Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3)

by M. R. Anthony

  Terrax approached it and watched with interest until all movement had ceased. I felt the Flesh Shaper’s magic channel from his body, though he gave no outward suggestion of effort. Then, to the disgust of everyone apart from Terrax, the horse jerked violently and its eyes opened again. It shook its head and then rolled to its feet. The beast stood obediently while the sorcerer released its yoke and then followed when he led it towards his other steed. Blood continued to seep from the deep slit in its neck. As if he had not a care in the world, the Flesh Shaper swapped over his tack to the new animal. When he was done, the first horse simply keeled over to the ground and didn’t move. The sorcerer climbed nimbly onto his new horse, which made no attempt to shy away from the man who had killed it.

  “That old one didn’t have much left in it,” he said, as if musing over the faintest of regrets. “The longer I bring them back, the more their bodies forget how they used to work.”

  His words made me realise that his former mount had been moving with an increasingly jerky gait over the last day. There was a limitation to all magic, even the vilest.

  As the sorcerer spurred his way back to his customary position ahead of our column, I heard Tinker mutter under his breath. “What have we got ourselves into?”

  I turned away, just in time to hear the heavy thump of a sword striking into the neck of the second of our horses. We didn’t revel in death, nor did we wish to inflict cruelty. We slaughtered the beast for food, expertly and without prolonging the pain. The horse died without a sound, and the men butchered its remains.

  4

  Winter came with the inevitability of time. I expected it to be a bitter one, yet it did not start out so. When I spoke to Jon Ploster about it, he suggested that the magic of the Northmen might not be tied in to the cycle of the seasons.

  “You have been thinking that their magic has made the weather colder, as if they can change the natural order of things.”

  “How does it work?” I asked with a frown.

  “Magic can change many things, but you have seen the warps and wefts, have you not, Tyrus? Can you picture the billions upon billions of threads, each with their own branching strands that you would need to manipulate in order to affect something as vast and implacable as the changing of the seasons?”

  I thought about it – every strand affected another strand. The more strands that a sorcerer tried to change, the stronger he needed to be in order to impose his will. I wasn’t a sorcerer, yet I had a certain insight into how magic worked. “Their magic is different to ours, Jon. The Saviour couldn’t break through their barriers, nor could the Emperor or his death sorcerers. They are either vastly more powerful than any of them or vastly different. If it’s the latter, how are we to know what they can do or how they can do it?”

  Now it was Ploster’s turn to mull things over. “If Malleus failed to penetrate their veils, I’ll bet that angered him greatly.”

  “I am sure it only made him more determined to impose his will upon his new enemy,” I said. “I imagine that he will have worked night and day at their wards, trying to smash his way through them.”

  “Brute force and subtlety. That’s what he always had. It’s a dangerous mix in the wrong hands.”

  “Let us be thankful that he is not currently directing his energies against our lady,” I said.

  We walked for a time in silence. The day was as bright as any we’d seen on the journey up till this point. We’d left Blades twenty-five days ago, abandoning the roads in order to walk across rolling hills and flat grasslands. The most direct route isn’t always the quickest one, but we travelled in a straight line regardless. We crossed wide streams and narrow rivers, whose names I didn’t know and didn’t wonder about. The countryside reminded me how bleak and remote parts of the Duke’s lands were. They didn’t have to be – I could see scope for farmlands, towns and cities. Except there were none of these things. The population of the Dukedom had been falling for decades and the bulk of the men conscripted into the army. I also knew that there were things out here – ancient and evil – which preyed on the lives of people. Perhaps there had once been settlements and farms whose occupants had been murdered by creatures which kept themselves hidden from sight.

  My descent into reverie was disturbed by another question from Ploster. “Why does he want us, Tyrus? I mean us in particular. We can fight and in any battle, we are an asset. Yet we are few. Pitifully few now and even at full strength we were not significant in numbers.”

  “The Emperor does not act without reason. And if the answer is not immediately apparent, it’s because we haven’t worked out what it is yet, rather than because he is merely being capricious. If he has asked for us, he sees some gain in doing so.”

  “And it can’t be just a slight gain, Tyrus. He sees enough gain that he is willing to put aside his claim on the Duke’s lands in order to procure our services.”

  “We know that the Northmen have caused him some concern. Or at least we think we know. What can we bring him that his other troops cannot? We are not the only shock troops, and not all of the forces at Malleus’ disposal are human.” I paused for a time and then looked at Ploster. “Only dead men can face the cold, Jon. Maybe we are all he has.”

  “Why doesn’t he make more like us?” he asked, his voice now a whisper.

  “He may have done so. But if you remember, we took many years to become what we are now, for our bodies to completely die. And though he has never admitted it, I think we were an experiment that he does not wish to repeat. Creating us cost him dear, this I know.”

  At twenty-eight days, we saw a sprawling city far to the north. Smoke rose into the sky, casting a low pall above its buildings and reminding me about the devastation suffered when the Duke’s armies had burned half of Gold to the ground. Lieutenant Craddock told me that it was the city of Flense and that the place was wealthy from its cross-border trade with towns and cities in Duchess Callian’s domain. I did vaguely remember something about Flense having copper and iron mines in the vicinity. It was a long time since the First Cohort had been this way, so I forgave myself for the paucity of details that my mind had retained.

