Book ten in the Thraxas series
Thraxas and the Oracle © Martin Scott 2015
This edition published 2015 by Martin Millar
ISBN: 978-1-4835491-8-7
The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the copyright holder.
All characters in the publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
For more about Thraxas visit
www.martinmillar.com
www.thraxas.com
Cover Model - Madeline Rae Mason
Photo by Jason Duda Photography
Make up by Chereine Waddell
My thanks to Peter Judge for his help.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Introduction to Thraxas Book Ten
It’s time for Thraxas to march back towards Turai, in an army led by Lisutaris. When I started the series, I didn’t envisage that Thraxas would ever be given an official position, but now he’s a Captain. I didn’t foresee that Lisutaris would become War Leader either, and I certainly didn’t foresee that Makri would ever be welcomed into the army. These characters just seemed to grow into their positions.
Thraxas would prefer to be in the Avenging Axe with a flagon of ale, though at the moment, he’s not certain if the Avenging Axe even exists any more. Makri is still determined to go to the University in Turai, even though that might also have been destroyed. If you’re wondering if I have this all carefully planned out, I don’t. At this moment I don’t really know if the Avenging Axe still exists either. And If Makri ever does make it to the university, I don’t know how she’ll get on. I’ve never been a very good planner. I just start off with the characters and see where the stories go. That can lead to difficulties. A little more planning might not go amiss, actually.
Martin Millar
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Chapter One
“You understand, Thraxas, that you’ll have to remain sober? We can’t have any repeat of your past behaviour.”
I’m puzzled by Lisutaris’s words. She doesn’t seem to be making sense. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I think my meaning was quite clear. You are to remain sober at all times. We’re about to embark on a desperate fight for survival and I don’t want you rolling around in the gutter when you may be needed for vital work.”
I’ve been getting along with Lisutaris, Head of The Sorcerers Guild, rather better in recent times, but I don’t like the sound of this.
“Firstly, Lisutaris, I do not 'roll around in the gutter.' I may quaff a flagon of ale every now and then, for relaxation. No one has ever accused me of taking it to excess - ”
“Everyone has accused you of taking it to excess.”
“ - secondly, I really don’t see that my level of intoxication is going to be a deciding factor in the war against the Orcs.
I might have added 'thirdly, who the hell are you to tell me what I can do?' but as Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, has recently been appointed War Leader and is now the supreme Commander of the western armies, she does have a good claim on being able to tell people what to do, even me.
“Thraxas, I’ve just given you an extremely important position in my inner circle. I’ve promoted you to Captain, against the advice of everyone who’s ever met you. So stop arguing, get ready for action, and stay sober.”
I could argue further, because really, as a free Turanian citizen, I’m perfectly entitled to drink as much as I want. It’s a matter of principle, even if all free Turanian citizens have been driven out of Turai. Our city may have been conquered by the Orcs, but our laws remain. True, I am back in the army again, but that never stopped me before. Lisutaris halts any further discussion by raising her hand imperiously, something at which she’s become adept since being appointed as War Leader.
Now that the nations of the West have managed to assemble, the Elves have joined us from the South, and we’re finally ready to march, I had been expecting to take my place in the army as a common foot-soldier. I’d planned to join up with one of the phalanxes of Turanian exiles. Despite my years of military experience, I’ve never been involved with the top ranks of the military. Generals have tended to ignore the talents of Thraxas of Turai. Lisutaris apparently feels differently. She summoned me to her headquarters and enrolled me on the spot. I’m now a Captain in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment. Not just any old Captain either. I’m Chief Security Officer of the Commander’s Personal Security Unit. I can announce myself as Captain Thraxas, CSO CPS. Captain Thraxas, CSO CPSU SAR if I feel like it. I was vaguely honoured, till she started lecturing me about staying sober.
Lisutaris turns to Makri, who escaped from Turai with us, floating west on a leaky fishing boat before finally washing up in Samsarina. “You will remain as my bodyguard. I’m giving you the rank of Ensign in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment. Like Thraxas you’re part of the Commander’s Personal Security unit. You’ll answer only to me, but it does place you under military discipline. So keep your temper in check and obey my orders.”
So Makri has a title too, and responsibility, and letters after her name. Ensign Makri, BG CPSU SAR. I’m half expecting Makri to object. She’s not a woman who enjoys taking orders. Strictly speaking, she’s not a woman at all, with her Elvish and Orcish blood. However she accepts it calmly enough. Makri has acted as Lisutaris’s bodyguard before. It’s a little different now that she’s actually been drafted into the army. Having her in uniform, so to speak, might help to allay some of the suspicions people have of her. Makri was born in the East and grew up in an Orcish gladiator pit. With her reddish skin and pointed ears, she does tend to arouse suspicion in the West, particularly here in Samsarina where they’re not used to anyone with Orcish blood. She’s quite a well-known figure now, after her victory in the great sword-fighting tournament, but I’m not sure if the broad masses of Samsarinans are happy about her presence.
“Will I be in the front lines?” asks Makri.
“Unlikely. Not at first anyway. I’m War Leader. I need to plan, organise, and get this army in as good shape as possible. I can’t go charging into combat first chance I get, much as I’d like to.”
Makri frowns. That’s not what she was hoping to hear. “But I want to fight.”
“You’ll get your chance eventually. When the important fighting occurs, I’ll be there with the rest of the sorcerers. However we won’t be involved in the advance operations.”