since they wore the livery of a dead man.
'Where the buggery is Torl?' Isak snapped.
'He presents his apologies,' General Lahk replied in his usualflat voice, sounding almost disinterested, 'Suzerain Torl says he cannot
leave Chalat's army; that he must finish what he started.'
'He does remember he started it because I ordered him to?'
'Isak, he's a proud man; a man of honour,' Vesna said.
The hero of the Farlan Army somehow contrived to look fresh and awake, despite the fact dawn had not fully broken yet. His golden earrings of rank gleamed in his left ear and his shining hair was neatly tied back; he looked ready to attend a parade in his honour. The scattering of grey hairs among the lack contrived only to add a certain sage dignity to his ever-handsome features. Isak glowered at him.
'He will not leave them now, not after he has force-marched them here.'
'He'll bloody die!' Isak protested as loudly as he dared; he did not want to attract the attention of the entire legion of Ghosts surrounding them.
'I'm sure he understands that,' Vesna hissed fiercely, 'but it is his choice. Torl is not a man who walks away. He's sent Tiniq back, and all those seconded to him from your personal guard, but that's as far as he's going.'
Isak scowled as a woman in the quartermaster's livery ran up to him with a steaming clay pot and a large hunk of bread. He accepted both with a grunt, and when the woman looked worried, fearing she'd offended him, he managed a small smile of thanks.
'What do the scryers say?' he asked through a mouthful of bread.
'The enemy have held their position. There were a few probes in the night, but nothing serious, just scouts trying to draw us after them.'
'And the reinforcements?'
'Theirs or ours?' Lahk asked.
Isak shook his head in irritation. 'Theirs, of course – ours are so far behind we might as well have not even bothered calling them up. I doubt they'll be here in time to bury the dead!'
'Fifteen legions, no more than two days away. We could sacrifice our light cavalry to at least slow them down, but only if we could get Chalat to hold off his assault long enough for us to outflank them.'
'So he didn't bother bringing his full army to conquer the Circle City?'
'You are right to be suspicious, my Lord, but where the remaining troops are I cannot say. The scryers cannot find them anywhere.'
'Let's count what blessings we do have,' Vesna said firmly. 'Chalat is determined to march straight into Styrax's men, making himself a damn big target for whatever Styrax intends. That saves our troops from the worse of their surprises, and gives us a chance to watch out for the rest of the Menin, whether they're behind the walls of Byora or elsewhere.'
Isak nodded. 'And also giving us the chance to not engage at all unless we really have to. The closer we can get to Byora the better. With luck the Ghosts can break through the gates and take the Ruby Tower. Either way, we don't want to give Azaer any space to intervene if we can help it.'
'I doubt the opportunity will arise, my Lord,' Lahk said. 'Everything I hear about Kastan Styrax makes me certain there will be a surprise waiting.'
'I know, but it's still not why we're here. There's a fair chance he'll take Chalat out after the initial charge – if he does, those mercenaries will fall back. That's our opportunity to treat with Styrax – we can tell the clerics it's a ruse; if they do object, they'll be too disorganised to do anything about it in time.'
Lahk bowed, his face expressionless. 'As you wish, my Lord.'
'How near ready are we?'
'Two legions mounted and formed up, plus the First Guardsmen to the east,' Vesna said, pointing to Isak's left, 'and the Fordan and Tehran divisions behind you.'
As he spoke, an aide ran up with a scout in tow. The soldier was dressed more like a forester: his poorly fitting tunic had been reinforced with steel strips and he carried a light helmet. A long dagger was tucked into in his belt; if he had a bow, clearly he'd left it with his horse.
'Report,' Lahk commanded as the pair saluted Isak.
'General,' the aide began breathlessly, 'Lord Chalat has given the order to advance.' Isak guessed the youth to be a couple of years younger than he was himself, probably a noble son assigned to Lahk's command staff since it was deemed a relatively safe post.
'Disposition?' he asked.
'Wide advance, sir,' the scout replied confidently. His accent marked him as a man of the mountains, despite the absence of any identifying badge. He was twice the age of Lahk's aide, and obviously experienced, if the scar on his face was anything to go by. 'Divisions o' Knights o' the Temples and penitents, with Chalat and the Cardinal Paladins in the centre, Dark Monks on the left flank and the rest o' the penitents on the right – penitents're in tight division blocks, though Suzerain Torl don't look like he 'eard the order quite right and chose to stay loose.'
'Damn Chetse don't know anything about cavalry,' Vesna muttered. 'It's a wonder he's got them moving at all.'
The scout wisely chose not to comment, but continued, 'The Siul legions are clearing ahead; enemy's got archers and light cavalry stationed at each bridge. They'll have engaged by now.'
'What state are the rivers in?'
'Look high to me, sir – the ground's soft, so I'd say there's been a fair amount of rain. Can still be crossed, but only slowly. I'd not want to be the one trying to outflank the enemy.'
Lahk turned to Isak. 'My Lord, we should have the Tirah cavalry standing ready as rearguard – if the enemy does have reserves hidden behind Byora's walls, we need to move now to ensure they're not exposed.'
Isak sighed and looked up at the sky. It's promising rain, and if it does, it'll be even harder going. The more bogged-down the clerics get, the more likely it is we'll engage and I'll end up face to face with Lord Styrax.
'Give the order,' he said to the general. 'It's going to be a long, hard day.'
Dawn turned into morning with a sullen reluctance. Isak had a clear view of the battlefield from atop a small rise. In the east was the massive bulk of Blackfang, and in front was Byora. He had a fine view of the two levels which rose up from behind the main wall of the city. The quarter's unnaturally tall towers were dwarfed by the great black cliffs behind.
He couldn't see Akell; it was hidden by a sloping spur of rock that jutted out from the main bulk of Blackfang. Pretty obvious the Circle City isn't really one continuous city, he thought to himself. Outside the Byora city wall was a wide skirt of buildings that looked like shanties, getting progressively larger and nicer the further they were from the wall. Larger detached houses and farms dotted the land all the way to Ismess.
To the west were the mist-covered fens that spoiled the view from the Duchess of Byora's Ruby Tower. They looked closer to the city than Isak remembered. Even in his childhood when he was running wild, Isak had kept away from the fens: they were treacherous at the best of times. The wagon-brat might not have been welcome on the streets of Burn or Wheel, but all the same he'd never wandered far from the city.
The waterlands were gateways to Death's realm, like ponds and lakes: still waters attracted all sorts of malign spirits and creatures, quite apart from whatever might come through those gateways. The fens were studded with copses of bent and twisted marsh-alder and silvery ghost willows, and they looked forbidding even in high summer. Isak had heard more stories of the Coldhand Folk, will o' the wisps, Finntrail and the like in Byora than anywhere else outside of Tirah. The hunting could be good in the fens, and the willows from which the medicinal bark was harvested were plentiful, but no one disputed the very real dangers either entailed.
'Shall I send the engineers now, my Lord?' said a voice from Isak's knee, making him jump a little. He looked down to see Quartermaster-General Kervar standing beside Isak's horse, looking out over the battlefield.
'The bridges? Aye, it's time.'
After he'd carried out Isak's order, Kervar pulled his own mount away from Toramin, Isak's massive charger. Bored of standing still, Toramin had decided to investigate the horse next to him, and that was making Kervar's beast decidedly nervous.
Isak gave the reins a tug to quieten the fiery stallion and looked up. He didn't need to see the Poacher's Moon, hidden by heavy clouds, to know it was approaching mid-morning. There was a stiff southwesterly breeze running across the plain, which would be enough to blunt the effect of the enemy's strafing attacks.
