Passing Through Darkness- The Complete Cycle

by Malcolm McKenzie

  The smell hit us next. A mix of smoke from cook fires and forges, the waste of humans and animals, an ad hoc city full of sweaty, unwashed bodies. The stench was nowhere near as foul as a gas pocket on the Flow, but it had a density you could cut with a knife.

  The more talkative soldier with us was named Bren. He spread his arms wide and declared, “Welcome to paradise!”

  We made our way to an open gate. Here at last we were intercepted by a pair of guards wearing studded leather jerkins and slung swords. Each held a spear in a careless grip.

  “Pretty thin pickings,” said one, casting his eye over our small group. “Take ’em on in to Lieutenant Lang for processing.”

  “Nah,” Bren said. “This lot’s already assigned to Captain Almet. Lieutenant Pious’ platoon.”

  “Jesus!” the guard blurted. “Who’d the poor stupid bastards piss off?”

  “Lieutenant Tir hisself.”

  “What, one of ’em suggested he get his face out of his book and actually drag his worthless ass around the camp for a change?”

  “Mind your mouth, son, that’s my commanding officer you’re talking about.”

  At which point both men doubled over in raucous laughter.

  The other guard rolled his eyes. “Pious is off to the left, maybe two hundred yards over and halfway up to the ridge line. Get ’em delivered and bring something to drink on your way back, would you? It’s hot out here.”

  It was hot. Of course, we’d been walking in it, not just standing around. I didn’t point that out. Apparently we were in enough trouble already.

  As I walked by, the second guard exclaimed, “Hey, that one’s Select!”

  Bren stopped and stared at me with wide eyes. “No! My God, you’re right! There was so much dust on him when he got to us I didn’t notice.” He guffawed again.

  “What’s Pious going to do with a Select?” the guard mused. “I’d pay to see that, and no mistake.”

  “Come on, then. Think they’re going to miss you here? Ain’t like the Monolith’s going to be coming in from this side.”

  The man shook his head sadly. “Nah, I’d pay to see it, but not with stripes on my back. You can tell me about it when you bring the cider.”

  “Deal.”

  Luco leaned close and whispered, “Joining the army was one of the dumbest ideas you’ve ever had, Minos.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Lieutenant Pious reminded me of nothing so much as a picture I’d seen of a gorilla. His legs were short, his arms were long, and his chest was massive. Though he was no taller than me, he probably outweighed me by fifty pounds, most of it muscle. He squinted at us through piggy little eyes deeply set beneath a sloping forehead.

  “A bunch of hog farmers and garbage miners,” he snarled. “I can still smell the dung on all of you.”

  His eyes locked on me. They were pale blue, almost a silver gray. “What’s a Select doing here? We’re God-fearing soldiers.”

  Someone snickered behind him. He ignored it. “There’s no place for mercenaries in the army of the righteous.”

  I met his glare. “I’m enlisting like everyone else.”

  He looked me up and down as if inspecting an old side of beef beginning to rot. “Fine. The sword and the knife you’re carrying aren’t standard issue. Turn them in to the quartermaster and draw regular gear.”

  I’d been expecting his hostility after all the comments we’d heard, but the demand still caught me off guard. I could feel the blood heating my face. My gray skin wouldn’t show it, but the Darkness churned in my belly as well. I willed it down.

  “No thank you, sir,” I replied. I tried to keep my voice even.

  “Thought you were enlisting like everyone else, blackeye. Or isn’t regular army gear good enough for a Select?”

  Of course it wasn’t. The troops behind him were armed with wooden spears fitted with roughly forged iron heads that were probably cast in lots of a hundred. Their short swords had probably been horseshoes not long ago.

  “Sir, my companion and I are trained scouts. With all due respect, we’ll be more effective without standard issue equipment.”

  Pious took a long step forward and put his face inches from mine. “How about I just take it from you?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t, sir.”

  The lieutenant was an intimidating man, big, bad-tempered, and brutal. But he was far from the most frightening person I’d met. He wasn’t even in the top five.

  He stepped back, and the Darkness settled. It had been beginning to seep out of my palms.

