But arrows were the least of his worries. He had listened to the words of the Ascendants and felt the energy wash away from them like a wave. Their horses had bolted away back towards the Conquord army, touched by something they could not understand. And now beneath the Ascendants, the grass grew dense and tall while beyond their circle, the life deserted the plants which withered, blackened and rotted before his eyes. And the death was spreading. Small yet but growing as life energy was channelled towards the plateaus. He swallowed, frightened by what he had sanctioned. 'Look,' breathed Kovan. 'Out there.'
Jhered looked over the edges of the shields. Multiple lines of growth fled away from the Ascendants, spreading out towards the plateaus. Grass, flower, root and stem burst from the ground, grew and withered. The energy lines drove them to brief life and stole all they had to keep moving on. And so fast, so straight. He imagined the power boiling through the ground beneath, coiling and spurting, gathering speed and density. Boring towards the latent, deep strength of the trees.
Still the Tsardon came on. They wouldn't yet see what was racing towards them. Archers were at a sprint. The first of them stopped, jabbed arrows into the ground and bent their bows. Others ran on.
'Down,' said Jhered. He heard the whisper and the thud. All fell short. 'Come on, you lot. Don't let me down.'
The Ascendants would not hear him. They were lost in their world of energy trails, lifelines and the manipulation of God's earth. And all around him, the effects of that manipulation were becoming more obvious and more corrupt. The dead circle around them was expanding faster now. The earth was drying and cracking. But still it was less than ten yards in diameter.
More arrows fell. Above the tumult of the approaching army, he could make out the shouts of the Tsardon archers closing on them. He ducked down lower. A shaft flew past his head and struck the dead ground behind. Two more rattled into the shield. Kovan winced at the impact. Menas shifted.
'It'll be all right lad. Trust your friends.'
He looked once more to the Ascendants, mouthing his desire for speed. Time was almost up. They had their range. Soon, they would have their direction too and a pair of shields would not be enough.
'More,' whispered Gorian, his voice curiously altered as if from the mouth of an older man.
Mirron moaned and Arducius said something Jhered couldn't make out. He could see their arms trembling with the effort. And their hands were buried in the ground. He looked again. The grass, the earth, the roots were growing up across and inside their hands. Their flesh looked like it was tattooed with the patterns of green and brown. They were fused with it. He shuddered, nausea sweeping through him.
There was a single loud crack that reported across the valley ahead. The voices of the Tsardon archers died in their throats. Jhered dragged his head round reluctantly and looked over the shields. He saw a trickle of rubble run down the side of the plateau to their left. A hundred yards away, the branches of a tree moved in a single violent motion.
And that was it. Jhered stared at the tiny cloud of dust that rose into the sky. There surely had to be more. The Tsardon archers ignored the lines of dead vegetation at their feet and nocked more arrows.
'More,' said Gorian. 'Push. The door is open.' The circle of blackened grass fled away faster than Jhered could follow. He felt a bass rumble. The ground shook once, gently. 'Now,' said Arducius.
The energy flooded away again. The steep sides of the plateaus burgeoned with abrupt, vibrant life. Trees speared up to the sky. Buds formed on new branches, leaves clogged twig and bough. And roots, glorious roots, delved deep and unstoppable, searching for new purchase and sustenance.
Both sides of the valley along which the Tsardon marched burst with the deep colours of genasrise growth. The growth drove on and on, far out of Jhered's sight and a smile crossed his face. Root systems invaded every tiny crevice and crack, every weakness in the rock, quicker than a lightning strike.
A series of new, louder cracks ricocheted across the plain. The earth rumbled faintly. Jhered thought he saw the whole southern plateau shudder. More cracks, deeper and sharper. Shards of rock sprang away from the plateau sides and showered the ground in between. The Tsardon army faltered. All eyes were fixed on the unearthly sights surrounding them.
Still the trees grew. Tall and strong, their trunks thickening, their branches clawing further to the sky. This time Jhered knew he had seen the shudder in the land. He made an involuntary backward move.
'Dear God-around-us-all,' he breathed. 'It's gone so deep.'
Tangles of roots twined and pulled at the rock faces. Earth began to slide down the slopes. More and more roots burst from the top of the plateau, catapulting stone into the air. A tortured screaming, as of great metal plates torn and twisted, split the air. The northern plateau edge sucked in and crashed outwards. Thousands of tons of rock from the shivered side slid downwards into the plain. Trees, earth and stone tumbling uncontrolled and uncontrollable on a length of a mile, two miles. Far farther back than they had planned or could control. Dust clogged the air.
A heartbeat later, the southern plateau cracked and fell. A line tore in its eastern edge, roots burst through it, forcing it wider and wider until it split. Eighty yards and more collapsed out and began to fall. And behind it, the lake bed was fractured and the water burst outwards, shorn of its rock shackles.
