DEATH’S CHOSEN

FIRST COHORT BOOK 3

M. R. ANTHONY

© 2017 M. R. Anthony

All rights reserved

The right of M. R. Anthony to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

1

We’d been in Blades for over a month, all three-hundred and twelve of us from the First Cohort who remained. Our headlong flight from the north had brought us to Warmont’s capital city quicker than a cavalry unit could have managed it. After all, we hardly needed to rest and we were not slowed by a requirement to eke out supplies from the villages we passed. The cold had pursued us, grasping at our skin and driving itself deep into our bones. We didn’t care – the Northmen would need to throw more than that at us to slow us down. Eventually we had left the worst of the chill behind. By the time we were five days south of Gold the air temperature had returned to normal, giving me a sense of relief that the whole of the land hadn’t yet been blighted by frost.

For much of the journey I had been worried. Everything I’d seen told me that the Northmen were likely to be as dangerous as anything the Emperor could field. I’d already learned that Malleus was occupied by them elsewhere in his lands. Usually he crushed dissent quickly and without effort, but I’d picked up hints and clues that this time his opponents weren’t going to be so easily dismissed.

In addition to my concerns about the Northmen, I had been thinking about the Saviour, who had gone on before us. We’d hoped that she could take the now-dead Duke Warmont’s capital city of Blades, so that she could establish a permanent base – a foothold – in these lands. When we’d parted ways, there had still been many doubts – the Pyromancer was unaccounted for and there were also the remnants of the Duke’s armies, perhaps scattered or perhaps gathering under the banner of one of the Emperor’s men.

In the end, my worries about this, at least, proved to be unnecessary. The Saviour had swept into Blades without bloodshed and established herself in Warmont’s old keep. All with a scant few thousand men to her name. When I’d spoken to her about it, I came to realise that Blades had seen more than enough slaughter. The Saviour promised life and hope, in stark contrast to the constant death that had gone before.

The First Cohort was not hated in Blades in the way that we were in many other parts of Warmont’s lands. For a long time, the citizens of the place had done well under the Duke’s rule, until he’d started his depravities. A lot of the people were loyal to him and his forces, or at least there were those who didn’t outright despise him. The First Cohort had fought for Warmont for so long that most of the people in Blades still viewed us favourably, while those who didn’t had little choice but to tolerate us. Whatever the thoughts of the people, the Saviour decided they were to be left alone for the moment. They’d suffered enough. If she found any indication of plotting or dissent, then would be the time for action. So, we left the people to their daily lives.

We billeted in the keep. There was plenty of room for soldiers and we kept our lady under close watch at all times. As far as we knew, there was no immediate threat to her life but we’d been fooled once and weren’t going to take chances again. It was comfortable there, yet we didn’t lower our guard for a moment. We knew the Emperor well. The status quo would not last for long – it was just a matter of time until something happened that would see blood spilled once again.

On the plus side, we found the Duke’s treasury. Although the lands themselves were poor, it appeared as though the Duke was not. He possessed a sizeable hoard of coins – enough to pay for the upkeep of his armies with plenty to spare. I’d spoken to the Saviour about this – his wealth seemed at odds with the poverty of his people. The only thing we could conclude was that the southern cities of Spite and Ranks had kept ploughing their tax monies into the Duke’s coffers in order to prop up his rule. In my head, a little voice kept whispering that perhaps the Emperor himself sent money this way. That would be just like Malleus – he could give them impression that he was in control, when in fact he was working behind the scenes to ensure his air of invincibility remained intact. The Emperor was a master tactician on more than just the field of battle.

There was more good news, though it came as a trickle at first. With details of the Duke’s death reaching out beyond his city as quickly as a bird could fly, the shattered and split remnants of his armies returned. They weren’t looking for death, rather they hoped for employment. A man who has been a soldier for all of his adult life knows nothing other. He can be trained to become something different, but many become so set on the path of warfare that they refuse to turn their hand to something else, even when it is offered to them on a plate. The reasons for this are many – some have past lives they’d rather forget, or wives and children they no longer wish to see. For most it’s because they fear. They are scared of the unknown. The army gives a man a place – something to fight for and comrades to lift him when his own strength has failed.

In dribs and drabs, they came. Men who had served the Duke in the past and who wanted to serve a new master. They turned up at the keep and requested to speak with whoever it was that dealt with recruitment. As the most senior man serving the Saviour, the task fell to me. I spoke to our lady and explained to her that if she was to heal the lands, she needed these men on her side. She was already convinced. It wasn’t as though there were vast untapped wells from which she could draw loyal soldiers. The population of Warmont’s lands had been in decline for decades as a result of the constant turmoil that the Duke seemed to thrive on. If I’d been forced to guess, I would have said that the women outnumbered the men by almost two to one. While a single man can sire many children by many different women, even a childless old soldier like me knew that children need a strong father to be present in their lives and to help with their upbringing.

After four weeks, word had evidently reached wider afield that the Saviour wasn’t looking for revenge and that she was recruiting as many as she could find. The four or five men who applied each day increased to fifteen or twenty. Soon, we had days where there were close to a hundred men queuing up at the gates of the keep each morning, practically begging to join the Saviour’s new army. I made sure I checked over their lines every morning as they filed in – many looked beaten and hungry. Others looked lean and ready for action. I lacked the time to deal with them personally, so I did what any other captain would have done in my situation: I set Lieutenant Sinnar on to them.

The best news of all concerned the justiciars. Like the snivelling cowards they were, they’d gone to ground as soon as the Saviour took Blades. If they’d been true men, they’d have fought or they’d have stood up for their actions. They did neither of these things and we were tasked with rooting them out. It turned out that they were as stupid as they were cowardly – rather than trying to escape the city, they relied on the goodwill of friends and family to keep them safe. Unfortunately for them, such was the hatred that people felt towards them, that they couldn’t remain hidden for long. We pulled them from cellars and from lofts. Many had already tried to start new lives in shops or in industry. When we found them, we butchered them without remorse and without trial. I didn’t care if they thought it unfair – our actions were popular with the citizens and there was many a cheering crowd whose catcalls and jeers were the last sounds heard by these hated members of the Duke’s police.

With the majority of the justiciars in Blades dead and with Sinnar unleashed upon the Saviour’s growing army, I was able to spread my time more freely. I found myself in de facto command of all her troops, so much of my day was spent on the training ground or in my office, dealing with day-to-day matters. However, I was also able to spend a few brief moments with our lady, to ensure that she was coping with the situation she’d found herself in. Only a few months ago she had been a young lady in a village without a name. Now she was the ruler of Blades and the partially-acknowledged leader of all of Warmont’s people. I say partially acknowledged, since she’d not yet managed to negotiate with the southern cities, nor had she heard from the cities to the north-east, those being Church, Fallow, Sinew and Flense. These last four were many weeks travel to reach and return. We had no idea beyond guesswork whether or not the Northmen had destroyed them. To the north-west, Gold and Septic had fallen – word had come to us from the refugees who’d fled to the south. Bunsen and Demox on the coast had not yet been attacked – at least that’s what we were told.

While there was a lot for the Saviour to consider, I was pleased to find that she took many of the decisions herself. I acted as her adviser in many things, but when it came down to it, almost everything I said was from the perspective of a military man. She either needed a greater variety of opinions or to rely on her own intuition more than she did. She was taking steps and that pleased me.

One evening, I was sitting with Jon Ploster, talking in the way we had always used to. I’d been busy and he’d made himself scarce in the meantime, to allow me to concentrate on my duties. He’d procured a bottle of wine from somewhere, which he told me was a good vintage. I knew it would taste of little and I was right.

“I hope you didn’t spend much on this,” I told him with a smile.

“The wine merchant was desperate to sell.” Ploster took a drink and swilled it around in his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re losing your imagination, Tyrus. You need to tell your mouth that it’s the finest vintage it has ever tasted. That way your brain will feel happy.”

I gave it a go but it was no use. It wasn’t that I was cynical – perhaps I just wasn’t in the mood for drink.

“It has been too quiet,” he said at last. We rarely talked for long about inconsequential things such as wine.

“I know, Jon. Every day that passes increases the chance that we’ll hear bad news. I only wish I knew which direction that bad news might come from, so I could better prepare for it.”

“Caught between the Emperor and the Northmen,” he agreed.

“Not only that, but we have Baron Vaks to the south and Duchess Callian to the east. Who is to say that they won’t try a sortie into our domain to capture a few easy targets? We are not under the Emperor’s protection in the way that Warmont was. It wouldn’t take much for either Vaks or Callian to push a few days into our lands and before we knew it, we could have lost three important cities. Our lady needs them all.”

“I would far rather deal with those than the Northmen, I think,” said Ploster. “I prefer an enemy whose motives I can guess at. These Northmen are something new – I have never come across their like before. I cannot fathom what they hope to achieve.”

“War comes about because someone wants something they don’t have,” I told him. “Even if we don’t understand the Northmen, we can safely assume that they have come for something – lands, food or slaves, perhaps. If we could find out, then we will be better prepared for them. I would dearly like to know across how much of the Emperor’s lands they have spread. Has Cranmar Sunderer faced them? How does he fare?”

“The Gloom Bringer told us that the Emperor has been occupied elsewhere and we’ve assumed that the Northmen have been the problem. The Sunderer’s northern border is much longer than ours. It would be difficult to prevent an invasion along the entirety of its length – even with the whole of the Emperor’s legions brought to bear.”

“And we have seen how easily these Northmen can destroy their foes. The cold they bring could nullify even the largest of the armies of men.”

“If they were unprepared,” said Ploster with a smile.

“You’ve felt the cold, Jon. The men of these lands are not used to fighting in such conditions. They lack the knowledge and the equipment.”

“Then they will have to learn,” he said.

I nodded at his words, painfully aware that we had been doing little that would prepare us to face the Northmen if they came further south. “I’ll speak to Chartus,” I said. “He seems to have the city’s finances under tight control. I’ll let him know that we need furs, wool and leather. We’ll need men and women who know how to work them into coats, hats and gloves, suitable to cover a man wearing armour. If we must face the Northmen again, it will not be without protection from their cold.”

“We’ll need more than just coats, Tyrus,” he said.

“I know, Jon. One step at a time. We don’t know anything about their magic, or how they control the air. I will speak to the Saviour. She has tried to venture beyond the mountains to the north and was rebuffed. She is stronger now – perhaps it is time for her to extend herself and see if she can break through to what is out there.”

The next day I spent the early hours on the training ground. The air was cold, though not unusually so. Lieutenant Sinnar was already there, bellowing at a few hundred men in full armour. I tapped him on the shoulder and he greeted me with a salute.

“Good morning, Captain,” he said. “Come to see how the new lads are getting on?”

“I don’t have any doubts that they’re coming along very well,” I replied, knowing that Sinnar’s punishments could be harsh on those he thought were slacking.

“That they are,” he replied. “We’ll make an army of them yet.”

“How’s their loyalty?” I whispered. I already had my own thoughts on the matter, but it made sense to search out other opinions.

“I think they can be trusted, Captain,” he said, narrowing his eyes at a man who had fallen out of step. He shouted at the man, who quickly caught up with his fellows.

“Will they fight? When things get tough?”

“They’ll fight. There’s many a man amongst them who has served for five or more years. The only thing they lacked was morale.”

“And a cause,” I added.

“Aye, Captain. They definitely lacked a cause.”

“Good work, Lieutenant. Keep on at them – I want them able to march for a month and fight at the end of it.”

I left him to it and went to find the Saviour. I think that, if left to her own devices, she would have been more a solitary person than an outgoing one. She preferred time to reflect, rather than acting on the spur of the moment. We do not always get to choose who we are and she had little choice but to become someone that she wasn’t. When I found her, she was in animated conversation with several of the city’s officials, whilst a messenger patiently awaited her attention. Corporal Heavy and her eleven bodyguards stood respectfully nearby. They made no efforts to look menacing, yet the message of their presence was crystal clear to anyone who thought to threaten their charge. The Saviour saw me and her face brightened at once. She waved the officials away, took the letter from the messenger and dismissed him. Then, she bade me to follow her to her room. We left her bodyguards outside and entered her chamber on the second floor.

“This looks more comfortable every time I visit,” I commented, looking at the plush furnishings scattered about the room.

“Do you disapprove?” she asked. There was no challenge in the question.

“Quite the opposite,” I laughed. “A comfortable soldier does not like to fight, but a comfortable leader is better placed to think on her options without the distractions of a hard, cold seat or a lumpy bed.”

She laughed in return, raising her head slightly as she did and revealing the complex pattern of scars at her neck. She had others – worse - on her back from where Leerfar had once killed her. I knew they’d never go away and I knew that the Saviour wore them as proof of her willingness to fight and die for the people who followed her. We sat. She chose a padded leather chair next to a low table and I pulled over a hard wooden one. I wasn’t a glutton for punishment, but there was something locked deep in my mind that warned me against enjoying comfort – as if it would somehow make me slower or less willing to do what had to be done. We’re stupid sometimes, even when it comes to how we treat ourselves – there was no way I’d ever let things pass me by. It wasn’t in my nature.

“What can I do for you, Captain Charing? This isn’t a social visit, I assume?” Her eyes glittered with gentle mirth.

“I have come to see how things fare in your lands,” I replied. “Have you heard news from the north or the south?”

“You know I tell you as soon as I hear something worth telling,” she said. Then, as if her words reminded her of something, she looked at the sealed envelope in her hand, which the messenger had not long ago delivered. “Let us see if this is anything,” she muttered, flicking away the red wax seal with her thumb nail. She read the contents, her lips moving slightly as she scanned the words. At last, she looked up. “Baron Vaks gathers on my southern borders, close to the city of Ranks,” she said. “At least thirty thousand strong.”

“Does the note provide any more details?” I asked, knowing already that it was unlikely.

“Nothing,” she said. “I assume the Baron’s intentions are hostile.”

“I wouldn’t make that assumption just yet,” I cautioned. “Vaks surely knows what lies to the north of Warmont’s old lands. It would be a fool who didn’t prepare himself against the possibility of an invasion. Remember that he is the Emperor’s man and likely shares the same intelligence that Malleus receives.”

“Or it could be that he will wait for a trigger,” she mused, striking me anew with her ability to see things from a different viewpoint.

“What sort of trigger?” I asked.

“A word from the Emperor, perhaps. It could be that Malleus has not yet decided what to do with us.”

“The time will not be long, my lady. Malleus is not an indecisive man – no good soldier is. Whatever he plans will be revealed as soon as he is ready. I have felt the pressure of the inevitability weighing upon me in the last few weeks.”

She rose from her chair, her red robes brushing the carpet as she stood. I saw a momentary flicker of vulnerability flash across her face as she thought things through. I am not sure if she reached a conclusion. In the end, the need to speak was taken from her, though I am not sure if she would have been relieved by the message. There was a knock at the door, loud and insistent.

“What is it?” she demanded, impatiently.

The sturdy wooden door opened and Corporal Heavy poked his head inside. He looked surprisingly meek and deferential for a man who was neither of these things.

“Sorry to disturb you, my lady,” he said. “There’s a gentleman here – a man from the keep gates. He says there’s someone who demands an audience and he won’t go away.”

“Has this gentleman said why his need to see me is so important that he must disturb my time with the captain of my army?”

“He says he’s come from the Emperor, my lady. With an important message.”

The Saviour looked at me. “Would you like to attend, Captain?”

I nodded grimly and we left her room. Whatever it was I’d been waiting to come – it seemed likely that it had arrived.

2

We waited in one of the large rooms on the ground floor of the keep. I remember that the Duke had kept this room for audiences, though those had grown fewer in number as his rule progressed. There were chairs, a table and little else. There’d been a few tabards and coats of arms, which the Saviour had ordered to be torn down. This was no longer Warmont’s keep.

There was a knock at the door. It opened and Jon Ploster entered, releasing some of the pent-up tension. He winked at Corporal Heavy, while the latter mimed pulling the sorcerer’s beard. They thought they were doing it unseen, little knowing that I was watching from the corner of my eye. I didn’t mind their behaviour, as long as they stopped it when the Emperor’s messenger arrived. Some of us never grow up.

Before Ploster could settle, there was another knock and Lieutenant Craddock opened the door. I didn’t like the expression on his face. “Sir?” he said. “He’s sent Jarod Terrax.”

I swore quietly to myself.

“Who is Jarod Terrax?” asked the Saviour.

“You might have heard him called the Flesh Shaper, my lady.”

“Another death sorcerer? In my keep?”

“We need to hear what he has to say,” I told her, not clear what she meant. Then I looked in her face and I saw what she meant. If we didn’t like what he had to say, we would kill him. “Easier said than done,” I told her out loud. Her mouth formed a thin, tight line and she said nothing else.

Eventually, Terrax arrived. He took so long that I assumed Craddock had done something to delay his arrival, so that we could prepare ourselves. The Flesh Shaper was average height and cadaverously thin. He was dressed in the same style of clothes that he’d been wearing the last time I’d seen him – an impenetrably thick, black robe that trailed along the floor as he walked, and with a hood that he kept pulled up and over his face. Like all of the death sorcerers, his visage was not something that you would want to look at. I doubted he kept himself covered out of fear of what people might say. There again, nobody knew how or why creatures like this did what they did.

He shuffled into the room. From afar he might have looked like a harmless old man. He was certainly old, but other than that he was neither harmless and I am not even sure he was a man. There was a stench about him, which he’d not tried to mask. It was the odour of something rotten – not quite flesh and I found it hard to put my finger on what it was. I didn’t like it, though I found the cloying smell easy enough to ignore. You get used to the smell of putrefaction when you’ve experienced it often enough.

“Greetings from the Emperor,” he said. His voice was faint and wheezing, as though his lungs were full of holes.

“Greetings, Jarod Terrax,” said the Saviour. “What brings you to my capital city of Blades?”

There was another sound – the same wheezing, this time with a rasping undertone to it. I realised that he was laughing. “The Emperor does not give up his holdings so easily, my dear. I am sure the good Captain Charing here has told you as much.”

“My time is short, Jarod Terrax,” the Saviour told him. “If you have come to demand my surrender, you are about to be disappointed.” I felt a swelling in the air around me, a build-up of magic used as a threat to any who were sensitive enough to feel it.

Terrax raised his hand, the sleeve falling back to reveal his unnaturally thin fingers and wrist. “You misunderstand me. I am not here to demand surrender. I am here to talk. Now – may I sit?”

The tension subsided and the Saviour waved Terrax to a seat. He dropped into it with a sigh. I wasn’t fooled by the act of infirmity.

“If you’re not here for our surrender, what does Malleus want of us?” asked the Saviour. She also sat, though I could tell that it was only out of politeness. She preferred to stand when she was speaking to strangers or enemies.

“In normal circumstances, the Emperor would crush you,” said the Flesh Shaper, with another one of his wheezing laughs. He wasn’t trying to be our friend, much to my relief. I couldn’t stand subterfuge. “In other circumstances, he might demand you bend the knee and pay taxes to him. I believe he is impressed by what you have achieved. Not that such feelings have ever stopped him acting in the interests of his Empire before. Not for one moment have they ever stopped him.” He paused to let that sink in, not that it was any surprise to me or my men, nor should it have come as a shock to the Saviour.

The Saviour leaned across. She was scarcely six feet from the death sorcerer. “If he does not want to crush us and he does not want our subservience, what exactly does he want?” she asked. There was a menace in her voice that I hadn’t heard before.

“You are aware of what is coming,” said Terrax, his voice suddenly intent. “I am sure that a woman of your power has an idea of what it wants.”

I looked carefully at the Saviour when these words were spoken. Sorcerers knew sorcerers. I was just a soldier who got a sense of things. Her expression didn’t change.

“The Emperor wishes for a truce, then?” she asked. “A pause in the fighting.”

There was that laugh again. “No, my dear lady, don’t be so foolish!” The Saviour’s eyes narrowed and the Flesh Shaper continued. “There has been no fighting yet in order for there to be a pause. You have deposed a man whom the Emperor has wished dead for fifty years. If he’d wanted Warmont alive, he’d have sent armies here long before you had the opportunity to defeat his noble. The Emperor is not dealing with an equal. What he offers is a period of observance – a time for reflection, if you will.”

“To what end does he require this?” the Saviour asked. “If he is concerned that he must fight on two fronts, surely it is to our advantage that we decline any cessation of violence.”

“That is where you are wrong,” he replied. “You will be aware that Baron Vaks gathers to the south. You may also be aware that Duchess Callian has men making their way through the Forestwoods towards your east.”

As far as I was aware, the Saviour hadn’t known about that. It was no great shock and it changed nothing. The knowledge that Vaks was waiting had more or less guaranteed that Callian would be getting ready for war as well.

“What does Malleus want?” I asked. “You have skirted around the issue for these last few minutes.”

“Captain Charing,” he acknowledged. “With a soldier’s need to speak his mind. But you’re no normal soldier, are you? You know things and you see things that others do not. Truly a man of potential.”

“Speak!” I commanded him.

“The Emperor’s loyal nobles could recapture half of your holdings before winter is even two months gone. Yet he does not wish them to do so. At the moment. If there is conflict, he will lose access to something that he wishes to have returned to him. Something important to him. Malleus hopes that a period of observance will give you time to consider matters. If you decide to join his Empire, I believe he will welcome you with open arms. These are lands of great, untapped potential. Under the right ruler they could become wealthy with commerce and the wombs of its women heavy with children.”

“The potential of these lands is untapped because the Emperor allowed it!” the Saviour snapped. “He could have killed Warmont a hundred years ago and let his people flourish. Instead, he chose to do let the Duke murder as he pleased!”

The Flesh Shaper hesitated – just a fraction of a second, yet enough to make me listen carefully for deception. “The Emperor cannot kill his own. He does not wish to appear…fallible.”

I’d already known as much – there were few things that Jon Ploster and I couldn’t get close to the truth of in our wandering conversations. The Gloom Bringer had also said the same. Nevertheless, I felt as if there was something more than a reluctance to appear fallible. I put the matter to one side for the time being.

“We are still waiting to hear what the Emperor requires,” said the Saviour, her voice carrying a dangerous edge to it.

The wheezing breath became louder for a few seconds, as if the Flesh Shaper suddenly found it difficult to draw air. “If there is conflict, the Emperor knows that the weakened remnants of the First Cohort will be destroyed. He does not wish this to happen.”

“What does he wish for? In return for his temporary forbearance?”

“The Emperor asks only one small favour – the same that he has asked from each of his nobles.” He raised his hand again to forestall any protestations about who bent the knee. “Let us not focus on the small details for the moment and see if we can reach an agreement. The Emperor has asked each of his nobles to commit a portion of their forces, to assist him with his troubles. You can tell yourself that it’s for the good of the people, if it makes you feel better,” he added. I could picture the malicious smile on his face, hidden beneath the hood.

“Men cannot fight the battle which the Emperor fights,” said the Saviour.

“No, they cannot. Regardless of this, Malleus needs men and there are some men who can fight against the Northmen.”

“He cannot have the First Cohort,” said the Saviour at once. “We have the Northmen on our doorstep.”

“Will the Northmen come, or will they stay where they are?” he asked cryptically. “Do you have what they want?”

I could tell he was playing word games and determined that I would treat everything he said on the matter with scepticism. I cast a glance over at Jon Ploster. The sorcerer caught my gaze and returned it. I knew him well enough to read his suspicion. Not that we’d have trusted the Flesh Shaper if he’d told us the sun shone in the day.

I could see the Saviour adding things up in her head. The threat was there – send the First Cohort or have Vaks and Callian’s forces invade and destroy everything she’d fought for. I knew how many men she had and it was likely she could hold Blades for a long time. There again, Vaks and Callian wouldn’t even need to try and capture it. There were other prizes the Saviour couldn’t afford to defend, which they could take without risk. She’d have Blades and the lands to the north, but little else. She needed time to build and it didn’t look as if she had that time available to her.

“If I send my men to Hardened, I have the Emperor’s word that he will hold off his nobles?” she asked.

“They won’t be going to Hardened,” said the death sorcerer, feigning surprise. “The Emperor is with Cranmar Sunderer.”

“Malleus has taken to the field?” I asked. “Things must truly be dire.”

“Maybe the Emperor wishes to dust off the cobwebs and see how his magic fares against an unfamiliar foe.”

“Whatever his reasons, do I have his word?” insisted the Saviour.

“You will have his word,” the Flesh Shaper confirmed. If there was one thing you could trust about the Emperor, it was that he’d hold his word.

“The Saviour’s bodyguard remains,” I said, indicating Corporal Heavy and the rest of the men.

The Flesh Shaper made a play of looking over at them. “I’m sure that will be acceptable.”

And that was that. The news I’d felt was coming had arrived and washed away any preconceptions I might have had about what it would be. In all my wildest conjecturing, I had not once thought that our lady might instruct the First Cohort to fight for the Emperor. I was almost shocked. Not numb, and not upset, but I’d have been lying if I’d said I hadn’t been caught unawares. I realised that agreeing to the Emperor’s request was the only chance the Saviour had – she was playing the long game and she was playing it ruthlessly. I approved.

“When can your men be ready to leave, Captain Charing?” she asked.

I smiled at her, though not with much humour. “This afternoon,” I said. “Two o’clock. Three at the latest if any of my soldiers are patrolling the far districts.”

“Very good, Captain. Please see that you leave as soon as possible.”

“Where are we going?” I asked. “The Sunderer’s lands are almost twice the size of these.”

“Our destination is not yet finalised. The journey will be long, and by the time we are close, we may be required elsewhere.”

His use of the word our was not lost on me. “You will be accompanying us?” I asked.

“I will. The Emperor communicates his desires to me. I will lead us to where we are needed.”

“You will not slow us down,” I said it as a statement.

He laughed again and this time it sounded genuine. “Captain, you must have forgotten much if you think I will slow you down.”

With those words, the negotiations were over. I had someone escort Terrax to another area of the keep, where he could wait until the First Cohort were ready to leave. Before I could leave to begin my own preparations to mobilise the men, I heard the Saviour speak.

“I’m sorry, Captain Charing,” was all she said.

I looked at her – she seemed drawn into herself as if the decision she’d made had cost her dearly. I smiled without rancour. “You have done the only thing you could, my lady. I am thankful that you have been offered this chance.”

She smiled back, relieved that she saw no anger in my face. The Saviour wasn’t as hard as she might have wished. “Bring back my men,” she said. “All of them.”

“I will do everything I can,” I promised her, leaving it at that.

I nodded to Corporal Heavy and the other eleven who would be remaining and left the room. It would be easy to say that my head was in a whirl over the suddenness of it, but all I felt was excitement. Just when I thought I’d seen it all, I’d been taught a lesson that there’s no such thing as a man who is unaffected by surprise.

3

We mustered a few minutes after two, in the courtyard of the keep. One short of three hundred, we formed a square, so silent and dispassionate that to look upon our faces you might have thought we cared not at all for what had happened. In truth, I felt that events had dictated our future more than at any point since we’d rescued the Saviour from the sorcerer Dag’Vosh.

We were one man short. He arrived, several minutes after we had gathered. The sound of hooves on cobbles gave warning of his arrival and I looked towards the stables. Jarod Terrax was there, astride a tall, black horse. The courtyard was busy and I saw people look at the horse and its rider, before moving away with stifled exclamations of disgust and fear. Ignoring it all, the Flesh Shaper calmly guided his steed to a position near to me. The horse was rotten – covered in glistening sores and maggot-filled blisters. Its eyes were milky and sunken. He must have raised this one weeks ago.

“As good as your word, Captain Charing,” he said.

I didn’t say anything to acknowledge his words. I nodded to Sinnar and gave the signal for us to move. Sinnar shouted the order with unexpected restraint and the First Cohort strode towards the main gates which led through the walls of the keep. I looked back only once, telling myself that it was to ensure my men were in good order and utterly denying that it might be because I was worried about what we were leaving behind.

Even the main streets of Blades weren’t broad enough to accommodate many men walking abreast, so we marched in a narrow column. We were armed and armoured, carrying with us everything we’d need for an extended campaign. To the rear was a wooden cart, cunningly designed with sprung wheels and double axles which could move in sympathy with the terrain. It was loaded with our metal spears, as well as a variety of other items which it was more convenient to carry separately. Two sturdy horses pulled the cart – they were the calm and uncomplaining sort which would haul their load until they dropped dead if you chose to drive them hard enough. I didn’t know how practical it would be to bring the cart with us, but was willing to give it a go. The worst that could happen would be that we’d have to carry it all ourselves.

Soon, we’d left the centre of the city and entered one of the more affluent suburbs. We passed a baker’s shop and I heard the men give comment at the odours which drifted across the road. I allowed myself to breathe in the scent, though my mouth refused to water. At one time, Blades had seemed exciting and vibrant – we’d all looked forward to our brief periods in the city after one of our extended campaigns elsewhere. Now I realised I felt almost nothing for the place. I didn’t know if this was because of what it had become or because of what I had become.

“I don’t long for this anymore,” I said quietly to Ploster. “Perhaps I’m getting old.”

“Are you measuring age in physical years or mental years?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I don’t pretend to be a young man,” I said.

“It’s when you stop wanting to be a young man. That’s when you know you’re getting old.”

“The times I think about it are becoming fewer and further in between,” I admitted.

“You need to change how you think,” he said. “There are old men who are happy to be old. They sit by their fires and wait for death, pretending that it’s what they want and hoping it’ll be painless. Then there are the old men who refuse to change from what they were. They treat death as an equal and challenge it to come and claim them if it dares to fight.”

I laughed, though the words struck me as true. “Have no fears, Jon. I am old in years, though I am definitely not waiting for death.”

“I know, Tyrus,” he said. “I’ve not met a man who is less scared to deny the inevitability of death.”

We left the city an hour after we’d exited the keep. The Flesh Shaper kept himself aloof, spurring his horse so that he was always fifty or more yards ahead, as if he were the leader of the men. I’d only met him a few times when we’d been in service to the Emperor, though my memories of him were few. I didn’t recall that I’d ever had any direct dealings with him, so he’d likely been present in the places I’d been, yet without me needing to speak with him. It had been a long time ago.

“At least his horse won’t shit in our path,” said Beamer, a few paces behind me.

“Nor piss, nor fart,” said Grids. I turned around and grinned at them. It was good to find those two nearby – we’d been through much recently.

Once we were freed from the confines of the city streets, we set a course almost directly north-east. This would eventually take us into Duchess Callian’s domain and from there into Cranmar Sunderer’s lands. It was going to be a long walk. Lieutenant Craddock was our man with a map built into his brain and he reckoned we’d be on the road for at least three months. Less if the Emperor wanted us just inside the Sunderer’s lands, much more if he was far to the north-east. I had little doubt that we’d end up on the northern borders of the Empire, one way or another. Part of me wanted the trip to be as long as possible – the more time we were away from Blades, the longer the Emperor had to hold to his word and keep his forces from invading the Saviour’s lands. I could only hope that she would use her time wisely. On the other hand, the further away we were when the Emperor released us from this new service, the longer it would take for us to return. Malleus was trustworthy as far as his word went, but I very much doubted that he’d keep his truce for the period it took us to get back to Blades. Unless I can wring that concession from him, whispered a voice in my head.

At first, all was good on our journey. The road was adequate and free from mud. The weather was cool but kind, with clear skies of the sort that make you wish every day could be the same. The men talked their talk and our boots marked a cadence that saw mile after mile vanish in our wake as though we were giants, who strode the enormity of the land without the constraints of stamina or injury to slow us down.

On the first night, we rested to the side of the road. There was always the chance that some of the Duke’s men remained together as a cohesive fighting force, though I didn’t think it likely that they’d be able to support themselves without proper supply lines. Either way, there was little point in taking chances, so I set our usual number of sentries, whilst the rest of us gathered about the fires to talk about old times and the times to come. I didn’t know where the Flesh Shaper had taken himself off to and didn’t care if he heard what we said. Soldiers talk and I let them say what they wanted.

“So who exactly do we serve now, Captain?” asked Weevil. He knew the answer, just needed to hear it said.

“We serve our lady, Weevil. Her and only her. This is her instruction and we’re following it.”

“Who’da thought it, eh?” asked Flurry. “We get to serve the Emperor again, only this time it’s us doing him a favour.”

“When’d he ever do us a favour?” asked Harts.

“Well, you know? Giving us long life so’s we can serve our lady better.”

“That’s not quite a favour though, is it?” asked Beamer. “It’s not like he intended for us to go on and do what we did.”

“You can look at it whichever way you please,” said Flurry. “Me? I’ve always been the sort of man who thinks that things move in ways beyond my ken. Beyond even the Emperor’s ken. Who’s to say that there’s not something out there, pulling all these strings, so that one thing leads to something else, and that leads to another thing? In the end, here we are, serving our lady and marching off to help old Malleus.”

There was silence for a time. “Yeah, but that’s still not the same as him doing us a favour, is it?” said Beamer, unwilling to let it drop.

“You daft sod,” said Harts, though it wasn’t clear who this was aimed at.

“I don’t much care how it’s happened,” said Beamer, staring ahead. The firelight cast his scarred face into deep shadow, making his eyes seem like black, empty pits. “All it means is we buy some time for our lady to secure her hold on the Duke’s old lands.” There were no flies on Beamer.

“And we get to do some more fighting. Every one we cut down, is one fewer for the new lads to face.”

“New lads?” asked Bont. “Half of the new lads you’re talking about have got faces more puckered than Weevil’s arse hole.”

“Aye, but there’re lots of young ‘uns in there with them. Seems a shame for them to get killed before they even get a chance at life,” said Beamer.

“Since when did you start getting sentimental?” asked Flurry. He fell silent as he realised the answer. There was a time for banter, but the soldiers always took care to follow the unwritten rules. “The same time as all of us, I guess,” he finally ended with.

I was just summoning up the energy required to haul myself away from the circle around the fire, when Harts spoke. He kept his voice quiet and lowered his head, as if he were speaking a great sedition.

“Captain? Do we trust this Terrax fellow?” It was another question that he already knew the answer to. I never lost patience answering questions like it, since most men lack the ability to lead a discussion. They usually wanted me to do it for them. I didn’t mind.

“I trust him not at all,” I assured them. I kept my voice slightly below its usual volume, for reasons I couldn’t comprehend. If the Flesh Shaper wanted to listen to our words, there was little I could do to stop him, I imagined. It certainly wasn’t going to prevent me from giving an honest answer to my men. “However, there’s many a man whom I wouldn’t trust, yet I complete my dealings with him and then we go our separate ways. It’s the way of things.”

“We have to watch him, don’t we?”

“Always. The death sorcerers serve the Emperor, but they also have their own desires. They plot and they scheme, while Malleus gives them a little bit of leash. I am sure their games are played out across a greater stage than we know. If Terrax has his own plans, that is for us to watch out for.”

No one said anything else on the subject. If anyone sought to betray us, the soldiers of the Cohort knew that I’d have them killed as soon as I suspected them of putting our lives in danger. I didn’t like to gamble with my men. In a world full of bastards, it was much easier to protect my own by killing the men who challenged us, even if I wasn’t absolutely certain what our opponents intended. In this I was ruthless and I felt no guilt at all.

I bade them goodnight and made my way over to my tent. Our time in Blades hadn’t been entirely wasted and I smiled to myself at the rows of new travelling tents that I’d procured to replace the battered and torn ones we’d been carrying with us for far too long. The men had seemed almost incomprehensibly pleased by this small act. I suppose that the little things can build up over time until they become big things that you can’t quite bring yourself to complain about since they are in reality still small. As I settled down, I realised that I’d just taught myself another tiny lesson about life and people. You never get too old to learn.

The following day, we were off as early as we could safely leave. With the onset of winter, the mornings and evenings were darker, which deprived us of almost three hours of marching time each day. Regardless, I wasn’t going to risk injury by forcing us to start early and finish late, even while we followed a road. I cursed at the delay in setting off, though I was aware there was little I could do about it. The knowing didn’t make me feel any better, but I’d long since become accustomed to almost tolerating things I couldn’t control. I’d half-expected the Flesh Shaper to make himself known on the matter and insist that we march with good speed before first light. He didn’t, and offered no comment at all while we waited for the first glimmerings of daylight to appear on the horizon. Perhaps he’d been told not to interfere, or perhaps he wasn’t entirely ignorant of our requirements.

Late morning, I jogged ahead to catch up with the death sorcerer. Something had been bothering me after a discussion with Lieutenant Craddock on where our journey would take us.

“Terrax!” I called to him. His hooded head turned in the saddle and he pulled on the reins of his dead nag, so that I could walk alongside.

“What can I help you with, Captain?” he asked.

“My Lieutenant has told me that if we continue to the north-east on our current heading, we will pass close to the cities of Scar and Flense.”

“Your Lieutenant may be correct,” said Terrax. “I know not. Does it matter if we come close to these places?”

“Scar is unimportant to our journey. However, Flense is almost on a line directly across from the town of Gold. The Northmen have reached Gold.”

“You are concerned that we will come upon them unprepared? Do not worry yourself, Captain. The Northmen have advanced an almost uniform distance south of their own borders. You are aware that their border veers further north the further to the east we travel. Therefore, I am confident that we will not see them at Flense.”

I felt a sense of relief at his words. We’d had only snippets of information from the north-east and even that was confused and contradictory. “What else do you know about the Northmen that we don’t?” I asked. I had no doubt that the Emperor and his sorcerers knew a lot more than we did and it was of little importance if he knew of our ignorance, since we’d likely soon see a lot more of what was happening within the Empire.

Terrax didn’t answer immediately and I got the impression that he was considering whether he wanted to keep his information to himself or not. Eventually he spoke. “We know little more than you or your Saviour know, Captain Charing. They came from the mountains to the north a number of years ago and then they went away. More recently, they have returned. The first attacks were far from Hardened and news takes time to get to the centre from the periphery, except when magical communication is available. Alas, magic has proven so far useless at finding the source of our foes. There is something in the north which rebuffs our attempts at scrying, and there are many of us who have tried. Besides, Malleus’ northern borders were not seen as a concern, hence the difficulties we face now. The Emperor has always kept his eyes on the deserts and the Unending Ocean to the south.”

“Why?” I asked. “I have been away from the capital for many years. I wasn’t aware that the Emperor feared anything.”

“Fear is a subjective word, Captain. I’m sure you know that Malleus does not fear anything. Or at least, that is what he would like everyone to believe.” He let that last part hang in the air. I could see it for the baited hook that it was and didn’t pursue it. I didn’t like being manipulated.

“Has anything made it across the ocean?” I asked instead.

“Signs and portents, Captain, that is all. The Emperor sees things that I cannot and he keeps his own counsel on the matter. His actions speak louder than his words, and he keeps the bulk of his armies far to the south of Hardened.”

I mused over that. There were several thousand miles from the Empire’s far south to its far north. It was much too far for normal troops to travel in the short term, especially if they were leaving an equal threat to the south. I’d studied snippets of history over the years – an interested man can pick much up, even as he travels – and had learned that an Empire becomes exponentially harder to govern the larger it gets. Malleus ruled an Empire that was very, very large and it was a marvel that the man had kept it in such good order for as long as he had. I had to admit it grudgingly, but from what I’d heard, many of his lands had seen a greater peace and stability than at other times in the recorded past. Duke Warmont’s lands were the inexplicable exception and I’d started to get a sense that Malleus had not wished them to be so riven with turmoil.

“All empires fall, Terrax,” I said, dangling the words in front of him to see if he’d respond.

“Yes Captain, history teaches us this,” he said with his wheezing laugh. “The Emperor fights the dictates of the past. Indeed, he laughs at them and denies their claim on the future.”

I shook my head, half in admiration and half in disbelief at the Emperor’s stubbornness. I wondered for a brief time if the sharp edges of my memories were softening, leading me to assign a greater humanity to the man who had created the First Cohort. The feeling didn’t last long – I wasn’t fond of sentimentality, though it occasionally did its best to creep up on me.

I would have spoken further with Terrax, but the opportunity to continue was denied me. There were shouts from the rear of the column and the message was quickly relayed to the front. Sixty or seventy yards behind, I heard Lieutenant Craddock call a halt. I turned and jogged back to see what had happened, Jarod Terrax temporarily forgotten.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s the cart, Captain. One of the axles has snapped.”

I swore loudly. “We’re still following the road. How come it’s broken so soon?”

I took Craddock with me to have a look. The rear of the cart had sagged, scattering much of our equipment along the hard-packed semi-paved road we travelled along. The horses stood calmly by, unflustered by the sudden activity.

You can’t have a body of armed men in which at least one man in five doesn’t claim to know something about joinery. Soon there was a cluster of men, pointing and discussing the damage to the cart. I could tell by the amount of head shaking that we were about to start carrying a lot more of our kit.

“It’s knackered, Captain,” confirmed Trusty. “Looks like there was a fault in the wood. Besides, these springs are already halfway to shearing. Where’d we get this piece of shit from, anyway?”

I shook my head, since I had no idea. Someone had sourced it and brought it along. I didn’t need to get involved in every single detail.

“All this new-fangled stuff can’t be relied on,” continued Trusty. “We needed an honest, solid wood cart like we used to have.”

I sighed at the mundanity of it all. Just another of the minor irritations that accompany a life on the march. “Pass round the kit,” I said. “We’ll leave the cart behind.”

“What about the horses?”

“Kill them,” I said at once. “We can share out the meat.”

“Captain Charing?” said a familiar voice behind me. I almost jumped – the Flesh Shaper had somehow approached without me being aware of his presence. “With your permission, I might have need of one of those horses.”

“Fine,” I said. “If it’s better use than a pile of bloody steaks, take one.”

Terrax slipped from the back of his horse with a surprising grace. He sized up the two horses and approached the nearest. It shied away, as if it sensed that something was wrong. Terrax reached out a hand, as if to comfort the beast. When he got close enough, I saw his hand flash out and the glint of metal caught my eye. A fountain of bright red blood jetted from the horse’s neck. It screamed in pain and I would have normally expected it to try and bolt, dragging our cart with it. I felt power stream out from the Flesh Shaper. It held the horse’s body, preventing it from flight. All we soldiers could do was watch and listen to the beast’s screaming – a hideous, high-pitched whinnying sound as blood squirted from its neck. Pints and pints of it covered the road, before it gradually slowed to a trickle. The magics which bound the horse abated and it slumped first to its knees and then it rolled onto its side, twitching slightly.

Terrax approached it and watched with interest until all movement had ceased. I felt the Flesh Shaper’s magic channel from his body, though he gave no outward suggestion of effort. Then, to the disgust of everyone apart from Terrax, the horse jerked violently and its eyes opened again. It shook its head and then rolled to its feet. The beast stood obediently while the sorcerer released its yoke and then followed when he led it towards his other steed. Blood continued to seep from the deep slit in its neck. As if he had not a care in the world, the Flesh Shaper swapped over his tack to the new animal. When he was done, the first horse simply keeled over to the ground and didn’t move. The sorcerer climbed nimbly onto his new horse, which made no attempt to shy away from the man who had killed it.

“That old one didn’t have much left in it,” he said, as if musing over the faintest of regrets. “The longer I bring them back, the more their bodies forget how they used to work.”

His words made me realise that his former mount had been moving with an increasingly jerky gait over the last day. There was a limitation to all magic, even the vilest.

As the sorcerer spurred his way back to his customary position ahead of our column, I heard Tinker mutter under his breath. “What have we got ourselves into?”

I turned away, just in time to hear the heavy thump of a sword striking into the neck of the second of our horses. We didn’t revel in death, nor did we wish to inflict cruelty. We slaughtered the beast for food, expertly and without prolonging the pain. The horse died without a sound, and the men butchered its remains.

4

Winter came with the inevitability of time. I expected it to be a bitter one, yet it did not start out so. When I spoke to Jon Ploster about it, he suggested that the magic of the Northmen might not be tied in to the cycle of the seasons.

“You have been thinking that their magic has made the weather colder, as if they can change the natural order of things.”

“How does it work?” I asked with a frown.

“Magic can change many things, but you have seen the warps and wefts, have you not, Tyrus? Can you picture the billions upon billions of threads, each with their own branching strands that you would need to manipulate in order to affect something as vast and implacable as the changing of the seasons?”

I thought about it – every strand affected another strand. The more strands that a sorcerer tried to change, the stronger he needed to be in order to impose his will. I wasn’t a sorcerer, yet I had a certain insight into how magic worked. “Their magic is different to ours, Jon. The Saviour couldn’t break through their barriers, nor could the Emperor or his death sorcerers. They are either vastly more powerful than any of them or vastly different. If it’s the latter, how are we to know what they can do or how they can do it?”

Now it was Ploster’s turn to mull things over. “If Malleus failed to penetrate their veils, I’ll bet that angered him greatly.”

“I am sure it only made him more determined to impose his will upon his new enemy,” I said. “I imagine that he will have worked night and day at their wards, trying to smash his way through them.”

“Brute force and subtlety. That’s what he always had. It’s a dangerous mix in the wrong hands.”

“Let us be thankful that he is not currently directing his energies against our lady,” I said.

We walked for a time in silence. The day was as bright as any we’d seen on the journey up till this point. We’d left Blades twenty-five days ago, abandoning the roads in order to walk across rolling hills and flat grasslands. The most direct route isn’t always the quickest one, but we travelled in a straight line regardless. We crossed wide streams and narrow rivers, whose names I didn’t know and didn’t wonder about. The countryside reminded me how bleak and remote parts of the Duke’s lands were. They didn’t have to be – I could see scope for farmlands, towns and cities. Except there were none of these things. The population of the Dukedom had been falling for decades and the bulk of the men conscripted into the army. I also knew that there were things out here – ancient and evil – which preyed on the lives of people. Perhaps there had once been settlements and farms whose occupants had been murdered by creatures which kept themselves hidden from sight.

My descent into reverie was disturbed by another question from Ploster. “Why does he want us, Tyrus? I mean us in particular. We can fight and in any battle, we are an asset. Yet we are few. Pitifully few now and even at full strength we were not significant in numbers.”

“The Emperor does not act without reason. And if the answer is not immediately apparent, it’s because we haven’t worked out what it is yet, rather than because he is merely being capricious. If he has asked for us, he sees some gain in doing so.”

“And it can’t be just a slight gain, Tyrus. He sees enough gain that he is willing to put aside his claim on the Duke’s lands in order to procure our services.”

“We know that the Northmen have caused him some concern. Or at least we think we know. What can we bring him that his other troops cannot? We are not the only shock troops, and not all of the forces at Malleus’ disposal are human.” I paused for a time and then looked at Ploster. “Only dead men can face the cold, Jon. Maybe we are all he has.”

“Why doesn’t he make more like us?” he asked, his voice now a whisper.

“He may have done so. But if you remember, we took many years to become what we are now, for our bodies to completely die. And though he has never admitted it, I think we were an experiment that he does not wish to repeat. Creating us cost him dear, this I know.”

At twenty-eight days, we saw a sprawling city far to the north. Smoke rose into the sky, casting a low pall above its buildings and reminding me about the devastation suffered when the Duke’s armies had burned half of Gold to the ground. Lieutenant Craddock told me that it was the city of Flense and that the place was wealthy from its cross-border trade with towns and cities in Duchess Callian’s domain. I did vaguely remember something about Flense having copper and iron mines in the vicinity. It was a long time since the First Cohort had been this way, so I forgave myself for the paucity of details that my mind had retained.

I was tempted to send a few men into the city’s outskirts in order to pick up fresh supplies. The diversion might have taken half a day and there was the possibility that someone might cause trouble if they recognized us as the First Cohort. In the end, I decided against it. I heard a few mock groans and complaints from behind, though none of the soldiers were stupid enough to press the matter.

“You’ve got your tents, what more do you want?” I asked them jokingly, trying through humour to make it clear that I had good reason for avoiding the city.

Ahead, Jerod Terrax sauntered onwards, looking neither to the left or the right, his horse decaying beneath him and its stench occasionally reaching us when the wind was heading in the wrong way. It already looked in worse condition than the last one, yet it walked as smoothly and easily as it had when alive. I suspected that if the horse had been struggling he would have asked us to visit Flense. As it was, he remained silent.

A day later and we were a long way distant from Flense. We’d climbed up to high ground and crossed an area that was like an enormous plateau, yet covered in green, lush grass and not so elevated that the low-lying clouds obscured our view. We reached the edge of the plateau and looked down a great, long slope that stretched for miles ahead of us. There was a grey cloud covering and streaks of sunlight broke through in places, striking down upon the ground below and illuminating patches in stark relief to the darker areas around. It was an awe-inspiring sight and I ordered a short pause so that we could look. Terrax didn’t bother to wait and continued as he always had. I doubted that such concepts as beauty had any meaning to the man. At the end of the slope, a vast forest started, a line of seemingly impenetrable green that ran as far as we could see to the north, south and east.

“The Forestwoods,” said Lieutenant Craddock. I’d already guessed.

“I wonder where they got the name from,” piped up a man behind. Usually someone would have made an unfunny joke to explain it to him. On this occasion, no one had enough interest to do so.

“Over there are Callian’s lands,” I said, more to confirm it to myself.

“I wonder how she’ll receive us,” rumbled Sinnar. He’d muscled his way through to the front in order to look.

I had never met her before. In fact, I’d heard few tales. At least none that had been corroborated. “It would be wise if we didn’t encounter any of her troops,” I said. “Things might become strained, especially if she is not expecting us.”

“Strained. That’s a good way of putting it,” said Sinnar. “I’d have thought that our friend down there on the horse would have sufficient clout to ensure she stays in her cage.”

“Now isn’t the time to find out,” I said firmly.

“It’ll take us another month to cross into the Sunderer’s lands,” said Craddock. “At least it will if we don’t change course.”

“We’ve been going fairly straight north-east until now, haven’t we?”

“Straight as a die, Captain. If we’re being led on the most direct course to the Emperor, then Malleus hasn’t moved since we left Blades.”

With nothing else for it, I ordered us to advance and our column wound down the hillside in tight order. Distances can often be deceiving and so it was with the trees. It took us much of the day to cross the open ground before them, with all of us feeling as if there were eyes upon us with each step we took. There were gullies and trenches we could have snaked our way along. When it came to it, there didn’t seem like any point in skulking. If there was anyone watching, they couldn’t have failed to see us, no matter how much care we took. We weren’t averse to sneaking when the need arose, but since I preferred to deal with things head-on, I took us on the most direct route to the trees.

There was still more than an hour of daylight remaining when we reached the treeline. The Flesh Shaper stopped, in order to provide an introduction to the new world that we approached.

“Do you not wish to stop for the night, Captain?” he asked in mocking tones.

“Is there a need to?” I asked, not breaking stride.

“Most men fear the Forestwoods,” he said.

“We are not most men,” laughed Sinnar. “Who gives a shit about a few million trees?”

We used our remaining hour of daylight to continue until it was no longer safe to do so. None of us were superstitious men, nor were we spooked by shadows or the distant calls of wild beasts. The trees were well-spaced, though not so widely that they allowed the day’s light through unimpeded to the forest floor. It was gloomy beneath the canopy and there were many roots and plants ready to snare our feet. Nor was there any sign of a beaten path for us to follow. By the time we’d set camp, I was forced to conclude that I’d been an idiot to proceed.

“Lieutenant Craddock,” I said. “I have made an error in bringing us this way. Do we need to leave the Forestwoods in the morning and follow the treeline north until we find a road, or will we intersect one if we continue?”

He considered it for some time. “Most of the roads are to the south of us, Captain,” he said. “Or at least they were when I learned about this region. This far to the north, the forests are but a fraction the width that they are to the south. I think that if we press on, we should be out of the trees in four or five days. However, my knowledge could be inaccurate.”

“I doubt it,” said Sinnar, sitting on a fallen log nearby. “Trees grow as slowly as we age. If the forests were narrow when you learned about them, I am sure they are little different now.”

We stuck with the course I’d chosen. Walking through the forest reduced our speed by almost half, and there were times I cursed myself for not leading us back out of the woods. In my head, I knew that there’d be little difference in how long it took us to get to where we were going. The Flesh Shaper hardly seemed interested and I wondered what he would do if he thought we were dawdling, or if I chose to take a route that he didn’t agree with. It hadn’t been an issue and it would be easiest if it didn’t become one.

The Forestwoods were criss-crossed with many streams, which meandered to wherever it was they would go. We came to none that caused us a trouble to cross, though we got our feet wet on more than one occasion. The water was always much colder than it looked and I heard many oaths muttered from the men who’d accidentally put their boots into deeper water. We saw no sign of human life and almost no sign of wildlife. Every now and then, birdsong would reach our ears, though the birds themselves remained unseen. There was a smell about the place, too. It was damp and earthy, with fragrance to it that was not entirely pleasant. I was sure the Forestwoods would have seemed a strange and threatening place to travellers who were fearful or possessed an over-active imagination. To we of the First Cohort, it was little more than a place we had to traverse in order to reach our destination, wherever that might be. I didn’t enjoy it greatly, but it made a change to the endless, undulating grasslands of Duke Warmont’s domain.

On the third night we camped as usual, with a muted clatter of weapons being put aside and wooden mallets driving tent posts into the soft earth. We talked about the things that soldiers talk about – the warm beds we didn’t crave and the families who’d died centuries before. Jon Ploster was with us, doing more listening than talking as he usually did when he sat with the other soldiers. The sorcerer was as popular as anyone, yet he was still different to the others in many ways. I saw a look of faint puzzlement appear on his face and then he sat upright, looking alert. I hissed the men into silence and they looked at me expectantly, not yet alarmed.

“What is it, Corporal Ploster?” I asked.

“There’s someone with Terrax. He’s wandered further from camp than he would normally have done. I can sense him almost half a mile to the north.”

“Who is it with him?”

“I don’t know. They have masked their identity, though I can still feel their presence.”

“Eyeball!” I shouted. He was beside me almost at once.

“What is it, Captain?”

“The Flesh Shaper meets with someone to the north. Think you can find him?”

“I can smell him from here, Captain,” he replied with a grim smile.

“Go now. Watch and return. Don’t take risks.”

He went, dashing through the rows of our tents, blurring almost immediately into the darkness of the trees.

“Are we betrayed, Captain?” asked Limpet.

“The death sorcerers play their games,” I replied. “I do not think for a moment that we form the entirety of his interests. Nevertheless, we should be on our guard.”

We always kept our swords close at hand and I doubted there’d be a single man in the camp who didn’t have his dagger tucked somewhere about his person. The men at the fire stirred and shifted, unconsciously checking that their swords were within reach. I tried to put them at ease by saying a few things about nothing. I could tell they weren’t fooled and we all waited to see what news Eyeball would come back to us with.

He wasn’t away for very long. I felt a murmuring in the darkness and Eyeball materialised close by. He looked worried. “I can’t find him, Captain.”

“What do you mean?” I knew that Eyeball had a primitive magic that allowed him to track people. It had limitations, but it had proved invaluable on many occasions.

“One minute he was there, the next he wasn’t. You warned me against taking risks, so I came back to report.” I thanked him and dismissed him to whatever he’d been doing before.

I was a cautious man and this news left me worried. There was little information on which I could act, so I had a triple watch set, wide about our camp and with the men in threes. I didn’t know if Terrax intended to betray us, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Some people ignore their hunches, others follow them no matter how foolish. I always thought I had a pragmatic approach – if there was no downside to following a hunch, I’d often see where it led.

I lay unsettled for much of the night, until I eventually roused myself and headed around the various trios of men who were standing guard. They didn’t think my presence especially unusual – I could be fidgety at times, particularly when I felt that something important lay just beyond my grasp. Of the Flesh Shaper there was no sign, though he’d kept himself outside of our camp on each night up till this point. He wasn’t particularly welcome and I doubted he cared what we thought.

Come the next morning, we packed up our tents and slung our packs around our shoulders. The Flesh Shaper appeared, lurching through the forest’s morning mist like a black-clad messenger of death. His horse had begun to walk with a sway and the flesh had fallen away from it in places. His magic appeared to slow the putrefaction, yet without eliminating it completely. If he didn’t find a new steed soon, I guessed he’d be walking with the rest of us.

I offered no greeting – I rarely bothered to speak to him. He simply waited until he thought we were ready and then wheeled his horse about and set off through the trees, still on his usual north-east course. There were fewer of us today, since I’d sent two men ahead in secret to scout for any surprises. Terrax gave no indication that he’d noticed.

It was another chill day, and where we got a glimpse of the sky above, it was bright, if overcast. I watched the Flesh Shaper intently. I was aware that if you are looking for something, having decided for yourself that it’s there, your brain might fool you into thinking you’ve seen what you wanted to see. The worst person to trick is yourself, but we’re also the easiest to do it to. I was determined not to fall into that trap. Even so, the death sorcerer’s behaviour gave nothing that was overtly a cause for concern. He guided his horse onwards, hardly looking back to see if we were still following.

