Today there was no pretence of slowing our march. We set off briskly and maintained that pace throughout the day. I had no doubt that at least fifty percent of the Treads men had blisters, but blisters would bind up and the skin beneath would harden and become tough. A bit of pain in the feet was the least of their worries.
More scouts came back to report that they had seen no sign of the bulk of Warmont’s troops. I sent them out again and impatiently scanned the road ahead for the men I’d instructed to continue on until they found us something worth fighting. I hadn’t really expected to overtake the enemy in a day and a half, but I retained a small hope that they would be travelling at a very slow pace. They probably had no reason to reach Gold quickly.
That evening, I sat in my tent with Ploster and our lady. Jon had been spending an increasing amount of time with her, speaking about her powers and giving her his guidance. The First Cohort’s sorcerer was not comparable in power, but a tutor does not always need to have an immense talent in their field in order to provide learning to a pupil. I imagined that if Ploster had been born with a greater closeness to the power, he would have been a force to be reckoned with. We are not all lucky enough to have both the talent and knowledge to excel in our chosen life.
“You need to promote someone to Corporal Langs’ rank,” Ploster reminded me. I had not forgotten, but it somehow felt wrong to do it so soon. As if it would diminish Langs’ contribution to the First Cohort, or make us forget about him sooner. I needed to promote more than just one, but I’d see how well the new men integrated before I made my decision on that.
“I’ll have a word with Knacker. Soon,” I said. Knacker would make a good corporal – he was popular and had an eye for the battle. I’d noticed him step up to the role in Treads when Langs had fallen.
As we talked, our lady sat attentively and listened to us – how we made our decisions and why. That is what I liked about her. She knew when to speak and when to listen. It meant that when she chose to talk, it was always something worthwhile. I enjoyed discussions with others but was equally happy when people choose not to speak. A comfortable silence was more soothing to me than listening to the words of someone who had just opened their mouth out of habit. Camp fire banter was different – I took part in it willingly and I saw it as one of my responsibilities.
Ploster noticed it first – he was even more sensitive to these things than I was. Our lady had gone white, her already pale complexion faded and the small touches of red on her cheeks disappeared.
“Something is coming,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
Ploster looked immediately worried. “What is it, my lady?” he asked.
“Something big. And very old.”
I rose to my feet, the chair behind me tumbling over and the questions spilled out from my mouth. “Is it coming for us? Do I need to rouse the men? What can you see?”
She started to tremble. “It’s coming from the south-east. A few miles away off to our right. I don’t know what it is or if it is looking for us. It’s a huge, black beast. I can feel the warp and the weft twist away from it as it comes.”
“Is it looking for us?” I demanded.
“No, I do not think so. It flies above, looking at the land below, but in curiosity rather than with purpose. Whatever it is doing, it is not looking for us.”
I looked over at Ploster and saw the grimness of my own face reflected in his own. I was the first to say the words.
“Xoj-Fal the Wyrm. The Duke has wakened his beast once more.”
Eventually, our lady stopped trembling and raised her eyes from the ground. “It is gone,” she said. “To the north-west.”
“Do not mention it to anyone,” I said. “If you do so, you will break the spirit of the Treads men and they will flee back to their town. When they get there, they will find that the place they call home will be destroyed and in flames.”
“I saw that vision – Treads in flames,” our lady said, looking scared at that which she had foreseen. “I thought that by our victory we had prevented it from coming to pass.”
“There is nothing in Treads or Farthest that can stop Xoj-Fal,” I told her.
She wept, while we old soldiers looked miserably at each other.
Seventeen
The next day followed the same pattern as the one which preceded it. We broke camp before it became fully light and continued what I had started to think of as our pursuit. The road was still good, so I felt confident that even a modicum of light was enough to proceed safely. The defeated army ahead was unlikely to have the same impetus as we did. I knew that dejected men did not push themselves to their limits.
My scouts came and went, each time reporting the same thing. Wherever the Duke’s men were, it wasn’t immediately in front of us. My frustration built and I became ever more irritated that we had not come within sight of our quarry. In addition, I could not help but look at the sky regularly and several of the men noticed my new habit, which caused some muttering about why I might be doing so. By the evening, there had been no sign of Xoj-Fal returning to the south and I had started to breathe a little more easily at the thought that we might not have to face the beast while we were in pursuit of Warmont’s men.
We had just set up our camp for the night, away from the road again, when I noticed a disturbance as someone pushed their way through a nearby gathering of men. It was Sprinter.
“Captain Charing, I’ve found some of Warmont’s men.”
“Some of?” I questioned.
“I estimate twelve hundred, sir. They’re about twenty miles south of us.”
“South? Are you sure they’re not south-east?”
“No, sir. They’re definitely to the south.”
“What did you make of them?”
“They were all infantry. They looked organised, and marched in formation, though not at great speed.”
“Good work, Sprinter. Do you need time to rest?”
“I think I’m fine, sir. It feels good to stretch my legs.”
