by Glen Cook
That was how I saw the girl.
We were three quarters of the way across. I saw something move. “Eh?” Darling looked up at us, shading her eyes. A hand whipped out of shadow, dragged her into hiding.
I glanced at the Lady. She had noticed nothing. She was too busy staying aloft.
What was going on? Had the Rebel driven the Company into the rocks? Why wasn’t I seeing anyone else?
Straining, the Lady gradually gained altitude. The slice-of-pie expanded before me.
Land of nightmare. Tens of thousands of dead Rebels carpeted it. Most had fallen in formation. The tiers were inundated in dead of both persuasions. A White Rose banner on a leaning pole fluttered atop the pyramid. Nowhere did I see anyone moving. Silence gripped the land, except for the murmur of a chill northern wind.
The Lady lost it for an instant. We plunged. She caught us a dozen feet short of crashing.
Nothing stirred but wind-rippled banners. The battlefield looked like something from the imagination of a mad artist. The top layer of Rebel dead lay as though they had died in terrible pain. Their numbers were incalculable.
We rose above the pyramid. Death had swept around it, toward the Tower. The gate remained open. Rebel bodies lay in its shadow.
They had gotten inside.
There were but a handful of bodies atop the pyramid, all Rebel. My comrades must have made it inside.
They had to be fighting still, inside those twisted corridors. The place was too vast to overrun quickly. I listened, but heard nothing.
The Tower top was three hundred feet above us. We couldn’t get any higher.… A figure appeared there, beckoning. It was short and clad in brown. I gaped. I recalled only one Taken who wore brown. It moved to a slightly better vantage, limping, still beckoning. The carpet rose. Two hundred feet to go. One hundred. I looked back on the panorama of death. Quarter of a million men? Mind-boggling. Too vast to have real meaning. Even in the Dominator’s heyday battles never approached that scale.…
I glanced at the Lady, She had engineered it. She would be total mistress of the world now—if the Tower survived the battle underway inside. Who could oppose her? The manhood of a continent lay dead.…
A half dozen Rebels came out the gate. They launched arrows at us. Only a few wobbled as high as the carpet. The soldiers stopped loosing, waited. They knew we were in trouble.
Fifty feet. Twenty-five. The Lady struggled, even with Limper’s help. I shivered in the wind, which threatened to bounce us off the Tower. I recalled the Howler’s long plunge. We were as high as he had been.
A glance at the plain showed me the forvalaka. It hung limp upon its cross, but I knew it was alive.
Men joined the Limper. Some carried ropes, some lances or long poles. We rose ever more slowly. It became a ridiculously tense game, safety almost within reaching distance, yet never quite at hand.
A rope dropped into my lap. A Guard sergeant shouted, “Harness her up.”
“What about me, asshole?” I moved about as fast as a rock grows, afraid I’d upset the carpet’s stability. I was tempted to tie some false knot that would give way under strain. I did not like the Lady much anymore. The world would be better for her absence. Catcher was a murdering schemer whose ambitions sent hundreds to their deaths. She deserved her fate. How much more so this sister who had hurried thousands down the shadowed road?
A second line came down. I tied myself. We were five feet from the top, unable to get higher. The men on the lines took in the slack. The carpet slid in against the Tower. Poles reached down. I grabbed one.
The carpet dropped away.
For a second I thought I was gone. Then they hauled me in.
There was heavy fighting downstairs, they said. The Limper ignored me completely, hurried away to get in on the action. I just sprawled atop the Tower, glad to be safe. I even napped. I wakened alone with the north wind, and an enfeebled comet on the horizon. I went down to audit the endgame of the Lady’s grand design.
She won. Not one in a hundred Rebels survived, and most of those deserted early.
The Howler spread disease with the globes he dropped. It reached its critical stage soon after the Lady and I departed, chasing Soulcatcher. The Rebel wizards could not stem it on any significant scale. Thus the windrows of dead.
