The Twilight herald

Styrax turned at last and moved briskly to join his guards below. He trotted down the winding steps until he reached the gate where General Gaur waited with the horses and a wretched-looking mes¬senger. There were more deaths to come this night, more blood to spill into Thotel's ever-thirsty earth.

He drew his sword and stepped out into the pale moonlight.

CHAPTER 8

'My name is Mikiss, my Lord, Army Messenger Koden Mikiss.' He met Styrax's gaze for a brief moment, then lowered his eyes again. His horse, surrounded by muscular cavalry horses made even more bulky by their armour, looked fragile, and added to the picture of misery that was the exhausted, frightened messenger.

Styrax smiled inwardly. He would surprise a man with unexpected mercy more than once tonight.

'Come. We must ride,' he said, and his party set off at a brisk canter through the empty streets of Thotel. The looming stoneduns dotted around the plain cast huge black shadows over the smaller buildings set in long, wide avenues. The single cliff of the river-valley reached away to their left, the quartz adorning ancient shrines set into the cliff-face sparkling where it caught lamplight or moonlight.

'You have been carrying all of Salen's messages,' Styrax said, turn¬ing his attention back to Mikiss. It was not a question.

'Not all, my Lord, but many.' Mikiss sounded resigned to his inevi¬table fate; he had been expecting a sharp blade across the throat from the moment he recognised the general.

'Then it is fortunate for you that I noticed an enchantment compel¬ling you,' Styrax said calmly, 'or I would have been forced to conclude you were a traitor.'

Mikiss looked up, clearly startled by the word 'traitor'. He cut a strange figure, with the red-dyed skullcap that marked him out as a member of the messenger corps and an over-large grey cloak. The brass vambrace was ceremonial; he wore no other armour.

No doubt he is a competent messenger, thought Styrax, or Salen would not have used him. The harried trepidation on Mikiss' pallid face looked to be a permanent feature. Perhaps his family had bought the young man a commission as a messenger because he'd hardly survive

a week in command of a squad, let alone a company of men. It ap¬peared that he had not yet realised he was not for the immediate chop.

'I'm showing clemency, man.' He brushed away stammered thanks and went on. 'Where is Quistal? Can I assume he's waiting for me to return to the Gate of Three Suns before making his move?'

Mikiss nodded. 'His troops are camped on the Plain of Pillars and Salen's personal troops are in the sunken orchards. Where the coterie is, I don't know.'

General Gaur turned towards Styrax with a questioning look; the white-eye shook his head. The two often had little need of words, for they had been something like friends for many years now.

'They are of no consequence,' Styrax said out loud. 'Larim should have killed them all by now. The coterie will have felt their master's death.' He fell silent, thinking of the ground where they would have to fight. The Gate of Three Suns was a particularly remarkable con¬struction. The massive stone wall was strung across a thousand yards of flat ground between a stonedun and a long rocky plateau. The three circular gates set into it served as the main passages in and out of the city. His brief inspection earlier had suggested that the wall was straightforward engineering, not magic.

The sophisticated irrigation of the sunken orchards had been his second surprise that day – this was the desert, for pity's sake. Styrax hadn't expected the Chetse to show such ingenuity, but there was no denying the enormous skill involved. He decided he was right to seek the trust of the tribe; clearly there were remarkable men within the wild, unwashed masses.

'Before we discuss matters with Quistal, we have an errand to run,' Styrax a

'An errand?' echoed Kohrad. The young white-eye's voice sounded overly loud in the silent streets.

His words prompted a growled response from General Gaur. 'Keep your voice down; we don't want to run into a patrol if we can help it. Salen made sure all the night patrols were his own men. We don't need word to get back to the Plain of Pillars before we're ready.'

'An errand,' confirmed Styrax. 'Mikiss, where is General Dev being held?'

The messenger blinked in surprise. 'The commander of the Lion Guard? He's at his family's stonedun, under guard. He'd been injured

before the battle and couldn't be moved safely. Lord Salen wanted to make sure the general was alive for execution.'

'I'm sure he did. Take us there.'

'Father-' Kohrad started before Styrax raised a hand.

'No questions – have faith.'

'Yes, Father.'

Styrax couldn't see his son's face, which was obscured by the red-stained steel helm. It was impossible to tell if Kohrad was seething underneath; his reply had been crisp and level, but meant little. The boy was learning to hide his emotions even as his grip on sanity ap¬peared to be weakening.

'Thank you,' Styrax said. 'Mikiss, is the stonedun guarded by Salen's men?'

'I believe so, my Lord.'

'Right, you lead the way. We'll follow, like troops under your orders. If any of the guards work out we're hostile, you will break left and get clear. If any run once we reveal ourselves, you and your elegant horse are responsible for chasing them down. Gaur, we do this quietly and efficiently.' He was watching Kohrad as he spoke and fancied he saw a slight twitch of the shoulder as his son recognised who exactly needed to be reminded.

'Now if any of you can actually remember how to ride in formation: close order, two columns, weapons hidden.' The veterans accompany¬ing Styrax all chuckled. They might be elite troops, they might not have travelled in close rank for years, but no soldier forgot their first drills. Quickly they opened up for Mikiss to reach the front, then lined up behind Styrax and Kohrad. The slither of steel indicated they were ready for the trouble to come.

'Creeping like a thief through the night,' Styrax commented abruptly, 'in a city I control, hiding from troops from my own army. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy this.' His words faded on the light breeze. A bat darted over their heads, startling Mikiss, who shrank down in his saddle.

Styrax clapped a hand on Kohrad's armoured shoulder and smiled at the night.

Fifteen minutes later, General Dev's family stonedun came into view. It was a tall, roughly cylindrical block of granite eighty feet high, pocked wirb squares that indicated window holes. Lights flickered in the windows on the upper levels, but the lowest two were dark. There was a blazing fire at the gate that illuminated the guards nicely.

'Idiots,' growled Gaur. 'Weeks of trouble in the city and yet still they make themselves easy targets for anyone with a bow.'

'Salen's best troops are waiting for us at the Gate of the Three Suns. With so many troops scattered around the city, I guess they'll have expected a quiet night here.'

Kohrad's reply elicited only a curt nod; General Gaur was rigorous in his duty and would naturally expect every Menin soldier to follow the regulations, whether they were troops of the line or quartermaster clerks, on duty or off.

The gate, an oval aperture ten feet high, served as the mouth for the lion's head carved into the rock. It stood half open. A few sol¬diers squatted by the fire, one slowly turning a spit with the carcass of a goat speared on it. As the horsemen approached, another soldier came through the open side of the gate. He paused and peered out into the gloom, then barked at the men around the fire. They jumped up, scrambling for their weapons. Sparks scattered as someone kicked one of the logs and spread a tongue of fiery shards over the stone steps. Styrax grimaced as he heard a sound escape Kohrad's lips.