Sathina shimmied down the bole of the tree with the ease and balance of youth and dropped lightly to the floor next to Kiva.
“There’s a whole load of people coming, general. Some are nearly here, but there’s others up by the buildings and I think they’re being chased by the guards.”
Kiva grunted. “Ok. Come on.”
Without a word, the young lady collected her small hand crossbow and went to support the wounded general where he hobbled out of the clearing. She was impressed at the speed with which he seemed to be recovering from the most horrendous wounds. Indeed, he seemed to be groaning a lot less too. Though he was slow moving along the path out of the trees, he used only one stick, reaching out with the other arm to lean on branches as he moved. She followed him faithfully along the track and then down to a slight dip.
Here, though few knew it, was a timber cover hidden among the undergrowth that Sathina crouched above and hauled on. The wooden trap door creaked and groaned and fell back onto the turf and scrub with a crunch. Beneath, dank and slippery stone steps climbed down into the earth for around twenty feet where, by faint moonlight, a hidden jetty was visible, stocked with supplies. Three wooden boats bumped into each other repeatedly with the waves.
She looked back up at the general. “What now?”
Kiva peered across the dark landscape. There was the sound of distant fighting, and figures were moving through the trees. “Now you get down those steps and untie one of the boats. I’ll take that crossbow for a moment.”
Without question Sathina handed him the small, portable weapon and started down the steps, pausing before she disappeared.
“Can you see Tythias?”
Kiva raised an eyebrow as he turned to look down, cocking the weapon. “Not yet, but that’s guards screaming, not our men. He’ll be here soon enough.”
With a smile, the girl disappeared down the stairs just as the first group of islanders burst into the clearing through the sparse trees and undergrowth. A young man with a shock of unruly red hair came to a halt, motioning the others to stop as he saw the crossbow aimed toward them. As soon as Kiva was sure they were all islanders and he was in no danger, he lowered the bow and leaned heavily against a tree stump.
“General Caerdin,” the young man said breathlessly. “What’s next sir?”
Kiva pointed at the barely visible hole. “Get the people down there, load the boats and be ready to sail.”
As the young redhead made to move past him the general held out his hand. “Is there anyone here who feels confident in handling a sword?”
Among the crowd a few hands were raised, somewhat hesitantly.
“We could do with a little help keeping the guard entertained while the first boats get underway. Behind that bush,” he announced, gesturing, “is a small pile of weapons. Anyone who feels they can help, grab a sword and stand to. Any sailors or fishermen, head down there and get the boats primed.”
The majority of the group stepped down into the passageway, as five men made for the armoury and prepared themselves. They stood firmly beside the general, the young man with red hair coughing nervously.
“How many boats are there down there? There are a lot of people, you know?”
Kiva nodded. “Three boats. Big ones though. These are old troop transports. They can take maybe twenty-five or even thirty each fully laden.”
“But there must be well over a hundred of us leaving. How are we going to get everyone out?”
“Actually, there’s one hundred and thirty two if we lost no-one tonight. These boats are just for the first group,” the general replied, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Then we’ve got to deal with the guard for good before we move to the second site.
An older man on the other side of the clearing frowned. “Even so, with only twenty-five people in those boats, they’ll ride very low in the water. We’ll catch on the reefs!”
With a grin, Kiva turned to face him. “Then we’re about to find out just how good a sailor we all are, aren’t we.”
They stood in silence for a moment and watched as the next group of figures closed in through the sparse trees. Sarios was out front, moving with a speed that truly belied his age. Somewhere not far behind came the ring of steel on steel and angry shouting that could only be Brendan and Athas. Kiva smiled.
“Get ready!”
The minister burst into the clearing.
“How many are here already?” he asked breathlessly.
Kiva shrugged and winced again. “Around sixty or seventy I’d say. Send any women and children down to join them.”
Sarios began directing islanders, some of whom entered the tunnel and some took up arms and came to join the defenders while the rest were sent into the undergrowth behind to wait until the area was clear and safe. The people were still moving, some stepping into the tunnel, as Brendan burst into the open, his sword covered in viscera and the still shape of Marco over his shoulder. He ran straight over to the nearest islanders and dropped Marco into their arms.
“E’s still breathing sir” he gabbled to the general, as he hefted his blade and stepped into line with the rag-tag unit of rebels and prisoners.
