The Fall of Erlon (The Falling Empires Saga Book 1) Page 14

  But a stronger voice kept him anchored at the summit. The voice of a god.

  Rapp glanced at the Ascended One’s temple at the end of the street and set his thoughts straight. He needed to focus.

  They’d made minimal progress in the days since Rapp had first spoken to Leberecht about his quest to find the traitor at the summit. He needed to work faster, but Rapp didn’t know how. They had to find the traitor within the summit soon. Rapp felt a fear of failure creeping up from the back of his mind.

  “Good evening, Prince Rapp.” Ambassador Mikhail was waiting outside Leberecht’s door. The Kurakin gave a low bow and swept a hand out behind him in a gesture too formal for the setting.

  “Good evening, Ambassador.”

  Leberecht opened his door right after Rapp spoke and beckoned them both inside. Mikhail swept his coat aside and entered first. Rapp followed closely behind and the glint of the smooth black hilt of the Kurakin’s dagger caught his eyes once again.

  “What news?” Rapp didn’t have time for small talk. He dove straight into business.

  Leberecht had an annoying habit of discussing his opinions on the summit progress with Mikhail before starting in on Rapp’s quest to find the traitor. They needed to get right down to the more important matter this evening.

  “Nothing new from me.” Leberecht led them through the house and out onto the back patio, where he had a full platter of cheese and cold-cut meats on a table.

  “Nothing from the men I’ve been watching,” Mikhail said.

  Leberecht had insisted on bringing the Kurakin into their plans to observe the summit members. Rapp was assigned to watch Ambassador Trier while Leberecht had taken to shadowing the Sorceress Thirona. Mikhail followed two other Wahrians and another Brunian, but they were lesser suspects that Rapp didn’t fully believe were worth the time.

  Leberecht offered them both a glass of wine from a bottle next to the cheese. Mikhail agreed, but Rapp refused. He didn’t have time to cloud his mind with drink tonight.

  Rapp paced by the door back into the house while the other two sat. Leberecht poured the wine and then focused his attention on his cheese platter.

  Marching with an army was always exciting, even when the enemy didn’t appear for weeks. There were logistics to handle, men to move, artillery to position, and so on. This summit was nothing but boring watching and waiting.

  And the worst part was the Ascended One hadn’t given any more guidance to Rapp at all.

  He’d spent every morning and most evenings in the temple, praying in front of the sword and statue. No voice visited him. No more orders came down from the heavens. There was only silence for Rapp’s thoughts to boil over as his thin layer of patience evaporated into nothing.

  Logistics make an army, but patience makes a general. Patience and the decisiveness to act when the time comes.

  Rapp had read that passage of the Ascended One’s Tome over and over and it didn’t make him feel better in the slightest. Patience gained him nothing for his divine task.

  “We should’ve seen something by now. There must be something we’re missing.” Rapp continued to pace and glared at the other two men as they sipped their wine on the patio.

  Mikhail shrugged after finishing a gulp from his glass. “Maybe there isn’t a traitor.”

  Rapp wanted to kick something. “No, the summit is in danger. Peace can’t last, it’s never lasted. We must find where the next war will come from.”

  “I agree, Your Highness.” Leberecht’s voice was calm and level. It didn’t help Rapp’s anger. The ambassador held out a hand to an open seat for Rapp to sit. “Come join us and we’ll talk through how we can better smoke out the traitor.”

  Rapp didn’t take the seat. He continued to pace.

  “We have to make a move,” he said. “We must be aggressive, as the Ascended One would be if he were still on the Continent.”

  Rapp needed to attack. He knew the Ascended One was looking down on this entire summit and frowning. Maybe the god had already given up on Rapp, since the prince couldn’t find the traitor. Maybe Rapp was already back to being a worthless prince who would never win glory.

  “I would advise patience,” Mikhail said. He leaned back in his seat and thumbed the top of his dagger’s hilt at his waist. “If someone is betraying a summit such as this, it will show in time.”