Come early evening and I’d just started to convince myself that my suspicions were unfounded – that I’d become bored with the lack of action and had been looking for shadows where none existed. The trees thinned out and we entered a shallow basin – two hundred yards across - with a narrow stream running through the centre of it. It was little more than a wide indentation, with hardly any slope to the sides. I had no idea why the trees didn’t grow there. Perhaps the stream had sucked poisonous metals from beneath the ground, which had left them unable to take root.

There was still more than an hour of daylight, which I’d expected us to make use of. Instead, the Flesh Shaper pulled up his horse and raised a hand for us to halt. I signalled agreement and the men behind me stopped smartly. I didn’t slow and walked until I was near to the Flesh Shaper. The horse stank and I saw maggots writhing within an open sore on one of its haunches. I felt sorry for what the beast had been reduced to.

“Why have we stopped?” I asked.

“Does this not seem like a peaceful place to make camp for the night, Captain Charing?” he asked, with the hint of mirth that was always present in his voice.

I could have told him that we cared naught for our surroundings. Instead, I said, “We could make almost two hours further. The last I remember of Malleus, he wasn’t a patient man.”

“Patience is not his strength, but who has the right to insist that patience is always a virtue?” he asked, not responding to the point I’d made. The hooded head turned and I caught a glimpse of pallid flesh underneath. He could tell that I wasn’t going to let the question drop. “I have matters to attend to, Captain. Matters that cannot wait any longer.”

“What matters?” I demanded. “Why must they hold us up?”

“You have spoken of the Emperor’s lack of patience already. It is none of your concern, but I have been called to attend to him. Malleus does not like to wait.”

I didn’t question him further. The Emperor could have been two thousand miles away still, though the distance wouldn’t stop a powerful sorcerer from speaking across such a vast expanse. I walked back to the men. “Set camp,” I instructed. In a lower voice, “Lieutenant Sinnar, have men sent into the trees all around. They are to look as if they are collecting firewood.”

He nodded – we carried a few bundles of kindling and sticks with us, but not enough to keep a fire blazing all night. “I’ll make sure they have their swords to hand,” he said, catching on immediately.

I wasn’t a politician. Regardless, I had been around enough ruthless men to understand that any break in routine was something to be wary of. I watched the Flesh Shaper with renewed interest, yet he still gave away no indication that he was doing anything other than performing the duties asked of him by the Emperor. He dismounted, looked through his pack and then stood motionless, as if he were watching the skies above for a rare bird or an indication of tomorrow’s weather. His behaviour had always been strange and this was nothing different to his usual.

“What has our ally Jarod Terrax done to alarm you so?” asked Ploster, approaching and standing beside me. He knew me well.

“It’s my opinion that he is no friend of ours. Whether that makes him our enemy is another matter.”

“It hasn’t escaped my notice that we’re heading north,” he said. I started at that – I’d been so intent on watching Terrax for anything suspicious that I hadn’t realised we’d altered course.

“You’re certain?” I asked.

“I wasn’t, until I asked Lieutenant Craddock.”

I swore quietly. I didn’t think I’d kept my concerns hidden from my men, but I should have made it clearer that I needed to hear if anything had changed.

“You need to think carefully, Tyrus,” he whispered. “You have little to fuel your doubts.”

“You might be right, Jon. Still, there’s something bothering me and I don’t like it. It strikes me as unlikely that the death sorcerer’s night time meeting with someone in a forest as large as this would be a chance one. I don’t like the idea that there was someone waiting. It may be nothing to concern us.”

“You don’t think so,” he replied.

“We have far more enemies than we have friends,” I said.

“If you think he plans treachery, you should kill him, Tyrus. Here, far away from anyone who might be watching.”

I didn’t have a response to that. We needed Terrax to lead us to the Emperor. Cranmar Sunderer’s lands were vast and we could add weeks or months to our journey if we had no one to guide us. I didn’t know how long it would take for the Emperor to decide that we weren’t coming and order his forces to invade the Saviour’s lands. It wasn’t something I wanted to test.

I left Ploster and walked to Lieutenant Craddock. With the camp set, he had little to occupy him and he was looking afar.

“Lieutenant,” I greeted him.

“What bothers you, Captain?”

“How well do you know the Sunderer’s lands?”

“Not well. I have seen maps. I’ve been there as many times as you have.” We both knew that meant only a handful and on those times we hadn’t travelled extensively.

“Do you trust the maps?” I asked. Some of the Duke’s cartographers could have been justifiably hanged for their inaccuracies.

Craddock smiled – he knew I was a sceptic when it came to maps. “Not all of the Emperor’s nobles have such a contempt of their geography.”

“If we’d continued on our original course, would we have intersected any major towns or cities that you know of?”

He frowned and I could almost see his brain plotting a course through an imagined map of the world as it tried to predict where we’d end up. “We’d have passed close to Tibulon and then Angax,” he said at last.

“Where are those places?”

“Tibulon is almost central in the Sunderer’s domain. Angax is far to the north and east.”

“What if we continued in the same direction as we’ve been led today?”

Again, the frown. “We might come within two or three hundred miles of Bandrol,” he said. “It’s central and to the west.”

“He’s taking us to Angax,” I said at once. “Keep the men alert tonight,” I warned, heading back towards my tent.

I sat alone for a time, crouched at the entrance to my tent. The daylight was slowly replaced by darkness, the tendrils of night winning their ceaseless battle with the sun. Movement caught my eye. Someone came from the treeline to the north, running as fast as he could. There was another man behind him – I recognized him as one of the sentries we’d posted to the north. The first man was Sprinter – one of the two I’d asked to range ahead of us as we travelled. He was an excellent tracker and could run forever. I waved him over and pushed myself onto my feet. I saw at once that he looked worried.

“Anything to report?” I asked.

“Heavy infantry, Captain, and longbowmen. Coming our way from the north. It’s hard to estimate the numbers through the trees – I’d have said more than two thousand. They look well-equipped.”

“Any sign of Flight?” I asked.

“Nothing, sir. He took a path off to the east.”

I dismissed Sprinter and ran to the place Sinnar and Craddock waited. I hauled Ploster with me.

“Ready the men,” I whispered. “Do it without being obvious. We’re about to be ambushed. We need to kill Terrax and we need to do it before they get here.”

I heard a cry from somewhere across the camp. I looked to where the voice had come from. The sound of distant, thundering hooves came to us, and I saw the shape of Jarod Terrax, hunched over his sway-backed horse as it made good speed towards the tree line.

“Shooter, put a spike in him,” I said. My voice was almost lost in the tumult as Craddock and Sinnar urged the men to their feet. Shooter’s bow thrummed and a black missile streaked away, followed by another and another. I don’t know what happened to two of the arrows, but one found a home between the Flesh Shaper’s shoulder blades, visible even in the near-blackness. The death sorcerers were tough as nails so it was no surprise that he didn’t fall – I’d known when I’d given the order that Shooter wasn’t going to kill him. Sometimes, a statement of intent is all you need to show your enemy. Terrax vanished into the trees to the north and was quickly lost from sight.

“Get ready!” I shouted. If Terrax had chosen this moment to flee, it meant that his trap was ready to spring.

At that point, another figure burst from the trees, running flat out and hardly slowed at all by the heavy plates of his armour. I heard the faint flitting sound of arrows through the air. I didn’t see where they landed and Flight joined us, someone handing him his shield as he joined our ranks.

“Infantry from the north-east and east, Captain,” he said. “Three thousand or more, right behind me.”

The news did not get better. Another of our sentries dashed down the slope from the south. I didn’t need to speak to him to guess that our troubles approached from more directions than just the north and east. Another two broke cover from where they’d been posted and ran to join us.

“Lieutenants Craddock, Sinnar!” I barked. “Form square, set us to the east. Fast march! We’ll use the darkness to smash through and escape.”

The enemy may have thought they had us surrounded and had planned to catch us off-guard when we were settled for the night. I was determined that it wasn’t going to work and intended to punch a hole through their lines. Suddenly, there was a growling rumble to accompany the discharge of magic. Above us, the clearing became illuminated by a vast ball of white light, showing us in stark relief against the darkness of the background. Men appeared, a long line of them a hundred yards away to the north. They drew their bows and released. The shafts of their arrows flew into the air, before dropping down upon us.

5

Sounds filled the air. At first, there was the heavy staccato beat of heavy iron arrowheads clattering against the metal of our shields as we hunkered beneath them. With this first volley successfully weathered, we set to a fast march, the overlapping edges of our shields banging against each other and drowning out the muted stamp of our feet across the soft foliage of the clearing. Craddock and Sinnar shouted orders, their voices rising above the din. I felt the air vibrate, the sound so low as to produce nothing audible. Clods of earth fountained into the air to one side, splattering us with musty-smelling soil and leaves. I knew that the enemy sorcerer had tried to tear our formation apart with a burst of percussive energy. I heard Ploster laugh from nearby, a sound of pure delight at his successful deflection of the attack.

“He’s that way, Captain,” he shouted, from beneath the cover of his shield. It seemed strange for a moment – to see him acting like an infantryman.

Sinnar and Craddock had picked up on Ploster’s words and we changed course, until we were going slightly more to the north. The archers loosed another volley and then another. Unprotected troops would have been slaughtered by their attacks, but we held our shields close and stormed up the hill towards them. I could see it in their faces that they’d been angered by how easily we’d repulsed their fire and it goaded them into staying longer than they should have done. Many of the archers turned and ran back into the trees, but a section of their line held in order to aim a final volley. Their determination to get a first kill cost them their own lives. They tried to dash away at the last second, little realising that we could travel much quicker in a square than any other heavy infantry. The tips of our spears took them in their spines, driving easily through the light protection of their leather cuirasses and adding their screams to the cacophony of our charge.

As soon as we crossed the treeline, we entered a world of semi-darkness, filled with moving shapes and shadows. We couldn’t hold our formation in the trees, so we broke into squads of thirty. Fighting amongst trees was awful, dirty work and I hoped the enemy wasn’t trained for it. The trick was to keep our own groups as large as possible and hope that our opponents were dispersed by the trees into smaller groups that we could easily overcome.

I chanced a look behind, before our advance into the trees denied me a clear view into the clearing we’d just escaped. Over two hundred yards back, I saw what I took to be separate units of archers and heavy infantry as they flooded down the slope to the south side of the clearing. Ahead of us, the archers had been nullified by the cover of the tree trunks. They’d doubtless expected to mow down huge numbers of us as we lay in our tents, or sat around our fires. When our square split, a few of them turned and released snap shots at us. I saw Ninks take an arrow in the shoulder, but he ignored the jutting shaft and stuck with his squad.

The enemy infantry was not far behind the archers. I guessed that the bowmen had outrun them as they closed in on our camp and it seemed likely that they’d attacked us sooner than they should have done. If they’d waited, they could have filtered away through the heavily-armoured troops behind them and regrouped more easily.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom and I led my squad forwards. We maintained a short column as best as we were able and adjusted our speed to the unevenness of the ground. To our right I could see Sinnar’s group and Craddock’s was further right again. It’s a stupid man who fights in the dark, except where he has no choice. Whoever it was that we faced had evidently been so confident of a quick victory that he’d made no plans for what might happen if the ambush failed. To his modest credit, he’d kept the heavy infantry together and they came towards us in a rough line, which wavered and broke around the stout trunks, before reforming again. In the chaos, we knew that everyone was our enemy, whilst the infantry had to decide in the half-dark whether we were friend or foe. In daylight, there would have been no disguising who we were. Here, we were able to get close to their men before they could identify us.

My squad struck an area of their line where they held their spears high. The message had evidently not yet reached them about what had happened to the archers. We lowered our spears and crashed into them, shouting as we did so, to instil them with fear and to bolster our strength. It was almost too easy – our front five thrust their spears through breastplates and flesh alike. I saw Scratch discard his spear, which had completely impaled his man and draw his sword. Two other men dropped their spears and drew their own blades. Rune-etched steel glowed with the faintest of lights.

Screams filled the night and the earthiness of the forest air was joined by the metallic sweet tang of fresh blood. The place where we’d engaged was hardly three men deep and even then, they weren’t in tight formation. Our column punched clean through them. Beneath my feet, I felt something crunch as I stepped upon fingers or ribs. The man gave no sound, already dead from a sword thrust to the heart. With that, we were through them, the woods ahead beckoning invitingly for us to make our escape. Nothing ever seemed to be that simple.

There was another rumble to the left, followed by the pattering of ejected soil falling through leaves. The sorcerous light reappeared, just beneath the canopy thirty feet above the forest floor and centred eighty or more yards to the west. I looked over and saw that Stumble and Hacker’s squads had been caught in the light. The enemy had been more closely gathered there and it looked as if they were already regrouping and offering a much greater resistance than we’d met.

“Corporal Ploster, can you get that sorcerer?” I shouted at him. He was three men back in my squad.

“I already did, Captain,” he said. His face looked haggard.

“Then there’s another,” I said. “Tell us where he is. Or find him and kill him!”

He didn’t speak and pointed away to the left, towards where the fighting was at its thickest. I looked again towards Sinnar and Craddock’s squads. Rather than dashing away into the darkness, they’d waited to see what happened to the other groups. Sinnar was closest and he watched to see what I commanded. He towered above his men and stood calmly while his own squad hewed about them, taking down the enemy infantry in great numbers. We were all loyal to each other and there was not a chance that we’d abandon our fellows. My own squad found itself in an oasis of calm. The remains of the enemy where we’d broken through had scattered or ran towards their fellows on the left. In the split second I had before giving my orders, I saw how badly outnumbered we were. It looked as if we’d broken through on their flank, whilst the majority of their troops remained in the middle. In the end, it mattered little. When all is chaos, the stronger arm and the man with the greatest ferocity will win.

“Left!” I shouted to my men. The sound of my voice carried to Sinnar and he echoed the command with his own. I heard Craddock repeat it, further away again.

We charged through the trees. After fifty paces, we entered the sphere of sorcerous light. Stumble’s men were there. They were holding together, fighting back-to-back. The weight of their heavy shields would have weakened lesser men, but I saw no sign of fatigue as they butted against the smaller shields of the enemy. They weren’t surrounded even if it seemed likely that they soon would be, with more and more of the enemy arriving through the trees. Drawn from the north and the west by the light, they came. I knew there’d be little time until the troops I’d seen to our south reached us.

The urgency spurred my actions and my strides lengthened, carrying me to the front of my squad. I shoulder charged one of their infantry and sent him hurtling to one side in a daze. I slowed not at all and engaged with another man, who had turned when he saw our approach. He died, though I can’t remember exactly where my blade fell upon him. We did our best to join with Stumble’s men, though in the heat of the melee it was hard to reform and the enemy did his best to keep things scrappy. Whoever commanded them, he was either elsewhere or a fool.

“Where’s Hacker?” I heard someone shout.

“There!” someone answered. “Over there!”

I was tall enough to see over the heads of most men if I stretched. Another fifty paces distant, I watched steel rise and fall, fancied I could hear the cries of the wounded. Everything dropped into place for me as my inner senses took a firm grasp of the battlefield. I confess I was a man who liked control. I liked to see the units move around under my command, as if they were pieces on a board. When everything became fragmented, it took longer for me to see what I needed to see - like the men of magic who find it progressively harder the more threads of the world they try to twist to their will.

The arrival of my squad gave new impetus to Stumble’s men. Our angry shouts drowned out the battle cries of our opponents as we waged war with noise as well as our swords and our shields. In the clamour and confusion, I tore a huge hole through one man’s spine, before turning and shattering the nose and jaw of another with my shield. He tripped over something on the ground and fell. His death came regardless when Grids kicked him in the side of his helmeted head, snapping his neck.

From out of nowhere, angry flames washed amongst us. They appeared around us in a deep, crimson hue unlike any flame I’d seen before. The magic howled and tore at our flesh, trying to destroy us. All about, I saw the tattoos on my men’s skin flare up, their intricate patterns warding off the enemy sorcerer’s attempts to incinerate us. The flames claimed none of ours, but they were indiscriminate, blistering and charring the flesh of the men we faced. Many of their infantry panicked, fleeing in agony or rolling on the ground to quench the fire. They died and were replaced by others – more and more streamed into the sphere of light from all directions, drawn by the white glow to our location.

The flames vanished and the battle madness came to me. My brain took the chaos and turned it into order, giving me all the time in the world to look around. The air was a mixture of dazzling colours and movement. Sorcerous light reflected eerily from the spraying blood, the bright white of our teeth and the fading blue of our sigils. Silver patterns of steel and armour wove their patterns of death and I revelled in it. Not in the deaths of men, but in the battle of strength and the battle of wills between us. I decapitated a man – my blade cutting easily through the protective steel of his neck guard and sending his head spinning away, to be lost amongst the dance.

Sinnar joined. When the mist descended he was a juggernaut against mere men, as if a beast of tremendous, calculating rage possessed him and gave him a power that transcended even his huge physical form. He thundered into their ranks, with his men behind him. He had his shield across his back and wielded his sword with both hands, sweeping aside his opponents with ease and leaving terrible wounds that their armour could not prevent.

Our arrival forced them back. We were fewer in number, but we were stronger. They kept on coming – more and more from the forest around us, yet they couldn’t stop us. Hacker’s squad were close now. Our opponents had singled his thirty out as an easier target and they did their best to encircle his men. Craddock reached us, bolstering our rear, and I sensed the remaining squads were close.

I saw something – at the far edges of the light. There was a man, standing impassively in the shadows of a tree. His robes were black, his head was bald and he carried a shortsword. Now that my eyes were upon him, I could feel the energy surging out of him as he plucked at the strands of power. He tried to burn someone with mageflame – I read it as easily as I could read the words on a page – and then he tried again. His efforts were rebuffed by something – Ploster - and I could feel the man’s frustration growing.

I plunged my sword into the thigh of an enemy soldier, leaving him with a wound that would kill him in a few seconds. I found myself with space and I burst away from the main body of the fighting and ran towards the sorcerer. Some of my men came with me, though I didn’t see their faces. The robed man saw me immediately and waited for me to come closer. There was no fear in his eyes and he raised his hand, pointing his palm towards me. His death magic tried to tear the life from my body and leave my corpse twitching amongst the leaves. I ignored it and shattered his ribcage with a swing of my sword, the blade dragging out a mess of his innards with it. He fell and I kicked his head on the way down, furious that he had murdered the men on his own side as he tried to kill us. With his death, the betraying light winked out, reducing the battlefield to a scrum of noise and shadows.

“We have to get back, Captain,” said a voice. It was Grids, his eyes glittering as he tried to make out the details of the battle. Tander was with him. He held his shield defensively as if he expected a blow to land at any moment. We’d come further from the Cohort than I’d realised, or the melee had gone away from us in the few seconds it had taken to kill the sorcerer.

I didn’t speak a reply and simply broke into a run towards my men, with Grids and Tander following. The other squads had joined with Hacker and as far as I could tell, all of our groups were together. We probably only had minutes until the darkness would become too much of an impediment for any of us to fight in. I was still yards away from the rest of the Cohort when something grasped at my leg. My speed and weight tore me free, but I almost fell headlong to the earth. I righted myself and continued, chancing a look behind. Something rose from the ground, then others joined it, struggling to raise themselves upright. At first, I couldn’t make sense of what I saw. Then, the nearby body of an infantryman shuddered violently and he rose to his feet like he was pulled upright by a thick rope. Something glistened at his neck – a deep wound that I knew would have been fatal.

In front and all around, more of the enemy dead clambered to their feet. Their armour was smashed and punctured, with rivulets of blood drying across the polished steel. I came close to one and hit him in the side of the head with my sword. The top of his skull was ripped away and the man slumped to the ground at once. I joined with my men, Grids and Tander only a moment behind. “The Flesh Shaper,” I shouted.

Lieutenant Craddock looked across. “Understood,” was all he had time to say, before he resumed his efforts to repel the living men who pressed endlessly against our flank.

I turned and saw dozens upon dozens of shapes running towards us from the north and the east. Even in the darkness I could see the jerkiness as the death sorcerer’s magic tried imperfectly to operate the vessels which the dead men had become.

“Watch to the flanks!” I roared, fearful that some of my men might be unaware of the threat. To the far side, soldiers turned just in time to defend themselves from the corpses of men they thought defeated. Death magic wouldn’t frighten us – we’d seen this before and sent the bodies back to their graves again.

Craddock pushed his way through until he was close to me. All about us, there were grunts and curses as we focused on defending ourselves against our opponents.

“We have to get out,” I said. “There’ll be no victory for us if we stay put.”

In the distance, I heard something. It was neither a roar, nor quite a howl. It was a vile noise that did not come from anything living. I knew what it was, and I could see from the faces around me that the others did too.

“As if it couldn’t get any worse,” I said.

Lieutenant Craddock grinned unexpectedly. “It makes you feel alive again, doesn’t it?” I grinned back and he clawed his way through the struggling mass of bodies to a position where he could order the withdrawal. I found myself still on the outer edge of the Cohort and pushed my shield into a position between Weevil and Ninks. I could have taken command of the withdrawal, but sometimes it was nice to show my face to the men. They all knew I couldn’t stay away.

“Was that noise what I thought it was, Captain?” asked Weevil. A blade clashed off his shield. I lunged forward and plunged my blade into a dead man’s neck, exposing the whiteness of bone at his throat. He ignored the damage and I struck him again. This time he fell away. I heard Craddock and Sinnar shout the orders and I saw our line straighten and heard the clank of shields as they interlocked, like the shutters closing along a street of houses when a storm approaches.

“I reckon,” was all I had the time to say. I heard Craddock shout again and we disengaged from the enemy infantry. In the dark, it was easy for us to surge one way to drive them back and then break off in the opposite direction. I think they had little appetite to fight us. Perhaps their commander had fallen to an unlucky blow early on, leaving them without leadership. The Cohort split neatly into two parts so that we could pass more easily through the trees, and we moved to the north-east in wide columns at a half-run. The men at the rear used their shields to protect against the living infantrymen who chose to pursue us. Even those soon fell behind, unwilling to give chase once they got sight of their dead former comrades.

The servants of the Flesh Shaper were not easily dissuaded from following us. We’d faced hundreds of Nightingale’s dead citizens a few months ago. That battle had been a terrible one, though we had learned where best to strike these creatures in order to break the magic’s hold upon them. We aimed our blows at their heads, hoping to destroy the tissue of their brains within. Our opponents wore helmets and it wasn’t easy to dispose of them in a single hit, especially when we were trying to run over treacherous ground at the same time. Once or twice, someone among us tripped and had to be pulled upright by the men around him, so that we wouldn’t have to break stride. We’d faced it all and I was proud that we’d adapted so readily.

There was another of the rasping howls behind us, this time loud enough to be clearly heard over the sound of our boots and the skirmishes all around our flanks. It was coming closer. Underfoot, the ground became covered in what I took to be soft needles from the trees above us, the green faded to a brown that made them hard to distinguish against the night. They were thickly-spread and they concealed the unevenness of the forest floor. Weevil put his foot under a root and staggered forward. The timing was bad for him and he took a sword thrust into his upper arm. I knocked the corpse back with my shield. Weevil cursed and recovered his footing in time to keep pace.

I was close to the rear of our second column and was in a better position than Craddock and Sinnar to judge our predicament. It’s easy to break away from an organised foe in darkness, but the dead men which the Flesh Shaper threw against us didn’t care about formation, nor were they fearful of our blades. I believe that only a man who cares for his life or his fellows can fight well. Once you deprive him of these things, he is no longer an effective weapon. Hundreds of them continued to pursue us – individually they were hardly a worry, yet we were not able stop and give them our full attention. We’d run for seven or eight minutes, which was probably enough to ensure the living infantry wouldn’t engage with us again. However, it wasn’t the living or the Flesh Shaper’s raised army of dead men that we hoped to escape.

There was a crashing sound somewhere away in the darkness, beyond the massed packs of dead. I fancied I saw a shape – something massive and bulky caught for a moment against a lighter part of the background. I swore loudly. It would be upon us soon.

Something happened that I had not expected. It was so far away from any imagined outcome that I could never have guessed at it in a hundred years of trying. The night was suddenly lit up. A fierce orange light overtook us, showing details of the trees and ground nearby. I looked and dozens – perhaps hundreds – of the Flesh Shaper’s minions had burst into flame. Columns of orange reached for many feet above their heads as they were incinerated, burning their fats and their muscles so quickly that their bodies were shrivelled into blackened pillars of char. The flames greedily reached out to their fellows, washing over armour and onto the dead skin beneath. So bright was the light that I had to shield my eyes as I ran and I squinted to block out the glare.

We didn’t slow, though our pursuers faltered as the fire tore through them. They tripped over each other and scrambled up again, only to be caught by a fresh wave of flames. Further away, there was something in the darkness, that continued its approach towards us. I imagined the impossibly heavy bulk of the creature shaking the leaves from the trees above. I knew it was much faster than anyone could have thought it to be.

As we ran, I looked ahead once more. The light of the flames was flickering and fading now as it consumed its fuel with unnatural speed. In front and to the side, I saw a figure. He was tall and dressed in black clothing, with a wide-brimmed hat on his head, pulled low to hide a face I couldn’t have seen through the darkness anyway. Wreaths of smoke surrounded the figure, swirling and rising as his body smouldered beneath his tunic. I got the unnerving sensation that he was looking directly at me. He raised his hand and pointed away directly north, indicating that we should take a different course.

“Lieutenant Craddock, Sinnar! Due north!” I shouted.

At once, we changed direction, many feet pounding a new path through the forest. The flames which had ripped into the Flesh Shaper’s creatures had given us the opportunity to put some distance between us and them. They nipped at our heels, though their numbers were now much fewer. The darkness which had descended again hid the true threat from sight. We could hear it still – the night didn’t conceal the sound of its footfall as it brushed through the trees. It was close to the place where the dark figure had been standing. I didn’t think we could outrun it and I was already calculating when would be the best time to bring us to a halt so that we could face it in formation.

Before I could make a decision, the light returned. This time it was far brighter than before. I looked again, just in time to see an explosion that could have torn apart the walls of a castle. Red-orange fire bloomed and blossomed two hundred yards away, roiling with fury as it expanded. The sound reached us, cascading over and around, bringing with it a hint of the superheated air from the blast’s centre. I saw trees fall, their mighty trunks knocked aside like twigs. Somewhere in the centre, a monstrous shape cast a perfect silhouette as it was hurled through the air and out of sight, gone in the darkness. There was a screech, which we heard in the aftermath of the explosion, letting us know that our pursuer wasn’t yet killed.

“Shit,” I heard someone say and realised it was me.

6

We didn’t slow. The figure I’d seen had clearly intended for us to go somewhere or find something. I knew who he was and on this night, I was willing to trust his advice. The darkness was now almost complete and I worried that we might miss something we were expected to see, or we might lose someone if they fell out of formation and were somehow unnoticed. I’d almost forgotten about Ploster in the heat of the combat. He came to our aid by summoning light to assist us. His power lay in other areas and the light he brought was hardly enough to illuminate our way. It was enough – a beacon that shone over the hazards that might have otherwise remained hidden in the night. I didn’t matter that we might be seen – the beast that came after us didn’t need light to find where we’d gone.

A shape came into view, a little way off to our left. We saw it through a gap in the trees and made towards it. It was a square tower, built from grey stone and standing in the middle of a circular clearing. It could have been thousands of years old and it loomed above us, decaying and abandoned. There is a feeling you get from ancient places – some you approach and can feel a sense of menace, as if the stones themselves retain a memory of evil that once lived within. With this place, there was no sensation of threat. All I felt was a strange sadness and the faintest hint of unease.

We crossed the clearing. There was grass here, where the sun and rain could properly nourish it. The tower in the centre was three storeys tall and the walls were only forty feet to a side. Deep slits had been cut into the surface at irregular intervals, presumably intended as windows. It had neither a moat, nor surrounding walls for protection. There was a door in the wall to one side – it was eight feet tall and broad. The thick, dark wood reminded me of the gates in the walls of Treads. The gate to this keep had no iron banding to reinforce it and something told me it wasn’t necessary. I muscled my way through the soldiers who had already begun to mill without purpose. The door had no handle on the outside. Not sure what to expect, I placed my hand upon the surface – it was as cold as stone. I pushed and to my surprise, it swung open without a noise. It was dark behind and a cold draught brushed past me. It smelled old and I found myself relieved that for once there was no stench of death.

I took five men inside with me, including Ploster for his light. The first room was completely bare and its walls were unadorned apart from sconces in the wall to hold torches. There were two square doorways leading from each of two walls. I guessed there’d be four rooms on this level. I could hear muted conversation as it washed in from the men outside, but otherwise there was a complete absence of noise. I thought about our options – we could continue to run, or we could stay here and see what the passing night brought to us. In the end, the decision was an easy one to make.

“Bring them in,” I said to one of the men with me. He turned and left, in order to deliver his message.

The men trooped inside. They looked dirty and grim. Their armour was dented and filthy with the blood of our enemy. I saw many who carried injuries, with one man missing half of his lower jawbone. It was Cricks – I clapped his shoulder as he walked by. He tried to grin, but he was missing too many teeth.

I sent teams to search the tower and to make sure we were alone. We needed to secure the door, which was easily done. There were three heavy bars of wood that could be slid into grooves in the stone behind the door, preventing it from opening. I didn’t know if they’d stop the Hungerer from getting it open, but it probably wouldn’t have fitted through the opening. It was strong though and could likely rip the surrounding stone blocks free if it were given time.

I spent the next fifteen minutes attending to the most important tasks. I had a hundred men stationed in the room behind the door, with Sinnar in command. I told him to be ready for anything. In the room adjacent, someone had managed to set some torches burning in the walls. I didn’t wonder how they’d managed it – some of the men possessed an unusual ingenuity when it came to fire. The light was poor, yet it was enough to see. Corporal Grief and Slicer had already begun their work to repair the damage done to our wounded. Normal injuries didn’t kill us, nor did they fester. All but the worst would heal in days rather than weeks or months. There were over forty in the room who felt they’d been hurt enough to need attention. We were a stoic lot and I imagined there’d be at least the same number again who carried minor hurts that they’d keep quiet about, in order that Grief and Slicer could see to the more seriously injured first.

“Anyone not going to make it?” I asked. I didn’t need to whisper– we didn’t embrace the possibility of our own deaths, but we didn’t fear it either. Every man who left us would be honoured and remembered for his service to the Cohort.

Grief looked at me and smiled. I took it as a good sign. “There’re a couple I wasn’t sure about,” he said, pointing to two men nearby. One was Flurry. He was out of his armour and clothes, and had his eyes closed. His body was a criss-cross of black thread. I’d long since ceased to be surprised at the speed with which Grief and Slicer could patch us up.

“I’m not sure how he made the run. I think he’ll still be with us in the morning,” said Grief. “As will Eagle.” I looked about and couldn’t see where they’d put Eagle. I didn’t want to lose one of our two archers. I trusted Grief’s judgement and didn’t pursue it.

I left them to their work – they’d be on with it for several hours, I guessed. I ordered someone to do a count of who we had with us. As usual, I feared the worst and hoped for the best. For almost the first time since we’d given our service to the Saviour, it seemed that good fortune had shone brightly upon us. Every man who had left Blades was still alive. I didn’t believe in gods or higher beings, so instead gave thanks to our fellowship and loyalty to one another.

I’d put men on the upper floors to look out of the windows. The night was all-encompassing and there was no way they would be able to see anything that approached. If anything came, the only notice we’d have would be the sound of their approach. As I looked around the upper two floors, I stopped at each man in turn and offered him some words about how well we’d done to escape the trap that had been set for us. Most of them wanted to know about our casualties and I gave them whatever details they wanted.

The tower itself had no imagination applied to its interior and was purely functional. The walls were constructed from heavy stone blocks, which had been cut beautifully and fitted together without gaps. There were four rooms to each level, with a set of stone steps being the means to ascend. I climbed once to the top and then came down again to the ground floor. Although our safety might have been only temporary or even illusory, the good humour quickly returned to the men now they’d learned that no one had been killed.

“You’re going to empty our lady’s treasury with all these tents you keep buying and losing, Captain,” joked Trusty. We’d had to leave almost everything behind us when the enemy had attacked.

“I’ll bet he’s still got his own tent, stashed away somewhere. While us poor foot soldiers get to sleep in the snow.”

“It’s not snowing, is it?” asked another man, evidently badly-versed in the repartee. His comment ended the ribbing before it had even begun.

“What’s the Hungerer doing out here, Captain,” asked Radge. “And was that the Pyromancer?”

“They were fighting, weren’t they?”

I shrugged and told them I didn’t have answers for them yet. I had a head filled with thoughts which I was reluctant to share until they were more fully-formed. It wasn’t that I felt myself above the other men, it was just that most of them liked to see things in black or white. All I could picture at that moment was an infinite series of greys. I thanked them for their efforts and went off to find Jon Ploster.

I found the sorcerer on the top floor, alone in the furthest room from the front door. A tiny sliver of light came through the window from the moon in the sky outside. When I’d seen him during the conflict earlier on, he’d looked worn. He looked little better now and had dark circles ringing his eyes. I leaned against the wall and stared outside to see if there was any clue as to what our enemy intended. All was quiet.

“What a mess,” he said at last. “What a tangled web we are caught up in.”

I laughed at that. “You have a talent for the understatement,” I replied. “Is this the Emperor’s death sorcerers playing with each other while Malleus is to the north, or are we seeing them wage open war against him and his rule?”

“At least we know where the Pyromancer got to,” he said. “I’ve never seen such power before.”

“It’s all he does and he does it well,” I replied.

“Has the Emperor betrayed his word, Tyrus?” he asked quietly. For once I could see that he needed reassurance.

“I don’t know, Jon. I’ve seen him speared by his promises before, when he’s suffered from his unwillingness to break them. I cannot imagine that he would change. The man is intransigent.”

“I am not sure why, but it will make me feel better if I know that Malleus at least hasn’t changed. I owe him no love or loyalty, yet he’s still a part of us.”

“I agree with you. I think we’re only seeing a tiny section of a much larger picture. This contest will spin itself out into tragedy for everyone who becomes involved. I would not like to be caught in the middle of it.”

“We’re too late for that,” he replied. “We have seen two death sorcerers and the Emperor’s beast here tonight. Two of them were looking to destroy us. Are we so important?”

“It is worrying that our enemies should find us so significant that they will put such effort into killing us.” I remembered something else. “Those troops we saw – they were Callian’s men. They wore no livery, but they could have been none other since they could not disguise their accents.”

“This means rebellion, Tyrus. Or at least that is the only conclusion I can reach. We have the Emperor away from his capital. His death sorcerer colludes with his nobles to kill us. All the while, our lady remains in Blades, helpless to influence events which will doubtless affect her.”

“Might it work in her favour?” I wondered. “Her armies are small in number, yet not so small that they couldn’t give a bloody nose to a badly-led enemy. And though a lot of Warmont’s men were young, there are still many veterans in the ranks. They’ve been fighting for years.”

“They’ve been fighting for years, but we defeated them,” Ploster said with an air of resignation.

“Think about it! A man who hates his master will not fight for him. Fear might drive him on, yet he will never fight willingly. Without determination, that soldier will always lose the hardest battles. When he wavers, he will crumble and run, rather than take strength from his fellows and stand.”

“The Saviour will change them,” he said with the sudden fervour of a man who believes.

“She will change them!” I said with passion. “With or without Lieutenant Sinnar to shout at them and beat them into shape. She will bring out the best in them, because what she offers is a share of the spoils. The men on her side will have their freedom and their children will have theirs. They might not realise it, but if they follow the road far enough, they will eventually have peace and prosperity.”

“That road is a long one indeed,” he said. “It takes many generations until the people of a land forget about better times. I’ll bet the Duke cursed their long memories every time he heard that a new rebellion had sprung up somewhere a thousand miles from his seat.”

“And let us not forget that the Saviour is imbued with some of Gagnol the Blackhearted’s essence. If she can resist his darkness, her magic will be enough to turn the tide of many a battle.”

“I hope so,” he said. “Callian’s duchy is far wealthier than the lands of the Saviour. She has mostly had peace for two hundred years. Her armies are large, yet there is a chance that they are soft beneath the surface.”

“There is too much we don’t know,” I said, banging my fist on the stone in a sudden frustration. “Why is this happening now? The Emperor has brought power and wealth to his nobles. Why might they decide to turn against him? Is this the start of something which has been decades in the planning? Or do the players feel as if they’ve been provided with an opportunity which they can’t ignore?”

“What are you going to do, Tyrus? Are you going to return to the Saviour?”

It was the question I knew had to be answered and one which had been wheeling around in my head, waiting for me to pull the pieces from where they spun in order to coalesce my thoughts into an answer. Malleus was a long way ahead and the journey would surely be fraught with conflict and pursuit. I couldn’t even be certain that the Flesh Shaper had been taking us to the Emperor in the first place – everything might have been a betrayal from the outset and Malleus might yet be in Hardened, unaware that his death sorcerer had led us a thousand miles from Blades. This might even be a part of a larger plan of the Emperor’s own, to take us from the Saviour. I wondered about this for a moment, before I rejected the idea. Malleus took his word seriously and I couldn’t imagine that he’d ever permit it to be used for trickery. Then there was the appearance of the Northmen. The Gloom Bringer had told us that the Emperor had problems and these creatures from the north were the only thing I knew about that could have caused him to take once more to the field. A voice inside my head suggested that the Gloom Bringer herself could have been part of a plot. The ideas spun again and threatened to overwhelm me with indecision. When I felt the worries surge within me, I did what I always did and swept them aside.

“We’re going onwards,” I said. “To the Emperor. Come what may, I am going to see the man again and I am going to get answers. I am sure that Malleus holds information about these Northmen that will serve our lady in good stead for the coming years.”

Ploster smiled wanly. “Do you hope to find that he’s mellowed?” The unspoken question was there. Could we somehow forge a peace on behalf of the Saviour, that might allow her to coexist with the Emperor? Would she even permit that to happen if it were an option?

“We all change over time, Jon. Even the Emperor will be a different man to the one we remember. On the surface he will seem unchanged, but the years will have altered him, no matter how much he’s tried to fight against it.”

“That sound like Malleus,” he said with a chuckle. “He never liked to concede anything.”

The conversation tailed off. There were things I could have attended to, but for the moment I continued to look through the window into the blackness of the night. The moon’s light was teasing – promising details, yet not revealing them sufficiently for me to make sense of what I saw outside. There could have been movement, or it might have been nothing more than the trees stirring in the breeze.

“This tower is old, Tyrus. I can feel the ages seeping from the stones of the walls.”

“I would be interested to know who built it and for what purpose,” I said. I had an occasional interest in architecture and history; sometimes I felt enough curiosity to ponder over the things I saw or discovered.

“It’s thousands of years old. There was magic here once. The source is gone, leaving only lingering echoes. There must have been a tremendous force for me to detect it after all these years.”

“The Pyromancer knew of it,” I said. “He directed us towards it.”

“This isn’t the magic of a death sorcerer,” he said. “They are exceptionally strong, but their magic is different. Whoever or whatever was here possessed great power and their sorcery is reluctant to leave the place.”

“They left behind no clues. In fact, they left behind almost nothing.” I looked outside the window again. This time there was movement, though it was the gentle fall of snowflakes which caught my eye. They were thick and heavy, the sort that would settle quickly. “Winter has finally caught up with us.”

“I’ve hardly even noticed the cold,” he said. “As if our encounter with the Northmen has made me even less susceptible to it.”

“One thing’s for sure – the snow will make it easier for our pursuers to find us if we escape from here.”

“Why’d you bring us to the tower?” he said. I knew why he asked – if we holed up in here we would be easy to contain.

“Another hunch,” I said. “Not just a hunch. A feeling that if we stayed outside, the Hungerer and the Flesh Shaper might have an advantage over us. We don’t know the land, but we know how to defend a tower like this one. The armies of Callian are not our biggest concern.”

He nodded. Sometimes there are no right answers and you have to go with the one you feel will bring you out of the fight with the fewest casualties.

I left him in peace and went down to the ground floor. The men had done their best to get comfortable, a task made almost impossible with our packs lying abandoned in the clearing some distance away. Doubtless they’d be stolen and used to keep someone else warm. I didn’t mind – I could hardly begrudge our enemy for doing it. They’d be soldiers like us, the only difference being the person they fought for.

I spoke to Lieutenants Sinnar and Craddock for a time, to gather their opinions and observations on our situation. They were as surprised as we all were at the way things had turned. Craddock was studious and methodical and spoke with calmness and reflection. Sinnar had his own thoughts and I could tell that he was itching to get some manner of violent revenge on our betrayers. The two men were almost completely different in their approach, yet each was as effective as the other. I was lucky to have them.

“I wonder why they haven’t attacked yet,” grumbled Sinnar. “Even if it’s too dark for the men, I’m sure the death sorcerers don’t need daylight to bring their magic to bear.”

“Don’t be too eager, Lieutenant. We’ve got plenty of casualties who need time to recover,” I told him.

“They’ve got plenty of casualties too, I reckon,” he said with his customary grin. “I wonder how they reacted when they saw their dead fellows jump to their feet.”

“I doubt their morale is good,” said Craddock.

He was right – Callian’s men had seen their ambush fail, they’d had a good many of their numbers killed and then seen those dead men come back to fight again. Most men can accept the defilement of their corpse during the chaos of a battle, but no man wants to think that his body will be used again after his death. I could imagine the fear amongst them – the terror that a tiny fragment of their living, conscience essence might still be trapped within the animated husk, hideously aware of the depravations being done, yet completely unable to prevent it happening.

I left Craddock and Sinnar and crossed to the room where Corporal Grief and Slicer were still at work. There was a low hubbub in here as the men talked amongst themselves and compared injuries. We’d all been hurt countless times, yet the fascination with the wounds our bodies sustained never went away. Most of the soldiers were in good spirits – even exchanging darkly humorous jokes with the men who sewed them up. Eagle and Flurry, who had been the most badly hurt, looked dead. I stopped by each of them and was relieved that they appeared to be asleep. We didn’t usually need to sleep, though it was a state that was far easier to find when we were badly injured.

As last, I stopped my rounds of the building. I am sure most of the men would have recognized my fidgeting inability to settle as a sign that I was worried about something, and they’d have been correct. I found an unoccupied section of the wall, sat back against it and closed my eyes. The stone was smooth and the deep chill within the blocks provided a welcome distraction. I spent the night awake, with my mind somewhere far away.

7

The morning light came and outside the snow had settled thickly. It turned the clearing around the tower into a featureless circle of whiteness and fooled the eye into seeing the ground as perfectly flat. The trees were a mixture of browns, drab greens and brilliant white where the snow had managed to settle upon the leaves. The sky was clear and the air had a pureness that you can only find in nature and even then, only rarely.

“A day to savour, Captain,” said Sinnar, rubbing his hands together. I knew he wasn’t cold – he was excited to see what the day would bring.

“There are few like it,” I agreed. We were on the second floor, looking through different windows. I knew that something awaited us outside – something that wanted us dead. I wasn’t scared – we must take such moments when they come to us, without allowing our worries to sully them.

“Movement,” he said.

From the trees, they came. Silently and with an unnatural gait, they trooped into the clearing. Even across the seventy intervening yards I could see the damage to their armour and the wounds on their bodies.

“The Flesh Shaper lives, then,” grunted Sinnar.

Without warning, the risen dead were stopped in their tracks, as if they’d walked into an invisible wall fifty yards from the tower. They clawed at the air and thrashed, but something prevented them from coming closer. I called Ploster to come and look.

“There must be old wards, buried in the ground,” he said. “I didn’t feel them when we passed over them last night. Whatever they are there to guard against, it isn’t us.”

“They must be strong,” said Sinnar.

“Yes, Lieutenant. To have retained their potency over thousands of years, they must have been created by a sorcerer of immense power.”

Then, I saw him. The Flesh Shaper came into view, riding his sway-backed horse like a master surveying his domain. He sauntered along, his hooded face looking directly at the tower. A few soldiers came into our room to let us know what we’d already guessed – the tower was surrounded.

“I reckon eight or nine hundred, Captain,” ventured one man.

“We must have killed more than I thought,” I said to him.

“They’re nothing we can’t handle,” said Sinnar. “The fact that we’ve killed them once means we can kill them again.”

“I wonder where Callian’s men are,” Ploster said.

“Probably camped somewhere close, but not so close that they are forced to watch their dead friends and comrades,” I guessed. “I think you’re right Lieutenant – there’s nothing there that we can’t smash through.”

As if to make me out as a fool, we became aware of a cracking sound from somewhere in the trees. It reached us faintly, yet with enough detail for us to realise that there was something massive out there.

“The Hungerer. It’s staying out of sight,” said Ploster.

“I’m not sure I like the odds now,” I said with good humour. When there was nothing I could do about something, I didn’t like to grumble.

The Flesh Shaper drew his horse to a halt and dismounted. His dead slaves parted to allow him to pass and he came closer to the wards around the tower. The death sorcerer stopped just short of the perimeter, as though he was too proud to let us see him defeated by the magic which protected us. I felt a whispering sensation through the warp and weft as Jarod Terrax tested the wards. The distance was great, but I felt that he’d been rebuffed and violently. He didn’t show any sign of it externally – the death sorcerers weren’t weaklings to be put off at the first sign of challenge. I felt him try again.

“He’s trying to break through,” I said.

“These wards have stood for a long time,” replied Ploster.

I called Shooter from downstairs. He arrived looking keen, with his black wood bow in his hand. It didn’t take a genius to guess what I was going to ask him to do. Moments later, I saw Terrax stumble to one side when an arrow took him square in the chest. I heard cheering from downstairs and I felt the death sorcerer’s probing efforts at the wards fade. He stepped away and his dead soldiers filled the gap, preventing a second shot.

“Keep at him,” I said to Shooter. “Don’t give him time to rest.”

“Aye, Captain,” he said. “I’ll get to the top floor – not so many distractions.” He left the room.

“Will he break through, Captain?” asked Sinnar. He wasn’t well-versed in sorcery.

“I don’t know, Lieutenant. Possibly. Probably. All I want is some time for the men to heal and then we’ll be on our way, no matter what we have to do.”

“Do you think they’ll try and wait us out?” asked Ploster.

“We can’t afford to wait and neither can they,” I said. “I think we’ll have to make the first move. It just won’t be today.”

I didn’t like waiting. There again, there were lots of things I didn’t like doing, but I’d trained myself to put up with them. The Flesh Shaper kept up his efforts, gathering his minions in close proximity to stop Shooter getting a clear view of him. The death sorcerer’s efforts were partially successful – our archer landed another couple of arrows into the black-robed figure and slowed him down significantly. Terrax was persistent, but there again he had a lot to lose. The Hungerer stayed out of sight. Though we occasionally caught a glimpse of a great shape beyond the treeline, it never emerged into the clearing. I was sure that it would have an even more detrimental effect on the morale of any human soldiers who were left. I wished I knew more about where they were, since they were the only unknown. Part of me hoped they’d been recalled, but another part realised that if they’d gone elsewhere, it wouldn’t be good news for the Saviour.

By the middle of the second day, Shooter had run out of arrows, having used up all of his own as well as those of the incapacitated Eagle. Terrax soon realised that we had nothing left to fire at him and he was able to focus his efforts on picking away at the protections around our walls. Ploster was unable to sense the death sorcerer’s workings, but for some reason I got a clear picture of each effort that Terrax made. Whoever had built this tower, they’d defended it well and I could sense the Flesh Shaper’s growing anger and frustration that his efforts were not immediately successful.

“What was here before the Emperor came?” I asked Ploster later that afternoon. I didn’t expect him to know, yet he was as good a bet as anyone.

“I am not a great student of history,” he said. “Except where it pertains to the places I’ve been.”

“There must be a body of knowledge that sorcerers rely on?” I asked, trying to prod his memory.

He laughed. “There is no school or university where they teach sorcery! You’re either born with it or you are not. Those of us who have the power test it and experiment with it, to see where it leads. Those who can’t harness the power or who reach too far are often reduced to empty shells, with their minds adrift in the void. Most of the lost never find a way back.”

“What happens when the body dies?”

He shrugged. “I expect the mind dies with it, dispersed across the tapestry and amongst the threads. To be woven anew and placed into a new vessel when their time comes again.”

“Do you believe in that?” I asked. I had seen things when I had helped unite the life essence of Gagnol with the Saviour’s dead body. I’d not come to a definite conclusion about what I believed.

“A man must believe in something,” he said noncommittally. “You either die and are reduced to nothingness, or a part of you continues to exist in order to be re-used for another life or another purpose. The latter gives me a greater feeling of comfort, so I choose to believe that death isn’t final. However, I am not so certain that I will argue my cause with zeal.”

“I think we die and we’re gone,” I said, wondering how the conversation had ended up travelling this road. “That idea is what gives me the greater feeling of comfort. If every man thought that he had infinite chances of life, he would meander through his existence, never pushing himself to greatness, nor striving to be the best he can be.”

“Or that man might instead choose to take risks, knowing that a failure is not the end. Without risks, we will none of us achieve anything worthwhile.”

I laughed. “A discussion without a possible resolution. Let us put off further exploration on the topic. You have still not answered my original question!”

“I am not aware of anything which might have built this tower many thousands of years ago,” he confirmed. “All I see from these walls is that nothing much has changed in the design or the materials used.”

I didn’t know why, but his words shot an idea into my mind, making me jerk upright. I called Lieutenant Craddock across and asked if we’d done a complete inspection of the tower yet. He looked alarmed as if I was berating him for an omission. I told him not to worry – it was an idea that we should have all had and acted on.

“I want the men to search the ground floor – every inch of it!” I said. “If you have to move the wounded, then do so!”

The men set to their orders. They looked for gaps and cracks between the grey blocks – anything that was different to the stone around it. The task took over an hour, since even during the day the light was poor.

“I think I’ve got something, Captain,” said Harts. I followed him into the furthest corner of one room. “There!” he said, pointing at the floor. A cluster of men loitered nearby, watching me expectantly. I peered at the area he’d indicated. It looked exactly the same as all the others. He noticed my lack of understanding, so he pulled out his sword and banged hard on the flagstones with the pommel.

“Hollow,” I said, realising what he’d found.

“That’s what I reckon,” he said, nodding.

Now that we’d found what I was looking for, I examined the area closely. There was a tiny space between two of the flagstones where the gap was a little bit larger – as if it had been designed to have a tool of some sort pushed into it. I didn’t have such a tool, so dug the blade of my sword into the gap and pulled hard. The flagstones were more than a yard square and very thick, so I had to put my back into it. Slowly at first, I levered the stone up. Then, when I’d managed to get it proud of the floor, the other men were able to assist with their own swords. With many eager hands to help, we pulled the stone slab away and looked at what we’d found.

“An escape passage,” said one man.

“Or a cellar,” said another.

This was exactly what I’d hoped to find. Almost every fortified location had some way for the occupants to enter or leave without being seen and I was pleased to find the ancient architects of this one were no exception. There was a hole in the ground, square and lined with the same stone as the rest of the tower. A faint draught rustled outwards, convincing me that it wasn’t in fact a cellar as someone had just said. There was a wooden ladder attached to one of the walls – it looked impossibly old and worn, as did the metal fixings which tied it to the wall.

“How long does wood last?” asked Limpet. I nodded at him to suggest that he should find out. He sat on the rim of the hole and pressed one foot onto the first rung. I expected it to disintegrate into a shower of particles, but it did not. He pressed again, harder this time. I saw and heard fragments of rusted iron fall away from the fixings. The ladder itself stayed in place.

“Looks like it’s still usable,” I said. “We got any wood left to make torches?” We’d kept a few burning last night, but there were none lit now. The light from outside was just enough that we didn’t need to waste what precious resources we might have. Within five minutes, most of the First Cohort were crammed into the room and several of the men held torches. There was a susurration of curious excitement – this was something new and unexpected that had the chance to turn our current situation on its head.

I picked four men, including Lieutenant Sinnar and Corporal Ploster. “Let’s go down and have a look, shall we?”

“I don’t expect to come back and find that some of you have accidentally killed yourselves in our absence,” said Sinnar. There were some muttered comments at that – distinctly rude, though spoken in good humour. More than one man suggested that it would be a shame if Sinnar himself were to meet his unfortunate demise somewhere at the bottom of the hole.

There was no sound at all from the depths. I decided to lead by example and took a torch offered by one of the soldiers. I weighed enough in normal clothes. In full armour and carrying a sword, I likely weighed almost as much as two of most other men. Therefore, I was particularly cautious when I put my foot on the first rung. I heard more muttering about the possibility that I was about to take a fall. Someone offered odds and another man immediately took him up on them. I shook my head and told them exactly what they could do with their odds.

The descent was awkward, if not excessively so. I had to hold the torch in one hand and use my other hand and my feet to hold onto the rungs. I had to feel my way downwards with an outstretched foot, since I wasn’t sure the rungs would be where they should be and age had its way of breaking things. It was cramped in the shaft and I was glad I wasn’t fearful of confined spaces.

It felt as if I had climbed for a long time when I began to notice a change in the atmosphere. I didn’t have the exact words to describe it – the feeling of great age was stronger and was accompanied by something else – it was as if there were something nearby which was aware of my intrusion. I could sense it in the same way that I could sense magic. It was strange and I didn’t know if I was accepted or hated for my presence.

What I found at the bottom was not what I’d expected. I’d thought I might find myself in a small room or a passage. Instead, the ladder deposited me into a large chamber, clad in more stone and with the ceiling supported by strong pillars. I estimated it to be at least twenty yards to a side and I could hardly see the far walls. The ceiling was many feet above the top of my head. The light from my torch kept many of the details secret, but even so, I looked around in wonder, since this room represented a huge expenditure of effort. In the centre of the floor was a stone bier – five feet in height and covered in carvings. I couldn’t make out what they represented.

I heard a noise, which pulled me from my staring. I realised that it had been Lieutenant Sinnar calling my name in order to see if it was safe for the next man to come. I waved my torch at the bottom of the shaft so that he would know I was ready for him. Seconds later, a shower of rust rattled quietly off the metal of my armour, letting me know that Sinnar had started down. He was even heavier than me, so if the ladder held his weight, I’d have no fear about the rest of the Cohort.

I left him to it and made my way towards the centre of the room. The bier in the centre was over eight feet long and five wide. The carvings were of mountains and valleys, done with a skill I couldn’t recall witnessing before. It struck me then that this wasn’t a bier, so much as it was a coffin. I crouched and looked closely. The stoneworking was almost perfect, but I could still make out the thinnest of seams which separated the lid of the coffin from the side walls. I stood and looked around the rest of the room. The walls were plain, as were the four supporting columns for the ceiling. There were three exit passageways – one from the middle of each of three walls. These corridors were at least ten feet wide and tall. Each one continued in a straight line, one to the north and two others to east and west. I must confess that the possibilities of the unknown excited me. I’d expected to find nothing more than a narrow passage which would have taken us out through a hidden opening a quarter of a mile into the woods, from which we could have made our escape. I was already beginning to think that we’d stumbled across something much more.

Sinnar joined me and gave a low whistle when he saw what we’d found. A few minutes later, Ploster arrived, followed by Beamer and Weevil.

“What’s all this, then?” asked Weevil. “I don’t think my grandfather’s grandfather was a gleam in his grandfather’s eye when this lot was built.”

“Can you feel anything?” I asked Ploster.

“Nothing but the age,” he said. I looked at him closely and got the impression he was keeping something to himself.

“What is it?” I asked with urgency.

“It’s got the same atmosphere as when we were in Nightingale,” he said.

“Are the Northmen here?” asked Sinnar.

“That’s not what I meant, Lieutenant,” said Ploster. “I can feel their magic. It’s not the same, though there’s something about it that feels similar. I don’t know what else to say.”

“I can feel it too,” I said. “It’s strange. Something completely different to us.” I felt my feet drawn to the stone coffin. “We need to look in here.”

I wasn’t in the habit of digging up graves, or disturbing that which had been laid to rest, but I couldn’t resist the need to look into this coffin. The lid was enormously heavy and it took all five of us to lever it to one side in order that we could see within.

“Shit,” said Sinnar, speaking for all of us.

“What is it?” asked Weevil. “Tell me that isn’t what I think it is?”

“I reckon it is,” said Beamer.

We leaned over. The coffin lid was canted to one side, allowing us only a partial view of the remains. All that was left was a skeleton – humanoid in appearance and more than seven feet tall. It was broad across the shoulders and the bones looked thick and dense as if the creature had been heavily muscled in life. Its ribs were thick and its chest cavity huge. We could all see that it wasn’t human – the skull was flatter and the jawbone much thicker than on any human skeleton we’d seen. I noted that it had an extra two pairs of ribs and that its fingers were surprisingly long in comparison to the hands. There were similarities, but the overall effect was of something completely alien. There were objects within the coffin – I saw the hilts of what I took to be two swords, their blades still hidden underneath the partially-removed slab. There was something else – something that glowed with a faint blue that was cold and pure.

