Out of the Darkness

when they decided to make the fire under their mages hotter. So they have all these spells that would do this, that, or the other thing-if only they worked right. But they cursed well don’t, and we’ll have licked Algarve before the redheads ever do get ‘em right.”

After Leudast thought that over, he slowly nodded. “The one thing Mezentio’s men always foul up is, they always think they’re smarter than they really are and they can do more than they can really do.”

Dagaric nodded, too, most emphatically. “You’ve got it, Lieutenant. You’ve got it just right, matter of fact. And how fornicating smart does that make them? If they were anywhere near as smart as they want everybody else to think they are, would we be here halfway between the Yaninan border and Trapani? Would the stinking islanders be coming up the Algarvians’ arse from the east?”

“No, sir,” Leudast said. “They made everybody hate ‘em and they made everybody afraid of ‘em and now they’ve made everybody gang up on ‘em, too. You look at it that way, maybe they really aren’t so smart.” He heard the wonder in his own voice. We’re winning the war. We’re not only winning it, we’ve got it almost won. I can’t quite see Trapani from here, but it won’t be long.

He wondered what would happen then. Maybe Swemmel would put everything he could into the war against Gyongyos. Leudast shook his head, marveling. He’d been fighting the Gongs when the Derlavaian War broke out. Maybe things would come full circle, and he’d fight them some more. If Unkerlant went after them now, he thought his kingdom would smash them.

But what then? Suppose Unkerlant didn’t have an enemy left in the world. Suppose he got out of the army. What would I do then? I’ve been fighting for a long time. I hardly know anything else any more.

Go home. I suppose that’s the first thing I have to do. See if anything is left of the village. See if I have any kin left alive. And then. . There was that girl back in Grelz, that Alize. If I can find her again, that might turn into something. I wonder how much different farming is down there. I could find out.

He laughed at himself. A couple of minutes’ thought, and he had the rest of his life neatly laid out. One thing the war had taught him was that plans mostly didn’t work the way people thought they would ahead of time.

Dagaric slapped him on the shoulder, stopping his ley-line caravan of thought. “Things look pretty quiet up here for now,” the regimental commander said. “We can get back to our men.”

“Aye, sir,” Leudast said. They slipped away from the Scamandro’s western bank. As they went off, the loon loosed its mad, laughing call once more. Leudast’s shiver had nothing to do with the chilly weather. Nobody hearing that cry for the first time would think it came from a bird’s throat. That it presaged some nasty Algarvian sorcery still struck him as much more likely.

Sentries challenged them twice on the way back to the Algarvian village in which the regiment was resting. The men weren’t taking victory for granted, which struck Leudast as the best way to insure it. Another officer was heading up to the Scamandro for a look of his own at the enemy.

Another officer. . Leudast stiffened to attention when he saw the big gold stars embroidered on the collar tabs of the oncoming man’s cape. Only one soldier in all of Unkerlant wore those stars. Dagaric might all at once have turned to rigidly upright stone, too.

“Marshal Rathar, sir!” the two junior officers exclaimed together.

“As you were, gentlemen,” Rathar said. “I always like to see officers doing their own reconnaissance. That’s what I’m doing myself, as a matter of fact.”

“There’s what’s left of a wall by the riverbank, sir.” Leudast turned and pointed. “You have to be careful, though-the redheads have snipers on the far bank.”

“Thanks.” Rathar started to go on, then paused and gave him a quizzical look. “I know you, don’t I?” Before Leudast could speak, Rathar answered his own question: “Aye, I do. You’re the fellow who brought in Raniero, you and that other soldier.”

“That’s right, sir,” Leudast said. “You made me a lieutenant and him a sergeant.”

“What happened to him? Do you know?”

“Afraid I do, sir,” Leudast answered. “An Algarvian sniper got him. Kiun never knew what happened. There are worse ways to go.”

“You’re right. We’ve all seen too many of them.” Marshal Rathar grimaced.

“So many good men gone. That’s the worst thing about this stinking war. What will become of Unkerlant once it’s finally over?”

Captain Dagaric presumed to speak: “Lord Marshal, sir, whatever it is, we’ll be better off than these fornicating Algarvians.”

“We’d better be, Captain.” Rathar was polite enough, but didn’t bother to ask Dagaric’s name. With a nod to Leudast, he went on, “Good to see you again, Lieutenant. Stay safe.” He went on toward the Scamandro.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Leudast called after him. “You, too.”

Rathar didn’t answer. He just kept walking. Even so, Dagaric stared at Leudast as if he’d never seen him before. In accusing tones, he said, “You never told me the marshal knew you.”

“No, sir,” Leudast agreed.

“Why in blazes not?” the regimental commander burst out. “A connection like that-”

Leudast shrugged. “You wouldn’t have believed me. Or if you did, you’d’ve thought I was bragging. So I just kept my mouth shut.” For anybody raised in an Unkerlanter peasant village, keeping one’s mouth shut almost always looked like a good idea. No telling who might be listening.

“A lieutenant in my regiment. . knows the Marshal of Unkerlant.” Dagaric still sounded dazed, disbelieving.

“No, sir. You had it right the first time,” Leudast answered. “He knows me, some. I’ve met him a couple of times, that’s all: once up in Zuwayza, in the first fight there, and then when Kiun and I got lucky with Raniero a little this side of Herborn.”

Dagaric grunted. “I think you’re too modest for your own good. If the Marshal of Unkerlant knows you, why are you only a lieutenant?”

“Only a lieutenant?” Leudast gaped. That wasn’t how he looked at it-just the opposite, in fact. “Sir, you’ve got to remember-I come out of a peasant village. I didn’t expect to be anything but a common soldier after the impressers got. . uh, after I joined King Swemmel’s army. I got to be a sergeant because I was lucky enough to stay alive when a lot of people didn’t, and I got to be an officer because I was the fellow-well, one of the fellows-who nabbed the false King of Grelz when he was trying to get away.”

“In my regiment,” Dagaric muttered. Leudast stifled a sigh. His superior hadn’t paid any attention to him. He didn’t know why he was surprised. Superiors didn’t have to listen to subordinates. Not having to listen was part of what made them what they were. Every so often, an exception came along. Leudast tried to be one himself, but knew he didn’t always succeed.

He glanced east, toward the riverbank. Rathar squatted there behind what was left of the stone fence, just as he and Dagaric had done a few minutes before. The marshal showed both nerve and good sense in coming up to the front alone. The Algarvians had no idea he was there. He got the look he wanted and then came away. Leudast sighed with relief. He couldn’t imagine the war without the marshal.

Eight

Colonel Sabrino led his wing-what was left of it-down to a landing on a makeshift dragon farm outside the little town of Pontremoli, a few miles east of the Scamandro. Some of the dragon-handlers on the ground knew what they were doing; others were boys and old men from a Popular Assault regiment, doing the best they could at jobs they’d never expected to have to handle.

Once Sabrino’s dragon was chained to an iron spike driven deep into the muddy ground, he climbed down and wearily made his way toward the tents that had sprouted to await the wing’s arrival. Captain Orosio’s dragon had landed not far away. Orosio looked as worn as Sabrino, but managed a nod and a wave.

“Almost full circle,” Sabrino said.

“Sir?” The squadron commander scratched his head. In the five and a half years he’d flown in Sabrino’s wing, his hair had retreated a good deal at the temples. Sabrino wondered how much older he looked himself these days.