The Legend of Broken

Guard would have withdrawn. The sole questions being, in which direction, why, and under whose authority …”

“‘Authority,’ Niksar?” Arnem asks. “You think that they had orders to remove themselves from the field? Such orders, I trust you realize, could only have come from one source.”

Visimar desires with all his heart not to be the one to respond to this statement, and so is delighted when he hears the handsome young linnet reply, “Sentek — I do not intend this as anything other than what it is: an observation of what I see as undeniable facts, as well as an attempt to honor my brother, and to question the peculiar way in which Donner’s plight was consistently ignored by our superiors, our civilian superiors, during his time at Esleben; surely this situation suggests that Lord Baster-kin, whatever your former respect for him, is not the man you have so often trusted him to be.”

“Perhaps, Niksar—perhaps,” Arnem replies; then, after consideration, he adds, “Although I can but hope that you understand how wary we must be of even considering such conclusions. I do realize that we have not yet found a common thread that runs through all that we have seen, experienced, and felt. But the suggestion that such a thread is treachery on the part of the Merchant Lord — I am not at all certain of as much. The officers and men of the Guard share more than enough perfidy and cowardice to explain what has happened — and we must, I fear, leave matters at that. At least for the moment.”

At this rebuff from his commander, Niksar — his brother’s death still fresh in his thoughts — rides further south alone for a moment, while Arnem and Visimar grow silent once again, Visimar studying the commander of the army of Broken for some few moments before quietly asking, “When did you last sleep, Sentek? Properly, that is?”

“When did any of us?” Arnem replies, not sharply, but still with some irritation. “The men need to establish a schedule of watches and rest, the horses need some similarly sustained hours of feeding, or at least of grazing on decent grass such as will fill out their bellies, and sleep, to say nothing of grooming … And Kafra’s stones, the skutaars look as though they will all be felled by exhaustion at any moment. Can I rest before I know that all of these — men, animals, youths — are safe enough from either fatigue or pestilence to undertake their task? Tell me how, sorcerer’s acolyte, and I shall put my head to my bedroll as fast as any man who marches with us. For of one thing I am certain—” The cool, steady eyes scan the southern riverbank, and Davon Wood beyond it. “The Bane have been watching all that we have been through. From afar, perhaps, but … They are out there, and know at least a little — and likely far more — of our troubled state.”

It is not until hours later, when daylight is growing golden with late afternoon, that Arnem is informed that the first of the scouts — not surprisingly, the ever-reliable Akillus — has been sighted rushing at a great speed back to the Talons’ camp.

Indeed, by the time Akillus’s mount thunders across the Plain and reaches Arnem, the lately returned Niksar, and Visimar, Akillus is still riding so hard that he overshoots the three, and must circle back, bringing light laughter from the sentek, his aide, and his advisor — until they see the grave expression upon the rider’s face.

“Akillus,” Arnem says in greeting, when the scout finally reins up alongside the other three men and their horses. “Something, I gather, is too important for you either to wait for this evening’s council, or to wash off the mud of your long ride before you make your report.”

Looking down at the dried brown splashes that cover his flesh, tunic, and armor, Akillus does not laugh or so much as smile in the manner that he so often displays, even in the most dangerous or embarrassing situations — which is Arnem’s first hint that the scout has gathered intelligence from his mission which is sinister, indeed. “You have seen something, then,” Arnem says. “Along the riverfront?”

“I–I was not alone in seeing it, Sentek,” Akillus answers unsteadily. “Every scout, regardless of whether he was in a party that went upriver or down, glimpsed the like.”

“Well, Akillus?” Niksar says, his face again attaining some of the gravity it exhibited at Esleben. “What is it that you have seen?”

“A scene to rival Daurawah?” Visimar asks, anxiously and knowingly.

“Aye,” Akillus replies, “just so — but far greater in scale, although I would not have thought such possible.” Finally looking up at his commander, Akillus bravely attempts composure, and states, “You would think that some sort of battle had taken place upon the river, Sentek, save that we have never known the Bane to use ships, nor to attack the river traders. And certainly, the number of unarmed women and children among their dead does not speak of a conflict — not a formal one, at any rate. But they are all there together, along with the missing patrols of Baster-kin’s Guard; the dead of every age and both sides, and those not quite dead, as well — although they wished us to grant them death, so painful were their conditions.”

“‘Conditions’?” Visimar repeats. “You mean, they displayed signs of both of the sicknesses that we have witnessed: on the one hand, the rose fever—”

“And the fire wounds, as well,” Akillus continues, “which have spread among the animals seen by the scouts further upstream. Sentek, the Cat’s Paw has become a river of death, from one end to the other!”

“Steady, Linnet,” Arnem says, quietly. “And you could find no one free of disease?”

“But one,” Akillus replies. “A young member of the Guard, wandering alone. Strangest of all, he was as terrified of the possibility that we might be his own comrades as of the thought that we might be the be Bane. He says he was left behind by the main force, to keep watch over those of Lord Baster-kin’s cattle that his detachment usually guards, in the northern part of the Plain — but when the hour grew late, and then an entire night passed, he went to see what progress his comrades had made, and found — just what we have found. He is half-mad with fear.”

“You have him in camp?” Visimar says, alarm bleeding through his words.

“Just outside,” Akillus replies. “He appeared to be untouched by disease, but after what we have seen …”

“Wise, Akillus,” Arnem breathes in relief, glancing at Niksar. “As ever.”

“But—” Visimar is still puzzling with an earlier statement. “‘What progress his comrades had made’? Which comrades? And in what endeavor?”

“An ambitious one,” Akillus replies. “Involving far more than the usual patrols on the Plain. A full khotor of Guardsmen, it seems, were dispatched from the city while we were on our way here from the east, tasked with entering the Wood before we would be able to, and destroying any and all Bane that they discovered.”

Arnem reins the nervous Ox to a stunned halt. “What?”

“Aye, Sentek,” Akillus replies. “Most strange, as I say — for this was to be our mission, we all knew that. But apparently, Lord Baster-kin—”

“Baster-kin sent them?” Arnem says, again looking to Niksar, but now with an aspect of apology. “But why? Why send us to finally destroy the Bane and then send his own men to do the job separately?”

“Because,” Visimar murmurs discreetly, “it was not anticipated that the Talons — and especially you, Sentek — would survive their trip east. Baster-kin is attempting to use the terrible events in those provinces as a path by which he may consolidate his control over all instruments of force in the kingdom: in order for the regular army to become his instrument, the Talons and their commander would have to be removed, and what tidier way to make this removal seem accidental — or better still, the work of the Bane — than to deliberately send them into that portion of the kingdom that is rife with disease?”

Akillus has evidently seen enough along the river to find Visimar’s explanation plausible: “Indeed, Sentek. To judge by what this Guardsman has said — and you may ask him about it, yourself — it was the tenor of your own reports that made the Merchant Lord believe that he must send men more … personally loyal to both himself and the God-King to undertake the conquest of the Bane, in the event that we either never reached the Wood, or chose not to attack once we did.”

Niksar says nothing, but casts his commander a look that says he, too, has reached the same conclusion.

“And there is more, Sentek,” Akillus says, his voice now growing even more uneasy. “It would seem — according to this young pallin — well, it would seem that rebellion has broken out in the Fifth District of the city.”

Again, a look which indicates that Visimar already knows the answer to his own question enters his face as