The Return of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  Lady studied the cloud as she galloped. Three similar clouds had been reported near sites where ranger companies had been overrun. This was exactly what she had come to investigate.

  It took only minutes to fathom how the raids were managed. Lines of dark power had been laid down long before the Shadowlanders withdrew from this region. The attackers were controlled through those. They would fight without wills of their own while run by those lines.

  She could scramble the lines easily now that she sensed them but chose not to do so. Let the attack proceed. These things cost the Shadowlanders more dearly than they cost Taglios.

  Longshadow must realize that. So why did he find the exchange worthwhile?

  She entered the ranger encampment by leaping her mount over an upturned wagon. She dismounted as an amazed Bucket ran to meet her. He looked like a condemned man granted a last-minute reprieve. “It’s the Howler, I think,” he said.

  “Why?” Lady dragged her gear down from behind her saddle, started changing right there. “What can he hope to accomplish?”

  “I think it ain’t what they’re doing but who they’re doing it to that matters, Lieutenant.” Though she commanded armies, Lady’s Company title remained Lieutenant.

  “Who they’re doing it to? Yes! Of course.” Every unit lost had been led by Company men. Seven brothers had fallen. “They’re picking us off.” The belief that the Company is invincible is the backbone of Taglian military morale and the black beast of Taglian politics. “That’s crafty. Must be Howler’s idea. He does love to blindside you.”

  Bucket helped her with her armor. That was gothically ornate, black and shiny, too pretty to be much use in close combat. But her job was to fight sorcery, not soldiers. Her armor was surfaced by layer upon layer of protective spells.

  Rain began to fall as she donned her helmet. Threads of fire snaked along channels etched into the surface of her armor. She followed Bucket up the watchtower.

  Rain roared down. Sounds of combat grew louder, nearer. Lady ignored those, extended sorcerous senses in a search for the sorcerer known as the Howler. That ancient and evil being did not betray himself but he was out there somewhere. She could smell him.

  Was it possible he had learned to control his screaming?

  “I’ll catch up with you, you little bastard. Meantime.…” She reached down. A fog formed, became dense, slithered between the raindrops, gained color. Pastels swirled, deepened, darkened. Soon the entire storm glowed as though some mad artist had splash-painted it with watercolors.

  There were screams inside the storm.

  The weather stopped moving. The shrieks of lost soldiers peaked, faded. The Shadowmaster’s lines of power, twisting and mutating, had turned lethal.

  Lady resumed searching for the Howler. She discovered him stealing southward, flying low and timidly, fleeing the pastel death that had begun eating its way back along the lines of power. She flung a hastily concocted killing spell. It failed. Howler’s lead was too great. But he did abandon stealth to run hard. Lady cursed like any frustrated line trooper.

  The rain faded away. The Taglian survivors appeared one by one, at first awed by the carnage, then grumbling about all the graves that needed digging. Few Shadowlander survivors were found.

  Lady told Bucket, “Tell them to look at the bright side. There will be prize money for the captured animals.” The Shadowlander animals, excepting the elephants, had not suffered badly.

  Lady glared southward, unforgiving. “Next time, old friend.”

  17

  … falling … again.…

  Trying to hang on. So tired. When I get tired the present gets slippery.

  Fragments.

  Not even fragments of today.

  The past. Not so long ago.

  Freezing my ass off. Failing to catch the great villain Narayan.

  Lady at play down south.

  Fish stench.

  The sleeping man. The screaming Deceiver. Dead men.

  Only memories but happier than tonight. There is too much pain here.

  It is my apocalypse.

  Slipping.

  Can’t keep my eyes from closing. The summons is too damned powerful.

  * * *

  The pillars might be mistaken for relics of a fallen city. They are not. They are too few and too randomly placed. Nor has a one ever fallen, though many have been gnawed deeply by the teeth of the hungry winds.

  In the lightning flares, or in the dawns and sunsets when light steals beneath the edges of the sky, tiny golden characters blaze upon the faces of the columns.

