“I'll translate,” said Andreyis.
“Good.” The officer pointed across the huge, open floor to the rows of pews before the altar. “You see those benches? I want them smashed up, make a nice big pile before the altar. Then we'll search through the back rooms and cellars to find anything else that will burn.”
“Burn?” Andreyis stared at him. “Why?”
“Because we're not going to leave this place to the Larosans, that's why,” said the officer. “This place, we're going to burn down.”
SIX
Sasha followed the rear of Damon's horse up the forested ridge road. The Lenay party emerged onto the crest of the ridge, with a wide view of rumpled northern Enora. Low, rocky hills complicated the way ahead, beneath an overcast sky and misting rain.
Koenyg halted his horse on the last patch of grass before slippery rocks became too treacherous near the edge of the cliff. Beside him, a young Rhodaani noble pointed in the direction of Shemorane. Sasha made out a distant valley, but too far, and on too gloomy a day, to see any more than that.
The Larosan party they had come to meet emerged from the opposite line of trees, waiting in the safety of cover. Their leader headed for Koenyg, and Sasha invited herself, pushing her horse between her two brothers.
“Is it true that the Army of the Free Bacosh has halted before Shemorane?” Koenyg asked sharply.
The Larosan lord nodded. “There are two bridges down on the river, destroyed by the Enorans. The Regent Balthaar Arrosh seeks to ford the river further downstream, and enter Shemorane from the east.”
“With his entire army?”
“The Regent decrees that he shall enter Shemorane, and return the Shereldin Star to the High Temple,” the lord insisted, solemnly. “That is his highest sacred duty. The Army of the Free Bacosh cannot progress without their Regent.”
“While in the meantime,” said Koenyg, “we're letting the Enoran and Rhodaani Steel not only get away, but regroup and join forces.”
“The priests will have made him do it,” said Sasha, in Lenay so the lord would not understand. “They've been dreaming of returning the Shereldin Star to the High Temple for two centuries. No way will they allow the army to pass Shemorane without some great ceremony.”
“The priests should understand that Shemorane is not truly within their possession until the Steel and the talmaad are defeated. This great ceremony of theirs is a dangerous illusion,” Koenyg replied. Neither Sasha nor Damon disagreed. “What news of Ilduur?” Koenyg asked the lord in Torovan once more.
“No news. It seems the Ilduuri will not come.” There was a smugness to his voice.
“You've sent envoys to Ilduur,” said Sasha, staring at him. “You've made a deal with them.”
The lord shrugged. “My Lord Regent's policies are vast and cunning. What you describe is not impossible, though I have not heard of it.”
“Fat chance he has of actually keeping his word with Ilduur,” Sasha muttered in Lenay.
“The Regent Arrosh commands that the Army of Lenayin should continue to advance on the Steel in the meanwhile,” continued the lord. “To the west, where the hills end, and open ground makes for a fast march. The Army of Lenayin is light, while the Army of the Bacosh, and the Steel, are heavy. If you move fast, you could catch them there.”
Koenyg listened a little more, then dismissed the lord, and contemplated the view ahead.
“The Regent Arrosh commands, does he?” Sasha muttered.
“Rest it, Sasha.” Koenyg had no map to hand, but Sasha had seen him studying maps every night, staring until every line and feature was memorised. “Last we heard of the Steel, they are too far ahead to be caught as the messenger suggests. They will have merged forces by now.”
“The Regent hopes our pursuit will draw Kessligh's forces,” said Damon. “His irregulars grow stronger each day. The Regent's army has few forward scouts, they do not survive long otherwise. I think this a ploy to make us take the lead, and deal with Kessligh.”
“We are much better at his style of warfare,” Koenyg agreed. “In that sense, Lenayin has taught Kessligh some things as well.”
“They seek to bleed us,” Damon countered. “Like they let us bleed in the diversion against the Enorans.”
“Everyone bled, brother.”
“It is garbage work. Every time they have a nasty job for someone to do, they hand it to us. They save the battles that promise great glory for themselves.”
“Then we must make our own glory,” said Koenyg, with a hard stare. He put heels to his horse and galloped back the way they'd come, his siblings and the Royal Guards at his tail.
Andreyis accompanied two of the Steel soldiers back to the stable to gather horses for wagons. Each took two animals, Andreyis taking the mare he'd fed the apple. If they were going to send the High Temple up in flames, he wanted her somewhere other than locked in the stable next door.
He was leaving when Hydez yelled at him from amidst the wounded prisoners. “Is it true? Are they going to burn it?”
Andreyis ignored him, waiting for one of the soldiers to control a reluctant horse. Hydez lunged past his guards, and would have reached Andreyis had his wound not slowed him. A guard grabbed him, then another.
“You're not going to burn it!” Hydez yelled at Andreyis. “You pagan scum, you're not going to help them burn it! That's not their temple to burn, it's for all Verenthanes! Don't you dare burn it!”
The guards wrestled him back to the group. Andreyis walked with the soldiers into the rain, leading the horses with his one good arm.
The vast courtyard now held a cluster of people before the High Temple. Soldiers made a wall of shields before them, townsfolk come to see, bedraggled refugees standing in the rain, halting their flight from the advancing Bacosh Army to stare in dismay at the activity about the temple.
Some carts had been commandeered, and Andreyis helped the soldiers fit the horses into the traces. Even one-armed, he was some assistance, as these soldiers knew little of horses.
Captain Ulay pushed free from the crowd before the temple and strode over. He gave the soldiers orders in Enoran, and they and one other climbed into the three carts. “You stay here,” said the captain to Andreyis, “you'll be no use loading carts with one arm.”
The carts clattered off, Andreyis thought, to gather more things to burn. He followed the captain back to the temple.
“Whose orders are you following?” Andreyis asked him, as the rain grew heavier.
“That's not for you to ask.” The captain looked harried and worn, and walked fast, as though demons snapped at his heels.
“That's the High Temple of Enora,” Andreyis tried again. “You're a Verenthane, you're going to burn down your own temple?”
“Better that than let it fall into the hands of those scum,” the captain declared. He pushed through the crowd, as some Enorans called out to him, pleaded with him to stop. He ignored them and ran up the steps into the wide doorway.
Andreyis saw Yshel on the steps, in animated conversation with the dark-haired serrin lad who had also ridden with the prisoner column. The other serrin's hand went to his sword as he saw Andreyis approaching. Yshel put a hand on his arm, calming him.
“Did anyone order him to do this?” Andreyis asked her. Within the main doors, he could see broken pews piled in great stacks by the far wall. With oils such as serrin made, that would burn high. Behind that wall were rooms, and many timbers that would catch. If the end wall came down, the roof would follow.
“He says yes,” said Yshel, frowning.
“Who?”
“He doesn't say.”
“This is wrong.”
“It's just a building,” said the other serrin. “People are dying in their thousands, who cares for stones?”
“They care,” said Andreyis, pointing to the crowd gathered in the rain. “Captain Ulay might be mad for all we know. Does he look entirely sane to you?”