Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3)

by M. R. Anthony

  16

  The next day was noticeably warmer than the one which preceded it. I would like to say that the increased temperature filled me with optimism, but it did not. There was a time when I’d have welcomed the early signs of spring – now I’d seen it all too often for it to carry much significance. If I was pressed, I would have said I had a preference for both summer and winter. Many would likely think this unusual, though for me it seemed as natural as any other choice. In winter, there was a stark beauty to the world that spoke of a clean death with the hope of new life. Summer was the expression of that new life born.

  Even though we’d not suffered too many significant delays, I’d started to be gripped by the notion that we had fallen far behind where we should have been. It might have been the length of the journey playing tricks on my mind, or it could have been the events I’d witnessed giving me an impetus to charge onwards into the distance. We marched quickly, yet I wished I could somehow throw a rope over the horizon and drag it towards me with the power of my will. The frustration wouldn’t go away and I was worried that I’d have to live with it – not only until we reached Angax, but until we’d returned to the Saviour afterwards.

  Days passed. The land changed from lush, green hills until it became rockier and less verdant. I knew that the northern lands suffered more in the winter than those of the south, yet the snows were already gone. This cheered me, because it suggested that the Northmen hadn’t reached this far. Whether the Emperor had repelled them or they’d chosen to remain further north for their own reasons wasn’t clear. I supposed it didn’t matter one way or the other.

  The men were in good spirits – they had been transformed since we’d pledged our allegiance to the Saviour. I liked to think the idea that we’d one day go south had found favour as well. People like to know what’s coming and most soldiers prefer it if the decision is made for them. If they were the sort who wanted to make decisions of their own, they’d either become officers or they’d never have become a soldier in the first place.

  The wounds they’d suffered in the woods were gone – healed up with an unnatural speed and vigour that would be the envy of any other man. I learned that when the Flesh Shaper had attacked the tower, they’d had to carry Flurry and Eagle with them, those being the most grievously injured of all. I caught sight of Flurry a few times – like all of us, he carried dozens of scars. Now, he carried dozens more and when I asked to look at the fresh ones, I could only marvel that he’d managed to survive. Our bodies could take a lot of damage before we were forced to travel the final journey.

  I walked with Eagle for a time. His brow was furrowed as he constantly scanned the countryside around us. I’d seen many an archer who did the same thing. When you fight from a distance, you make damn sure that no one can surprise you and take away the one advantage you have.

  “My arm was broken in three places, Captain,” he said. “One leg was snapped clean and I had four broken ribs. Took a sword in the guts as well,” he told me, pulling at his breastplate to try and make room for me to see the scars. “Corporal Grief did some good work on me. I owe him.”

  “He’s the best man with a needle I’ve ever seen,” I admitted. I didn’t keep it a secret either – I’d told Grief himself plenty of times.

  “I’m just glad my fingers weren’t broken as well,” said Eagle. “I got stamped on pretty bad. I probably got lucky suffering only the things I did.”

  “You’re still with us,” I said. “That’s all that counts.”

  “I want to see what’s down south, Captain. I’ve got a hunger for it now. Peace and happiness, that’s what the others are saying and I want to believe it.”

  “We’ll keep marching until we find it. I promise.”

  “What if we reach the edge of the world and there’s nothing but war?” he asked.

  “Then we’ll walk over the edge and see what’s on the other side.”

  “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us before it comes to that.”

  “More work than we’ve ever had, Eagle. And it’s going to get shitty. Really filthy, chest-deep shitty.”

  “Nothing different to what we’ve faced before. More of it or less of it, I’ll take it as it comes, Captain, and fire an arrow into its eye if it stops to look for too long.”

  I laughed. “That’s exactly right. And one day we’ll find you a bow like Shooter’s and the pair of you can have a competition to see who lands the first shot.”

  “I’d like that, Captain.”

  The next day, we reached Callian’s northern border. There was little indication we’d gone from one place to another. The land was just as rocky, the sky just as clear and the air smelled exactly the same. There was a series of wooden posts in the ground – each one eight feet high and five yards apart - visible as far as I could see to the east and west. There were old nails still embedded into the wood, suggesting that this had once been a fence. No doubt the planks had been stolen at some point, though I couldn’t imagine who would be out here with a desire to steal planks of wood. We hadn’t seen a settlement or a house in days. Besides, all of the Emperor’s lands were meant to be at peace, so in theory there should have been no need for any formal defences.

  “Only another twelve hundred miles to go, Captain,” said Craddock cheerfully, as we passed through the non-existent barrier.

  “A month and we’ll be there,” I replied. “Let’s see what Malleus wants from us and then we can spend the better part of another three months walking back to Blades. We’ll all need new boots at the end of it.”

  “I’m going to need some new ones before we reach Angax,” he said, pausing to look at the battered leather soles of his marching boots. We could repair more or less any damage to ourselves and also to our boots, but Craddock’s footwear looked as if it had almost reached the end of its usable life.

