Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2)

by M. R. Anthony

  “You’d have thought so,” she said, exerting herself again. This time thought I could feel a ripple beneath my feet as she quested forward. “Nothing,” she said.

  “We should return to our men,” I told her.

  “And miss out on the opportunity to discover who it is that so dearly wishes to remain hidden? Come now, Captain Charing.”

  I caught Heavy with a big grin on his face to hear me being spoken to thus. I didn’t mind, truth be told. I was not always the humourless bastard that I made myself out to be.

  We reached the road and then crossed it, making our way a few yards into their field. We were now closer to them than we were to our own troops. If we had to make a run for it, things would get tight.

  “Can you reach their men?” I asked.

  “The joy of hope should be reaching almost half of the enemy troops,” she said. “But something is suppressing it. They are not at all affected.”

  “We are taking too big a risk with the unknown,” I replied. I was right – it’s important to know your enemy’s commander, but not so important that you’d risk your own leader to find out. I began to think that she was being stubborn, or overly-confident. The latter in particular would be foolish in the extreme, since she’d already found herself unable to pierce the protective veil.

  After a period of five minutes, their own contingent came forward, breaking out of the shimmering that protected their leader from identification. There were ten of them, all on foot. One of them carried a hastily-made flag of truce, which seemed to be no more than a table cloth tied to a stick.

  I recognised the lead man at once, even though he wore a helmet to match his breastplate and his greaves.

  “Captain Elias Johns,” I greeted him, letting the Saviour know the man’s name.

  “Captain Tyrus Charing,” he responded. There was a small amount of warmth between us. We’d met before, briefly, and I thought he was the sort of man I could probably like, given the opportunity. He was a competent man, but not one that I would be afraid to face in battle.

  Our lady looked at Captain Johns. “Do we need to fight each other? The reason for our conflict is gone.”

  “Alas, I do not command these men,” he replied. “The Duke has more important assistants for this work.”

  “The Duke is dead, you know?” she told him. I was already pondering why he’d used the word assistant instead of servant.

  Captain Johns’ eyes flicked left and right. I could see that he was nervous, and beads of sweat had appeared on his upper lip in spite of the cold weather. The men he’d brought with him looked similarly ill at ease.

  “It does not matter,” he said. “The Hangman does not answer to the Duke.”

  My heart sank. “What’s the fucking Hangman doing out here in this forsaken part of the Empire?” I asked, breaking rudely into the conversation. I didn’t care that my manners were lacking.

  “There will be no peace today,” said Captain Johns. Then he dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. “You need to leave. Now.”

  Neither me nor my men gave our lady an opportunity to voice any dissent. We spun around and pulled at the reins on her horse until it turned and started moving. The six men from Faye and Trovis’ units looked confused, but didn’t let that delay their feet.

  “On guard!” hissed Ploster to our lady.

  “Thank you, Captain Johns,” I said over my shoulder as we began to run. He didn’t respond and I thought it likely that his words would cost him his life.

  We had scarcely made five yards when I heard a muffled choking sound. I looked back and saw that Captain Johns had vanished from his group, as if he’d never been there. The remaining nine looked petrified, as if they didn’t know what action they could take to escape death.

  “Run!” I shouted at them. It was a below-the-belt command, since I hoped for them to come with us only to increase our own chance of a safe return to our ranks. They obeyed and I heard them follow, presumably gambling that at least a few of them might escape.

  I heard the choking noises again and drew my dagger, not quite sure what good it would do me. From my periphery, I saw a thin, black cord of what seemed like heavy smoke. Lightning fast, it whipped into our group, catching one of Faye’s men around his neck. I could see it constrict at once, causing the man’s eyes to bulge and the veins on his neck to pop. Then, he was gone, pulled away at enormous speed.

