Thraxas of Turai Read online

  ‘Magranos deserved to die. But I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘If you did kill him, just tell me. It will make my life simpler. I’ll keep your name out of it.’

  Makri is looking increasingly angry. ‘How may times do I have to say it? I didn’t kill him. What about the other murder? Isn’t it more likely they’re connected?’

  ‘They might be. Or they might not. Captain Istaros was at the card game hosted by General Maldon. When I left he was still healthy but he never made it back to his unit. He was found lying in the bushes, stabbed in the back. As for Magranos–’

  I pause as a messenger hurries past. Lisutaris has a unit made up of young messengers who can often be seen scurrying in all directions.

  ‘–He was found dead too. He’d been stabbed. Not in the back. In the chest. Through the heart. Quite a precise wound, according to Anumaris. Probably done by an experienced swordfighter. One that wouldn’t have wanted to stab a person in the back.’

  Makri prepares to become upset again. We’re interrupted by the arrival of another messenger. ‘Ensign Makri, Commander Lisutaris requires your presence. Captain Thraxas, she also wants you.’

  The messenger hurries off. We walk towards the War Leader’s tent.

  ‘How’s Lisutaris’s thazis intake these days?’

  ‘That’s secret information I’m not allowed to divulge,’ replies Makri, who’s still annoyed at me. The guards surrounding the command tent wave us through. Inside we find Lisutaris’s full command council: General Hemistos, Bishop-General Ritari and Lord Kalith-ar-Yil: the Samsarinan, Niojan and Elvish leaders of the western forces. Also in attendance are General Morgias, the Simnian commander, and Admiral Arith, commander of the joint naval forces currently tracking our progress along the southern coast. Coranius the Grinder, a powerful Turanian sorcerer, is standing beside Lisutaris. Behind him are several other senior sorcerers whose names I don’t know. I recognise one of them from somewhere, a tall man, Simnian from his insignia, though I can’t place him. It’s an important gathering, one to which I’d not normally be invited. Nor would Arichdamis, mathematician and inventor, but he’s here as well, seated by the table.

  Makri takes her place close to Lisutaris. Bishop-General Ritari glowers at her. Niojans are never going to accept her because of her Orcish blood, though the other commanders seem to have become used to her. The elderly Arichdamis looks positively delighted to see her again, remembering her as a fellow mathematician. When we shared his house in Samsarina they spent most of their time talking about his calculations for pi and his new methods for measuring the areas of parabolas. Or something like that, I wasn’t paying close attention. He regards me without enthusiasm, possibly remembering me as a man who demolished his food supplies. Before I have time to wonder what I’m doing here, Lisutaris brings me into the conversation. ‘I’ve asked my Head of Security, Captain Thraxas, here for his opinion because the Captain and I fought the Orcs together seventeen years ago on the walls of Turai.’

  That’s quite a big build up. Better than I was expecting.

  ‘Captain, you have intimate knowledge of Turai, and long experience of Orcish combat. I want your opinion on our current plan.’

  I’m gratified. It’s high time our senior officers started listening to the opinions of an experienced warrior like myself. I’ve always said Lisutaris was an excellent choice for War Leader. She gestures towards a map on the table that shows the walls of Turai in some detail. Radiating out from the west wall, a long line zigzags over the plains. I study the map for a few moments.

  ‘Is that a trench? Are you planning to undermine the walls?’

  ‘Yes. Arichdamis has provided a practical scheme, precisely calculated, whereby we approach the city via a trench, undermine the walls, and bring down a section large enough for us to enter.’

  I can feel my brow creasing in a frown though I don’t want to appear dismissive because I’m pleased that Lisutaris has asked for my opinion. Furthermore, I’m guessing the reason she gave me such a good introduction was because she’s counting on me to support her against the doubts of her military council. Even so, the plan seems outlandish. Quite hopeless. No one has undermined a city’s walls for fifty years or more. With the sorcerous power available these days, it can’t be done. Every sapper, miner and worker involved would be wiped out before they got near their target.

