Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3)

by M. R. Anthony

  “I’ve heard of them,” he said. “They first came twenty years ago, I’m told. Right when the fighting around Gathik was building up. It got Cranmar proper pissed off I reckon. He sent his men off to face them. They died and the Northmen disappeared. Cranmar sent some of his best over the border into the Northlands. Everyone says they all died too. I don’t know if that’s the case or not. Why would I hear what happens in Cranmar’s keep? Anyway, a few years ago, the Emperor came. There was a big song and dance in Angax. Soldiers talk, you know that. The Emperor went away and the build-up started. More soldiers, more weapons. I thought Cranmar would have been in a good place on the back of his victories in the west. It seems not. Then the Emperor came again - a couple of years ago, it was. The Northmen have pushed two hundred miles south of the Northlands. They’re hardly twenty miles from Angax, we’re told. Then, there’re the rumours.”

  “What rumours?” I prompted.

  “Dead men. Women and children too. Their skins as white as frost. They come from out of the fog and all they want to do is kill.”

  “Aye, we’ve seen it,” said Craddock. “The cold is enough to freeze your blood and your bones. It’s not a fight that the living can win.”

  “Is it true, then?” asked Corporal Doer. He was one of Haster’s men, thickset and bearded. “Do you no longer live?”

  “We died a long time ago,” I said. “I thought our humanity had died with us, but recently I’ve found that it burns brighter than it ever has. We’re better men in death than we ever were in life.”

  “Do you wish it had been different?” asked Haster, one man to another.

  “There are many things I wish had been different,” I said. “If you gave me the choice, even now I would have my bones lying in a grave next to the wife I have almost forgotten, with our lives having been spent together. I have my regrets – we have so many between us. Yet, we are no longer consumed by what could have been. Now we fight for the Saviour and we have been given a chance to right the wrongs we’ve done. And by the gods I don’t believe in, we’re going to do everything we can to ensure that when we die, we’re at peace with ourselves.”

  I saw Haster nod in the torchlight. “We thought we’d seen the worst of the worst when we took Stalt after five years of siege. Bones of the dead piled high – eaten by their fellows when the food ran out. Piss and rainwater the only thing to drink. Children with their bellies bloated and their legs so thin I could reach around them with my finger and thumb. And for what? So that some bastard they’d never seen and hardly ever heard of could make his point about who owned who. There we were, fighting for the bloody Sunderer, when all we wanted was for the people of the city to give up so that we could stop killing them. It’s changed us forever and I think that we hate ourselves for our weakness more than we hate Cranmar for sending us there.”

  Haster looked haunted as his mind played over his past. I knew why they’d been put here on this bridge. They were too valuable to have killed, but too damaged to take back to Angax. Men who’d seen what they’d seen could talk and that talk could eventually lead on to dangerous things that no ruler would put up with if he knew about it. So, they’d been put out here where they could continue their duties and give no risk to Cranmar.

  “When they come, we’ll split our men,” I said. “We’ll mix them evenly on the front lines. I hope your lads can fight as well as you say they can.”

  “They can fight,” he said. “We’ve not seen much of it recently, but don’t think they’ve lost the knack.”

  “I’m not worried,” I said, and I really wasn’t.

  Eyeball approached us. He was one of the several men I’d sent back along the road to see what information they could gather. “I’ve found their cavalry,” he said. “About two miles directly south on the grasslands, next to a stream.”

  “Any chance?” I asked.

  “I didn’t like the look of it, Captain. They know what they’re doing from the looks of things. They’ve got sentries placed in rings and for once their guards aren’t asleep.”

  “Well, it was just a thought,” I said. I dismissed Eyeball to whatever it was he wanted to do. “We’ll not be fighting them tonight, unless they choose to come here,” I said. I’d vaguely hoped that the cavalry were a rabble and that we might have been able to surprise them tonight. It would have been a good opportunity to see how Haster’s men performed. I wasn’t going to risk any losses on a well-guarded camp when we were so heavily outnumbered. I always thought it good to know my options.