  It is immortality of a sort.

  * * *

  After dark the wind dies. After dark silence rules the glittering stone.

  18

  … sliding away.…

  A vast whirlpool pulling me down.

  Perhaps a force pushing. Was that a lying promise of an end to pain?

  I cannot resist.

  All lies. Endless lies.

  Brown pages, torn pages stiff with blood. Agony. Hard to ride that anchor through the storm.

  19

  There you are! Were you lost? Welcome back. Come! Come! The great adventure is about to begin. The players are all in place. The engines are wound tight. The spells are collected and ready, in arsenal number. Oh, it will be a grand night of doom.

  Look there! Look there. Remember them? Goblin and One-Eye, the wizards? But is that really them? There are two more just like them right over there. And see this. And that. And there. One, two, three Murgens.

  No. Definitely not. You can’t teach those two to suck eggs. They have been in the fooled-you business since your granny’s greatgranny was a stinky little surprise for your however-many-greats grandpa. They have set glamors all over this part of the city. If you are a Shadowlander soldier you won’t be able to tell the figments from the real thing till one of them sticks a knife in you.

  Look there! Raven and Silent. They have been gone for years. And there. That is the old Captain, dead since Juniper. No, they won’t scare any Shadowlanders with who they might be. Not right away. The southerners never heard of them.

  What?

  You are right. Absolutely right. Nobody here but Otto and Hagop will know them, either. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is they can be seen and hardly anyone will know which ones are dangerous and which are illusions.

  This is a first trial. A big experiment, saved up special for the night of Shadowspinner’s big attack.

  Yes. Yes. He did hit hard not that long ago. But he wasn’t really going for a knockout then. He would have taken it, but that was really a reconnaissance in force, meant to support planning for this attack.

  It is going to be a grand show.

  Oh, no, there isn’t one ghost anywhere else in Dejagore. Mogaba wouldn’t have it. He has no grasp of illusion as a weapon. He has no idea how the Company really worked. He clings to his grand notion of chivalrous warfare, the great deadly game, all honor and set rules. He would settled this mess in a trial by combat between him and any champion the Shadowlanders care to send out.

  Oh! Look! That one is interesting. That ugly sucker is Toadkiller Dog. He was a real nasty devil dog. And the Limper! Oh, yes. Brilliant. If the man behind Shadowspinner’s mask is anyone the Company has faced before those illusions are provocations he will have to test. He will betray himself.

  No, of course the Shadowmasters would not risk an entire kingdom on the outcome of a fight between two men. Their champion might lose.

  Yes. Mogaba is naive about some things. He is an arrogant, cruel, unsympathetic general, too.

  Ooh. Hear those trumpets. The Company has its own personal bunch of bad guys down front. Let’s go to the ramparts and watch from close up.

  * * *

  No. They aren’t really bright. Well, you could say that if they were bright they wouldn’t be in that army in the first place but that wouldn’t be fair. Not many of those guys had a choice about signing up. Their only real motivat
ion is their fear of the Shadowmasters.

  Sure. No argument. That makes them no less deadly. Hell, a rock can fall out of the sky and kill you.

  Yes, this definitely is the big one. Shadowspinner is set to send every man. Maybe shadows have come up from Overlook to help.

  Bats! Ha. And crows. Which is chasing which? Duck! Almost got you. They are all over. Never been this many around before.

  What is that racket? Oh. Bucket yelling at one of the Murgens to get behind something because he don’t want to carry no bodies down no goddamn stairs.

  And here comes the first barrage. And if that racket across town means anything the Shadowlanders are hitting hard about where the third and fourth cohorts of the First Legion are stationed. Those are good regiments. They will put up a fight.

  20

  Like a regular hailstorm, isn’t it? Makes you wonder where they got all the goddamned arrows and javelins for their engines. Just stay under the mantlet, you’ll be fine. They aren’t good at laying plunging fire onto elevated targets.

