“One manages,” Arman said in a frigid tone which made Ritus do a double-take and look at him oddly.
“A difficult mission? I thought things had gone well.”
“I’m glad it’s over, that is all. Now, please tell me Her Serenity’s wishes.”
“Well...hang on, where’s that boy of yours? I could have sworn you had him with you when you left. Didn’t leave him behind, did you?” Ritus said jovially.
Arman stiffened. “In a manner of speaking. He was murdered at Darbin, in the bomb attack. It was in my reports.”
“Oh...hells, I missed that. Damn inconvenient for you, losing a good servant like that.”
Ritus couldn’t have appreciated the danger he was in at that point. Arman fought his anger down. “The loss of a Prijian citizen is always more than inconvenient, general. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to know my orders.”
Ritus was obviously surprised at his rudeness, but the damn fool finally took the hint. “Very well, as you wish. She wants a triumph, so make sure your armour is nice and polished up when you hit port. You’ll march down the Avenue of the Gods to the civic square where she’ll address you and the population. Shouldn’t take too long and then you can get back to your wife.”
“And the hostages?”
“Senator Mekus has been appointed to deal with them. They’re off your hands once the triumph is over.”
“Thank the gods,” Arman muttered. “Has the port blockade begun?”
Ritus nodded. “Yes, over a month ago. No movement from the Rulers, but we won’t expect anything for a while. Her Serenity is content with progress. So, tell me about it. What was it like?”
Arman gritted his teeth and put a bit more flesh on the bare bones of his reports for Ritus’s entertainment, but then begged to be allowed to rest before the sea journey. He had no desire in the least to rehash the mission, and there would be many times when he would be forced to over the coming days. He wished Her Serenity could have curbed her love of ceremony and public display, but there was no chance of her missing the opportunity to celebrate the successful annexation of a large chunk of Darshian, if not the capital itself. He hoped attention would be more on her than on him tomorrow.
There were still six hours before nightfall. He decided to try and sleep. He had a feeling tomorrow would be a trial.
~~~~~~~~
Kei had become complacent. While he’d never forgotten they were captives, or that his eventual fate was to be taken to the Prijian capital, these were facts he set aside in his mind most of the time. He’d had to, to preserve his sanity. In the meantime, he’d kept busy, and distracted himself with talking to Jena and caring for the rest of the hostages. Their captors were relaxed too, and allowed them much more freedom than he had expected, which they were careful not to abuse. Their daily routine, while it was no substitute for liberty, was far from intolerable.
All that changed when the ‘golden general’, as one of the young men from Ai-Tuek had dubbed him, arrived. Almost immediately, there was a shift in attitude from their guards—far less informality, less freedom and even a return of the hostility and suspicion which Kei had noted among them when he had first encountered the Prij, but which had slowly disappeared over the past two months. Some of it undoubtedly came with the returning soldiers, who had, according to the hostages from Ai-Kislik, treated them in a much less friendly fashion than had those who had accompanied the other Darshianese south. But most of it emanated from the general himself. “Sei Arman,” he was called. ‘Sei’ was apparently a title, not a first name as Kei had first thought, referring to his family’s senatorial rank. So the ‘golden general’ was not only a high-ranking officer, but also a nobleman at that, with family ties to the royal family itself. His nickname was well deserved.
The fort’s routine became noticeably stricter, but they had only a couple of days to observe it. The hostages of Ai-Kislik were only granted that little time to recuperate, and then all seventy of the Darshianese were instructed to pack and make themselves ready for the mountain crossing. Extra blankets were issued, and they were shown how they would need to tether themselves to guide ropes, brusquely taught knots that would hold them safe, and warned that if they did anything to endanger either hostages or soldiers, they would be punished severely, as would their colleagues. After a month and more of peaceful co-operation, Kei found it galling to be treated with such suspicion, as if they were common criminals—no doubt because of the influence of this Sei Arman.
The month spent in inactivity had been poor preparation for the crossing, although Kei doubted anything could really have prepared them fully for it, given that even the seasoned soldiers struggled with the steep narrow paths, drenched intermittently with heavy rain which made everything slippery and even more dangerous. His fellow hostages were terrified, and so was he—they had never been on terrain like this in their lives, nor so high up. The thinner air made breathing difficult, and his heart pounded to the point of nausea—and the panic of his comrades as they tried not to look at the vertigo-inducing views only made things worse for him. After the first few hours, when they stopped for a meal, he was forced to find Jena and beg her to stay with him, actually in physical contact, to act as a buffer. He disliked using her this way, but she told him the effort to muffle what he felt from the others was far less than what he expended in trying to shield himself, and that she could easily support him for a few days, if she had to. Kei had little pride left after the first day’s climbing, and was glad for any relief he could get.
The highest passes were icy in parts, forcing them to all move at a snail’s pace. Even with this caution, he could only watch helplessly as a soldier in front of him slipped and fell to his death. A halt was called briefly, and words were spoken in honour of the man, but then they were moved on. Staying would only endanger them further, but it still seemed a little callous. The mood of the men was sombre after that—and the Darshianese fears only grew worse. Kei truly believed they would never leave this grim and dangerous place alive.
But after the second day, they began the descent, and while it was still difficult and far from safe, just the knowledge this part of the journey was coming to an end lifted their spirits somewhat. It also helped that it was easier to breathe, and the temperature rose every hour as they came down the mountains. When they finally saw the lush greenness of the south Darshianese coastal plains, Kei could have cried with relief. He could have cried with weariness too, but that was a given.
