At first Nizar didn’t realize what she had said. It took him a moment, but asked, “You found him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” he demanded, half rising from his seat.
“Outside,” she said, then shoveled the last bit of soup down. “He is a soldier, an’ comin’ dis way.”
“Soldier?” Nizar said, taken aback. Then realization struck. Of course, the forced inductions! “You say he’s coming this way? Even as we speak?”
“Yes.”
Nizar rushed around the table, jerking her out of her chair as he headed for the door.
Shoving her into the narrow street, “Show me.”
Sindy merely pointed to her left. “He is ‘bout halfway back down da line.”
She pointed at a company formation of weary soldiers. They were wending their way through the street vendors and refugees, heading toward the Three Temples garrison. All wore armor and helmets, hiding most of their features.
As the company colors approached, and an angry sergeant barked orders for him to make way, Nizar pulled Sindy to the side to allow them to pass. He didn’t see how he’d find Tane Kyleson in that quick-stepping river of uniform soldiery.
“Point him out when he passes,” Nizar commanded.
Sindy nodded, and waited with the calm patience of a mindless zombie. Nizar’s heart raced to be so near the end of his mission. And to have succeeded!
I’ll be High Priest Nizar within the week, he thought.
“He is comin’,” Sindy said.
Nizar turned to look down the stream of soldiers. They all looked the same to him. All gray and grim. Men and women.
Then an arm shot out and snatched a fistful of pecans from a vendor. The robbed man cried out angrily, but was too pressed to pursue. The thief chuckled as she approached Nizar’s position, passing pecans up and down the line to her comrades.
The man in front of her was Tane Kyleson, woefully shaking his head even as he crushed a pair of pecans together and covertly began picking the sweet meat out. As his prey passed not one pace in front of him, Nizar was surprised again by a darting hand flying at his face.
In a move almost too fast to see, the black-haired pecan thief stripped away Nizar’s veil. Her emerald green eyes were full of wicked glee at the look of shock he showed her. Then to his surprise, she winked at him.
And they were gone.
“Follow them,” Nizar commanded quietly as he hastily replaced his veil. His eyes were full of hate on the back of the brazen woman that had so shamed him. “I want to know exactly where they are staying, including which barracks.”
Sindy silently slipped away on bare feet as he watched Tane Kyleson disappear around a corner. The little urchin moved more quickly and nimbly than any zombie slave he’d seen before.
“You are mine, swordsmith,” he whispered. “And there isn’t anyone in the world that can save you.”
Chapter 20
After a long two weeks of company pitted against company training, the most emotionally and physically demanding ordeals Tane had ever known, the members of Fox Company were declared soldiers and took up duties as such. They received new dark blue “auxiliary” tunics, to distinguish them from the regular army soldiers.
Quinn wasn’t at all pleased at the end of training, grumbling about the “half-baked” training, and the “ill-bred” officers and sergeants who were condemning them all to bloody death. The Vikon couple was quite pleased to end the grueling training, and the opportunity to take up more leisurely duties on the city walls. Raven was eager for the promised pass that night, to indulge in some “good ale and bad men.” Tane agreed with Quinn, knowing he for one needed much more training, but wouldn’t miss it one bit.
The official end of training brought the return of all their personal weapons. Tane spent all morning polishing his sword, and fighting off Raven’s attempts to lure him into a game of chance. She was broke, due to bad luck at the nightly dice game down in First Platoon.
“You’d be better off forgetting about drinking and dicing,” Tane said. He nodded at the two-handed hilt just protruding over her shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to dampen his disapproval, and said, “I haven’t seen you even look at your sword. A good warrior always tends his, or her, sword before all other concerns.”
Raven was properly scandalized by his remark, turning beat red for a moment. Then after gaining control of her rage, she smugly pulled her sword with a flourish.
Tane was shocked at what he saw.
“She’s Duran Steel,” Raven said, laying it across her hands for him to get a good look. “Her name is Tasheba.”
