CHAPTER NINETEEN
Honour
VALTEMOND, EMPEROR GERAUD I….As someone who was both Emperor and President of the Commonwealth, and a Saint of the Itarian Canon in addition, Geraud I of Zion enjoys a semi-legendary, mystical status in the continents of Arlia and Itaria. Because of this, the stories of his youth and parentage have been subjected to critical analysis. Some Zionese historians, such as Gonda (q.v.) have challenged the received wisdom that his father was Leon Jenkin of the Varald Directorate, pointing out that Count Zenkai, a young noble popular at his grandfather's court, was a more likely candidate. Even if we reject this, Geraud's illegitimacy is a matter of historical record, and his right to rule was ascertained only by an official Edict from his mother, Sylvania III (q.v.), which was ratified by the Church of the Infinity.
Visions and apparitions of Saint Geraud have been a staple on Terra ever since the Commonwealth was founded, particularly at moments of crisis such as Chespa Bay. Some saints and mystics have claimed to enjoy lengthy conversations with him, and their writings are consistent with what is known of Geraud's personality and beliefs. Such is his stature that the small "Church of Geraud", in the Fulton Republic, considers him an incarnation of God; and though the Itarian Church under Pious XIX condemned this as a heresy, that same Pontiff also awarded him the title of "Greatest of the Saints"…
ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347
The coronation of Queen Carranya – coming as it did immediately after the victory at Issachar and the sack of Hayako – was the high point of the dying summer of 302 for most Galvenians, even those – like Sigmund Regale – who happened to be in prison. After an initial but fortunately milder fit of "the horrors", he had settled into a quiet life, reading, writing, and cherishing the limited visits he was permitted from Emily and Lavie. They had been joined by Leah and her family, who had left the Republic after David had barely survived the plague and was advised to spend some time in a cooler part of Terra.
"I wish there was a way we could watch the coronation from here," his guard said gloomily. "Look at us, Mr. Regale. We're stuck here, while the rest of Galvenia cheers her. Aye, a fairer maiden never became Queen. God bless that child, and may she rule more wisely than her sottish father."
"That is entirely possible," Sigmund replied, making a note in the margin of his book. "And if she does, the first thing I would wish for would be a Royal pardon."
The guard laughed. He liked Sigmund, who reminded him of an old police captain he'd once worked for and respected. "Well, hope springs eternal, Mr. Regale," he replied. "Toodles. Maybe I can catch a bit of the action on the radio."
At Lorean Castle, no expense had been spared. The Hall of Kings was lit with a thousand lights, and the ancient golden regalia of Queen Mother Penelope had been brought out and given, if only for one day, to the current Queen Mother. Carranya, resplendent in a silver gown, looked grave as the Prime Minister read the Decree of Succession aloud to the assembled Royals, nobles and notables of Galvenia.
Following this, Father Richard Laplace – the auxiliary bishop of Galvenia, for Galvenia, until recently, had too few believers to merit a full bishop – pronounced the blessing over her, with Thomssen, watching from the front row, smiling grimly. After handing her the orb that symbolized her sovereignity over Galvenia and all its territories, she advanced steadily towards the throne, the sunlight passing through the transparent dome setting her face aglow. Kneeling before the Prime Minister and her mother, she received her scepter, and then the crown was placed on her head.
A roar of applause, beginning modestly but swelling to a raucous crescendo, filled the Hall, and more than one member of the audience was moved to tears. Carranya, turning around to face them, raised her hand and spoke.
"My people," she said, "I stand before you knowing that your deepest hopes, your darkest fears, have – like this crown – now come to rest upon my brow." She smiled. "I do not know if I can live up to those expectations – contrary to your expectations, a Queen is not superhuman. But neither is she a fragile flower, to be protected and kept away from the hardships and realities of life."
"What is this delirium?" Thomssen hissed. General Freeman, who was quite enjoying himself, stamped on his foot, effectively silencing him.
