Thraxas of Turai Page 2

‘I’m not that keen on meeting Sareepa.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘There was… some awkwardness at the Sorcerers Assemblage.’

  Makri is unable to prevent herself from laughing. She cuts it off quickly and looks embarrassed. Lisutaris glares at her, then back at me. Since she became War leader, Lisutaris has done a lot of glaring. ‘I’m fighting a war, Captain Thraxas. Whatever oafish behaviour you were involved in at the Sorcerers Assemblage is no concern of mine.’

  ‘Well, really, it wasn’t my–’

  ‘Dismissed, Captain Thraxas.’

  I trudge out of the command tent. There, at the head of six Matteshan sorcerers, stands Sareepa Lightning Strikes the Mountain. She’s a strong, well-built woman. As soon as she sees me, she narrows her eyes.

  ‘Thraxas.’

  ‘Sareepa.’

  She glances at my uniform. ‘They made you a captain? Now I know we’re going to lose. We should have stayed in Mattesh.’

  ‘Pleasure to meet you again,’ I mumble, and hurry off. I can feel Sareepa’s eyes following me as I depart. Just as well I wear such a good spell protection charm. Sareepa’s a powerful sorcerer; not the sort of person you want to offend.

  ‘Too late for that,’ I reflect, pausing when I’m a safe distance away. So far it’s been a very poor morning. I wake up with a hangover in a stockade, I’m fined a week’s wages, and a powerful sorcerer who bears me a grudge has just arrived in camp. I shake my head at the injustice of it all. From Lisutaris’s abrupt manner and unnecessary punishment you’d never guess I’d saved her life on more than one occasion. I trudge the short distance to my wagon, beside which are two horses, in good condition, and three tents, badly weather-beaten but holding together due to the competent sorcery of Anumaris Thunderbolt and Rinderan, both members of my security unit. Neither is in sight as I arrive but the third member of my staff is. Sendroo-ir-Vallis, commonly known as Droo, a young Elf temporarily seconded to the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment. She takes one look at me and bursts out laughing.

  ‘I heard they flung you in the stockade!’ Droo has apparently never come across anything so amusing and has to support herself by leaning on the wagon as her laughter threatens to overwhelm her small frame.

  ‘Could you reign in the laughter and do something useful? I need a–’

  Droo holds out a fistful of lesada leaves, having anticipated my need. The first time I met Sendroo was on the Elvish Isle of Avula where she spent her time writing poetry, drinking wine, and falling out of trees. I wouldn’t say she was the greatest asset to my unit in terms of security experience but she does know about some of the important things in life. I take a leaf, cram it in my mouth, and chew. The lesada leaf is the greatest hangover cure in existence, an almost magical substance grown only in the Elvish Isles. They can be hard to get hold of unless you have Elvish contacts. I clamber into the wagon and sit down. Droo hops in after me.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Not got the clearest of recollections,’ I admit. ‘I vaguely remember some Simnian dog was cheating and I was obliged to confront him. After that, things got out of hand.’ As the lesada leaf takes effect, my head begins to clear. ‘Where are Anumaris and Rinderan?’

  Droo doesn’t know. ‘I had to report to Captain Ir-Mesnith this morning. When I got back they were gone.’

  Droo came to the mainland as part of the Elvish army. Though she’s been seconded to my unit she’s expected to liaise with the Elves every few days. Lisutaris sees this as good for co-operation between Humans and Elves. I was inclined to see it as the Elves poking their noses into my private business until Droo began appearing back from their meetings with flagons of good quality Elvish wine, after which I saw it as not such a bad thing. I’ve instructed her to tell them nothing and keep bringing back the wine.

  ‘Did you win at cards?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not one of my finest nights. Now I’m broke. Wouldn’t be so bad if Lisutaris hadn’t fined me a weeks wages. The woman is a tyrant.’

  ‘Don’t you have money in reserve?’

  It’s true, I do. In Samsarina I masterminded a stupendous gambling campaign when Makri won the swordfighting tournament. I ended up winning over ten thousand gurans. ‘It’s all stored away in Lisutaris’s magic pocket. That makes it awkward to ask for it right now. Wouldn’t surprise me if she’s already spent it.’