  The following day, we rose as early as always. The mornings were noticeably lighter than they had been even a couple of weeks ago and the evenings longer. Although I liked winter, I did prefer the longer days of summer.

  “I’ll bet that wind was bitter a month ago,” said Sinnar, rubbing his hands as if to chafe warmth into them that he didn’t need.

  The other men milled around in groups, talking about nothing much. I was itching to get Haster’s men out to see how they performed in drill practise on the bridge. They weren’t out of bed yet, though it would have been an unreasonably early hour for them to be so. Our noise soon had them up and about and I sought out Haster. He looked fresh, like a man who slept peacefully in spite of his inner tortures. I gave him his instructions and he snapped a salute.

  The cavalry appeared again at mid-morning. I didn’t like horsemen and it was easy to accuse them of sleeping in long past their time, but I had to admit there was no reason for them to do anything other than take it easy. They weren’t going to attack us and a day of going through the motions was likely more tedious for them than it was for us.

  We mixed up our two groups. It seemed only fair to do so, since I didn’t want the First Cohort to take more than our share of casualties. When I saw Haster’s men perform, I ceased having any worries about how they would hold up in combat. They’d talked a good talk and now I’d seen enough to know that it wasn’t simply bluster.

  “Not bad,” said Craddock, watching alongside me. Further along the bridge, Sinnar bellowed out instructions and the lines of men moved forward and back in perfect formation. At his command, they lowered their spears or locked their shields, before falling back and drawing their swords.

  “Their shields are smaller than ours,” I said.

  “They’ll still lock together. I’ve had a look at a couple – they’re strong enough. We’ll have breakages but there are plenty of spares, as long as the man holding doesn’t get killed.”

  The day sped by and it was easy to forget that trouble loomed. I didn’t dwell on it, nor did I see concern in the faces of the soldiers. I was sure the tension was building and was glad that we’d not have to wait too long. Even the most hardened of soldiers starts to feel it when the threat of battle hangs over him for an extended period.

  The cavalry gave up by late afternoon. Or at least, they vanished over the brow of the hill a third of a mile away and didn’t return. We trained until the early evening and then stopped. The torches were lit and Haster’s men brought more food from their stores in the central tower, along with skins of watered wine. No one was in the mood for serious conversation and the mood was jovial. I joked and laughed with the men. Exaggerated tales of bravery, success and woe flew between us. I’d heard them all a hundred times before but stayed to listen, enjoying the wisecracks and the commentary. Then Eyeball came to me. I’d sent him out as soon as the cavalry had gone.

  “They’ll be here in the morning, Captain,” he said. I was sitting with Sinnar, Craddock and Haster as we talked about tactics we’d used in the past.

  “How many?” I asked. There was silence for a moment and we watched him intently.

  “At least forty thousand.” His voice was almost a whisper, though it carried easily to all of us.

  “Archers?”

  “Hard to tell, Captain. I didn’t want to get too close. A couple of thousand, maybe.”

  I swore quietly and looked at my officers. Their faces were grim and serious.
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  “This is going to be hard,” I said.

  18

  The enemy arrived the next day as Eyeball had said they would. A line of them, several hundred wide, appeared at the top of the slope. I was standing in the closest gateway, watching. The first line marched closer and another appeared behind it, then another and another. They kept on coming – thousands of them, covering the grass in a carpet of metal and flesh. Their discipline looked good and their equipment looked fine from what I could see – breastplates, leg guards, helmets and shields. They had swords and maces.

  “No spears,” said Sinnar. “They’re going to regret that.”

  “They’ve got archers,” I said. “Coming from the left.”

  Their bowmen appeared on the flank. There wasn’t quite two thousand of them, but there were enough to cause us serious problems. They wore a smattering of leather armour and only had standard bows. I’d have loved the chance to lead a charge into them before the fighting started.

