Soldiers Live

by Glen Cook

  “And what should I do about the invaders?” Aridatha asked.

  “We’ve had that set for months. Just follow the plan. Let it unfold.”

  Aridatha nodded, plainly wishing there was some way to reduce the bloodshed. He was less pessimistic about the outcome of this conflict than was the Great General. But he feared the price would be so crippling that victory would be the greater evil for the city as a whole.

  Mogaba told him, “I want you to return to your own headquarters now. Continue to direct your troops from there.”

  “But...”

  “If this goes badly and you’re here with me when they come you’ll have to pay a crueler price than necessary. Do as I say. Ghopal, you take over here. No one goes into the Palace. No one comes out. If the enemy gets this far make sure they know about the Khadidas and the Daughter of Night. I expect you to stay out of the way yourself. The best people to get the information to are the two wearing the fiery armor. Widowmaker and Lifetaker. They’ll listen to you. They’re the girl’s natural parents. Aridatha, why are you still standing there? You have your instructions.”

  Ghopal asked, “What’ll you be doing?”

  “Readying a pair of counterattacks that’ll make these strange foreign soldiers wish that they’d never left the land where they were born.” The Great General projected immense confidence.

  He did not feel a bit of it inside.

  Nevertheless, his stride was that of an arrogant conquerer as he walked away from the Palace, a gaggle of messengers and functionaries scurrying behind him. He spun off orders as he went.

  Mogaba spotted the white crow watching from a cornice stone. He beckoned. “Come down here.” He patted his shoulder.

  The bird did as it was bid, startling Mogaba’s entourage.

  The Great General asked, “Are you who I think you are?”

  115

  Taglios:

  The Special Team

  There were some tasks too important to entrust to anyone but family. The responsible captains at the South Gate were always related to Ghopal Singh, though they were officers in the City Battalions. They were all men who dared not be disloyal because their pasts were all tangled up with the Greys, the Great General, and the Protectorate.

  Also, they were men who were mentally disciplined enough to retreat without running away. They were men who had prepared themselves and their followers for this day. Though, originally, they had expected the Protector herself to be entering their killing zone.

  116

  Taglios:

  Outrageous Fortune

  The passage through the barbican seemed a maze from inside, though there were only a half dozen turns. From above it did not look that bad. Until huge blocks of stone fell out of the walls, blocking the way ahead of and behind the Captain, trapping her, her staff and another dozen men.

  The falling blocks initiated a train of mechanical events, the first of which was the launching of a storm of poisoned darts. Horses screamed and men cursed. And, as I sent my flying post downward to try to get the Captain out of there, burning oil sprayed from ports in the walls.

  So this was how they had planned to get rid of Soulcatcher.

  The heat drove me back. The black Voroshk clothing could not stand up to much of that.

  Sleepy had chosen to place herself at the middle of the invading column. Which meant our forces had just been split in two.

  A massive counterattack was sure to develop.

  I pushed myself up beside Arkana, who was numb with the horror. “Get ahold of yourself! I want you to find Suvrin. Tell him I’ll take charge on the city side. He can build steps to get the rest of the men past that mess. He can use the lumber meant for siege engines. Go on! Get going!”

  Once again I did not have to whack her to bring her out of her stupor.

  Once again Mogaba had dealt us one off the bottom of his deck. This time our chances of surviving did not look good.

  We should have been prepared for it. He had told us that there were arrangements in place.

  Sometimes you just do not hear what is being said.

  I checked the sun before I reached the ground.

  We would have to hang on for a bit longer than what inspired me with optimism.

  “It won’t be long,” I insisted to the commanders on the ground. “We need to put ourselves into a position to hang on until nightfall. Once darkness comes...”

  “The Unknown Shadows.”

  “The Hidden Realm.”

  Shouts. A scatter of arrows fell.

  “Push a company along the wall that direction,” I directed. “I want those steps under our control when the others start joining us.” I had to show an optimism I did not feel. I hoped Suvrin would press his half of the attack.

  No man could question the courage of the soldiers from Hsien. They mauled the City Battalions badly. They mauled reinforcements from the Second Territorial. Unfortunately, the City Battalions and Mogaba’s Second Territorial elite mauled them right back. It did not take long to see that Sleepy might have taken too big a bite. The Great General seemed to have plenty of reserves, though he was parsimonious when it came to investing them.

  Vigorous support from Arkana, Shukrat and Tobo kept us from being overwhelmed.

  Once Tobo woke up enough to begin thinking more than mechanically the tide began to turn. Once he recalled that he was good for something more than dropping rocks and fire-pots. Once he added his sorcerous skills to the girls’ weaker ones we got stinging insects, painful worms of fire, lemon and lime snowflakes that pitted armor and flesh.

  Nevertheless, the enemy kept us confined until darkness came.

  Darkness always comes.

  117

  Taglios:

  Night and the City

  The Great General took charge of the riverfront defenses personally. He found morale abysmal when he arrived, accompanied by reserves from the Second Territorial. The long succession of military disasters had the soldiers suspecting that defeat was inevitable and that they were being wasted in a hopeless cause.

