The Trials of Empire, page 19
Also in attendance was a representative from the town, a woman by the name of Jelena Kovac. Vonvalt spent some time thanking her for her assistance, which she accepted graciously, though she seemed very much out of her depth. Then he turned to de Rambert.
“Luther,” he said. “An inauspicious afternoon. I speak on behalf of my Kasari friends, too, when I say that this is about as far away from where we wanted to be as it is possible to get. I have been mixed up in similar mistakes many years ago in the Reichskrieg, and there is nothing quite like the agony of slaying allies. Our sincerest apologies will be worthless to you, I am sure, but in the event that you can take any comfort from them—”
De Rambert smiled sadly, holding up a hand. “Thank you, Sir Konrad. But I know the hand of Fate at work when I see it.”
Vonvalt lapsed to silence, wrong-footed. Von Osterlen had already spoken to de Rambert earlier that evening, and she had forewarned us of his rather fatalistic outlook. Whilst this business with Claver had all but cut her adrift from the Neman Church, it had had the opposite effect on the old serjeant. His piety was almost frightening in its fresh intensity.
“Human hands, human mistakes, Luther,” Vonvalt said sadly. “Would that I could write this off as the machinations of the inhabitants of the aether.”
De Rambert shook his head chidingly, but said nothing. This, too, unbalanced Vonvalt, but he pressed ahead notwithstanding.
“Helena has told me that you and those of your surviving men will join our cause. I am most pleased to hear it. I have been thinking for some time on how to proceed, for a great deal has rested on reaching this juncture. But before we do, I would hear from you what happened, in your own words. And please; there is no detail too granular.”
De Rambert repeated his account – that which he had relayed to me on the battlements – but if he had given me the stones, he gave Vonvalt the sand. For his own part, Vonvalt pressed and probed constantly, until by the end he felt he had an acceptably detailed account.
“Ten thousand men,” Vonvalt said, sitting back and musing. “At least a hundred of those damnable patrias – each worth a hundred men in and of themselves. We have denied them the full fruits of the Draedist arcana thanks to Helena’s burning of Keraq, but we know that Claver still has the ability to summon demons and bind them.”
“That is the most dangerous thing of all, is it not?” von Osterlen asked.
Vonvalt looked at her. “Indeed it is,” he said. There was another lengthy silence as we all ruminated on this macabre thought. Kovac, the de facto mayor of Grunhaven, had absolutely no idea what was going on. She probably thought we had all lost our minds. “We had supposed that Claver and the Savarans would make for Grunhaven, and from here head up the Kova. We know that Claver has made a pact with Iliyana of Casimir for the supply of blackpowder. I thought they would collect it en route and then move east through Kzosic Principality. But you,” he said, now turning his attention to de Rambert, “think they have made north through Estre?”
The old Templar nodded. “Aye. That is what I think. They had a large baggage train, one that suggested a march over land. Knowing the Savarans as I do they will pilfer as much as they can from Estre as they go. Perhaps lay waste to Saxanfelde.”
“You think they would be that bold?” Vonvalt asked.
De Rambert let out a small, bitter chuckle. “Claver’s goal is Sova itself, is it not?”
“Yes, that was foolish of me,” Vonvalt said.
“Besides, if Prince Gordan is killed, and Prince Tasa is likely soon to be killed himself, that only leaves Prince Luka left. My thinking is Claver will seek to draw him out of Saxanfelde and slay him, and cut off the Haugenate line root and branch. That way there will be no one left to rally support for the Imperial throne after he dispatches the Emperor.”
“It would add weeks, nay, months to his campaign,” Vonvalt said. “Claver’s greatest ally is speed. The slower he and the Savarans move, the more time he gives Sova to rally the Legions. They may be strung out along the Kova, but if the capital is under threat, you can bet they will abandon the East.”
“And be slaughtered,” von Osterlen said. “The Kova Confederation is waiting for just such a rout. The moment the Legions abandon their strongholds and extend themselves over miles of rough terrain, they will be massacred. If a few thousand pagans can do it in Haunersheim, imagine what a hundred times that number of battle-hardened Kovans could achieve.”
