Phoenix Unbound
Page 70
The silence hung heavy as every person in the qara held their breath and he waited for Erakes’s response. Erakes stared at Azarion a long time, and Azarion stared back. Gilene wondered who might blink first.
Erakes didn’t blink, but he did speak. “What do you propose?”
A collective sigh ran through the qara as everyone exhaled and exchanged low-voiced commentary between them. Azarion didn’t relax his guard. He could claim victory for the first part of his bid in convincing the most powerful Savatar clan that his concerns were worthy. The more difficult part remained: convincing them that attacking the Empire first was not the plan of a madman.
“We sack Kraelag,” he replied.
Outraged shouts joined disbelieving laughter, but he remained stoic in the face of ridicule, his gaze never moving from Erakes, who didn’t join in the mockery. Instead, the ataman waited until the noise subsided before speaking, a glower darkening his face. “You, more than any of us, should understand what a foolhardy thing that would be to do. You’re neither an idiot nor mad, Azarion Ataman. This much I know; so why suggest something that would only result in the senseless deaths of thousands of Savatar?”
Gilene had asked him the exact same thing.
Kraelag was a fortified city with thick walls supported by watchtowers, ramparts, and deep ditches. The standing army defending it numbered in the thousands and could be called forth in a matter of hours if needed.
She’d seen the massive catapults waiting between the curtain walls, their munitions of giant stones and the architectural wreckage of old ruins piled into heaps beside them, waiting to be hurled onto an invading force. The Savatar were a nation of horse soldiers versed in cavalry tactics. Sacking Kraelag required siege warfare.
“Because we want the Empire to think its capital is besieged. They will call up not only their closest legions but also those from the garrisons that ride the Golden Serpent.”
Erakes’s eyes narrowed, and now he stood to pace, one hand stroking his beard in thought. “They’ll leave the garrisons manned by only a few.” His eyes gleamed in the dim lighting. “Vulnerable. Easy to destroy.”
Azarion nodded. “Yes. We split the confederation forces. Half to ride to Kraelag from the west. We’ll have to cross the plains and possibly fight the Nunari along the way.”
“Or gain them as allies. They’ve never rested easy under the Empire’s yoke,” Erakes said.
“Hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Just as the Kraelians are greater in number than we are, the Savatar are greater in number than the Nunari. That they won’t expect our incursion into their territories will also work in our favor.”
A wolfish grin replaced Erakes’s glower. “While the Empire panics and sends more of its soldiers to defend the capital, our eastern forces join with the Goban to sack the closest garrisons and take control of those stretches of the Serpent.”
The blood raced through Gilene’s veins as she listened to the two men flesh out the plan Azarion had hatched while he waited for the Fire Council to proclaim her an agacin. No wonder he had been so patient all that time. He had planned this strategy in detail, prepared to argue for its validity. The moment he was made ataman, he’d taken action.
Their battle plans roused her excitement. Anything that cut a wound in the Empire’s hide made her smile, but she also knew that the course Azarion wanted the Savatar to take meant a path of no return and open war with the mightiest, cruelest empire that ever controlled the world known to men.
“We don’t have the men, the time, or the supplies to lay siege to Kraelag,” Erakes said abruptly.
Azarion shook his head. “No, we don’t. And truth be known, we don’t need to. We just need to keep the Kraelian armies busy defending her long enough that our eastern forces can do their work. Then we flee back behind the safety of the Veil.”
“Cut off their grain supplies,” Gilene volunteered into the pause.
The weight of numerous stares suddenly pressed down on her. She ignored it to focus on the man whose judgment would decide how all this might end.
“What do you mean, Agacin?” Erakes moved closer to her.
“Kraelag stores its grain supplies in granaries at the harbor of Manoret on the mouth of the river Oret.” She knotted her fingers together, uneasy beneath so many doubtful stares. “Dyes, linen, and silk are kept there as well. My family are dyers. Each month we deliver our dyes to Manoret for shipment. Those granaries are the capital’s main food supply. Any siege would be short if the city faces starvation, no matter how strong the walls.”
Azarion’s slow smile was cold and calculating, and Gilene shivered at the sight. “And the more desperate might well just open the gates for us.”
Erakes’s gaze held a glitter of suspicion. “You are of the Empire, Agacin. Why would you betray its weakness to us?”
