by Tom Lloyd
He returned to his horse and walked it back the way he’d come earlier. He travelled as far as he could until the light disappeared. Then he settled down for a cold and uncomfortable night – the details of his travels running through his mind. By dawn’s light he rose, stiff and sore, to see to his horse. Afterwards, Obe made notes on his map, listed all he could remember of the route, and set off with a small smile on his face. There would be a good bonus waiting for him and no shots had been fired.
Chapter 18
(now)
A blood-tinged cloud hung in the air above the Abbott-Protector. For a moment everything stopped. In that moment of stillness, Lynx glimpsed the awful ruin of his face. Then the man fell dead and the shooting began.
Toil lunged across Lynx and drove a dagger into the throat of the Sergeant-Prior with such force it went to the hilt. The man collapsed as Toil surged on and shot one of the snipers with her pistol. Kas took the other down in the same moment and then the air was torn apart by the roar of gunshots.
Lynx turned on the cringing catapult gunners. Only two had pistols on their belts. He shot the first with his mage-gun and hurled the empty weapon at the other. As the woman staggered back he pulled his pistol and shot her. One of the gunners made for the polearms stored near the steps, but before he could retrieve one Lynx was on him. The big Hanese mercenary didn’t waste time drawing his heavy sword. With his shoulder he barged the man against the wooden rack. Off-balance, the soldier was easy to hurl down the stone steps. Another man tried to grab Lynx only to receive a headbutt. That stopped him in his tracks and a swinging haymaker knocked him flat.
The rest cringed, hands raised in surrender. Screams and gunshots rang out from the ramparts below. Out of the corner of his eye, Lynx saw Kas had retrieved the two officers’ pistols. He left the rest of the crews to her, reloading his own pistol and finally drawing his sword.
Footsteps on the stair made him draw back, ready to strike. A figure turned the corner shouting for the Abbott-Protector only for Toil to shoot in the same moment. Lynx surged down the steps and emerged onto a scene of chaos. Just as he took it in there was an explosion that stopped him in his tracks and knocked a stretch of defenders down. A great ball of flame belched up from one of the catapult platforms, shot through with the racing claws of lightning.
Gods, which madman did that? Estal?
All down the wall were Brethren bodies and fighting soldiers. The Cards had torn into their employers with a fury. They were outnumbered by the garrison but that was spread across the fort – here it was more even. Or at least, it had been, Lynx realised.
The Cards had made the most of their surprise, shooting or throwing most of the forward defenders from the rampart in mere seconds after Anatin’s order. Above the knot of soldiers at the base of the gatehouse loomed Reft – vast and terrifying as he laid about him with his hatchets. Beside him Deern roared like a demon. Bloodlust rendered his words unintelligible. The only thing that made him pause was when he stopped to fire his gun. A burner streaked down into the fort below Lynx. It exploded across a group of Brethren, their screams cut short.
Lynx pushed forward, battering a man with his heavy sword. One woman swung her gun around and Lynx ran her through with an ungainly lunge. His falchion wasn’t suited to neat parry and thrust. He aimed a kick at her to drive her back off the blade, almost ripping it from his grip. An icer flashed past his face as he went for another man.
Lynx turned to see a wide-eyed soldier a few paces away, astonished that he’d missed. The young man didn’t have time to curse his luck. Toil crashed down a moment later. In one movement she leaped from the steps and kicked him over the rail, down to where Deern’s burner had hit. Barely giving Lynx a glance, she cast around for a target and levelled her gun. The shot picked off one of the few remaining officers amid the press. The sound of gunfire dwindled. There was little time or space to reload so the Cards were into their knife-work.
He left Toil and bludgeoned the last soldier in reach off the wall. In seconds there were almost no Brethren left, just panting blood-spattered Cards. Icers started to flash in from the interior of the fort and Lynx saw Llaith winged by a lucky shot. The grey-haired mercenary howled and fell, but not so badly hurt he couldn’t yell for someone to kill the bastard.