  “Fine, keep your toys, blackeye.” His unnaturally long arm shot out like a snake and shoved me in the chest. I stumbled back two steps.

  “Now get on to the quartermaster and draw gear. All of you worthless maggots. And you two -” he glared at Talot and Bren - “beat it and don’t come back with a worthless pile of puke like this again.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked away.

  “Minos?”

  “Minos?” Luco repeated.

  My face swung toward him and he backed away.

  “Next time that paw touches me, he’s not getting it back,” I gritted. There was a haze around me that I hoped no one else noticed - I couldn’t pull it in.

  “Come on, Minos, it’s okay,” Luco cajoled.

  I glanced at Cat. She had a wide grin splitting her face. “Not serve, shadow warrior. Leads pack, shadow warrior.”

  “That’s not how it works in the army, Cat,” Luco snapped. “We’re men, not wolves.”

  The paleo blew a raspberry at him, still grinning. “Wolves, people, trolls. No different. Will see, you.”

  “No!” Cat’s opinion of military gear was no higher than her opinion of military hierarchy. “Cat is Cat! Cat is not -” she flailed her arms, searching for an analogy - “cow!”

  The standard uniform was a linen shirt and breeches, heavy leather boots, and a boiled leather breastplate that felt tough as iron and quite possibly heavier. A leather-lined iron cap, a wooden shield, and the low-grade spear and sword I’d seen before completed the load.

  I had taken the armor, the shield, and the miserable spear. I’d told the quartermaster he could keep his pot-metal sword.

  Cat was having none of it.

  “At least take the spear, Cat,” I wheedled. “I’ll show you how to use it.”

  “Oh, yes,” she snapped. “Stand in line, me. Hold spear, me. Horseman comes, in goes spear, up goes Cat, Cat goes for ride. Cat insults rider while she hangs on?”

  I had to laugh at the image of the skinny paleo being carried away after plunging her weapon into a cavalry mount but not having enough weight to slow it down.

  “Fine. Then take this.” I handed her the ancient knife of glassy metal. “You’re not going to stab through armor with a sharpened bone.”

  She snorted. “Not stab through armor, me. Stab around armor, me.”

  But she took the long knife. Pulling the weapon clear of its black sheath, she turned it, admiring the play of light along the blade. She tested the edge with her thumb, then jerked it away and sucked at a drop of blood.

  “Good,” she announced. She thrust the sheath through her rawhide belt, pulled out the bone that had been her only possession, and threw it away.

  “You don’t want to keep it?”

  “Why?” She patted the new blade. “Better.”

  The paleos cultivated a detachment from material things. In that, at least, my exiled apprentice was a model of her people.

  “I wouldn’t mind you teaching me to use this spear,” Luco interjected. “Since we missed the first two weeks of basic training after you were in such a rush to reach this heaven on earth.”

  “Sure. But let’s get back to our platoon first. Pious hates us enough already.”

  We were still the last of the recruits to return.

  Pious’ camp was a rough circle of tents and bedrolls around a fire pit. As we approached, a man with his ha
ir long on the left side of his head and shaved on the right leered at us.

  “Scouts got lost finding their way back?”

  The ear was missing on the shaven side. He’d tattooed a skull on his face, offset forty-five degrees. The skull’s left eye was his right. The skull’s right eye was the hole where his ear should have been. In addition to the unit blazes we had on our armor, his had a sergeant’s studs.

  “We got turned around, but Cat was able to find it by the smell,” I replied.

  He barked a laugh. “The lieutenant’s gonna love that sense of humor. If he doesn’t kill you first. Pretty sure he’ll kill you first.”

  “Everybody dies sometime.” Although in a fight between me and the lieutenant, I wouldn’t be the one to be killed.

  “Ain’t that the truth. You’re a little late for chow, but grab your bowl and have at what’s left of the stew. Then we’ll get you squared away. You got your pick of places to sleep.” He swept the camp with his arm. “As long as you like the ground.”

