Fate's Pawn 17

 

Chapter 17

 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” said Harkon. “I’d as soon work as a party of equals on the whole, so as far as I am concerned, you can forget my titles. I am well aware I’m working with a group who will probably reach the same rank as me within the time constraint required, so I am not about to spend two years insisting on time-wasting with titles. With one proviso; if I bark out an order, assume that I have the experience to know what I’m talking about, and obey.”

“We do that with Kaz, sir, er, Harkon, when she’s using things like darksense,” said Protasion.

“And I will do likewise,” said Harkon.

Kaz sniggered.

“Harkon is not a man for titles until some jumped up little snot of a nobleman of the sort of family Protasion is decides to try his patience,” she said.

“Fortunately, most people of my birth with military bent join the cult of Pollonis Martial,” said Protasion. “And yes, most of them are jumped up little snots, and that’s one reason I joined Alethos, defying my father. He reckons I’m a better person for it, though, so he more than forgave me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Harkon. “I know your father, and he is mannerly and civil, unlike some nobles.”

“I’m just curious which snot Kaz noticed you taking apart,” said Protasion.

“An initiate of Pollonis Martial,” said Kaz. “It was a beautiful thing to behold, with Harkon going all poker-faced and cold, and asking the snot if he hadn’t forgotten something. And when the snot said, ‘What? No,’ he got right in his face, and barked, ‘WHAT, NO, SIR!’ at him. And the snot drew his sword, and Harkon didn’t, and parried with his vambrace, and used his finger instead of a sword to poke all the unarmoured bits, or slap the snot’s thighs. It was hilarious.”

“He irritated me with his snottiness,” said Harkon, mildly.

“I want to be able to do that, one day,” said Kaz, sighing happily at the memory. “I learned as much watching that as any practice bout.”

Protasion chewed his lip.

“It’s a lesson we could all benefit from, if you’d indulge us, Harkon,” he said.

“The path to true wisdom is knowing what you don’t know,” said Harkon. “If you’re up for it, I’d be happy to do so, though I suspect any one of you knows more about swordplay than the little snot.”

“The older families favour a sword-fighting style based on elegant moves with fancy names, and where you weave intricate patterns with your sword, which have set counters,” said Protasion. “I was watching a bunch of Selenite guards, and they use similar techniques; can it be that Thanus broke from Alethos before efficient fighting techniques, or is it just that the Selenite guards are just overly impressed by the formality of Solosi fighting?”

“Damned if I know,” said Harkon. “But whilst they’re busy with the ‘swirling leaves’ recovery – yes, I know the formal style and its names – they are open to short stabbing attacks.”

Protasion sniggered.

“And we learn to just jump over ‘reaving the corn at harvest,’” he said.

“I think one of the innovations of the more modern age was adding a thumb bar to the broadsword, to allow easier and smoother turning movements,” said Kaz. “I used it in fighting the bandits, and I was able to come up and round after disengaging, and into his belly.”

“Yes, but you need to shift your grip for stabbing and thrusting moves,” said Harkon. “If you’re wedded to the style, you’d do well to specialise with the bastard sword, or the eastern scimitar, which is all about blade and less about point.”

“This is my weakness, other styles,” said Kaz. “But I’ll not use a scimitar, too much like the moon-swerd.”

“Good; we can make the morning exercise as we travel about overcoming weaknesses,” said Harkon.

 

The Red River was more pink than red, thought Kaz. It had been dug out and widened in places to facilitate barge travel, and they joined a barge carrying grain and other foodstuffs up river to Sideropolis.

“The city lies in the fork of two tributary rivers, one of which is the upper Red River,” said Harkon. “It has massive earthworks and stone defences to the west, and the river is not navigable past it, being riddled with defences. It’s one of those places where you don’t ask who would want to attack it, so much as who would not. It’s a requirement that ever adult citizen spends two years in the military, male and female, and those who do not wish to actively fight have roles in supply or healing. This means the whole city are trained under arms, to be called up as a militia if need be. Even the healers are required to have arms training, to protect their patients.”

“You couldn’t take it except by siege and starvation, then,” said Kaz. “Or treachery.”

“Indeed, and the cityfolk like their wealth and independence,” said Harkon. “They have no slaves, no beggars, and the disabled are given jobs in the military apparatus as suits their ability. They have what many people consider a pretty harsh lifestyle, but they eat well, and there are entertainments, which are usually amateur musical or dramatic productions by the standing army, because that keeps them from getting bored in times of peace, and gives them extra spending money from the entrance fees, which are split. You couldn’t do it without the consent of the citizenry, and those who don’t like it are given a pass to leave, and free transport down river to get rid of them.”

“It’s not unlike our temple life,” said Kaz.

“I suppose so,” said Harkon. “I’ve considered offering my services in training, but I think it would be too sedentary for me as yet. Oh, and they do sponsor adventuring into the Ghostlands as well, for the restless. The soldiery are barracked by city block, and attend such worship as they wish. Which isn’t all martial, as they are drawn from all walks of life when doing their two years’ service. Now tell me why mounting a siege would be hard.”

“Supply trains,” said Kaz. “I doubt Mesolimnos would let the canal be used at this end, and there’s no easy supply hubs to reach it in between. There are the drylands and then the plains to the south, and... I suppose if the Selenites established a hub across Lake Hudrogeminas from Kallos, they could sail goods across, and then it’s... what, a hundred and fifty miles? Over pretty dry lands. I wouldn’t want to do it. You’d have to have wagons, and it’d take them ten days, even if you could force march an army in two or three days. Having the mules made me appreciate how much transporting goods slows people up.”

“Exactly,” said Harkon. “In most military endeavours, the usual answer to any question is ‘supply.’ You can’t do without supplies, and a supply train is always the limiting factor to any army.”

