The Infernal Battalion

by Django Wexler

  “He took his time reducing the forts on the east side of the pass, giving him a clean line of communications back to Alves that we can’t interfere with. From there, as you can see, he had to deal with the Marak.” On the map, Marcus traced the line of the river Marak, running almost due south from its source near the mountains to where it emptied into the Vor twenty miles downstream of Vordan.

  “The terrain is better west of the river,” Winter said. “Nice and flat, plenty of room to maneuver. Exactly what you’d want if you had an advantage in numbers. But...”

  “He’d have to cross the river once he got here,” Raesinia said. She grinned at Marcus. “I haven’t entirely forgotten your strategy lessons.”

  “Exactly,” Marcus said. “The Marak is wide enough to be a serious obstacle, and the Vor is even bigger. There are only a few bridges north of the city, and none to the south before Ohms. And he has to know by now that we have a Borelgai fleet backing us. Even if we can’t get the men-of-war up the Marak, the frigates would make short work of a small-​boat attack. Without his own fleet, he’d have to try to outmarch us in search of a crossing, and risk our striking at the pass to cut him off.”

  “Splitting his army would be inviting an attack,” Winter said. “So he’s coming down the east bank?”

  “For the most part,” Marcus said. “There’s some cavalry on the west side, watching the crossings to make sure we don’t slip around to his rear. But the bulk of his forces are coming due south, between the Marak and the Vor. From scouting reports, our best guess is that he has the equivalent of seven divisions, a bit more than sixty thousand men.”

  “And we have?” Sothe asked, in the ensuing silence.

  This was what had been keeping Marcus up late at night, going over strength reports and recruiting estimates. At least, it was what was keeping me up before Winter got back. “We got out of Alves with two divisions, the First and the Second, plus fragments of other units that escaped the battle. Between depot battalions, garrisons from the south, and fresh recruits, we’ve got enough bodies to fill one more. With the cavalry reserve, that gives us about thirty thousand bayonets and sabers.”

  “Meaning we’re outnumbered two to one,” Raesinia said. “I’m not a military expert, but that sounds bad.”

  “What about civilian volunteers?” Sothe said. “That worked in the revolution.”

  “We’ll use whatever we can,” Marcus said. “But I’m skeptical they’ll be much good against a seasoned army. In the revolution, our skirmishers caught the loyalists off guard, but Janus won’t make the same mistake.”

  “We don’t need to defeat Janus,” Winter said. “If I can get to the Beast, that army should fall apart. And if I can’t, then none of this will matter.”

  “You’re going to need time to find the core,” Marcus said. “It’s no good if we’re swept off the field at the first charge, which is what would happen if we just deployed in the open and waited for him.”

  “It sounds like you have an idea,” Raesinia said, toying nervously with one of the red-​painted counters.

  “I see two possibilities, but I don’t like either of them.” Marcus took a deep breath. “The first is that we abandon Ohnlei and fall back to the city itself. Fortify as much as we can, fight house to house. Blow up the bridges to the island, when Janus gets that far.”

  There was a shocked silence. The ancient bridges of Vordan City were more than just a means of getting across the river—​they were cultural artifacts, tying the kingdom to its ancient origins. Suggesting their demolition in the name of military expediency was close to sacrilege, especially since they were named for the holiest saints.

  “We can’t stop them,” Marcus said after a moment. “Maybe if Vordan City had a proper wall, but it doesn’t. But we can slow them down and make them pay in blood for every street. And it will certainly buy Winter the time she needs.”

  “No,” Raesinia said. Her hand gripped the edge of the table, hard enough that her knuckles stood out in stark white.

  “I know it seems cruel,” Sothe said. “But if we win—”

  “What’s the good in winning if the city is rubble by the time we’re finished?” Raesinia said. “We can’t bring the war into the streets. Vordan City had enough of that during the revolution. I’d rather abdicate.”

  “The alternative isn’t abdication,” Sothe said. “It’s losing all of humanity to the Beast.”

