“Not really. It’s usually the horse and buggy that runs them over
“I’m not sure, but I think that means I should change the subject,” Alwyn said.
She stopped again. A feeling of dread came over Alwyn. Shades of the dead materialized all around him. He shuddered, but steeled himself. He might be their spokesman, but he
“It’s just been changed for you. There’s the fort,” Rallie said.
Alwyn looked. The hill jutted out of the desert like a broken bone, the jagged top the battlements of the fort. Letting his gaze fall he took in the base of the hill, searching the snow-covered debris for signs of life.
“Are those rakkes?” he asked, spotting bodies spread out in front of the hill.
“They were,” Rallie said.
He tore his gaze away from the hill and focused instead on the shades of the fallen. Their hands started to reach for him and the cold, unending pressure of their agony began to gnaw at him from the inside. His mood darkened, and the warm feeling he’d had from the playful banter with Rallie began to retreat, but then he felt the tattoo on his arm begin to burn hotter, as if a fire were being stoked. It was little more than a single match in a blizzard, but it was enough for him to remember that he could still make choices.
He stood to his full height, the charred and blackened branches of his wooden leg creaking with the effort.
The shades didn’t move.
“Try again,” Rallie said.
Alwyn looked at the shades. He felt the anger well up inside him. They were soldiers, damn it, and they had a duty to perform. “The regiment needs you. You are still part of it. Remember that,” Alwyn said.
The shades continued to stand their ground. RSM Lorian rode forth on Zwindarra until he was only a few feet away. “Our pain in this existence grows, yet we appear no closer to our goal.”
Rallie started to step forward, but Alwyn held up his hand to stop her. This time, he let his anger boil forth.
“RSM! You know better. You all know better. We’re soldiers. We fight until the battle is won, and this battle is far from over.” He stepped forth and placed his hands on his hips. “You weren’t cowards in life. Being dead changes nothing. Remember who you are,” Alwyn said, pointing to individual soldiers. “You, and you, and you. . you’re Iron Elves. Live up to that name!”
The air around them crackled as the temperature fell. Alwyn’s breath misted and his lungs burned with the cold. The shades of the Iron Elves grew straighter in front of his eyes. He blinked. They were standing at attention. A moment later, they vanished. Alwyn waited several seconds before letting out his breath.
“Now that’s something Yimt would have been damn proud of,” Rallie said, whistling softly.
“I thought I went too far,” Alwyn said.
“So did I, my boy, so did I. Remind me never to play poker with you.”
The sound of crunching snow preceded acting-RSM Aguom as he marched up to stand a few feet away. Alwyn remembered that he was still a member of Her Majesty’s Imperial Armed Forces and turned and stood to attention.
“Stand easy,” Aguom said, looking around nervously. He pointed toward the hill. “Was there a battle here?” he asked, taking in the carnage before them.
“Something like that,” Rallie said.
Aguom looked like he wanted more of an explanation, but let it go at that. “Lieutenant Imba wants to know what the situation is. He’s preparing the regiment to advance in line. Should they fix bayonets?”
“Yes,” Alwyn said.
“Do you sense something?” he asked.
Alwyn closed his eyes and rested his chin against his chest. The wind played with the edge of his caerna, but the sting of the icy snow against his one good leg barely registered. Something darker and colder had his attention.
“What is it?” Rallie asked. Alwyn heard a rustle of paper and knew she had a scroll in her hand, her quill at the ready.
“The shades have found our enemy,” he said, opening his eyes as he raised his head. “Hundreds upon hundreds of rakkes in one mass.”
“What, where?” Aguom asked. “We slaughtered hundreds at the canyon. The rest scattered to the four winds. How can they be gathered up into a force again so quickly?”
“They are driven by Her Emissary. Its power was not destroyed.”
“But you killed it. We saw you tear it to bits,” Aguom said. “How could anything survive that?”
“Madness,” Alwyn said, seeing the path that he might one day walk himself.
RSM Aguom recovered quickly. “No time to waste then, we’ll double time it to the fort and set up our defenses. Once we’re in there we’ll be able to hold them off.”
“I’m afraid we won’t be going to the fort,” Alwyn said.
A howl carried on the wind from somewhere off to the west. It was answered by several more to the east.
“We are already surrounded.”
TWENTY
Konowa found Pimmer twenty yards inside the tunnel leading from the outer wall of the fort. Despite being out of the wind and snow the man appeared to be shivering. He was standing just inside a chamber. The glow from his small storm lantern cast enough light that Konowa could make out the figures of the soldiers all grouped against the wall nearby. After the horror he’d just witnessed he was feeling helpless and angry and seeing his men not spread out and ready to face danger gave him the perfect chance to ve
nt.
He strode into the room, the first curse ready to be whispered with force at such a complete breakdown of discipline. Then he saw what had stopped the men in their tracks.
“This was the garrison’s torture chamber,” Pimmer said, his voice flat.
Konowa took it all in in an instant. The chains, the metal spikes, blood-and-gore-stained walls, and the smell of death. It threatened to overwhelm him. His senses were still reeling from the tableau on the slope outside the fort. He looked at his men and saw they were on the verge of cracking. He didn’t blame them, but this was no time for sympathy and understanding. They could be moments away from battle with who knew what. He had to snap them out of it, and fast.
“Of course it’s their torture chamber,” Konowa snapped, reaching down and picking up a metal device that looked like it might have been used for boring holes in bone. “What did you expect, a barracks with warm sheets and a hearth? Maybe a nice little tavern with drinks and a chatty barmaid?”
Some of the soldiers shuffled their feet. Others looked at him then looked away. Pimmer blinked and looked surprised. “Major, I just meant that-”
“We don’t have time for this,” Konowa said, cutting him. He could deal with hurt feelings later. Right now he had to get his men focused on the task at hand. “And what in blazes are you lot doing there gawking? You should know by now that monsters come in all shapes and sizes.” He whirled on Feylan. “Feylan! If you want those corporal stripes, you’d better start acting like one. We still have no idea who or what is in here with us. If you can’t get the men together and prepared to fight when I’m not here to watch then maybe you’re not the leader I thought you were.”
Feylan’s face grew red as the insult stung, but it had the desired effect.
“You heard the major,” Feylan called out, batting at the shoulder of the soldier nearest to him. “Smirck, Meswiz, Rasser, get across the room and cover that doorway. Dimwhol, watch the way we came in. We don’t want something sneaking up on us from behind. The rest of you grab a brand and light it then keep your eyes and ears peeled.”