  ‘I’m sure our Commander wouldn’t steal your money.’

  ‘Who knows what’s she’s been doing? The woman is crazed with power. Nothing would surprise me.’ I drink some of Droo’s wine. ‘Did the Elves have any idea when we’re advancing?’

  ‘No one knows why we’re waiting.’

  The canvas at the back of the wagon opens and Anumaris appears. Anumaris Thunderbolt, Storm Class Sorcerer, is neat and tidy, more so than you’d expect after weeks on the march, her grey cloak spotless and the sorcerer’s rainbow insignia clearly visible at her shoulder. In most ways she’s an excellent asset to my unit. She’s intelligent, conscientious, efficient, brave, and quite powerful for such a young sorcerer. Unfortunately she has a tendency to disapprove of the normal relaxations of the hard-working soldier, namely beer.

  ‘Captain Thraxas,’ she says, rather stiffly.

  ‘If you’re about to launch into one of your lectures on the evils of drinking, forget it. And don’t bother running off to tell our War Leader either.’ Lisutaris specifically instructed the young sorcerer to discourage me from drinking. It’s an affront to my dignity and a tremendous hindrance to the war effort, but I seem to be stuck with it.

  ‘I was not about to launch into a lecture.’ Anumaris climbs into the wagon. ‘I’m just here to report on my intelligence gathering.’

  ‘Learned anything interesting?’

  ‘The Simnian fourth cavalry are threatening to sue the Turanian high command for damage to their property. They claim you wrecked three tents and a wagon, destroyed a stove and were responsible for injuries to five Simnian soldiers. The Simnian commander has promised to raise the matter with our Commander.’

  I wave this aside. ‘Just goes to show what a weak, useless bunch the Simnians are. Who makes a fuss over a little brawl in wartime?’

  ‘This doesn’t reflect very well on me, Captain! Our Commander instructed you to stay sober and entrusted me with ensuring you did!’

  I’m about to make a furious retort but I reel it in. Anumaris has been doing a good job in my unit. Much as I resent her spying on me, it’s not her fault. Lisutaris did see fit to issue specific instructions over my beer intake. ‘Forget it, Anumaris. Lisutaris won’t hold it against you. She’s known me for a long time and she doesn’t expect you to put me on the straight and narrow. It’s already cost me a week’s wages, I’ll make sure there are no more repercussions.’

  ‘There may be. The Simnians are furious.’

  ‘Anumaris. About seventeen years ago I stood beside Lisutaris, defending the walls of Turai. There were dragons in the sky and squadrons of Orcs swarming up ladders. We were right next to each other when the wall collapsed. With history like that, she’s not going to throw me to the wolves just because a bunch of Simnians are upset.’

  The young sorcerer doesn’t look convinced. ‘You were standing together on the walls?’

  ‘Yes. Lisutaris had been assigned to protect the section my unit was defending. By the end of the day we were the only two people left standing. I was using a spear to keep the Orcs back, and when Lisutaris ran out of spells she picked up a broken sword and joined in. A wounded dragon crashed into the wall and brought it down, which would have been the end for Turai if the Elvish army hadn’t turned up at the last moment. It was a miracle we survived, but we did.’

  Surprisingly, this is all true. It’s one of the few stories I don’t need to exaggerate. ‘Lisutaris isn’t going to come down too hard on one of the only Turanians she can trust in a crisis.’

  I ask Anumaris if she and Rinderan picked up a
nything on their morning scan. It’s part of their duties to examine the area around our War Leader for any possible sorcerous intrusion. Deeziz the Unseen and the Orcish sorcerers have caused us problems recently but our own sorcerers are prepared for them now.

  ‘I left Ensign Rinderan to do the scans,’ says Anumaris. ‘While I investigated the murders. At the card game you were at. Before–’

  ‘Before I got hauled off. Why were you investigating them?’

  ‘I knew you’d be asked to. I thought it would be wise to make some enquiries while events were still fresh in people’s minds.’

  ‘Good initiative. Did you learn anything?’

