CHAPTER TWELVE
Sickness
WILHELM IX, CROWN PRINCE OF ZION (C.Y. 276 – 300)….Before his untimely death on board a cruise liner (cf. ASSASSINATION OF WILHELM IX), on which he was returning home following military negotiations with King Arlbert III (q.v.), Prince Wilhelm was the visible face of the Zion monarchy for several years. Of a warm and affectionate disposition, he was also a man of learning, who encouraged both the sciences and the arts in Zion…
…Perhaps more controversially, given this reputation, was Prince Wilhelm's well-documented antipathy to magic and its study. Though he encouraged the development of military technology in Zion, he placed strict curbs on magical instruction, and frequently clashed with Zion prelates of the Church of the Infinity, whom he perceived as remiss in dealing with abuses of magical powers….
ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347
"Good work, boys," Colonel Arthur observed, as the Galvenian troops finished securing Ozun City once more. "Your suggestion of perimeter traps for the lions was a good one, Second Lieutenant – even if they don't die, they're either caught or poisoned."
"It's an idea I got from an old friend of mine," Ryan replied. "But we still have a problem to solve, Sir. Where are those beasts coming from?"
"I'll be hanged if I know, Eramond," the Colonel replied. "They've never been reported around here, and the timing of their attacks is too neat. I never thought the day would come when the almighty Zion would be reduced to using wild beasts as weapons, though."
"So what's our next plan?" Sergeant Davies said. "Ryan, the latest radio intercepts say that they're planning to send more reinforcements, and more cannons. Worse, they're withdrawing some of their troops from the Ghetz border."
"Well, if they want a fight, we have the cannons too, Sergeant," Colonel Arthur replied. "But are they insane? First they elevate that puppet Gruner as Pontiff – something that their people aren't uniformly thrilled about, let me tell you" – he laughed – "and now they want to concentrate on us? By King Richard, the Varald will have them for breakfast if they slacken like this!"
"That's true, sir," Ryan observed. "Even the plague that has broken out there doesn't seem to be stopping them, thanks to their policy of conscription and their containment policies; villages have been sealed off, and the Capital keeps sending more reinforcements. Even when weakened, they're still dangerous, and the last three months have made the Zion look pretty silly."
"Anyway, Davies, here's the plan," Colonel Arthur said. "The three divisions dispatched from the Capital will move in and secure our posts, and they will be bringing more traps and baits with them. Since those creatures also hate fire, we'll have fires burning. In the meantime, Eramond's men will move beyond Checkpoint Alpha, and will capture the two small towns adjacent to Darington."
Ryan nodded. "But won't Darington itself be reinforced, Sir?" Davies asked.
"Ah, that's where we come in, Jim. We'll be moving the heavy artillery as close to Darington as we can, and as more men move in, we'll besiege the town. Our aim is not to invade it, but to wear them down and make them surrender. Moreover, Intelligence reports state that many of the citizens there are rebelling against the Emperor's attacks on Galvenia, and that we might not encounter that much resistance. Even if we do, though, we'll have help. The Rough Riders are also joining us."
"Sir Prescott?" Ryan chuckled. "I've had a run-in with him before I even signed up, Sir."
"Everyone has run-ins with Prescott," Colonel Arthur joked. "Besides, he will lead the attack on Darington once he gets here, and you'll guard the corridor from Alpha to the towns near Darington. There are just two of them: the village of Victoria, and the sparsely-inhabited town of Saint Maximillian, near the pass in the hills that leads to the coast. They're not worth much, but if we capture them, we have a decisive edge over the Zion."
"Fair enough, Sir," Davies said approvingly. "Let's get ready."
xxx
"Another attack on a Commonwealth facility," Lord Lucan said gloomily. "Gentlemen, this does not look good."
"You have a certain gift for stating the obvious, Lucan," Kanoi said icily. The news from the Arlia front had left him in a bad mood, and he had already vented his spleen on anyone, including Archbishop Mazarus, who had spoken to him that morning. "Of course it does not look good. What would you have us do?"
"Why, strengthen defences at our outposts in all the nations, my dear Kanoi," Jansen said, glaring at him. He was not in good humour either – a division of Zion mages had recaptured several posts that his soldiers held, and though the plague had been partly contained, new victims were reported every day. "Given the state of the world, Viceroy, can we afford another Chespa Bay?"
"God forbid," Mazarus said. "The Infinity would never permit such wickedness, except as a drastic chastisement for the sins of men." He looked at Kanoi meaningfully, and the latter paled.
"Well, creating a false Pontiff ought to count as quite a drastic sin, Archbishop," Jedda replied, with a laugh. "Perhaps we ought to gear up, as the Galvenians say – they have such lovely phrases! – for precisely another Chespa Bay."
