Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3)

by M. R. Anthony

  Before half of our number had stepped onto the smooth flagstones of the bridge, a figure emerged from the middle tower. It was followed by more. They spilled into sight and formed a line across the width of the bridge. I narrowed my eyes and tried to count – it was difficult to judge how many they were from where I was standing.

  “Looks like Cranmar doesn’t want anyone crossing his bridge.” I commented. I gave an order and my men lined up behind me, ten abreast across the bridge. There were five-feet high walls to either side. If they’d been any lower, fighting here would have meant a terrible reliance on luck if you didn’t want to fall into the depths below.

  “Come on,” I said to Craddock. “Let’s go and see what they want.”

  With Sinnar in charge, I set off across the bridge towards the men opposite. Craddock fell quickly in step. When it was a time to negotiate, I didn’t always want Sinnar with me – his appearance gave the impression of a threat, no matter how eloquently he spoke. Two of the soldiers opposite came forwards as well. They were infantry like us – heavily armoured in the places it mattered, with swords, spears and shields. More of them came from the tower to join the others and I could tell they were somewhat more numerous than we were.

  We stopped and faced each other for a time. The lead man was a lieutenant. He was broad and squat with a lined face, and eyes that had seen enough of events he wished he could forget. Once you got that look, you could never lose it. He took his helmet off. Underneath, his hair was grey and close-cropped.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, in harsh-edged tones. His insignia told me he was the Sunderer’s man.

  “The Emperor has requested our presence,” I said. “We need to cross your bridge.”

  I saw him eyeing up our equipment and also the tattoos we wore. “First Cohort? I’ve heard of you. Tavern tales, most of the lads reckon.”

  “We’ve been gone a long time,” I said. “You’ve got cavalry coming. Probably infantry behind them.”

  “We know. Their horsemen were sniffing around here a day or two gone. They didn’t stop around long enough for us to push a spear up their backsides.”

  “The world is about to get deadlier for soldiers like us. Callian and Vaks have turned against the Emperor. What does she want this bridge for?”

  “This chasm we’re standing over - it goes four hundred miles to the east and another five hundred to the west. It goes as far as Tibulon.”

  “And this is the only bridge over it?”

  “The only one,” he confirmed. “Cranmar and the Duchess never really got on, so why would he want to spend money making it easier to cross the rift? If she were to capture or destroy this bridge, it’d make things difficult for a man who wanted to send any of his troops into Callian’s duchy.”

  “Can you hold it?” I asked him.

  “Depends on how many they’ve got, doesn’t it? We’ll do our duty though.”

  “We have no argument with Cranmar,” I said. “We need to reach Angax to see what the Emperor requires of us. Will you let us cross?”

  His expression told me that he was torn, though he didn’t take long to resolve the conflict in his head. “You can pass,” he said.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” I said. “The cavalry aren’t far behind us.”

  He laughed, an infectious sound. “We can hold off a hundred thousand of those soft bastards,” he said. “We’ll show them our arses and they’ll run back home to their mammies.”

  Craddock and I laughed too. “Fuck the cavalry,” I said.

  Before we could make the arrangements for us to pass without risking any minor altercations between our two sides, I was made aware of a commotion behind us. Sinnar’s voice carried clearly to where we parleyed. A wind blew along the rift and took away some of his words, but I heard enough to know that I wasn’t going to appreciate the details. I saluted their lieutenant and told him we’d be coming shortly. After that, I ran back to my men. Next to Sinnar, I saw a familiar figure – tall and slim. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, pulled low over his face and a wreath of smoke swirled around him. He had a black horse, which he held by its reins.

  “The Pyromancer,” I said, sprinting towards him. I was sure I wasn’t going to like what he’d have to say.

  17

  “Greetings, Captain Charing,” said the Pyromancer. His voice had a very slight sibilant quality to it and when the smoke reached my nostrils I got the scent of smouldering charcoal. His horse remained perfectly still and showed no sign that it was perturbed by the presence of so many men.