  “The queen is right,” Winter said. “We can’t have the battle in the city if we can possibly avoid it.”

  “What’s the other alternative?” Raesinia said.

  “It’s riskier,” Marcus said. “We deploy the army north of Ohnlei, close to the Marak, and dig in as much as we can. Janus won’t be able to slip around our left, because of the river, and if he tries to go wide around our right we can pounce on his rear. He’ll have no choice but to attack us. If we choose our position carefully, we might be able to hold out until nightfall, or until Winter succeeds.”

  “That seems logical enough,” Winter said. “Why do you say it’s risky?”

  “Because Janus is Janus,” Marcus said, with a bitter laugh. “General Kurot thought he had him locked in a trap, and look what happened to him. He could do a hundred things I haven’t thought of and we’d be in no position to stop him. Once we pick our ground, we’re committed—​we can’t maneuver without losing the advantage of our fortifications.” He scratched his beard. “The only reason I even suggest it is because of the way he fought in the Pale valley.”

  “What way was that?” Sothe said.

  “Carelessly,” Marcus said. “As though the lives of his troops meant nothing to him. Whenever I served under Janus, he never spent blood recklessly, but now...” He shrugged. “If all he’s concerned with is speed, he’ll come at us head-on. Then we’ll have our battle. If not, then we may end up like Kurot.”

  Raesinia took a deep breath, her face hardening.

  “I think it’s our best option,” she said. “How long do we have?”

  “Five days, at the minimum,” Marcus said. “Longer, if Janus goes easy on his men, but when has he ever done that?”

  “And have you picked out your site?”

  “I think so,” Marcus said. “I need to go and look it over personally.”

  Raesinia glanced at Winter, who nodded.

  “All right,” Raesinia said. “Then this is where we stop the Beast.”

  28

  Winter

  Ennika held Winter’s arm as they descended the steps into the palace basement, Alex and Abraham following behind. It was cool down there, a steady breeze blowing up from the dark, underground corridors. There were springs under Ohnlei, and their chilly waters were channeled through the walls to wine cellars and meat storage. The ubiquitous braziers were absent, and Winter carried a candelabra in her hand.

  At the bottom of the stairs, a young man in a gray robe waited in front of a curtained doorway. He bowed at Winter’s approach. She recognized him, distantly, as one of the students Feor had taken on when she’d been commissioned by the queen to study the Thousand Names. The lack of familiarity brought home just how long it had been since Winter had seen the Khandarai priestess. She probably feels like I abandoned her here.

  “General Ihernglass,” the young man said. “My name is Justin de Horat. The mistress is expecting you.”

  Winter nodded. “Is there somewhere Ennika could rest while we talk?”

  “Of course.” Justin extended his arm to the blind girl. “You’ll find the mistress through the archive in the sanctuary. I’ll find Miss Ennika somewhere comfortable.”

  He disappeared through the curtain, and Winter and the others followed. Beyond was a wide hallway with more curtained doorways off either side and a large arch at the back. Between the doorways, lining the walls, were the Thousand Names.

  It had been more than a year since Winter had seen the ancient artifacts that had been the start of everything. They were eight-​foot-​tall sl
abs of steel, deeply incised with long strings of tiny, unfamiliar characters. Under the Mountain, she’d seen a similar archive, and the Eldest had told her their unwieldiness was intentional. Not only would the steel tablets be proof against the years, but their sheer size and weight made theft unlikely.

  She knew now that they were the creation of the Mages, an ancient faction of the pre-​Elysian church that held that the summoning of demons was not intrinsically evil. The Mages had worked to discover the names of demons, and inscribed their knowledge on tablets like these. But their enemies, led by the great Saint Elleusis Ligamenti, had won the power struggle, and the Mages were declared heretical. Some had survived by stealth, like the Eldest and his followers at the Mountain. Others had fled over the seas, taking their archive with them, and after a thousand years had become the secret cult that Winter and Janus had faced in the temple under the Great Desol.