Even so, many of the enemy proved partially or wholly immune, and not all of ours escaped infection. The Rebel took the top tier.
The plan, at that point, called for the Black Company to counterattack. The Limper, rehabilitated, was to assist them with men from inside the Tower. But the Lady was not there to order the charge. In her absence Whisper ordered a withdrawal into the Tower.
The interior of the Tower was a series of death traps manned not only by the Howler’s easterners but by wounded taken inside previous nights and healed by the Lady’s powers.
It ended long before I could thread the maze to my comrades. When I did cross their trail, I learned I was hours behind. They had departed the Tower under orders to establish a picket line where the stockade had stood.
I reached ground level well after nightfall. I was tired. I just wanted peace, quiet, maybe a garrison post in a small town.… My mind wasn’t working well. I had things to do, arguments to argue, a battle to fight with the Captain. He would not want to betray another commission. There are the physically dead and the morally dead. My comrades were among the latter. They would not understand me. Elmo, Raven, Candy, One-Eye, Goblin, they would act like I was talking a foreign language. And yet, could I condemn them? They were my brothers, my friends, my family, and acted moral within that context. The weight of it fell on me. I had to convince them there was a larger obligation.
I crunched through dried blood, stepping over corpses, leading horses I had liberated from the Lady’s stables. Why I took several is a mystery, except for a vague notion that they might come in handy. The one that Feather had ridden I took because I did not feel like walking.
I paused to stare at the comet. It seemed drained. “Not this time, eh?” I asked it. “Can’t say I’m totally dismayed.” Fake chuckle. How could I be? Had this been the Rebel’s hour, as he had believed, I would be dead.
I stopped twice more before reaching camp. The first time I heard soft cursing as I descended the remnants of the lower retaining wall. I approached the sound, found One-Eye seated beneath the crucified forvalaka. He talked steadily in a soft voice, in a language I did not understand. So intent was he that he did not hear me come. Neither did he hear me go a minute later, thoroughly disgusted.
One-Eye was collecting for the death of his brother Tom-Tom. Knowing him, he would stretch it out for days.
I paused again where the false White Rose had watched the battle. She was there still, very dead at a very young age. Her wizard friends had made her death harder by trying to save her from the Howler’s disease.
“So much for that.” I looked back at the Tower, at the comet. She had won.…
Or had she? What had she accomplished, really? The destruction of the Rebel? But he had become the instrument of her husband, an even greater evil. It had been he defeated here, if only he, she, and I knew that. The greater wickedness had been forestalled. Moreover, the Rebel ideal had passed through a cleansing, tempering flame. A generation hence.…
I am not religious. I cannot conceive of gods who would give a damn about humanity’s frothy carryings-on. I mean, logically, beings of that order just wouldn’t. But maybe there is a force for greater good, created by our unconscious minds conjoined, that becomes an independent power greater than the sum of its parts. Maybe, being a mindthing, it is not time-bound. Maybe it can see everywhere and everywhen and move pawns so that what seems to be today’s victory becomes the cornerstone of tomorrow’s defeat.
Maybe weariness did things to my mind. For a few seconds I believed I saw the landscape of tomorrow, saw the Lady’s triumph turning like a serpent and generating her destruction during the next passage of the comet. I saw a true White Ros
e carrying her standard to the Tower, saw her and her champions as clearly as if I were there that day myself.…
I swayed atop that beast of Feather’s, stricken and terrified. For if it were a true vision, I would be there. If it were a true vision, I knew the White Rose. Had known her for a year. She was my friend. And I had discounted her because of a handicap.…
I urged the horses toward camp. By the time a sentinel challenged me I had regained enough cynicism to have discounted the vision. I’d just been through too much in one day. Characters like me don’t become prophets. Especially not from the wrong side.
Elmo’s was the first familiar face I saw. “God, you look awful,” he said. “You hurt?”
