As inspiring and encouraging as ever.
With several Towers ahead of us, the next three days involved a lot of eating dust and looking around repeatedly, marveling at the sheer size of the army as we made slow but steady progress through the hilly country between Sunwrack and Graymoss. One thing that became immediately apparent was that the romances and manuscript pages were completely inadequate in capturing the immense smells that accompanied a huge host on the move. The wafting stench of sweaty humanity, the multitude of horses, shit from both creatures, meat sizzling on spits, oil from the wagons. It was nearly overpowering at first.
So, too, the endless sounds of harness and armor jingling, wagon axles creaking, horses whinnying, men shouting orders up and down the lines or calling for Syldoon slave boys and girls who hadn’t undergone the manumission ceremony to attend them or fetch this or that.
And in the divisions of every Tower where the Commanders and officers rode, there were always the Memoridons, silent, watching, alert, some that were surely War Memoridons, and some with more subtle skills like Skeelana, silently communicating with their sisters.
We weren’t going to be on a prolonged campaign, which I was grateful for, but the number of supply wagons was also staggering, most laden with food and weapons, but some with the pavilions for the Commanders and smaller tents for their officers. For the rest of us, it was fairly simple—after horses were picketed, patrols and scouts sent out to roam the countryside far ahead, and guards posted, the nights meant a restless sleep in a bedroll on the hard cold ground. And for me, anyway, a growing dread about the battle looming ahead and a morbid curiosity about whether the Deserters had finished executing the inhabitants of Erstbright with their Veildome.
Rudgi joined me for a few hours on the second night, snuggling up against my body and falling asleep almost immediately. Exhausted from scouting, she had no interest in coupling, but the closeness of her body was a greater comfort than I imagined. She was gone before I woke up, and I might have thought I dreamed it, except her smell was still there with me.
The fourth day, we entered a broad shallow valley that sloped down below us, with the highest hills to the east and west. The ground was largely brown and tan, with a patchwork of green scrub here and there and some short, stiff (and apparently stubborn) grass growing in long winding swaths, with a stunning array of purple flowers hugging the hills to the west.
But what really stood out, and had to be the reason the army halted its march with orders being shouted and conveyed again and again like an echo, was the pattern of glaring rectangles of white across the middle of the valley floor, the whitewash practically glowing in the sun. The rectangles marking the place no man or horse should go. They took my suggestion to heart.
And then it hit me. This was where we were going to make our stand.
The army spread out across our side of the valley, the Towers maintaining integrity as they moved down to slightly more level ground, operating independently under the orders of their respective Commanders, but obviously connected by the Memoridons accompanying them, relaying silent communications across the valley to coordinate effectively and precisely.
We had to be thousands of yards across, and several hundred yards deep. The Jackals were positioning themselves roughly in the middle of the center divisions of troops, composed primarily of heavy infantry who would dismount and take up their long spears and composite bows when battle was imminent. Commander Darzaak and his officers and a small block of troops took up position behind the front divisions, I assumed because it afforded a better view with somewhat better elevation, though the incline was still very gradual on this end of the valley. The other Tower Commanders did the same, to better communicate orders.
Far off to our west, the Horse Tower in their thousands had their armored cavalry as one wing along the bottom of a fairly steep incline at the base of the hills there. I looked to the east, the brim of my kettle hat providing good shade, and there was another wing far to the east, likely also cavalry, though I couldn’t make out the Tower that settled into that spot. There were hills there as well beyond the right wing, but more gradual.
Glancing to our rear, I saw the other Towers moving about, keeping their cohesion, ready to deploy their infantry, and behind those the auxiliaries and supply wagons.
It truly was a staggering sight.
I’d stopped moving, and another Jackal shouted at me. I apologized, nudging my horse along with my knees and some less hostile words of encouragement.
Vendurro was nearby and rode over. I looked around as roughly two hundred thousand Syldoon and Memoridons slowly overtook the southern expanse of the valley. “So,” I said, “this is it, then?”