  Patience makes a general.

  Except Rapp didn’t have time for patience. Rapp needed to find this traitor now. He couldn’t let the thoughts of failing the Ascended One grow from the back of his mind any more.

  If he were fighting on one of the fronts, even the Lakmian Range campaigns, he’d have something to do. He’d have a musket to fire and men to order around. But this sitting around and talking at this summit accomplished nothing.

  “I could agree with us having patience.” Leberecht spoke around his latest bite of aged Moradan cheese.

  Rapp almost did kick something then. He turned to walk out the door. He would’ve left the two men and maybe left the plateau and the summit and his mother altogether if Leberecht’s next words had been any different.

  “But I think the prince is correct, we need to be more aggressive.”

  Rapp stopped with his hand outstretched towards the door back inside. He turned back and looked at Leberecht with his eyebrows raised.

  “Most of the delegation here is planning to go down to the market on Ascension Day. I think our traitor may show his or her hand then, potentially.”

  Rapp saw the merits in the plan immediately and started nodding as Leberecht listed his reasons. His doubts and frustrations started to fall away.

  “We’ll be off the plateau and around crowds of citizens. It’ll be hard to monitor everyone, but if I were a traitor, that’s when I would pass information to someone down in the city.”

  Leberecht had been monitoring the letters going off the plateau where possible, but it was hard to track everything. Rapp liked this idea. If they could catch one of their suspects doing something suspicious, it would allow them to focus on cornering him or her.

  “When is Ascension Day?” Mikhail looked between Rapp and Leberecht.

  “Three days.” Rapp’s mind was racing. He looked at Leberecht and found the ambassador smiling. Rapp smiled too. “I like this plan.”

  “Good.” Leberecht rolled up a piece of spiced meat and ate the entire thing in one bite.

  The strategic part of Rapp’s mind started working again. He could see the market on Ascension Day as if it were a battlefield. The diplomats were arrayed like units of soldiers. Rapp was a general looking over them. His two advisors sat in front of him.

  “Leberecht will follow the Brunians, like we’ve done before.” Rapp spoke fast and before he even finished, he knew the plan was a good one. “Maybe even talk with Thirona directly and see if she divulges anything in that setting. I’ll follow Ambassador Trier. Mikhail will stay on his previous assignments.”

  Leberecht nodded and smiled. “It’s decided, then. What a wonderful plan.” The ambassador stood and held up his glass for a toast. “In two or three evenings we may have saved this summit, gentlemen. To our good work together.”

  “And glory to the Ascended One.” Rapp didn’t have a glass to join the toast, but stepped towards the two men.

  Mikhail stood with one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger while the other touched his glass to Leberecht’s. “Such a funny northern custom, but here’s to our good work together.”

  Rapp couldn’t help but smile as the other two drank.

  He left Leberecht and Mikhail to finish their wine and walked out of the house to return to his palace rooms. He had letters to the generals of the front to catch up on before bed and he wanted to think through the best was to catch Trier in the market as well.

  Rapp walked with his head down and moved quickly back towards the front of the palace. He didn’t glance towards the now dark horizon in the west at all. He didn’t think about the distant war he was missing, e
ither.

  The prince was focused fully back on catching the traitor and serving the will of his war god.

  Andrei

  “The trail goes north.” Andrei crouched down and surveyed the remains of the campsite. His Scythes scouted the outskirts and searched the trees around him.

  Andrei stood and walked around the scuff marks and the charred remains of a fire on the forest floor. He held out an arm and snapped his fingers once. Scuffling came behind him and he heard the sniffing coming from his wolverine’s snout.

  The beast nuzzled the side of his leg and sniffed at his shoes. Andrei looked down at the wolverine and met his mount’s eyes. He pointed to the ground in front of them and around the edge of the camp remains and snapped again with the same hand at the end.