“Get back to them and see what they’re doing.”
Sprinter gave me a salute and headed away to obtain some more provisions before he resumed his chase. I called Lieutenant Craddock to me.
“Lieutenant, is there anything to the south of us that might interest twelve hundred men?”
“Nothing close, sir. Another twelve days further you’d come across Bunsen and Septic. Demox another two days beyond.”
“That many men isn’t enough to threaten one of those towns, is it?”
“I doubt it very much. They’re all bigger than Treads.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Craddock,” I said, dismissing him.
This news was interesting. It looked as though the remains of Warmont’s army had split into at least two parts. I couldn’t off the top of my head think why it might have happened. Even if twelve hundred men had been sufficient to take one of the towns in their path, I doubted they retained enough purpose to make strategic decisions in the circumstances of their recent losses.
An hour later, my quandary was doubled by the return of Flight. His first words gave me a sense of enormous déjà vu.
“Captain Charing, I’ve found some of Warmont’s men.”
I felt that peculiar sense of dizziness you feel when you think the conversation ahead of you has been mapped out and that you somehow know where it’s going. “Some of?” I asked.
Things quickly diverged from the recent report that Sprinter had delivered. “I reckon they might be somewhere between five and six thousand in number. I didn’t see any sign of another large force, but men are drifting away at every opportunity. I had a hard time not being spotted. Had to kill a couple of them once when they saw me.”
“Only five or six thousand?” I wondered aloud. “Are they making good progress? Where are they headed?”
“They’re a bit over twenty miles ahead of us, I’d say. Going straight as a die for Gold.”
I pondered on this information for a moment
and then thanked Flight for the news. I asked him to hold off returning to his scouting duties for the time being. There was a decision to be made before I decided whether to send him out again.
A few minutes later, I sat with our lady in her tent. Her tent was as grand as mine, which is to say not entirely salubrious, and it was made from the same coloured red cloth as her clothes. Jon Ploster was with us. I did not need his input on all of my decisions, but I valued his council. As it happened, the choice that had to be made was not mine or Ploster’s to make.
“My lady, we have over a thousand men to our south. We have a further five or six thousand to our south-east.” I gave her the opportunity to work out the possibilities.
“So, more than two thousand of the enemy’s men who left Treads are unaccounted for?” she asked.
“Give or take,” I said. “Our scouts report that they are losing men daily. It is not unusual for a defeated force to lose a portion of its number.”
“Two thousand of them, though?” she asked.
“It’s possible,” I admitted. “The important decision does not concern these missing men, however.”
“You’re asking me if we should go south and defeat the smaller group, or continue south-east and face the larger force?” she asked.
I smiled. “This decision is yours to make, my lady. In truth I am not certain why the Duke’s army has split. We can catch either one, but it’s unlikely that we’ll be able to intercept both before they reach a major town.”
I watched her think about it for a time and when she decided to speak, she managed to impress both me and Ploster.
“Captain, I think you are failing to take into account the motives of why these men have acted in the way they have. The people of this region have wished for their freedom for generations and only now does it seem as though the chance of a popular uprising is real. This is the reason for my birth in this age, rather than a hundred years ago, or a hundred years from now.”
I nodded, though without understanding what she was getting at.
“It is my belief that the men to the south have been drafted in from the coastal cities, and trained to fight for the Duke, killing other men who feel the same way that they do,” she said.
Light started to dawn in my head as she continued.
“I think that these men have mutinied and broken away from the main force. They likely intend to return to their homes, having seen the Duke receive a bloody nose. Or they may intend to return to their towns in order to join forces with others who will continue the resistance.”
“If we reach them first, Tyrus, they may join with us,” said Ploster. “And goodness knows that we need the numbers.”
“I must confess I had not considered that these men might be minded to join with our cause,” I said. “But I am loath to allow the bulk of Warmont’s forces to reach Gold unmolested.”
“If they are well led, six thousand of them might be a difficult fight out in the open,” said Ploster.
I didn’t agree that they were well led, but certainly such numbers could cause us hardship, especially if the Treads men suffered early casualties. It seemed like our lady could read my thoughts as well now, or at least that was the impression I was left with when she continued.
“The men of Treads need to see that they are not fighting alone. They see the First Cohort close by, but your men only command respect because of your indomitable fighting skills. None of the Treads soldiers truly believe that you share the same hopes as they do. They do not like you, but they are content to have you along, but what they need in reality is to see that their town is not alone. They need other men like them, standing by their sides. If we have soldiers from Septic, Bunsen and Demox with us, it will look as though there is a full-scale revolt in the Duke’s lands. Some of the wavering towns and cities may declare themselves for us.”
I ummed and I ahhed, but I could not see a fault with her logic. Ploster hammered the final nail in:
“Gold has been on the brink of revolt for some time as well. Perhaps that is why the Duke had so many of his men there. If that town rises against Warmont, we may not need to fight his men at all, if the people do that work for us. If twelve hundred have left for the coastal towns, think of how many in the remnants of the Duke’s army could be native to Gold? There might be a chance to capture it without bloodshed.”