  If they let up before they attack the Jaicuri will come out and collect the missiles and bring them to the soldiers. The Shadowlanders will get them back business end first.

  No, the Jaicuri do not love Mogaba. They don’t love the Taglians or the Black Company, either. They wish the whole mob was gone. But they have some dark suspicions about what will happen if Shadowspinner recaptures this burg. So they sort of try to help, but not much. Not yet.

  They help some, they figure maybe Mogaba might be less likely to kick them out next time he is in one of his moods.

  The sky? Dark as the inside of a priest’s heart, isn’t it? Oh. Yes. You’re right. It isn’t an auspicious sort of night. Never is when they attack without benefit of a full moon. It’s devil’s work for sure, then. Usually it means the Shadowmasters want the darkness so they can run their pets to their best advantage. Or they want everybody terrified that there are shadows to come.

  Look at them scurry! Those Jaicuri are motivated tonight. If they become involved in actually fighting it could be closer than Mogaba or Shadowspinner expect.

  Whoa! What was that?

  Look at that. What the hell is it? That rosy light over the hills.

  Here they come. Going to take their whack at breaking the Company.

  You don’t think so? Maybe you are right. This could be meant to keep the Company pinned while Spinner concentrates somewhere softer.

  Look at them down there, though. Like maggots. And no covering fire now.

  You’re right. The engines will be moving to support the main attack now.

  Check that light. It keeps getting brighter. No. Now it’s going away. And it doesn’t seem like anyone else noticed. That is a little too weird.

  Oh. Right again. Must have been a signal to the Shadowlander officers. The racket is getting louder, now you mention it.

  No, I don’t like the sound of it either. The attack had become generalized.

  Ho! Look over there! Now we have it there, too. What? The light. Don’t you see it? There behind the ramparts?

  Yes. I see. You’re right again. It is different. This is kind of like the cold light of a full moon tinged with a little blue, isn’t it? Yeah. It’s kind of misty, too. Sort of like we are seeing it through an autumn haze. There. Now it’s so bright you can make out the fighting on the far wall.

  Right. Fighting. That means they have a foothold there already. And Mogaba don’t have any reserves to send up.

  Guess we can bend over and kiss our butts goodbye, friend.

  21

  Damn! The shit is about to start flying but I just realized that when I started putting these notes together I missed doing the famous formula Croaker always used to open a new volume. So here goes:

  In those days the Company was in service to the Prabrindrah Drah of Taglios, a prince whose domains spanned territories more vast than those of many empires. We were participating in the occupation and protection of the recently captured city of Dejagore.

  And I hope princie and his skag sister the Radisha choke on our memory.

  22

  The shitstorm arrived. Every man defending our section of wall stayed busy returning some of it to the southerners. The illusory doppelgangers appeared to be hard at work, too. Funny how they could wander around never getting hurt.

  “One-Eye! Goblin!” I yelled. “Where the hell are you peckerheads? What the frack is going on over there?” I watched a feeble arrow pass through a Murgen a dozen yards away. “What’s that weird light?” Whatever it was, it gave me the feeling that things could get worse than they looked already.

  I got no response whatsoever from my favorite wizards.

  “Rudy. Flip a flare ball out there. Let’s see what’s sneaking around.” Until recently my now less than favorite wizards had provided spot illumination. “Bucket! Where the hell are Goblin and One-Eye?” Ten minutes ago I had three pairs underfoot, all of them squabbling. Now they were gone and the Shadowlanders were quieter than mice below.

  Red Rudy yelled at Loftus and Cletus. One of their engines thumped. A blazing ball arced outward, its only purpose to betray what the enemy was doing in the darkness.

  Sparkle piped, “I seen them headed downstairs.”

  Suckass. “Why?” This was for sure not the time to wander away.

  “Uh.… They went to talk to Pirmhi and some of them guys from the Horse Brigade.”