Tasheba was the first Duran Steel blade he had ever seen. It was a steppe sword with a black hilt, silver-cased disk guard, and a mirror-finished blade. And it was glorious.
Spotting the twin quarter moon mark of the House of Duran just above the guard, he asked in hushed voice, “What is her enchantment?”
All Duran Steel blades were enchanted. Different blades, and Duran Steel armor, too, had different enchantments, to protect or aid the wielder. No Duran Steel blade had ever been known to rust, much less break. In all likelihood, Raven’s sword was worth a king’s ransom.
“Tasheba protects me against magical attack,” Raven said, lovingly caressing the sword with adoring eyes. “She was given to me by the love of my life, the man who freed me from slavery.”
Tane forgot the sword, to look in astonishment at Raven.
“You were a slave?”
She gave him a strange look, as if he was crazy.
“Yes,” she said, trying to force a smile. “I thought everyone knew.”
Tane was shocked. It was inconceivable. She was too fast, too cunning. Then he remembered what she was.
“Who would dare enslave a priestess?”
Raven slanted a sharp look at him, sheathing Tasheba.
“Not everyone is as awed by priests and priestesses as you are, Tane,” she said. “But, I told you, I’m not a priestess, though everyone seems to want to name me one.” Pain flashed across her face, making Tane wish he hadn’t asked her about it. “My enemies captured and enslaved me, condemning me to the most humiliating slavery imaginable.”
Tane felt his face burning, wishing he could think of something to take away her pain. Then she began unbuttoning her trousers. Before he could stop her, Raven yanked the homespun down to her upper thighs and pointed to a tiny red heart tattoo beside her pubic hair.
“My mark of ultimate shame,” she said. It was the tattoo only a slave trained in the Arts of Love bore. A Silk Slave. “I should pay a mage to remove it, but I can’t seem to do it. Maybe it’s part of the training I was subjected to, or maybe I just need something to remind me that I’m not invincible.”
“No one is invincible,” Tane said through a tight throat, hands clenched to stop their shaking.
He had heard the horror stories about the six month ordeal of ceaseless sexual, mental, and magical abuse in a Slave House. Powerful mages and witches used their magic to warp and pervert the slave’s mind and nature, while men and women taught her how to please in every way imaginable.
Raven snorted contemptuously, “Well I certainly proved I wasn’t! Gods, you should’ve seen how I groveled. I would do anything for my masters, my trainers, anyone, and when I managed to be pathetic enough, to grovel prettily enough to gain a compliment, I was so proud, so pleased with myself. Gods, I was a slave, in every respect.”
Tane’s throat grew tighter as she bowed her head, tears rolling across her cheeks. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but felt touching her was the last thing he should do. Then she lifted teary eyes to him.
“That’s the real reason why I’m still here,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, forcing her to cough to clear it before proceeding. “Silk Slaves are trained with magic. Magically enslaved, sort of like the zombies out there. Magic was used to train and punish me day in and day out, used to warp my mind and body to their perverted will. I know its power
.”
“You want to save the zombies?”
She smiled balefully, “I want to kill the bastards who are magically enslaving them.”
The garrison alarm bells began tolling.
Raven stood up, a mad joy claiming her eyes, “Finally, the zombies have arrived.”
Chapter 21
Tane rushed out to the parade ground, only to find the company’s sergeants and corporals yelling for everyone to draw their weapons and armor, then fall into company formations. Raven ran up a few minutes later, winded and flushed. She pushed into line in front of Tane, bringing forth several angry comments from the others behind them.
“What? You’re all that eager to die?” Raven said. Her emerald eyes flashed with challenge as she looked back down the line. “First in is first dead. Who wants to jump ahead of me?”
Everyone got deathly quiet. Her words sent a cold chill down Tane’s spine and made his stomach begin to twist up.
“Where have you been?” he said, more to break his train of thought and concentrate on anything other than the coming fight.