A wall of blue and green and grey exploded into the plain. Jhered saw slabs of stone tossed hundreds of feet into the sky as the pressure of ages was released. Mud, trees and stone all poured down in a wave that engulfed the plain and the Tsardon army within. They had nowhere to go.
He saw horses rear and men began to run away from the colossal volume of water thundering down towards them, directed along the valley by the Ascendants at his feet.
They could not know what it was they did. The density of bedrock and hard wood crashing down on to the helpless enemy. And as fast as they ran, the water gushed after them, catching them and grabbing them in its drowning embrace. Or the sides of the plateaus rushed down to catch them in great stone pincers. Battering, threshing, crushing.
The sound of the earth tearing itself apart smashed around his ears. The screams of the Tsardon were lost in the roar of water. The drumming of hooves silenced under the hail of rock.
'Stop!' he yelled into Gorian's ear. 'Stop. The Work is done.'
Water charged against the opposite side of the valley in a wave and fell back. The wash came towards them. Calmer now, rolling stone a few yards before depositing it and rippling on. It was the wetness over their hands and legs that brought the Ascendants round.
They slumped back on to the ground, faces lined with age, hair lank and fingers wrinkled. They gasped great lungfuls of air and lay helpless and exhausted. Mirron was the first to try and rise but Menas was to her feet very quickly, pushing her back down.
'Don't look, honey. Best you don't look.'
Jhered stood and turned his back on the devastation. On the countless bodies broken by water, rock and wood; on the screams of the wounded and the fleeing; on the few Tsardon who by some miracle had survived; and on the lucky ones far enough back along the march to escape. On the rout of seven thousand.
He looked away to the Conquord legions and the banners and standards still held high and proud. To the faces of legionary and cavalryman. Of centurion and general, surgeon and engineer.
And the silence rolled over him.
Chapter 63
848th cycle of God, 40th day of
Solasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy
Eventually Roberto ordered the army back to the plateau to make camp. He had waited for them to break and run towards the plain. To overrun Jhered and his witches and tear them limb from limb for the atrocity they had caused under God's sky. But they hadn't. After all, if they could do that to a hillside, what could they do to a man?
He had sat on his horse and let the noise surge around him. He had listened to the prayers and exhortations for deliverance. He had heard them try and explain it all away. A natural phenomenon. A visitation from the Omniscient on the evil Tsardon. The prayers for mercy had even turned in some quarters to those of thanks. But in all their hearts, they knew. They had all seen the dark spread from the kneeling children in a perfect circle. They didn't know what it was but it had heralded the sloughing of the rock onto the plain and the destruction of the enemy.
He had ridden across the back and front of the infantry lines. Their discipline was first-rate and he was gladdened by it. But he could see the confusion and fear in every face. It was in the set of their bodies where they stood in strict maniple order. And the centurions who kept them steady had fared no better. Eyes gazed up at him from under plumed helmets and he nodded his thanks to them.
He had kept back a hundred cavalry under Elise Kastenas's personal guidance to defend their retreat. She had taken her detachment to the edge of the valley. It was covered in bodies and boulders and the shattered trunks and branches of trees. It was as if God had grabbed a fistful of the earth and thrown it down, not caring who He killed.
Finally, Roberto had calmed himself enough to ride alone across
the half mile from his front lines to where Jhered, Appros Menas, the misguided Kovan Vasselis and the Ascendants remained. The boy had found two of their horses and held the reins of the skittish animals in one hand.
Two of the Ascendants appeared distressed as he approached. He could find no sympathy for them. Indeed, this was the closest he had been to any of them and he found the proximity distasteful. He dismounted a few yards from them and let his horse wander away to find some grass on which to graze. He nodded curtly at young Vasselis.
'You should know better. Why did you let him get you into this?'
Jhered stood from where he and Menas had been tending to the youngsters and walked towards him, stopping Kovan's response with a hand.
One of the Ascendants, a strong-looking lad, well-muscled though with an age-lined face, caught his eye. Roberto flinched. The orbs he met were unnatural. Colours chased across their surface; orange clearing to a slate grey.
'Look at what we did,' he said, his voice dry and cracked. 'We helped you. Won a victory for you.'
'Is that right?' said Roberto. He fixed his gaze on Jhered. 'What have you done here?'
'Exactly what Gorian said,' replied Jhered. There was the lightness of satisfaction in his tone and his expression. 'We have used the trees to break the hillside. We've saved you days. And you haven't sustained a single casualty.'
'No?' Roberto kept his hands firmly by his sides. 'Every man and woman in my army is damaged, Exchequer. Every one of them will relive what they have seen in their nightmares. Some of them may never be able to keep the quiver from their sword arms. I lined up almost eleven thousand citizens and you gave them a freak show.'