Vonvalt considered all of this. “To my mind, there are only two ways Claver is going to get into Sova. The first is the same way he got into Südenburg; destroying the walls with a vast quantity of blackpowder. We know that this is at least a part of what he is planning.”
“What is the second way?” von Osterlen asked.
“The second way is that he walks in through an open gate.” Vonvalt, a courtroom performer at heart, took a moment to let this settle. “Think on it,” he said. “When we left Sova it was in disarray. News of its current state has been thin on the ground, but we know that the Grand Lodge was burned, and the Magistratum was disbanded. That means our enemies within the capital have made their move. And unless that move has been crushed, then Claver might not have to battle to get inside it at all.”
“I assume that is where you come in,” von Osterlen said.
“Precisely. Until Lady Frost, Captain Llyr and Sir Radomir arrive with our pagan army – and I am hoping several thousand Hauners – we cannot hope to match Claver in the field. We must husband our forces and save them for the final confrontation. Ten thousand men does not seem like a large force, but what we must remember is these are ten thousand battle-hardened men, they have an excellent and ruthless commander in the form of Margrave von Geier, they are highly motivated, and with their priests wielding the Draedist arcana in the van, they are likely to roll over any army they come up against. So, we need numbers, and we need to be intelligent. My current thinking is this…”
There was a brief, tense silence. We had spent a great deal of time ourselves wondering what Vonvalt’s plan was, for he had kept his counsel on the matter.
“My plan is to head back to Sova. Given Helena’s current… role as aethereal go-between, I shall keep her with me. I must speak with the Emperor. My plan is to undo whatever mischief the Mlyanars have achieved in the capital. That way, if Claver bests Prince Luka in Saxanfelde – as we must assume he will – then at least when he reaches Sova, he will find the gates barred and guarded.
“The second part of my plan involves sabotage. We must stop that blackpowder from reaching Sova. Severina, you and Luther will take the Grasvlaktekraag up the Kova, and locate and obliterate their stores. It is of vital importance, so I shall trust no one else with it. If you are successful, then make for Sova, and together we will destroy Claver’s army on the Ebenen Plains.”
Von Osterlen, whom I suspected had already guessed the nature of Vonvalt’s plan, or at least her part in it, nodded. “We will need ships,” she said. “With oars and tow lines. The South Kova is tidal, true, but that will only get us so far. Maintaining subtlety will be no small endeavour.”
“I know. That is why I have invited Ms Kovac here.”
All attention shifted to the diminutive mayor.
“W-we are merchants and fishermen, not soldiers,” she began, but Vonvalt held up a hand for silence.
“I am afraid that this war will make soldiers of us all. You strike me as an intelligent and competent woman.” That was naked flattery, since she did not strike any of us as either. “You have heard everything we have discussed, and you understand fully the nature of my mission.” Another falsehood. “What I need from you are ships – as the margrave here has described. They will be travelling far upriver, which means tow lines and oars. The Kasar can row; the Saxan Knights can rest. Nema knows they’ve earned it,” he added, glancing at de Rambert.
Kovac cleared her throat. “No shortage of trade galleys in this part of the world,” she said.
“Good,” Vonvalt said. “We will require three, I expect, though four might be prudent.”
“I will see what I can do,” Kovac said with great uncertainty.
Vonvalt nodded. “Thank you.” He looked around the table. “We each of us know what is at stake here. This plan will take hearts of iron and not a little luck. But I am confident that we can prevail. Before we retire, are there any questions?”
For now, there were none.
“In which case, get you all to bed. We shall reconvene in the morning.”
We were in Grunhaven for two days as preparations were made. In that time it became clear which of the Templars were fit enough to join us, and which would remain in that small, coastal town, either to convalesce or die. In the end, just over six hundred Saxan Knights could be armed, armoured, provisioned – and most importantly, persuaded. It was half the number of survivors who had left Südenburg, and after our horrendous miscalculation, we were lucky to get that many.