  Before Anumaris can reply, the colour drains from her cheeks and she sways on her feet. She sits down rapidly and for a moment looks as if she’s about to pass out.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  The young sorcerer takes some deep breaths. ‘Sorry Captain. I used a spell earlier, it must have taken more out of me than I realised. I’m feeling better now. What was I saying?’

  ‘You were telling me about your investigation. What’s this about a spell?’

  ‘I’ll get to that in a moment,’ says Anumaris. ‘I went to both places the bodies were found. Captain Istaros was lying behind his own tent. He’d been stabbed. It looked like he’d been attacked from behind and killed without a struggle. Major Magranos was killed not far away.’

  ‘You mean he was in the Niojan encampment too?’

  ‘Yes, near their perimeter. No one seemed to know why he’d have been there. It looked like he’d put up more of a fight. He had some defensive wounds and he’d been facing his opponent when he was killed. It can’t have been a long fight because no one heard anything. I didn’t learn much from my observations because soldiers from the Niojan security units were there and they’d trampled over everything.’ Anumaris pauses, taking another deep breath. ‘I did find this.’ She holds out a small brass badge. I don’t recognise which unit or even which army it’s from.

  ‘It was trampled into the grass beside Captain Istaros’s tent,’ continues Anumaris. ‘I only found it because I used a spell for locating items that had recently been brought into the area.’

  I’m impressed. ‘That’s an advanced spell.’

  ‘I used it twice. I didn’t realise how much it would take out of me.’

  I study the small metal badge. ‘Good work, Anumaris. Did you find anything similar near Major Magranos?’

  ‘No. But my spell was weaker the second time.’ Anumaris has regained her strength. She climbs to her feet. ‘I did find out something interesting. Captain Istaros was a nephew of King Lamachus.’

  King Lamachus is the ruler of Nioj and that’s a nation our Commander won’t want to offend. They’re powerful and they’ve never been friendly towards Turai.

  ‘That’s unfortunate. Lisutaris wants this all dealt with quickly without any upsets. Difficult to do that with the King’s nephew involved.’

  ‘Difficult to sweep it under the bushes, you mean,’ says Droo.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Anumaris looks puzzled. ‘What do you mean, sweep it under bushes?’

  ‘I mean make it go away without causing any fuss.’

  ‘How could we do that? There’s bound to be a fuss after two murders.’

  ‘In normal circumstances, yes. Here, maybe not. We’re about to fight the most important battle in our history. Lisutaris doesn’t want any distractions.’

  The young sorcerer is dissatisfied. ‘This rather sounds like you’d consider letting someone off with murder if it was convenient.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I meant.’

  ‘But that’s not right.’

  ‘It’s right if it keeps the army focused. Possibly it won’t come to that. I’ll have a better idea of what’s going on after you’ve taken me to the crime scenes. Which you can do right after I’ve had breakfast.’ At that moment there’s a tremendous noise outside as every trumpeter in the army starts playing a familiar refrain. Anumaris Thunderbolt leaps to her feet. ‘They’re sounding the advance!’

  So much for visiting the crime scenes. I peer out the back of the wagon. Already clouds of dust are billowing into the air as battalions form up and regiments prepare to march. There’s a lot of noise as soldiers bolt down the last of their breakfasts, strapping on their armour while running into formation. Horses wheel around, light troops sprint towards their marching positions at the front and the heavy phalanxes raise their spears as they stride forward. Anumaris is already outside, casting the spell which will move our tents quickly into their bags. Rinderan appears at a run and starts using his own sorcery to toss all our equipment into the wagon. Droo is attaching the horses. When they’re in place she leaps onto the pillion and grabs the reigns.

  ‘We’re ready to go, Captain Thraxas.’

  I glare at them all. ‘Dammit. Couldn’t they have waited till I’d had breakfast?’

  Chapter Three

  We advance steadily till the early afternoon when the trumpets sound, calling a halt. If we’re following standard practice we should have about an hour before we move on again. My wagon is not far behind Lisutaris’s entourage and as we come to a halt I stand on the pillion, squinting against the bright sun, wondering if Makri might be in view. She usually remains close to Lisutaris, but our War Leader does exclude her from the most secret meetings with her army chiefs. I spot her right away, distinctive in her light Orcish armour with her long hair hanging down her back. I instruct my unit not to eat all the food while I’m gone then hurry through the ranks of the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment.

