The Radiant War

Chapter 25a

     “We did it, Bill!” said Field Marshall Amberley excitedly, crashing into the committee room and making everyone look up in surprise. “We got ‘em all!”

     “The Carrow army?” said King Leothan, a smile bursting across his face. Around the table, the other members of the advisory committee also looked delighted and the business of the allocation of the city's resources was temporarily forgotten.

     “All of them, except for a handful who headed for the hills. The majority were killed in the trenches. Most of the rest were in confusion and offered virtually no resistance when our boys went out to round them up. We have five thousand prisoners. We're taking them to Stormwell, the sports stadium. It's the only enclosed space big enough for that many people.”

     “Good job, George! Bloody good job!” Leothan jumped up from his chair, ignoring a couple of inventory reports that he knocked onto the floor in the process, and grabbed him by the arms, almost laughing with pleasure and relief. “This time they don't escape! If the Radiants try to spring them, kill them. No-one can condemn us for killing prisoners trying to escape. Make sure the guards are clear that they know what to do. Kill them rather than let them get away. If I'd had the guts to give that order last time, this whole nightmare might have been avoided.”

     “That wasn’t your fault, Bill. No-one could have predicted they'd find a way to bring artillery into the country.”

     “I’m the King, George. It's on me.” Then he brightened, though. “Do we have enough of an army left to patrol the countryside, find the ones who got away?”

     “I'm already on it. They won't get far.”

     “Good. No telling what kind of mischief they might get up to. Nilon doesn't know yet?”

     “No. Their telegraph line was cut when we blew the trenches up. Our line to Charnox is still intact, but we haven't used it yet. He won't find out until word reaches him via the civilian grapevine. Unfortunately, the people of the city are already celebrating and spreading the news across the country. There’s nothing we can do about that, but I reckon we’ve got a week or so.”

     “Good. No telling how he might react, what he might do to Ardria. Have we heard anything about how she’s getting on over there?”

     “All we have is what the Carrow propaganda machine is putting out. They're saying she’s been taken to the palace in chains. The chains part may be true. Nilon won’t miss a chance to score a propaganda coup like that, but Ardria's a strong girl. A pair of manacles won't bother her much. She's where she wants to be. She’ll have had a chance to speak directly to Nilon by now. We have to hope that the King was duped and that she and Darniss can make him see sense.”

     “And if Nilon’s thrown his lot in with the Radiants? If he knows exactly what they’re doing and is behind them one hundred percent? How do we get her out?”

     “The Brigadier's over there. He'll do something.”

     Leothan nodded. “Yes, we must place our faith in the Brigadier. He'll do something. In the meantime... I'm going to speak to Nilon by telegraph. Try to negotiate with him as if his army's still out there, as if I'm still willing to surrender, for the right terms. That gives him a reason to keep Ardria alive. Gives the Brigadier time to do something.”

     He excused himself to the committee members, then left the room, heading for the new telegraph room that had been set up in the Ministry Building.

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     Princess Ardria was strumming a lyre in the west courtyard when the guard came to summon her. The lyre was a good one. A Polansky if she was any judge, worth at least a hundred thousand Helberion crowns, and it produced a crystal clear note that delighted her as she played one of her favourite tunes on it. The Raising of Malarta. A tune from an opera by Desperona the Younger.