There was no avoiding the hostility between the Templars and the Kasar. In spite of the many explanations and apologies that were offered, at least a hundred fit and capable men and women would not join us. Some renounced their oaths to the Order altogether, something which should have been in theory punishable by death, but in practice was tolerated with sombre understanding.
The business with the Templars took its toll on von Osterlen too, who had become surly and withdrawn. I think she wanted to blame Vonvalt for what happened, but could not sensibly do so, and so absented herself from our company. Still waters run deep, and I felt as though Severina and I were only just beginning to understand one another. Now she was to leave, and on a fundamentally dangerous and risky mission. Like my parting with Sir Radomir, it felt like we would not see one another again, and the thought made me melancholic.
What food and water could be spared from Grunhaven was taken. We also took a huge amount of fodder for the Plains horses; although they were an undeniable inconvenience to transport, their impact on the battlefield could not be overstated, and it was worth the logistical hardship to bring them.
In the end, a small fleet of merchant galleys was requisitioned. We were fortunate to have enough to choose from, though the journey, short as it was, would be spent in undeniable discomfort, particularly as subterfuge was paramount. The Templars and Grasvlaktekraag were to travel in separate ships as much as possible, and Vonvalt and I travelled in a ship loaded with the latter, since there was no merchant crew otherwise willing to take them.
So it was that on dawn of the third day, we left Grunhaven and sailed up the coast. With so much time given over to preparations – for everything was logistics; food, water, other provisions which I would not have even considered – I had not given thought to what it was we were undertaking. But as we sailed into the wide estuary of the Kova, carried by the reversing tide and a fortunate wind, I began to appreciate just how dangerous a course of action this was. After all, Claver knew that Vonvalt was alive, thanks to our ill-fated séance in the Spiritsraad. There had almost certainly been a time in which he was presumed dead. Now, not only was he known to be alive, but he was known to be consorting with Kasar, too. Our enemies in Sova were likely to be on high alert.
I told Vonvalt of my fears one night as we took a meagre meal amongst a stack of barrels in the hold. We had been invited to use the captain’s cabin, but Vonvalt had insisted we remain with the Kasar out of solidarity. We ate and spoke by a tiny, guttering candle flame, aware of our wolfman cohabitees and their quiet, growled conversation in Kasari.
“I know,” Vonvalt said, chewing on a piece of hard bread. “But there is only so much I can mitigate.”
“What is your plan? To get in, I mean,” I asked.
Vonvalt thought as he chewed. “That I do not know. We shall have to hope that an opportunity presents itself.”
“I am frightened,” I admitted. “Not just of what it is we are doing, but what will happen if we fail.”
Vonvalt nodded. “As am I, Helena. As am I. I still do not know what form our adversary in the afterlife takes, but it is certainly an entity of exceptional power. The nature of the beasts we have tangled with so far is testament to that.”
I thought about the things I had seen and experienced, the strange dripping sound which only I could hear, the whispers in my ear, the visions and portents and nightmares. I would have given anything – everything – for it all to have simply gone away.
“Do you think Justice August is all right?” I asked quietly.
Vonvalt was quiet for a moment. “I certainly hope so,” he said.
“Do you think Severina will be all right?”
Vonvalt considered this. “I think Severina appreciates the nature of our mission, and she will do what needs to be done.”
“She is not happy.”
“She is not,” Vonvalt agreed. “But that is to be expected. She has dedicated her life to being a Templar. It was once a noble profession – at least, insofar as Sova was concerned. Now she sees only perfidy. It is a difficult thing, to have one’s world burned down. It takes a person of special character to see anything except ashes.”
I thought back to mine and her conversation. A random thought struck me. “What is Kliner’s The Fall of Gevennah?” I asked.
Vonvalt frowned. “Why do you want to know that?”
