The Radiant War

Ambassador Mornwell was there waiting for him when the Brigadier returned to the embassy. “We've lost contact with Marboll,” he said without preamble. “Three hours ago, all telegraph communication with Marboll ceased. It might just be a problem with the cable. A tree fell down somewhere, took the cable down with it. That might be all it is.”

“But you don’t think so,” said the Brigadier. He took off his coat, threw it across the chair standing by the side of the entrance foyer and forced his mind to become sharp and attentive. Eight hours holding court at one of Farwell's biggest society parties, recounting anecdotes of his military career and listening to the city's small talk, had a way of deadening the mind. He had succeeded, after weeks of tireless effort, in becoming the city's latest celebrity du jour, though, and still had hopes of being accepted into Farwell’s permanent celebrity circuit, the first step towards making contact with members of the Radiant conspiracy and finding proof of their existence that he could take to the Emperor.

What was more likely to happen, though, was that another celebrity du jour would turn up before he succeeded, take the city by storm, get invited to all the parties, and the Brigadier would be forgotten. Yesterday’s news. Relegated to B-list parties thrown by has beens desperately trying to rekindle their own popularity. He had this one opportunity to make it big in the city, big enough to attract the attention of the corrupt politicians trying to throw the empire into civil war and convince them that he was as corrupt as they were, that he would make a valuable addition to the conspiracy. Unfortunately, in order to do that, he had to woo the crowds, laugh and drink with people he would normally have considered beneath his notice, and that was tiring. Both physically and mentally. It was late in the evening. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed, get some sleep. Instead, he tried to rouse himself to pay attention to the Ambassador.

“We're getting reports of ground tremors from other parts of Helberion. It looks as though there's been a major earthquake somewhere in the Marboll area.”

“There's never been an earthquake in Helberion. Not a big one, anyway. What's the fastest the telegraph line can be restored?”

“If it's just a downed line, it can be fixed in minutes, once the break’s been found. If there has been an earthquake, though, and the telegraph office’s been destroyed, they'll have to transfer to the backup station outside the city. I'm guessing they'll have other things they'll want to handle first though. Put out fires, rescue trapped people... It's possible that members of the Royal Family itself are in need of rescue.”

“It has to be Radiants,” The Brigadier paced across the floor. “A decapitation strike. Leothan has shown himself to be capable and resourceful. He's managed to delay the Carrow invasion for months. They may have decided that he’s just too much trouble to be left alive. If so, they’re gambling that we'll take it as a natural event. They still have reason to keep us ignorant of their plans against us.”

A messenger came running up, handed the Ambassador a sheet of paper. His face turned white as he read it. “Message from our field headquarters in Panborough. Wombat's sent a report, coded Periwinkle.” The Brigadier stared at him intently. Wombat was the code name of an agent who'd managed to infiltrate the Palace of King Nilon, their version of Matron Darniss. His role in the palace didn’t give him legitimate access to the telegraph office, though. He normally communicated by means of a handler he met in the city once every week or two. Periwinkle meant that he'd come across a vitally important piece of information, one that he thought his masters back in Helberion desperately needed to know, immediately! It meant he'd taken a great risk to get to a telegraph machine, and that there was a great risk he'd be caught, that this might be the last message he'd ever be able to send.

“Carrow is about to launch an all out invasion of Helberion. Sixty thousand troops are about to try to break through the Steel Curtain and pour into the country. They will be aided by a series of massive earthquakes all along the border that will destroy our defences and leave us wide open. The attack is imminent, it says, and the message is dated three hours ago. The attack may already have happened!” He looked up at the Brigadier, his eyes wide with fear. “Targeted earthquakes! The Radiants have abandoned all pretence! They’re declaring open war upon us!”

“No, that makes no sense.” The Brigadier resumed his pacing. “The Radiants have shown themselves to be patient, cunning, calculating. Their schemes take years to mature, and their greatest priority has always been to keep us from discovering their plans for us. This, this smacks of desperation! As if something's happened somewhere and they suddenly have to move fast before it's too late! Also, I cannot believe that Carrow completed their preparations so soon.” He paused, turned to face the Ambassador. “It's just possible that this is good news! Our enemies forced to move before they’re ready. Their armies poorly equipped, badly organised...”

“But they have Radiants on their side! They can summon storms, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions...”