"Gentlemen," President Hipper said, in his usual calm tone, "let us have a vote on this. Should we deploy additional members of the CSF to protect Commonwealth offices and trade outposts across Terra? So far, there have been three attacks in the Republic, two in the Zion Empire, three in the Varald Directorate, one in Itaria, and two in Galvenia. No nation has been spared. Should we act immediately, or wait and gather intelligence about these mysterious foes?"
Kanoi, whose voting privileges had been taken away, swore under his breath.
"How many favour reinforcements?" Hipper went on.
The hands of Jedda, Mazarus and Lucan were raised.
"I abstain, Mr. President," Jansen said. "I am of the opinion that the CSF need to pursue the conflict in Itaria more vigorously. These pin-pricks cannot harm us."
"Speak for yourself, Jansen," Jedda retorted. "Trade has suffered because of those 'pin-pricks'. The Itarians' God will protect them, but we of the Commonwealth enjoy no such divine favour."
"I shall pray for you, Jedda," Mazarus said sarcastically. "And I also agree that anything which destabilizes the Commonwealth is the first step to a return of chaos on Terra. It must be opposed."
"I agree with Mazarus," Lucan added. "For three hundred years, the Commonwealth has stood for the unity and brotherhood of all men on Terra. We cannot allow a year of violence to ruin it all."
"Then, it is decided," Hipper said, placing his hands on the table. "We shall send more men, and hopefully, these attacks will be a thing of the past."
xxx
As summer turned to autumn, the mood in Galvenia was neither optimistic nor pessimistic – it was weary. The war with the Zion showed no signs of ending. Even the entrance of the Rough Riders into the fray had only brought limited success, as the Zion redoubled their efforts despite the fall of the two towns outside Darington. Darington itself had been strengthened by several Imperial divisions and mage battalions, and though Galvenian territories had been recaptured, the frontier was still the site of fierce battles. Ryan Eramond, wounded twice during the siege of Darington and promoted to Lieutenant, had now returned to the front.
The royal wedding of Princess Carranya and the Duke of Marksmith had been postponed indefinitely; according to a proclamation from the Court of King Arlbert, this was on account of the war. Talk of a draft, given the stalemate at the war front, was in the air, creating excitement and alarm among the youth of Galvenia.
A more curious development was the arrival of large numbers of Itarian pilgrims – many of them making the perilous journey to Galvenia at the risk of their own lives, across fleets of Zion ships – to visit their Pontiff in Exile. There was even a slow, but definite growth in Church membership, as not a few Galvenians began to identify their cause with that of the besieged continent of Itaria. A large shipment of pilgrims had been torpedoed by a Zion submarine in the Sea of Arlia fifteen days earlier, causing widespread condemnation at the Commonwealth and much mourning in the Pontiff's household.
The Varald, after over a year of fighting, were beginning to suffer heavy casualties. Decimated by sickness, they still held their territories, but it was becoming clear to them that they could do so only at a rising cost. New cases of the mysterious fever were being reported further inland, and the Varald scientists, despite their best efforts, could not trace its origin.
Further attacks on Commonwealth installations had taken place, despite Terrin Hipper's reinforcements. At three of these sites, a corpse had been found, which – like the first one found in the Republic – showed signs of death by electrocution.
Sigmund Regale and his family had returned to Davenport three weeks earlier. Almost immediately on his arrival, he had been summoned to Lorean by Prime Minister Sheffield for a confidential meeting, and he had spent most of his time there, leaving Emily and Lavie at Casa Regale with the domestic help.
It was against this background that Henrik Spenson and Viola Benise returned to their hometown of Davenport for a short vacation. Circumstances – including the removal of several of the faculty of King's College to aid in the war effort – had altered the College calendar, and they were free to do as they pleased for the next two weeks.
This evening, they were gathered with their old friends and classmates at "the Harp and the Sea", Davenport's seafood restaurant and meeting-place, eagerly discussing the events of the past sixteen months.
"Think they'll be drafting us?" Roger Foley observed, trying to maintain a calm exterior. "You were at the capital, Henrik. What do you say?"
"They might," Henrik replied. "I know Ryan doesn't write back anymore – he's been in and out of hospital, anyway – but the rumour is that Sheffield's going to make an announcement this week, on Lord Raymond Chester's birth anniversary."
"Does that mean all the men of Davenport have to report?" Lavie said anxiously.
"All those who are fit, certainly," Lloyd Ragell replied. "Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but if we've got to go, we've got to go."
"I bet that doesn't include you, Lloyd," Greg Sanders said cockily. "You'd fall asleep trying to put on your combat boots."
"I heard they still put people in the brig for drunkenness," Cathy Weseluc said innocently, and Greg turned red in the face, then tried to counter-attack.
