Soldiers' Redemption (First Cohort Book 1)

by M. R. Anthony

  Without warning, Bonecruncher rose to his feet. He was over eight feet tall and almost as broad. The skin of his face was strangely slack, making him look like a simpleton, though it only exacerbated the surprise when you found out how cunning and calculating he was. His arms and legs were muscular, visible outside his leather breastplate and beneath his protective leather skirt. I’d once seen him pick up a fully-grown cow, dash it off a wall and then bite into the bellowing animal, not giving it the respect of death before he began to consume it. He was fast too; much, much faster than you’d have expected from looking at him.

  He swatted his table aside as we closed in, our swords pointed at his belly. Not content to allow us the privilege to dictate events, he took a single, long stride towards Sinnar and Chunky. As he did so, two slivers of metal appeared in his side, thrown by Furtive. Bonecruncher grunted and hardly paid them any mind as he swung an enormous fist at Sinnar. The Lieutenant brought his sword across in time to meet the punch, opening a bloodless cut along Bonecruncher’s arm, but taking a blow to his shoulder, which knocked him away, catapulting him fifteen feet to one side and into a collision with the wall.

  Chunky sent down a powerful overhand chop as Bonecruncher’s arm went by. Warmont’s Fifth had tried to connect with both men with his punch, but we were more than we used to be and Chunky was quick enough to lean back away from the blow.

  Two more of Furtive’s throwing knives appeared in Bonecruncher’s back, embedding right up to their hilts. They hardly even brought out a flinch.

  “Come to pay your respects, Charing?” Bonecruncher asked, with a low chuckle. I didn’t bother to reply, and advanced with my men, trying to get behind him in order that we could wear him down with our attacks. Against the far wall, I saw Sinnar push himself groggily to his knees, shaking his head as if to clear it. He was a brawler through and through and never let physical punishment get the better of him.

  The fight was not clean, nor was it one I enjoyed. Bonecruncher was fast, strong and lacking in fear. He hadn’t reached the position of Warmont’s Fifth without challenge and he thrived on his own anger. His attempts to instil fear in us might have worked better on less hardened soldiers, but the First Cohort had seen it all. The strength of our hatred and the power of our new-found purpose were a match for Bonecruncher’s anger and gradually our blades started to find their marks with increasing regularity. Like the sorcerer Dag’Vosh, each blow felt as if we were striking hard wood, but even against wood, sharpened metal will make its mark.

  I took a glancing backhand blow to the side of my head, Bonecruncher’s knuckles making it feel like I’d been hit by four blacksmith’s hammers at once. I reeled away without control over my legs, but noted with satisfaction that my own sword had taken off two of Bonecruncher’s fingers. They dropped to the floor with heavy, unyielding thumps.

  With a roar, Bonecruncher came after me, his arm outstretched to take me by the throat, heedless of the fact that this move left him open to my men. Seeing the opportunity, Sinnar and Chunky, acting in unspoken concert, hewed at the shoulder of Bonecruncher’s reaching arm, grimacing at the effort. As I rolled clumsily onto my side in order that Bonecruncher might miss me, I saw Chunky strike a second blow in the same place as his first. His hand-and-a-half sword bit deep, cutting through muscle, bone and sinew, leaving Bonecruncher’s arm hanging limply by a thick flap of skin.

  With a snarl of hatred, Warmont’s Fifth kicked out. Chunky had been unbalanced by the success of his strike and received the brunt of the kick in his chest. Even as I recovered from my prone position I saw the soldier’s rib cage crumple inwards and Chunky was smashed into a wall with several of his shattered ribs clearly visible where they protruded through his clothing.

  It was then that Bonecruncher took us all by surprise, by barrelling through two of the men who blocked his way to the door. Hardly pausing, Warmont’s Fifth collided with the heavy wooden frame as he ran out onto the street. Sinnar was first after him, and though I tried to follow, my feet were reluctant to do as I instructed them and I had to lean against a wall for support as those of my men who were able followed Sinnar.