“They can only cause volcanic eruptions in places with a history of volcanic activity. There's no such history in Helberion.”

“Do you know that, or do you just hope they can't cause volcanoes here?”

“I don't think they'd be as desperate as they seem to be if they were that powerful. We have to assume there are limits to their powers, or we might as well give up right now.”

“Is there any hope for us? The Carrowmen thought they could defeat us on their own. If they have Radiants to scatter our armies before the Carrowmen arrive, they could overwhelm the whole country without having to fight a single battle!”

“Thanks to Wombat, the Field Commanders along the Steel Curtain had warning, they might have had time to make preparations to mitigate the effects. We'll find a way to fight the Radiants. A way may already have been found, that may have been what started all this, what made them so desperate.”

“Is it desperation, or is it confidence? Maybe they’re not hiding any more because they don't think they have to.”

“We'll tell anyone who asks that it's desperation. Tell everyone you meet that you're confident of victory. Keep morale up. And please let me know the moment contact is re-established with Marboll. If it's confirmed that the Radiants have declared open war, we can tell Tyron about Fienwell. Tell him there's an adoptee right here in the city and that he’s been working with the Ministry of State. If that doesn’t convince him, nothing will...”

He fell silent as the main doors opened and a Kelvon soldier in the uniform of the Messenger Corps strode in. He was holding a folded document in his hand. He strode toward the receptionist, then saw the Ambassador and the Brigadier and turned to approach them instead. “Gentlemen,” he said, saluting smartly.

“What can we do for you, Private?” asked the Ambassador.

“Emperor Alexis Alexander Tyron commands the immediate attendance of Brigadier Weyland James at Tarnmetwell Palace, to discuss matters of mutual importance to both our great nations.”

The Brigadier's face showed no trace of the excitement he felt. Those were the exact same words he'd used when applying for an audience with the Emperor upon his first arrival in Kelvon! Had be also learned about an earthquake in Marboll and an imminent Carrow invasion, miraculously timed to coincide with each other? Had it made him reassess the Brigadier's words to him at the Imperial Reception? “May I have a moment to change clothes?” he asked. He was still wearing the outrageously ornate fake uniform he'd had specially made to attract attention at parties. It wasn't the sort of thing designed to make an Emperor take you seriously, though.

“The Emperor requested your Immediate attendance,” said the messenger, but then he looked the Brigadier up and down and smiled. “But I suppose a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thank you. I'll be as fast as I possibly can.” He nodded to the Ambassador, then strode towards the stairs up to the guest rooms.

☆☆☆

Tarnmetwell, the Brigadier had heard somewhere, meant the Hill of the Blue Flowers in some long dead language. It was one of seven residences possessed by the Imperial family and was the only one of them that stood within the walls of the capital. As the carriage came to a stop in the courtyard of the huge, magnificent palace and the Brigadier disembarked, he reflected how fortunate it was that the Emperor had been in the city for the entire duration of his visit to this country. He could just as easily have been in Jhatov Villa, a thousand miles to the south, or one of the others even further away, which would have presented the Brigadier with a serious dilemma. Either to make his presence felt in the capital in the hope that the Emperor would come there at some point, or make his play in whatever far flung part of the Empire was currently being honoured by his presence and hope that he didn't leave before he was able to arrange a meeting.

Around the gravel driveway was a formal arrangement of flower beds containing the blue flowers after which the palace had been named, but the combination of perfectly manicured lawns within the walls surrounding the palace grounds and the built up urbanisation of the city outside meant that they were probably the only specimens of the plant remaining in the city. In the Brigadier's imagination, though, the palace was gone, the tall, black and gold towers that overlooked the grounds were gone, and all that was left was the hill, covered with grass cropped short by horses and wild sheep and scattered with tiny, star shaped blue flowers looking like sapphires shining in the sun.

Two Kelvon soldiers in dress uniform came forward to meet him. “Brigadier Weyland James,” he said. “Come in answer to the Emperor's summons.”

“Thank you for coming,” one of the soldiers said. “Please come with us.”

They took him inside and to a reception room. The Brigadier was prepared to wait for at least two hours, even longer, for the Emperor to meet him, and so was moderately surprised when Tyron appeared less than five minutes after his arrival. “Brigadier,” he said, holding out his hand. The Brigadier shook it and bowed his head.

