by Tom Lloyd
A tiring few days had sapped their appetite for much more and after a bowl of bland and fatty stew most were glad to settle down. Some, led by Varain, started in on the ale but the Brethren kept a tight rein on that. Even the Cards weren’t likely to start trouble on a few pints. Lynx found himself unable to settle so instead he headed, unarmed, up onto the walkway to look out over the countryside. The slow creep of dusk began with clouds rolling in from the east, the taste of rain on the breeze.
He only had to hunch a little to keep his head below the wooden crenels that topped the wall. The way-station was atop a gentle slope and afforded a good view of the ground they had covered. Only small clumps of trees stood within three hundred yards, nothing to afford real cover to any approaching troops, and a small wood that stood south of the kingsroad was double that distance away.
There was a small river to the north which the Brethren garrison said wasn’t easily forded at any point for miles – the water chest deep and swift enough to cause difficulties. The woods to the south would make any approach slow and still put them into the open ground. Circling all around would send attackers through a village and farms too.
None of the approaches would be attractive, Lynx realised, and he fell back onto his training – imagining how So Han would assault this small fort. The Hanese commandos had been highly mobile units who travelled light. They would have abandoned their horses a few miles back, moving up as close as they could during the day, then waited.
The river was the option Lynx would have liked – the weather warm enough that hardy Hanese would think nothing of stripping off and crossing naked once it was dark. He’d have sent the strongest swimmers on ahead with guide ropes to tie on the far side – allowing even a few companies of commandos to cross quickly. Then they would dry themselves on the grass, dress and advance with earthers and burners. The north face of the way-station would be a shattered and burning wreck within a few minutes of his, or his commander’s, order, and they would be down to the axe work soon after.
He doubted Militant Order troops would be so easily persuaded to that route. Regulations and straight lines played too much of a role in their thinking. Hanese children accompanied their parents on raids from an early age and were expected to be able to travel the wilds alone. Given the choice between fifty Order soldiers or fifty Hanese twelve-year-olds, Lynx knew which group he’d get to advance a few miles in the dark without hand-holding.
‘Will they come at night?’ Sitain asked, joining him.
Lynx nodded. ‘I would.’
‘Where?’
He gave her a bleak smile and pointed at the clouds above. ‘Not much light tonight,’ he said. ‘They’ll advance straight at us, using the road to guide them.’
‘Seems a bit stupid. Right up to the gate?’
‘Exactly!’ Lynx laughed bitterly. ‘Too obvious, no one will be expecting it.’
‘Really?’
‘Nah, not even close. Whichever way they come, we’ll be expecting it. They know that but they’ll bloody do it anyway cos what’s a few lives in the service of their god, eh?’
‘And they don’t even know how well some of us see in the dark,’ Sitain muttered, careful not to let the Brethren on guard hear her.
‘Aye, there’s that too. Still – it won’t be pretty. We don’t know how many there are and most of us won’t be able to see shit if this cloud thickens up.’
As he spoke, Lynx tugged his headscarf into a more comfortable position. Three of the Cards wore them now, in the fashion of men from the Mage Islands. It looked strange out in these parts, almost a thousand miles north-east from Caldaire, but mercenary crews were always a mix. Idle curiosity was the lesser of two evils compared to showing off white tattoos on their faces that occasionally glowed with light. The Brethren of the Shards might not be as rapacious or aggressive as the Knights-Charnel, but they wouldn’t just ignore something obviously magical.
‘Get some rest then,’ Sitain said, watching him. ‘Get a drink in you.’
‘Giving me advice now, eh?’
‘Toil’s laid up and Kas is leading a party out there, hunting those scouts,’ she replied. ‘Guess that means I have to nag in their place.’
‘I need nagging?’
‘More’n most,’ Sitain agreed. ‘Since I’m no fighter and obviously can’t see unnaturally well in the dark, I’m going to be no real use come nightfall. I might as well see that you’ll be useful instead.’
