The Autumn Republic

Chapter 18

Tamas gave orders to camp in the valley that night.

He put Olem in charge of setting up camp, but made the rounds himself, walking slowly through the tents, waving off salutes, and reminding the men that they had an early morning and a long ride ahead of them and that they should get some rest. When he had finished, he checked on the prisoners, then with the sentries.

“You need some rest, sir.”

Tamas jumped. Taniel stood behind him on the banks of the small river that ran down the center of the valley.

“I’m all right,” Tamas said.

“You’ve been fiddling since we stopped to make camp. Losing sleep won’t get us back to the front any faster.”

Tamas glanced at his son. Taniel looked older. Lean from weeks of hunger, his cheeks gaunt, he still managed to retain a robust physical appearance. He had put on more muscle since the day Tamas had sent him up to South Pike with orders to kill Bo. That seemed like a lifetime ago. What had it been? Six months? Perhaps less?

“We should have ridden through the night,” Tamas said. He stifled a yawn. “I left at too crucial a time.”

Taniel shifted from one leg to the other. “Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

“I didn’t…” Tamas turned toward his son, suppressing a frustrated sigh. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, the battle. It was a terrible risk to leave it in others’ hands.”

“You didn’t need to come for me.”

“Well, I know that now.” Tamas chuckled. Even to him it sounded forced. “I should have just left the whole thing to Bo and stayed at the front.”

“Indecision isn’t becoming of you.” Taniel kicked a rock into the river.

Tamas wished he knew what to say. He’d never been a spectacular father, he knew that. But even he could tell that something had changed about Taniel. Something Tamas couldn’t quite put his finger on. He could sense the sorcery clinging to him without even opening his third eye, though it was subtle stuff. Supposedly the work of that savage witch Taniel was so fond of. Tamas had his fair share of questions about that girl.

“Bo’s not a threat to you anymore,” Taniel said. “You don’t have to keep him tied up, under guard. Give him back his gloves.”

Tamas rubbed at his temples. “It’s just until we get back.”

“If we get back,” Taniel said, “and we need Bo’s help against the Kez – which we will get. A little trust will go a long way.”

“I’m short on trust right now,” Tamas said. He rubbed at the wound that was itching beneath his coat. Only the constant buzz of a powder trance kept the pain away, and only just barely.

“Hilanska,” Taniel said.

Tamas cleared his throat to cover his surprise. “How did you know?”

“When Kresimir captured me, he had Hilanska confirm my identity. I know he was the one who sent those bastards.” He jerked his chin toward the makeshift stockade in the center of the camp that contained around a hundred and fifty of Hilanska’s men.

Tamas considered it for a moment, then unbuttoned his jacket. He lifted his shirt, exposing his flesh to the chill of the night. “Stabbed me right between the ribs.”

“Looks bad.” Taniel inspected the wound from a respectful distance, aware how much his father’s vulnerability meant to him.

“I’m lucky. It was a clean wound. Missed anything important.” He let his shirt fall and slowly buttoned up his jacket.

“You need a Privileged to look at it.”

“The Deliv king has a few healers with him. I’ll get it taken care of when he arrives. It won’t kill me before then. Hilanska. That bloody bastard. We’ve been friends for decades. He was a groomsman at my wedding. Was privy to all my plans with the coup.”

“That’s the wound that won’t heal,” Taniel said quietly.

Tamas didn’t trust himself to say anything else, but allowed a nod. When they’d stood for several more minutes, Tamas said, “I could use Mihali. Hah. I can’t believe I just said that. Madman chef-god. I don’t bloody well know what I’m going to do without him.” Tamas felt moisture in the corner of his eyes. They must have been watering from the cold breeze.

“Mihali,” Taniel said. “He…”

“You met?” Tamas supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Mihali had his fingers in every pie.

“Yes. He said that I was different now. Thanks in part to Ka-poel’s sorcery and in part to my contact with Kresimir.”

