Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2)

by M. R. Anthony

  Something huge and dense raced towards us, appearing from our left. We turned quickly to face it, but it crashed through us, knocking aside our shields and three of the men holding them. Weevil and Bolt had remained on their feet and I saw their swords cleave the air as they struck out, trying to catch the creature before its momentum carried it out of range and into the shelter of the darkness. A flash of sparks from Bolt’s sword and a grunt of anger told me that one of their attacks had found its target.

  “It’s like hitting a stone shit house with a twig,” said Bolt, describing what he’d felt.

  The men who had been knocked over were on their feet now and I waved us forward, hoping that we might catch the creature unawares by following it. The plan was unsuccessful and it barrelled out of the gloom again. This time we were more prepared and were able to jump away from its charge, though Beamer stumbled onto his backside as he did so.

  Our swords cut at the creature’s flesh and I managed to land a solid blow on its shoulder. The sword jumped in my hand and lit up like a hundred stars. Bolt had been right – it felt like I was hitting solid stone, but I had struck it well and was satisfied to see a deep cut appear in the place I’d hit. The creature made the same grunting sound and whirled to face us, giving me the first clear glimpse of its face. There was nothing human about it, except that it was flat, rather than muzzled and beastlike. The black orbs which had been its eyes in the child-form remained, as did the ugly, sharp teeth, though these were now a better fit for its mouth. Its body was hairless and humanoid, but far stronger than even the most freakishly large man could grow.

  We formed a semi-circle around it, pointing our swords at its chest. Blue flames briefly ignited its head and the flesh began to char as Ploster tried to burn it. It gave a slight shake of its head as it shrugged away the magic. It made no outward gesture, but I knew it had responded with an attack of its own. I saw Ploster get punched from his feet and he hit the ground with a thud. This exchange of magic had only taken a moment, but we did not let it go to waste. I lunged in with my sword, feinting to lure out an attack. My shield took the expected response as the creature struck at me with its right arm. Its strength was phenomenal, but I had braced myself and was able to deflect the clawed hand, which made a rending noise across the metal. It took my brain the tiniest of instants to realise that the claws had sheared away six inches from the top corner of the shield.

  Grids and Bolt attacked from the flank, with the former using his shield to defend Bolt from a counterattack. Bolt’s sword tip made contact, penetrating a few inches beneath the creature’s arm. It jerked and the movement pulled Bolt to the side as he still held onto his sword. He was nearly ripped apart by a claw, but Grids’ managed to get his shield in the way. Off-balance, the shield was torn from his arm and the soldier was knocked to the ground.

  I strode in again and delivered a slash to the pale flesh of its bicep. A backhanded blow hit my shield and knocked me two paces away, almost shattering my forearm where it held the straps of the shield. Beamer and Chant took advantage of the opportunity to lunge at the exposed chest. Beamer’s strike was too slow, but Chant drove his blade into the centre of the creature’s chest, the sparks from the blade seeming to pull the sword in to a full half of its length. For his troubles, Chant was hit in the head and he dropped to the ground.

  More flames scoured the creature’s flesh as Ploster used magic from his prone position on the ground. Once again, they caused it a distraction before the mageflame was dispersed by whatever innate resistance it had to Ploster’s sorcery. Then, it was gone. Without warning, it turned and fled into the night, with Chant’s sword still jutting from its chest. We were caught by surprise, but I still managed to catch it a glancing blow on the calf as it fled. Eyeball threw his dagger at it with a lightning-fast flick of his arm. The throw was well-aimed, but the dagger did nothing more than bounce away from the flesh it had struck.

  We waited for a short while, looking warily into the darkness of the fields which surrounded the cottage. There was no more sound and no other movement. I took the opportunity to check on the prone figure of Chant – he wasn’t moving and his helmet had been crushed on one side. I pulled his headguard free and saw that his skull had been similarly flattened by the impact.

  “Dead,” I announced, returning my attention to task of searching for our attacker.

  “It’s gone,” said Ploster.

  “Gone for good or coming back?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Captain. I can’t read its presence from great distances, but wherever it is, it’s not close.”

  “We’re going to keep going,” I said, having come to my decision. “Corporal Ploster, I need your light for as long as you can maintain it.”

  “Yes, Captain,” he acknowledged.

  I fulfilled my self-imposed last duty and closed Chant’s eyes. “Rest easy, old friend,” I said.

  “I never thought I’d outlive him,” said Grids. “He always seemed to be the lucky one.”

  I added the soldier’s name to the ever-growing list of our fallen and gathered the men close. “One day, when we get the chance, we’ll come back and we’ll hunt that creature until we find it.” I didn’t need to tell them what would happen to it once that happened.

  “Aye, Captain. Count me in for that one,” said Bolt. The others nodded.

  We left the ruins of the hut, picking our way carefully over the pieces of rubble that were strewn around the field. It was a soldier’s superstition that he might survive a bloody scrap and then break his neck by slipping on a patch of mud when the fighting was over. I’d seen it happen and I had no intention of snapping my leg by standing awkwardly on a chunk of stone from the damaged cottage.