  The Great General himself led his own lifeguard in a counterattack of such fury and finesse that the enemy soon lost everything that it had taken them all day to capture.

  The invaders got no support from above. The Great General interpreted that to mean that they were in desperate straits at the South Gate.

  There was not a lot of communication between forces. Nobody knew what anybody else was doing, really. The best anyone could do was cling to the plans and hope the enemy did not get too much enjoyment from his advantages.

  Mogaba’s opponents tried reinforcing themselves with recent recruits. That did them little good. Those men entered the fighting in groups too small to make any difference.

  The last attackers fled in the barges they had used to make their initial landings, drifting downriver because they did not have enough men healthy enough to row against the current. All the barges were overburdened, one so much so that it shipped water at the slightest rocking. It did not remain afloat long.

  Mogaba treated himself to a long breather. He turned his mind off completely, closed his eyes, let the cold winter air chill him.

  When he was calm and breathing normally again he allowed himself to return to the moment.

  He could get the best of this thing yet. If he could get these men to the South Gate and get in a hard blow he might damage the enemy enough to earn his own people a fair chance of making it through the night. If he succeeded, victory would be his. They would not be able to survive everything he would throw at them tomorrow.

  He opened his eyes.

  The white crow stared at him from a perch on a broken cartwheel scarcely a foot from his face.

  The crow started talking.

  That bird was a much better messenger and spy than the crows he had known in earlier days.

  The Great General listened for a long time. And wondered if the mind behind the bird was aware of his disloyalty.

  H
e would not bring it up first.

  The Great General dragged himself upright, ignoring the complaints of aching muscles. “Sergeant Mugwarth. Spread the word. All officers. Round up every man who can walk. We’re moving up to relieve the South Gate.”

  The enemy’s aerial advantage betrayed the trap before it could close. Mogaba left the soldiers to their work and hastened toward the Palace. He arrived as dusk began to deepen shadows. The view from that eminence included half a dozen fires still burning. Smoke and trickles of fire still attended the fallen parts of the Palace, too.

  Awaiting him was the news that the enemy had reduced most of the defenses at the downriver end of the city. Their forces there had been augmented by the survivors from upriver. These outsiders were stubborn fighters.

  “Send reinforcements?” Ghopal asked.

  Mogaba thought a moment. Those foreigners ought to be near their limits. “Yes, actually. These are all your men here, around the Palace, aren’t they?”

  “I thought that would be best. Makes them all men I can trust.”

  “Let Aridatha’s soldiers take their place. Send yours to the waterfront. And gather up any of your brothers and cousins who’re still alive, I want them here.”

  “What?...”

  “Do it. Quickly. Quickly. And round up all those captured fireball throwers.”

  “I think we used most of them up.”

  “That means they’re some of them left. I want them all.”

  Darkness came. And soon after it did messages reached the Great General informing him that his enemies, inside both their footholds, were hunkering down for the night rather than pressing forward when their shadowy allies could come out to play.

  The Great General refused to let the night intimidate him. By his example he inspired those around him. And it did seem that the enemy’s spooks meant to do little more than yell “Boo!”

  The Great General reorganized the city’s defenses, shifting almost all responsibility into Aridatha Singh’s hands. Then he led Ghopal Singh and the man’s kinsmen, armed with fireball throwers, toward the waterfront conflict.

  Ghopal asked, “What’re we doing?”

  “This is a false peace,” Mogaba replied. “They lost their Captain this afternoon. The trap in the gate worked to perfection. They lost most of their command staff, too.” He did not explain how he knew that. “They’ll need to work out who’s in charge and what they’re going to do now. They might even decide to go away.” He shivered, told himself it was the winter air.

  But he knew that Croaker had survived the day. He knew the Company would not be going away. He knew the succession there had been assured and the new Captain would attempt to complete the work of the old.

  118

  Taglios:

  A New Administration

  I’m not ready to take over,” Suvrin argued.

  “And I’m too old to come back,” I countered. “And the only other qualified person is in a coma.” Lady was not, literally, in a coma, but, practically speaking, the effect was the same. She had nothing to contribute.

  Suvrin grumbled under his breath.

  “Sleepy picked you. She thought you could handle it. She’s been giving you opportunities to get a feel for the job.” Sleepy was a big part of the problem. Her death, so sudden and cruel, had stricken everyone. Most of us were still in a daze.

  I said, “We take too much time here; we’ll give the Children of the Dead too much time to think. We don’t want them looking at how bad the numbers thing has gone since they’ve been on our side of the glittering plain.”

  A moment of self-loathing followed. That was exactly the sort of thinking I found repugnant in the Company’s employers.

  Suvrin reflected briefly. “We can’t spend time grieving, can we? We have to go ahead. Or call it off.”

  “No decision there. Go ahead. I’ve tried to get messages to Aridatha Singh. He seems like a good man, willing to put Taglios first. He might be willing to spare the city some pain.”

  “If you can convince him that the Great General isn’t going to eat us alive. The way Tobo tells it, Mogaba isn’t particularly worried.”

  “He will be. Once we get settled in here I just might take the girls general hunting.”