  It only took moments for me to gather my wits and stumble out onto the street, just as Lieutenant Sinnar came jogging back along the street towards the tavern.

  “That fucker can run like a champion,” he said. “Even with his arm dangling off his shoulder. I lost him, Captain.”

  I nodded. “Probably for the best, Lieutenant Sinnar. I would not have liked you to have caught up to him alone.”

  Sinnar looked as though he wanted to suggest that he’d have finished Bonecruncher off with ease, but refrained. “He was a tough bastard, right enough sir. Though we already knew he was more than just talk with no trousers.”

  “He’s not so brave that he stayed around to find out how many pieces we’d cut him into.”

  “If only he’d learn how to treat his men with the same respect that he treated himself. Maybe we’d have to worry about him a bit more, Captain.”

  I was suddenly worried. “We need to get back to the First Cohort,” I said, but there were other things to deal with first.

  Chunky was dead, I could see it immediately. Whatever he kept within his chest had been flattened by the kick until it was half the thickness it had been this morning. His head lolled to one side and his eyes remained open, staring lifelessly towards the far window. I put my hand on the top of his head and drew it over his tattooed face, pulling his eyelids shut as I did so.

  “Sleep well, old friend,” I whispered to him.

  “Fronter’s gone, too, Captain,” said Furtive. Fronter had taken a punch on the side of his head when he’d tried to hamstring Bonecruncher. A bold move and one which had seen him make a soldier’s last journey. I gave him my respects in the way that I had done for Chunky.

  “Leave them here,” I told the men who remained. “We need to get back to the camp - quickly.”

  We left the ruined tavern and abandoned our horses and the cart. Two abreast, we pushed our way quickly along the streets we’d come earlier. At one point we encountered a patrol of four guards, three of whom were little more than boys. They had good cause to stop us given our appearance, but they wisely chose not to. I would not have wanted them to come to harm when there was no reason for them to.

  Once we’d left the outskirts of Turpid, we were able to break into an easier run, eschewing the treacherous wet-clay road and taking the most direct route over grassed fields to where I’d left Craddock in charge of the First Cohort. It was becoming dark now, but the grass seemed the safest option. The Lieutenant had made camp on the lee of a hill in order to reduce the chance the soldiers would be detected by people from the town, so I could not see if all was in order until we got close by and I was able to speak to a sentry. The appointed man appeared from the gloom as if he’d been waiting specifically for our return.

  “Nothing to report, sir. All’s been quiet since you left,” he said.

  “Thank you, soldier,” I told him. “Remain at your station until you are relieved.”

  “Yes, Captain,” he said, saluting.

  I slowed us down to a fast jog until we reached the camp. We had endurance beyond what you might expect and we were not exhausted by our efforts to return in haste. I found Lieutenant Craddock and cut to the chase.

  “We saw Bonecruncher in town. He escaped us, but I can’t imagine he’s out here for the good of his health. He got Chunky and Fronter. Any sign of trouble?”

  Craddock’s eyes stared straight ahead for a moment as he absorbed the news about our dead. His coping mechanisms kicked in and he focused once more, answering my question. “Nothing at all, sir. I have sent out scouts and posted sentries. They haven’t reported anything of concern.”

  “Shit,” I muttered - I was worried. It was not unknown for Bonecruncher to travel alone, but it was unusual. I had started to think that he might have a force billeted in the town or camped somewhere close by. Whatever the truth, I ne
eded to take the possibility into account that there was an army nearby, numbers unknown.

  “Where’s our lady? And Ploster?” I asked.

  “They’ve been talking for most of the afternoon, Captain. In your tent.” He looked at me closely. “You look like you’ve been hit with a sledgehammer,” he told me, revealing something I already knew.

  Craddock was aware I had no problem with visitors and I left him to his duties and went to where my tent had been erected in the centre of the camp. I heard voices within.

  “Captain,” said Ploster when I entered.

  “Captain Charing,” said our lady. She stood up when she saw me, concern on her face. “What has happened?”

