The Last March: A Grimdark Epic Military Fantasy Novel (The Silent Champions Book 6)

by Andy Peloquin

  Yet he couldn’t help feeling a hint of eager anticipation as he followed Thog up the rocky trail. If the Secret Keeper’s really found what we came here for, that could change everything!

  How many lives would be saved? How many Legionnaires could avoid gruesome deaths at the hands of the Eirdkilrs if Arch-Guardian Dayn truly had found what he’d dragged them across Fehl for? A discovery of this magnitude could drastically affect the course of the Eirdkilr War.

  Koltun’s excitement mounted with every beat of his horse’s hooves, as did the ache in his lower back and legs. His short stature made riding uncomfortable at best, and painful on the truly bad days. Even with the specially modified saddle and shortened stirrups, the jolting gait jarred him to the bone and sent twinges racing up and down his spine. But if it meant getting away from Captain Hadrick and this frozen hell of a fortress on the wrong side of the Sawtooth Mountains, he’d endure the pain.

  He couldn’t help shooting an irritated glare at Thog, riding a few paces ahead of him. Despite the Praamian’s hulking breadth, the man sat his saddle as if born to it. None of the Screaming Howlers could match his horsemanship skills—save perhaps Caela, but she could do most things better than the men with whom she rode. The hulking Thog seemed not to notice the jolting, bumping gait of the horses as they climbed the broad, rocky Cliffpass.

  They rode for the better part of half an hour, covering nearly a mile and a half up the stony trail before Thog turned off the main track. The broad Praamian led them down a narrow trail barely wide enough for his huge shoulders, yet the ground bore ruts left by countless carts and wagons.

  Less than a hundred yards from the main path, the smaller trail ended at the dark mouth of a tunnel: the entrance to the mine where Dayn had spent the last three weeks chipping away at the stone walls in search of the impossible.

  Thog dropped from his saddle with surprising agility for someone so bulky, and set about hitching his horse to one of the wooden posts driven deep into the stone. He said nothing as Koltun struggled to climb down from his saddle, nor did he offer to help. He simply stood, waiting patiently. The Screaming Howlers had long ago accepted Koltun’s size—and the occasional limitations that came with it. They hadn’t yet gotten to the point where they could jest about it the way he did, but Koltun no longer felt the burning embarrassment when his shorter limbs slowed his pace or made it difficult to keep up with his comrades.

  Koltun gave silent thanks to the Screaming Howlers’ armorer, an Eastfallian artisan by the name of Polus, for the modified saddle. The seat came with leather straps to lock his shorter legs in place around the horse’s ribs, and attached to the left stirrup were two more rungs—like steps of a ladder that allowed him to dismount and climb into his saddle with ease.

  Without a word, Thog took the reins of his horse and set about hitching the beast to a post.

  Koltun nodded. “Thanks.” Not waiting for the Praamian, he set off down the mine tunnel in search of Dayn. Flickering torches hung in regular intervals along the smooth stone walls, providing just enough light for him to pick his way down the gently declining slope. He strode toward the nearest intersection and turned down the right-hand passage without hesitation. Once inside the mine, he had no need for a guide; the clamor of picks, shovels, hammers, and shouted orders led the way.

  Bootsteps echoed behind him as Thog caught up, then fell in place just a step behind and to Koltun’s right. The big man’s hulking frame cast long, broad shadows up the mine tunnel as the two of them hurried toward the chorus of laborers working the mine.

  They found Arch-Guardian Dayn in the largest of the galleries, directing the miners in their labor. The Secret Keeper might not have been able to talk—like all of his order, he’d sacrificed his tongue to guard the Mistress’ secrets—but the animated expression on his face and the excited gesticulation of his hands spoke volumes. The bald, overly tall and thin priest was a nonstop flurry of motion as he signaled for the miners to work on one section of the mine.

  “I hear we’ve got good news, Caela,” Koltun called to the figure standing behind the whirlwind of brown robes and hand gestures that was Arch-Guardian Dayn. “Tell me Thog didn’t make me ride all this way for nothing. Again!”

  Caela shot a glance over her shoulder. “No, it’s real this time, Kolt. He’s found it.”

