Chapter Forty-Three

  Dryden emerged from the palace's depths. Kavala was waiting for him outside, rain-drenched and leaning, holding an An-Dakal banner like a walking staff. He looked weary beyond measure. The men of the 13th who had secured the palace and the warriors of the An-Dakal stood apart. They stared at one another like jackals waiting to fight over a prize carcass. They had been allies against their shared enemy. Now, the main battle was done. Only the spoils remained to be taken.

  Kavala stood as Dryden appeared. “Why have you kept me from the throne?” His golden eyes bored into Dryden.

  “The work is done now. The palace is yours.”

  Kavala spit, “The palace is ruined. You could not even leave me that.”

  “We did not touch it; the quake did that work. Take it or don’t. Kurush is dead.”

  “The emissary Kal’kuris?” Kavala asked.

  “I didn’t know he was a concern for you. He has gone. I do not know or care where.” Dryden replied curtly, “You made it clear that once this work was done, our friendship was at an end. When we leave, you can do as you wish with this place.” Dryden made to leave, but Kavala stepped in his way, “Sir, if you please, there are things to which I must attend.”

  “Is that all this is? A series of tasks to which you must attend? Duties for you to discharge so that you can satisfy your masters? Care you nothing for loyalty and righteousness? Is there no good in the world?”

  Dryden growled. He had no time for this. He needed to see to Captain Adams and the men he had sent to take the fort. The battle was virtually over, but there was still much to do. “Why do you speak of philosophy when the world is burning? Do you not see that I am trying to do the very good that you debate about? The city is yours. Stop complaining that it burns and help put out the fires that burn it.”

  Kavala stared at him momentarily as if he might not move from Dryden’s path. He stared hard into the golden eyes of the An-Dakal lord. His hand moved subtly to the hilt of his sword. The sorcerer sighed, then stepped aside, “Very well. Do what you will.”

  Dryden took a few more steps before halting again. As he walked between the two groups of soldiers, another group of horsemen came into view, riding up the main avenue towards the palace between the great sets of palm trees that lined the way into the main entrance. It was Haddock and his cadre of officers. They rode at a canter and pulled up as they approached. The great yard that acted as a buffer between the palace and the city was slowly becoming crowded with soldiers. Dryden could see that Haddock rode at the lead. He kicked his horse and rode across the ground towards Dryden and Kavala. Dryden saluted as he rode up, “Sir!”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  Haddock saluted back, “Finely done, Dryden, very finely done indeed.” His eyes cast about the An-Dakal men before landing on Kavala. The general dismounted his horse and walked towards the An-Dakal leader. “You are Kavala, I presume.” He reached out his hand to shake it.

  “You are Haddock,” Kavala replied dryly, no friendliness in his tone. Kavala left the General’s hand hanging in the air and did not shake it.

  “I understand you are displeased with how we have conducted our victory?” The general noted.

  “I was promised a city. You have delivered a ruin to me.”

  “Such are the vagaries of war. The An-Beya were intransigent. Their removal required an excess of force. We intended to save the palace and the fort. We did not anticipate the earthquake. We can hardly be blamed for that.”

  “The storm and the quake were your doing as well.”

  Haddock laughed out loud in the man’s face, “We do not control the weather, sir, nor the movements of the ground.”

  “Tizrun is not a god to be taken lightly. His hand is upon this. You Vastrum men come and take and meddle where you should not. His wrath is your doing. Go from this land.”

  Haddock frowned, “We will go as soon as we are able. You have my word as a general and lord of Vastrum.” Then he turned to Dryden, “What is the situation?”

  “Sir, Kurush is slain. The women are within the palace and safe, relatively.”

  “Very good. What of the officers who were taken?”

  “No sign, as of yet. I sent Captain Adams to see about the state of the Red Fort. I have yet to hear from them. I intended to check on them myself when you arrived, sir.”

  “Very good. I will inspect the throne room and see to the women. The 19th Infantry is coming behind me shortly. We will secure this area.”

  “One more thing, sir. The rest of our people who were taken. The families of the colonists, the wives of the sepoys. They are slaves here, sir, out there in the city. Our noblewomen are safe. The rest have been caught up in the sacking of the city…”

  “Good gods.” The general turned and looked out at the smoke rising above the ruins of Vurun. He turned to one of his adjutants, a corporal Dryden recognized from the General’s tent, “Jameson, inform the officers, all those you can find. Send riders to Winslow, too. We should be looking for our people. They are scattered across the city, perhaps across the valley. The war is done. The city is sacked. This is now a rescue.” He turned back to Dryden, “Major. Go see about the Fort.”

  Dryden saluted, then turned and strode back to where a man held Rosie’s reins for him. He took the reins, mounted his bay mare, and rode towards the fort. He left the jackals to bicker and fight over the scraps behind him. He knew the way well, having been stationed in the fort for two years. A few of his men trailed behind him. He met no resistance on the way. The great fort loomed over him as he rode up the approach. He dismounted at one point. Men from Adams’ squadron were stationed around, guarding the way.

  “Oi, it’s the Major, let him through!” He heard someone cry. He rode through. The gate to the fort was ajar. He did not know how Adams had done it, but they had gotten into the fort somehow. A few wounded men sat nursing wounds leaned against the walls, and others who were dead lay about haphazardly. Then, before going in, he stopped, turned, and looked one last time to see the destruction that the army of reprisal had wrought. By him. By the oath he had made, sealed in the blood of his dead companions upon the heights of the Settru Pass. He felt its weight fall away from him like chains breaking. He dropped to his knees. He breathed in deeply, the smell of smoke and saltpetre and blood in his nostrils, and he wept.