1161st Year of Blaze’s Slumber

  103rd Year of the Nazalam Empire

  7th Year of Empress Lasean’s Rule

  The captain shifted in his saddle and glanced at the woman riding beside him. ‘We’ve closed the road on both sides, Supplement. Moved the local traffic inland. So far, no word’s leaked.’ He wiped sweat from his brow and winced. The hot woollen cap beneath his helm had rubbed his forehead raw.

  ‘Something wrong, Captain?’

  He shook his head, squinting up the road. ‘Helmet’s loose. Had more hair the last time I wore it.’

  The Supplement to the Empress did not reply.

  The mid-morning sun made the road’s white, dusty surface almost blinding. The captain felt sweat running down his body, and the mail of his helm’s lobster tail kept nipping the hairs on his neck. Already his lower back ached.

  It had been years since he’d last ridden a horse, and the roll was slow in coming. With every saddle-bounce he felt vertebrae crunch.

  It had been a long time since somebody’s title had been enough to straighten him up. But this was the Supplement to the Empress, Lasean’s personal servant, an extension of her Royal will. The last thing the captain wanted was to show his misery to this young, dangerous woman.

  Up ahead the road began its long, winding ascent. A salty wind blew from their left, whistling through the newly budding trees lining that side of the road. By mid-afternoon, that wind would breathe hot as a baker’s oven, carrying with it the stench of the mudflats. And the sun’s heat would bring something else as well. The captain hoped to be back in Ken by then.

  He tried not to think about the place they rode towards. Leave that to the Supplement. In his years of service to the Empire, he’d seen enough to know when to shut everything down inside his skull. This was one of those times.

  The Supplement spoke. ‘You’ve been stationed here long, Captain?’

  ‘Aye,’ the man growled.

  The woman waited, then asked, ‘How long?’

  He hesitated. ‘Thirteen years, Supplement.’

  ‘You fought for the Emperor, then,’ she said.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘And survived the purge.’

  The captain threw her a look. If she felt his gaze, she gave no indication. Her eyes remained on the road ahead; she rolled easily in the saddle, the scabbarded longsword hitched high under her left arm – ready for mounted battle. Her hair was either cut short or drawn up under her helm. Her figure was lithe enough, the captain mused.

  ‘Finished?’ she asked. ‘I was asking about the purges commanded by Empress Lasean following her predecessor’s untimely death.’

  The captain gritted his teeth, ducked his chin to draw up the helm’s strap – he hadn’t had time to shave and the buckle was chafing. ‘Not everyone was killed, Supplement. The people of Nvse Ken aren’t exactly excitable. None of those riots and mass executions that hit other parts of the Empire. We all just sat tight and waited.’

  ‘I take it,’ the Supplement said, with a slight smile, ‘you’re not noble-born, Captain.’

  He grunted. ‘If I’d been a noble-born, I wouldn’t have survived, even here in Nvse Ken. We both know that. Her orders were specific, and even the droll Kenese didn’t dare disobey the Empress.’ He scowled. ‘No, up through the ranks, Supplement.’

  ‘Your last engagement?’

  ‘Wicca Grasslands.’

  They rode on in silence for a time, passing the occasional soldier stationed on the road. Off to their left the trees fell away to ragged heather, and the sea beyond showed its white-capped expanse. The Supplement spoke. ‘This area you’ve contained, how many of your guards have you deployed to patrol it?’

  ‘Eleven hundred,’ the captain replied.

  Her head turned at this, her cool gaze tightening beneath the rim of her helm.

  The captain studied her expression. ‘The carnage stretches half a league from the sea, Supplement, and a quarter-league inland.’

  The woman said nothing.

  They approached the summit. A score of soldiers had gathered there, and others waited along the slope’s rise. All had turned to watch them.

  ‘Prepare yourself, Supplement.’