Kiva nodded and raised the bow as the battle crossed the thicket and entered the clearing. Athas was swinging his sword with tired arms, but a determined look on his face; next to him, Darius was bleeding from the forehead and paused regularly, his sword flailing defensively, to wipe the red veil from his eyes. Tythias, leaving a trail of blood from his severed arm, fought like a wildcat on the periphery, with Mercurias, Ashar and two other Pelasians, all of them together struggling to hold back the guards, who’d been whittled down to a ratio of perhaps two or three to one.
“At ‘em lads!” bellowed Kiva as he unleashed the first bolt from the small crossbow. Remarkably, perhaps, given his general lack or skill and current unsteadiness, the bolt dug into the shoulder of a guard. The man gasped in surprise but never managed to curse, as Ashar Parishid, exiled Prince of Pelasia, jammed a sword into his gut as he staggered.
Nervously, the armed islanders moved into the fight, coming around the sides to join Ashar and Tythias, where they fought to prevent the defenders being outflanked. Three were cut down as they joined the fight, and one of their assailants, grinning with glee at his victory was taken in the chest by Kiva’s next shot.
Reloading, the general watched as the odds continued to lower as his own men, the three surviving Wolves, and their allies did what they were best at. Watching, he fired one more shot, which narrowly missed its target, thrumming off into the darkness harmlessly, and dropped the weapon to his side.
“Stop!” he bellowed at the top of his voice.
The effect was strange and instant. The fight petered out with a last ringing blow and both groups, roughly evenly matched, stood tensely watching each other, their weapons raised. Kiva cleared his throat again.
“The fight’s over! More than a hundred of your men have fallen to around twenty of ours tonight. Do you really want to join them?”
Silence reigned as the guards eyed their enemy suspiciously, interspersed with sidelong glances to their own friends. Kiva frowned.
“There’s no reason to die now. You’ve fought as hard as you could and there’s no disrespect. But we are leaving now, whether you live to see it or not. If you drop your weapons, no harm will befall you at our hands, you have the word of an Imperial Marshal.”
Again the sidelong glances said more than a thousand words as the silence built to a deafening roar, broken finally by the dull thud of a sword hitting turf. As if they’d been waiting for a signal, the guardsmen threw down their weapons and there was no mistaking the look of relief that crossed most of the assembled faces. Kiva sighed gratefully.
“My men will escort you to the kitchens where you will be temporarily imprisoned. I have no doubt that your master will be back to collect you soon enough, and you may even manage to break out of the place before dawn, but not before we are long gone. There’s plenty of space and seating and a lot of food, so you won’t starve.”
He made a gesture to Athas, who prodded one of the guards gently with the tip of his sword. “Come on boys.”
Kiva cleared his throat again as the unarmed men were herded back toward the palace by the unit. “I’d avoid the shrimp broth, though!”
Someone behind him laughed.
The moon had already been high in its arc when Athas and the rest had rejoined Kiva and the islanders and they’d all made their way to the second hidden jetty. It had taken only a few moments for them to locate the disguised doorway and to make their way down to the dock. Two more boats of almost equal size to the first wave had awaited them and Kiva had heaved a great sigh of relief as the last islander climbed aboard and they set sail.
The sea was fairly gentle despite the reefs lurking below the surface all around and Kiva sat at the prow of one of the two boats, keeping a careful eye on the swirling waters and the occasional eddies of foam that betrayed the more prominent dangers. Before the boats were more than a hundred yards from the entrance to the dock, travelling around the shore, the other three vessels carrying the rest of the islanders came splashing gently along in the pale moonlight to meet up with them. Kiva leaned forward further forward, peering into the moon-dappled darkness.
“Minister?”
Sarios returned the call from the lead boat of the other flotilla. “Caerdin. What now?”
Kiva frowned. “You or I to lead the boats? I can’t imagine anyone else knows the routes like we do.”
The minister laughed lightly. “After twenty years of having your head battered with swords I think I’d rather trust my own memory, general. I’ll take the lead.”
With a nod, Kiva sat back heavily against the boat’s side and looked around him as the five-boat flotilla manoeuvred into a tight group at the minister’s instruction. Brendan sat at the other end of the boat, his features twisted with a look of concern and the still form of Marco propped against him. Mercurias and the Pelasian medic together were prodding at his side with worried glances. Kiva tried to see more of what they were doing above the gathered heads of the refugees and clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“How is he?”
