He wondered if he could wash it off before he had to help the general with his armour.
Roberto could not just sit and watch. He shouted his pleasure and turned to his extraordinarii, all of them staring in delight and triumph.
'What a victory,' he said. 'What an unbelievable victory. God love Rovan Neristus. God love the Conquord.' He raised his sword above his head.
'Estorea!' he called. 'Let's chase these bastards down.' He kicked his heels to his horse's sides, the extraordinarii all around him. 'I want their commander's head in a bag and on its way back to the King of Tsard by nightfall.'
Whooping, he galloped away after his victorious arm
Chapter 22
848th cycle of God, 40th day of Genasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy
The road to Westfallen had not only a fine surface, excellent lodging facilities and sound security, it also afforded its travellers peaceful and beautiful scenery. It was in every way the perfect antidote for Jhered's foul temper since his falling-out with the Advocate.
Her decision to absent him from Estorr for the lead up to, and performance of, what had been infuriatingly entitled the 'Glory of the Conquord' games was a slight in the mind of every titled citizen of the Conquord. But they had no idea of the real reasons for his absence or its potential ramifications for their faith.
The journey to Port Roulent, Caraduk's principal port on the Tirronean Sea, had been terrible. He'd been laid low with a stomach infection that had robbed him of strength, appetite and his sea legs. He had never been so sick in his life and stepping off the
Hark's Arrow
was blessed relief.
He'd been weak and had travelled to Cirandon by carriage, a herb-scented kerchief to his nose most of the way. Vasselis had been his typical honourable self and had insisted he stay at the Marshal Defender's grand three-storey villa, with its stunning gardens and luxuriously appointed private baths.
Jhered's condition had improved quickly with the added help of Vasselis's skilled doctors and their herbal and vegetable drink preparations. But his mood had not. He had found himself suspicious of Vasselis's motives and had spoken to him very little throughout his brief stay. It was not until now, with the sun warming his body as he and his friend rode a pair of excellent horses, that he felt himself begin to relax.
The road to Westfallen ran bedside long stretches of the River
Weste. It was as well-prepared and surfaced as any in the inner Conquord outside of the highways. Plenty of trade came through Westfallen on the route between Easthale and Cirandon and there were few times when they were alone for more than a couple of hours at a time.
The vegetation running along the banks of the wide, slow-moving and shallow river was a riot of colour and clogged with new life. The road ran along the south bank of the river, leaving the north bank to nature.
Marshland was the dominating feature, running almost a hundred miles wide in some places and finishing at the towering Dukan Mountains. The marshes were peerless for the student of wildlife but hopeless for much else. It was a flat, featureless area, striking for its bleakness. Jhered enjoyed its hostility, the haunting calls of hunting birds and the mournful cries of animals strayed in too far, never to escape. They were a fitting reminder that the land must always be respected. God held unshakeable dominion and not even the most peaceful of countries was safe everywhere.
To the south was where the real beauty lay, to Jhered's eyes. Plains of heather and long grass blown by the prevailing east winds giving way to gentle, tree-covered hillsides dotted with small settlements, isolated farmsteads and the villas of the rich, retired Advocacy hierarchy.
He knew the countryside well. Easy to lose yourself in the hunting and fishing, or just walking through the glades and along lakesides that rippled with light. He was planning on building a villa there himself in the next decade or so, to be completed when his days as a Gatherer were over. He was supposed to enter the Advocacy political system but the idea repelled him. He liked neither crowds nor sycophants. Retirement and silence were infinitely more attractive. Assuming there was a Conquord to retire from when the time came.
'Have you staked out your land yet?' asked Vasselis, reading his thoughts.
Jhered pointed along the line of a valley that he knew ended in a broad expanse of prime fishing ground.
'On the north ridge above Lake Phristos,' said Jhered. 'Good pasture land for my horses and the best view in Caraduk.'
'And you can have the marble quarried and brought upstream from Glenhale. A lovely spot, though I take issue with you about the view. Second-best perhaps.'
'Assuming it hasn't been sacked and burned by the time I get there to rest my old bones,' said Jhered, surprising himself with the meaning in his tone.
