40. The Fire and the Pain
Ghort told Else, 'Pipe, I'm ready to check on out. I have officially seen everything.'
'What did you see?' Else did not trust his own eyes. Those things out there were among the greatest demons of the Night. Holy men in the Kaifate of al-Minphet would insist that they did not exist. They were folktales, nothing more. Like the fabrications of the professional storytellers of Lucidia.
The soultaken attacked his companions. While countless dead men tramped into the world and, after some confusion, shambled toward the living. Meaning some turned toward the city wall, more headed east to meet the approaching Imperial
probe, and most came at Else and his crusaders.
Not once had Else seen Gledius Stewpo among the Devedian-heavy reserve but he heard that dwarf bellow, 'Stand to your matches! Now, fire!'
Two hundred firepowder weapons barked during a two-second span. The weapons had remained unseen until the dwarf summoned them forth.
The fusillade tore the approaching heroes apart. Else was aghast at how swiftly firepowder missiles flung the power of the Night into oblivion.
Few of the ferocious dead warriors got close enough to engage the Patriarchal troops. The Deves produced an endless rolling thunder. The smoke became oppressive.
Results were less sanguine where there were no firepowder weapons. The Imperials were not prepared to deal with fighters who were dead already. Their best defense was discipline.
Once they formed ranks they managed to fend off wild attackers fighting as individuals.
A tenth of the heroes chose to assault al-Khazen. Else saw no obvious reason why some scarecrow figures chose to clamber up the wall, but they did, easy as insects. When they reached the battlements they murdered everyone in sight.
The firepowder smoke cleared away. Streamers of dark mist came from al-Khazen as the sorcerers within engaged the undead warriors. That resistance attracted the interest of most of the dead still facing the Patriarchal troops.
Else pushed up off the cold, wet ground and eased forward. Ghort followed. He crowded in against Else. 'What the hell happened here, Pipe? I sure as fuck don't want it to be what I'm pretty sure it was.'
Behind them, the Devedian fusiliers prepared to withdraw. Al-Khazen's garrison would not mount a pursuit
Firepowder tubes continued to crack occasionally. Sharpshooters plinked the blind, howling thing jogging in its wide circle. That thing no longer looked anything like the man it had
It was aware of little outside itself. It passed near Else without sensing him. The inverse was not true.
The pain was worse than it had been with the bogon in the Ownvidian Knot, though more sudden and stimulated over a much shorter range. Else collapsed. But he was not alone. He would not have to explain to Pinkus Ghort. Ghort was down himself, clawing at his temples.
Devedian soldiers continued to snipe at the wounded god. Every hit weakened him, slowed him, left him less certain of his form. He did not appear human, now. But he was a god. He would be a long time going. Most likely, he would not go at all. He might even recover if enough live mortals were slain around him.
Else's pain faded as the wounded god stumbled away.
Ghort heaved the contents of his stomach. 'Ah, Eis's fucking Holy Piles, Pipe! If there's any way to kill that freak, let's get on with it. Or just stay out of its fucking way. I can't take much of this.'
Still recovering from his own pain, Else considered his place in events, both as others intended and as chance had conspired. This morning would not set well with Grade Drocker. Nor with er-Rashal el-Dhulquarnen, who had to be stunned.
Only now did Else grasp the implication of those few minutes in Esther's Wood. That which would slay a bogon could dispatch far more powerful entities.
Else said, 'I'm not sure what to do, Pinkus. It's only starting to sink in. But I think we're in the middle of history happening.'
A shriek of despair came from the wall. They watched as the dead heroes threw someone down.
Ghort cursed. 'Them damned things won't quit.' A dead hero with one arm, one leg, and no eyes had hold of his ankle.
'Don't cut yourself. That looked like Starkden that just fell.'
Ghort severed the wrist of his assailant, then levered the hand off his ankle. 'We need us a big-ass bonfire to roast us some dead men.'
'Good idea.' Else's pain grew. The blind Instrumentality was headed their way. 'A pit might be better.'
'So they can't run from the fire. Yeah. Shit. Now what?'
Deves were walking the killing ground, finishing the dead heroes with swords and spearheads of blackened iron with silver-plated tips. They gave the blind god a wide berth. At random moments he sparked off lightning.
'They've figured out a way to battle the Night. From a distance,' Else said. 'The Brotherhood will be thrilled.'
Ghort skipped away from a grabbing hand, frowning. 'Something like this happened before, Pipe. On a smaller scale. You mentioning the Brotherhood made me remember. This was in Sonsa, a couple years ago, before we hooked up. That's how Drocker got messed up. By Deves. They said it was some new kind of sorcery but I'm thinking it was maybe the same thing we just saw here.'
'Could be. They're devious people. Well, this is Starkden.'
'She dead?'
'Looks like.'
'Be careful.'
Else collected an antique spear that had lost its operator. He poked the fallen sorceress. 'Let's get her bound and bagged and headed up to Drocker. He'll love us even if she isn't breathing.'
'He'll have him a shitload of mixed feelings. Should we do something to help them Imperials?' Things were no longer going well for Lothar's would-be rescuers, though the Braunsknechts from me drain had joined them.
'They're holding their own. We need to get busy here.'
'The guys look like they're hot to go, Pipe. They've figured out what these dead guys are. Which tells them there might be valuable antique weapons and grave goods to be had. But I'm on the job.'
Ghort strode off to draft work parties. Else considered proceedings atop the wall. He saw Bone and Az observing from relative safety. So Az had found his way back to the company. They saw him but gave no sign. Until Az made a quick, small Sha-lug warning gesture.
Else turned as a body lying deep in mud and dirty snow and parts hacked off dead heroes surged to its feet, the soultaken that had speared the crippled god. He felt the fury, fear, and insanity of the thing. And the power. Here raged a new monster of the Night, pulling itself together by culling fragments from dying Instrumentalities.
The thing recognized Else.
Else decided on a swift tactical relocation. A fresh surge of pain hit. He lost focus on his footing. He slipped on an icy stone, fell, slid twenty feet downhill.
Deves maneuvering against the blinded god fired on the new threat.
The soultaken roared, producing an amazing noise from a human throat. Then it shook like a dog suffering a seizure. It swelled up, changed shape, and began to get the hell out of there.
It turned into something like a mantis of twice human size, with twice too many legs for a bug. Mahogany chitin with scarlet scars and highlights ripped through its fur and rag clothing. It headed north at a high rate of speed, undaunted by the terrain.
Else sat in cold mud and gaped till his wrist told him the blind god was coming.
Else started to get up. His hand brushed something his eyes did not see. When he grasped it with his amulet hand it became visible as the bronze sword of power formerly carried by the soultaken now infested by his supreme