"So how does it feel to stay behind, Spenson, when your Compadres are both serving the country?" he said, teasingly. "How about a white feather in that snazzy jacket of yours, huh?"
"Oh, I've done my part, Reynolds," Henrik said calmly. "I agree all of us can't contribute to the Galvenian brewing industry on your scale, but Viola and I have run a few errands for the right people. Can't tell you about it, though. Loose lips sink ships, especially in bars."
Lavie burst out laughing at this, and Greg glared at Henrik.
"Very funny, Spenson," he grumbled. "If you have nothing intelligent to say, I think I'll be on my way. Good day, gentlemen."
As he stormed out of the room, more than one person laughed.
"Good riddance," Cathy said, as the door slammed. "Who needs a bottle-head like him, anyway? Let's talk about something more pleasant. How's it in the Republic, Lavie?"
"Oh, nice enough, Cath," Lavie replied. "Aunt Leah and Uncle David were a lot of fun, though it was way too hot out there!"
"Well, you've got a nice tan," Viola said consolingly, "so I guess that makes up for it. Is it true that you have to cover your head whenever you go out there?"
"Not in Indernes, Viola," Lavie replied. "It's an old city, and they don't have that tradition – unlike at their capital, Jadeed."
"We're all glad about your dad, Lavie," Myna Patel said. "Only an idiot would think that he killed the Prime Minister!"
"I'm sure that was done by Zion agents," Roger Foley said darkly.
"Or his wife," Lloyd Ragell suggested with a smile
"You're confusing him with King Arlbert," Cathy retorted. "Socius never had trouble with his wife! It's the King who keeps, um, fooling around."
"Speaking of that, Cath," Rachel Stonewell said, "what happened to the Princess' wedding? As Davenport's official Rumour Mill, you ought to know!"
Cathy laughed. "Daddy's only a clerk at the Mayor's office, Rachel," she replied, "so he doesn't exactly hear everything that happens at the Palace. But I've heard things, indeed!" She winked.
"So have I," Henrik replied. "Apparently, after she was captured and rescued, the Palace has been concerned about an assassination attempt at a public event. That's why they're postponing it."
Lavie shivered. "Ugh, that's horrible!" she said. "Well, I have a more cheerful explanation. According to some of Mom's friends, her parents having second thoughts about the Duke of Marksmith, and they want her to marry a noble who's either in the Army, or a veteran. Doesn't that make sense?"
"She can marry Sir Prescott, then," Roger suggested. "He's the only nobleman I know in the Army who's actually fighting and winning stuff for us."
"Sir Prescott?" Henrik smiled. "Actually, I have a passing acquaintance with him."
"Oooh, juicy!" Cathy exclaimed. "I really envy you two guys, really. All the hot gossip is at Lorean, and I'm stuck here! Maybe I should try this college wheeze."
"Hi, everyone," Jaina Vellin said, entering the room a trifle breathlessly. "Am I late? Daddy needed a little help tonight, because the sailors were down and he was short of hands."
"No trouble, Jaina," Lavie said kindly. "We were just discussing the Princess' wedding."
"Oh, what a coincidence!" Jaina said excitedly. "That's what the sailors were talking about, too! One of them was in his cups, and waxing sentimental about his wife and kids at home, and they got onto the topic of the Princess!"
"And what did they say?" Henrik said, with a laugh. "Did any of them have a crush on her?"
"Very funny, Henrik," Viola replied. "Though that does sound like most sailors, if what Daddy told me was true. He had to put up with no end of ribbing because he wouldn't drink anything stronger than cider."
"Hey, cider's good," Roger said kindly. "I'm not knocking it."
"No, you sillies," Jaina replied. "It was something much bigger than that!"
"I'm liking this!" Cathy said hopefully.
"Let me guess, she's eloped with Sir Prescott," Lloyd said lazily.
"Quiet, you dope," Jaina said good-humouredly. "Anyway, it seems that the Princess doesn't really want to marry the Duke, but she has to, because that's what her parents and the Government both want."
"Sounds like a novel," Henrik said innocently, and Lavie and Viola both giggled. "Let me guess, she's actually in love with a groom, a Royal Guard, or some other undesirable."
"Maybe it's the Prime Minister, and she's mourning him," Roger suggested.
"Or the Pontiff!" Cathy suggested. "That would be totally tragic, since Pontiffs can't marry!"
"Or Juno," Lavie suggested, with a laugh.
"Shh, it's much better than that! Come on, guys," Jaina urged them. "Think of the standard plot in historical novels."
"Um, 'Save the princess?'" Viola suggested.
"That's right!" Jaina replied. "Going to King's College certainly does make you clever! Now put two and two together."
Cathy's eyes widened. "You're pulling my leg, Janie. You're kidding, right? Not Sir Cool!"