“A Northman,” whispered Ploster, reaching out to brush his fingers across the ancient skull.

8

I was sure Ploster was right - what we’d discovered was either a Northman or from the same race which had become them. There was something eerie about the skeleton and I was not a man who easily succumbed to feelings of unease. I reached into the coffin and pulled out the first of the swords – it was almost six feet long, with a functional cross-guard and hilt. The pommel was nothing but an ugly ball of metal. The blade, on the other hand, was marked with an intricate pattern of lines and spirals along the top third of its length. It felt heavy in my hand, yet strangely alluring to hold.

“Could do some damage with that,” said Beamer, looking closely.

“It’s not a normal weapon,” I said with certainty. I handed it to Sinnar for a look. He held it two-handed and mimed an attack against an invisible foe.

Ploster dragged out the second sword and put it to one side. He leaned over the edge of the coffin and stretched out for something. When he stood, he held a circlet in his hand, made from a dull silver metal. There was nothing about it to catch the eye, except for the blue gem which had been set into it at the centre. It was about the size of a coin, with many facets. It glowed softly.

“Any idea what it is?” I asked, reaching out to take hold of it. The circlet felt cold in my hand and the gemstone was icy when I pressed my thumb onto it.

“No idea,” said Ploster. “There’s something about it that makes me think we should keep it.”

“I agree,” I said, examining it closely. There were no inscriptions and the circlet was too large to fit onto a human head. I gave it back to him and he stowed it away somewhere on his person.

I put the matter of the swords to one side for the time being and looked along each of the exit passages in turn. I walked a hundred yards into each, only to find them equally featureless and giving no clues as to their destinations. I returned to the room.

“East or north would make sense,” I said. “We need to get Craddock down here to see which way he thinks is best.”

“Are you sure these paths lead somewhere?” asked Ploster. “It could leave us in a difficult position if we all gathered here and found there was no way out.”

He was right, of course. I’d have looked like a fool if the whole of the Cohort had taken it in turns to descend, only to find that the catacombs ended half a mile along each of the tunnels. On the other hand, I’d felt a constant breeze from all three of the corridors, which led me to think that the catacombs were either huge or led on to the surface somewhere away from the tower. I wavered in a moment of unexpected indecision. In the end, the choice was forced upon me.

We heard a crackling, splintering sound from the entrance shaft. A man fell into view and crashed to the ground, bringing with him a shower of splinters and many larger wooden chunks. I reached him first – it was Tinker. He grimaced at the damage his left leg had suffered in the fall. White bone protruded through the skin of his upper leg. The end was sharp but the break looked clean. He swore.

“The Flesh Shaper’s got through the wards, Captain,” he said, his duty to his fellows foremost in his mind. “He’s knocking on the door as we speak.”

It was my turn to swear. “How much of the ladder did you bring down with you?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “One of the rungs burst like it was hollow in the middle. I grabbed the next one and that snapped too.”

Sinnar looked at the pieces of wood, picking them up and examining their cross-sections. “It’s rotten right through. We must have got lucky coming down. And likely weakened it for Tinker.”

“How much is gone?” I asked him.

“I’d guess twenty rungs,” he said. “Or more. The bottom few aren’t broken – we could reach the shaft, I reckon.”

I thought quickly. There was no easy way up and no easy way down. We could have possibly inched our way back up by placing our backs on one side of the shaft and pushing upwards with our feet. It would be dangerous, slow and we’d have to leave our armour behind. We’d already left our shields in the tower, since they’d have been an impediment when climbing down. There was definitely no way that the rest of the Cohort could get down to us, with or without the Flesh Shaper attacking them. Craddock was an excellent commander of men and I had to view this dispassionately – he was six men down and that was that.

“Let’s straighten Tinker’s leg and we’ll find our way out,” I said.

We didn’t feel much pain, which was fortunate since the method we used on Tinker was brutal. We dragged him away from the shaft and laid him on his back. We wore half-cuisse armour on our upper leg that protected the front and left the back exposed. I helped him unbuckle it and put it to one side. He knew what was coming. I held onto the soldier’s arms, whilst Sinnar took a firm hold of his boot. Without warning, Sinnar pulled hard on the leg. Tinker grunted and slid a couple of feet across the floor, in spite of my efforts to hold him in place. His leg bone had vanished back into his leg.

You can’t become a veteran without picking up one or two ways to treat a wounded man. None of us had much skill or finesse, but it was Sinnar who completed the work, by pushing and kneading Tinker’s muscle so that it would force the broken bone into place.

“Tell me when you can feel it grating,” he said to Tinker with surprising gentleness. He turned the man’s foot and made him flex his knee.

“I think it’s in place now, Lieutenant,” said Tinker. He looked only slightly pale. I couldn’t remember if he’d broken many bones in the past – most of us had suffered at least a handful of breakages.

Whilst Sinnar worked, Beamer took off his shirt by half-pulling and half-ripping it out from under his breastplate. He threw it helpfully onto Tinker’s face.

“My old mother knitted that for me. I hope you’re grateful,” he said.

“It stinks,” said Tinker. “And I thought you were born to a goat and a dog.”

Sinnar laughed whilst he tied the cloth as tightly as he dared around Tinker’s thigh. There’d be no blood supply to choke, but old habits died hard. Afterwards, he fastened the half-cuisse into place and made sure it was tight. He reached out a hand and pulled Tinker to his feet without any apparent effort.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” he said, limping a few paces across the floor. “I’m going to be useless for a week or two, aren’t I?”

“You’ve got five days, then I want to see you keeping up with Sprinter,” Sinnar told him.

“Beamer, give him your shoulder,” I instructed. “We’re going to the north. Corporal Ploster, we’ll need your light when our torches fail.” He nodded briefly in response. His light spell drained him if he maintained it for too long. He could give us hours, but I didn’t want him to use it while we still had other means of lighting our way. I took one last look up the shaft – there was no sign of movement from above. I made a decision regarding the swords we’d found in the coffin. I gave one to Sinnar and I took the other for myself. They were the Cohort’s swords, not mine and not Sinnar’s. Nevertheless, we were the best two to carry them in the circumstances.

We entered the northern passage and it wasn’t long until we’d gone further than I’d explored when I came this way earlier. I wasn’t sure how fast Tinker would be able to travel at first. With Beamer’s assistance, he managed well and I was pleased that we were able to maintain a fast walk. When I’d first entered the room behind, I’d sensed that my presence had been noted. This feeling didn’t subside, though I was no closer to concluding if there was any hostility towards us. I wasn’t alarmed by it – what I felt could have been partly a figment of my imagination, magnified by the age of the place.

I estimated we’d travelled almost a mile when the first of our torches died. It simply faded to a glowing ember, which Weevil dropped onto the floor. We came to another chamber, reminiscent of the first. There was no coffin, though the walls contained many long and deep alcoves where a body could have been laid. They were empty. Three additional exits led away, each an identical-looking corridor.

“This place must be huge,” whispered Ploster. “I would love the opportunity to explore.”

“I feel as if we are being watched,” I said.

He looked at me closely, his details faint in the dimming light. “I sense the presence of old magic,” he told me. “It is strange and different to what I know. Even the death sorcerers’ magic is familiar to me in its way – much more powerful than my own, but I can still read it and understand it. Here it’s not the same at all.”

I hesitated. “What I feel is that the magic here has no link to the tapestry or the threads that you sorcerers pull. Like the warps and wefts themselves lie atop another layer of detail that I can’t see but which I know is there.”

“That would be a revelation indeed,” he said. We’d spoken at length on the matter of my sensitivity to magic. I could tell that his first instinct was scepticism, yet he knew me well enough to be certain that I wouldn’t venture such an opinion without reason.

The last two torches faded to bright orange glows within moments of each other. In the darkness, I heard Ploster sigh and then he produced a light of his own. It was brighter than the three torches combined and created a larger sphere. We were all relieved to see it. There’s something unutterably gloomy about torchlight, even when there are dozens of them in a small place.

“North again,” I said. Then, “How’s the leg, Tinker?”

“Not too bad, Captain. I reckon the Lieutenant’s done a pretty good job of joining the two halves together.”

“Teacher turned soldier turned surgeon,” I said to Sinnar.

“I hope you’re not thinking of making it a permanent duty,” he said with a chuckle.

He wasn’t looking for an answer and we left the chamber. We hadn’t dallied long, since we were aware that the rest of the Cohort was likely fighting hard for survival somewhere above us. I didn’t know quite what I hoped to achieve – the start point was to escape; the end point was to join up with Craddock. It was the parts in between that I couldn’t guess at. Would we six have to find our way to the surface and go back to the tower, or would Craddock have led the men elsewhere? There were many possibilities and I realised that it was pointless to dwell on them.

“If there’s any one amongst us apart from you that could get the men out of that tower, it’d be James,” said Sinnar, recognizing my worry and seeking to reassure me.

“I know,” I replied. “The knowing doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Sometimes you have to wait. I can’t say I ever learned to accept it either.”

Before I could reply, Weevil called out to us quietly. He was at the rear and I turned to see him looking over his own shoulder. “Thought I heard something, Captain,” he said.

“What was it?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. It sounded like something whispering. Not nice whispering though – nasty whispering. Like children. That’s it, like children being naughty.”

I wondered how much of his assessment was his brain piecing together something only half-heard and how much was his imagination filling in the gaps. Whatever it was, I was not going to dismiss what he’d said. None of my men were prone to exaggeration – at least not where business was concerned.

“Come,” I said to Ploster. I was at the front and squeezed past him and then past Beamer, Tinker and Weevil. I ran back along the corridor for fifteen or twenty paces, with my new sword in front of me. I heard Ploster behind me as he struggled to keep up with my unexpected action. If there was anything behind us, I failed to catch it unawares and there was nothing to be seen in the passage. Ploster caught up, bringing his light with him. I thought about trying another run, but realised we’d risk leaving the other men in darkness. It was always best to stick together when you could.

“I’m sure I heard something, Captain,” said Weevil when we re-joined the group.

“Keep listening,” I whispered quietly to him. “And keep looking.” He nodded. I always took my soldiers seriously when they reported something unusual. Even if it turned into a false warning, it was better to be safe.

We came to a third of the square rooms. There was no coffin here either and I wondered if the creature interred in the first chamber had been a noble amongst its kind. There were more alcoves – perhaps fifteen of them around the perimeter of the room, some of them stacked two high. They were empty, though I spotted what looked to be a leg bone in one of them. I called a halt.

“Draw your swords,” I said, preferring that we be on guard.

I went to the alcove and picked up the bone. I wasn’t a surgeon and rarely paid much attention to the bones of the dead, so wasn’t sure that this definitely came from a leg. One thing which did strike me as certain was that the presence of this single bone suggested that there had once been other bones.

“Reckon all these alcoves once had bodies in them?” I asked.

“If they did, something’s taken them,” said Sinnar.

“I don’t like the word something when it pertains to possible enemies, Lieutenant. It means I don’t know who or what we face.”

“Whatever it was, it is surely long gone. These halls look like they’ve been deserted for an eternity,” said Ploster. I could see that he was doing a poor job of convincing even himself.

“I don’t like it,” I said. “We’ve all seen things that might have lived for many times longer than we have. If such creatures lurk here, I do not wish to meet them if we can avoid it. Let us make haste. I already crave the feeling of snow and mud beneath my boots.” Sinnar chuckled at that – my dislike of fighting in mud and snow was well-known amongst the men.

There was no northern exit from this third chamber, so I took us to the east. Like all of the corridors, the walls and ceiling were uniformly built from slabs of featureless grey stone, pressed tightly together and with no visible means of support. The floor was made from smaller squares of stone. I’d seen similar tiling in many castles and keeps before. Often when stone flooring has been in place for a long time it will develop a sheen where footsteps have worn the surface. Here, there was no sign of polish. I supposed that a place of burial wouldn’t likely be visited without good cause.

We hurried for another mile or two. We crossed over another of the large chambers without pausing and entered another, smaller room without any features at all. There seemed no reason for it to be there. Perhaps the passing of time had caused its furnishings to decay into dust.

“Look, another shaft,” said Beamer, having spotted something that had escaped my eye. I crossed over to the place he’d indicated and saw that there was an opening in the ceiling, made almost invisible through a trick of the light. I stared up. There was no ladder, though I saw a number of rust-stained holes in the wall which suggested there’d once been one here.

“No chance,” I said. “The ladder’s completely gone from the looks of it.”

This time I heard it. There was the faintest of whispers, brought to me on the gentle breeze. It lasted for only the briefest of times, but I thought I heard a voice overlaid by wicked laughter.

“I heard it,” said Sinnar, cocking his head. “Couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from. Front or back, I have no idea.”

There was only one additional exit from this smaller chamber, so if the sound was ahead, we’d likely be finding out what it was soon. I felt uneasy at the thought of what it might be – there were many parts of the Empire that had hardly been explored. We of the Cohort had already come across creatures that had lain unseen for aeons. I didn’t want to face what might be a powerful foe on its own ground and with so few men to command.

Off we went again. We were able to move quicker than we had at the beginning – I guessed that Tinker and Beamer had discovered how to work together, such that one broken leg between them didn’t slow them down too much. None of us heard the sound again for the next ten minutes. It may have been that the sounds of six armoured men were sufficient to drown out any repetition. I had no intention of trying to travel in silence.

I was in the lead, with Sinnar at my side. The corridor had been uniformly ten feet wide and therefore provided ample space for us to travel two abreast. Sinnar and I saw it at the same time and we slowed to a halt. There was damage to the left-hand wall. Some of the slabs had been cracked and others had been pushed outward, so that they intruded into the corridor. There was a gap – almost wide enough for a man to have pushed his way through. There was only darkness on the other side. Ploster came closer and his light filtered unevenly through.

“There’s something in there,” he said.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

I pushed my head cautiously into the gap and looked. There was a tunnel on the other side. It wasn’t smooth and well-crafted like the corridors, rather it was rough-hewn and uneven. It was smaller in height and width than the place we were standing, but I could have made my way along it if I’d been able to fit through the gap in the slabs. I started to pull my head back when I saw something – there were two dull white specks which seemed to float in mid-air. It took me the briefest of times before I realised they were eyes. They stared at me brazenly and unblinking from a distance of twenty or thirty feet. I got a feeling of pure malice, washing from it in waves. I met the gaze of these eyes for a time so that it would know I wasn’t afraid and then I drew back my head.

“I don’t like being pissed around with,” I said angrily. “Whatever it is that’s down here, it’s not going hurt us by hiding. When my enemy watches and waits, it only irritates me.”

Sinnar laughed and stuck his own head into the hole. I heard something and saw a hint of movement. Sinnar pulled his head back much quicker than he’d put it in. He looked angry. “Something took a swipe at me,” he said.

“Got you too, from the looks of it,” I told him, pointing my sword at the gap. Nothing came through and I saw nothing else. Sinnar pressed his land to his face – there were four slash marks down his cheek and over his jawbone.

“Razor sharp,” he muttered. “More scars to add to the collection.”

Whatever it was that had cut Sinnar, it didn’t come out to challenge us. It turned out that it didn’t need to. We heard more of the whispering noises – clearer and closer this time and coming from behind. I looked carefully – there were shapes visible, at the furthest extent of the light, as if they dared not come too close. Spots of dirty white appeared suddenly in great numbers, suggesting that there were many of them.

“What are these bastards?” asked Beamer.

“It’s all your brothers and sisters come to say hello,” said Tinker.

“Do you want me to drop you?” asked Beamer. “Just say if you want me to.”

At first, they remained indistinct – nothing more than waist or chest-high shapes in the darkness. Then, one of them became bolder and stepped close enough for us to make it out. It looked like a twelve-year-old child in size and shape, though there was nothing human about it. Its face and head were elongated and topped with wiry black hair. I saw its eyes more clearly now – there was something about them which suggested vast age – like they had seen forever and were bored beyond measure with existence. Its mouth was open and full of tiny, sharp teeth, dirty and yellow. The creature’s legs were in proportion, but the arms were far longer than they needed to be. Its fingers were overly long and ended in grubby nails which seemed to almost scrape against the floor. It spoke, or at least it tried to. It was difficult to make out what it said, since the creature clearly struggled to form the words.

“What do you have?” it slurred. In the darkness beyond, the whispering increased in intensity, with a quality that was full of menace.

I didn’t bother to answer – there seemed hardly any point in wasting my breath speaking to it. Instead, I spoke to my men. “Let’s keep going. Kill any that come close enough. Corporal Ploster, you’re ready to do what’s necessary?” I saw every man nod at me.

“Give it to us and you can go,” said a second creature, advancing to join the first.

I didn’t know exactly what it was asking for. I guessed it was either mistaken, or it knew we’d taken something from the stone coffin a few miles away. Whatever the truth of it, I wasn’t going to give them anything. If we had something that was important enough for them to want, it was definitely something I’d do everything possible to keep.

“Aren’t you even going to tell them to piss off?” asked Sinnar with humour.

“Deeds, not words, Lieutenant,” I admonished him. We were friends enough to understand. “Let’s find a way out,” I finished, hoping we weren’t going to find ourselves trapped here with these creatures. I set myself and Weevil at the back, with Ploster and Sinnar to the front. In the middle, Beamer and Tinker limped along together as we continued. We didn’t get far before I heard the sound of sharp nails rasping across stone. There was something about the noise which told me that the creatures were coming for us, and this time there’d be no attempt at negotiation.

9

They dashed along the corridor, their eyes fixed on us and their claws scraping on the walls and the floor. They were much faster than I’d expected and the closest one leapt at me with its nails extended. I stepped back and chopped at it with my sword, quickly discovering how stupid I’d been to think I could use a six-foot weapon in a corridor this size when there was another man standing next to me. The blade itself felt alive in my hands, but when it struck against the creature’s flesh, it was like hitting solid stone. The power of my blow knocked it away, yet left no injury on it that I could see. To my right, two more of them came at Weevil. His own sword was a much more appropriate size for the confines of the passage and the runes flared along its length as he cut the arm away from the first and then managed to drive his fist into the face of the other.

“Best drop that piece of shit you’re carrying, Captain,” he said.

He’d bought me a fraction of a second and I dropped the two-handed sword to the ground with a clank. I slid my own from its scabbard, just in time to fend off an attack. The creature’s filthy nails screeched over my breastplate.

“Keep going,” urged Sinnar from behind. “You need to keep walking.”

I understood what he meant – we didn’t know how many of them were in the passage, so we needed to continue in the hope that we’d stumble across a way out. It was either that, or stand and fight in one place and try to kill them all. Standing still would have made the fighting easier, but sometimes you have to make a judgement. A small part of my brain informed me that it had no idea how we’d be able to get up a ladder if we found one while we were being attacked.

Step by step we continued along the passage. Our opponents were fast and their claws were sharp. Fortunately for us, they weighed little and their attacks against armoured infantry were not as effective as they would have been against more lightly-armoured troops. Time and again I was able to knock an attacker away with my elbow or my foot. Even with my usual sword, there wasn’t quite enough room, so I had to rely on my skills as a brawler as much as my skills with a blade. I drove my metal-clad knuckles into the face of one of the creatures. I felt its jaw shatter and saw it spew many sharp teeth onto the ground. It hissed and was lost in the pack of its fellows who came after. Another one came in low and Weevil took the top of its skull away with a cross-swing of his sword.

As soon as it became obvious that there were few more than a dozen, I called for a stop, so that we could deal with them without having to watch our footing. They didn’t cease attacking, even when it was clear that our skill and equipment left them outmatched. I killed the last one with a hard thrust, which lanced into its chest and out of the other side. It struggled as I kicked it off the blade and then Weevil crunched his heel three times onto its face, each stamp cracking its head against the stone. It stopped moving.

“I don’t much like these,” he said. Before he turned to leave, he gave it a kick. He wasn’t usually prone to petulance and I wondered what it was that had angered him so.

“These swords not much use, Captain?” asked Sinnar. He dangled his own carelessly in one hand.

“There’s something about them. I don’t know what it is and I’m damned if I’m going to risk anyone’s life by playing around with it to find out.”

Sinnar let his two-handed sword clatter to the floor. “I had high hopes for it.” He shrugged, almost to himself. I saw his hand unconsciously touch the hilt of his existing sword.

We continued on our way for several hours, passing through many rooms. The catacombs covered many miles and it seemed strange to think that this labyrinth of rooms and passages might have lain undiscovered for thousands of years. To what ends do we go to look after the dead? I asked myself.

As we progressed, heading always to the east or the north, we listened carefully for the sounds of whispering that indicated we were pursued. We heard nothing, but I refused to let us drop our guard and we kept our swords in our hands. Even Beamer and Tinker managed to keep their daggers ready, in spite of their shared burden. We came across two more shafts in the ceiling, one of which had the remnants of a ladder at the bottom. I climbed up a few rungs, only to find that the wood had perished higher up. There was also a shaft leading downwards, which we found in the middle of one chamber. This shaft had an iron ladder with a thick coating of rust on it, but which seemed solid enough when I reached out to shake it. When I looked into the hole, I felt an unexpected shiver run up my spine as my mind tried to grasp the possibilities of what might be down there.

“On another day, in another time,” I said.

“Yeah. We’d probably get killed by whatever’s at the bottom,” said Sinnar. He didn’t sound worried at the possibility.

“Maybe we’ll come back, Lieutenant,” I said.

“We’re saving up a lot of promises for our future,” he said. “I hope we get the chance to keep them. I feel we’ll owe ourselves something, at least.”

Not for us the settled life of a farmer or a blacksmith. If we ever saw our duty through to its end, it seemed likely we’d end up dying anyway, at the bottom of a hole dug thousands of years ago by an unknown race.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m going to get married. And put my feet up.”

We stared at Tinker and Sinnar aimed a mock cuff at the man’s head. We often talked fondly about the pleasures we’d like once the fighting stopped. None of us believed even our own words, but it gave us comfort to say them.

In the momentary lull before we continued our journey to the north, we heard a sound. It came from the south, the way we’d come. It wasn’t too faint and we all heard it – a deep scraping sound as if something heavy had come into contact with the stone. We listened in silence and the sound came again. Whatever it was, it sounded as if it were dragging itself along the tunnels in desperation to make best speed.

“I don’t know what’s coming, but we probably shouldn’t wait around to find out,” said Ploster. I could tell that he was tired from the constant effort required to maintain his light. He didn’t relish the idea of a confrontation in which he’d have to extend himself further.

“Let’s go,” I said. In truth, I was tempted to wait and see what came. We were in a large room that was ideal for us to spread out and make use of our numbers. On the other hand, I didn’t know what or how many enemies approached. There was always a chance that it would make a wrong turn as it followed us. Even as I had the thought, I knew that whatever it was that pursued, it wouldn’t lose our tracks.

We ran north, with Tinker doing his best to push himself as much as he could. The pain from his injury would be remote, yet the snapped bone in his leg wouldn’t support his full weight. He hopped and limped while Beamer half-dragged him along. We might have made better speed if I’d asked Sinnar to carry him, but I wanted us all ready to fight at a moment’s notice. The scraping noises were closer now, echoing along the passageway in a way that fooled our ears and made it difficult to judge the exact distance.

Ploster kept his light a little way ahead of us so that we could watch our footing. Without warning, I felt waves of pressure roll around me and the light started to dim, as if the weight of the darkness was too much for it to bear. Ploster grunted with effort and the light reasserted itself again, though only briefly this time before the blackness began to crush it once more. I didn’t need to ask him what it was – I could feel the magic of the creature which pursued us. There was something filthy about it – an impression I rarely got even from the death sorcerers’ magic.

“Quickly,” I urged, as if I could somehow exhort us to a greater speed.

We burst into another chamber, twenty yards square and with four pillars to support the ceiling. We frantically looked for an exit in the dying light of Ploster’s sorcery. There were exits going in all directions and then I saw it.

“Another shaft,” I said, already pushing Beamer and Tinker towards it. Something else caught my eye – a dull redness of rusted iron against the greyness of the walls. We came closer and I dared to hope that the ladder I’d seen would bear our weight.

“Up!” I urged. “Lieutenant, stay with me.”

I turned to face the way we’d come. I heard someone – Weevil – pulling at the metal rungs of the ladder. “It’s good,” he whispered. I heard the sounds of someone begin the climb, the hard soles of their boots striking hard on the rungs as they made haste upwards.

“There’s no time,” said Ploster. He looked exhausted, but I knew he had depths of strength that could push him on when lesser men would fail.

One of the support pillars partially blocked our line of sight. Around it, I caught a hint of something emerging into the room. Ploster’s light was so dim that we struggled to make out the details at first. The Cohort’s sorcerer didn’t wait. I felt him plumb the depths of his reserves and he threw a burst of energy at the creature. It flinched and stumbled back a pace. Without giving it a chance to recover, I ran at it, Sinnar at my side and Ploster sending his light to follow.

Our opponent was over ten feet tall and broad with it. Long arms jutted out from the sides of a broad chest and its legs were thick like the trunks of a tree. It had no skin, and we could see its muscles and the tendons which tied them to the bones. Its face was more bone than flesh and it had no eyes. The creature turned its heavy skull towards us and I saw our deaths within the infinite darkness of its sockets. Whatever this creature was, I knew it had died thousands of years before, yet lost none of its power in the transition from life to death.

As we came to within ten feet of the creature, I felt its magic buffet me and the tattoos on my skin flared into a bright blue. The runes on my sword glowed and sparkled. They ran along the length of the blade with a great hunger to test themselves against our foe. My body felt heavier than normal, as if the aura which surrounded the creature sapped my strength. I grimaced in anger at the loss of control and my inner strength fought back against the ancient magic.

I knew Sinnar was a man with his own wells of energy. He surged past me, with his sword raised to strike. He showed no signs of fatigue from the magic and he thundered a blow at the creature. It moved to one side, surprising Sinnar with its speed. His blow was a glancing one and skittered away from the monster’s hip, leaving a trail of white sparks in its wake. The creature swung at Sinnar in a blow that would have crushed him at once. The Lieutenant, for all his bulk, had a surprising finesse. He twisted aside and the creature’s fist only hit him on the arm. Sinnar was spun around by the force of the strike and stumbled away with his sword up.

Before I could engage, Ploster unleashed mageflame onto our foe. I saw faint tendrils of smoke rise from its body, but other than that small sign it was unaffected by the sorcerer’s magic. I knew Ploster well – he’d been trying hard with his attack, yet had managed little by it. With a conscious effort, I reached inside and called upon the battle madness. Events slowed and I forced them to slow again. The creature kicked at me. I sidestepped easily and crashed my sword against its knee. The swords we wielded were imbued with great power, but I wasn’t surprised that I was hardly able to make a nick in the ligaments I struck. I whirled around and executed a two-handed thrust into our enemy’s ribs. The point went less than an inch into the muscle tissue between the bones. I knew we were outclassed.

Sinnar was back. He moved like he cared little for the blow he’d received. His eyes were both distant and focused at once – as if the man within had retreated to make room for a primal beast to take control of his body. I had seen him like this before – in the town of Gold, when all had seemed lost. He’d fought like a demon and had slain so many of the Duke’s men that I was sure they hated to patrol in case he found them. With a roar, he slashed at the creature twice, his blade producing sparks and a sound which echoed around the chamber. Another punch came for him and to my astonishment he knocked it aside with his arms and then lunged again, his sword tip piercing into the creature’s groin.

The empty sockets roved across us. I have heard men who say that when you feel the hatred of your enemy it is nothing more than your imagination filling your mind with its own wanderings when death looms close. I know this to be false – I have fought against men and sorcerers alike where their hatred of me has been so palpable that I have almost felt it like a second foe, driving their actions and pushing them on in their attempts to kill me. In this chamber, the hatred rolled off the creature like a flood, as if it despised us not only for our defiance, but for our very existence. Rather than leaving me cowed, I took strength from it, for its hatred was a weakness that we had instilled in it.

Beamer appeared and Weevil to his side. I’d hoped they’d have escaped up the shaft by now, but they’d evidently decided there was too much of a risk to me and Sinnar if they didn’t assist. We never left each other behind. We four attempted to surround it. In the faltering light of Ploster’s magic, we feinted and thrust, our blades and tattoos alight and leaving light-trace blurs across our vision as we desperately tried to inflict a serious injury upon the creature. Ploster was spent – I could feel him try and fail to stagger our foe with more of his magic.

“The light, Jon. We need the light,” I gasped out to him. He took the message and I got no further indication that he tried to cast anything else.

The creature refused to be confined and it surged towards us, using its bulk and strength to scatter us. Weevil was sent flying and I saw his body collide with a pillar. He slumped into a heap. To my relief I saw him move as he struggled to rise again.

A shape limped into view – it was Tinker. “Get away,” I shouted at him. It was to no avail and he joined with us. He wasn’t keen to throw his life away needlessly, so he hung back and waited to see if he’d get an opportunity to land a blow of his own.

The aura around the creature intensified. I felt it in my mind and I saw the result from the brightness of our protective wards. I knew that if we’d been living men, this magic would have sucked the life from our bodies and left only the empty husks behind. Over my years I’d seen so many beings which had such power over the living that I was now certain the balance between life and death was wrong – it seemed like the extinction of life was inevitable and it was all a matter of time. The thought made me furious – we of the Cohort were unliving, but we retained every ounce of our humanity. The creature here had nothing other than a determination to destroy what it found, for reasons that would be entirely alien to us even if we knew them.

Sinnar took another punch, this time to the side of his helmet. It knocked his head to one side, yet he did nothing more than laugh and struck back. I was worried that in his rage he’d allow himself to be overcome by injuries that he might not recover from. I charged forward and was able to knock aside a second attack that would have hit Sinnar again.

“This is not your time to die, Harry,” I said to him, my voice as calm as I could make it. He hesitated for a second and I was relieved to see him step back and adopt a defensive stance. There were times when the madness could turn a battle and there were times when it would only get you killed.

Our opponent showed no signs of slowing. Our blows whittled away at its stamina, but too slowly for us to overcome it. We were expert soldiers and most of us had exceptional skills with our swords. Against a creature of this size which possessed such a great fortitude, it was only a matter of time until we’d succumb. It sent a battering ram punch towards me. I stepped aside at the last moment, my own speed a match for its own. As part of my mind operated my body, a separate part evaluated the battle and tried to work out what we could do to escape. It wants the circlet, said the voice in my head.

“Corporal Ploster, it wants the circlet,” I said to him. My tone clearly conveyed the message that we were not going to hand it over. If we had, I’m sure our deaths would have come all the sooner.

Ploster was standing behind me and to one side. When I saw the creature’s head swivel to face the sorcerer, I guessed that he’d drawn the circlet out from wherever he’d concealed it. A pale blue glow spread outwards, filling much of the chamber and casting dancing shadows at diagonals across the floor and walls. At once, the creature rushed forward, its feet thumping across the floor. It barged me and Sinnar easily from its path and I saw it take a swing with one mighty arm at something. Then, there was a flash of blue light. It was so intense and so pure that I felt sure it would have ruined my eyes. The light didn’t vanish immediately, instead it faded rapidly over the course of a few seconds. I heard something fizzing and bubbling and an odour reached my nostrils – an acrid, pungent odour that I never wished to experience again. I heard a peculiar screech, something high-pitched like a rat with its body smashed in a trap, only much louder. I saw a shape come towards me and I set my sword blade forward. The tip went in deeply and I was knocked aside, with the sword nearly torn from my grasp. Then the creature was gone and the last of the light faded, leaving us in total darkness apart from a faint blue glow a few feet away.

A few seconds passed and then I heard the sound of flint striking flint. I saw sparks – tiny and insignificant against the dark. Then, a flame appeared, casting its feeble glow up over Beamer’s face, who had his brow furrowed in concentration. The flame grew stronger, until it made a sphere scarcely ten feet across and hardly enough to see by.

“I don’t know how long this will last,” said Beamer, holding up a small torch. To this day I maintain that some of my men had a magic that allowed them to bring flames from out of nothingness.

We scouted about the floor to see what had befallen us. I had no idea if our opponent would return, so we moved quickly. It wasn’t good news. Ploster was unconscious on the floor, with the circlet on his head. It had been too big to fit when we’d found it, so I had no idea why it was so snug around his bald head now.

“Is he dead?” asked Weevil.

There was no sign of life, but there was something that made me certain he was alive. His body was unmarked, so whatever injury he’d suffered I was sure it was to his mind. For Tinker, it was clear cut.

“Gone,” said Sinnar with a look of sorrow.

I crouched next to Tinker and remembered the punch I’d seen our opponent swing as it had charged through me and Sinnar. It had taken our companion somewhere across his neck and shoulder and had almost ripped his head away. I pushed gingerly at the wound – his flesh was ruptured and the muscles within were torn, revealing the top of his spine.

“It got him a good one,” Weevil said.

I reached out my hands and lifted Tinker’s helmet free. We looked into his empty, lifeless eyes and I hope that none of us saw judgement there. With my palm, I gently closed his eyes and then stood up. I felt something that hadn’t happened to me in two centuries. A single tear trickled gently down my cheek, its slow path concealed by the faceguards of my helmet. With each man I lost, the pain was becoming harder to manage.

“Come,” I said, my voice firm.

We got to the ladder at the bottom of the shaft. It felt strong enough to hold many men. I sent Weevil up first and then Beamer. I stood at the bottom with Sinnar, the light diminishing rapidly as Beamer climbed with the torch in his hand.

“I’ll carry him, Captain,” Sinnar offered.

“Go on ahead, Lieutenant,” I told him. “This one’s mine to bear.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and started upwards, soon vanishing into the shaft above. By now, the brightest thing in the chamber was the gem in the metal circlet. I stooped and lifted Ploster over my shoulder. He’d have been heavy without his armour. Wearing it, he was heavier still and it was hard to find a position where I could both carry him and climb at the same time. I managed it though my muscles screamed at the weight I forced them to bear. I started upwards, rung by tortuous rung, each step taking a monumental effort from my arms, legs and shoulders. I hadn’t gone more than fifteen feet upwards when I heard the faintest hint of a scraping, whispering sound from below. If there were any more of the creatures they chose not to follow, much to my relief. Had I been forced to fight on the ladder I am certain I would have dropped Ploster or both of us.

The climb seemed to take forever. Beamer’s light was high above and eventually it vanished from sight. I didn’t know if it had expired or if he’d escaped from the shaft. I had a sudden worry that the top might be sealed by a heavy stone slab and that I’d come up against Sinnar’s boots as he waited for the men above to try and open the way. In the end, my worries came to nothing. The already cold air became colder still and eventually I spilled out into a dark space above.

10

None of us knew where we’d come to. It was dark, yet not quite so impenetrably dark as it had been below. Beamer’s torch had burned out but not before he’d been able to determine that we were in a ruined building of some sort. I laid Ploster onto the ground – as my eyes adapted to the darkness, I could see that the floor was comprised of similar flagstones to those which had made the floor in the tower we’d taken refuge in to escape the Flesh Shaper and the Hungerer. There was a ceiling above us and after a while I could see windows. Depending on the angle I looked, I could make out one or two stars.

“It’s another tower the same as the last one,” whispered Beamer. “Only this one’s half collapsed. I couldn’t see a gap in any of these walls, Captain. Maybe we’re trapped.”

“Got any more of those torches?” I asked.

“He’s already burned his underwear for the last one, Captain. Didn’t you notice the smell?” said Weevil.

“Corporal Ploster won’t miss some of his shirt, will he?” asked Beamer. He was already cutting at the material with his knife.

While he worked, I stood near to the shaft from which we’d escaped. I put my head to one side and listened carefully to see if anything came. There was no sound at all. Nevertheless, I told the others that I was sure more creatures had gathered during our climb up the shaft. They needed to be aware.

“Maybe there’re more of those protective wards like there were at the last tower,” said Sinnar. “It would make sense to protect yourself from below as well as from the outside.”

The fact that whatever was below remained there suggested that Sinnar was right. Still, I was unconvinced by his reasoning. I was already sure that the areas below were a burial site and I was equally sure that these towers were meant to have been the only ways in and out. At some point in the past, other creatures had broken in and done whatever they had done to the bodies.

“It feels like we’re missing something,” I told him. “Whether it’s significant or not is another matter. Either way, nothing has come out of this shaft yet. Let us be ready in case that changes.”

Beamer got another torch going and we walked around the perimeter of the place we found ourselves in. Three of the walls were intact, but the fourth showed signs that it had been damaged in the past. Several of the stone blocks had been shifted inwards, like an enormous fist had struck them from the outside. The wall itself had sagged in places and instead of the expected doorway, there was a pile of blocks which had fallen in a haphazard manner so that they completely blocked the exit. I pushed my way as far between as I could, in the hope I might find a place we could wriggle though. There were a few gaps, but nothing that a grown man could hope to fit into, let alone a man in armour.

“Blocked,” I said, letting them know what they’d already assumed.

“Think we can shift these?” asked Weevil. He squeezed past me and had a look. He came back quickly. “We might be able to move a few, but I reckon we stand a good chance of getting flattened.”

“We need Ploster back,” I said. “He should be able to push a few blocks out for us.”

“How long till he wakes up?” asked Beamer. “If he wakes up.”

None of us knew the answer. It seemed we had little choice other than to wait and see if morning brought answers and new opportunities. Beamer’s light faded quickly. It had done its job, though we’d have rather it lasted longer.

“Anyone got any Grask?” said Weevil, without any expectation.

To my amazement, Sinnar unhitched something from his waist. I couldn’t see what it was until he pressed it into my hands and I found it was a tiny flask made of cool steel.

“I took it from our wagon not long after we set off. It’s a superstition of mine for some reason. To carry some with me.”

None of us asked him about it – we each had our own behaviours which we believed would delay or stave off the inevitable. I took a drink. Its taste was foul, as though it was a punishment to drink it. I knew that this was true in a way. Still, there was something comforting about this penitence.

“To Tinker,” I said. “The only man amongst us who could crack a joke and make the Emperor laugh.” I handed the flask across to Weevil.

“That was true, was it Captain?” asked Beamer. “He always said it was, but you can never be sure. Camp fire tales and all that.”

I smiled, the expression lost in the darkness. I think it came out in my voice when I spoke. “I’m not sure I’d have exactly described it as a laugh,” I said. “There was definitely a twitch at the side of his mouth. I think it was just at the unbelievable cheek of it all.”

“Malleus was human once, after all. Or so he’d have us believe. Maybe he appreciated a joke,” rumbled Sinnar. As far as I could tell, he’d suffered no lasting effects from the blows he’d taken below ground. At least none that he let us know about.

“I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if we’d kept in his service,” said Weevil. “Not that I have any regrets about the path we’re on,” he added.

“I think there’d be a few hundred more of us,” I said quietly. “If we’d stayed with him.”

“Each one miserable and wishing for death,” said Beamer. “Who knows what the Emperor would have had us do.”

“Sometimes it takes your whole life before you find out what it is that you’re meant to do,” said Sinnar. “And most of us die without ever finding out what that something is. I’ll be eternally glad that I’ve been given the chance.”

I couldn’t recall Sinnar speaking so openly about his feelings since we’d pledged to the Saviour. I had never doubted him, but it was still a comfort to hear his words. When we feel something so strongly, it’s easy to think that our fellows know it as well, simply because we feel that they must. I didn’t class myself as an expressive man and had always hoped that my actions were what spoke for me. I asked myself if that was always the best way.

“I will never stop,” I said. “If I have to fight a thousand more years, I will do so. And when death comes for me, I will refuse to acknowledge his claim until my vows are complete. Death has too great a hold over the living. We are the only men who understand both and it is life I want. Something is coming for these lands - I can feel it. Whatever it is, it won’t stop until it has claimed its prize. I don’t want it to win and we will stand before it and deny it every time.”

“Aye,” said Sinnar quietly. The acknowledgement made me realise how close we were in what we thought. It was easy to forget his fierce intelligence at times.

“We’ve got a long way ahead of us, Captain,” said Beamer. “It feels as if every step we take sees another of us gone. What are we to do when there are so few of us that we lack the numbers to change what happens?”

I knew what he meant. At full strength, we were a force to be reckoned with. The Cohort was feared and it wasn’t because of our cruelty. It was because the men who faced us knew that our presence meant they’d lost. Their morale and bravery was sapped away from them long before our swords even crossed. What would happen to us when only two hundred remained? One hundred? Fewer? We would become like prisoners – trapped by our vows and our determination to see things through, only to find our chances of success falling away with each death. Every time one of us died, it became harder for us to succeed. Tinker was gone and I didn’t know if Craddock had managed to extract the rest of the men from the other tower. For the first time since we’d joined with the Saviour, I felt the rock of my certainty begin to crumble and the doubts came. I knew I was capable of subtlety, but I hit back against my doubts with the least subtle of emotions - anger. My mind shouted silently in the privacy of its confines and I railed against the possibility of failure. These were my men and the Saviour’s cause was ours. I would not let us fail. If we were to die, it would not be because I had been weak or had hesitated when I should have been strong.

“Captain?” asked Weevil. “We’re with you till the end. And we’re with each other.”

“I know, Weevil,” I said. “I’ve always known.”

We sat quietly for a time. There was no sound bar that which we made and it was almost peaceful. I would have preferred a fire and an ale, I thought ruefully, before my brain added numerous other things which I’d have also liked. Ploster often accused me, not unkindly, of being a dreamer. He might have been right, but I didn’t like to torment myself with the things I couldn’t have. My thoughts of Ploster got me to my feet. There was just enough light that the other men could see me as an outline when I crouched next to the sorcerer’s body.

“Any idea what happened to him?” asked Weevil.

“This circlet,” I said. “It has a power. He tried to use it and it overwhelmed him.” I didn’t know for certain if I spoke the truth, but I was sure I was close to the mark.

“We owe him,” said Beamer. I heard him walk across and stand at my shoulder.

“Yeah we do and I’ve already paid him back by not shaving his beard off while he sleeps,” said Weevil.

“I hope he wakes up by morning,” said Beamer. “Those blocks are properly heavy and I don’t fancy trying to climb out of one of those windows.”

“You’ll not fit through one of those,” agreed Weevil. “Anyway, why don’t you just take the circlet off his head, Captain?”

I didn’t answer him on the basis that I didn’t know why I hadn’t taken the circlet off already. I stretched out my hand and slid it away from Ploster’s head. The sorcerer groaned softly and I thought I saw his expression change, though it was too dark to be sure.

“That might have been one of your better ideas, Weevil,” I told him.

“Who’d have thought it?” asked Sinnar. “Weevil having a good idea.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to see if Corporal Ploster wakes up before we start clapping anyone on the back.” Nonetheless, I could tell that Weevil was pleased with himself.

We sat and waited. I was itching to test my strength against the stone blocks in the doorway but conceded that it would be a dangerous enough endeavour in daylight, let alone at night. I was also desperate for us to be on our way and it felt as though each passing minute allowed our enemies the freedom to act against us. Blackness became a very dark grey, which gradually turned into a medium grey. Details formed where previously there had only been outlines. Weevil catnapped, whilst Sinnar and Beamer had their eyes open, staring at nothing in particular. Ploster stirred once or twice and I had given his face a few gentle slaps to try and waken him, all to no avail.

“What are we going to do now, Captain?” asked Beamer. There weren’t many choices.

“None of us know these lands,” I said. “We could try and find our way back to the other tower and hope we don’t run into the Hungerer. Or we could wait somewhere and hope that Lieutenant Craddock comes by us. We’re going to do neither of those things.”

“Onwards to meet the Emperor?” asked Sinnar.

“It’s the only way,” I said. “He’s asked for the First Cohort and if we’re all that remains, then we are all that he can have. He’ll not break his word even if he only gets five men.”

“He’ll be pretty pissed off, I should imagine,” said Sinnar with a hearty chuckle.

I laughed too. “It’ll not be what he wants,” I agreed. “There again, we don’t know what he wanted from us in the first place. We’re only assuming he wants us to fight.”

“I doubt he wishes to talk about the good old days,” said Sinnar.

Someone grunted – it was Ploster. He opened his eyes and I was relieved when they immediately focused on his surroundings. I’d seen many men who had taken injuries to their brains and the results were rarely positive. His helmet was lying to one side, so we could see his face – he looked unusually alert.

“Sleeping again, Corporal Ploster?” I asked. Sinnar nudged the sorcerer with his boot.

“How long was I out?” he asked, ignoring the jibe.

“Hours,” I told him. “All night.”

He winced and sat up. “We got out, then?”

Sinnar offered a hand which Ploster took and found himself hauled to his feet. “Not Tinker,” Sinnar told him.

“Damnit,” said Ploster.

“You saved the rest of us. Whatever’s in that circlet, the creature didn’t like it,” I told him.

“I need to think about what happened,” he said, to forestall any questions on it.

“The time will come to talk. Do you think you’re ready to move a few stone blocks?”

Ploster’s good humour returned and he smiled. “You managed to lead us into a dead end?”

“Dead is one thing we’ll always be,” I told him. “We need to get out and see if we can find Lieutenant Craddock.”

He didn’t ask anything more about where the rest of the Cohort was – they weren’t with us, which meant we didn’t know where they were. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together.

With the arrival of day, we exerted ourselves and managed to shift the stone blocks which had prevented our escape. It took us nearly an hour, even with Ploster’s sorcery assisting us. He said he didn’t want to overuse his powers so soon after he’d been overcome by whatever power resided in the circlet. I couldn’t blame him and I didn’t press the issue.

We emerged and found ourselves amongst the trees. The place we’d escaped gave every indication that it had once been an identical tower to the last one, though this one was ruined, with less than a third of it standing. The first tower had been in the middle of a clearing, whilst here the trees pressed up as close as they could. It led me to think that whatever magical wards had protected the place in the past, they were no longer functioning.

The snow was thick on the canopy of leaves above and lay on the ground in drifts, though parts of the earth were still clear. The cold, white flakes continued to fall sporadically. Those that weren’t caught by the leaves and branches above drifted lazily and settled upon our skin and our armour. We didn’t stand gawping. I pointed away to the north-east and we set off. We no longer had our shields, nor our packs to slow us. The snow on the ground was thick enough in places that we had to detour around it. The woods were silent and still, yet I was aware that enemies might still be hunting us. We stayed alert for any change in the sound or the atmosphere which might herald the approach of danger.

I brought Ploster up to speed with what he’d missed and told him what my plans were for the future. Conversation was difficult, not because of the terrain, rather because the woods were hushed and oppressive. I would normally ignore such fanciful thoughts, but the feeling drained my enthusiasm and eventually we fell silent. Weevil and Beamer had no such problems and they talked endlessly, most of it being soldier’s banter. It was the most I think I’d heard either of them talk in a long time.

Sinnar walked with me and Ploster. His eyes roved constantly amongst the trees and he said little. Sinnar was a man who generally only talked when he thought he had something valuable or thought-provoking to say. I liked that quality in him. Idle chatter for the sake of it bored me - outside of the campfire, at least.

At the end of the first day, we camped. The word camped implies some sort of shelter and comfort of which we had none. It didn’t really matter to us. We stayed close, set a watch and rested with our backs against the trunk of two adjacent trees. Apart from Weevil, who was happy enough to lie flat on the wet leaves.

“Reminds me of home,” he said by way of explanation.

“You used to sleep on wet leaves?” asked Beamer.

“Sort of,” Weevil replied without giving any more details. We all had a past that we were free to talk about if we wanted, or to keep it to ourselves if we preferred. I detected something pained in Weevil’s few words but the secrets were his to keep.

Mid-way through the following morning, we broke out of the trees. There was little warning of it – they didn’t gradually thin or become smaller, they simply ended. We found ourselves on a vast area of flat land. There was a criss-cross pattern of low walls made from rough stone, demarking what I took to be agricultural land. Away from the shelter of the trees the snow fell heavily and the ground was pristine and white.

“At least it’ll cover our tracks,” grunted Sinnar.

“That’s if anyone’s looking for us,” I said. “It’s Craddock who’ll be most grateful for it.”

“Yes,” he replied, sounding like he wanted to say something more.

I surveyed the land – the walls provided little in the way of cover and I guessed that someone with sharp eyes would be able to see us approach from a good distance away. I was already beginning to feel exposed. To the north, the trees continued as far as I could see, their line wavering back and forth. It was tempting to retreat into their cover, but in the end, we’d have to leave them and we were going to Angax in the north-east. Heading north first might cost us several days’ travel and the journey was a long enough one as it was.

I took the lead and trudged across the snow. It was ankle deep and hid the imperfections in the ground. It made for slower travel than I’d have liked, however I was impatient to get on so even the smallest of delays would have been an irritation. Behind, a treacherous path of indentations in the snow pursued us.

“They’ll be gone in an hour, Captain,” said Weevil, kicking up a cloud of snow just for the hell of it.

The first of the walls was half a mile away. I vaulted over it and continued across what was sure to be a field beneath the white blanket. I didn’t much like the snow, though it had the positive effect of freezing any mud there might be.

“Give me the rolling hills of the Duke’s lands,” said Ploster, clapping his hands together as if to ward off the chill that his flesh could no longer feel.

“I know what you mean,” I replied. Most of Warmont’s lands – the Saviour’s lands – were covered in hills. They had a stark beauty that I’d grown to appreciate and the undulation of the terrain also made it much easier for the Cohort to travel without being seen. Other parts of the Empire were like what we saw now – flat, fertile and extensively farmed. There was death aplenty in the Empire, but at least if you died it was normally with a fully belly. It was good that food was easy to come by – winters lasted for many months in the north and the snow could lie for a long time in some places. To the west, it was mostly rain that fell. Day after day of miserable, dreary rain from skies so grey that you forgot they could ever turn blue.

After a couple of miles during which we took the most direct route over walls and across fields, we saw a farmhouse away to our left. It looked ramshackle but smoke came from the single chimney. We could have walked past it and on our way. Instead, I headed for it to see if there was anything we could glean from the occupants.

Up close, I could tell that the farmhouse had been made from the same stone as the dividing walls and the gaps filled with a coarse mortar. The windows had wooden shutters over them, all closed to keep out the cold.

There was a man waiting for us at the front door – he’d evidently seen us and had decided to take the initiative by greeting us as we approached. He was dangerously close to leaving his middle years, balding and broad. He looked at us warily, but with no outright hostility or fear.

“What can I do for you?” he asked. He attempted cheer without much success. No one wanted to find a gang of armed men on their doorstep, especially not ones who looked like we did.

“We’ve been separated from our unit,” I told him. “Which way to the nearest town?”

His eyes narrowed and I caught his gaze flicking over our armour. I didn’t know of any other units who looked like we did, though I didn’t expect a farmer to be an expert in the area. “Over that way. Solking, it’s called,” he said, pointing mostly to the north and a little to the east. “Nine miles, maybe a touch more.” As he pointed, I noticed that his smallest finger was missing. The stump looked red and sore.

“Do they have a place to stay?” I asked.

“There’s a place above the tavern,” he replied. “I doubt it’s full at this time of year.”

“Have you seen any other men come this way?” I asked.

“None. We don’t usually get soldiers this far north. Usually they come from Cinder in the south. Are you sure you’re going the right way?” he asked. The man sounded nervous now.

“We’re definitely going the right way,” I told him. “Nine miles this way?” I asked him, pointing.

“That’s right. You’ll meet a track across the next two fields. Follow it and it’ll take you there.” I thanked him and we took our leave.

Once we’d passed out of earshot, Sinnar spoke to me. “Something struck me as not quite right there,” he said. “I don’t know what.”

“Different lands, different people,” I said. In truth. I agreed with his assessment, even though there wasn’t much I could do to investigate further. “Let’s get to Solking and see if anyone’s seen anything.”

11

It was already getting dark when we reached Solking. The farmer’s nine miles were closer to twelve and the track he’d mentioned wended circuitously around fields. Snow fell and the skies become progressively greyer. We came upon the place at last – it was a settlement of only a few hundred buildings on flat ground. A wide stream ran through the middle and smoke came from many chimneys. In all, it looked like any one of hundreds or thousands of similar villages.

The streets were narrow and unpaved, the shops and dwellings mostly one or two storeys high. The people were dressed in rough, drab clothing that nonetheless looked sturdy and warm. They hurried from place to place. Some spared us a glance, while most kept their eyes averted. They had the air of a people oppressed. We reached the centre of the village and it turned out that it was large enough to accommodate two taverns. Only one had a sign outside advertising the availability of rooms and I pushed the door open.

It was warm inside – hot almost. Two wood fires blazed in opposite walls, their heat filling the room. At that strangest of times, I suddenly thought that I preferred the cold to the heavy, cloying heat of the tavern. The room was large and wood-beamed. There were many tables, about which sat labourer types – they were all men, though I was not surprised by the absence of women. We got a lot of attention, even if none of the patrons would meet our eyes when we looked back at them.

I approached the bar keep. He was a short man with a paunch, who looked like he enjoyed spreading rumours. I don’t know why I got that impression – perhaps I’d seen the like too many times.

“I need lodgings for five,” I told him. “All in one room if you can. I have coin to pay up front.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve always got rooms spare in the winter. Money up front, like you said.”

I handed over the money. There were regional variations in the Empire’s currency, but I’d not yet met a person who’d turn down a coin on the basis that they didn’t like how it had been stamped. I ordered ale and food, then we picked ourselves a table close to the door. None of the other customers liked a draught so there was plenty of choice. I preferred to be near the exit when I was in a place I didn’t know.

After we’d settled, the chatter returned to a usual level. I reclined in my chair and took a drink of my ale. I was ready for it and expected my mouth to appreciate the bounty. Instead, the ale was flat and warm. I finished it anyway.

“See that, Captain?” asked Weevil, leaning towards me and doing his best to look casual.

“What is it?”

“At least half of these people have bits of their hands missing.”

It was hard to look without drawing attention to myself, so I took his word for it. “Maybe they do a lot of work with blades,” I said, not yet particularly interested.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said. “Must be a lot of clumsy folk around here, then. They all look fresh.”

After ten minutes, I returned to the bar. There was another man waiting before me. He had his hands pressed flat on the surface of the bar and I noticed that he was missing the little finger on his left hand, as well as two knuckles from his ring finger. Now that Weevil had drawn my attention to it, I looked at the bar keep’s left hand. At first glance, it seemed to be whole, then I noticed that the top joint of his little finger was gone. The wound oozed blood and he absent-mindedly wiped it on a cloth. He came over and I ordered more drinks.

“Our unit’s been stationed north, close to the border,” I told him. “We got split during exercises in the Forestwoods. Have you heard of anyone passing through? They’d look like us.”

“I’ve not seen anyone,” he said. “At least no one that’s worth mentioning.”

I recognized the invitation and slid over a coin, thinking him to be a tight bastard for asking. “What sort of no one?” I said.

“Not soldiers like you,” he said. “Though you’re not the first person to ask today.” That got my attention and I tried to act only half-interested. It was called playing the game.

“Perhaps that’s the men from our second group,” I said, being deliberately vague.

“Oh no, these didn’t look like soldiers,” he said. “One was dressed all in robes. Black as night they were, with one of the arms burned off. I didn’t much like what I saw of his flesh underneath.”

“You said there was more than one?” I prompted.

“There was two of them. The second was a big fellow. Bigger even than your man over there,” he said, gesturing towards Sinnar. “He was proper scorched, he was. Over half his body, must have been. He didn’t seem to mind much.”

“Are they still in the village?” I asked, as easy as you like.

“They left a good few hours ago, I heard. I expected them to have trouble leaving, but they got away without any bother at all.”

I didn’t get a chance to ponder these strange words. The bar keep looked distracted for a moment and glanced at something unseen behind the wooden counter. He reached down as if to give it a pat and I was sure I heard a crunching sound. The man winced and I heard something patter away, keeping itself hidden behind the counter. The bar keep lifted his hand and I saw that the end of his ring finger was squirting blood. Staring into the distance like he was in a trance, he pulled a white cloth out from a pocket in his apron and pressed it over his hand. A rich crimson spot soaked through at once. The bar keep’s action distracted me for a split second and when I looked to see what had injured him, I was too late. A dark shape vanished through an opening into his cellar, quickly enough that I wasn’t able to make out what it was. The man caught me looking.

“That’s my son,” he said. “He’s a good boy. Always underfoot when his daddy’s trying to work, though.” He smiled fondly, while the patch of blood on his cloth continued to grow.

“What happened to your finger?” I asked.

“This?” he said. “I must have cut it with a knife earlier. Yes, that’s what happened. I remember it happening when I was chopping vegetables. My wife always used to tell me how clumsy I am.”

“What just bit you?” I asked pointedly.

“I wasn’t bitten,” he said, his voice already rising an octave in the beginnings of anger. “I told you I cut it when I was chopping vegetables.”

He finished serving the drinks and I picked up the cups, pretending that I hadn’t noticed the smears of blood down the sides of three of them. As I turned to leave, the bar keep spoke once more.

“They won’t let you leave, you know.”