I could do nothing but shake my head. He dragged me off the horse and put me away somewhere and that was the last I knew for hours. Except that my dreams were as disjointed and time-loose as the vision, and I did not like them at all. And I could not escape them.
The mind is resilient, though. I managed to forget the dreams within moments of awakening.
Rose
The argument with the Captain raged for two hours. He was unyielding. He did not accept my arguments, legal or moral. Time brought others into the fray, as they came to the Captain on business. By the time I really lost my temper most of the principals of the Company were present: the Lieutenant, Goblin, Silent, Elmo, Candy, and several new officers recruited here at Charm. What little support I received came from surprising quarters. Silent backed me. So did two of the new officers.
I stamped out. Silent and Goblin followed. I was in a towering rage, though unsurprised by their response. With the Rebel beaten there was little to encourage the Company’s defection. They would be hogs knee-deep in slops now. Questions of right and wrong sounded stupid. Basically, who cared?
It was still early, the day after the battle. I had not slept well, and was full of nervous energy. I paced vigorously, trying to walk it off.
Goblin timed me, stepped into my path after I settled down. Silent observed from nearby. Goblin asked, “Can we talk?”
“I’ve been talking. Nobody listens.”
“You’re too argumentative. Come over here and sit down.” Over here proved to be a pile of gear near a campfire where some men were cooking, others were playing Tonk. The usual crowd. They looked at me from the corners of their eyes and shrugged. They all seemed worried. Like they were concerned for my sanity.
I guess if any of them had done what I had, a year ago, I would have felt the same. It was honest confusion and concern based in care for a comrade.
Their thickheadedness irritated me, yet I could not sustain that irritation because by sending Goblin around, they had proven they wanted to understand.
The game went along, quiet and sullen initially, growing animated as they exchanged gossip about the course of the battle.
Goblin asked, “What happened yesterday, Croaker?”
“I told you.”
Gently, he suggested, “How about we go over it again? Get more of the detail.” I knew what he was doing. A little mental therapy based on an assumption that prolonged proximity to the Lady had unsettled my mind. He was right. It had. It had opened my eyes, too, and I tried to make that clear as I reiterated my day, calling on such skills as I have developed scribbling these Annals, hoping to convince him that my stance was rational and moral and everyone else’s was not.
“You see what he did when those Oar boys tried to get behind the Captain?” one of the cardplayers asked. They were gossiping about Raven. I had forgotten him till then. I pricked up my ears and listened to several stories of his savage heroics. To hear them talk, Raven had saved everybody in the Company at least once.
Somebody asked, “Where is he?”
Lots of headshaking. Someone suggested, “Must have gotten killed. The Captain sent a detail after our dead. Guess we’ll see him go in the ground this afternoon.”
“What happened to the kid?”
Elmo snorted. “Find him and you’ll find her.”
“Talking about the kid, you see what happened when they tried to clobber second platoon with some kind of knockout spell? It was weird. The kid acted like nothing ever happened. Everybody else went down like a rock. She just looked kind of puzzled and shook Raven. Up he came, bam, hacking away.
She shook them all back awake. Like the magic couldn’t touch her, or something.”
Somebody else said, “Maybe that’s cause she’s deaf. Like maybe the magic was sound.”
“Ah, who knows? Pity she didn’t make it, though. Kind of got used to her hanging around.”
“Raven, too. Need him to keep old One-Eye from cheating.” Everybody laughed.
I looked at Silent, who was eavesdropping on my conversation with Goblin. I shook my head. He raised an eyebrow. I used Darling’s signs to tell him, They aren’t dead. He liked Darling too.
He rose, walked behind Goblin, jerked his head. He wanted to see me alone. I extricated myself and followed him.
I explained that I had seen Darling while returning from my venture with the Lady, that I suspected Raven was deserting by the one route he thought would not be watched. Silent frowned and wanted to know why.
“You got me. You know how he’s been lately.” I did not mention my vision or dreams, all of which seemed fantastic now. “Maybe he got fed up with us.”
