We followed the road, coming across few travellers. Those we did meet looked at us with the expected amount of suspicion that men of our appearance would justifiably warrant. I asked a pair of middle-aged farmer types if they had any news from Gold. They replied that they’d not been there for some weeks, focused as they were on gathering in their crops before it became any colder and the plants became damaged by frost. Another person I hailed said that he’d heard rumours of strife to the north, but had no details.
In the end, I gave up asking. No one seemed to know if the Saviour’s army was still stationed in the town. Those that volunteered an opinion seemed to be such poor sources that I didn’t want to give any credence to their words. As it was, we weren’t far from the town and it seemed preferable if I just wait until I could see things with my own eyes.
It was close to noon when we saw the blackened structures that made up much of the south part of the town. There had still been smoke when we’d left for Blades, but the skies were now clear blue above the ruins. We trotted through the outskirts, curious to see what had happened to the folk who had lived in this most rundown area of Gold. There was life, but little in the way of industry. Those we did see moved with the sullen slowness of people bereft of hope and without the aspiration to try and change things for the better. Children dashed here and there, balancing fearlessly along precarious beams and ledges that had escaped the worst of the flames. The adults showed none of the vibrancy, many of them staring at us with barely-concealed hostility. One or two sneered at us or sized us up for robbery, but none were stupid enough to take their intentions further.
I remembered how I had once hoped that the destruction of these homes would give the inhabitants a chance to rebuild their lives, better than they had been before. What I saw before me was a reduction in hope, rather than a way forward. I didn’t know if I blamed them for their predicament or not. Sometimes a hard-working man or woman needs guidance and leadership to show them how to get started. Without resources or assistance, there was little these people from the outskirts could do. If Lieutenant Craddock was still based here, I determined to speak to him about it.
As we got deeper into the town, I saw signs of demolition and rebuilding. Here and there, squads of men were pulling down the ruins, and the rubble was being carted away to other places. It looked as if they were reclaiming some of the bricks and stones that hadn’t been too badly damaged, so I had misjudged in my earlier assessment of the efforts to start afresh.
We crossed the river Fols and entered the north of the city. The bridge that Xoj-Fal had destroyed was still wrecked, but there had been some clearing of the area, as if there was an intention to rebuilt it. The Fols was so shallow that I couldn’t imagine it would be a priority, since there were other bridges still intact.
If you didn’t know of the recent trauma the town had suffered, it would have been easy to imagine that all was well if you took the north side of town in isolation. Shops were open and people hurried about their business. We attracted a few furtive glances, but nothing more than that. I saw a group of soldiers, standing on a street corner. They watched the people going by and had the air of men who’d been positioned there with a specific purpose. I approached them and addressed the group as a whole.
“I’m Captain Charing. Where is Lieutenant Craddock?”
A couple of the soldiers narrowed their eyes as they evaluated us. We could have been anyone, though our tattoos gave us away as men of the First Cohort.
“Lieutenant Craddock is headquartered over in the old warehouse,” said one of the men, pointing in that direction.
“I know where it is, thank you,” I said. A couple of them made uncertain salutes, but I didn’t think it the time or place to impose myself, given that they had no proof of who I was.
We knew where the warehouse barracks was located. It was where the Saviour had been murdered by Leerfar and was the most practical place to house a large number of men. I’d have been disappointed if Lieutenant Craddock had been sentimental enough to move out of there on the basis of our lady’s death. Craddock hadn’t ever disappointed me before so it was little wonder that he didn’t do so now.
We found the place and entered it, dealing with the formalities of assuring the guards as to our identities as the necessity arose. It seemed as if Lieutenant Craddock had taken over my old office. I dismissed the men, shaking their hands in thanks for their efforts. Ploster came with me. He was only a corporal, but in reality, his position as our sorcerer gave him much more clout than his rank alone.
I entered without bothering to knock and found Lieutenant Craddock seated. He was studying some paperwork or other on his desk and he delayed for a moment before he looked to see who had come. When he saw who it was, his face lit up with a wide, genuine smile.
“Captain,” he said, nodding to me. “Corporal Ploster.” Another nod. “How goes things?”
“We have lost many men, but we are back. Things have been a mixture of better than expected and also much worse. Where is Lieutenant Sinnar? I would like him here before I continue.”
Craddock rose and went to the door. He leaned out into the passage and I heard words spoken. He came back into the room and closed the door behind him. “He’ll be here soon. I think he’s out with the troops taking some of them through their paces. The man never lets up.” He smiled again, as did I. We knew what Sinnar was like.
“How is the situation here?” I asked.
“Not good,” he admitted immediately. “We’ve lost many men already. Most of them simply returned to their cities in the west. Neither goading nor threats would make them change their minds. Once they knew the Saviour was dead, their morale died with it.”
“I’d hoped it would be otherwise,” I said. “But in my heart knew that I was leaving you with a fight you couldn’t win. How many do we have remaining?”
“A little over three thousand.”
“Shit,” I said. “I’d hoped we’d be able to keep more than that.”
