Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3)

by M. R. Anthony

  “I can see you have changed,” he said, with an almost unnoticeable wheeze beneath the powerful voice. “Do you think I have also changed?”

  “You will never change, Emperor. It is what has always defined you and what will continue to define you. It is why you have conquered these lands and why you have held them for so long.”

  “Do you think it is a weakness, Tyrus Charing?” he asked, turning back towards the window and looking out again.

  I crossed the room until I was close enough to address him without having to raise my voice. “You know I will always speak the truth, no matter the cost. It is your greatest strength and your greatest weakness. You wouldn’t bend and you have lost Duke Warmont’s lands because of it.”

  “To change is to admit fallibility. I will take back my lands when the time is right and I will punish those who have defied me.” He spoke the words without emotion. This promise to kill his enemy was delivered as if it were a matter of almost no importance. He meant the Saviour and he almost certainly meant the First Cohort. I didn’t doubt that hundreds of thousands or even millions of others might die to fulfil his wishes.

  “You have few enough people left as it is,” I said. “If you kill them all, what will you have left to rule?” I had no intention of deliberately angering him, but I would not shy away from speaking my mind.

  “I care nothing for their lives,” he replied “They are mine to do with as I please.” He didn’t try to justify or explain it and I believed every word he’d said.

  I didn’t say anything for a time and he continued to stare out of the window. Eventually, he beckoned me closer. There was a smell about him – a cloying perfume he wore, that failed to disguise the odour of decay. The fumes were sweet and unpleasant. I could almost taste them. “Look out there,” he said. “What do you see?”

  “I see a city full of people caught in an endless cycle of living and dying, without hope for change.”

  “I see patterns on the landscape. Shapes made from stone. It angers me, Captain Charing, that there are things which might outlast me. That they dare to act like my presence here will eventually pass and that I will be forgotten. I will not allow it to happen, no matter what the cost. I would destroy it all if it meant that I could be the last of anything to exist. Even then, I would anger at the emptiness around me. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  I did understand. I didn’t know if he was mad. The word madness suggested to me a lack of control over some part of your existence. Malleus was different. His control over himself was so complete that in comparison we were the mad ones. I admired his certainty, but I also feared it. I was more scared of what he might do than of anything else. I wondered if the Northmen knew what he was or whose lands they’d invaded.

  “Jarod Terrax has betrayed you,” I said quietly. “Your nobles have taken advantage of your distraction.”

  “Their time will come too,” he replied, as if it were the smallest of details. “I hear you have destroyed my bridge?”

  “I ordered it done,” I said. I didn’t know how he’d found out. Knowledge was always the most powerful piece on the game board.

  “The Pyromancer ordered you to keep it.”

  “The Saviour committed the First Cohort to see the Emperor,” I said. “I would have broken her word if I’d allowed us to be destroyed. It was your own subjects who pushed me to the decision, Emperor.”

  “The bridge is gone and you may have done me a favour,” he said, dismissing the matter. He could sometimes be petty and I was glad he hadn’t chosen this issue to quibble over. “How did you defeat the Hungerer?” he asked, catching me off-guard with the question.

  “We cut him down with our swords and he fell from the bridge. Why did he side against us?”

  “Perhaps Terrax persuaded him that it was the right thing to do. I will speak to my death sorcerer about it when I see him.”

  “Why now?” I said, asking the question I most wanted the answer to. “Why the Northmen now and why the split in the Empire?”

  “They fight back against what I have, Captain Charing. The powerful will challenge others with power. It is the nature of everything and it defines existence.”

  “There is more to it than that,” I said, uncaring if he disliked my tone. “The Northmen don’t even know who or what you are. They are here and they have their own reasons.”

  “They know me, Captain Charing. Even now, their magic-weavers press against my defences to the north of Angax. I have sent Cranmar there, with many men and some others of his forces. Even the mongrels balk when they are ordered into the mist. And once they enter, they never return. It is a shame.”

  I didn’t escape my notice that he’d just admitted he didn’t know a great deal about the Northmen. For all he was convinced they had come to challenge his might, he didn’t know why.

  “What is beyond the mountains?” I asked him suddenly. “How many thousands of miles are there to the north of your Empire?”

  “They won’t let me see,” he said. I knew the admission would have cost him greatly.

  “And why have you never tried to claim them for the Empire?” I asked.

  “Oh I have, Captain Charing. I have sent over a million of my men beyond the border since I founded my Empire. I have stripped towns and cities of their lifeblood and ordered them to their deaths. There were once sixteen of my death sorcerers, did you know that? Now there are less than half of that number. The others perished in the north.”

  “Why didn’t you fight with them?” I asked. “You were always the difference between success and failure.”

  “That is none of your concern,” he said at last. I detected something in his eyes that I’d never seen before. It was the smallest of breaches in his walls of certainty. He was scared he’d lose, I thought. The notion struck me like a bolt of lightning in the centre of a fierce storm. He knew fear.