  We continued through the night. I set us to a fast walk, rather than risking an outright sprint. Ploster kept his light spell going, which illuminated the ground ahead of us. Even at our measured pace we still had to be watchful to avoid the many imperfections in the ground. On one occasion, we blundered into a dead-end of sorts, where we were surrounded by high walls of rock. The terrain wasn’t mountainous, but there were places where stone emerged from the grassy hillsides. I wasn’t concerned that we’d be ambushed, since we weren’t men who would run away from either Leerfar or the creature we’d met earlier. Nevertheless, it cost us a precious few minutes as we navigated our way back to a place from where we could travel onwards.

  Every so often I would bring us to a halt and speak to Ploster briefly, to check for any information he might have.

  “Is there any sign of it?” I asked again, several hours after we’d left the cottage.

  Ploster looked weary already, but he concentrated and I could feel him questing the area around us to see if there was anything to note. The more powerful sorcerers could seek for great distances, using their mastery of possibilities to harness the warp and wefts. The difficulties became exponentially greater the further the distance over which they sought to impose their powers. I’d often wondered if the greatest sorcerers did not try to encompass all of these possibilities, but instead had a way of ignoring the outcomes they weren’t interested in. Ploster was a good man who knew his limitations.

  “It’s not close,” he said after a while.

  “I think we’d have bested it,” I said honestly. “The creature is probably used to easy prey.”

  Ploster nodded. “It was very old,” he said. “I am sure it stalked these lands in the times before the Emperor came. You don’t reach an old age if you haven’t learnt when a fight is lost.”

  I hoped he was right. I had vowed that I would come back one day and destroy it. My words had not been spoken in anger, rather they were given in the certainty that I would do what I said, assuming the opportunity ever came to me. I clapped Ploster on the back in a show of support.

  “Keep our way lit for another hour and I’ll buy you an ale when we reach Gold,” I told him.

  He smiled in return, both of us aware that there’d be almost no chance I’
d be buying him that ale in the near future. We set off along a narrow path which wended down a hillside. My thoughts were not about a cold drink, instead I found myself once more giving thanks for the runed weapons which the Emperor had awarded us over two hundred years before. If we’d had to rely on normal steel, I was sure that the creature we’d encountered would have killed us all.

  Eventually, Ploster’s light flickered and then died out completely. We’d been ready for it to happen, since it had been fading slowly for the last two hours and Ploster had announced that his ability to maintain it was diminishing. He’d done enough – just as his magic died, we saw the beginnings of day on the distant horizon. The early dawn didn’t bring sufficient light for us to keep on with our march, but that soon changed and our forced break wasn’t a long one.

  I walked alongside Ploster. His face looked drawn, but his body seemed unaffected by the exertions of his sorcery and he was able to maintain the pace without apparent effort. I’d always assumed that it only took a toll on his mind and in the past when he’d exhausted his magics, he’d usually been able to cast his spells again after a few hours.

  “Not far from Gold,” he said.

  “We might get there today,” I replied. In truth, I had begun to lose track of the distances in my head. I was fairly sure we’d come across the village with its well only a day or two outside of Gold, but my memory had started to blur a few of the earlier events of the journey. I’d had a lot to keep me occupied.

  “Maybe we should head back to the south road that leads from Gold. Travellers might be able to tell us news we should hear,” he said.

  I gave the idea some thought. We’d pushed on and I was certain we’d be some way ahead of the Duke’s army which had left Blades ahead of us. The woman we’d asked said we’d missed them by at least a week. The crux of the issue was how long she meant by at least.

  “Let’s try for the road,” I said. We didn’t have to walk along it if there seemed to be any risk.

  After we’d escaped from Blades our path had been directly north for most of the journey. Then, we’d changed direction to north-west, which would take us to Gold. Having decided to make for the road, we still kept heading north-west, but now there was a little more west than north, which would bring us to the road a few miles south of the town. As it happened, we were a bit further away from Gold than I’d anticipated and we didn’t reach the road that day, nor see much sight of other people. There were a few more signs of cultivation than there had been up till now, but not much in the way of life, barring the occasional sheep.

  There’d been no indication at all that we were still pursued and I had started to believe that the creature had found us too difficult a bite to chew. Ploster had said that it wanted the vial I carried and it would have known what a great prize it was, yet it must have possessed enough wisdom to realise that its death was almost certain if it had chosen to pursue us. I was sorry to have lost Chant and if I’d had the chance again I would have taken us around that village rather than through it. I’d long since learned the futility of worrying about the unchangeable, so spared the matter little thought.

  That night, I decided that there was no need for us to continue through the darkness and we camped in the lee of a head-high stone wall. We didn’t light a fire, though our new tents continued to provide the extra comfort that turned a miserable night into an acceptable one.

  “It’s still fucking cold,” said Eyeball. He tried breathing to see if it would steam the air, but of course it didn’t.

  “Winter’s due, isn’t it? Looks like it’s going to be a shit one,” said Weevil.