I didn’t answer and pushed my way through the customers until I reached our table. I put the cups down on the table, though we wouldn’t be drinking the contents. The conversation froze when they saw the look on my face and I saw Beamer unconsciously reach for the hilt of his sword, to check that it was still in the same place that it always was.

“We have a bit of trouble,” I said, reversing my chair and sitting on it. I lowered my voice so that it wouldn’t carry further than it had to. “I don’t know what I saw, but something just bit off the bar keep’s fingertip while he was serving me. At first, he acted like nothing had happened and then he told me it was his son. It vanished into his cellar before I could see what it was. There’s probably another hour left until it’s too dark to march, so we’re going to leave our drinks and head to the north-east.”

The men didn’t seem worried. I saw another look in their faces.

“Captain?” asked Beamer. “Are these the Saviour’s people too?”

I don’t know what expression came to my face and I immediately realised what he was saying to me. Our lady hadn’t just come to save the Duke’s people, she’d come to stop shit like this happening to people in places we’d never heard of, everywhere in the Empire. I recalled my earlier thoughts about how death now held too great a hold over the living. You shouldn’t spend your life fearing your death, else you might as well be dead anyway. These people were being robbed of the most valuable thing they had and it seemed like no one was interested in stopping it. The Empire is beginning to fall apart I thought to myself. Malleus is losing his grip, he just doesn’t know it yet. It came as a shock to think it, since the Empire had stood for so long.

“Message understood, Beamer,” I told him. “Let’s see what we can do for them.” The soldier’s face brightened at once. I knew him to be a principled man. There again, we all thought the same of ourselves. “Thank you for the reminder,” I said aloud. He understood what I meant.

We stood as one and I motioned them towards the bar. Sinnar, Weevil and Ploster put their backs to the counter and watched the room, hardly even trying to look anything other than threatening. I jumped over the bar and Beamer came after. Our booted feet crashed onto the wooden floor.

“What are you doing?” demanded the bar keep. I saw that his rag was sodden with blood now, as if the bleeding hadn’t stopped.

I didn’t answer him and walked to the cellar opening – it was in the furthest corner of the serving area, positioned so that you would be unlikely to fall down it accidentally. There was a trapdoor to cover the hole, but it was hinged open and propped against a wall. A steep set of wooden steps descended into the cellar and there was plenty of light below. I drew my sword and heard an immediate clamour from the other patrons when they saw me do so. The opening was wide and I climbed nimbly down the steps, keeping my face to the front in case something came upon me suddenly. The cellar floor was fifteen feet below and when I reached it, I moved to one side so that Beamer could follow.

We found ourselves in a large room – over twenty feet to a side and lit with two oil lamps which burned orange. Barrels lined the walls and I saw sacks of flour, potatoes and onions. There were nooks and crannies, but nothing which could hide anything larger than a cat. I crossed the room with my sword held in front of me. There was another doorway, through which I passed. This next room was unlit. Some light filtered through. It wasn’t enough to see the farthest corners, so I gave my eyes a moment to adjust. There were more barrels and sacks.

“Over there,” whispered Beamer.

The walls of the cellar were made of bricks. In the middle of one wall, was a hole, visible as a darker patch against the surrounding area. I advanced towards it warily, Beamer at my side. We crouched next to the hole – it was about waist high and cut through what I guessed was a heavy clay that lay beneath the surface. The idea of crawling inside didn’t greatly appeal to me, but I led by example, so in I went. The folly of it soon became apparent when I found out that I couldn’t see anything at all. I whispered for Beamer to go and bring me one of the oil lamps from the other room. I heard his footsteps clatter over the floor behind me. As soon as they’d faded, I heard a familiar whispering sound and ahead, two glowing points of white appeared. They were startlingly close. I wasn’t stupid enough to fight blind and backed away quickly. The points of light darted closer and I thought it was going to attack. Then, they vanished and I caught the faint sounds of something retreating.

Light washed over me, signalling the return of Beamer. “Here you go, Captain,” he said. “Watch out, it’s hot.” The banality of the comment almost made me laugh.

“There’re more of those children creatures here,” I said. I’d been reminded of Weevil’s first words when he’d heard them – they sounded like whispering children. Beamer understood what I meant and he nodded.

I motioned him to wait and I crouched into the tunnel again. It didn’t know if it had been dug specifically to allow access to the village or not. It didn’t look like it would survive for long if there were a few weeks of heavy rainfall on the streets above. I went along in a half-crawl. The tunnel wasn’t quite straight and after twenty yards, it branched into two. The light from the lamp wasn’t sufficient for me to see far along either of the alternatives. I told myself I was taking an unnecessary risk in coming so far – I wouldn’t be capable of fighting well and there was a chance I could get buried beneath tons of clay if the ceiling collapsed. I saw and heard nothing as I laboured my way back to the entrance.

“Anything?” asked Beamer.

“There’s something in there. Wherever it is, I couldn’t get along far enough to find it.”

We climbed out of the cellar. The bar keep had the sullen look of a man who had complained until he’d been given a threat he couldn’t ignore. Sinnar could handle any situation like this, no matter how unruly it became.

“Those children things are here,” I said by way of explanation. “Come on, we’re going looking.”

We left the tavern and I fancied I heard a collective sigh of relief from the patrons as the tension left the air. On my way out, I’d looked at the hands of a few of the men. I guessed that more than one in two had an injury or missing fingers – like Weevil had said. My anger built and I paused for a moment in the street outside to be sure I had a grasp on it.

“Those creatures,” I said. “They are doing something that confuses their victims and they are feeding on these people, bit by bit. This is insane.” I shook my head.

“What are we to do?” asked Ploster. He looked as confused as I felt.

“We’ll have to search the houses until we find something,” I said. “Catch one of them at it and kill it.” I rubbed at my cheek and looked around the central square of the village. The sky was almost full dark, but lamps were lit and they hung from the fronts of shops and houses.

“There’re only five of us,” said Weevil. “Someone’s going to get pretty pissed off if we start kicking in doors.”

“And there’re three hundred buildings here, I’d guess,” said Ploster.

Something suddenly struck me. “Where’re all the people?” I asked, turning my head so that I could see behind. Sure enough, the village square was deserted - it had been bustling when we’d arrived.

“Beats me, Captain. Maybe they’re at home having their supper.”

I felt alarm, without knowing quite where the feeling came from. “The bar keep in the tavern. He said he didn’t think they’d let us leave. I didn’t know what he meant at the time,” I told them.

My agitation had reached the others. They turned this way and that as they peered along the darkened and shadowy streets.

“I think I saw something,” said Beamer. I looked where he indicated but couldn’t see anything in the gloom.

A part of me felt ashamed and accused me of letting myself get unnerved by hints and suggestions of a threat. Another part told me that I could deal with my shame later and that we should make haste from Solking. “This village is already lost to us,” I said with a certainty that I felt.

“There’s something along that street as well,” said Sinnar. He stood easily, his hand on his sword hilt.

“We’re leaving,” I told them. I didn’t ask if anyone agreed. If they had a problem with us leaving the Saviour’s people behind, they could speak to me about it later. I didn’t see any sign of dissent and when I met Beamer’s eyes for a moment I saw him give the faintest of nods.

We pulled our swords out and ran towards the closest street that went in a northerly direction. As we started, it was then that I heard the whispering sounds. The tone was different to the other times I’d heard them. Now, they caressed my ears soothingly, as if to reassure me that everything was fine and that we should stop for a minute and rest. I don’t know if the spell only worked on the living, or if we were all such old and cynical bastards that the promise of comfort didn’t interest us. As we exited the tiny village square, I saw a number of shapes emerge from their hiding places. There were dozens of them, as if they’d been there all along if we’d only looked for them. The street along which we ran remained deserted. Either we’d picked lucky or the creatures were reluctant to pursue us.

We broke stride only once. It was when we heard the high-pitched cry of a baby behind the walls of a building we passed. I stopped – there was nothing else I could do. I kicked the flimsy wooden door open. The door racketed back and I looked into the poorly-lit room beyond. There were furnishings, I’m sure, but the only details I saw were that of a mother, clutching a swaddled young baby to her chest. The mother had a distant look on her face and she held her child’s arm out from the blankets. I saw the tiny, pudgy fingers extend once and the baby screamed again, the sound so shrill that I feared it had already been hurt. One of the children things was there next to the pair, its oval mouth wide and ready to snip off the baby’s hand. Before I knew what had happened, I was standing over the body of the creature. I’d hacked it to pieces and there were chunks of its flesh scattered across the floor. I looked into the doorway and saw that Sinnar had hardly managed to enter the room. He looked dumbfounded.

I studied the woman and her baby. There was no sign of blood and the distant look was fading from her face. She seemed shocked to find us there. Time stood still for me. I don’t know if there was something I saw in her face, or if the murder I’d just prevented reminded me of the preciousness of the life I’d lost.

“We can’t leave them here,” I said. I tugged the baby from its mother. She resisted only briefly – perhaps she was still addled. “Sinnar, get her,” I told him. He picked up the baby’s mother and threw her unceremoniously over his shoulder. She didn’t cry out even with this poor treatment.

“I think they’re coming, Captain,” called Weevil from his position outside.

We’d been inside the house for hardly any time at all. Sinnar had already turned and gone when I got my feet moving. I stepped into the street and saw Weevil facing the way we’d come, his sword raised threateningly. I didn’t see anything and didn’t wait around. We formed up again and ran from Solking as quickly as we could.

The last of the village’s buildings vanished behind us and we entered fields. With little option, Ploster lit up the ground with his sorcerous light so that we could see ahead of us. My mind was filled with a mixture of emotions – guilt and anger that I’d been unable to save even that small village. There was also uncertainty at why I’d made the decision to bring the mother and baby with us. Perhaps I’d needed some small token of a victory in order to assuage the overriding notion that I’d somehow failed those people.

12

We were not pursued, or at least there was no sign of anything behind us. Illuminated as we were by the sphere of Ploster’s light, I didn’t think it likely that we’d have managed to escape anything that was determined to follow. At last, after an hour, I called for a halt. The baby I held cradled in one arm had been crying for some time and the woman over Sinnar’s shoulder complained bitterly.

I found us a sheltered place which was in the lee of a stone wall and facing a copse of trees. I didn’t think we’d passed any houses on our way, or if we had, their windows had been dark. Beamer and Weevil went into the trees to forage. Sinnar set down the woman and I gave her the baby at once. Its cries didn’t subside until she allowed it to latch onto her breast.

“She’s hungry,” said the woman. She looked alert now and I saw her sizing us up, trying to work out our intentions.

“We won’t harm you,” I said.

“He’s already shaken me up like a sack of potatoes,” she said, turning her head towards Sinnar. Her accent was strong and unusual to my ears. The Empire mostly shared a common tongue, so the words themselves were familiar. Sinnar chuckled at her accusation.

“Do you remember what happened?” I asked.

She furrowed her brow. I guessed her to be in her early twenties. I thought her extraordinarily pretty, with dark hair and a slight upturn to her nose. Her clothes were shapeless and poor – designed to ward off the cold and nothing more. “That man in the house with us,” she said. “He told me he wanted to kiss my Ellie’s hand. To bring her a long and prosperous life.”

“Have you ever seen that man before?” I asked.

She shook her head firmly. “Not that I remember.”

“Let me have a look at your hands,” Sinnar asked, crouching down next to her. She hesitated and then showed him each hand in turn, shifting position to support her baby. I could see them as well – they were slender and pale, but there was nothing missing.

“That wasn’t a man in your house,” said Ploster. He sat himself nearby and leaned against the wall, the metal sides of his breastplate making a scraping noise as he did so. “Something came to your village and it would have killed you if you’d stayed. Where’s the child’s father?”

“My husband serves in the Duchess’ army and I have seen little of him for weeks. There’s a tyrant in Duke Warmont’s capital and he’s been told to prepare for war.”

None of us wanted to ask the question. In the end, it was me who did. “Where was your husband sent?” I asked softly.

“East of here was all he’d tell me. In the Forestwoods close to the border. The Duchess needs to be ready to strike at a moment’s opportunity.”

“How the cruelties of life intertwine us,” said Sinnar, as if he were quoting from a text he used to teach. The woman looked at him with suspicion, but didn’t say anything.

Weevil and Beamer returned after a short while and they got a fire going. The baby had finished feeding and the woman kept it close to her chest. Its cries didn’t resume and I assumed it had fallen asleep. The fire crackled and snapped – a familiar sound that I had always found oddly reassuring. The woman had decided that I was in charge and she looked at me.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“You can’t go back to the village,” I said. “Are there any big towns or cities close by? The Duchess needs to send her soldiers to Solking.”

“You are not her men?” she asked.

“No, we are not her men,” I replied, without elaborating.

“The nearest town is Sint, away to the east. At least that’s what the men from Solking used to say. I’ve never left the village, except to work the fields. I think I would like to go back there.”

“You can’t,” I told her. “The creatures there will kill you and your child.” I realised that they had done something to cloud her mind and that she might not believe what we were telling her. I couldn’t blame her. I knew that I had acted in haste when I’d brought the woman and child with us, but I felt no guilt over the matter. If anything, the initial confusion I’d felt had now settled into a sense of relief that we’d done something rather than nothing at all.

“Captain?” said Ploster. “The magic which has affected her will fade quickly. I’ve seen similar before – the human mind is infinitely complex and intricate. It’s difficult to fool it for long. With sorcery, at least,” he added with a half-smile.

I stared at our captive. “We’ll take you to Sint,” I said. “If it’s a big enough place there’ll be soldiers stationed there. Or at least someone with the authority to get a message to your husband to tell him where you are.”

She nodded and said nothing for a while. Then, she said, “It seems strange looking back on it, that a man would want to kiss my baby’s hand. I can’t even picture his face.” She gave a sudden shiver. I glanced over at Ploster. His look answered my unspoken question.

The woman lay down to sleep in a space we’d cleared of snow. There was little beyond that which we could do to make her comfortable, but she didn’t seem to mind. I wondered if she was still disoriented by the magic, since she fell at once into slumber with her baby pulled in close. We old men said little, lost as we were in our own thoughts. After a few hours, the child awoke and began to cry. The sound was tiny in the vast expanse of the outside. The woman didn’t wake at once and we all shifted nervously, unsure what to do. In the end, I reached down and picked the baby up. It weighed almost nothing and was hardly as long as my combined hand and forearm.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Don’t look at me, Captain. I’ve never had one,” said Beamer. “I joined the army as soon as I could to avoid stuff like this.”

“Lieutenant Sinnar, you taught children,” I said, the words almost an accusation.

“That I did, Captain,” he said. “I didn’t have any of my own though. I think it might need changing. Or it could be hungry.”

Ploster and Weevil looked away when I stared at them questioningly. And there it was. A group of us who’d killed so many times – who’d taken away so much life – between us we had no experience at all of how to nurture it. I heard a rustling sound at my feet and the child’s mother sprang to her feet. She snatched her daughter away from me, with a look of terror on her face.

“Get away from her!” she said, huddling onto the ground with her baby cradled tightly.

“Do you remember?” asked Ploster softly.

I saw that she was shaking and when she looked up, there were tears on her face. “What were those horrible creatures?”

“We don’t know,” said Ploster. “We think they came from under the ground. We don’t know what they wanted with your village or your people.”

“It would have killed my Ellie,” she said.

“There were many others like it in Solking,” I said. “They were eating the villagers piece by piece. I’ve seen many terrible things, but I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

The woman seemed to accept what I’d told her and I was reminded of the stoic resilience that many people could show in the face of something they couldn’t change. I could see that her mind had filled in many of the gaps that the dark magics had forced her to ignore. With no choice, she simply accepted it and was relieved that she and her baby were alive. If she was thankful towards us, she didn’t say, nor was I anxious for her to express gratitude.

It turned out that the child was both hungry and needed to have its swaddling clothes changed. Fortunately, the woman had some cloth with her that she was able to use and she threw the old one away, stained as it was.

“I don’t have anything else I can use after this one,” she said simply. “She’ll get sore if I have to leave her soiled for long.”

“We’ll find something,” said Beamer. “Even if we have to tear our own clothing into strips.”

The next morning, we set off early. The woman wasn’t able to give us much of an idea about where the town of Sint was, so we headed to the east with the idea of speaking to anyone we came across. It turned out that there were no more farms or houses in the immediate vicinity, so we trudged onwards through the lightly-falling snow. Our new companion told us she was hungry and it was lucky that Beamer and Weevil had both thought to stash away some food which they’d taken from the tavern in Solking. They didn’t have much, but it was better than nothing.

Although there were no farms, the land was still mostly flat. Here and there we saw signs that people had once lived here – there were half-finished stone walls and every so often we saw ramshackle houses, all of which were abandoned.

“Do you have any idea at all how far it is to Sint?” I asked.

“The men who made the journey talked of a five day trip,” she said. “That was in the summer when the going was easier.”

I mulled over that information. We were already travelling much slower than we normally would, and I was concerned that we might end up losing even as much as ten days from our journey. I reckoned that Angax could have still been almost two thousand miles distant. When the opportunity presented itself to speak without being overheard, I called Jon Ploster over.

“We can’t afford the time to divert to Sint,” he said.

“I know, Jon,” I said. “I’m glad we saved the woman and her baby, but I didn’t intend on the consequences.”

“You feel that she’s your responsibility?”

I nodded. “Aye, that I do. She reminds me of my past and something which could have been. Something I wish with all my heart could have been and now never will.”

“I think we all do, Tyrus,” he said. “Yet we must be careful that in our efforts to save one of the Saviour’s people that we don’t fail the Saviour herself.”

“I’m backed into a corner,” I said with a chuckle. “Meanwhile, the rest of the Cohort are lost to us.” I remembered something else. “The bar keep in Solking – he told me that the Flesh Shaper and the Hungerer had passed through the village, asking the whereabouts of soldiers. The Hungerer was badly burned.”

“Sounds like the Pyromancer wasn’t holding back.”

“I wonder if he still lives,” I said. “For the moment, I must count him as an ally.”

“He’s always been one of the more human ones,” said Ploster. “As if he clings onto the memory of what he was.”

“Perhaps he’s proud to have once been a man,” I said, without knowing why.

“What are we to take from the knowledge that our foes are in front of us?” he asked.

“We can assume that some of the Cohort escaped at the very least,” I said. “Enough that a death sorcerer thought it worth his while to continue the pursuit.”

“Or maybe only a few remain and our enemies wish to stop them reaching the Emperor with this news of treachery.”

“I can’t allow myself to believe that,” I told him.

“Nor me, Tyrus. With every step, they are getting further away from us.”

In the middle of the afternoon, we came to a cluster of three farms, with their dwellings adjacent for protection. Dogs barked as we approached and barked even louder when I banged my fist upon the door of the nearest house. Unlike the other places we’d passed, these three looked well-maintained and occupied. A lad answered the door – probably no more than ten years old. There was shouting from within as someone ordered the hounds to silence. A woman came to see who we were. She’d clearly not been expecting a group of armed men and she looked concerned at our arrival. In lawless places, the appearance of men such as we would evoke terror. The fact that she only looked worried told me that she was used to peace.

I explained to her that we’d taken the woman and her child from her village in order to ensure her safety and asked if there was any way she could be taken to Sint. The lady of the household was a shrewd negotiator and made me pay a reasonable sum for the privilege. I didn’t mind – I would have paid generously anyway and it was only my own stubbornness that made me put up a show of haggling. In the end, I wanted the new host to look after the woman and her baby without any bitterness that she’d been underpaid.

I think we were all relieved to see the back of each other. It wasn’t that the woman was poor company – in fact, had the circumstances been different I’m sure we’d have all valued her presence a great deal more. In the end, we knew that our loyalty and our duties lay elsewhere and it would have been painful for us if we’d become attached to either her or the child. We left the farmhouse without a wave or a farewell. Our pace was much improved and I could see the tension drain from the men’s faces as we headed once again to the north-east. Come the darkness, we stopped by a brook, which splashed merrily within the confines of its banks. The channel of the stream gave enough cover that I was happy for a fire to be lit and soon we were stretched out with our backs against the snow-covered the grass.

“I think I’ve forgotten how to be anything other than a soldier,” said Beamer. “There was a beautiful woman with us and I had nothing to say. All I kept thinking was how slowly we were going and how much I wanted to find out where the rest of our boys were.”

“You’re right,” said Weevil. “The trouble is, I don’t want to be like that. I thought we’d changed when we came to the Saviour and we have, but you know, we’re still different.”

“Are you worried that no one will ever want you?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, Captain,” said Weevil. “I reckon I’m more worried that it’s me who’ll never want anything other than what I’ve got.”

“Every man can change,” said Sinnar. “The more he needs to change, the slower it’ll be, but never tell yourself that you can’t do it.”

“In order to change, you have to want to do it,” said Ploster. “I think Weevil is saying that what he’s got is all he needs. How can you make yourself want something else?”

“It’ll never happen while we’re fighting,” said Beamer. “While we’re at war, there’s nothing more important than the Cohort. Maybe if it ever stops, we’ll see things differently.”

“It’s nice to think so,” I said. “I don’t want to die and I’m not looking for it. I just don’t dare spend a lot of time thinking about what happens to us if war goes away. I know there’ll be a time when I have to confront it, but some things you have to deal with when you need to.”

“Yeah,” said Weevil. “It’s still a shame to think that none of us knew how to look after a baby. Maybe I should’ve been a better dad when I had the chance.”

“I didn’t know you were a dad,” said Beamer.

“I was. Not a good one. Left her to it all the time. Then I got bored and ran away to become a soldier. Told her I’d send the money home. I never did, of course. Spent two years feeling guilty, but the fighting soon took that away. Like killing other men was atonement for it. I don’t believe that now, of course. I was just a stupid, scared little shit. Never did find out what happened to the mother or my daughter. Dead and forgotten by everyone, except me. I didn’t even have the decency to marry her. And now all I can do is sit here, festering over the mistakes made by the man I no longer am.”

“There are some things no one can fix but you,” Sinnar told him, without judgement.

“I know that, Lieutenant. I’ve just kept hoping that one day I’ll wake up and I’ll have forgotten about everything. Or I’ll find that all these years vanish like a dream and I’ll somehow be given another chance to see what happened to my kid.”

Sinnar put an arm around him. “You can’t change the past, but we can change what’s to come. Don’t go dying till we’ve done what we have to do and then we’ll let you find whatever oblivion you want.”

Nothing more was said. The darkness closed in as the fire subsided, its fuel spent. Smoke blew across me with the breeze, the fumes bringing back more recent memories of our time in Gold fighting against Duke Warmont’s men. I was grateful that the pain we’d suffered there was enough to distract me from the more painful thoughts of my own distant past, which I’d buried deep within to protect me from the madness of pursuing them.

I slept for a time, until early dawn brought me back to wakefulness.

13

The next day there was no new snow, though it was far too cold for the existing snow to melt. The skies were blue and the wind which blew into our faces was fresh rather than unwelcome. I knew little about Duchess Callian’s lands, other than that most of her towns and cities were in the southern half of her domain. We were far to the north, so I didn’t expect to see many people. To my surprise, we did find a road which went in the direction we wanted, but as ever, it was too great a risk for us to walk along. Instead, we forged our own path a few miles to the north of it. In contrast to Duke Warmont’s lands, this area was a seemingly endless plain, flat and bleak. The snow covered the ground, though not so thickly that it entirely hid the hardy grasses underneath. There were many streams and many small wooded areas.

“We might as well be back on the Northdown Moors,” said Ploster.

“It looks little different at the moment,” I conceded. “I think when the snows melt, the sun will shine here and it will be a pleasant land. On the Northdown Moors, the rain never seems to end and the skies are always grey.”

“Winter should be almost over,” he said. “And we’ll be halfway through spring when we reach Angax.”

“I don’t think we’ll find much warmth in the Sunderer’s lands. Not even in spring. It’s harsh for his people.”

“It is not all bad,” he replied. “The summers can be fine, particularly in the southern areas. Still, I have sometimes wondered why Malleus bothered to conquer so much of the land to the north.”

“Because it was there,” I laughed.

“I wonder why he decided to stop,” he replied. “The mountains to the north would have made a more natural border. Instead, he reined in his armies where he did.”

“Perhaps he knew something even then,” I said. “We never fought on his northern borders and I’ve not heard even a hint about what made the Emperor decide he’d had enough of conquering.”

“I am very interested to find out,” said Ploster. “Malleus was in his pomp back then and there were times I thought he would stop for nothing. Now we’ve had over two hundred years in which his borders have remained static.”

“We’ve spoken about this before,” I warned him. “And we’re still no closer to knowing what drives the man. Whatever it is, it’s something completely different to what drives you or me.” We’d gone over that old ground many times before and I didn’t wish to repeat the experience for the moment. Instead, I changed the subject. “What happened when you put the circlet on?” I asked him.

“Where is it?” he asked, not answering the question.

“Here,” I said, patting at the shirt I wore under my breastplate. “I have it tucked away.”

“It’s powerful,” he said. “When I lowered it onto my head, it changed in size to be a perfect fit and all at once I saw possibilities and permutations for my magic that I’d not considered before. I used it, but it was more than I could control. I burned that creature and in doing so, overreached. The circlet magnifies, yet it also tempts. I would not like to wear it again.”

“You think you would be lured into doing the same as you did before?”

“The only time I’d need its power is when my own abilities are not enough. In such extremes, I have no doubt that I would have no choice other than to use it once more.”

“Will the Saviour be able to make use of it?” I asked.

“I think it could be the difference between a battle won and a battle lost,” he said. “I would not like it to fall into the hands of a death sorcerer. Or the Emperor.”

At these words, I became acutely aware of the circlet’s presence and felt the cold metal digging into my flesh. “Are we not better off burying it and returning for it later?” I asked. “Or destroying it?”

“Who knows?” he asked. “Do you think you could hide it anywhere here and find it easily when you need it?”

I took his point. “I’ll keep it with me for the time being.”

“I might have learned something from the sights it revealed,” he said hesitantly, as if he wasn’t at all sure himself.

“Has it made you more powerful?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Knowledge without power makes for a poor sorcerer,” he said. “I have plenty of the former and am lacking in the latter. We’ll see if I’ve learned something. Regardless, it’s always good to see things from a new perspective.”

We marched on without pause. The plains were so vast that it was easy for the eye to be fooled into thinking we hadn’t moved at all, when in reality we’d covered a lot of ground. The footing was uncertain, yet that wasn’t enough to overcome our motivation to find out what had become of the rest of the Cohort. In our wake, we left a trail of footprints, as straight as you could imagine and with hardly any fresh snowfall to conceal them. I gave it little thought – I had no reason to assume there was anyone following us. It was those who lay ahead that gave cause for concern.

The day ended and we camped. We rose with the morning and repeated the previous day. There was no reason to believe we’d accidentally stumble across Craddock or the two pursuers. The land was so vast that the chances of either happening seemed so remote as to be almost impossible. In addition, I knew that the Cohort would be marching with all due speed to their destination and Craddock was unlikely to force a confrontation with the Hungerer or Flesh Shaper if he didn’t need to. He’d always been practical above all else and rarely lost sight of his primary goals.

Two more days passed and I felt like we’d covered a significant distance. Then, I was reminded that even the tiniest of chances must occasionally become reality. It was Sinnar who saw them first – a multitude of tracks which swept across from the west and joined our path over the grasslands. I wasn’t a skilled tracker and wasn’t able to tell how fresh they were. There’d not been any snow for the last four days, so they weren’t any older than that.

“How many men do you think?” I asked everyone.

“I’m not sure,” said Weevil. “Plenty of them.”

“It’s not a full-sized army,” said Sinnar. “Four men wide, long strides.”

“It’s got to be Craddock, hasn’t it?” I asked, looking in front. The tracks headed more easterly than we’d been travelling. I trusted his sense of direction better than my own, so we changed course at once to follow. We didn’t know with absolute certainty that we followed the Cohort, but their marching pattern suggested we’d found them. It looked like most of them had escaped the tower and had decided to continue to Angax. Our moods picked up at once and we laughed and joked while we pursued the rest of our men at a half-run. I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on the possibility that they’d all been killed or our numbers reduced so much that only a handful of us remained. Here, I saw the first sign of hope that we’d be reunited with the rest of the men.

The high spirits didn’t last for long. As we ran, I became aware of something just to the north – fifty or so yards away from us. It was an imperfection in the snow that I couldn’t quite make out. I increased my pace and sprinted over to see what it was. My fears were realised – there were two more sets of prints, both misshapen and indistinct. One set of marks was shallow, as if the owner were skating across the surface of the snow. The other prints were large and deep, with large gaps between each one. I joined my group again.

“Terrax follows them,” I said. “And the Hungerer is with him.”

Sinnar uttered a string of oaths. “They’ve cast their lot with Callian and whoever else it is that has decided to betray the Emperor. I doubt they want news to reach Malleus before they can complete their plans.”

“Equally, I am sure they don’t wish to jeopardise those plans by spending weeks pursuing three hundred men across half of the Empire,” said Ploster.

“Yeah,” said Sinnar. “Let’s hope they give up before they find what they’re looking for.”

“We need to watch ahead,” I said loudly above the clanking and scraping noises that accompanied my strides. “I’d hate to come upon them with only five of us.”

Two more days went by. Angax was still far away, yet I felt better that we were covering so many miles with each day. On the second day, I was forced to confront the inevitable: the snow was beginning to melt. I knew that in the Duke’s lands it would rarely lie for long. Here, it had persisted for longer than I’d expected, but without fresh snow to fall on top, it had started to become patchy in places. The grass underneath was revealed, vibrant green and a welcome change from the unending whiteness we’d seen recently. It was good news and bad news. None of us really liked the snow and its melting made it harder for the death sorcerers to track down the Cohort. On the other hand, it would eventually make it impossible for us to do the same.

We came into a series of gentle hills on that afternoon which prevented us from seeing as far ahead as we’d been able to up till now. Nevertheless, I liked being on undulating terrain instead of flat or low-lying land. Heavy infantry and cavalry always performed poorly when attacking up hill and it was something which the First Cohort had used to our advantage time and again. In the valleys, we crossed steams which were swollen by the influx of melting snow. It was impossible to escape getting wet, even if it wasn’t a major problem. The tracks we followed were harder to see, though there was still enough snow that we could easily follow. I had a sense of urgency and I pushed us on late into the night, long past the point at which it would have been safest to stop. By the time I thought about asking Ploster to cast his light, I realised that my haste might lead us into danger. I ordered a halt.

We set camp next to a collection of rocks and boulders. They weren’t anything like a fortification, but they were something to keep our backs to. Beamer and Weevil went out to forage for something that would burn, while the rest of us were happy enough to leave them to it.

“We’ll lose the tracks tomorrow or the day after at the latest,” said Sinnar. “Assuming there’s no fresh snow.”

“There’ll be no snow,” I said. “There’s none in the air – I can feel it.”

“It’s become warmer, hasn’t it?” said Ploster. “Winter will soon be gone.”

“The Northmen won’t let winter go,” said Sinnar. “They’ll bring a worse cold with them, even if the Emperor holds them off till summer.”

“We’ll see,” I said, not wishing to speculate for the moment.

“I feel like time is running out,” Sinnar continued. “The Saviour is attacked from the north, and possibly from the south and east. There’s rebellion in the Empire it would seem, and we have an unknown foe who’s managed to drag even Malleus off his throne to intervene.”

“I thought you loved the challenge,” I said to him.

“I do,” he said. I could sense the smile even in the darkness. “It’s just that I hate being away from it all. When my enemy is in front of me I know that every man I kill brings us closer to victory. When there’s no one here, all I have are my worries that those same foes grow stronger, until eventually there’ll be too many to destroy.”

“What changes a man of learning into a man so determined to crush his enemies?” I asked softly.

“There came a time when there was no one left to teach,” he said.

Our conversation was disturbed by a noise. At first, I thought it was Beamer or Weevil approaching. That idea didn’t last long – we heard a gruff sound. It was part growl and partly the sound of something clearing its throat. Whatever it was, it was large and it was close by. I didn’t need to tell the others to be quiet. I saw something, framed as a darker silhouette against the already black sky. It was the Hungerer. Whether it had come to look for us or whether chance had sent it our way, I didn’t know. The beast stopped, maybe fifty or sixty yards from where we crouched near the rocks. We sat in absolute silence – from what I knew of it, the Hungerer could hear the smallest of sounds. Our only hope was that it couldn’t smell us or see well in the dark.

The passing moments dragged until I was certain we would have to fight. Then, I sensed it move away, with footsteps almost silent on the grass. It produced another low growl – deep and resonating, but this time further away from us. We sat unmoving and unspeaking for another five minutes.

“That was close,” said Ploster.

“Was it looking for us?” I asked him.

“It’s always looking for something,” he said. “Whether that is us, I have no idea.”

Beamer and Weevil returned together, carrying armloads of sticks that they’d managed to forage from the surrounding area. I didn’t have to ask if they were aware of how close we’d just come to destruction. “The bastard’s gone back along the way we came,” whispered Beamer. “I got a good view of it from higher up. It’s definitely searching.”

“There’ll be no fires tonight,” I said. “Let’s see if we can get hidden a little better than we are.”

There wasn’t much cover amongst the rocks, but we did the best we could. I was in two minds as to whether we should press on, though the risks of walking across unfamiliar terrain seemed just as great as staying put. We stayed, though the night was an uncomfortable one even for us who’d seen more than our fair share of rough camp sites. The Hungerer didn’t return and we were on our way an hour earlier than we’d have normally set off.

The day was warmer than any for the last two or three months and the snow melted almost in front of our eyes. In addition, it looked as if this area had seen less snowfall than the places we’d come from and most of what remained was little more than slush. Come midday, the tracks we’d been following were much harder to follow. Whilst marching soldiers leave sign of their passing, there was none of us who were especially adept at reading bent blades of grass. The fact that the Cohort’s trail had been almost straight worked in our favour, so we were able to set a course that would bring us close to them if they didn’t deviate.

An hour into the afternoon and we saw a settlement ahead – it was larger than a village, yet not quite what I’d have called a town. We stood upon a nearby hilltop and looked across at the place. There were a few hundred houses, built from a mixture of stone and wood, sprawled across the top of a low, flat-topped hill and spilling down the banks to a slow-moving river below. There were roads leading in – more mud than anything else and with signs of traffic.

“The direction of the tracks would have taken them straight through there,” I said. “Let’s see if there’s any information to be had.”

With that, I took a direct route down the hill in order to join one of the roads. Even the cold weather hadn’t stopped it being reduced to a morass of thick mud and melting snow. We decided to walk alongside it, and could see from the wear on the adjacent grass that most other travellers had done the same. I hailed the first person I saw – a youngish man who was stooped before his time. His brow had furrows as deep as sword cuts and his hands were as gnarly as an old tree trunk.

“What’s this place up ahead?” I asked.

The fellow looked at me with what might have been suspicion – almost everyone looked at us this way, so I didn’t pay much notice to what he thought of us. “That’s Holnret,” he said. “Soldiers, are you?”

There didn’t seem much point in denying it, since our appearance meant we could have been nothing else. “Aye, we’re soldiers. Just passing through.”

“To the Sunderer’s lands? This warning will cost you nothing – keep your destination to yourself.”

“Why’s that?” I asked him.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, walking away from us. “Just remember what I said.”

The town was less than a mile away and we set off towards it. “We’d best be wary. I don’t know what that fellow meant, so we should keep our heads down and find out what we need to know. I doubt Lieutenant Craddock has stopped here, but there’s always a chance and I’d hate to walk past without finding out first.”

We reached Holnret a few minutes later and entered the nearest of its streets.

14

The first impression I got of Holnret was that it was just another small town, struggling with all the hardships of a place that had few natural resources and with a populace who lacked the vibrancy to do things much differently to how they were already doing them. The houses were a mix of old and new, stone and wood, single storey and two storeys. The streets were paved in places, mud in others, without proper drainage to take away the standing water. People bustled here and there, always seeming to be in a hurry, yet without any apparent reason for their urgency. We were spared a few glances, but no one met our eyes. The smell of dung overrode everything. Beamer summed it up perfectly.

“What a shit hole,” he said under his breath.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking it,” said Ploster.

“Let’s find out what we need to know and we’ll be on our way,” I said, already feeling depressed at the dead-end nature of the town. I should have been used to it – I’d seen plenty of them and fought minor battles over plenty more.

We reached a series of shops and a couple of taverns a little way out from the centre of town. I was reluctant to spend any time in a tavern, so I looked for a general store instead. I had the rest of the men wait outside whilst I spoke to the shopkeeper.

“I’m looking for tents, sheets, packs.” I told him. “Anything that can keep a man sheltered as he travels.”

“Got none left,” the shopkeeper told me. “Sold them all first thing this morning. To a man who looked just like you. Got split from your unit, have you?”

“Something like that,” I told him. “Where’d this man say he was going? Is he still in town?”

“Not likely. I told him the same thing that I’m going to tell you. Get out of Holnret as soon as you can. The Duchess has her men here from Cinder. They’re looking for the Emperor’s people – spies they get called now.”

“We’re not the Emperor’s men,” I said.

“I know well enough that you’re not one of Callian’s,” he said. “And if I can see it, you can be sure that one of her burning-men will know it too. There were too many of your others for them to challenge directly, but I reckon they could handle you and those you’ve got standing out front.”

“Are the burning-men welcome here?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter if they’re welcome or hated. We’re going to keep our heads down until they go. Except this close to the Sunderer’s lands I don’t think they’ll be leaving any time soon.”

I thanked the man and left the shop. “Something’s properly brewing,” I said. “Sounds like Callian’s stirring up hatred of the Emperor. They aren’t making any effort to keep it secret either.”

“Malleus must be stretched thin if he’s being challenged so openly,” said Ploster.

“He’s away from his throne in the most northern big city of his Empire. I wonder how much he knows of what’s happening and if he’s capable of putting an end to it.”

“If he can defeat the Northmen and retain the loyalty of enough of his men, there’s going to be a bloodbath across thousands of miles. Even if he knows he’s going to lose, he’ll fight.”

It was a worrying thought. I couldn’t imagine that his nobles would surrender willingly if they’d turned against their master. Malleus was so ruthless that the only punishment he’d mete out was death and if you know you’re going to die anyway, you might as well fight with everything you’ve got to try and avoid it. I dreaded to think how many would perish and for how long such a war would last. It would take dozens of years before it reached any sort of conclusion.

“The shopkeeper said he saw men just like us. Early this morning. He warned them to leave town, but I don’t think he knows if it happened.”

“We’re close,” said Weevil.

“Yeah and getting closer,” said Beamer.

“We have to be sure they didn’t leave town already,” I said. “Let’s see if there’s anyone else who knows.”

I asked a couple of people for directions to an inn. They were polite enough, yet I got the impression that they really didn’t want to speak to me. Once they’d grunted out a response or pointed away along a street, they’d hurry off with their hoods pulled low.

“Friendly sorts,” said Sinnar.

“The Duchess’ burning-men are here. I haven’t come across them before and I don’t want to attract their attention now.”

“Are they sorcerers or something?” asked Beamer.

“I don’t know. Just men acting under the aegis of a ruler, I suspect.”

We found the inn and I spoke to the innkeeper. He had many empty rooms and hadn’t seen anyone like us. When I left the place, I found that the street was a lot busier than it had been only a few minutes before. The people shuffled along, most of them going in the same direction. My group was standing off to one side, watching with curiosity.

“Something’s in the air, Captain,” said Sinnar. “I can feel it.”

He was right – there was that ephemeral sensation of fear. The way the voices were hushed, as if speaking too loudly would bring unwanted attention. The innkeeper appeared in his doorway and watched, with his eyes narrowed.

“What’s happening?” I asked him.

“Another burning,” he said. “As if we’ve not had enough of them already. They should be building houses with the wood, not setting alight to their own people.”

“I hear the Duchess is rooting out the Emperor’s men,” I said to him. “Not her own.”

He hawked and spat. A thick wedge of green phlegm landed at his feet. “Aye, that’s what they say. The trouble is, Cranmar’s people have been coming here for so long, they might as well be the same as us. Callian’s trying to send a message that they’re not welcome any more. You’re a soldier. Tell me what you see.”

I sized him up – everything about him told me he was an honest, hardworking man of the type that the world had plenty of, yet never enough. “War is coming, I think. And when it comes, it’ll still be raging when your children are old.”

His expression didn’t change – he kept the same look of stoic resignation on his face throughout. “That’s what I thought. I can see the death in your eyes and those of your men. I hope that when the fighting starts you’ll be fighting for the good people.”

“Get yourself to Blades,” I said. “Join with the Saviour and learn how to swing a sword. It’s better to die in control of your destiny than have your belly cut open by the Emperor’s soldiers when they come. And trust me – they will come.”

“I thank you for the advice, but I am trapped here with my family and Blades is too far away to travel with two infants.”

“Whatever you do, do something.” I said. With that, I waved for Sinnar and the others to follow me and we joined the river of human traffic as it flowed unevenly towards the centre of Holnret. There was an open area at the centre of the town – much the same as there was in almost every settlement. In Holnret, the ground was a mixture of paving and mud, with many piles of dung to avoid. Weevil almost stood in one and I heard him cursing as he jumped to the side at the last moment. The far side of the open area was perhaps a hundred yards away and the perimeter was lined with shops and taverns. I guessed that at least half of the town’s population was here, making it crowded but not so much that you couldn’t move easily from place to place. I was tall enough to see over the top of the gathered people and I saw what I was already expecting.

In the middle of the square, there were three piles of wood – planks, logs and sticks. They were as tall as twelve feet in height and set out in a row. I shouldered my way closer to the front – aware that I didn’t want to bring any attention to me or my men. None of the crowd was standing closer than ten yards to these wood piles, though there were other men who were. These men were clad in black leather armour and they wore leather helmets which covered all of their faces except the eyes and mouths. I couldn’t see what weapons they carried – I assumed they had something, but I couldn’t see well enough past the gathered townsfolk. What I could see, was a series of thick, wooden posts which had been set into the ground a few feet in front of the wood piles.

The people around me were muttering – it was the sort of low, sullen hubbub you hear from people who aren’t happy, yet who have no intention of taking action. There was no podium to stand on, but the men in leather armour had dragged together a number of wooden crates and stacked them. One of their number climbed up, so that the crowds could see him clearly. He wore no helmet and spoke loudly, though the space was so great that his voice would have been lost to most of the people who’d gathered.

“The Duchess will not tolerate spies,” he shouted. “And Holnret has been harbouring spies!” People in the crowd muttered at these words. “If you don’t turn the Emperor’s spies over to us, we shall have to find them ourselves. Those we root out will have their families punished alongside them. Those who are turned over to us by you people, will be punished alone. The people you see today were discovered by one of my men and therefore we have been forced to round up their wives and their children. Make no mistake about it, the Emperor will kill you all, even if you give sanctuary to his spies.”

The man made a gesture with his hand and I saw a number of people dragged from a place to one side. These people wore their normal clothes and they had black cloth hoods pulled over their heads, which one of the burning-men pulled away as they passed him. I saw men, women and children of all ages, chained together and with their faces showing absolute terror. Many of them wept and pleaded their innocence, while others begged forgiveness even though I was sure they’d done nothing wrong.

“How many soldiers?” I whispered to Sinnar. He’d kept himself in a stoop so that he wouldn’t stand out so much in the crowd. He straightened and I saw his eyes flick across the scene. His jaw tightened until I could almost hear his teeth grind.

“Eighteen including the one on the boxes.” He fixed me with a look. “They have the binding posts set just far enough away from the pyres that their deaths will be long and painful.”

“I know, Lieutenant.” I turned to Ploster. “Corporal, do what you can do.”

He acknowledged with a nod. “They are sorcerers,” he said. “All of them.”

“Strong ones?”

Ploster grinned without humour. “Let’s find out.”

“Start with their captain.”

It turned out that the man was not a strong sorcerer. Either that, or Ploster’s experience with the circlet had improved his capabilities more than he’d realised. I hardly had time to turn my head when their captain exploded. One moment he was standing there with a grim look on his face, the next, his body was torn apart, sending bloody gobbets of his flesh and entrails in a wide radius around him. His armour was ripped into chunks with him and pieces of it flew into the air, several of them landing amongst those of the crowd who were nearest to the pyres.

There were screams and the ring of people shrank away as if the fires had already been lit and found too hot to stand so close. The burning-men looked around them, showing a degree of composure I’d not expected. They drew their swords – black-hilted long blades, which they pointed at the retreating crowds. Several of them looked directly towards us – I guessed they’d picked up Ploster from the burst of his magic. We didn’t run. In fact, we pushed our way through the people, knocking them out of our path if they didn’t move aside quickly enough. The look on our faces was murder and we wouldn’t be leaving until we’d had enough of it.

I felt someone attempt to ignite my flesh. It started deep within my bones and tore outwards, to the surface of my skin. I quashed the magic easily. I felt someone else try and then a third. The wards on my skin barely registered the attacks – I hardly needed their protection now. A black-armoured man turned into flame, the orange-redness of it flaring out from the gaps in his breastplate and leg guards. He couldn’t scream – the flames tore away his breath, denying him even that tiniest of reliefs. He stumbled away, his arms pulling at his helmet, as if removing it would somehow take away the agony. Just as I broke free from the crowd, I saw him land on top of one of the pyres, where he continued to thrash, with the fire of his body licking greedily at the wood.

The burning-men were better trained than Duke Warmont’s justiciars. Our approach had made it clear we were the threat and they grouped together as best they could. I knew they duelled with Ploster – the surging of magic rumbled like vibrations beneath my feet. Sinnar hurried until he was at my left side, while Beamer and Weevil went to the right. Ploster stayed back, his sword drawn in case he needed it. The burning-men spread around in a semi-circle, in order to bring their greater numbers to bear against us. I wasn’t in the mood for a standoff, since I had no information on how many more of them were in the town. I was also furious at the calculated torture they’d been about to inflict on people who I was sure were only tools in a game played more ruthlessly than anything they could comprehend.

I lunged twice in quick succession, my sword extended towards the chest of my enemy. Sinnar copied the move, as did the two to my right. The burning-man parried my thrust and stepped back. I blocked the incoming blade from his fellow, using my strength to knock the black-hilted sword towards the ground. Sinnar took advantage and cut the man’s arm off. He didn’t scream, though the pain would reach through the shock after a few seconds. I kicked him in the balls and he reeled away. It was a solid kick that would ensure the last minutes of his life were spent in the greatest misery he’d ever known.

To the far left, another of their number went up in flames. The hot orange light flickered briefly when he used his own magic to suppress it. Then it flared anew, consuming his body and depriving him of rational thought. His torment didn’t distract me from the burning-men I faced. Two of them lunged at me together in a move that looked practised. I twisted aside and the first blade snaked past me, while I knocked the second aside with my vambrace. I stabbed one of them in his stomach and ripped the blade out with a twist, to be certain the injury would fell him quickly. To the side, Sinnar unleashed a series of brutal strikes, which decapitated one man and opened a deep wound in the thigh of another.

They faltered as I knew they would. Their magic wasn’t strong enough to hurt us and their reputation meant nothing. With those two gone, they had only their swords. They were skilled, but in a manner that suggested they fought on the training ground and in tournaments. We knew how to kill and we were the best there was at doing it. Within five minutes those of them who remained alive had fled. I chased one and stabbed him through the lung and left him sobbing where he fell. We’d killed eleven and three more writhed from their wounds, begging for a quick death. I didn’t grant their wishes, as I’m sure they would have ignored the pleas of the people they’d planned to burn today.

As my battle focus slipped away, the sights and sounds flooded to the forefront of my senses. One of the pyres burned fiercely, the charred shape of a man still visible in the centre of the inferno. The crowds in the square had thinned, though many had remained to watch the fighting. I heard crying and saw that the prisoners had stayed put. I’d seen the same behaviour before – they feared the punishment of running and getting caught more than they feared the death they were going to receive anyway.

I caught the eyes of one or two – they were petrified of what had happened and also of what lay before them. An old man with a beard met my stare and I saw the proudness of a man who’d lived his life without having anything to atone for. He was chained to an equally old woman. Her eyes were empty, as if she’d retreated within herself. She looked far gone and I didn’t know if she’d ever be able to come back.

“Thank you,” said the man simply.

“How many burning-men are there?” I asked

“Forty? Fifty?” he said. “I don’t know.”

I raised my voice so that it carried to all of the prisoners. “Find a blacksmith who’ll break your bonds and leave here at once. Go to Blades. The Saviour has come and she welcomes all of her people.”

A few of them nodded. Most of them just stared dumbly, while some of the children continued to weep. I swore under my breath. I would be damned if I let these children die simply because they lacked guidance from the adults with them. I ordered Sinnar, Weevil and Beamer to drag a thick log away from the second pyre and bring it over.

“Break their chains,” I said.

Ploster was nearby, watching us, yet with a distance to his vision that told me he was searching for something. “They’re gathering,” he said. “They’re surprisingly well-trained.”

I heard the first solid clink as Sinnar broke one of the chains over the log with a downward swing of his sword.

“There are probably too many of them if they all come at once,” I said.

“I don’t think they relish another confrontation,” he said with a half-smile. “This far from Cinder, who is foolish enough to risk his life for something his superiors need never hear about?”

There was no sign of organised activity along any of the side streets within my line of sight. The townsfolk were still here. Most of them carried dazed expressions – they’d seen men in authority being killed and now they had no idea what to do or what to think. I ignored them, since their presence would make it harder for the burning-men to launch a counterattack.

It didn’t take long for the chains to be broken. To my relief, several of the former prisoners ran away at once. I spoke briefly to the others.

“If you stay, you’ll die. Those men will come back and they will burn you slowly. We are leaving Holnret, so there is no one to stop them now.”

“Death by burning is the most excruciating way to die you can possibly imagine,” said Ploster. “There is nothing worse they can do to you if you choose to run.”

The message got through and the prisoners left, all bar two men of middle years. They sat glumly together and wouldn’t meet my eyes. I left them there. Sometimes you do all you can and it’s still not enough. We’d done our part for them and I would have no guilt for their deaths. Beamer’s broad face held a mixture of sorrow, pity and anger at the two men. I’m sure it was exactly what we were all thinking.

“We’re leaving,” I told them. “Craddock’s not here – he’d not have stood for this either.”

“Aye, James couldn’t have watched that, for sure,” said Sinnar.

We left the square – this time the crowds parted for us like we were the prow of a large ship surging through the ocean’s swell. The burning-men didn’t attack us as we made our way through the streets. We saw two small groups of them. I guess news had travelled fast and they made no hostile moves. I thought of asking Ploster to set a few more of them alight. In the end, I refrained. It wasn’t through any sympathy for them. While I’d have happily burned all of the bastards, it seemed wise to keep the Cohort’s sorcerer as fresh as possible for whatever lay ahead of us.

Soon, Holnret was behind us and there was no sign of any pursuit. We’d not been in the town for long, but it had been enough for the last of the snow to melt, leaving only a few scattered vestiges of its passing in the places where it had been deepest. With no footprints or tracks to follow, we set off to the north-east, eschewing the use of the narrow road and marching alongside it instead.

15

We didn’t catch up with the rest of the First Cohort on that day. It was already getting towards late afternoon when we withdrew from Holnret. Winter was in retreat, but the nights still began much earlier than I’d have wished and the mornings started much later. The range of hills continued and the road veered away to take a more direct path east, forcing us to abandon it completely. With that last sign of civilisation gone from sight, we found ourselves in a place as desolate as any we’d found in Duke Warmont’s lands.

That evening, we camped in one of the shallow valleys that divided the hills. We sat a little way from another of the wide streams that provided drainage for the melting snow. Since there was no sign of life, I thought it safe enough to light a fire. I’d have preferred a bit more cover but thought the risks of being seen by anyone or anything hostile were slight.

For a while, we talked about nothing much in particular, just making sounds to remind ourselves that we still existed. I thought that a few lumps of skewered mutton over the fire would have improved morale immeasurably and cursed myself that I hadn’t bought some provisions before we’d freed the prisoners in Holnret. An ale or two would have gone down nicely as well, I thought wryly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Captain. Just never got around to it. Those things we saw underground and in Solking. What were they? We’ve seen some bad things before, yet I’ve no idea what they were.”

“I haven’t seen anything like it either, Weevil,” I said. “The Empire is vast and so much of it is hardly ever visited by men or women. There could be things hiding out of sight. Like that creature we fought on the way back from Blades when we had Gagnol’s life essence.”

“I think what I’m trying to ask, is why now? If they’ve been hidden for so long, why are they suddenly coming and biting the fingers off villagers out in the arse end of nowhere?”

“And what’s to say they aren’t popping up in other little villages like Solking, only we don’t know about it because we’ve not been through those places?” said Beamer.

I considered the question and found I had no answer to give. At least none that I’d be satisfied to speak. Ploster intervened.

“Something’s up. I can feel it. The Saviour has come and the Empire is beginning to crumble. At the same time, the Northmen have invaded – they want something, I’m certain of it. That skeleton we found in the stone coffin – it looked like a Northman. Then there was that creature which killed Tinker. This can’t all be a coincidence. There’s something happening in the world that might well kill every living person.”

“You really think so, Corporal?” asked Weevil.

“I am worried,” he said. “Give me back the days when we had nothing to worry about apart from a skirmish against one of the Duke’s rebellious towns.”

“The good old days, eh?” asked Sinnar, knowing full well that none of us would ever go back to what had been before.

“The good old days of murdering the people we’ll now risk ourselves to save,” I said, immediately regretting the words. None of the others seemed to notice that I’d dampened the mood.

“Do you think the Emperor will have any answers for us?” asked Weevil.

“Malleus only says what he wants you to hear. He might tell us everything he knows, or he might be evasive and tell us nothing,” I replied.

“Assuming he knows anything,” said Beamer.

“He’ll know more than we do,” I assured him. “You can’t keep an Empire together for over two hundred and fifty years without hearing everything there is to hear.”

“Sounds like the Northmen caught him by surprise,” said Sinnar. “I shouldn’t gloat, but for some reason it makes me feel better to think that there are some things that Malleus doesn’t get right.”

I chuckled at that. For some reason, it was reassuring to be reminded that the Emperor did indeed have failings. Of course, it looked like his Empire was on the brink, so he might shortly be learning all about his failings.

“Or he might defeat the Northmen before we arrive and then slaughter anyone he thinks has plotted against him,” said Ploster.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I said. “This doesn’t feel like it’s going to be an easy situation to resolve. At least he’s going to be distracted from the Saviour. If we’re all lucky, we might survive long enough to reach Blades again and see what we can do to build up against the Emperor. He’ll come for her eventually.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Eyeball. His outline shimmered briefly and then he was there in front of us. “Good evening, fellows,” he said by way of introduction. “Lieutenant Craddock is camped over that hill. He’s got a few good men with him, so I’m told, and he requests the pleasure of your company.”

We got to our feet and took it in turns to shake his hand. The questions came in a flood from each of us and Eyeball had to wave us to silence. “The lads are together and intact,” he said. “It’s not safe here, so we should leave now and the Lieutenant can tell you what you need to know. If that’s fine, Captain?” he finished.

“Let’s go,” I said by way of acceptance. I kicked at the fire to scatter it and then trod on the remains of the burning wood until the embers died. If Eyeball said it wasn’t safe, I was willing to take him at his word until we got to a place where we could talk.

We set off at a careful pace, with none of us wanting to snap an ankle so close to our goal. Eyeball’s description of the distance was passably accurate and within an hour we’d joined with the rest of the men. I’d not seen a single sentry on the way and silently commended them for their skill in remaining undetected. Lieutenant Craddock had made camp at the base of a low crag and there were no fires. As we wended our way through the tightly-grouped tents, I greeted those of the men I was able to make out in the darkness. It was hard to see faces, but I recognized the murmuring voices as I passed close. The camp stirred as they realised that we’d made it back to them, and I heard many footsteps following behind.

“Lieutenant Craddock’s this way,” said Eyeball.

We reached the centre of the camp. A shape was standing, waiting silently for us. It came forward and embraced each of us in turn – clasping arms around our shoulders. “Good to see you,” said Lieutenant Craddock to us all. “We’d begun to think you’d gone for good.”

“Not a hope of that,” said Sinnar, shaking Craddock’s hand for good measure. “Not while things are left unfinished.”

Other men of the Cohort came closer and I shook many a hand and answered many a question. After a while, I dismissed them, since I had much to ask Craddock about.

“What’s all this about it not being safe?” I asked him, eager to hear about anything that might put the men in danger.

“War, Captain. I think it’s already started,” Craddock replied. “We nearly ran into some of Callian’s troops earlier today. Ten thousand of them going north – towards the border. They were well organized and on another day, we might not have escaped notice.”

“Are they close now?” I asked.

“They should be several miles to our north, I reckon. Still, it pays to be cautious, so we’re sitting in darkness.”