  “Get one of the men to put a couple of new soles on and they’ll be good as new,” I said, hoping to make him feel better. Craddock wasn’t a man who languished in sorrow, so I wasn’t surprised to see him shrug it off.

  “Captain?” he asked. He paused to await my acknowledgement – a dead giveaway that it was a question he’d been thinking about for a time.

  “What is it?”

  “Whose side are we on? Apart from our lady’s, that is.”

  “You mean who will we fight for between the Emperor and his nobles?”

  “It might come to it, mightn’t it? At some point, we’ll get drawn in.”

  I didn’t have any idea how prophetic his words were going to prove. “We’ll fight for neither,” I said. “Unless our lady commands us otherwise.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something else, but in the end kept silent. I supposed that he didn’t really know what to think, and had no idea of the likely outcome if we were forced to make a choice. There are times when it’s best to ignore hypothetical questions until you have no alternative but to try and answer them. The hypothetical questions were always the ones I least liked. Throughout it all, my inner voice kept whispering to me that it wasn’t the Emperor who had tried to kill us in the Forestwoods and that it was the Pyromancer who’d helped us escape from the Hungerer. Malleus made us and he has never betrayed the Cohort.

  Three days later, we saw the cavalry. We’d left the hills behind us and had found ourselves on a flat prairie, which stretched away as far as the eye could see. There was heather and grass, as well as flowers and plants of many types that I couldn’t name. It would have probably made for good farmland, though I am sure the winters would have been harsh. It was ever the same across the Empire – there was too much land and too few people. There were other places where the balance was much better and the people lived close enough to share knowledge and trade. Elsewhere, it was like this. Bleak, unremitting emptiness that sang of loneliness. It called to a part of me which I only rarely admitted lived within.

  In places, it was hard to walk, given the amount of flora underfoot. We found ourselves having to
divert around the thickest patches of heather, which added considerably to the journey time. Then, we had a stroke of good fortune – we came to a road which led towards the north east. It was more gravel than mud and was wide enough for us to walk four abreast. We picked up speed and it felt good to be in control of the march. At some point in the middle of the afternoon, I saw dust ahead of us in the distance and I called a halt.

  “Soldiers,” said Craddock. “Lots of them.”

  It wasn’t foot soldiers, rather it was cavalry coming towards us on the road. They must have seen us, yet they showed no sign of hostility and they continued without changing speed. I had us adopt a square formation, cursing the loss of our spears, which had defeated many a cavalry charge. The horsemen reached us, only two abreast on the road and their line stretching off into the distance.

  “How many?” I asked Sinnar and Craddock, before the other force came within earshot.

  “I make it fifteen hundred,” said Sinnar.

  “I was going to say closer to sixteen hundred,” said Craddock.

  “We don’t want to fight them,” I said, walking forward to greet their captain. He rode at the head of his column, dressed in light armour and with a sabre at his side. He was caked in dust, as was his horse. I could see from his clothing that he was one of Callian’s men and there was something about him that made me think he was more than the normal pompous bastards you tended to find riding on their fine horses. The man impressed me by dismounting in order to speak – a rare courtesy among his type.

  “Good day to you,” he said, removing his helmet. His voice was thickly-accented. I couldn’t place exactly where it was from – probably somewhere far to the south that I’d never been.

  “And to you,” I said. Their captain was tall and slim – it didn’t pay to be too heavy when you spent all day in the saddle. At least not if you didn’t want your horse to collapse after a hard gallop up a hill. He looked like he’d seen his fair share of combat and his eyes were a piercing blue. I nodded at him, one veteran to another. The men he came with looked much younger – at least those whose faces I could see. They stared at us with the uncertainty of youth.

  “Might I ask where you’re going?” he said.

  “We are here on our own business,” I said. “Is there war?”

  “That is not for me to say.”

  “Yet here you are, deep within the Sunderer’s lands, with a long line of cavalry at your back. What other reason could there be for your presence?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he gave a curt nod and returned to his horse. I felt the tension rise amongst his men, whilst behind, my own stared silently and impassively. We remained in place while the cavalrymen were forced to leave the road in order to make their way around us. It took several minutes for them all to pass and I kept us in place until the last of their men was a hundred yards away. I turned to Craddock and Sinnar.

  “We need to put as much distance between them as we can. They weren’t carrying sufficient provisions to be far away from their supply wagons. We may find them paying us another visit soon.”

  We changed formation and returned to a column. I started us on a fast march and then pushed the pace to a jogging half-run. The road was pocked and uneven, yet the gravelled surface was infinitely better than mud for us to travel fast over.

  “What do you think they were out here for?” I asked Craddock and Sinnar, seeking their opinions.

  “They were dusty, yet there was no sign they’d fought recently,” said Sinnar. “There were too many of them for a simple scouting mission.”

  “Are there any towns or cities nearby?” I asked Craddock.