'You wouldn't listen, Roberto,' said Jhered. 'I told you we could do this. I had to prove it to you. You had the option to keep every citizen in your legions out of sight.'
'You gave me no option,' snapped Roberto. 'We needed this battle. We needed to feel enemy flesh beneath our swords to give us belief. We have had nothing but plague, desertion and betrayal since genas-fall. And you denied us even that. This . . .' Roberto waved his hand around him. 'This demonstration does not help my cause. It is self-serving, it is against my orders and it leaves me with an army uncertain whether the next mountain they walk beneath will fall on their heads.'
'We are on your side.' Jhered's voice rose in volume. 'The Ascendants will never harm a Conquord soldier.'
'And you think I can ride up and tell them that so they believe me? I know what I saw and it scares me to my very heart. You are a maverick, Jhered. You're dangerous.'
'Damn you, do not disrespect me, General Del Aglios.' Jhered's eyes flashed. 'Everything I do is for the Conquord and for your mother. And I will not stand by while you call that into question.'
'Then go, Exchequer Jhered. I will not stand in your way. But neither will I have you with my army or even with the camp-followers. You really have no idea what you have done, do you?'
'I have destroyed or scattered an army of seven thousand today, General. What have you done?'
Roberto raised a gauntleted finger and pressed it to Jhered's chest. 'Be very careful, Exchequer. You might hold great sway in Estorr and in the provinces you terrify into paying your taxes. But out here, it is me who rules.'
'One day, Roberto, you will see your error. And on that day, I will be proud to embrace you as my friend. I only hope that when that day comes, we still have a Conquord to serve.'
Roberto dropped his hand. 'I do not see that day,' he said quietly.
'Do not hate us.'
One of the Ascendants had spoken. Roberto glared down at him, sprawled on the ground, exhausted. 'What?' he asked. 'Speak up, Arducius,' said Jhered.
'Do not hate us, General Del Aglios. All we want is to be back with our families and those we love. Just like you and your army. We are not evil. No one should fear us.'
Roberto shook his head. 'You are unnatural. No one should have the power to break mountains. No one.'
He turned and rode away without a backward glance.
'Even the lion-hearted are prey to fear.'
'Hmm?' Jhered turned from staring at Roberto's receding back. Kovan was walking across to him.
'It's something Father Kessian used to say. He knew in his heart that the acceptance of the Ascendancy would be fraught. He always tried to put a smiling face on it but he knew.'
Jhered pushed a hand through his hair. It was covered in dust and damp. 'He knew a lot of things we could use right now.'
'What do we do now?' asked Kovan.
Jhered felt all their eyes on him. He'd been so sure that Roberto would see beyond the confines of their faith for the purposes of winning the war. The demonstration should have been all the proof he needed. The last thing in his mind was to be stranded here beneath the Atreskan plateaus. Far from safety, far from the next conflict. And without enough horses to take them all.
He forced his disappointment aside and shrugged off the crushing feeling that he had failed. He crouched by the Ascendants, between Arducius and Gorian. Mirron was lying in Menas's arms and her tear-stained face pained his heart. Ossacer could not take his sightless eyes from the jumbled plain, his mouth moving soundlessly. They were problems to be tackled just a little later.
Jhered placed what he hoped would be a fatherly, encouraging hand each on Gorian and Arducius's shoulders.
'What we don't do is give up,' he said. 'General Del Aglios might be frightened of your power. He and his army might hate you. But we know what we are doing is right and the only choice if we are to save our homes, our families and our Conquord. I am proud of you. All of you. I asked a huge task of you and you did not let me down. More, you won a great victory and there will come a day when it is written into the legends of the Conquord.
'It is easy to despair at the reactions of those we are endeavouring to help but we must not. I believe in you. The Karku believe in you and that cannot be underestimated. And soon enough, the Conquord will accept and believe in you too. You are the future of this world.'
He felt both Arducius and Gorian respond under his hands. They straightened where they sat and, despite the exhaustion they must have felt, managed to look at him with the belief he wanted from them. But Mirron had not responded at all and Ossacer's aged face was crumpled with grief.
'You made us kill,' he whispered, his voice broken. Arducius dragged him into an embrace and he began to sob again. 'We aren't here to kill. And thousands are dead. I can sense nothing out there but grey and dark. You've made us into murderers.'
'Shhh, Ossie,' said Arducius. 'It wasn't anyone's fault. We couldn't know that the roots would find so many weak points in the rock. We couldn't know it would travel so far. You can't blame yourself.'
'Thousands are still dead. And we made it happen.'
'Yes,' said Jhered. 'You did. But you were doing my bidding. And as your commander, the blood is on my hands and not yours. It is my responsibility.'
He knew his words must sound hollow to Ossacer. He was so young. Too young to be faced with what he had done.