Tamas remained silent. If Taniel was going to talk, he was going to do it on his own. No amount of prompting would get it out of him.

A few more moments passed, and Taniel said, “Mihali thinks I’m like Julene now. Or at least the powder mage equivalent of a Predeii.”

Tamas ground his teeth at the mention of Julene. So many traitors. So much betrayal. How could Taniel be anything like her? “You can’t take anything Mihali said seriously.”

“I think he’s right,” Taniel said. “I barely ate anything up on that mountain, but I wasn’t very hungry. I didn’t have any powder, but I could still see details at a hundred yards – nothing like with the powder, but my night vision and hearing and smell are all better than they were.” He looked at Tamas and his eyes were suddenly red. “I tore the jaw off of a man. Without any powder! I tore out a Warden’s rib and killed him with it. Well, that time I did have powder.”

“Pit,” Tamas breathed.

Taniel snorted. “I know. I’m damn hard to kill, too. I still bleed, but I’m stronger, faster. Kresimir ordered his men to break my arm. They couldn’t. I’ve changed, Dad, and it’s terrifying. And Mihali is dead and Ka-poel can’t speak, so I can’t learn what is happening to me.” Taniel stared down at his hands. His voice was raw.

“Taniel,” Tamas said. He gripped Taniel’s arm in one hand. “Listen to me. Whatever it is that’s happening to you, you’ll survive it. You’re a fighter.” You’re my son, he added silently.

“But what if it’s not worth surviving?”

For a moment Taniel wasn’t a man but the frightened boy Tamas had held after Erika’s death. Tamas grabbed Taniel’s shoulders and roughly pulled him into an embrace. “It’s always worth surviving, son.”

They remained that way for several minutes. Finally, Taniel pulled away and wiped his sleeve across his nose. Tamas let out a shaky breath and hoped Taniel didn’t see his own tears.

“Dad.”

“Yes?”

“I shot Kresimir in the eye. And then, when he caught me at the old fortress, I punched him in the face.”

Tamas stared at his son for a moment, shocked by the absurdity of it all. It started as a twitch deep in his stomach, then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Taniel joined him a moment later, and they laughed until the tears streamed down their faces and Tamas forced himself to stop because his wound hurt so badly. When they regained their composure, they stared at each other for some time.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve been,” Tamas said. The words hurt to leave him, yet he simultaneously felt a great weight lifted. He watched the side of Taniel’s face for some kind of response, but Taniel was suddenly guarded. He turned and Tamas was afraid he’d walk away.

“You have a lot of children,” Taniel said, indicating the camp with a wave of his arm. “All your soldiers.”

“Only one of them matters.”

“They all matter. Dad, can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Forgive Vlora.”

Tamas raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t known what to expect, but that wasn’t it. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the scar from the bullet that had grazed his skull at the Battle at Kresimir’s Fingers. “That might take me a little while.”

“Just try.”

“I will.”

“Thanks. And Dad? Ka-poel is carrying around the effigy of Kresimir on her back. She’s the only thing keeping him from killing all of us.”

“She’s what?”

“And there’s something else.” Taniel drew a shaky breath. “I’m in love with her.”

Tamas snuck into the main Adran army camp a day later like a man who’d lost the keys to his own front door.

It wasn’t a grand entrance, he reflected, as Olem showed a set of orders to a sentry and Tamas kept the brim of his hat down over his face, hiding behind the lapels of his overcoat. But Tamas didn’t need a grand entrance. He needed quite the opposite.

The sentry looked over the paper for a moment, squinting to read it in the pale morning light, her lips moving silently. They were orders that Tamas himself had written, with his own signature at the bottom. When she finished, she handed the paper back to Olem and glanced suspiciously at Tamas. “Looks like everything is in order,” she said, waving them past.

