The Shadow of All Worlds

by Shane Porteous

  ***

  For the first time since the Sack Swords had formed, the dirt, filth and soot that covered them could be considered an aid. It worked as great camouflage as they had made their way towards Ebulon through the dull dusty mountain landscape. They hadn’t marched like a regular army they had crawled, staying close to the ground, moving like a colony of ants. A colony hungry enough, cold enough and desperate enough to enter the cave of a bear, called Ebulon. Match Head Ged knew this, but like any good commander he had used the desperation as motivation in place of letting it devour his troops.

  The long hard days of training were already showing promise, he was moving an army of just over ten thousand silently across a difficult terrain, few commanders could make such a claim. He hadn’t heard a single rock being pushed out of place or the whisper of a dirt trail being disturbed; they truly were like an army of ants. Beyond this the club that Ged wielded finally felt more comfortable in his hand, more like a man made mace than the clobber stick of an orc. It would never replace the sword he once owned, but he had long accepted that he couldn’t reclaim most of the past. He had kept the morale of his troops, his most important asset in keeping them united, by making them remember all the horrors that these orc weapons had inflicted, how effective they could be in killing humans. Though many were sickened by such memories it gave them trust in the orc weapons most now wielded, another important factor in battle.

  Ged believed as did most under his command that he had chosen the right time to attack. Scouts had informed him that the bulk of the Ebulon army was moving out of the city, the reason didn’t specifically matter. All it meant was a skeleton grew of guards were protecting the city and if he could take it quickly enough before Yadi knew what was happening, ten thousand men were as effective as 50,000 when they had stone walls to work with. Plus they would have proper food, meat that was meant to be consumed and ale. Vaas, the ebulon ale, certainly wasn’t the best brew, but Ged would kill a thousand men just to get a drop of it.

  Being the good leader that he was he had led the crawl, the entire army at his back. He was sure that if the gods were watching his army really would look like ants, but ants that would no longer be insignificant, that would no longer have to crawl. He could already taste the Vaas, and eagerness to take Ebulon erupted inside of him like a volcano.

  But the attack hadn’t begun yet and for good reason. The Sack Swords weren’t alone in wanting the city, Ged could see them, an army dressed in red, marching towards its gates. Amongst their ranks he could see a few men as filthy and dirt covered as the troops he commanded. They didn’t worry him at all, but there were others, strange slumped over creatures, covered in fur and filth. They were easily as monstrous as orcs, but were of a very different darkness. This army didn’t march with uniforms or wield standardized weapons, they were a scavenger army, the similarity between them and the warriors he commanded was an eerie revelation.

  If it had stopped there Ged wouldn’t have been so mesmerized, but there were more than just filthy men and filthy monsters. He could see a handful of females as well, he couldn’t bring himself to call them women. Some possessed flesh, but most were forged from smoke. It wasn’t the kind of smoke that was spawned from a tobacco pipe, it was a far fouler smoke. Seeing them made him think of the orc meat he had survived on within the mountains, he didn’t understand why orc meat turned gray when cooked. Living orcs weren’t gray in colour, but these creatures were. That truth unnerved him slightly, it was rare for Ged to see an army filled with things he had never fought.

  It was easy to spot their leader, she was the only one that rode instead of marched. The horse that carried her was much like its rider, flawless, statuesque and that is what disturbed him the most. If one were to simply know of this woman from a painting they would think of her as nothing more than beautiful. That was the problem, she was too beautiful, even the most radiant women and handsome men had flaws, tiny ones that weren’t noticed if they weren’t sought after. Ged sought such flaws and could see none, even the armor she wore seemed more scalped for a statue than for something living.

  Ged could feel eyes upon him, like chains placed on a prisoner. Even before he turned his head and looked to Uraod, he knew what the man was going to say.

  “That is the Red Army, the one who leads them is the Red Lady.” He spoke in a clear whisper.

  At times, Matchhead Ged had regretted allowing Uraod and Nilt a place in his army. Uraod was a reminder, a ghost of his past. Back when he fought under Droak and the world had possibilities for him, not just practicality. He hadn’t enjoyed keeping Uraod close by his side, but it was necessary, he was concerned that Nilt and Uraod both wouldn’t be able to match the training of the others and a slipped rock could make an awfully big noise. But the truth was Nilt and especially Uraod had taken to the training, more and more Ged believed that Uraod had indeed once been a soldier, a damn good one at that. Uroad had gotten under Ged’s skin before the march had taken place. Ged thought about what Uraod was thinking, how he had carefully reminded him of the Droakins and how the refugees had been too badly terrorized by the Red Army that they willingly marched alongside them now. He knew that Uraod wanted him to order the Sack Swords to attack the army below. Uraod didn’t say anything else, because he didn’t need to. His gaze spoke a thousand words.

  The gaze reminded Ged a lot of the gaze that Droak once possessed, it wasn’t a glare of deceit, just one of caution and careful selection. Often it was easier for men to heed your advice with choice words and not constant hammering or grand speeches, a tactic that Uraod, much like Droak, perfected.