'Look,' he said. 'We need to get away from here. The sun will go down and it will get cold. We need a fire and hot food. So let's get up to the plateau you broke, because one thing we do know is that there won't be any Tsardon on it. All right?'
'But where are we going to go?' asked Ossacer, wiping the tears from his eyes.
'Right now, south to Gestern. Because whatever Roberto Del Aglios thinks, we can help stop the Tsardon fleet reaching Estorea and Caraduk. And if he still does not want you, then we will go to the one corner of the Conquord that does. The one place where you are accepted for what you are and can protect those you love. We will go to Westfallen.'
'You cannot let them go free, General,' said Ellas Lennart, the army's Prime Speaker. 'They are heretic. They are against the scriptures and they act above God. For the sake of your army, you must arrest them.'
'And do what, Ellas?' Roberto rounded on him.
It was late, he was tired and still shaken from what he had seen. He had endured a procession of senior soldiers through his tent demanding anything from their immediate burning to their use as the greatest weapon the Conquord possessed. He was only surprised the Speaker had left it so long to visit.
'Your duty as an officer of the Conquord legions and a believer in the Omniscient.'
'Don't speak to me of duty, Ellas. There is not one here who understands his duty more keenly than I do.' He turned from the door of his tent and the single fire on the shattered southern plateau.
'And if I bring them here, what then? I stir fear among my legions because at our centre are the very children responsible for the annihilation of an entire Tsardon army. If I want mutiny, then I can think of no quicker way to provoke it.'
'Then you must see them tried and executed.'
'You are so sure of their guilt?' asked Roberto. 'Why bother with a trial, eh?'
'Why indeed.'
Roberto raised his eyebrows. Ellas, normally so mild-mannered, had a face that burned with zealous fury.
'Because, Ellas, the Advocate has forbidden us to harm them. For whatever reason, Paul Jhered has persuaded her of their worth for now at least. And I will not defy her word. But not to harm them does not necessarily include bringing them to my bosom and it certainly does not include bringing their evil to the heart of my army.'
'But if you believe them evil then surely—'
'Enough, enough,' said Roberto. 'The decision is made, Ellas. And now I am tired and we are marching in just a few hours. Give a man the chance to rest, please.'
Ellas stiffened. 'It is not a chance you are giving me. I will find no rest while those things are out there mocking my God. Our God.'
'That is something I will just have to live with, isn't it?'
Roberto waved the Speaker out. He walked over to his cot and sat down heavily. The Conquord might have won the day but he felt robbed of victory. His army was as unsettled and frightened as if the day had been taken by the Tsardon.
'Damn you, Paul, what have you done?'
He lay down and stretched out tired legs. He forced himself to find a clear path through the confusion that had encased his mind since the unbelievable events of the day. There were positives. They had been spared days of chase and skirmish and they had suffered no physical casualties. Their marching path was clear; seven thousand Tsardon were out of the game and they could join the battle for Gestern at the earliest opportunity.
In the morning, he would send messengers to try and break through to the Neratharnese border. Right now, they would have no hope. And without hope, they would not hold the line against the Tsardon and rebel Atreskan armies. He had to give them that hope. That if they could hold until mid-dusasrise, then they would be relieved. That he, Roberto Del Aglios, would come and bring his legions with him. In the morning.
He awoke fully dressed on top of his cot, feeling disoriented. The camp was quiet and a chill wind was ruffling the canvas of his tent. He rubbed at his bare arms and sat up, meaning to remove his boots and pull up his blanket but not sure that it was the cold that had awoken him. He blinked into the darkness.
'It's customary to announce yourself before entering the tent of the General,' he said. 'And I always wanted to know who it was that had come to kill me.'
‘I
have not come to kill you.'
The shadow Roberto had made out came closer, resolving itself into a filthy Atreskan swordsman. He was holding a dagger. 'Goran?'
'I'm sorry to have to disturb you, Roberto,' said Shakarov.
Roberto's eyes had adjusted to the dark a little more. Shakarov was dressed in the clothes that he had walked away in, though he was furnished again with weapons and Conquord armour.
'There are a lot of dead legionaries in Atreska,' he said, noticing Roberto's gaze. 'That's why I'm here.'
'How did you get in here?' Roberto's shock was subsiding to anger.
'Not everyone who remained with you agrees with you. You're not naive enough to believe otherwise. I had need to get access.' 'Davarov?'
'No,' said Shakarov. 'He would kill me if he knew I was in here.'
'He's not the only one. Where's Herides? Where are my guards?'
'Temporarily diverted,' said Shakarov. 'None are to blame. You are under no threat from me.'
'No?' Roberto stared at Shakarov. He sighed. 'Well you're here now. God's sake, put that dagger away and sit, sit.' He indicated the chair at his map desk. 'Come to beg for a return?'
'No, General,' said Shakarov. He sat down and laid the dagger in his lap. 'But to divert you from your disastrous course.'