S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

“The starkkapitan’s offiziers are going to be unhappy,” Markell commented. “He’ll take out his frustration on them. It would seem the Kraljiki has heard rumors of your advance.”

“It’s probably my dear wife who sent the Kraljiki the warning,” Jan answered. “And if I find out that’s the case, I won’t need an annulment from the Archigos to rid myself of her.” Markell rolled his eyes toward Allesandra, and Jan sighed. “Allesandra, perhaps you should leave. .”

“I don’t like Matarh either, Vatarh. I told you-I like Mara much better.”

He might have chuckled at another time. Instead, he grimaced.

“Go on,” he told her, sternly. “And this time, no listening. O’Offizier ci’Arndt, if you’d go with her. .”

Allesandra sighed dramatically. She hopped down from the stool and left the tent with ci’Arndt behind her. Markell’s face didn’t change expression, but the way his shoulders had drawn back told Jan that he was thinking, as was Jan, of the Kraljiki’s insulting arrogance in sending troops within Firenzcia’s border. “I will make inquiries on my own regarding the Hirgin and report back to you,” Markell said. “The Tete of the Palais staff in Brezno may have something he can tell us. But if the Kraljiki has sent out the Garde Civile to verify the rumors of our advance, won’t the silence from one of his offiziers confirm that? The messenger birds indicate that he expects regular reports.”

“By the time the silence becomes critical, we will be on the Avi a’Firenzcia and nearly within sight of the city. He won’t have time to react. Besides, Markell, who says that this offizier won’t be reporting back to the Kraljiki as he’s supposed to?” Jan grinned and slapped the thin man on the back. “It’s a fine day, I think, for the first battle of this war. . ”

The sun had descended nearly to the shoulders of the western ridge before Jan saw the riders: first the galloping horses of ci’Baden’s small group tearing at the soft earth of the valley as the banner of Firenzcia fluttered in the hands of the lead rider. Behind them by a half mile or so, the platoon of Garde Civile, their chain mail draped in the blue and gold of Nessantico, rode quickly but more cautiously into the valley.

Ci’Baden brought his troop thundering up the short slope to the top of the knoll where Jan, Markell, and U’Teni cu’Kohnle waited for them on their own horses. Jan was dressed in his battle armor: his cuirass chased with silver filigree and draped in the white and red of Firenzcia.

He wore a thin, golden crown. “My Hirzg,” ci’Baden said, saluting and panting as he leaned forward in his saddle. “They come.”

“As promised,” Jan told him. “Good work, E’Offizier; you’ll be rewarded for this, I promise. Now, if you and your men would stand with me. .” The men turned their horses and they waited on the knoll, the nostrils of their horses blowing clouds of heated breath as they watched the intruders approach.

They were no more than a quarter mile away now. Jan could see that the offizier in charge was troubled. He signaled his men to a halt, glancing from Jan on the knoll to the sides of the valley around them.

Jan saw him converse rapidly with his men, and two horses turned and pounded away the way they’d come. They’d gone no more than a few

hundred yards when a volley of arrows from the nearest copse of trees took down both riders and their horses. Jan could hear the scream of one of the crippled horses from the knoll until a second flurry of arrows stopped it.

The riders had turned at the sound as well, and now they drew their weapons: as the soldiers Jan had placed around the valley emerged from cover; as he nudged his horse into a slow walk down from the knoll, the others following.

The war-teni had begun chanting, but he was already too late: cu’Kohnle had begun his own spell as soon as Jan had begun to move, and now he released it. The ground erupted under the teni, a fountain of rock and earth that sent the man, broken and screaming, high into the air and then slammed him back down again, taking down a half-dozen of the riders next to him as well. One of the cages for the messenger birds broke open with the impact. A trio of white-and-tan pigeons fluttered up from the carnage; archers quickly brought them down. The offizier bellowed orders, but Jan’s voice was far louder.

“Enough! Put your weapons down. Surrender and none of the rest of you need die.”

“Surrender?” the offizier asked, his voice sounding weak compared

to Jan’s. He was bleeding from one of the rocks torn from the ground, the side of his face streaming red down his neck. “Is Firenzcia at war against the Holdings, then?”

“I would say that it appears Nessantico is at war with Firenzcia,” Jan answered. “The Kraljiki sends the Garde Civile into my country, against the laws of the Holdings and Firenzcia both,” Jan answered. “I am Hirzg Jan ca’Vorl, and I rule here. Put your weapons down. You’ve been sent on a fool’s errand and you have no chance here. None.”

He could see the man hesitating, looking about as Jan’s soldiers closed around them. With a look of disgust, he tossed his sword on the ground. “Weapons down and dismount!” he growled to his men. “Do it!”

Steel clattered on grass as the men descended from their horses.

Jan raised his hand; cu’Kohnle ceased chanting a new spell. Markell gestured to the foot soldiers to pick up the surrendered weapons, to take the caged messenger birds, and to lead the horses away. Other men bound the hands of the captives. “That was wise,” Jan said. He was close enough now that he could see the stripes of the man’s rank on his shoulders. “Tell me, O’Offizier, who sent you here, and what were your orders? What were you looking for?”

“The order came from my a’offizier,” the man answered. “Who gave him that order, I don’t know. As for what we were to look for. .” The man wiped at the blood on his face. “We seem to have found that.”

Jan sniffed. “You have, indeed.” He turned to ci’Baden. “I leave you in charge,” he told the e’offizier. “These men are spies, who have trespassed into Firenzcia against our laws, the laws of the Holdings, and the law of the Divolonte. Execute them.”

Ci’Baden’s face blanched, but he saluted. The Nessantican o’offizier shrieked at the Hirzg, breaking away from the soldier who had tied his hands and surging toward Jan. Ci’Baden leaped from his saddle and pushed the man back even as the o’offizier spat invectives at Jan. “No! You can’t do this! Is this what the word of the Hirzg is worth? The Kraljiki will put your head on a pike of the Pontica Kralji. You’re a gutless coward and a liar!”

Ci’Baden stepped forward and slammed the hilt of his sword into the offizier’s face. Jan heard teeth and bone crack as the man crumpled.

“Execute them,” Jan said again to ci’Baden. “As the laws demand. All but the o’offizier; we’ll need him alive for a bit. Markell-we will rejoin the starkkapitan and the A’Hirzg, and perhaps we will send a bird back to Nessantico.”

He turned his horse and rode away to the screams and curses of the Nessantico captives.

Ana cu’Seranta

“Ana!”

Ana turned, startled both by the sound of the voice and the toofamiliar use of her name. She could see Mahri, crouched at the corner of the building. The ragged beggar beckoned to her. “How dare you address me in such a manner,” she snapped at him. “Leave here now or I’ll call an utilino and have you arrested.” She turned quickly to hurry on.

“Please,” the cracked voice pleaded. His ruined, one-eyed face glanced around at the crowded plaza, as if he were about to flee if noticed. “I have news for you. Of Envoy ci’Vliomani.”