  Suvrin still showed some of that pudgy, baby-fat look he had always had. He needed to get busy and develop the hardened, piratical look of a Captain.

  He yielded to his hidden desires. “All right. I’ll be the Captain. But I reserve the right to quit.”

  “Excellent. I’ll spread the word, then I’ll go smack Mogaba around.” My hatred for the Great General was no longer virulent, though. It was more like a bad habit these days.

  “I’m the Captain now, right? Completely in charge?”

  “Yeah.” Spoken with a twinge of suspicion.

  “My first directive as Captain, then, is that you should stop putting yourself at risk.”

  “Huh? What? But...”

  “Croaker, you’re the only one left who can keep the Annals. You’re the only one left who can read most of them. You didn’t finish teaching me and you haven’t trained anyone else. I don’t intend to lose our connection with our heritage. Not at this last stage. Therefore, henceforth, you’re not going anywhere that’ll put you at risk.”

  “You sonofabitch. You jobbed me. You can’t do that.”

  “I’m the Captain. Sure I can. I just did. I’ll have you restrained if that’s what it takes.”

  “You won’t have to.” Because I buy into the whole Company mystique, like a religion. Because I cannot defy orders just because I do not like them. Ha-ha. How long would it take to find a way to weasel around this if I felt a genuine need? “But I wanted Mogaba.”

  “We’ll catch him for you. Then you can skin him or whatever you want.”

  I went out and spread the word that we had a new Captain and that the officers should attend him. Then I looked for Arkana, who was off somewhere wasting a valuable part of her life sleeping.

  As I stumbled around, shivering because things unseen were everywhere in the night, I realized that Suvrin, unwittingly, had given me orders of critical importance. If I kept running around, getting into the middle of everything, and I got myself killed for my trouble, more than the Annals would die with me. So would the little plan I had worked out for fulfilling our commitment to Shivetya.

  I had not shared that with anyone, and would not unless I was convinced I was dying.

  Words never spoken cannot be overheard by sleeping Goddesses.

  119

  Taglios:

  Messenger

  Guided and masked by the folk of the hidden realm, Arkana penetrated Aridatha Singh’s headquarters undetected, flying post and all. The general was alone. He had collapsed of exhaustion an hour earlier. Solicitous subordinates had put him to bed. They had left sentries outside his door to keep him from being disturbed.

  Arkana got in through an open window, lying flat upon her post. She was not especially nervous. She was confident that she could manage any trouble that came her way, at least for the moments it would take her to escape.

  She had been instructed to flee at the first sign of trouble. She believed in those instructions with the fervor of a new convert.

  Once inside she dismounted and turned her post so she could get away without any delay. She kept herself tethered to the post so it could drag her out even if she was not in the saddle. Even if she was unconscious. Maybe even if three guys were hanging onto her, trying to keep her from going.

  She found a lamp and lit it. Then she awakened Aridatha Singh.

  The general did not waken quickly. But he did so quietly and cautiously, understanding that he was in a dangerous situation. Maybe it was the Unknown Shadows. The sense of their presence was strong. Because they were all around.

  Singh rose into a cross-legged sitting position. He moved slowly, keeping his hands in sight. He asked his question by expression alone.

  Arkana strained to ignore h
is looks. She had been warned... She was not an idiot like Gromovol. “The Captain wants to know if you received the Annalist’s messages. The Captain wants to know if you’re ready to spare Taglios the agonies of further conflict.” She enunciated carefully, having no desire to be misunderstood.

  “Of course I do. But how do I get you people to go away?” He could not tell much about his visitor because of the Voroshk clothing.

  “Here’s an idea. You can have your soldiers lay down their arms.” As one of the Voroshk that sort of statement directed at an outsider would not have troubled Arkana at all. But here, tonight, she was just another refugee and freelance. And a very young one at that, with limited confidence in herself. Maybe Croaker’s confidence was misplaced.

  That clever old man. He had set her up so she would risk her freedom rather than let him down.

  That was a characteristic of old men. All old men in her experience, anyway.

  Aridatha said, “There’s little I’d like more than to end this fighting before even one more person gets hurt. But I have no control when it comes to making the choice between war and peace. I’ve undertaken obligations. I’ve given my word. Right now Taglios is in the keeping of the Great General. If he gives the order to stop fighting I’ll do so instantly.”

  And he said no more. That was as clearly as he could speak. Even that much clarity troubled his conscience.

  “That’s your firm response, then?” Arkana’s confidence had begun to swell.

  “There is no other position open to me. Your Captain will understand.”

  “Your honor could get you killed. And there’d be no one to sing your praises.” Arkana departed before Singh could figure out what that meant. He thought it sounded like something foreign that did not translate well.

  Aridatha was a little less exhausted than he had been before he collapsed. But he did not fall asleep again for a long while, and not because of the potent sense of alien presence still filling his bedroom. He kept hearing the visitor’s last words and remembering his father. Narayan Singh. A man of high honor, within his own world. Now without a soul to sing his praises. Unless maybe his beloved Goddess sang him lullabies within her terrible dreams.