“She mentioned it to me. She said that the great hall in Südenburg was like the fall of The Fall of Gevennah after a battle.”
Vonvalt snorted. “It is a painting of an orgy,” he said.
“Oh,” I said. But what should have been a moment of levity turned sombre as my thoughts immediately returned to the bizarre and frightening nightmare I’d had of Vonvalt and von Osterlen copulating in the City of Sleep. It filled me with an unreasonable and unquenchable sense of jealousy, in spite of everything.
“Do you think you and I—”
“We should get some rest,” Vonvalt said quickly. “We have another long journey ahead of us.”
I wondered what he thought I’d been about to say. Perhaps he, too, had thought of the bizarre scene in the City of Sleep, and had been eager to avoid the subject. Worse, perhaps he’d thought that I’d been about to proposition him. My gut curdled, and the temptation to clarify the matter was a strong one. But in truth, I wasn’t entirely sure what coals I had hoped to rake over. I wanted Vonvalt in my life, but I also wanted to be free of him. I wanted him to want me in his life, but only so that I could wrest back the agency in our relationship. And just as I thought that the vestiges of any romantic feeling had died away, something, some absurd fresh life would be breathed into the embers. Whenever Resi was raised in conversation, I was jealous of his love for her – his deep and abiding love for her, which I could never trump. And now there was the stupid false vision of his bedding von Osterlen to contend with, too – something which had not even been real, and which I was convinced was part of a broader pattern of aethereal warfare being waged against my mind.
But even in spite of these poisonous emotions, which festered in my mind like a suppurating boil, when I imagined any sort of courtship with Vonvalt, mentally I recoiled. I wanted him, but I did not; I needed him and yet he was the least healthy thing for me. I knew we needed to part ways, but the thought of it was unbearable. I wanted all of it and none of it concurrently. And talking about it in that cramped, stuffy and dark hold was not going to cure anything.
“Fine,” I muttered eventually, and Vonvalt blew out the candle before either of us could say anything more.
XIV
Old Friends
“Can a person ever truly be one thing to you? Fully friend or fully enemy? In the same way two nations at war might still covertly trade, do our friends not smile at our misfortune, too? Even but once, in the darkest, quietest hour of night?”
SIR WILLIAM THE HONEST
Vonvalt and I left the convoy of merchant galleys at the Estran border, bought a pair of knock-kneed palfreys, and travelled on through the countryside.
The Eastmark of Estre was a heavily forested place that contained little in the way of settlement. I did not feel too vulnerable travelling here, as most of the westernmost half of Kòvosk was nominally under the control of the Sovan Legions; nonetheless, Vonvalt kept us away from major roads, and despite the very real danger of turning one of ours or our horses’ ankles in the profound darkness, we frequently journeyed through the night.
We did not speak much. Like von Osterlen, Vonvalt was withdrawn, the weight of his mission crushing all conversation out of him. I do not know how long the journey took us, but it was at least a week by the time we reached the Ebenen Plains. It was the end of spring, and Sova was hot. The golden green grass of the plains rustled and rippled like an ocean, whilst puffy white cloud sailed overhead, mottling the ground with shadow.
It was at once a comfort to see the vast, sturdy fortress city of Sova – and intact, at that – and at the same time intimidating and oppressive. It was true that Sova was gigantic, but absent some secret entranceway which Vonvalt had not yet alluded to, we were still going to have to make our way through one of the four main gates. The thought churned my guts with sour dread.
We travelled up the Aleksandra the Valiant High-Way, surrounded on both sides by disordered urban creep that had long ago spread beyond the walled city itself. Huge portions of this uncontrolled expansion were given over to dockland, industry and unsanctioned markets; but here in the south, it was almost entirely housing. In this chaotic residential precinct, the River Sauber was split into two branches which rejoined ten miles south of the city, and we travelled up the high-way between these two fast flowing riverlets and cut east over the Poor King’s Bridge. It was Vonvalt’s intention that we enter the city through the Sun Gate, one of the least trafficked entrances into Sova.
