Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2)

by M. R. Anthony

  “They’re good lads,” he said. “If that time comes, they won’t find me standing in their way.”

  I bade him a good night and joined with my men. The farm was remote enough that I’d felt it safe enough to light a couple of roaring fires in order to cook the unfortunate animal that we’d slaughtered. We were in a small field a hundred yards away from the farmer’s cottage, where we’d camped with his blessing after I’d assured him that we wouldn’t frighten his animals. The smell of flesh charring and roasting reached my nostrils, reminding me of good meals I’d had in the open air. The men were crowded around the fires, eagerly watching the meat until they judged it cooked enough to eat. We’d eaten plenty of raw meat in our time, but we liked to cling onto the trappings of civilisation when we had the chance.

  “Put that back in the flame,” said Waxer.

  Bolt looked up, with his hunk of dripping red meat halfway to his mouth. “Mind your own meal, and I’ll mind mine,” he said, biting into the half-raw meat. It was blackened on one side and bloody on the other.

  “It’s got to be cold in the middle,” continued Waxer as if he’d been personally affronted.

  “This is how I like it. And besides, the smell was making my stomach growl.”

  “I can’t remember the last time my stomach growled,” said Grids. “Usually it lies quietly inside me, not caring if I put some food into it or not.”

  “Do you miss the hunger?” I asked.

  “Aye, Captain, sometimes I do. I’d rather not be as hungry as a starving man all the time, like the bad old days on the road when we’d go three or four days between meals, but when your body feels nothing you’ve got nothing to look forward to.”

  “It’s the bread I miss most of all,” said Lamper. “Maybe not even the taste – just the smell. I used to hang around a baker’s shop when I was a tiny young lad, with parents too poor to buy me even a half loaf of stale bread.”

  “A simple man with simple tastes,” said Nods. It wasn’t meant as an insult and Lamper didn’t take it as one.

  “Yeah, the simple things always appealed to me the most,” said Lamper. He also lifted out a piece of skewered, half-done meat and studied it for a while, before taking a bite. “I’d expected it to be tough and leathery,” he said to no one in particular. “And it is. Not bad, all the same.”

  It wasn’t long until we were all sat in silence, chewing on the tough meat, cooked to varying degrees of incompleteness. The farmer had bread, but not enough to spare for twenty-one soldiers, and I hadn’t even bothered trying to bribe it from his larder. After a time, I stood and walked a few yards away to lean against a stone wall. It was too dark to see anything much, but I liked to stare into it nevertheless, letting my imagination dictate what was out there, beyond the extents of my vision. Jon Ploster came over, picking at something between his teeth with a fingernail.

  “The night is peaceful,” he said. “So far from anywhere.”

  “I am not sure I would like to live out here forever,” I replied. “I do not suffer from loneliness when I am in my own company, but I would not like to be confined to my own thoughts for decades on end.”

  “Nor me,” he said. “I prefer to be with the soldiers and on the road. The journey gives me ample time with my thoughts.”

  “Have you looked for the Saviour again?” I asked him.

  “No, I have not,” he admitted. “I am not sure how I managed to reach so far the last time. I fear that if I tried it again I would become permanently separated from my body. It is odd how we can do things in the extremes of circumstances that we could not do at other times.”

  “I have noticed,” I said. “When I am pushed to my limits in battle, it is as though the world around me slows down, giving me greater time to act and to take in my surroundings. It happens to me so often that sometimes I feel that the control of it is almost within my grasp.”

  “That would be a great power indeed,” he said. “The men talk about your sword arm as though it has some magical qualities to it.”

  I chuckled. “Perhaps it has. Though Leerfar showed me up as a bumbling clot with a blade. She was faster than anyone I’ve seen and I would not like to meet her in a situation where I was alone.” I moved the subject back on course. “Do you think you will be able to locate the Saviour once we get to Blades?” I asked. “It is a large city.”

  “I am sure I will be able to find her,” he said. “Though we might need to roam the streets until I can fix upon her location.”