  “Perhaps. I don’t know the area at all well, Captain. If they’re here – several days across the border - and they’re supplied, they’ve got a defined purpose. They’ll not simply be looking for trouble – they’ll have a target.”

  “I agree. Perhaps we’ll find out what it is.”

  It was late afternoon when someone hollered up from the back of our column. I slowed up and let the men overtake me until I was close to the rear.

  “Dust, Captain,” said Griper, pointing over his shoulder.

  “Thank you, soldier,” I said, running back to the head of the column.

  “What’s up?” asked Craddock.

  “They didn’t waste any time, Lieutenant. The cavalry are coming back.”

  “Their supply wagons must be close,” he said.

  “Or they’ve changed their mind about us,” laughed Sinnar.

  “Think we should stop and see what they’re made of?” asked Craddock, only half-serious.

  “I think it best if we keep going and see if they can keep up,” I said. “I don’t want to lose anyone fighting a nothing battle in a place nobody’s ever heard of.”

  We couldn’t run faster than a horse, but we could certainly keep going for longer without stopping. For the next two hours, we ran flat out, our swords and shields clattering against our armour as we ran. The sound was a comforting one. The clouds of dust hardly came any closer and I was sure their captain had misjudged how much effort would be required to catch up with us. Darkness came and we pressed on long into the night, with Ploster’s magic to guide our way. I didn’t much care if we were visible to anyone – sometimes it was better to take a gamble in order to put some distance between us and what I assumed was our enemy.

  When I thought Ploster was struggling, I ordered him to end his light and I took us to a place far off the road, where we made camp. I set a double watch. I wasn’t expecting trouble on that night, but it seemed best that we be on guard for it.

  The next morning, I employed Ploster’s talents again to help us find the road an hour before the sun rose. I hadn’t let him over-extend his powers the previous evening, so didn’t feel any shame at asking him to start again so early. The morning was almost gone by the time we saw the dust clouds of our pursuers. Our speed and ability to travel without rest had caught them by surprise. I was sure they’d be flogging their horses to catch up, which was a good thing. It meant they’d be reluctant to engage as soon as they caught sight of us. Usually, cavalry with tired horses would follow for a time, rather than fight at a disadvantage. That suited me fine – it would allow us to take them further away from their supply wagons and reduce the time they had to bother us.

  I’d moved Corporal Knacker to the rear of the column. In spite of his name, he had excellent vision. Early afternoon, he ran up to speak to me.

  “I’d guess they’ll be close enough to engage before the evening,” he said. “They’re closing fast. I’ve got Shooter and Eagle back there with me – they can judge distances better than I ever could. Both men say we’ve got two or three hours at most.”

  I thanked Knacker and he returned to his position. The news was good and bad. They’d definitely be tired when they reached us, but I wasn’t happy that we were getting pushed into a fight I didn’t want. I wondered if I should have led us far away from the road last night and camped somewhere that we wouldn’t be found. It sounded like a workable plan on the surface, though we’d have likely left easy tracks for them to follow us if they’d been of a mind to do so. All-in-all, there was little in it and I preferred to keep going rather than stop somewhere and hope for the best.

  The cavalry didn’t get a chance to engage with us on that day and we found the reason for their presence out here. The road sloped downwards and ahead I could see that it entered what looked like a shallow valley. We reached it and were confronted by one of the most impressive examples of nature that I could remember. Rather than it being a valley, we found we’d come to a wide canyon, almost a quarter of a mile wide. It cut through the grasslands and I got the impression that a being of unimaginable power had pushed its fingers into the earth and torn open the chasm we saw. On the side opposite from us I could see the grey stone of its walls dropping away out of sight. They looked almost vertical and an impossible climb. Grass still grew near the top, and it was this which had mad
e the canyon look like nothing more than a dip in the terrain. On our side there was a long, gentle slope, down which the road continued. A few hundred yards away, there was a grey stone bridge. It was made from large, rectangular blocks and supported by two vast arches, with pillars dropping away out of sight into the depths. It was wider than the road – I thought about forty feet from side to side and with a squat tower at each end and a larger one in the middle. Gateways led through these towers, with no sign of portcullises.

  “How’d they manage to build that?” asked Craddock, looking with awe at the bridge. “Magic?”

  “Don’t you recognize it, Lieutenant?” asked Ploster. “Those towers look like the ones we saw in the Forestwoods, do they not?”

  “I wonder what it’s doing out here,” he said, nodding in recognition of Ploster’s words.

  “The world has changed since this was made,” I told him.

  We jogged down the bank towards the bridge. The closer we came, the more we could see of the gorge. It was almost perfectly straight and it ran from east to west. Even when we were only fifty yards from the bridge, the angle was still too poor to see how deep the chasm was. We slowed up when we came to the lengthening shadow of the first tower. I stared upwards at the thirty-feet-tall construction, noting that it had been built for defence, with thick-looking walls and deep, narrow windows. The gateway through the tower was twelve feet wide and we stepped warily through it, looking for signs of life.