by Glen Cook
Over half the enemy had crossed the river. A third of those had fallen. The captains in the fortress remained indecisive.
The Shadowmasters’ troops kept coming across. A furious desperation began to animate them. Eighty percent over. Ninety percent. The Taglians began to give a step here and there. I remained frozen, an iron symbol. “Frogface,” I muttered into my helmet, “I need you now.”
The imp materialized, perched on my mount’s neck. “What you need, chief?” I filled him up with orders I wanted relayed to Murgen, to Otto and Hagpp, to Sindawe, to damned near everybody I could think of. Some ordered next steps of the plan, some involved innovations.
The morning had been remarkably crow-free. Now that changed. Two monsters, damned near as big as chickens, settled on my shoulders. They were nobody’s imagination. I felt their weight. Others saw them. Lady turned to look at them.
A flock passed over the battlefield, circled the fortress, settled into the trees along the riverbank.
The enemy infantry was across. Their train was getting organized to follow.
Thousands of the Shadowmasters’ men were down. I doubted they had the advantage of numbers anymore. But experience had begun to tell. My Taglians were giving ground. I felt the first flutters of panic nipping at their formations.
Frogface materialized. “Couple wagons with ballista shafts came in, chief.”
“Get them up to the engines. Then tell Otto and Hagop it’s time.”
Maybe seven hundred horsemen had straggled in from Numa by then. They were dead tired. But they were in place and ready.
They did what they were supposed to do. They stumbled up out of the cover of the creek. They sliced through the chaos behind the enemy line like the fabled hot knife through butter. Soft butter. Then they came back across the hillside, cutting at the back of the enemy line. Like scythes felling wheat.
Murgen came over the hill behind me, displaying the Black Company standard boldly. Sindawe’s bunch were behind him. Murgen halted between Lady and me, a few steps back.
The artillery began feeling for the range to the fortress. Goblin and One-Eye and maybe even Shifter had been at work, using little charms to decompose the mortar between stones.
“It’s going to work,” I muttered. “I think we’re going to do it.”
The cavalry sortie did it. They did not get sorted out for another charge before men began running for the ford. The second charge bogged down in the sheer mass of fleeing men. Mogaba, I love you.
The men he had trained did not break formation and charge. He and Ochiba hustled up and down their lines, getting the ranks dressed and the injured out of the way. Ballista shafts were knocking stones out of the fortress wall. The captains up top gawked. A few of feeble courage abandoned the battlements.
I raised my sword and pointed. The drums started. I began walking my mount forward. Lady kept pace, as did Murgen and the standard. One-Eye and Goblin worked up a more terrible glamor around us. My two crows shrieked. They could be heard above the tumult. The enemy train was all crowded up the other side of the ford. Now the teamsters fled, leaving them blocking the retreat of their comrades.
We had them in a bottle, the cork was in, and most of them had their backs to us. The grim work began.
I continued my slow advance. People stayed away from me and Lady and the standard. Archers on the battlements tried dropping me, but somebody had put some pretty good spells on my armor. Nothing got through, though for a while it was like being in a barrel somebody was whacking with a hammer.
Enemy soldiers began jumping in the river and swimming for it.
The ballistae had a good range, all their shafts striking in a small area. The watchtower creaked and grumbled. Then rumbled. A big chunk fell out, and soon the whole tower collapsed, taking parts of the fortress wall with it.
I pushed into the river, across the ford, and on up between wagons. The standard and Sindawe’s men followed. The only enemies I saw were heeling and toeing it south.
Amazing. I never struck a blow myself.
It was almost workaday stuff for Sindawe’s bunch to begin clearing the wagons, for some to worm through behind Murgen and cover him while he planted the standard on the fortress wall.
Fighting continued on the north bank but the thing had been decided. It was over and won and I did not believe it. It had been close to being too easy. I had not used all the arrows in my quiver.
Though chaos continued around me I took out my map case to check out what lay to the south.
