Judge (33 page)

Akabe smiled slightly. “I defend my people and their interests. Belaal’s recent actions toward its neighbors have been unpredictable. We prefer certainty. Parne, isolated as it is, has never been our ally, yet its location merits Siphra’s interest.”

“And Istgard’s,” Tsir Aun added.

Jon nodded formal agreement. “As well as the Tracelands’.”

The smooth-voiced messenger’s face betrayed nothing but a placid acceptance of their replies. But Kien noticed General Siyrsun’s gaze cutting about the pavilion while his mouth puckered like the drawn strings of a money purse.

Beside Kien, the eldest prophet exhaled a command beneath his breath. “Speak what you’ve learned. Your Creator commands you.”

“You could speak it,” Kien muttered, amused despite his aggravation, remembering his earliest conversations with Ela. “You’re a prophet.”

“
I
haven’t been told what you’ve learned.” Despite his whisper, the prophet sounded disgruntled. “I was told only that you must not conceal what you know!”

“Fine.” Were all prophets bad-tempered while on duty? At least Siphran prophets didn’t carry insignias like Ela’s branch. Otherwise, Kien suspected, he would’ve been thumped on the head for tormenting this particular servant of the Infinite. If only it could be Ela standing with him, ready to demand truth from their enemy. If . . . No. He couldn’t risk daydreams of Ela now. Kien focused on the representatives and waited for an opportunity to confront the general.

“ . . . surprised,” another of the representatives was saying to Akabe. “We observed you received rain.”

“We were blessed with rain,” Akabe agreed, quiet. He would refuse to discuss water supplies, Kien was sure.

Before Belaal’s loquacious representative could respond, the testy prophet beside Kien called out, “The Infinite, your Creator, sent a downpour to Siphra and its allies. For Belaal and its supporters, however, there will be no blessings until your king acknowledges he is not god.”

General Siyrsun’s mouth pursed again. He scowled at the prophets and Kien.

Deliberately resting one hand on his sword’s hilt, Kien asked, “General Siyrsun, have you nothing to say to Siphra’s king or its allies?”

Siyrsun gaped. As did everyone. One of Akabe’s more nervous council members stuttered into the shocked hush, “A-an enemy’s general? Here? Unannounced before our king?
Why?
”

Reflecting the council member’s suspicion, Akabe’s guards unsheathed their swords and closed the gap between their king and Belaal’s general.

Akabe said, “You three
messengers
, disrobe to your undergarments and discard your weapons. If you resist and my men must disarm you, we’ll confiscate your garments and return you to Belaal naked. Attack anyone, and we’ll kill you at once.”

When the general hesitated, Tsir Aun half drew his sword and glared, clearly ready to fight. Kien followed suit, his heartbeat quickening. Jon and his subordinate-commander echoed his motion, though the subordinate looked displeased.

Siyrsun hissed something to his Belaal inferiors. They removed their surcoats and outer tunics, flinging them into a pile before Akabe’s guards. Weaponry followed in a clattering heap. Sheathed daggers were unlaced from forearms. Short-swords were unbuckled from belts girded to their waists, thighs, and inside their boots.

As Belaal’s general tossed down his final dagger—and no doubt felt a draft through his short tunic—he cut a look at Kien’s insignias. “Tracelander, how did you recognize me?”

It wouldn’t do to taunt the man. “I was granted the knowledge, sir.”

The general’s nostrils flared. “Who are you?”

“No one you’ve met. I’m a military judge, specializing in treaties.” How much should he say? Could he persuade these men to open negotiations toward Belaal’s withdrawal from Parne?

Siyrsun’s hostility sundered the notion at once. “However you
came by such knowledge, Tracelander, you have insulted me and my men, and caused us to suffer this indignity! By the name of my king who is my god, I will seek you in battle!”

“You’ll regret finding me, sir.” Scythe would be sure of it. “May I advise immediate talks between our countries instead? Negotiation will be preferable to your army’s annihilation.”

“I’ll cut out your tongue first!” Siyrsun sneered. “Then I will flay and gut you!”

Not a peaceable image. Kien nodded. “Fairly warned. But, remember, I also warned you. Negotiation would serve you, your country, and your king far better.” Huh. He was sounding almost prophet-like.

Siyrsun hacked up a gob of mucous and spat it toward Kien. “That’s for your negotiations! My god-king would never submit to the shame of compromise!”

