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
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
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.
Part Five: Change and Rebirth
Chapter XXV
Kiva Caerdin, General of the rebel army, strode purposefully across the square. The changes the sojourn at Hadrus had wrung in him were extensive and those who remembered the sullen, old Kiva of the Grey Company marvelled anew every time they saw him. In the two and half months since their boats had landed on the coast south of Velutio, he’d recovered from his wounds at astonishing speed. Though still far from his old form, he was moving well and even found at sword practice at least once a day. Mercurias had washed his hands of the general’s state of health, declaring him a lost cause and putting his speedy recovery purely down to an increased and dangerous addiction to the mare’s mead that had been part of his life for decades. Whatever the cause, the effect was impressive.
Moreover, gone were the whiskers and the long hair, replaced with a short and severe cut of iron grey hair after the old style. Though he still wore his comfortable and familiar armour, it was now worn over a green tunic and breeches that matched those worn by every other figure in Hadrus that bore arms. He wore the traditional ribbon of service, knotted around his ribs, denoting his rank and status and the grey cloak had gone, replaced by a wolf-pelt shoulder cloak. The banners that fluttered above his headquarters, once the chief warden’s quarters, bore the Imperial raven and crown, supported by a wolf and a lion.
And the lions, or Lion Riders, were now as much a part of the army as the Wolves, even outnumbering them considerably. Kiva smiled as he strode past hastily erected workshops where smiths and armourers hammered and rang, pumped bellows and dropped hot steel into buckets of water. Beyond them, an old building of unknown origin had been converted into more workshops for the weavers who worked like devils to churn out green uniforms, cloaks, flags and horse blankets. The whole place was alive with industry and activity and, while Kiva was the driving force now behind it all, much of the credit had to go to Minister Sarios, whose considerable skills in administration and organisation had turned a stream of refugees into a fully working town.
Reaching the other side of the square, just inside the heavily protected and defended gatehouse, he grinned as he reached out and clasped arms with the commander of the Lion Riders. Their captain now went by his old title of Prefect and held the position of Kiva’s second in command. Due to the disparity in strength between the two units that had become the backbone of the rebel army, Tythias had suggested months ago that his best men be taken into the sadly depleted Wolves, but Kiva had refused blindly. The Lion Riders, he’d said, were as important as the Wolves and had an equal stake in what they’d planned, hence the flag denoting both units supporting the raven.
Tythias returned the grin as he looked his general up and down appraisingly.
“Kiva? You look ten years younger! I’ve only been gone a month.”
The general shook his head. “A month and a half, Tythias. It was time to start thinking like a soldier again and, I’m afraid, you really ought to go see the barber yourself while you’re back. No use wearing the Imperial green if we still look like vagrants, eh?”
Tythias made a grumbling noise deep in his throat, but his smile stayed firmly riveted on his face. “I suppose you’re right. Sathina keeps making veiled threats anyway.”
With a laugh, the general caught his second in command by the shoulder and, turning, walked with him toward the headquarters building. Behind them, the party of twenty Lion Riders slipped gratefully from their saddles and went about the business of stabling their horses. Kiva stretched as he walked. “Darius is looking forward to