"Ryan?" Henrik whistled. "Well, if he can make it back from the war in one piece, it'll still be an uphill task. Still, if that's true, more power to the Three Compadres!"
"Ryan?" Lavie said in dismay, heedless of the joking and excitement around her. "This – this is a joke, right?"
Jaina looked at Lavie with concern. "Hey, Lavie, I'm sorry," she said. "It's just sailors' gossip, right? Don't let it get to you."
"Were they serious about it?" Lavie went on, feeling her heart beat slowly and heavily.
"They sounded like it, sure," Jaina explained. "One of them was a transfer in from the Army, and he said he'd been with Ryan on the rescue mission. That's how he, um, came to know."
"I'm really sorry, guys," Lavie said, rising suddenly from her chair, "but I – I really have to go. Catch you later, okay?"
And without a word, she rushed out of the room.
"That was cruel, Jaina," Cathy said reproachfully. "Don't you know Lavie's been pining after Ryan for years now?"
"I'm truly sorry," Jaina said, remorse writ large on her face. "I honestly forgot."
"Hmm, don't worry, Jaina," Roger said. "Lavie's like that. She once yelled at me when I suggested that Ryan and Marianne made a cute pair, and she apologized the next day. Just go and talk to her once she cools down, okay?"
"That sounds like a good suggestion," Viola agreed. "As the boys in the football team at King's College say, don't sweat it!"
"Thanks, guys," Jaina said.
"Why don't we talk about something else?" Myna suggested.
"As long as it's not school, I'm with you," Lloyd joked, and good humour was restored, with the assembled young men and women only pausing occasionally to spare a thought for Lavie and her discomfiture.
But Lavie was not pining, and neither was she jealous. She was thinking of two lines in a journal, and she was afraid.
xxx
"What ho, Sheffield!" King Arlbert said, unable to contain his good humour despite the fierce fighting that his army was involved in. He had had a good day's hunt, had taken a pleasant walk with Carranya in the Palace gardens, and was on his way to demolish a large lunch. "And how is my new Prime Minister enjoying his job?"
"Quite well, Sire," Sheffield said with a sigh. "It would be a lot better if the Zion were to stop their foolish incursions, but we must make the best of a bad job."
Arlbert chuckled. "Would you like me to sue for peace? It might be worth a try, if they agree to an advantageous treaty."
"Unfortunately, the Zion are in no mood to parley, Sire," Sheffield explained. "They are heartened by the plague in the Varald Directorate, as well as the inexplicable recovery of Charlemagne. Unless we inflict heavy defeats on them and push them back, they will not surrender."
"Do what you must, Sheffield," Arlbert said genially. "I'm off to my luncheon, and please don't disturb me."
"Very well, Sire," Sheffield said, making his way to his own room, where Sir Cornelius was waiting for him.
"Prescott has reported Zion troop movements through the hills," Cornelius began. "From our radio interceptions – and the decryption skills of my old friend Lolek – it seems they are gathering in two clusters: one near Victoria, and a smaller one near Ismar, about five miles north of Darington."
"Does that mean they are abandoning Darington?" Sheffield wondered. "That doesn't make sense."
"Most likely, they hope to lure our men into an early engagement," Fairfax replied. "Prescott is of the opinion that we should split our forces – one should completely overrun Victoria, and seal the coast, in case they are bringing in weapons or other materials that way. The other will remain at Darington. If the men from Ismar march to reinforce Darington, we will send additional forces from Checkpoint Alpha."
"That is a wise plan, though they will probably face stiff resistance at Victoria," Sheffield replied. "However, if we wish to put an end to this, we will still need more forces. Thanks to your friend's work, we now know that they are recalling large numbers of troops from the Varald border. Some of them will go to Itaria, where the CSF are still holding them off, but most of them will come here."
"If that is so, then conscription is inevitable," Fairfax said softly. "What galls me is that we've lost our best chance of compromising the traitors here. We know who they are – except for one or two of them – but that fool who stole the decrypted messages has put us in a deep hole."
"Do you have any idea who he is?" Sheffield asked.
"We do," Fairfax replied. "Some of our men were able to identify him from an earlier encounter. His name is Makarov Juno, and he lives in Davenport. He was allegedly aiding the Zion, using illegal magic weapons, during the rescue of Princess Carranya by Ryan Eramond's team."
"Juno – why does that name sound familiar?" Sheffield said sharply. "Wasn't there some incident in Davenport, many years ago?"
"A soldier named Franz Juno of the Territorial Army was killed defending the town from a bandit attack in 288," Fairfax replied. "This Makarov, according to our records, is his son."
"Tsk,tsk," Sheffield replied. "A soldier's son turning traitor? What for, Fairfax, what for?"
