“That should buy us some time,” Ember whispered to the unconscious Hannar-Ghan. He sat down on the roadway, letting his lance fall from his hand and clatter to the stones. “Hells, you might have been right about this place, Sergeant. Maybe we should have turned back. Too late now.”
Can’t change the past.
However much one might want to.
However hard one might wish to.
Can’t go back.
Only forward.
Besides, he’d been in worse situations than this. He’d fought a duel with Ristar de Fallon on top of a six hundred foot-high column of rock; cheated death on the Shattered Isles ousting the Pirate Lords; found himself the last caster standing during the battle for Zegoma Beach. Aye, things here looked somewhat bleak. But in Ember’s experience, there was always a way out. Always some option he had yet to consider, a path as yet undiscovered. He considered trying to wake Hannar-Ghan, but decided against it. He preferred the big caster unconscious. No superior sneers. No talking back. Not an anti-Mulai grumble to be heard.
“See,” he said to the comatose caster, patting his scuffed breastplate. “You and I can get along just fine.”
He heard footsteps behind him, the slap of boots on stone. He reached for his lance and scrambled around, getting to his knees, ready to face his attackers. But what he saw was Roon-Kotke stumbling across the roadway, Lor-Qui and Junn-Kri following his lead. His squadmates looked battered and bloodied, caked in dirt. But they were still alive.
Ember breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his lance.
The Corporal was the first to reach him. He dropped to his knees to check on Hannar-Ghan, holding a finger to the big caster’s neck. “The Sergeant? Is he…?”
“He’ll be alright,” said Ember, rising slowly to his feet, hampered by muscles that protested every bit of the way. “I think he smacked his head when the cart went over. I had to cut him free. Reckon he’s going to be grumpier than usual when he wakes up.”
Roon-Kotke cracked a smile. “Even grumpier when I tell him you saved his life.”
“Then don't tell him. Besides…” Ember glanced at the Wall. “We're not exactly safe. This binding won’t hold for long.”
“When did you cast it?” Lor asked, placing his palm on the oconic barrier. “Did you set an hourglass?”
“Not my first concern,” Ember said. He gestured at the shattered remains of the cart through the Wall. “It’s probably burning with the rest of our things.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Roon-Kotke. “Whoever is up there on the fortress, whoever attacked us, they can just wait the binding out. They’ll hit us again when it collapses.”
“We can just cast another one, though," said Junn-Kri. “Can't we?”
“Yes, we can,” Ember said. “We can cast Walls until we’re fresh out of charges. But that won't get us out of here. It just delays the inevitable. If we run, our attackers will catch us eventually and shoot us in the back. If we advance, they'll burn us before we get to the front gates. And there's the small matter of that raised drawbridge up ahead and this roadway ending in a one hundred-foot drop."
“Actually, I've calculated that it’s a more like an eighty-foot drop.”
“How is that helpful, Lor?”
“Sorry.”
Junn looked thoughtful. “Maybe they won’t come after us?”
“Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t.” Ember turned to look towards the fortress, his view of it still obscured by magic and smoke. “All I know is, if we stay on this roadway, we’re sitting ducks should we be attacked again. There’s no cover. I hate to say it, but we need to get off this road…”
Roon-Kotke nodded. “Agreed.”
“Wait,” said Lor, turning away from the Wall. “You mean… Go down? To the ground? Have you forgotten the howling that Junn heard earlier?”
“No,” Ember sighed. “I haven’t. In fact, I’ll bet the reason why this roadway is built so damned high is that it was designed to keep travellers safe from whatever hides in the forest. There’s obviously something down there. And I’m not right keen to find out what it is. But I don’t see we have much of a choice.”
“Besides,” said Roon-Kotke, slapping Lor-Qui on the shoulder. “Junn heard noises coming from the right side of this road, correct?”
Junn nodded.
“So we’ll just rope down the other side.”
Lor looked unconvinced. “What if there’s something down there too?”
“We’ll take our chances.” Roon-Kotke shrugged off his valise and set it down on the stones. He opened it up and pulled out a coil of rope. “We’re casters, remember. We have our lances and the power of oca on our side. I’m sure we can handle whatever wild animal is down there. No more discussion, we need to be on our way. That's an order. Somebody rouse Han.”