Chapter Thirty-seven: SHADOWLIGHT: COAL-DARK TEARS
Rage and panic contended in the fountained hall at Shadowlight. Moonshadow mewled dire prophecies. Stormshadow raged. One maintained a silence as deep as that within a buried coffin. And one was not there at all, though a Voice spoke for him, dark and mocking.
“I said a million men might not be enough.”
“Silence, worm!” Stormshadow snarled.
“They have obliterated your invincible armies, children. They have forced bridgeheads everywhere. What will you do now, whimpering dogs? Your provinces are a prostrate and naked woman. A two-hundred-mile jaunt behind the Lance of Passion and they will be hammering at the gates of Stormgard. What will you do, what will you do, what will you do? Oh, woe, what hast befallen thee?” Insane laughter rolled out of that black absence in the air.
Stormshadow snarled, “You haven’t been a whole hell of a lot of help, have you? You and your games. Trying to catch Dorotea Senjak? How well did you do? Eh? What would you have done with their Captain? Did you have a bargain in mind? Some deal to trade us for the power they bring? Did you think you could use them to close the Gate? If you did you’re the greatest fool of all.”
“Whine, children. Moan and wail. They are upon you. Maybe if you beg I’ll save you yet again.”
Moonshadow snapped, “Bold chatter from one without the ability to save himself. Yes. In the traditions of their Company they caught us off balance. They did what is for them old routine: the impossible. But the fighting along the Main was just one move in the game. Only a pawn has vanished from the board. If they come south, every step will carry them a step nearer their dooms.”
Laughter.
The silent one broke his fast of words. “There are three of us, in the fullness of our power. But two great ones dog the path of the Black Company. And they have little interest in furthering its goals. And she is a cripple, feeble as a mouse.”
More laughter. “Once upon a time someone named the true name of Dorotea Senjak. So now she is the Lady no more. She has no more powers than a talented child. But do you believe she lost her memory when she lost those powers? You do not. Or you would not accuse me as you have. Perhaps she will grow frightened enough or desperate enough to confide in the great one who changes.”
No retort. That was the dread that haunted them all.
Moonshadow said, “The reports are confused. Still, a great disaster has befallen our army. But we are dealing with the Black Company. The chance has always existed. We have prepared for it. We will regain our composure. We will deal with them. But there is a mystery from the fighting at Ghoja. Two dire figures were seen there, great dark beings on giant steeds that breathed fire. Beings immune to the bite of darts. The names Widowmaker and Lifetaker have been breathed by those who stood with the Black Company.”
This was news to the others. Stormshadow said, “We must learn more about this. It may explain their luck.”
The hole in the air: “You must act if you do not want to be devoured. I suggest you put aside terror, eschew squabbling, and cease the dispensation of accusation. I suggest you think of a way to go for the jugular.”
No one replied.
“Perhaps I will contribute myself when next fate tries to take its cut.”
“Well,” Stormshadow mused. “The fear has at last penetrated as far as Overlook.”
The bickering resumed, but without heart. Four minds rotated toward thwarting that doom from the north
.
Chapter Thirty-eight: INVADERS OF THE SHADOWLANDS
Tired is not quite so important when you have just beaten the odds. You’ve got energy to celebrate.
I did not want a celebration. Enemy soldiers were still trying to get away. I wanted my men to get on with what we had to do while they still thought they were supermen. I had my staff together before the chaos started sorting itself out.
“Otto. Hagop. Come morning you head east along the river and break up the force guarding the prisoners building this levee system. Big Bucket, Candles, you guys get this side of the ford cleaned up. Look through these wagons and see what we’ve got. Mogaba, get the battlefield cleaned up. Collect weapons. One-Eye, get our casualties moved back to Vejagedhya. I’ll help when I get time. Don’t let those Taglian butchers do anything stupid.” We had a dozen volunteer physicians along. Their ideas of medicine were pretty primitive.
