Age of War

Chapter 41

The barracks that Albrihn still thought of as home were close by the gates and so made a natural headquarters. The sky was gradually paling as dawn arrived, and though his eyes were grainy, he refused to stop studying the map spread out on the table in the meeting room. He hadn’t been to bed. His original plan had been to spend the night with Vion – like many soldiers, he generally used his time wisely when battle loomed – but he hadn’t been able to face her, not with what Aethlan had told him. He’d spent the last hours oscillating between disbelief and despair, at first trying to reason his way out of the situation: Aethlan had been tricked, or was mistaken, or was in league with Saffrey. But the more he turned it over in his head, the more the idea took root, and gradually he began to assimilate the knowledge as fact. Somehow, he just knew it was true. Vion was his sister. The Emperor had been his father. A lot of things made more sense this way. Except for one thing. He looked down at his hand reflexively. Less than three days to enjoy his marriage. Not that it would be a marriage if anyone else discovered the truth. It was unlawful, and condemned by all right-thinking folk. Vion would likely be deposed by the Chamber of Ministers for demonstrating such obvious depravity and as for him…well, a dishonourable discharge was the best he could hope for. More likely would be exile, if not mandated by law, then at least he would be strongly encouraged to leave Atlantis to avoid further scandal. Whatever happened here today, he’d be tainted in the eyes of his own people forever.

The door opened, and he looked up to see Morrow standing there. He straightened and nodded. “Captain.”

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

“I thought you’d be in a brothel somewhere.”

“Not exactly in the mood.” She walked into the room and took up station on the opposite side of the table.

He wanted to make a joke, to say he thought she was always in the mood, but he couldn’t, not then. It was the sort of thing Hasprit would have interjected with, and some part of him still expected him to be there at their elbow, puffing on his pipe, puncturing the tension with a sardonic comment. Instead, he turned his attention back to the map. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re fucked.”

“Any particular reason?”

“You’re the one in charge, sir.”

“Humour me.” He spread his hands across the map. “Tell me what you think.”

Morrow considered the deployments he’d laid out. “Saffrey won’t fall for it.”

“Hadrin’s in command.”

She snorted. “She certainly won’t fall for it.”

“That’s what the Cyclopes are for.” He pointed at the black discs that now surrounded the city. “They can’t kill them all, but it’s certainly a start…” He trailed off, knowing what she’d say to that.

“You know Saffrey will just send his most expendable troops in, don’t you? Levies from the towns and villages. Ordinary men and women.”

“Yes. But Saffrey’s the one driving them forward. He’s the one responsible for this.” Even he didn’t believe that.

“This plan won’t succeed unless they’re overconfident, sir.”

“Saffrey has no shortage of confidence, Morrow. The Cyclopes will be enough to break them in any case. When they see their comrades shrivel like leaves in a flame…they’ll run.”

“Then I guess everything will be fine.”

Albrihn grimaced. He’d been backed into a corner and made a foolish decision. He had no wish to deploy the Cyclopes, knowing what they could do. But he’d already asked the Matriarch for one favour and of course she’d want to deploy her creatures given the opportunity. This was exactly what they were for. And yet they hadn’t been used in such numbers in centuries. They were a last resort, the foundation of Atlantis’s military might, but like most soldiers he preferred to put his faith in swords and arrows. The weird magic of the Cyclopes made him uncomfortable. But there was no help for it now. The deed was as good as done.