Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

The king faced his men, then swept off his flamboyant hat so his face was visible to all. He gave them a moment to remember the stories, the legend of a king to rival any the Land had yet seen. He had as commanding a presence as any white-eye, and his quiet assurance and cold eyes gave no reason to doubt the reputed genius of his intellect, nor the ruthless ambition that had driven his own conquest two decades previously.

'Brothers,' King Emin called in a loud, clear voice, 'our time of reckoning has come.'

Doranei watched the effect of the king's piercing ice-blue gaze sweeping over his troops, as the men stood a shade more upright under that imperious stare.

'The so-called "first tribes" have marched on our lands,' King Emin announced, raising his arms as though to embrace the army, 'intent on destroying all we have built and all we hold dear.'

He looked around, catching people's eyes, so every man thought he spoke directly to him. 'In their envy,' he cried, 'they come to kill us, to murder this dream we share. They see the twilight of their own kind and for that they fear us.'

He raised his voice, little by little, as he went on, 'They fear our great kingdom, because it stands for an end to the ways of the past – an end to the ties of tradition and ancient prejudice. An end to the dream that they are better than we.

'Twenty years ago I realised the truth, one I see realised in the faces all around me: I believed that we were equal of any of the seven tribes – but now I see we are greater still!'

He paused, waiting and watching, until the watching soldiers were breathless with anticipation.

'When the White Circle attacked Narkang, many of you fought alongside me, fought as equals alongside Lord Isak himself, and when the breach came it was his actions that saved the day, and yet – and yet he did not claim the title of hero that day, though he was more than entitled.'

Doranei could feel the expectation building like a tidal wave inside them all.

'Young as he was, Isak knew his God would protect him as he called the storm down, and secure in that knowledge, he sought to close the breach alone.'

King Emin paused again. The faces were rapt, every man holding his breath until the king slowly raised a finger. Doranei felt the murmurs building from the crowd.

'But… but in that breach he was not alone – '

He got no further as a roar of approval crashed out around the fort, drowning out all other sounds. The king waited for the tumult to die down again, knowing their pride would eclipse any thing else he might now say. Many of those present had fought on the walls of the White Palace; many friends had died beside them, and they had all known their lives were hanging in the balance when Lord Isak of the Farlan had stayed alone to defend the wall.

' – yes, brothers, there was another – one who was neither white-eye, nor favoured of the Gods. Commander Brandt was a man, no different to you or me, and yet he was a hero! He was not even a soldier – the City Watch was his mistress, and he served it faithfully, man and boy.

'When the time came, this simple watchman sacrificed himself for the city he loved, for his wife and children, and to protect this dream we share! And he did so gladly.

'He stood, back to back with a figure from myth – back to back and unafraid!'

King Emin turned to the advancing Menin Army, then back to his men, a mocking smile on his lips as he made a dismissive gesture.

'Equal to the Seven Tribes? No – not that day, nor for ever more! They come to kill us; they come to conquer us, because they fear us! Without the patronage of Gods here we stand, as strong as any of them, and solely through our own endeavour. Even now they dare not face us alone, but with reluctant, fearful allies.'

The king gestured at the faces arrayed below him. 'The blessed of the War God march on us, yet I see no fear on your faces. They have hurt us, they have razed our towns and murdered our countrymen, yet still I do not see fear. Instead I see a people of one mind, a people of one unstoppable resolve!

'Together, brothers, we will show them the quality they fear, the true strength of the nation that eclipses them! This day I leave the field as King of Narkang, or not at all, and as a watchman once laid his life down for his wife and children, so shall I, if the Gods demand it!

'We are steel, tempered in the flames of their disdain. On steel, their ancient bronze will break. Tomorrow we will pity them, for their time is done, but today we will show them only our rage!

'Rage for the innocents they have slain. Rage for the threat to those we hold dear. Face them, my brothers – face them and show them the strength of free men!'

'Where is that novice-fucking cripple?' bellowed a voice from somewhere behind. 'Osh! Where are you, you cockless relic?'

Hambalay Osh stifled a smile and turned stiffly. He had positioned himself on a small rise, the better to view the troops under his command, and from there he could see a figure forcing its way through the crowd of soldiers. The Mystic of Karkarn was today dressed in a long red robe with bronze-coloured braiding, and a bronze helm covered the grey stubble on his head and cheeks. A long shield rested against his left side, partially hiding the metal brace that encased his leg.

'Daken!' he called as the white-eye barged through the assembled soldiers, knocking one infantryman to the ground in the process.

'That's fucking General Daken to you,' the man roared cheerfully, grinning in anticipation of the battle to come. He grabbed the ageing mystic in a bearhug, chuckling madly. 'Still upright, then?'

Osh gestured to his ruined knee – after escaping the Ruby Tower in Byora, with a little help from the Brotherhood, the mage, Tomal Endine, had healed the injury as best he could, but Osh still need the brace to stop the knee collapsing underneath him. 'Until you give me a good shove anyway.'

Daken did just that, thumping Osh hard on the chest and doubling over with laughter as he fell backwards onto his rump. The mystic gave a wheezing cough, trying to recover his breath while Osh's aides helped him up.

'I suppose,' Osh puffed, 'I asked for that.'

'Sounded like'n invitation to me,' Daken agreed, beaming. The white-eye general wore a battered breastplate and a plundered Menin helm, but the cloak around his neck was pristine: white, with a red border. Osh tilted his head to get a better look at the design on it: a massive curved axe.

'Fate's eyes,' Osh breathed, 'he really has ennobled you?'

'Aye, but he made me a marshal too!' Daken said, grinning. 'Likes a man who carries out orders well, does King Emin.'

Osh turned and looked towards the defensive lines ten yards away. 'So you're here commanding this flank?' They were near the tree-line, and the smaller of the two Menin forces was closing in, now only four hundred yards away.

Daken nodded. 'He wants my axe here, help hold the line. I command this flank, General Lopir's got the cavalry, and Suzerain Tenber has the right, for all the good he can do there.'

'The reserve?'

'Yours to call when you want 'em, half o' Tenber's infantry are moving this way already.' Daken's face twisted in scorn. 'Fer some reason he's given command of the reserve to a bunch o' Raylin there – some local crone and that blind bitch who smells like a Demi-God and is pretty enough to be the next thing I ask the king fer!'

A tall soldier in Canar Fell colours interrupted them. 'Sir, the first line of skirmishers are withdrawing.'

The pair looked over the heads of the blue-liveried infantry and watched the furthest division of archers scramble back towards the Narkang lines. They were pursued by two regiments of light cavalry, but without enthusiasm as a second division of bowmen positioned behind the next staggered ditch had already started firing.