  Or so the Eldest claimed, at any rate. Winter was on shaky ground as far as theological matters went, and she wasn’t sure how Feor would take being labeled as a devotee of a heretical Karisai sect. She can talk it over with the Eldest, once all this is finished. For the moment they had more practical concerns.

  Abraham’s eyes were wide and his hands twitched, as though he couldn’t wait to examine the huge tablets. He leaned close to Winter and said, “It’s true, then. What you said about the archive in Khandar.”

  “You thought I was making it up?”

  “I just...” He shook his head. “The idea that it could be found, after so long, seemed incredible.”

  They pushed through the curtains at the end of the hall and into a large space, softly lit by ranks of candles. Like the chambers of the Eldest, it was simply furnished, with a circle of cushions on the stone floor the only concession to comfort. They were all empty, save one where Feor sat, looking expectant.

  She’d grown, Winter thought, in the time since they’d last met. Not just physically, though a better diet had gone a long way toward filling out the half-​starved girl Winter remembered. There was a confidence in her that hadn’t been there before, a squareness to her shoulders and a steadiness to her gaze. Her dark hair was long and carefully plaited, and the gray cast to her skin marked her as Khandarai.

  “Winter.” She smiled tentatively and spoke in Khandarai. “Do you still remember my language?”

  “Not... as well as I should,” Winter answered haltingly. Both Alex and Abraham looked on, uncomprehending, and Feor laughed.

  “Fortunately,” she said, her Vordanai accented but smooth, “I have learned quite a bit of yours. Come, sit. I imagine we have a great deal to discuss.”

  “Quite a lot, yes,” Winter said, relieved that Feor didn’t seem to be angry with her. “This is Alex and Abraham, who accompanied me from the Mountain. That’s a hidden enclave in the north—​the Mages—” She took a deep breath. “I suppose I should start at the beginning.”

  Feor held up a hand. “Fortunately, we don’t need to go back that far.” She beckoned to another curtained doorway. “Come in, Jaffa.”

  The curtain twitched aside, and the Steel Ghost entered, candles gleaming softly on the brushed metal of his mask. Abraham let out a quick breath, as though he’d been waiting for this. Alex raised an eyebrow.

  “Jaffa?” Winter said.

  “Jaffa-​dan-​Iln was my name,” the Ghost said. “Before I put on the mask.”

  “He came to me several weeks ago,” Feor said. “Most unexpectedly, I might add.”

  “I have apologized for any difficulty I caused,” the Ghost said. “But I dared not show myself to anyone else. Only Raesinia knew of my existence, and she had not yet returned.”

  “Once we’d established that he wasn’t one of the Penitent Damned,” Feor said, “he explained a great deal to me. I am not sure I completely accept his version of ancient history”—​she looked sidelong at the Ghost and smiled again— “but our present circumstances seem clear.”

  “What have you been doing in Vordan?” Winter said.

  At Feor’s urgent beckoning, they took their seats, pulling the cushions into a tight circle. When he was settled, the Ghost said, “I came to warn Raesinia about the Beast, only to find that she was gone. It was urgent that the naathem in the city be alert for any of the Beast’s bodies that might try to slip in, so I went to Feor. She and her students have been helping me keep watch.”

  “And you haven’t told Raesinia you’re here?”

  “It seemed easier to deal with you,” the Ghost said. “I am very pleased to see your journey was successful.”

  “It certainly wasn’t easy,” Alex said. “It must be nice being a sandstorm.”

  “It has its advantages,” the Ghost said.

  “The Beast pursued us,” Winter said. “All the way to the Bataria. After that, it gave up and shifted its attention south. Or so Ennika tells us.” At Feor’s puzzled expression, Winter explained, briefly, what Sothe had told her about the Penitent Damned and her connection to the Beast.

  “Remarkable,” the Ghost said. “So it is possible for a mind to maintain its independence even after it is taken by the Beast.”

  “Or so it wants us to think,” Abraham said. “I do not believe Ennika is lying to us, but the messages passed to her could be part of some manipulation.”

