The content of this page is © copyright Stephen Deas 2003 and is used here with permission.
It may not be reproduced in any form whatsoever without the permission of the author.

Previous Story   Story Index   Next Story

My army, or what I pre-supposed to call one, marched on Icantoka, our numbers swelling every day, full of high hopes, confident of victory. Had not the Crimson Inquisitor failed to destroy us in the swamp? Had not he fled in ignominious defeat. No matter that we wore rags and wielded pitchforks, for if he had no army left, how would he fight? Icantoka would fall, the Inquisitor would burn, and at last I would be avenged on the sorcerer who had marked me.

And then the Crimson army fell upon us in its full strength, not five thousand this time, but ten, the full force of the Inquisitor's might. Had it caught us on the plains, in open battle, we would surely have been ridden down and slaughtered to a man. But each night I scryed ahead, to see what the next few days would bring, where we might gain food and water and shelter, and what welcome, if any awaited us. Thus I saw the Crimson army in full advance, and we scattered to the hills, hunted once more, the net closing inexorably around us, or so it seemed.

The wards around the camp rang in my ears. The enemy had found us. Again. Sleep would have to wait once more. I roused the man sleeping beside me, Koraan.

"Koraan! Awake! They have found us again."

He nodded, no more words required between us, and began to move about the camp, quietly shaking my exhausted followers awake, one after the other. Always the same routine - we had been found, so the camp must be moved. If we raised the alarm, the scouts that found us would flee at once and report our position. If we did not, perhaps they would stay to try and gain a better knowledge of our strength. So the camp would rise in silence, waiting for me to lead out the hunters to slay the scouts before moving on. Every other night, the same, for even if we found the scouts, the Inquisitor's sorcerers would ascertain quickly enough where they died, and we gained only scant hours of respite.

"If we had sorcerers of our own, perhaps we could blind their eyes to us." Koraan spoke softly. I had come to know him. A former thief, cutpurse, with all manner of crimes in his past. He served me well in the nights, silent and deadly. I knew not why he still followed me.

"Aye. But we do not." A sting in such an admission - for all I tried, I could not yet master such a grand sorcery. "We must strike the hard way, as always."

"Where this time?"

I nodded. We had chosen a flat piece of ground for our camp, on the shores of a meagre lake between three steep peaks. Three valleys slid between the peaks, two narrow, one broad enough to march an army. The warding runes in my head warned of intruders in the first of these. The most direct approach from the Inquisitor's army.

"They are clumsy tonight," he murmured.

"Aye." Clumsy indeed. Too clumsy, perhaps. For why would three or four riders approach in such a direct fashion - surely they would expect their route to be the most guarded, and while the sloping peaks were too steep to march an army, they were far from sheer cliffs...

"Be on your guard. I smell a rat."

He nodded, and melted into the darkness, six others with him whom I had chosen for such work. Murderers and assassins have their uses.

I ran towards the enemy, my senses extended towards them. I had learned much of the Inquisitor's ways in the swamp, and though his army marched with sorcerers at their side, they were few, and cowardly, and would not be present on such a hazardous errand.

I stopped. Six horsemen walked slowly through the night towards our camp, wide open in plain view. Five men, one woman, and with their weapons still in their sheathes. No scouting party, then, but something else. A trap of some kind, I felt sure, but my warding spells remained resolute. They were not being fooled. There was no army sliding through the night unseen.

In other times I might have killed them out of hand. But on this night, curiosity defeated caution.

"Halt!" I cried into the night. I sensed them stop, and waited, to see what their next reaction might be. For a full minute, they sat still, motionless and obedient. Until the rider at their front cried back:

"I am general Y'Taun of the Crimson army. I seek to parlay."

"I am Skyrie," I replied. "I speak for the people here."

"Show yourself."

I laughed. So this was their plan. To kill me and sacrifice themselves in the doing. A worthy effort which would surely be the end of my army, but I am not so easily slain. I walked forward.

"You come to kill the head, so the body might wither and die of its own will?" I asked him. "For if you do, let us be on with it, and I will send you on to the great cycle, you and the throat-slitters with you."

His eyes grew fierce. "I am no dagger in the night, boy. I am general Y'Taun, commander of the third cohort of the Crimson Legion, slayer of the Yagganoth. I faced a hundred men in open battle and aided their spirits towards enlightenment. I come with my lieutenant to parlay with your general."

"Then speak on, slayer of the Yagganoth, for boy I may seem to you, but I am Skyrie, cursed of Ehwan, who led these men into battle and victory against the Inquisitor himself."

His voice grew tired. "Boy, fetch your master, or take me to him, I care not which. But my errand is a perilous one, and I seek protection from prying eyes."

Flaming acid leapt from my fingers and consumed the four riders around him. I watched as they screamed and tried to flee, and burned and died, their horses with them. And Y'Taun and his woman did not flinch.

"I am Skyrie Volution Dominus," I told him again, trembling with ire. "And I lead these men. Anger me further, and you will parlay with no one."

For a moment, he seemed ready to dismount, meet me stroke for stroke, and I felt a dagger of anticipation. Then he bowed his head, and a slow smile spread across his face. He sighed.

"Ahh, so the stories are true. You are a sorcerer as well, and our time hasn't been wasted. I cannot stay long lest I be missed, but my proposition is a simple one. The army I command has no love for the Inquisitor. When the time comes, we will turn, and while you face him blow for blow from the front, I will slide the killing dagger into his side. If you can reach Icantoka, the city will be yours."

He bowed his head once more, sharply, then turned and was gone, his cloak flaring around him as he galloped into the night.

I looked askance at the woman he had left behind.

"Why do you stay?"

She smiled. A cold smile, enough to turn a summer lake to ice. "I am Kardita, general Y'Taun's lieutenant. I will help you to reach Icantoka. And teach you the price you will pay for Y'Taun's help.

So I met Kardita, most devoted general, who taught that I needed to know of both love and war.

The content of this page is © copyright Stephen Deas 2003 and is used here with permission.
It may not be reproduced in any form whatsoever without the permission of the author.