  I was under no illusions that he was on our side. He’d helped us recently, but the death sorcerers had their own motives. Even so, I owed him at least the decency of politeness. “Greetings,” I said. “Our time is short – what is it that you require?”

  “I require nothing from you, Captain. It is the Emperor who wishes you to do him a small favour.”

  “A favour?” I asked. It was hard to keep the bitter humour from my voice.

  “Yes, Captain. A favour, and one which I believe there is no one better to perform. You are heading to Angax to perform a service under the instruction of your so-called Saviour?” He didn’t wait for me to answer – he knew he had us over a barrel. “This bridge is very old. It is one of the oldest structures known to exist. It was built here in the past for commerce, yet now its purpose is rather more military. Cranmar would be most upset to lose control of it, especially since he has twenty-five thousand men stationed near to Bandrol, whom he would like to cross this rift during the upcoming hostilities.”

  “You want us to help these men hold the bridge?” I asked.

  “Yes. Relief is coming and should arrive within the week. Seven days, Captain. It’s not too long.”

  “Why don’t you stay and burn Callian’s soldiers?” I asked.

  “Would that I could,” he said. There was longing in his voice – I could tell he was addicted to the flames. “Their horsemen are here now, but their infantry will not arrive for almost two days. I cannot spare the time to wait – the Emperor has asked me to make all haste to the north-east.”

  With that, he was done. He climbed onto his horse with practised ease and I caught sight of his rotting face as he looked down at me. “I will tell Lieutenant Haster that you are in command of him and his men. Once this situation has reached a conclusion, you are expected to resume your journey to Angax. I may see you there again.”

  He touched the brim of his hat and spurred his horse into a clattering trot over the bridge. I can’t say I liked the Pyromancer, yet there was a definite quality that made him the most human of the death sorcerers. He raised his hand to shoulder level in farewell and a moment or two later I watched him confer with Lieutenant Haster next to the middle tower. Whether or not the details of his new commanding officer was welcome, I saw no sign of disagreement, so at least he was a professional.

  “Captain!” came the voice of Corporal Knacker. I didn’t need to look back to know that the horsemen had appeared.

  “Lieutenant Craddock, have the men put into a defensive formation just inside this gate. They won’t do anything more than posture, but we can’t have them thinking there’s an opening.”

  “Right, Captain,” he said. I could see he was already working out names and positions for the men.

  “Corporal Ploster, come with me. I need to speak to Lieutenant Haster again.”

  Haster was waiting for us, with his men at his back. I’d expected him to be surly or even hostile. He was neither and if anything, I detected relief that someone would be taking over from him.

  “How many men do you have?” I asked him.

  “Just shy of seven hundred,” he said. It was a lot of men to leave out here for a single bridge.

  “Archers?”

  “A couple of dozen. Self-trained, nothing official.”

  “The Pyromancer has confirmed enemy infantry, but no numbers. We’ll be fighting the day after tomorrow and relief comes in a week. What’s your history?�
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  Haster smiled. “Ten years fighting in Gathik, five years in Stalt. I’ve known these lads forever. They’ll stand against anything.”

  “I thought the Emperor’s lands were at peace?” said Ploster.

  “Who are you?” Haster asked him.

  “He’s our sorcerer,” I said by way of explanation.

  Haster nodded in acknowledgement. “Peace is just a word to make people feel better. You must know that as well as anyone. Something to strive for, always coming, but never arriving. It’s a promise that gets men signing up to fight – makes them think they’re dying in order to bring about something worthwhile. Cranmar’s lands are too big to be at peace. There’re two thousand miles between Angax and the western provinces. Who wants to be ruled by a man living a world away? We fought there. Fought for so long it felt like we’d never done anything but fight. Some of us have wives and children we haven’t seen for half a lifetime and more. And what was our reward? Sent to guard this bridge, that’s what. Cranmar doesn’t want new recruits watching something so important, so here we are. Three years and counting it’s been.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was sure they’d all be pissed off at what their leaders had given them – properly pissed off. Warmont had been in constant conflict, yet he still kept his troops rotated and gave them a chance to come home, even if it wasn’t for long. I wondered if there was something more to it that meant these men were kept at arm’s length.