Tamas gave a small sigh as they headed into the camp and lost themselves among the tents to throw off any suspicious guards that may have followed. He would have wanted his men to do a more thorough search of strangers – they were trained not to put up with any of this cloak-and-dagger bullshit that officers from the nobility had always seemed to like. But on the other hand, Tamas was glad to get in without being questioned further.

The camp was beginning to stir, the men climbing from their tents, brewing coffee over the coals of their cook fires, laundresses working their way through the camp to return clean uniforms. He and Olem discarded their overcoats and slipped the last hundred yards up to the command tent. Only a few men were about, and those that recognized him shook off their grogginess and snapped salutes.

“Morning, sir.”

“Morning.”

“Fine bit of work the other day, sir. I meant to congratulate you earlier, but haven’t seen you.”

“Thank you. Carry on,” Tamas said, gesturing a lieutenant back to his breakfast. He leaned over to Olem and whispered, “Well, I assume we won by the fact that the army is still intact.”

A captain interrupted him with a salute and a “Good morning.” “Congratulations on the victory, sir,” the woman said. “Sending the Hundred-and-First up the center like that was inspired work.”

Tamas nodded politely, and when they’d passed her, he continued, “And it seems none have been the wiser.”

“Well done, sir,” Olem said, cracking a smile. He had been in hysterics over the idea of leaving to fetch Taniel, and Tamas might have never done it if Vlora hadn’t shouted down Olem’s objections. “I suppose you can say you told me so.”

“I’ll wait for that until I hear the casualty count,” Tamas said, stopping to shake hands with two privates who were stirring the coals for their breakfast. He and Olem reached the command tent a moment later and the guards snapped off their salutes, one holding the tent flap while they slipped inside.

The white walls of the tent allowed enough light in for Tamas to see several figures. Vlora, he expected. She lay across several chairs, her boots on the ground beside her, snoring lightly. The others Tamas had not expected. Brigadier Abrax snoozed on a chair beside the door, her hat tipped over her face and chin resting on her chest, while Inspector Adamat mumbled in his sleep from his spot on the ground. Someone else was curled up in the corner, a mess of curly auburn hair spread out over her blanket.

“Captain,” Tamas said. No response from Vlora.

Olem leaned over her. “Vlora.” He nudged her knee, then gently touched her cheek. She startled awake and blinked groggily at Olem, and then at Tamas.

“Sir,” she said, getting to her feet and managing a less-than-snappy salute.

“At ease, Captain,” Tamas said. He looked at Abrax. Maybe they should step outside. He really didn’t want to wake her. These things were best done one at a time. “How did everything go?”

Vlora rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Quite well, sir. The Kez fell for our trap completely. We were able to surprise them with our offensive, while the Wings held off theirs. It was a decisive victory. It went almost exactly as you said.”

“Almost?”

“I had to improvise a few times. I’ve written a full report. It’s on your desk.”

“I look forward to reading it.” And I better do so soon, if we’re to keep up the farce that I was here the entire time giving orders myself. “Casualties?”

“Fifteen thousand one hundred and seventy-four.”

Tamas staggered at the number. So many? That was a fourth of his army, not counting the irregulars. “Pit,” he said.

“The regimental breakdown of the losses is also on your desk.”

“And the Kez?”

“They’ve retreated all the way to Fendale.”

“Their losses?”

“We can’t be entirely sure yet, sir, but we estimate around ninety thousand. We’ve captured about twenty-five thousand.”

Tamas felt some of the tension drain from his body. “That’s significant.”

“It is, sir. Congratulations.”

Tamas allowed himself a deep breath and some hope for this war. “Thank you for staying here.”

Vlora looked down at her feet. “It’s the least I could do after fighting to have you go after Taniel. I did the best I could.”

“I think you were equal to the task.”

“Just following your orders. Sir?”

“My mission was successful, Captain, if that is what you’re asking.”