"In the last two years, my friends, we have seen ugliness and folly – we have stared them in the face. But we have also seen goodness and beauty – a goodness that refuses to be hidden, a light that refuses to be quenched, in spite of disease, death or war. It is because of this goodness that I stand before you today."
"By King Richard," Sir Cornelius said under his breath. "I did not think she had it in her to say more than a polite hello."
"It is true, my people, that we have been sadly remiss in the recent past. We have been too trusting, too gullible – too ready to believe that certain people had our best interests at heart, even when they hurt us and violated our trust. Today, we have learned our lesson the hard way - a lesson that applies not only to individuals, but to those nations who took advantage of our patience and of our docility. Today, we shall show those people a new face. We shall dare to say to the enemies of Galvenia what the Rough Riders have taught us to say: We shall never give up. We shall never surrender. We shall never retreat."
"Rough Riders?" Lady Anton shook her head knowingly and murmured to her neighbour. "The poor child is still pining after Prescott."
"I know that there are some who would take my words as tokens of foolish idealism, or of youthful inexperience," the Queen went on. "Perhaps they are." She smiled, and even the most jaundiced noble found himself smiling in return. "But it is perhaps fitting that I should speak to you this way, for we are at the dawn of a new age for Galvenia. No more can we take the paternalism, or the seemingly benevolent tutelage, of our Zion neighbours for granted. We must come of age, and we must assert ourselves and take pride in being citizens of Galvenia, the land of freedom."
The Royal Guards, and those of the Army still left at Lorean, burst into spontaneous applause.
"Moreover, if we are to preach freedom, we must also be the first to condemn it. As Queen of Galvenia, therefore, I extend the hand of royal protection and patronage, cruelly withdrawn by the barons of Zion, to Pontiff Pious XXI and the Church of the Infinity in Itaria. Though our nations may always concur on matters of faith, we are both bastions of freedom, and I pledge our material and moral support to you."
"And now, having told you what I believe is necessary, may I have the courage to put it into action, and to see it through to the end – so help me, Infinity. God bless you all. God bless Galvenia."
Thomssen turned pale and shuddered, but his reaction was lost amidst the cheering throng. As the Royal Orchestra burst into a spirited rendition of the national anthem, "O Land of Good King Lionheart," he was perhaps the only unhappy man in the entire room. And his misery was not to end there.
"Don't move, buddy," a voice said suddenly. "Time to come home to roost."
Turning around, he saw a cocky-looking blond man pointing a pistol at him. Before he could speak, he saw that he was surrounded by men in the grey uniform of his own Covert Operations Division – but he did not recognize any of them. From the Parliamentary enclosure, he saw Sir Cornelius Fairfax smile at him – the smile of a man who knows he has put one over a hated opponent. As the crowd continued to applaud their new Queen, he was silently and swiftly led through the gaps between them, and into a waiting carriage, where his arms and legs were bound in chains.
There was no escape. For the first time in his life, he was trapped.
xxx
There was to be no such good cheer for Ryan Eramond – now given the honourary rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the Commonwealth Special Forces – over the next two months, as he and his men marshaled the Commonwealth's dwindling resources and set about wearing down the War Hawks. Their arrival had boosted the Republican and Varaldian forces that were guarding the centre of Unity Isle, and allowed them to launch attacks all along the coast.
Using the newly-developed landmines that his Varaldian counterparts had brought with them, Ryan began – with a firmness that made his fellow commanders quail – to set traps for the Hawks, baiting them with seemingly undefended camps or unguarded cannon, and then leading them into fields studded with mines. As they watched their fellow renegades killed or mutilated before them, the Rough Riders and Republican divisions would open fire, while Ryan would drive the more foolhardy of them back with his two swords.
Lieutenant-Colonel Stein, now reassigned to Unity Isle after his Itarian adventure, had remonstrated with him.
"Eramond, we need to fight fair," he argued. "These tactics reduce us to the level of the Hawks."
"What else would you do, Sir?" Ryan had replied, implacably. "The War Hawks are not a sovereign nation. We do not know who they are, or who their leader is. If you do, please inform me, so that we can invite them to tea with President Hipper and solve things diplomatically."