“What happened in the tower?” I asked. “The ladder broke and we couldn’t join you.”

“The Flesh Shaper broke through the wards outside and started knocking on the front door. A shame for him that the Pyromancer hadn’t finished what he’d started. When the fire came, we scrapped our way out and ran to the north. Terrax must have relied on his magic for too long – he could have done a better job of keeping us holed up until whatever was left of Callian’s troops got there. If he’d done that, we might have had a harder time getting away.”

“Any casualties?” I asked.

“Nothing more than you’d already seen. We had to leave our spears behind. When the time came we had to go.”

I winced at that and Craddock had the good grace to look embarrassed. It was a blunder I didn’t expect from us. There was no reason to berate him for the oversight. Sometimes events overtook you and errors could happen.

“You got the men out. That’s what matters.”

“So I keep telling myself. What happened to Tinker?” he asked.

“Dead,” I said. “There were things living in the tunnels beneath the tower. Nothing like we’ve seen before. We found a circlet that Corporal Ploster used to drive the creature away that killed Tinker. There was the skeleton of a Northman, too. The rest of it can wait. Is there any Grask?”

“None to be found, Captain. We stopped off in a little town a couple of days back. Holnret. They’d never heard of Grask.”

“We went through it. Did you see the burning-men?”

“We had no trouble, if that’s what you mean. We bought all their tents and left at once. It didn’t feel like we were welcome.”

“You weren’t. There was just too many of you for Callian’s murderers to do anything about. It sounds like they kept their heads down. We’ll raise a drink for Tinker when we can. Lieutenant Sinnar had a thimbleful in a hip flask. Not enough for everyone to have a go.” There were other spirits that were almost as unpalatable as the Grask, yet nothing else would do. There are some traditions that are so ingrained that you can’t imagine breaking them.

“Captain? I take it that war is inevitable?” asked Craddock.

“It’s looking that way,” I said. “Those men you saw marching north? There’s no other need for them to be here except to fight.”

“I wonder how many of his nobles are involved and how many will dare show their hands.”

“We’re blind, Lieutenant. All of this could have begun years ago. Decades, even. When you live for hundreds of years, you can afford to play long.”

“Perhaps it’s why the Emperor stayed so loyal to Warmont,” mused Ploster. “An ally on the borders of Vaks and Callian would be invaluable.”

“Malleus is a canny one, right enough,” I said. “Think of how long he kept up his support for the Duke when it appeared as if the only sensible option was to depose him.”

“Why did he want him dead at the end?” asked Sinnar. “All that effort to keep the old bastard in power and then to have rid at the last moment.”

“The Gloom Bringer could have been lying to us, but I have this feeling that she was loyal. Maybe I’m wrong, or maybe the Emperor realised that our lady would be a more dangerous opponent to Vaks and Callian. If she and the Duke had fought to a standstill, there’d be no one capable of fighting his treacherous nobles. Better to have Warmont killed and let the Saviour take power.”

“The crafty bastard,” said Ploster, chuckling.

“All of this makes it likely that the Emperor didn’t wish to send his troops to Warmont’s aid. Either because he couldn’t spare them or he feared that they’d somehow get intercepted and murdered on their way through Callian’s domain,” I said.

“I thought you hated politics, Captain,” said Craddock jokingly.

“I do, James. But I understand them. That’s why I hate them so much.”

“There’s going to be death, isn’t there?”

“Lots of it. The skies are going to be filled with crows as far as the eye can see. The living are going to face each other, but they’re also going to face the dead. I pity those who will be caught up in it and I think there will be few who escape.”

“How things have changed for us,” said Sinnar. “To think how long we revelled in the bloodshed. And now? I just want it to be over.”

“As do we all, Lieutenant,” I said.

“What will we do when we finish?” asked Craddock.

It was a question I’d heard many times before – mostly spoken around the campfires amongst the men. The Saviour had given our lives hope and meaning, but those existed only in the present. We needed to know what would happen at the end, so that there was something to keep us going when the odds were stacked too much against us. Without a dream to live for, death itself can become the only goal. I didn’t want to lose any more of us to that. I’d seen the peace in the faces of my soldiers when they’d died and although it assuaged motes of my own guilt for our past, I’d started to believe that if we came through this we deserved more than death.

“We’ll go south. When the time comes and the Saviour releases us, we’ll cross the Deeping Sea and we’ll march until there’s no one who has heard of the Empire. We’ll find a land where there is no death and we’ll see if we can find our peace.”

“Wherever we go, there is death,” said Ploster.

“We can’t let ourselves believe that, Jon! You of all people know that the men deserve better than an infinity of war.”

“Aye, Tyrus, you’re right and I apologise. When this is finished, south it is and I’ll come along with a glad heart and a hope that we can find what we’re looking for.”

We spent a while longer in discussion. Beamer and Weevil wandered off, doubtless to tell everyone who’d listen about the plans to travel south. I let them get on with it, since there was no more efficient way of spreading information than giving it to a soldier. They had a knack of learning everything that was going on, sometimes before I even knew it myself. Not that I kept secrets, it was just that I didn’t like to say one thing and later find I had to go back on my word if circumstances dictated it. Soldiers prefer certainty, which was odd in a world where they had none. In the early hours, I rose with the intention of finding myself somewhere to rest.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough tents for everyone, Captain,” said Craddock. “We cleaned Holnret right out of them and we still only managed to get eighty. I’d offer you mine, except that I don’t have one.”

That was the epitome of Craddock. He was a good man who would go without so that his soldiers could have comfort. I told him it didn’t matter – I had no more right to have my own shelter than anyone else and I certainly wasn’t going to take another man’s tent. I found a space on the ground that wasn’t too lumpy and I lay there on my back, staring up at the stars above. The moon was little more than a sliver and not for the first time I was happy that its light was not sufficient to reveal our presence. And so I lay for a while, until my own restless mind and the stirring of the camp dictated that it was time to greet a new day.

16

The next day was noticeably warmer than the one which preceded it. I would like to say that the increased temperature filled me with optimism, but it did not. There was a time when I’d have welcomed the early signs of spring – now I’d seen it all too often for it to carry much significance. If I was pressed, I would have said I had a preference for both summer and winter. Many would likely think this unusual, though for me it seemed as natural as any other choice. In winter, there was a stark beauty to the world that spoke of a clean death with the hope of new life. Summer was the expression of that new life born.

Even though we’d not suffered too many significant delays, I’d started to be gripped by the notion that we had fallen far behind where we should have been. It might have been the length of the journey playing tricks on my mind, or it could have been the events I’d witnessed giving me an impetus to charge onwards into the distance. We marched quickly, yet I wished I could somehow throw a rope over the horizon and drag it towards me with the power of my will. The frustration wouldn’t go away and I was worried that I’d have to live with it – not only until we reached Angax, but until we’d returned to the Saviour afterwards.

Days passed. The land changed from lush, green hills until it became rockier and less verdant. I knew that the northern lands suffered more in the winter than those of the south, yet the snows were already gone. This cheered me, because it suggested that the Northmen hadn’t reached this far. Whether the Emperor had repelled them or they’d chosen to remain further north for their own reasons wasn’t clear. I supposed it didn’t matter one way or the other.

The men were in good spirits – they had been transformed since we’d pledged our allegiance to the Saviour. I liked to think the idea that we’d one day go south had found favour as well. People like to know what’s coming and most soldiers prefer it if the decision is made for them. If they were the sort who wanted to make decisions of their own, they’d either become officers or they’d never have become a soldier in the first place.

The wounds they’d suffered in the woods were gone – healed up with an unnatural speed and vigour that would be the envy of any other man. I learned that when the Flesh Shaper had attacked the tower, they’d had to carry Flurry and Eagle with them, those being the most grievously injured of all. I caught sight of Flurry a few times – like all of us, he carried dozens of scars. Now, he carried dozens more and when I asked to look at the fresh ones, I could only marvel that he’d managed to survive. Our bodies could take a lot of damage before we were forced to travel the final journey.

I walked with Eagle for a time. His brow was furrowed as he constantly scanned the countryside around us. I’d seen many an archer who did the same thing. When you fight from a distance, you make damn sure that no one can surprise you and take away the one advantage you have.

“My arm was broken in three places, Captain,” he said. “One leg was snapped clean and I had four broken ribs. Took a sword in the guts as well,” he told me, pulling at his breastplate to try and make room for me to see the scars. “Corporal Grief did some good work on me. I owe him.”

“He’s the best man with a needle I’ve ever seen,” I admitted. I didn’t keep it a secret either – I’d told Grief himself plenty of times.

“I’m just glad my fingers weren’t broken as well,” said Eagle. “I got stamped on pretty bad. I probably got lucky suffering only the things I did.”

“You’re still with us,” I said. “That’s all that counts.”

“I want to see what’s down south, Captain. I’ve got a hunger for it now. Peace and happiness, that’s what the others are saying and I want to believe it.”

“We’ll keep marching until we find it. I promise.”

“What if we reach the edge of the world and there’s nothing but war?” he asked.

“Then we’ll walk over the edge and see what’s on the other side.”

“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us before it comes to that.”

“More work than we’ve ever had, Eagle. And it’s going to get shitty. Really filthy, chest-deep shitty.”

“Nothing different to what we’ve faced before. More of it or less of it, I’ll take it as it comes, Captain, and fire an arrow into its eye if it stops to look for too long.”

I laughed. “That’s exactly right. And one day we’ll find you a bow like Shooter’s and the pair of you can have a competition to see who lands the first shot.”

“I’d like that, Captain.”

The next day, we reached Callian’s northern border. There was little indication we’d gone from one place to another. The land was just as rocky, the sky just as clear and the air smelled exactly the same. There was a series of wooden posts in the ground – each one eight feet high and five yards apart - visible as far as I could see to the east and west. There were old nails still embedded into the wood, suggesting that this had once been a fence. No doubt the planks had been stolen at some point, though I couldn’t imagine who would be out here with a desire to steal planks of wood. We hadn’t seen a settlement or a house in days. Besides, all of the Emperor’s lands were meant to be at peace, so in theory there should have been no need for any formal defences.

“Only another twelve hundred miles to go, Captain,” said Craddock cheerfully, as we passed through the non-existent barrier.

“A month and we’ll be there,” I replied. “Let’s see what Malleus wants from us and then we can spend the better part of another three months walking back to Blades. We’ll all need new boots at the end of it.”

“I’m going to need some new ones before we reach Angax,” he said, pausing to look at the battered leather soles of his marching boots. We could repair more or less any damage to ourselves and also to our boots, but Craddock’s footwear looked as if it had almost reached the end of its usable life.

“Get one of the men to put a couple of new soles on and they’ll be good as new,” I said, hoping to make him feel better. Craddock wasn’t a man who languished in sorrow, so I wasn’t surprised to see him shrug it off.

“Captain?” he asked. He paused to await my acknowledgement – a dead giveaway that it was a question he’d been thinking about for a time.

“What is it?”

“Whose side are we on? Apart from our lady’s, that is.”

“You mean who will we fight for between the Emperor and his nobles?”

“It might come to it, mightn’t it? At some point, we’ll get drawn in.”

I didn’t have any idea how prophetic his words were going to prove. “We’ll fight for neither,” I said. “Unless our lady commands us otherwise.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but in the end kept silent. I supposed that he didn’t really know what to think, and had no idea of the likely outcome if we were forced to make a choice. There are times when it’s best to ignore hypothetical questions until you have no alternative but to try and answer them. The hypothetical questions were always the ones I least liked. Throughout it all, my inner voice kept whispering to me that it wasn’t the Emperor who had tried to kill us in the Forestwoods and that it was the Pyromancer who’d helped us escape from the Hungerer. Malleus made us and he has never betrayed the Cohort.

Three days later, we saw the cavalry. We’d left the hills behind us and had found ourselves on a flat prairie, which stretched away as far as the eye could see. There was heather and grass, as well as flowers and plants of many types that I couldn’t name. It would have probably made for good farmland, though I am sure the winters would have been harsh. It was ever the same across the Empire – there was too much land and too few people. There were other places where the balance was much better and the people lived close enough to share knowledge and trade. Elsewhere, it was like this. Bleak, unremitting emptiness that sang of loneliness. It called to a part of me which I only rarely admitted lived within.

In places, it was hard to walk, given the amount of flora underfoot. We found ourselves having to divert around the thickest patches of heather, which added considerably to the journey time. Then, we had a stroke of good fortune – we came to a road which led towards the north east. It was more gravel than mud and was wide enough for us to walk four abreast. We picked up speed and it felt good to be in control of the march. At some point in the middle of the afternoon, I saw dust ahead of us in the distance and I called a halt.

“Soldiers,” said Craddock. “Lots of them.”

It wasn’t foot soldiers, rather it was cavalry coming towards us on the road. They must have seen us, yet they showed no sign of hostility and they continued without changing speed. I had us adopt a square formation, cursing the loss of our spears, which had defeated many a cavalry charge. The horsemen reached us, only two abreast on the road and their line stretching off into the distance.

“How many?” I asked Sinnar and Craddock, before the other force came within earshot.

“I make it fifteen hundred,” said Sinnar.

“I was going to say closer to sixteen hundred,” said Craddock.

“We don’t want to fight them,” I said, walking forward to greet their captain. He rode at the head of his column, dressed in light armour and with a sabre at his side. He was caked in dust, as was his horse. I could see from his clothing that he was one of Callian’s men and there was something about him that made me think he was more than the normal pompous bastards you tended to find riding on their fine horses. The man impressed me by dismounting in order to speak – a rare courtesy among his type.

“Good day to you,” he said, removing his helmet. His voice was thickly-accented. I couldn’t place exactly where it was from – probably somewhere far to the south that I’d never been.

“And to you,” I said. Their captain was tall and slim – it didn’t pay to be too heavy when you spent all day in the saddle. At least not if you didn’t want your horse to collapse after a hard gallop up a hill. He looked like he’d seen his fair share of combat and his eyes were a piercing blue. I nodded at him, one veteran to another. The men he came with looked much younger – at least those whose faces I could see. They stared at us with the uncertainty of youth.

“Might I ask where you’re going?” he said.

“We are here on our own business,” I said. “Is there war?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“Yet here you are, deep within the Sunderer’s lands, with a long line of cavalry at your back. What other reason could there be for your presence?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gave a curt nod and returned to his horse. I felt the tension rise amongst his men, whilst behind, my own stared silently and impassively. We remained in place while the cavalrymen were forced to leave the road in order to make their way around us. It took several minutes for them all to pass and I kept us in place until the last of their men was a hundred yards away. I turned to Craddock and Sinnar.

“We need to put as much distance between them as we can. They weren’t carrying sufficient provisions to be far away from their supply wagons. We may find them paying us another visit soon.”

We changed formation and returned to a column. I started us on a fast march and then pushed the pace to a jogging half-run. The road was pocked and uneven, yet the gravelled surface was infinitely better than mud for us to travel fast over.

“What do you think they were out here for?” I asked Craddock and Sinnar, seeking their opinions.

“They were dusty, yet there was no sign they’d fought recently,” said Sinnar. “There were too many of them for a simple scouting mission.”

“Are there any towns or cities nearby?” I asked Craddock.

“Perhaps. I don’t know the area at all well, Captain. If they’re here – several days across the border - and they’re supplied, they’ve got a defined purpose. They’ll not simply be looking for trouble – they’ll have a target.”

“I agree. Perhaps we’ll find out what it is.”

It was late afternoon when someone hollered up from the back of our column. I slowed up and let the men overtake me until I was close to the rear.

“Dust, Captain,” said Griper, pointing over his shoulder.

“Thank you, soldier,” I said, running back to the head of the column.

“What’s up?” asked Craddock.

“They didn’t waste any time, Lieutenant. The cavalry are coming back.”

“Their supply wagons must be close,” he said.

“Or they’ve changed their mind about us,” laughed Sinnar.

“Think we should stop and see what they’re made of?” asked Craddock, only half-serious.

“I think it best if we keep going and see if they can keep up,” I said. “I don’t want to lose anyone fighting a nothing battle in a place nobody’s ever heard of.”

We couldn’t run faster than a horse, but we could certainly keep going for longer without stopping. For the next two hours, we ran flat out, our swords and shields clattering against our armour as we ran. The sound was a comforting one. The clouds of dust hardly came any closer and I was sure their captain had misjudged how much effort would be required to catch up with us. Darkness came and we pressed on long into the night, with Ploster’s magic to guide our way. I didn’t much care if we were visible to anyone – sometimes it was better to take a gamble in order to put some distance between us and what I assumed was our enemy.

When I thought Ploster was struggling, I ordered him to end his light and I took us to a place far off the road, where we made camp. I set a double watch. I wasn’t expecting trouble on that night, but it seemed best that we be on guard for it.

The next morning, I employed Ploster’s talents again to help us find the road an hour before the sun rose. I hadn’t let him over-extend his powers the previous evening, so didn’t feel any shame at asking him to start again so early. The morning was almost gone by the time we saw the dust clouds of our pursuers. Our speed and ability to travel without rest had caught them by surprise. I was sure they’d be flogging their horses to catch up, which was a good thing. It meant they’d be reluctant to engage as soon as they caught sight of us. Usually, cavalry with tired horses would follow for a time, rather than fight at a disadvantage. That suited me fine – it would allow us to take them further away from their supply wagons and reduce the time they had to bother us.

I’d moved Corporal Knacker to the rear of the column. In spite of his name, he had excellent vision. Early afternoon, he ran up to speak to me.

“I’d guess they’ll be close enough to engage before the evening,” he said. “They’re closing fast. I’ve got Shooter and Eagle back there with me – they can judge distances better than I ever could. Both men say we’ve got two or three hours at most.”

I thanked Knacker and he returned to his position. The news was good and bad. They’d definitely be tired when they reached us, but I wasn’t happy that we were getting pushed into a fight I didn’t want. I wondered if I should have led us far away from the road last night and camped somewhere that we wouldn’t be found. It sounded like a workable plan on the surface, though we’d have likely left easy tracks for them to follow us if they’d been of a mind to do so. All-in-all, there was little in it and I preferred to keep going rather than stop somewhere and hope for the best.

The cavalry didn’t get a chance to engage with us on that day and we found the reason for their presence out here. The road sloped downwards and ahead I could see that it entered what looked like a shallow valley. We reached it and were confronted by one of the most impressive examples of nature that I could remember. Rather than it being a valley, we found we’d come to a wide canyon, almost a quarter of a mile wide. It cut through the grasslands and I got the impression that a being of unimaginable power had pushed its fingers into the earth and torn open the chasm we saw. On the side opposite from us I could see the grey stone of its walls dropping away out of sight. They looked almost vertical and an impossible climb. Grass still grew near the top, and it was this which had made the canyon look like nothing more than a dip in the terrain. On our side there was a long, gentle slope, down which the road continued. A few hundred yards away, there was a grey stone bridge. It was made from large, rectangular blocks and supported by two vast arches, with pillars dropping away out of sight into the depths. It was wider than the road – I thought about forty feet from side to side and with a squat tower at each end and a larger one in the middle. Gateways led through these towers, with no sign of portcullises.

“How’d they manage to build that?” asked Craddock, looking with awe at the bridge. “Magic?”

“Don’t you recognize it, Lieutenant?” asked Ploster. “Those towers look like the ones we saw in the Forestwoods, do they not?”

“I wonder what it’s doing out here,” he said, nodding in recognition of Ploster’s words.

“The world has changed since this was made,” I told him.

We jogged down the bank towards the bridge. The closer we came, the more we could see of the gorge. It was almost perfectly straight and it ran from east to west. Even when we were only fifty yards from the bridge, the angle was still too poor to see how deep the chasm was. We slowed up when we came to the lengthening shadow of the first tower. I stared upwards at the thirty-feet-tall construction, noting that it had been built for defence, with thick-looking walls and deep, narrow windows. The gateway through the tower was twelve feet wide and we stepped warily through it, looking for signs of life.

Before half of our number had stepped onto the smooth flagstones of the bridge, a figure emerged from the middle tower. It was followed by more. They spilled into sight and formed a line across the width of the bridge. I narrowed my eyes and tried to count – it was difficult to judge how many they were from where I was standing.

“Looks like Cranmar doesn’t want anyone crossing his bridge.” I commented. I gave an order and my men lined up behind me, ten abreast across the bridge. There were five-feet high walls to either side. If they’d been any lower, fighting here would have meant a terrible reliance on luck if you didn’t want to fall into the depths below.

“Come on,” I said to Craddock. “Let’s go and see what they want.”

With Sinnar in charge, I set off across the bridge towards the men opposite. Craddock fell quickly in step. When it was a time to negotiate, I didn’t always want Sinnar with me – his appearance gave the impression of a threat, no matter how eloquently he spoke. Two of the soldiers opposite came forwards as well. They were infantry like us – heavily armoured in the places it mattered, with swords, spears and shields. More of them came from the tower to join the others and I could tell they were somewhat more numerous than we were.

We stopped and faced each other for a time. The lead man was a lieutenant. He was broad and squat with a lined face, and eyes that had seen enough of events he wished he could forget. Once you got that look, you could never lose it. He took his helmet off. Underneath, his hair was grey and close-cropped.

“Why are you here?” he asked, in harsh-edged tones. His insignia told me he was the Sunderer’s man.

“The Emperor has requested our presence,” I said. “We need to cross your bridge.”

I saw him eyeing up our equipment and also the tattoos we wore. “First Cohort? I’ve heard of you. Tavern tales, most of the lads reckon.”

“We’ve been gone a long time,” I said. “You’ve got cavalry coming. Probably infantry behind them.”

“We know. Their horsemen were sniffing around here a day or two gone. They didn’t stop around long enough for us to push a spear up their backsides.”

“The world is about to get deadlier for soldiers like us. Callian and Vaks have turned against the Emperor. What does she want this bridge for?”

“This chasm we’re standing over - it goes four hundred miles to the east and another five hundred to the west. It goes as far as Tibulon.”

“And this is the only bridge over it?”

“The only one,” he confirmed. “Cranmar and the Duchess never really got on, so why would he want to spend money making it easier to cross the rift? If she were to capture or destroy this bridge, it’d make things difficult for a man who wanted to send any of his troops into Callian’s duchy.”

“Can you hold it?” I asked him.

“Depends on how many they’ve got, doesn’t it? We’ll do our duty though.”

“We have no argument with Cranmar,” I said. “We need to reach Angax to see what the Emperor requires of us. Will you let us cross?”

His expression told me that he was torn, though he didn’t take long to resolve the conflict in his head. “You can pass,” he said.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” I said. “The cavalry aren’t far behind us.”

He laughed, an infectious sound. “We can hold off a hundred thousand of those soft bastards,” he said. “We’ll show them our arses and they’ll run back home to their mammies.”

Craddock and I laughed too. “Fuck the cavalry,” I said.

Before we could make the arrangements for us to pass without risking any minor altercations between our two sides, I was made aware of a commotion behind us. Sinnar’s voice carried clearly to where we parleyed. A wind blew along the rift and took away some of his words, but I heard enough to know that I wasn’t going to appreciate the details. I saluted their lieutenant and told him we’d be coming shortly. After that, I ran back to my men. Next to Sinnar, I saw a familiar figure – tall and slim. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, pulled low over his face and a wreath of smoke swirled around him. He had a black horse, which he held by its reins.

“The Pyromancer,” I said, sprinting towards him. I was sure I wasn’t going to like what he’d have to say.

17

“Greetings, Captain Charing,” said the Pyromancer. His voice had a very slight sibilant quality to it and when the smoke reached my nostrils I got the scent of smouldering charcoal. His horse remained perfectly still and showed no sign that it was perturbed by the presence of so many men.

I was under no illusions that he was on our side. He’d helped us recently, but the death sorcerers had their own motives. Even so, I owed him at least the decency of politeness. “Greetings,” I said. “Our time is short – what is it that you require?”

“I require nothing from you, Captain. It is the Emperor who wishes you to do him a small favour.”

“A favour?” I asked. It was hard to keep the bitter humour from my voice.

“Yes, Captain. A favour, and one which I believe there is no one better to perform. You are heading to Angax to perform a service under the instruction of your so-called Saviour?” He didn’t wait for me to answer – he knew he had us over a barrel. “This bridge is very old. It is one of the oldest structures known to exist. It was built here in the past for commerce, yet now its purpose is rather more military. Cranmar would be most upset to lose control of it, especially since he has twenty-five thousand men stationed near to Bandrol, whom he would like to cross this rift during the upcoming hostilities.”

“You want us to help these men hold the bridge?” I asked.

“Yes. Relief is coming and should arrive within the week. Seven days, Captain. It’s not too long.”

“Why don’t you stay and burn Callian’s soldiers?” I asked.

“Would that I could,” he said. There was longing in his voice – I could tell he was addicted to the flames. “Their horsemen are here now, but their infantry will not arrive for almost two days. I cannot spare the time to wait – the Emperor has asked me to make all haste to the north-east.”

With that, he was done. He climbed onto his horse with practised ease and I caught sight of his rotting face as he looked down at me. “I will tell Lieutenant Haster that you are in command of him and his men. Once this situation has reached a conclusion, you are expected to resume your journey to Angax. I may see you there again.”

He touched the brim of his hat and spurred his horse into a clattering trot over the bridge. I can’t say I liked the Pyromancer, yet there was a definite quality that made him the most human of the death sorcerers. He raised his hand to shoulder level in farewell and a moment or two later I watched him confer with Lieutenant Haster next to the middle tower. Whether or not the details of his new commanding officer was welcome, I saw no sign of disagreement, so at least he was a professional.

“Captain!” came the voice of Corporal Knacker. I didn’t need to look back to know that the horsemen had appeared.

“Lieutenant Craddock, have the men put into a defensive formation just inside this gate. They won’t do anything more than posture, but we can’t have them thinking there’s an opening.”

“Right, Captain,” he said. I could see he was already working out names and positions for the men.

“Corporal Ploster, come with me. I need to speak to Lieutenant Haster again.”

Haster was waiting for us, with his men at his back. I’d expected him to be surly or even hostile. He was neither and if anything, I detected relief that someone would be taking over from him.

“How many men do you have?” I asked him.

“Just shy of seven hundred,” he said. It was a lot of men to leave out here for a single bridge.

“Archers?”

“A couple of dozen. Self-trained, nothing official.”

“The Pyromancer has confirmed enemy infantry, but no numbers. We’ll be fighting the day after tomorrow and relief comes in a week. What’s your history?”

Haster smiled. “Ten years fighting in Gathik, five years in Stalt. I’ve known these lads forever. They’ll stand against anything.”

“I thought the Emperor’s lands were at peace?” said Ploster.

“Who are you?” Haster asked him.

“He’s our sorcerer,” I said by way of explanation.

Haster nodded in acknowledgement. “Peace is just a word to make people feel better. You must know that as well as anyone. Something to strive for, always coming, but never arriving. It’s a promise that gets men signing up to fight – makes them think they’re dying in order to bring about something worthwhile. Cranmar’s lands are too big to be at peace. There’re two thousand miles between Angax and the western provinces. Who wants to be ruled by a man living a world away? We fought there. Fought for so long it felt like we’d never done anything but fight. Some of us have wives and children we haven’t seen for half a lifetime and more. And what was our reward? Sent to guard this bridge, that’s what. Cranmar doesn’t want new recruits watching something so important, so here we are. Three years and counting it’s been.”

I didn’t say anything. I was sure they’d all be pissed off at what their leaders had given them – properly pissed off. Warmont had been in constant conflict, yet he still kept his troops rotated and gave them a chance to come home, even if it wasn’t for long. I wondered if there was something more to it that meant these men were kept at arm’s length.

“Tell me about this bridge,” I said.

“These three towers are connected by a tunnel under our feet.” He stamped once for effect. “The only way to get into the end towers is through the middle one, down some steps and along under our feet. Not that you’d want to spend much time in the end towers. There’s hardly any room. Good for archers and not much else. A few of the men sleep in them. The middle tower is where most of us stay. It’s tight for so many of us, but when it’s warm we pitch tents on the far side. Gets us away from the stench.” He grinned – I knew what so many soldiers in close confines smelled like.

“Any gates?” I asked.

“None. I don’t know if there’ve ever been any. Still, the end gateways are only a dozen feet wide. The middle one’s a bit wider. Not what you’d want to try breaking through against a determined opposition.”

I agreed with his assessment. While I pondered what he’d said, I strolled to the side wall of the bridge. It was functional and nothing more. I looked over into the depths. The rift went down for what seemed like miles. To the east and west it went, hardly deviating at all from a straight line. There was no reason I could imagine for it being there, yet surely the creation of it was far beyond the power of any magic.

“Seems like it goes down forever, doesn’t it?” called Lieutenant Haster.

“What’s at the bottom?” I asked. It was too much in shadow to make out clearly.

“Nothing. At least not as far as I know. No river, no road. Just more rock and a certain death if you fall in.”

I stared out into the distance, mulling over what to do. The enemy cavalry had appeared at the top of the rise which led down to the bridge. They’d formed a line in order to make us think they were more numerous. We weren’t so easily fooled. Well-led cavalry could be devastating out in the open. On a bridge, they’d be next to useless. They’d spend the next day or two coming in as close as they dared before wheeling off and galloping away. I’d known men to break ranks before and give chase, which was about as stupid a thing as you could do. None of my men would be even the slightest bit tempted.

“Got any spare spears?” I asked. The ones Haster’s men carried had wooden shafts with iron points. They’d snap in the crush, but they might see off the first few waves of attack.

“A couple of hundred. They keep us well-supplied at least.”

“Have some of yours bring them over to my men and handed out. We’ll need them.” A couple of dozen yards away, his soldiers still waited, patiently and in good formation. “Let’s have a look at what you’ve got,” I said.

I was pleased with what I saw. There were no youths in their ranks – not that I had anything against youth, but I’d grown tired of seeing young men sent to their deaths. They had lined, scarred faces, weathered from years of fighting in cold winds. Haster’s men were veterans – you could see it in their eyes and in the way they held themselves. There were no smirks and no breaches of discipline, just hard, strong men who would stand when they needed to stand and who would fight without complaint or fear.

“They’re good men,” I said to Haster.

“That they are. The best.” His voice carried an unmistakeable pride – the same pride that likely crept into my own voice when I talked about my men.

The afternoon became early evening and the sky darkened. I spent the time organizing the two units and making introductions between the officers and the troops. I had Lieutenant Haster show me what lay within the central tower – this one was forty feet tall and over three levels. It was accessed by two sturdy wooden doors, one to each side of the gateway tunnel and with metal beams to keep them closed from the inside. The ground level of the tower had little usable space, since the gateway tunnel cut right through it. The upper two floors were a predictable mess of blankets, weapons, storage trunks and dirty plates. I’d not seen a billet that looked any different.

Haster showed me a trapdoor on the ground floor, hidden underneath a threadbare rug. The trapdoor wasn’t locked and it opened onto a flight of stone steps that descended into darkness.

“The rug won’t fool anyone for long,” he said with a chuckle. “Down there is the passage to both of the end towers. There’re no doors into them, so this is the only way to gain access. Unless you smash down the walls, that is.”

“I’ll need your archers in the tower,” I told him. “With all the ammunition you’ve got. Tell them I don’t want to see a single arrow fired at the cavalry. They aren’t going to decide this one.”

“I’ll make sure they know,” he said. “How many are coming, do you think?”

“It could be a thousand. It could be ten thousand. I think Callian’s been planning this for years. She’ll have had plenty of time to build up. Whether that means she’ll commit a lot of her men here or not, I don’t know.”

“If she takes the bridge or better yet, destroys it, she’ll have cut off half of Cranmar’s lands from the rest of the Empire. It’ll hurt his ability to move his armies where he wants them. I wouldn’t want fifteen hundred cavalry roaming to the north either. There’re lots of villages on the other side of the rift. Plenty to kill and plenty to steal. Those horsemen could probably keep themselves supplied for months, especially if they have someone with them who knows the land.”

“There’ll be many men coming with them,” I said, with a sudden sense that my words were true.

“Let’s hope they forgot the archers and the sorcerers when they were leaving home,” he said. I laughed, though I was sure they’d have both.

When night fell, I had the Cohort camp on the bridge. It wasn’t comfortable, but there again it rarely was. The cavalry had performed exactly as expected – they’d taunted and they’d feinted. It did nothing apart from tire out their already exhausted horses. We had a grand total of twenty-two men who claimed they could shoot a bow and that included the two from the First Cohort whom I stationed in the tower at the end of the bridge nearest to where the attack would come from. I was pleased that they had been disciplined enough to ignore the riders and not a single arrow was wasted.

Any sort of surprise attack was more than unlikely. Nevertheless, I posted many sentries on the grass slope and kept fifty men ready at the gateway. The rest of us kept our armour on and our weapons close by. We had no campfires, however we had torches and lamps, provided to us by Lieutenant Haster. There were sconces in the walls of the bridge and lamps were easily stood on top. I did my rounds of the men, before sending someone to invite Haster out and whichever of his men wanted to come. It was early evening and the air was mild, still not quite enough to call it warm. A light wind blew constantly from east to west, which was easily enough avoided by sitting with our backs to the side wall. Haster came and with him were sixty or seventy of his men, evidently curious enough at our presence to come for a look.

“Come to swap tall tales,” said Ploster, as he saw how many they were.

“We’ve got fewer than two days,” I said with a laugh. “They’d best tell them quickly.”

Haster’s men carried food with them – there were loaves of hard, dense bread that took a great deal of chewing. There were also blocks of dripping, which they cut with knives and spread thickly over the bread. I tried some and found it to be proper soldier’s fare.

“A man could fight for days on a single slice of this,” said Sinnar, evidently in agreement with me.

“Try it with this cheese,” Haster told him, leaning across to offer a lump of something pale yellow. “And see what you think of this wine.”

Sinnar wasn’t a man to hold back and he got stuck in to the food we were offered. He didn’t need to eat, but I could see from his face that there was more than just courtesy in him accepting these gifts. He was genuinely enjoying them. I tried the cheese and the wine. The former tasted like it had been maturing for years, while the latter was surprisingly smooth.

“I’ve tasted worse,” I said.

“You’ve had far worse, Captain,” said Craddock. “And paid good coin for it too.”

I couldn’t deny it and didn’t bother to try. I stretched my legs in front of me and listened to the chatter on the bridge. There were no voices raised and no indication of budding rivalries. There comes a time when you’ve had enough of men trying to kill you. When you get that far, there doesn’t seem like much point in trying to start a fight with a stranger. I knew this to be a fact, yet even so I was forced to confront the reality that I’d likely never get sick of fighting. I was simply old and wise enough to know which ones were worth starting.

“What do you know of the Northmen?” I asked Haster.

“I’ve heard of them,” he said. “They first came twenty years ago, I’m told. Right when the fighting around Gathik was building up. It got Cranmar proper pissed off I reckon. He sent his men off to face them. They died and the Northmen disappeared. Cranmar sent some of his best over the border into the Northlands. Everyone says they all died too. I don’t know if that’s the case or not. Why would I hear what happens in Cranmar’s keep? Anyway, a few years ago, the Emperor came. There was a big song and dance in Angax. Soldiers talk, you know that. The Emperor went away and the build-up started. More soldiers, more weapons. I thought Cranmar would have been in a good place on the back of his victories in the west. It seems not. Then the Emperor came again - a couple of years ago, it was. The Northmen have pushed two hundred miles south of the Northlands. They’re hardly twenty miles from Angax, we’re told. Then, there’re the rumours.”

“What rumours?” I prompted.

“Dead men. Women and children too. Their skins as white as frost. They come from out of the fog and all they want to do is kill.”

“Aye, we’ve seen it,” said Craddock. “The cold is enough to freeze your blood and your bones. It’s not a fight that the living can win.”

“Is it true, then?” asked Corporal Doer. He was one of Haster’s men, thickset and bearded. “Do you no longer live?”

“We died a long time ago,” I said. “I thought our humanity had died with us, but recently I’ve found that it burns brighter than it ever has. We’re better men in death than we ever were in life.”

“Do you wish it had been different?” asked Haster, one man to another.

“There are many things I wish had been different,” I said. “If you gave me the choice, even now I would have my bones lying in a grave next to the wife I have almost forgotten, with our lives having been spent together. I have my regrets – we have so many between us. Yet, we are no longer consumed by what could have been. Now we fight for the Saviour and we have been given a chance to right the wrongs we’ve done. And by the gods I don’t believe in, we’re going to do everything we can to ensure that when we die, we’re at peace with ourselves.”

I saw Haster nod in the torchlight. “We thought we’d seen the worst of the worst when we took Stalt after five years of siege. Bones of the dead piled high – eaten by their fellows when the food ran out. Piss and rainwater the only thing to drink. Children with their bellies bloated and their legs so thin I could reach around them with my finger and thumb. And for what? So that some bastard they’d never seen and hardly ever heard of could make his point about who owned who. There we were, fighting for the bloody Sunderer, when all we wanted was for the people of the city to give up so that we could stop killing them. It’s changed us forever and I think that we hate ourselves for our weakness more than we hate Cranmar for sending us there.”

Haster looked haunted as his mind played over his past. I knew why they’d been put here on this bridge. They were too valuable to have killed, but too damaged to take back to Angax. Men who’d seen what they’d seen could talk and that talk could eventually lead on to dangerous things that no ruler would put up with if he knew about it. So, they’d been put out here where they could continue their duties and give no risk to Cranmar.

“When they come, we’ll split our men,” I said. “We’ll mix them evenly on the front lines. I hope your lads can fight as well as you say they can.”

“They can fight,” he said. “We’ve not seen much of it recently, but don’t think they’ve lost the knack.”

“I’m not worried,” I said, and I really wasn’t.

Eyeball approached us. He was one of the several men I’d sent back along the road to see what information they could gather. “I’ve found their cavalry,” he said. “About two miles directly south on the grasslands, next to a stream.”

“Any chance?” I asked.

“I didn’t like the look of it, Captain. They know what they’re doing from the looks of things. They’ve got sentries placed in rings and for once their guards aren’t asleep.”

“Well, it was just a thought,” I said. I dismissed Eyeball to whatever it was he wanted to do. “We’ll not be fighting them tonight, unless they choose to come here,” I said. I’d vaguely hoped that the cavalry were a rabble and that we might have been able to surprise them tonight. It would have been a good opportunity to see how Haster’s men performed. I wasn’t going to risk any losses on a well-guarded camp when we were so heavily outnumbered. I always thought it good to know my options.

The following day, we rose as early as always. The mornings were noticeably lighter than they had been even a couple of weeks ago and the evenings longer. Although I liked winter, I did prefer the longer days of summer.

“I’ll bet that wind was bitter a month ago,” said Sinnar, rubbing his hands as if to chafe warmth into them that he didn’t need.

The other men milled around in groups, talking about nothing much. I was itching to get Haster’s men out to see how they performed in drill practise on the bridge. They weren’t out of bed yet, though it would have been an unreasonably early hour for them to be so. Our noise soon had them up and about and I sought out Haster. He looked fresh, like a man who slept peacefully in spite of his inner tortures. I gave him his instructions and he snapped a salute.

The cavalry appeared again at mid-morning. I didn’t like horsemen and it was easy to accuse them of sleeping in long past their time, but I had to admit there was no reason for them to do anything other than take it easy. They weren’t going to attack us and a day of going through the motions was likely more tedious for them than it was for us.

We mixed up our two groups. It seemed only fair to do so, since I didn’t want the First Cohort to take more than our share of casualties. When I saw Haster’s men perform, I ceased having any worries about how they would hold up in combat. They’d talked a good talk and now I’d seen enough to know that it wasn’t simply bluster.

“Not bad,” said Craddock, watching alongside me. Further along the bridge, Sinnar bellowed out instructions and the lines of men moved forward and back in perfect formation. At his command, they lowered their spears or locked their shields, before falling back and drawing their swords.

“Their shields are smaller than ours,” I said.

“They’ll still lock together. I’ve had a look at a couple – they’re strong enough. We’ll have breakages but there are plenty of spares, as long as the man holding doesn’t get killed.”

The day sped by and it was easy to forget that trouble loomed. I didn’t dwell on it, nor did I see concern in the faces of the soldiers. I was sure the tension was building and was glad that we’d not have to wait too long. Even the most hardened of soldiers starts to feel it when the threat of battle hangs over him for an extended period.

The cavalry gave up by late afternoon. Or at least, they vanished over the brow of the hill a third of a mile away and didn’t return. We trained until the early evening and then stopped. The torches were lit and Haster’s men brought more food from their stores in the central tower, along with skins of watered wine. No one was in the mood for serious conversation and the mood was jovial. I joked and laughed with the men. Exaggerated tales of bravery, success and woe flew between us. I’d heard them all a hundred times before but stayed to listen, enjoying the wisecracks and the commentary. Then Eyeball came to me. I’d sent him out as soon as the cavalry had gone.

“They’ll be here in the morning, Captain,” he said. I was sitting with Sinnar, Craddock and Haster as we talked about tactics we’d used in the past.

“How many?” I asked. There was silence for a moment and we watched him intently.

“At least forty thousand.” His voice was almost a whisper, though it carried easily to all of us.

“Archers?”

“Hard to tell, Captain. I didn’t want to get too close. A couple of thousand, maybe.”

I swore quietly and looked at my officers. Their faces were grim and serious.

“This is going to be hard,” I said.

18

The enemy arrived the next day as Eyeball had said they would. A line of them, several hundred wide, appeared at the top of the slope. I was standing in the closest gateway, watching. The first line marched closer and another appeared behind it, then another and another. They kept on coming – thousands of them, covering the grass in a carpet of metal and flesh. Their discipline looked good and their equipment looked fine from what I could see – breastplates, leg guards, helmets and shields. They had swords and maces.

“No spears,” said Sinnar. “They’re going to regret that.”

“They’ve got archers,” I said. “Coming from the left.”

Their bowmen appeared on the flank. There wasn’t quite two thousand of them, but there were enough to cause us serious problems. They wore a smattering of leather armour and only had standard bows. I’d have loved the chance to lead a charge into them before the fighting started.

“Is that the lot?” asked Sinnar when no more appeared over the top of the slope.

“Looks like it,” said Ploster.

“Forty-three thousand, plus archers, plus cavalry,” I make it said Craddock.

“I made it forty-four thousand,” said Sinnar.

“There aren’t forty-four or forty-three thousand,” I said. “I’ll tell you exactly how many there are of them. Eighteen. That’s all.”

Craddock got it immediately and laughed. “And when we kill the first eighteen, there’ll only be another eighteen behind them.”

“And eighteen more after that,” I said. The width of the bridge was such that eighteen men was all that could fit across it and still have room to fight. I’d have preferred us to be only ten or twelve men across, so that we could use our swords more effectively. Spacing us widely would leave our defences weakened, which meant that eighteen it had to be. We’d need to keep our shields as close together as we could to block the cloud of arrows that would soon drop amongst us. I turned to see the men behind me, lined across the width of the bridge. There was not a flicker amongst them to betray a worry about what was coming to them.

“The archers are going to wear us down. With or without shields,” said Craddock. There were always gaps and something always got through.

The enemy lines began less than a hundred yards away. They parted and a group of men came forth – seven in all and on foot. I wasn’t stupid enough to leave the shelter of the gateway and I waited for them to arrive. The man who spoke was a typical over-indulged bastard, who’d probably won a handful of scraps and thought it made him suitable for promotion to general. His armour was polished and his sword looked like it might have cost two years’ wages for one of the regulars. He looked at me like I was something he’d found leaking from his cock after a night with a diseased goat. He was shorter and slimmer than I was and I locked eyes with him.

“You’ve got a quarter turn of the hourglass to leave this bridge,” he said. He was a captain as well, yet scarce able to give me the courtesy of addressing me as such.

“Who wants to come through?” I asked him.

“Lord Flax commands here, under orders from the Duchess,” he said.

“These are Cranmar’s lands,” I said. “And above him, the Emperor. Are you sure this is a war you want to start?”

“The Emperor will fall,” he sneered. “Even while he fails to defend his northern borders, he’s attacked from the south. The Duchess will not fall with him.”

I had no idea what he meant about attacks from the south and had no intention of asking him. “Callian should stand with her master, not betray him. This bridge belongs to Cranmar.”

“You stupid bastard,” he spluttered. “I’ll kill you myself.”

“I notice that you don’t come here under a flag of truce,” I said, drawing my sword in a single, swift motion. Within a moment I had the point under his chin. The six men with him scrambled for their swords. “Draw them and I’ll kill him,” I said. They complied at once. I returned my gaze to their captain. “If you say one more discourteous word to me, I’ll cut your throat open,” I told him calmly. Something in my eyes must have told him that I meant it. I saw his mouth work silently as he held back whatever brave words his brain was telling him to say. In the end, he stepped away, giving me a look of impotent hatred. It was the look of a weak man who’d been made to look like a fool.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “Then Lord Flax will send in his men.”

I watched them trudge away up the slope and back to their lines. Sinnar, Craddock and Haster had been only a few paces behind me – close enough to have heard it all.

“Gentlemen, what would you say to the notion of a withdrawal?” I asked.

Haster opened and closed his mouth. Sinnar and Craddock didn’t show any emotion – they knew when I was up to something.

“Only a partial withdrawal,” I continued. “Let’s say as far as the central tower, so that their archers can’t whittle us so easily.”

“Fight on the north side of the middle tower, you mean?” asked Haster. “That would put almost two hundred yards between us and their archers.”

“And the central tower would make it almost impossible for them to land a killing shot,” said Craddock.

“We’d lose the tower almost immediately,” said Haster. “As soon as their numbers push us beyond the central gateway tunnel they’ll be able to open the doors and get into the tower itself. They’d be able to put archers at the windows.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “And as soon as they lift your rug, they’ll find the tunnel and will be able to put archers behind us as well. There’s only room for dozens at the windows, not thousands.”

“Is your mind made up, Captain?” asked Craddock.

“It is,” I said. “We’ve got fifteen minutes to empty the central tower of its supplies and dump them on the north side. Ideally, we’ll make it look like we’re going to retreat. Can you get the doors off as well?”

“Those doors are as solid as they come, Captain. We might be able to pry them off their hinges, but I don’t think we can get it done at the same time as we’re getting everything out of there.”

“Very well. Leave the doors,” I said. Since we were about to concede the central tower, I would have rather we’d be able to get back inside if we needed to.

We put the plan into motion. I had the ranks of men step backwards, one pace at a time in order that they could maintain formation. I didn’t know who Lord Flax was – he could have been an honourable man, or he could have been as treacherous as they came. I wasn’t about to find out the hard way. I sent Haster away to the back lines and asked him to organise teams who could clear the central tower of anything useful. He got to it at once, elbowing through the heavy mass of armoured men, shouting out orders to the squads he wanted with him. I kept a wary eye on the enemy, in case they planned to attack. True to their word they remained unmoving, while we did our best to look like were struggling to organise chaos.

In the end, it worked, though only just. Haster’s squads managed to empty the central tower of the supplies they’d need to live off in the coming few days. My biggest concern had been water and I was relieved to see them rolling barrel after barrel of it away to the north end of the bridge, whilst others laboured under the weight of sacks, blankets and anything else they thought would be useful. The few archers we had withdrew from the south tower and joined with us as we completed our manoeuvre. I surveyed the result – we’d moved to a position beyond the northern end of the central tower gateway. The first ranks of their infantry which came through would find it especially tough – the gateway was only fourteen feet wide, so they’d pour through into our front line and effectively be outnumbered. I was under no illusion that we’d be able to hold them for long.

“They’ll use their weight to force us back from the gateway,” I told my lieutenants. “Some of them might even climb onto the side walls and try to attack us from there. We need to be aggressive and push towards them, so that they have to clear the bodies of their dead between each wave. If they move us back, they’ll be able to use their superior weight against us. I’m sure you all know what will happen if they push us off the bridge and onto the grasslands to the north.” They did all know what would happen – we’d be surrounded and cut to pieces. It might not happen at once if we’d bloodied them enough to instil fear. Still, they’d wear us down eventually.

A short period of time passed, during which the enemy gave us the benefit of the doubt and provided us with a few extra minutes to see if we’d complete our withdrawal. They had the numbers, but they surely wanted to avoid this fight if they could. We heard shouted commands from the south and their archers moved into a position along the edge of the rift.

“Shields ready!” shouted Sinnar.

At once, hundreds of shields were raised and locked together as closely as they could be. The archers fired and a cloud of arrows flew into the air, before falling in a lazy arc towards us. The central tower sheltered more than half of us, whilst the extreme range meant the rest of the men were hardly bothered at all. The enemy only had medium length bows and they struggled to cover the range of over two hundred yards. Longbows would have caused us trouble, so it was unfortunate for Lord Flax that he had none with him. A few of the iron arrowheads clanked and banged away from our shields, or cracked against the stone of the bridge. We cheered loudly so that the enemy would know we’d nullified their archers. They fired three more volleys in quick succession without any greater success.

“They’re coming,” I said loudly.

Through the gateway, the first lines of their infantry came into sight. They tramped through the south gateway and spread across the width of the bridge as more and more of them pressed in from behind. Their march was slow and measured, which I imagined came from the reluctance of their front ranks. They were guaranteed to die in the next few minutes and I was sure they knew it. If they’d been on a field somewhere or even in a town or city, there’d be a chance for them, no matter how small. Here, there was none at all.

I squeezed my way through our own front lines until I was several rows back. Sinnar, Craddock and Haster did the same. I ached to be at the front and it wasn’t even pointless bravado. I knew I’d be failing my men if I allowed myself to get killed in the first ten minutes of fighting.

“You forgot to do a speech, Captain,” said Grids.

“You know we value your fancy words before someone tries to shove a sword into us,” said Weevil.

“How’s about I shove a sword into you instead, Weevil?” I asked.

“This is too nice a bridge for arguments,” called Beamer. He was a few feet to the other side.

Haster’s men were spread amongst us. I knew only a handful of their names. One or two of them grinned at the words I exchanged with the men. They’d been here many times before, the same way we had.

“Some of your men say you’re good with a sword, Captain,” said one of Haster’s. I vaguely remembered his name was Scots.

“Oh, they’ll say anything,” I said with a wink. “It’s the ones in front of us we have to watch out for. Old Beamer here can beat off ten men with his walking stick.”

I received a couple of earthy responses and chuckled to myself. These were the moments I lived for. Some men hated them – the quiet before the killing began. Most soldiers I spoke with liked to get started as soon as possible, as if each moment remaining was somehow less precious because they might soon die. For me, the camaraderie was one of the many feelings that made it all worthwhile.

I heard more orders shouted and the sound of thousands of boots stamped in unison as the enemy advanced. They were fifty yards from us, their swords and shields reflecting the bright light of the morning sun, their pennants fluttering in the constant breeze. Their helmets covered little of their faces and I got my first glimpse of who we faced. It was a mixture of young and old, the veterans lined up with the teenagers to bolster them with tales of courage and bravery. The old men would have cursed this day when they found where they’d been placed. They’d be dead soon, their last thoughts being of their mothers and happier times when they were children. I’d never had empathy for my enemy in the past. Now it was a constant companion – filling my head with sorrow at what I had to do to them. It wouldn’t weaken my resolve. I already carried the burden of so many dead that a few more on top wouldn’t matter. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. In reality, each new man I killed felt heavier than the last.

Their infantry were funnelled into the gateway and they came at us faster, like water flows more quickly though a narrow gully. They gave a stuttering roar. The sound echoed against the walls and ceiling of the tunnel and when it reached my ears, it was strangely muffled, as though the stone had absorbed much of the sound. Our front two ranks lowered their spears and as one, they stepped forward to meet the coming infantry emerging from the gateway tunnel. Shouts became screams when metal punctured metal, inflicting fatal and agonising wounds upon the flesh of men whom in other circumstances we might have called friends. Men died and more came to replace them, pushed from behind and onto the eager tips of our bloodied spears. I saw and heard wooden shafts snap under the weight. We passed new spears forward to replace them and the killing continued, with their infantry still unable to land a blow on us.

Shouted commands joined the cacophony as my lieutenants gave orders and exhorted our front ranks to greater efforts. There’d been a time when I was incapable of leaving even the smallest of details to anyone else. Now, I trusted each man in the Cohort as much as I trusted myself. There’d come a point when I’d need to add my voice to the others, but that time wasn’t yet. Instead, I stood and watched, calm amongst a sea of calm. Haster’s men had impressed me already with their stoic presence and their acceptance that while they were not assailed for the moment, their time to fight would inevitably come.

There weren’t many pieces to this battlefield. My brain slotted them into place and worked out how one might influence the other. I saw it all clearly and felt the enemy’s initial surge slow as the mounting bodies fouled their footsteps and the fear of their front men spread towards those behind. Above me, I saw faces of men appear behind the windows of the central tower. They weren’t archers – not yet. It would take them some time to get bowmen through the scrum. Those same bowmen fired at us from the safety of the chasm’s edge. Arrows fell onto our right flank, sparse and sporadic. If any of them hit home, it wasn’t anything to be concerned about.

Without warning, their infantry fell back. I got the impression it was only half controlled, since a number of their men left themselves exposed to attacks from behind. I don’t know if they expected mercy; certainly, they received none and we took full advantage of the chance to increase their casualties. Some men feel as if they’re breaking an unwritten code when it comes to striking another in the back. It’s a nonsense that I’ve never worried about – as soon as the fighting begins, you must take every opportunity you can to win. Fear was one of our greatest weapons and anything we could do to spread it would help us towards victory.

There was a lull for an hour or so. They sent sullen men forward to pull away the bodies of their fallen. The enemy gave little respect to the dead and tipped them over the walls on the south side of the bridge. I saw a glimpse of the ruthless nature of their commander when their injured - at least those who couldn’t walk - followed the dead over the edge and into the chasm. I tried to ignore the screams of the betrayed. We didn’t allow the body clearers to come too close, since I wanted them to have a carpet of their own dead to stand on as they fought. When they tried their luck, we advanced and drove them away.

We’d suffered losses of two – both Haster’s men. They’d fought well and one had died when he’d stumbled at the wrong time. The other showed no sign of injury at all. We brought them through the ranks and had them laid on the northern field. Neither Haster nor I would tolerate our men being forgotten after their deaths. I had the front four ranks swapped over – it was only fair that everyone was given a chance to earn tales of his own to tell. I stayed a few rows back. The shame I used to feel for doing so was no longer an affliction. Many of our spears were broken and I was glad that Haster had thought to bring all of their spares out of the tower. The new ones were passed forward to replace the old and soon we were back to exactly where we’d started, except that many of Callian’s infantry had been killed. A drop in the mighty ocean, but a start nonetheless.

Their archers arrived, having struggled through the massed ranks of infantry on the bridge. We jeered them as they slunk into the tower, though we made no efforts to stop them. Most infantry hate cavalrymen, yet only have a moderate dislike for archers. They might get you from afar, but once you were amongst them, they died quickly. I guess it was a case of honours even. We passed instructions around to keep shields raised at all times. Luckily for us, the angle was too tight for their archers to pepper our front ranks, though that would change if we lost ground. They started at once, sending iron-tipped arrows into our ranks, hoping they’d manage to get one through the gaps around our shields.

Beamer and Weevil had gone – away to the front rows along with the man I knew as Scots. Those around me now had been there for the first attacks. I asked a few of their names and found I was with Luder, Smath and Flood. They had one or two nicks and scratches on their armour and their skin, but they retained the looks of utmost concentration that was the sign of a true infantryman.

“What are they?” I asked.

“A few veterans, Captain,” said Luder. “Young ones as well – full of anger and they don’t want to fail.”

“They fight well,” added Flood. “I thought they’d break sooner than they did. How long did they last?”

Time lost meaning in the fighting. “An hour,” I said. “Next time it’ll be two hours, and the time after that they won’t stop.”

“Good job I never need to take a crap until it’s evening,” said another cheerfully.

I laughed – wherever the Cohort went, whoever we fought with, the humour was always the same. I’d never worked out if it came as a result of fear or if it was a way to stave it off. I supposed that the answer was unimportant.

Their front ranks reformed and I could tell they’d pushed their proven men to the fore. They’d given the boys a chance and they’d failed - it had been inevitable and a good commander would have known that. Those boys would never become the men they could have been. Strand after strand cut away, to drift and die.

Onwards they came, this time with their shields tightly locked and their shoulders bunched close together. Many of them died, but others pulled away our spears, or broke the shafts with their swords. We held them away for a while until it became too hazardous to pass forward replacement spears. They crashed against our line and I felt the shiver run through our ranks as they pressed their weight against us. We steeled ourselves, using our shields and our strength to support the men in front of us so that they could take heart from our presence and know that we were there. The enemy shouts rose in volume to match our own as they tried to wash away our determination with the power of their voices. We knew the tactic since we used it ourselves. Instead of quailing in fear, we rose to meet their challenge, anger in our faces.