‘Being my superior officer an’ all?’
‘Being a woman,’ she said baldly. ‘One who’s seen enough of your bad habits to know you need a prod – and enough of your problem with taking orders from men.’
Lynx was quiet a long while then his shoulders sagged.
‘Toil sent you, didn’t she?’
Sitain grinned at that. ‘Yeah. You can do what the fuck you like, so far’s I’m concerned, but Toil won’t let injury stop her from being a pain in my arse. Least I can do is pass on the message so she’s your problem.’
‘Fine. I’m going.’
‘Yer ma died when you were young, right?’
‘Shut up.’
Chapter 8
‘It’s getting dark.’
Doctor Nonan huffed from the other side of the room. ‘At least your eyes still work then.’ Unlike many Brethren, he had a thick beard, large brown eyes and a kindly air to him.
Toil muttered something in a language she assumed he wouldn’t speak and tried to sit up.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, sounding weary.
‘I’m no bloody use lying here,’ she replied.
‘You, young lady, will be no use out there either.’
‘Nor will you if you keep that “young lady” shit up,’ she declared, bristling at his tone though Nonan was indeed more than a decade older.
He turned to face her. ‘Really? Now’s the time to pick a fight?’
She pushed herself upright, wincing as she did so. Her right arm was bound tightly to her body to keep her from opening the wound. Toil felt light-headed and sick as she took a tentative step and tried to maintain her balance.
‘I ain’t starting the fight,’ she said at last. ‘I rarely do.’
He paused and regarded her. Whether or not he thought a light breeze could knock her down, she had no intention of backing off.
‘Very well,’ Nonan said at last. ‘You have my apologies.’
‘Save them,’ Toil replied. ‘Just help me on with my jacket.’
She hooked her good arm through the sleeve and with a little assistance got it over the other side too, tucking the loose sleeve into her belt. There would be no way she could button it up with her arm inside, but this would have to do.
A few more shuffling steps saw her to the side cabinet where the drinks were. Unaccountably someone had thought to remove her mage-pistol and knife in case an accident happened to those around her. Toil sheathed the weapons with difficulty and headed for the door.
‘I’ll prepare a table for you,’ the surgeon called as she jerked it open. ‘For when those stitches open up and you collapse.’
She glanced back. Himbel was preparing a second triage station on the other side of the compound, in the doctor’s own rooms. For some reason they’d decided not to let the mercenary use a room with so much quality booze.
‘Keep my seat warm,’ Toil said at last. ‘Until I collapse, I’ll be out there.’
She headed out, taking short shuffling steps until her balance returned. The gloom of dusk was laid thick over the way-station, but the cloudy sky remained bright. Summer in the north brought long days and slow evenings. Overhead, she caught a glimpse of the skyriver’s fat band, almost as thick as she’d ever seen it. Only once had she travelled further north and seen more of the skyriver in the southern sky.
For once, that’s not so bad a memory, Toil recalled. Colter Rock, that hidden valley so far north few relic hunters ever made the journey. Rich pickings from that trip and no one died. Can’t say th
at much about anything recent, more’s the pity.
Her memories were rudely interrupted as Anatin yelled down at her from the walkway.
‘Hey, Toil – the fuck’re you doing?’
‘Here to help, boss!’
Anatin cackled with laughter. The upturn in his mood suggested he’d found more booze, confident no one would attack in daylight. ‘Help, eh? Deepest black, that wasn’t even gonna be my third or fourth guess!’
‘Where do you want me?’
‘Reft’s squad is on the north face, go join him.’
Toil nodded and looked around the walkway. Anatin’s squad, a number patch freshly stitched over every playing card badge, was beside him. So were the remains of Stars and Snow, both of those depleted by recent casualties and the group sent beyond the walls. One glance at the roster was enough to show the scraps they’d been in recently. Blood was the only suit that approached a standard squad size now and even then you were counting bookish Paranil and the company surgeon, Himbel.
