The Fallen World

Tatria - Part 2

Resalintas and the tactician sat in silence as everyone else filed slowly out of the room, some of them muttering to themselves and shaking their heads. "Sometimes, I have, ah, great sympathy for the nationalists," said Hurgis. "He's the idiot who said the Shads would never dare attack us again."

"The High Prefect is a fool," agreed the old priest. "Nevertheless, we have to obey him."

"You don't have to," pointed out the tactician. "You're a priest of Samnos. You're only loyalty is, ah, to Samnos Himself."

"That is true," agreed Resalintas, "but the men have sworn an oath of loyalty to the Emperor, and therefore to his viceroy. I cannot order them to disobey him."

"So what are you going to do?"

"We still have a few days before the enemy gets here. We have that long to persuade him to change his mind."

"That won't be easy, he's a stubborn man."

"So am I." The old priest decided to change the subject. "What about young Drake? Has there been any news of him yet?"

"I'm afraid not," replied the tactician. "His carpet must have, ah, crashed on its way here. He may still be alive, if he managed to make a soft landing in friendly territory. He could turn up at any minute."

Resalintas nodded, but knew they couldn't count on it. If he'd come down in enemy territory, he was finished. "Damnation!" he swore. "We need every priest we can get our hands on! We can't afford to lose even a youngster like him!"

"You like him, don't you?" said Hurgis. "I've, ah, seen the way you look at him when you think no-one's looking."

"He performs his duties adequately," replied the old priest "He shows great promise. It would be a tragedy if he were to die before that potential could be realised." He stood up to leave the room and the tactician followed.

"What's the situation in Bula Pass?" asked Resalintas as they walked.

"The only news we have is, ah, several days old," replied Hurgis, "since all messages now have to be carried by flier. The last we heard, Fort Dirk is again under siege and a battle is being waged further up the pass between, ah, five Beltharan divisions and nearly a hundred thousand Shads. It seems likely that the Sceptre will soon be used again."

"That'll be two of its three charges used," said the old priest, now looking older than ever, "and only one charge remaining. The bulk of the Shadowarmy, over half a million of them, is hanging back in the Shadow, waiting for all three of its charges to be used, whereupon they will sweep down on us and wash away our defences like sandcastles. That's the real reason they're attacking Fort Dirk. They're not seriously trying to take it yet, they just want to use up the Sceptre's charges." He suddenly realised he'd been walking with a slight stoop and angrily drew himself back up to his full height.

"I hear they've, ah, brought in conscription in Belthar," said the tactician thoughtfully. "They must finally be, ah, waking up to what's happening out here."

"Conscripts!" snorted Resalintas in contempt. "It takes five years to teach a man even the most basic swordfighting techniques. You send common farmers and peasants against Shadowsoldiers and all you're doing is swelling the ranks of their zombie legions."

"But it means that the high command is finally beginning to, ah, take this war seriously," said the tactician eagerly. "That's got to be good news."

Resalintas grunted noncommittally.

They reached the exit from the ministry building and walked out into the street towards their makeshift quarters a few blocks away. Ahead of them, floating gracefully above the city's skyline, they could see a Bird of Paradise; one of the magnificent and beautiful flying warships made by the Lourellian shae folk in the shape of the birds that inhabited their jungle homes far to the south. It was one of four such ships loaned to Ilandia to support the four divisions of the Army of Life currently stationed there.