We stood there, locked together. Their numbers tested our fortitude and we didn’t back down. Swords rose and fell in slow motion, the shortest of moments to end a life. Our men died along with theirs – gaps appeared and those behind stepped in to fill them. Sinnar loomed above them all, off to my left. His voice boomed out, defying the noise of thousands to make itself heard. Blood sprayed red into the air, twisting patterns of random beauty, before they fell and mingled with the dirt, the guts and the spittle on the ground. Arrows dropped without cease among us, here and there finding yielding flesh instead of metal bulwark.

Our front lines compressed and the man in front of me was pushed back with it. I braced and tried to keep him in place. It was no good and my feet slid across the flagstones. The man behind added his weight to mine and together we tried to hold our place. First there was a step, and then another. We didn’t give ground willingly and fought for every inch. We lost a few yards and then the pressure reduced as the enemy’s footing became ever more treacherous with the blood of the fallen.

We beat them back again. They lasted more than two hours – longer than I’d thought they might. The area between our two front lines had become so fouled with bodies that we’d been throwing those we could over the side walls. There was a period where the fighting almost stopped as we’d disposed of the dead. We could have left them, but I didn’t want the enemy being able to stand atop the pile and attack from on high. It appeared that Flax’s men didn’t want to climb over their own to reach us, so it suited both sides to dispose of those bodies that we could.

The first flickerings of their uncertainty became known to my battle senses with the failing of their voices. Their shouts changed almost imperceptibly at first, turning from cries of certainty to wavering shouts of fear. Sinnar and Craddock picked up on it too and then the realisation poured into Haster. I joined in the shouts of my lieutenants, our four voices becoming one and driving our men forwards to take back the ground we’d conceded. It happened suddenly, as it usually did. One moment they were at us, the next they were spilling away through the gateway. We hounded them and cut them open, spilling their innards onto the ground for their fellows to slip on later.

I didn’t get to wield my own sword on that first day. They retreated a way and sent their men to tidy up the mess of bodies and severed limbs. It was late afternoon by the time they’d left the bridge in a suitable state to resume hostilities. Someone blew a horn and they withdrew from the bridge. I was sure we’d not see them again until the morning. They abandoned their bowmen in the tower and left us the only ones on the bridge. It wasn’t like we were going to try and recapture the southern half and expose ourselves to the bulk of their archers.

We held our places until light faded to such an extent that there was no way fighting could resume. I congratulated the men around me and heard my lieutenants doing the same. Haster’s men had fought well and I shook his hand for his efforts.

“You never lose it,” he said.

“Not in three years and not in a hundred,” I told him.

“What now?” he asked, looking up at the tower. Arrows continued to come through the windows, seemingly more in hope than anything else.

“Take your men into the north field,” I said. There was no need to tell him that he should stay out of range. “The Cohort won’t need to sleep tonight and we’ll camp close to the tower walls. Their archers won’t be able to hit us.”

“Fine,” he nodded. “Don’t waste your efforts on those tower doors, though I’m sure you’re obliged to try. You’ll not get through them.”

Before Haster’s men could depart under the cover of their shields, I set our corporals to the task of adding up our dead. It wasn’t a straightforward task, since many had been thrown over the edge wall into the abyss. We’d lost nearly fifty men, of whom ten were from the First Cohort. Grids was amongst them and I felt his loss most keenly. There were injuries, mostly minor. In fighting like this, you either died or you came out more or less unscathed.

Before we had a chance to come to terms with our losses, Corporal Knacker came up to me. “More troops coming,” he said. He must have caught my look of shock since he corrected himself at once. “Not onto the bridge, sorry, Captain. They’ve got more infantry coming over the brow of the hill over there.”

I went as close as I dared in order to look. Sure enough, rank after rank of infantry trooped onto the slope and positioned themselves on the right-hand flank.

“Another twenty thousand,” I said.

“That’s what I make it,” said Sinnar, who’d arrived to join me.

“They’ve got sorcerers with them.” I turned to see Ploster was there. I hadn’t spoken to him at all during the day.

“Anything we should be worried about?” I asked him.

“They’re powerful,” he said. “We’ll find out what they’ve got tomorrow.”

I swore – as if it wasn’t already bad enough. Now we’d be facing magic as well as another twenty thousand infantry.

19

We spent the night at the base of the central tower. Our shields were close by and our swords rarely left our hands. The soldiers talked as if nothing was amiss, whilst I had to keep my voice low in case the archers overheard anything important. I sat with my lieutenants and Ploster as we considered the best way to proceed.

“Callian’s sent over sixty-five thousand of her troops to the north,” said Haster. “That must be a big chunk of what she’s got.”

“Her duchy is rich and populous. I’ll wager her total numbers are several times that,” said Ploster.

“There are twenty-five thousand of Cranmar’s men coming this way. They’ll be slaughtered by Callian’s army.”

“Sixty-five thousand is strong enough to be an invasion force,” said Sinnar.

“There’s nothing much worth having out here,” said Haster. “Small towns, big towns. Nothing strategic and nothing worth the effort to hold – at least not when the early plays of war are being made. Tibulon would be the only logical target and she could reach it by crossing her borders six hundred miles to the east. There’s no need to come this way.”

“Unless this bridge is the only thing she’s interested in,” said Ploster.

“It’s just a bridge. An important one, but I wouldn’t have thought it important enough that you’d send so many men to take it,” Haster replied.

Without answers, we talked about what we planned for the next day. In reality, we had little choice in the matter. Only a few spears remained and when they’d been destroyed, we’d spend the rest of the day toe-to-toe with Flax’s infantry.

The following morning was colder than the previous and the wind took on a biting edge. I didn’t feel it, except to note that it was there. Haster’s men joined us early and the arrows came at us from both the middle and the north towers. We arranged our men with new faces at the front and gave yesterday’s survivors a place in the middle. They’d earned it.

Lord Flax let us wait for an hour before he ordered his men forward. It was a good tactic, since most soldiers found it difficult to maintain a state of readiness for long. After a time, the adrenaline seeps away, leaving him weakened. We combatted it by laughing and joking amongst ourselves, to keep our spirits high. When they did come, I could see that they’d sent the previous evening’s new arrivals. My hopes that these would be inexperienced troops were quickly dashed. These men had fine armour that covered almost all of their flesh and their swords looked keen.

First blood fell to us. They stopped and their lines parted to allow a man through. He was scrawny and hunched, with a motley collection of clothes and a hood that covered his face. I didn’t know if sorcerers were almost uniformly ugly and preferred to keep themselves hidden, or if there was a different reason that most of them did so. Our own lines parted and two arrows shot through the gateway tunnel, fired with a flat trajectory. One arrow took the sorcerer in his throat and the other struck him in the chest. Without a sound, he keeled over dead. We cheered and we cheered, with men reaching across to clap Shooter and Eagle on their backs and congratulate them for their skills. They slung their bows and I sent them towards the middle again. That particular surprise was spent and I doubted that the next sorcerer would show himself so eagerly.

The infantry didn’t wait and marched onwards. I caught the arrogance in their stride and in their eyes. They were cruel men, who thought they were the best.

“Look at these cocky bastards,” laughed Sinnar loudly enough for the enemy to hear. “They think they know how to fight.”

“Let them feel Haster’s fury,” I yelled. “And let them taste the First Cohort’s steel!”

I studied their faces closely. Some of them had recognized the names of the men they opposed. None of them blanched. They’d forged their own path and bowed to no other. I didn’t care – I’d cut them all down until their unit’s future was reduced to nothing. I cracked my knuckles – today I was determined to test myself against them.

“Let’s get Grids his share,” I said to Beamer. He was with me – a man whose presence I’d started to value over most others.

“Aye, Captain. And Tyke’s share. Budge and Flips can get their own.” He grinned nastily. He’d not be a pleasant man to cross swords with today.

Before the enemy engaged, I tapped the shoulder of the two men in front. Beamer and I swapped places with them and did the same for the two in front of those. We were in the second row. Craddock looked at me quizzically. I lifted my hand with the thumb pointing up. He winked back at me.

Their infantry came at us hard. I imagined the tactic had worked well for them in the past – hit your foe with everything you have and break them fast. Our spears took down a few and they treated them almost with disdain. If we’d had our own metal spears, they’d have found it harder to knock them aside, but we’d left them far behind us. They hit the front lines with force and I pushed with all my might to keep the man before me steady. He was one of Haster’s and he fought with an intense ferocity, matched with a solidity that caused his opponents to unconsciously avoid him. The man in front of Beamer went down to a sword thrust in his chest and Beamer stepped in to take his place. He knocked two of the enemy aside with his shield and cut the hand off a third. Beamer was a strong bastard and had the swordplay to back it up. He shouted with rage and his runed sword wove amongst his foes, cutting and killing.

They pushed us back again, step by step. Beamer and the man in front of me didn’t fall, though others did. I was desperate to join those on the front, but by now it was my greatest wish that the man before me would live so that I could ask him his name and shake his hand for his indomitable spirit. Callian’s men kept at us far longer than I’d expected them to. It had become a matter of pride that they destroy us completely and their pride took away their fear and their sense of reason. I heard Craddock order us back ten paces – it was an astute move and gave us better footing and took us further from the mounting stack of corpses that we’d produced from the living men they’d been.

For hour after hour we fought. The enemy had sunk too much of themselves into it to let us go and we were too resolute and too accomplished to allow them to defeat us. Nevertheless, we went back – ten yards and then twenty. The archers above fired into us and I held my shield over the man in front of me to keep him protected. Others did likewise. It was hard work and my shield tipped more than once as a missile or an enemy sword struck it. In spite of my efforts, I still felt impotent and invested all of myself into the man in front, as if fought vicariously through him.

One side had to fail and it was not us, though it was a close-run thing. The battle shouts had long since faded away, to be replaced with grim faces and distant stares. Men dug deep within themselves to summon up every ounce of spirit they had in order to keep fighting. The enemy broke and ran without warning. The men in front tried to push their way through those behind, in order that their fellows die instead of them. In the crush, it was hard for them to make headway, but we pursued in order to increase their terror and their casualties. All at once, one of those fleeing enemies turned. I saw a dagger in his hand where he’d once held a shield. In this man’s eyes was a determination to kill one of us as surely as he was going to die himself. His arm flashed out and the man in front of me shuddered. I wrapped my arms around him and hauled him away from the front line. The man who’d stabbed him was killed and his face held a look of triumph even as the steel came to take his life. For that brief moment, I hated him more than anything.

I laid Haster’s man onto the ground, ignoring the push of soldiers as they ran past. I shielded him with my own body and crouched low to examine his wound. I didn’t believe in fate, though I did believe in luck – the most treacherous friend of all. He was dead. His eyes were open and they stared into nothingness high above, the thread of his life forever torn from his body. There was nothing memorable about his face but I was sure I’d remember his deeds. I put out a hand and gently pulled his eyes closed for the last time.

“Captain?”

I looked up. Beamer was there with me. “This man was one of the best,” he told me.

“Aye, he was. And now he’s gone.”

I never found out his name, nor got to shake his hand. The enemy leader didn’t permit his troops much of a pause. I could see them regrouping, while their officers screamed at them for cowardice. They’d be back soon. I picked the man up and tipped him over the wall, along with the others. He turned lazily through the air and then was lost from sight. All around, the living cleared away the dead, pitching them over the wall. We reclaimed the ground we’d lost and long before the enemy could launch another assault we were right back where we’d started. Grim, angry and unbowed, we looked at our opponents. This time when they came, I could see how their arrogance had been tainted with doubt. They’d been beaten once and they had no choice but to face us again. I smiled as they advanced – it was a smile of assurance that I’d kill any of them who faced me.

I was in the front row, with Beamer to my right and another of Haster’s to my left. I’d spoken to him the previous evening – Flood – and I’d seen him fight. With the cries of their sergeants driving them on, the enemy threw themselves at us. They wanted to crush the shame of their defeat through this expression of zeal. The first man to reach me was a thug with hooded eyes and thick arms. He thrust at me with his shield and I cut half of his skull off with my sword. Down he went, pushed onto my shield by the man behind him. I braced myself and felt pressure against my back when the man to my rear added his own weight to mine. I saw a hand nearby and I cut off the fingers. A sword clattered to the ground, to be lost beneath the feet of their infantry. A mace struck my shield a glancing blow, sending reverberations into my bones. I ignored the attacker and fended off the blows of another. Beamer and Floods lunged and blocked, and the comforting sounds of battle rushed into my body, filling my being with the familiar desire to win.

We fell into a rhythm, Beamer, Floods and I. It was as though we were an island in the midst of the chaos – unmoving and unhurried as we smashed armour, sundered shields and broke the flesh beneath. I had the most peculiar sensation – all at once time had slowed to a crawl as my battle lust took my reactions to a speed far past anything my opponents could stand against. At the same time, the fighting appeared to fly by at great speed as the day raced onwards, with me in the middle of it and my men all around.

We died, as did they. Their numbers pushed us ever backwards and the arrows flew into our ranks. I didn’t tire and the runes of my sword crackled and spat, ever thirsty for the massacre. My eyes followed the curves and arcs they made, always ahead, always in command of my sword’s path. The blade held magic, but it was I who controlled it. Their soldiers tumbled around me and their deaths came as quickly as they could advance.

The day wore on and I was dispassionately aware that we’d lost almost half of the ground we’d controlled that morning. The arrows never stopped coming and it became harder with each passing minute to defend ourselves from both infantry and archers. I’d lost my helmet somewhere in the fighting and half of my shield had been broken off by a maceman.

“We’re going to beat them, Captain,” said Beamer. “They don’t have the bottle for it anymore.”

His words could not have been more poorly timed. Moments after he’d spoken them, I caught the scent of magic, pulled from the air by that part of me which knew of sorcerers and their power. The air ignited around our front lines, turning it into a maelstrom of reds, yellows and oranges. The flames washed to the north, seeking out the fuel they needed to survive. The enemy burned, as did Haster’s men. Our tattoos and our innate resistance to magic kept the men of the Cohort alive. Blue light joined the yellows and through it all, the runes from our blades left their traces - our swords fell again and again into the screaming ranks of Callian’s infantry. Whoever their sorcerer was, he cared nothing for those whose side he fought on.

In the distance, I was dimly aware of two arrows cracking against the edges of a window in the central tower. I’d told Shooter and Eagle to watch out for their sorcerers. Two more arrows flew overhead, this time they both entered the same window. I hunted, seeking our opponent in the hope that I could snuff out his magic. There was someone else with me on the tapestry – it was Jon Ploster, though he was unaware that I watched him. He searched, using a simple routine to close in on the source of the flames. I raced past him and found the man. Without knowing how, I drew Ploster to me. He was angry and he commanded the enemy to burn. Callian’s man didn’t succumb in the way that most company sorcerers would have done. He rebuffed Ploster’s efforts and sent out another wave of his flame. I was close and I found I was able to block his spell. I simply calmed the threads of warp and weft which surrounded him and his magic dissipated. Ploster took advantage of the man’s surprise and he struck. The part of my sight that was still attuned to the physical realm watched the bloom of the enemy sorcerer’s body as Ploster tore it into fragments.

The mage’s death had taken only seconds. With him gone, I charged into the fire-ravaged lines of our enemy. The harsh stench of burning saturated the air, their fumes choking the living. I saw a man whose face had been burned away, his eyeballs gone. He must have been in shock, since he made no sound and merely stood there. I finished his life, a mercy I was willing to grant even to my enemy. Then, I was amongst them. They made little effort to reform and it was the easiest thing to slay them in great numbers. Beamer came and Floods with him. A few yards away, Sinnar swung his sword in a glittering arc, whilst his dagger punched into their soldiers. Sensing victory, we swarmed through them. Those we didn’t kill with our swords, we pushed from the bridge as they scrambled to escape. Our voices rose above their clamour and drove them into an abject panic.

They broke and they tried their best to run. I didn’t enjoy the slaughter, but I took part in it. Every man we killed was one we wouldn’t need to face tomorrow or the day after. Each death meant one fewer to invade our lady’s lands when the inevitable conflict erupted. By the time we’d cleared them from the north half of the bridge, there were nearly two hundred yards of its span that was covered in bloody chunks and red-tainted metal. Amongst the bodies, the injured wept and begged for mercy. At another time and in a different place, I could have spared them. Here, there was no choice. We killed the most badly injured of them, with swift strokes from our swords or daggers. I hated the necessity even though we couldn’t do anything with them. I might have had them dragged to the central tower in order that their own side could handle the morals of it, but we had enough to deal with to handle our own casualties.

Those of the enemy who could walk or drag themselves away, we left to it, shouting to them so that they wouldn’t delay, even if it increased their agony. I saw Sinnar take pity on one, and he helped the fellow towards the central tower. Their archers were vile cowards and one of them took a shot. Sinnar deflected the arrow with his shield and the missile struck the infantryman in the face. Sinnar dropped the body and returned to us, spitting angrily. I didn’t have the heart to reprimand him for his misplaced compassion.

“Daylight’s fading, Captain,” said Beamer. “We’ll not see them again today.”

“No, we won’t, soldier,” I replied. “We’ve beaten them today, though I struggle to call it a victory.”

I called Haster and Craddock over to join me and asked them to find out the numbers we’d lost. Another ninety-three of our side were missing, their deaths more than presumed. A further eighty of Haster’s had suffered burns. Some of them would fight again soon, many not for days or weeks. Others yet would never fight again. I wondered aloud at how we’d come out of it so well.

“It was you, Captain,” said Craddock. “Time and again they broke against you and not once did you waver.”

“I felt as though I was lost in a sea of endless death,” I told him. “They lacked the certainty to see that I was just one man. If they’d focused on that fact alone, they could have swept me aside.”

“Corporal Grief will be busy,” said Craddock. “I’m glad we got through the day. Haster’s men need time to rest.”

“They do,” agreed Haster. “In the past, we thought we were unstoppable. I’m relieved we never had to face you and your men in the field, Captain.”

I heard his words and felt no pride. “When we lived we were no better than your men are now,” I told him. “The Emperor’s magic gave us advantages they can’t match, so the comparison cannot be a fair one.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment, though I meant every word of it. “Can we survive another four or five days? Cranmar’s twenty-five thousand will lose an open battle, yet they should be able to hold this place for as long as they need to,” he said. “I don’t wish to see all of my men killed for a poxy bridge.”

We were silent in thought. Around us, the activity continued unabated while we cleared the dead and tended to our own.

“Today was a near-run thing,” said Craddock. “Tomorrow might be different. They don’t want to face us, yet their numbers are too great for us to defeat.”

“At least we can bleed them so much that they’ll not be able to stage any sort of worthwhile incursion to the north,” Sinnar added. I could tell that he didn’t relish the prospect of us all dying here.

Something came to me, like a torch igniting in the darkness. “What if they aren’t here to invade?” I asked. “What if this bridge is so important to Callian that she’ll do anything to capture it?”

“Why would she want to do that?” asked Haster.

Jon Ploster arrived. He looked fresh – he’d not done much hand-to-hand fighting and we hadn’t had to call extensively on his magic. “She fears the Northmen,” he said.

“If Callian takes this bridge, she’s secured almost a thousand miles of her northern border,” I said.

“And it traps Cranmar’s men on the other side,” said Craddock, catching on. “It’s no wonder she’s sent so many here – with the bridge gone, she’ll force one of the Emperor’s key allies to spend himself on the Northmen.”

“Every bastard seems to know more about these Northmen than we do,” said Sinnar. “It’s starting to piss me off.”

“It’s still all assumption,” said Ploster. “Even though we have nothing better to work with.”

“I’m tempted to leave in the night,” I said. “The Saviour didn’t send us here to be destroyed fighting for a bridge. She’ll need us with her.”

“Their cavalry will catch us tomorrow, once they realise we’ve gone,” said Haster. “We won’t abandon our wounded.”

“It’s a shame this bridge is as solid as it is,” I said. “Else I think I’d happily have it tumble into the chasm below. Malleus need never find out about it.”

“What about Cranmar’s men?” asked Haster.

“They’ll be stuck to the north until they can find a way around. Assuming they even try. We don’t know if the Northmen will come. None of us can read the minds of Callian – it may be that she plans to invade in spite of the reasons not to. If so, we’ll be doing Cranmar a favour.”

“There might be a way,” said Haster.

“To do what?” asked Craddock.

“To destroy the bridge. The trouble is, we need to access the central tower to do it.”

“What about Cranmar?” I asked him.

Haster spat. “He’s not as bad as some of the Emperor’s nobles I reckon, but he’s put us out here to die. The lads know we’re never going back. In truth, we know that the day we’re invited along to Angax is the day we’ll get ambushed and murdered somewhere on the way. Cranmar doesn’t want us. I’ve spoken to the others and most of us are of a mind to see what’s so special about this Saviour you’ve mentioned. If she’ll have us.”

“She’ll have you,” I said quietly. “If there is a way to destroy this bridge, will you join with us?”

“We cannot go to Angax.”

“If you are part of the First Cohort, you will have the Emperor’s protection,” I told him. There was no shock from Ploster or the others who heard. Without numbers, we’d soon be no more and Haster’s men were just what we needed.

“He’ll kill us regardless, I don’t trust any of those bastards.”

“The Emperor’s given his word on this,” I said. “He’ll not like it, but he’s asked for the First Cohort and will not break his promise by allowing us to be murdered.”

Haster looked at me and I held his gaze. I could imagine what was going through his mind – he only wanted what was best for his men and felt like he was trapped between alternatives, each of which were certain death for them all.

“Very well,” he said. “We’ll join with you and we’ll come to Angax.”

I reached out and took his hand, as did Sinnar, Craddock and Ploster.

“New blood,” said Sinnar. “We’ve been closed for too long.”

“Not always our choosing,” I told him. Even as I said the words I realised that they might not be entirely true. It wasn’t the time to untangle the possibilities and Sinnar didn’t question what I’d said.

The light of day was fading fast. We reformed and recovered the ground we’d lost that day, stationing our depleted ranks on the north side of the central tower, just beyond the gateway. The futility of war – fighting time and again over the same piece of ground. Giving some and losing some, until one side finally lost so many men that they could no longer resist the other. Haster had told us about the keystones to the bridge – they were accessed by a hidden tunnel from the central tower. The keystones supported the arches of the bridge and were held in place by a series of stone pins. If we could knock them out, the bridge would collapse and Callian’s army would have no choice but to leave. I agonised over whether it was the right thing to try. There were so many possible outcomes from destroying the bridge and the pieces on the game board might end up in positions that could result in losses for the Saviour. In the end, second-guessing what could happen seemed pointless and I decided we’d act, rather than wait passively until we were all killed.

I’d arranged a team of men to bring with me and we stood adjacent in the front two rows closest to the gateway. There was a hubbub of chatter all around at the news Haster’s men had joined us. If our situation hadn’t been so parlous, there would have been excited laughter and joking.

I ran through ideas and thoughts in my head – I intended that we’d use Ploster to break into the central tower, then we’d kill all the archers and knock out the keystones if we could. With luck, we’d be able to do it before the enemy could come to see what was happening. In reality, they’d have great difficulty in disrupting our plans and I wasn’t absolutely sure they’d even try, since I didn’t think they’d know about the keystones. The central tower was strategically important, but not drastically so.

“How long till full dark, do you think?” asked Beamer, squinting into the sky. He knew the answer and was just talking to pass the time.

“Less than an hour and we can go,” I told him.

“Think it’ll work?” he asked.

“Of course,” I told him with a wink. “We’d not be going if I wasn’t certain.”

“It’ll be nice to give those archers a taste of their own medicine, at least,” said Weevil, making a stabbing motion with his knife. He had an enormous iron-headed mallet slung across his back.

I waved the pair of them to silence. There was movement at the south end of the bridge. A figure stepped into sight and strolled through the south tower gateway. He was alone – I knew who he was and he didn’t need to bring anyone with him. He stood almost impossibly tall for a man – broad and misshapen. Then, he wasn’t a man.

“Who’s that stupid bastard?” asked one of Haster’s men.

I didn’t get a chance to answer – Sinnar did it for me. “That’s the Hungerer, lads. Come to send us all down into the pit.”

20

The Hungerer came slowly towards us across the south end of the bridge. In the dying light of day, he could have been almost mistaken for a man, clad in filthy grey rags and with his raggy, dirty black hair. He stopped, less than fifty yards from us and stared at our ranks. To a man, we stared back, into the wild eyes of madness. His thick arms were bare and I could see a mixture of weeping pinks and blacks across his skin, where the Pyromancer’s flames had ignited his flesh.

Ploster was near me and his power surged across the intervening space, seeking to do whatever harm to the Hungerer his magic would inflict. I followed across the warp and weft, pursuing in the blink of an eye. The Hungerer was there – like a vast, malevolent tree trunk, with its roots anchored across the place he was standing. These roots reached out, spreading lazily towards us as they tried to grasp the threads of our existence. Ploster attacked – he tried his best to destroy our foe, using everything he had in a single, great expulsion of sorcery. The Hungerer didn’t even flinch, and Ploster retreated at once, defeated utterly.

With us watching, the man on the bridge began to writhe. He bent double and then straightened, twisting and grunting as he did so. A sound reached us – a ripping, rending noise that came from the structure of his body tearing itself apart. His legs thickened. His arms and shoulders spread to an impossible span as he transformed into a creature much larger than he had been. Throughout it all, the grunting didn’t stop and it made me wonder if the changing subjected him to a great pain. I could have ordered the attack at any point. I’d seen other soldiers do it before. It hadn’t been enough to prevent the transformation in the past and I was sure it wouldn’t be now.

It took much less than a minute to reach completion. The eight-foot man became a twenty-five-foot giant, strong enough to uproot trees and with a feral look that spoke of insanity and a lust to destroy.

“He’s a big bastard,” said Sinnar, raising his voice so that all could hear. “Let’s cut him down to size, eh?”

I had no doubt that the Hungerer heard the words. They wouldn’t have angered it any more than it already was. It was born with rage and it wouldn’t stop until we were all dead, or it died trying. The Emperor had used it as a shock weapon in the past. I’d assumed it had been killed long ago, but I’d been away from Hardened for too long. The creature had come out of hiding for reasons I’d probably never know and here it was in front of us.

The Hungerer made a noise – somewhere between a hideous laugh and a growl. It took two long strides, which took it to the far side of the central tower gateway. Its upper torso and head were lost behind the tower. Arrows flew by, striking it in the legs and stomach. Several more came after the first, with Shooter and Eagle spending their ammunition in a futile effort to weaken it.

“Can it get through?” asked one of Haster’s men. There was hope in his voice.

“If it crawls through the gateway, we can beat the shit out of it as it comes,” said another voice, filled with bravado.

“How do we kill that?” said another.

“We stab it until it falls over,” said Sinnar. There was eagerness in his voice.

The Hungerer didn’t come through - it came over. I saw what it was doing at once and ordered us to withdraw fifty yards to the north. The tower was tall, yet not so tall that our opponent couldn’t jump and reach the top. I heard it scrabble and growl to itself as it hauled its enormous bulk to the flat top of the tower. Once it reached the summit, it stood upright and looked down at us, like one of the incomprehensibly large statues that the Emperor had placed near his palace. It crouched and put one hand on the roof’s edge and then vaulted down onto our side of the bridge. The stone barely trembled even under this impact. For a brief moment it loomed above us, looking down at our ranks from its great height. I knew it was giving fear a chance to take hold of us. I wasn’t frightened, but I had no wish to fight the creature. Not here and not now.

With four quick strides, it was amongst us. Shields were useless, as was almost anything. Where before the width of the bridge had been to our advantage, now it was the opposite. With more space, we could have surrounded the Hungerer and brought extra swords to bear on its pale flesh. As it was, we were reduced to a frantic scramble to avoid the swinging blows. There was no chance of complete avoidance – each of its attacks killed someone. It was simply a matter of how many fell each time. I’d dropped my shield as soon as it had attacked and I carried my sword in both hands. The blade wanted to hurt the creature – it thrummed softly in my hand as if it had been designed with this exact thing in mind. Or perhaps it has become so attuned to your own desires that it reflects them as its own, came the thought.

I went for the tendons and ligaments at the back of its knees. There was a chance it might topple over the edge if we managed to unbalance it. My first blow landed off-target, opening up a long, shallow cut across its calf. I’d not expected to see any blood and none came. Usually hitting these bastards was like chopping wood, so I was satisfied that I’d caused even this minor wound. The Hungerer didn’t seem to notice and it swept its arm horizontally in front. I watched three men be knocked to the ground and a fourth was catapulted off the bridge. The Hungerer chuckled, low and malicious at its success.

We had no hope of holding our ranks, so we spread out as much as we could. Those at the back could do little more than watch as their fellows were crushed and mangled by the giant we faced. I darted in and out, each time marking its flesh. Others did likewise – Craddock hewed at its ankle and Sinnar tried enthusiastically to drive his sword into its stomach. A fist descended and Sinnar was knocked back. He jumped at once to his feet, staggered two paces and then joined the fray once again.

A man went flying past my vision, the moment captured vividly by my sight. His eyes were closed and his chest cavity ruptured. He flew over the side wall and vanished, his death saving him from the terror of the endless fall. I sensed the Hungerer seek me out – I’d hurt it too many times for it to let me continue any longer. Upwards I stared, ever upwards, into its bottomless grey eyes, sick with madness. It kicked at me and I stepped aside. My sword clashed off the bones of its foot as it went by. Above me, a clenched fist the size of a barrel thundered towards me. Again, I was able to escape certain death – I jumped forward and the fist rocketed over my head. Almost without realising it, I’d accessed my battle senses, letting me predict the giant’s attacks and reducing them to a state where they were almost clumsy to me.

“Come on!” I roared at it, smashing another attack into its thigh. The more it wanted me, the fewer of my men it could kill.

The Hungerer took the challenge and tried to swat me into the abyss, with a side-swipe of its arm. It was a near thing and it took all my skill to roll beneath the blow, raising my sword as I did so in the hope of adding another minor injury. My own attack missed and I jumped to my feet, only to be knocked down by a kick to the stomach. The power was tremendous and I felt my breastplate crumple inwards. Something flexed and grated deep within me and I worried that I’d been smashed inside. Towering above, the Hungerer raised a foot to stamp the life out of me. I tried to roll and would have been too late, except for one of Haster’s men, who appeared next to me with his sword raised above his head, the tip pointing at the sole of the Hungerer’s foot. The heel came down and the sword burst through the tough flesh of the creature’s foot. The Hungerer didn’t complete the stamp and it jerked away, with the sword embedded up to the hilt. Haster’s man fell down with blood spurting from his mouth. I tried to catch his eyes – to convey a silent expression of my gratitude before he died. It was too late. He vomited up what looked like gallons of crimson and his eyes dimmed.

The unknown man’s sacrifice had bought some time and distracted the Hungerer from its efforts to kill me. It reached down and plucked the sword from its foot and threw it away. At its feet, men danced in and out, hacking at its legs. The Hungerer had many cuts now, but it didn’t seem concerned. It’s going to kill us all I thought to myself. The fury rose within me and I pushed myself upright. Something felt wrong inside my chest, yet it didn’t impede my ability to walk or fight and I lurched towards the melee again.

Before I could engage, I sensed something whisper past me. I recognized it as Ploster’s spirit – he was trying his hardest to do something that might allow us to snatch a victory. I couldn’t prevent myself from following – I was curious even in this most dire of circumstances. Across the intertwined threads that underpin our existence, I watched my friend as he tried everything he could to harm the giant that was killing us. Where before the Hungerer had seemed to be the trunk and roots of a giant tree, now it was even larger, like dozens of trees merged into one. The unbound threads of those it had killed drifted gradually away – they were always reluctant so soon after death. It wouldn’t be long until they lost all memory of how they’d been fixed to the tapestry.

In that place, I hunted. I didn’t know what for, or why I did so. In a way, I was a difficult pupil – eager to look, but scared to learn. I found something, hidden deep within the Hungerer’s sorcery. It was a thicker thread than the others – like a massive rope that would anchor a ship to the docks. I flew towards it, unseen and unfelt by the Hungerer, though I took no conscious efforts to hide myself. I took hold of this rope. I had no hands, yet I grasped it and pulled as hard as I could. It shuddered and resisted, so I pulled again, angry that it hadn’t succumbed to my wishes. This time, it snapped and the severed ends snaked away from me as if they’d been held under great tension.

I returned to the world. The Hungerer was shrinking, diminishing in size as if its essence were being sucked away. It made no sound and within seconds, all that remained was the savage, misshapen man who had first stepped onto the bridge. He looked around him. I wasn’t sure if he was confused or surprised that his giant form had been snatched away. Although I was not within the tapestry, I must have left a part of my being behind me. Already, the Hungerer was trying to re-join the ends of the rope I’d snapped and within seconds, the rending sounds of his body’s growth began. The soldiers around him continued to whittle away at his body, yet he hardly seemed to care at the damage they did.

“Kill him!” I shouted, doing my best to elbow my way through the melee.

It was doing to be too late, I thought to myself. I was wrong. Lieutenant Sinnar was there. He dropped his sword and wrapped both arms about the Hungerer’s waist. Sinnar was near to seven feet and even he was dwarfed by the man-form of our enemy. Still, he was as strong as an ox and he heaved the Hungerer two feet off the ground. Before I could reach the pair, Sinnar had taken seven or eight quick steps and carried himself and the creature with him over the side wall and into the rift.

“Harry!” I called, breaking free from the men and dashing to the wall. It was too late. Sinnar was gone. I looked over the edge – the darkness denied me even one last glimpse of the man who’d served the First Cohort as well as anyone.

I stared dumbly into the distance. I was aware of a voice – Lieutenant Craddock – as he marshalled the troops back into ranks and moved them forward to the central tower gateway. It was the enemy’s great loss that they hadn’t followed up with troops, content to let the Hungerer do their work for them.

“Tyrus?” It was Ploster. “We need to move, Captain. This is our chance to shatter the bridge and save the men! Do not delay, else you make a nothing out of Harry’s sacrifice.”

“You’re right, Jon. The time for mourning is later.” I had always possessed a strength that let me act in the moment and put everything else aside. The need I had to put the safety of my men first would allow me to behave no other way. I turned away from the edge and pushed my own hurt aside. Ploster’s face bore the sorrow I was sure was on mine.

“Come on,” he said quietly.

I found the squads I’d assigned to the task of accompanying me into the tower and we crept forward into the gateway tunnel. The heavy doors that provided access stood impassively as we gathered around them. It was almost dark now – there was just enough light for us to see, yet not enough for Lord Flax’s men to see what it was that we intended.

“Can you open it?” I asked Ploster in a whisper.

He shrugged as if to say that he either could or he couldn’t. He gathered himself, causing ripples to stir the air. He was fatigued, but he wouldn’t let that stop him fulfilling his duties. There was a dull thump when he unleashed his sorcery at the door. It creaked and splintered. I gave it a push – it was still sealed. Ploster swore under his breath.

“You have to pull his beard three times,” whispered Trusty. “It makes him angry.”

I waved him to silence, though I wasn’t upset at his words. We lived on the humour, even if it wasn’t always delivered at an appropriate moment. I was already thinking ahead to what we’d have to do once we got inside. The enemy were likely already aware that we came for them, given the noise Ploster had made at their door.

The air stirred again. Ploster was angry – I could feel it pouring off him. He was angry that he’d been so ineffective against the Hungerer and that for all his centuries of existence, he’d been powerless to influence the fight. I didn’t hold anything against him – it was something he’d need to deal with himself. This next time, the door did more than splinter. It ruptured down the middle and was torn open. The space behind was illuminated by harsh torchlight. There was a man there, holding a bow in one hand. His other hand was pressed over his stomach, to stop the blood flowing from a tear in his stomach where shards of the door had exploded into him. There were other men in the room. They held bows and looked worried. Something whistled out of the doorway. One of Haster’s men – Turvey – collapsed with an arrow in the throat. Loafer took another in the shoulder. He looked at it like it was no more than a bird shit on his armour and he snapped the end of the shaft off.

Then, we were through. I went in first, using a shield to block any further missile fire. Two more arrows clanked away, deflected harmlessly. The gateway tunnel took up much of the ground floor space, so this room was cramped. There were steps leading upwards and I saw several pairs of feet clustered around the opening which led to the next floor.

I used my shield as a battering ram to push aside three or four of the enemy. They shouted in fear when they saw how determined we were. Having endured two days of these bastards taking leisurely aim at us, we didn’t hold back and the men on the ground floor died quickly. A few arrows came down from above and Loafer took one in the thigh. This time he cursed his luck and I sent him outside to see Corporal Grief. He wasn’t happy with it, but I wanted neither a liability nor another dead soldier.

We didn’t have much time to act – as soon as the archers had heard our attack on the door I felt sure they’d have sent someone to the south tower with a message. They could easily shout it out of the window and be heard by Callian’s men in their camp. If I were in the same position as Flax, I’d have likely sent a large number of men to see what was happening, even in the darkness.

Sure enough, the trapdoor to the tunnels beneath the bridge was open. I called for my squad to follow and I jumped down the first three steps. Whatever the Hungerer’s kick had done to me there was no sign of the injury now, much to my relief. Before I descended out of sight I glanced back and saw the other squads sheltering beneath their shields in the room. We had no need to storm the rest of the tower – not yet at least.

“Come on down, lads,” called Corporal Plink. “Don’t you want to say hello?”

I took the steps three at a time. Their treads were high and even, lit by lamps which the enemy had left burning for their own use. I still had my shield and my dagger was in my other hand, since it was better for confined spaces. The steps went down a single flight and then switched back on themselves for another flight. Near to the bottom, a man entered the stairwell. He looked concerned, as well he might. I drove my dagger into his chest, killing him and knocking him onto the floor.

I entered a small room, just as Lieutenant Haster had described it. There was almost enough headroom to stand upright, though my helmet would scrape across the ceiling if I didn’t take care to avoid it. The room was over thirty feet wide, so it must have filled almost the entire width of the bridge. The far wall had the tunnel entrance we were looking for – it was hardly five feet wide and six high. I didn’t hesitate and ran towards it. There were more oil lamps along the walls and in the distance I could see activity to indicate that other men came towards us. It didn’t matter how many there were, since they could only come one at a time. Even had they been able to come three at a time I fancy I would have chanced my arm. I wasn’t in the mood for pissing about with them.

I kept my shield raised and charged along the tunnel. The four other men of my squad were with me, Weevil and Beamer carrying iron-headed hammers. I met the first of the oncoming enemy about forty yards along the tunnel. The man carried a dagger, but was wholly unprepared for the ferocity of my attack. He died and was trampled underfoot before he could stab at me twice. There was another behind him and more after that. My shield gave me a great advantage, as did my experience with fighting in places like this against men who wanted to be elsewhere. I killed three. The fourth must have come from the gutter and he thrust his two knives at me with the skill of a man who’d committed murder against others of his ilk. I swore at him for delaying us by the ten seconds it took me to get through his guard and cut his throat. As we ran over his body, I gave him a kick. It accomplished nothing and didn’t reduce the feeling of frustration.

“Want me to take point, Captain?” asked Beamer. “You’re getting old and slow.”

The words eased the tension within me and I pressed on. I couldn’t see anyone else in the tunnel and we soon reached the place I’d been told to look out for. Right in the middle of the tunnel’s length, there was a raised spiral motif on the wall, about a foot in diameter. It had no business being there, since the rest of the tunnel was bare of decoration. I stopped and examined it. When I looked closely, I could see that the motif wasn’t part of the wall – there was an almost imperceptible gap around the edges. I put my fingers along the top edge and pulled downwards as Haster had instructed. The motif wasn’t more than half a centimetre proud of the wall and I couldn’t get much grip. After my fingers had slipped away two or three times, Beamer asked me to stand away from it. He unslung his hammer and swung it in a half-arc onto the motif. The contact of metal on stone produced a sharp clinking sound and the motif slid a few inches towards the floor. Beamer hit it again and once more the spiral-patterned disk scraped downwards. This time, there was a rumbling sound and then a click. A crack opened in the wall a little way further along the tunnel.

“There,” I said, moving towards it. The crack was less than four feet high and I pressed on it with my hand. A masterfully-crafted stone door fell open on hidden hinges, revealing a black space behind, into which the light of the tunnel struggled to penetrate.

“Get one of those lamps,” said Weevil to the man at the back.

A lamp was passed forward and I held it into the darkness. It wasn’t exactly a room I saw – it was really just a space that allowed access to the top of the archway that supported the south side of the bridge. Whoever had built it had evidently crafted the tunnel over the top of the arch, yet still given themselves a way to access the structure beneath.

Beamer and Weevil hopped through, taking the lamp with them. I retrieved a second lamp from the tunnel wall and placed it on the edge of the doorway. I saw the pair of them inspecting details that I couldn’t make out myself. Then, the face of Weevil reappeared.

“The keystone is massive,” he said. “There’re dozens of pins holding it and there’s hardly the room to swing a mallet.”

I looked along the tunnel to the south – there was no sign of the enemy. We might have killed them all, since they had little reason to be anywhere but in the middle. “Best get to it,” I told him. He nodded and his face vanished from the doorway.

“Aren’t these things meant to be free-standing?” asked Fiddle.

“Oh hark at the professor, here,” said Frost in feigned mockery.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “The pins must be there for a reason. I don’t know why this bridge was made, but I can think of many reasons they might have wanted the ability to destroy it if they wished. And many other reasons why they might not.”

I could see Weevil and Beamer hard at work. The ceiling was too low for them to get in a full swing, so they dropped their hammers from a half-height. Each blow produced another sharp clink. Both men moved slowly away from us, bringing the lamp with them. After ten minutes, they’d made it a third of the way over the width of the bridge. There was a sudden, violent cracking sound and a split appeared in the stone next to me. The floor didn’t move, but I felt the scraping of stone on stone, somewhere deep within the structure.

“You’d best start at the far side,” I called to Beamer and Weevil. “I don’t know how much time you’ll have to get back here.”

They acknowledged the words and moved off to the far edge of the space in order to continue their work. There was an explosive bang and another split appeared in the stone wall, this one wide enough to get my fist into.

“The floor dropped that time,” said Fiddle. “Do you think we’ll be able to get out in time?”

“We’ve got this one chance,” I said. “If we fail and Flax gets his men into this central tower again, we’re going to lose. It’ll happen tomorrow afternoon.”

“I wasn’t saying that we run, Captain.”

“I didn’t think you were,” I told him, patting his shoulder. “It’s this or face destruction.” He nodded and said nothing more.

We waited impatiently for another fifteen minutes. Beamer and Weevil worked tirelessly, striking at the stone pins which anchored the keystones. I didn’t know anything about building, but there had to be more than just stone keeping something as big as this bridge standing. Maybe it was magic of a sort that was no longer used, since neither Ploster or I had come across buildings made with sorcery before. He’d told me that magic faded over time and I knew this bridge was very, very old.

I was shaken from my thoughts by another thunderous sound. A jagged tear snaked away along the tunnel, whilst tiny stones and dust rattled down onto us. Something definitely shifted and I was halfway to opening my mouth to call the men back, when Beamer dropped his mallet and came sprinting towards us, with Weevil close behind.

“That’s got them,” he panted, diving through the small doorway and standing up.

“Come on,” I said, waving them ahead of me. I pulled Weevil to his feet and pushed him forward, not that he needed the encouragement. The structure around us produced a mixture of sounds – grating and scraping as ancient stones pressed against each other in ways they hadn’t been intended to. We fled, running as fast as we could until we reached the room beneath the central tower. The floor was a myriad of cracks, one of them at least three feet wide. I vaulted over it and saw that it went down deeper than the light could reach.

We got up the steps at double time. The tower room was empty, except for a great pile of bodies – far more than when we’d been here thirty minutes ago. They were a mixture of Flax’s archers and his infantry, with a couple of Haster’s men amongst them. Outside, I could hear fighting.

“I think we’re too late, Captain,” said Beamer. Through the doorway, we could see a press of men in the gateway tunnel. It looked as if Flax had decided to send his men to see what we were up to in the towers. Night time fighting could be brutal. I’d seen the best of men die to lesser opponents in the dark.

One of the enemy soldiers noticed us. He shouted to his fellows and pushed through the remains of the broken door into the tower. His eagerness cost him his life, as well as that of the next two men who followed him.

“Up the stairs,” I commanded. Beamer and Weevil didn’t have shields with them and I didn’t fancy our chances of holding the ground floor room for long without them. They didn’t wait for a second invitation and ran up the steps, with Frost and Fiddle behind. I came last, using my shield as cover and stabbing at a fourth and fifth man who hoped to take advantage. They didn’t stop me and I was able to complete my ascent into the room above. The steps came through a wide opening in the floor and we’d be much better-placed to defend up here.

I looked around – the men we’d left in the tower must have cleared out the rest of the archers after we’d gone into the tunnels. I was glad – I didn’t want to have the enemy coming at us from two sides. As it was, the infantrymen in the room below didn’t looked especially keen to come up for us. It was obvious that the bravest man would be the first one dead. Without their officers to instruct them, they milled around on the ground floor, cursing us as cowards when in fact it was they who lacked the balls to fight. I saw more of them arriving. Eventually they’d pluck up the courage to come for us, or the press of new men would force someone up the steps.

“Shout for Craddock,” I instructed Weevil, pointing towards one of the slit windows with my sword.

He nodded and ran off. The floor of the tower shuddered suddenly and I had to fight for balance. Below, the enemy soldiers were knocked into each other and a couple fell into the walls.

“The tower’s cracking,” said Frost. “On the far wall.”

I didn’t need to look. On the other side of the room Weevil reached the window. Something happened – I didn’t make out the details immediately.

“They shot me, the bastards!” he exclaimed, half turning. There was an arrow deep in his chest.

“That’s just a scratch,” said Fiddle. “Shout for the Lieutenant.”

Weevil grumbled and I saw him stand to one side of the window. He produced a white handkerchief from somewhere. It was pristine and I had no idea how he’d managed to keep it so. He waved it gingerly out of the window, before sticking his head quickly around again. I hoped the man who’d shot him now recognized it was Weevil.

I turned my attention to what was happening on the steps. The chaos in the room below had almost subsided. A group of heavyset soldiers pushed through towards the steps. I guessed they’d had enough of waiting for the others to climb. The first of the five mounted the steps and charged up with his shield held in front. He would try and buy a few moments for the others to follow him. Another convulsion of the bridge sent him staggering and it was an easy matter to decapitate him and kick his body into his fellows. One of them tumbled from the steps and the others were forced back.

Before they could recover for another rush upstairs, a groaning noise made itself heard to everyone. It started as a low sound and increased in volume. Something grated and vibrated and then there were screams – easily heard above the tumult.

“Get to the other window!” I called Weevil.

“Aye, Captain,” he said weakly. He’d need some attention soon.

By the time he’d staggered over to the south side windows, the message had reached the men in the ground floor room.

“The bridge has collapsed,” I heard someone shout. The message was repeated dozens of times by many different voices. The more it was said, the more I heard the fear creep in. Those men who hadn’t fallen into the chasm were doomed regardless. When a man is confronted by his certain death, he becomes unpredictable. Some will allow themselves to die without lifting a finger to stop it. Others will fight tooth and nail to preserve the most precious thing they own. Others yet will try to flee, even if the flight guarantees their death as well. Those men who were runners pushed their way up the steps towards us. I didn’t know where they hoped to go – rational behaviour had left them. Their headlong flight only shortened their existences and we smashed them apart as they attempted to reach the first floor.

“The south half of the bridge is nearly gone,” said Weevil. “I don’t know how many of their men were on it.”

“Can you see how many they have left on the north end?” I called over to him, kicking out at one of the enemy soldiers who’d come too close.

“The line of sight isn’t there,” Weevil said. “I can’t see what’s straight below us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Are you going to make it?”

I saw him grin. “Always, Captain. And then I’m going to find out which one of Shooter or Eagle did this and I’m going to knee him in the balls.” He was at least half-serious. If he lived, I trusted the parties involved to sort it out amongst themselves.

We stood guard at the top of the stairs for another twenty minutes or so. The forays upwards came less frequently. I was sure a number of the enemy had fled through the trapdoor in the hope they’d be able to find a hiding place somewhere. We’d root them out soon, but they were no longer important. Once they’d ceased to be a threat we didn’t need to worry about them. The ground floor room eventually emptied and the five of us descended, wary in case anyone decided to attack us. I poked my head outside. Torchlight cut weakly through the darkness and I saw men both dead and alive. Those who lived were my own and I stepped out to greet them.

“Where’s Corporal Grief?” I asked.

“Far end of the bridge, attending to the wounded,” one told me.

“Help Weevil here. Take him to the corporal at once,” I commanded. The man acknowledged and offered his shoulder for Weevil to lean on while they went to look for our surgeon.

“What about Lieutenant Craddock?” I called out to another man. It was Loafer – he looked pleased to see me.

“He’s over there, Captain. Trying to keep things together.”

I nodded to him and went to see where Craddock was. He greeted me with a smile and I shook his hand. “Thanks,” I said. Nothing more was needed.

“They came not long after you’d broken into the tower. Luckily, we were there to meet them. They didn’t like fighting in the half-light any more than we did. Still, we won and they lost. I don’t like to think what would have happened if the bridge hadn’t fallen in.”

“Did we lose many?”

“Always too many, Captain. We won’t have the numbers till it’s light, I think. I wish we still had Maims with us. Corporal Grief and Slicer are too few to handle it alone.”

“I’ve been slow to replace him,” I said. “I’ll appoint two more in the morning.”

“What are we going to do now?” he asked.

“Organize a couple of squads and send them to the north tower,” I said. “Flush out any of the archers that are left. Let the men know that there might be others hiding in the tunnels as well.”

“I’ll get it done,” he said.

“We’ll set a camp in the fields to the north. Out of range of the tower. The men need a rest.”

“What about the morning?”

I grinned at him, feeling only a touch of humour. “The Emperor awaits us, James. We’ll march for Angax as soon as we’re able.”

21

We weren’t able to march as soon as I’d hoped. Haster’s men – the new men of the Cohort – didn’t heal like we did and I wasn’t going to leave them behind. Grief and Slicer worked through the night and well into the following day patching up the injured. I came to see their work and asked for recommendations on who they’d like to replace Maims. Grief had a couple of names and I determined to speak to those mentioned in the near future.

We’d lost almost three hundred men in total during the fighting, out of the near thousand we had. Of those who remained, Grief thought that forty wouldn’t last the day and another thirty or more wouldn’t fight for days or weeks. I’d expected as much, but it still wasn’t the news I’d wanted to hear.

We cleared out the north tower in the early hours of the morning. There’d been fifteen of the enemy still there and we killed them without suffering further injuries ourselves. Archers were generally not best-suited to close-quarters fighting. Their cries of pain reached us at our camp. I took no comfort from the sounds.

When daylight came, I was able to see the damage we’d wrought to the bridge. I took a walk along the span with a few of the men. The stones were blood-spattered and I wondered if the stains would be so deeply ingrained that they’d never wash away. The bodies of our enemy were piled high and already flies swarmed amongst them. In a few weeks, all that would be left would be their skeletons, clothed in the armour which had failed to preserve their lives.

The south archway had collapsed into the gorge, leaving a gap of more than one hundred yards. It was precarious to come too close to the edge and we heard occasional stones rip free and clatter away. On the other side of the gap, was a man on a horse, surrounded by others. I didn’t recognize him, but presumed it was Lord Flax, come to survey the scene of his defeat. Assuming we hadn’t actually accomplished the task he’d been sent here for. I ignored him.

“How many does he have now?” I asked Craddock.

“Not much more than forty thousand. Unless he’s sent some away in the night.”

I didn’t know how many we’d killed in direct fighting – certainly nothing like twenty-five thousand. “If he’s lost so many, he must have had them crammed onto the bridge when it went,” I said.

“We’ll never know,” said Ploster. “They were only our enemy when they lived.”

“That’s the truth,” I said.

“May they find in death what they were looking for in life,” said Craddock. It was an old soldier’s refrain and one I’d not heard spoken for many years.

We left the bridge after we’d spent a few seconds in quiet contemplation at the spot where Sinnar had fallen. He was one amongst the many who I’d sorely miss. At least Weevil had made it. He’d already started making wisecracks at the other injured men around him when I’d visited that morning.

“We’ll need to leave tomorrow at the latest,” I said. “The Pyromancer asked us to guard this bridge for the Emperor and he also said that relief was coming. I don’t think we need to be here when Cranmar’s army arrives and starts asking questions about what happened to the bridge.”

Craddock chuckled. “Probably for the best,” he agreed. “I’ll arrange for us to have slings made to carry the men who can’t walk. The rest are going to have to put up with it until we get further away.”

“We’re not even close yet, are we?” I asked. I knew the answer, just not the specifics.

“A thousand miles from here to Angax,” said Haster. “More than a month’s worth of marching.”

“We’ll take no more than a month if I have anything to do with it.” I almost said if Sinnar has anything to do with it.

“It’s been a long time since we were back there,” said Haster. “I don’t know how many of us have family in the city.”

He’d brought up the issue I’d been meaning to ask him about. “We’re only staying in Angax until our business is concluded,” I told him. “The First Cohort’s families are long since gone. Never forgotten, I think, but gone. Many of the men probably wish they’d made a different choice in the past. I won’t stand in the way of any of the new men who decide they want something other than fighting. I want you to let them know that.”

“I’ll do so, Captain. Truth be told, you’ll lose a few of us and I’m glad to see that you accept it.”

“There are some mistakes I’ll not repeat,” I said.

We arrived back at camp and I let Craddock take charge of the organization. He was good at it and I needed some time to think. I sat on a blanket and looked around me at the flower-spotted countryside. I closed my eyes and told myself I was somewhere else – just for a time. I heard footsteps approach and knew it was Ploster before he spoke. He didn’t need an invitation and sat himself next to me, with his legs pulled up in the same way that I had mine.

“You’re starting to wing it, Tyrus,” he said.

“I’m forced by circumstances beyond my control,” I told him. “We lost sixty-two of the old Cohort on the bridge. That takes us to exactly two-hundred and fifty, with some of those still in Blades. It wasn’t so long ago that we had nigh on seven hundred. Now we’re a quarter of what we were at our inception. Seven hundred and fifty of us gone.”

“We need new blood.” He laughed at his unfortunate turn of phrase. “It’s just that these men aren’t like us. They’ll never be like us. What are you going to do if – when - we come up against the Northmen again? They’ll freeze to death in an instant.”

“What choice did I have?” I asked him.

“No choice at all. I imagined you’d like to discuss it, though.”

“Everything has changed for us. Except the killing. I often ask myself if I should let fate take its course.”

“You can’t help but guide its hand, Tyrus. It’s why you’re captain and why no one could take your place – not even Lieutenant Craddock, as much as he’s your equal in almost everything.”

“And far better at organisation,” I said.

“He’s one of the best, but he’s not what we need. And he’s not what our lady needs if she’s to achieve what it is that she’s destined to achieve.”

“I have no intention of resigning,” I told him. We both laughed – I was a stubborn man and while I could still do the job to the best of my abilities, even death would struggle to rip the captain’s signet from my finger.

“What did you do to the Hungerer?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject.

“I don’t know, Jon. He imposed himself upon the world. He wasn’t welcome there, yet he had the power to do what he did. I just severed his connection.”

“This is something new. Or at least something I’ve never come across. It’s a special gift you have. For a man who claims to know nothing of magic, you’re able to perform feats of it far beyond anything I can do.”

“Was it magic?” I asked. “I cannot kill a man, nor can I destroy doors, except with the power of my arm.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It could be that you have a power which you keep hidden from yourself. You told me once that you absorbed some of Gagnol’s strength when you gave his life energies to the Saviour.”

“That I did. Perhaps that is what I used against the Hungerer.”

“Gagnol the Blackhearted would not have relished a confrontation with that beast. He may have prevailed, though at a great cost. He would not have found it as easy as you described, Tyrus. Whatever you have it was already there beforehand, locked away and allowing you only a fleeting glimpse of its potential.”

“Perhaps I will speak to the Emperor about it,” I said with a wink.

“No! Whatever you do, do not mention it to Malleus! We are tools to him now. If he thinks you hold an even greater value to him, then he’ll never let you go. He doesn’t fear us – if that situation were to change, he’ll ensure that we are destroyed before we can return to the Saviour.”

“Point taken,” I said, though in reality I wasn’t foolish enough to speak to the Emperor about any such matters.

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he said.

We weren’t quite set – another five or ten minutes I thought. Nevertheless, my time of comparative peace had drawn to a close. I stood, pulled up the blanket and slung it over my shoulder. I got involved in the final preparations – everyone was carrying something, since the men needed food and shelter. I wasn’t too proud and took a heavy pack from a man who had a bandage over his face and a line of stitches up his arm.

“Best not burst them open,” I told him.