  I was tempted to send a few men into the city’s outskirts in order to pick up fresh supplies. The diversion might have taken half a day and there was the possibility that someone might cause trouble if they recognized us as the First Cohort. In the end, I decided against it. I heard a few mock groans and complaints from behind, though none of the soldiers were stupid enough to press the matter.

  “You’ve got your tents, what more do you want?” I asked them jokingly, trying through humour to make it clear that I had good reason for avoiding the city.

  Ahead, Jerod Terrax sauntered onwards, looking neither to the left or the right, his horse decaying beneath him and its stench occasionally reaching us when the wind was heading in the wrong way. It already looked in worse condition than the last one, yet it walked as smoothly and easily as it had when alive. I suspected that if the horse had been struggling he would have asked us to visit Flense. As it was, he remained silent.

  A day later and we were a long way distant from Flense. We’d climbed up to high ground and crossed an area that was like an enormous plateau, yet covered in green, lush grass and not so elevated that the low-lying clouds obscured our view. We reached the edge of the plateau and looked down a great, long slope that stretched for miles ahead of us. There was a grey cloud covering and streaks of sunlight broke through in places, striking down upon the ground below and illuminating patches in stark relief to the darker areas around. It was an awe-inspiring sight and I ordered a short pause so that we could look. Terrax didn’t bother to wait and continued as he always had. I doubted that such concepts as beauty had any meaning to the man. At the end of the slope, a vast forest started, a line of seemingly impenetrable green that ran as far as we could see to the north, south and east.

  “The Forestwoods,” said Lieutenant Craddock. I’d already guessed.

&nbs
p; “I wonder where they got the name from,” piped up a man behind. Usually someone would have made an unfunny joke to explain it to him. On this occasion, no one had enough interest to do so.

  “Over there are Callian’s lands,” I said, more to confirm it to myself.

  “I wonder how she’ll receive us,” rumbled Sinnar. He’d muscled his way through to the front in order to look.

  I had never met her before. In fact, I’d heard few tales. At least none that had been corroborated. “It would be wise if we didn’t encounter any of her troops,” I said. “Things might become strained, especially if she is not expecting us.”

  “Strained. That’s a good way of putting it,” said Sinnar. “I’d have thought that our friend down there on the horse would have sufficient clout to ensure she stays in her cage.”

  “Now isn’t the time to find out,” I said firmly.

  “It’ll take us another month to cross into the Sunderer’s lands,” said Craddock. “At least it will if we don’t change course.”

  “We’ve been going fairly straight north-east until now, haven’t we?”

  “Straight as a die, Captain. If we’re being led on the most direct course to the Emperor, then Malleus hasn’t moved since we left Blades.”

  With nothing else for it, I ordered us to advance and our column wound down the hillside in tight order. Distances can often be deceiving and so it was with the trees. It took us much of the day to cross the open ground before them, with all of us feeling as if there were eyes upon us with each step we took. There were gullies and trenches we could have snaked our way along. When it came to it, there didn’t seem like any point in skulking. If there was anyone watching, they couldn’t have failed to see us, no matter how much care we took. We weren’t averse to sneaking when the need arose, but since I preferred to deal with things head-on, I took us on the most direct route to the trees.

  There was still more than an hour of daylight remaining when we reached the treeline. The Flesh Shaper stopped, in order to provide an introduction to the new world that we approached.

  “Do you not wish to stop for the night, Captain?” he asked in mocking tones.

  “Is there a need to?” I asked, not breaking stride.

  “Most men fear the Forestwoods,” he said.

  “We are not most men,” laughed Sinnar. “Who gives a shit about a few million trees?”

  We used our remaining hour of daylight to continue until it was no longer safe to do so. None of us were superstitious men, nor were we spooked by shadows or the distant calls of wild beasts. The trees were well-spaced, though not so widely that they allowed the day’s light through unimpeded to the forest floor. It was gloomy beneath the canopy and there were many roots and plants ready to snare our feet. Nor was there any sign of a beaten path for us to follow. By the time we’d set camp, I was forced to conclude that I’d been an idiot to proceed.

  “Lieutenant Craddock,” I said. “I have made an error in bringing us this way. Do we need to leave the Forestwoods in the morning and follow the treeline north until we find a road, or will we intersect one if we continue?”

  He considered it for some time. “Most of the roads are to the south of us, Captain,” he said. “Or at least they were when I learned about this region. This far to the north, the forests are but a fraction the width that they are to the south. I think that if we press on, we should be out of the trees in four or five days. However, my knowledge could be inaccurate.”

  “I doubt it,” said Sinnar, sitting on a fallen log nearby. “Trees grow as slowly as we age. If the forests were narrow when you learned about them, I am sure they are little different now.”