Vasselis looked at across at him, a frown forming under his broad-brimmed hat.
'You're being over-dramatic,' he said.
'Really?' said Jhered sharply. Since that night in Estorr his respect for Vasselis had been so much lessened and the disappointment still pained him. 'You base that assumption on what, exactly?'
'I do travel to Estorr regularly, Paul.'
'But you don't see what the Gatherers see.'
'So enlighten me.'
Damn the man but he was so understanding.
'We are under pressure. Victory in Tsard is by no means certain, despite the presence of some fine generals and veteran legions. The front on the Omari-Dornos border has stalled completely. Add that to the naval presence we must maintain in the Tirronean Sea, Gorneon's Bay and the Great North Ocean, and we are stretched far too thin. The raids in Atreska and Gosland are serious drains on morale and loyalty and Gestern is coming under more and more pressure. And if that wasn't all, Yuran still cannot cure his own internal struggles. One day we will get a real bloody nose, or worse. What then? One thing is certain, games are not the answer.'
'We agree there.'
'Tsard is strong and determined and we have little meaningful defence,' said Jhered, relieved that he was getting the sort of hearing he didn't get in Estorr.
'Against what?'
'Against serious defeat.'
'That's a bold and rather worrying statement coming from you,' said Vasselis, his expression severe.
'You haven't been to
Atreska or Tsard.' There was a
pause. 'This is serious, isn't it?' Jhered almost laughed. 'See me smiling, Marshal?' 'No,' said Vasselis. 'No, I don't.'
Jhered hadn't meant it that way. The mood had cooled just as he was cheering up. He let the silence rest for a while.
'How long before we can see it, then?' 'What?'
'Westfallen, of course.'
'Sorry,' said Vasselis. 'I was thinking of something else.' He scratched at his head under his hat. 'Not long at all now. Just up this last rise and it'll be laid out below us, looking the perfect picture of peace it undoubtedly is.'
Jhered saw the glitter in Vasselis's eyes and felt a welcome smile warm his face.
'Is there anything you care about more than this apparently peerless town?'
'Apart from my wife and son? Not really.' He chuckled, relaxing. 'You've never actually been there, have you? Always sending minions to do your gathering despite my best advice.'
'Perhaps I always harboured anxieties about what was hidden beneath the surface,' said Jhered, wondering if he actually believed what he'd just said.
'You have no need to,' said Vasselis.
'That is yet to be seen.' Jhered rubbed dust from his eye. It was becoming a very hot day. The sky was a startling blue, the air hot and still in the shallow valley they were climbing. 'How long since I was in Cirandon?'
'A couple of years, something like that,' said Vasselis.
'I swear your son has doubled in height in that time,' said Jhered.
He glanced back at Kovan, who was riding and chatting with his investigation team while Netta rode in a covered carriage out of the heat of the sun. Kovan wasn't just here for the break. He was a useful witness and, Jhered was aware, a potential conspirator. His mother, too.
'Promise me you'll find the time to spar with him,' said Vasselis. 'And don't take him too lightly. He's top-ten ranked in Cirandon these days and only just seventeen.'
'I'll be glad to. I could do with the practice.'
'How do you rank these days?'
Jhered growled. 'Well, after the games, I'll be nowhere but right now I'm third. I don't get much time to challenge these days. Much to do outside Estorr.'
''Third?
Perhaps you shouldn't spar after all. Don't want you hurting him.'
'I'll be gentle, I promise.' 'That would be a first.'
The two men fell silent while their horses climbed the last of the rise. Jhered felt the breeze growing and could smell the coast on the air. Vasselis reined in and stopped.
'Well, there you are,' he said. 'Tell me I've been exaggerating.'
He had not been. Westfallen was beautiful. From the fishing boats in the bay, to the stunning waterfall. From the golden sanded beach to the clean white of the houses built around the forum and fountains. From the fields swaying with wheat and vegetables to the water mill whose gentle slapping wheel set the slow pace of life. It was an absolute picture. Hard to believe that the heresy Vasselis admitted it harboured really ran through its cobbled streets leaching into every brick.