Stein blanched, turned on his heel, and returned to his post. But despite the soul-searching that his methods occasioned, the Commonwealth Special Forces gradually began to rally to Ryan and recognize him as their leader, though Stein and his counterpart, Bender of the Varald, were nominally superior.
Through all the victories and defeats, the explosions and the death, Ryan maintained an impassive exterior, but within, he was in turmoil. One memory came to his mind over and over again, and try as he might, he could not dispel it.
He woke, feeling calm and refreshed, as if he had slept for more than a day. Turning to his right, he felt something warm resting on his right shoulder – the head of Princess Carranya, her red hair spilling over his chest. There was a peaceful smile on her face, but there were also tracks of tears in her eyes.
A little later, she stirred and woke.
"Ryan?" she smiled."Good morning, Ryan…." Then she closed her eyes, and began to weep.
"Carrie…" he stammered, as she held on to him. "Look, C-Carrie, I'm sorry. I love you."
Carranya dried her eyes, her hand reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Why are you apologizing, Ryan?" She tried to smile, and blushed at the same time.
"Are you – all right?" he said lamely. "Perhaps I shouldn't have stayed…"
Carranya trembled. "Don't say that, Ryan," she replied. "I've started understanding certain things – about what is true, and what simply seems to be true but is actually a cruel lie. When I fell asleep in your arms, a part of me was saying that what I'd done was wrong – that Father Thomssen had been right. That I was – damaged."
Ryan shook his head. "It's not your fault, Carrie. I – I wish I could convince you of that. I know I didn't behave as a gentleman ought to – and yet, in one way, I'm neither ashamed nor afraid. I know now, more than ever, what you mean to me."
"And so do I," she said, leaning closer to him. "Thank you, Ryan. You've given me something that I didn't think I had."
"And what might that be?" he asked, curiously.
"Courage," Carranya said. "Now I know that I can go through life unafraid, no matter what happens – I can look those who tried to harm me in the eye, and laugh in their face. And it's all because of you. You opened my eyes. As you held me and I fell asleep, I found myself looking at everything differently. The nightmares were gone."
"I don't know what exactly you mean, Carrie," Ryan replied, "but if I've managed to make you even a little happy, I can go to the Commonwealth and fight – even die – in peace."
They remained together in silence, neither wishing to disturb the serenity of that moment.
Later, as he embraced her before waving goodbye, she placed her hand over his head, and looked grave. "Ryan, you will soon have to make difficult choices," she said. "I know even I, with my new-found bravery, would flinch and turn away from them. Remember me when that hour comes, and remember my love for you. They will guide you when all seems dark. Farewell, Ryan, my love."
"Goodbye, Carrie – my love," Ryan replied, his hand going to his sword. "I will remember."
The voices had continued to accompany him throughout his campaign – the old man would badger him, while the woman, who spoke rarely, would praise his efforts. On one occasion, wearied by the former's sermons, he had lost his temper.
"Look here," he muttered, "why are you annoying me like this? You're almost as bad as Lavie."
That is neither a kind nor a respectful thing to say, my boy. Try to learn some lessons from that girl you love – patience, gentleness, humility.
"I am a soldier," he retorted. "What good would those do me on a battlefield? Moreover, I am a man. I cannot spend my time cultivating feminine virtues when the War Hawks' grenades land at my feet."
To think that you once idolized me, boy. It is sad.
"Grandpa?" But he shook his head even as he mouthed the word. His grandfather was a soldier. He would not have preached peace.
Hardly, Ryan. I am much older. But enough about me. Why are you so bitter? You have everything a young man would want – fame in war, honour, love. Or do you?
"She marries Marksmith today," Ryan whispered hoarsely, looking up at the night sky over Unity Isle. "I do not know how she can bear it. I cannot."
Sometimes, the weaker sex has a strength that we mere men lack – and sometimes, they can conceal that strength under a fragile exterior. I ought to know that. To the outside world, my mother was a victim – a deserted woman, one who would have to live in shame. But in reality, she was anything but that.