He nodded, grinning. “Ayyup. Good a place as any, am I right?”
I forced a nod but coughed on some dust, so was spared trying to look overly brave or confident.
He had enough for the both of us. “Kind of glad the giant bastards showed their ugly faces on this side. They killed off plenty of Jackals over there, so there’d be some revenging in store just on that account. But wiping out two whole cities? They owe us more blood than they can ever repay. Once we litter this valley with their corpses, I hope Cap leads an expedition across the Godveil again so we can kill every last one of the hulking whoresons.”
I glanced around again, at the lines of soldiers spreading out, reforming, the largest host assembled in living memory and beyond. But almost none of them knew what really was heading this way, no matter how they were briefed or what the Commanders and Memoridons actually revealed. I hoped they weren’t overconfident in their advantage of numbers. Numbers alone would not destroy this enemy. But they couldn’t possibly understand that before fighting them.
“How’s that for timing?” Vendurro pointed at Tower slaves moving among the ranks, handing out scarves. Every soldier took one and tied it around his or her neck.
I accepted mine and asked, “What is this?”
“Might only help a little, but Cap thought it would be good to have something to keep from choking to death if the Deserter whoresons launch those smoke gourds at us again. Speaking of,” and he popped the last bit of egg in his mouth as Braylar and Mulldoos rode up, their faces obscured by the aventail drapes on their helms.
The captain said, “Lieutenant, it is time we reintroduce ourselves to the Deserters and show Matriarch Vrulinka some of our hospitality.” He pointed to the sky. “It is an exceptionally fine day for crossbows.”
“Aye,” Vendurro said, dusting his hands off on his pants and turning his horse about. “That it is.” He tapped the brim of his own helm and said, “Be seeing you, Arki.”
Whatever words I might have chosen dried up in my mouth, so I only nodded as they rode off towards a division of crossbow cavalry that dwarfed the force the captain had led when we fled Sunwrack the first time after Skeelana’s betrayal. There had to have been at least a thousand Jackals, and further up the line, another division led by another captain was forming up as well.
Both groups rode away from our line towards the north part of the valley. I watched as they carefully trotted around the squares of earth and grass ahead that had been painted white, taking the alleys between. I wondered if they were littered with caltrops.
The day was warm, but not especially hot, and still the sweat began to pour in earnest as I watched the Jackals disappear over the slight ridge at the other end of the valley.
The next two hours crept by with excruciating slowness. I kept scanning the other end of the valley, hoping to see the captain and his men return. But as it turned out, the only arrival was from the rear. The Urglovian Syldoon had sent a large contingent of war wagons to join us, and they slowly made their way to the center to help anchor it against whatever Deserter onslaught came.
They set up at least eighty war wagons there, just ahead of the Jackals, alongside Cynead’s considerable Tower forces. Like all Syldoon, they knew their business and worked methodically—I watched for hours as
they lined war wagons up, chained them end to end, arranged the wooden walls, set up ballistae on the wagon beds, and handed out the glaives, halberds, long spears, and extra sheaves of arrows for the composite bows as soldiers took up their positions.
But after that distraction passed, I again had to suffer my thoughts and fear. Rudgi was off scouting, Braylar and his retinue were skirmishing with a Deserter host and trying to draw them here, and while I was standing in the middle of a huge Syldoonian and Memoridon army, I felt more alone than I had in a long time. Even when I saw the wounded Hornman at the Great Fair in Alespell, it had only been me wandering for a bit, trying to clear my head. But now, for the first time since joining the captain and his company, anyone I had known for more than a few minutes was either dead or could be.
Almost everyone.
I heard her voice coming from a few feet behind me, “I am a bit surprised to see you here, young scholar. At this point, perhaps I shouldn’t be—you do seem to have a habit of courting danger.”
