An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  Kefier glanced at the map. “They must have taken different routes. One of them must’ve taken the more perilous road through the cliffs…”

  “It doesn’t matter how they got here!” Sthura hissed. “What matters is that both got directed to this camp! That means disorder, problems we didn’t anticipate!”

  “Can’t we intercept one, send them to Robaz’s?” Caiso asked.

  Kefier grinned. “Tempting…”

  “Captain Robaz’s camp is three hours west of here,” Sthura said, looking far from amused. “I daresay whatever noble we send out there would not appreciate it after days on the road. Less so, when they realize why.”

  “Ab, I hate it when you make sense,” Kefier grumbled. “Did your scout say how long we’ve got?”

  “Not very long,” Sthura said.

  Caiso sighed. “Isobel. You should’ve slept with the bitch when you had the chance.”

  “Serious suggestions would be much appreciated right now.”

  “That was one!”

  “How the fuck was it supposed to be?”

  “I…I think I’m going to send escorts to meet them both,” Eswenna broke in.

  “Thank you,” Kefier said. She looked relieved as she saluted and slunk off.

  “Maybe you should join one of those escorts,” Caiso said. “Go join the one meeting Lady Dahrias. I am serious, this time. You can break the news to her. I’ll take care of Lord Beeching. I think if it was Sthura she would just piss him off.”

  Sthura glowered at him. “If I cared to hear your opinion, I would ask it.”

  “Weren’t you paying attention to all the other times I’ve given it, bitch?”

  Kefier held out his hand. “We can tell them about the other, but I don’t think their armies need to mingle just yet. From the numbers they’re bringing in, we’re not going to have room for them in this clearing, anyway. We can have one set up camp higher up on the hill, and the other one across the stream, and then we can discuss the idea of a truce between them for the length of this campaign—if the King hasn’t tried for one already.”

  “A prudent suggestion,” Sthura said. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

  Caiso opened his mouth.

  “I’m going to leave before she changes her mind,” Kefier said. He ducked through the tent flap.

  Storri was waiting for him near the exercise grounds. Abel was tied to a flimsy-looking post, which didn’t seem to matter as it didn’t look like he wanted to fight or escape. “Have you decided what to do with him?” Storri asked.

  “More important things came up,” Kefier said. “But I think I have. We’ll let him go.”

  “What did you just say?”

  “I said, we’re going to cut through his ropes and set him free.”

  Storri stood there, staring at him. “He almost got you and Ailat killed.”

  “It says a lot that he failed and didn’t try again.” Kefier looked at Abel, who was trying his hardest not to appear interested in the conversation. “Abel,” he said.

  “What, toske?”

  “Who told you about me?”

  Abel didn’t reply, although his eyes remained angry. The hesitation was enough to confirm Kefier’s suspicions. “I’m willing to bet it was the man who burned down your farm, wasn’t it? Kastor rog-Bannal. I thought there was a reason why you waited until you could report me to the Dageians. If revenge was your only goal, you would’ve made an attempt on me that first night. No, I think he paid or promised to pay you to somehow hand me over to the Dageians. Just your luck that we were just about to walk up to their gates.” He walked up to him, pulling his dagger out. Abel flinched, but all Kefier did was to strike at the cord around his wrists.

  Abel pulled back, the rope falling to the ground at his feet. “Ailat said I have to try living past my guilt,” Kefier explained, though he wasn’t sure why.

  Storri looked amused. “She did?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry for your brother, Abel. I am. And I’m sorry for the farmhouse. I’ll tell you this much. The Boarshind pays well, if you’re loyal and you know how to keep your wits about you. I’ve got things I have to do right now. You can ride with me, or you can ride out, and never return again. I’m glad you didn’t try to kill me, because I wouldn’t have liked killing Camden’s brother.” Kefier pulled his hand out. “What’s it going to be?”

  Abel paused, taking a deep breath. He took Kefier’s hand. “But I’m not about to go about licking your boots, toske,” he said. “Just so you’re knowing.”