  “We found Warmont’s Fifth, my lady,” I responded. “And he is an evil brute. Our efforts to kill him failed, though he has been injured.”

  “He has killed two of us,” the girl said. “Irreplaceable, brave men.”

  “That he has. We will raise their toast before the night is done,” I told her. Then I saw that she looked worried as she spoke:

  “That other man – Dag’Vosh – I knew he was coming for me. I had sensed his searching as he closed in on my village. I did not flee, without knowing why at the time, but now I know it was because my power was guiding me to a meeting with the First Cohort. Why did I not detect this Bonecruncher that you found? Although I have not spoken of it, I have searched ahead and around us for more of Warmont’s allies, but today I felt nothing.”

  “You would not have, my lady,” spoke Ploster. “Bonecruncher is not magical in nature. Indeed, he is almost immune to magic. Warmont often sends him to fight battles where the enemy have many casters.”

  “Ploster is correct,” I said. “The way to defeat Bonecruncher is to cut the bastard into pieces. Anyway, we’re stuck here for tonight. I would prefer that we made it to Treads without fighting whatever forces Bonecruncher has brought with him, but if we are pushed to it, we’ll finish the job we started this afternoon.”

  She looked at me with her wide, blue eyes and then struck me with a blindside. “I also notice that your hands are empty, Captain Charing. Am I to understand it that you forgot to get me any warmer clothes in your distraction?”

  I admit that I gaped for a few seconds. And then she broke into a giggle as she saw that her jest had got me nonplussed.

  “Don’t mind him, my lady,” said Ploster. “Captain Charing has forgotten how to laugh these last hundreds of years. Though I’ll admit that I am uncertain if he ever learned how.”

  I knew it to be only said in fun, but the words struck close to home. As the Captain of the First Cohort, I was close to my men, able to mix with them and join them at the campfire without my appearance stopping the conversation. Nevertheless, I had to remain aloof to a degree, in order to maintain the discipline that any fighting force needs. I wasn’t certain if Ploster had unwittingly suggested that I needed to show a greater humour and warmth. I didn’t know if I had it in me. For some reason, the thoughts reminded me that I owed an apology.

  “My lady. We have travelled for several days now and I feel as though I have mostly ignored you.”

  “You have, Captain. You have also ignored my clothing requirements.”

  “She’s not going to let you off the hook with that one, Tyrus,” supplied Ploster helpfully.

  “I am sorry, my lady. Your arrival is something that the First Cohort has needed for so long, that I have taken you from your village on a journey to a place you have never been. You know yourself to be the Saviour, but I have not asked if you know what that means. Indeed, if you even wish to fulfil the hopes that everyone has for you.”

  “There is nothing to apologise for, Captain. I am young, but I have a voice and I knew where to find you. Some things need not be spoken. When we first met, I knew at once that my time of safety in the village had ended.” She looked me in the eyes, her features set in concern. “Remember that I have looked into your mind, Captain. I am the Saviour and I have seen who you are, what you were and what you have become. If you were what you had been, I would have destroyed you and all of your men.” Then the confidence seemed to drain from here. “At least, I think I would have. You protect yourselves so well.”

  “We all have our walls, my lady. Some of us have walls that are higher and stronger than those of others.”

  “Your walls were so very high, Captain,” she whispered. “You told me that you are lost and when I heard you speak those words, all of my doubts vanished. The Saviour is a beacon of hope in a time when hope has been destroyed. The Saviour is a rallying point for all people who are brave enough to fight for their freedom. If I can turn even the First Cohort away from Warmont’s evils, then I have confidence for the road ahead. I will not turn away from it.” She paused, smiling. “And that, Captain, is why I have not needed to speak to you. I am not a wavering girl, worried about the paths ahead. I know what is to come and I will have you and your men at my side during the coming darkness.”

  I glanced at Ploster and he nodded imperceptibly to show that he echoed my own thoughts. We were doing the right thing and though it had taken so long to reach this point, I knew that it was not too late for us.