  We stuck with the course I’d chosen. Walking through the forest reduced our speed by almost half, and there were times I cursed myself for not leading us back out of the woods. In my head, I knew that there’d be little difference in how long it took us to get to where we were going. The Flesh Shaper hardly seemed interested and I wondered what he would do if he thought we were dawdling, or if I chose to take a route that he didn’t agree with. It hadn’t been an issue and it would be easiest if it didn’t become one.

  The Forestwoods were criss-crossed with many streams, which meandered to wherever it was they would go. We came to none that caused us a trouble to cross, though we got our feet wet on more than one occasion. The water was always much colder than it looked and I heard many oaths muttered from the men who’d accidentally put their boots into deeper water. We saw no sign of human life and almost no sign of wildlife. Every now and then, birdsong would reach our ears, though the birds themselves remained unseen. There was a smell about the place, too. It was damp and earthy, with fragrance to it that was not entirely pleasant. I was sure the Forestwoods would have seemed a strange and threatening place to travellers who were fearful or possessed an over-active imagination. To we of the First Cohort, it was little more than a place we had to traverse in order to reach our destination, wherever that might be. I didn’t enjoy it greatly, but it made a change to the endless, undulating grasslands of Duke Warmont’s domain.

  On the third night we camped as usual, with a muted clatter of weapons being put aside and wooden mallets driving tent posts into the soft earth. We talked about the things that soldiers talk about – the warm beds we didn’t crave and the families who’d died centuries before. Jon Ploster was with us, doing more listening than talking as he usually did when he sat with the other soldiers. The sorcerer was as popular as anyone, yet he was still different to the others in many ways. I saw a look of faint puzzlement appear on his face and then he sat upright, looking alert. I hissed the men into silence and they looked at me expectantly, not yet alarmed.

  “What is it, Corporal Ploster?” I asked.

  “There’s someone with Terrax. He’s wandered further from camp than he would normally have done. I can sense him almost half a mile to the north.”

  “Who is it with him?”

  “I don’t know. They have masked their identity, though I can still feel their presence.”

  “Eyeball!” I shouted. He was beside me almost at once.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “The Flesh Shaper meets with someone to the north. Think you can find him?”

  “I can smell him from here, Captain,” he replied with a grim smile.

  “Go now. Watch and return. Don’t take risks.”

  He went, dashing through the rows of our tents, blurring almost immediately into the darkness of the trees.

  “Are we betrayed, Captain?” asked Limpet.

  “The death sorcerers play their games,” I replied. “I do not think for a moment that we form the entirety of his interests. Nevertheless, we should be on our guard.”

  We always kept our swords close at hand and I doubted there’d be a single man in the camp who didn’t have his dagger tucked somewhere about his person. The men at the fire stirred and shifted, unconsciously checking that their swords were within reach. I tried to put them at ease by saying a few things about nothing. I could tell they weren’t fooled and we all waited to see what news Eyeball would come back to us with.

  He wasn’t away for very long. I felt a murmuring in the darkness and Eyeball materialised close by. He looked worried. “I can’t find him, Captain.”

  “What do you mean?” I knew that Eyeball had a primitive magic that allowed him to track people. It had limitations, but it had proved invaluable on many occasions.

  “One minute he was there, the next he wasn’t. You warned me against taking risks, so I came back to report.” I thanked him and dismissed him to whatever he’d been doing before.

  I was a cautious man and this news left me worried. There was little information on which I could act, so I had a triple watch set, wide about our camp and with the men in threes. I didn’t know if Terrax intended to betray us, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Some people ignore their hunches, others follow them no matter how foolish. I always thought I had a pr
agmatic approach – if there was no downside to following a hunch, I’d often see where it led.

  I lay unsettled for much of the night, until I eventually roused myself and headed around the various trios of men who were standing guard. They didn’t think my presence especially unusual – I could be fidgety at times, particularly when I felt that something important lay just beyond my grasp. Of the Flesh Shaper there was no sign, though he’d kept himself outside of our camp on each night up till this point. He wasn’t particularly welcome and I doubted he cared what we thought.

  Come the next morning, we packed up our tents and slung our packs around our shoulders. The Flesh Shaper appeared, lurching through the forest’s morning mist like a black-clad messenger of death. His horse had begun to walk with a sway and the flesh had fallen away from it in places. His magic appeared to slow the putrefaction, yet without eliminating it completely. If he didn’t find a new steed soon, I guessed he’d be walking with the rest of us.

  I offered no greeting – I rarely bothered to speak to him. He simply waited until he thought we were ready and then wheeled his horse about and set off through the trees, still on his usual north-east course. There were fewer of us today, since I’d sent two men ahead in secret to scout for any surprises. Terrax gave no indication that he’d noticed.

  It was another chill day, and where we got a glimpse of the sky above, it was bright, if overcast. I watched the Flesh Shaper intently. I was aware that if you are looking for something, having decided for yourself that it’s there, your brain might fool you into thinking you’ve seen what you wanted to see. The worst person to trick is yourself, but we’re also the easiest to do it to. I was determined not to fall into that trap. Even so, the death sorcerer’s behaviour gave nothing that was overtly a cause for concern. He guided his horse onwards, hardly looking back to see if we were still following.