"Your mother?"
Go to sleep, Ryan, the old man said. Go to sleep. Dream of her if you must.
Returning to his tent, Ryan fell asleep – then woke with a start a few hours later, the image he had just seen burned into his eyes. Tearing a piece of paper from his logbook, he reproduced it – it was a simple figure – then stared at it, wondering what it meant.
In this sign, the voice said suddenly, is the key that will unlock the door you are trying to break down.
"What do you mean?" he said, shaking his head.
You are intelligent, boy. Work it out. Like your friend Lavender, I believe in you.
xxx
The traditional legalities that bound the Queen to her new husband had taken place – as tradition dictated whenever a Royal married a fellow noble – at the Duke's residence, in a quiet ceremony that was witnessed only by her mother, the maids of honour, and the Duke's family. The Royal couple had spent that night there, before journeying together to Lorean Castle for the public ceremony that would follow.
"You are gathered together," the Reverend Laplace intoned solemnly, "under the eyes of the Infinity, to walk the road of life together. Do you, Joseph Lawrence, Duke of Marksmith, take Carranya Gerius Elizabeth Alexandra Lionheart as your wife? And do you, Carranya, take Joseph Lawrence Robert Kingsley, Duke of Marksmith, as your husband?"
"We do," the couple replied, though there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm on the part of the royal groom – which, to be charitable, was simply due to his nervousness in the face of such a crowd. But even this churlish conduct could not spoil the occasion, which was being held in the courtyard of Lorean Castle, under the mild rays of the late summer sun. In a white dress and diaphanous veil, the Queen seemed to have wandered out of a fairy-tale, while the Duke – despite his bloodshot eyes – was turned out in the height of sartorial elegance.
"Then, by the powers invested in me through the goodness of the Infinity, I now pronounce you husband and wife," Laplace said. "Walk together steadfastly, with His blessing upon you."
"So let it be," they replied.
Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Royal Orchestra struck up a popular march, as the Queen and her new consort began to walk away from the altar and towards the drawbridge of the Castle. And then it happened.
The sky began to turn dark, turning pitch black in a matter of minutes. It was like an eclipse, except that no eclipse progressed that rapidly. The crowd grew silent, the band's music slowly died down, and there was the sound of a scuffle, followed by a high-pitched, strangled scream. A ball of white light briefly lit up the path, blinding those nearby, and then the sky slowly began to light up again.
As the guests blinked and rubbed their eyes, they turned with horror to face the altar. The Reverend Laplace was lying prone at its foot, a trickle of blood running down his forehead, and the Princess and the Duke were gone.
The crowd, dismayed, began to weep, as the Palace guards rushed to and fro helplessly, looking for their Queen. The Queen Mother, weeping silently, was escorted away by her friend, Lady Anton, while the Prime Minister pleaded with the people to remain calm, and not to hamper the search by moving around.
Queen Carranya, in the meantime, was unaware of all this. On sensing someone approach her and her new husband, she had tried to defend herself – hence the ball of light – but she felt herself being struck, as if by an invisible beam, and she fell to the ground, the shadows around her moving in slow motion.
When she woke – she did not know after how long – she felt her body sway gently, and realized she was at sea. Opening her eyes, she realized that her hands were bound, though her legs were free to move. Her wedding dress was gone, replaced by a simple frock, similar to the one she had worn aboard the Paradiso.
Before she could do anything further, a man entered the room, wearing the uniform of a Zion military officer.
"Ah, you've woken up, I see," he said. "Welcome to His Imperial Majesty's Ship, the Madness of Johan."
"A curious name for a ship," Carranya replied calmly. "Where am I being taken? And where is my husband?"
"Ah, you have many questions," the man replied. "Allow me to introduce myself first, Your Majesty. I am Major-General Shimura, of His Highness' First Imperial Battalion. It is a pleasure to see you again."
"Again?" Carranya frowned. "I remember. You were on the Paradiso as well."