  ‘You’re probably wondering about sorcery.’ Lisutaris correctly interprets my silence. ‘That’s understandable. Undermining a city’s walls used to be a common siege tactic but fell into disuse when sorcerers became powerful enough to destroy attackers at a distance. In this instance–’ Lisutaris indicates one of the sorcerers beside Coranius. ‘–Dearineth the Precise Measurer has calculated that while the sorcerous powers of the Orcs and ourselves are almost exactly matched, we do hold a slight advantage. A matter of two points difference on her scale of three hundred. Not enough for us to power our way into the city. Not enough for the Orcs to repel us either. We’re facing a stalemate. Or almost a stalemate. I’m proposing our slight sorcerous advantage can protect our engineers as they dig towards the walls.’

  I take another look at the map. Arichdamis’ projected trench approaches the city at sharp angles, zigzagging its way towards the city. It’s a deep trench. In theory, the workers inside are safe from projectiles thrown by defenders. Those diggers at the furthest end of the trench, closest to the target, would be protected by a roof, strong enough to deflect rocks and arrows but light enough to be moved forward as the trench extends. Before I can give an opinion, the Elvish Lord Kalith Ar Yil speaks. ‘I still don’t like it, Commander. Dearineth’s calculations give us only a very small advantage in sorcery. If her estimates are wrong by the merest degree, our miners will be killed. I don’t want to sacrifice our engineers for no reason.’

  ‘Dearineth the Precise Measurer is a very exact practitioner,’ responds Lisutaris. ‘And we have very good information from Explorer Megleth, herself an Elf.’

  That doesn’t fill me with confidence. Megleth works for Captain Hanama, Head of Lisutaris’s Intelligence Unit. I regard them as useless. Trying not to sound negative, I ask our War Leader to clarify what she means by our sorcery cancelling out that of the Orcs. ‘What will it be like for the workers in the trench? Is there going to be a whirling storm of sorcery going on around them?’

  ‘Not a storm,’ says Lisutaris. ‘There may be occasional sorcerous intrusions, but we can keep them safe, using the calculations provided by Arichdamis.’

  ‘There we disagree, Commander.’ General Morgias, the Simnian commander, breaks into the conversation. ‘The trench approaches the walls at a series of angles. Our senior sorcerer Gorsoman gravely doubts our ability to send sorcerous protection along such a twisted path.’

  ‘Arichdamis has provided us with very precise calculations’

  The tall Simnian sorcerer steps forward. Now I remember who he is. He’s the sorcerer who was in league with Charius the Wise, back at the Sorcerers Assemblage, when Lisutaris was elected head of the guild. They were trying to have Lasat elected leader. We defeated them. I don’t suppose he thinks too highly of Lisutaris as a result.

  ‘Arichdamis is depending on his own mathematical formulae,’ he says. ‘Formulae which other mathematicians have not yet authenticated.’

  This Simnian sorcerer Gorsoman is also a mathematician. His words increase the air of unease among the senior officers. While preparing for battle, generals don’t want to be arguing about mathematical formulas no one understands.

  ‘We’ve been through this already.’ Lisutaris sounds impatient. ‘I admit these are difficult matters but Arichdamis is unsurpassed in his field. With his calculations we can send our sorcery along the trench and protect those inside.’ She turns to me again. ‘Well, Captain Thraxas? Assuming we can protect the workers, what do you think?’

  ‘If you can keep them safe, I’d say it’s a promising idea. Turai’s walls are difficult
to storm, difficult to scale. We know that from experience. We defended them for a long time against superior forces. If our sorcerers can’t overwhelm the Orcs, I don’t see us getting over the walls. As for a long siege, I can see problems with that too. They’re probably well supplied and they could bring in more with their dragons. So undermining the walls sounds like a good plan to me.’

  I’m not at all certain it’s a good plan but I’m willing to support Lisutaris against her doubters. I consult the map again. ‘Personally, I’d move the trench down a little. Arichdamis has it entering just north of the palace. We’d end up bogged down if we went in there. If we breech a section a little further south we’ll be in the wide park south of the palace and from there our troops can easily reach any part of the city.’

  Arichdamis nods his head. ‘I can make that alteration.’

  The Simnian commander and his mathematical sorcerer aren’t convinced but the others seem prepared to go along with Lisutaris. Admiral Arith reports on the progress of our navy. They’ve been shadowing us as we’ve moved east. As we approach Turai, a coastal city, they’re not too far south of our position. Their presence is soon going to be essential for keeping the army supplied. So far they haven’t faced any problems but the extent of Orcish seapower is unknown. Admiral Arith has a strong fleet, mainly Elvish. If things go well, he’ll be able to prevent any Orcish ships from reinforcing the city which will be important as we lay siege. It seems to be current opinion that the Orcs won’t meet us on the field before we reach Turai, preferring instead to defend the city. As the meeting breaks up, Lisutaris asks me to remain behind. ‘I have news. Astrath Triple Moon. Do you know him?’