  The woman studied the faces lining the roadside. She knew these to be hardened men and women, veterans of the siege of Lee Samnang and the Wicca Conflicts out on the north plains. But something had been clawed into their eyes that had left them raw and exposed. They looked upon her with a yearning that she found disturbing, as if they hungered for answers. She fought the urge to speak to them as she passed, to offer whatever comforting words she could. Such gifts were not hers to give, however, nor had they ever been. In this she was much the same as the Empress.

  From beyond the summit she heard the cries of gulls and crows, a sound that rose into a high-pitched roar as they reached the rise. Ignoring the soldiers on either side, the Supplement moved her horse forward. The captain followed. They came to the crest and looked down. The road dipped here for perhaps a fifth of a league, climbing again at the far end to a promontory.

  Thousands of gulls and crows covered the ground, spilling over into the ditches and among the low, rough heather and gorse. Beneath this churning sea of black and white the ground was a uniform red. Here and there rose the ribbed humps of horses, and from among the squalling birds came the glint of iron.

  The captain reached up and unstrapped his helm. He lifted it slowly from his head, then set it down over his saddle horn. ‘Supplement…’

  ‘I am named Loren,’ the woman said softly.

  ‘One hundred and seventy-five men and women. Two hundred and ten horses. The Nineteenth Regiment of the Nvse Kenese Eighth Cavalry.’ The captain’s throat tightened briefly. He looked at Loren. ‘Dead.’ His horse shied under him as it caught an updraught. He closed savagely on the reins and the animal stilled, nostrils wide and ears back, muscles trembling under him. The Supplement’s stallion made no move. ‘All had their weapons bared. All fought whatever enemy attacked them. But the dead are all ours.’

  ‘You’ve checked the beach below?’ Loren asked, still staring down on the road.

  ‘No signs of a landing,’ the captain replied. ‘No tracks anywhere, neither seaward nor inland. There are more dead than these, Supplement. Farmers, peasants, fisherfolk, travellers on the road. All of them torn apart, limbs scattered – children, livestock, dogs.’ He stopped abruptly and turned away. ‘Over four hundred dead,’ he said. ‘We’re not certain of the exact count.’

  ‘Of course,’ Loren said, her tone devoid of feeling. ‘No witnesses?’

  ‘None.’

  A man was riding towards them on the road below, leaning close to his horse’s ear as he talked the frightened animal through the carnage. Birds rose in shrieking complaints in front of him, settling again once he had passed.

  ‘Who is that?’ the Supplement asked.

  The captain grunted. ‘Lieutenant Ganoe Pa’an. He’s new to my command. From Magbalaan.’

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  Loren’s eyes narrowed on the young man. He’d reached the edge of the depression, stopping to relay orders to the work crews. He leaned back in his saddle then and glanced in their direction. ‘Pa’an. From the Clan of Pa’an?’

  ‘Aye, gold in his veins and all that.’

  ‘Call him up here.’

  The captain gestured and the lieutenant kicked his mount’s flanks. Moments later he reigned in beside the captain and saluted.

  The man and his horse were covered from head to toe in blood and bits of flesh. Flies and wasps buzzed hungrily around them. Loren saw in Lieutenant Pa’an’s face none of the youth that rightly belonged there. For all that, it was an easy face to rest eyes upon.

  ‘You checked the other side, Lieutenant?’ the captain asked.

  Pa’an nodded. ‘Yes, sir. There’s a small fishing settlement down from the promontory. A dozen or so huts. Bodies in all but two. Most of the barques look to be in, though there’s one empty mooring pole.’

  Loren cut in. ‘Lieutenant, describe the empty huts.’

  He batted at a threatening wasp before answering. ‘One was at the top of the strand, just off the trail from the road. We think it belonged to an old woman we found dead on the road, about half a league south of here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Supplement, the hut’s contents were that of an old woman. Also, she seemed in the habit of burning candles. Tallow candles, in fact. The old woman on the road had a sack full of turnips and a handful of tallow candles. Tallow’s expensive here, Supplement.’