  A smile broadened her face—the smile that had captured the attention of far too many men. Men much younger and more given to flights of fancy than Koltun, men like Lieutenant Vorris. Koltun had seen countless Legionnaires, regulars, and civilians fall over themselves in an attempt to win one of those smiles. They were rare and precious, guarded to share only with those she trusted. Her comrades of the Screaming Howlers chief among them. The rest of the world received only her perpetual scowl.

  Yet even scowling, Caela was beautiful. Strong, first and foremost, as befitted an elite soldier worthy of joining the Screaming Howlers, but no less beautiful for that strength. Koltun had never had a daughter of his own, but if he had, he’d have been proud for her to turn out like Caela.

  “You sure?” Koltun asked. “Last time he thought he found it, we spent a week coughing up ghoulstone dust.”

  Caela shrugged. “Just look at him, and tell me you still doubt.”

  One glance at Dayn’s excited, almost frantic movements and animated expression was enough for Koltun.

  “Good.” He found himself breathing an inward sigh of relief. “Does that mean we can get the bloody hell out of here sooner rather than later?” His right hand rubbed at his left forearm; the old wound hadn’t healed properly, and cold made the bone-deep ache worse.

  “Let’s hope so,” Thog rumbled. “I’ve had too many cold, lonely nights already.”

  “What, all the horses shunned your advances?” A teasing grin split Caela’s sharp-cheeked face. “Move on to the camp dogs, and if that doesn’t work, maybe you’ll have to find one of those long-haired cows roaming the Wastelands.”

  “Yaks, they’re called.” Thog scowled. “And don’t think I haven’t thought about it.” He gave a theatrical shiver. “Nights as chilly as they are, their furry coats would keep a man damned warm.” His expression grew sly. “Then again, Corporal Unus has been shooting a few glances my way. He’s got about as much hair, and his wife’s nearly as big.”

  “And about as ugly.” Koltun rolled his eyes. “Keeper’s teeth, Thog, is there anyone you won’t sleep with?” The man had proven himself accepting of any who sought to share his bedroll, men and women alike. Discerning was not a word anyone would use to describe Thog.

  The big Praamian shrugged. “I’ll let you know if I run into one.” He had never been secretive of or embarrassed by his choices; they were just part of what made him who he was, just as his skill with a crossbow or his impossibly broad shoulders.

  Chuckling, Koltun turned his attention back to the excited Secret Keeper. “Dayn!” He had to shout over the clanking of pick axes, hammers, and shovels on the stone. When the Arch-Guardian failed to hear him, he tried again, louder. “DAYN!”

  That caught the Secret Keeper’s attention. Arch-Guardian Dayn glanced in Koltun’s direction, smiled in recognition, and hurried over. His grin grew wider with every step until it seemed his face would split in half and the bald top of his head would fall off.

  “You find it?” Koltun asked.

  Dayn nodded emphatically. Reaching into his pouch, he drew out a small porcelain tablet and the strange black alchemical writing stick he always carried. The Secret Keeper scribbled a few words on the tablet and held it up to Koltun. “Flarequartz, I’m sure of it!”

  Koltun cocked an eyebrow. “As sure as you were last time?”

  The Secret Keeper’s smile cracked, the mirth freezing in his eyes. He rubbed at the tablet, erasing the words written there with his black-stained brown sleeve, and wrote again. “If you need me to test it, I could always set a chunk on fire and shove it up your—”

  Koltun clucked his tongue in reproach. “And he
re I thought you priests were supposed to be pious!”

  Dayn’s smile returned and he gave a little shrug. After a few seconds of writing, he held up his tablet, wry humor sparkling in his eyes. “The Mistress demands that we protect her secrets, but her scriptures say nothing about putting up with smart-mouthed soldiers.”

  Koltun snorted. “Smart-mouthed soldiers who’ve been watching your back as you’ve dragged us around southern Fehl for the last two months.” He shot a glance at Caela and Thog. “The ingrate!”

  The two Screaming Howlers smiled—despite his inability to speak, Dayn’s sharp wit was more than welcome among the soldiers. They’d expected the sort of man accustomed to books and the stuffy confines of the Temple of Whispers, but the Arch-Guardian had proven more than capable of holding his own among fighting men, both in temperament and martial skill.

  “All the same,” Koltun said, turning back to Dayn, “it might be best we confirm it actually is what we came for.”