  The wolverine’s nose went back to the ground immediately. He sniffed the very center of the camp and the remains of the fire before moving in a slow circle around the outer edge. Other Scythes were doing similar things with their own wolverines farther out in the trees.

  There was no doubt in Andrei’s mind the wolverines would be able to follow the trail. But could they move fast enough to catch the girl and her soldiers?

  The bundle that hung in front of Andrei’s chest shifted. He pressed a gentle hand against the cloth strung from his shoulders and felt the slight shake of the hawk’s body. She nuzzled up tighter against his chest and he felt the little heartbeat through the cloth and feathers. Andrei sighed and adjusted the pack to make sure it would stay tight.

  “Commander, sir.”

  Andrei moved towards the voice and found Jerkal bending down to pick something up off the ground just outside the main camp circle. He turned and showed it to Andrei.

  “What is it?” Andrei reached out and took the object.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  Andrei turned the thing over in his hands. It was a bundle of small sticks tied together with eight black strings hanging off in all directions.

  Andrei looked up at Jerkal and shrugged. “Erlonians are such strange people. Have the beasts smell it for the scent.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Andrei shook his head as he walked back towards his own wolverine. General Duroc demanded the princess and Andrei would deliver her, no matter how strange the trail became.

  Then he would return home. Finally, he would make it back to his family.

  The faded memories that came with the thoughts of home almost brought tears to Andrei’s eyes. He had to press the thoughts back down and keep his eyes dry. It would be unbecoming for a Scythe commander to be seen crying by his men.

  Andrei had to be strong and finish the mission. They had to find the girl for Kura and General Duroc.

  He and his Scythes would ride through the night tonight and slowly catch up to the Erlonians. Andrei’s own wolverine completed its circle of the camp. A low growl started from the beast’s chest and it turned to face north with its snout up. Andrei smiled and laid a hand gently on the now still hawk bundled against his chest.

  They had the scent. They had the girl’s trail.

  Chapter 12

  A marshal’s stoic demeanor is his greatest weapon. He must appear brave when he is afraid, confident when he has doubts, and erudite when he is confused and outsmarted.

  A Marshal’s Memoir

  Alexandre Lauriston

  Lauriston

  Marshal Lauriston pulled his reins to his left and guided his horse around a boulder protruding into the path. His soldiers and the princess stretched in a line behind him as the light of a new morning shimmered through the tops of the trees.

  They’d been lucky so far. They’d found the princess just in time and had been able to save her before the Kurakin Scythes closed in on her. The group had made it safely away from the scene of the rescue and had been able to put some distance between them and the Kurakin.

  But now the marshal had to get Lannes’s daughter all the way to safety. He had to somehow find the Erlonian army while avoiding the Kurakin chasing them and the Brunian and Wahrian army coming down from the north.

  Lauriston looked up at the brightness of the forest canopy as his horse continued on the path. It seemed an impossible task, staring at the road in front of them. At least they didn’t have a Scythe hawk watching for them in the sky.

  The bird would return soon enough, though.

  The sounds of a rider approaching from the west reached the marshal’s ears. Lauriston kept up his hiking pace to keep the group moving. Soon Lauriston’s cavalry general, Desaix, appeared through the trees and swung around to fall in next to Lauriston at the front of the column. His horse snorted out a few breaths and sweat glistened on its neck.

  “Still marching north along the river,” Desaix said. He’d been riding hard, but he was barely out of breath. Lauriston was always amazed at the general’s natural ability on horseback. “Still pushing hard, he’s got a large van out in front.”

  Lauriston nodded. General Duroc and the main Kurakin army were still pushing aggressively north along the Broadwater.

  The marshal unslung his canteen and offered it over to Desaix. “Just as we thought. Any sign of the Scythes in the ranks?”

  Desaix took the canteen and gulped down a long drink. “Not that we could see. We didn’t get too close, though.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gave the water back to Lauriston.

  “The Scythes will still be after us. Their hawk will be back up in the air soon.”