  “Tell me about this bridge,” I said.

  “These three towers are connected by a tunnel under our feet.” He stamped once for effect. “The only way to get into the end towers is through the middle one, down some steps and along under our feet. Not that you’d want to spend much time in the end towers. There’s hardly any room. Good for archers and not much else. A few of the men sleep in them. The middle tower is where most of us stay. It’s tight for so many of us, but when it’s warm we pitch tents on the far side. Gets us away from the stench.” He grinned – I knew what so many soldiers in close confines smelled like.

  “Any gates?” I asked.

  “None. I don’t know if there’ve ever been any. Still, the end gateways are only a dozen feet wide. The middle one’s a bit wider. Not what you’d want to try breaking through against a determined opposition.”

  I agreed with his assessment. While I pondered what he’d said, I strolled to the side wall of the bridge. It was functional and nothing more. I looked over into the depths. The rift went down for what seemed like miles. To the east and west it went, hardly deviating at all from a straight line. There was no reason I could imagine for it being there, yet surely the creation of it was far beyond the power of any magic.

  “Seems like it goes down forever, doesn’t it?” called Lieutenant Haster.

  “What’s at the bottom?” I asked. It was too much in shadow to make out clearly.

  “Nothing. At least not as far as I know. No river, no road. Just more rock and a certain death if you fall in.”

  I stared out into the distance, mulling over what to do. The enemy cavalry had appeared at the top of the rise which led down to the bridge. They’d formed a line in order to make us think they were more numerous. We weren’t so easily fooled. Well-led cavalry could be devastating out in the open. On a bridge, they’d be next to useless. They’d spend the next day or two coming in as close as they dared before wheeling off and galloping away. I’d known men to break ranks before and give chase, which was about as stupid a thing as you could do. None of my men would be even the slightest bit tempted.

  “Got any spare spears?” I asked. The ones Haster’s men carried had wooden shafts with iron points. They’d snap in the crush, but they might see off the first few waves of attack.

  “A couple of hundred. They keep us well-supplied at least.”

  “Have some of yours bring them over to my men and handed out. We’ll need them.” A couple of dozen yards away, his soldiers still waited, patiently and in good formation. “Let’s have a look at what you’ve got,” I said.

  I was pleased with what I saw. There were no youths in their ranks – not that I had anything against youth, but I’d grown tired of seeing young men sent to their deaths. They had lined, scarred faces, weathered from years of fighting in cold winds. Haster’s men were veterans – you could see it in their eyes and in the way they held themselves. There were no smirks and no breaches of discipline, just hard, strong men who would stand when they needed to stand and who would fight without complaint or fear.

  “They’re good men,” I said to Haster.

  “That they are. The best.” His voice carried an unmistakeable pride – the same pride that likely crept into my own voice when I talked about my men.

  The afternoon became early evening and the sky darkened. I spent the time organizing the two units and making introductions between the officers and the troops. I had Lieutenant Haster show me what lay within the central tower – this one was forty feet tall and over three levels. It was accessed by two sturdy wooden doors, one to each side of the gateway tunnel and with metal beams to keep them closed from the inside. The ground level of the tower had little usable space, since the gateway tunnel cut right through it. The upper two floors were a predictable mess of blankets, weapons, storage trunks and dirty plates. I’d not seen a billet that looked any different.

  Haster showed me a trapdoor on the ground floor, hidden underneath a threadbare rug. The trapdoor wasn’t locked and it opened onto a flight of stone steps that descended into darkness.

