tail twitched.
Relief flooded Rik as he realised the creature was dying. There was a chance that they might get out of this alive yet.
'It's dead,' Rik shouted to Karl Mandrake.
'It was dead from the time I first shot it.'
'How can you be so certain?'
'The bullets were laced with dragonbane and notched so they broke up on impact. The poison was spread all through its body. It was only a matter of time before it went down.'
'The cannon shot might have had something to do with it too.'
Karl whipped away his mask. His brutal features were twisted in a crazed feral grin. 'Aye, they might have,' he said. 'But I reckon you and I might still get medals for this.'
'Do notched bullets really split up?' Rik asked just to have something to say.
'Aye — it's a nasty thing to do, but so is lacing them with poison in the first place.'
Rik could not disagree with that.
Sardec leapt aside as the Wyrm raced by. He roared at the Foragers to take cover and prayed that none of them would be crushed. Moments later the out of control monster vanished down the street into the smoke and flames. He took stock. A bunch of corpses lay nearby. Smoke filled the air. Next to a wall a group of uniformed men had their hands held high while Weasel and the Barbarian stripped them of weapons. They were forcing the enemy soldiers to turn out their pockets and their purses as well, and Sardec saw no reason to stop them.
From somewhere up ahead a horn sounded a long sad note. He heard cheering and screams and then more cheering. The horn sounded again, and then drums began to beat a slow, inexorable rhythm. As if in answer to the horns call, temple bells began to ring. More Kharadrean soldier's emerged from the alleys around them and began to throw down their arms. They kept shouting that they surrendered, and slowly it dawned on Sardec that the horn and the bells must have been a pre-arranged signal.
Sergeant Hef rushed up to him. A Terrarch officer in the green uniform of the local militia accompanied him. His sword was held in the ritual position, hilt forward, balanced in the crook of his left arm.
'Are you in charge here, Lieutenant?' asked the enemy officer. His face was smeared with soot. His eyes had a curiously empty look. There was a listless quality to his voice.
'I am,' Sardec replied.
'Then I would be honoured if you would accept my surrender and that of my men. It appears that Halim has fallen.'
A broad smile spread across Sardec's lips. Enormous relief flooded through him. It looked like the siege was over and the Taloreans had won. Triumph filled him. They were victorious, and he was still alive to enjoy it. It looked like word had spread. Already the Foragers had begun to smash down doors and search within for their contents.
This would not do, Sardec thought.
'Get the men together, Sergeant,' he said. 'Why loot these hovels when there are palaces up ahead?'
Hef nodded understanding. 'Why indeed, sir? Why indeed?'
Chapter Three
Night lay over the camp of the victors. Funeral pyres burned bright as the still-blazing buildings within the city walls. The stink of burning flesh warred with incense. A vast space lay cleared between the tents of the Talorean commanders. In front of their pavilion stood the banners of the Armies of the South and of the East. In the middle of the southern edge of the impromptu square two high wooden thrones had been set up, and the Scarlet commanders sat waiting to accept the surrender of those they had conquered.
Rik stood slightly behind and to the right of Asea in the group of watching Taloreans. She seemed to have recovered entirely from the backlash of her spell earlier. Now she looked exactly as poised and beautiful as she normally did. She smiled with that slightly shocked look that most of the officers had. They had ended this campaigning season with a stunning victory. The capital of Kharadrea was in their hands, and its Generals and nobility were all making the pilgrimage out to their camp to offer their surrender. He and Asea were close to the front of the ranks of observers so he had a good view of the proceedings.
Rik studied the commanders closely. Lord Azaar was tall and lean. His body had a fragile wasted look. An antique silver mask obscured a face said to have been eaten away by some dread disease. His uniform was a simple functional red tunic. A long blade lay casually against the arm of the throne. His whole posture suggested fatigue and boredom.
By contrast General Elakar sat open faced, in the modern fashion. His features could have been the absolute model of Terrarch beauty cast in bronze. He looked as arrogant and cruel as a dragon lord. His uniform was a gorgeous confection of scarlet silk, gold braid and rune-embossed buttons. He held the formal jewelled sceptre of a Viceroy in his hands. Between the two Generals and above them was Kathea. The Taloreans had already acknowledged her Queen of Kharadrea. Now they held the city where the rulers of the country were formally crowned. She looked regal in a long gown of green and red, not at all like the bedraggled and frightened figure Rik had rescued from the Serpent Tower.
In the distance Rik heard the sound of music and merrymaking. He wondered how it was going in the city proper. An army freed from discipline and filled with relief at the end of a battle was a fearsome thing. Even its attempts to enjoy itself would be brutal. Rik guessed that many of the buildings that were alight in the city centre had not been when the western soldier's first entered the city. Many of the nobles who had come out to greet the Army's commanders were probably here as much for their own protection as to take part in the ritual of surrender.
A huge number of people formed the column that emerged from the open gates of the city. No servants were allowed. Nobles held their own personal glowglobes on the end of their wands. Apprehension was written on every Kharadrean face. They had defied the approaching army and refused to surrender even when their city was surrounded. According to the normal protocols of war, the attackers were entitled to do with them what they willed.
In truth they had very little choice. Their soldiers would expect something for the risks the defenders intransigence had forced them to run. The Talorean commanders had little option but to allow the traditional three days of rapine and looting. To do otherwise under the circumstances would have been to invite the mutiny of their own army. The question burning in the minds of the vanquished must be how much did the High Command of the Taloreans hold this against them?
As they entered the square Elakar raised his sceptre and soldiers moved to stop the Kharadreans. Another gesture and a delegation of Terrarch nobles was allowed to come closer.
'State your name,' said Elakar. His voice was cold and cutting and gave no sign that he recognised the status of the defeated. If Lord Azaar resented having his fellow commander speak before him he gave no sign. If anything his posture became a fraction more bored and indolent. Kathea looked as if she wanted to speak, but dared not. She was not quite so secure in her power as the Taloreans wanted her people to think.
'I am Telarn Vashaka, Lord Governor of Halim,' said a stately, silver-haired old Terrarch. His face was lined and his skin seemed parchment thin in the witchlight. An air of weariness and sadness hung over him like a cloud. How old was he really, Rik wondered? What might have been signs of ageing in a human were often signs of disease in a Terrarch.
'You are the one who chose to deny our legal request of surrender. You are the one who brought doom upon the people it was your lawful duty to protect.'
'I acknowledge that Lord Elakar. I ask clemency only for my people, not for myself.'
'The Queen's Soldiers were forced to fight. They have claimed their right of plunder.'
'Surely you would not punish all the citizens of Halim for an old dotard's folly,' said Telarn. It was obvious that he had chosen to take all the responsibility for what had happened upon himself, possibly in the hope that his family and friends would be spared. It would have seemed noble to Rik, had it not seemed so futile. Nothing was