“Lady. What do we know about this Dejagore?” Dejagore was the nearest big city south of the Main, two hundred miles down the road. “Besides the fact that it’s a walled city?”
“A Shadowmaster makes his headquarters there.”
“Which one?”
“Moonshadow, I think. No. Stormshadow.”
“That’s it?”
“If you’d take prisoners you might find out something from them.”
I raised an eyebrow. She prodding me about excesses? “Keep that in mind, Otto. Bring those prisoners when you catch up.”
“All fifty thousand?”
“As many as don’t run away. I’m hoping some will be mad enough to help us out. The rest we can use for labor.”
Mogaba asked, “You’re going to invade the Shadowlands?”
He knew I was. He wanted a formal declaration. “Yes. They supposedly only have fifty thousand men under arms. We just creamed a third. I don’t think they can get another mob as big together in time if we go at them as hard as we can, as fast as we can.”
“Audacity,” he said.
“Yeah. Keep hitting them and don’t give them a chance to get their feet under them again.”
Lady chided, “They’re sorcerers, Croaker. What happens when they come out themselves?”
“Then Shifter will have to kick in. Don’t worry about the mules, just load the wagons. We’ve worked on sorcerers before.”
Nobody argued. Maybe they should have. But we all felt that fate had handed us an opportunity and we would be idiots to waste it. I figured too that since we had not expected to survive the first contest, we were out nothing by pressing onward.
“I wonder how beloved these Shadowmasters are to their subjects. Can we expect local support?”
No comment. We would find out the hard way.
Talk went on and on. Eventually I left it to help with the medical work, patching and sewing while issuing orders through a procession of messengers. I got me two hours sleep that night.
The cavalry was heading out east and Mogaba’s legion had begun its southward advance when Lady joined me. “Shifter has been scouting. He says you can detect an almost visible change as news of the battle spreads. The mass of people are excited. Those who collaborate with the Shadowmasters are confused and frightened. They’ll probably panic and run when they hear we’re coming.”
“Good. Even great.” In ten days we would find out for sure how much impact Ghoja had had. I meant to advance on Dejagore at twenty miles a day. The roads south of the Main were dry. How lovely that must have been for them.
Jahamaraj Jah had gotten his survivors into position in time and set a series of clever ambushes. His mob scrubbed two thousand fugitives from Ghoja.
He was not pleased with my invasion plans. He was even less pleased when I drafted his followers and distributed them as replacements for men we had lost. But he did not argue much.
We encountered no resistance. In territories formerly belonging to Taglios we received warm welcomes in villages still occupied by their original inhabitants. The natives were cooler farther south but not inimical. They thought we were too good to be true.
We encountered our first enemy patrols six days south of Ghoja. They avoided contact. I told everybody to look professional and mean.
Otto and Hagop caught up, dragging along thirty thousand people from the levee project. I looked them over. They had not been treated well. There were some very angry, bitter men among them. Hagop said they were all willing to help defeat the Shadowmasters.
“Damn me,” I said. “A year and a half ago there were seven of us. Now we’re a horde. Pick out the ones in the best shape. Arm them with captured weapons. Add them to the legions so every fourth man in Mogaba’s and Ochiba’s is a new one. That would mean trained men left over, so move them over to Sindawe. Give him one in four, too. Should bring him up to strength. Anybody else we arm we can use as auxiliaries, and garrisons for some of these smaller cities.”
The countryside was not heavily populated between the river and here, but nearer Dejagore that would change. “The rest can tag along. We’ll use them somehow.”
But how would I feed them? We’d used up our own supplies and had started on those captured at Ghoja.
Dejagore looked less promising now. Some of the rescued prisoners hailed from that city. They said the walls were forty feet high. The resident Shadowmaster was a demon for keeping them up.
“What will be will be,” I thought.
The bloom was off the rose. We’d all had time to think. Still, morale was better than it had been moving toward Ghoja.
