Ships from the West

'You left the bodies unburied?' Comillan snapped.

Roche ducked his head. I am afraid so, sir. The men were panicked, and I—'

'It's all right, Ensign,' Corfe said. He turned to the old mage who stood at his side listening intently. 'Golophin, can you enlighten us?'

The wizard sighed heavily and stared into his empty glass. 'Aruan and his cohorts have been experimenting for years, perhaps centuries. They have taken normal men and made them into shifters. They have taken shifters and twisted them into new forms. They have bred unnatural beasts for the sole purpose of waging war, and these are now being unleashed upon the world. They destroyed the allied fleet, and now they will take part in the assault upon Torunna.'

'I ask you Aras's question: how do we kill these things?'

'It's quite simple. Iron or silver. One nick from a point or a blade made of either and the Dweomer which flows through the veins of these creatures has its current disrupted, and they die instantly.'

Corfe seemed slightly incredulous. 'That's it?'

'That's it, sire.'

'Then they are not so fearsome after all. You hearten me, Golophin.'

'The swords and pike-points of the army are made of tempered steel,' Formio said wryly. 'They will not bite, it seems. Nor will the lead of our bullets.' He looked quizzically at the old wizard.

'Correct, General.'

'We must get the smithies busy, then,' Corfe broke in. 'Iron blades and pike-points. And I'm thinking maybe some kind of iron barbs which can be fitted on to armour. We'll make of every man a deadly pincushion, so that if these things so much as lay a paw on him, they'll send themselves off to hell.'

The mood in the Bladehall lightened somewhat, and there were even some chuckles. The news from the west was bad, yes, but Hebrion and Astarac were not Torunna, and Abeleyn was no Corfe. The very sea itself might be subjugated to the will of Aruan and his cohorts, but there was no force on earth that would stop the Torunnan army once it had begun to march.

'Gentlemen,' Corfe said then, 'I believe you all know your duties for now, and Lord knows there's enough to be getting on with. You are dismissed. Ensign Baraz - you will stay behind.'

'Corfe,' Formio said in a low voice, 'have you thought any more on our discussion?'

‘I have, Formio,' the King replied evenly, 'and while you make very valid points, I believe that the possible gains outweigh the risks.'

'If you are wrong—'

'There is always that chance.' Corfe smiled, and gripped Formio by the shoulder. 'We are soldiers, not seers.'

'You are a king, not some junior commander who can be spared to hare off on a whim.'

'It's no whim, believe me. If it succeeds, it will bring down the Second Empire. That makes the gamble worthwhile.'

'Then at least let me come with you.'

'No. I need to leave behind someone I trust - someone who could be regent if the worst occurs.' 'A Fimbrian?'

'A Fimbrian who is my closest friend, and most trusted commander. It must be you, Formio.' 'The nobility will never wear it'

'The Torunnan nobility is not the fractious beast it once was. I have seen to that. No, you would have the backing of the army, and that is all that matters. Now let us hear no more of this. Continue the preparations, but discreetly.'

'Will you let him into our little secret?' Formio asked, nodding at Golophin, who was conversing with Ensign Baraz on the other side of the hall. Nearly all the other officers had left by now and the fire cracked and spat loudly in the sudden quiet. Felorin stood watchful as always in the shadows.

'I believe I will. He may be able to make some suggestion. There is always that bird of his anyway, a hell of a useful thing to have around.'

Formio nodded. 'There is something though, Corfe - something about Golophin which does not feel right.'

'Explain.'

'Nothing, perhaps. It is just that sometimes I feel he should hate more. He has seen his king slain, his country enslaved, and yet I sense no hatred, hardly any anger in him.'

'What are you now, some kind of mind-reader?' Corfe grinned.

‘I find myself not wholly trusting him, is all.'

Corfe clapped him on the back. 'Formio, you are getting old and cantankerous. I'll see you later down at Menin Field. We'll go over those new formations again. But talk to the Quartermaster-General for me. Let's see how much scrap iron we can come up with.'

Formio saluted, spun on his heel, and left as crisply as a young officer fresh off the drill square.

'A good man, I think,' Golophin said, walking over from the fire. 'You are lucky in your friends, sire.'

'I have been lucky, yes,' Corfe said. Formio's words had unsettled him. He stared at the old wizard closely. 'Golophin, you said you had a reliable source in the Himerian camp. Would it be out of place for me to ask who it might be?'

'I would rather that his identity remained secret for now. He is an ambivalent sort, sire, a man unsure as to where his loyalties lie. They are sorry creatures, these fellows who cannot make up their minds what is black and what is white. Do you not think?' The mage's smile was disconcertingly shrewd.

'Indeed.' There was a brief moment where their eyes locked, and something akin to a struggle of wills took place. Golophin dropped his gaze first. 'Was there anything else, sire?'

'Yes, yes, there was. I was wondering if - that is to say—' Now it was Corfe who looked down. Quietly, he said, ‘I thought you might call in on the Queen. She is very low, and the physicians can do nothing. Old age, they say, but I believe there is more to it than that, something to do with your . . . realm of expertise.'

'I should be glad to, sire.' And here the wizard's eyes met Corfe's unflinchingly. 'I am flattered that you should trust me in such a grave matter.' He bowed deeply. 'I shall call on her at once, if that is convenient. Now, if you will excuse me sire, I have things to attend to.'

'Your suite is adequate?'

'More than adequate, thank you, sire.' The wizard bowed again, and left, his robes whispering about him.

The man had served kings faithfully and unstintingly for longer than Corfe's lifetime. Formio was merely being a cautious Fimbrian, that was all. The King of Torunna rubbed his temples wearily. God, to get clear of the palace, the city, to get back on a horse and sleep under the stars for a while. Sometimes he thought that there were so many things contained in his head that one day it would bulge and burst like an overripe melon. And yet when he was in the field it was as though his mind were as clear as the tip of an icicle.

1 never should have been King, he thought, as he had thought so often down the years. But I am here now and there is no other.

He collected himself, strode across to the fire where Ensign Baraz stood stiff and forgotten.

'You've met the great Golophin, I see. What do you make of him?'

Baraz seemed startled by the question. 'He asked me about my grandfather,' he blurted out. 'But there was not much I could tell him that is not in the history books. He wrote poetry.'

'Golophin?'

'Shahr Ibim Baraz, sire "The Terrible Old Man" he was called by his men.'

'Yes. Sometimes we called him that too, and other things besides,' Corfe said wryly. 'Whatever happened to him?'

'No one knows. He left camp and some say he set out for the steppes of his youth, at the very height of his victories.'

'As well for Torunna he did. Baraz, Princess Mirren speaks very highly of you. She seems to think that you are a very gallant young officer and has asked that you accompany her on her daily rides from now on. What would you say to such a proposal?'

Baraz's face was a picture of pleasure and chagrin. ‘I am honoured by the lady's confidence, sir, and I would esteem it a great privilege to be her morning escort.' 'But.'

'But I had hoped to be attached to the field army. I have not yet commanded anything more than a ceremonial guard, and I was hoping to be assigned to a tercio.'