“I apologise, my lady. We are not used to travelling with people who feel the elements. We require little heat and even then, it seems only for contentment, rather than it being a necessity.” I paused. “I will do my best to ensure that I give greater consideration to your needs. I appreciate this is all new to you.”
She shivered and huddled closer into her garments, leaving me with feelings of guilt over my lack of care.
“Lieutenant Craddock?” I asked.
“Captain?”
“I estimate ten more days until we reach Treads.”
“That’s correct, Captain.”
“My memory fails me. Do you know of any towns or villages on the way, that we might pass close by?”
“Of villages, I am uncertain, but there is one fair-sized town. Turpid, if I remember it correctly. I reckon we’ll be past the moors in another two days and then it’ll be another two days till we reach Turpid. It’s been a long time, though, so don’t take me at my word.”
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant Craddock, though I can’t recall the last time you got it wrong.” He grinned back at me.
We journeyed onwards. Each night that we made camp, the girl walked freely amongst the men. She didn’t need an escort. Even without any further displays of her power, they were in awe of her. The radiance we’d felt when we first pledged ourselves to her still glowed like a beacon. Occasionally I worried that if it was so clear to us, that it might bring Warmont’s men to her as well. I resolved to speak to Ploster about it.
“Captain?” he asked me later that same evening.
“It is about our lady, Jon. I am worried. Do Warmont’s men sense her as clearly as we do? We have joined with her for only a week, yet I can tell she is here even when I can no longer see her. I know she is in our camp and I will know if she leaves, I think.”
“Don’t be fooled, Tyrus,” he told me. “She is only young, but controls her power with an adroitness which belies her age. We can sense her because she allows us to do so, nothing more. She knows that we need to feel the closeness as we bond with her. Warmont’s forces will not find her quite so easily.”
I was reassured to a degree. “They will be searching ever harder for her, now that Treads and Farthest have declared themselves free.”
“That they will, but their time is limited by the need to crush those towns. Warmont does not have the men to flood the countryside at the same time as he lays siege to a major town. Not if he expects an easy win.”
“The Duke must be desperate,” I said, chuckling without humour. “When it becomes widely-known that the Saviour has declared herself, he’ll have another dozen such towns in rebellion, with a further dozen watching carefully to see how events unfold.”
“And not long after those dozen towns declare themselves for the Saviour, the Emperor will start to gather his own forces. He will not allow Warmont to fail.”
“We are a long way from Hardened. The Emperor may find it more difficult than he expects to win a campaign so far from his capital. Especially if he only sends men.”
“You know he won’t only send men, Tyrus. His men aren’t cruel enough for his liking, as much as he might train them to be so. The Emperor can’t risk letting the Saviour establish herself, even in these distant lands.”
I knew Ploster to be speaking truly – it didn’t take a prophet’s grasp of the world to guess at the conversations taking place in Warmont’s keep, and to realise the interest the Emperor would have in these events.
“We’ve cast our lot now, Jon, whatever comes of it. I’ve never claimed I can read the future, but I am certain I will not have any regrets over what we have done.”
“We have lived a very long time, have we not.” He didn’t quite say it as a question.
“I sometimes think it’s been too long. Perhaps the Saviour will bring peace to our souls,” I said.
“It may be that she is our last chance.”
The following morning, we continued our march. In the distance to the north we could see high mountain peaks and spires, partially obscured by mists. Every so often, the mists would inexplicably clear, allowing us to see the snows covering this vast range.
“Those are the mountains I was unable to see beyond,” said the girl from her saddle.
“Lieutenant Craddock, do you know those mountains?” I asked.
“No sir, I don’t know them. We could be more than a week’s march away from them if we chose to head that way.”
“We’ll not be heading there, Lieutenant. Onwards to Treads.”
The following day we left the moors. I say that as if the transition were an immediate one. It was not – rather, the ground underfoot become gradually easier to traverse and the grasses became lusher and greener, rather than the wiry clumps we’d become used to. The rain stayed away and the high spirits of the men continued. Even the wind had ceased its endless blowing, and now arrived in the occasional gust.
After another day and a half, we came across signs of civilisation. A few miles to the south of us there was a pall of smoke gathered over a valley between two rolling hills. The sun glistened across water, causing it to sparkle in the bright light of the early afternoon.
“That’s Turpid,” said Lieutenant Craddock. “It sits either side of the Pollus river. That’s what those reflections are.”
I squinted, though it was more for effect than to focus my eyes. “Is that smoke indicative of trouble?”
“I doubt it, Captain. Turpid has always been an industrious town. There may be a hundred or more places burning wood and coal. They’re sheltered from the winds in their valley, so the smoke lingers long after you’d have hoped it would depart.”
We weren’t desperate, but I thought this a fair opportunity to replenish our supplies. I have said that most of our sustenance tasted flat in our mouths, but meat, bread and cheeses still brought pleasure from the memories they invoked. Though the weather had cleared, I was aware that the girl’s journey would be improved if she had some more suitable clothing. Treads was a few days away yet.