  ‘Very well,’ I reply. ‘He was a friend of mine. Did he survive?’

  ‘Yes, barely. He was trapped near the palace by Orcish sorcerers and badly injured but he made it out through the magic space just before they closed it down. He’s been hiding on the coast, recovering. He managed to send word to us yesterday. Cicerius is with him.’

  ‘Cicerius?’ I’m startled. Cicerius was Deputy Consul of Turai. A decent man, as Turanian politicians go, which isn’t saying that much.

  ‘I didn’t think he’d have escaped.’

  ‘Nor did I,’ admits Lisutaris. ‘He’s no longer young and he was never a fighter. But Astrath picked him up, half-dead apparently, and got him out. He’s also been recovering, in hiding. Consul Kalius has been confirmed dead, leaving Cicerius the senior remaining Turanian politician.’

  ‘Any word of the Royal Family?’

  ‘None. However Astrath was close to the Palace when the Orcs entered the city and he’s sure they’re all dead.’

  ‘So we have no government, apart from Cicerius.’

  ‘It would seem so. There are a few other senators around, not many so far. We don’t know if any remain captive in the city. Did you know Lodius was here?’

  ‘Lodius? Really?’ Senator Lodius was a well known politician in Turai, head of the Populares party. He’s an opponent of Cicerius and dislikes the Royal Family.

  ‘He fought his way out of the city and made it to Simnia with his own squadron. They joined up with the army on the march.’

  ‘What’s going to happen when we take Turai?’ asks Makri. ‘Who’ll be in charge?’

  That’s a good question. ‘If the King’s dead, and his heirs, it’s unclear. I don’t know who’s next in line.’

  ‘Do you really think there will be another King?’ wonders Lisutaris.

  ‘Maybe. Cicerius will be senior man in the city but he’s no democrat. He’d rather have another king.’

  ‘They should put you in charge,’ says Makri to Lisutaris. ‘You’d be a good leader.’

  The sorcerer shudders. ‘When this is over all I want to do is sit in my gardens smoking my water pipe, gossiping about fashion with Tirini.’

  I can sympathise with that. When this is over my only ambition is to sit in the Avenging Axe, drinking beer.

  ‘Have you made any progress on the little matter I asked you about?’ asks Lisutaris.

  ‘Little matter? You mean the two murders?’

  ‘Yes. The Niojans have been grumbling about it. They don’t like their King’s nephew dying.’

  ‘Anumaris did some preliminary investigations but now the army’s advanced it’s difficult to make proper enquiries.’

  ‘Just clear it up,’ says Lisutaris, paying no regard to my difficulties. ‘And make my life easier.’

  Chapter Four

  Back at the wagon I find a Niojan Major waiting to talk to me. He’s a man of around thirty-five; fair-haired, which is unusual for a Niojan, and affable, also unusual for a Niojan. He introduces himself politely as Major Stranachus from the Niojan Intelligence Unit. He’s been sent by his superiors to ask if I’ve made any progress with my enquiries into the death of Captain Istaros.

  ‘Not much. The advance complicated matters.’

  Major Stranachus understands. ‘Of course. Difficult when you can’t examine the crime scene.’

  ‘I’m going to have to sort it out as best as I can by talking to the people involved.’

  The Major asks if I’d keep him informed of any progress. I assure him I will. I’ve no intention of sharing any more information than I have to, but we’re still being polite to each other.

  ‘We realise you’re in charge of the investigation, as the Commander’s Head of Security. However my superiors will be concerned if there’s no progress.’ He looks at me apologetically. ‘You understand why, of course.’

  ‘Captain Istaros was the King’s nephew.’

  ‘Yes. Legate Denpir is keen to have the matter cleared up.’

  Legate Denpir is the new Niojan second-in-command, replacement for Legate Apiroi who was killed in battle with the Orcs. I haven’t met him yet. I’m hoping he’s not as bad as Apiroi.

