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 en
ough 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.
Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3) Page 15
