Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2)

by M. R. Anthony

  The Duke had not troubled himself with battle for a long time, but he recovered quickly and jerked out a hand. There was the rolling sound of thunder and waves of force dashed themselves against my body, punching me until I slowed, but failing to stop me. From my periphery, I saw Beamer and Grids being plucked from their feet and hurled away at speed by the Duke’s magic.

  I finished my sword swing, growling with the effort and the fury. The blade crashed against something, I don’t know what, and it was deflected. A nimbus of pale blue surrounded the Duke for the briefest of instants and I knew he had created a barrier to protect himself. He was unmarked, but the force of the blow had knocked him sideways out of his chair and he put out a hand to cushion his fall. With momentum carrying me forward I delivered a vicious kick at him. I felt my foot connect with something solid and more of the blue light appeared. Once again, the Duke was protected from the attack, but the force of the kick sent him five feet away from me, and he rolled onto his back, sprightly but still with the effort of an old man.

  I didn’t know what had happened to the men who had been with me, so focused was I on my enemy sprawled nearby. All I knew was that there was no one at my side. Without sparing a second to look, I closed in on Warmont again. His face snarled at me, a fearsome look that left me undeterred as I swung my sword once more, feeling it clatter off his barrier. He flicked his fingers in a gesture and something clutched at my body. I remembered the feeling from when Gagnol had commanded me to burn and knew that the Duke was trying to do the same. It came as a revelation that Warmont was weaker than his Second and I scarcely paused, as my inner resistance and the tattoos on my skin swatted the attack away.

  My blade came down again and again as Warmont crawled backwards away from me. Each time I struck him it seemed as if the blue nimbus became weaker. The glimpse of possible victory did not slow me, nor did it lesson my ferocity as I thundered blow after blow upon the man who had ruled these lands for so long. I had seen him use death magic on many occasions before, and had I been alive I would have feared him using it to destroy me. It had been his greatest weapon in the past, but against me it was useless.

  I became aware of movement close by and I was joined by Ploster, who hewed violently with his own sword. A part of my mind felt relief that the Duke’s initial burst of sorcery had not been able to kill at least one of the men who were with me. Next came Grids, who had made his way around to the head of the Duke. As the old man continued his efforts to retreat, Grids kicked him in the temple and this time I saw that contact had been made with the Duke’s almost-dead flesh. My own sword struck again and it thumped against his upturned hand, almost cutting off two of the fingers.

  I remembered the time, several months ago, when we’d killed Dag’Vosh, another of the Duke’s sorcerers. We’d had to chop the man into pieces and bury the parts in order to stop his efforts at magic. I doubted that Warmont would be any less hardy and it proved to be the case. Our swords cut him, but they only left shallow, bloodless wounds, regardless of the effort we put into the attack. There was no fear on the Duke’s face. I don’t know if I felt disappointment at that, or even if I was shallow enough to desire it.

  “Just fucking die,” said Beamer, who had now joined us and attacked with the same enthusiasm that we all did.

  But the Duke didn’t die and I felt the stirrings as he drew on his monumental power. The air in the room was disturbed and it was pulled inwards at speed, drawn along by a tremendous disruption in the warp and weft.

  “You should kill him quickly,” said the Gloom Bringer calmly, from somewhere off to one side. “Before he shatters this keep and it crumbles to shards around us.”

  I remembered her words that the Emperor could not be seen to have an involvement in this matter and knew that we would have no assistance from his Death Sorcerer. I hacked at Warmont again, an almighty cut that almost severed one of his hands. He was openly smiling at me now, which gave impetus to my anger and made me worry that I might lose control of it. I reached inside myself and flicked that switch again, causing the world to slow to an inching pace. My blows landed in a flurry, smashing into his skull and his face, knocking away chunks of the grey flesh, which leaped away as though they were pleased to be freed. It seemed to be to no avail. There were four of us hacking at him now, with no room for others to join in. The gathering of magic continued and a smile of triumph began to form on the Duke’s face, telling me that we were going to be too late to prevent him from delivering his gift.