  Along with the armor and weapons, we had each been issued a bedroll, a tin bowl, a spoon, a leather water skin, and a short, broad-bladed knife. It was all of mediocre quality at best; Luco and I already carried better examples of each piece of gear and had politely refused. Cat had accepted hers with ill grace, but was now the first to dip her bowl in the lukewarm stew. As always, she bolted the food as if it were the first she’d seen in weeks.

  I wasn’t as enthusiastic, but it wasn’t awful. There was a stringy meat that I suspected was an army mule that had reached the end of its service. Still, it made a nice change from hard bread and pemmican.

  “Fall in!”

  Luco and I jumped to our feet. The tattooed sergeant stood behind us with a villainous grin. Cat looked at me quizzically.

  “It means we line up with the other soldiers,” I explained.

  “Why?”

  “Because he told us to.”

  “Leader, him?” Cat made a scoffing sound.

  “Just line up, Cat.”

  “Shadow warrior, you. Cat, me. Not ants, us,” she muttered. But she got in line with us and the other troopers forming up.

  There were about two dozen in the platoon, not counting the nine in our recruit group. The veterans snapped to position with a speed and precision that spoke of practice - and perhaps fear. The rest of us shuffled awkwardly into place.

  The tattooed man and another squat, bulky sergeant paced the length of the formation, prodding recruits into position with the butts of their spears. Then Pious appeared, stalking down the line like a hunting cat. He carried a military pick in his right hand, a massive, iron-headed hammer with a wicked spike projecting from it.

  His veterans tensed to quivering attention, but Pious’ focus wasn’t on them. He headed straight for Cat. She didn’t flinch from his glare.

  The hulking lieutenant turned to me. “Your pet isn’t in uniform, blackeye.”

  “A scout’s not very stealthy in white linen and armor. Sir.” The shirt and breeches were more the color of pine wood, and not much lighter than Cat’s pale skin. But the principle was valid.

  “I’m pretty sure I ordered you all to draw gear,” Pious drawled. “And I’m pretty sure none of my soldiers would think of disobeying me. But maybe…” his eyes locked on mine, “maybe this here is your dog. And we couldn’t expect a dog to wear a uniform, could we?”

  There was snickering in the ranks.

  “Cat, me. Not dog,” the paleo growled.

  “Well. Some kind of pet animal.” Pious shrugged, then his left arm lashed out. Cat was quick enough to roll with the blow, though not avoid it. A shove that had sent me staggering flung her into the air, but she landed lightly and rolled to her feet. Her teeth were bared.

  “Watch your beast, blackeye. It looks vicious. If it bites, I’ll have to put it down.”

  “We’ll be careful. Sir.”

  He stepped in close. “I don’t know why that lazy bastard Tir sent you to me,” he growled. “I don’t know if he thought I could use you. If he did, he’s not just lazy but stupid besides. Or maybe he thought I’d grind you down. That I can do. I can tell you’ve seen fights, boy, but believe me, I’m something completely different.”

  “I don’t doubt it, sir.” For a wonder, I managed to keep the contemptuous sneer off my face.

  We settled into a kind of rhythm. Morning inspection, followed by breakfast - stew. Then calisthenics, formation drills, and combat drills. None of the troops were close to my equal with sword or spear. Pious noticed but made no comment. Then lunch - stew. A rest period, and more drills. Then dinner - stew. Inspection again, and we were dismissed. Most of the troops were in their bedrolls by the time the sun went down.

  The stew declined in quality as the days went by. The mule seemed to have been a high point. I found myself hoping another one would expire.

  Pious’ opinion of me didn’t improve either. He was always ready to send a snarl, a shove, or an insult my way. Luco and Cat suffered by association. He was cruel to all his men, but to us especially.

  At least I was able to spend time teaching Luco the basics of the sword and spear. He turned out to have a natural talent for them, and quickly became as proficient as most of the other soldiers. Even Cat began to practice with the weapons, though she refused to learn to march or be part of a formation.

  “Cat, me,” was her disdainful response whenever I prodded her.

  Pious promoted a new sergeant to supervise the recruits, a big man named Groff. He was, if not friendly, at least not hostile to us. Which seemed only fair - we had, after all, gotten him promoted.

