Age of War

Chapter 55

Before him stood a man whom he would have instinctively saluted. A battle-leader. He examined his face. When had he begun to look so old and careworn? His dark skin was weathered and creased around his mouth, his eyes, his forehead. Was that grey hair too? He was…mature. That was the word. A seasoned veteran; a natural commander. Looking at himself attired like this, he no longer felt a fraud for occupying his elevated position. If all went well, he’d be what they said he was. A hero. A true Son of Atlas. He picked up the helmet. It was open-faced, in an archaic style. Lesser monarchs might have added a gilt crown around the top, but Atlantis had no crown. He turned it around and was about to place it on his head when there was a tentative knock at the door. “Enter,” he barked, without thinking.

The door was pushed open and Morrow stuck her head around the side. When she saw him, her eyes widened. “Fucking hell, sir…”

He looked down at himself. “Well…it seemed appropriate…”

She bobbed her head in agreement as she stepped inside. She too was attired as befit her proper rank now. She wore captain’s stripes, and her armour was polished bright. She had a glow to her cheeks too. Despite everything, she was upbeat. Perhaps Tayne had something to do with that. “You look like…like you.”

“Like me? How’s that?”

She faltered slightly. “I don’t know. It’s just…” She cocked her head. “You don’t look like you, exactly, but you look like you should do. Does that make sense?”

“You’d be surprised how much.” He looked back at his reflection. He looked like what he was, which scared him. He’d never asked to become this man. He’d never sought glory. But glory had found him: it was, it seemed, his birth right.

“Anyway, you wanted to see me?” Morrow asked.

Albrihn nodded and walked across the room. Outside, the sun was setting. The sky had been fairly clear today, and clouds scudded towards the glowing horizon. The vista offered by the great open balcony was spectacular. He looked at it for a moment, wondering if he’d see another sunset like this. “You know the plan,” he said presently.

“I have a pretty good grasp of it I reckon, yes.”

“I’ll be relying on you a lot, Morrow.”

“No change there then.” She cracked a small smile, just like the old days.

He returned it as he rotated to face her so the sun was at his back. She remained in the shade near the wall to avoid being blinded by the low sun. Still, she had to squint at him, and he stepped away from the balcony in deference to that. “I mean, you’ll be in command of a large chunk of our forces.”

“How large a chunk?” she asked, sounding wary.

“The archers.”

“But I thought the whole force would…”

“Exactly. You’re the best shot in the militia.”

“Well,” she affected modesty for a moment, then gave up with a shrug. “Yeah, probably,” she conceded.

“You see targets instinctively. I need that instinct. Every shot has to count.”

“You know how to shoot, Rayke.”

“But I can’t be where you’ll need to be.”

“I can’t direct every arrow…”

“No, but you can make sure those beneath you are directing them where you’d want.”

“Beneath me?” she sounded uneasy. “I don’t have a lot of company left, Rayke. You know that.”

“I said you’ll be in command. I mean it. I want you to coordinate everything not on ground level.”