Jhered looked to the right as his team drew up beside him. He had been granted just two but they were of the highest quality. Captain Harkov of the Advocate's personal guard whom he had managed to prise away from his family and duties. He would cast a sceptical eye over the affair, uncluttered by religious beliefs. And the Advocate's Master Engineer, the anxious ageing genius that was Orin D'Allinnius. He wanted the view of a scientist and engineer and there was none better in the Conquord. Barring Rovan Neristus who Roberto kept with him in Tsard.
Behind them, the wagon had stopped. Vasselis's twenty guardsmen and Jhered's own unit of levium, the Gatherer's elite, waited for the order to move on.
‘I
expected something darker,' said D'Allinnius, his small eyes almost buried in his scowl. 'You painted this place as some evil stronghold. I think I might retire here rather than recommend it be razed to the ground.'
Jhered shook his head and spoke for Vasselis's benefit more than his own.
‘I
think you might recall that what I actually said was that heresy can paint the view white while inside the heart beats black and determined.'
'Very poetic,' muttered Vasselis, unimpressed.
‘I
just don't want people's view changed because everything looks pretty, all right?' He stared squarely at D'Allinnius. 'Clear?'
The engineer shrugged. 'Science is not confused by appearances.'
'Captain Harkov, anything to add?' Jhered had noted the captain was frowning down on Westfallen.
‘I
was wondering where that cloud came from,' he said, pointing to the far side of the town where, in the otherwise pure blue sky, a dark grey smudge appeared to be growing over a field of wheat.
'Steam or smoke, I would presume,' said Jhered.
'No,' said D'Allinnius. 'It has none of the properties of either.' He paused and cleared his throat. 'More likely it's an illusion brought on by the heat and proximity to the sea. Nothing heretic in that, I suspect, Exchequer Jhered. Now.' He paused. 'Hold on. Isn't that . . . ?'
Vasselis was laughing. 'Yes it is. Amazing, isn't it? And a miracle after twenty days of unbroken sunshine, wouldn't you agree?'
Jhered felt his heart racing and he muttered a prayer to God to keep them safe within his embrace. It was a solitary cloud, it was not moving across the sky and it was disgorging rain.
'You have it, you have it,' said Kessian from his chair.
Mirron could just about hear him and drew huge confidence from his words. She pushed her fingers that little bit harder into their positions around the back of Arducius's head. He was kneeling on the ground outside the villa on the hill, where the irrigation had failed and crops were at risk from the dry spell. One of his hands was in a bucket of water, the other palm upwards towards the sky.
Their abilities had opened up this past season, like the mist parting to give the first view of a new land. They had learned to contain themselves while using the energies of the elements around them, amplifying them and shaping them before delivering results that had been both wonderful and terrifying.
Mirron had been scared by what she had been able to do. They all had, she thought, except perhaps Gorian though even he seemed changed. Quieter and more studious, less quick to anger. She pushed the thought of him away; it made her pulse beat faster and a heat build deep in her gut. Concentrate, she said to herself in the Father's voice.
She could feel Arducius channelling the natural energies of the water through their bodies, he as Wind Harker and lead in the work, she as added amplification. It was something they had tried in the stillness of the villa but now it was needed by Westfallen farmers.
The chance to further rehabilitate them in the eyes of the citizens excited her.
Arducius tensed and gasped. 'Keep still, Mirron,' he said. 'We're doing it, can you see?'
Mirron looked up. Her body was alive with the rush of water energy, smooth and constant. Like earth energy but cooler. She let it fill her and grow within her, then directed it through her fingers into Arducius. She could see the lines streaming out of his splayed fingers, high into the sky above them. The cool energy hit the hot air and became instantly visible as a rapidly forming cloud. Arducius used the new energy to contain the cloud, stop it dispersing to nothing but mist and be burned away.
She was amazed at his skill. While the cloud wasn't huge, it was the fact that he could read the energies in the sky like any great Wind Harker but then use them to his advantage too. She wondered if she could adapt his ideas for her experiments with fire.
