God of Night

by Tom Lloyd

  It had taken a while to find her body, but not even Toil argued against doing so. Brellis had hailed from some backwoods village no one had ever heard of. A bluff woman with a near-permanent grin, she’d cheerfully fought and fucked her way through five years in the company. A neat hole in her jacket showed where the icer had punched through her heart. As Layir, her lover, bent over her and took a few slow breaths, his hands covered the badge she wore.

  His father cut the badge away from her jacket and pressed that into Layir’s hands. The young Olostiran nodded and stowed it into a pocket before removing a burner from his cartridge case. This he tucked into Brellis’s folded hands. With one final stroke of her hair and a kiss on her forehead, Layir stood and the rest began to move out. Heading north, Layir lagged behind until everyone was clear then fired a sparker at the corpse – continuing the tradition of the Cards. They left the body burning and headed for the treeline.

  Even before they’d reached it, Lynx could hear the distant sounds of explosions. It was hard to make out any detail, only that a force of Charnelers had finally emerged to stop the Sons advancing any further towards their most sacred temple. They looked outnumbered but when Kas climbed a tree she reported more activity and gunfire in the distance, near the city.

  ‘What now?’ Anatin asked Toil. ‘There’s no way we get to the temple from here.’

  She nodded. There was a reserve force near the great stone block of Highkeep Sanctuary. It wasn’t large, but enough to defend the Thousand Steps – a broad stairway that had been cut into the mountainside up to the temples – from any assault the Cards could mount.

  ‘Looks like we’ll have to go with our old favourite plan B,’ Toil said with a nasty smile.

  ‘Which one is … Oh screaming hells – I know that look!’ Anatin turned and hissed behind him. ‘Hey, Lynx, can’t you get your damned woman under control?’

  Lynx snorted. ‘Has there ever – and I mean bloody ever – been the slightest indication that was a possibility?’

  ‘Time to step up and take charge then, my friend.’

  ‘I ain’t so stupid as I look,’ he said with a shake of the head. ‘You’re on your own there, boss.’

  ‘I could order you.’

  ‘Could you though?’

  ‘Shit.’ Anatin sighed. ‘Right, Princess – exactly which hellmouth of bitey darkness do you want us to crawl down?’

  ‘Follow the wisdom of the ancients,’ Toil said, pointing towards the archway they’d spotted earlier.

  Lynx wasn’t sure what he was looking at yet, but from the shape it was no natural opening – nor did it lead into total darkness. That western flank of Insar’s Seat was a chaotic mess of jutting rock, fissures and isolated strips of grass far out of reach of anything that didn’t have wings.

  ‘Some of the troops came from that,’ Toil asserted. ‘Exactly what’s in there I dunno, but why put a fortification where there’s no ground to dominate, inconveniently far from the main population?’

  ‘So there’s definitely an entrance to the deepest black there?’ Anatin asked. ‘Or are you just guessing? Cos we’re fucked if you get this wrong.’

  ‘Not the first time we’d be fucked if I guess wrong,’ Toil said in a sharp tone. ‘Yet here we are. One day you’re gonna have to accept I’m just this good.’

  ‘Oh I do, but frankly I’ve recently been longing for the days when I thought you were just a pair o’ tits and a swift blade,’ Anatin replied. As he spoke, he brandished the leather-clad stump where his hand had once been. ‘Life was a lot simpler back then and it’s not like things always go to plan, is it?’

  ‘Probably won’t be milk and cookies waiting for us on the other side,’ Toil agreed. ‘Doesn’t mean we’re going to give up now. Someone pass me that rope. I need to see what’s going on for myself.’

  With a certain amount of grace and a large helping of swearing, Toil ascended the tree to perch alongside Kas. She was quiet a long while then spent a few minutes pointing and whispering with Kas. Whatever they agreed, Toil clambered halfway down, still watching what was going on beyond the lake.

  ‘It’s a holding action for the moment,’ Toil reported from above their heads. ‘Reckon the Lord-Exalted’s got a plan and the Sons don’t mean to rush on in. Sit yourselves down until Kas gives the word.’