“I went up to the walls...and had a quick look,” Raven said between huffs. “Can’t see any of them yet. All I could see was a wall of dark clouds slowly moving our way. I was told it marks the edge of the zombie horde.”
“Do you think we can stop them?” Tane said.
“No.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but she just looked up the line impatiently. What little confidence the training had instilled in Tane began to melt.
“Why do you think they’ll win?” he said.
“Too many of them for us to kill,” she said. Her matter-of-fact tone startled him. Then she started to braid her hair as they waited, outwardly unconcerned with their impending doom. He wondered if she felt any fear or dread. “The wall of clouds stretches from horizon to horizon. And if the clouds really do mark the advance of the zombie horde, then the best we can hope for is to hold them at bay until the Jarlander cities muster their combined armies and crush the zombies and their master.”
“How long will that take?” Tane said, fearing the answer.
Raven smiled sadly. “I don’t even know if the Jarlanders know about what is happening down here.”
“Then we’re doomed,” he said, a chill sweeping down his spine.
Raven squeezed his hand, smiling warmly. “Not necessarily. There are always survivors, no matter how crushing the defeat. If I have my way, I’ll be one of those lucky few. I hope you’ll be coming with me, too.”
“Me? Why?”
“Why not?” she said. “You’re the only friend I have here. I’d be lost among enemies without you.”
Stunned by her admission, and totally at a loss as to what to say, Tane was saved from responding by their arrival at the armory door. The harried armorers were brusque and demanding. Raven asked for and received her steel cuirass. It was stained black, with enough dents and scratches to prove an active life.
Tane stepped up to the window as she departed. He already had his sword, so only needed his knife and daggers.
They found both Vikons back in formation, with Joelle casting bones to discern their immediate futures. Joelle and Armin wore their Vikon armor over their tunics, with steel grotesque helmets of frightening designs protecting their heads.
As he stopped beside Raven, she ran her eyes disapprovingly over him.
“You really need armor,” she whispered as if afraid to interrupt Joelle’s spellcasting.
“I know, but they won’t issue me any.”
“Well, don’t be squeamish about stripping the dead for armor,” Raven said. “It’ll probably be covered in blood, or worse, but it’ll save your life if you live long enough to get it on.”
Oh great, now I’m going to be forced to desecrate the dead, Tane thought. First this war doomed my life to a bloody end, and now my immortal soul might be damned as well.
“Tane! Take this,” Quinn said, running up from behind. He was loaded down with a chain mail vest and a pair of iron helmets. “Hurry and put this on.”
“Shining Gods, you do care!” Raven laughed, eagerly plopping a battered iron helmet on her head. “You handsome rascal you.”
The half-elf paused to look at her with alarm as Tane took the light mail vest from him. Holding it up to examine, he found it to be of poor quality. The tiny iron rings were thin and specked with rust. None of them were riveted closed, much less welded. The mail would offer little protection, but it was better than nothing.
“Where did you get this?” Tane said as he struggled into the unfamiliar armor. The mail vest didn’t open up in front like their practice armor had, forcing him to lift it over his head and squirm into it. He found it to be a little on the snug side across his shoulders. “Is the army providing it?”
“Don’t ask,” Quinn said, giving one of his rare grins.
“Never ask where a gift came from,” Raven said, winking at the half-elf. “It’s bad manners.”
“Oh Gods,” Tane moaned. “We’re not going to get into trouble for stealing, are we?”
“Not as much trouble as you would be in if you march into battle without armor,” Raven countered, eyes flashing. “So stop your whining and thank Quinn nicely. There aren’t many men in this world who’d risk so much for another person he barely knows.”
“No need for thanks,” Quinn said, though visibly pleased by her words. But he quickly regained control of himself, saying solemnly, “Don’t worry, Tane. I didn’t steal anything. Not really. At least not from another soldier.”