  “It’s been a long time since we were in Blades. I wonder if the Duke’s ministrations have driven it completely to its knees yet. I think we’ll be too easily recognized to do anything during the daytime.”

  “I agree, Tyrus. The capital is unlikely to be a friendly place for visitors. I am curious to know how it looks now.”

  “Soldiers, taverns, more soldiers. War factories churning out swords and armour. The same as it ever was, with the women outnumbering the men by four to one and every mother worried in case the justiciars come knocking on her door.”

  “I am sure your assessment is accurate,” Ploster said sadly. “I have no love for the place and only a few fond memories of it, but it is sad to think that such a thriving hub of life could be reduced to a skeleton of what it once was.”

  “Whatever he does and however many of his subjects he drains, the Duke is slowly dying. I could see it in his face every time I spoke to him. He knows it’s happening and he hates it, but he’ll have every one of his people killed before he lets go. His lands are dying as surely as he is. There’s no new life coming in to replace the old. The men are killed before they can sire children, or they see so little of their wives that their families remain small.”

  “I did not know the Emperor as well as you, Tyrus, but he is not stupid and he ever seeks to increase his power. I cannot imagine that it will achieves his goals if the Duke continues in this manner.”

  “I do not know the Emperor’s relationship with the Duke. He has shown loyalty to his nobles for as long as I can remember and Warmont is one of them. If he did not, that would make him seem fallible, as though he had chosen the wrong man to look after this part of the Empire. Malleus has few weaknesses, but I would say that pride is amongst them.”

  “Let us see how his pride manifests itself when we kill the Duke and the Saviour builds her army.”

  I laughed, though I knew that Ploster had been facetious in what he said. We talked for a little longer, discussing the past, though without sentimentality. The camp fires had died to their embers when I settled down with my solitude. There was the occasional crack from the glowing wood as a few remaining bits of fat on the bones the men had thrown into the flames spat into the night air. The noise was comforting and familiar, reminding us of times where we’d gathered in our camp sites to talk and bond.

  We left our field early the next day. The farmer and his sons were already up and preparing for a day of toil. We didn’t exchange words, but I raised my hand to him and he raised his in return. I was sure I’d never see him again and in my head, I wished him and his sons well. To myself, I admitted my hopes that they’d never see any more soldiers and that they could work out here in peace until whatever would happen to the Duke’s lands had run its course.

  The weather was kind to us for the remainder of the trip and even though we avoided the roads, we made good time. Mid-afternoon on the twenty-ninth day out of Gold, we reached Blades. Or at least, we got close enough to see the place. I didn’t want us to risk entering the city until it was full dark. There was a long wait ahead for the impatient amongst us, and we hid in an old cattle shed until I deemed it was time to go. Now that we were so close to our destination, I could feel a mixture of trepidation and excitement building within me and I strode back and forth in the confines of our hiding place until the men impolitely asked me to sit down. I complied with bad grace, struggling against my desire to act. Soon, I felt, there would be the chance to atone for my recent failings.

>   6

  Blades – the Duke’s capital city ever since he’d first conquered these lands with the Emperor’s help well over two hundred years ago. It sprawled along both sides of the Dracks river, though from where we stood, the river was hidden by the four and five storey houses I knew flanked the watercourse. As you got further away from the river the buildings become mostly two-storey, with a preponderance of single-storey dwellings in the poorer districts.

  The Duke’s keep dominated the view, squatting like a fat, grey slug in the middle of the city, close to the river. From here we could clearly make out the details – the thick stone walls surrounding the square central tower. The top of this tower had a wide viewing area, from which the occupants could look down into the city. There had once been catapults upon the roof, ready to throw balls of flaming pitch. I had occasionally wondered what they were up there for, since the only possible targets they could reach were the surrounding buildings. Whatever their intended purpose, they were no longer visible.

  The city had always been dirty, since it was perfectly situated for mining and quarrying. There were smelters and blacksmiths seemingly in their hundreds, turning out useful products from the metal ores which came in their cart loads from the shafts in the nearby hillsides. I call them useful – in the distant past, Blades had been enlightened and a home to learning and arts. Now, the only things it produced were designed to kill people, or to feed the people who would do the killing.