“I’ll take a dozen men and a cart to get supplies,” I said. “We can be there and back in under three hours.” I hoped to be back in time for us to get another hour’s march before daylight faded, but I wasn’t fooling myself. “Craddock, you’re in charge. I’m not expecting trouble, but let’s prepare for the worst.”
“Yes sir,” he replied. “I’ll send out scouts and ensure we’re not surprised.” Craddock and Sinnar were both lieutenants, but it was Craddock who was the senior of the two when push came to shove.
“Lieutenant Sinnar! Find ten men and a cart. We’re paying a visit to Turpid over there.”
“I want to come with you,” said the girl. I guessed she hadn’t seen much in the way of established towns before. I’d hoped to speak with her more than I had managed up until now, but for whatever reason it hadn’t happened. There was a great amount still unspoken that I needed to hear from her and I resolved to ensure that it happened at the earliest opportunity.
“My lady, you can’t come with us,” I replied, noting the set of her lip. “We have not heard that Turpid has declared rebellion, so we must assume that it is still with Warmont. Tales of the Saviour are told in every tavern in every city. It would not bode well for us if someone in the town managed to identify you before you were ready for it.”
I could tell that she considered ignoring my advice, but in the end she simply sighed, a long, drawn out note of reluctant acceptance. “Very well, Captain. I understand what you say. I will stay here with the men.”
Before we set off, I instructed everyone to remove their shields, helmets and livery. I doubted that Turpid was aware of the First Cohort’s mutiny, but it made sense for us to be cautious. A dozen armed men with a wagon would not have been deemed an unusual sight all across the Empire. Though the rule of law was violently enforced, it would be a fool indeed who journeyed without the ability to take steps in their own defence. The Empire was large and the enforcers of
the law could not be everywhere. In Warmont’s lands, they were increasingly hard to find, since most men who would wield a sword in the Duke’s name were either fighting or marching to somewhere in order to fight.
We had avoided roads during our march, crossing over them with haste where they were unavoidable. Now we sought out the closest one, so that we could travel as quickly as possible with our empty wagon. The road we found was a mixture of churned clay and rough cobbles. It’s pointless to build a road if you don’t maintain it. Unless it’s perfectly laid, a well-travelled road will hardly last more than two or three seasons before it falls into disrepair. While not exactly a quagmire, the road that took us towards Turpid was little quicker than travelling over the wild grass. One of the men trod ankle deep into a slippery, water-filled rut and swore loudly at the state of his boot. I smiled to myself that he still cared about the appearance of his footwear.
Anyone who has travelled on foot for much of their life will be aware that the eyes can play tricks on the mind, even when you are aware of the possibilities that it can happen. The eyes pick up cues from landmarks and terrain and the brain interprets this information and suggests how far distant something is from the viewer. Unfortunately, many things can lead you to misread how far away something is, such as the amount of light, the size of objects on the land, or even a slight haze in the air. So it was here, and in the end it took us almost an hour and a half until we reached the outskirts of Turpid.
The town was bigger than Nightingale, yet not so huge that its occupants had any illusions that it might one day become a city. The smoke we had seen from afar hung low, but up close it was not as darkly clinging as I had imagined it would be. Turpid had no walls – most towns did not – and no soldiers or guardsmen stood to observe who came and went. It bore all the signs of being a normal small town at peace. Then it occurred to me – most of our experience in the First Cohort had been with towns and cities in conflict, or at least towns and cities near to where conflict was acted out. There were still vast swathes of the Duke’s lands where the population were either content with their lot, or had no intention of speaking out against Warmont’s rule. Turpid was one of these places and consequently the Duke had left it alone, though I was sure his tax collectors would pay frequent visits.
We entered the town, finding the road in a much better state of repair once we’d come into the outskirts. It was mostly rough, grey stone dwellings here. The people were poorly-dressed and their activities were tired, rather than full of the teeming bustle we’d found in other places about the Duke’s lands. No one seemed alarmed at our presence, though many hollow eyes watched our progress. We in the First Cohort were not inconspicuous and I was sure that many knew us by our tattoos, in spite of our travelling without armour or livery. If they did, they did not give an indication that we were known traitors.
Towards the centre of the town, the signs of modest wealth were more evident. The people were dressed in better-quality clothing and strode with purpose towards their destinations. There were shops and taverns, as well as signs of industry. The houses here were taller and more sturdily constructed, though I would not have called them grand as such. The town was not so large that it took us long to find what we required.
“Lieutenant Sinnar, please take the wagon to that merchant store over there and obtain provisions for the men. I’m going to find items to improve our lady’s comfort. Remain at the merchant until I return.”
“Yes sir,” he replied, holding back the salute. We didn’t want to bring any more attention to ourselves than we needed to.
I watched for a minute as the cart rattled off down the street, drawn by its two obedient horses. Then, I made my way to the clothier we had passed only a few minutes earlier. The shop keeper within proved to be a keen haggler and I was happy to play him at his game. I had come from a part of the world where it could often take five minutes to settle on the price of a loaf of bread and while I didn’t participate in the game regularly anymore, I expected to be finished my business more quickly than Sinnar, so was not in a rush to conclude. That changed immediately when the door to the shop burst open and Knacker came inside.
“Sir,” he said. “Bonecruncher is here.”