Above them, the cloud bubbled and filled. It darkened and spread a shadow across the ground that covered them, the villa and the fields around them. It was hundreds of feet above them, lower than a cloud should be, and the size of half the hillside.
'It's beautiful, Ardu. Keep building.'
'As long as you're with me.'
They were both tiring. The drain on her energies was giving her a tremble in her legs and she could feel Arducius wobbling under her hands.
'Care now,' came Kessian's voice. 'Don't push too hard. You've already done so much.'
'Time to release, Mirron,' said Arducius. 'The bucket is empty. Ready?'
'Yes.'
Mirron saw his hands clap together and then drag apart claw-like as if he was tearing through cobweb. She felt a drop of water on her forehead, another and another and then it was pouring from the cloud, soaking the ground. And she was hugging Arducius and they were laughing and dancing in the downpour despite their tiredness.
She saw Father Kessian staring in delight up into the sky, the rain making him blink hard. Standing nearby, the farmer, his wife and two of his workers all had their hands out, watching the water hit their palms and believing neither what they were seeing nor feeling. But they couldn't keep the smiles from their faces.
'All right you two, a little calm now,' said Kessian, pushing himself from his chair with the aid of his sticks. 'You should go and rest, you must be tired.'
Mirron beamed at him and both of them ran across to hug him.
'Look what we can do,' said Arducius, a little breathless.
'You make a very old man very happy indeed,' said Kessian.
'And next year, I'll be able to cover the whole sky from a single bucket, just watch me.'
Kessian laughed and Mirron watched him glance up at the cloud that was thinning quickly now though the rain still fell hard and dense, drenching the fields and bouncing from the limp stems of wheat.
‘I
don't know what to say,' said the farmer, coming over to them. 'You might have saved my crop. It's . . . well it's, I don't know.' He gestured at his fields and wiped a hand through his sodden hair.
'I'm glad we can help you, Farius,' said Arducius.
He nodded and ruffled Arducius's hair. 'I'm glad you can too. We've all learned a lot this past season or so, haven't we?'
'So we have,' said Kessian.
‘I
hope you can get your irrigation going. Just a broken pipe somewhere I expect. Hmmm.'
Mirron knew that sound. It was the Father having an idea.
‘I
wonder if young Ossacer could help find such a break,' he said.
'Like he does in a bone?' said Mirron, seeing the thought quickly. 'He might be able to sense the water flowing out of a break, mightn't he? Because it would leave relative darkness because the water energy would soak into the earth around it.'
'Clever girl,' said Kessian. 'We'll talk to him later. If that's all right with you, Farius?'
'Your help is more than welcome,' he said.
‘I
just wish you'd let me pay or do something in return.'
'When the investigation arrives from Estorr, speak well of us, that's all I ask,' said Kessian. 'Remember we are not to be feared and that God has not forsaken Westfallen. He has given us gifts and miracles.'
Farius nodded. 'You know I was one that thought otherwise. I'm sorry I doubted you.'
Kessian put a hand on his shoulder. 'There is no need to be. We have all been scared of what we have seen and we have all searched our hearts to learn if we act against God. Trust in us. Trust in Elsa Gueran. We only want the best for Westfallen, for God and for the Conquord.'
Mirron sighed. She hadn't let go of Father Kessian and she was glad. The belief in what he said ran through him and gave her such comfort. He would see that only good came of the Ascendancy. He could do anything.
'Look,' said Arducius.
Everyone turned where he pointed. Riders had appeared on the rise at the edge of town on the road in from Cirandon. They began walking down into the town at a gentle pace. Behind them came a carriage and at least thirty or forty more people on horseback. They had all known the investigation was on its way but to see it sent a shiver through her, the Father and Arducius.
'It looks like I'll get the chance to repay you very soon now,' said Farius.
'Indeed it does,' said Kessian. 'Come on children, time to go home and prepare.'
'God will protect you,' said Farius. 'Good luck.' 'Thank you,' said Kessian.
Mirron smiled at Farius. 'Thank you for letting us help.' 'Anything for the Ascendancy,' said Farius. And she could see in his eyes that he meant it.