Soldiers Live

by Glen Cook

  I recalled One-Eye’s last hours. And was in motion already when I did, the black spear extended way out in my right hand, head starting to glow.

  The Goblin thing whipped to one side fast enough to avoid getting skewered. It did suffer a cut that would have been enough to require stitches if it had been the true Goblin.

  Its flesh felt tougher than an old smoke-cured ham.

  The Goblin face betrayed complete astonishment, then horrible pain. The spear flashed and smoked in my hand. Goblin shrieked. For an instant I saw the real Goblin looking out of tormented eyes.

  I fought for my balance and tried to get him with a truer thrust.

  I did not get him at all. He flung out of there in complete terror of my weapon. His wound looked like it had gone gangrenous already.

  All this took only moments. The troops I had asked to tag along behind wasted no time rushing up to help. Still down, Booboo was not radiating enough “love me” to disrupt their ability to fight. They started grabbing the rest of us and dragging us out of there.

  “I can walk!” I snarled. Though I had almost no strength left. I got hold of the flying post and started walking it.

  The soldiers carried Doj and Thai Dei. Murgen looped an arm over the shoulder of another fighter who had managed to get himself injured already.

  This did not look good for the Ky family.

  More of our men rushed up.

  I leaned into the log. I tried not to worry. Behind me the skirmish got rowdy. More men came up on both sides. Fortunes shifted as the girl found strength or weakened. Evidently using the “love me” enchantment sucked the strength out of her flesh.

  “I hate this kind of fight,” I told Sleepy when she came over to see how the survivors were doing. She kept her back to the ranks of the dead.

  Howler was up and around already. I had a whole team working on Tobo. Murgen was going to make it. He just needed time. But time had run out for Doj and Thai Dei. Soldiers live.

  I kept doing what I could for Soulcatcher, too, mostly when my wife was not watching. “You can lose a lot of men without accomplishing a thing.” I meant that as a subtle suggestion.

  “They’ve realized they can’t win. They’ve started moving north. Before we can finish surrounding them.” I heard nothing in her voice expressing disappointment. “How bad is Tobo?”

  “Not as bad as his uncle and Doj.”

  “Croaker.”

  “Sorry. We’re out of business. Maybe for a long time. If Tobo has a bone that isn’t broken I can’t find it.” I exaggerated only a little. The kid had a broken leg, a broken toe, a broken arm (two places), a concussion and a whole rack of crushed or broken ribs. “Unless you’re willing to face Mogaba without him.”

  “Outnumbered by the best troops we’ll face, commanded by the only intelligent commander we’re likely to meet?” Meaning a general she had fought during the Kiaulune wars but never had beaten. She eyed Soulcatcher. “Counting on Howler to give us his best? I think not.”

  “Then we’d better fall back to Dejagore and get comfortable. Or move up to Ghoja.”

  “Ghoja,” she decided instantly. “We want control of that river crossing. And that barrier.”

  “Mogaba isn’t likely to come out right away. He’ll want to know exactly what’s going on before he commits himself to any course. Hell, he might not come out at all if we update him on what’s going on with the Daughter of Night.”

  She agreed. “If we let him know, he might find a chance to do something beneficial to all of us. See that he gets the appropriate information.”

  How was I supposed to do that?

  I did not ask.

  I knelt beside Soulcatcher. Her breathing was ragged. She seemed to be getting weaker. I did ask, “How’s Sahra?”

  “She’ll be all right. She’s lived with this idea for a lot of years. She knows nobody gets out of here alive. Even if they don’t have one of those silver badges. I’ll let you know what she decides about funeral arrangements.”

  I grunted.

  She left me with a final caution. “Just don’t let her boy die. Things would get unpleasant.”

  74

  Midway Between:

  Escape Artists

  Sometime during the excitement the Voroshk kids decided to run away. But before they ran they had to argue about how to manage it and who should be in charge after they succeeded and then they kept bickering until they wasted most of the time when the rest of us were diverted first by Soulcatcher and then by Booboo.