Mercurias snorted. “Well, he’s not good. If we get him somewhere stable and quiet soon, he’ll probably make it, but I’m not convinced he’ll ever be a soldier again. He’s lost a lung at least and he’ll probably wheeze and slow down for the rest of his life.”
The Pelasian medic nodded his agreement as he peeled more clothing aside from the wound. Kiva sighed and sack back once more. Another casualty to add to the long list. For two decades the Wolves had taken only minor losses but in the last few weeks they’d come down from twelve to five and one of those would never fight again. Some days the future looked hopeless. Strange really how he used to be comfortable with bleakness and gloom; had lived with it for so long, but in these last months thanks to Quintillian and the islanders, he’d begun to care again. Shame really. When you had no hope, there was nothing to lose, but now the loss of even a civilian prisoner was weighing heavily on his mind. He looked up to see Mercurias watching him.
“ You’re moving well,” the medic said accusingly. “You should be in a lot of pain at the moment. Who’s given you mare’s mead now?”
Kiva shook his head. “Forget about it. Maybe I’m just a quick healer.”
“Pah!” Mercurias turned back to Marco’s side.
Kiva turned to look at the next boat, bobbing along behind and slightly to one side. Tythias sat aboard gazing at a different boat, smiling, as doctor Favio tended to his severed arm with as much patience as an army medic. A smile crept across the general’s face once more; the Lion Riders had a good captain in Tythias. The man had suffered some impressive wounding on the island, matching anything he’d had in the past, losing an arm and yet he’d never looked happier that he did right now, covered in scars and still dripping blood. Kiva didn’t need to turn around to see what it was the one-eyed captain was smiling at; or rather, whom. All in all, though tonight had seen its share of loss, given the odds and the conditions they’d been more successful then they had any right to be, and Kiva had no real complaints. He did wish they’d been able to take the bodies of Jorun, felled by a guardsman’s javelin, and the dozen Pelasians and islanders that had never made it to the shore, but the boats were loaded down enough as it is.
Somewhere in one of the other boats, a man started to sing an old folk song about a sailor lost at sea. With a relieved smile, the general relaxed back as he listened.
The journey through the reefs was long and treacherous; more treacherous than Kiva remembered. The sun’s rays were already tentatively brushing the horizon as the lead boat ran up on to the gravel beach with a crunch. Slowly the occupants stepped out, stretching their cramped legs and loosening their muscles. For many of the islanders this would be the first time they’d ever set foot on the mainland and there were grins and expressions of wonder abounding.
Kiva smiled as he watched a young girl with her arm in a sling crying with worry at this whole new world. Her father crouched and put his arms round her, a wide grin on his own face. The islanders were collectively overwhelmed, but Kiva’s attention was drawn back to the present as his own boat grounded with a crunch that jarred him. As the occupants filed out, one of them stopped to help the wobbly general over the side. With some effort he reached the gravel and leaned heavily on his companion as his legs struggled to support him.
Other boats grounded now and the crowd on the beach grew at a rate of knots. Kiva, with the aid of the helpful islander, struggled across to the rocks that stood proud of the beach and hauled himself up onto them with surprising ease. The flask of mare’s mead was diminishing rapidly, but thanks to its numbing and soothing effects he was able to ignore and overcome the pain and discomfort his wounds caused. Minister Sarios clambered up onto the rocks beside him and the two stood silently until the crowd gradually fell silent and faced them in a huge semi-circle.
“Ok everyone. Listen carefully. We’re currently trapped on this beach. Somewhere on the other side of these low hills is the entire army of Velutio marching toward Serfium. We cannot go inland, and north along the coast will take us straight to Serfium, which we must avoid at all costs. South from here will take us to the city, and I’m sure none of us want to go there. So, make the best you can of this place for now. No one goes far enough away to be out of sight. If you do that, you could find yourself in most unpleasant circumstances.”
Kiva smiled. “By this time the guards will almost certainly have escaped the kitchens on the island, but Commander Sabian assured us that it’ll be at least a week before the next ship to the island and, no matter where they check, the guards will find that we’ve scuppered every other boat on the island and brought every signal lantern with us. While it is possible they’ll find a way to draw attention to the island it will take time, particularly with Velutio and the army away campaigning, so we have some time to play with.”
The general nodded at the minister and Sarios stepped forward to speak.