“Or,” I said, not turning around, “danger just has a way of finding me.”
She moved up alongside me and also looked across the scrubby floor of the shallow valley towards the other side. “Are you concerned? For the well-being of my brother? You look concerned.”
It was said in such a way that I couldn’t determine if she was earnest or simply trying to needle me, so I didn’t reply.
“You shouldn’t be worried,” Soffjian said. “He is exceptionally gifted at taking care of himself.”
There it was.
While I knew all too well what she was capable of, and she still made me very uneasy, I no longer quavered in her presence, and her demeanor actually irritated me enough that I replied, “It must have been satisfying.”
She looked at me, eyebrows raised ever so slightly.
“To strike down Thumaar like that,” I said.
Soffjian didn’t change her expression, stance, or tone. Which was more than irritating. “It was necessary. I didn’t take pleasure in doing it, but neither did it offend any sensibilities.”
“Hmm. That surprises me a little. I mean, regardless of what hatred you harbor for your brother or whatever culpability you think he had, Thumaar was ultimately responsible for ordering the decimation and enslavement of your people. So, having the chance to not only completely thwart him, but to actually be the one to strike him dead . . . I’m surprised it didn’t bring you greater satisfaction.”
She spun her ranseur in the dirt, the tassels whipping around like a dancer’s skirts. “By that token, you must have found it satisfying to see Skeelana killed?”
I considered a few different responses and opted for the truth. “I was the one who dealt the blow that finally killed her. And I hoped it would make me feel a great deal better than it did. She was probably going to die either way, and I could have left her to it. But I chose not to.”
“Mercy,” she said, rather neutrally.
“No,” I replied. “Not especially. I just didn’t want to hear her talk anymore.”
Soffjian laughed, short and clipped.
“You have a terrible sense of humor,” I said.
She replied, “I am sorry. It’s just a bit ironic, is all. I was just thinking that while killing Thumaar felt a bit empty, perhaps it was because I really wanted him to know what it meant to me personally. I didn’t have the time to explain. It wasn’t just part of a political maneuver, or simply the transaction of another coup, but some vengeance I’d held onto for so many years it putrefied.”
Soffjian favored me with a smile that didn’t seem envenomed, predatory, or a disguise for calculations. “So, it struck me as funny. I wanted more time. To draw out Thumaar’s suffering, to express why I did so, to convey something to the man as he writhed in pain, and was just thinking that it never works out that way. There is never enough time, and we don’t often get to the words we most want to say. Whereas you just wanted Skeelana to stop talking.”
I found myself smiling in return. “Well, we were in a bit of a hurry.” I didn’t admit that I really didn’t want Skeelana suffering anymore, even if part of me felt like she deserved it.
Soffjian returned her attention to the opposite ridge of the valley. I did as well. We were both quiet until I said, “May I ask you something else?”
Soffjian said, “That depends. May I kill you for talking too much?”
I replied, “Well, you did approach me, after all.”
“Point taken. What is it you wanted to know?”
I looked around at the endless soldiers everywhere, walking, lounging, napping, playing dice, arguing, looking off in the valley exactly as we were. Nearly two hundred thousand of them, with Memoridons mixed in their midst everywhere. That would be enough. It had to be.
I thought about dropping it, but then decided that with doom very possibly marching towards our position, getting husked by a Memoridon might not be the worst thing that could happen. “You used us to break Cynead’s hold on the Memoridons. Do you think it’s possible, when Vrulinka and her Wielders examined us, that they sensed what you planned, and wanted it to succeed, to pave the way for their own invasion? They didn’t pursue us the way I expected. Maybe they allowed us to return for a reason.”
Soffjian didn’t reply right away, and I feared I had misstepped, but then she ground the ranseur in the earth. “Latvettika and my other sisters, they have asked me the same thing. At length, in light of recent events. I will answer you as I did them. Yes, it is entirely possible the Deserters were hoping the Memoridon coup would succeed. But also, it’s immaterial.