“The men who stayed are mostly our own and those from Treads and Gold. They’re good men, Captain. I’d be happy to fight alongside any one of them.” He paused and I could tell that there was other news - news that I would not enjoy hearing. “There’s something else though. Things are happening to the north,” he said.
I stared at him expectantly until he continued.
“We’ve had people arrive from Turpid and Nightingale. And others from places I’ve not heard of before – places outside the Duke’s lands. They’ve brought with them tales of death, Captain. If you believe the tales, both of those towns have been destroyed utterly. The refugees have been few in numbers and they claim that there are no more to come.”
“Nightingale is not a large town,” I said. “But Turpid is something more. There must have been twenty thousand people living in Turpid from what I saw of the place.”
“Fifteen thousand only, according to the people I’ve spoken to,” said Craddock. “But fifteen thousand who have been killed nonetheless.”
“What has killed them? And what has destroyed their towns?”
“I have spoken at length to those refugees who seemed the most trustworthy. Their details are not clear. They have talked of a thick, impenetrable fog, which rose up to the north and rolled through their streets. Accompanying it was a relentless cold. There was something in the fog, Captain, that has killed these people. I believe them to be speaking the truth.”
“What have you done to corroborate the reports?” I asked.
“I’ve sent out runners, Captain. Men of the First Cohort and others we have. I await their return with news.”
“How long ago did you send them?”
“A week ago. On the day the first refugees arrived. Nightingale is ten days distant and Turpid closer to twelve. I would not expect to hear back from them soon.”
I swore. “I take it you don’t think these are the Duke’s men? Or the Emperor’s?”
“It doesn’t seem likely, Captain. When did the
Emperor’s troops ever see the need to shroud themselves in cloaks of fog? And why would they come from the north instead of the east? If the reports turn out to be true, I think this might be the first threat to one of the Emperor’s lands since he conquered them.”
The door opened and Sinnar invited himself in. He looked as evil a bastard as I remembered and he grinned at me.
“Good to have you back, Captain. There’s some shit stirring and no mistake. It’ll be good to see what we’re going to do about it.”
“Thirsting for the fight, Lieutenant Sinnar?” I asked, clasping his wrist in greeting.
“The lads tell me you’ve had your fair share of it in Blades. We’ve been holed up here for too long.”
“We’ve lost some good men,” I said, though he must have already known if he’d spoken to the others. “And we’ve been tricked. Properly tricked, but some good has come from it.”
I spoke to them about what had happened on our trip to Blades. They were as surprised now as I had been when I’d stumbled into the Duke’s trap.
“I’m glad you’ve killed the old fucker,” said Sinnar. “The Gloom Bringer makes a nice bonus.” We didn’t have any specific grudge against the Gloom Bringer from our time serving the Emperor, but she’d killed our men and that was enough.
“It would be nice to think that we’d taken a step forward,” I said. “As it stands, the Emperor is likely sending tens of thousands of troops to Blades and there’s no Saviour to stand against him. On top of that, there’s something else coming south and we have no idea who, what or why.”
“That seems to sum it up,” said Craddock.
Sinnar chuckled and I could see that he almost wanted to rub his hands together in glee. At one time, I’d have said it was because he was bloodthirsty. Now I knew him better, I realised that he simply thrived on a challenge. The harder the challenge appeared, the greater his lust to face it. His service to the First Cohort had been immense.
“The men mentioned you’d found Gagnol’s potion,” he said. “I asked what it was all about but they told me I’d best speak to you about it first.
I drew it out for them all to see. They leaned in close and peered at it. Craddock reached out a hand in curiosity and I let him hold it.
“Heavy,” he said.
“There are times I grew tired of its presence,” I admitted.
“What’s it for, then?” asked Sinnar, taking his turn holding it. He twisted it in his hand and looked through the facets.
“I will use it to bring our lady back to us,” I said. Sinnar and Craddock looked at me, their expressions unclear. Finally, Craddock chose to speak.
“She’s gone, Captain,” he said. “Corporal Grief has done his best to preserve her, so that the men will not see what she has become. His efforts have not been enough to make her pretty again and she lies rotting in a cold room below us. If this vial works and if it brings her back to life, she may not thank you for what you have done.”
“Aye, Captain,” said Sinnar. “There are none of us who have judged you as failing to protect her when she lived. If you are determined upon this course, make sure that you are doing it for the right reasons, rather than because you think it might assuage your guilt. There is no guilt for you to bear.”
He spoke to me like a friend and a fellow man, rather than as an officer to his superior. He’d been a teacher before and there was a burning intelligence behind his heavy, scarred brows. I appreciated his honesty – I had searched within myself on our return trip to answer the very same questions he’d asked me. I did feel guilt that the Saviour had died and I did carry the majority of the blame for it happening. On the other hand, we all had our burdens and the Saviour had the greatest burden of all. Those who carry the heaviest loads might hate their responsibilities, but the unfairness of their allotted role does not absolve them from their duties. When it came down to it, the Saviour carried the hopes of so many people that I could not let her escape from her obligations, even if I had to bring her back from death so that she could continue. I was sure that she would hate me for what I was about to attempt, but I would do my own duty, no matter what the cost.
