Age of War

Chapter 36

It was an icy wind that carried them into the sprawl of hovels that clustered for a mile outside Atlas’s ancient walls. They and their mounts were both exhausted, and every muscle in Albrihn’s back and limbs cried out in agony. But he forced himself to keep his back straight and his chin raised as he trotted through the slushy streets of the shanty town. The city proper rose up before him, but the Imperial Enclave was lost in low-hanging clouds blown in from the sea. It was ominously silent all around and only a few faces peered out from windows and doorways, sunken eyes impassively watching their bedraggled column move by. On the road from Hephaestus, they’d met a lot of traffic coming the other way: the people of Atlas, their worldly goods piled up in rickety hand carts, trying to find somewhere they might be safe. That had told him that, somehow, rumour of their defeat had raced ahead of them, and now the city expected an attack. There was no sign of any defences being mobilised though, which could mean a number of things. He’d certainly sent no bird, not least because their master and his noisy cages hadn’t emerged from Ixion to rejoin them. Saffrey though would have had plenty of opportunity to send word. Which told Albrihn he still had friends in Atlas, and that those same friends were happy to help his cause by spreading word of what had happened in Chronus in the taverns and public baths. Would the story have reached the palace yet?

They made a sorry procession as they headed for the barracks, just a few hundred battered soldiers, now reinforced by the hastily evacuated garrison at Hephaestus. They’d lost more to festering wounds on the road too, and there had been a number of desertions. He could hardly blame them for their pessimism, knowing what they faced. He had his duty though, and he would fulfil it even if it meant his death – he was growing more and more sure it would. He also couldn’t blame the citizens of Atlas for fleeing either. Some, those without relatives in the towns along the coast, or who had more faith in even a flimsy wooden roof than the open skies of the wilderness, would stay, but for most the outcome of this latest strife was only relevant in as much as it threatened their lives and the lives of their children. To most of Atlas’s people, one ruler was much the same as another. They would go on as before whether Vion or Saffrey sat the throne, and their concerns were whether the harvests would improve so there’d be enough bread to eat next year. Not for the first time, Albrihn wondered why he was fighting this war when there was so much else at stake. Already thousands of good soldiers lay dead in the undergrowth of Ixion; men and women who could have made all the difference against the hyen-a-khan when they eventually came boiling down from the frozen north.

His mind heavy and his mood black, he rode through the gates of the barracks. No guards barred his way, and the muddy courtyard was as still and empty as the streets outside. He dismounted, and finally a pair of grooms poked their heads out of a stable door, looked startled at the sight of all the horses coming in, and called for their fellows. In a short time, the place was bustling with activity as wounded soldiers were helped from their saddles and weary horses finally divested of their tack. Albrihn almost stumbled as he took a step towards the dining hall, and his head spun alarmingly. Sleet had begun to dribble from the leaden sky, but his blurred vision was down to more than that. Morrow was at his side, supporting him. “You need to eat.”

“We all do.”

“Have you slept at all?”

He shook his head. They’d ridden through the night, taking only short breaks when they found sufficient cover. Saffrey could easily have sent outriders after them, and they were in no shape to fight. But even in those quiet hours here and there, sleep had eluded him. He was troubled by strange thoughts and, whenever he did close his eyes, they turned into vivid dreams of horror and ruin. So he’d stayed awake, lying on his bedroll, staring into nothing, or sitting and trying desperately to formulate some strategy that would allow them to hold this great, sprawling city against invaders. Only one solution had presented itself in every scenario he’d imagined, and it was one he was loathe to use. But it might come to it. It just might.