  There was a tiniest second’s pause as the air stopped rushing in and I hated that we were going to be annihilated before we could kill the old fucker. I hoped that if he brought the building down around us that it would be enough to see him crushed as well, or that the injuries we’d inflicted would be sufficient. Just as the moment arrived, I heard Ploster speak.

  “Not today,” he said.

  There was a burst of power from my corporal, which was directed at the Duke. The signature of it was strange and I hardly recognized it as having come from Ploster. Abruptly, the tension in the air which was a manifestation of Warmont’s spell died away to nothingness. His face changed from triumph to anger again, though it was difficult to make out exactly what his expression meant since we’d made his face almost unrecognisable.

  His destruction magics had dissipated, but the Duke remained defiant and determined not to die. He only had one of his hands still attached, but a flick of it saw Beamer ignited in flame. The soldier’s skin burned briefly and his face showed an outer reflection of his willpower as he quenched the magics which tore at him. The flames dissipated but another spell saw Beamer flung away, followed by Ploster. The Duke tried it on me again. It staggered me this time, but I could tell there was desperation in our enemy.

  Warmont tried to push himself upright, though I don’t know what advantage he thought it would give him. I recovered from the shockwave and resumed, shrugging off a momentary weakness in my arms and legs. At last, it looked as if he had become aware that his time was at an end. It wasn’t fear I saw in his face, nor was it resignation. I thought that it might have been a feeling of helplessness that showed in his battered face. I cared not at all and relished the notion that he might know even a fraction of the suffering that he had inflicted upon the children lying in his torture room outside.

  I cut at him once more, a huge, overhand chop that connected with the top of his skull. The bone split apart and my sword entered the brain tissue beneath. The sorcery that he used to fuse his body together was weakening and I hit him again in the same place. He raised a hand to ward off the blow, but there was little he could do to stop it. The second strike went deeper, almost splitting his head in two and I knew that this battle was won. He was defeated, but still unwilling to die. We were undiminished and I noticed that Weevil was now close, wielding his own sword with tremendous vigour as we tried to finish the Duke as quickly as we could.

  Eventually it was all over. The Duke lay in pieces of grey flesh and bone. His eyes still blinked, so I pressed my foot upon what remained of his head and pushed the tip of my sword into each of the eyes, twisting as I did so. The blinking stopped, but his jaw still moved until Grids separated it entirely from the rest of the skull.

  “Enough!” said the Gloom Bringer, walking over to peer at the remains. “He is dead.”

  I lowered my sword. My eyes knew the truth of what she’d said, but part of me didn’t want to believe that the deed was done. I turned to see if any of my men had perished and was relieved to see that they were all still with me. Bolt’s left arm was twisted strangely, but his sword arm looked fine and his eyes looked back at me with alertness.

  “The Emperor gives you his thanks for doing him this favour,” she said. Then, she stooped over the pathetic remains of the Duke and searched through the torn, ripped robes that still clung to him. It didn’t take her long to find what she was after and she pulled something out – a crystal vial, which looked to be empty, but which I was sure contained
something if it was important enough for her to seek it out.

  “I am glad that he made the container hard to shatter,” the Gloom Bringer said, almost to herself.

  Something tugged at my thoughts, telling me that this vial was significant and that I should be interested in it.

  “What have you taken?” I asked.

  “It is none of your concern,” said the Gloom Bringer. “Our business is concluded. The Emperor instructed me to leave you unmolested once the Duke had been killed. You will get no assistance from me in your escape. I suggest you hurry.”

  I remembered what the vial was and something crept into my mind, caressing me and whispering about possibilities and chances that only the very boldest would dare to take. I turned to my men as if I were about to instruct them to follow me out of the Duke’s chambers. Instead, I waited until they were looking at me and then made a signal with my hand. It was a subtle movement in the language we used to communicate with when absolute silence was paramount. Kill her, I said.