  There was a clank just behind me, accompanied by the sound of something fast snapping through the air. This time I didn’t turn – I knew exactly what had happened. A moment later, another of the Hangman’s cords took Furrow around his neck. He was in formation about the Saviour and I saw his thickly-muscled neck tighten as he fought the strangulation. His face tightened in a grimace of pure bloody-mindedness and his tattoos flared against the magics of the noose. It wouldn’t be enough – I saw him falter and he fell out of stride. I did what any man who lived with violence would do – I cut out with my dagger. My arm moved with tremendous speed and the magical blade severed the black thread. It cracked away behind us, gone in an instant. Furrow shrugged and the remaining darkness around his neck dissipated.

  “Can you block it?” I asked Ploster and the Saviour both.

  “I’m trying already,” replied Ploster through gritted teeth. “He’s not exactly a hedge wizard!”

  We’d covered almost forty yards and the noose whipped amongst us again, this time taking Corporal Heavy around his neck. He held our lady’s banner in one hand, but used his free hand to grasp at his noose. To my surprise, he ripped it away with a growl.

  “No,” I heard him say. It wasn’t clear if he addressed us or made imaginary conversation with the Hangman.

  Another two of the Duke’s men were plucked away from the back of our group. I caught a sight of the last one as he arced through the air and was pulled into shimmering miasma that hid the Hangman from our sight. I was relieved to note that none of the enemy troops had broken ranks to give chase – I didn’t want them hounding us as we ran.

  After we’d covered another twenty yards, the attacks stopped. I assumed we’d made it out of range, since it wasn’t like the Hangman to stop when there were still people alive. We didn’t slow and took up our positions again. The new men who’d come with us joined with Lieutenant Faye. I guessed they’d fight well for us today.

  “He’s broken a flag of truce!” said the Saviour hotly.

  “Such flags are rarely worth the effort,” I said. “At least when one side has no desire to parley. I am more concerned about why I have seen three of the Emperor’s Death Sorcerers in the last few months.”

  “We can think about it later,” she said. “What magics can this Hangman cast?”

  “You’ve seen the most of it,” I told her. “Given time, he can strip an army bare of numbers. He’s wasted against mere men. I’ve seen him kill things that put up much more of a fight.”

  “What are his weaknesses?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if any of the Death Sorcerers have weaknesses. I’m afraid that he’s your challenge to overcome, my lady. And mark that you will need to stop him, else we will definitely lose today.”

  She didn’t reply at once and I saw her eyes flick over the opposite field. “They are moving,” she said.

  I looked too. Without fanfare, the men we faced had begun to move towards us. Rows upon rows of them marched across the grass, dwarfing our numbers.

  “Get ready!” I bellowed. The words were more for effect – we all could see what was coming.

  20

  We were arrayed in three companies and they were similarly split. Their numbers were so much greater than ours that they likely hoped to spill around us and separate us from each other. We of the First Cohort were the fewest in number, but I assumed that the enemy had recognized us since they sent well over two thousand men towards our position. It was going to get messy for us.

  They made surprisingly little sound as they marched across the field, the thick gr
ass softening their footfall. The distance was still too great to make out all the details, but I fancied I could see the scared eyes of youth looking through the open-faced helmets that they wore. Even from here I could tell that they were under-equipped. They had chest plates, but their shields were of different sizes and they carried a mixture of weapons. Uniformity was the best way if your ranks were lacking in experience. What they did have, was men – many more of them than we had. Even if they were badly trained, they could overcome us if we didn’t fight well. On top of that, they had the Hangman on their side.

  Their three leading units held a line well and they stepped over the rubble of the broken wall without losing their formation. I heard Lieutenant Sinnar shout, his voice carrying clearly over the battlefield. I saw the helmet of Lieutenant Faye as she made her way through her own men to the position she’d take during the fighting. Lieutenant Trovis was standing calmly. At one time, I’d have had doubts about him, but I’d heard the tales of his bravery in the defence of Gold. He was resourceful, clever and much more dangerous in battle than he appeared. Sinnar had told me that some of the men with Trovis were amongst the dirtiest fighters he’d ever seen, and coming from Sinnar that was a great compliment. I’d fought for many things, but I wondered if the single thing I lacked was experience in fighting to save something I really cared for. I had my chance on this day.