“I have agents in the Carrow army,” the Emperor then said, waving him to a chair. The Emperor then sat, and the Brigadier sat opposite him. “I doubt this comes as a surprise to you. They report that they have just launched a full scale invasion of your country.” He stared at the Brigadier. “This also comes as no surprise to you.”

“We've been expecting it,” the Brigadier replied, but he was wondering how his agents had managed to report back so quickly. He must also have an agent in King Nilon’s palace! He wondered whether Wombat and the Kelvon agent ever came into contact with each other, ever came into conflict with each other, neither knowing that the other was also a spy.

“Yes, of course. Anyway, our agents report that shortly before the armies of Carrow broke through your Steel Curtain, Radiants went ahead of them. Dozens of them, more than have ever been seen in one place before, except in their own cities. They summoned earthquakes to tear your country's defences apart, then summoned mists to conceal the approach of Carrow troops. They also reported that the Radiants cast curses against high ranking Helberion officers and even attacked physically, with their tentacles. By the time the Carrow troops arrived, they crossed the border with almost no resistance, almost no losses.”

The Emperor stared at the Brigadier as he remained silent and stroked his large, neatly trimmed moustache thoughtfully. “I brought you here to ask whether you could cast any light on this unprecedented situation,” he said. “You will then say that you explained it all upon our last meeting, and that I grew angry and dismissed you.”

“I would have put it a little more diplomatically, Majesty.”

“It was your assertion that elements within my own government were conspiring to bring down the Empire that I could not stomach.”

“I had no evidence then, Majesty. Nothing but the testimony of Princess Ardria concerning thoughts she overheard while in telepathic communication with the Radiants. Physical, tangible evidence has since come to light, however.”

“What evidence?”

“There is a man acting as an advisor to Undersecretary Tiver, a man by the name of Rastor Fienwell. I now know, almost beyond doubt, that he has been adopted by the Radiants and raised to the point where he can communicate with them and other adoptees telepathically. Such people can be recognised by the fact that their skins glow, just like the Radiants themselves. They cover their skins with powder so that they can pass as normal humans. Two days ago I broke into Fienwell's house and discovered that he has radiant skin. This almost certainly means that he is part of the conspiracy to bring down human civilisation.”

“Almost certainly?”

“It could be argued that he has been blessed, as Princess Ardria was, by an enemy who wished him harm and that he is in the process of turning into a demon.”

“And you learned this two days ago. Why didn’t you report this to the Kelvon authorities? We could have picked him up two days ago!”

“If you had done that, and if he is indeed a Radiant agent, the Radiants would have learned that we are aware of their plans for us. It might have spurred them to advance their plans before we were ready for them. Now that they seem to have declared open warfare against us, though, this is no longer a concern. There is no reason for you not to take him into custody and question him.”

“If we do that, the Radiants might attack us directly, as they have attacked you. Earthquakes, storms...”

“Your Majesty, they are already attacking you! They are driving you to civil war! Undersecretary Tiver and the other members of the Radiant conspiracy within your government are taking draconian measures against the rebel workers, measures that are designed to aggregate them and fuel their grievances rather than restore order. Tiver and his fellows are not working against the leaders of the popular uprising. They are working with them, to drive the Empire to civil war.”

The Emperor gave a heavy sigh. “What you are describing is high treason. Tiver is not the most popular of men. His appearance goes against him, and his degenerate lifestyle, but I try to judge my people according to how well they do their job, not by their appearance. He has a reputation for competence and has connections that make him extremely useful. It's possible that I may have been overcompensating for his appearance, that I've been aware that he’s not right for the job and that I've been attributing this to an unconscious prejudice and giving him leeway on that account. That ends now, however. Tiver and this Fienwell character will be given the chance to explain themselves, to justify their recent decisions. If they have been guilty of what you claim, they will be arrested and executed.”

“You should act fast, then. Now that all pretence seems to have been abandoned, Fienwell may anticipate this move. He may already be on his way out of the city.”

“Then act fast I will. Please excuse me, Brigadier.” The Emperor rose from his seat and marched from the room, calling for his personal secretary, and as the door closed on its sprung hinges the Brigadier gave a great sigh of relief. He’d done it! His mission had been a success! He could leave it to the Emperor now. Now that he was treating the possibility of rot in the very heart of his Empire seriously, he would find it and root it out. The danger was that the process of destabilising the Empire had already gone too far, that it had already gained too much momentum to be stopped, but there was nothing he could do about that. His duty now was to return to Helberion and play his part in the war.