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” Junn-Kri unscrewed the cap of his canteen and poured water onto the big caster’s face, giggling as he did so. Hannar-Ghan awoke with a cough and a splutter.
“What the—” The big caster balled his fists, anger flaring.
“Up and at ‘em, Sergeant,” Roon-Kotke said as he fed one end of the rope through a gap in the wall, looping it around the thick stone and then tying it off.
“What happened?” Hannar-Ghan rubbed his head and looked around, eyes flitting between the blazing remnants of the cart, the shimmering Wall and the bloodied members of his squad. “The cart? How did we…?”
“Ember saved your life,”Junn blurted out as he crossed the roadway to join Roon-Kotke.
“What!?” The big caster looked at Roon-Kotke in slack-jawed disbelief.
“Junn!” Ember snapped.
“Well you did. The sarge owes you a debt. He needed to know.”
Roon-Kotke pulled on the rope, testing the knot. Then he tossed the coil of rope over the side. “We can talk about this later. For now, we need to get off this road. I need you all focused. Once our friends at the fortress see Ember’s Wall, they’ll realise that we’re still alive and so might be of a mind to finish what they started. We’ll have a better chance of staying alive down in the forest.”
“Where the howling monsters live…” Lor-Qui added, sullenly.
Roon-Kotke ignored him. “Han,” he said, addressing the groggy Sergeant. “Do you need more time to—”
“I’m fine,” the big caster growled, getting to his feet. He walked to the edge of the road and looked over the side. “I’ll go first.”
Roon-Kotke nodded. “Junn, you go next. Then you, Lor. Cobb and I will follow you down. Lances ready when you hit the ground.”
“What’s your plan?” Ember asked, as Hannar-Ghan clambered over the side and started to climb down the rope.
“Haven’t thought that far ahead, to be honest. It must be two days walk back to the gate, easy. Longer if we move through the forest. And then we’ll need to find a way to climb back up again.”
Ember stared at the fortress. “That’s what they’ll expect us to do.”
Next to him, Junn peered over the edge, waiting his turn on the rope.
“You have another strategy you want to share?” the Corporal asked.
“We’ve lost our transport, most of our supplies and…” Ember winced at the thought of his lost bow. “Even some of our weapons. We might be able to replace all of those things — and give ourselves a greater chance of survival — if we break into the fortress, instead of running away from it.”
“That’s crazy!”
“Is it? Think about it. The fortress is close. By the looks of it, there’s some sort of outbuilding up there in the trees. Do you see it?” Ember pointed to the top of a stone tower just visible above the canopy. “If we stick to the edge of the forest, our attackers won’t see us coming. We can take them by surprise. ”
“Assuming we can find a way in.”
“Yes. And if we can’t, we can follow your plan. All we’ve lost is a few hours. This gods-damned place is dangerous. I don’t fancy spending th
e night in the forest. You want to keep us all alive? I believe the safest place right now is inside that fortress.”
Roon-Kotke rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. There are only five of us.”
“There might only be five of them. A small band of smugglers. Brigands. Refugees. A few remaining townsfolk, fearful of newcomers.”
“Or an entire garrison of oca-wielding soldiers.”
“Maybe,” said Ember, as Lor-Qui prepared to climb down to the ground below. “But don’t you want to know?”
Roon-Kotke was a gambler. On days when they were allowed to venture into Meiwu, he frequented the tables at the Breaker’s Club. Between missions at Refu Ruka, you’d find him in the mess hall, betting next week’s wages on a hand of Acharawan Aces or Fivestones. Ember had pegged him as someone who would take a risk. Someone who’d bet big on a long shot, like running towards the fortress instead of away from it.
So it came as a surprise when the Corporal turned him down.
19. AN EXPLOSION
ON A CLEAR DAY, you got one heck of a view across the Briar from the hillside graveyard — the Hourglass fortress towering above the slate-roofed sprawl; the six spires surrounding it, a quarter as high but no less dramatic. Not today, though. Today, what greeted Daode-Kotke Khundhan was a wall of low, grey cloud, all bar the city’s outer fringes hidden behind a veil of relentless drizzle.