  I watched the Saviour from the corner of my eye. She stared out impassively across the sea of men before her. I knew that she didn’t like death – it was the reason I hoped that she’d become everything that these people needed – but she could steel herself against it. Around her, the twelve body guards were alert, their swords drawn. Heavy had planted the banner into the earth and met my eyes for a moment. I winked at him and he grinned, his pristine, white teeth shining brightly against his weathered skin.

  “Is that the Hangman, Captain Charing?” our lady asked.

  “That’s him,” I said. “Don’t let him have it easy.”

  The cloaking magics had gone and we could see where the Hangman was standing. He was tall – close to eight feet I knew, and rangy. He wasn’t dressed in armour, instead he was clothed in black leggings and tunic. His face wasn’t visible, since he always wore a black hood which covered his entire head. He didn’t even have holes cut for the eyes and had never seemed to need them. He wore gloves and boots also, leaving no part of his body open to sight. He came forward with his men, as part of a smaller fourth group of fifty, which stayed forty yards back from the rest.

  “I’ll take command, Captain Charing. Please join your men.”

  I didn’t know if I was surprised to hear the words, but a part of me was pleased that our lady felt confident enough to take direct control. “As you will,” I said.

  “Good luck, Captain,” I heard her whisper. I didn’t turn – I embraced luck when it favoured me, but I did not like to invoke it. Another of my small superstitions.

  Lieutenant Faye had given the order for her depleted squad of archers to fire what they could and arrows whipped over the field. The missiles rose and the missiles fell. Men fell with them, tumbling over with barbed shafts piercing their bodies, only to be trampled by the unceasing strides of their fellows. Two more volleys descended, finding easy kills amongst their close-packed ranks. It was like pissing against a storm.

  I joined the First Cohort, noticing again how depleted our numbers were. If we’d been at full strength, I’d have happily had us charge into the approaching enemy and broken them into pieces that wouldn’t stop running until they reached their homes in the south.

  “Welcome back, Captain,” said Cricks from his position adjacent.

  “You’ve been looking a bit rusty, Captain,” said Vinta. “Come to remind yourself how it’s done?”

  There was some laughter around me and I let it wash over me, feeling an approaching joy at fighting with these men again.

  “That spear’s only eight feet long, Vinta,” I told him. “I think it’ll fit sideways up your arse.” There was more laughter. We were at ease and that made me happy.

  The enemy was close now and Faye’s archers ran back another fifty paces until they were standing behind our lady’s position. They’d continue to fire until they were out of ammunition and then they’d join in the close-quarters. Fortunately for them, there were plenty of arrows to go around – good archers could sap the morale of even the most well-disciplined troops if given the time to do so.

  Craddock had arranged the First Cohort in a line eighty long and four deep. The front two ranks held long, iron spears, which we pointed outwards at the approaching soldiers. I knew that Lieutenant Sinnar had begun to train the other regiments in the same technique and I watched with approval as the front ranks of Faye’s men readied their own spears. I couldn’t see Trovis from where I was, but could see their bristling array of dull grey iron. Some of theirs had shafts of wood – the ironmongers in Gold had not been capable of producing sufficient of the weapons in time.

  I was in the third rank, close to the middle. I had my shield raised and my sword drawn. The enemy was less than twenty yards away, their line starting to break as the eager men began to pull ahead of the waverers. I felt an insistent tugging sensation in my mind as my brain tried to force me into the battle trance. I held it off for the moment – I was sure the time would come for me to let go.

  In the moments before impact, I saw the black strands snake out again. They came from the Hangman’s group and snaked over the heads of his own men, before dropping into Faye’s ranks. Each time the noose descended, it pulled a man from amongst his fellows, hauling him into the air at a speed quicker than any arrow. In the space of two or three seconds, I watched seven men pulled into the sky. When their necks had been broken, the strands simply vanished and the bodies fell to earth. On the eighth occasion, I saw a man’s severed head sail high upwards, showering blood onto the soldiers below.