There were skirmishes the next few days but nothing serious. Mostly Otto and Hagop’s boys overhauling enemy troops not hurrying fast enough to get away. The cavalry had begun to behave professionally at last.
I allowed foraging under strict rules, looting only where people had fled. It worked, mostly. Trouble came only where I expected it, from One-Eye, whose motto is that anything not nailed down is his and anything he can pry loose isn’t nailed down.
We knocked over some towns and small cities with no trouble. The last few I left to the freed prisoners, cynically letting them vent their wrath while saving my better troops.
The nearer Dejagore we got — official name Stormgard, according to the Shadowmasters — the more tamed the country became. We made the last day’s march through rolling hills that had been terraced and strewn with irrigation canals. So it was startling to come out of the hills and see the city itself.
Stormgard was surrounded by a plain as flat as a tabletop extending a mile in all directions, with the exception of several small mounds maybe ten feet tall. The plain looked like a manicured lawn. “I don’t like the looks of that,” I told Mogaba. “Too contrived. Lady. Remind you of anything?”
She gave me a blank look.
“The approach to the Tower.”
“I see that. But here there’s room for maneuver.”
“We got some daylight left. Let’s get down there and get set up.”
Mogaba asked, “How will you fortify the camp?” We had seen little timber lately.
“Turn the wagons on their sides.”
Nothing moved on the plain. Only haze over the city indicated life there. “I want a closer look at that. Lady, when we get down there dig out the costumes.”
My horde flooded onto the plain. Still no sign anyone in Stormgard was interested. I sent for Murgen and the standard. The way people thought about the Company here in the south, maybe Stormgard would surrender without a fight.
Lady looked terrible in her Lifetaker rig. I supposed I looked as grim. They were effective outfits. They would have scared me had I seen them coming at me.
Mogaba, Ochiba, and Sindawe invited themselves along. They had dolled up in stuff they’d worn in Gea-Xle. They looked pretty fierce themselves. Mogaba told me, “I want to see those walls, too.”
“Sure.”
Then here came Goblin and One-Eye. In an instant I saw that Goblin had had the idea and One-Eye had decided to go lest Goblin somehow get ahead on poin
ts. “No clowning, you guys. Understand?”
Goblin grinned his big frog grin. “Sure, Croaker. Sure. You know me.”
“That’s the trouble. I know you both.”
Goblin faked bruised feelings.
“You guys make these costumes look good. Hear?”
“You’ll strike terror to the roots of their souls,” One-Eye promised. “They’ll flee from the walls screaming.”
“Sure they will. Everybody ready?”
They were. “Around it from the right,” I told Murgen. “At the canter. As close as you dare.”
He rode out. Lady and I followed twenty yards behind. As I got started two monster crows plopped down on my shoulders. A flock came out of the hills and raced ahead, circling the city.
We got close enough to see the scramble on the walls. And impressive walls they were, at least forty feet high. What nobody had bothered to mention was that the city was built upon a mound that raised it another forty feet above the plain.
This was going to be a bitch.
A few arrows wobbled out and fell short.
Finesse. Cunning. Trickery. Only a dip would go up against those walls, Croaker.
I had had liberated prisoners work up maps. I had a good idea of the city’s layout.
Four gates. Four paved roads approached from the points of the compass rose, like spokes of a wheel. Nasty barbicans and towers protected the gates. More towers along the wall for laying enfilading fire along its face. Not pleasant.
It was very quiet up on those walls. They had one eye on us and one on the horde still pouring out of the hills, wondering where the hell we all came from.
We got us a little surprise south of Stormgard.
There was a military camp there. A big one set maybe four hundred yards from the city wall. “Oh, shit,” I said, and yelled at Murgen.
He misunderstood. On purpose, probably, though I’ll never prove it. He kicked his mount into a gallop and headed for the gap between.
Arrows rose from the wall and camp. Miraculously, they fell without doing any harm. I glanced back as we entered the throat of the gap.