  The map of the land formed in Lauriston’s mind and visions of the troops from all sides poured over it. The Erlonian group behind the marshal was just a small dot on the vast map covered in the great armies of the Continent.

  “Thank you, General.” Lauriston nodded to Desaix again. “How are your scouts?”

  “Fine. Well-enough rested.”

  Lauriston smiled. “I doubt that. We’ll need to keep pushing hard. I know you take care of your horses, but make sure the men get rest and food too.”

  “Yes, sir.” Desaix pulled his horse around to relay his scouting report to the rest of the group.

  “General,” Lauriston said before Desaix completed his full turn. Desaix looked over his shoulder back at the marshal. “You get some rest as well. Maybe some food. You need to eat every once in a while too.”

  Desaix nodded and tipped two fingers up to his hat in a quick salute before continuing back down the line.

  Lauriston was left alone with his thoughts again as he started back on the trail. There was nothing in front of him but the open path and the trees closing in around him. His mind would think on nothing but the map of central Erlon and the armies converging all around him.

  The Scythes would be recovered from their wounds and would be pursuing the group with a new vigor. General Duroc marched the full Kurakin army in parallel up the Broadwater from Plancenoit.

  Lauriston’s army was in the Dune Forest. They would be in the dense parts to the east by now and would be well hidden in the hills south of the Branch River. Lauriston would have to find them, if they made it that far.

  He didn’t know where the Wahrian king’s army was at the moment. The last he’d heard was a message from the garrison at Vendome. The Wahrians, with a combined Coalition force of Brunians, had been marching to besiege the northern city.

  They would’ve taken it by now, Lauriston had to assume. Maybe they were marching south, already about to cross the Branch, and would meet Duroc along the Broadwater in the west. Maybe that was their plan, to combine and then swing back east to burn out Lauriston’s men.

  Whatever the Coalition’s grand plan was, Lauriston had a task in front of him that would make the rest of the war pointless if he failed. He turned slightly in his saddle and glanced back up the line of men.

  Montholon rode directly behind the marshal and was followed by a group of his old guardsmen. Next came a mix of Lakmian Jinetes and Erlonian sharpshooters. Princess Elisa rode in the middle, with the Lakmian Lodi by her side. Elisa was smiling at some sto
ry Lodi told while talking with his hands waving in front of him over his horse.

  That was his mission right now. Protect the princess, then worry about the army and the war over the fall of Erlon.

  Lauriston had to focus on his task. He had to complete his promise to Lannes. Was that more important than leading the last Erlonian army and trying to win this war?

  No. But Lauriston knew he could find a way to do both.

  The men would rally around Elisa. She was Lannes blood. Emperor Lannes had led the soldiers to greatness. She would be a source of great inspiration with Lannes in exile.

  If she fell into enemy hands, that war effort would take a mighty blow. Lauriston wouldn’t let that happen.

  A plan formed in Lauriston’s mind. His group needed speed. They needed to get as far north as possible before breaking east and entering the rolling hills of the Dune Forest to find the army.

  Duroc marched the Kurakin up the Broadwater just west of their current course. The proximity was a risk Lauriston was willing to take for now. The Kurakin wouldn’t be looking for them alongside their main army. The Scythes would be on their tail no matter which path they took.

  Lauriston wanted to get as much distance between his group and the Scythes before their hawk returned to the air. That meant staying on their current course and using the flat land to run as far north as they could in as little time as possible.

  That was the plan. Lauriston would stick to it.

  The path rose slightly in front of him and Lauriston guided his horse around another boulder sunk into the earth and pressed on up the small incline. They reached the crest quickly and the marshal got a brief glimpse through a gap in the trees of the land flowing north in front of them.

  It was a long road. Would Lauriston lead the group of his loyal soldiers and his friend’s daughter to safety? Or would he fail once again and be the cause of their defeat?

  The doubts erupted in his mind. They always did when he made a decision. He hated himself for it.