Silent smiled a smile that said he did not believe a word of that. He sighed, I want to know why. What do you know? He assumed I knew more about Raven and Darling than anyone else because I was always probing for personal details to put into the Annals.
“I don’t know anything you don’t. He hung around with the Captain and Pickles more than anybody else.”
He thought for about ten seconds, then signed, You saddle two horses. No, four horses, with some food. We may be a few days. I will go ask questions. His manner did not brook argument.
That was fine with me. A ride had occurred to me while I was talking to Goblin. I had given up the notion because I could think of no way to pick up Raven’s trail.
I went to the picket where Elmo had taken the horses last night. Four of them. For an instant I reflected on the chance a greater force existed, moving us. I conned a couple men into saddling the beasts for me while I went and finagled some food out of Pickles. He was not easy to get around. He wanted the Captain’s personal authorization. We worked out a deal where he would get a special mention in the Annals.
Silent joined me at the tail of the negotiations. Once we had strapped the supplies aboard the horses, I asked, “You learn anything?”
He signed, Only that the Captain has some special knowledge he will not share. I think it had more to do with Darling than with Raven.
I grunted. Here it was again.… The Captain had come up with a notion like mine? And had had it this morning, while we were arguing? Hmm. He had a tricky mind.…
I think Raven left without the Captain’s permission, but has his blessing. Did you interrogate Pickles?
“Thought you were going to do that.”
He shook his head. He hadn’t had time.
“Go ahead now. Still a few things I want to get together.” I hustled to the hospital tent, accoutred myself with my weapons and dug out a present I had been saving for Darling’s birthday. Then I hunted Elmo up and told him I could use some of my share of the money we had kyped in Roses.
“How much?”
“Much as I can get.”
He looked at me long and hard, decided to ask no questions. We went to his tent and counted it out quietly. The men knew nothing about that money. The secret remained with those of us who had gone to Roses after Raker. There were those, though, who wondered how One-Eye managed to keep paying his gambling debts when he never won and had no time for his usual black marketeering.
Elmo followed me when I left his tent. We found Silent already mounted up, the horses ready to go. “Going for a ride, eh?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I secured the bow the Lady had given
me to my saddle, mounted up.
Elmo searched our faces with narrowed eyes, then said, “Good luck.” He turned and walked away. I looked at Silent.
He signed, Pickles claims ignorance too. I did trick him into admitting he had given Raven extra rations before the fighting started yesterday. He knows something too.
Well, hell. Everybody seemed to be in on the guesswork. As Silent led off, I turned my thoughts to the morning’s confrontation, seeking hints of things askew. And I found a few. Goblin and Elmo had their suspicions too.
There was no avoiding a passage through the Rebel camp. Pity. I would have preferred to avoid it. The flies and stench were thick. When the Lady and I rode through, it looked empty. Wrong. We’d simply not seen anyone. The enemy wounded and camp followers were there. The Howler had dropped his globes on them too.
I’d selected animals well. In addition to having taken Feather’s mount, I had acquired others of the same tireless breed. Silent set a brisk pace, eschewing communication till, as we hastened down the outer border of the rocky country, he reined in and signed for me to study my surroundings. He wanted to know the line of flight the Lady had followed approaching the Tower.
I told him I thought we had come in about a mile south of where we were then. He gave me the extra horses and edged near the rocks, proceeded slowly, studying the ground carefully. I paid little attention. He could find sign better than I.
I could have found this trail, though. Silent threw up a hand, then indicated the ground. They had departed the badlands about where the Lady and I had crossed the boundary going the other way. “Trying to make time, not cover his trail,” I guessed.
Silent nodded, stared westward. He signed questions about roads.
The main north-south high road passes three miles west of the Tower. It was the road we followed to Forsberg. We guessed he would head there first. Even in these times there would be traffic enough to conceal the passage of a man and child. From ordinary eyes. Silent believed he could follow.