The Serpent Tower

Chapter Six

Sardec trudged down the hill with the captive officers. He raised his hook to accept the cheers of the soldiers and he could not help but smile at their enthusiasm. For the first time, he started to feel like he had won a victory rather than caused a pointless slaughter.

He could see enemy troops being led away at bayonet point, herded together without their weapons, under the supervision of hard-faced Talorean infantrymen. Cavalrymen, impassive and intimidating with sabres drawn, watched the defeated as they trudged by. Here and there scavengers looted the corpses of the dead, performing the traditional after-battle rituals on friend and foe alike.

Beside him, Lord Esteril kept up a steady flow of pointless chatter, going back and forth over the finer points of the battle with a connoisseur’s relish. Sardec was hard pressed to pay much attention to him. He felt like saying he had followed none of this because he had been too busy fighting for his life, but, of course, he was too polite to do so.

Ahead of him now were a number of enormous bridgeback wyrms. The high command had already dismounted and were clustered around Lord Azaar. Someone had produced a small folding canvas shooting chair for the General and he lounged in it with an appearance of ease and boredom contradicted by the bright intensity of his eyes. The whole scene was mirrored in the silvered surface of his mask.

The crowd parted as Sardec and his companions approached. Some of his fellow Terrarchs bowed to him. Others watched him with steely, calculating gazes. It dawned on Sardec that he was about to enjoy an hour of fame and that some of those glancing at him were measuring him, calculating how much they should flatter him and court his attention and bask in his reflected glory. Others were looking at him with jealousy, as if he had somehow stolen something that should rightfully have been theirs.

It was folly but he could understand it. He had been part of such a pack himself once, looking at other Terrarchs as rivals, particularly his peers. A small puff of pride swelled in his breast. He was important to these people, or at least more important than he had been, now that he was the hero of the hour.

Another part of him watched it all mockingly and with not a little contempt. At dawn he had been making life and death decisions, unsure of whether he would live to see another nightfall. Compared to that, the flattery of fools and the envy of the small-minded was nothing. His smile became a fraction colder. At that moment, he looked like a true Terrarch lord.

Amid the crowd around the General he saw Lady Asea, and the three Foragers he had sent to warn the General. Weasel still looked insolent, the Barbarian looked smug and the half-breed looked at him with barely concealed hate. Sardec guessed he had earned that in the last year, but could not quite find it in himself to regret it. What did he care for the hatred of his inferiors? The thing that surprised him was that he had even noticed it at all.

Asea herself looked at him speculatively. Her expression reminded him of a woman contemplating a candy box being offered by one of her maids. Perhaps she found cripples interesting, he thought sourly. Perhaps, after centuries of consorting with the whole of body, there was something titillating about the maimed. He told himself he was being foolish, but there was something about the Lady Asea, her calm and her self-possession, that had always made him deeply uneasy.

General Azaar rose from his chair and strode to meet Sardec. His limp was barely noticeable, but Sardec was all too aware of it. Here was somebody else who had paid the price that War demanded from her worshippers. As the General came closer, Sardec caught the whiff of the strong scent Azaar always wore to cover the rotting smell of his body. The rot was there too, concealed, and Sardec’s stomach quivered with revulsion. He understood all too well why there were some who considered Azaar’s refusal to gracefully slit his own wrists in the Halls of Forgetting to be obscene.

“It does me good to see you alive and whole, Lieutenant,” said Azaar. There did not seem to be any irony in his words. His voice was thrilling and sincere, and Sardec heard within it some of the subtle compulsions mastered by the elder Terrarchs. He could not help but feel grateful and pleased, but part of him resented being manipulated even as he basked in the glow of praise.

“Your servant, sir. It does me honour to present to you our late foe, the esteemed Lord Esteril of Morven.”

“Lord Esteril and I are old friends,” said Azaar smoothly. “It gladdens my heart to see him again even on such a sorry occasion as this.”

Lord Esteril bowed, visibly swollen by the recognition granted to him by the famous General. He bowed to Azaar and then for the first time seemed to notice Lady Asea and bowed to her too, in the old fashioned courtly way of the elderly. She nodded her head politely in return. She was not about to curtsey in this mud, Sardec guessed.

“I hope you will forgive my surrendering to this young lad, Lord Azaar. I mean no slight. It merely seemed to me that your Lieutenant’s splendid defence of his position warranted the honour.”

Things had taken on a slightly unreal quality. Men had died bleeding in the mud today, and they were all standing here talking politely and in full formal courtly ritual. And yet, he knew that it could not be any other way. The Terrarchs were like that. They were polite and they were honourable. It was one of the things that separated them from beasts and from men.

The little niggling worm of doubt returned and whispered in his ear that it was the deaths of men that had made these small rituals necessary. What of it, the true Terrarch in him responded, theirs were the lives of mayflies anyway. The worm whispered that their lives were important enough to them and he could not find it in himself to deny it.

“You must join me in my tent and tell me your stories,” said Azaar, and once again his voice was laced with compulsions. Both Sardec and Esteril nodded and moved in the direction he indicated with his gauntleted hands, to where servants had already erected a small pavilion, and were preparing food.