They were given no time to rest, and were marched a good fifteen miles from the end of the trail. Then, for no reason he could see, they were told to halt. This order came after the arrival of a welcome party of soldiers, led by an officer wearing a similar uniform to that the ‘golden general’ habitually wore. Kei heard one of the soldiers say something about ‘old Ritus’. He guessed the newcomer was the general in charge of south Darshian he’d heard soldiers at the fort mention, not always in flattering terms. Camp wasn’t set up, although cooking fires were soon alight. Kei and the others welcomed food and a chance to ease exhausted bodies, and wondered what would happen to them now.
The mood of his fellow hostages was grim despite the end of the dangerous mountain journey, for it meant now they were truly isolated from their families and friends. Jena sat beside him to eat, sad and weary. Kei touched her arm.
“Can you hear any mind-speakers from the south here?”
She shook her head. “
Their thoughts will be guarded and until I can make contact in person, or they find out about me, they won’t ‘hear’ me. It is necessary for ones like us to know those we are mind-speaking to, when over a distance. Only the truly Gifted can speak without an introduction.”
Not even the truly Gifted could speak across the mountains, or the deep seas, nor over the distance Utuk was from Darshek. “
So, it’s up to us now,”
Kei ‘said’, trying to sound cheerful.
“We can only do our best, and hope for a rescue sooner rather than later. Let’s also hope the rains are not extended this year.”
Even with the messages from Darshek they’d had up until they left, promising an early solution, and even with knowing his family and friends were working hard to push the Rulers into action, Kei couldn’t help but feel depressed at now being cut off from communicating with them. He’d missed Myka and Reji before, but now it felt almost like they had died, their absence now so total, and possibly permanent. It was hard to appear optimistic even though he had to—his moods affected the others who looked to him for leadership. He wasn’t allowed the luxury of sulking.
He was surprised that at dusk, orders were given to be on the move again. Paths illuminated by torches, the soldiers and their captives walked in silence through what seemed the back streets of Urshek. Kei wondered if the Prij were ashamed of their actions, or fearful of causing ill feeling among the southerners. There was a stench in the air he recognised from his time in Darshek—the stink from the docks. Sure enough, they were marched down near the water where an enormous ship waited in moorings.
“Gods,” Peit whispered. “How does it stay afloat? Surely we’re not all going on that?”
But they were, and even Kei, who had once travelled on a boat, albeit a much smaller one, and only on a day’s excursion to one of the islands near Darshek, couldn’t help being afraid of travelling in this monster. It swallowed the seventy hostages easily, as well as the hundred or so soldiers with them, and yet had room for numerous sailors and even three urs beasts. Kei expected the thing to sink like a stone—but it only swayed as its passengers came on board and didn’t go lower in the water at all.
They were taken to a hold and locked in, with buckets for relieving themselves and canteens of water they were warned had to last them until the following morning. There was no movement, no relief of a breeze through the small portholes for hours. Despite their fears, sheer physical exhaustion meant most of them soon drowsed in the stuffy darkness.
Kei was unable to sleep so easily—his own emotions and worries were too turbulent—and so he was one of the only hostages to be awake when the great ship began to move, the shouts of the sailors and the roars of the urs beasts warning him things were changing. At least the air was a little cooler, a salty, seaweed-scented wind coming in through the portholes, an alien but not unwelcome smell.
He tried to get comfortable again on the bare floor. Urki’s head was in his lap, Peit was slumped against his shoulders. Kei used their warm, familiar presence to try to calm his fears and to make himself sleep. They had a long night ahead of them and tomorrow would bring the gods alone knew what to burden them.
~~~~~~~~
The return crossing had been choppier than their outward journey, but it didn’t affect their speed much. Arman had a couple of hours sleep, but his dreams and the heat of the cabin drove him out on deck, where he sat wrapped in his cloak, watching the phosphorescence of the waves and hearing the sails flapping and the spars creaking, but not really paying attention to any of it.
Without willing it in the least, he couldn’t stop thinking of the last sea journey he had made and with whom, and all that had happened afterwards. His reactions were too extravagant for good sense. He hadn’t grieved this hard even when his mother had died, although a child of eight possibly might not feel things so deeply as an adult would. But Loke had made so many things tolerable which now seemed an impossible burden—his marriage, a career not of his choosing nor of his inclination, the expectations of his civic role....
Arman did not make friends easily, and never had. He had always been a solitary child, his brother the only company he had ever wanted, and had found the army a rude awakening after years immersed in his books. He had adapted only because he’d had no choice, and because he had become skilled at hiding his feelings, living in a household as an unfavoured second child. Tijus had always been his friend, as had Karus, but Tijus had married young and left their home to set up a country estate with a wife who preferred her own friends to keeping her husband’s sullen younger brother company. Karus could not be his teacher forever, and had likewise left, retiring to enjoy the fruits of many years tutoring the nobility.
For months after Karus retired, Arman had felt lost. Too young to join the army—a destiny that held no joy at all for him—and without a friendly face to turn to, he had retreated even more into his books. Then Loke and his mother had come to his home, and his life had changed forever.
He wiped his eyes even as he smiled in remembrance. How frightened and sad Loke had been, his green eyes so huge in a miserable pale face that had forgotten how to smile. His father, a minor nobleman and one-time business partner of Arman’s father, had died of a wasting disease, leaving crippling debts. His wife and son had been forced to sell their home and nearly all their possessions. Loke’s mother, Mari, had been a close companion of Arman’s mother, a school friend who’d known her all her life. In one of the only acts of spontaneous kindness Arman had ever witnessed his father carry out, Mari had been offered a place in Arman’s home as their housekeeper, with accommodation for her and her son for as long as they wanted it. Loke, then only nine, was set to serve as Arman’s page—more, Arman suspected, as a way to keep both of them out of mischief than anything else.