  “I go by Commander around here. You don’t want the other officers hearing you.”

  “All right, Commander Toske.”

  “Cheeky bastard, isn’t he?” Storri snorted. “You sure you can trust him?”

  “Let me tell him all about Captain Caiso first,” Kefier said. “And then we’ll see.”

  To say that Lady Isobel Dahrias was upset over the news that her neighbour and enemy’s army—though she did not use that word—was within an hour’s ride from her—would have been to call an avalanche a mere snowfall. Seeing the expression of outrage in her face reminded Kefier of how out of place he was in these circumstances. Could you have found someone else, Yn Garr? Another man, more qualified? Let me go back and look after Rosha. Let me switch places with the kennel boy.

  “I understand why you’d feel this way,” Kefier said, watching his words. “We didn’t anticipate it ourselves. Sthura was just as angry.”

  “No, she couldn’t have been. Has he done to her family what he did to ours?” She glanced at her men through gritted teeth. They had already broken camp; Kefier had only told her the news after he had led them to the site.

  “I’ve asked Captain Caiso to bring Lord Beeching back to the main camp,” Kefier said. “Come with me. We’ll talk.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried that before? Even with the King’s intervention, his family remains stubborn and tight-lipped.”

  “He’s here now. Unless he wants to turn back, he has no choice but to meet with you.”

  “You are a confusing man, Commander,” Isobel said, drawing her hood over her head. “Lead me to him.”

  He clicked his tongue. Together, they rode back to the main encampment, just in time to watch the sun set over the treetops. Soldiers came forward to take their horses as they dismounted under the dying light. Caiso was standing by the main pavilion as they arrived.

  “My Lady Dahrias,” Caiso said, taking her hand to kiss it. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Caiso apn Willen.”

  Isobel looked up. “Apn Willen?” she asked. “Lord Willen’s son?”

  Caiso smiled, pressing a finger against his lips. “I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Yohak knows, they’ll rather you didn’t. Pick your jaw up from the floor, Commander—I might step on it.”

  “You’re a noble,” Kefier said.

  “And look where it got me. My family is one of those abstaining from this campaign. I’m not sure how the King will deal with it—my father has about ten men and less than two hundred oxen square of land to his name.” He flashed Isobel a smile.

  Isobel didn’t return the expression. “I think that if we are all being required to do this…”

  “I won’t argue with you on the specifics. There is more than one reason I stepped out of that life.” Caiso snapped his fingers. “If you will proceed this way, my lady, I believe Lord Beeching is already waiting for us.”

  “Pox on that man. He can wait a little longer.” But Isobel stepped through the flap, anyway. Kefier followed behind Caiso, who seemed smug now that his secret was out in the open. How long had he been waiting to reveal that information?

  Tarron Beeching was looking at the map when they arrived. A young, brown-haired man, he looked like he was barely past his teens. He didn’t turn, even after he heard their footsteps. “I am disappointed that His Majesty would stoop this low,” he said, toying with one of the figures on the table. “Forcing his lords to ride and interact with…filth.”
At the word, he looked up and focused his eyes on Isobel.

  “You go too far,” Isobel growled.

  “As I explained to you, Lord Beeching, the purpose of this meeting is to avoid such harsh exchanges between you two,” Caiso said. Kefier wondered if he was being courteous on purpose now, or whether his aristocratic breeding was simply rising to the surface now that he was among his kind.

  “It is impossible to avoid harsh exchanges when I’m dealing with Lady Isobel Dahrias,” Tarron said, his tone dripping with venom as he emphasized her title. “This whore tried to have my father killed. She would not even deny it. Had I not been in his room myself that night…”

  “Your father, Lord Tarron Beeching, is a liar and a thief,” Isobel retorted.

  Tarron’s hand dropped to his sword. “Were you not a woman, I would’ve struck you where you stand.”

  “Why not? Afraid I’ll beat you? Come, little whelp. Let me show you what a woman can do. From the lack of hair on your lips, it looks like you have no idea.”

  “Oh, fuck,” Caiso murmured under his breath.

