Carnifex Magnus snorted at that notion. War of Attrition, indeed, he thought.
Moreover, when the Borderlands were summoned, all other uses of the craft were negated there-including magic portals like the one his stalkers had just used to come thousands of leagues across its great expanse. Coming on patrol in Shashida this way was always risky, for if the Borderlands were summoned during a mission, there would be no way home again until thePon Q’tar deemed the threat past and the spell was dismantled. Aegedes had once heard that the magic summoned to bring the Borderlands to life was so awesome that it overpowered all other craft uses, rendering them too feeble to be called forth. In truth he didn’t know, nor did he care. But one tale he had heard about the Borderlands did awe him. During the entire known history of the Borderlands, only two beings had entered its deadly midst and survived. One of them was said to be called theJin’Sai, a man of wondrous blood that lived on the world’s other side.
Looking back toward the south, Aegedes’ thoughts returned to how his marauding stalkers were faring. Deciding to rest a bit, he walked back up the grassy knoll to await the return of his patrols.
THE NEXT SHASHIDAN TO DIE AT PAGANUS’ HAND WAS Agirl child, aged no more than seven years. No endowed blood had been detected in the small village lying four leagues due south. Even so, the Carnifex Magnus had been explicit. Kill every Shashidan you find, he had said, whether of endowed blood or not.
Spurring his war horse, Paganus charged through the flowery field and soon caught up to the screaming, fleeing child. As he deftly swung his gladius, the blond girl’s neck sliced open like paper and her head fell from her shoulders to go tumbling to the ground. Her body followed, its arms and legs flailing about madly in all directions. Wheeling his horse, Paganus lowered his bloodstained axe and looked down the hill toward another gruesome scene.
The entire village was ablaze. It had been small, holding only a few wooden buildings and a smattering of Vigors-loving souls unworthy of life. It had also been quite pedestrian, showing little of the usual Shashidan propensity toward garishness that he so hated. He much preferred the stark and martial aspects of Rustannican architecture, with its marble columns, broad forums, and statues of heroic emperors.
This village held the usual cross section of Shashidan scum-men, women, children, and the elderly. Azure bolts loosed from Paganus’ fingertips had set every building ablaze, and the structures were now little more than smoldering shells. He didn’t know the name of the place, nor did he need to. All that mattered was that everyone in this forlorn village died. As his warhorse danced beneath him, Paganus could smell the sickly-sweet odor of burning flesh, telling him that the job was nearly done. Dismounting and gathering up the dead girl’s head and body, he slung them across his saddle, then mounted again and galloped back toward the village.
Riding into the town square, he pulled his horse to a skidding stop. It seemed that his vulgarium had done their jobs well. According to their orders, they were dragging the corpses into the square and heaping them into a pile. Others were busily using their axes to chop the bodies into pieces to make their immolation more efficient.
Walking his horse forward, Paganus unceremoniously shoved the girl’s severed head and lifeless body from his saddle onto the growing pile. As it landed, one of the drooling, axe-wielding stalkers stopped chopping and stared up at him.
“Rach-tu-lag?” he asked.
“Of course that one too, you cretinous hulk!” he shouted. “Why do you think we came all this way?”
Paganus was about to jump down from his horse and give the nearly mindless vulgaris a good tongue-lashing when he heard a woman scream. Swiveling in his saddle, he turned to look.
One of the stalkers had found a survivor. She was young and pretty, and she seemed to be unharmed. She was insane with fear, and much of her dress was covered in someone else’s blood. The stalker dragged her by her hair from a smoldering building and tossed her to the ground. Standing astride her, he started to remove his fringed warrior’s skirt, making his intentions all too plain. As he dropped down atop her, the other vulgarium started cheering and shouting.
Whipping his horse, Paganus drew his gladius and charged straight toward the aroused vulgaris. As he neared, he took the stalker’s head off with one swing of his sword, and the headless corpse collapsed atop the young Shashidan woman. Screaming insanely, she managed to shove the stalker off herself, then sprang to her feet. Wheeling his horse, Paganus charged back toward her. In moments her severed head and lifeless body lay alongside those of the rebellious stalker, their yellow and red blood commingling to feed the thirsty dirt.
Paganus turned and glared harshly at his other eight vulgarium. Pointing his sword at them, he shouted, “You know your orders! There is no time for this! Now do your duties and finish cutting up those corpses! We still have two more leagues to cover!”
Amid much growling, the eight vulgarium finished their grisly task, with the heads and other body parts of the dead stalker and the young woman finally added to the pile. Swarms of hungry flies had already started feasting on the easy prey of gaping wounds and open, unseeing eyes.
After looking around the smoldering village one last time, Paganus ordered his vulgarium to mount their horses and form a line. Walking his horse closer, he raised one hand and pointed it at the pile of corpses. At once the pile burst into flame, adding yet more stink to the air.
Ordering his stalkers onward in the search for right-leaning endowed blood, Paganus led the charge from the destroyed village, and the stalkers again headed south.
TEN HOURS LATER, AEGEDES RESTED AGAINST THE TRUNK OFthe lone oak tree. Reaching into the pack that he had taken from his horse, he grasped some more dried jerky and his water flask. Because he wanted his stalkers to move fast, such meager rations were all that he had allowed each one to bring along. The jerky was tough and the water warm, but they would do for now.
Aegedes looked up at the sky. Night had fallen and the cloudless heavens held too many stars to count. The three red moons beamed down peacefully, belying the mayhem that would soon accompany Vespasian’s mighty war machine. With his nine vulgarium gathered quietly around him, Aegedes waited.
Soon the first of his patrols returned. They had killed some Shashidans traveling the roads, but otherwise their area of responsibility had been clear of endowed blood. As more patrols returned, their stories were much the same. The souls they had killed were few, the resistance meager, and there had been no stalker injuries.
Finally Paganus and his group rode up the grassy slope. Pulling his horse to a stop, the carnifex dismounted and bowed to his master. From his resting place against the base of the tree Aegedes took another sip of water and regarded his carnifex calmly. The fact that one stalker was missing was not lost on him.
Aegedes listened intently to Paganus’ report, including the killing of the unruly vulgaris. The Carnifex Magnus stood up before replying.
“It seems that our job is done,” he said, “and that the area in question has been cleared.” Walking to his warhorse, he swung up into the saddle.
“I go to report to the First Tribune,” he said, his horse dancing eagerly beneath him. “While I am away, do not leave this place. Keep trying to sense endowed blood, and above all protect this lone portal with your lives. If endowed blood is detected, search it out immediately and kill its owners. This is the most important campaign in the history of the empire and we cannot afford mistakes. You will likely see hundreds more portals forming within the hour. At that time, the tribunes will issue us new orders. You have done well, but our bloody work has just begun.”
Paganus gave Aegedes a crisp salute. “As you say, my lord,” he answered.
Wasting no time, Aegedes galloped his horse directly into the center of the azure portal, then he was gone.
Looking around the meager campsite, Paganus breathed a sigh of relief. For the time being their mission was over. Aegedes seemed pleased and he was off to give his report. Soon many more portals would form, then the Rustannican war machine would start pouring through them and this quiet place would become a madhouse of activity.
Deciding to take what rest he could, Paganus sat down in Aegedes’ place and leaned his tired back against the lone tree.