"That is correct, Your Majesty," he replied with a polite bow. "Now, we will untie your bonds shortly, but only if you assure us that you will try nothing desperate. You see, we want you alive."
Carranya began to feel sick, though she did not feel the slightest trace of fear. Leaning against a wall of the ship's cabin for support, she stood up and faced the Zion officer. "Are you not weary of this?" she said firmly. "Your men have already tried to abduct me once. It did not end well for you. Do you truly wish to tempt fate?"
"Your Majesty," Shimura replied with a smile, "we are merely taking you to meet His Highness, the Emperor Charlemagne. He is most eager to meet you, unlike the last time."
Carranya began to retch, and placed one hand over her mouth.
"I apologize, Your Majesty," Shimura said kindly. "I did not realize you were subject to sea-sickness. Here, this will help."
He handed her a glass filled with a brown liquid. Sniffing at it carefully, she took a sip, then drank it down quickly, realizing that she was both hungry and thirsty. It tasted both sharp and sweet, and she felt herself revive a little. "Thank you, Major-General," she said, more steadily. "Now, if you will be so good as to answer me, where is my husband, the Duke?"
"The Duke?" Shimura chuckled. "He will be with you soon, if you wish it, Your Majesty. On the whole, you are handling this ordeal better than he is."
Carranya relaxed as she felt the sickness ebb away. "These are early days, Major-General," she replied. "He may impress you yet."
xxx
"Destroy them!" Ryan said firmly. The Rough Riders' grenadiers, with Ryan at their head, marched forward, sowing further panic among the ragged line of War Hawks. A series of explosions later, almost a hundred of them lay dead, while his men – safe behind a line of mines had suffered only minor casualties.
"Good work, men," Ryan said. "Now, let's head back to camp and meet the new men who've just landed on the coast. Stein says that some of the Hawks are still trying to break through to attack the Fortress of the Nations, but he's holding them off."
A quick "mop-up" later, and Ryan was reviewing the hundred new men who had just arrived by ship from Galvenia. As they marched along in a single file, he found himself face to face with his old friend.
"Henrik?" he said incredulously.
"Yep, that's me," he replied. "I made it to Lance-Corporal, and then they sent me here. What's the show like out here?"
"It's a clown show, Lance-Corporal Spenson," Ryan replied. "I wish with all my heart that I was back in Galvenia." His face clouded over. "The men who did that to our Queen are not fit to live."
"Rumour has it that she's being taken to Caledonia, and she'll reach in a few days," Henrik said. "At least, that's what the Commodore who brought us here said. His ship, and a fleet of ten others, are trying to blockade the Zion coast, because our High Command have sighted a ship with an unknown figurehead – something like a gargoyle – flying the Zion colours, and making for Caledonia."
"I wish –" Ryan began, then stopped. "Look here, Henrik, could I ask you something?"
"Sure, Ryan," he replied. "What is it?"
Ryan took the drawing he had made out of his pocket. It was a simple design: two diagonal lines crossing each other, forming the shape of an X lying sideways. Above the upper limbs of the X was a single circle. "Do you have any idea what this might represent? I've asked the other men in camp, but they're all Varald or Republicans. Is this some sort of Itarian symbol?"
"It is," Henrik said. "That's the Chiasmus of Saint Geraud."
"The what?" Ryan said, shaking his head. "I've read a lot about Lord Geraud, but I've never heard of this."
"Chiasmus," Henrik repeated. "It's just an old Republican word for the letter X. It was an early symbol of the Commonwealth, before it was replaced by the eight-pointed star and bayleaf wreath. I'm even wearing one, look!" He reached inside his tunic, and pulled out a small medallion which bore the symbol in question, along with a likeness of Geraud Valtemond.
"That's nice," Ryan said drily, "but what does it mean?"