  Nothing got decided completely. After sundown they surprised their guards using feeble disorientation spells. Gromovol killed several soldiers, mostly because Magadan cautioned him not to. As soon as they were loose Gromovol started looking for his flying post. Arkana and Magadan believed it was more important to find their clothing. Without that they were almost powerless. They wrote Gromovol off. They knew the Black Company well enough already to want to distance themselves from the doom taking shape in his future.

  Arkana told Magadan, “We’ll have to take one of those keys to their shadowgate, too. Otherwise we’ll never get out of this world.”

  “If we get the chance, yes. But the main thing we need to do is to get away from these madmen.” Even after several months Magadan still did not understand what was happening in this world. It was too alien. Nothing made any sense. His own world had known no real war since his forbears had come to power.

  Two hundred yards away Gromovol did something stupid and betrayed himself as he tried to steal a flying post. An alarm sounded. In minutes rage flooded the camp. The murdered guards had been found.

  Arkana swore. “That idiot! We’d better surrender to somebody important right now. If we keep on running the soldiers who catch us won’t listen to any explanations.”

  “Shukrat...”

  “Shukrat’s gone native. Shukrat’s decided there’s no way she’ll ever get home so she might as well do the best she can for herself over here. It’s probably because of her mother.”

  “What?”

  “Her mother. Shukrat’s been totally weird ever since the First Father put her mother aside for that woman Saltireva. Besides, she’s infatuated with Tobo.”

  “He is gorgeous, isn’t he?”

  “Magadan! Well, yes. Exotic, anyway.”

  “I hear his mother was one of the great beauties of this world when she was younger. But his father grew up eating nothing but ugly soup.” All the while they talked Magadan kept drifting away from the excitement. He had no destination in mind but no intention of giving himself up. There would be no chance like this ever again.

  Arkana said, “Shukrat could be right.”

  “What?”

  “Suppose she hasn’t really gone native? Suppose she’s just winning their trust? Maybe someday she’ll just stroll off with one of their keys and leave this world.”

  “Damn.”

  “Shukrat won’t do it. But we could adopt that strategy.” It had not taken Shukrat long to get her post and clothing back. She was becoming an important part of the Black Company. Already.

  “Why didn’t we think of that?” Magadan grumbled.

  Arkana said, “Because we’re almost as stupid as Gromovol is. As blind to anything that isn’t the way it was at home. Shukrat isn’t bright. But she does see that this isn’t home and never will be. I’m turning back. You do what you want. When the shouting stops I want them to find me right where they left me. I refused to run away. It was all that idiot Gromovol’s fault.”

  But, darling ice princess, don’t you know you never do anything alone?

  The Voroshk never fully grasped the fact that the Unknown Shadows are with all of us always. If Tobo wanted he could catalog every breath they took. The hidden folk tap emotion. They learn to understand what is being said far faster than even language naturals like myself. The Voroshk could no longer speak secrets.

  Sometimes misfortune likes to get into the game.

  Magadan told Arkana, “You
go ahead. Be friendly. Flirt. Do what Shukrat did. When you get your key come find me. I’ll walk you home.”

  “Come back with me.”

  “I can’t. They’ll blame me for what Gromovol did.”

  The devil named appeared suddenly, running straight toward them, the light of campfires exaggerating the terror distorting his face. Gromovol had expected to fling open the door to freedom but had found it to be the door to hell and no one on the other side cared who he was.

  Before it could all be sorted out and the troops calmed down Magadan had been killed, Gromovol had been wounded badly, and Arkana had been raped several times. She brought a broken leg and several cracked ribs into my care as well. In time I heard all the true details from my ravens, who seemed more inclined to be communicative while Tobo was out of action.

  Soldiers whose friends have been murdered are not kindly people. In a Company without Lady and a female Captain no discipline would have been assessed at all. As it was, the discipline was light and directed mainly at those who had assaulted Arkana sexually. That could not be overlooked.