Before he could do that, though, he had to make one more attempt to get Malone back from the activists before his luck ran out. He’d missed the last two meetings in the King's Shilling and the Brigadier was beginning to get worried. It was Sunday tomorrow, the day they'd set for their weekly meeting. If Malone failed to turn up for a third time...

Then he would have no choice but to return to Helberion without him. He couldn’t abandon his duty to his country for the sake of one man, not even when the man was his adopted son. Not when he could simply ask a member of the embassy staff to stand in for him for future meetings. If more weeks went by and he still failed to turn up, then he was probably dead. It would mean he was probably dead already! If that turned out to be the case, he would seek out the individuals who’d killed him and deliver justice, as soon as the danger to Helberion was past and he had the time.

He wanted to leave immediately, but he couldn't go until the Emperor dismissed him. He remembered one tale, probably apocryphal, about an unfortunate man summoned by the Emperor whom the Emperor had then forgotten about and who had had to wait for two days, looked after by apologetic palace staff, until word could be gotten to the Emperor and leave given for him to depart. Fortunately, the Brigadier didn't have to wait that long. When half an hour had passed, the door opened again and two men in military uniforms entered, one of them a Colonel. The Brigadier stood again to greet them.

“Good evening, Brigadier James. I am Colonel Mossen Crow and this is Private Daniel Avebury. We work for the Kelvon intelligence service.” They both shook hands with the Brigadier, and then the Colonel indicated for the Brigadier to sit again. The Colonel then sat in the chair the Emperor had just left, while the other man sat beside him. “I wonder if you could spare some time to tell us more about the Radiants, these powdered men who work for them and anything else you might know that can help us to combat this threat.”

“Of course. It was precisely in order to give you this information that I came to your country.”

“Good. Your cooperation is appreciated.” The Private then took a notebook and pen from a pocket and began taking notes while the Colonel began asking questions.

☆☆☆

It wasn't until the small hours of the morning that the Brigadier finally arrived back at the Helberion embassy, by which time he was so tired that it was taking all his self control to prevent it from showing on his face. Now that his mission in the Empire was complete, though, it wasn’t necessary for him to continue courting the Farwell social scene and he was looking forward to spending pretty much all of the day ahead relaxing in his room before beginning his journey back to Helberion the day after. It had been a long time since he'd been able to enjoy the luxury of just lying in bed while the city bustled around him, or just sitting in an armchair reading a book while the rest of the embassy staff went about their normal day's business. Such days were rare and precious, and he intended to enjoy it to the full.

He spent a moment contemplating the fact that, one day, if he wasn’t killed in the line of duty before then, age would eventually rob him of the health and energy he needed to serve his country any longer. When that day came, he would retire to his estate in Marboll (if it still existed after the earthquake, but even if it didn't he had enough money stored away to buy a small house somewhere and never have to work again). What would that be like? he wondered. To be retired, to never again have to get out of bed at some ridiculously early hour, spend the day travelling through hard terrain, possibly with the threat of combat hanging over him the whole time? No more hardships, being able to rest as long as he wanted whenever the aches and pains of his ageing body began to grow too great. Being able to just take it easy for as long as he wanted. He found that he couldn’t imagine it, that kind of lifestyle was simply alien to him. The occasional day was one thing. One day of rest and relaxation before getting back to work, but the idea of never having to work again, the idea of becoming redundant and useless... He just couldn’t imagine It, and the idea that that day lay somewhere in the future, and not too far in the future either, made him shudder with apprehension and a nervous uncertainty that no approaching battle had ever given him.

His mind shied away from the idea, and instead he found himself planning out what he would do to help fight the Carrowmen when he returned home. The King would surely agree to reinstate him in the army. In this time of crisis, he would need all the capable officers he could lay his hands on. He would take charge of a Brigade of cavalry and harry the enemy troops as they crossed the countryside from one target to the next. Ride in fast, hit them hard, then withdraw before they could recover and organise themselves. Malone would be there beside him, he simply couldn’t imagine it otherwise despite the fact that almost his entire military career had taken place before he'd taken him on as his batman, and they would spend their evenings around a small campfire with a handful of his most senior officers as they discussed their next day's activities. Everything would fit back into the familiar, comfortable pattern and it was quite likely that he would be killed at some point before victory was achieved, thereby saving him from having to worry about how he would spend his old age. But first, a day of leisure. Well earned, well deserved and very, very welcome...