  Loren asked, ‘How many times have you ridden through this battlefield, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Enough to get used to it, Supplement.’ He grimaced.

  ‘And the second empty hut?’

  ‘A man and a girl, we think. The hut’s close to the tidemark, opposite the empty mooring pole.’

  ‘No sign of them?’

  ‘None, Supplement. Of course, we’re still finding bodies, along the road, out in the fields.’

  ‘But not on the beach.’

  ‘No.’

  The Supplement frowned, aware that both men were watching her. ‘Captain, what kind of weapons killed your soldiers?’

  The captain hesitated, then turned a glare on the lieutenant. ‘You’ve been crawling around down there, Pa’an, let’s hear your opinion.’

  Pa’an’s answering smile was tight. ‘Yes, sir. Natural weapons.’

  The captain felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d hoped he’d been wrong.

  ‘What do you mean,’ Loren asked, ‘natural weapons?’

  ‘Teeth, mostly. Very big, very sharp ones.’

  The captain cleared his throat, then said, ‘There haven’t been wolves in Nvse Ken for a hundred years. In any case, no carcasses around—’

  ‘If it was wolves,’ Pa’an said, turning to eye the basin, ‘they were as big as mules. No tracks, Supplement. Not even a tuft of hair.’

  ‘Not wolves, then,’ Loren said.

  Pa’an shrugged.

  The Supplement drew a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a slow sigh. ‘I want to see this fishing village.’

  The captain made ready to don his helmet, but the Supplement shook her head. ‘Lieutenant Pa’an will suffice, Captain. I suggest you take personal command of your guard in the meantime. The dead must be removed as quickly as possible. All evidence of the massacre is to be erased.’

  ‘Understood, Supplement,’ the captain said, hoping he’d kept the relief out of his voice.

  Loren turned to the young noble. ‘Well, Lieutenant?’

  He nodded and clucked his horse into motion.

  It was when the birds scattered from their path that the Supplement found herself envying the captain. Before her the roused carrion-eaters exposed a carpet of armour, broken bones and meat. The air was hot, turgid and cloying. She saw soldiers, still helmed, their heads crushed by what must have been huge, terribly powerful jaws. She saw torn mail, crumpled shields, and limbs that had been ripped from bodies. Loren managed only a few moments of careful examination of the scene around them before she fixed her gaze on the promontory ahead, unable to encompass the magnitude of the slaughter. Her stallion, bred of the finest lines of Seven Metropolises stock, a warhorse trained in the blood for generations, had lost its proud, unyielding strut, and now picked its way carefully along the road.

  Loren realized she needed a distraction, and sought it in conversation. ‘Lieutenant, have you received your commission yet?’

  ‘No, Supplement. I expect to be stationed in the capital.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed. And how will you manage that?’

  Pa’an squinted ahead, a tight smile on his lips. ‘It will be arranged.’

  ‘I see.’ Loren fell silent. ‘The nobles have refrained from seeking military commissions, kept their heads low for a long time, haven’t they?’

  ‘Since the first days of the Empire. The Emperor held no love for us. Whereas Empress Lasean’s concerns seem to lie elsewhere.’

  Loren eyed the young man. ‘I see you like taking risks, Lieutenant,’ she said. ‘Unless your presumption extends to goading the Supplement to the Empress. Are you that confident of your blood’s invincibility?’

  ‘Since when is speaking the truth presumptuous?’

  ‘You are young, aren’t you?’

  This seemed to sting Pa’an. A flush rose in his smooth-shaven cheeks. ‘Supplement, for the past seven hours I have been knee-deep in torn flesh and spilled blood. I’ve been fighting crows and gulls for bodies – do you know what these birds are doing here? Precisely? They’re tearing off strips of meat and fighting over them; they’re getting fat on eyeballs and tongues, livers and hearts. In their frantic greed they fling the meat around …’ He paused, visibly regaining control over himself as he straightened in his saddle. ‘I’m not young any more, Supplement. As for presumption, I honestly couldn’t care less. Truth can’t be danced around, not out here, not now, not ever again.’

