Kezial, Lamiah, and Armat had moved swiftly once Maximilian had taken control of the Isembaardian army. The man’s murder of Morfah had demonstrated that he had hitherto unsuspected powers, and that they would need to be careful about him while in close proximity.
But Maximilian was still a man, and he could still be assassinated…preferably with a buffer of ten thousand men wielding swords and spears between him and the three generals.
And ten thousand men, at the very minimum, could easily be arranged.
Isaiah had managed to keep his generals under control. Just. But whatever fragile loyalty the generals owed to Isaiah did not in any manner transfer to Maximilian. In fact, like Morfah, the three generals were aghast that Isaiah had just so casually handed control of close to a million soldiers and settlers, a million Isembaardians, to a foreigner no one knew and who was hitherto nothing more than the king of a tiny poverty-ridden kingdom. Maximilian’s talk of Elcho Falling did not impress the generals in the least.
The generals were damned if they were going to allow Maximilian to take a command they considered their right.
An army of half a million men, half a million more loyal settlers, and a land waiting to be conquered. The Skraelings could keep Isembaard.
They’d crept out of the encampment by the Sky Peaks Pass as soon as it had fallen dark on the day Maximilian had taken control of the army. There was little loyalty—make that next to none—to Maximilian within the Isembaardian army, and there were scores of soldiers who had conspired with the generals to see them safely and quietly out of the camp, and who had promised to make it appear as if the generals still kept to their tents within the camp.
Neither Kezial, Lamiah, nor Armat had approached the senior general, Ezekiel, to come with them. He was an old man, and set in his ways, and they suspected his friendship with Axis SunSoar.
In the new order of things, Ezekiel would play no part.
Now, several days after they had crept out of camp, the generals and a small band of intensely loyal (and ambitious) soldiers rode as hard as they could for the east. Isaiah had left hundreds of thousands of soldiers scattered at stations from the Sky Peaks to Margalit, and then further south to Adab and the entrance to the Salamaan Pass. The generals barely slept. They commandeered food and fresh horses from the supply stations Isaiah had established along his rear, and in the brief time they spent at each station they infused enough doubt into the minds of the soldiers stationed there that they would never give Maximilian their loyalty.
We will return, the generals told the men, and we will bring a mighty force with us.
It was midmorning, and Lamiah called for a brief halt to blow the horses and to eat a small meal themselves. They did not dismount, but allowed their horses long rein in order to stretch their necks and backs, and passed food and water from man to man.
“This is a bleak land,” Armat muttered about a mouthful of bread and cheese. “Few trees.”
“Nowhere to hide,” Kezial said.
Everyone, whether general or one of the ten men who rode with them, looked about uneasily. There was indeed nowhere to hide, and they dreaded seeing either a cloud of dust further back along the road they had traveled, or one of the damned flying creatures who had arrived with the ragtag column commanded by Georgdi and Malat. They had discussed traveling separately in order to increase the chances that at least one of them would reach the large forces stationed to the east, but none of the three generals trusted the others enough to allow them out of his sight.
It was a race against time, they knew it. To be honest, none among their group could believe they’d made it this far without hearing a hue and cry on the road behind them.
“This Maximilian will be easy prey,” Lamiah said, “if he has managed to allow us this far.” He grunted. “What commander of any worth could fail to notice that those most dedicated to his downfall have slipped away in the night?”
“And Axis,” said Armat. “The great legendary war leader. Ha! I doubt he can even piss in a straight line.”
The group laughed.
“We should reach Margalit within a week if we continue to travel this fast,” said Kezial. “And then…”
And then…
“And then this land is ours,” said Armat. “The Skraelings have emptied it for us. All we need do is bury Maximilian and Axis and take it for ours.”
“And perhaps not,” said a woman’s voice to one side, “for Maximilian and Axis know you are gone and, within the day, mean to throw at you a magical force that will see your murdered flesh scattered for a league along this forsaken track.”
Men dropped food, grabbed for reins, and drew their swords. They swung their horses about to where the voice had sounded, and saw standing a few paces away an ethereal woman.
Armat recognized her instantly. “You are Ravenna,” he said, “Maximilian’s lover. And a witch, I can see, from your wraithlike appearance.”
Ravenna—or rather, the glamour that represented her—laughed. “Indeed, a witch-woman, but Maximilian’s former lover. He has abandoned me.” She rested her hand on her belly. “And his heir.”
“A foolish mistake,” Lamiah said, watching the glamour warily and hefting his sword. He knew the sword was of no use against this enchantment, but he felt better with it in his hand. “What do you here, witch-woman?”
“I come to warn you, and aid you,” said Ravenna.
“Why?” Armat said.
Kezial gave a short laugh. “She said she was Maximilian’s former lover. He has slighted you, eh, Ravenna? You want revenge.”
Ravenna hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. And I want power, just like you.”
“We may not want to share it,” Lamiah said.
“You will be dead without me,” Ravenna snapped. “And all I want is one single mountain at the edge of the world. Nothing more. You can take whatever else you want. Just one mountain.”
“It must be a very powerful mountain,” Kezial said.
“And it will be mine,” Ravenna said. Her glamour took one step forward, and such was the menace she imparted that every single man reined his horse back a pace or two.
Armat waved a hand airily. “A single mountain, then. And for that, what do you offer us?”
“A glamour,” said Ravenna, “more powerful even than the one I use now. One that will mask you from the sight of the creatures that Maximilian sends after you. And once you have made your escape and gathered your forces about you, I shall offer you information from within Maximilian’s camp.”
Lamiah gave a small shrug, as if indifferent.
“You are a stupid man, Lamiah,” Ravenna said. “Without me you will be dead by the end of the day.”
“We can outfight anything that—”
“Not these,” said Ravenna. “Not the Lealfast. They traveled with the Skraelings, and are a blood combination of Skraeling and Icarii. They are deeply magical and dangerous creatures, far more so than the Icarii.”
Lamiah locked eyes with Kezial, then with Armat. A decision made, he then gave a single nod to Ravenna. “If you give us this glamour enabling us to escape these Lealfast, and then feed us information from within Maximilian’s camp—providing you can get it now you no longer share his bed—then what precisely do you want in return?”
“The mountain. And that you live to defeat Maximilian,” said Ravenna.
Again, a nod from Lamiah. “Then hide us within your glamour, witch-woman Ravenna, and we shall do as you wish.”
Ravenna let her glamour fade, and came to her conscious self, hidden deep within Maximilian’s army encampment.
Her eyes were glassy with tears, but otherwise Ravenna had her expression under tight control.
What she had just done was the most heart-wrenching action of her life.
Betraying Maximilian.
She had started on a path that might, if she were not careful, lead to Maximilian’s death…but was that death not assured anyway, if he took Ishbel back to his bed?
Ravenna brought her emotions under control. She had said to the generals what they had wanted to hear, in words they would understand.
“It doesn’t need to be this way, Maxel,” she murmured, “if only you would listen to me.”
“Ravenna?”
Ravenna jerked about.
Her mother was approaching, her face creased with anxiety. “Ravenna? Where have you been? I have been looking everywhere for you this past hour.”
“Just wandering, Mother.”
Venetia stood a moment looking at her daughter. “I felt the touch of a marsh witch’s power, Ravenna. What were you doing?”
“Nothing,” Ravenna said, too sharply, and pushed past her mother.