“We are not about to rebind ourselves to the Syldoon Commanders. And the Deserters are here. They have attacked us. And we must eradicate them all, or at least defeat them decisively, to send a message to any of Vrulinka’s kind that they must never venture on this side again. Or at least not for another millennium. That is all that matters just now. And if—”
She stopped as I pointed to the other end of valley as the first horsemen began to gallop over. I said, “It looks like we will have our chance soon.”
“That it does, Arki. That it does. Come, let’s join the Commander.”
After the crossbow cavalry avoided the gleaming white patches of grass and what appeared to be dirt in the valley, I tried to calculate their numbers, but they weren’t in as tight a formation as the infantry and moving fast besides. Still, it was obvious they had suffered some casualties, as the unit could not have been the size it was when they left.
Most of the mounted Jackals then veered off and rode to join the left wing of Syldoon cavalry, while Braylar and his officers made for our position. After riding through the ranks of infantry ahead of us, they dismounted near Commander Darzaak, his other officers, and the handful of Memoridons, and I was relieved to see that Braylar and his retinue were all still alive.
After the Jackals saluted, Commander Darzaak barked, “Report, Captain!”
Braylar pulled his helm and aventail off, his face red and sweaty. “As our scouts indicated, the Deserters are indeed ahead of us and heading south. And as we expected, they had their own advance party, a few hundred as it were. We harassed them, exchanged some volleys, maintained our distance, but did not engage directly.”
Darzaak scratched the white stubble on his face around the prominent sideburns. “These eyes aren’t what they were, but looks like you lost some men.”
“Aye,” the captain replied. “Only a few injuries in the first exchanges. But we harried their scouts as they made their way back towards the main host. And that’s when another party came out of a nearby ravine, flanked us, and hit us hard. Only this one had a Wielder.” He looked at Soffjian. “And you know just how devastating those are.” He turned back to the Commander and said, “We managed to take her out, as well as half that scouting party, but we lost close to two hundred men fighting through them. As I said, our numerical superiority is not so superior as all that.”
Darzaak’s face grew more sp
lotchy the angrier he got. “We best hope that sacrifice was worth it and they follow you this way. We won’t get a chance to set up in another valley.”
Braylar accepted a proffered costrel of water from a soldier as Mulldoos replied, “We nipped at their heels and pissed them off pretty good. The only upside to getting slaughtered so fast is we probably gave the giant horsecunts all the encouragement they plaguing need. They’ll come.”
“They better.” Darzaak looked at Soffjian and another, pastier-looking Memoridon who wasn’t kitted out for combat. “Best let your sisters know. Relay the word.”
The doughy Memoridon pursed her lips but nodded as Soffjian said, “A most excellent suggestion. You do recall, however, that you are offering us your suggestions and military expertise, but not orders, Commander. Not ever again.”
The Commander flushed nearly purple and looked ready to chew rocks into pebbles, his jaws were grinding so hard. “Aye, Memoridon. I’m not quite as sharp as that Cynead, though. I’ll probably need to hear it a few more times before it sinks in.”
Soffjian said, “Who better to remind than one with exemplary memory?” “Quite,” the Commander replied, the word nothing but gravel.
The pasty Memoridon moved away from the Syldoon officers and then stood still, eyes closed, no doubt relaying a message coded in memories to her sisters with the other Towers.
Braylar asked Darzaak, “When the Deserters arrive, do you want me to lead the crossbow cavalry on the wing, Commander?”
Darzaak replied, “Aye. You and Lieutenant Mulldoos there. Sergeant Bruznik as well. Anyone else you need. The rest can stay with me.”
“As you say, Commander.”
Darzaak looked at the much younger captain, rolled his shoulders back in his lamellar cuirass, and said, “It’s good to have you back with us, Killcoin. Didn’t really have an opportunity to say as much before.”
Chains of the Heretic Page 57