Braqe duly obliged, dropping to one knee. A sparker scoured one narrow street. Lightning burst over the stone walls and smashed the diamond panes in the windows, the clatter of shattered glass mingling with screams.
The Cards continued to press their advantage. Groups were already pushing down the side ramparts where Brethren soldiers still stood. The mercenaries didn’t wait for a fair fight. Fire and lightning lashed out until only the scorched dead remained. Earthers smashed what cover there was, grenades erupted like volcanoes around the weapon platforms. Lynx loaded a burner into his pistol as he descended the wide steps to the fort floor. They were in a massive ammunition factory, he didn’t need to worry about conserving ammunition in this fight.
‘Lynx!’ Anatin yelled from the tower. ‘Hold there.’
Lynx signalled he understood and set his back to the wall of the nearest building. On both sides he could see teams of Cards take the catapult platforms, others down below shooting those they’d thrown off. The boom of earthers rolled through the sky as they neared the next platform where grenade throwers were stationed. He couldn’t see any dead Cards yet. Clearly Anatin wanted to take the wall hard and fast. After that, the rest would probably surrender rather than force a street-fight on the lower level.
Maybe a minute had gone by, but Lynx could see fifty dead just from where he stood. The fort’s Brethren garrison was barely treble that all told. Toil tossed a grenade into the guardroom of the keep, right below Anatin’s feet. Lynx winced at the explosion that followed and ducked his head when a gout of flame burst from the guardroom’s rear window. Panic bloomed in his gut before Lynx remembered they were scrupulous about keeping their bombardment spheres – weapons that would take out the entire keep and half the Cards at the same time – away from the catapults, deep in a secure room.
‘Surrender!’ Toil shouted at the top of her voice, a call Anatin and several others echoed.
Here was the greatest danger, Lynx knew. They could win this fight, he had no doubt, but all it took was one fanatic in the ammunition vault. They weren’t allowed guns in there, but the iron-coated spheres might be vulnerable to a sustained assault. If a Brethren soldier really wanted to set one off – and therefore blow this half of the sanctuary-fort off the map – the Cards wouldn’t be able to break the door down in time.
He heard footsteps, more than one set, and pressed his back against the wall. A soldier charged from the street, heading for Toil with his mage-gun raised and heedless of the danger. Lynx shot him just as a second darted past. That one slewed sideways in shock and tripped. She managed to hold onto her gun, but the muzzle stuck in the earth and snagged. Lynx checked he wasn’t presenting an easy target of himself, then gave the woman a hefty boot in the gut.
‘Surrender, it’s over,’ he demanded.
‘Traitors!’ the woman wheezed, still scrabbling for her weapon.
Inwardly, Lynx shrugged. He slammed the pistol down onto her head and she fell limp. Unconscious or dead, he didn’t know, but that was the risk she’d chosen.
Finally, somewhere in the streets behind him, Lynx heard the cries they’d been waiting for. At least some of the garrison had decided not to die in the service of their god. They could see the fort was lost.
‘Drop your guns!’ Anatin shouted from his position, all the while making as small a target of himself as possible. ‘We’re not here to kill unarmed troops!’
A great flurry of explosions punctuated his words. The barbican at the other end of the sanctuary, Lynx guessed. It was far enough away not to hurt the ears, probably a guardhouse’s ammunition store going up. From where he stood, Lynx couldn’t see it. He just had to hope it was enough to make the point to the defenders.<
br />
‘Corporal Lithen, Lieutenant Talere – the gate!’
Lynx and Toil headed down to the wide opening in the rampart, beneath the barbican. A tunnel through the reinforced earth rampart ran for thirty yards before reaching an old iron portcullis. It took a minute to unhook from it the rattle-cage, a network of chains and steel bars that ran between the wooden outer gate and the portcullis itself. Anyone firing earthers into the gate would be left with a twisted mass of wreckage in their path, barely navigable even to individual soldiers.