"I think there is more to the story than that," Fairfax observed, "but it's an old file, and may have been sealed for other reasons. At any rate, we have interrogated his mother – a harmless, gentle soul, who seems to have let the boy run wild – but she honestly admits to having no clue of his whereabouts, though he did leave her a note saying he was 'going to serve his country'. She is as eager to find him as we are. We are having her house discreetly watched, just to be on the safe side."
"Good enough, Fairfax," Sheffield replied. "We will begin by asking for volunteers over the next one month. If this suffices, or if the Zion weaken, that will be all. If not, we will launch the draft at the beginning of September. For the rest, continue collecting information on your suspects, and if you have anything that we can clearly act on, then I will authorize you to use our covert forces. Until then, my friend, be discreet."
"Oh, I will," Fairfax replied with a smile. "You can count on that."
xxx
"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," the young man said, helping Cathy get up. "That sign is in rather an inconvenient location, I'm afraid."
Cathy grimaced, but smiled when she looked at the face of the man who offered her his hand. He wore the red uniform of a Galvenian officer, was red-haired, and while he was far from handsome, his grin was hard to resist. Hopping on one foot, she relaxed on noticing that she had not sprained her ankle, and looked crossly at the freshly painted sign outside the Mayor's office.
Galvenian Royal Army
Provisional Recruitment Office
City of Davenport
"Here's your bonnet, Miss," the soldier replied, picking it up from the ground and handing it to her. "Watch your step!"
"Recruitment Office?" Cathy laughed. "Don't tell me you've come to take our boys away, and condemn us to all being old maids!"
"Not quite yet, Miss –"
"Weseluc, Officer. Catherine Weseluc, though everyone calls me Cathy. Dad told me the Army would be coming to town soon, but I didn't know it would be this soon!"
"Oh, I believe I met him this morning," the man replied. "I'm Peter Huntington, and I'm an instructor from the Military Academy at Lorean, though if you enjoy ranks, I'd be 'Second Lieutenant Huntington'. Pretty small potatoes, actually."
"You're funny," Cathy replied encouragingly. "So does your Army accept women?"
"Why, Miss, surely you don't intend joining up?" Huntington said innocently.
Cathy clapped her hands. "You've got me there, Second Lieutenant, I was just kidding! But let's make a deal. Don't recruit me, and I'll spread the word among everyone in town. Soon you'll have all the able-bodied men in Davenport lining up to join."
"For the moment," Huntington explained, amused by the girl's high spirits, "we're only asking for volunteers. Prime Minister Sheffield will probably start conscription only in autumn, so you can tell your friends to relax until then. But if Sir Prescott's current offensive doesn't work, then I dare say you'll see a lot of your friends in uniform."
"That's juicy! Can I add this to the Rumour Mill, or is it something hush-hush?" Cathy asked.
"Oh, spread as many rumours as you want, Miss," Huntington joked. "Only don't confuse me with Sir Prescott; he may be a great soldier, but he takes himself far too seriously! Good day to you, Miss Weseluc."
"Have a great day!" she replied, as she walked away from the office, careful to avoid the sign as she did so.
xxx
"Nonsense," Sir Prescott said over the radio. "I will lead the team to Victoria, while the younger men will hold the line at Darington. With all due respect, General, I am in the battlefield, and you are behind your desk. This is a delicate mission, and I insist on being given a free hand as far as strategy is concerned."
"Sir Prescott, though you may command the Rough Riders, I am the commander of the Galvenian Armed Forces," General Freeman – Lord Freeman of Alton – replied, in a commanding tone. "We cannot afford to lose you this early. Send another division to Victoria, at least as a vanguard, and follow them once you are certain that it is not an ambush."
"Hmm," Sir Prescott replied. "That actually makes sense, General. Very well. I shall pick out one troop of the new recruits and send them on a scout mission to Victoria. If they can rule out any scurvy tricks on the part of the Zion, I shall proceed with my plan. Is that satisfactory?"
"Quite so, Prescott, quite so," General Freeman replied. "End communication."
"I wonder why they're so concerned," Captain Rawley, his adjutant, remarked. "Do they know something we don't?"
"Even if they did – and I wouldn't put it behind a flatterer like Freeman – it makes no difference to us, Rawley. We are the Rough Riders. "First in, last out." That's our slogan. We will merely throw a sop to Freeman by using a small scout party – say, about forty or fifty men."
"From the regular infantry?" Rawley said, with an approving nod. "That is a good idea, especially if they're not telling us the whole truth. Whom do you want to use?"
"The Fourth or Fifth Assault Corps, perhaps, Rawley," Sir Prescott replied. "Which would you recommend?"
"Well, the Fifth has been doing decent work under that new lieutenant – what's his name – Eramond," Rawley replied.