She bristled. “Because the Empire is a blight, its capital a maggot feeding on a corpse. I’ve witnessed its savagery firsthand and the joy it takes in the misery it inflicts on its citizens as well as its slaves. Ask Azarion Ataman. He knows of what I speak. You must be loyal to something in order to betray it. I owe the Empire nothing, least of all my loyalty.”
Erakes stared at her a moment longer before turning to Azarion. “If she returns to the Empire, she could reveal our plans.”
Azarion shrugged. “To the Empire, she’s an unknown village woman. They won’t believe her.”
Still unconvinced, Erakes returned to scrutinizing her while addressing Azarion. “Have you seen these granaries?”
“I have. When the gladiators were sent to fight in other cities, we shipped out of Manoret. They’re well guarded but not impenetrable. The soldiers guarding them are equipped to fight off thieves, not armies.”
Erakes slowly pivoted, his gaze sweeping the qara and its occupants, before returning to Azarion. “I agree that the Empire grows more dangerous by the day and that the Veil is no longer the surest way to protect the Savatar. Your plan is risky. If it succeeds, we’ll be fighting for Savatar sovereignty and doing so on two fronts. If we fail, we’ll be fighting for our lives. Those are hard choices for the Ataman Council to make.”
Gilene hugged herself and tucked her hands under her arms to hide their shaking. If the clans united, they’d make a formidable enemy. If the Savatar allied with the Goban and possibly the Nunari, the Empire would quake before them. Maybe, just maybe, it would then be far too busy staving off attacks from the steppes to indulge in the barbarous rituals associated with the Rites of Spring. A tiny flame of hope flared to life inside her.
“War is never an easy choice,” Azarion said. “Do I have your support in this?”
Silence greeted his question, and Gilene’s heart plummeted to the floor until Erakes offered his hand to Azarion and the two men clasped forearms.
“The council must decide together, but I lend my voice to yours. Clan Eagle stands with Clan Kestrel in this.” He turned to the other atamans. “What say you? Are we in agreement?”
A chorus of enthusiastic ayes answered him. Gilene laughed aloud when Azarion suddenly pulled her into his arms, a wide grin curving his mouth before he kissed her long and hard to celebrate his first victory in this risky, dangerous endeavor. Gilene hoped it wouldn’t be his last.
After several toasts of tea and mare’s milk, she excused herself from the gathering to catch a few hours of much-needed sleep in the borrowed qara. She didn’t hear Azarion return, waking only briefly to feel him slide under the blankets to curl against her.
Erakes didn’t blink, but he did speak. “What do you propose?”
A collective sigh ran through the qara as everyone exhaled and exchanged low-voiced commentary between them. Azarion didn’t relax his guard. He could claim victory for the first part of his bid in convincing the most powerful Savatar clan that his concerns were worthy. The more difficult part remained: convincing them that attacking the Empire first was not the plan of a madman.
“We sack Kraelag,” he replied.
Outraged shouts joined disbelieving laughter, but he remained stoic in the face of ridicule, his gaze never moving from Erakes, who didn’t join in the mockery. Instead, the ataman waited until the noise subsided before speaking, a glower darkening his face. “You, more than any of us, should understand what a foolhardy thing that would be to do. You’re neither an idiot nor mad, Azarion Ataman. This much I know; so why suggest something that would only result in the senseless deaths of thousands of Savatar?”
Gilene had asked him the exact same thing.
Kraelag was a fortified city with thick walls supported by watchtowers, ramparts, and deep ditches. The standing army defending it numbered in the thousands and could be called forth in a matter of hours if needed.
She’d seen the massive catapults waiting between the curtain walls, their munitions of giant stones and the architectural wreckage of old ruins piled into heaps beside them, waiting to be hurled onto an invading force. The Savatar were a nation of horse soldiers versed in cavalry tactics. Sacking Kraelag required siege warfare.
“Because we want the Empire to think its capital is besieged. They will call up not only their closest legions but also those from the garrisons that ride the Golden Serpent.”
Erakes’s eyes narrowed, and now he stood to pace, one hand stroking his beard in thought. “They’ll leave the garrisons manned by only a few.” His eyes gleamed in the dim lighting. “Vulnerable. Easy to destroy.”
Azarion nodded. “Yes. We split the confederation forces. Half to ride to Kraelag from the west. We’ll have to cross the plains and possibly fight the Nunari along the way.”
“Or gain them as allies. They’ve never rested easy under the Empire’s yoke,” Erakes said.
“Hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Just as the Kraelians are greater in number than we are, the Savatar are greater in number than the Nunari. That they won’t expect our incursion into their territories will also work in our favor.”