  Dayn’s brow furrowed, his lips pursing. After a moment, he nodded. “So be it,” he wrote. He held up a finger, the gesture for them to wait, then turned back to the miners. A few seconds of writing conveyed his orders to the mining crew leader.

  “Aye, sir.” The crew leader gave a little bow. “We’ll keep at the vein of stone until we get everything there is. And I’ll have a couple of the lads start chipping away there.” He gestured to the far wall of the mine galley, where a few threads of dark brown stone were visible between the grey minerals natural to the Sawtooth Mountains’ southern edge.

  Arch-Guardian Dayn nodded approval, clapped the crew leader on the back, and turned to hurry back toward Koltun, Caela, and Thog. The Secret Keeper didn’t bother writing, but simply pointed the way back up the mine tunnel and strode past the three Screaming Howlers without pause.

  Koltun and the others followed Dayn up the mine passage, back to the intersection, then down one of the adjoining tunnels. Koltun had to hurry to keep up with the Arch-Guardian’s long-legged stride. His knees and back ached, but he forced himself not to slow. The sooner they got confirmation this was what they’d come to find, the sooner they could be on their way north.

  The passage ended at a gaping hole in the ground where the stone floor had crumbled away, leaving a twenty yard-deep vertical shaft. According to Dayn, this section of the mine had long ago been abandoned after the silver and gold deposits were depleted. That made it the perfect testing ground.

  Next to the shaft sat a younger man—barely more than a teenager, really, with a lanky frame, hatchet face, squinting eyes, and nervous fingers. Bradon looked up at his master’s approach and leapt to his feet, giving Kolt and the Screaming Howlers a friendly nod. Kolt returned the nod and offered a grin; he liked what little he’d seen of the apprentice Secret Keeper in the weeks they’d spent journeying to and working in Highcliff Motte. A bit shy, certainly, and eternally looking to Arch-Guardian Dayn as if trying to anticipate his master’s every order. But all in all, a good young man, clever in his own quiet, bookish way.

  Arch-Guardian Dayn flashed a few hand gestures to Bradon, who nodded vigorously and dug into the packs he’d been guarding as he sat reading.

  “Stand back,” Dayn instructed Koltun and his companions through his tablet.

  Koltun stopped a few paces from the hole. Dayn waved him back farther, and Koltun retreated until he stood ten full yards away from the Secret Keeper. He exchanged curious glances with Caela and Thog. Was the flarequartz truly that powerful?

  Dayn handed the chunk of dark brown stone he’d carried to Bradon. The young apprentice knelt and, drawing out a chisel, set to work carefully chipping off a handful of shards. Gathering up the stone, he poured them into a small pile and covered them with a cloth. He drew out a small hammer and tapped on the cloth-covered shards, pounding them into smaller bits and pieces. These he collected in the cloth and added in a small stream of black powder from a clay jar he carried. Wrapping the cloth into a tight ball, he held it out to his master.

  Dayn took the bundle and strode toward the mine shaft. Cautiously, he drew out an alchemical firestriker. Tension coiled in his shoulders and arms as he lit it and slowly touched the flame to the cloth. The instant the fire caught, he dropped the bundle into the shaft and leapt back.

  Koltun’s gut tightened, yet nothing could prepare him for the deafening BOOM that echoed up from the darkness of the yawning pit. A gout of flame burst upward, bringing heat, blinding light, and rock dust that sprayed across the back of the retreating Secret Keeper. The explosive force washed over Koltun, punching into his breastplate with surprising force. The force rocked the ground beneath his feet so violently he nearly stumbled. The reverberations filled his ears with a ringing so loud he could barely hear himself shout. “Keeper’s teeth!”

  Caela and Thog seemed equally stunned. The boulder-sized Praamian staggered backward, his back striking the wall. Caela wobbled but caught herself, her eyes wide in surprise.

  Arch-Guardian Dayn, however, glowed, his face a massive beaming smile. A triumphant laugh burst from his throat and he raised a dust-covered fist into the air. Bradon appeared equally delighted, his dark eyes gleaming behind their wire spectacles.

  After a moment, Dayn drew out his tablet and scribbled furiously. Excitement gleamed in every line of his face. “And that,” the words read, “is why we’ve come all the way across the world!”