  They reached the far slope. Off to the left a narrow track led down towards the sea. Pa’an gestured to it, then angled his horse forward.

  Loren followed, her thoughtful expression holding on the lieutenant’s broad back, before she turned her attention to the route they took. The path was narrow, skirting the promontory’s bluff. Off to the left the trail’s edge dropped away to rocks sixty feet below. The tide was out, the waves breaking on a reef a few hundred yards offshore. Pools filled the black bedrock’s cracks and basins, dully reflecting an overcast sky.

  They came to a bend, and beyond and below stretched a crescent-shaped beach. Above it, at the promontory’s foot, lay a broad, grassy shelf on which squatted a dozen huts.

  The Supplement swung her gaze seaward. The barques rested on their low flanks beside their mooring poles. The air above the beach and the tidal flat was empty – not a bird in sight.

  She halted her mount. A moment later Pa’an glanced back at her then did the same. He watched her as she removed her helmet and shook out her long, auburn hair. It was wet and stringy with sweat. The lieutenant rode back to her side, a questioning look in his eyes.

  ‘Lieutenant Pa’an, your words were well spoken.’ She breathed in the salty air, then met his gaze. ‘You won’t be stationed in Magbalaan, I’m afraid. You will be taking your orders from me as a commissioned officer on my staff.’

  His eyes slowly narrowed. ‘What happened to those soldiers, Supplement?’

  She didn’t answer immediately, leaning back on her saddle and scanning the distant sea. ‘Someone’s been here,’ she said. ‘A sorcerer of great power. Something’s happened, and we’re being diverted from discovering it.’

  Pa’an’s mouth dropped open. ‘Killing four hundred people was a diversion?’

  ‘If that man and his daughter had been out fishing, they’d have come in with the tide.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You won’t find their bodies, Lieutenant.’

  Pa’an was puzzled. ‘Now what?’

  She glanced at him, then swung her horse around. ‘We're going back.’

  ‘That’s it?’ He stared after her as she directed her mount back up the trail, then rode to catch up. ‘Wait a minute, Supplement,’ he said, as he came alongside.

  She gave him a warning look.

  Pa’an shook his head. ‘No. If I’m now on your staff, I have to know more about what’s going on.’

  She placed her helmet back on and cinched tight the strap under her chin. Her long hair dangled in tattered ropes down over her Royal cape. ‘Very well. As you know, Lieutenant, I’m no mage—’

  ‘No,’ Pa'an cut in, with a cold grin, ‘you just hunt them down and kill them.’

  ‘Don’t interrupt me again. As I was saying, I am anathema to sorcery. That means, Lieutenant, that, even though I’m not a practitioner, I have a relationship with magic. Of sorts. We know each other, if you will. I know the patterns of sorcery, and I know the patterns of the minds that use it. We were meant to conclude that the slaughter was thorough, and random. It was neither. There’s a path here, and we have to find it.’

  Slowly Pa’an nodded.

  ‘Your first task, Lieutenant, is to ride to the market town – what’s its name again?’

  ‘Jerome.’

  ‘Yes, Jerome. They’ll know this fishing village, since that’s where the catch is sold. Ask around, find out which fisher family consisted of a father and daughter. Get me their names, and their descriptions. Use the militia if the locals are recalcitrant.’

  ‘They won’t be,’ Pa’an said. ‘The Kenese are co-operative folk.’

  They reached the top of the trail and stopped at the road. Below, wagons rocked among the bodies, the oxen braying and stamping their blood-soaked hoofs. Soldiers shouted in the press, while overhead wheeled thousands of birds. The scene stank of panic. At the far end stood the captain, his helmet hanging from its strap in one hand.

  The Supplement stared down on the scene with hard eyes. ‘For their sake,’ she said, ‘I hope you’re right, Lieutenant.’