Behind them, bullet-torn banners, stained with mud and blood, fluttered in the breeze.

“How is that you come to be opposing our advance to help your Queen, Lord Esteril,” Azaar asked. There was no menace in Azaar’s manner, merely polite curiosity. They might have been discussing the weather. It was all very civilised.

“As you know General, my sympathies have always been with Empress Arachne and her policies. Great as my respect for you is, my loyalty is to her and my cousin Lord Malkior.” Esteril sounded quite pleased with himself.

“I had thought your loyalty was to Kharadrea.” Once again Azaar’s tone was neutral.

“While Orodruine was alive, my loyalties were clear. He was a great leader, a great Terrarch, but now…” He shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands deprecatingly. “There are two claimants to the throne, both with equally valid claims. We have been here before. We all know where that sort of situation has led in the past.”

Sardec nodded. It had split the Terrarch Imperium with Lord Azaar at the head of the Scarlet Faction, and Lord Malkior and his cronies at the head of the Purple. It had led to the weakening of firm central government, and to the granting of more and more liberties to the human subjects. Sardec could not quite bring himself to resent that the way he once had. He would need to take himself firmly in hand. It would not do to begin feeling too well-disposed towards the lower orders. They needed to be kept in their place.

“And how is Lord Ilmarec.”

“My liege is well.”

“I am very pleased to hear it. I had thought he supported Queen Kathea.”

“He still does.”

“Then why does he attack her allies?”

“He says she needs no allies. All outsiders should leave Kharadrean soil. We shall resolve our own differences.”

That brought a long silence. Outside Sardec could hear people moving and the subdued murmur of servants. In the distance a wyrm bellowed. This was news. Ilmarec had been Kathea’s strongest supporter. He was a powerful wizard and could draw on large armies from his extensive estates and his web of supporters. Azaar cocked his head to one side. Once again Sardec thought he caught the whiff of rot through the sickly sweet perfume.

“May I ask what makes him believe that is possible? Even if we withdraw I doubt the Dark Empire would.” There was the faintest hint of menace in his voice. Sardec would not have cared to have the General looking at him like that. It was too reminiscent of the way a cat looked at a mouse. He recalled some tales of his father’s concerning what happened to those who had opposed Azaar in the past.

If Lord Esteril was daunted he gave no sign. He raised his goblet to his lips and said; “This is very fine wine.” Perhaps there was more to the old dotard than there first appeared.

“It is from my cellar back on Marmoth.” Marmoth was Azaar’s estate, a great palace outside the Talorean capital city, Amber. Azaar had been given it as a reward for his victory at Three Fords. The building had been funded by the new Talorean state he had helped to found. It was a very direct reminder of who Azaar was, and whom he served.

“It does credit to your house,” said Esteril. “Lord Ilmarec has often praised your vineyards in my hearing.”

“He has visited them a few times in the past. His company gave me great pleasure.”

“I am sure your company would still give him much pleasure. I am sure he would be delighted to see you in the Serpent Tower.”

“I may have that pleasure yet,” said Azaar. “And I may take a few companions with me.”

Esteril laughed. “It would perhaps be better to go as his guest than with all your present companions. The defences of the Tower are very strong, and I am sure Lord Ilmarec will guard his home with as much flair as my young friend here.”

“I would greatly like to hear your reasons for opposing us,” said Sardec, deciding that a flank attack might be a better way of getting the information Lord Azaar desired. “There has never, to my knowledge, been any cause for animosity between Lord Ilmarec and those loyal to Queen Arielle.”

“As I have said, I believe my Lord fears a repetition of what happened when Queen Arielle and her sister, the Empress Arachne fell out. I think that is why he has taken Princess Kathea into safekeeping in the Tower.”

“Safekeeping?” Azaar’s tone was mild, but Sardec thought he detected surprise in it. Esteril smiled. He was enjoying this. Perhaps because like all Terrarchs he had a streak of vindictiveness in him, and this was the only way he could repay the Taloreans for his defeat.

“Yes, milord, safekeeping.” Or perhaps Esteril was simply letting Azaar know that his liege lord had an important hostage, and he should look out for his welfare. “While foreign armies are on the soil of Kharadrea, meaning no offence, he thought it best to take her under his protection.”

Sardec smiled. “Did Queen Kathea agree to this?”

“But, of course.”

“And he sent you to oppose our advance — because we are a hostile foreign army?” Azaar asked.

“I regret to say that is the case.”

“He is taking a terrible risk,” Azaar said. “His borders are far closer to Talorea than to the Dark Empire. It is well to keep on good terms with your neighbours. Her Majesty may demand reparations for the casualties inflicted on her forces by one she considered an ally.”

Sardec sensed the currents here. Wizard or not, Ilmarec was surely as aware of the political realities as anyone. What had given him the confidence to deny a neighbour with the power to crush him?

“Lord Ilmarec has retired to his tower and prepares great magic which he assures us will see that no outsider will alter the destiny of Kharadrea.”