  We were almost a mile away from the closest buildings and did our best to remain hidden. There were roads leading away from the city in all directions and it had become increasingly difficult to stay out of sight as we’d come closer. The fields here were intensively farmed and we’d followed hedgerows and walls to reduce our exposure to watching eyes. I doubted we’d escaped notice entirely, but it didn’t seem likely that there’d be many informants or spies out here in the fields. Even if there were, we’d have been hard to identify from a distance as soldiers of the First Cohort.

  “When it gets dark, you’ll go with your squads into the city,” I instructed the men from the cover of our ramshackle building. You all know the streets – find a place that you know is safe and use it as a base. I’ve given you coin for lodgings – make sure you don’t spend it all on ale. I’ll be staying upstairs in the Blacksmith’s Arms. If it becomes unsafe there, I’ll move my squad to the Brewer’s Barrel. You know the place, right? I want to see one man from each squad at least once per day as soon as it becomes dark.”

  “Are you sure we’ll be able to find her, Captain?” asked Hacker. “I mean, I know we could feel where the other Saviour was, but what about this new one?”

  “We’re only splitting up because twenty-one men will find it harder to hide than groups of five,” I told him. “In reality I’m expecting Corporal Ploster to be the one who finds her. But it can’t do any harm to have you all out looking at the same time. Blades is a big place and the sooner we can find who we’re looking for, the better.”

  “What if we get caught?” asked Stumble.

  “You won’t get caught, will you?” I asked.

  “No, Captain,” he said hastily. They all knew the city well enough to avoid capture. I’d be greatly displeased if someone gave themselves away, not that I worried that any of them would divulge any secrets, even under torture. Pain wasn’t an effective weapon against us.

  While I was outlining the plans, such as they were, there was a muted shout from the doorway to the shed.

  “Captain! Someone’s watching! He’s running now.” It was Weevil, who I’d set as a watch. He’d been trying to look inconspicuous and innocent by leaning on the wall outside, but had failed quite miserably at both endeavours.

  I ran to the entrance and looked out. Weevil was there, pointing across a field to where a man was fleeing at a quite remarkable speed towards a road leading into the city. A few of the other men came outside to watch.

  “He’s going to make it,” said Finder.

  “Nah, he’s not,” said Leaves.

  “He is – look!” said Grids.

  Finder and Grids were both wrong. Just as it seemed like the spy was going to reach the road, a figure appeared behind him. There was a flash of metal and the man tumbled over, landing in a heap behind a tall hedge and conveniently out of sight of the road traffic. Eyeball didn’t do anything so dramatic as turn to us and raise his hand in triumph. He simply faded from view and returned to his patrol duties. I would have been stupid if I’d relied on just a single watchman, so close to our goal.

  “How’d he find us, Captain?” asked Beamer.

  I shrugged. “The Duke probably has men posted close to all of the roads into the city. We set perimeter guards around our camps, so I’m not surprised to see the Duke does the same. We have to hope that he’s the only one that’s seen us so far. If he isn’t, Warmont could already know that he has unwanted visitors, though our identities might still be unknown.” I certainly didn’t want to be dodging patrols of guardsmen every twenty paces.

  Come the darkness, we set off in our squads, separating immediately and going our different ways. I was going to lead my squad into the Tolls district, where the Blacksmith’s Arms was located. The plan was to establish ourselves in a safe place and then start our search immediately. We’d brought thin black cloaks with us, which we wrapped around our shoulders and drew the hoods up over our heads and as much of our faces as we could manage. We looked unusual, but I preferred that to us looking recognizable. We’d hidden our shields in amongst the dense growth underneath a broad hedge, since they’d likely have drawn as much attention as anything else. Other men in the Duke’s armies used shields, of course, but not many carried items the size of our heavy, square slabs of metal. Our runed weapons came with us, hidden in their scabbards so that they looked like normal swords. It wasn’t as if Blades was a stranger to the presence of soldiers and I hoped we’d look like a group of veterans dressed in our favoured garb.