  Major Stranachus turns to leave, then pauses. ‘It was unfortunate what happened to Legate Apiroi.’

  ‘It was. But people die in battle.’

  ‘Of course. Though few people on our side died in that battle. I wouldn’t have expected the Legate to be one of them.’

  My internal alarm goes off, which it probably should have done already. The Niojan Legate’s death is not something I’d like to become a topic of conversation.

  ‘From what I gather, he wasn’t in the front line,’ continues the Major.

  ‘I didn’t really learn the circumstances…’

  ‘Just following on behind, apparently. That was appropriate, given his rank. Yet he was killed. Curious, perhaps. Many soldiers in front of him survived. We routed the Orcs with very few casualties.’

  ‘These things happen.’ I take care to make my voice natural. ‘There are always arrows flying around.’

  ‘He died from a wound to the throat. From a blade, it’s said. His body’s been cremated by now, so there’s no way of checking.’

  ‘Was there any reason to check?’

  The Major smiles. ‘None that I know of. I just thought it was a curious death, that’s all. But you’re right, people always die in battle and there’s no way of predicting who it will be.’

  With that he departs, leaving me thoughtful. Was he making a point about Legate Apiroi or just making conversation? It was hard to tell, with his friendly manner. Damn it. I examined Apiroi’s body after he died and I’m sure he didn’t die at the hands of the Orcs. I found a small mark in his back which suggested he’d been killed by an assassin’s dart, with the throat wound added afterwards to fool people. I’ve no proof, but I strongly suspect Captain Hanama murdered him on the orders of our War Leader. Legate Apiroi had been making a dangerous nuisance of himself and I’ve an idea that Lisutaris took the earliest opportunity of getting rid of him. I knew it might lead to trouble. Niojans aren’t fools. If they learn anything incriminating it could end badly. The army could split apart if King Lamachus finds out that Lisutaris had a Niojan Legate murdered. I curse, and retreat into the
wagon for a bottle of beer.

  The temperature has been rising as Spring progresses. I gaze up at the sky. It’s clear, only a few small clouds in the sky. Not necessarily a good thing. Last time the sky was clear there were reports of dragon activity. Flying high up, out of range, just watching us advance. I didn’t see anything myself but Makri did, and a few more of the sharp-eyed Elves. I’ve asked Anumaris Thunderbolt to organise a visit to Captain Istaros’ squadron. She’s been in contact and they’re expecting me. Before leaving I give my unit orders.

  ‘We need to identify the badge Anumaris found. Rinderan, you know sorcerers from every nation. Maybe someone in your guild will be able to tell you where it came from. Anumaris, see if you can find any connection between Captain Istaros and Major Magranos. Did they know each other before this campaign started? Droo, find out how much beer each quartermaster has. I’ve heard rumours Turanian rations are about to be cut and I need to be prepared for emergencies. I’m off to visit the Niojans.’ I scowl. I’m not keen on visiting Niojans. ‘If they have a prayer call I’m ignoring it.’

  ‘They’ll be insulted.’

  ‘Niojans are always insulted about something. We’re in Abelasian territory, there’s no law saying I have to obey a Niojan prayer call. Dammit, it’s bad enough being in the same army. What are the Niojan sorcerers like?’

  ‘They keep to themselves,’ says Anumaris. ‘They don’t mix like other sorcerers.’

  National boundaries don’t mean as much to the Sorcerers Guild as they do to most other people. Members from all states tend to mingle freely. It doesn’t surprise me the Niojans are an exception. Their sorcerers are probably worried about doing anything that might seem disloyal. The powerful Niojan church doesn’t like sorcery. They’d ban it if they could. Unfortunately for them, doing that would put them at too much of a disadvantage with their neighbours.

  I leave my unit to their tasks and head north through the encampment, finally passing through the Niojan cavalry division with their fine steeds and black-armoured horsemen. The troops are gathered round fires, cooking, or sitting beside their tents, attending to their weapons and armour. It’s quieter than I’d have expected. Turanians or Samsarinans would be talking loudly, probably shouting friendly insults at each other over the campfires. The Niojans are more restrained. I head towards a banner with the numbers 1-6 emblazoned on it. First Niojan Cavalry Regiment, sixth squadron. The officer in charge, Lieutenant Namchus, greets me politely enough. He leads me to a supply tent.