  The Emperor changed the subject abruptly. It was something he’d always done. I didn’t know if it was to try and keep his audience guessing, or if it was simply that he didn’t care for the conventional bounds of a discussion. “The guard captain tells me you arrived with a contingent of Cranmar’s men who had been assigned to the bridge. Lieutenant Haster’s soldiers.”

  “They are part of the First Cohort,” I said firmly. The tone of my voice and the set of my jaw made it clear I would brook no argument on the matter.

  “Cranmar does not take well to betrayal,” he said.

  “The only betrayal is his own,” I said. “He is your servant.”

  The Emperor nodded to himself and crossed to the table. There was a decanter of red liquid on it which I hadn’t previously noticed. He pulled out the crystal stopper and poured a measure into each of two matching glasses. He indicated that I should take one – the Emperor did not hand a glass to anyone. I picked it up and swirled the wine around, noticing how it clung to the sides of the glass, leaving a thin film behind. I took a sip of it.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Ash,” I said. “Most things taste like ash to me.”

  He adopted a mournful expression. “This is one of the finest wines produced by one of the finest vineyards outside of Hardened. I tell myself that it is a privilege to enjoy it, yet all I can feel is a liquid on my tongue. There is no sensation of taste and I receive no pleasure from it.”

  “We are dead men,” I said. “There are times when my mouth salivates at the sight of food. Mostly, there is nothing.”

  “Do you regret it?” he asked. I knew he wasn’t asking about the loss of my palate.

  “You have closed off our past and opened up our future,” I said. “I cannot change what happened and it is only now that I am truly content at where our choices have taken us.”

  “Hardened was a long time ago,” he said.

  “Aye, it was.”

  “Would you still kill their Lightlord if you had the chance to go back and take a different course?”

  The details of the battle were
still with me, though I rarely tried to recall them. Images flashed through my head – words become pictures. A chance encounter on the road to Hardened with their sorcerer. A man whom many thought would defeat the then King Malleus. We found him and murdered him before he got the chance. The Strangler had died in the fight, but he’d done enough to weaken their high lord and we’d chopped him into pieces. It had turned the tide. Hardened was the fulcrum and my men tipped the scales, maybe in a way that had never been intended. Malleus had never forgotten and neither had we. For him, the eventual victory he’d always wanted. For us, the knowledge that whatever came from his Empire was at least partly because of our actions. And our reward for this was eternal life. Eternal existence.

  “I can’t allow myself to contemplate what would have been,” I said. “What’s done is done and will never be changed.”

  Once more he took the conversation on a different tack. “They’ve just broken through to the north,” he said. “They’ll reach the city by nightfall. Individually, their spell-weavers are powerful. Together, they were strong enough to crush my wards.”

  With those few simple words, he revealed the death of Angax. He spoke them with no more fervour than when he’d asked me about the wine. It had been a long time since I’d talked with him, but I still knew him well enough to recognize that he was angered. He’d never liked to be thwarted and his usual reaction was to lash out, to strike back until those who defied him were destroyed. Now all I saw was something closer to resignation, or perhaps it was what he wished me to see.

  “What do they want?” I asked again.

  He looked at me with his piercing eyes. “I don’t know, Captain Charing. If I had to guess, I would say that they would like to exterminate life.”

  “I thought it didn’t matter to you.” I said.

  “You read me wrong. I care nothing for the lives of my people, but they are my lives to take if I wish to do so. I will not permit any other to take the decision from me.”

  There was nothing I could say in response to that. Instead, I asked him something else. “What do you need from the First Cohort?”

  “I want you to go north, Captain. There is a place beyond the mountains. A ruined city that I have learned of. There is something that I wish you to find.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. It might be an object. It might be a presence. Or neither of these things. It might be that there is nothing at all to find. I need you to look and I need you to come back.”

  “What will you give the Saviour in return for this?” I asked.

  “A year,” he said simply.

  “Not good enough,” I snapped back at him. “You’ll be tied up with your own troubles for longer than that. I want a promise of five years.”

  “Very well, Captain Charing. You have my word that if you succeed, your Saviour will have five years.”

  “What if there’s nothing there to the north?” I asked.

  “Bring me proof one way or the other and you will have your five years.”

  “How can I prove it to you?” I asked.

  “I trust your word, Captain. Believe me, I trust your word as much as anyone’s. However, you will also take a companion with you. He is another whose word I place equal trust in. Rak Ashor will accompany you.”

  “The Pyromancer?” I asked in real surprise.

  “My death sorcerer should prove a useful ally. He has grown more powerful with time and you will need his assistance.”

  “How far away is this place we seek?”

  “More than a thousand miles, directly to the north of us. I need you to return within six months. Then, I will consider your duties to have been performed and your five years will begin. I will not hold Angax against what comes, though it is within my capabilities. When you return, Ashor will find me and you can return to your Saviour.”

  “I can’t take us all north,” I said. “Haster’s men will not be able to face the cold.”

  “Send them home,” he said. “I asked for the First Cohort, Captain Charing, because I knew you would not perish. These new men are not the same. I don’t require them.”