  I shook my head. I would choke them myself. In the middle of a goddamned battle.…

  The fireball revealed that the Shadowlanders had pulled back from the wall. Spending our missiles was a waste. The southerners were setting up engines capable of throwing grapnels in clusters. That was a stupid way to do business against an eighty-foot wall with veteran soldiers on top, but if they wanted to play it that way we would accommodate them. I was confident that, no matter how many ropes they threw up, we could cut or dislodge their lines before they could climb that high, then, with lungs ready to fall out and arms too heavy to lift, get busy defending their bridgehead while other equally dim types made the same climb carrying a half ton of equipment apiece.

  “Goblin!” Goddamnit, I wanted to know what that light was over there.

  The Shadowlanders had not scaled the wall there. They had attacked off of earthen ramps. Not a surprise. They had been building the ramps from the beginning. That was just basic siegework, employed since the dawn of time and one reason your thoughtful modern prince builds his stronghold on a crag or headland or island. Naturally, the besieger spans the last dozen feet with a bridge he can yank back if a dangerous counterattack develops.

  The flareball smashed down four hundred yards out. It continued to provide light until the southerners buried it with sand originally intended to extinguish firebombs if we used them. “One-Eye! I’m going to have your wrinkled balls for breakfast!”

  I snarled, “Cletus, keep throwing them fireballs. Who’s got messenger duty? Feet? Go find Goblin and One-Eye.… Never mind. One of them brain-damaged runts just turned up.”

  One-Eye said, “You rang, milord?”

  “Are you sober? Are you ready to get to work now?” He stared at that nasty light across town without me coaching him. I asked, “What is that?” The light seemed more sinister now.

  One-Eye raised a hand. “Kid, why not take this gods given opportunity to exercise your least well-honed talent?”

  “What?”

  “Be patient, dickhead.”

  The mist or haze or dust started getting thicker. The light grew brighter. Neither happening buoyed my confidence. “Talk to me, old man. This ain’t the time for any of your bullshit.”

  “That haze, that ain’t no mist, Murgen. The light ain’t shining off it. It’s making the light.” And the mist and light were drifting toward the city.

  “Horse puckey. You can see where there’s a light burning in their camp.”

  “That’s something else. There’s two things going on at once, Murgen.”

&n
bsp; “Three things, halfwit.” Goblin had arrived, beer breath and all. Presumably all was well at the secret brewery, the arrangements with the cavalry were secure, and he and One-Eye could take time off to help the Black Company defend Dejagore.

  Heaven help them if Mogaba discovered what they were doing with grain supposedly set aside for the horses. I wouldn’t have a prayer of saving their butts—nor would I offer one.

  “What?” One-Eye barked. “Murgen, the man is a walking provocation.”

  “Watch, bonehead,” Goblin countered. “It’s already happening.”

  One-Eye gasped, suddenly astonished, then frightened. Ignorant in the dark arts, it took me longer to catch it.

  Shadows snaked through that blazing dust cloud, thin things little more than suggestions but with something flitting back and forth amongst them. I thought both of a weaver’s shuttle and of spiders. Whichever, web or net, something was forming inside the blazing dust.

  They did call him Shadowspinner.

  The glimmering cloud grew larger and brighter. The web grew with it.

  “Shit,” Goblin muttered. “Now what do we do about this?”

  “Exactly what I’ve been trying to get out of you two clowns for the last five minutes!” I bellowed.

  “Well!”

  “Maybe you could pay attention over here if you can’t do anything about that!” Bucket yelled, “Murgen, those fools have gotten so many ropes up that we can’t.… Shit!” Another barrage of grapnels fell amongst us. In moments they showed the strain that meant some moron was trying to climb them.

  So much for my belief that there was no chance the southerners could scale my wall.

  Guys were hard at work with knives and swords and axes. Imaginary people stood around looking fierce. I heard a man grumble that if he had half a brain he would have sharpened his knives. Rudy reminded him, “If you kept your pecker in your pants more you’d have time.”