Under normal circumstances, Anatin would be recruiting, signing on veterans and rookies alike in anticipation of the unfolding inter-Order war. But the risk of their secrets getting out was too great, they had agreed. Any Militant Order would pay good money for Toil by herself – throw in two of the most powerful mages in the world and you could name your price.
Instead, the mercenary company commanded by Toil’s brother, Vigilance, now had two new battalions on their books. The second of those was composed of Su Dregiran troops Toil had coaxed from her employer to ensure the Cards weren’t the only newcomers in the Red Scarves. Until things got bad Anatin had agreed they would keep their numbers down, their secrets close.
Toil took her time getting to the north face. When she arrived, the mercenaries were mostly sitting down and playing tashot. Brethren sentries kept a watchful eye on the willow-studded river bank and pastureland surrounding it so the Cards could simply wait until summoned.
‘You’re up,’ Aben said when he saw her. ‘Really, boss?’
‘Don’t you start,’ she growled.
Her burly right-hand man scowled but knew better than to press Toil. Instead, he simply grabbed the leg of a stool and yanked it out from underneath Deern, sending the smaller man sprawling.
‘Fuck!’ Deern yelled as he hit the ground. ‘Ya shit-brained heifer, what was that for?’
‘She needs the seat,’ Aben insisted with as much innocence as he could muster. ‘Good of you to give it up to her.’
Deern’s face went scarlet, his anger deepened by the fact his headscarf had half-slid off and was covering one eye. He had to fumble madly to stop it falling off entirely and expose the tattoos on his neck and ear, while the others simply laughed.
‘Need help with yer bonnet?’ Aben asked.
‘Enough, the lot of you,’ Toil broke in. With Aben’s help she eased herself down onto the stool and waited for Deern to right himself. ‘Thanks for the seat, Deern,’ she added. ‘I’ll owe you a beer after we chase these fucks off.’
The rat-faced mercenary hesitated – still angry but aware now wasn’t the time for a brawl. ‘Yeah, fine,’ he muttered at last. ‘Next time, Aben, just fucking ask, ya fat lump.’
‘I’ve got a job for you after this, Deern,’ Toil continued.
‘Eh? What’s that then?’
‘Go with Atieno and Lynx to the meet.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘Cos I want two Marked Cards with Atenio. The man’s more precious than his weight in gems so I need you to keep him alive.’
‘But why me?’ Deern pressed. ‘I ain’t the only veteran here.’
‘You’re northern,’ she said. ‘From out this way, no?’
‘Once upon a time,’ he spat. ‘And left for good fucking reasons – literally.’
‘So don’t fuck anyone while you’re on the job.’
‘Still, why me exactly?’
Aben hissed. ‘For pity’s sake, do you need her to draw a picture? The folks you’re meeting aren’t exactly normal are they?’
‘So?’
‘Lynx is going cos he’s a soldier who’s, ah, kinda known for being not flexible in his opinions. Just like them. You’re going cos, well, he’s not northern or batshit insane … If anyone can make friends with those bastards, it’s you.’
‘Oh. Right then,’ Deern said levelly.
‘Yeah,’ Toil agreed. ‘What with you being such a good actor when it comes to being a madman with a hair-trigger. I need this done and I need it done right. Are you up to it?’
Deern was quiet a short while then he shrugged. ‘Double pay?’
‘Oh for … Yeah, fine.’
‘Does Su Dregir even have enough money to pay us all?’
‘We may have to invade our neighbours, but the company will get paid.’
‘Okay. Done.’
Darkness drew steadily closer as the cool of evening swirled around. Toil found herself half-dozing in her seat as the time dragged on, the mercenaries continuing their game until the light made it impossible. A few of them could see still, but those who hadn’t been marked by the Labyrinth were quick to end things before it got suspicious. After that she simply watched the troops of the way-station try to control their nerves.