“The armory?” Armin said, grinning. Joelle was looking up from where she was kneeling over her six tiny bone dice, nodding her approval. Studying Tane’s vest a moment, Armin said, “This looks like the standard issue armor for the Kestsaxian Royal Army’s archers and slingers.”
“I’m impressed,” Raven said, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’ve been a bad influence on poor Quinn. Turned him into a regular Ashtarite, I did.”
“What?” Quinn said.
The half-elf looked so alarmed everyone laughed.
“Fall in 3rd Platoon!” Lieutenant Artair called. Everyone immediately took their position. “Sergeant Knut, report!”
Everyone was there, save one of Corporal Disa’s men who still stood in line to draw his arms and armor. He arrived a few minutes later, huffing and puffing. It was another ten minutes before the entire company was formed up and ready to march. And march they did.
Without preamble, or even a brief description of what they would face, or what their mission was to be, Captain Kenelm turned them toward the nearby Three Temples Gate and ordered First Sergeant Dangan to get them moving. There was some confusion and frantic shouting at the gate as several companies tried to exit at the same time. Tane thought it ridiculous for them to fight over who had the right of way, and who outranked who, when the winner only won the right to die first. In the end, Captain Kenelm’s company of auxiliary foot departed third of five.
“Can’t we march any faster?” Raven shouted as they marched across the drawbridge. “I’ve needed to kill something for weeks now!”
To Tane’s surprise she wasn’t reprimanded, or even shouted at. The captain and lieutenants grinned, as well as a number of other soldiers. Then Everard Boarsbane bellowed a battle cry, shaking his great battle-axe at the heavens. Raven, all the other Tyrians in the company and a good number of the Jarlanders and Lelts answered him with their own blood-lusty battle cries.
“Sergeant Black-toof, how about a marching song to show those craven bastards in the companies slowing us down how real soldiers march to their glory!” Raven called, even though the sergeant was just two men in front of her in line. “I know a couple of really interesting ones, if you don’t mind.”
So Raven began. Tane was a little taken aback by how risqué her song choices proved to be, especially coming from a woman who was one of Ashtar’s Own. The other men and women loved them, though, singing at the top of their lungs. Soon o
thers led the company in marching songs. Even Quinn led the company in a song, and no less risqué than any Raven offered up.
After he got over his initial shock, Tane found he rather liked them. They were designed to mark their cadence at the same time they sparked their pride and fighting spirit. In fact, the effect bled over to other companies, who began singing their own cadence. Soon the countryside boomed with thousands of singing voices. Tane felt himself swelling with the pride of being a soldier.
Refugees heading north hurried past the soldiers marching south through the towering, dark forest. Many refugees stopped to cheer them on, but most looked to be frantic with fear and dread. Entire families carried all their worldly possessions as they hurried by, while others had nothing but the clothes on their backs.
It was almost an hour into the march before they broke free of the thick forest at the top of a hill and saw what awaited them. All singing ceased at the sight. The horizon was burning, belching thick black smoke to feed the glowering cloud bank that paced the invaders.
“Don’t be greedy, boys!” Raven shouted. “Looks like plenty of glory for one and all down there!”
All the Tyrians burst out laughing. A few of the Jarlanders tried to feign the same disregard for danger, but all Tane felt was cold dread creeping up his spine. His nightmares of doom and despair came unbidden to his forethoughts.
They marched on in silence for the rest of the afternoon. The forest became taller and darker the farther they got from the city. Every few miles they passed through hastily abandoned villages, their farmlands providing the only break in the dark forest road, where they were hit yet again by the sight of the somber gray wall of clouds closing on them, needlessly reminding them of what awaited at the end of the march.
At sundown Captain Kenelm halted the company in an abandoned village. It was large enough that each squad got its own hut to spend the night inside. The huts were typical Leltic structures, looking like piles of hay from a distance. In fact, they were thatch over a wooden frame from smoke hole to ground. Despite appearances, Tane knew they were warm and comfortable in any weather.
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