  “The rug won’t fool anyone for long,” he said with a chuckle. “Down there is the passage to both of the end towers. There’re no doors into them, so this is the only way to gain access. Unless you smash down the walls, that is.”

  “I’ll need your archers in the tower,” I told him. “With all the ammunition you’ve got. Tell them I don’t want to see a single arrow fired at the cavalry. They aren’t going to decide this one.”

  “I’ll make sure they know,” he said. “How many are coming, do you think?”

  “It could be a thousand. It could be ten thousand. I think Callian’s been planning this for years. She’ll have had plenty of time to build up. Whether that means she’ll commit a lot of her men here or not, I don’t know.”

  “If she takes the bridge or better yet, destroys it, she’ll have cut off half of Cranmar’s lands from the rest of the Empire. It’ll hurt his ability to move his armies where he wants them. I wouldn’t want fifteen hundred cavalry roaming to the north either. There’re lots of villages on the other side of the rift. Plenty to kill and plenty to steal. Those horsemen could probably keep themselves supplied for months, especially if they have someone with them who knows the land.”

  “There’ll be many men coming with them,” I said, with a sudden sense that my words were true.

  “Let’s hope they forgot the archers and the sorcerers when they were leaving home,” he said. I laughed, though I was sure they’d have both.

  When night fell, I had the Cohort camp on the bridge. It wasn’t comfortable, but there again it rarely was. The cavalry had performed exactly as expected – they’d taunted and they’d feinted. It did nothing apart from tire out their already exhausted horses. We had a grand total of twenty-two men who claimed they could shoot a bow and that included the two from the First Cohort whom I stationed in the tower at the end of the bridge nearest to where the attack would come from. I was pleased that they had been disciplined enough to ignore the riders and not a single arrow was wasted.

  Any sort of surprise attack was more than unlikely. Nevertheless, I posted many sentries on the grass slope and kept fifty men ready at the gateway. The rest of us kept our armour on and our weapons close by. We had no campfires, however we had torches and lamps, provided to us by Lieutenant Haster. There were sconces in the walls of the bridge and lamps were easily stood on top. I did my rounds of the men, before sending someone to invite Haster out and whichever of his men wanted to come. It was ear
ly evening and the air was mild, still not quite enough to call it warm. A light wind blew constantly from east to west, which was easily enough avoided by sitting with our backs to the side wall. Haster came and with him were sixty or seventy of his men, evidently curious enough at our presence to come for a look.

  “Come to swap tall tales,” said Ploster, as he saw how many they were.

  “We’ve got fewer than two days,” I said with a laugh. “They’d best tell them quickly.”

  Haster’s men carried food with them – there were loaves of hard, dense bread that took a great deal of chewing. There were also blocks of dripping, which they cut with knives and spread thickly over the bread. I tried some and found it to be proper soldier’s fare.

  “A man could fight for days on a single slice of this,” said Sinnar, evidently in agreement with me.

  “Try it with this cheese,” Haster told him, leaning across to offer a lump of something pale yellow. “And see what you think of this wine.”

  Sinnar wasn’t a man to hold back and he got stuck in to the food we were offered. He didn’t need to eat, but I could see from his face that there was more than just courtesy in him accepting these gifts. He was genuinely enjoying them. I tried the cheese and the wine. The former tasted like it had been maturing for years, while the latter was surprisingly smooth.

  “I’ve tasted worse,” I said.

  “You’ve had far worse, Captain,” said Craddock. “And paid good coin for it too.”

  I couldn’t deny it and didn’t bother to try. I stretched my legs in front of me and listened to the chatter on the bridge. There were no voices raised and no indication of budding rivalries. There comes a time when you’ve had enough of men trying to kill you. When you get that far, there doesn’t seem like much point in trying to start a fight with a stranger. I knew this to be a fact, yet even so I was forced to confront the reality that I’d likely never get sick of fighting. I was simply old and wise enough to know which ones were worth starting.

  “What do you know of the Northmen?” I asked Haster.