Once the portcullis was free of the cage, they set to the great wheel. Slowly they hauled the portcullis up and out of the way. Lynx was acutely aware of the murder holes that looked down from the barbican above, but there was little they could do about it now. Fortunately, any remaining Brethren inside decided not to take a little revenge. Finally, they opened the gate and were rewarded with the familiar faces of Payl and Suth huffing their way up the road.
With the pair were three officers of the Knights-Charnel. A general, scarred and balding, accompanied by a major and some shitweasel of a Torquen captain, judging by the uniform. Lynx exchanged a look with Toil and tried not to touch the tattoos on his face. They knew some of the Charnelers in Jarrazir might have survived the arena explosion. There was a good chance the Torquen knew of their light tattoos. Toil had found an apothecary able to mix up a paste the colour of Lynx’s skin so the tattoo was covered, but he had to be careful not to wipe it off in his anxiety.
‘What took you so long?’ Toil called once they were almost at the gate.
‘Had business up in the Lae Valley,’ Payl replied. ‘All finished in here, Lieutenant?’
‘Pretty much. Garrison of the rear keep’s having a little think about life in general and the state o’ their souls. Pretty sure they’ll come to the conclusion that if they try anything, we’ll blow the ever-living fuck out of ’em.’
‘Good. Where’s the boss?’
Toil pointed. ‘Up top, surveying his victory. Corporal, go fetch him.’
Happy to do her bidding and get away from prying eyes, Lynx found Anatin already at the mouth of the tunnel. Content to just watch from the shadows, Lynx held back as Anatin went to greet the general.
‘Setony, Oun Sher – good to see you with all yer bits still attached,’ Anatin laughed.
‘Pretty pleased about it ourselves,’ Suth agreed with a sloppy salute. ‘Captain Adrin, Lieutenant Talere, I present General Eperois of the Knights-Charnel, Marshal of the Selois Expeditionary Force.’
‘General,’ Anatin said with a deep bow. ‘Pleased ta meet you. Welcome to this little gift of ours.’
‘And I you,’ Eperois said. ‘However – you seem to be making rash promises, Captain Adrin. I see no God Fragments before me and I doubt you have had time to breach the vault here. Do you even know what you’re offering?’
Anatin inclined his head. ‘Aye, I suppose I’m sticking my neck out a little there, General. It could be we’re totally wrong and there’s only a couple of fragments here.’ He grinned and pulled a cigar from inside his jacket, using it to beckon the general forward. ‘But I’m a gambling man, General. I know when a wager feels right. Fetch in your troops and we’ll go take a look together. Plenty of time to discuss payment afterwards.’
‘Lead on, Captain,’ Eperois said. ‘Let us go a-thieving.’
Chapter 19
With a guard of a hundred Charnelers behind – none Torquen dragoons, Lynx noted – Eperois walked cautiously into the fort. Common sense demanded that he expect some sort of a trap. The liberal scattering of blood and bodies had to be a strange reassurance.
With the remaining Brethren troops in the process of being disarmed, the Charnelers were naturally wary and kept their guns ready. A handful of Cards walked ahead of them. The rest were engaged in corralling the Brethren, securing the armouries, breaking into the ammunition warehouses and, of course, plundering the tavern. Anatin yelling at that last group seemed to make little difference and the Charnelers were more interested in their goal. A handful of mercenaries taking the opportunity to get drunk seemed the least surprising part of the day.
‘Where is the vault?’ Eperois asked as Toil led them right into the centre of the sanctuary-fort. ‘There?’
Just as he’d spoken they had come within sight of the square temple that stood alone at the very heart of the fort. It was unusually large and set apart from the other buildings by a stretch of paved ground on all sides, all perfectly level and free of weeds.
‘My money’s on that, yes,’ Toil replied. ‘I’m a suspicious type and might personally have stuck it in one corner of a warehouse, but … well.’
She gestured at the temple and Eperios nodded. It was an unsubtle lump of stone with thick walls and tall, narrow windows ten feet off the ground. There was only one door and even that was mage-cast iron hung on enormous hinges. Its closest neighbour was the grand residence of the now-deceased Abbott-Protector. That itself was out of place in a border fort but still overshadowed by the bulk of the temple.