“The choice was yours. And his.” Frustrated, Kien shot a look at Akabe.

Siphra’s king grumbled something beneath his breath, then motioned to his guards. “Take these men outside. Give them their robes, their boots, and their horses, then immediately chase them from camp.”

Belaal’s general snarled, “I’ll have my sword!”

Akabe’s voice was pure ice. “No. You’ve lost all honor by concealing your weapons in my presence and by threatening my men.” To his guards, the king of Siphra snapped, “Take them outside at once! And from now on, you will search everyone who approaches my tent and my council.”

The guards obeyed as if haste could make up for their failure.

When General Siyrsun and his subordinates were secured and marched from the tent, Jon hurried over to Kien. “How did you know?”

“Bryce, may the Infinite bless him.”

Akabe approached, his expression suddenly older. “Aeyrievale, thank you. Again.”

To Kien’s left, the elder prophet spoke abruptly, as if repeating
a message. “Tomorrow, midmorning, you will attack Belaal and its allies. The Infinite commands it.”

Finally! Infinite, thank You!

Exultant, Kien turned to his comrades, ready to plan their attack. Tomorrow, if the Infinite willed it, he would bring Ela out of Parne!

 34 

B
attle ready, Kien stood outside his relinquished tent, arguing with Dan Roeh. “Respectfully, sir, you cannot accompany me.”

“I can and will.” Dan turned and started inside the tent, beyond doubt the parent who’d bequeathed Ela her stubbornness.

Kien pushed an arm in front of the man, halting him. Not good, being rude to his beloved’s father. “Again, respectfully, sir, you
will
wait here and protect your family. Please. Otherwise, you’ll be a distraction to me in the coming battle, and we’ll both die.”

Roeh shifted. Scowled. Kien could see his emotions warring in the lines of his hard-edged face. The longing to rescue his daughter. The desire to protect his wife and infant son, with their friends. Looking away, Dan nodded. “Thank you. We’ll watch and pray. And guard the camp.”

“Thank you, sir. But if the worst happens, save yourselves. Flee north to the Tracelands.”

A whistle summoned Kien’s attention. Jon motioned to him. Time to form ranks and leave. Kien waved acknowledgment at his brother-in-law, then told Dan, “We appreciate your prayers.”

By now, Kalme Roeh was standing beside her husband. And, obviously, she’d been listening to their argument. Her soft face revealed distress, unlike the bright-eyed baby in her arms, who
stared at Kien as if enthralled by his gold clasps and armor—particularly his gilded arm guards. Fine little boy. Kien swiped a light teasing touch along the small face. The infant turned his head, open-mouthed, as if trying to bite Kien’s fingers. Grinning, Kien pulled back. “We’ll bring your sister to you,” he told the baby.

Kalme Roeh sounded half-choked. “Thank you!”

Was she going to cry? Offering her a parting smile and a nod, Kien retreated, his weaponry clinking with every step.

Bryce, standing at a discreet distance, quickly joined him. “Sir, if I may, I’ll follow the army just long enough to witness the battle’s outcome. If all fails, I’ll return to warn her family and friends to escape.”

“Thank you, Bryce.” Kien sighed, relieved by the offer. Amazing of Bryce to anticipate a worry that he himself hadn’t yet considered. And aggravating. Really, Bryce was much too easy to depend upon. How could he free the man of feeling so obligated to serve the non-lord of Aeyrievale? Kien asked, “What if we defeat Belaal? What’ll you do then?”

Bryce straightened. “May I act as I believe most needful?”

“Of course. But don’t ask me. You’re a free man, Bryce—I’m not your lord. Remember?”

“I know you prefer to think so, sir.”

Giving up temporarily, Kien hurried to meet Jon, who grimaced. “Took you long enough. Scythe’s been snapping at everyone.”

“He’s hungry, no doubt.” Destroyers never appreciated rations. “He will be happier after the battle.” If they survived the battle.

Glossy black, Scythe stomped his massive polished hooves as if to urge Kien along. “Steady,” Kien ordered. He unleashed the monster and climbed the footholds. “We’re leaving.”

The destroyer groused, shoulder and neck muscles shimmering and twitching in barely controlled fury. Bryce, evidently unimpressed, approached and offered Kien his shield.

“Thank you, Bryce, for everything. Guard yourself and stay alive.”