"Eramond?" Sir Prescott laughed. "Surely not the silly lad I once taught a lesson to at the Academy."
Captain Rawley knew that this statement was false – for Sir Prescott's 'duel' with Ryan and his friends was now a minor legend – but he respected his Commander, who was both intelligent and talented, and refrained from correcting him. "I think it's the same young man, Sir Prescott," he replied.
"Oh, in that case, send him, Rawley. If there is danger, let him face it. If it is a safe task, there is no danger of his earning a medal." He laughed. "Tell them to be ready at 0700 hours, then. We will move as quickly as possible."
"Yes, Sir Prescott," Captain Rawley replied, saluting as he left.
xxx
"It is good to see you, Your Holiness," Mother Anna said, with a reverent bow. She knelt to kiss his ring, then sat down in the small room he now occupied, in the Friary of the Sons of Saint Nealus at Lorean. "And I must apologize for the inconvenience I have caused you. If I had been more discreet in my youth…"
"Think nothing of it, Anna," Pious XXI replied. "You had reasons for sharing the knowledge that was gifted you, and you could not know that it would be abused in this way. Even we have understood the truth only recently."
"Those wicked Zion," Anna said, trembling with indignation. "I hope they, and their anti-Pontiff Maximillian, repent before it is too late."
"Unfortunately, I cannot tell fortunes, my good Anna," the Pontiff said kindly. "But it is possible that at least some of them will see the light."
"I am tired, Pontiff," Anna said, desolate. "I am an old woman, and I nearly did not survive the journey here. My arrival provided the Zion with a convenient casus belli. And I am alone. All I have are the memories of brighter days. Mother, Father – dear Ludwig – good Father Alois. All gone…" Tears came to the old woman's eyes.
"Take my handkerchief, Anna," Pious said gently, proffering a large scrap of cambric.
"I am foolish to cry, Your Holiness, but I am only flesh and blood," Anna said, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. "When I saw the glorious face of Saint Geraud, I thought I would be like him – a messenger of peace. And yet my message has brought war, destruction, and schism in the Church. Is it a punishment for my sins, Your Holiness? Am I accursed?"
Pious placed his hands over the woman's head and blessed her.
"Rest assured, Anna," he replied. "You are certainly not accursed. As for your message, it was perhaps necessary that the Apostle of Peace should warn us of threats to unity. Now, there is only one thing I wish to ask you. I have here" – he unrolled a large scroll – "the actual text of the so-called Secret Prophecy of Geraud, as you dictated it to Father Alois Loranger in C.Y. 245. I want you to read it, and confirm that there is no mistake in it."
"Yes, Your Holiness," Anna said meekly. She read the fading lines with difficulty, for her eyes were ageing, and then looked up.
"It is correct, Your Holiness," she said.
"Then, my good Anna, look at the portions here" – he pointed to a line – "and here. Do you swear, by your most solemn vows as a Bride of the Infinity, that they are accurate?"
"Of course, Your Holiness," Anna said, surprised by the Pontiff's vehemence.
"Thank you, Anna." He sighed. "It is as I have suspected for some time. I now know exactly how this will play out, and when we will have to unveil the Secret in all its fullness. It is our only hope of healing the spiritual sickness that has struck Terra. But prepare yourself, good mother, for you will see worse things than war and schism in less than two years. I know that you are brave, despite your years, and that you will help me."
"God save us all," Anna whispered.
"He will," Pious replied confidently. "But only if we wish to be saved."
xxx
It was early in the morning when Ryan began to lead his men to Victoria. They had only covered a little distance when a man emerged from the woods. He wore the uniform of a Galvenian army reserve, and he was smiling.
"Lieutenant Eramond?" he said. "Terribly sorry to interrupt you, but I have important information."
"What is it?" Ryan said sharply.
"Let me introduce myself," the man replied, holding out an identity card. "Jason Schenk, Galvenian Covert Operations Service."
"Hmm." Ryan held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Agent Schenk. What seems to be the matter?"
"Listen to me," Jason replied. "You are likely to be ambushed at Victoria if you are not careful. We received word of this only at midnight, and we have hurried to inform you on time. Your forces will easily overpower the men guarding the village, but once you enter, the wild beasts will attack you. While you are dealing with them, a Zion force crossing the hills will swoop down into the bay near Victoria, and catch you with your pants down." He chuckled. "Quite a clever ploy."
"What can we do?" Ryan replied. "We've been ordered to complete this mission by Sir Prescott, and as much as I dislike the man, he's a great strategist – and our superior officer. I can't disobey orders."
"You do not need to," Jason replied. "Here, take this. It will repel or stun the beasts almost instantaneously, giving you ample time to occupy the bay and rout the Zion soldiers before they have time to attack." He held out a sword with a short blade to Ryan, who looked at it curiously. "Fresh from Lorean, Lieutenant."
