Thursday, 6 March 2014

Chapter twenty

On the route to the Southern Plains
 
Newly promoted Captain Elanus, formerly an ensign[1] in the Proconsul’s household guard, was finding his first command difficult. His six soldiers were all fine. In fact, two of them were veterans of several wars and knew the terrain for many miles around Ortia. It was cold but dry and their progress was excellent. The problem was – they had no real idea where they were going and wherever it was, they had to transport a madman there.
The Proconsul had seen in him her office and told him that she was promoting him. She explained, quite plainly, that this was because she now had a very small pool of officers to choose from and though he was no fighter, he was known to have a ‘kind heart and a wise mind’. She also told him that he had an extraordinary ability to get people to help him, which was a rare talent. In normal times she’d have advised him to leave the army and become a priest, but these were extraordinary times and so instead she commanded him to lead an expedition. None of this filled him with any confidence, but he was used to being damned with faint praise. Anyway, he had always had a high opinion of Marthian, was delighted that she had been reinstated and was happy to do anything that she needed.
It had been impossible to coax the Baron out of his little room in the temple complex. He refused to leave and he had threatened them with phantom armies and even a phantom witch. Elanus had been astonished by the depth of his madness – it seemed that he imagined there was a man with him always – someone he called Balliwick, who acted as his spectral assistant. No-one could endure him for more than a few minutes without feeling deeply disturbed. The priestesses said that he was just fading away, as if his personal nightmares were devouring him. Even Elanus, a very devout elf, could see that the Lady wasn’t helping him. Everyone wanted him to leave.
The plan was to take him to a healer in the desert called Rem. Elanus knew exactly who that was – he was from some sort of reformed kinaam group similar to the Orbiverdi, but calling themselves the “Plains Dwellers” (using the Common Tongue). He hadn’t been to Rem’s trial, but like everyone else he knew all about it.  The Proconsul had assured him that Rem was an ally and Elanus was, as always, happy to believe her. His trust in his superiors was adamantine.
Von Eisen was impossible to shift. In the end they had had to drug him and carry him out. Elanus hated doing this, but anything seemed to be better than the strange half world the Baron occupied inside the Temple.  
They put the Baron in a carriage and gave him draughts of sleeping potion every few hours. They brought along a lot of potions, just in case. They departed just before dawn, out of the old Melloreis Gate, and almost no-one saw them leave.
 
Elanus had had proconsular instructions to strike south west and to avoid any western Visneorian patrols[2] if at all possible. If a patrol couldn’t be avoided then they would have to admit what they were doing. The chances were, however, that Elanus would outrank the leader of any patrol and so they would be able to continue anyway. That explained his sudden double promotion, he knew, not a belated recognition of his extraordinary talents.
The other thing that they had to avoid, and this was at all costs, was the ruined city of Melloreis, recently the site of a major skirmish in the resurgent Tlaxacan war. He had heard very bad, creepy, things about that place and his scouts were very happy to find a way that went nowhere near it. Travelling almost due south-east, on horseback, it would take them three days to reach the hilly region just before the desert fringe.  
They met no-one on the road, fortunately, and were soon on the vaguest of old trade tracks, used now only by very occasional Amanskian traders. At lunchtime they stopped in a dusty bowl right at the edge of the Imperial province. Beyond were nomads and herders, all barbarians. Some of them had once been clients of the Emperor, although most had long since forgotten their allegiance. Elanus knew that his trackers were beginning to struggle – they were close to being beyond their normal range. They had begun to ask their captain awkward questions.
‘Once we get to the plains, sir – which way do you want us to go?’ asked Sergeant Hedera, the older and more experienced of them. She had approached him as he sat alone, eating rice out of a bowl. Her assistant, Corporal Ilex, an elf so young that the Captain thought he should be carrying schoolbooks, had come with her, but now he had sat as far away as he could while still providing the illusion of support.
 ‘I don’t really know’ admitted Elanus, ‘I think we need to get on to the higher ground and then ask...’
Hedera raised her eyebrows. 
‘Who are we going to ask, sir?’
Elanus’s voice dropped to a whisper.
‘I’m not sure... Anyone that we see, I suppose...’
‘We haven’t seen anyone at all, yet...’
Elanus nodded. This didn’t really worry him very much. His orders may have been clear but that didn’t mean that they were necessarily easy to follow.
‘It may take some time, then, sergeant, but if anyone can find Healer Rem it will be you and  Ilex. The Proconsul told me that you were the best trackers she had. She also said that you accompanied Major Viola all of the way to the Wall’
Hedera smiled and nodded. Like so many before her she was disarmed by his honesty and flattered by his entirely genuine praise. She saluted him.
‘We’ll see to it sir’ she said, gesturing to Ilex to get up and move along.
 
They hit the hilly part of the great plain that evening. This was a slightly raised area where a little more rain fell, at least on the northern slopes. The southern slopes, in contrast, were dry as a bone and merged imperceptibly into the desert. Elanus wondered how much further they could take von Eisen’s carriage, in the absence of any kind of track and along such bumpy terrain. Very soon that would have to devise another way of carrying their passenger.
The Captain brooded in his tent that night and prayed to The Lady, as he did at least once every day. Usually the answers were vague or ambiguous; but not this time.
Wait where you are – fly your flag high and what you seek will come to you, she very clearly commanded in the middle of his mind.
He got up from where he was kneeling and cursed himself – why had he not thought to bring a flag? But, as always, he would try his hardest to obey orders. Without further thought, he sent one half of his party to work on ripping up the smallest of their tents and stitching into a big flag. The other half went in search of something that they might be used to draw a purple eagle on to the patched-together banner. It was going to be a long night.


[1] The lowest officer rank in the Visneorian army.
[2] The city was now guarded by a mixture of eastern and western Visneorian soldiers, along with a company of Knights of the Pale Flame that helped patrol the road between Ortia and Monurbis.
 

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