  75

  Taglios:

  The Palace

  Mogaba was not yet aware of the disaster that had befallen the Army of the Middle when he found the two women in his quarters. Lady he recognized. The young blonde he did not. She would, he presumed, be a sorceress, too. Fear cramped his stomach. His heartbeat doubled. But he betrayed nothing outwardly.

  He had had to mask his emotions in the presence of madmen and a madwoman for decades. The madmen were gone. With luck the madwoman would follow. And he would persist.

  He bowed slightly. “Lady. To what do I owe the unexpected honor?”

  “To disasters. Of course.”

  The Great General glanced at the younger woman. She was completely exotic, like no woman he had ever seen.

  Though white and blonde she did not resemble Willow Swan otherwise. There was an alien feel to her.

  She must be from wherever the Black Company had hidden the last several years.

  He said, “I’m sure you didn’t come this far just to stand around looking cryptic.”

  “The Daughter of Night and the thing inside what used to be Goblin somehow overwhelmed the Protector. The girl put on Soulcatcher’s leathers. She’s pretending to be her. She’s squandered ninety-five percent of your Middle Army. She’s headed this way. We aren’t in any condition to chase her. My husband thought you should know. He wants me to remind you that the Daughter of Night exists only to bring on the Year of the Skulls. I want you to know that Kina is real. Doubt any of the other gods you want but not this one. She’s out there. We’ve seen her. And if she gets loose none of our other squabbles will mean a thing.”

  Mogaba did not need to be reminded that the Year of the Skulls would be an atrocity far huger than any of Soulcatcher’s random cruelties. Catcher was mere Chaos. Kina was Destruction.

  “We have a plan for handling the Protector. It should work as well against someone pretending to be the Protector. Possibly better.” He did not ask what had become of Soulcatcher. He was content to hope that phase of his life was complete.

  “The girl doesn’t have Soulcatcher’s finely honed powers but she does have plenty of raw talent. She’s somehow surrounded herself with an aura that makes anyone within a hundred feet want to love her and do anything to please her. This has manifested itself before, in smaller ways, so I fear we can expect it to grow as she comes to understand it and exercise it.”

  “That isn’t good. That’s not good at all. That’ll make sniping difficult. Any way around it?”

  From the blonde’s slight start, Mogaba judged Lady’s, “Not that we know of yet,” to be less than honest. But in her place he would have reserved something, too. And what they had obviously was not reliable. Otherwise they would have used it themselves.

  The Great General said, “Thank you for the warning. We’ll make use of it. Was there anything more?” Down deep he nurtured the tiniest hope that there could be a reconciliation. A hope he knew was unrealistic. But everyone nurtured impossible dreams. Even the gods were pursuing the impossible.

  Mogaba stated the facts as they had been reported to him. He made that point clear. “We aren’t their friends. They just want someone else to assume part of the cost of eliminating the enemies they have to go through in order to get at us.”

  Ghopal Singh asked, “What about the truth of the report? Are they just trying to trick us into attacking the Protector? If they could get us to make the attempt and we were to fall at a time when they were close behind the Protector they’d reach the gates just when Taglios was falling into chaos.”

  Aridatha groaned. “We went to them, Ghopal. Remember me chasing halfway to the other end of the world to tell them we were going to try to get rid of the Protector? Remember me helping them take over Dejagore as a sign of good faith?”

  “Circumstances have changed.”

  Mogaba interjected, “Ghopal, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I think it’s true. The Protector is out of the game. Possibly only momentarily. Hell, probably. She’s made unlikely comebacks before. What hurts my feelings, of course, is that those people don’t consider us much worth worrying about in terms of the greater struggle.”

  Aridatha grumbled, “Which might not be that unreasonable when you think about it dispassionately.”