“Now that we are clear of the reefs, we will rest and then move again at dusk. There are sails stowed away among the gear and we have a number of competent sailors. Once the light starts to fail, we will set off by boat once more, looking for all the world like a small group of night fishermen. It will be too dark for our numbers to be too visible and we are unlikely to attract any unwanted attention. We will sail for however long it takes, I’m afraid, so be prepared for a long journey in some discomfort. The route will take us around the island of Isera once more, this time outside the reefs, to a point south of Monte Bero and the city of Velutio. There, the general and his men will procure transport for us and we will begin the journey into the mountains to a hidden location where we will be safe from our enemies.”
He smiled as he continued. “It will be a long and difficult journey by sea and then by mountain path, but remember while your legs are cramped on board and your feet ache with walking, that every step takes you further from your enemies and that we will be safe and sound at the end of the road.”
Kiva nodded thoughtfully and announced “time to do as you please, so long as you stay within sight of this rock. I would suggest someone starts organising breakfast.”
With that, he turned to the minister and gestured to the rear of the rocky outcrop. Sarios helped the general hobble over to the other side, away from the dispersing crowd.
I know this hidden place of yours is secret, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to share it with me now. I need to know what transport we’ll need and, if you clarify where we’re headed, I might be able to make something of it in future planning.”
Sarios raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said we had enough trouble with the present and that we didn’t have the luxury of planning for a future?”
The general growled quietly. “To be quite honest, I was never entirely convinced we’d get everyone off the island. Now we’ve no choice. If we do nothing, Velutio’ll take it all and in the end he’ll come looking for us. We need to move ourselves and try to stop him from gaining any more power. Times change, now just tell me where we’re going.”
The minister leaned back against a rocky protrusion. “Hadrus, Caerdin. We’re going to Hadrus.”
Kiva frowned. “Hadrus was destroyed by an earthquake. I remember all the fuss and the refugees.”
“True… all true, but it was also rebuilt on Quintus’ orders for the imprisonment of people he didn’t want found. Funny, really, isn’t it?” We’ve escaped from a prison made from the Emperor’s refuge and we’re seeking refuge at the Emperor’s secret prison!”
Sarios laughed and the general couldn’t help but smile at the irony.
“Ok, minister. Tend to your people and get them organised. I’m going to speak to Ashar… and Darius, of course.”
Sarios smiled again, knowingly. “Of course…”
As the minister wandered over toward the chefs who were unloading a case of foodstuff from one of the boats, Kiva scanned the beach and spotted the Pelasian Prince in conversation with his doctor. Hobbling slowly along the rock and climbing down the lowest part with the aid of a helpful islander, he tottered unsteadily across the uneven surface of the beach until he reached the two swarthy black-clad men.
“Ashar, I need to speak to you. Alone” he added, glancing at the doctor. The man nodded and walked away across the beach, leaving his master alone with the general.
“Kiva? You’re walking better all the time. I wish I could say it was my doctor’s doing, but I know you better than that. What can I do for you?”
“You tried to convince me not long ago to go to war against Velutio. Quintillian’s gone, but you said it didn’t matter. I’d be your banner.”
Ashar nodded seriously.
“Well,” the general continued, “I’m still not Emperor material and never will be, but we all know someone who could be. Will you add your banner to the cause for a different Emperor?”
Ashar smiled; slowly at first, but then breaking into a broad grin.
“You know you’ll have to create some spurious link to the Imperial line for him if you want people to follow him?”
Kiva nodded. “It’s been done before on many occasions. I’m sure Sarios can find some convincing evidence.”
“Very well,” the Prince nodded. “You put him on the pedestal and I’ll help you carry it. I need to find the rest of my men then.”
“Hadrus,” whispered the general. “That’s where we’ll be.”
Ashar laughed. “The Emperor’s prison? That’s priceless.”
“Some day you’ll have to tell me how you find out about things like that. But, yes. We’ll be at Hadrus. I’ll start pulling everything together, but I’m afraid I need another favour from you.”
The Prince raised an eyebrow and the general patted him on the shoulder. “I need you and your Pelasians to track down a number of people and send them to me.”
Ashar nodded. “Other captains, I presume? The ones you were sending for before the disaster at Serfium?”
“Yes. Filus and Sithis should both come without question if you can find them. They should both be somewhere south east of Burdium.” The general pulled a scrap of paper from his tunic and thrust it into Ashar’s hand. “This is a list of other captains that should be open to persuasion and a few Lords who’ll likely want to help. It’s not much, but it’s a start. We need to pull a few units together before we can start building any kind of army.”
