Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3)

by M. R. Anthony

  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.