  I privately agreed with him. It was well into autumn, but even so, it was far colder than I’d have expected it to be. I knew little about farming, but remembered that most crops would be harvested soon – in fact we’d seen signs that it had already happened. I’d never worried about such things in the past, but I hoped that the cold wouldn’t damage the wheat, or bring any hardship this coming winter. It wasn’t as if things weren’t already hard enough for people. I would not have enjoyed living in Gold in the coldest months and the people had been left with hardly any time to rebuild. I wondered if they even had the motivation to do so.

  I lay in silence for a time. If I’d been capable of sleep, I am sure it would have evaded me. When I thought about it I could remember nights in the past, spent chasing the elusive state of slumber as it struggled free from my grasping fingertips. Now that sleep was something denied to us, we could find a certain restfulness by lying still and imagining ourselves transported to a world of dreams. On this night, all I could think of was the vial that I kept with me at all times. Our journey from Blades had been completed quicker than any other men could have managed it, but it had still felt like my feet were mired in thick mud, with our destination dangling like a carrot, forever out of reach. Now that the inevitability of time had brought us close, I would soon be confronted by the success or failure of what we’d achieved. I never shirked in my duty, but a part of me suggested that it might be for the best if I never found out.

  After three hours in which the same thoughts spiralled without cease, I’d had enough and left my tent. The night was dark, but my eyes had adjusted as much as they were able and I saw someone sitting alone in his own contemplation. I sat next to him.

  “We’re going to reach Gold tomorrow, aren’t we, Captain?” asked Beamer.

  I nodded, before realising that he probably couldn’t see the gesture through the darkness. “Tomorrow it is,” I replied. “Late morning or early afternoon, I reckon.”

  “It’ll be good to get back to the others again, won’t it?” he asked.

  “It will,” I said, suddenly realising how much it mattered to me.

  “It’s going to be a funny day, though,” Beamer said. “Not ha ha funny, but the other sort of funny.”

  “I know what you mean, Beamer. You’re talking about the vial?”

  “Yeah, the vial. I thought we’d cocked up our big chance at redemption. Now we might have another one. Except that we could get to Gold and find we don’t.”

  Beamer was a thinker, though you wouldn’t have realised it to look at him. He was broad, stocky, with a wide nose and tattoos every place you thought to look, apart from his face. Most people would have guessed him to be a labourer, or a bandit if they were uncharitable. But he was neither of those things; he was an excellent soldier and a man who thought about things. It was my observation that most soldiers became thinkers as they got older. The young ones either talked their brave talk and then died, or they become veterans and started to ask themselves questions about why they were alive when their fellows were not. The longer a soldier lives, the more he thinks, though he will rarely open up about it.

  “If we can bring the Saviour back, it all begins again,” I said to him. “And if this vial does nothing, I don’t know what we’ll do.” I wasn’t afraid to admit uncertainty. All my men knew that when the time came, I’d be ready to make a choice.

  “Whatever happens, we’ve got to keep fighting,” he said.

  “Are you tired of it?” I asked, curious to hear him say what I’d long suspected.

  “Yeah, I think I am,” he said. “Sometimes I tell myself it’d be nice if there was an end to it. Except there never is, no matter which side we fight on. And then on other days I say to myself that fighting is all I know and that it’s not the end of the fighting that I want to see, but the end of the savagery. I’d like to be remembered as a hero, rather than a bastard.”

  “I’ve thought that if we fail to bring the Saviour back that I might lead us away to the south,” I said. “Until there’s no one left who’s heard of the First Cohort or the Emperor. Where the rulers don’t torture their children to cling onto their own miserable lives.”

  “That might be nice.”

  “Is it what you want?” I asked.

  “No,” he said at once. “We’ve got debts to pay to the people here. I like to pay my debts.” />
  “As do we all, Beamer, and so we shall. I think that one way or another, we will be staying in these lands until events have played out to a conclusion.”

  “Maybe then I’d like that trip south,” he said. “Shame it was Chant’s round at the bar, eh?” I heard his voice catch and I gave him a few moments of silence to gather himself.

  “If we live, we’ll have paid our dues. If we die, we’ll see them again in the next life.”

  “You believe in that, Captain?” he asked.

  “I don’t,” I replied. “At least I haven’t before. But the more of us we lose, the more I find myself wanting to believe that we’ll see them again.”

  “Another life, another place, another war to fight. An eternity of fighting,” he said. “Yet for all that, I want to see what’s ahead of us. I don’t want to die.”

  “Nor me, Beamer. Nor me.”

  We sat in silence for the rest of the night, with neither of us feeling the need to disturb the quiet with any other words. I mulled over what Beamer had said, as well as my own acknowledgement that maybe it would be nice to think that there was something after our deaths – something other than oblivion.

  Pale yellow light appeared as the thinnest of lines along the lowest edge of the sky and I heard the other men stirring.

  17

  We reached the road that led south from Gold early the following morning. It turned out we’d camped only two or three miles from it and we also intercepted it further south than I’d intended. The mud which covered the rough paving had naturally enough not gone anywhere, but now it was hard underfoot, as a reminder of how cold the air had become. There were still pools of water waiting for an unwary foot to step into them, so I knew that it was not yet cold enough for them to have frozen.