  Ten

  We broke camp the following morning and set off at the first glimmering of daylight. I was concerned that it was still too dark to march in safety, but I was more concerned that Bonecruncher might be waiting for us on the other side of a distant hill, with ten thousand infantry under his banner. I told myself that I was worrying too much and that Warmont was unlikely to have so many of his men out here. The majority of his troops were usually stationed in Blades or close by and the journey from Blades to Treads would not take them close to Turpid. It seemed more likely that Bonecruncher had been sent to these remote lands to search for the Saviour, either alone or with a token force.

  Before we headed out, I had a surprise for our lady. It had not taken long to find two suitably-experienced volunteers to go with Furtive and make the trip back into Turpid during the night. Once in the town they had successfully broken into the clothier’s shop I had spent some time haggling in the previous day, and made off with a quantity of goods. I try to keep us honest in the First Cohort, so had bade the men leave behind a suitable purse of coins to cover the value of their theft. I considered myself a skilled haggler, so warned them not to be over-generous in their payment.

  “These are for me?” she’d asked, when, without ceremony, I handed over a set of warm clothing and cloak.

  “The men didn’t want to see you disappointed, my lady. They knitted these themselves,” I told her with a straight face.

  “Captain Charing, is that an attempt at humour?” she asked me, raising one eyebrow archly. I stared ahead and pretended that I had not heard.

  When the sun raised itself above the far horizon, we had already made some progress away from Turpid, even though we travelled at a reduced pace, keeping to the valleys amongst the low hills in order that we would be less visible to any hostile forces.

  It was Lieutenant Craddock who saw them first, on the brow of a hill, half a mile from us.

  “Captain, horsemen up there!” he called. “Wearing Bonecruncher’s colours.”

  I cursed aloud as I watched them wheel about and vanish over the brow of the hill. They had numbered fewer than ten – a scouting party.

  “Corporal Gloom!” I barked. “Take fifty men and get up that hill on the double! See what you can see.”

  “Yes sir!” said Gloom. He had fifty men peel away from our column and sprint up the shallow slope towards where the horsemen had been seen. They carried their swords and shields, in case the horsemen decided to return and send over a few arrows. No foot soldier liked a horseman and this was true in every army I’d fought in.

  Further along the brow of the hill, there was movement. A few of my men had seen it too – more horsemen.

  “Fuck!” I said. “Lieutenant Sinnar, get Gloom back, now!” I asked this not because I am pretentious and insi
st that my lieutenants issue every command for me, rather because Sinnar had a voice that could blow the cobwebs out of a castle ceiling.

  “Gloom! Get back here! Now!” he thundered across the slope.

  At first I feared that we were too late, but Corporal Gloom raised his hand to bring the men to a stop. He didn’t need to be told twice what ‘now’ meant, and in seconds they were running towards us. More horseman came into view – it was hard to count their exact numbers, but I could see at least two hundred of them.

  “Lieutenant Craddock, form a square. We’re going to move out of this valley and up that slope,” I told him, indicating the hill on the other side of the valley to the horsemen. A valley was not the best place to be when facing mounted troops and we needed to reach higher ground. Horses did not like to charge up hill, and their riders did not like to see a shield square atop such a hill, especially if it was bristling with swords and spears.

  Corporal Gloom and his men re-joined us, merging smoothly into the square we had begun to form. At that point, the riders decided to approach, with more of them coming into view over the brow as the others trotted down the slope. There was something disdainful about them, contempt oozing out of them – I could sense it even over the intervening half mile between us. I say it without pride or boasting, but I thought to myself that these men did not well enough know who we were.

  Horsemaster Tradis was fiercely loyal towards his charges and he had already reached the summit with our meagre supply of pack animals and carts, before we were much more than half way to the top. By now I was able to get a better idea of the troops we faced.

  “I make it four hundred, Lieutenant Craddock,” I said.

  “Aye, that’s what I count, Captain.”

  “Four hundred bastards, each one desperate to go home and suck on his mammy’s tit!” I said, raising my voice so that the men could hear me. There were chuckles.