  “Is that the lot?” asked Sinnar when no more appeared over the top of the slope.

  “Looks like it,” said Ploster.

  “Forty-three thousand, plus archers, plus cavalry,” I make it said Craddock.

  “I made it forty-four thousand,” said Sinnar.

  “There aren’t forty-four or forty-three thousand,” I said. “I’ll tell you exactly how many there are of them. Eighteen. That’s all.”

  Craddock got it immediately and laughed. “And when we kill the first eighteen, there’ll only be another eighteen behind them.”

  “And eighteen more after that,” I said. The width of the bridge was such that eighteen men was all that could fit across it and still have room to fight. I’d have preferred us to be only ten or twelve men across, so that we could use our swords more effectively. Spacing us widely would leave our defences weakened, which meant that eighteen it had to be. We’d need to keep our shields as close together as we could to block the cloud of arrows that would soon drop amongst us. I turned to see the men behind me, lined across the width of the bridge. There was not a flicker amongst them to betray a worry about what was coming to them.

  “The archers are going to wear us down. With or without shields,” said Craddock. There were always gaps and something always got through.

  The enemy lines began less than a hundred yards away. They parted and a group of men came forth – seven in all and on foot. I wasn’t stupid enough to leave the shelter of the gateway and I waited for them to arrive. The man who spoke was a typical over-indulged bastard, who’d probably won a handful of scraps and thought it made him suitable for promotion to general. His armour was polished and his sword looked like it might have cost two years’ wages for one of the regulars. He looked at me like I was something he’d found leaking from his cock after a night with a diseased goat. He was shorter and slimmer than I was and I locked eyes with him.

  “You’ve got a quarter turn of the hourglass to leave this bridge,” he said. He was a captain as well, yet scarce able to give me the courtesy of addressing me as such.

  “Who wants to come through?” I asked him.

  “Lord Flax commands here, under orders from the Duchess,” he said.

  “These are Cranmar’s lands,” I said. “And above him, the Emperor. Are you sure this is a war you want to start?”

  “The Emperor will fall,” he sneered. “Even while he fails to defend his northern borders, he’s attacked from the south. The Duchess will not fall with him.”

  I had no idea what he meant about attacks from the south and had no intention of asking him. “Callian should stand with her master, not betray him. This bridge belongs to Cranmar.”

  “You stupid bastard,” he spluttered. “I’ll kill you myself.”

  “I notice that you don’t come here under a flag of truce,” I said, drawing my sword in a single, swift motion. Within a moment I had the point under his chin. The six men with him scrambled for their swords. “Draw them and I’ll kill him,” I said. They complied at once. I returned my gaze to their captain. “If you say one more discourteous word to me, I’ll cut your throat open,” I told him calmly. Something in my eyes must have told him that I meant it. I saw his mouth work silently as he held back whatever brave words his brain was telling him to say. In the end, he stepped away, giving me a look of impotent hatred. It was the look of a weak man who’d been made to look like a fool.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he said. “Then Lord Flax will send in his men.”

  I watched them trudge away up the slope and back to their lines. Sinnar, Craddock and Haster had been only a few paces behind me – close enough to have heard it all.

  “Gentlemen, what would you say to the notion of a withdrawal?” I asked.

  Haster opened and closed his mouth. Sinnar and Craddock didn’t show any emotion – they knew when I was up to something.

  “Only a partial withdrawal,” I continued. “Let’s say as far as the central tower, so that their archers can’t whittle us so easily.”

  “Fight on the north side of the middle tower, you mean?” asked Haster. “That would put almost two hundred yards between us and their archers.”

  “And the central tower would make it almost impossible for them to land a killing shot,” said Craddock.