  The Cards were happy enough to do that. The scent of tobacco was soon drifting over them while Anatin made sure he didn’t miss the hip flasks surreptitiously emerging. The valley beyond their little stretch of woods popped and cracked with distant bursts of gunfire. None of it was overly significant – nothing beyond a few volleys, a short skirmish. Kas was relieved from watch duty by first Suth then Layir as the time passed. Only twice did the large boom of mage-spheres roll across the landscape but it was another hour before Layir shouted down.

  ‘Movement!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Near the city,’ came the reply. ‘Seems to be a battle – I can see the flashes even this far away.’

  ‘What about the rest?’

  ‘The Charnelers are advancing – small groups only. Don’t think the Sons are falling for it, but— Yeah, they’re throwing the heavy shit.’

  As if in confirmation came the boom of distant explosions, rumbling like thunder from three miles away. The faint snap of icers distorted the heavy drift of wind through the leaves. This time the sound was more constant. Lynx pulled his pack onto his back with a slight groan. The fighting had started in earnest and soon they would be moving out. There was half a mile of open ground to cross before they reached the archway. This wouldn’t be some gentle amble.

  ‘What’s the order?’ Payl, Anatin’s second in command, asked. ‘Double-time or every bastard for themselves?’

  ‘How about an orderly march?’ Toil said. She glanced back at the forest behind them. ‘We pulled a half-dozen uniforms from the tower stores. Not enough for the whole company, but enough for a front rank.’

  Anatin cackled. ‘The old washer-women routine, eh? Never gets old.’

  ‘Never bloody works either,’ Payl objected.

  ‘Course it does! Any sentries just see half of those who went into the forest come back out after a gunfight. We don’t need to pass muster up close. We’re not sneaking out of prison, just buying time to get in burner range. After that, all bets are off.’

  ‘The Sons are turning,’ Layir interrupted from the top of the tree. ‘Broken formation and, yeah, must be the Charnelers have sent a force up the other flank too. Reckon the Sons mean to cut them off and the skirmish parties across the lake are trying to slow them up.’

  ‘Now’s the time,’ Toil decided. ‘Those of you carrying bits of Charneler uniform in your packs – pull ’em out. We’ll head for the arch as neat and soldier-like as we can.’

  Anatin nodded. ‘You heard the woman, get to it. Time we earned the triple pay she’s giving us.’

  ‘I never said anything about—’ Toil stopped. ‘Oh fine, triple it is. Fucking mercenaries …’

  Deern grinned. ‘That don’t get you a discount,’ he said, nudging her with an elbow, ‘not unless you brought enough for the whole class.’

  ‘Get burned, Deern.’

  ‘Triple pay it is then! I can live with that.’

  ‘Let’s hope we do.’

  The Cards changed quickly and in a few minutes Anatin led them out of the treeline. Deern, Varain, Payl and Llaith walked alongside him at the fore. They moved as quickly as seemed sensible. Any company that had been chewed in half by the enemy wasn’t going to hang around, but running might attract attention. Lynx stole looks off to their right when he could. A few troops of Charneler cavalry roved around the higher ground beyond the lake between shifting companies of infantry.

  None seemed at all interested in what the Cards were up to – or rather, none of them could afford the time. The Sons of the Wind held a long rise and the road to the city. Their handful of artillery pieces were on carts in the very centre of the valley, protected by a
box formation of infantry. Flashes and the distant bang of grenades showed the fighting on the far side was still going on, but it was too far to make anything out.

  Lynx guessed that soon General Erazil would make her move. She had no way of knowing what mischief the Lord-Exalted might have up his sleeve, but there wouldn’t be time for too much subtlety. If there was a big push up the eastern flank of the valley, that was his roll of the dice. Only a fool would assume it was a ruse unless she was badly outnumbered. At that point none of her army was making it out of the valley alive anyway.

  As grey clouds started to mass above, the Cards closed on the archway, relieved to be walking on close-cropped grazing fields. For the first four hundred yards it didn’t seem as though anyone even noticed. When figures did emerge from the archway they turned around almost immediately to report back. The Cards upped their pace and it was another hundred yards before more faces appeared. At that distance Lynx couldn’t make out any detail but he imagined one was an officer come to see for themself.