  I had to ask him, hating myself as I did so. “Could you change them in the way that you did for us?” I asked. “We will have a far greater chance of success with seven hundred than we will with two hundred and fifty.” I didn’t know if it was a gift that Haster’s men would accept – an eternal living death that took as much as it gave.

  He laughed, a humourless sound that crackled from his throat as if it cost him an effort to make it. “The original thousand were a one of a kind. Do you not think I would have already made myself an unstoppable army to send north if I were capable of doing so? The gift I gave you cost me dearly and I bestowed it foolishly at a time when I was enormously thankful for what you’d done. How the cogs of our existence turn, Captain. For over two hundred years I regretted what I did, though I kept to my word and never once did I consider punishing you for my own folly. Now, I see that events have brought an opportunity for me to take value from you. I am not a man who usually knows gratitude, but I am mindful that this must be more than coincidence.”

  The bargain was struck and truth be told I had no idea if it was a good one or a bad one. I suspected that the notions of good and bad were effectively irrelevant, given what was to come. I faced the Emperor and he faced me. His expression gave no clear indication of his thoughts and I wondered if there was a sign of strain upon his face. “Where will I find Ashor?” I asked.

  “He is not here yet. I will have him meet you on the main northern thoroughfare which leads from the city. He will arrive by the evening and I suggest you leave before darkness falls.”

  “What about the Northmen?” I asked. “How are we to avoid them?”

  “This is why I asked for you, Captain Charing. I’m sure you’ll find a way.” A hint of a smile appeared on his lips and I remembered that he had always been capable of mirth. At times, there’d been an almost human quality to it.

  I gave a quiet laugh. “That I will,” I replied. “There’s always a way.” I knew that our meeting was over and I turned away, with the intention of leaving the tower. He called after with words I hadn’t expected.

  “Captain Charing? That object you are carrying. Look after it. It may not change everything, but it will certainly change some things.”

  I froze and all at once I was aware of the cold metal circlet which was still with me. I’d carried it for so long that I’d grown used to its presence and had almost forgotten it was there. I didn’t want Malleus to suddenly decide that he wanted it so I simply nodded, with my back still to him. I strode towards the door, acutely aware of his eyes following me. I left the tower room, feeling a mixture of emotions. There was relief and there was concern for my men and what faced us. Somewhere deep inside, there was something else and I couldn’t shake the idea that there was part of me that still longed to serve the man I’d just met. I shook it away.

  The old man in robes waited for me on the landing outside of the Emperor’s room. He greeted me with silence and led me away down the steps which descended from the tower. I didn’t need his conversation and struggled with the turmoil in my head. The good old days were never how you remember them, came the voice of reason. I was a different man now and I served someone who was worth fighting for. With age comes wisdom and I was able to convince myself that yearning for the past condemns a man to a life of searching for something he can never find. I knew I was right, but there was still something lodged inside that wouldn’t let go.

  It didn’t take long to exit the keep. The old fellow took me to the courtyard gates and stopped to allow me past him. It was daylight outside, though still early morning. I headed across the courtyard, looking at the faint miasma of dust that partially obscured the sun and the sky. I had a feeling of trepidation about what was to come. Even so, the thrill of it was building. I didn’t have all the answers I sought, but at least there was now a plan – somet
hing I could grasp and hunt down to its completion. I had a future I could try to control, rather than facing the endless journey to Angax every day that I rose. I passed through the tunnel and out of the postern gate. The guard captain was still there, along with his contingent of soldiers. They looked at me with little interest and I walked by unmolested towards the barracks building where the rest of the Cohort had been stationed.

  At the time, I didn’t know it. The Emperor was wrong – the Northmen didn’t reach Angax at nightfall. They reached it before midday.

  25

  I found Lieutenant Craddock easily. The Cohort had been barracked in a building that was far bigger inside than it looked from the outside and could have likely housed several thousand men, albeit with some crushing. The building was almost empty apart from my men and I tracked Craddock down to a small, dingy office near to the front door. There was a plaque on the door which suggested it had once housed a captain by the name of Pion Fewter. I entered and he greeted me warmly.

  “Have you see him?” he asked.

  “I’ve seen him. He’s changed a little, yet is still the same.”

  “I could have written those words before you returned,” he laughed.

  “We need to fetch Lieutenant Haster and Jon Ploster,” I told him. I stepped outside and hauled up one of my soldiers who happened to be passing. He was shortly on his way to find our invited guests. I didn’t like to repeat myself, so we waited until they came. Craddock drummed his fingers on the desk – his only outward sign of expectation.

  The others arrived shortly, Haster looking slightly out of breath in his haste to attend. There were only two chairs in Captain Fewter’s office. None of us was desperate to sit and they went unused.

  “The clearer the future becomes, the more other possibilities crowd in to smear the artist’s strokes,” I said. Ploster understood what I was saying at least. “The Emperor has given us a task and he has also given me information that adds to my lack of understanding. Or at least, it makes the truth harder to unravel.”