The Prince nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be at Hadrus inside a month. Stay safe until then and try not to end up in Velutio’s hands again.”
Kiva smiled. “I take it you’ll be ok heading inland from here. You can get around without drawing attention, I know.”
Ashar grinned and scanned the beach. “I’ll take my men, but you take my doctor. You’ve over a hundred people here and you may need a lot of medical attention by the time you get to Hadrus. Go safe my friend and stay lucky.”
Kiva clasped hands for a moment with the Prince, wincing briefly at the pressure it put on his damaged wrist and then watched as the lithe, black figure jogged along the shore to the small knot of Pelasians and started to make preparations.
The general sighed for a moment as a nagging worry caught him. The last time they made this sort of plan it had cost them Quintillian and almost been the end of the Wolves. Was it tempting fate for a cursed man to try a second time? He scanned the beach for Darius and spotted the young man collecting stones from the ground and hurling them out into the sea, trying to hit a small outcrop that jutted amidst foam from the water.
Slowly, the general picked his way down to where the lad stood, far enough away from the crowd to allow a little privacy. Most of the islanders were concerned with unpacking goods and arranging food, and paid little attention to the two figures further along the beach.
“Darius.”
The general reached out and plucked a stone from the young man’s armful and, taking aim, hurled it towards the rock. It fell woefully short and slightly off target. Darius laughed.
“I think it’s going to be a while yet before you’ve the strength for that, general.”
“Shows how much you know,” replied the older man. “Even at my best I’d be lucky just to hit the water. That’s why I favour swords, not bows.”
The young man smiled, took one last throw, and then dropped the rest of his collection back to the ground. “What’s on your mind, sir?”
Kiva swallowed. This was difficult ground. How to say what he needed to say without warning the lad off.
“Let’s see just how clever you are, Darius. Tell me why you and Quintillian were taught the things you were on the island when all the other youngsters have been taught trades.”
Darius shrugged. “They had something else in mind for the two of us. Perhaps they were trying to make us useful enough that Velutio wouldn’t kill us.”
Kiva frowned. Not a bad angle, and one he hadn’t considered, but still not the right one.
“You were both being groomed for the throne. Quintillian and you both. You may think that Sarios is a kind man, but he’s not. Don’t argue” he added forcefully as anger rose in Darius’ face. “The minister is a politician and nothing he does is without purpose. Sarios would use either of you to rebuild what was lost at whatever cost. He uses me and the Pelasian Prince and any others he needs the same way.”
A frown crossed the young man’s face. “And yet you go along with it because you agree with his goal? His aspirations? I can see that, yes. But Quintillian had a claim to the throne; the best claim you could have. I’m not even remotely connected… and I’m not a politician. I think you’re wrong. I think Quintillian was being groomed for the throne, but I was being trained to be what you were for his uncle.”
Again the insight the young man displayed made Kiva blink. Another thing he’d never considered, and a observation that was very persuasive. For a moment he found himself wondering whether Darius was right and the minister had been dissembling again. He shook his head; either way it made no difference now.
“That’s a possibility I suppose, but it makes no difference. You have the brain, the charisma, the learning and the guts to lead a nation. What do you think?”
Darius stood for a long moment with his chin resting in his hand. “I realise that you want me to leap up with glee and say that I’m the man for the job, but it’s not that simple. I need to think about this.”
Kiva laughed. “And I said you were clever! If you were the sort to leap at the chance, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. I don’t expect you to want to do it, or even to agree with it. I want you to think long and hard about it and come grudgingly to the same conclusion as we have: that you are the only person who can do it.”
Darius’ frown deepened. “I have no claim.”
“Claims can be manufactured; just watch how fast Sarios finds a link.”
“Yes, I’d bet he can at that.”
The two stood for quite some time, staring out at the waves with the smell of frying fish drifting along the beach. Kiva studied the young man for a while and finally squared his shoulders.
“I’ll leave you alone to think.”
Darius shook his head. “Wait. Don’t take this as a yes, but would you like to tell me what you have in mind?”
The most momentous occasions are often heralded by peace and quiet. The waves crashed on the rocks and seagulls crowded over the breakfast site as two men stood alone on the rocks and decided the fate of the world.