  ‘Keep going,’ Anatin said in a conversational tone. ‘Don’t give ’em a reason to worry.’

  ‘And when they do start worrying?’ Laith asked.

  ‘We do nothing until the shooting starts. Ignore what won’t kill you.’

  ‘Like Sitain?’

  Tense laughter ran through the company.

  ‘Even when they start shooting, we only fire back if we’ve a chance of hitting ’em,’ Anatin continued. ‘If we can’t hit them, they’ve got sod-all chance of hitting us.’

  ‘I could hit you from here,’ Sitain said from the rear of the column.

  ‘Adorable you reckon so,’ Anatin called back, ‘but we all know it ain’t true.’

  The small group at the archway idly watched them for another hundred yards. Still well out of burner range, Lynx felt the tension fill his shoulders as he fought the urge to hunch up as he walked. Marching across open ground was a death sentence in most battles, but there was nothing more to do.

  ‘Someone’s taking an interest,’ Kas reported from the column’s right flank. ‘Battalion o’ Charnelers over there seem to be coming this way.’

  ‘How far?’ Anatin asked – well used to relying on her eyes over his own.

  ‘Not close enough to catch us, but it might tip the rest off.’

  As predicted, there was movement up at the gate, figures ducking in and out of view for a while until a knot of uniforms emerged in some semblance of order.

  ‘Get ready,’ Anatin called. ‘Sun – you’ll break left and take up shooting positions. Tempest go right and do the same thirty yards on. The rest o’ you, double-time forward as best you can.’

  They were a hundred yards away when someone decided they weren’t true Knights-Charnel. A single warning shot was ignored as it flashed overhead. Lynx knew the next order wouldn’t be long in coming. Anatin gave them just a few seconds more then split his suit away from the group. They stopped just clear of the rest and levelled their guns. A stuttered volley of icers caused the soldiers to duck and scramble for cover – as though they’d not expected to be shot at in response.

  ‘Tempest!’ Suth ordered, running forward to find a firing position.

  Lynx scrambled along behind her then dropped to one knee. They had their guns level just as the Charnelers popped back around the corner again, bravery reasserted. They fired together while shouts came from the other groups behind. Two Charnelers fell, the rest were put off and their return fire went high.

  ‘Ready to fire!’ Suth said once they’d reloaded. She had one eye on Anatin’s group, still running past the three suits in the centre. ‘Fire!’

  This time their volley sent the Charnelers scrambling and Anatin didn’t bother stopping. His suit carried on right up to the archway, holding there ready to shoot the first Charnelers who emerged.

  Once the company was reassembled, just out of view of anyone around the corner, Sitain pushed her way forward and sent a pulse of night magic through the open gap. This done, Suth strode boldly forward, pistols drawn, and Lynx was close behind her.

  A handful of Knights-Charnel lay on the ground, one wounded by an earlier shot and all of them unconscious from Sitain’s surprise. Beyond the archway was a strange sort of camp with tents and mess areas spread across a large open space that reminded Lynx slightly of the first rift they’d reached in Shadows Deep. The upper levels here were overgrown and barely recognisable as part of the city-ruin, but the proportions were too big – the space too unlikely to be natural.

  Daylight came in from the left, above a human-mage-built barracks or guardhouse. In the centre of the open ground was a strange square hole where two soldiers stood in uniforms he didn’t recognise.

  ‘Take no chances,’ Anatin called as he fired at one of those with his mage-pistol. The pair ducked down at the shot but Varain sent a sparker their way a moment later and the spray of lightning enveloped both.

  That was the cue for the real gunfire. The Cards spread out as they entered the strange space – Suth firing up at a shelf of stone that overlooked it from the right.

  ‘No chances,’ Estal repeated. The company seer pulled a spark-grenade from her bag, primed it and tossed that up onto the shelf. It vanished from view then exploded amid screams before setting off some ammunition in the next second. For a few moments all Lynx could hear was detonations, fire and stone-cracking earthers erupting from the unseen platform.

