Death's Angels

Chapter Eleven

Sardec stood before Colonel Xeno’s desk. He had forced himself from his sickbed to make his report in spite of the wizards. They had wanted to make sure there were no lingering side effects from his wounds and the Ultari’s poison, but duty was duty after all, as his father was fond of saying.

His superior looked him up and down, paying particular attention to his bandaged head and his pallor. Sardec could feel Xeno judging him. The Colonel had never bothered to conceal his opinion that Sardec was just another placeman, an officer by virtue of his family connections, too young to be of any use whatsoever. Not that Xeno’s opinion made much difference. Xeno was Colonel only because Sardec’s uncle Ansalec, who owned the regiment and its charter, preferred to spend his time at court these days. He was of a good but impoverished family, a competent commander but lacking the extensive web of connections that would get him a better place. Sardec suspected it had made the Colonel bitter.

After this long, silent inspection, Xeno put down his quill, sanded his signature on a scroll and handed it to his clerk, a human mute whose tongue had been surgically removed to make sure he did not spread any secrets among his illiterate brethren. Xeno rang a small silver bell to summon a servant then he returned to toying with the small prayer crystal that lay beside his right hand.

“Light,” he said curtly as the servant entered. The human moved round the chamber, lighting the lanterns. It was that time of year when it still got dark quite early in the evening.

Sardec was glad that Xeno waited for the man to withdraw before they continued their conversation. Doubtless, he would wait outside listening to see what he could hear that might turn out to his advantage. Humans were all the same.

Xeno gave Sardec a wintery smile and gestured for him to be seated. The stool was hard and low so that Sardec found himself having to look up at his commander. It was a simple trick to make him feel his inferior position but it worked. Older Terrarchs stopped at nothing when it came to keeping their juniors in place. Wishing to show he was not intimidated, Sardec stretched out his long legs in front of him, and waited for the Colonel to speak.

“Things went a little astray,” Xeno said in his deceptively soft voice, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. There was a calm, chilly efficiency about the Colonel that always reminded Sardec of his father.

“Yes, sir,” said Sardec. “They did.”

“You were sent out to make an example of this so-called Prophet, and you failed.”

“Regrettably, the Prophet refused to fall in with our plans, sir. He simply was not there.”

“You think he got wind of our trap?”

“It’s hard to see how he could have, sir. You gave the order to set out as soon as you had news of his whereabouts.” Sardec thought it best to remind the Colonel exactly who had planned and authorised this mission, just in case he happened to be looking for a scapegoat. Xeno gave him his cold smile again. He understood the point.

The Colonel gestured to his clerk. The mute reached over and fumbled through the pile of thick, leather bound logbooks sitting on his table. He opened one and began to make several notes.

“You say there was a wizard who was involved with an Ultari, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you certain? No one has sighted one of those demon spawn in nearly a millennium. They are supposed to be extinct. We destroyed them utterly when we smashed Achenar.”

“I have never seen a living one, sir, but this fits all the descriptions in the Bestiaries. It was spider-like yet not a spider with the distinctive squid-like…”

“Yes, Lieutenant, I am familiar with what Ultari are supposed to look like. I mean are you sure it was not the product of some hallucinogenic enchantment, or an alchemically created illusion.” Sardec was suddenly conscious of his youth. If he had been only a century older, Xeno would not talk to him that way.

“It was physical, sir, as I think my wounds prove. The men saw it too.”

“Illusions are always plausible. Wounds can easily be inflicted by men in their panic.”

“I bear a truesilver blade, sir. It was not an illusion.” Sardec almost winced as he said the words.

“An ancestral heirloom I am given to understand.” Sardec wondered if Xeno was jealous. Such blades as Moonshade were rare. Even some of the Great Houses did not possess artefacts dating back to before the Exile. The Colonel’s smile widened and Sardec knew what he was going to say next. The clerk’s pen continued to scratch away.

“I understand one of your men used your blade to drive the Ultari off while you were incapacitated.” Sardec wished he could deny that but he prided himself on his honesty. If a Terrarch officer did not behave with honour, who would?

“That is so. The blade is being ritually purified now.”

“That does not concern me, Lieutenant. That is your business. I am merely concerned that this soldier’s bravery is properly recognised.”

“It was the one they call the Halfbreed, sir.” Sardec allowed his distaste to show in his voice. “Rik is his given name.”

“The one who appears to be possessed of some Terrarch blood? Well, at least he is not disgracing us.” Sardec looked at the Colonel. Was there a veiled insult there? Was he implying that somehow Sardec had? As a junior officer in the field, Sardec could not call the Colonel out, but they would not always be in the field, and then Sardec could find some reason to demand satisfaction he was sure.

“Let us return to the matter of the Ultari, Lieutenant.” The Colonel was being persistent in his line of questioning, Sardec noticed and wondered why? When dealing with older Terrarchs it was always better to be circumspect. Their motives were rarely straightforward.