  The enemy thundered into us, wider than our line and many ranks deeper. We were near to the wall on one side and Lieutenant Faye’s flank on the other, so they were not able to circle us. Their first rank tried to knock our spears aside with their flimsy wooden shields. We were familiar with the tactic and we held firm, shattering their barriers and raising our own heavy shields to defend against the few attacks that got through. Those who were only wounded by the spears were trodden underfoot, slowly crushed and broken by the hard boots of the next rank – it was a shitty way to die. If we survived what was to come, I vowed that I’d raise a toast for the enemy fallen as well as our own.

  I faintly heard the screams, my mind already filtering away the unimportant details so that I could focus on the men around me. Their second and third ranks tried to pull away our spears, desperately using their hands to try and disarm us before the weight of the men behind could drive them onto the sharp tips.

  “Forward one pace!” shouted Sinnar. Our line advanced a single step in unison, thrusting outwards as we did so. More of their men fell, clutching at their ruptured bellies, spilled entrails steaming in the freezing air. We stepped back again, as the crush of the enemy increased against us. Here and there I saw spears ripped away from us, to be lost in the scrum of bodies.

  A rumbling sound reached our ears from somewhere to the right. There was a shudder and I could feel a collection of minds pulling at the threads of power. Something detonated amongst Trovis’ men and bodies flew into the air – dozens of them thrown into the sky, to come crashing down on the field around their fellows.

  “Trent’s men, somewhere,” I called to Ploster. He was in the last of our ranks, lost in his focus.

  I succumbed to the insistence of my brain and the events around me slowed. The maelstrom of battle become a manageable series of incidents that I could view and evaluate. It was as if I were at the centre of a sphere in which I was the omniscient being. I couldn’t sense as far as Lieutenant Trovis, but I had knowledge of much of the battlefield.

  Something flooded out from Ploster, shoo
ting away to the road. There was a shimmering and a group of more than twenty horsemen came into view. Whatever had been hiding them, Ploster had disrupted their magic. Before they could recover from their surprise, Ploster used his sorcery again. He was angry for reasons I didn’t know, and it fuelled his attack. The head of one man exploded in a bloody thump, scattering his skull and brains over the men around him. Another man clutched his chest and fell from the saddle. Their horses became skittish and their riders struggled with the reins.

  Our spears were mostly gone, replaced with swords that killed more easily at close quarters than our spears did at range. The enemy was dismayed by our lack of concern at their numbers, but this did not slow down their attacks and they hewed at us with axes and swords of their own. They pressed us and I could see from their faces that they did not want to be here.

  “Harts, get into that gap!” I shouted as a sudden surge pushed us stumbling back a pace.

  Craddock was close by. His head never stopped moving as he worked out the ebb and flow, trying to anticipate where the pressure would overcome our resistance. Another shudder caused the ground to tremble with the impact of magic and more of Trovis’ men were thrown high. All the while, the black rope of the Hangman’s sorcery flicked in and out of our ranks, pulling dozens of men into the sky and letting them crash below. Arrows continued to fall, dropping endlessly into the massed ranks of the Duke’s men.

  The Saviour answered the Hangman with magic of her own. It was something brutal and nothing I’d ever seen her use before. It was like the spell that Ploster had used, only magnitudes greater in power. There was an expulsion of air to accompany the spell’s unleashing and without warning, the group of fifty surrounding the Hangman simply exploded. There was no sound to herald their destruction, but a red cloud appeared, expanding outwards at tremendous speed. In my heightened state, I could almost see the individual droplets that had once been part of living creatures as they travelled forty or fifty feet from the centre. When the blood had cleared, I saw the Hangman, somehow untouched by the gore. I thought that he wobbled for a moment, but he was not a creature to be easily overcome and his threads snaked out once again.