  Reft led his suit to the barracks house, holding his mage-gun like a pistol with a massive hatchet in the other hand. Firing into the doorway he was rewarded both by a yell and a gunshot that tore through his upper arm. The big man ignored it and waded in, hatchet raised. His suit followed on his heels and the screams were brief.

  The rest of the Cards moved to check the rest as quickly as they could. Lynx pulled down tents to discover most were empty. What few people they found were unarmed civilians and the Cards simply ignored them, not wanting to massacre people who posed no threat.

  ‘Mistress Toil!’ Anatin called, a savage look of glee on his face. ‘Looks like I owe you a beer!’ He pointed at the centre ground where Lynx could now see a wide stairway leading underground.

  ‘Would a grenade do?’ Deern shouted as though he was the one Anatin was talking to. He emerged from the barracks house with a sturdy wooden box that bore familiar markings.

  ‘Bring ’em,’ Anatin ordered, advancing on the stair. ‘Better’n leaving grenades behind us, even if this lot are more likely to blow ’emselves up.’

  Lynx joined Toil at the top of the stair. There were torches burning at the foot but no sign of people.

  ‘Might as well drop a sparker down there,’ Toil commented. ‘Flush out anyone waiting for us.’

  Estal was quick to comply, tossing the grenade with a practised flick of the wrist. It skipped off the lowest step and bounced again before the pin caught something and cracked the glass core. Lynx winced at the roar and flash, but there were no sounds of pain or terror from down below. Without wanting to wait any longer Toil activated the cylindrical Duegar lantern that hung from her belt and started down the steps.

  Lynx shared a quick look with Safir and the man shrugged. ‘Least we can see better down there,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, great,’ Lynx replied. Together they headed on down after Toil, the remaining Cards close behind them.

  Sotorian Bade lay in a tangle of cloth. His ears were still ringing from the bloody crackler some arsehole had thrown his way and the resulting explosions. His elbow screamed where he’d slammed it on the ground as he hurled himself away from the grenade. Quite a lot of him hurt and that wasn’t helped when the ham-sized fist of Sergeant Ntir grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.

  ‘The deepest black will take them,’ Ntir said in a hollow voice.

  Fortunately they hadn’t been close to the explosion. The cries of the dying belonged to new troops who’d been given the most exposed ground, Bade and his handpicked crew had claimed the sheltered part under a
n overhang.

  All around them his crew were slowly picking themselves up, about twenty in all. Mostly dragoons with a few mages thrown in, although many didn’t even bother to wear their uniforms any more. Once Knights-Charnel, they had found a new calling and even when the call to arms had gone up, they had remained. Their dreams were filled with a voice in the dark and their days occupied in its service.

  ‘Maybe not,’ Bade said slowly. He blinked and winced at the ache in his head. It was hard to concentrate on much these days. The constant struggle of the lower halls occupied all his time, all his thoughts and energy too.

  ‘How many have we lost down there?’ Ntir asked. ‘How many hard lessons have we learned? They’re dead soon enough. The dark does not love them.’

  Bade scowled as something at the back of his mind struggled to fight its way through to the fore.

  ‘The dark,’ he said. ‘It loves who it loves.’

  ‘These Sons of the Wind,’ she replied, only half listening. ‘The Lord-Exalted doesn’t even realise we could let them walk in unopposed. They would be sacrificed to our cause.’

  ‘Our cause.’ Suddenly he straightened up and grabbed Ntir. ‘Beloved by the dark!’

  Ntir just stared at him, uncomprehending. That only deepened when Bade started to laugh, great heaves that once started took him over entirely. Only a small voice was left at the back of his head to wonder if now, at last, he was truly insane or seeing clearer than ever.

  ‘Our black mistress of the deepest black – Mistress!’ Bade paused and now, finally, the words echoed through his mind. A voice he didn’t know, rising up from the Dawn Stair.

  Mistress Toil.

  ‘Oh, now the end has come,’ Bade whispered, to himself as much as Ntir. ‘The princess of dark has come.’

  ‘Princess?’ Ntir echoed, but Bade ignored her.

  ‘It’s time,’ he said. Heading for the steps that led to the ground. ‘Before the Sons break through, we need to get to the sanctuary.’