  Chapter Three

  Koltun’s eyes darted to the mine shaft. Though the last of the thunderous explosion had died away, bright spots still danced in his vision and his ears still rang. Yet it was the thought of what that flarequartz could do that set his mind whirling.

  For thirty-four years, Koltun had watched good soldiers die. Killed by Eirdkilr weapons, crushed beneath the charge of the hulking giants, torn apart in the frenzy of battle. The Eirdkilr War had taken its toll on the Legion companies in which he’d served. He’d lost friends, comrades, and allies. Good men and women, fighting to defend the Princelands against the barbarian hordes invading Fehl. He’d stood beside soldiers too hungry, cold, and exhausted to pick themselves up from the mud and blood after a battle. Countless had succumbed to minor wounds left untreated by Menders too deluged with more serious casualties to pay attention.

  But this one discovery could change the face of the war. With such raw, explosive power in what appeared ordinary stones, the Legion had a chance to drive the Eirdkilrs from Fehl. Armed with weapons that contained the devastating power he’d witnessed mere moments earlier, the Legion could win any battle, defeat any enemy. The iron, steel, and leather armor of the savage barbarians stood no chance against such terrible might. A force of hundreds could defeat thousands of Eirdkilrs without ever bloodying their weapons.

  A faint hope dawned within his mind. It could put an end to the war! He didn’t dare speak the words aloud for fear it would not come true. Yet he couldn’t deny the truth staring him in the face: Arch-Guardian Dayn’s discovery of flarequartz here, so close to the Legion-held Highcliff Motte, could change everything.

  “We need to get news back to your Temple of Whispers!” The words burst from Koltun’s mouth.

  Dayn inclined his head, then scribbled furiously on his tablet. “Yes, but not yet.”

  The faint ember of hope froze in Koltun’s chest at the words. If the Secret Keeper had such a potent discovery, why wouldn’t he—

  “Not until we’ve collected a larger sample,” Dayn’s next message read.

  Koltun’s brow furrowed. “How much larger?”

  The Arch-Guardian’s expression drooped into a pensive frown. After a moment, he wrote another message. “At least two filled wine barrels. Enough for proper experiments back in Icespire.”

  Koltun’s gut twisted. “And how long will it take you to collect that much?” He dreaded hearing the answer.

  Dayn gave a little shake of his head. “A day, maybe two,” his response read. “It is laborious work to separate the flarequartz from the surrounding rock.”
>
  A day or two? Koltun was torn between relief and frustration. The sooner they got out of Highcliff Motte, the better. Between the biting cold, wet, and poor living conditions, he wanted nothing more than to be back on the warm northern side of the Sawtooth Mountains. His Voramian blood wasn’t suited for the chill drifting off the icy Wastelands at the bottom of the Cliffpass.

  But if two days gave Arch-Guardian Dayn time to collect as much off the potent mineral as he needed for his alchemical experiments, Koltun could wait that long. Fiery hell, he’d wait a week if it gave the Legionnaires fighting for the Princelands a weapon as powerful as he’d just witnessed.

  “So be it.” He nodded. “But hurry your work up, aye? To hear Lieutenant Vorris talk, there’s a nasty storm heading our way. Last thing we want is to be caught in the Cliffpass when the wind gets howling and the snow starts blowing.” The Lieutenant hadn’t been clear on when the storm would hit—or how he’d known it would—but Koltun wanted to be on the other side of the mountains when it did.

  Dayn nodded and, without another written word, strode back up the tunnel. Bradon gave Koltun and the others a friendly smile and hurried after his master. The priests made for the intersection and disappeared down the passage that led to the mine gallery where the flarequartz had been discovered.

  Koltun turned to Thog and Caela. “Which of you’s babysitting him until Glad wakes up?”

  “Not it!” Caela called a split second before Thog. The big Praamian rumbled irritation deep in his throat, a sound like crashing boulders.

  “Hey,” Caela said, turning her palms upward, “you got to ride out and fetch Koltun. Least you can do is give me a break from these stuffy mines.”

  Thog muttered under his breath, but he had lost fair and square.

  “Don’t worry, Thog.” Koltun gave the big Praamian a too-sweet grin and a pat on his massive forearm. “I’ll send Glad up as soon as he’s done napping.”