of you who had the sense to bring your bows, use them on horsemen. We're attacked north and south.'

He estimated seventy of the Gatherers were with him. He watched pairs of runners heading off in three different directions, all of them diverting enemy attention. Harin took ten out to cover the soldiers approaching through the celebration arch. Jhered took the rest and moved to the edge of the basilica, forming up just inside the first line of columns.

The atmosphere was changing quickly. Citizens were scattering from in front of the riders. There were twelve horsemen at a quick count, leading about twice that number of soldiers towards the basilica.

'Keep an eye out behind,' said Jhered not turning from the enemy. 'How many bows?'

'Six, my lord,' said Menas.

'Excellent. Stay under cover. You'll have clear sight any time. On my mark. Riders first. At first volley, we will rush. They won't be expecting this many of us. The twenty, don't engage, keep running. Any questions? Good. God keep us safe for greater deeds.'

The Atreskans were overconfident, cantering towards them with shields on their backs. Jhered kept a hand raised, waiting. Behind the riders, some of the soldiers carried bows but most had spears in hand. They were castle guard, little more than ceremonial with their brightly polished armour and deep red and green cloaks. He let them get within twenty yards before he dropped his hand.

Arrows whipped away. Jhered ran down the steps, leading thirty levium. Moments later, the arrows hit home, taking man and horse alike. One reared, throwing its rider. Others began to pull up, a couple tried to wheel away. Order was lost. When Jhered was five yards from them, more shafts struck. Two further riders were taken from their saddles. Another animal felt the barb deep in a shoulder. The levium engulfed them.

Jhered hacked up two-handed, striking the sword arm of his target. The man pitched off the other side of his horse. Jhered didn't stop. He shouldered his way through panicked horse flesh. A blade swept at him. He blocked it easily, turning it aside and thumping a riposte into plate chest armour. The Atreskan grunted and gasped as the metal compressed into his ribs. The flat of Jhered's blade slapped the rump of his horse and it sprang away.

Two paces later and he was through the flimsy cavalry line. He glanced left and right. The levium were with him.

'For the Conquord!'

His cry was taken up in all their throats. He ran at the foot soldiers. He saw spears levelled, bows turn and swords drawn. Arrows showered down on the enemy. Two of the bowmen died. The spearmen tried to bunch close. It was a woeful effort at a phalanx-style defence. He ducked under the single rank of spears, his blade sweeping above his head. He rose, chopped down on a wooden shaft, spun on his heel and carved his blade into the neck of a terrified guard. The man screamed and fell sideways, tripping up the guard next to him. Jhered vaulted them both.

The next man to face him had gladius and oval shield. Jhered opened his stance and beckoned the man on.

'Teach you how to fight levium, did they boy?'

The legionary was well trained but unused to fighting outside of a solid line. He kept his body tucked behind his shield and his gladius tight to his right. He half-crouched and moved in. Jhered was waiting. The soldier punched out with his shield but Jhered wasn't there. He'd stepped left already, bringing his blade across his body and chopping back out and up to the right. The blow was blocked but the legionary was off balance.

'Not good enough,' said Jhered, stabbing him under his arm and into his lung.

The levium were rampant. They tore through the Atreskans. The last of them turned and ran back towards the castle. Jhered ignored them. Looking back he saw Harin engaged with the soldiers he'd duped outside the castle gates. Menas had turned her bows on them now and they were being worn down. The forum itself was clear of citizens. They stood in a packed ring at its borders, staring mute at what they witnessed. The why would be known to them soon enough; and the Conquord would show them no mercy.

Jhered led his levium out of the forum and back towards the docks at a run. He could see the twenty ahead of them, forcing a path through streets onto which the forum population had been forced. There were bodies lying in the street, too. Soldiers and citizens who had made the mistake of getting in their way. Jhered had no sympathy. Atreska had turned.

In the wake of the twenty, Jhered's passage was easier. He crested a rise in the road and saw the docks laid out before him. The panic hadn't reached there yet but it was just a matter of time. At their berths, the ships sat calm, flags still fluttering serenely from masts.

'Eyes left and right,' said Jhered. 'Tell me what you see.'

'West along the docks,' said one of the levium immediately.

Jhered looked and cursed. Riders and plenty of them. Worse, they were unquestionably Tsardon steppe cavalry. The twenty were going to be caught by them before they reached the ships. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Menas and Harin were still engaged in the forum. He ran harder, taking his thirty with him.

The bells had stilled and the city was alive with a frightened confusion. No one was getting in their way but the eye of every citizen was on them. They'd seen Gatherers cutting down Atreskans and they had no idea why. The hatred and aggression directed at them was growing. Jhered would have shaken each one by the shoulders and told them what their Marshal had done but he had more pressing matters. His sense of injustice burned in him. The city was against them because most of them didn't know the enemy was being given free rein to ride their streets. By the time they knew the truth it would be too late. He feared for this beautiful country and its peaceful majority.