  “What’s the story with Pious?” I asked one night. “He talks about the armies of the righteous sometimes, but I’ve never seen him pray.”

  That thought sent my mind painfully back to Prophetess, who’d prayed every night. “Or was he born with that name?”

  Groff leaned in close. “Nah. He picked up that handle when he was a sergeant. He came up through the ranks, y’know, like you and me.”

  “Natural leader, huh?” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my tone.

  “Big, mean, and tough as hell. Comes back to the name. The Monolith officers, them Paladins? He likes crucifying ’em. Says if they’re such fanatics, he wants to do his bit to bring ’em closer to God.”

  I might have underestimated the lieutenant. “Those Paladins are tough. How many has he killed?”

  “Half a dozen, maybe. Thing is, first thing a Paladin does in a fight, he brings up that big shield they use. So Pious, wham!, he sweeps in with the pick, digs it into the shield, just rips it right out of the fellow’s hand. Then, bam!, hits him with the backswing. Long as his arms are, he’s faster than he looks, and that pick hits like God himself was swinging it.”

  I thought about that, then smiled. “Does he crucify everyone he doesn’t like, or just Paladins?”

  “Everyone else dies the regular way, but they still get wherever they’re going with his mark on ’em. You looked at the point of that pick? It’s shaped like a cross. If he sticks it in your skull, you’ll have your very own personal blessing from the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit while your brains leak out.”

  I winced.

  “I’ve seen you fight, Minos. I know you can handle yourself - better’n me, I don’t doubt. But you keep pissing off Pious, some day he’s gonna lose it, and you’re gonna end up dead. He’s not an officer ’cause he’s a great leader, though he’s not the worst I’ve seen in this army. He got where he is ’cause he’s a one-man wrecking crew, and you don’t want to be in his way. I know they say you used to be with the Darkness Radiant, but I don’t know if even there they had anyone quite like him.”

  Quite like him? Not that I’d met. Would Yoshana or Grigg or even Roshel have been afraid of him? Of course not.

  But maybe I was, now, just a little bit.

  “All right, you worthless sacks of skin!” Pious was bellowing at us louder than usual at morning inspection. �
�Pack your gear and tighten your boots! We’re moving out. Got us some Pallies to kill.”

  Unlike some of the veterans, I had no tent to break down. I was ready to march in minutes. I caught up with Groff as he was chivying some of the recruits.

  “We know where we’re going?”

  “There’s a Monolith force camped about four days northwest of here at an abandoned town. Riverside, I think it’s called. They’ve been using it as a base for attacks on the Whitewater. We thought they might come to us here, but since they haven’t, we’re going to them.”

  “I think I know the place. Cat and I passed something that fits the description on our way south.”

  “Huh. How do you like our chances?”

  I considered. “I think there’s more of us than them, unless they’ve reinforced it. Not much of a wall, and what there was of it wasn’t in good shape. I couldn’t say about relative readiness.”

  “I’ll pass it on to Pious. You really might be useful if you live.”

  So of course the lieutenant posted us at the back of the column.

  “We’re trained scouts!” Technically a lie, but the substance was true enough. “Wouldn’t it make sense to have us out front? Sir?”

  His eyes narrowed so much they practically disappeared. “I’d heard you blackeyes were smart. You still don’t seem to have chain of command figured out. You go where I tell you. And your little dog, too.”

  The Darkness swirled behind my eyes, but I nodded tightly. “Yes, sir.”

  As I turned, Pious said, “Blackeye. This platoon is on point. We’re the tip of the spear. You and your pet will be plenty close enough to the fighting.”

  His laughter rang nastily behind me as I walked away.

  The lieutenant himself walked point. Whatever I thought of his intelligence or leadership - which was very little - I had no doubt of his physical courage. Of course, you could say the same of the paleos, or the mad, Darkness-infested natives of the Sorrows… or for that matter the drelb. I wouldn’t have wanted any of them for my commanding officer either.

  First squad was led by the tattooed sergeant, Railes, and followed behind Pious. Third squad - our unit - was in the rear. Groff posted Cat and me to the very back of the formation.