Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3)

by M. R. Anthony

  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 questio
ns 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.