“I will, sir—and I’ll pray the Infinite guards you all.”

Kien guided Scythe into the Tracelands’ destroyer ranks, which were combined with Istgard’s. All the monster-horses seemed testier than usual—stomping, huffing, and biting toward each other.

Reassuring, Kien decided. Scythe must be eager for the battle and incited by the natural rivalries among the destroyers. Most important, Scythe showed no signs of overwhelming grief. Meaning Ela was still alive. Grateful, Kien dug his booted feet more securely into the footholds of Scythe’s war collar. Survive the battle. Subdue all enemies. Find Ela and remove her from Parne. A single day’s work, he hoped.

The leader of the allied destroyer-force, Tsir Aun, nodded to Jon and Kien, then surveyed their troops coldly, ever the soldier. “I pray we finish matters today.” He raised his voice to everyone under his command. “Your task is to terrify Belaal’s troops. Break their formations and send them running in panic! While doing so, you will maintain close ranks throughout the charge. Do not allow the enemy to individually isolate you. For those who’ve never ridden into battle, trust your destroyer to do its work. If your steed argues with you in battle, there’s good reason—so pay attention!”

“I’m still the master,” Kien muttered.

Scythe tossed his head.

After a final sweeping check of his destroyer-battalion, Tsir Aun goaded his beast, Wrath, into formation after Akabe’s personal battalion. The armies merged and then traveled along Parne’s seemingly endless northern wall, heading west. While their forces entered the dry open fields beyond the western wall, Kien straightened, studying the opposition.

As Bryce depicted in his leather map, the Agocii forces, with the Eosyths, held the northern sectors of the plain, reinforcing Belaal’s army, which was encamped nearer Parne.

Full-bearded Agocii scouts spied Siphra’s forces first. They scrambled, signaling the alarm with trumpet blasts to alert Belaal and its allies.

Belaal, caught up in working its giant catapults against Parne’s weakened wall, failed to immediately heed the Agocii trump calls. During their approach, Kien admired Belaal’s powerful siege weapons. As soldiers released heavy chains, each catapult’s massive counterweight dropped toward the ground, sending its opposing beam hurtling skyward, launching a huge boulder toward the wall. How many missiles had Belaal launched this morning? Kien eyed the wall as a boulder fell, swiftly followed by a second.

The huge stones crushed into the wall, collapsing the section in pieces. A deep, thunderous vibration shook the ground, causing Scythe to flatten his ears. But the destroyer’s huff of challenge vanished amid a second blast of noise. Evidently too damaged to withstand continued shocks, an adjoining section of Parne’s wall crumbled to its foundations, spewing out a vast cloud of grit.

The cloud failed to settle. Instead, a ferocious wind swept the dirt upward.

Kien watched, stunned, as the mighty current of air built the pulverized wall fragments into a vast curtain of debris that swept southward, slashing into Belaal’s forces. Devastating them. “Infinite!”

Belaal’s allies scattered in obvious terror. Beneath his breath, Kien muttered, “A rout!” With this one storm blast, the battle’s odds evened. “Strike,” he urged the distant Akabe. “Now!”

At the head of the joint army, Akabe shouted orders lost to Kien over the commotion. But trumpets echoed reassuringly in Siphra’s prearranged signal, directing a charge against their chief target—Belaal.

Tsir Aun bellowed, “Forward!”

Unsheathing his Azurnite sword, Kien braced himself. Scythe charged across the field with the other destroyers, not into an army, but into a fray of screaming, bloodied, panicked soldiers. Bodies, hideously broken and gashed by the storm’s onslaught, littered the landscape. Belaal’s able-bodied soldiers ran.

From a distance, more trumpets blared. Yells lifted from among Belaal’s forces. “Turn and fight! Stand your ground!”

Several of Belaal’s men tried to attack Kien. Scythe mowed them down before they could take proper aim. Kien had to close his thoughts to their agonized screams. Equally pitiable, Belaal’s horses fled in terror before the destroyers, who bit them bloody and tore their Belaal masters from their backs.

Kien glimpsed a blade’s flash as one unseated soldier lifted his short-sword against Scythe. The destroyer shifted away, but not quickly enough—the soldier swung wide to gut Scythe.

“No!” Kien slashed the Azurnite sword down against the man’s arm and left him screaming, clutching at spilling blood as Scythe charged ahead.