We set off, taking a faint trail that led to the north-east. At first, the going was slow while the injured accustomed themselves to the pain of walking. We carried nine other men on makeshift hammocks and this also slowed us down. I cast my mind back to when we’d last been so encumbered by the weakness of our bodies. Hundreds of years. After a mile or two, we found ourselves at the top of a rise, from which we could see all the way back to the bridge. The broken span was out of sight, but the tops of the towers were just visible.

“I’m glad to see the back of that bloody bridge,” said Haster.

“Didn’t you grow to like it?” I asked him. I knew what he was going to say – I’d have thought the same thing myself.

“Nah. Like a damned prison it was in the end. Once we got used to being in a place where there was no trouble, it soon became obvious that it was meant as a cell for us.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” I asked.

“Would you have done?”

“No. Not until I had something else worth fighting for.”

“That’s what we’ve got now, Captain. Our families are lost to most of us. All we have is ourselves and the memories of what we’ve done. We want to atone and there’s only one thing we’re good at.”

“Our histories are different, yet they are the same. They’ve converged on this point, Lieutenant.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“No. Things happen and I do my best to bend them to my will. I’ve been less successful than I wanted in the past. Now we have the Saviour. I’m not a man accustomed to failure, but at least I’ll know that if I fail now, I’ll have done what I can to right my wrongs. I’ll bring every man in my unit with me and we’ll succeed or fail together.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” he said.

For the first three days, we struggled to make headway. Or at least that’s how it seemed to me. It felt the same as it did when walking into a gale, or struggling through thick mud. I chided myself for dwelling on it, since it was a feeling I should have been able to ignore. We all have our weaknesses. Gradually, we picked up the pace and started to cover more ground, though still far less than I wanted. I supposed that I wanted this journey to be over so that we could return to the Saviour. Whatever we accomplished out here – if indeed we accomplished anything at all – would feel entirely pointless, like a side-show next to the main event.

The human body is so fragile, yet is capable of the most amazing things. By the time a week had passed, we were travelling at almost the same speed as the Cohort would have managed when at full strength. Men whose injuries seemed too great for them to bear, pushed themselves beyond the limits of their endurance, their pride stronger than their flesh. None of the officers drove them to this – we didn’t want their deaths on our hands – and nor did we stand in their way. Corporal Grief and Slicer were kept constantly busy, patching up wounds which had reopened and applying bandages and salves to those who’d been burned by the enemy sorcerer on the bridge.

At one point, I approached Grief and asked him to inspect the area where the Hungerer had kicked me. He poked and prodded with his thick fingers, eventually declaring there to be no sign of injury. Others were not so lucky and we lost three men in the first week – not because of our punishing march, rather because their bodies had sustained internal injuries that bled them slowly to death. All three had been on hammocks, so they’d been treated as well as we could do under the circumstances. We left their bodies behind, tipped out onto the grass for nature to deal with. Burying our dead was a luxury we couldn’t commit to.

Haster’s men – I call them this only to make the distinction between those of us who required provisions and those of us who did not – had been well-supplied on the bridge. They’d manage to salvage most of what they needed for a long trek, with their hard breads, cheeses and wines stowed away in heavy packs. We all carried something and at night I dutifully handed over the pack I’d spent the day lugging to another man, so that he could feed himself. They had tents and sheets with them too, which were the cause of much good-natured mockery on both sides. We old members laughed at their attachment to their tents, whilst secretly wishing we had some of our own. Haster’s men laughed at us for sleeping in the open, whilst envying the fortitude that allowed us to do so. All-in-all, the men were cheered by the new arrivals and I was pleased to see the bonding. If Haster’s unit had comprised impetuous youths, things might have been a little more strained. As it was, they were all veterans, the scars on their faces and grey in their hair showing anyone who looked that they were above petty rivalries.

Spring was with us and we found ourselves walking across lush grasslands. Warmont’s lands had hundreds of miles of similar desolate spaces, yet my memories were dominated by images of constant rainfall and biting winds. Here, the air was dry though still cold. I imagined that each step we took to the north brought us closer to the eternal snow of the Northlands and counteracted the approach of the warmer seasons. Sinnar would have been in his element – when he wasn’t fighting, he liked nothing better than a march across bleak terrain. His eyes would pick out the beauty that another man might not have seen. We’d lost other men of course - all of them as cherished as Sinnar, but I found it hard to come to terms with his loss. I saw it in Craddock too. In many ways, my two lieutenants had been complete opposites. One calm and methodical, the other a force of destruction. Even so, they’d been good friends with the utmost respect for their differences. I wondered if it was something we’d ever get back, or if Sinnar’s absence would be a gap we could never completely fill.

I spent the days lost in thought. It had been so long since I’d faced Malleus and it was going to be strange to be under his command again. I hoped he wouldn’t attempt to abuse the privilege and force me into a position where I would have to refuse him. There’d be difficulties from any confrontation we might have. On the other hand, he was anything but stupid. I remembered him as a master of brinkmanship – he could push anyone to the limits of what they were capable of, yet without going so far that they’d refuse or turn against him. It was what had enabled him to unite these lands and rule them for so long. Events weren’t going in his favour at the moment. He’d lost his grip and I was determined to ask him questions about it.

When my mind wasn’t wandering along its own paths, I put myself to the task of assigning suitable men to the duties we’d need in the future. A man called Ranker had performed the stitching for Haster’s lads. I assigned him to Corporal Gloom, along with Newt, the latter being a cheeky bastard with a sense of humour that would be appreciated by the men he was fixing up. Newt would need training and practise, but at least he could help out until he was ready to pick up a needle.

We had four battlefield corporals – Gloom, Knacker, Plink and Doer, these last two from Haster’s unit. It seemed like enough for the time being. There wasn’t an immediate candidate to promote to lieutenant – there were a few possibilities, though none I was prepared to try out just yet. Haster and Craddock knew what they were doing, so I left it at that.

By the time the last of the most critically injured men had perished, we had six hundred and seventy left. I cast my mind back those few short months when we’d first seen the town of Nightingale, with the rebel leader Ragar pitted against us. We’d had the same number then. The same number, with different faces. Haster’s men were ours now, yet they weren’t us. They were skilled, disciplined and I was proud to call them part of the First Cohort, but deep within I had the knowledge that we were far weaker now than we had been when we first joined with the Saviour.

“You can’t be too proud, Tyrus,” said Ploster, when I’d spoken to him about it. “What is more important? That we maintain some sort of purity in our ranks? Or that we keep the Cohort’s name alive by growing and bringing in new soldiers?”

“We were a single bad engagement away from total destruction,” I said. “With the new men, we can change the battlefield again. The way we could always do. I don’t regret asking Haster’s men to join – not for one moment. Still, it’s easy to get lost in the days of the past.”

“I thought you were a man who didn’t dwell on things he couldn’t change,” said Ploster, gently prodding at my defences.

“It’s easy to say you have no regrets and in truth I have come to terms with much of my past. Some things will never leave me and memories are harder to forget.”

“Only an old man lives in the past,” he admonished.

“I’ll never be that old,” I chuckled. “However, the longer I live and the more the years pile up, the greater becomes the extent of the past I have to deal with. Past events intertwine and interlock. It’s as though the memories form a vast painting of history, slowly forming into a whole, yet never quite complete enough for me to comprehend it.”

“If it becomes whole, will it provide the answers you seek?”

“I don’t know if I am even looking for answers. The future is what’s important and I will focus all my energies on making it a time for us to be proud of. Even if the Cohort is destroyed in the coming weeks, months or years, I will make certain that no man will die with the scale of his regrets tipped the wrong way.”

“That’s the Tyrus Charing we need,” he said and I heard the relief in his voice.

“Did you ever doubt me?” I asked.

“No, never.” He looked as if he wanted to say something more. Instead, he remained silent and I didn’t pursue him for the unspoken words.

The march continued and the feeling of expectation and trepidation built. We all knew that we were walking towards the unknown. I must confess that the overriding emotion I felt was one of excitement, which overlaid the mourning for our recent losses. I itched to find out the answers I felt sure were going to be vital to our lady during the war I knew was coming. I also knew that our return to Blades couldn’t happen until we’d completed our assignment to the Emperor. There were lots of people who would procrastinate in the situation I was in – they’d avoid the pain of a treatment even if it would bring about a faster cure. I wasn’t like that – I’d always preferred to face up to what was in front of me. Sometimes I’d seek out ways to bring the hard choices forward, in order that I could have a longer time afterwards without having to make more such decisions. I didn’t tell anyone that my way was right, it was simply how I was.

“How many days?” I asked Haster. Craddock would normally be the go-to man for such questions, but by his own admission, he knew little about the Sunderer’s lands. Not that a lack of knowledge had ever got in the way of him leading us accurately to where we needed to be.

“Five, at our current speed.”

“Are we likely to encounter any trouble when we approach?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible. Cranmar used to keep his men stationed in their home towns, except when he was sending them off to the west. With the Emperor here and the Northmen coming, who knows what we’ll see?”

“What about the armies he keeps in Tibulon?” I asked.

“Aye he always kept a good many of his soldiers there. I can’t see him wanting to send them north, what with Callian at his border.”

“He’ll do as the Emperor commands, I think.”

“I’m sure he’s loyal. There again he has little choice at the moment. It sounds like he’ll lose half his lands or more without the Emperor’s help.”

“Did you hear any rumours about the Farseer when your supplies were brought to you at the bridge?” I asked. Soldiers always talked and there was always speculation, often surprisingly accurate.

“There was nothing that suggested Aran is anything other than loyal. A good job if he is, since he’ll be another distraction for Callian.”

I nodded in agreement. The more evenly-matched were the different factions, the better it would be for the Saviour. From a strategic viewpoint the thought was comforting, however it would make the death toll of war indescribable. Even without the distraction of the Northmen, the Empire was soon going to be a place for soldiers and the dead, with little room for anything in between.

22

Three days away from Angax, we came across one of Cranmar’s armies coming from the south-west. We’d been following a well-paved road for some time, which threaded its way along the bottom of a long, shallow gorge between a series of rocky hills. The onset of spring was no longer enough to stave off the chill air of these northern climes and the coldness touched my skin. Haster’s men wrapped their travelling cloaks tightly about them, to trap the warmth of their bodies inside the cloth and the metal of their armour. It wasn’t bitter yet, but even so I didn’t envy them.

I think we became aware of each other at the same time – they emerged through a gap between two hills and marched along a road that intercepted ours. They had a small cavalry unit, which galloped over to see who we were. I imagine they were left in a state of confusion, since they sped away before we’d even had a chance to speak to us.

“How many?” I asked.

“Five hundred cavalry, eighteen thousand men,” said Haster, staring up the slope. They made no effort to divert towards us and would join the road ahead of us, cutting us off from Angax if they were of a mind to do so.

“That’s about what I make it,” said Craddock. “Plus two hundred archers. More of an afterthought.”

“Keep it tight and we’ll see if they stop for us,” I said

A mile in front, they joined the road. We were too much of an unknown for them to let us go unchallenged, and they formed into lines across our path. It was more defensive than threatening, which at least suggested they were willing to talk. When we’d got to within a quarter of a mile, I signalled for us to stop and I took Haster along with me to see what they wanted. We stopped a hundred yards in front of their line. They’d spread across the road. The soldiers all looked well-equipped and their discipline was good.

“They’re out of Tibulon,” said Haster as we waited for their representative to show himself. “Can’t be a good sign.”

We weren’t kept for long. Three men came through their lines and walked up the road towards us. They were stern faced and looked hard, with no unnecessary adornments that would interfere with their ability to fight.

“Good morning,” I greeted them. Sometimes a simple pleasantry was enough to determine the demeanour of a man.

“Good morning,” their lead man responded – it was a good sign.

“I’m Tyrus Charing. I lead the men here. The Emperor has requested our presence.”

“I’m Ferd Heath,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “I lead these men.”

It was a lot of men for a captain to have under him. I guessed he’d be relinquishing his command to another once he reached his destination. Unless he was especially competent and trusted.

“Will you let us pass?” I asked. “The Emperor does not like to wait and our journey from Blades has been a long one.”

He started at that, though he didn’t lose his composure for long. “You’re far from home. It’s no wonder I’ve never heard your name, nor recognized your livery. You have other men with you, though. They’re Cranmar’s men.”

“They’re First Cohort,” I said. “Under my command.”

One of the men with Captain Heath whispered something. Heath raised an eyebrow. “My man here recognizes Lieutenant Haster.”

“This is Lieutenant Haster,” I agreed. “One of the Saviour’s men.”

“I’ve heard of this Saviour,” Heath said, surprising me a little. “Still, it is not for one of Cranmar’s men to change allegiance.”

“The Saviour is not Cranmar’s enemy,” I said. “And any question of allegiance must be resolved between Lieutenant Haster and his former master.”

Heath was a practical man and not desperate for bloodshed. I liked him from first impressions. “The Saviour isn’t our enemy yet, and indeed she may never become one. I’ve been around for long enough to have my doubts, and I can see I’m talking to men of a similar mind. Still, I have no interest in conflict between us. I’ll let Cranmar decide for himself what he wants to do without me second guessing him. You are aware that there’s trouble coming?”

I nodded. “Trouble from the north and the south. It’s not a good time to be here,” I said.

“It’s not. Callian is brewing trouble on our southern border. I was surprised at the order to bring so many out of Tibulon.”

When I looked at Captain Heath and his men – hard soldiers and brave - I felt a shiver pass down my spine. I do not usually feel premonitions, yet I got the strongest feeling that these eighteen thousand were marching to their doom. I wished it were otherwise and that there was something I could do to stop it.

“Take care,” I said. “And if you see a dense fog of freezing air in front of you, do not enter it, Captain. Gather your men and run without being weighed down by feelings of cowardice. There is something coming and it is not for the living to fight it.”

I am sure he didn’t understand what I’d told him. I could tell that he recognized me as a trustworthy man, even if I wasn’t his friend. He nodded at me and turned towards his troops. I didn’t know if he’d remember the words when the time came, or if he’d act on them. I’d done what I could.

We received no invitation to join with Captain Heath’s men and I had no interest in asking. He did us the courtesy of allowing our smaller group to walk around his own and take the lead on the road. Some of the men exchanged earthy comments as we made our way past, though it was all in relatively good humour. We formed a marching column and pushed onwards along the road. Captain Heath followed in our wake and he soon fell into the distance. I didn’t judge him for not rushing.

The road wended gradually upwards and cut between the hills at the end of the gorge. There was still plenty of grass, though now it was wiry and scrubby. All the plants had a dry look about them, as if the wind and cold air leeched the goodness away. There were people on the road with us, invariably travelling back the way we’d come from. It didn’t take a wise man to realise that these people knew it was time to get away. I spoke to one or two and received the usual garbled mixture of fact, rumour and guesswork, with no way to distinguish between the three. The only common theme was that trouble was coming in some form and they didn’t want to be around to find out what it was.

On the last evening before we reached our destination, we made camp in the usual manner. The road had been a good companion and had taken us in a more or less straight line towards Angax. We’d seen a number of houses and cottages in the distance, set high up on hillsides or next to the many streams that we crossed over. There was livestock in abundance – mostly sheep which seemed well-suited to life in these harsh northern lands. I had coin and paid a fair price for a number of sheep owned by a young couple who tended a hilltop farm. We butchered them and carried the dripping carcasses to the camp, while I listened to the men talk with longing about the last good meal they’d eaten.

Around the campfires we sat, with bleeding hunks of mutton thrust into the flames. The meat spat and hissed while it cooked. Morale had been good before Haster’s men had joined, yet even so our numbers had been reduced by so much that the campfire talk had become almost muted. On this night, the noise of our laughter reached up into the night sky and filled us all with gladness. I was sure that many of the men had worries and doubts, but the smell of charring meat overcame all and the atmosphere was one of fellowship.

I did my rounds – I make it sound like a duty, when in reality I enjoyed it – and sat at each campfire in turn. I still needed to learn a few of the names of the new men. I was able to address most of them with confidence of getting their name right, but there were still gaps. In the worst of engagements, knowing a man’s name in order to give him a precise command can make a difference.

“What’s Cranmar like?” I asked one of Haster’s. I’d only heard tales.

“He didn’t used to show himself much, even twenty years ago. He’s a big bastard with a stoop and an axe that could cut ten others in half with one swing,” said Corporal Plink.

“Really?” asked Beamer, immediately identifying a tall tale when he heard one.

“Maybe ten men if they stood in a line,” said Plink.

“What does he look like? He’s not a man, is he? None of the Emperor’s nobles are anything like human. I have no idea where any of them have come from. In fact, our lady is the only one I’ve seen that hasn’t rotted half away.”

“Cranmar’s definitely not human,” said Plink. “I don’t know what he is. I remember him looking like he was eight feet tall, maybe more. He’s not pretty. I only saw him from thirty yards and it looked like you could see his skull through his skin. Like his flesh had fallen off or become so thin that the bones were visible underneath. He can fight. And he’s tough.”

“Aren’t they all,” I said. The description of Cranmar came as no shock – all of the Emperor’s nobles were rotting and ancient. It was like the enormous power they possessed wasn’t quite enough to sustain their physical forms. They’re slowly dying I thought to myself. I didn’t know how long they’d lived for or where they’d come from. Malleus had begun his campaign long before my birth. If there were any records about his history they were probably lost, or guarded secretly by their owners. There were some things that got you killed in the Empire even if you never learned why.

The conversation tailed off for a while as hungry soldiers pulled half-cooked pieces of flesh out of the fires and ate them. I had my own lump of meat as well, which I left in the flames until it was pink instead of red. In the past, I’d have happily eaten anything no matter what state it arrived in. Now that food was no longer a necessity I felt that I could afford to be fussier. The meat tasted good and I’d purchased animals that weren’t old enough to become chewy. I closed my eyes and ate, letting the smells and chatter soothe my mind. There was plenty spare and by the time I’d finished mine, many of the others were already on their second helpings. Eating, sleeping, living and dying. The four things that governed everyone’s existence. You just had to keep the fourth at bay until you got sick enough of the other three.

We broke camp early the next day. When they’d been stationed at the bridge, Haster’s men had developed a habit of sleeping till full light. It wasn’t a bad habit when there was nothing more pressing to fill your day. They’d soon readapted to a life on the road and there was hardly any grumbling at the early mornings. Most of the men believed that griping was an unassailable right they had and I generally didn’t mind as long as it didn’t get out of hand.

It was noon, give or take an hour, when we first saw Angax. There it sat, a low-lying city in the distance. It occupied a position on a plain and smoke billowed from its many chimneys, filling the sky with a veil of soot that turned the azure into a smudged grey.

“How many live there?” I asked.

“A few hundred thousand, perhaps,” replied Haster with a shrug, as if to say that once the numbers became so large they lost meaning. “Cranmar’s not got many big cities. This and Tibulon. A few others here and there. Nothing else like those two.”

“There’re no trees,” I said. We’d hardly seen one for days.

“There’re no trees, but there’s plenty of coal,” said Haster. “We’ve mined these lands for as long as I can remember. I won’t hear a word against the pitmen – I took to the army as a safer and easier alternative.”

I didn’t need to hear any more details – there were mines in the Duke’s lands. The men who lived in the pitch black of those tunnels for year after year were worthy of admiration and respect. It was hard and unforgiving. Most of all, it was relentless. If you swung a sword for a living, you might die one day, but you knew that if you lived, you’d at least have earned a rest for a few days – weeks or months if you got lucky. For the pitmen, there was never a chance to rest.

When we got closer to the city, we saw a great deal of activity. It was the normal sort that you’d expect to see – farmers and labourers about their daily business, tilling the fields in preparation for planting. There were windmills dotted around the landscape, along with dozens of outlying buildings with horses and carts tethered to the front. It looked almost normal. I spoke to a few people that passed and from their words I gathered that nothing was usual at all. The talk was of war to the north and the south.

“What are we to do?” asked one traveller, a middle-aged lady with her husband. “We can’t run. Everything we have is here. Normal folk like us need to keep our heads down and hope that when it all blows over, we’ve still got our lives and our homes.”

“Angax is too big to fall,” added the man. “Rumour has it that the Emperor is here! What could possibly stand against Malleus himself?”

“What indeed?” I said, taking my leave. The question was as much for me as it was for them.

After another hour, Angax was near enough to make out the details which had been previously lost in the haze. The city was made almost entirely of stone. The outlying districts were low buildings, mostly single storey. Towards the centre, there were two and three storey buildings, uniformly constructed from grey blocks. It seemed oddly flat for a city so large – I’d have expected many more taller buildings. There was a keep somewhere in the middle and a few other larger buildings here and there. Other than that, no spires or towers in celebration of the victory of civilisation over barbarity.

“Why build upwards when you can build outwards?” said Ploster. “There’s enough room all around.”

“A fine theory,” said Haster. “Angax has stagnated for decades. As far as I remember it, many of the buildings were built hundreds of years ago – longer perhaps for some. When we get there, you’ll see that there’s plenty of space. Homes are easy to afford, yet even so there are not enough people to fill them.”

“That is strange,” replied Ploster. “For two hundred years during our time in Warmont’s lands, we’ve assumed that the Empire has remained as vibrant and burgeoning as it was when we left the Emperor’s capital of Hardened for the final time. The more I see of it, the more I sense that neither is true.”

“I couldn’t say,” Haster told him. “My memories of Cranmar’s lands have always been the same – tired people and war. There were days when hundreds would cross our bridge, seeking a better life in the south. From what you’ve said, it doesn’t look like they’d find anything better than they had.”

“We didn’t see anyone attempting to cross when we arrived,” I said.

“No, you wouldn’t have. Cranmar didn’t like the idea of his people leaving their fields untended and their forges unlit. His soldiers have been actively discouraging anyone from leaving.”

It was strange to listen to my assumptions of the Empire be so easily unmade. There was many an evening or long march I’d spent side-by-side with Ploster as we talked about the imposed peace and prosperity we’d always imagined to exist in the other lands. With Haster’s words, I began to reconsider everything that I’d thought to be true. The Empire was dying and I wondered how much bloodshed it would take to wrest it from the Emperor’s unyielding grasp.

“How much I long to be gone from here,” I said. Haster looked at me with curiosity.

“What are your thoughts, Tyrus?” asked Ploster.

“At the beginning, we wondered at the Saviour’s appearance. Why this time out of all times, we asked? We questioned her significance and her strength – how weak she seemed against our memories of not just Malleus, but his death sorcerers too. Now I am beginning to see what she represents, Jon. She is all that stands between life and extinction. Those creatures we saw in the village of Solking – could you not feel it? They were waiting for their time to come again. They knew their chance was coming and they were desperate for it. We are so weak that they are already spilling into the places of men. We spoke about the picture I have seen that makes up my past. How I wish I could see more pieces of the picture which makes up my future, so I can smash it into the form I want it to take. What’s coming is going to be worse than terrible – it’s going to turn the world upside down and leave men, women and children screaming to return to the past.”

“Aye,” said Ploster. “We need to have done with the Empire and return to the Saviour as soon as we’re able.”

“What if we simply turned and left this place at once?” asked Haster. “Could the Emperor stop us?”

“Malleus never forgets and he’s not defeated yet,” I told him. “He’s surprised me dozens of times before, each time emerging stronger than he was. It won’t do to double-cross him.”

“Besides, Captain Charing hopes to find answers,” said Ploster. “He’s the one man whom I trust to pry them from the Emperor’s tongue.”

“And most importantly, the Saviour has committed us to the Emperor’s service for a time. We cannot allow her word to be broken – we would be diminished in her eyes if we did so.”

Haster understood and offered no disagreement. The conversation had been a sobering one. No matter how much you turn a thought around in your mind, there are occasions when you need to speak the words aloud in order for it to coalesce into something of meaning. The Empire was failing, I was certain. Now, the only thing that mattered was getting back to Blades as soon as we could and hope to draw together enough soldiers from the lands which Duke Warmont had spent the last two centuries plundering for his own armies. I didn’t know if men alone would be enough to stand fast in front of the storm and I was as thankful as ever that the Saviour was not only a woman, but a woman who hated death.

23

We marched into the streets of Angax late that afternoon. It was a grim city, filled with dour-faced men and women, who showed no signs of joy. Even under the worst of hardships there is always time for laughter, so life in the place must have truly been unfulfilling. The streets were wide and paved, the buildings solid and free from decay. There was a patina of dust everywhere - black and greasy it fell from the smoke-laden sky. We saw sturdy carts heavy with coal on almost every corner, pulled by oxen and with queues of people carrying buckets, which they filled with the black rocks and took away with them. Upon the carts sat men and young boys, their faces and clothes filthy with coal dust and their gleaming eyes the only brightness in their faces. We saw signs of the city guard, who roved in packs looking out for signs of trouble. Here and there were soldiers, marching in formation to destinations unknown. No one stopped us or hailed us and we were able to march deep into the city.

Closer to the centre, we found shops located in drab-fronted buildings that hardly seemed to make any effort to advertise their wares. There was a bustle such as you might expect to find in a city as populous as this one, though it was oddly muted.

“The people here look as if their lives are hardly worth living,” I commented to Haster.

“It’s not surprising,” he replied. “They work endlessly in the mines. A few lucky ones get to work on the farms, out of the city and beneath the sky where it is still blue. The children are seen as a burden until they reach the age of nine, when they are sent to work at the coal face. They’ll die young – even the longest-lived scarcely reach forty. If the roof of the seam you’re digging doesn’t collapse on you, the dust and the fumes will kill you anyway, slowly and painfully as you hack up chunks of your lungs. Many – too many - apply to join the army. Cranmar doesn’t need them all and so they continue with their day-to-day existence.”

“A life of no meaning,” I said.

“Worse than that,” spat Haster. “For these people, it would be better if they’d never been born at all. Sometimes I think it would be a mercy if they drowned their tots to save them from the same. Can you imagine? To be the best parent you can be, the only path is to murder your own.”

“It would be one path,” I corrected him. “There are always choices. There are times when we can’t see them, but there are always choices. They should leave. No matter the consequences, the people should take their chances elsewhere.”

“There are few places that offer hope to the dispossessed in the Emperor’s lands,” he said.

“Until now,” I replied.

“The Saviour is a long way from here.”

“Better to die trying than to live in misery and to condemn subsequent generations of your own to the same thing,” I told him.

“You’re right.” He sighed. “They need a leader to inspire them and to bring them hope. I think Cranmar would crush them one and all before he permitted it to happen.”

“I’ve never met him, but I’m certain he’d prefer to rule an empty city than watch his people desert him. It’s always been the way.”

We crossed wide plazas and followed broad streets filled with people and animals. It occurred to me that whoever had designed this city – if there’d been a single architect who had dreamed it up – they’d meant for it to be a place of happiness. Every building was large enough to house its occupants in comfort. I saw signs of drainage and plumbing, which were almost unheard of in many towns and villages. There were no slums, though in some areas the people looked distinctly seedy. The only thing missing was plants and trees – I saw none.

“Are the citizens forbidden from planting anything?” I asked Haster.

“Nothing lives here for long. No matter how you nurture and cherish it. It comes to a point where you stop trying.”

“Truly an appalling place to live,” said Ploster.

“You won’t get an argument from me on that. Seeing it all again makes me realise how lucky we were to be left to rot on the bridge. Already I yearn to breathe in the clean air again,” Haster replied.

We arrived at another open space, this one far larger than any of the others. It ran east to west and from what I could see, cut Angax completely in two. There were no houses or other buildings here, though there were many people.

“This is the River Ang,” said Haster. “It runs directly through the city. If you look along, there are a total of twelve bridges over the river, each almost identical in construction. They’re very old and there are no records of who built them or when.”

I craned my neck to see above the thronging people. The square support pillars of the closest bridge were easy enough to see, but I couldn’t yet make out the river itself. To the west, I thought I saw more pillars.

“Come on,” I said, passing on the order for us to march through the crowds. This we did, knocking aside those who didn’t move quickly enough from our path. If we allowed every dallying person the time to move out of the way at their own pace, we’d have never got anywhere.

The River Ang was deep in a gorge. I stood on the edge and looked at the slowly-flowing waters which made their way through the centre of the city. The river was wide – at least three hundred yards – and each of the bridges had a central support pillar that dropped into the water, seventy or eighty yards below. These bridges were functional affairs, wide and paved with low parapets to the side. They had square, stone pillars at each end and more in the middle. They were different to the one on which we’d fought a month ago, but the similarities in their design made it immediately apparent that they’d been built by the same people.

“There was life in these lands thousands of years before the Emperor came,” said Ploster, reading my thoughts. “If you think about it, Malleus is little more than an intruder – perhaps only a fleeting aberration in history, who will be gone and forgotten without leaving a memory behind.”

“I doubt that’s how he sees things,” I said with a smile. “He never spoke it directly – I don’t think his conceit is great enough – but I always got the impression he planned to be here forever.”

“If he gets out of this one, he’ll be diminished,” said Ploster.

I took the men onto the bridge and stopped in the middle for a time, taking care not to block the passage of others. To both east and west, I could see for miles. This gorge was another that was unnaturally straight and with near-smooth rock walls. I peered over the edge and saw wooden jetties, fixed to the stone walls. There were steps, ladders and winches here and there, allowing goods to be hauled up from the barges below. I couldn’t see many boats, which seemed surprising. Normally when war loomed, the price of everything went up, bringing merchants in their droves to take advantage of the situation.

By the time we’d reached the central keep it was getting dark. Cranmar’s home was an edifice of monumental proportions – up close it was much larger than it had seemed when viewing the city from afar. It had thick outer walls and the inner keep itself was broad and ugly, reaching several storeys high and with four additional towers that went higher still. It was bigger than the one in Blades and more imposing. There again, it had been built long before and by a people who had a much greater skill with stone.

“Does Cranmar barrack his men inside?” I asked.

“Some, not all,” said Haster. “Those flat-fronted buildings you can see over there to the left and right of the keep walls are where he billets his men when they’re stationed here.”

“Let’s go and knock on his front door and see if he’ll let us inside,” I said, waving us towards the main keep gates. These gates were thirty feet high and wide, made from solid, dark wood with iron bands. I’d seen the type before and knew they could stand far more physical punishment than you’d expect. These gates were closed, so I headed towards the much smaller postern, set off to one side. No one had challenged us yet. The city was likely so accustomed to the presence of armed men that no one cared about a few hundred more. Still, I’d have expected someone would have intercepted us by now. Maybe Cranmar had plenty of spies on the streets who had told him about our arrival.

When we reached the postern, I saw the reason for the apparent lack of security around the keep. There was a passageway through the walls and signs of at least three portcullises. If anyone tried anything stupid, they could easily be trapped before they reached the courtyard. There was no way the keep would fall to a surprise attack.

There were soldiers waiting for us. The guard captain was accompanied by twenty others, all of them armed and alert. Their manner made me think that they were either well-trained or there’d recently been a shift change.

“Name and business?” he asked brusquely. I took it from his attitude that a lot of soldiers came this way.

“Tyrus Charing,” I said. “I am here with my men at the Emperor’s behest.”

“You’ve come a long way,” he said, without making it clear how he knew. I wasn’t so full of my own self-worth that I imagined my name was recognized across all parts of the Empire.

“A very long way,” I said, not wanting to encourage conversation.

“Wait here,” he said and then turned without waiting for a response. He took himself off through the passageway behind the postern gate and vanished from sight. We waited for his return, as still as the stone from which the walls had been made. It was dark when he came back, almost an hour later.

“Your men can stay over there,” he said, pointing towards one of the external barrack buildings. “I’ve been told to bring you inside. Only you.”

I shrugged. Some things are worth asking questions over. Other times it’s a waste of air to open your mouth. This was one of those times.

“Lieutenant Craddock, take the men to the barracks as instructed,” I told him. “You have coin if you need anything.” I lowered my voice so that only he could hear it. “And you have the freedom to act as you see fit. Leave if you need to and don’t worry about me.”

He understood and I looked him in the eye for a moment so that he knew I didn’t want him to sacrifice anyone by coming for me if we were betrayed. He spun around and shouted out his orders to the men. It didn’t seem likely that there’d be treachery, at least not until we’d performed whatever task the Emperor had in mind for us. Still, there was always the chance that the Flesh Shaper had lied from the outset.

I followed the guard captain through the postern gate, with four other soldiers following behind. Flickering torches lit the way. There was nothing cheering about their flame – all it served to do was highlight the black specks of dust which hung suspended in the air. My escort didn’t speak and I didn’t ask questions. The courtyard surrounded the keep and was almost empty. Here and there, someone hurried across. It was odd that there was so little activity, even with the night almost upon us. Castles of this size never slept.

Our footsteps echoed loudly across the expanse. I studied the keep, which had torches set along the base at regular intervals. I marvelled at how smooth its walls were. The seams between the stone blocks were almost invisible, as if each constituent part was identical to the others and without the variation which was inevitable in anything crafted by the hands of men. There were openings on the first floors and above – deep recesses through which I imagined archers could send an unending flow of arrows into the courtyard below. I didn’t like the place at all – I could admire the expertise which had gone into making it, but there was something about it that spoke of a meaning and purpose that was alien to me.

I was taken towards a pair of gates that were similar in size and appearance to those in the outer wall. Once again, there was a side doorway which made a rather more practical means of entry and exit than the main gates themselves. If Cranmar was worried about assassins, it was far easier to filter all visitors through the side entrance. Not that any usual assassin would be capable of dispatching one of the Emperor’s nobles.

When I got into the main keep I was led without delay along the wide corridors and passageways. The interior was well-lit by a series of small glass spheres embedded into the walls. They’d been enchanted somehow and cast a pale white light that exaggerated the faults in everything it illuminated. I saw the faint peppering of dust on the guard captain’s clothing and armour. He had a faint scar on the back of his neck and a white spotting of louse eggs in his hair.

There were people in the keep. A few soldiers and some of the dedicated guard units passed us by. The guard captain grunted occasional greetings, which were returned in an equally surly manner. The smattering of other men and women couldn’t hide the fact that the place was almost empty.

I was taken to a room on the first floor. There was no lock on the door, so I wasn’t a prisoner at least. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was to stay put until I heard otherwise. The order wouldn’t have usually detained me, but I had nothing better to do than wait. I admit that I was uncertain what was going to happen. Would I speak to Cranmar or even to the Emperor himself? Or would I receive an instruction through an intermediary and end up leaving Angax without ever having the opportunity to find out some answers? I almost laughed at these thoughts – there was no way Malleus would let me go without at least seeing what he’d created one more time.

I paced about the room. There was a hard, wooden-framed bed and a couple of chairs, none of which I sat on. Someone had even left a bowl of fruit on a side-table, though it was so withered and mouldy that I had no idea what it had been originally. I hadn’t expected to be fed, so there was no disappointment at the treatment I received. I wondered if all of Cranmar’s guests were so poorly-entertained, or if I had been singled out for special treatment. None of it mattered.

A number of hours passed, most of which I spent looking out of the window opening. There was no glass in it, which suited me fine. There was a hint of the moon above and the stars twinkled in their familiar positions. The city itself was possessed of a peculiar orange hue, which hung low above the buildings. It was the glow of a hundred thousand coal fires, warming the hearths of the city’s inhabitants. At least they’d never grow cold in the winter. There was hardly any sound to be heard – occasionally a dog barked in the distance. Otherwise, there was almost nothing. Usually a city this size would have an atmosphere at night, as its people enjoyed themselves at the end of a long day. I thought that I might already hate Angax. Not its people, but the men who’d brought it to this state.

The door to my room was opened without a knock. There was an elderly man in the doorway, dressed in fine-quality robes without anything else to indicate his status or what office he held.

“Come,” was all he said.

I followed him, through the myriad corridors of the keep. There was no carpet to deaden my footfall and the sounds of my boots reflected crisply off the walls and left me with the impression that there was someone else following two paces behind me. We went up stairs and across hallways. On the upper levels, there were even fewer people and those I saw scurried away like rats escaping into darkness. There were more stairs and then more. I was in one of the towers – the view out of the windows showed the tiniest sliver of light across the horizon. I’d been in the room for longer than it had seemed.

We stopped climbing. The last of the steps deposited me onto a landing, where my silent guide waited for me patiently. There was an expression on his lined face. It might have been pity. Although he tried diplomatically to keep it hidden, there was curiosity about why I was there and why I’d been summoned to the place he’d brought me to. There was a door – taller and wider than a normal door. It had a dark metal ring set into the surface, which the man reached out for and turned. I was sure there was a faint tremble to his hand, perhaps from the chill in the air or the infirmity of his body.

The man swung the door open and signalled for me to enter, which I did. I entered a small ante-room, with mundane oil lamps casting a wildly-dancing light onto the walls. The door behind me closed. There was another identical door ahead of me. I strode over and opened it without hesitation. The room beyond must have almost filled this level of the tower, which made it large without being enormous. It was starkly appointed, in keeping with the rest of the place. There was a long, rectangular table, with a dozen chairs around it in the middle of the floor. There was light, too, from more of the glass balls I’d seen below. The room was otherwise empty, apart from a single, lone figure, standing near to one of the far windows. He didn’t need a bodyguard to keep him safe. The figure turned towards me, making his grey cloak rustle through the air behind him.

“Welcome home, Tyrus Charing,” said the Emperor, his voice rich, yet tinged with the ravages of a thousand years.

24

I tried not to stare at him. Even after two centuries, the details of his face were utterly familiar. The last time we’d met, he’d been a tall man, strikingly handsome and with broad shoulders and strong arms. Now, his pale flesh was unmistakeably sunken, pressed tight against his skull. His clean-shaven cheeks were hollow, giving him a cadaverous look and his black hair which had once been thick and close-cropped, was lank and thinning. His eyes had lost nothing to age and they looked at me with a bright, unwavering stare. He’d aged better than his death sorcerers - his magic had always been the strongest amongst them. As I took in his features, I knew at once that he was decaying, in the same way that they all were. I reached out across the warp and weft, tentatively seeking. I saw him in a way I never had before – he was a vast, impossibly indomitable force of magic, which grasped and pulled at the threads around him, manipulating them in ways which had never been intended. There was evil there and anger, yet there were also rules and many other facets, too intricate and convoluted to make sense of with the tiny glimpse I allowed myself.

“Emperor Malleus,” I said, meeting his gaze.

“Never a man to bow, were you?” he asked, permitting himself a chuckle.

“Jarod Terrax said you require a service of the First Cohort,” I said.

The Emperor didn’t usually engage in small talk. When he did, there was always a reason behind it. Nor did he tolerate men or women who danced around a subject. I fully expected our conversation to be challenging and in this I wasn’t wrong.

His eyes remained fixed on me. “That I do, Captain Charing, that I do. First of all, I wish to hear of your years in service to my Duke.”

“We fought and we killed. There was not a single one of those years that we were not doing each of those things. And we changed. We are not the same men that we were and I am not the same Tyrus Charing that you allowed to leave your service.”

“I can see you have changed,” he said, with an almost unnoticeable wheeze beneath the powerful voice. “Do you think I have also changed?”

“You will never change, Emperor. It is what has always defined you and what will continue to define you. It is why you have conquered these lands and why you have held them for so long.”

“Do you think it is a weakness, Tyrus Charing?” he asked, turning back towards the window and looking out again.

I crossed the room until I was close enough to address him without having to raise my voice. “You know I will always speak the truth, no matter the cost. It is your greatest strength and your greatest weakness. You wouldn’t bend and you have lost Duke Warmont’s lands because of it.”

“To change is to admit fallibility. I will take back my lands when the time is right and I will punish those who have defied me.” He spoke the words without emotion. This promise to kill his enemy was delivered as if it were a matter of almost no importance. He meant the Saviour and he almost certainly meant the First Cohort. I didn’t doubt that hundreds of thousands or even millions of others might die to fulfil his wishes.

“You have few enough people left as it is,” I said. “If you kill them all, what will you have left to rule?” I had no intention of deliberately angering him, but I would not shy away from speaking my mind.

“I care nothing for their lives,” he replied “They are mine to do with as I please.” He didn’t try to justify or explain it and I believed every word he’d said.

I didn’t say anything for a time and he continued to stare out of the window. Eventually, he beckoned me closer. There was a smell about him – a cloying perfume he wore, that failed to disguise the odour of decay. The fumes were sweet and unpleasant. I could almost taste them. “Look out there,” he said. “What do you see?”

“I see a city full of people caught in an endless cycle of living and dying, without hope for change.”

“I see patterns on the landscape. Shapes made from stone. It angers me, Captain Charing, that there are things which might outlast me. That they dare to act like my presence here will eventually pass and that I will be forgotten. I will not allow it to happen, no matter what the cost. I would destroy it all if it meant that I could be the last of anything to exist. Even then, I would anger at the emptiness around me. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

I did understand. I didn’t know if he was mad. The word madness suggested to me a lack of control over some part of your existence. Malleus was different. His control over himself was so complete that in comparison we were the mad ones. I admired his certainty, but I also feared it. I was more scared of what he might do than of anything else. I wondered if the Northmen knew what he was or whose lands they’d invaded.

“Jarod Terrax has betrayed you,” I said quietly. “Your nobles have taken advantage of your distraction.”

“Their time will come too,” he replied, as if it were the smallest of details. “I hear you have destroyed my bridge?”

“I ordered it done,” I said. I didn’t know how he’d found out. Knowledge was always the most powerful piece on the game board.

“The Pyromancer ordered you to keep it.”

“The Saviour committed the First Cohort to see the Emperor,” I said. “I would have broken her word if I’d allowed us to be destroyed. It was your own subjects who pushed me to the decision, Emperor.”

“The bridge is gone and you may have done me a favour,” he said, dismissing the matter. He could sometimes be petty and I was glad he hadn’t chosen this issue to quibble over. “How did you defeat the Hungerer?” he asked, catching me off-guard with the question.

“We cut him down with our swords and he fell from the bridge. Why did he side against us?”

“Perhaps Terrax persuaded him that it was the right thing to do. I will speak to my death sorcerer about it when I see him.”

“Why now?” I said, asking the question I most wanted the answer to. “Why the Northmen now and why the split in the Empire?”

“They fight back against what I have, Captain Charing. The powerful will challenge others with power. It is the nature of everything and it defines existence.”

“There is more to it than that,” I said, uncaring if he disliked my tone. “The Northmen don’t even know who or what you are. They are here and they have their own reasons.”

“They know me, Captain Charing. Even now, their magic-weavers press against my defences to the north of Angax. I have sent Cranmar there, with many men and some others of his forces. Even the mongrels balk when they are ordered into the mist. And once they enter, they never return. It is a shame.”

I didn’t escape my notice that he’d just admitted he didn’t know a great deal about the Northmen. For all he was convinced they had come to challenge his might, he didn’t know why.

“What is beyond the mountains?” I asked him suddenly. “How many thousands of miles are there to the north of your Empire?”

“They won’t let me see,” he said. I knew the admission would have cost him greatly.

“And why have you never tried to claim them for the Empire?” I asked.

“Oh I have, Captain Charing. I have sent over a million of my men beyond the border since I founded my Empire. I have stripped towns and cities of their lifeblood and ordered them to their deaths. There were once sixteen of my death sorcerers, did you know that? Now there are less than half of that number. The others perished in the north.”

“Why didn’t you fight with them?” I asked. “You were always the difference between success and failure.”

“That is none of your concern,” he said at last. I detected something in his eyes that I’d never seen before. It was the smallest of breaches in his walls of certainty. He was scared he’d lose, I thought. The notion struck me like a bolt of lightning in the centre of a fierce storm. He knew fear.

The Emperor changed the subject abruptly. It was something he’d always done. I didn’t know if it was to try and keep his audience guessing, or if it was simply that he didn’t care for the conventional bounds of a discussion. “The guard captain tells me you arrived with a contingent of Cranmar’s men who had been assigned to the bridge. Lieutenant Haster’s soldiers.”

“They are part of the First Cohort,” I said firmly. The tone of my voice and the set of my jaw made it clear I would brook no argument on the matter.

“Cranmar does not take well to betrayal,” he said.

“The only betrayal is his own,” I said. “He is your servant.”

The Emperor nodded to himself and crossed to the table. There was a decanter of red liquid on it which I hadn’t previously noticed. He pulled out the crystal stopper and poured a measure into each of two matching glasses. He indicated that I should take one – the Emperor did not hand a glass to anyone. I picked it up and swirled the wine around, noticing how it clung to the sides of the glass, leaving a thin film behind. I took a sip of it.

“Well?” he asked.

“Ash,” I said. “Most things taste like ash to me.”

He adopted a mournful expression. “This is one of the finest wines produced by one of the finest vineyards outside of Hardened. I tell myself that it is a privilege to enjoy it, yet all I can feel is a liquid on my tongue. There is no sensation of taste and I receive no pleasure from it.”

“We are dead men,” I said. “There are times when my mouth salivates at the sight of food. Mostly, there is nothing.”

“Do you regret it?” he asked. I knew he wasn’t asking about the loss of my palate.

“You have closed off our past and opened up our future,” I said. “I cannot change what happened and it is only now that I am truly content at where our choices have taken us.”

“Hardened was a long time ago,” he said.

“Aye, it was.”

“Would you still kill their Lightlord if you had the chance to go back and take a different course?”

The details of the battle were still with me, though I rarely tried to recall them. Images flashed through my head – words become pictures. A chance encounter on the road to Hardened with their sorcerer. A man whom many thought would defeat the then King Malleus. We found him and murdered him before he got the chance. The Strangler had died in the fight, but he’d done enough to weaken their high lord and we’d chopped him into pieces. It had turned the tide. Hardened was the fulcrum and my men tipped the scales, maybe in a way that had never been intended. Malleus had never forgotten and neither had we. For him, the eventual victory he’d always wanted. For us, the knowledge that whatever came from his Empire was at least partly because of our actions. And our reward for this was eternal life. Eternal existence.

“I can’t allow myself to contemplate what would have been,” I said. “What’s done is done and will never be changed.”

Once more he took the conversation on a different tack. “They’ve just broken through to the north,” he said. “They’ll reach the city by nightfall. Individually, their spell-weavers are powerful. Together, they were strong enough to crush my wards.”

With those few simple words, he revealed the death of Angax. He spoke them with no more fervour than when he’d asked me about the wine. It had been a long time since I’d talked with him, but I still knew him well enough to recognize that he was angered. He’d never liked to be thwarted and his usual reaction was to lash out, to strike back until those who defied him were destroyed. Now all I saw was something closer to resignation, or perhaps it was what he wished me to see.

“What do they want?” I asked again.

He looked at me with his piercing eyes. “I don’t know, Captain Charing. If I had to guess, I would say that they would like to exterminate life.”

“I thought it didn’t matter to you.” I said.

“You read me wrong. I care nothing for the lives of my people, but they are my lives to take if I wish to do so. I will not permit any other to take the decision from me.”

There was nothing I could say in response to that. Instead, I asked him something else. “What do you need from the First Cohort?”

“I want you to go north, Captain. There is a place beyond the mountains. A ruined city that I have learned of. There is something that I wish you to find.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It might be an object. It might be a presence. Or neither of these things. It might be that there is nothing at all to find. I need you to look and I need you to come back.”

“What will you give the Saviour in return for this?” I asked.

“A year,” he said simply.

“Not good enough,” I snapped back at him. “You’ll be tied up with your own troubles for longer than that. I want a promise of five years.”

“Very well, Captain Charing. You have my word that if you succeed, your Saviour will have five years.”

“What if there’s nothing there to the north?” I asked.

“Bring me proof one way or the other and you will have your five years.”

“How can I prove it to you?” I asked.

“I trust your word, Captain. Believe me, I trust your word as much as anyone’s. However, you will also take a companion with you. He is another whose word I place equal trust in. Rak Ashor will accompany you.”

“The Pyromancer?” I asked in real surprise.

“My death sorcerer should prove a useful ally. He has grown more powerful with time and you will need his assistance.”

“How far away is this place we seek?”

“More than a thousand miles, directly to the north of us. I need you to return within six months. Then, I will consider your duties to have been performed and your five years will begin. I will not hold Angax against what comes, though it is within my capabilities. When you return, Ashor will find me and you can return to your Saviour.”

“I can’t take us all north,” I said. “Haster’s men will not be able to face the cold.”

“Send them home,” he said. “I asked for the First Cohort, Captain Charing, because I knew you would not perish. These new men are not the same. I don’t require them.”

I had to ask him, hating myself as I did so. “Could you change them in the way that you did for us?” I asked. “We will have a far greater chance of success with seven hundred than we will with two hundred and fifty.” I didn’t know if it was a gift that Haster’s men would accept – an eternal living death that took as much as it gave.

He laughed, a humourless sound that crackled from his throat as if it cost him an effort to make it. “The original thousand were a one of a kind. Do you not think I would have already made myself an unstoppable army to send north if I were capable of doing so? The gift I gave you cost me dearly and I bestowed it foolishly at a time when I was enormously thankful for what you’d done. How the cogs of our existence turn, Captain. For over two hundred years I regretted what I did, though I kept to my word and never once did I consider punishing you for my own folly. Now, I see that events have brought an opportunity for me to take value from you. I am not a man who usually knows gratitude, but I am mindful that this must be more than coincidence.”

The bargain was struck and truth be told I had no idea if it was a good one or a bad one. I suspected that the notions of good and bad were effectively irrelevant, given what was to come. I faced the Emperor and he faced me. His expression gave no clear indication of his thoughts and I wondered if there was a sign of strain upon his face. “Where will I find Ashor?” I asked.

“He is not here yet. I will have him meet you on the main northern thoroughfare which leads from the city. He will arrive by the evening and I suggest you leave before darkness falls.”

“What about the Northmen?” I asked. “How are we to avoid them?”

“This is why I asked for you, Captain Charing. I’m sure you’ll find a way.” A hint of a smile appeared on his lips and I remembered that he had always been capable of mirth. At times, there’d been an almost human quality to it.

I gave a quiet laugh. “That I will,” I replied. “There’s always a way.” I knew that our meeting was over and I turned away, with the intention of leaving the tower. He called after with words I hadn’t expected.

“Captain Charing? That object you are carrying. Look after it. It may not change everything, but it will certainly change some things.”

I froze and all at once I was aware of the cold metal circlet which was still with me. I’d carried it for so long that I’d grown used to its presence and had almost forgotten it was there. I didn’t want Malleus to suddenly decide that he wanted it so I simply nodded, with my back still to him. I strode towards the door, acutely aware of his eyes following me. I left the tower room, feeling a mixture of emotions. There was relief and there was concern for my men and what faced us. Somewhere deep inside, there was something else and I couldn’t shake the idea that there was part of me that still longed to serve the man I’d just met. I shook it away.

The old man in robes waited for me on the landing outside of the Emperor’s room. He greeted me with silence and led me away down the steps which descended from the tower. I didn’t need his conversation and struggled with the turmoil in my head. The good old days were never how you remember them, came the voice of reason. I was a different man now and I served someone who was worth fighting for. With age comes wisdom and I was able to convince myself that yearning for the past condemns a man to a life of searching for something he can never find. I knew I was right, but there was still something lodged inside that wouldn’t let go.

It didn’t take long to exit the keep. The old fellow took me to the courtyard gates and stopped to allow me past him. It was daylight outside, though still early morning. I headed across the courtyard, looking at the faint miasma of dust that partially obscured the sun and the sky. I had a feeling of trepidation about what was to come. Even so, the thrill of it was building. I didn’t have all the answers I sought, but at least there was now a plan – something I could grasp and hunt down to its completion. I had a future I could try to control, rather than facing the endless journey to Angax every day that I rose. I passed through the tunnel and out of the postern gate. The guard captain was still there, along with his contingent of soldiers. They looked at me with little interest and I walked by unmolested towards the barracks building where the rest of the Cohort had been stationed.

At the time, I didn’t know it. The Emperor was wrong – the Northmen didn’t reach Angax at nightfall. They reached it before midday.

25

I found Lieutenant Craddock easily. The Cohort had been barracked in a building that was far bigger inside than it looked from the outside and could have likely housed several thousand men, albeit with some crushing. The building was almost empty apart from my men and I tracked Craddock down to a small, dingy office near to the front door. There was a plaque on the door which suggested it had once housed a captain by the name of Pion Fewter. I entered and he greeted me warmly.

“Have you see him?” he asked.

“I’ve seen him. He’s changed a little, yet is still the same.”

“I could have written those words before you returned,” he laughed.

“We need to fetch Lieutenant Haster and Jon Ploster,” I told him. I stepped outside and hauled up one of my soldiers who happened to be passing. He was shortly on his way to find our invited guests. I didn’t like to repeat myself, so we waited until they came. Craddock drummed his fingers on the desk – his only outward sign of expectation.

The others arrived shortly, Haster looking slightly out of breath in his haste to attend. There were only two chairs in Captain Fewter’s office. None of us was desperate to sit and they went unused.

“The clearer the future becomes, the more other possibilities crowd in to smear the artist’s strokes,” I said. Ploster understood what I was saying at least. “The Emperor has given us a task and he has also given me information that adds to my lack of understanding. Or at least, it makes the truth harder to unravel.”

“Malleus is the only man who can speak clearly and in riddles at the same time,” chuckled Ploster. “A remarkable talent given that it’s not magical in nature.”

“I don’t think he sought to hide anything,” I said. “Either that or he was so convincing that I didn’t detect him doing so. He has been holding the Northmen away from the city. They’ve broken through and will be here by nightfall.”

“What does that mean?” asked Haster.

“It means that everyone in Angax will be die,” I said. “I don’t know how long it will take, but nobody will live.” I wasn’t sure how Haster would take the news. I didn’t relish it myself.

“Can we fight?” he asked.

“I don’t think there are any soldiers left to fight,” I said. “Cranmar’s gone north with his men. Many men the Emperor told me. The emptiness of the keep and this barracks tells me that nearly all of his armies are out of the city. It could be that they are between the Northmen and the city, or they might already be dead. Either way, we have to leave the city before they come and hope we can avoid them. Angax is not our battle to fight.” I turned to face Haster. “Is it yours?”

He looked torn. “I do not wish the people dead. I care naught for the city itself, nor for Cranmar. I let some of the men out to look for their families. There are a few of us who still have ties to the city. The rest of us have nothing.”

“How many?” I asked him.

“Seventy-eight. I’ve asked them to return by noon.”

“They will need to,” I said. He wasn’t going to like what I told him next. “You can’t come with us, Lieutenant Haster. The cold will kill your men before you can even draw your swords.”

“They are no longer my men,” he said. “They are Cohort men.”

“That they are. Now and always,” I said. “I had hoped that the Emperor would offer you the chance to become like us. The cost of the gift is beyond his willingness to give it, so you cannot join with us. I will not have you die for nothing.”

“What should we do?” he asked.

“You need to gather your men and leave. Those with families may do as they choose. Tell them to flee to the south – anywhere apart from here.”

“And what of those who have no family?”

“Join with the Saviour. Take the men to Blades. The Saviour can read your hearts and she will know what you tell her to be the truth. Let her know that we have been asked to go north to find something for the Emperor. If we succeed, we will be back within the year and we will have bought her another five. If we fail, then I have no idea of what will come. She will know what to do for the best.”

“To the Saviour we will go,” he said. “And offer her our pledge in the way that you offered yours.”

“I am proud to have you with us, Lieutenant Haster,” I said. “Do your best and we will join you when we are able.”

I reached across and shook his hand. I didn’t like to invoke the capriciousness of fortune, but nevertheless I wished him good luck on the road. Craddock and Ploster likewise shook hands and Haster left us.

“I didn’t enjoy that,” I said. “It’s the only choice, yet it doesn’t sit easy with me.”

“Over four hundred good men return to the Saviour,” said Ploster. “To replace us while we are absent. She will need every soldier she can muster for the coming times.”

“Of course she will,” I said, trying my best to look at the situation as an optimist.

“What is this task the Emperor has set us?” asked Ploster. “I cannot read your feelings from the expression on your face.”

“We are to go north. Malleus cannot penetrate the veils beyond the mountains in the Northlands. He told me he has learned of a place, a thousand and more miles away. Ruins of some sort. A city, perhaps. There is something there which he wants us to find and return with for him. If we succeed, he has agreed that he won’t send his armies against the Saviour for five years.”

“Five years would be a good outcome,” said Craddock. “Time to prepare, time to build and time to train.”

“Assuming any of us have five years,” said Ploster. “If the Northmen can sweep aside Malleus’ efforts to stop them, the Saviour will fare no better.”

“We have no choice. If we return to Blades with Haster’s men, we will have missed the opportunity to influence events. I feel that the Emperor is part of the key to whatever lies ahead. If he is defeated, then the Saviour will also fail. If we can strengthen him just enough, I am sure that all possibilities are open.”

“A fine balancing act you’ve decided upon, Tyrus,” said Ploster. “To aid one of our enemies in order to defeat another, in the hope that all sides will be sufficiently weakened that the Saviour will prevail.”

“What else do we have?” I asked.

“You could be wrong,” said Ploster.