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the junior embassy official who greeted him as he entered the building. A tired looking young man who'd clearly been up all night and who jumped up out of his seat with relief when he saw the elderly military man wiping his boots on the doormat. “Brigadier James!” he said, striding forward. “Ambassador Mornwell told me to wait here for you, to pass on orders from the King. The telegraph lines to Marboll have been restored, and the King used them to order you to make your way to the Carrow town of Bonewell. You will need to go out of uniform and travel incognito, to avoid being discovered and captured by the Carrowmen.”

“Bonewell?” said the Brigadier in confusion. “Does he want me to carry out an act of sabotage there? Or assassination? There must be better people for jobs like that...”

“You are instructed to wait there for the arrival of Princess Ardria and her entourage, who will shortly be travelling to Charnox on a diplomatic mission. The mission is intended to end the war between our two countries and convince King Nilon of the necessity to join with Helberion in the war against the Radiants. You will assume the post of head of her bodyguard, commanding twenty Helberion rangers and a dozen Kelvon troopers.”

The Brigadier stared in astonishment. “The King is sending his own daughter to Carrow? On a diplomatic mission? While we’re at war with them? Are you sure the message wasn't garbled?”

“We asked for the message to be repeated. There was no mistake. Hence the Kelvon troops, I assume.”

“Yes, that would make sense, but I was speaking with the Emperor just a few hours ago. He said nothing about this.”

“Communications between Marboll and Farwell were restored just a couple of hours ago. The King and the Emperor have only just finished discussing this matter. I understand that Emperor Tyron needed some convincing.”

“I imagine he did!” The Emperor had said on many occasions that the killing of just one Kelvon citizen by a foreign country would be enough for him to declare war. Tyron was taking an immense gamble, or was he? The Brigadier imagined a troop of Carrow soldiers dressed as highwaymen waylaying the Princess’ retinue in some remote spot, killing everyone except the Princess herself. Nilon would blame it on bandits, and no-one would be able to prove him a liar. Tyron might know the truth, but there would be enough doubt for him to avoid entering a war he had no interest in. The thought gave him a sudden sense of terrible urgency. He had to get to the Princess as fast as possible, to help defend her! “I need a map!” he snapped. “The country between here and Bonewell.” The official nodded and ran off to get one.

A few minutes later, the two men were bent over the map, spread out across a table in the conference room and held down at the corners with ash trays. The Brigadier scowled. Carrow was directly between Kelvon and Helberion, and the direct line between his present location and Marboll went straight through where the front line of the war would be. The Princess’ retinue would have to take a wide detour to the north to avoid it, through Erestin, a neutral country, but one with which Helberion had always enjoyed good relations. That would mean the Princess would take longer to get to Bonewell, which was good, but the Brigadier was still almost twice as far west of the Carrow town than Marboll was east of it, and he would also have to take detours to avoid large Carrow cities. He would have to travel about twice as fast as the Princess' retinue to get there first. Fortunately, there were train lines that could take him most of the way, but there was still a hundred mile gap between the nearest train station and Bonewell.

“I need a horse “ he said. “A fast horse, and strong. I'll need to ride it almost to death. And remounts, if the peasants revolt causes problems with the trains.”

“The embassy has fast horses, take whichever one you like. I'm authorised to give you enough coin to buy remounts so long as you're within Kelvon territory. Once you reach the border, though, you'll be on your own. I doubt the Carrowmen will honour Helberian promissory notes.”

“I’ll steal remounts. We are at war, after all.” He looked out the window, where the sky was beginning to glow with the approach of dawn. “I’ll leave Immediately, as soon as I've changed into some civilian clothing.”

“Have you slept yet?”

‘I'll sleep on the train, or in the saddle if I have to. Won't be the first time.” He then marched out of the room, heading for the stairs up to the visitors quarters. His day of leisure was not to be, it seemed, and yet he felt strangely exhilarated by it. Duty called, and the Brigadier was on his way!