Just as the destroyers’ attack seemed near its end, a sudden lurch jolted Kien. Scythe broke ranks, pulling back. Why? Kien scanned the battleground and saw a chariot manned by an archer. Aiming at him. He raised his shield just in time to feel the arrow’s thud. Huffing furiously, Scythe charged the offending chariot and its bleeding archer—General Siyrsun.

The general’s horse squealed as Scythe barreled past it to get at Siyrsun. The general screamed, his arm caught in the destroyer’s grip. Scythe flung the man away. Kien lost sight of his body in the clash and press of shields, destroyers, and chariots.

Twice Belaal and its allies attempted to regroup. Twice, Akabe’s forces and his allies scattered their foes. By midday Belaal’s men had fled, routed toward the distant hills. Soon after, their allies retreated to their respective encampments.

A bleak calm overtook the field. Kien turned Scythe about and surveyed the landscape. Most of Belaal’s tents littered the former encampment as scraps of gaudy rags and splinters of wood—abandoned. And a detachment of Siphran soldiers now guarded the breach in Parne’s wall. Before Kien could rejoice at the sight and plot Ela’s rescue, Jon rode up, his face smeared with blood.

Kien winced. “You’re injured.”

Bewildered, Jon rubbed at his jaw and studied the crimson stain on his hand. “Oh. Savage and I disagreed with each other, didn’t we?” He nudged his destroyer.

Savage huffed, hesitated, and then became restless.

Scythe hesitated as well, an uneasy noise sounding low in his throat.

Ela! Kien was sure both beasts sensed her suffering. Savage had been briefly pledged to Ela after the battle of Ytar and no doubt still held some devotion for her. And Scythe frankly loved Ela above Kien. Above life.

As did Kien. Agitation quickening his motions, Kien dismounted, removed his cloak, and began to unlace the change of clothes he’d tied to the destroyer’s war collar. “Jon, I’m going after Ela!” While Kien wrenched at the knots, he glanced over at Parne’s breached wall.

At his elbow now, Jon said, “Huh. It seems Belaal destroyed the buildings inside as well. I’m sure anyone could ride through that gap, but—”

“I’m sure we can,” Kien interrupted. “Jon, come with me to find her.”

Uncertainty shadowed Jon’s face. “Given our instructions, Kien, we’d best wait until Siphra clears the way.”

Kien nodded at his brother-in-law, remembering the Infinite’s command.
If you enter Parne, spare no one who lifts any sort of weapon against you.
Fine. He would go in alone.

Tsir Aun rode up to join them, drawing the huffing Wrath alongside Scythe.

Not dismounting, Istgard’s prime minister said, “The allies wish to negotiate the terms of their surrender. Separately, because they’ve been fighting among themselves. I’ve agreed. The sooner we settle matters with Belaal’s allies, the better. We cannot risk them taking up weapons again while we’re inside the city.” Tsir Aun hesitated, clearly reluctant to ask for Kien’s help. “The king is meeting with the Eosyths. We need you to talk with the Agocii. They’re the most difficult, and negotiations are your field of expertise. Meanwhile, I’m leading half of our forces in pursuit of Belaal’s soldiers to be sure they don’t return. Only the Agocii remain.”

Your duty. Kien heard the unspoken words. No! There was nothing to negotiate. Belaal and its allies lost.
Lost.
And he needed to ride into Parne and find Ela.

Duty, Kien reminded himself. His responsibilities as a military judge-in-training took precedence above personal commitments. Even above finding Ela. Kien growled and immediately felt ashamed. Souls would be lost if the Agocii decided to take offense and attack. And, if she knew, Ela would insist Kien deal with his obligations first. Scythe’s twitching had increased. The beast stomped now. And groaned. Ela. Kien shut his eyes. Infinite?

Silence pressed in around him. Duty versus rescuing Ela. Infinite? Is this a test? Sickened, Kien said, “I’ll go.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Jon told Kien. “Just allow me to wash my face first.”

Kien nodded, then warned Istgard’s prime minister, “As soon as we’ve concluded the terms of surrender, I’m riding into Parne to find Ela.”

Tsir Aun frowned at Parne’s collapsed wall. “I’m sorry. I’d prefer you bring her out immediately, as you do. My wife would also be distressed at the delay. I’ll be praying.”

“I know. Thank you.”