Chapter 92: Retreat

Chapter 54 - Retreat

Several Months Later

Vestiges of winter could still be felt falling from the sky now and then. It could still be heard throughout the war camp in the form of coughs and sneezes. But it was leaving, sure enough. Kazir welcomed the slow coming warmth of sowing season. It made walking around with a bare top slightly more bearable.

Less bearable, however, was mundane life within the camps. A full season of sieging was gnawing on his patience as surely as dogs gnaw on meatless bones. It was ridiculous. Never had he won a battle against Kalin Serene, and this time seemed no different. Kazir had little to no information on the circumstances of Xenaria. Each passing day made it more and more likely that House Serene's riders would return from their rebel hunting excursion.

Worst was trusting a bunch of fool mercenaries to accomplish anything. The Band of Mourners had been wiped out along with a good portion of veteran soldiers. The Black Suns had deserted. The Songblades stuck around but hadn't engaged since losing half their number the same day every Iron Turtle was slain.

Slain by a mere girl no less.

Kazir had heard the story a thousand times at least. Soldiers were a loud bunch when night came around. The princess herself destroying a band of famed mercenaries and singlehandedly pulling the garrison's defenders out from the pits of despair. The fake corpse of Elizia probably didn't bother Kalin's soldiers anymore. Probably didn't even bother the duke himself. It was likely nothing but rags and hair attached to a pile of bones by now.

But that scream. Ah, yes. I heard it loud and clear. Kalin screaming. It had bothered him. But Kalin somehow managed to look past that and maintain a strong defense. The battle had become one of attrition now. While reports mentioned the garrison's soldiers growing weary, they'd endured the winter behind the comfort of walls and inside beds. The Empire's forces had been forced to sleep outdoors the entire time.

Continuing the battle would grow dangerous. Kalin would soon have the opportunity to set out and strike from the fortress. A quarter of Tarmia's forces had been slain or succumbed to disease over the duration of the siege. Another few thousand had deserted. That had closed the difference in numbers greatly. Kazir had kept every tent up to maintain the image that the war camp was still full of men, but hundreds of those tents went empty at night and paltry numbers of fires were lit around them to save firewood. It wouldn't be long before the duke realized.

"Flames and Ashes!" Kazir cursed. Even after everything he'd done to the man, Kalin still prevailed? None of the torture felt worth it. Kazir's eye sockets still ached.

Footsteps approaching the tent.

Kazir composed himself and sat cross legged on the ground, still as a vase. He wrapped his smooth black hair around his neck. The tent flap opened, cool air spilling inside. Welcoming air that froze over Kazir's temper. Iskra entered, bowing. Or at least Kazir assumed it so. He was the only other Wickar present currently, and the unofficial second in command of the grand legion. Sure there were field officers and minor generals —names Kazir hadn't heard of and knew nothing about to trust with plots and such.

"Master." Iskra's voice.

"How many more deserters?" Kazir asked, clicking his tongue. He'd kept the annoyance out of his voice, but had given it away with action instead. "Or is it another number that has died from illness? They'd have to have really weak compositions to die in such warm weather." Warm weather I say when I still shiver and my boots still crunch on frost each morning.

"No master. A letter has arrived. It bears the Hand of the Emperor as a seal."

Kazir raised an eyebrow, grunting. What could the Emperor want of all things? A few seconds passed. Then a moment. It stretched. A long moment passed. "Are you actually holding out the envelope to me? Expecting me to take it and read it?"

"Er, no master," Iskra said quickly. "I thought you would make another comment."

Kazir cursed in his head, eyebrows twitching though not quite furrowed. Iskra had skills enough with blade and bow and sharp wits in oily situations, but he was otherwise a dimwit. When he felt no threat to his life, his mind was like that of a senile old nobleman —thoughts only of wine and sleep. Still the only man I can bother trusting right now. Maybe there were better men out there, but it would be a hassle to find them and a further hassle with all the questions they might bring. Another Wickar under his tutelage was just another like mind that seldom questioned his orders.

Iskra cleared his throat. "To Kazir Windsinger, oh it's short."

"It's short? What's short?"

"No, the letter is short, master. Just one line. And it says… Flames, is this real?"

"Twice now you've said something other than reading that one line, Iskra," Kazir hissed. The vase had fallen and shattered. And Kazir's patience spilled out.

"It is a summons to the capital. It reads—"

"That's three times, Iskra!" Kazir screamed. His sensitive ears throbbed. Flames. How many years had it been since he'd last screamed?

"It reads, 'To Kazir Windsinger, the Capital city of Carthadria has been besieged by a rebel force led by a man claiming to be the real Emperor. Recall your forces and return immediately."