He wasn’t too disappointed. The investigation into Ember Cobb was his primary concern and it had led him here… To a funeral. A cluster of mourners stood amongst the pyramid plaques and sculpted vases, watching a black-lacquered coffin being lowered into the ground. The rain spattered on a dome of thickened air conjured above them, its code evidently part Sanctuary binding, part protective Wall. Expensive oconics for a well-to-do crowd. Daode kept a respectful distance.
While he waited, he’d sought out a small burial plot, not far from a temple with a red-tiled roof. A plain headstone stood there, noticeably newer than the mould-blackened memorials on either side of it. It was the last resting place of Laney Hallei Cobb.
Daode had learnt so much about Ember Cobb in a short space of time, enough to fill a notebook. Cobb had grown up with Lokke de Calvas in Meillo, a small coastal village south of the Greatfort at Gorah-Tei. By all accounts, he was headstrong even then, reckless yet fiercely loyal. The former Watcher, Zenda de Voss, had placed the two of them with the Scarlet Lancers after they took the Testing. And when De Calvas left to join the Sentinel’s personal legion, after his triumph at Zegoma Beach, Cobb stayed on with the Lancers, rising to Caster-Sergeant after heroic actions at Giant’s Pass and the Shattered Isles. When Lokke de Calvas was posted to the Old Hundredth years later, he requested Ember join him as his Caster-Captain.
The grubby Mulai had lied about his rank. Said he was just a caster when he was anything but. Perhaps that would be enough to prove Zan-Naka right — that Cobb couldn’t be trusted.
Daode wiped the rain from his eyes and stared down at the gravestone.
Life had been good to Ember Cobb. Until the day he lost his wife.
Everybody has a turning point that defines them. Good or bad. Some event that tips their life upside down and shakes out the contents, with no regard for where they might land or the damage they might cause. One terrible night in the Briar had forever changed Cobb. Before Coombe had got drunk on ale in the Yarborough, the former caster had told him the tale. He had been there the night it happened.
We sprinted through those corkscrew streets soon as we heard, not caring who we knocked over, or who we shoved out of the way. I remember the orange glow of the fire beyond the rooftops, black belches of smoke rising into the darkening sky. An explosion, people said. Down Tanner’s Row.
It’s why we were running. It wasn’t the first attack on the city by the Yafai. Wouldn’t be the last. But Missus Cobb, she often stopped at a supper house on Tanner’s Row, waiting for Ember to finish his shift. Beautiful woman, she was. A crying shame what happened to her.
By the time we reached the supper house, the building was all aflame. Bodies lay in the street. Men, women and little children. You don’t forget a sight like that… I helped Ember check each one. Least I could do. But Missus Cobb weren’t amongst ‘em. Turned out she was still inside, trapped on the upper floor with several others. When Ember saw her face at the window, he ran for the open door. No thought for his own safety. Only her.
Stupid, I know, but I went in after him, shielding my face with a raised arm, braving the heat. Didn’t get far. The downstairs was ablaze — wallpaper curling as it burned, ceiling blackened and bowed, the stairway collapsing in front of us. No way up. No way to rescue her. I think Ember knew it too… So I grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him out. He let me do it. Didn’t struggle. All the fight had left him. Happiness fled. His soul consumed by such grief, you or I should hope we never know its like…
Daode genuinely felt some sympathy for Cobb. Unsurprisingly, the death of his wife had hit him hard. Despite a glittering career, he’d quit the Old Hundredth soon after, blew through his savings (drinking much of it) and lost his apartment in the Hourglass. He turned to mercenary work to make ends meet. As the Empire embraced peace, Cobb sought out war wherever he could find it.
All the while, Lokke de Calvas stuck with him. Tried to bring him back from the dark place he’d sunk into. Lent him money. Offered him a place to stay, not that Cobb took it. Didn’t want help from anyone. The last anyone knew, Cobb had headed north to work for the Ocosconans. Somewhere in the Wilds. So at least that bit of his story was true.