“The only practical way, then, would be to build up a cache of supplies in secret in the mountains, and use that as your base from which to attack?” suggested Kaz.

“Yes, and that wouldn’t remain secret long, because of the miners, and the odd Toróg clans in the mountains, even if you were not attacked by chaos or other inimical beings. But if you could conceal it, yes.”

“It’s a base worth having, then, this former temple, because that would be almost as impenetrable as Sideropolis itself,” mused Kaz. “Somewhat off the beaten trail, but a place to rest and recuperate.”

“And if you fulfil the prophecy, I believe heroes can walk in one step from any temple of their god to another,” said Harkon. “I might have listened to something that Alathan said,” he added.

“He avoided Kallos, though,” said Kaz.

“The Commandant there isn’t heretical, but he is an old fool,” said Harkon. “I wager he’d argue dogma if Alethos himself appeared in front of him.”

Kaz sniggered.

She could imagine it.

 

Kaz did not enjoy the journey by barge. It took three days, with the big, gentle horses towing the big barges against the current of the wide river, and Kaz found the motion made her feel nauseous.

She was not the only one; Zon was miserable, as were Kuros and Evgon. Protasion rode the barge like he had been born to it, and was discussing the use of water-borne tactics with Harkon.

 

They disembarked on a broad wharf with warehouses backing it, the wharf guarded by armed soldiers, and an important looking man with a tally-stick, flanked by a scribe.

“Hey! You!” said the important looking man.

“Hey, me?” said Harkon, softly.

“We don’t hold with slavery here,” said the man. “You Trógling! You are free now!”

“Like that’s a change from our former state?” said Kaz, tartly. “Ascertain your facts first, before shooting off your mouth and sounding as if you don’t have the brains the gods gave to butterflies.”

He gaped.

The scribe was sniggering.

“Us too,” said Rynn.

“As you might have told by our deportment, had you looked,” said Kaz. “We’re Alethosi; we have no truck with slavery.”

“As my second in command says, use your eyes next time,” said Harkon. “Here’s our pass; we’re passing through under contract to the temple of Polos to handle some undead.”

“I... yes, that seems to be in order,” said the official, flustered.

“I’m so glad,” said Harkon.

Zon carried up Harkon’s armour, demonstrably iron.

“Your armour, my lord,” he said.

The official paled.

His two dozen soldiers were not a match for a Glyph-Lord of Alethos and his warband. Or even without the warband.

And the insulting Trógling was quite unlike any Trógling he had met. Its... Her... eyes were on him.

“You know, I appreciate your well-meaning,” said Kaz. “So will Glyph-Lord Harkon when he has stopped to think about it, but making assumptions never ends well.”

“I... yes, thank you,” said the official. “You are unlike any Trógling I have ever seen.”

“Thank you,” said Kaz. “I purpose to be a hero of Alethos one day.”

“I fancy you’ll succeed,” said the official. “I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you, especially after a bad start,” said Kaz. She offered her hand, and the official grasped wrists with her.

Harkon watched ruefully.

“You have the diplomacy I’m not good at,” he said.

Kaz sniggered.

“You carry your diplomacy at the end of an iron pointy thing,” she said.

“I’ll carry on doing the intimidation; you do the talking,” said Harkon.

“You’re a northerner, Harkon; they say that people from the Great Depression take intimidation as a hobby.”

“Cheeky whelp; but I wouldn’t say you were far out. Now! The powers of Aima vary with the moon, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s waning. Six days to the dark of the moon, and a journey of something over a hundred miles and no decent road.”

“How rough is the terrain, did the Polos initiate say?” asked Protasion.

“He said it’s fairly easy going to the mountain foothills, good grassland between the rivers.”

 “And nobody has re-settled?”

“Only a few. The spirits of the dead who haunt the place tend to put people off.”

“Will they attack us?” asked Protasion.

“As I understand it, the ghostland plains are filled with the wailing souls of those who did not manage to escape the mayhem,” said Harkon. “They mostly have no interest in the living. There may be the odd one or two with more inimical ideas, however, so it is as well to be wary. Otherwise, ignore them.”

“I understand that, if they attack, they attack one’s magical centre directly,” said Lelyn, with some fear.

“This is true, but a strong will can also affect them with weapons, or the hands directly, in beating them, concentrating your will through an attack. Crossbows are of no use as they are mechanical, unlike arrows, which are fired by will. But if one of our number is under attack, the rest of us can attempt to hurt it whilst not hurting him or her too much. I recall when I was newly an initiate, and someone I was working with was attacked by a spirit, and he was busy hitting it with a stick, it was, I’m afraid, hilarious to see this big guy apparently hitting himself over the head with a stick. I’ve some powder to show up insubstantial forms, which should help, having not known how to help him back then. I learned a lot.”

“We are lucky to have your experience,” said Kaz.

Harkon smiled, grimly.

“I have experience with more than one type of undead,” he said. “And I’d rather face zombies than skeletons; though in theory, they are more powerful, they are slow, and once you hack them to pieces, they are fairly helpless. Skeletons are fast, and don’t worry terribly much how much you hack at them unless you can destroy the head, because they will still attack when all they have is one limb.”

“Lovely,” said Kaz.

“Well, I thought we might provision here,” said Harkon. “We can set off and be camped before the ghostlands proper, and then use the early daylight, and camp again over the heat of the day, when the ghosts are less active. We’ll rely on the darksense of you trógling to carry on under the meagre rays of the waning Blood Moon and sickly sickle of the blue. And then sleep half of us at a time, to watch out for attempted possession.”

“I can see why an academic was unnerved before they even began,” said Kaz. “Probably knew too much about spirits. We only know what we need to know, which you have told us, so we don’t have enough knowledge to worry.”

“That was the general idea,” said Harkon.