The Brethren troops kept to the pinpricks of light around the interior of the main yard. Everything was squared away and neat, so there was little for them to do and the anxiety was nagging away. By contrast, the Cards were cool and calm. Fourteen of their number had magic-blessed night vision thanks to whatever connection they now had with Sitain. The rest were just pleased they had the advantage in the impending fight.
A little further down the walkway, Paranil was taking a turn on watch. The bespectacled academic was as far from a soldier as one could imagine, but he’d come through the Labyrinth with the rest of them. He’d be no use in a gunfight, but could see better than any of the Brethren sentries. Toil’s thoughts turned idly as she regarded the small man.
Would he be useful on Atieno’s mission? Would he only get in the way? After much practice the man was merely poor at riding and had managed to make it unlikely he would shoot himself in a fight.
‘Aben,’ she said softly. ‘How’s Paranil doing?’
The big man frowned down at her. ‘Good enough, I think.’
‘Are you sure? I’ve dragged him halfway round the continent and with what we’re planning … Asking mercs to do all this is one thing, but he was never cut out for this shit.’
‘Want to leave him behind?’
‘I want you to talk to him,’ Toil said. ‘If he wants out, he’ll never just come and tell me that.’
Aben nodded. ‘True. You still scare him. Maybe more so than ever.’
‘If he wants to go, he can – I’ll not blame him. But he may need me to say it.’
A whistle from the main gate cut the night and all heads turned. Toil could see Anatin leaning forward to talk to someone on the ground, trusting the gloom to keep him safe. The last of the light was draining from the sky now, the land beneath thick with shadow. It would stay this way for a long while, Toil knew. Full dark was a short-lived thing in the north, with midsummer not long past, but the cloud cover meant it was good enough for an assault.
Not long after, Haphori was sent down the walkway towards them while Brethren junior officers headed off with their own orders.
‘Troops spotted,’ he reported in a whisper. ‘Coming up the road in tight order.’
‘All together?’
‘Seems like it – two hundred soldiers, Kas reckons.’
Toil whistled. That was a good number to be pulled out of Siquil at short notice and keep on their heels.
‘And us?’
‘There’s scouts on both flanks, to give a warning in case more come. You hold, they’re pulling most of the Brethren troops forward ready to hit ’em. Kas is gonna give the signal.’
‘Kas?’
Haphori grinned, his teeth bright white against his dark skin. ‘Anat
in sent her off with one o’ his light-bolts an’ a spark-grenade. She’ll light ’em up – we follow that an’ tear ’em apart.’
‘Five islands on them running within a minute,’ Deern said from behind them.
‘Still trying to give away your foreign coins, eh, Deern?’ Toil shook her head. ‘They’re desperate – they’ll charge us.’
‘Into the teeth o’ all this?’
‘I’ll see your five islands and raise you,’ she said by way of reply.
‘Yer on.’
After that, there was only the waiting. Finally, Toil couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d watched another dozen Brethren soldiers work their way forward. Only about fifty remained in the way-station – which would already be a large garrison in normal times, but even the slow-to-act Brethren of the Shards were aware the world had changed. Even if they had trusted their neighbours up until now, the risk had increased and the rumour of Sons of the Wind warbands was enough to bolster numbers on every outpost.
‘Deern, Aben – get over there,’ Toil said at last. ‘We need your eyes for the battle, Paranil can watch this flank.’
The two mercenaries went without a word while Toil found herself a vantage point where she could see most of the killing ground ahead. It was just a sea of grey for a while – the faint topography emerging only reluctantly from the gloom. Her shoulder was a constant throbbing pain, one booze hadn’t been able to dull a whole lot.
Shifting uncomfortably, she found a wry smile on her face. Sitain was nearby and could easily have made this more manageable, but Toil had been the one to say they couldn’t risk any use of magic here.
It took her a long while, but eventually she made out the dark clumps of soldiers advancing through the gloom. They’d removed their bright uniforms or covered them, so she could see little more than black shapes moving towards the way-station. It was enough for her to guess the range, though, enough to shoot if she’d been in any condition.