“What of Xoj-Fal?” I asked.
“You have told me yourself that there is no point in worrying about the things you cannot change, Captain Charing,” our lady said.
My own words, thrown back at me and teaching me a lesson as they struck home. It just goes to show – what we think and what we do are not always one and the same.
“Very well,” I said. “We will head south in the morning.”
And head south we did, hauling ourselves to our feet even before the sun had graced us with its light. I spent some time amongst the Treads men again, clapping a few on their shoulders and telling them that a soldier’s life was one to be proud of. Sinnar appeared at my side, with that big grin on his face.
“They’re good lads, sir,” he said loudly. “They just don’t know it yet. Look over there – that’s Tommo, that is. Tells me he stuck a blade into Bonecruncher’s arse when the bastard was burning.”
The man called Tommo swelled his chest out and showed me the bandages on his palms. “They’ll heal up soon, sir,” he told me.
“And that’s Grimshaw. Aye, the one who can’t tie his boot laces up. He knifed one of the Mongrels up on the walls. Probably saved twenty people from being killed in their homes, he did.” Grimshaw kept his head down, and I could see a pinkness reach his cheeks at the attention he’d received.
“Good man,” I told him. “We’ll have Warmont shitting himself in his keep at this rate and we’ll be knocking on his front door by next summer.” There were a few dutiful chuckles at my words. I told Lieutenant Sinnar to keep up the good work, gave him a wink and then returned to the First Cohort. I thought to myself that Sinnar had taken the Treads men under his wing and I was happy to leave him with them for the time being. They needed him more than we did at the moment.
Most of Warmont’s lands were temperate. The moors were cold and windy, and there were places where a man could freeze to death if he didn’t look after himself adequately, but overall there was little in the way of harsh or challenging terrain. Far to the north, way beyond the Empire, I had seen the snows on the mountains. I had little appetite to travel there, but had heard that people lived in those lands. The Emperor hadn’t tried to expand there. Perhaps he knew that he’d be sending his men and beasts into places that were not worth conquering, or maybe there was something beyond those mountains that even Malleus himself did not wish to challenge. I recalled how our lady had said that she had travelled north, along the warp and weft, but that something had blocked her way. I didn’t have enough knowledge to speculate as to whether it was a limit to her power, or if something had decided she was not permitted to see past the mountains.
With little to concern ourselves about, we were able to make good progress to the south. The roads deteriorated as I had expected them to and farmland gave way to vast expanses of grassland, covering low hills and valleys. Trees grew here and there, in patches a mile or so wide, but there were no great forests. I didn’t know if the land was infertile, or if the winds carried the seeds too far away from the protection of the others, such that new life was prevented from growing. It could have been that these grasslands were once forest and that men had cut them down a thousand years ago, damaging the land so that the trees could not grow back. This is what I liked about the march – my mind could soar or drift as I chose, following any path it liked, seeking answers that I knew I might never find. I took great comfort from these simple pleasures.
After three days of similarly effortless marching, Sprinter returned to us one evening.
“Captain, they are making camp for the night and they are close by. Two miles over yonder,” he
said, pointing away to the south.
“What’s their discipline like?” I asked.
“It was a bit hard to see from the bush I was hiding in, Captain,” he said with all seriousness. “They’re out in the open. They’ve picked a good place to avoid surprise.”
I grilled him a bit more about what we could expect up ahead, before sending him off for a break from his scouting duties. I summoned my lieutenants and requested the presence of our lady in my tent.
“They’re just ahead of us. We will reach their camp by first light,” I said.
“What’s the plan, Captain?” asked Craddock.
“We hope they will become our friends, Lieutenant,” I told him, pretending I hadn’t seen his look of confusion.
Craddock stammered for a moment, but he was quick on the uptake. “I see. Do we entice them into friendship with a show of force, or shall I send over the dancing girls to charm them into liking us?”
“I think, Lieutenant, that I would prefer a show of force. I’m not yet ready to trust the men who until recently were doing their best to write the final chapter of the First Cohort’s long history.” I glanced at our lady. “Do you agree with my assessment?” I asked her.
She chewed at her lip for a moment, clearly torn. “Captain Charing, I agree that we should choose caution for now.”
With her agreement, we followed the path of discretion. The following morning, we broke camp at an earlier time than normal. The previous evening I had assigned Sinnar to the Treads infantry. Captain Foster didn’t like it, but the man was not what I was looking for in a commander. His troops liked him, but they didn’t greatly respect him and he hadn’t shown himself capable of taking control of a situation. I didn’t want to risk the bulk of my numbers to a man I had little faith in. The archers numbered hardly more than a hundred and I was content that Captain Grange could continue to command them. In truth, I saw these captains from Treads as no more than corporals and if it had been politic to do so, I would have demoted them without hesitation. The time would come for that later.
Soldiers' Redemption (First Cohort Book 1) Page 18