“We swore to serve the Saviour,” I said. “And this is the only way I can think of doing so. If I dropped this vial into the deepest ocean, we would have denied her the only remaining chance to fulfil the reason for her existence.”
I looked each man squarely in the eye and one by one, they nodded.
“Take me to her,” I said.
We left the room and Lieutenant Craddock led us along a series of corridors. I thought he was going to take us directly past the room where the Saviour had been murdered, but he did not. On two separate occasions, we met soldiers from the First Cohort and I paused each time to speak to them and let them know which of us had returned safely. I could tell from their expressions that they’d hoped not to hear of any more deaths amongst us, so soon after the defence of Gold.
We reached a set of steps and Craddock reached for an oil lamp which was dangling from a hook on a wall. Sinnar took a second lamp that was hanging close by and we looked downwards, the steps seeming to invite us to descend into a pit of our own devising.
“Shit,” whispered Sinnar to himself.
The steps were narrow and made of stone. There was only room for us to walk single-file and this we did, with Craddock in the lead. At the end of the steps was a small area for standing and a metal door. The surface of this door was covered in a patina of orange rust. There was a handle, but it was otherwise featureless and somehow it reminded me of the doors in Warmont’s dungeons. There was a rattling as Craddock fumbled with a bunch of keys that he’d brought with him from his office.
“We kept her down here because the walls seem to exude a chill beyond that which you’d expect. Perhaps there is sorcery at play, employed to keep meat fresh in times past. It seemed for the best that her flesh remained preserved for as long as possible.” He didn’t expand on why he’d thought like that – I was sure I’d have done the same thing myself.
He located the correct key and slotted it into the lock. It turned easily for him and he pushed the door inwards without further ceremony. A wave of cold wafted out immediately, even cooler than the unnaturally chill air above.
“Corporal Ploster, can we have some light?” I asked. He complied and the familiar magical glow appeared in the space before us, causing spots to dance before my eyes for a few seconds until they adjusted.
We filed through the doorway and I found that we’d entered an unexpectedly large stone walled chamber, thirty feet to each side, but with a low ceiling. The light was sufficient for me to see that it was empty, apart from one feature. There was a stone bier in the centre of the room, which I could see had been made from reclaimed stones from the houses above. It was surprisingly even and well made, as if an inordinate amount of time had been invested in making it as comfortable as possible, though the idea of making the dead comfortable struck me as strange. I couldn’t deny that the body lying here was due the respect.
We gathered around her. A part of me wanted to avert my gaze, but I wouldn’t permit myself the weakness, so I forced myself to look and see what she had become. She had been dressed in the richest of red robes – they looked pristine and unmarked. Her skin, normally pale, was as white as I could remember seeing the flesh of anyone. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly open. The robes reached high up to her neck line, but I could still see where she’d been stitched. Corporal Grief was a master of the needle and there was no puckering to the sides of her wounds.
“She has not decayed,” I said. There was relief in my voice. I had seen the bodies of dead men reduced to sunken parchment-flesh in only a few days where the temperatures were warm and nobody was of a mind to remove the corpses.
“Corporal Grief has his tricks,” said Ploster. “And the temperature of this room is low enough to delay the putrefaction. Even so, you can see that it has begun.” He pointed at her face again and this tim
e I could see that her flesh looked more sunken that it had been in life.
I stared at her for a time longer, lost in my own thoughts and fears. Someone nudged my arm and I was brought out from my reverie to see my companions looking at me with concern.
“Tyrus?” asked Ploster.
“I am fine,” I said. I put my hand inside my clothing and took out the vial. It felt heavier than it had the first time I took it from the Duke’s body, but when I looked, it was just the same as it had ever been. It then occurred to me that I had no idea what to do with it. Craddock and Sinnar shrugged, their gestures telling me in advance that they couldn’t help.
“Can your magic do anything with it?” I asked Ploster.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “Whatever the Duke did to extract this from Gagnol, it wasn’t sorcery. Or if it was, it’s nothing that I have seen before.”
I stood there for some time, clutching the vial tightly in my hand. I was faintly aware that I was squeezing it tightly, though I felt a peculiar lack of worry or tension. Now that I had confronted my fears by seeing our lady again, I was filled by a determination to repent for my failings to her and the people of this land who had waited so long for her to come.
Since when did you become so noble, Tyrus Charing? whispered an insidious voice in my mind. I ignored it and dismissed it from my thoughts. If a man is denied the opportunity to change, then what is the point in trying to become better than we are? I was stronger than my own petty fears and I still had much to do.
I felt my consciousness sink. It was a strange feeling that I had experienced in the past. My feet seemed to have become anchored into the ground. I didn’t know if I could force them free – it didn’t seem important that I try. Some inner part of me sank deeper and deeper. I was faintly aware of my body, but I could no longer see the room, or my fellows who were standing close. There was a feeling something akin to a great lurch, as though I was torn completely from my body. Then, I could sense other things around me. It was different to seeing – something both greater and lesser at the same time. The fabric that underpins the world became revealed to me, stretching away in all directions, an impossibly vast web of interlaced facts and future possibilities.
Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2) Page 21