Vlora gave a none-too-subtle sigh of relief. Tamas wondered what she would feel about Taniel’s declaration of love for the savage – for Ka-poel. He had advised that his son keep it under his hat for a while longer, but truth be told, Tamas didn’t know what he thought of it. Not something he had the luxury to deal with right now. He glanced at the piles of papers on his desk. He would have to scour everything in there to learn the details of the battle. If Vlora had made mistakes, it would be his own fault for leaving her here alone.

“You selfish, foolish prig!”

The voice broke angrily through Tamas’s thoughts. He whirled to find Abrax awake and on her feet. She advanced toward him and stopped an arm’s length away and thrust a finger out. Tamas felt himself shrink back slightly. She was not a large woman by any means, but with her ire up she could be imposing. She jabbed him in the chest.

“What kind of damned idiocy has gotten into your head, Tamas? How could you do this to us? To me? To your entire army?”

“Do what?” he asked mildly.

She sputtered. “You abandoned us on the eve of a decisive battle. You left a captain in charge of your army and ran off with an entire company of your best soldiers – for what?”

“For my son.”

“For one man’s life! I thought you were a leader, Tamas.”

“I have responsibilities to more than just this country,” Tamas said. He could feel his initial fear turning to anger. Part of him understood Abrax’s anger, but to harangue him in front of his men? To criticize him for trying, once in his life, to be a good father?

“The country is your only responsibility, Tamas. You can’t afford to be a father. You gave that up years ago when you decided to overthrow your king.”

Tamas’s hands shook at his side and he ground his teeth together violently. Everyone in the tent had their eyes locked on Tamas and the Wings’ brigadier. Vlora looked shocked by Abrax’s outburst, while Olem hovered nearby with a hand on his sword. “I never gave it up,” he growled.

Abrax sniffed at him. “You did.”

“We won this battle. And you’re furious about it?”

“I’m furious that you risked everything. Once battle had joined, I spread the word that you returned. I personally told my officers that you would lead us to victory. Morale soared. They thought you were here, issuing every command yourself. You made a liar out of me.”

“Countries rise and fall on bigger lies than that,” Tamas said. “And those were my orders. I had returned, and I did give you a victory.”

“Semantics!” Abrax spat.

Tamas thrust his finger at the table in the middle of the room, which was covered in his maps and notes. “I fought the entire battle the day before it happened. And we still won.” Tamas felt a trickle of sweat go down his spine and hoped that Vlora had, in fact, been honest with how well he’d predicted the battle. “I did all of that in a single afternoon. I fought my way across bloody Kez, through betrayal and death to get back here.” Tamas choked as he remembered the night he thought he had lost Gavril, riding hard across the plateau south of Alvation. “I would have won this war already had I not been beset by treachery.”

“You’re such a bloody genius,” Abrax said, her lips twisted in disgust. “You can fight the rest of the war on your own. I’m going to recommend to Lady Winceslav that the Wings of Adom cancel their contract and withdraw our forces. Or what is left of them.” Abrax brushed past him and stormed from the tent before Tamas could respond.

Tamas stood in silent shock, until Olem took him by the shoulder. “Sir?”

“I’m all right.” He stumbled to a chair and sat down. The exhaustion of months of riding, fighting, desperation, and anxiety seemed to catch up with him all at once and he found that his strength was gone. His eyelids felt weighed down by lead shot. What had he done? If the Wings abandoned him now, could he finish this war?

Someone cleared his throat.

Tamas looked up to find Inspector Adamat holding his hat, looking rather embarrassed to have witnessed the fight between him and Abrax.

“In a moment, Inspector. Vlora, what were the losses to the Wings of Adom?”

Vlora shifted from one foot to the other. She’d not yet put on her boots, Tamas noticed absently. “A little less than twenty thousand.”

“Ah, pit. No wonder Abrax was so angry. That’s almost half of their forces wounded or killed.”

“They took the brunt of the attack, sir. Just like you planned.”

