The Radiant War

Chapter 1a

   Ambassador Mornwell was there waiting for him when the Brigadier returned to the embassy. “We've lost contact with Marboll,” he said without preamble. “Three hours ago, all telegraph communication with Marboll ceased. It might just be a problem with the cable. A tree fell down somewhere, took the cable down with it. That might be all it is.”

     “But you don’t think so,” said the Brigadier. He took off his coat, threw it across the chair standing by the side of the entrance foyer and forced his mind to become sharp and attentive. Eight hours holding court at one of Farwell's biggest society parties, recounting anecdotes of his military career and listening to the city's small talk, had a way of deadening the mind. He had succeeded, after weeks of tireless effort, in becoming the city's latest celebrity-du-jour, though, and still had hopes of being accepted into Farwell’s permanent celebrity circuit, the first step towards making contact with members of the Radiant conspiracy and finding proof of their existence that he could take to the Emperor.

     What was more likely to happen, though, was that another celebrity-du-jour would turn up before he succeeded, take the city by storm, get invited to all the parties, and the Brigadier would be forgotten. Yesterday’s news. Relegated to B-list parties thrown by has-beens desperately trying to rekindle their own popularity. He had this one opportunity to make it big in the city. Big enough to attract the attention of the corrupt politicians trying to throw the empire into civil war and convince them that he was as corrupt as they were; that he would make a valuable addition to the conspiracy. Unfortunately, in order to do that, he had to woo the crowds. Laugh and drink with people he would normally have considered beneath his notice, and that was tiring. Both physically and mentally. It was late in the evening. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed and get some sleep. Instead, he tried to rouse himself to pay attention to the Ambassador.

     “We're getting reports of ground tremors from other parts of Helberion. It looks as though there's been a major earthquake somewhere in the Marboll area.”

     “There's never been an earthquake in Helberion. Not a big one, anyway. What's the fastest the telegraph line can be restored?”

     “If it's just a downed line it can be fixed in minutes, once the break’s been found. If there has been an earthquake, though, and the telegraph office’s been destroyed, they'll have to transfer to the backup station outside the city. I'm guessing they'll have other things they'll want to handle first though. Put out fires, rescue trapped people... It's possible that members of the Royal Family itself are in need of rescue.”

     “It has to be Radiants!” The Brigadier paced across the floor. “A decapitation strike. Leothan has shown himself to be capable and resourceful. He's managed to delay the Carrow invasion for months. They may have decided that he’s just too much trouble to be left alive. If so, they’re gambling that we'll take it as a natural event. They still have reason to keep us ignorant of their plans against us.”

     A messenger came running up and handed the Ambassador a sheet of paper. His face turned white as he read it. “Message from our field headquarters in Panborough. Wombat's sent a report, coded Periwinkle.”

      The Brigadier stared at him intently. Wombat was the code name of an agent who'd managed to infiltrate the Palace of King Nilon, their version of Soonia Darniss. His role in the palace didn’t give him legitimate access to the telegraph office, though. He normally communicated by means of a handler he met in the city once every week or two. The word periwinkle meant that he'd come across a vitally important piece of information, one that he thought his masters back in Helberion desperately needed to know immediately. It meant he'd taken a great risk to get to a telegraph machine, and that there was a great risk he'd be caught, that this might be the last message he'd ever be able to send.

     “Carrow is about to launch an all out invasion of Helberion," the Ambassador read. "Sixty thousand troops are about to try to break through the Steel Curtain and pour into the country. They will be aided by a series of massive earthquakes along the border that will destroy our defences and leave us wide open. The attack is imminent, it says, and the message is dated three hours ago. The attack may already have happened.” He looked up at the Brigadier, his eyes wide with fear. “Targeted earthquakes! The Radiants have abandoned all pretence. They’re declaring open war upon us!”

          “No, that makes no sense,” The Brigadier resumed his pacing. “The Radiants have shown themselves to be patient. Cunning. Calculating. Their schemes take years to mature, and their greatest priority has always been to keep us from discovering their plans for us. This, this smacks of desperation. As if something's happened somewhere and they suddenly have to move fast before it's too late. Also, I cannot believe that Carrow completed their preparations so soon.” He paused, turned to face the Ambassador. “It's just possible that this is good news. Our enemies forced to move before they’re ready. Their armies poorly equipped, badly organised...”

     “But they have Radiants on their side. They can summon storms, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions...”

     “They can only cause volcanic eruptions in places with a history of volcanic activity. There's no such history in Helberion.”

     “Do you know that, or do you just hope they can't cause volcanoes there?”

     “I don't think they'd be as desperate as they seem to be if they were that powerful. We have to assume there are limits to their powers, or we might as well give up now.”

     “Is there any hope for us? The Carrowmen thought they could defeat us on their own. If they have Radiants to scatter our armies before the Carrowmen arrive, they could overwhelm the whole country without having to fight a single battle!”

     “Thanks to Wombat, the Field Commanders along the Steel Curtain had warning. They might have had time to make preparations to mitigate the effects. We'll find a way to fight the Radiants. A way may already have been found. That may have been what started all this, what made them so desperate.”

     “Is it desperation, or is it confidence? Maybe they’re not hiding any more because they don't think they have to.”

     “We'll tell anyone who asks that it's desperation. Tell everyone you meet that you're confident of victory. Keep morale up. And please let me know the moment contact is re-established with Marboll. If it's confirmed that the Radiants have declared open war, we can tell Tyron about Fienwell. Tell him there's an adoptee right here in the city and that he’s been working with the Ministry of State. If that doesn’t convince him, nothing will...”

     He fell silent as the main doors opened and a Kelvon soldier in the uniform of the Messenger Corps strode in. He was holding a folded document in his hand. He strode toward the receptionist, then saw the Ambassador and the Brigadier and turned to approach them instead. “Gentlemen,” he said, saluting smartly.

     “What can we do for you, Private?” asked the Ambassador.

     “Emperor Alexis Alexander Tyron commands the immediate attendance of Brigadier Weyland James at Tarnmetwell Palace, to discuss matters of mutual importance to both our great nations.”

     The Brigadier's face showed no trace of the excitement he felt. Those were the exact same words he'd used when applying for an audience with the Emperor upon his first arrival in Kelvon. Had he also learned about an earthquake in Marboll and an imminent Carrow invasion, miraculously timed to coincide with each other? Had it made him reassess the Brigadier's words to him at the Imperial Reception?

     “May I have a moment to change clothes?” he asked. He was still wearing the outrageously ornate fake uniform he'd had specially made to attract attention at parties. It wasn't the sort of thing designed to make an Emperor take you seriously.

     “The Emperor requested your Immediate attendance,” said the messenger, but then he looked the Brigadier up and down and smiled. “But I suppose a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

     “Thank you. I'll be as fast as I can.” He nodded to the Ambassador, then strode towards the stairs up to the guest rooms.