"It's mean to represent both unity and conflict. The two lines represent crossed swords, which are symbols of war and mankind's potential to destroy itself. But they also represent the ties that bind – love, friendship, loyalty, patriotism, and a love for humanity in the abstract. The circle above symbolizes the sun, and by extension, God: in Geraud's writings, God is often described as "the sun that enlightens the darkness of human hearts". The Chiasmus represents Saint Geraud's hope that, with God's help, mankind could overcome its love of war, and instead unite under his rule. It never caught on at the Commonwealth, mainly because the Varald objected to the religious imagery, but it's still a popular image in Arlia and Itaria. The church in Zion often used it, at least before they went cuckoo and appointed Maximillian as their bogus Pontiff. Lovers in Zion and Itaria often use it as an epigraph to a love letter, reflecting their desire to be bound together for life with God's blessings. Mystics use it as a symbol of spiritual warfare – the conflict between good and evil inclinations, which only God can resolve…"
"All right, I get it," Ryan said impatiently. "But what does it have to do with this war?"
"Does it?" Henrik asked, looking thoughtfully at him. "In what context? It's a symbol of peace, not war."
Ryan began to speak, then stopped. "That's – not too important, Henrik," he said stiffly. "Thanks."
Puzzled, Henrik rejoined the line as they continued to march forward. Ryan walked away, deep in thought.
The conflict between good and evil inclinations.
Am I doing evil deeds?
Is Stein right?
Should I have acted differently towards my father? To Lavie?
Did I behave dishonourably towards Carranya? No. No, I can't accept that. Carranya and I belong together. No Saint, no God, can change that.
The woman's voice was consoling. Ryan Aramondrius, be brave. The Commonwealth needs men with a strong will, not simpering mystics and Itarian saints.
It seemed to Ryan that he heard a sigh – a long, deep sigh – and then, silence.
xxx
Joseph, Duke of Marksmith – now Prince Consort – looked out of the window of the cabin that he and the Queen now shared, and groaned. The journey was now nearing its end, according to Shimura – a man whom he feared despite his politeness and concern. What unnerved him even more was that his new bride was reacting far more calmly than he was: though they were both troubled by sea-sickness, she adopted a soothing, almost maternal attitude towards him.
"Are you not afraid?" he had asked her once, as they lay huddled together in the tiny cot that Shimura had assigned them.
"One can only fear what one does not know, my lord," she replied. "You seem to forget that I have been captured once already. Do not worry. It is me they want, not you."
The Duke shook his head. He burned to ask her about the first capture – and about what he had seen on the Memory Crystal – but he was afraid to do so. "Then why did they take me along?" he asked.
"To make their triumph greater, I presume," she said. "The first time, they were capturing a Princess – this time, they have captured the Queen and the Prince Consort." She smiled. "Fortunately, I had a premonition that this would come to pass, and I left instructions with the Prime Minister on how he should proceed in my absence. And if we should ever be in danger, I will stand by you."
Marksmith looked at her, amazed. He had known many women in his brief and colourful life – several of them at close quarters – but the woman who was now his wife was quite unlike them.
"Carranya," the Duke said gently, "I know you probably did not want to marry me in the first place. I know I have cut a sorry figure before you in these last days. But I want you to know this – I am glad, truly glad, that you are here with me."
"Thank you, my lord," Carranya replied softly. "One good thing about landing in Caledonia is that this pitching and rolling will end. I could do without taking any more of the good Major-General's medicine."
"It does taste a bit funny," Marksmith replied, holding her hand. "And now, try to rest, my wife. We will need all our strength to face Hunermann – or whoever has masterminded this vile deed – once we arrive. Pleasant dreams carry you to the morrow."
Carranya smiled as she drew the sheet over them both. "Good night, my lord," she said, closing her eyes. "Perhaps we will wake up, and find that this was but a dream."
xxx
"Commander!" Sean Wilson called out frantically, as he and the radio operator rose from the portable transceiver they carried with them everywhere. "We've received a distress call from Stein! His line has broken, and the War Hawks are marching on the Fortress of the Nations!"
"Then we need to hurry," Ryan said calmly. "Sean, take our men and two of the Republican divisions, and approach from the east. The Varaldians and I will go straight ahead. Ask the new men to remain in the rear, in case this is an attempt at strategy on their part."