  Tarron turned the table to its side, kicking it away as he drew his sword. Isobel laughed, drawing hers. They circled the pavilion.

  “Lady Isobel, this isn’t the time or place,” Kefier said, trying to look for an opening to get close to her.

  “You may think so, Commander, but there’s always a time and place to stick a blade into a Beeching’s liver,” Isobel replied, warning him to stay back with her blade before she turned to make an experimental slash towards Tarron.

  “You can both hear this, can’t you? This is murder!” Tarron cried, jumping back and blocking with his sword.

  Isobel laughed. “This is a duel, Lord Beeching. You drew your sword first.”

  “You goaded me into it. These two can testify. Kill me now, and you’ll hang!” As if she didn’t hear his words, she lunged. He parried, weakly. The tip of her blade went into his gullet. He tried to speak, and she twisted it.

  Blood spurted out of the young man’s mouth. Isobel pulled back. Tarron’s body dropped to the ground.

  Behind him, Kefier heard Caiso mutter shit several times.

  “He drew his sword first,” Isobel said, wiping her blade on her leg. Her eyes were fierce, daring them to defy her.

  “What the fuck are you planning to tell his men?” Kefier managed to say.

  “That their lord was an uncouth, hotheaded coward who didn’t think twice about drawing his sword during a negotiation? You saw.”

  “I don’t know what I saw, but I certainly didn’t see any negotiations going on,” Kefier said in a low voice.

  Isobel smiled at him. “What’s the matter, Commander? See something you didn’t like?” She coyly stepped towards him, her purring a stark contrast to the viciousness with which she just killed Tarron with. She pursed her lips, drawing the hilt of her blade across his cheek. “I’m so, very, sorry. How could I ever make it up to you?”

  A piercing scream erupted from the distance.

  “This day just keeps getting better and better,” Caiso groaned as Kefier pushed Isobel aside. Stepping over Tarron’s body, Kefier rushed from the tent, just as the cries multiplied into a commotion that filled the evening sky.

  A dark figure appeared from around the corner, several paces away. Between the spaces of Kefier’s panicked mind, he saw that the creature was so gaunt it looked almost like a skeleton, loosely bound by strips of rotting flesh. It lunged for a soldier standing nearby and bit into his neck. Blood gushed from the dying man as the creature tore deeper into his flesh.

  Kefier heard Caiso utter something under his breath. He reacted then, pulling his sword and rushing for the creature. It was too distracted by its prey to notice him. The smell of fresh rot exploded into the air as his blade bit into its shrunken flesh. “Behind you, Kefier!” Caiso called, and he turned in time to meet another headed for him. His blade struck its neck. Its head flew off, landing a few paces away. Yellow, putrid eyeballs rolled towards him, staring as if they could still see. Its mouth continued to bite the air.

  He soon found himself fighting beside Caiso, struggling to keep alive against the onslaught of creatures that seemed to be coming out of nowhere. Here and there, they would see a soldier running for his life before being brought down, like deer set upon by wolves.

  “This whole thing reeks of necromancy,” Caiso grumbled. He had one hand wrapped around his neck, as if somehow that would be enough to shield him if he slipped and fell. “Literally,” he added, pulling back to show the slime and bits of flesh clinging to his sleeves.

  Kefier stepped aside, falling another creature to add to the growing heap of bodies around them. “There’s fresh dirt on some of these things,” he said, pushing the dying thing with his sword. “They’re not agan-wrought.”

  “You know I’m not familiar with the jargon. What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I don’t…I don’t know. Just something Rosha explained to me once. You can make things using the agan, and…fuck you and your mother!” Kefier slammed his sword into another creature. “They’re not stopping! They’re…” He paused, watching a creature claw its way from under the soil before him. Unlike the others, which had come from the woods, this one had bits of tattered clothing attached to its withered frame.

  Kefier swallowed. “I think we camped under a graveyard, Caiso.”

  “Brilliant. Let me guess, Sthura’s fucking idea?”

