Martin Scott - Thraxas at War

Viriggax and his remaining mercenaries have carried their wounded companions inside and are now searching for some medical help before heading back to the walls. Some of the men they've carried in are badly wounded and a few have died.

'Is that Toraggax?'

Viriggax nods.

'Poor boy. First battle and he gets killed.'

Makri steps over to the body. It's quite badly mutilated. She looks at it expressionlessly. Not even a frown.

'You know your Prince is dead?' says Viriggax.

'I didn't.'

'He was a bad leader.'

He was. It wasn't entirely his fault that the Ores took us by surprise but he should have trusted in Lisutaris's warnings.

Makri moves away from Toraggax's body.

'Was someone responsible for this? I mean, the Ore Sorcerer in Turai, the surprise attack? Did someone betray the city?'

'Rittius, I think,' I mutter, softly, so no one else can hear. Makri nods.

Horses sweep into the pleasure gardens. It's General Pomius, Lisutaris and various other officials. There's no sign of the Consul. I wonder if he's dead. Officers, taking orders from the General, hurry this way and that around the gardens, issuing commands, organising the scattered troops.

'Is that Rittius's carriage?' Makri asks, indicating a vehicle to the rear of the General's.

'Looks like it.'

Makri sets off. I follow on after her. In the aftermath of the catastrophic battle, it's not a time to be investigating a murder, but I'd like words with Rittius anyway.

I force my way through the crowds of soldiers and officials that surround the General's carriage. No one pays me much notice. There are a lot of soldiers wandering aimlessly around the field, shocked by their experiences. Makri pulls open the door of Rittius's carriage and leaps inside. I hurry after her, closing the door behind me. Rittius is sitting on his upholstered seat, looking at Makri in surprise.

'Rittius, you dog,' I begin. 'I know you're a traitor—'

I stop. There's more I want to say but Makri chooses this moment to stick a dagger in Rittius's heart. I stare at Makri, then back to Rittius.

'. . . and after due process of law you'll answer for your crimes in court.'

Rittius slumps forward, dead from his wound. I turn to Makri.

'You couldn't even wait till I made a speech?'

'What for?'

'I had things to say.'

Makri shrugs.

'Nothing important.'

'You know I only suspected Rittius? I haven't gathered any proof. We generally don't execute people merely on my suspicions. We wait till after the trial'

'There's never going to be another trial in this city,' says Makri.

'You're probably right. We should get out of here.'

We slip out of the door on the far side. In the confusion, no one takes any notice of us. I'm not exactly sorry that Makri killed Rittius. He's been my enemy for a long time and I'm sure enough he betrayed the city, not to mention poisoning Galwinius. And he was probably responsible for the death of Galwinius's informer, and Bevarius too, to cover his tracks. But I do have a feeling of dissatisfaction. There were things I wanted to say. Makri might have waited till I'd got a few sentences out.

We find ourselves only a few feet away from Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky. I whisper to Makri.

'Don't say anything about what just happened.'

'Lisutaris,' says Makri. 'I just killed Rittius because he betrayed the city.'

The Sorcerer looks surprised.

'Pardon?'

'Thraxas can give you more details.'

'The details will have to wait,' says Lisutaris. 'I'm needed at the East Gate.'

She isn't looking in such good shape.

'You don't look fit for more fighting,' I say.

'I'm not,' replies Lisutaris. 'That last spell took it out of me.'

Tirini Snake Smiter, in excellent shape, appears beside her, still glamorous. She holds a scented handkerchief in her hand which she dabs around her nose as if to keep away the stench of death.

'Tirini is assisting me,' says Lisutaris, drily. 'She's still full of spells. Having not actually made it to the battlefield.'

'I told you, I was having my hair done,' says Tirini, defensively.

They walk off. The Ores don't seem to be storming the city at this moment but I can smell burning coming from somewhere. Makri lingers for a moment.

'Don't tell anyone Prince Amrag is my brother.'

'I won't.'

She hurries off after Lisutaris.

A centurion strides up to me and demands to know what I'm doing, standing uselessly in the middle of the pleasure gardens. I tell him my phalanx was destroyed outside the walls.

'So?' he barks. Are you just planning to stand there? Get down to the South Gate and report for duty on the walls.'

I wrap my cloak around me and set off. From the lack of dragons flying overhead and the absence of noises of battle it seems like the Ores are not immediately pressing their attack on the city. The aroma of burning gets stronger as I head south. Though the dragons didn't try to raze the city, it seems like they did target several buildings. The grain stores at the harbour are burning furiously. Fire wagons race past me as I trudge towards the gate. I find an officer and report for duty. He sends me up on the walls, where I look out on to the cold shore. It's dark, snow is falling, but there's no sign of an attack. I'm hungry.

'Still here?' comes a familiar voice.

It's Gurd. I'm so relieved I could throw my arms around him. But I'm not really a throwing-my-arms sort of person, so I nod.

'Still here. Last survivor of phalanx number seven.'

Gurd shakes his head wearily.

'Mine crumbled at the first attack. God knows how I survived.'

I know how Gurd survived. By hewing off the head of any Ore who came near him. We wait for the night to pass. On the cold, exposed walls, the mood is grim. Turai's army has been destroyed. Prince Dees-Akan is dead, along with many of our commanders and countless troops. There's an Orcish army outside the gates and no prospect of relief. You don't have to be sharp as an Elf's ear to know we're in serious trouble.

When I reflect that today I've solved my case, and a perplexing one at that, I almost manage to smile. Who cares now who killed Prefect Galwinius? No one at all. We'll all be dead soon enough.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Three days later I'm still on guard duty on the walls. The Ores have not yet pressed home their attack but neither have they withdrawn. The main bulk of their army has taken shelter in the Stadium Superbius and the buildings around it. Others have been deployed to watch the city gates, making sure that no one enters or leaves. The city is now under siege.

It took two days to put the fires out at the grain warehouses. As a result of this well-directed assault by the dragons, our food stores are already badly depleted. Our army has been all but destroyed. The mercenaries didn't fare much better. All over the city men are still dying. Turai is well supplied with healers, herbalists and doctors, some of them aided by sorcery, but for many of the terrible wounds inflicted by Orcish weapons, there's no cure.

If it was Prince Amrag's intention to seize Turai in winter and use it for a bridgehead for his assault on the west next summer, he didn't quite succeed. We held them off and shut the gates. But the Prince hasn't gone away and no one is expecting him to. Whether he's waiting for reinforcements or siege engines, or just working on another plan for taking the city, nobody knows, but few people can sleep easily with the Ores outside the walls. No Human nation will march to our aid till the spring. The Elves can't set sail in this weather. Even if Turai still stands when winter draws to a close, the city might not be relieved. The armies of the west might decide to defend the line elsewhere.

My guard duty ends at midnight. I make the long descent from the walls and am surprised to find a carriage waiting for me. It's lisutaris. As a member of the War Council, to which she has now been reinstated, Lisutaris is allowed to use her carriage at night. Inside it's warm, with a comforting aroma of thazis.