“Just like I planned. Of course.” His thought had been to let the mercenaries earn their pay. And they had, many times over, it seemed. They weren’t his men. They were Abrax’s, and she had the right to be furious that Tamas had used them for a millstone. “Inspector. How did the affair with Lord Vetas go? Is your family safe?”

“Lord Vetas is dead,” Adamat said. “And thank you for asking, sir. We were able to rescue all but” – he paused to clear his throat – “my oldest son.” Adamat looked as weary as Tamas felt. There were large black bags beneath his eyes and the little hair on his balding head was mussed from sleeping on the ground.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, sir. Our expedition against Lord Vetas was a success. We even captured many of his papers and men, but, I’m afraid, it was all in vain. You’ve been told that Lord Claremonte holds Adopest?”

“That’s what I was told. But one thing at a time. We still have to throw the Kez from our lands. Write up a report for me–”

“I have.”

“Excellent. I’ll read it and we’ll talk before the day is over. You’re free to roam the camp, but I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d stay close until I know everything I need to about Claremonte.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be of little help there, sir.”

“Every little bit counts. Now I would…” Tamas stopped himself. “Miss, could you come here?”

The girl with the curly red hair slowly stepped away from the corner. At first glance she seemed shy, but upon further examination Tamas recognized wariness, like an animal sniffing the air to identify a friend or foe.

“Nila?” Olem suddenly exclaimed.

“Hello, Captain,” the girl said, giving Olem a small smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re the laundress!” Tamas blurted out as the memory caught up to him. “The one who disappeared with the Eldaminse boy.” He narrowed his eyes. “Where the pit did you get to? And what are you doing here?”

Nila curtsied and then folded her hands behind her back. “Field Marshal,” she said, “I did not steal away the Eldaminse boy. Not precisely. We were both captured by Lord Vetas, and escaped when Adamat attacked Vetas’s compound. The inspector will corroborate my story.”

“Is that so, Inspector?”

Adamat gave a nod, albeit hesitantly. “I don’t know the whole of it, sir. But she’s an honest girl.”

Tamas leaned back. Every vein in his head seemed to throb, and the pain from the wound at his side had surfaced through his powder trance. There was so much that needed to be done. Could he allow himself any rest? He looked cautiously at Vlora and Olem out of the corner of his eye. Olem’s brow was furrowed as Vlora regarded the whole affair with a look of bemusement. Tamas wondered if she knew that Olem had courted the girl just a few months ago. But then, the two of them were over, weren’t they?

“So she’s with you?” he asked Adamat.

“No sir,” Adamat said, coughing into one hand.

Tamas raised his eyebrows at the laundress. “Well?”

“I’m Privileged Borbador’s apprentice, sir,” Nila said with another curtsy.

“You’re a Privileged?” Olem asked.

“Yes. Field Marshal, if I may ask? Where is Borbador?”

“Ah,” Tamas said. He forced himself to get to his feet. “That’s another important matter. Adamat, I understand you were witness to Privileged Borbador ridding himself of his gaes – the one that compelled him to kill me.”

“That is true. I saw him remove the gem with my own eyes.”

Tamas felt the relief of another small weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Good. Thank you, Inspector. Olem, would you show Nila to her master and release Bo from our custody? They are allowed to leave, but I would be grateful if Borbador would come and see me before he does.”

Olem escorted Nila out of the tent, and at a nod from Tamas, Adamat followed them out. Tamas found a seat once again and lowered himself into it with a sigh.

“Sir,” Vlora said, “you should get some rest.”

Tamas leaned back, pressing one palm to the wound at his side, and closed his eyes. “We have work to do.”

“You’ve earned the rest, sir. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Not quite yet.”

“What do you intend to do?”

Tamas opened one eye. Vlora was lacing up her boots. “I’m going to drive the Kez from my country once and for all. I’m going to break their army and then I’m going to break their king. And then we’ll see about this army that holds Adopest.”