  I saw Ploster’s eyes widen for a moment, but he didn’t hesitate, nor did any of the others. I felt the First Cohort’s sorcerer send a burst of energy at the Gloom Bringer. Caught unawares, she stumbled for a step or two and a look of surprise appeared on her face. As she righted herself, Weevil and Beamer struck her with their swords, each landing a heavy cross-bladed cut across her back.

  “What is this?” she asked, more in anger than pain.

  I swung my own sword against one of her outstretched arms. I was expecting it to feel like I was hewing wood, but to my alarm it left no mark upon her skin at all. We had crowded about her and Grids only had room to make a low attack, and his sword connected with her legs, cutting through the black material of her garments. Once more, she gave no indication of injury and lashed out with one of her long, scrawny arms. Grids took the backhand squarely in the face and it knocked him down, but did not kill him.

  The Gloom Bringer laughed at our efforts, not yet trying to respond with her magics. “Your swords were forged in the darkness, Captain Charing. They can’t hurt me.”

  She lifted both arms into the air as we continued our futile attack on her. The force of our blows caused her to flinch, but didn’t break through her skin, nor did they interrupt her as she drew in her powers. I felt Ploster try to interrupt her spell in the same way that he had done to the Duke, but the Gloom Bringer was alert to him and I sensed her blocking his efforts with ease.

  Blackness swirled and closed upon us. I didn’t know if this magic was stronger than that which she’d used against us in the prison cell, or if she’d simply learned how to overcome our resistance, but the darkness drove us to our knees. I felt my sword drop from my hand. The filthy tendrils that she summoned drove deep into my mind and though I threw up my walls, they found their way around and over, probing at the unprotected core of my being.

  “Pathetic little men,” she said, laughing. It was a beautiful, evil sound.

  My eyes were open and I saw the others around me were also on the floor. Ploster was still standing and I saw him glowing brightly against the magics of the Gloom Bringer’s assault. It wasn’t enough and a detached part of my mind saw him weaken and crumble. The darkness closed in on me, teasing me for my conceit in thinking that I had become almost immune to the most powerful of magics. I fought back – I was as stubborn as they come and I would never let myself be defeated without giving every ounce of my strength in response. It wasn’t going to be enough.

  As consciousness faded – as my death approached - I felt something pulling frantically at my belt. I didn’t know what it was and had nothing left that I could spare in order to wonder about it. My eyes started to close, but through the narrow gaps between my lids, I saw a shape appear behind the Gloom Bringer. There was movement and a flash of metal, bright even though the darkness.

  All at once, the magic dissipated, scattering away harmlessly as if it had never existed. I heard the Gloom Bringer sigh and she slumped onto the floor. The shape that had appeared behind her crouched low and the metal continued to flash, embedding itself time and again into the withered hag’s body.

  I was the first to recover my wits. “Eyeball!” I greeted him. “I wondered where the fuck you’d got to.”

  He didn’t pause in his efforts and continued stabbing at the Gloom Bringer’s prone body, plunging sharp metal into her chest and her face, to ensure that any life she had remaining was expunged. We’d all seen how hardy these sorcerers could be and it was good that he took no chances. I reached out a hand and hauled Bolt to his feet. He stood up smoothly, but tottered for a moment, shaking his head to clear it.

  “How come you weren’t thrown to the floor when she attacked?” asked Weevil.

  Eyeball stood up, finally satisfied that he’d finished his work. “The darkness is my friend, too,” he said.

  No one asked him to elaborate and he walked over to me, offering me my dagger hilt-first. I took it and sheathed it at my belt.

  “She said that our swords were forged in the darkness, Captain. Whatever that meant. I took a gamble that Leerfar’s dagger was made by a different smith. I gambled and I won.”

  “That’s one of the best things I ever saw, Eyeball,” I told him, clapping him on the back with such force that he staggered a step forward. I’d couldn’t recall the time I’d been so pleased to see one of my men. “And one of the timeliest arrivals.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to have to kiss you,” said Weevil, walking forwards with his mouth open and tongue poking out.