  “Let’s hope she makes her way out of this alive so we can yell at her later. Maybe we can fight our way up to the hill.”

  “Easy enough. You should’ve thought of it earlier.” Caiso slashed at the closest one and started running.

  The further away from the camp they were, the less of the creatures appeared. Kefier caught his breath, just as the first signs of exhaustion crept along his arms. He noticed a handful of other soldiers had made it up to the hill ahead, Sthura among them.

  She looked unfazed, although there was a streak of blood—probably not hers—on her cheek and along her robes. “I had expected something like this, but not so soon,” she said. “I’m guessing you only have your pet to blame. If the boy hadn’t alerted the enemy...”

  “You mean this is Dageian handiwork?” Caiso gasped. “By Agartes’ balls, I had imagined the worst, but I really didn’t think they were capable of such power. Fuck me for being so naïve. And fuck you, by the way, for not warning us. I was almost sure this was what we were paying you for.”

  “How was I supposed to know they would choose this method of attack?” Sthura asked. “Choosing to unearth the dead is…not a common Dageian battle technique. At least, not from the wars I’ve studied.”

  “They took advantage, that’s all it is,” Kefier said. “It’s not every day you camp on top of Gorenten ruins.”

  Caiso whistled. “Shit, these were your people?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. These used to be Gorenten lands, and no one’s settled here since Dageis took over.” Kefier took a deep breath. “My guess is there’s one or two mages busy at work where they’re protected from the very things they’re making.”

  Sthura cast a glance higher up the hill. “Up there. That’s what I would do. It has a full view of the camp.”

  Caiso smiled and twirled his sword. “I’ll take care of this one. You sit back and just watch your pretty faces.”

  “They might be dangerous,” Kefier said.

  “All right, Sthura, you sit back and watch your not-so-pretty face. Commander, if you’ll take the lead?”

  They made their way up the patch of trees that blocked the rest of the hill. The sun was all but gone, by now, but Kefier could make out the shapes of two people sitting at the edge of a rock face. Occasionally, a faint, bluish glow would emanate around them.

  He tapped Caiso’s shoulder, who nodded. Caiso edged closer to the hillside, while Kefier took the long, winding route straight through the trees. He moved as quietly as he could, but from the way the
two mages were concentrating on their spell, they would not have noticed even if he came rushing at them like an enraged bull. He pulled his sword out and waited until he could see Caiso on the other side.

  Kefier signalled the mage closest to Caiso. Caiso nodded. Pressing the ground with one hand, Kefier turned to the other one. He waited two breaths before launching himself.

  In the space of a few more breaths, Kefier found himself half-strangling a kicking, screaming man. His arm pulsed with blood from where the Dageian had struck him with a dagger. Swearing, he turned to look at Caiso, whose target lay splayed in a heap downhill.

  “We’re keeping this one alive.” Kefier knocked the dagger out of the man’s hand. Caiso leaped towards them and pressed his blade against the wheezing mage.

  “Are there more of you?” Caiso asked.

  The mage shook his head.

  Kefier relaxed his arm, allowing the man some air. “More in the fort,” he murmured. “Mercy, please. I was just obeying orders.”

  “Keep him alive,” Kefier said. “He could tell us things.”

  “You think you would’ve learned your lesson by now,” Caiso spat, sticking the blade into the man.

  Kefier tried to pull him away, but it was too late. He turned to Caiso. “He could’ve…”

  “Tried to kill us, led us astray, alerted his fellows—any number of things. Put me on fucking inquiry if you want. I’m not in the mood for this right now.” Caiso sheathed his sword and gave him a look. “Those things are still down there, killing our men. Do I have to fucking knock your head in too? Or are you still sound enough to lead us?”

  Kefier wiped his mouth. “Of course I am.”

  “Then let’s go. The night has just begun.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Enosh remembered nights at sea being less pleasant. Even with the fear of Arn and his griffon appearing from the sky at any moment, he found the sound of the waves lapping against the hull of the boat soothing. It helped that the fisherman, unaware of their predicament, was whistling to himself as he steered the small craft through the current.