"What is this?" Ryan asked.
"Tell me, Lieutenant," Jason said. "You've been fighting for over a year now. Surely, at some time, your enemies must have used poisoned blades in close combat. Have you ever noticed that you, unlike your fellow soldiers, are unaffected by them? That you could, without an effort, expel the poison from your body?"
Ryan drew his breath in sharply. "Now that you mention it – I have noticed that. Even when they've used smoke bombs to try and blind us, I've been able to see quite well. What does it mean?"
"Lieutenant," Jason said with a warm smile, "you have a unique power within you – the legacy of an ancient bloodline. Use it wisely, for the good of Galvenia and Terra. Take this sword, and when the beasts emerge as a pack, simply concentrate on one thing: their utter devastation. Will it, Lieutenant, and the sword will obey your will." He turned, and began to walk away.
"Wait!" Ryan called out. "What does this all mean? What's going on?"
"I'm afraid explanations will have to wait, Lieutenant," he replied, his voice fading away as the distance between them increased. "Go ahead bravely, for you will certainly win if you follow our advice."
Ryan stood, stunned, at the place where Agent Schenk had left him.
I've seen that guy before, he thought. But where?
"Ryan," Sergeant Davies said, "what's the matter?"
"Change of plan, men," Ryan said. "They're going to ambush us at Victoria, but fortunately, our secret service has found out about it. Let me tell you what we're going to do."
"Good fight, Ryan," Sergeant Jasper said, as they surveyed the gates of the village. "We've lost two men, but this hick city is ours now!"
"Move in slowly," Ryan said.
As soon as they entered the gates of Victoria, the pack of beasts began to emerge. It seemed that they were coming from every corner and cranny, and Ryan's men – though they were seventy strong, and no cowards – froze.
"Hold the line and fire," Ryan said. "I have a plan."
He drew the sword that Schenk had given him, aimed it at an approaching group of four beasts, and closed his eyes. He felt himself lunging forward, as if prompted by the sword, and a strong wind came up, blowing away from his blade.
"Lousy weather!" Davies grumbled.
It was then that a strange thing happened. The beasts' hides began to tear and shrivel before their eyes, and they began to howl with pain. Some of them retreated, licking their bleeding wounds, while others snarled ineffectually at the approaching Galvenian forces.
"Finish them! Now!" Ryan commanded, as he drew his own rifle and began firing.
In less than an hour, the beasts lay in the deserted streets of Victoria.
"What the heck was that?" Jasper said.
"Some new weapon from the capital," Ryan explained. "That agent wanted me to have it."
"Amazing," Davies said breathlessly.
An elderly man emerged from one of the huts, shaking from head to foot.
"Are they gone?" he cried. "It's been three days! I was afraid we would starve to death…"
"Oh yes, they are, old-timer," Davies replied. "The Galvenian army isn't going to be scared by a pack of wolves, or flying donkeys, or whatever those things are."
"Thank God," the man said simply. "Are you going to – harm us?"
"We're not the Varald," Ryan reassured him. "As long as you stay in your houses, you're safe."
Needing no further encouragement, the man returned to his hut and bolted the door.
"That man seemed mortally scared," Jasper remarked. "Three days. I didn't think the Zion would do that to their own people, frankly."
"Let's secure the bay," Ryan said.
It was a short march, and as his men occupied their positions, they found that the bay itself was deserted. A few fishing boats lay near the pier, swaying in the wind.
"Think it's a trap?" Davies wondered.
That was when they saw them. The Zion men were not only emerging from the hills – they were hiding in the docks, and they fell upon the Galvenian rearguard. The fighting grew fierce, and both sides sustained losses, until silence announced that the Zion forces had fallen back.
Almost at once, a man in the uniform of a Zion lieutenant emerged, along with a smaller troop.
"Back off," he said. "Back off, or we will kill every man, woman and child in this village. Surrender."
"You wouldn't dare," Ryan shot back.
"Oh, yes, we would," he said, as his men dragged an old man – along with a younger woman and three children – in front of him. "Finish them, men."
Ryan watched in horror as the old man and his daughter were cut down. Infuriated, he drew his own weapon and took down three of the Zion soldiers, then drew the smaller sword, staring at the Lieutenant, his face a mask of hate.
Kill them. Kill them.
The Lieutenant collapsed to the ground, and the men with him were thrown against the stone wall of a hut. Without hesitation, Ryan and his men moved in and shot them all.
"Get those children to safety!" he shouted. "Take them inside one of the huts. There are more men coming!"
He looked up at the hill, where at least a hundred more Zion soldiers were approaching.
"What do we do, Ryan?" Jasper shouted frantically. "Half our men are gone! We can't possibly deal with that kind of force!"