A wolfish grin replaced Erakes’s glower. “While the Empire panics and sends more of its soldiers to defend the capital, our eastern forces join with the Goban to sack the closest garrisons and take control of those stretches of the Serpent.”
The blood raced through Gilene’s veins as she listened to the two men flesh out the plan Azarion had hatched while he waited for the Fire Council to proclaim her an agacin. No wonder he had been so patient all that time. He had planned this strategy in detail, prepared to argue for its validity. The moment he was made ataman, he’d taken action.
Their battle plans roused her excitement. Anything that cut a wound in the Empire’s hide made her smile, but she also knew that the course Azarion wanted the Savatar to take meant a path of no return and open war with the mightiest, cruelest empire that ever controlled the world known to men.
“We don’t have the men, the time, or the supplies to lay siege to Kraelag,” Erakes said abruptly.
Azarion shook his head. “No, we don’t. And truth be known, we don’t need to. We just need to keep the Kraelian armies busy defending her long enough that our eastern forces can do their work. Then we flee back behind the safety of the Veil.”
“Cut off their grain supplies,” Gilene volunteered into the pause.
The weight of numerous stares suddenly pressed down on her. She ignored it to focus on the man whose judgment would decide how all this might end.
“What do you mean, Agacin?” Erakes moved closer to her.
“Kraelag stores its grain supplies in granaries at the harbor of Manoret on the mouth of the river Oret.” She knotted her fingers together, uneasy beneath so many doubtful stares. “Dyes, linen, and silk are kept there as well. My family are dyers. Each month we deliver our dyes to Manoret for shipment. Those granaries are the capital’s main food supply. Any siege would be short if the city faces starvation, no matter how strong the walls.”
Azarion’s slow smile was cold and calculating, and Gilene shivered at the sight. “And the more desperate might well just open the gates for us.”
Erakes’s gaze held a glitter of suspicion. “You are of the Empire, Agacin. Why would you betray its weakness to us?”
She bristled. “Because the Empire is a blight, its capital a maggot feeding on a corpse. I’ve witnessed its savagery firsthand and the joy it takes in the misery it inflicts on its citizens as well as its slaves. Ask Azarion Ataman. He knows of what I speak. You must be loyal to something in order to betray it. I owe the Empire nothing, least of all my loyalty.”
Erakes stared at her a moment longer before turning to Azarion. “If she returns to the Empire, she could reveal our plans.”
Azarion shrugged. “To the Empire, she’s an unknown village woman. They won’t believe her.”
Still unconvinced, Erakes returned to scrutinizing her while addressing Azarion. “Have you seen these granaries?”
“I have. When the gladiators were sent to fight in other cities, we shipped out of Manoret. They’re well guarded but not impenetrable. The soldiers guarding them are equipped to fight off thieves, not armies.”
Erakes slowly pivoted, his gaze sweeping the qara and its occupants, before returning to Azarion. “I agree that the Empire grows more dangerous by the day and that the Veil is no longer the surest way to protect the Savatar. Your plan is risky. If it succeeds, we’ll be fighting for Savatar sovereignty and doing so on two fronts. If we fail, we’ll be fighting for our lives. Those are hard choices for the Ataman Council to make.”
Gilene hugged herself and tucked her hands under her arms to hide their shaking. If the clans united, they’d make a formidable enemy. If the Savatar allied with the Goban and possibly the Nunari, the Empire would quake before them. Maybe, just maybe, it would then be far too busy staving off attacks from the steppes to indulge in the barbarous rituals associated with the Rites of Spring. A tiny flame of hope flared to life inside her.
“War is never an easy choice,” Azarion said. “Do I have your support in this?”
Silence greeted his question, and Gilene’s heart plummeted to the floor until Erakes offered his hand to Azarion and the two men clasped forearms.
“The council must decide together, but I lend my voice to yours. Clan Eagle stands with Clan Kestrel in this.” He turned to the other atamans. “What say you? Are we in agreement?”
A chorus of enthusiastic ayes answered him. Gilene laughed aloud when Azarion suddenly pulled her into his arms, a wide grin curving his mouth before he kissed her long and hard to celebrate his first victory in this risky, dangerous endeavor. Gilene hoped it wouldn’t be his last.
After several toasts of tea and mare’s milk, she excused herself from the gathering to catch a few hours of much-needed sleep in the borrowed qara. She didn’t hear Azarion return, waking only briefly to feel him slide under the blankets to curl against her.
