"Yet they want to hole up in Sark. Marshal, you know it as well as I do, Sark is lost. Halaran is lost. We need to worry about Altura now."
The Black Army had pushed them constantly. The horde of ravaging legionnaires, macemen, pikemen, axemen, mortar teams and dirigibles was bad enough — but that was before the Veznans joined the effort.
They had come out of the forest, a wall of wood and thorn. The trees had come alive. It was simply too much for the exhausted soldiers of Altura and Halaran, who still talked about them with wide eyes. Seeing a man cut down with a sword was one thing, but seeing his limbs casually torn off one-by-one was quite another.
And now the elementalists would come, their balls of fire would fly through the sky, and they would use the waters of the Sarsen to sweep Sarostar off the face of Merralya.
"Miro," Bartolo said. "Altura needs you. You’ve seen the looks on the lords’ faces. They’ve already given up. I’ve even heard them talk about surrender. We don’t want a repeat of the Rebellion. What would your father have done?"
"I don’t know!" Miro said. "What would you have me do?"
"You know what to do."
Miro saw a commotion coming from inside the hall as the conference drew to a close. Looking out from the wide terrace, he could see the lords talking together, dressed in their finery. Catching movement from the corner of his eye he looked up.
High Lord Tessolar stood high above on a small balcony. He looked out over the town of Mornhaven, looking older and weaker than ever. He was alone.
Taking a deep breath, Miro knew what he had to do.
~
"YOU are throwing away the lives of our people."
The High Lord turned. "Ah, the son of the late Lord Serosa Torresante. Somehow, I knew you would seek me out."
"Don’t you realise that the Petryans are on their way to Sarostar even as we speak? We still have a great force here. We need to pull back!"
"It’s too late for that, Bladesinger, or Marshal, whatever it is you prefer. We’ve sent a missive to the Emperor. We’ll discuss terms."
"You did what!"
"We’ll surrender, salvage whatever we can from the situation, and then…"
"You do realise who we’re dealing with don’t you, High Lord?"
"Face it, Miro, we’ve lost. We fought well. You fought well, your father would have been proud. But you’re young, Miro. You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen."
"How can you say that? Don’t you even realise what we’re up against? You think it’s the Emperor? It’s Primate Melovar — he’s the one behind it all. He has twisted the minds of the high lords, probably many of the lords too. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. If we can save Altura, we can try to find the allies we need. There will be dissenters within the houses, lords or commanders who have seen the change in their high lords, who can feel the weight of the Primate’s yoke. There is hope, High Lord. There is hope!"
High Lord Tessolar laughed — a dry chuckle. It was one of the worst sounds Miro had ever heard, symbolising everything that was futile and without optimism. "There is no hope, young warrior. They want our Lexicon." He laughed again. "We couldn’t give up our Lexicon even if we wanted to. It was stolen, weeks ago. We’ve kept it as secret as we can, but at any moment the runes on your armoursilk are going to fade and then you’ll know. You’ll be sending ordinary soldiers against imperial avengers, Miro. There is no hope."
"Listen, High Lord," Miro said, unwilling to give up, even as fear clutched at his chest at the thought of the runes fading. "You are wrong. I am sorry to speak so plainly but it is the truth. Wondhip Pass can be blocked, preventing the elementalists an easy route into Altura, but it must be done quickly. We need to pull the army back to the Sarsen, to the edge of Halaran, where the river is wide and there is no ford to be had. The Black Army will follow us, they will have to if they want the decisive battle they are looking for — they cannot leave an army of this size at their back. We can cross our men over to Altura, and we can save the soldiers and refugees of Halaran. We can then destroy the Bridge of Sutanesta behind us."
"You would destroy the Sutanesta? It is an insane plan."
"It is our only chance."
"You would isolate Altura. We would be completely cut off."
"We would be protected. It would give us the time we need."
"Time for what?"
"To regain the initiative. To eradicate this plague of the Primate’s creation."
"Bah. Our men would be pinned between the Sarsen and the Black Army like ants beneath a boot."
"Yes, there is that chance. But it would be better than surrendering here! They surrendered at Ralanast and the Black Army put the soldiers’ heads on pikes! Do you expect any better? The Emperor’s executioner killed my father, what do you think they would do to you?"
High Lord Tessolar looked away. "I have been given assurances."