  I led us directly to the closest road. We passed the body of the man that Eyeball had killed earlier – he was little more than a dark shape, easily overlooked if you didn’t know what had happened. There was a gap in the hedge close by and we squeezed through it and joined the road. It was well-paved and in good repair, with level stone slabs fitted neatly together. We weren’t far from the city and though there was a reasonable amount of traffic, it was perhaps less than I would have expected even given the fact that it was dark. There were carts and wagons, with a few men and women leading the horses. They almost all travelled in small groups, something that didn’t escape our notice. This close to the capital, the roads should have been completely safe, but the people living here showed no signs that they thought them so.

  We kept our heads down and walked briskly, making no conversation amongst ourselves, nor attempting any with the people we passed. We saw no soldiers, which wasn’t surprising. I was sure that the remnants of Leerfar’s army was way behind us and the other soldiers stationed in Blades were unlikely to be outside the city’s boundaries for an evening stroll. They’d be drinking away their wages in the many taverns available to them, waiting for their inevitable next deployment. Warmont’s soldiers did enough walking that they’d not be keen to indulge in more when it wasn’t necessary.

  Blades had no walls - not even inner walls to protect the oldest parts in the centre. In a way, they’d only ever been needed once, and even then, I don’t think they’d have prevented the city being taken. So, we walked inside without being stopped or questioned. As was so often the case, the buildings which were most distant from the centre were inhabited by the poorest people. In Gold, the outskirts had been almost slums. Here in Blades, there was rather more wealth, so the houses looked merely run-down, rather than decrepit. They were also made of stone for the most part, with wood for their doors and glass in their windows.

  “Many of these look unoccupied,” commented Ploster as we turned off the main street onto a much narrower lane. He didn’t n
eed to keep his voice low, since there was enough of a hubbub that our conversation was easily lost – assuming there were any spies about who were interested enough to listen out for it.

  “The population of Blades has been shrinking for over a hundred years,” I said. “From what I remember, there was a boom for a time after the Duke established himself, then it levelled for many decades before it started to decline. If we come back in a hundred years, the city will be almost deserted, I think.”

  “Not under the Saviour,” he said. We weren’t so shallow that we always had to counter every mention of the Duke with a reference to how he wouldn’t be there once the Saviour established herself. Sometimes, it was relevant to the conversation.

  “There were over two hundred thousand people living here, the last time the Duke bothered to send men out to count,” I said.

  “How do you know?” asked Ploster in surprise.

  “The Duke mentioned it to me for some reason or another. That must have been forty or more years ago.”

  “I didn’t think he cared enough to want to know,” Ploster replied.

  “He’s like a farmer who jealously guards his cattle,” I said. “It probably gave him pleasure to know how many people had to bend their knee to him.”

  “I can’t imagine he’s had a count for a while, in that case,” Ploster suggested with a smile.

  “I’m sure he hasn’t. He must know that his numbers are falling, but to see the actual tally must be galling for him.”

  We continued deeper into the city. We all knew where the Blacksmith’s Arms was, since we’d each of us spent more than our fair share of time within its walls. I didn’t take the most direct route, since I wished to see how things were going on the streets and also because I knew that we’d be less likely to be reported as suspicious if we kept to some of the seedier streets and lanes. Even in the poorest areas the streets were paved and provided with adequate drainage. There was shit in places, but it wasn’t piled high and we didn’t have to avoid buckets of human waste being cast from windows. People sat on their front doorsteps in the traditional fashion, where they’d exchange rumour and gossip with their neighbours. All the trappings of normality were present, but we could sense the fear in the air and it was easy to note how many doorsteps remained unoccupied when in the past, they’d have all had someone sat on them. Blades had once been the most communal of cities, but that appeared to have changed. There’d always been justiciars here, but they’d stepped with a lighter foot than they did in the farther towns and cities. I wondered if they’d been imposing themselves more firmly upon the populace.