  “I just can’t see the advantage for the Beast,” Winter said. “If it is trying to lead me into a trap, it’s taking a very long road to get there.”

  “And if it wanted to ambush you, it would have needed to suggest a particular time and place,” Alex said. “Ennika hasn’t given us anything like that.”

  “If we accept that this information is genuine,” the Ghost said, “then Winter is right. The coming battle is our opportunity—​maybe our only opportunity—​to get her to the Beast’s core, while it still believes she is in the north.”

  “That leaves us with two problems,” Winter said. “First we have to find the core. Then we have to get me there, ideally with enough of a force that we can handle a few guards. The Beast may have to deploy its army to fight, but it will hardly be completely unprotected.”

  “You can leave the first task to me,” the Ghost said. “I can travel fast and unseen. I should be able to locate our target.”

  “You can’t take anyone with you, though?” When the Ghost shook his masked head, Winter sighed. “The core could be miles behind the lines. We could try to punch through with a cavalry force, but then it would know we were coming.”

  Winter looked at Feor. The young priestess went pale, and swallowed.

  “You want to use my naath,” Feor said quietly. “What your priests call the Caryatid.”

  “Bobby saved me when the Beast ambushed us at Elysium,” Winter said. “She had wings, and she flew. It was...” Her throat went tight, and she forced herself to stay calm. “She was beautiful.”

  “Before that happened,” Feor said, “she burned, didn’t she?”

  Winter nodded, not trusting her voice for a moment. Feor cast her eyes down.

  “I have learned... a great deal since we left Khandar,” she said. “There are more than just the naath in the archive. Mother never told me the true purpose of my power, only the barest outlines of what it could do.”

  “She hoarded knowledge like precious stones,” the Ghost said. “A legacy of so many years in the shadows, perhaps.”

  “The naath I bear was once used to create temple guardians, in times of direst emergency,” Feor went on. “A worthy woman would submit to the ritual, as you saw me do for Bobby. And then... before battle, she would step into the flames and emerge transformed. Endowed with great power, her mortal body purified.”

  “And then?” Winter said quietly.

  “Such power cannot last. The life that flares so bright soon burns out.” Feor’s eyes were fixed on the floor. “I swear I did not know when you brought Bobby to me. I...”

  “It’s all right,” Winter said gently. “She would have died if not for you. You gave her ano
ther year.” She blinked away tears. “That has to be worth something.”

  “I’ve never heard of a demon that bestows power on others instead of the host,” Abraham said. “But if they don’t live long, it makes sense. The demon wouldn’t want its own host to die.” He shifted as Alex elbowed him in the ribs. “Apologies. I...”

  Feor waved it away, looking up. “I felt it, when Bobby’s power rose and died away. I wondered if it meant you had died with her.”

  “She saved me,” Winter repeated. “And now that she’s... gone, you can use the ritual again, can’t you?”

  “I... can.” Feor bit her lip. “But as I said, if done properly, it means death.”

  “Can you make me into one of these guardians?” Winter’s heart skipped a beat as she voiced the question, but she had to ask.

  “No. Naath are jealous things. They will not coexist in the same body.”

  Winter let out a breath. “Okay. So we need someone who doesn’t have her own demon.”

  “Is there not another way?” Feor said, looking around the circle. “I... do not wish to condemn another to death.”

  Winter closed her eyes for a moment. Sometimes, she thought, it would be nice to be able to pray and mean it.

  “In a few days,” she said, “thirty thousand men and women are going out to fight. Whatever happens, however clever Marcus’ strategy is and however brave we are, people are going to die, by the thousand. Every time I give the order to take a hill or charge a battery, I know that some of those soldiers are not coming back. I’m not going to pretend it’s an easy thing. But if we have a weapon that might save some of them and we have to sacrifice one life to use it, then I don’t see how we can let it lie.”

  “You cannot order them,” Feor said. “Not for this. I will not do it.”