  ‘Banished from a secret meeting again?’

  Makri grunts. She doesn’t like it when this happens, feeling that her job is to be close to Lisutaris at all times.

  ‘I need to talk to you anyway. I could do with your opinion.’

  Makri is a little shorter than me. She’s strong and lithe, with a sword at each hip. One is a bright Elvish blade, a beautiful weapon from the Isle of Avula. The other is a black Orcish sword, brought with her from the east. No-one one else in our army carries such a weapon. Most people wouldn’t even go near it. Makri keeps it sheathed as even the sight of it would cause offence to the Elves. Her light Orcish armour, leather and chainmail, makes her stand out, though she stands out anyway, with her reddish skin. It’s struck me before that it’s perverse of Makri to insist on wearing the Orcish armour and carrying the Orcish blade, while also insisting that she hates Orcs so much. Her reasoning is that these are good quality items she’s used to, but I wonder if there’s something else behind it. Some part of her that refuses to let go entirely of her upbringing, even though she was a slave and a gladiator, which she hated. Perhaps a refusal to acknowledge the universal opinion in these parts that the west is superior to the east? I can’t say for sure.

  ‘I have two murders to investigate. I should be examining the crime scenes but Lisutaris decided to advance so I can’t. Do you know why Lisutaris picked this moment to move?’

  Makri thinks it might have something to do with the arrival of Arichdamis from Samsarina.

  ‘Arichdamis? King Gardos’s mathematician? What does he have to do with anything?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ says Makri. ‘But he spent a long time talking in private to Lisutaris. Soon after that we were ready to move.’

  ‘Is this something to do with his new sighting device?’

  Arichdamis, as well as being a mathematician - finest in the west, according to Makri - is also a scientist and inventor. In Samsarina he was working on a new type of sight for fitting on a large, mounted crossbow, the intention being to aim the weapon rapidly and accurately enough to bring down a dragon. It was an interesting idea but I didn’t think it was near to completion. Makri doesn’t know anything about Arichdamis’s current activities, or why he’s here. I notice she keeps glancing back towards our Commanders encampment.

  ‘Are you eager to leave?’
r />   ‘No.’

  ‘You seem nervous.’

  ‘What do you mean, nervous?’ Makri raises her voice. ‘I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?’

  ‘The two men who were killed. One Niojan captain, one Samsarinan major. You may remember the Samsarinan. His name was Magranos.’

  Makri hesitates. ‘I don’t recall the name.’

  ‘Makri, you’re a terrible liar.’

  ‘I am not a terrible liar. I’ve been learning your technique.’

  ‘I can tell you’re lying now.’

  ‘That still doesn’t mean I’m a terrible liar. You should learn some basic logic, Thraxas, it might help you.’

  ‘About Magranos…’

  ‘I knew this would happen!’ cries Makri, becoming agitated. ‘Someone gets murdered and it’s blame the Orc woman! I’m disappointed in you, Thraxas. It’s very offensive.’

  ‘Please. Drop the outrage. You know very well why I’m suspicious. Back in Samsarina you threatened to kill Magranos.’

  ‘I’ve threatened to kill a lot of people.’

  ‘And you’ve killed a lot of them too. I wouldn’t use that as a defence. Did you have anything to do with his death?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure! How could I not be sure about that?’

  I stare at Makri. She’s uncomfortable, but whether that’s from guilt, or simply annoyance at my suspicions, I can’t tell. ‘You hated it that he was responsible for Alceten’s death.’

  ‘Of course I did,’ says Makri, hotly. ‘She was murdered and no one did anything about it.’

  Back in Samsarina there was an ugly affair involving fraud and bankruptcy. Young Alceten ended up dead as a result. As the affair involved important Barons it was hushed up. No charges were laid. Makri is irate at the memory. ‘He should have been tried. Why should he get away with murdering a young woman just because he’s chief steward to some baron?’

  ‘The King wouldn’t have let it go to trial. He couldn’t afford to have his senior aristocracy dragged through the mud when the nation was gearing up for war.’