Only a couple of gaps in Daode’s knowledge of the Cobb family remained. It was why he endured the rain. Why he stood on the hill and waited patiently for the funeral to finish and for the mourners to disperse. The man he wanted to speak to was amongst their number. A Kelsen historian by the name of Rouarc de Sand.
Leaving Laney Cobb’s gravestone behind, Daode waited for De Sand by a weather-worn mausoleum, a once grand monument topped with seven small spires. He couldn’t see much of the man himself. A long black coat protected the Kelsen from the worst of the rain. A brim of a black top hat, firmly pushed down upon his head, hid most of his face.
As De Sand passed, Daode fell into step beside him.
“Mister De Sand?”
De Sand stopped and stepped away. He peered at Daode over thin-rimmed specs, lined face set in a frown. “Who are you?”
“My name is Daode-Kotke Khundhan.”
The Kelsen sighed. “The Ocosconan?”
“Yes, sir.” Was he supposed to call him ‘sir?’
“It couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Now is not the time. Or the place.”
“I’m sorry to bother you here, sir. But I’m due to return home in the morning. I was told you are the foremost authority on the Annexation, at least from the Mulai side. I have a few questions about a lost caster.”
“A lost caster? My knowledge of the Annexation, while certainly great, does not extend to the fate of every man and woman who fought in it. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
De Sand pulled up the collars of his coat and walked on.
“Please, sir.” Daode jogged to catch up. “I have been looking into the career of Ember Cobb, friend to Lokke de Calvas.”
“De Calvas, I know. Cobb?” The Kelsen shook his head. “Never heard of him.”
“Actually, it’s his grandfather I’m interested in. He served during the Annexation, but I can’t find any mention of the legion he was attached to or where he fought.”
“Perhaps the records were misplaced. I suggest you look again.”
“I looked most throughly, sir. Cobb came from a family of casters. His father, Andreas, served with the Blackiron Bucks. His uncle Elias too. Further back, however, the family history becomes slightly sketchy.”
“Only to be expected.”
“Yes. Of course. But while there were references to Cobb’s grandfather joining the Imperial legions, no records of his service have survived. None.
The records go back another generation. They are complete. But there’s nothing on Orey Ember Cobb. Or his legion. It’s like they just vanished.”
“A vanished legion? Ah, yes. Why didn’t you say?”
“Then you know something?”
“It’s not a matter of public record, but there was a Mulai legion lost during the Annexation. The Bloody Tenth. As you are no doubt aware, the history of any war is written by the victors, an opportunity for glories to be wonderfully embellished and embarrassments to be neatly and conveniently expunged. The Tenth stands as an example of the latter. They were quietly disbanded after the Annexation. All records of their involvement were burned.”
“Why? What happened?”
Daode listened as Rouarc de Sand explained. He was so taken aback by what he heard, he forgot to write any of it down.
20. A PILE OF HOT RUBBLE
NOW HE WAS GETTING SOMEWHERE. Stone had money in his pocket and the promise of more. A new life within his reach, for him and for his mother. As he left the warehouse district on his way to Old Lanridge Street, the world seemed that little bit brighter.
‘Course, he’d felt uneasy leaving Mila behind. But he’d done all he could, leaving her tied up and hobbled. If a horse couldn’t escape the thick leather straps he’d used, a wounded woman surely couldn’t. But if she did manage to bust free while he was gone, that would be a problem solved. He’d get his home back. On the downside, he’d be waving goodbye to the possibility of five-hundred crowns… A princely sum if the woman made good on her promise. Then again, it might be just another lie. She was a thief, after all. Lying came easy. Hells, her name probably wasn’t even Mila.
Not that it mattered. Stone had lifted her purse and hidden her lance. He patted the eighteen crowns and change jingling in his pocket as he walked. Whatever happened, he’d made more coin today than a week spent scrapping, maybe a whole month. If the woman kept to her word, he'd be able to pay off the family debt and free his mother within a couple of days, with coin left over to start afresh. He’d wipe that smug smile off the warden’s face when he handed it over. Then maybe they could leave Ocos. Travel south to one of the smaller towns — Caranhan or Happ-Jagar. Or north? He'd heard the Wilds were a land of opportunity for anyone who was prepared to work hard.
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