In less than an hour, the Commonwealth forces, divided into two as he had ordered, were within sight of the Fortress of the Nations. The terrified Councilmen and Senators within had already fired two distress flares, and Stein's men, pushed almost to the walls of the citadel, were fighting a losing battle to keep them from breaching the wall. Facing them were almost a thousand men, all wearing the silver and black uniforms of the Hawks.
Ryan smiled. "All right, this is our show now," he said over the radio. "Sean, take down their stragglers with the grenades, and a few volleys. Easy does it."
Wilson's men opened fire, and the War Hawks' inexorable march was halted as their rearguard fell. Turning behind them, they realized that they were now cut in half – Ryan's men had swiftly moved in to separate their two battalions, and Wilson was besieging the latter.
"Colonel Bender, it's your world now," Ryan said, tipping his cap to his Varald collague. "Fire at will."
Bender smiled grimly, and his cannons opened fire in a deafening chorus of reports and explosions. One of the War Hawks' divisions was halted in its course.
"Now!" Ryan cried out, raising his sword. "Move in, and take as many of them as you can!"
"Sir!" the sentry in his rearguard called out. "Behind us!"
Ryan turned, and realized that his men had walked into a trap. Marching swiftly on their rear was another division of Hawks, about two hundred strong.
"We're not going back," he said firmly. "The Fortress is more important than the lives of a few of us. Tell the new men to hold the rear – that's what they're here for."
The message was duly transmitted, and Henrik and his fellow soldiers soon found themselves in the midst of a fierce fight, as Ryan's Rough Riders continued to cut through the Hawks' front line. The sky grew thick with smoke as guns and cannons thundered, and it was almost nightfall before an eerie stillness came upon the battlefield.
"We're almost there!" Ryan said. "Forward!"
As his men joined up with Wilson's, and crossed the bridge that led across the small Lake of Geraud to the Fortress itself, they came upon the remnant of Stein's men, still fighting valiantly against the last of the Hawks, with a man in full ceremonial armour at the head of the latter. Drawing his sword, Ryan aimed it at the leader of the small troop. A red beam of light struck the visor of his helmet, and he fell to the ground, convulsed with pain. The diversion gave Stein enough time to defeat the few men that still remained, and soon, the Hawks were either dead or captured.
Ryan, in the meantime, rushed forward to kneel beside the leader, who was lying face down on the ground.
"Great work, men," he said calmly. "Let's clean up, and those of you who like talking can go inside and hold Hipper's hand for him. I'm going to get some answers out of this bloke."
"Remember, he's worth more to us alive," Stein said, as he arranged the remaining men with him around the perimeter of the Fortress. "He seems to be their commander."
"All right, my friend," Ryan said. As he turned him around, he gasped with surprise.
"Agent Schenk?" he whispered.
"Ryan…." Jason Schenk was dying, but his smile still remained on his face. "What an irony. They sent you to defeat me? The fools. Little do they know that we're on the same side in this fight…."
"And with your own sword, too," Ryan said softly, sheathing it. "Agent Schenk, what the hell is going on here?"
"Call me Jason," he murmured. "Ryan, my brother – I wish things could have ended differently. I told Jacob that he was playing with fire. Now I die ingloriously, and he – I…..Ryan, help me."
Ryan looked at his half-brother, and tried to lift him up. "Jason, I'm sorry too. But I need you to answer a question for me. Who are these War Hawks? Are they in league with the Zion? What do you hope to achieve?"
"They lied to us," Jason said sadly. "The War Hawks were my grandfather's creation. A descendant of Albrut….he swore vengeance on the Commonwealth, for failing to protect the Order of the Journeymen – for allowing the Zion and Varald to toy with the rest of us. He tried….He nearly won, Ryan. He failed, thanks to that imbecile Whitworth. A cruel twist of fate…..his pupil is the one who has foiled us a second time. He lived in obscurity, and his daughter married my father – and yours."