“We both know there is no magic so powerful in this world,” said Azaar reasonably. “In Al’Terra perhaps, but not here.” That was a painful subject for all of them. They had lost so much when they had left their former home world. Magical energy was simply not as abundant here, and the most potent spells could no longer be worked.

“Lord Ilmarec thinks differently. He is a great wizard, as great as your sister, my Lord, and just as knowledgeable in his chosen fields. One of those is the Serpent Men, my dear Azaar, as you will remember.”

Esteril was in full flow now. There was a boastful quality to his speech that might have been the wine talking or perhaps it was just the Terrarch’s normal personality. Azaar had known the Lord in the past, Sardec remembered. Perhaps he’d chosen this method to draw him out.

“He has been dabbling in the lost secrets of the ancients?” There was a note of scorn in Azaar’s voice that did not sound at all feigned.

“Don’t mock, my Lord. The Elder Races had their secrets, and their sorcery was quite as powerful as our own, perhaps even more powerful. Lord Ilmarec has already demonstrated the power of his new weapons.”

“Really?” Azaar was not so impolite as to imply disbelief but his voice held a certain sly mockery.

“Really, sir, really. A few of Kathea’s retainers objected to her being closeted away with Lord Ilmarec and tried, as they saw it, to release her. Lord Manesi threatened to attack the tower with his regiment. His wizards were ordered to summon a company of elementals.”

“What happened?” Sardec asked. He noticed an odd quality had entered Esteril’s manner. He had seen something similar among humans at religious meetings.

“They were destroyed, my young friend, destroyed instantly and forever. The regiment, the wizards, the elementals — all were destroyed in a moment.”

“There are many sorceries that could do that,” said Azaar. “Particularly if they were attempting to assault a fortress as strong as the Serpent Tower.”

Azaar sounded a little disturbed.

“This was no common sorcery. I saw it with my own eyes. A beam of green light emerged from the Tower and the soldiers were slain. There were only scorched fragments left of their bodies. A whole regiment slaughtered in a heartbeat, despite all the wards and mystical protections the wizards had erected. In all my days, I have never seen magic of such power.”

Sardec thought he was starting to understand some of what had happened here. Esteril, although he would never have admitted it, was more frightened of Ilmarec than he was of Azaar. And if Ilmarec really had destroyed Kathea’s bodyguard there could be little doubt as to where he stood, could there? He had definitely aligned himself with the enemy.

The further import of Esteril’s words sank in. If Ilmarec really had access to some dreadful Elder World weapon, things could go very badly wrong for the Azaar’s army. He might be able to destroy their entire force before they could ever breach the walls of his tower.

“You have spoken to Lord Ilmarec since he did this, of course?” said Azaar.

“I have not, my Lord. My orders came from Queen Kathea under her seal and Lord Ilmarec’s. I have spent time on my estate rallying my forces for the coming struggle. What are you going to do with my men?”

Azaar considered for a moment and said. “The standard terms. I will enlist those who wish to join my army. Those who don’t can go home without their weapons or gear.”

“It’s not total war then,” said Esteril, he sounded relieved. “In the fashion of Koth.”

“You know me better than that, my friend.”

“Of course,” said Esteril, but his tone made it plain that he was not so sure. Azaar had not taken to the field since Koth had completely changed the way wars were fought. “It’s good to know that there are still some who hold to the old ways.”

“Obviously Ilmarec does not,” said Azaar pointedly.

Silence fell between them and then Esteril said, “I regret to inform you that I cannot join your army, Lord Azaar. My sympathies are with the Purple Faction and the Queen-Empress.”

“I understand perfectly, Lord Esteril. If you will give me your word that you will return to your palace and not take to the field against me or my Queen again during this war, you are free to go.”

Lord Esteril rose and bowed. Something inside him seemed to break at that moment. “Lord Azaar, if you will take my advice, do not go near the Serpent Tower with your army. Although it pains me to say it, I do not think you will find that Lord Ilmarec will fight as honourably as you and he has access to a weapon the like of which we never dreamed of in the old days.”

“Thank you for your council, sir. I will certainly give it due weight in my deliberations.”

“By your leave, Lord Azaar, I would like to make preparations for my departure.”

“By all means,” said Azaar. Esteril bowed and left.

Azaar turned to Sardec. “It seems the situation in Kharadrea is more complicated than I thought.”

“It would seem so, sir.”

“It does not surprise me. Things are rarely simple, particularly not when ambitious Terrarchs sense an opportunity for self-advancement.”

“You mean Lord Esteril, sir.”

“He certainly sought glory attacking us, but he is not who I mean. I was thinking of Lord Ilmarec.”

“The Serpent Tower is said to be impregnable, sir.”

“I have every reason to agree with that assessment.”

“What can we do about it, sir? If Ilmarec really has Queen Kathea and intends to side with the Dark Empire, this war is over before it has even started.”

“I think our first order of business should be to find out what Lord Ilmarec’s intentions really are. Don’t you Lieutenant?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Excellent, I knew you would be the officer for the job.”