“There’s always that chance,” I said. “I’ve made up my mind. We’ll go to the north and we’ll return with what the Emperor desires. If it’s the wrong choice, I will look back upon this moment and I’ll be sure that I made the decision in good faith. Plus, I have already given him my word that we will go. I do not like to betray that trust. Once it’s broken, we will never be trusted again.”

“You have been fired up by your meeting with the Emperor,” said Ploster.

“I have. There are some things which I can’t abide being ignorant of. I have learned just enough to plot a course onwards.”

“Even now he can picture himself marching back to the Saviour,” laughed Craddock. He was right.

“There’s one last thing. The Pyromancer is coming with us.”

“Can we trust him?” asked Ploster.

“We have no choice. He will accompany us until we can return to the Emperor and then we will be discharged from our duties and allowed to return to Blades. Malleus has promised and he has not broken his word before.”

“There are worse men to have as allies,” said Craddock.

With that, we set about preparing for our departure. Haster’s men cleared out of the barracks efficiently and we were soon left with the two hundred and fifty of the original men of the Cohort, minus those who’d remained in Blades to guard the Saviour. I was sorry to see Haster leave since I had grown to like his no-nonsense approach to everything he did. I felt an almost irrepressible urge to promote Jon Ploster to the rank of lieutenant. He escaped this unwanted fate – in reality he was a sorcerer and lacked the capabilities to command the men in battle. Not everyone has those skills and Ploster’s abilities were far better suited to other things. So, there was no promotion for anyone, leaving Craddock and I to do the work. I preferred that we have too few officers, rather than promoting someone who might not be completely up to the task.

It wasn’t long until we were ready – it took less than two hours from my return to be ready to march. I sent a squad of men to the agreed meeting place with the Pyromancer. He wasn’t there. The Emperor had said late afternoon, so we were left with several hours in which we could do little. The inactivity began to chafe after only a few minutes. There was some minor good news – a search of the barracks turned up some very old metal-shafted spears at the back of the armoury. I imagined they’d not been very popular amongst Cranmar’s soldiers owing to their weight. They were perfect for us and we shamelessly stole what we needed. There were also a number of tents and various other items suitable for making camp. We couldn’t find enough for everyone, but we took what there was and were happy for it.

“Should we try to evacuate the city?” asked Craddock.

“No,” I said at once. I’d already thought about it. I doubted anyone would believe us and I had no intention of getting embroiled in arguments or fighting as we tried to move people along. If I believed for one moment that we’d see any significant result from chasing people from their homes, I’d have done it. “It’s already too late and the city too large,” I said quietly “If the Cohort is separated by floods of people on the street, we may be left in a position where we can’t reform before the Northmen come. I am not sacrificing these people – what will happen to Angax is a burden for others to bear. We must escape, complete our mission and return to the Saviour.” Craddock deserved at least that much as an explanation and I saw that he accepted what I said.

Come late morning, I took myself out to the barrack’s entrance, so that I could watch the world go by. The keep was fairly close to the northern edge of the city and with not much reason for people to visit. Still, the plaza was fairly busy with activity. I watched a few carts rumble to the keep and there was a constant trickle of people on foot, carrying various items for the castle’s day-to-day needs.

I heard a scream, distant and unmistakeable. I looked in the direction it had come from. A wide street exited the plaza, curving off to the north-west. I couldn’t quite see along it, so jogged fifty or sixty yards over the paving in order to get a better view. There was shouting – a combination of alarm and surprise, turning into fear. At first there were only a few voices raised, as if a crowd had gathered around an overturned cart or something equally mundane. A feeling of dread seeped into me and I ran towards the sounds. I should have returned to my men, but I was determined to see for definite what it was.

There were enough people along the street to obscure my view. Even so, I could see over the top of most of their heads. There was a stirring far ahead, as if a huge fish swam through the traffic of the road, pushing aside the people like they were the water in a river. Closer to me, men and women turned their heads to look for the source of the commotion. There were looks of confusion and puzzlement. The hubbub increased in volume as people asked each other what was happening. There were more screams and I saw the distant stirring become a rush as those nearby ran away from whatever it was. Around me, the citizens began to drift past me, heading towards the south, casting nervous glances behind them. They didn’t know what was wrong – the disturbance to the north-west had sent a wave of fear ahead of it, commanding them to get away.

I knew I should get back to the barracks, yet I felt compelled to stay and watch. The men and women poured around me, not quite in a panic, but certain enough that they didn’t want to see what was coming. All the while, the great fish swam. First it was a hundred yards, then fifty, then twenty-five. It brought screaming with it and I saw the helmets of soldiers amongst the crowds. There were swords as well, which rose and fell clumsily, though with great violence.

Suddenly, there was a man in front of me. He wore no helmet – only his breastplate and greaves identified him as a soldier of Cranmar’s army. I saw his eyes, dead, cold, empty. The skin of his face was as white as flour, whilst his neck was blackened and split, like he’d been burned by flames. I knew at once that it wasn’t fire that had left its mark – it was the cold. He had a sword in his hand which he hadn’t used up until now, as if he’d kept it for me and me alone. I drove my fist into his face. The cartilage of his nose crunched and shattered. He staggered back a pace from the power of the blow, with a shower of dirt cascading from his tangled hair. I punched him again, casting him to the ground. His tumble fouled the feet of a soot-blackened pitman and sent the man rolling across the pavement.

I didn’t spend any more time there. I left the fallen soldier to do as he would and I pushed my way across the flow, fighting a diagonal path against the current. A number of my men had gathered at the barracks doorway to see what transpired. It was set a way back from the road, so they didn’t need to steady themselves against the people who came by. They could tell when something was wrong and they had their swords and shields ready. One of them – Scram – saw me coming. Without a word or signal from me, he vanished into the barracks to let Craddock know.

I broke free from the crowds and sprinted the final few yards to the wide doors of the barracks. “Inside!” I said. The complied and together we swung the heavy wooden doors closed. I was relieved to see how sturdy they were – many barracks were designed to repel an assault.

“What’s happening, Captain?” asked Trusty.

“The dead men of Cranmar’s army have come,” I told him. “Like the people of Nightingale.”

He remembered Nightingale – we all did. The Northmen had raised men and women, young and old alike. We’d had to destroy the bodies of children in order to escape the place. It had been one of the worst experiences out of many, many bad ones.

Craddock came into the huge entrance foyer, with Corporal Gloom and Scram close behind. Their boots echoed hollowly on the smooth stone tiles of the floor. “What’s the plan?” asked Craddock. He didn’t need to waste time asking what was happening.

“We need to leave. Now,” I told him.

“What about the Pyromancer?”

I hesitated, since I didn’t want to leave without him. “We’ll go to the meeting place. If he’s there, he’s there. Otherwise, he can stay behind. We can’t afford to get trapped in the city by the Northmen. I wasn’t intending for us to fight them all.”

“Understood,” said Craddock. “Corporal Knacker is mustering the men. Shouldn’t take long.”

However much the unexpected crept up on us, we were always ready. It took much less than ten minutes for the last man to reach the foyer and join with the back of our ranks. The walls and doors of the barracks were thick, but we could hear the sounds from outside. The cries of the living and the dying rose and fell, as if the tides of an ocean brought them to us.

“Any idea how many soldiers Cranmar had based here?” I asked Craddock.

“Nigh on seventy thousand, with three hundred Mongrels in a pen just outside the main western thoroughfare.” I looked at him quizzically. “Captain Fewter maintained scrupulous records,” he said by way of explanation.

I instructed a squad of men to stand at the barrack doors and get ready to open them on my command. In the gloom of the interior, their eyes shone brightly and in stark contrast to the dark tattoos on their faces.

“Open them up,” I said. A ripple of expectation rushed through the men behind me. My battle senses were already alert, ready to pick up the ebbs and flows that separated success from grisly failure.

The two doors were swung open and we marched out into the maelstrom.

26

The fog had come. In the few minutes we’d holed up in the barracks building, the plaza had become filled with moisture-laden air that swirled and rolled, spilling over roofs and along streets as it came from the north. It was noticeably colder than it had been, though not yet as biting as I knew it would become. When the Northmen arrived, the ice would coat every surface and there would not be a coal fire in the city which would stave off the bitterness.

The fog was not yet thick enough to prevent us from seeing the shapes and movements across the plaza, even as far as the keep walls. The ground was littered with shapes, some of which writhed and screamed. Other shapes fled to the south, unaware that running wouldn’t help them at all. The people had no choice. To stop was to die. Running gave hope for as long as their legs would keep them moving, each extra step perpetuating the futile yearning to survive what was coming.

We were in a column, six wide at the front. Our shields were ready and our spears lowered in anticipation of attack. Not every shape that moved in the fog was a living soul. The last of our rows hadn’t even left the barracks when the first of the dead struck at us. At first there was just one – a pale-fleshed old soldier who’d frozen to death in his armour. One of the men on our flank plunged a spear into the dead man’s guts. He writhed and thrashed until a second spear smashed through the open visor of his helmet, crumpling his face and destroying the brain beneath. In Nightingale we’d soon discovered that the dead would come back time and again unless we did sufficient damage to their brains to prevent the Northmen’s dark magic taking hold again.

“Are any of their spellcasters close?” I asked Ploster. He was next to me in one of the front rows.

“I can’t sense anything. They must have raised these poor bastards and sent them ahead. To save them the hard work.”

“Perhaps they’ll stay down where we put them,” I replied.

Another three dead soldiers hurled themselves at our other flank. We rebuffed them easily. They didn’t even try to avoid our spears and they used their army swords as more of an afterthought.

“How far till the northern edge of the city?” I asked the men around me. There were a few grunts and a number of shrugs. Sprinter had been a part of the squad sent to look for the Pyromancer earlier and he spoke up.

“About half a mile, Captain,” he called. “The route isn’t difficult either. Up here, third right and then left. After that, it’s straight all the way until we leave the houses behind.”

“Come on then,” I said, pointing us towards the north-west street.

The fog had already thickened appreciably in the three or four minutes since we’d exited the barracks. There were distant patterings in the hazy gloom, the sound of bare-footed steps across the pavements. They were joined by booted feet, running with an irregular beat, some towards us and some away deeper into the streets of Angax. The fog clung so heavy it was almost sticky against our skin.

We pushed away from the plaza around Cranmar’s keep. The walls kept us safe on one side, though we couldn’t stay close to them for long. Instead, we set a course directly along the middle of the wide street. The sporadic attacks became more frequent and mostly from ahead. I’d placed good men towards the front, those who were physically the strongest and could drive through our enemy like a wedge.

There were side streets which we passed. The dead soldiers came from some, in groups of fives and sixes. They attacked without thought or reason. Their silence was eerie and they made little sound. Once or twice, I heard one of them hiss or gasp. It didn’t seem likely that they consciously produced these noises – more that the impact of our weapons on their bodies caused the expulsion of unrequired air from their lungs. If there was one small mercy, it was that these were men and only men. There was none of us who had the appetite to strike at the bodies of young ones. We’d all had our fill of that and never wished to drink of it again.

“They use these as shock troops,” said Ploster, listening to the clangs of metal on metal. He wasn’t excessively short in stature, but he couldn’t easily see around him when he was in the middle of the column.

“There’s no logic behind it,” I said angrily. “The cold will kill as easily as these risen corpses. You can’t hide from the fog and it comes as fast as a horse can gallop.”

“You must stop looking for logic where there may be none,” he admonished. “The Northmen are completely unknown to us and their desires must be equally so.”

“Yet once they must have lived. And we have seen what they built far to the south. Perhaps even the bridges across the Ang.”

It wasn’t the time to talk and we both knew it. We reached the side street that Sprinter had told me about and I turned our column along it, keeping the pace measured and controlled. It was little more than a wide lane, with two-storey buildings on both sides. I felt hemmed in and was glad when we intersected what I knew to be the main street north out of Angax. There were bodies here, unmoving, twisted and broken. Some had been killed with sharp weapons, others had been beaten to death. There were scattered weapons on the ground – mostly the swords and maces which Cranmar’s men would have carried when they went north. I wondered if they’d set out thinking they could win, or if they’d known all along that they were going to die.

The fog was thicker here and it reduced visibility to less than thirty yards. Sounds took on a menacing quality – every nearby thump or clatter would herald an attack upon us. We didn’t know where the attacks would come from, but they hardly stopped. Shapes of the dead appeared from all around as if they could track us by something other than sight or sound. If the Northmen had killed all of Cranmar’s men and sent them here it was no surprise that we found so many.

There was a brief lull, during which all became still and even the muffled sounds seemed to fade away. The respite was short. Before I could get my hopes up that we might escape Angax into the northern countryside, a torrent of the dead dashed itself against us. It was as though they’d been waiting silently up ahead, like their unknown master held them in place to see who would come this way. They came from the front – one moment there was nothing, the next they emerged from the cloaking fog, a horde of many hundreds. It was all the front rows could do to get their spears down in time.

They hit us with a crunch, compressing our ranks and forcing us back through sheer weight of numbers. We’d seen this before and recently. On the bridge we’d fought like this, though with a greater width than six men. The man in front of me was knocked back a step. I pressed my shield against him and held steady. He kept his feet apart and used his own shield in the same way for the spearman ahead. The front men held and the dead spilled around to our flanks. They didn’t find weakness there, rather there were shields, swords and spears awaiting them. The carnage was terrible to behold and I made an oath to myself that I would see the end of this war, no matter what it took. I didn’t revere the bodies of the dead, but I had always held to the notion that those who had perished deserved peace. For these men there was no peace to be found and the last vestiges of their existence danced to the tune of a dark magic.

Our enemy outnumbered us greatly, but they were no match for an organized force of soldiers. The slaughter went on without cease, each thrust of a spear or sword brought about new destruction. There was no glory in it – I had long since discounted the very idea of such a concept. A soldier could be noble - indeed I saw it in many of the Cohort’s number, but the killing itself was never glorious. It was how a man comported himself before and after a battle that defined his standing.

I was in the centre right of my row of six. I didn’t have to draw my sword, nor to wield it. I had to lend my weight to those around me in order to keep them steady. Other than that, I had to do little beyond watch, listen and struggle with my inner anger. It took us a while to destroy them all, since they didn’t stop attacking until we had ruined their bodies sufficiently. Eventually we’d had done with them, leaving them piled high around us, a stack of pallid and cold-scalded flesh that smelled like freshly-butchered meat. Through a gap, I saw one of the bodies twitching horrifically, with one leg kicking and the arms jerking violently. Dags stepped out of rank and used his sword to cut the man’s head off. The corpse lay still and Dags stepped back to the sounds of a minor reprimand from Craddock.

As the fighting had raged around me, I’d noticed the coldness increasing steadily. I ran a fingernail through the beaded moisture on one vambrace and it left a furrow through the thin ice which had formed. When I looked at my nail I saw that the ice was grey and speckled with black, rather than clear or white. Even the Northmen’s fog couldn’t entirely clear the coal dust from the air. All around me, there were signs of frost spreading across armour and skin. We were not vulnerable to the cold and a few men brushed absently at the frost. Most ignored it and remained alert for signs of trouble.

We advanced, this time slowly. There was little point in trying to keep quiet. Even so, I could feel the efforts of the men to suppress the sounds of their footsteps and the clashing of their armour.

“This is the place, Captain,” said Sprinter, his voice a startlingly loud whisper.

I drew us to a halt and looked anxiously around to see if there was any sign of Rak Ashor. The buildings here were single storey and drab. I squeezed through our motionless ranks and made my way across to the closest one, ignoring the look of concern I saw on Craddock’s face. There was a window in the wall, with wooden shutters swung partially away. I looked through into the house beyond. There were the remains of a fire, which smouldered in defiance against the fog. Shapes littered the floor – the bodies of the family who had once lived here. The poorest were always the first to die. I caught myself for the uncharitable thoughts – there’d be few people in the city who lived through this and none of them deserved what was coming.

I crossed the five yards to where the men remained and pushed my way back into position. I was taking a gamble waiting here for any time at all. We’d seen the Northmen themselves in Nightingale. They were not foes to be taken lightly and although I wished for a chance to cut them down, I knew that it would do no good to lose any of my men. My priority had to be to complete the Emperor’s task and then return to the Saviour in Blades. Anything that distracted us from that made it more likely that we’d not succeed.

I gave the Pyromancer another five minutes. The fog was as dense as I’d ever seen it and it completely obscured anything more than twenty yards away. There were no sounds in the vicinity but we were all aware of the panicked shouts deeper into the city as Cranmar’s dead soldiers set to their task. It wouldn’t be long until the fog completed the work of killing those who’d chosen to remain hidden. I spat at my feet in disgust and the spittle became a solid before it hit the ground.

“Come on, let’s go,” I said.

We struck out and I’m sure we all felt a sense of foreboding. We weren’t alone in the fog and if the Northmen found us, the fighting would be much more intense than just killing a group of mindless corpses. We left the city, or at least the houses became so sparsely placed and so shrouded in fog that we couldn’t see them. We were still on a road of some sort and I expected the going underfoot to be good for a few miles at least.

“How long will this fog last, Captain?” asked Loopy.

“I don’t know. It feels like it goes on forever,” I replied.

In truth, I didn’t know how far it extended. I realised that it might in fact stretch all the way from here to our destination – a blanket of fog that covered thousands of miles.

“There’s no power great enough,” said Ploster, guessing what I was thinking.

“I hope not. I would hate to travel forever like this. If the Northmen could shroud the world, there would be no life anywhere.”

We’d travelled less than a mile. The sun was visible as a hazy, pale sphere above us. The road wasn’t leading perfectly north, yet it was close enough that I didn’t point us away from it. There were walls to either side. They were the standard dividing walls between fields, so I assumed we were in the countryside.

“Something coming,” said Loafer at the front right.

“Coming from both sides,” said Beamer calmly. “I count four – or more.”

I called a halt and the men dropped into their defensive stances, lowering their spears and lifting their shields. I don’t know how they managed to come so close without their footsteps alerting us, but the Northmen fell upon us. I counted nine of them in all – bulky shapes that were nearly eight feet tall. Their armour was rusted metal and they had pelts around their shoulders, as if to stave off the chill I was sure they didn’t feel. Their faces had rotted almost completely away – noses gone, flesh hanging off in pale grey shreds. Their eyes were tiny and glowed faintly with a dirty yellow light. There was no expression to be discerned – no indication of what they wanted or why.

Their actions spoke for them. The first of the Northmen to reach us swung his massive sword at our front rank. The blade didn’t come close and the creature was impaled by four spears. Against anything living, I’d have expected the spear tips to go deep into the flesh. On the Northman, they hardly went more than a hand’s breadth deep. The men holding the spears used their weight to drive the creature onto its back and pinned it there.

Three more attacked on the left, near to the place I was standing, whilst another six came as a unit, aiming to smash through our back lines. Our spears held them at bay, even if the creatures didn’t seem to be hurt by the metal points. The last time we’d fought them, I’d been left with the impression that only magical weapons could do any real harm.

“Swords only,” I shouted above the din. Craddock repeated the cry.

We discarded our spears, either dropping them onto the ground, or leaving them dangling from the rotting flesh of the Northmen. They showed little concern for their lives and battered at our shields, each sweeping blow hitting two or sometimes three at once. I well remembered the force of their strikes and in Nightingale my shield had buckled under the assault of one.

We stayed strong and whittled them down, bit by bit. The Northmen were strong and hardy. The magic in our swords could hurt them though and pieces of bone, flesh and fur fell away as we repelled them. If you watched us, crouched behind our shields, it would be easy to forget that we were all skilled swordsmen and each man could hold his own with a blade. The first of our enemies fell after two minutes of combat. The Northman toppled inwards, scattering the men nearby.

Two of the other Northmen moved to take advantage of this breach in our shield wall. I stepped forward to meet the first, giving the men around me a chance to recover. Flames licked briefly over the Northman’s flesh as Ploster tried his best to burn it. The fire was snuffed out almost at once, though the furs caught light, releasing a pungent smoke redolent with the odours of burnt, rancid fat. I got in the first strike, a diagonal chop with my sword that cleaved through the armour of the Northman’s breastplate and into the ribs underneath. As it made contact, the runes on my sword lit up white, thirsting for victory.

The Northman brought his sword down in an overhead cut that would have torn me apart. They were much quicker than they looked. Even so, the attack was a clumsy one which relied on speed and strength rather than finesse. I sidestepped and cut the Northman’s arm deeply. The grey flesh parted reluctantly and there was nothing to flow from the bloodless veins. My opponent lifted its sword, trying to knock me aside with the backswing. I deflected the attack easily, taking care to knock the sword away, rather than taking the brunt of the strike on my shield. The men around me recovered and closed in, eager to release their pent-up anger against these foes.

I absorbed the interplay of the individual combats taking place, hardly needing to look at what was happening. We’d broken from our column to allow us to encircle our enemies and bring more of our swords to bear against them. Against greater numbers it wouldn’t have been wise. Here, it worked to our advantage and the etchings on our swords spun and sparkled, cutting easily through the obscuring fog. Dark shapes and bright swords to bring oblivion to these Northmen who had brought so much death with them.

The Northman in front of me burned again. Ploster had evidently refused to give up. For a sorcerer, it must have been galling beyond belief to find an enemy against whom magic was ineffective. This time the flames held, scouring away the dead flesh. Where fire and fog met, clouds of hot steam rose, billowing out from the Northman and melting the ice that still clung to my skin. We drove it back with our shields, pushing against it until it stumbled away. Its two eyeballs ruptured within a second of each other, bursting with dull popping sounds. Sods tripped it over and I followed in with my sword, which I pushed through its chest where I thought the heart might be. Something crunched and the Northman stopped moving at once.

I stepped away, suppressing the urge to smash my sword again and again into the Northman’s corpse until it was utterly defiled. The fighting hadn’t yet ended, but there was little I could do to help since there wasn’t enough room for us all to bring our swords into play.

One by one they fell, their ruined bodies cut to ribbons. They uttered no sound nor showed fear. It was as if they cared nothing at all about what happened to them. I waved the men to form up again, while I stayed out of rank with Ploster next to me.

“What are they?” I asked simply.

“I don’t know, Tyrus, I really don’t know.”

“We killed them and they didn’t care. Perhaps they didn’t even know. It’s as if they too are simply tools of a greater power, in the same way that their spell weavers use the bodies of our own dead against us. Could there be something in control of these?”

“There’s always something or someone in control,” he replied. “I wonder if you’ve hit upon the truth with your words.”

I laughed, a mirthless snort of half-derision. “For all the good it’ll do us. Still, it felt good to destroy them. My mind had started to build them up as an unstoppable force against which our efforts would be naught. Now I’m reassured that they can be beaten as readily as anything. They’re tough and fast, but we can overcome them.”

“We can beat them, Tyrus. We have magical swords and the cold does not kill us. We are only two hundred and fifty men. I have a feeling that even a hundred thousand like us would not be enough to defeat them by force of arms.”

“There’s a key somewhere, Jon. There must be. After so many years of the Emperor’s rule they have come now and there has to be a reason. If only we could find it.”

“Or there could be twenty thousand miles of tundra to the north of the mountains and these Northmen may have been advancing across it for hundreds of years, finally reaching the Empire.”

“You know that’s not true,” I told him. “The body beneath the tower. The architects of the bridge. The Northmen have populated these lands before and they went away. They are back to reclaim what they had.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said.

I gave him a pat on the back. “And you managed to burn one, eh?”

He cheered up at the reminder. I was sure he’d grown weary of trying and failing against the powerful enemies we’d come up against since we left Blades. “There’s life in the old dog yet.”

“Plenty of life. It will be a great boon if your magic can damage them.”

I spun away, ready to take up my place amongst the men. Their eyes were upon me, waiting for the command to be on our way. I hadn’t taken a single pace when I realised that something was amiss. The fog around us hadn’t got any thicker, but it had become colder with a suddenness that was unexpected. The sun’s light continued to provide its illumination, but it was murkier than it had been only moments before. It was like a heavy cloud had crossed over the sun. I looked upwards and the pale orb was still visible, hovering over us like a watchful god. Then I heard the sound, somewhere away to the north-west. It was faint and distant at first, like the laboured breathing of a dying man as he sucked air into his diseased lungs and expelled it with a rattle. Whatever made this noise was much, much larger than a man.

My mind returned to the memory of the same sound, heard near to the Nightingale town square. The Hangman had fled from it and warned us to do the same. I heard it again, closer this time, as if the creature which produced the noise knew exactly where we were. The fog is our enemy and our enemies’ friend I warned myself.

The others around me were aware of the noise and I sensed they were becoming fidgety. Even the hardest soldier doesn’t like to face the unknown if he can avoid it. I raised my hand into the air and gave the order to march. I pushed us into a half-run at once. Whatever it was that came, I didn’t want to see it.

27

I’d dallied too long talking with Ploster over the bodies of the dead Northmen and allowed something terrible to find us. We ran along the road, our boots in almost perfect time with each other. I was gripped by the increased coldness. The moisture in the air froze almost the moment it touched my skin and my armour took on a crystalline appearance where the ice coated the metal unevenly. When I flexed my muscles, tiny white flakes tumbled away from me, falling through the air for a brief moment until the man running behind disturbed them and sent them swirling away. I was determined that nothing would slow us, not even the thickening ice. The chill which pursued us would have killed a normal man and as I ran I tried to occupy my mind by questioning if there was any sort of protection that would be proof against the cold. A man wrapped thickly in furs might survive for a time, I thought. I doubted anyone would be able to fight effectively in the amount of clothing they’d need.

After we’d covered two miles. I drew us to a halt and ordered silence. The persistence of the cold should have given me the answer I wanted without having to stop. Sure enough, the sound of bellows was there, not too near, yet not too far. I swore under my breath and ordered a resumption of the run.

I wasn’t quite sure what happened to the road. One moment it was there, the next we’d left it behind and found ourselves running across frost-rimed grass. It crunched underfoot and the crystals of ice bloomed into the air, joining with the glittering shower that fell from our skin and armour. At one point, I reached up to my face and discovered that my eyebrows had become thick with ice and my hair felt peculiarly brittle.

“It’s coming!” shouted Eagle, a few ranks behind me. I looked over my shoulder, trying hard not to lose my footing on the uneven ground. I couldn’t see anything, nor hear anything over the noise of our headlong flight. Nonetheless, I knew Eagle had superb eyesight and I was willing to believe what he’d said.

We covered another hundred yards before a different man called that he’d seen something. I looked again – many of the others were doing the same and we’d started to become ragged. I shouted a stern command and they looked to the front again, falling back into step with the others. This time I’d seen something too. There was shape in the fog – something massive – and it loomed above us, coming nearer, its features tantalisingly obscured in the gloom. We’d run as quickly as I dared take us and it wasn’t enough. Whatever came it was determined to catch us and showed no signs that it was going to break off the pursuit. When you’re given no choice about whether or not a confrontation will happen, you have to try your hardest to take the initiative.

I shouted to Craddock what I intended and he acknowledged. We barked orders and the Cohort stopped running, and swung around in a wide line across the path of our enemy. Instead of a column six wide, we were now a line six ranks deep. We had our shields ready and our spears outwards. When I saw more details of our foe, I doubted that the spears would be any more use than a wooden sword against it. Even our swords would be puny.

I heard muttered oaths and curses sweep through our lines and I ordered quiet. In the fog, our pursuer had also stopped and it studied us from a distance of fifteen yards. I wasn’t surprised by what I saw – after all, there seemed to be hardly anything left in the world that wasn’t rotten, corrupt or worse.

It was almost as tall as the Hungerer and almost as broad. A twenty-five-feet tall corpse in patchwork armour. The hilt of a sword protruded over the shoulder, where it was held in a scabbard at its back. The bone-coloured hilt was six feet long and I guessed the blade itself might be another twelve – a monstrous weapon of destruction against which our shields would do nothing. Its face was ruined and almost gone. There were no eyes, just two deep sockets which I had no doubt could see us perfectly. It wore no helmet and lank grey hair hung down around its face, somehow free of the frost that clung to ours. The creature’s skull was almost human. It had a heavier, lower brow and the teeth that remained embedded in its jawbone were much larger in comparison and with sharp edges, as though it had been designed to eat meat. Whatever it was, I knew it had never been alive – this creature had been made. Constructed for a purpose that I had no knowledge of.

As it stood there, its barrel chest heaved with laboured motion. Each rise and fall lifted the rusted metal breastplate it wore up and down with the rhythm. It wasn’t breathing, since it wasn’t alive to breathe. Cold fog poured off it, each of the rasping sounds sending out another wave of the freezing air. It looked almost as if it were smouldering with flame, only instead of smoke coming from its skin it was the fog that billowed away, rolling off in clouds. I didn’t want to think about how many men I’d lose in the fighting.

“How did one of these bastards stay hidden in Nightingale?” asked Ploster in a whisper. I didn’t answer and I could feel him gathering himself up for an attack, for all the good it would likely do.

The moments become seconds and the seconds stretched to nearly a full minute. Still it remained motionless. Then it reached up with one arm, slowly and deliberately. The skeletal hand at the end of the arm was far more bone than it was flesh, a mixture of putrefying colours – greys and greens with dull yellow bones. It slid out the sword without haste. The blade whispered free. It was notched and dull but it didn’t need a sharp edge. The creature took a single step towards us and swung the blade with effortless ease – a taunting practise swing that cut through the fog and left eddying patterns behind it.

I opened my mouth to give the command to attack. Against this creature I had no idea how we’d fare. Before the words left my lips, the air was lit up with an unexpected detonation of flame. A fire so hot that it was the purest of whites encircled our foe. I shielded my eyes and almost at once a wall of heat roared amongst us. There was a furious hissing sound as water was turned into blistering hot steam and the men in the front ranks had to huddle behind their shields to escape as best they could. The flames faded to an orange and amongst them I saw the huge silhouette of the creature, with its hands raised in pointless defence as the magic stripped away the few shreds of flesh which remained on its bones.

There was other movement – a man on a horse with a wide-brimmed hat had come from somewhere. He waited between us and the giant, calm and ready. Smoke – the real smoke of fire – snaked lazily into the air, mixing with the fog.

“Captain Charing, I suggest you run,” said Rak Ashor. I heard the longing again, as if he yearned to unleash something that even he dared not. The flames around the Northman winked out and the giant skull looked directly at the man on the horse.

I took the advice. There was no time to form a column, so each man did an about-face. In our line, we raced away from the Pyromancer and the foe that he’d made his own. We’d not even covered twenty yards when there was another discharge. The light of the fire cut through the fog, casting peculiar other-worldly shadows upon our surroundings. After two hundred yards, I looked back. Orange contrasted sharply against the grey and there was a huge, dark shape moving within the light. I saw the vast sword lift into the air and then it was as if the world itself became flame. Something ignited and fire bloomed into violent light for a hundred yards to the left and right of its source. It roiled towards us, the outer edges reaching us, but not hot enough to burn. Steam followed, sizzling and crackling as if the water droplets had been forced to expand too quickly. Hot air tore at our flesh again, melting new ice and heating the metal of our armour until it was warm to the touch.

“Shit,” I heard Ploster mutter next to me in admiration.

The Pyromancer’s conflagration faded away. I imagined the reluctance of the fires to disperse and indeed they seemed to maintain their grasp on existence for longer than it should have been possible. The fog returned, sweeping in to fill the space from which it had been expelled.

We rearranged into a column, which was a formation much better suited to speed. Away we went, across the grass and frozen mud. After a mile, I held us up for a moment while I listened to see if we were pursued. There was no sound bar the ones we made. The fog was still cold, but had lost the sharp bite that would make it fatal to the living. I was wary about slowing down, so kept us going in case there were any more of those creatures concealed from our sight. I was also sure there were plenty more of the other Northmen here and it seemed like they could detect us without needing to see or hear where we were. Or perhaps I was worrying over nothing and the two encounters we’d had so far were down to bad luck.

We travelled a difficult ten miles to the north. Deprived of sight, it was impossible to choose the most suitable route and for the last five miles, we walked over barren soil littered with loose stones that made it treacherous to run. Then, without warning we broke free of the fog. One moment it was all around, as thick as it had ever been. Next, it was gone, left entirely behind us like a solid wall of grey. The sky was thick with cloud and the sun was already setting, but the light and the scant warmth were a great welcome to us.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a cloudy day,” said Beamer.

“Yeah. I hope we never see that fog again,” said Weevil. A man is free to express his hopes even when he knows they will not come to fruition.

We had emerged onto a rock-strewn hillside, covered in scrubby grass and with a few stunted, gnarly trees. The landscape would only get harsher as we went north and I doubted we’d see anything lusher over the coming months. There was a narrow road at the bottom of the hill – we might have been within three hundred yards of it for the last ten miles. We made our way to it, cutting diagonally down the slope towards the north. I allowed a pause for a minute while we checked our gear. Most of the men spent the time looking to the south at the bank of fog behind us. It was vast and reached several hundred yards into the air, and spread to the east and west as far as the eye could see. From here, it seemed unmoving and solid. The longer you stared, the more your eyes discerned the slight shifting of the greyness.

“It’s moving to the south,” said Ploster. He was right – it was drifting away at something like a walking pace.

“I wonder why so slowly,” I replied. I’d heard many reports of the fog coming upon towns so quickly that the people couldn’t run. It had happened at Angax just that morning.

“They advance quickly, bringing it before them. The fog they leave behind follows slowly.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t of any great importance.

Before we could resume our journey, I noticed something in the receding greyness of the murk. It started as the outline of an odd shape and when it emerged I saw it was the Pyromancer, sat atop his horse as if he were out riding for pleasure. I held us in place until he caught up with us. Neither his demeanour, nor the expression on his rotting face betrayed any sign of emotion.

“What was that creature?” I asked him.

“A construct. Pieces fastened together with magic for a specific purpose. The Northmen have greater tools at their disposal than that one.”

“Did you destroy it?” I asked him.

“If you are asking whether it will resume its pursuit, then the answer is no,” he said. “Shall we proceed? The Emperor is impatient for our return.”

I gave the order and we set off at a fast march. The border was several days north of Angax and I was anxious to cover the distance as soon as possible. The road was rough and its destination unknown. Even so, it was a welcome alternative to the terrain on either side. It meandered only slightly and took us almost directly north. I wasn’t finished speaking to the Pyromancer, so dropped into step with his horse as soon as we’d got up to speed.

“What is it that the Emperor wants to find?” I asked.

He looked at me and I felt like he was sizing me up. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I have never been to the north of the mountains. Not even the Emperor has been there. Nevertheless, he is certain that we will find something of use, otherwise he wouldn’t have risked us on this expedition.”

While I was certain that he’d have risked the First Cohort, I was willing to accept that Malleus wouldn’t want to lose a powerful ally like Rak Ashor if there were no chance of a worthwhile outcome.

“What are the Northmen?” I asked him. “Why have they come now?”

“I have spent most of the last fifty years to the south, Captain Charing,” he said. “The lands of the north are a mystery to me.”

“I hear there is trouble in the south,” I offered.

“There is always something. Men always want what they haven’t got. It drives them to risk their lives in the foolhardiest of causes. The Emperor does not permit his subject to behave with treachery.”

“Jarod Terrax has sensed a weakness. I can’t imagine he would chance his arm if he thought there was no hope for Callian’s rebellion to succeed.”

“Duchess Callian and Baron Vaks. Perhaps the Farseer as well, though he continues to pay lip service to the Emperor.”

I felt a moment’s appreciation that Ashor didn’t speak in hints and riddles. If three of his nobles were against him, the Emperor’s time might truly have come. It made me wonder about the item he’d sent us to look for. Was it something to be used against the Northmen, or was there a wider purpose? Was it the Northmen or his own servants that Malleus thought of as the greater threat? I kept the questions to myself for now. I had no fear about asking the Pyromancer, but I wanted to speak to Ploster about it first, or at least have an opportunity to think about the situation for myself. We marched on.

28

Soon, the fog was nothing more than a memory. The sky remained heavy with cloud and the promise of spring had been replaced with a biting edge to the air. If the Northlands stretched away for many thousands of miles, I could only imagine how harsh and inhospitable it must be. I knew that life had a way of gaining a foothold in the most unlikely of places, yet there was surely no way that there could be any meaningful existence north of Cranmar’s lands. I recalled the many hundreds of subsistence farms and settlements I’d seen within Warmont’s duchy and how I’d hated the idea of living amongst the people who allowed themselves a life no better. There was always an alternative, I kept telling myself.

On the first night out of Angax, we set a camp without fires. We huddled amongst a copse of trees which had defied logic by growing straight and tall from a dry soil which seemed far too shallow to sustain them. We lacked sufficient tents and provisions. I found that I missed the comfort they provided. The men evidently felt the same and the usual ebullient chatter was replaced with a hushed murmuring.

“You’d better get used to it,” I told Weevil. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

“We’ve seen worse and lived through it, Captain,” he said. “I’m sure there’ll be people out here somewhere that we can treat with for supplies. There were sheep just an hour back.”

“Really?” I asked. I hadn’t seen them.

“Grey, they were. Like they’d been specially bred to hide amongst the rocks.”

“If we see some tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do,” I promised. I supposed there must be villages between here and the border. I couldn’t imagine that Angax was the most northern of Cranmar’s settlements.

We rested as best we could. The Pyromancer left his horse a few yards outside our camp and it stood there obediently without needing a tether. It didn’t attempt to feed and nor had I seen it drink. It surely wasn’t a normal horse, though the idea came as no surprise.

In the morning, we were ready to go before first light. I was certain that my own impatience had rubbed off onto the other men. I knew no fatigue and my brain was filled with an urge to move things on as soon as I could. We packed our belongings and emerged from the trees, less than half a mile from the road. There was no sign of fog, no indication that there was anything hostile and, to Weevil’s annoyance, no further sheep. He cursed and complained, until the other men began to raise false alarms and soon, every distant rock or imperfection in the terrain was brought to Weevil’s attention and referred to as a sheep. He tired of the game quickly and stopped his grumbling.

We covered a lot of ground over the course of the morning. The road kept more or less to a series of valleys between hills which themselves were little more than high undulations across the land. Early afternoon came and we discovered what had happened to Cranmar and his men. The hills ended, or at least became lower and lower until they weren’t anything you could call a hill. The land flowed on before us and to the east and west there were seemingly hundreds of miles of unrelenting, rocky desolation. A few miles ahead, there was a moving cloud of blackness, which hung low in the skies.

“Crows,” said Craddock. “I wonder what they’ve found to bring so many of them here.”

There was only ever one thing that brought so many crows and we came upon the slaughter after another two miles. At first, we saw it as piles of dull metal, with the occasional flash of bright cloth. Then, it became clear that we’d found the scene of a massacre.

“Cranmar’s men, by their colours,” said the Pyromancer. “I feared they were gone and here is the proof.” It was odd to hear this expression of regret from one of the death sorcerers – perhaps Ashor had once been a man like these and remembered what it was to have hopes and dreams.

The dead were scattered in heaps, as if they’d been scooped up by a giant shovel and tidied into this one place. The crows took reluctant flight when we approached, their caws threatening us for disturbing their meal. The bodies were paler white than was natural and the dead faces stared outwards, mouths open in screams that would never be heard. There was little sign of blood, even where the crows had been feasting, but the odour of putrefaction swamped us. We couldn’t give in to the smell and the faces of my men were impassive, though I knew they weren’t happy at the scene.

I had Corporal Grief come up to examine the bodies while I accompanied him, along with Lieutenant Craddock.

“Thirty thousand, or more,” I said.

“Thirty-five thousand,” said Craddock firmly.

“You said Cranmar had seventy thousand.”

“That’s if he took them all,” he said. “There weren’t many left in the city.”

“Half his men, killed in this one place.”

We didn’t have to ask where the other half had got to – we’d seen them raised from the dead. They’d rushed the city of Angax, thinning out the numbers before the Northmen themselves could arrive.

“Killed by the cold, Captain,” said Corporal Grief. “Many had their swords drawn, so at least they knew something was coming.” I thanked him and sent him back to his position.

“What a waste,” said Craddock. “What a fucking waste.”

The two of us picked our way through the mounds. They’d all died close to each other, as if they’d clung together for warmth. I looked at their clothing – beneath their armour they wore the thick clothes that were common to these lands. They were proof against the vagaries of a cold spring, but nothing against what the Northmen could bring. I cursed, without knowing precisely what I railed against. At that moment, I lacked the words and the coherent thought.

Rak Ashor dismounted twenty yards behind and edged his way through the bodies towards us. His gaze flicked to the left and the right as he went. He was looking for something. He joined us, not offering a word. Towards the centre of the carnage there was another pile – this one almost twelve feet high and a mixture of men, broken tents, armour and shattered carts.

“Cranmar Sunderer,” said the Pyromancer quietly. He raised a hand and pointed towards one of the bodies. I’d never seen Cranmar before and hadn’t needed to in order to recognize him. At first, he seemed to be half-submerged by the detritus of his ruined camp, with his lower body buried beneath the fallen. By the time I’d clambered to within a few feet of him, I saw that his legs and lower body were gone. There was no blood to be seen, but I could see the ragged edges of the injury he’d suffered. In life, he’d have been a properly big bastard – ten feet tall and with the strength of a hundred. His face was only half-visible and I saw the cruel set of his features. He looked human, though with something bestial within. It made me think that a savage animal had constantly fought for control of his body. Sometimes you only need one look at a person to make a judgement you can rely on. I knew that the world was a better place without Cranmar Sunderer.

I stood over his ruptured torso. Whatever it was that had killed him, the wound wasn’t clean. There were Northmen here. I counted fifteen of them in total, their bodies partially hidden from sight by the pile. Some of them were riven, split in two as if by a single, unstoppable blow. I couldn’t see Cranmar’s axe, but I was certain it was the Emperor’s man who’d caused these wounds.

“He saw off a good number before they got him,” I said. I was sure Cranmar’s soldiers had perished long before he had.

“It wasn’t these undead warriors which killed Cranmar,” said the Pyromancer. “I despised him, but he was perhaps the toughest of all the Emperor’s nobles. He could have stood forever against these weaker Northmen, or at least against so few. He’d have laughed at them as they came.”

“What killed him?” I asked. “It looks like he’s been torn apart.”

“Another thing I don’t know,” said the Pyromancer. “If it could kill the Sunderer, it is not something we should willingly face.”

Above, the crows shrieked and cried ever more insistently. They began to settle on the bodies again, some even swooping towards us to drive us away from their dinner. We left Cranmar’s remains and headed back to the Cohort. Crows descended in great numbers, eager to resume.

“Captain Charing?” It was Rak Ashor. “I too remember what it was like to be a soldier. I have seen a hundred thousand of my fellows die when I have lived. I know what it means. Would you permit me to give the bodies of these men what they deserve? And it will deprive the Northmen of their use.”

I didn’t know why he’d asked – I guess he felt some small affinity with us as he recalled his own past. It must have been something important to him. I nodded and ordered the men away, a hundred yards distant from Cranmar’s defeat. They stared quietly, their eyes fixed on the dead.

Rak Ashor stood at the edge, facing across the battlefield, smoke drifting away in ephemeral wisps. With both arms straight, he raised them upwards and away from his body until he’d formed the shape of a cross. The air had been still before and then it rushed by us, sucked in by the demands of his sorcery. I looked at the fabric that underpinned the world and saw the tens of thousands of distant memories of these men, floating adrift. The Pyromancer was there – a focus of energy that was vast and chaotic. I was not sure if I was mistaken, but I thought I could feel the currents here as well, as if Ashor affected the air in both realms. There was no air and no wind amongst the warp and weft, but I had no better words for the sensation.

The bodies of the dead ignited. From nothing, they burned. Flames climbed fifty feet into the sky and over a hundred yards to either side. With no build-up, nor gathering intensity, they roared and howled, consuming the bodies of the men. The crows died too, without a moment for them to screech out their pain. Seconds later, the heat smashed against us, like the hottest wind driven by a desert tempest. We narrowed our eyes and we watched, each man lost in his thoughts. On the periphery, the Pyromancer stood, his arms still aloft; an unmoving silhouette against the inferno he’d brought into existence.

It lasted for less than a minute. Rak Ashor lowered his arms and turned towards us. He walked to his horse and mounted without a backward glance. The fires continued to burn, their strength already diminished, their fuel almost gone. We made our way around the pyre at a good distance. None of us wanted to experience the smell of burning dead men and crows. The flames were gone completely by the time we’d passed by, leaving thick clouds of greasy smoke, which mercifully we only caught in the faintest of hints.

The rest of the afternoon was a period of sober, reflective quiet for all of us. We knew what defeat looked like – we’d seen it in our enemies time and again. Still, there was something unsettling about seeing such a large number of bodies gathered in one place. They hadn’t needed to die. A commander should have an interest in the lives of his men. I imagined that Cranmar hadn’t cared one bit – he’d led them here and let them die for no reason. The Empire was rotten to the core and I found that I was angry at myself for entertaining fond memories of our time serving Malleus. There was no good in anything he did and I counted myself a fool for thinking there ever might have been.

As afternoon drew to a close, Craddock and I spent our time looking for a suitable place to make camp. We still followed the road, which was becoming wider and better-made the further north we went.

“This was built from the north to the south,” said Craddock, reaching the conclusion before I could.

“It looks old,” I said.

“There’s much we don’t know about the world, Captain.”

“That there is. It bothers me sometimes. If I allow myself to think on it too long.”

“We’re looking for the ruins of a city, you said. There was life here long before the Emperor. I wonder what the land would look like if we could turn the clock back ten thousand years. Would there be great cities that have fallen to dust? Or would there be nothing?”

“If we had the answers to these questions, we would know what the Northmen want, Lieutenant Craddock.” It was Ashor, come close to listen to our words.

We camped near to a shallow river, which worked its way through the arid rocks. It was wide and had formed a dozen separate channels which split and reformed endlessly, carrying the water on this leg of its endless journey. The sound was pleasing to the ears and many of us sat along the edges, looking for stones to skip across the surface or to throw carelessly into the water. These are the simple diversions that you never tire of, no matter how long you live. We had a few small campfires, partially hidden by the walls of our motley collection of tents. There were a few men around them and there’d be many more once the night-time hours became sufficiently advanced. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation and spent my time examining the ever-changing distortions of the moon’s reflection on the river’s surface. I’m sure my mind was thinking of something, though I wasn’t quite sure what it was. I became aware of a commotion, to the south side of the camp, on the other side of the river. There were excited shouts and a few men had gathered. I thought I heard the mention of a name – one I hadn’t expected to hear.

I got to my feet and walked towards the cluster of men. There were at least thirty people, laughing and talking excitedly. Above them loomed another, bigger and taller than the rest. I pushed my way through, hearing the voice I’d never thought I’d hear again. And there he was, as large as life and twice as ugly.

“Harry Sinnar,” I said, taking him in a bear hug and lifting him from his feet.

29

The excitement took some time to settle. It had become depressingly familiar to lose our friends, so it was a great boon to find someone we’d thought dead returning to our ranks. Eventually, the chatter died away and I was able to get time to speak to Sinnar. We were at a camp fire sitting in a circle, with Craddock, Ploster and a few others. I was still in a state of disbelief and shook Sinnar’s hand again, as if to reassure myself that I wasn’t imagining his presence.

“I got lucky,” he began. “The Hungerer wanted to fight all the way to the end and that chasm goes down a long way. He kept a hold of me and hit me a few times. He was a strong bastard and I thought he was going to knock me out. I didn’t want him to have the pleasure of killing me – I’d wanted to be broken on the floor of the gorge. That was my pride talking at least. I remember getting my sword out and then I saw the ground coming towards me. He was still holding on to me and then it all went black. I woke up and it was night time. The Hungerer was dead, with my sword through his chest. I can only imagine I landed on him and he broke my fall, and I somehow managed to get my blade through his heart. I don’t know how many bones I had broken. Nearly all of my ribs, I reckon and there was definitely something wrong with my skull and one of my arms.” He lifted his left arm up and waved it around.

I looked closely – I hadn’t seen it before. I was no surgeon, but it looked like the bone had been broken in two or three places and set badly. “We’ll have to get Grief and Slicer to break it and set it again,” I told him.

“Aye, it doesn’t feel too strong at the moment. I tried to stretch it and press the bones into place. Whatever I did, it didn’t work too well. I’ll have a word with the good corporal later tonight.” He laughed in genuine humour. It was the sound of a man still surprised to find himself alive.

“How did you find us?” asked Ploster. “We’ve covered a lot of ground since the bridge.”

“There was no nearby way out of the chasm. I remember hearing it ended somewhere near Tibulon. Luckily, there was nothing wrong with my legs. At least nothing that slowed me down. I walked for hundreds of miles and eventually the ground sloped up. Just like that, the canyon ended. I thought I might get asked too many questions in Tibulon, so I didn’t go looking for it. I got someone to point me towards Angax and every time I saw someone new, I asked them as well. By the time I got to the city, it was filled with fog.”

“The Northmen came, just before we left. I fear they will have killed everyone,” I told him.

“It wasn’t easy to get through unseen. I had to kill a few of their risen soldiers. I’m glad they fight without teamwork or reason. I found my way to the keep – it was locked up tight, so I tried the barracks nearby. There were a few old boys hiding in the cellar, waiting for death to come. They told me you’d gone north.”

I didn’t know how they’d discovered this. Soldiers always talked, so I wasn’t exactly confounded by the fact that they’d been able to direct Sinnar onto our trail.

“You were lucky to get through the fog,” said Craddock. “We have the Pyromancer with us and we needed his assistance to come through without losses.”

“The Pyromancer? Well, he’s helped us up till now. I suppose I should forgive him for the time he buried us in Gold.”

“He killed many of us in Gold,” said Ploster quietly. We all knew that Sinnar was making a joke, albeit not the best one.

“Aye, I know that Jon,” said Sinnar. “We have faced men as enemies before and then later called them friends. It’s not always the right thing to hold a grudge.”

“Indeed not,” said Ploster.

“You’ve heard my tale, barring the details. Here I am,” said Sinnar.

“The Captain’s promoted Sense to lieutenant,” said Craddock, with an admirably straight face. “You’re now just Sinnar, unless you can work your way back through the ranks.”

Craddock almost had him. I watched the uncertainty appear on Sinnar’s face, before it vanished as if it had never been. He laughed and spoke a number of oaths.

“You’d best go and see Corporal Grief, Lieutenant Sinnar,” I said with a wink. “We’ve been sent on a mission for the Emperor. North, a thousand miles. The prize is five years for our lady.”

Sinnar climbed to his feet and I could see that his twisted arm hampered him more than he wanted to let on. “I’m sure if Malleus is involved, the journey and the destination will conceal a million hazards.”

“That they will,” I told him. “I’ll fill you in on the details later.”

Sinnar walked away to find the company’s surgeon. Although we didn’t feel pain as much as we used to, it was something we could sense like it was hidden behind a thick veil. It would still be greatly unpleasant for Sinnar to have his arm broken several times, in order that it could be properly set. I didn’t even know if it could be done with enough accuracy to return his arm to its original state. I kept my fingers crossed that Grief would be able to perform one of his miracles. Around the campfire, many of the men were grinning.

“It’s good to have him back,” said Ploster, speaking for everyone.

“We’d have missed him in more ways than one,” I said, speaking honestly. There was no one this side of Bonecruncher who could force a soldier to hold a line better than Sinnar. He’d made the difference on more than one occasion and the whole unit would benefit from his return. I also valued his perspective and his thoughts on a wide variety of subjects, not all of them relating to killing other soldiers.

The next day we rose with renewed vigour. Sinnar’s return represented something bigger than just the man himself. His reappearance spoke of hope and the possibility that even death itself could forgive us – as though we were death’s chosen, destined to defy the odds and somehow triumph over whatever we faced. Even if it was a fanciful notion, it was a good one and I clung onto it tightly. I went to see Sinnar before we broke camp. He looked distinctly pale and his arm was tightly bandaged to a splint.

“Corporal Grief treated you well?” I asked, as if to suggest it wasn’t a guarantee.

“Bloody butcher he is,” said Sinnar, his voice unmistakeably weaker than normal.

“If you want us to carry you, I’ll understand,” I said, struggling to hold away the smile.

He didn’t bother to grace me with a reply and stormed away, muttering loudly to himself about the state of my captaincy. I was glad he still had enough energy to respond to the banter. A few minutes later I spoke to Corporal Grief, who told me that he’d had to make a number of incisions in order to ensure the breakages were as clean as possible. It sounded like a messy business, but he didn’t seem overly alarmed at Sinnar’s prospects of a recovery.

The next few days had little variation. We broke camp, we marched north along the road and we stopped for the night. The scenery was oddly disheartening, made up as it was of parched earth and wiry vegetation. We did see rain, so I was left unsure as to why the land was so infertile. Perhaps it was a combination of poor soil and harsh winters. The land was mostly flat around us, with the occasional lone hill or distant crag to break up the monotony. There was no wildlife and we didn’t see any other people living here. With so little to catch the eye, I spent much time lost in thought, or talking to the men. The good spirits remained – we had far too much experience to let a brooding landscape dampen our mood. Having said that, I’m sure a period of relentless rain and wind would have set the men off to griping.

The road entered a town which seemed too large to be way out here, miles from anywhere else. I sent Eyeball ahead like I usually did and he came back to report it was deserted.

“There’s not a person there, Captain,” he said. “I looked in a few houses.”

“It’s not like Nightingale?” I asked.

“Perhaps, if someone’s gone to the trouble of hiding all the dead,” he said. “If so, I didn’t see any.”

We entered the place with caution. Craddock didn’t know the name of the town, but the Pyromancer told us it was called Tolfirth. I thought he looked troubled at the news that it was empty. Eyeball’s impression of the town was correct – there was no one living within its boundaries at all. Like a man scratching at a half-healed scab, we searched houses and shops, determined to locate a sign that someone or something still lived there. Part of me knew it was stupid – the only thing we were likely to find was more of the dead. One of the men did find some bodies – a couple of mangy hounds had keeled over in a dirty alley. Other than that, there was no one.

“How many lived here, do you think?” I asked Craddock.

“Forty or fifty thousand,” he said.

“I agree. A lot of people to vanish without a trace.”

“I don’t like it,” he said. None of us did.

The longer we stayed in Tolfirth, the greater the sense of foreboding we felt. I found myself worrying that fifty thousand men, women and children were hiding somewhere we couldn’t find, waiting to hurl themselves at our swords and shields. I ordered us to take the camping equipment we needed from a couple of the general stores. We also took supplies in the form of food and a small quantity of spirits from one of the taverns. The fruit and vegetables had perished, but there was plenty of preserved meat and travelling biscuits for us. I was left with the impression that whatever had befallen Tolfirth had happened within the last two weeks. I fervently hoped that the citizens of the town had got wind of the Northmen and had simply fled elsewhere.

The next day, we crossed the northern border of the Empire and entered the Northlands. It was only the second time I could remember leaving the Empire and the last time had been in the company of the sorcerer Dag’Vosh, as he hunted for the Saviour. I didn’t feel any change, not that I would have expected to. We could see the mountains in the distance and when the air was clear, could make out what looked like a shrouding haze over their snow-laden sides.

“This is the same range that we saw from the Northdown Moors?” I asked Craddock.

“The very same,” he said.

“They must stretch for thousands of miles unbroken,” I said.

“They go all the way from the eastern to the western coast” he replied. “It’s like they’ve been placed there purposefully, to stop anyone making the journey we’re about to.”

Through a peculiar trick of light and distance, the mountains came no closer over the next three days. The road had continued through Tolfirth, unswerving from its direct heading to the north. It seemed like it was taking us to a place only it knew and I idly wondered if we could rely on it all the way to our destination. I would be sorry when it ended, since it added a good ten miles onto our daily progress.

On the fourth day, the mountains grew before us. It was like they’d been running from us up until now and they’d finally decided that they couldn’t escape our pursuit. I looked up at the magnificent and terrifying peaks, which rose thousands of feet into the air. The sky was a pristine blue above them and the haze we’d seen before was now clearly visible as a fog which clung to the slopes. I didn’t know what to expect from it. If it was an indication that the Northmen lived there, I had no idea how we’d be able to fight our way through.

I called a halt when we neared the foothills, so that I could study the land ahead. The Pyromancer trotted across on his horse to speak to me. “The mountains will be treacherous. I have heard there may be routes through.”

“Do you know the way?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he replied enigmatically. “If the Northmen do not block my attempts to scry them out. Do not forget that I have not been across these mountains either.”

He left me there, staring towards the rocky foothills as I tried to forge my way into the future using willpower and nothing else. All I could see was the unknown. I had faced that enemy before on many occasions, but this time my foes were unlike anything I had come across before – they were powerful, malevolent and utterly different. Around me, I saw an expression on each man’s face, repeated throughout the whole of the Cohort – it was a determination to stand toe-to-toe with the Northmen and see who flinched first.

I shouted the order to march and on we went. It may be that the Northlands would see us destroyed, but I was certain of one thing – there’d be nothing that would break our resolve.

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Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29