  “We’d lose the tower almost immediately,” said Haster. “As soon as their numbers push us beyond the central gateway tunnel they’ll be able to open the doors and get into the tower itself. They’d be able to put archers at the windows.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “And as soon as they lift your rug, they’ll find the tunnel and will be able to put archers behind us as well. There’s only room for dozens at the windows, not thousands.”

  “Is your mind made up, Captain?” asked Craddock.

  “It is,” I said. “We’ve got fifteen minutes to empty the central tower of its supplies and dump them on the north side. Ideally, we’ll make it look like we’re going to retreat. Can you get the doors off as well?”

  “Those doors are as solid as they come, Captain. We might be able to pry them off their hinges, but I don’t think we can get it done at the same time as we’re getting everything out of there.”

  “Very well. Leave the doors,” I said. Since we were about to concede the central tower, I would have rather we’d be able to get back inside if we needed to.

  We put the plan into motion. I had the ranks of men step backwards, one pace at a time in order that they could maintain formation. I didn’t know who Lord Flax was – he could have been an honourable man, or he could have been as treacherous as they came. I wasn’t about to find out the hard way. I sent Haster away to the back lines and asked him to organise teams who could clear the central tower of anything useful. He got to it at once, elbowing through the heavy mass of armoured men, shouting out orders to the squads he wanted with him. I kept a wary eye on the enemy, in case they planned to attack. True to their word they remained unmoving, while we did our best to look like were struggling to organise chaos.

  In the end, it worked, though only just. Haster’s squads managed to empty the central tower of the supplies they’d need to live off in the coming few days. My biggest concern had been water and I was relieved to see them rolling barrel after barrel of it away to the north end of the bridge, whilst others laboured under the weight of sacks, blankets and anything else they thought would be useful. The few archers we had withdrew from the south tower and joined with us as we completed our manoeuvre. I surveyed the result – we’d moved to a position beyond the northern end of the central tower gateway. The first ranks of their infantry which came through would find it especially tough – the gateway was only fourteen feet wide, so they’d pour through into our front line and effectively be outnumbered. I was under no illusion that we’d be able to hold them for long.

  “They’ll use their weight to force us back from the gateway,” I told my lieutenants. “Some of them might even climb onto the side walls and try to attack us from there. We need to be agg
ressive and push towards them, so that they have to clear the bodies of their dead between each wave. If they move us back, they’ll be able to use their superior weight against us. I’m sure you all know what will happen if they push us off the bridge and onto the grasslands to the north.” They did all know what would happen – we’d be surrounded and cut to pieces. It might not happen at once if we’d bloodied them enough to instil fear. Still, they’d wear us down eventually.

  A short period of time passed, during which the enemy gave us the benefit of the doubt and provided us with a few extra minutes to see if we’d complete our withdrawal. They had the numbers, but they surely wanted to avoid this fight if they could. We heard shouted commands from the south and their archers moved into a position along the edge of the rift.

  “Shields ready!” shouted Sinnar.

  At once, hundreds of shields were raised and locked together as closely as they could be. The archers fired and a cloud of arrows flew into the air, before falling in a lazy arc towards us. The central tower sheltered more than half of us, whilst the extreme range meant the rest of the men were hardly bothered at all. The enemy only had medium length bows and they struggled to cover the range of over two hundred yards. Longbows would have caused us trouble, so it was unfortunate for Lord Flax that he had none with him. A few of the iron arrowheads clanked and banged away from our shields, or cracked against the stone of the bridge. We cheered loudly so that the enemy would know we’d nullified their archers. They fired three more volleys in quick succession without any greater success.

  “They’re coming,” I said loudly.

  Through the gateway, the first lines of their infantry came into sight. They tramped through the south gateway and spread across the width of the bridge as more and more of them pressed in from behind. Their march was slow and measured, which I imagined came from the reluctance of their front ranks. They were guaranteed to die in the next few minutes and I was sure they knew it. If they’d been on a field somewhere or even in a town or city, there’d be a chance for them, no matter how small. Here, there was none at all.