  Ghopal asked, “And you’re equally sure that the Middle Army has been destroyed?” Even military insiders had not yet fully digested the news about the losses of Dejagore and the Southern Army that had clung to it’s skirts. A lot of people were still waiting to hear how Dejagore responded to it’s change of masters.

  The nature of that response would have repercussions throughout the Taglian empire.

  Would the return of the royals be celebrated? Or resented? The Dejagoran response was likely to set the fashion for all the cities and towns that came under the Company sway.

  “I’m sure of it,” Mogaba told Ghopal. “But I’m less sure of the condition of the invaders afterward. I got the distinct impression that their defeat of the Middle Army was neither cheap nor easy.”

  Aridatha said, “We’ve got to have better intelligence.”

  Mogaba took a moment to stifle his sarcasm before confessing, “I’m open to ideas. Any ideas.”

  No inspirations sprouted immediately.

  Aridatha said, “We could always do something mythic. Like damning ourselves by bringing in an ally worse than our enemies. One that will devour us after it finishes doing what we brought it in to do.”

  Mogaba and Ghopal recognized the effort but did not get Aridatha’s joke.

  “It’s an allusion. Or a parable. Or something,” Aridatha explained. “Like all stories about Kina. The Lords of Light created her or brought her in for the demon plain war. And probably would have been better off if the rakshasas had won, ultimately.”

  Mogaba did have a sense of humor. He just had not brought it along tonight. “I guess you had to be there. Anyway, there’s nobody we could bring in. We’re on our own. So suggestions are in demand. Practical suggestions will be particularly welcome.” That was something in the nature of a jest so, perhaps, he had brought part of his sense of humor.

  Ghopal said, “All we can do is send out more spies and set up more remount stations so the spies can get their observations to us faster.”

  “And we have only one courier battalion.” Mogaba sat quietly for half a minute. Then he asked, “How is our support among the priests and bourgeoisie? They’ve had time to think about the royals coming back. They plan to desert us?”

  “We’re the devil as far as they know,” Ghopal replied. “The Protector has been their benefactor. And only a few of the slickest talkers can hope to benefit if we get thrown out. We worked hard to eliminate the Radisha’s friends once we could no longer hide the fact that the princess was gone, not just hiding out feeling sorry for herself.”

  The Great General proposed, “Let’s try the same strat
egy. Make believe we haven’t lost the Protector. Aridatha. You seem to be distracted.”

  “I keep thinking about the girl. The Daughter of Night.”

  “And?”

  “I saw her once. Five years ago. There’s something about her... Makes you want to throw her down on her back. And makes you want to worship her at the same time. Makes you feel like you should do anything you can to please her. It’s scary when you step back far enough to realize what happened.”

  “She’s all grown-up that way.” Mogaba explained what Lady had told of events to the south. “That girl got hundreds of men killed. We’ll have to assassinate her remotely somehow. See if some mechanical engine can be contrived.”

  “I have a question,” Ghopal said.

  “Go.”

  “What’s that thing you’re fiddling with? You’ve been playing with it ever since you got here.”

  “Oh. Some kind of snail shell. They’re all over the Palace. Nobody knows where they come from. Nobody’s ever actually seen one crawling around. They’re sort of relaxing when you roll them around in your fingers.”

  Both Singhs eyed the Great General as though thinking his behavior was distinctly odd.

  Ghopal said, “Regarding the Daughter of Night. We might consider poison. There’re some talented poisoners in Chor Bagan, the thieves’ market.”

  The years had changed Mogaba. He did not immediately reject the suggestion as unworthy of men of honor.

  76

  The Taglian Territories:

  Another Origin Story

  I suggested, “How about a standoff weapon we can launch from outside her influence? Hell, if we take the logs and carpets up high enough we can just keep dropping rocks till we get her.” There was some optimism. We did not have even one carpet since Booboo knocked Howler and Tobo down. What we did have was bits and pieces of half a dozen carpets that Howler had been working on when nothing else took up his time.

  Lady glared at me so intensely I began to wonder how soon I would start melting.