"We'll go down fighting," Ryan replied. "Use the grenade launchers to keep them at bay."
The grenadiers fired, and the front line of the approaching Zion forces fell back. However, the rest of them were approaching fast, until they came to the marshy area that separated them from the bay.
"Fall back and fire!" Ryan ordered, moving forward and firing several times.
"Sweet Infinity!" Davies exclaimed. "Look! Look up!"
Above them, storm clouds were gathering. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and rain began to fall.
"Fall back! This is our best chance!" Ryan said. "Encircle them, and keep firing with all you have!"
The Zion forces, a little slower to react, were instantly mired in the wet, marshy soil. They tried desperately to escape, but were too stunned to react in an organized way, though they did fire back fiercely. After several hours of shooting, all but six of them lay dead, shot or trapped in the mire. These men, realizing that they had been crushed not by the Galvenians but by accident, raised their hands above their heads and dropped their weapons.
It was then that the first division of the Rough Riders began to approach them, with Captain Rawley at its head.
"By Prince Derren," he exclaimed, "what happened here, Eramond?"
Ryan, lowering his weapon and holding his shoulder, which was bleeding, smiled back. "Long story, sir," he replied. "Let's just say that the elements were on our side."
xxx
"I must say, Lavie," Sigmund observed, noticing his daughter's nose buried in a book, "you do seem to have taken up reading with a vengeance after returning from the Republic. Have Leah and David had a good influence on you?"
Lavie blushed. "Er, I guess so, Daddy," she replied.
"The Sickness of Koroth," Sigmund said, reading over her shoulder. "Isn't that a rather morbid topic for a bright young girl like you, my dear?"
"You're right, Daddy," Lavie replied. "I guess I was just worrying about the plague in the Varald Directorate. They say it's spreading to the Republic now. I hope Aunt Leah, Uncle David, and my cousins are all safe."
"Oh, well, I don't think you need to worry too much, Lavie," Sigmund said, patting her on the head. "Indernes is a long way from the border, as they're fond of saying, and the border is a long way from where the Varald and the Zion are fighting. Besides, a desert country like the Republic is full of tropical fevers."
"Thanks, Daddy," she replied. "I hope you're right."
"Enjoy your book, dearest," he said, looking preoccupied. "I have to meet Sheffield again, to discuss mineral shipments from the Republic to Davenport. I must say, this war is involving all of us. Why, next month, they're going to start conscription. If it means greater independence from the Zion, I'm going to support this, as much as I disliked Socius."
"You've got a bee in your bonnet about Socius," Lavie said teasingly. "Can't you let him rest in peace?"
"Perhaps," Sigmund said with a wink as he left the library.
Lavie smiled, then went on reading.
The location of Koroth is unknown, largely because the Journeymen took a vow of silence not to discuss such a shameful incident; despite the heroism of Kaleb, Koroth was – to them – synonymous with the betrayal and ignoble death of a man whom they had come to view as their next leader. Details of topography and history allow us to conclude that it was on the west coast of Arlia, probably in Zion territory.
A question that has often been asked about Koroth's plague is: what was the Sickness? If it was natural, why did it break out at that time? If it was demonic, what was the demon's agenda in causing it? "Demons do not perform evil deeds without motivation; rather, they are the willing collaborators of evil men" (Horamin, Sermons, II, 24). Was the entire plague, including the numerous deaths it caused, merely a ploy from the underworld to incite Samath to treachery, and ultimately destroy the Journeymen, sworn enemies of the demons? There are many theories, which we will discuss in increasing order of probability.
Perhaps the most outlandish theory, held by some Galvenian historians (Richard Erasmus, "The Sacrifices of Koroth"; Gerald Scott, "Demonic Conjurations in Itarian and Zionese Lore"), is that the demon could only be unsealed by a large number of deaths – a human sacrifice, that is. In this view, the demons caused a supernatural sickness – or helped humans spread a natural one – merely to cause enough fatalities to unleash their full powers. Erasmus cites ancient texts from the Church of the Infinity in support of their thesis, but these texts are themselves unclear and may simply refer to deaths in battle, and how demons foment war between the nations. Scott, on the other hand, argues from old Zion chronicles which show a close relationship between mass deaths from any cause and reported cases of demonic possession in their priestly records. These arguments are feeble, but if they are true, they should hearten us: even if Koroth is found, it will be dangerous only if it plays host to death on a large scale.
A more likely theory, advanced by Zion scholars (foremost among them Kohnburg), is that Samath had foreknowledge of the demon's plans, and perhaps played a role in spreading the Sickness himself….
Lavie closed the book and sighed.
I wish I could see Ryan and talk to him in person, she thought. He might be able to help me with this. It's so – creepy. Demons, human sacrifice – do people even do those things nowadays?
xxx