‘But you don’t know?’
‘Didn’t get much chance to snoop around inside. I was meant to be praying after all, and the priests were nosy fuckers.’ Toil paused. ‘More so than some.’
‘You are as reverential as your comrades, I see,’ Eperios noted drily.
‘They’re a bad influence,’ Toil said. ‘I was so sweet before I joined up too.’
Off to the side, Anatin made a spluttering sound as though he was choking on his tongue, but Lynx thumped the man on his back until the noise died down.
Toil grinned as she headed up the set of three steps then paused. ‘So, General – how do you feel about desecrating a temple of Veraimin? No way of knowing how they’ve hidden the cache.’
‘I am aware what’s involved,’ Eperois said in a grave voice. ‘Icons and the like will be removed by my men. We will attempt to damage as little as possible, but the only truly sacred objects are the God Fragments. So long as there is no deliberate insult, I am unmoved.’
The interior of the temple was gloriously decorated, beautifully ornate icons and astrolabes on each wall. This wasn’t a place the common troopers were welcome much and on prayer day the altar was carried to the outside steps. While the temple itself was a good size, there wasn’t in fact all that much space inside, Lynx discovered. Once a score of his men had entered, Eperois gestured for the rest to wait outside.
A polished brass orb was suspended from the peak of the high dome over a round altar-table of wood so pale it was almost white. On top of that were the common ritual objects of Veraimin’s worship – a bulb-shaped lamp that projected the god’s usual sun symbol alongside brass statues of a tree and a hawk. These were carefully carried out by Charneler soldiers, followed by the altar itself. That done, they methodically stripped the interior of the white and yellow painted temple. Six wooden pews came out first, followed by paintings, braziers and standing lamps before the altar, icons and ritual objects.
Then Toil started to inspect the whole interior of the temple. It was all one room, the priest occupying his own house on the other side of the temple. Lynx guessed the man was currently cowering there, given he didn’t seem to be defending his domain. There were panels to move and slabs on the floor, but nothing an experienced relic hunter hadn’t seen before. He knew the care she was moving with was more to do with booby traps than anything else, but it wasn’t long before the general started to get restless.
‘Please, do take your time. I’m only standing in enemy territory here. It’s not like I’m in a rush to leave or anything.’
Toil made an irritated sound. ‘My respect, sir, but I know what I’m doing. You want your troops to just tear this place apart, give me a chance to get clear of the blast area first.’
‘Do you have the first clue what you’re looking for?’ Eperois snapped as she moved to a new section.
‘We need to go under the floor. If I had a cache I’d be tempted to get a mage and embed the
m high in the walls here, safe and secret-like, but to you they’re holy relics. That calls for something rather more magnificent. Or do the Knights-Charnel just dump all of their fragments in a box and bury it?’
Eperois gave a nod. ‘Very well, but we cannot just fetch stone and earth mages to open it up for us.’
‘I know that,’ Toil said. ‘I might not have your rank, but I’ve been in a few Duegar tombs. The floor and walls need to be layered and mage-hardened against incursion from all sorts of nasties attracted by the fragments. There’ll be negative wardings, mebbe even traps specifically for mages.’ She gestured around them. ‘Likely there’s no great risk around here. The location was chosen to be well apart from the usual haunts but no sense taking a risk.’
‘Then please, Lieutenant Talere. Do show your expertise and show me how to open the damn thing.’
‘How much would they need to go in and out of the place?’ Lynx asked. ‘Would they store the fragments they use to make ammunition there?’
Toil shook her head. ‘Being a sanctuary and making mage-cartridges is different. It’s enough to warrant the presence of a fort, but you don’t advertise the main vault. Plus I’ve been watching for exactly that every day I could.’
She continued to look for clues as she talked and the rest, without really meaning to, started to do the same. Flagstones and wall panels were inspected and removed, knives inserted into every gap and crevice they could find, but there remained nothing that gave the slightest indication.
‘So you’ve brought us here for nothing,’ Eperois concluded, cheeks darkened with mounting anger.