“By all means, sir.”

“You are absolutely certain it was one.”

“As certain as I can be, never having encountered one before. It most assuredly answered to the description of one.”

“That is most unfortunate.”

“Why, sir?”

“The last war we fought with that demonic race was a bitter one. If they should have returned, it is a matter that needs investigated. The timing could not have been worse with this trouble brewing across the border.”

“You think it might not be coincidental, sir?”

“I most certainly hope it is coincidental but if it is not…”

“Master Severin might have been able to tell you more, sir.”

“Would that he could! Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me what happened. Leave out nothing.”

The Colonel smiled blandly and they went over the tale again and again. All through the interview the clerk’s pen scratched on and on and the whole debacle was recorded for posterity in the Regiment’s Chronicle.

“The renegade wizard was a Terrarch?” asked Xeno.

“His head proves that,” said Sardec, smarting from the fact that he had not been present to witness the death. That was something the Inquiry would bring out.

“I wonder who he was.”

“His name was Alzibar, sir. Or so the hill-man Vosh claimed.”

“I know that, Lieutenant. I meant what his background was.”

“I do not know, sir. Perhaps he was a Kharadrean or perhaps some renegade from the Dark Empire. Or if not, then some adventurer; one of those who have disgraced themselves in the Realm and seek refuge into Kharadrea.”

“You were not in Kharadrea, Lieutenant.”

“Let us say, sir, that the exact position of the border is unclear in that area.”

“Very good, Lieutenant. I like that. A precise piece of imprecision.”

“There were no clues to the Terrarch’s identity save the sorcerous tokens he bore. Perhaps our wizards can find a clue there. I understand my Sergeant delivered them to the Masters.”

“Let us hope so. If that fails there are always the prisoners.”

“We questioned them thoroughly, sir.”

“The Inquisition will most likely be more thorough. I have sent for an Inquisitor.” Of course, thought Sardec. This would be an Inquisition matter now.

“When will the inquiry be, sir?”

“Whenever it is politic. The date is as yet undecided.” Sardec wondered what exactly that meant. Did he mean an investigation might embarrass some notable? Or did he mean that now, with rumours of war abounding, was not a good time to have tales of Terrarchs involved in dark sorceries circulating. His father had told him that such things had been covered up in the past.

“It is possible that the sorcerer was not a Terrarch at all,” said Xeno blandly. “Perhaps he was some half-blooded renegade. Do you think that is possible, lieutenant?”

Sardec considered this. He could see what Xeno was driving at. Having the humans know that one of the Exalted was in league with the powers of Shadow would be a blow to their prestige and thus their power. That was not needed with the winds of a new war blowing across the Ascalean continent. It was one thing for them to hear rumours about the Dark Empire. It was another thing for them to have proof of things their small minds were not capable of dealing with. Even so Sardec could not bring himself to lie outright. “I was not present at the kill, sir.”

“A very diplomatic answer. But you have seen the head?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you agree with me that it could belong to a half-breed.”

“It could, sir.” That was true. In death, it was difficult to tell.

Xeno smiled. “All things considered you did well, Lieutenant Sardec, as I would expect from the scion of such an illustrious family.”

Sardec searched for irony in Xeno’s words and could find none. “Sir?”

“This Zarahel may have slipped through our grasp but his wizard is dead, the Ultari is imprisoned deep below the earth and we have taught the hill-men a bloody lesson. That was the whole point of the exercise, and I would say you and your men have achieved your goals admirably.”

Despite himself, Sardec felt the praise affecting him. This was his first real solo field command and he was relieved at simply not having disgraced his family’s name.

“I will make sure Lord Azaar knows of your performance once he arrives.”

“Lord Azaar, sir?” Sardec could not keep the astonishment out of his voice. “The Conqueror?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. The Lord of Battles himself is taking command in the field. He’s a friend of your family, I believe.”

It was now evident why the Colonel was being so pleasant, Sardec thought sourly. The small feeling of pride he had taken in Xeno’s commendation vanished. The Colonel was playing politics. If Azaar was their new supreme commander, and their new supreme commander was a friend of Sardec’s family then it was only sensible for the Colonel to stay on good terms with him. Sardec made a swift calculation. He would prefer to be judged on his own merits but he knew that was impossible in the modern army. He would need all the advantages he could get. War was coming, and there would be a great deal of manoeuvring among the junior officers for promotion. Sardec meant to see that some of that glory was reflected on his House and on himself.

“He’s a friend of my father, sir.”

“Very good. I thought you would like to know that he will be taking up residence at Lady Asea’s palace. She is his half-sister.”

“I would greatly appreciate permission to send my card, and would request permission to visit the Lady, should she be kind enough as to request my presence.”

“I am sure we could see our way clear to that,” said the Colonel. He looked down at his papers. As all the junior officers knew it was a clear indication that the interview was over.

“You may go, Lieutenant,” said Xeno just to emphasise the point.