  “Fuck off, will you?” said Eyeball shoving him away. “I had my fingers crossed that I’d be too late to save you anyway.”

  It hadn’t taken them long to descend into their usual verbal horseplay. A minute ago, we had nearly all been killed, now they were trading insults. I let them get on with it for the few seconds that it took me to find and extract the crystal vial from the robes of the dead Gloom Bringer. The container was heavier than I’d expected it to be – it looked empty but had as much heft as if it had been filled with solid gold. I tucked it away and rose to my feet. The Death Sorcerer’s empty eye socket stared back at me and her other eye was closed. I had never been a man who had to avert his eyes from the gaze of the dead. I looked at the Gloom Bringer’s face for a moment, caring not at all about what we had done to her. She’d killed thirteen of my men and I was glad that we had been able to avenge them.

  13

  We left the Duke’s quarters without further delay, doing our best to pretend that the bodies in his torture room were not important to us. We exited onto the corridor outside his rooms and I was relieved to find that there was no sign of activity yet. If the keep’s guards hadn’t been roused, there was still a chance that we’d be able to escape and now that I’d found the vial I wanted very much to get away from Blades as quickly as possible.

  We descended to the large room below and as we came down the stairs, I saw a small gathering about the remains of the two sorcerers we’d killed. Two guardsmen were stooped over one of the bodies, while another three milled around nearby. They looked worried, but not unduly alarmed. The sound of our footsteps caused them to look up, to see if their commanding officer had arrived to take over the responsibilities. We cut them down, hardly breaking our stride to do so. One of the men who’d been standing attempted to run, shouting loudly in the process. He was too slow and Grids caught him easily, driving his sword through the man’s spine.

  “This way,” I called, waving my hand to bring Grids back to our group. The guards rarely travelled in uneven numbers, so I was certain they’d already sent someone off to summon help. We dashed to the steps and ran down them, eschewing silence for haste.

  When we reached the second floor, we ran along the perimeter corridor, the heavy carpet absorbing the sound of our boots. We were two abreast and we came across another group of four guardsmen coming the other way. We’d already seen that it was very early morning, but the dim light of dawn didn’t reach through to t
his passage, so we were relying on the oil lamps to guide our way. It was our advantage that we knew everyone we met was the enemy, while these approaching soldiers had no such assurance. They slowed when they saw us, but we did not. Our swords rose and fell, killing them before they could utter any sounds beyond truncated enquiries about who we were. We left them where they died and ran on.

  We reached the staircase that linked this floor with the two floors below and set off down it without hesitation. Our footsteps echoed ahead of us, making it difficult to tell if there was anyone approaching. I realised that our haste had become carelessly fast and I slowed down. The echoes of our footsteps diminished and I was able to hear more of the other sounds that occupied the keep.

  I supposed we’d been lucky to have killed the Duke so early in the morning. It meant that there were fewer guards about, but also that their commanding officers were likely to be asleep. I hadn’t met many soldiers who willingly woke their officers from sleep, and this reluctance ensured that the corridors weren’t filled with well-directed and alert men.

  Our luck ran out as we reached the ground floor. Just when it seemed as if we’d be able to reach the store room and the exit to the sewers, we came across a company of men coming towards us. They marched with a purposeful stride and they were many in numbers. The light in this area of the keep was sufficient for them to identify us as intruders at once, and the lead men shouted when they saw us. We turned and sprinted the way we’d come, with me and Weevil now at the rear.

  “Get to the main doorway!” I called ahead.

  The sound of footsteps was approaching from behind and I had little wish to perish to a sword thrust between my shoulder blades. We got back up to speed and were able to keep ahead of our pursuers. I had no fear that Chant, who was now the lead man, would have any problems following his instructions and we soon reached the main entrance to the keep. During the times that I’d been here, the main entrance was always open during the day – there was too much foot traffic to bother opening and closing the entrance every time someone arrived. It wasn’t like war had reached Blades in the recent past either.