further. ‘If Larat is willing to admit that much, no doubt the truth is something deeper, something more fundamental to their relationship with the Skulls - perhaps even the existence of the Gods themselves. The Skulls are stores of power; the Gods are power incarnate. Could they be the flip-side of the same coin?’
— How does this help?
Emin topped up her goblet with a smile. ‘Lord Styrax is not collecting them to secure his rule or aid his conquest, those are just by-products. He wants that power over each of the Gods of the Upper Circle, not to ask questions but make demands.’ He shook his head. ‘As great and long-lived as he is, the man is only mortal. One day he will die, unless . . .’
King Emin puffed on his cigar and looked at the icons hanging on the wall. The empty cowl of Death occupied the centre; on His left was Kitar, Goddess of Fertility, on His right, Karkarn, God of War.
He said slowly, ‘He will die unless he becomes a God. Unless this peerless warrior asks something of the Gods they cannot refuse.’
CHAPTER 21
Captain Hain looked around at the army and felt a strange surge of exhilaration. ‘Damn but it’s a sight,’ he said, nudging Sergeant Deebek with his elbow. ‘Shame the major’s missing it.’
Behind his helm Deebek grinned as best he could, his mangled top lip lifting on one side to reveal the ruined gums underneath.
‘Reckon ’e’d agree, sir. I ’eard ’e were sent to play spies in Byora ’til ’e’s fit for duty. Can’t see ’im takin’ that over an honest fight.’
The entire Cheme Third Legion was lined up in tight ranks, as though on the parade ground. Ahead was the Second, and the other side of a copse, the lighter-armed troops of the First. Lord Styrax’s favoured shock troops, his minotaur clans, were a few hundred yards north, alongside a division of light cavalry. On their other flank was a legion of Chetse, what was left of the Crocodile Guard bolstered by fresh recruits from the now-quiescent Chetse cities.
Hain had lingered on the sight more than once; he’d never believed he would see the day a legion of the Ten Thousand marched under Menin banners. Once each of the commanding tachrenn had kneeled to Lord Styrax, the enlisted had started to see him as something other than a conqueror: they saw a peerless warrior, a Chosen of the Gods who truly deserved the title.
‘Don’t hope for much of a fight today, Sergeant,’ Hain warned. ‘I doubt they’ll dare.’
They had skirted the Byoran marshes and gone up through the Evemist Hills and just crossed the Narkang border. Now they stood less than a mile from the fortress town of Merritays, Narkang’s first line of defence against aggression from the Circle City that had never materialised until now. Four square stone towers were connected by defensive earthworks and enclosed a small garrison town, accessible only by drawbridges attached to each tower. Some two miles behind Merritays stood a market town that had grown up in its protective lee.
Hain watched the First Legion advance to within bowshot of the defensive lines. The earthworks were built in two enormous steps and looked down over a water-filled ditch. There was a neat stone wall on each level. There weren’t many soldiers on view at the moment; Hain knew they wouldn’t commit their strength until the Menin attacked.
‘What’s the plan then, Captain?’ Deebek asked conversationally.
‘You think General Gaur tells the likes of me?’
‘But you might ’ave seen summat, I reckon we ain’t ’angin’ around for a siege.’
‘You’re right there,’ Hain admitted, ‘but I still don’t know what’s planned. Shut up and we’ll both find out.’
‘Right you are, sir,’ Deebek said. He reached out and gave the axe resting on Hain’s shoulder a tap with his fingers, then balled his fist and thumped it against his chest.
‘Fer luck, sir,’ he explained without embarrassment. The medal he pulled out next was one he’d won ten years previously and he kissed it, as he had before every fight since.
Hain didn’t comment. The axe was the one Amber had used to kill the Chosen of Tsatach; if the men now considered it a talisman, all the better. Ten minutes later, they heard the drums beat out the command over the whisking wind: Advance to enemy. Whatever General Guar planned, they were certainly going to get some sort of a fight today.
The Second Legion headed for the nearest of the towers. There was a