That sounded like two lines worth of writing at least, unless the paper was twice the normal width. Carthadria besieged? Insanity. But then, so deep within Empire territory, the threats to it were minimal and defense was thus also not great. Who would dare? This did not bode well. If things turned sour, the Empire could split into fragments. "So I can't even retreat to Ekvatana and hold the ruined city from Kalin. This siege was a Flaming waste. We gained no territory and killed no one of note. And Samlan, the next best assassin in my clique of Wickar, is probably dead in a ditch somewhere. Order a full scale retreat. Call the siege towers back. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

"We aren't leaving immediately? There are a few hours left before afternoon."

"Your mind is too lax when you aren't fighting, Iskra. Do you want us to retreat sloppily so Kalin can get an opportunity to stab our rears?" Wickar assassins were cold and calculated. Had the Temple even broken this one correctly? Why do I care? All the better if he retained some of his personality. After all, the things we were made to do within those dusty ruins of a temple…

The tent flap was thrown aside once more. Kazir was left alone. He touched his eyelids, stroking them with his fingers to relieve a dull throbbing. Perhaps it wasn't all worthless. That scream had been really satisfying. What would it take to make Kalin scream like that again? Sending him his daughter's head for real this time?

Things to consider when next Kazir attacked Xenaria.

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Kalin rubbed his right arm. The arrow wound had closed, but a sliver of pain remained. The wound in his side had left yet another scar. But he otherwise felt normal now. The garrison had somehow survived that crucial day and it was all thanks to Princess Emeria. She stood at his side now, examining the battle again as she did so each morning since that day she took part.

The snow on the stone barrier of the outer terrace had frozen over in the night and was hard to clear without being chiseled at. Kalin placed his arms on it regardless. Cool weather was welcoming now and then. He still struggled to sleep at night, thinking of Elizia. The corpse on the spear was nothing but grey skin and bones now. Unrecognizable. He wouldn't know if she truly had been killed until House Serene's horses returned.

"It isn't her," the princess said. She wore a grey gown this morning. Plain and almost seeming like servant's garb if it weren't for the intricate flowering patterns around the collar. A blue velvet cloak hung from her shoulders, and her sun bright hair was loose behind her head.

"You've told me that every morning since I was fit enough to walk," Kalin replied. She'd also bragged a number of times about how she'd saved Arcaeus Peak. Each time saw the story change by a word or two, painting herself in a more heroic light. It was almost like listening to Elizia. The way she'd reported her accomplishments from her very first battle, emphasizing and no doubt embellishing the part about capturing ships. Ships that had since been taken by the Empire.

"Yes, and every morning, you take a long look at that spear, even though you cannot see it well from way up here." Emeria reached up and poked at Kalin's eye. He flinched. She frowned, rubbing a teardrop between her thumb and index finger. "Your eyes are always glistening. Yet you give commands so smoothly and without emotion."

"Experience," Kalin said. "Emotions are dangerous things to a general. I hold thousands of lives in my palms. One wrong order and my hand tips over, sending each and every life falling."

"You near dropped the whole castle into that pit of oblivion," she said, raising her nose to the air. "If it weren't for me, Xenaria would be in deep danger. Did you stop to think about what might've been done to me if enemy soldiers took me captive, Duke Serene? Well, luckily I saved the day. You should have seen it. The way they cheered for me. The faces of awe when I—"

The rant began. She was still just a young girl after all. Kalin rested his chin in his palm, allowing himself a smile. Emeria retold the story again and he listened to it quietly. I'm using her as a stand in for Elizia. But even realizing that fact didn't dishearten him.

His eyebrows suddenly furrowed. Kalin squinted. "Are their siege towers getting smaller?"

"And then I —hey, you weren't listening!"

Kalin peered through a spyglass. The siege towers were getting smaller without having reached the walls this day. In fact, every enemy marching toward the wall was retreating. Odd. Even when not trying, Kazir still sent men to prod about and try half-baked attacks. He'd never spent a single day of siege waiting for his enemies to starve. What could that assassin be plotting now?

"They're retreating?" Emeria said. "Truly?"

"We can't be sure until the camp packs up and leaves."

But sure enough, the following day saw the Empire marching eastward, taking every man. It was over. The siege was over at last. The soldiers on the wall cheered. Men hugged each other and cried tears of joy. Kalin ran outside the fortress and took down the corpse that was left there. Nothing recognizable remained of it. He caressed the skull and cried. He asked his men to keep the bones in a casket until word of Elizia's whereabouts arrived. If this really had been her, then she would be buried in the crypts below Metsiphon.

Kalin then sent scouts out to ensure that Tarmia was really leaving. They'd crossed the Cinder River by midday. Even Ekvatana was left alone. He sent out messengers to the capital to confirm the state of the roads and the situation regarding riots in Exaltyron for Emeria's return. And he sent what few remaining riders he had to search throughout Xenaria for news of the rebellion and the state of his horsemen.

All the while praying that his daughter was alive and well somewhere.