Nine
Bonecruncher. Warmont’s Fifth and as big and evil a bastard as you’d ever see. The First Cohort knew Bonecruncher well. He’d been in charge of us in a shitty, dirty fight over in Graster, way back when Duke Warmont had been establishing himself as the Emperor’s designated ruler of these lands. When we were still more human than not.
Bonecruncher’s only goal was to win, whatever the cost. He knew nothing about tactical withdrawals to limit casualties, and he knew nothing at all about retreat in order to regroup and fight another day. The only thing he saw, was pieces to move around a battlefield to bring him glory. No soldier in Warmont’s armies wanted to serve under Bonecruncher, though the fear of him had been enough to snatch victory from defeat on many occasions. There was nobody who wanted to survive a lost battle and then explain to Bonecruncher why they had been on the losing side. I was not so easily cowed and though we had lost almost a hundred of our number to his suicidal assault on the walls of Graster I had not been afraid to pull back the First Cohort, nor to look Bonecruncher in the eye when he asked me why. We had history between us.
Knacker led me along an unfamiliar side street, stopping to point at one of the less salubrious taverns that dotted this area. I saw my men languishing in doorways, or loitering in what they thought was an inconspicuous manner in groups of two and three. Even an untrained eye would have known them to be up to no good – they were soldiers, and only a few of them had been trained in the arts of deception. I joined Sinnar at the corner of an alleyway, which had a view onto the tavern’s doorway.
“I thought it would be good for morale if we brought back a few barrels of ale,” said Sinnar, heading off my question about what they’d been doing in a tavern. I was not unhappy and wondered why I hadn’t thought of it myself. “I sent Roots in to do the talking. Fortunately for us, Bonecruncher wasn’t looking at the door.” Bonecruncher would have known a man from the First Cohort at once. “What are we going to do, sir?”
Inwardly I cursed that I’d only asked for a handful of men to come with me, rather than fifty. Chunky and Sinnar were with us, but I wasn’t full of confidence. I’d liked to have sent someone back to our camp, but couldn’t risk dropping our numbers even by one.
“Fuck it, let’s take the bastard,” I said. Bonecruncher was a prize worth the chance.
Sinnar smiled back at me, his eyes gleaming dangerously. There was no one in the First Cohort who would not have relished the chance to stick a blade into Bonecruncher. It looked like we were to be the lucky ones.
Sinnar leaned out into the street and signalled to the men. We had a very simple sign language that we used to communicate, when silence was imperative. The gestures were few and their meaning straightforward. Sinnar made the sign for ‘wait’ and then drew the edge of his hand across his throat. The men nodded in response or lifted a single thumb in acknowledgement. By now, the townsfolk who had been milling aimlessly in the street had started to realise that trouble might be brewing. The more perceptive ones hurried along, avoiding eye contact. I hoped that Bonecruncher would finish his business soon – I didn’t want a civic-minded resident summoning squads of armed guards into the neighbourhood. That would definitely have made our lives harder.
We waited ten minutes, then twenty. I saw a few people go into the tavern, but none of them stopped for a drink when they saw what was inside. I bet myself that the bar keep was praying for this day to be over. It wasn’t going to get any better for him. After thirty minutes, I decided that we’d waited too long for Bonecruncher to come to us.
“We have to go in, Lieutenant Sinnar. We can’t risk him staying there all day.”
Sinnar was a good soldier and didn’t need telling twice. Using his fingers, he pointed at men and instructed them as to wh
ich order they should enter the tavern, naturally placing himself in the lead, with Chunky at his side. I was in the middle – I itched for the fight and knew that I was being stupid to risk myself, but I could not help it. The men knew I never asked them to do something that I would not do as well.
Once we were inside, there’d be no stand-off as we faced each other. There would be no words or threats, or mock surprise - there would only be violence. We each drew our weapons – swords and daggers. Sinnar strolled up towards the tavern’s entrance as coolly as if he were thinking of little more than a cold ale. He did nothing so dramatic as kick open the door, which would serve only to waste a second or two of our surprise. He used his knuckles to push it aside and stepped through.
The tavern was large and with high ceilings - presumably why Bonecruncher had picked this one. Wooden tables and chairs littered the sawdust-scattered floor. I passed within and filed to the left, as did the man behind me. Others filed to the right, in order that we might encircle Bonecruncher and whittle away at him. I saw him at once, straddling two of the chairs in order that they might support his weight. There was a cup on his table, looking tiny next to his thick, broad hands.
He turned his head as we marched in. When he saw we were but a dozen, he snorted, a contemptuous, dismissive sound. He knew who we were and he knew we no longer worked for Warmont. It was probably of no matter – even if we’d been on the same side, I would have still tried to kill him.
We swept aside the tables and chairs, swinging them sideways into the corners and out of the way. I watched as a man behind the bar ducked away into the rooms at the back, surely already aware that his life and livelihood were at risk.
I had miscalculated slightly and had expected us to be able to walk inside and hew at Bonecruncher without a pause. The tables would have encumbered us more than our opponent, so we had wasted our moments of surprise in the extra preparation.
Soldiers' Redemption (First Cohort Book 1) Page 8