"Your grandfather? You mean – Almonth Jakov was your grandfather?"
"That was one of his many names, just as Lugner is one of mine," Jason said, the smile returning to his lips. "He taught us to follow….in his footsteps. All of us – hedge wizards, mercenaries, soldiers of fortune. Those who want Terra to belong to Terrans – not to be carved up by dictators, emperors and businessmen."
"And you made an alliance with the Zion?" Ryan looked at him sternly.
"Jacob and I decided to – play both sides, my brother," Jason said, his eyes filled with remorse. "We would help them, and then we would capture the Commonwealth and dictate terms to them. We sowed dissension in their ranks. We spread pro-Pontiff and pro-Galvenia propaganda among them. We would have rescued Carranya, if you hadn't got there first."
"And Juno?" Ryan shook his head. "What does he have to do with it?"
"My father's sins, Ryan, go a long way…He destroyed the reputation of Juno's father. Juno wanted vengeance. It is a long story….a painful one. Besides, Juno loved that girl…"
"Marianne?" Ryan looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Not Marianne – the girl we tried to kidnap, the girl who wounded me. Lavie Regale – that was her name. A brave girl, Ryan….she would have been a fine consort for any of the Aramondrius men." He chuckled.
"You tried to kidnap Lavie?" Ryan said, feeling strangely outraged by the idea. "What on Terra for?"
"Schemes, my brother, schemes. Too long….too difficult to explain. But it's all over now, is it not?"
"Don't die on me so soon," Ryan said gently. "You can still make amends. You can tell us what you know. I suppose you're the ones who assassinated Koketsu and Wilhelm."
"Were we?" Jason shook his head and smiled again. "No, Ryan, that is a good guess, but you are wrong. The truth is much darker. Find Jacob, Ryan, and stop him before he ruins us all – he and the Zion."
"What do you mean? We've beaten the Zion," Ryan said proudly.
"On the battlefield, perhaps," Jason replied. "But there are worse things than losing in war, Ryan. I have studied much….and what I know frightens me worse than the thought of death. If only I had more time…"
"Tell me what you can," Ryan urged him.
"The sacrifice, Ryan….it is an old ritual, the culmination of something evil." His voice grew stronger, and his fingers clutched at Ryan's shoulders. "The sacrifice at Koroth. The plague. The son and the daughter of chaos. The female demon that Samath and Kaleb fought over – neither was right. The false leader from Zion, his consort from Galvenia, and the false prophet – poor Maximillian, the coward. All these things will soon be consummated. Man – woman – child. You must stop them. You need to reach Caledonia as soon as you can…"
"Koroth?"
"Victoria….You visited the cave, didn't you? Did she speak to you?" Jason replied. "Jacob sensed it. It had to be done. Ryan, I have always admired you. You are what I wished to be, had I not carried the curse of my grandfather upon my head. Perhaps it is fitting that I should depart in this way. Take my helmet – it will protect you when the hour comes."
He closed his eyes and sighed.
"Goodbye, Ryan," he said, and with one last shudder, he fell over to his side.
"Goodbye, Jason," Ryan said quietly. Taking the helmet that lay beside the body of his half-brother, he picked it up and placed it on his head. It fit snugly.
Your work here is done, boy, the elderly man's voice said. I wish I could find it in my heart to condemn you for taking another man's wife, but it was destined to be so. Save her, Ryan, before the viceroys of my worthless descendant commit the final infamy.
"Your descendant?" he murmured.
Suddenly it struck him.
"The viceroys of Zion? L – Lord Geraud?"
You are quick, boy. Do not listen to that woman – the one you unsealed at Koroth. Once this location is secure, you must head for Caledonia.
"But how?" Ryan said, bewildered. "My mission is to secure Unity Isle. I have no legitimate reason to go there."
Where there is a will, Lord Geraud replied, the Infinity makes a way. Be careful, though. Your stumbling block is not fear, but temptation.
Ryan flushed. "Do you mean Carranya?"
I mean something far worse.
xxx