Soldiers Live (39 page)

By the Cemetery:

Even More Confusion
Today’s the day,” Sleepy told her Captains. “I can feel it.” She went on to
excoriate Croaker, Tobo and that bunch for taking so long. Then she began
telling people what she wanted done. She started getting arguments right away.

She snapped, “Mogaba is going to split his force again. For that he’s going to
pay. If you want to argue with me I’ll accept your resignations now. There’re
officers who’ll do what they’re told and keep their mouths shut.”

A few hours later the Great General appeared almost exactly where she expected
him. He was spread out over a lot of ground and had a lot of banners flying. For
a time she feared she might have guessed wrong and Mogaba was just going to come
straight ahead and roll right over her. But he did not attack as vigorously as
he should have if that was the case.

Sleepy did not press in her turn. Not right away. She did not want to make it
obvious that she had not concentrated her forces, either. She engaged in
skirmishing and harassing tactics but stepped back whenever Mogaba responded in
any strength. He came forward both because he had to stay in contact and because
Sleepy was pulling back toward the second jaw of his trap. He seemed willing to
be led that way.

When the division on the far right rushed from concealment behind a low ridge,

it lost all cohesion. The troops had to cover most of a mile. Their commander
was more interested in striking before his foes could respond than he was in
presenting a pretty picture advancing.

The men in colored armor who came out of the hidden cemetery marched in perfect
order. Some carried recently manufactured fireball projects. They began
slaughtering the rabble before most of the Taglians were aware that Fortune had
dealt them one from the bottom of the deck. They lasted as long as they did only
because there were so many of them.

By the Cemetery:

Confusion Piled Higher
They’ve begun to stiffen on their right,” one of Mogaba’s companions announced.

“But they’re falling back on the other wing.”

“There’s something wrong,” Mogaba declared. “There should be more of them.”

“Why don’t we rush them?”

“Do sound a general advance. But at the slow cadence.”

The first confused message arrived just minutes later. Narenda Nath Saraswati’s
division was on the run. Saraswati himself was dead. Most of the division
officers had been captured or killed.

Before he could make sense of it, Mogaba heard the horns on his right and saw
the different colored blocks, every soldier with his own banner on his back,

advancing. A flurry of cavalrymen swept stragglers, and fugitives, and foolish
resistance out of the infantry’s path.

The Great General needed only a moment to understand that Sleepy was about to
kidney-punch the Second Territorial with her best. “Full attack!” he ordered.

“Fastest cadence!” If he got the soldiers moving forward before they recognized
their peril he could use his numbers to overcome. “The little witch finally
caught me.” But there was still Aridatha, moving in behind. It remained to be
seen who would have whom in the end.

Mogaba drove straight toward the enemy camp. If he could get inside its palisade
. . .

Beyond the Grove of Doom:

Confusion Grows
Aridatha learned of the developing disaster from Vehdna horsemen who had been
forced to flee in his direction, around the eastern end of the battlefield,

because enemy skirmishers had blocked the way north already. Aridatha was able
to intuit the truth from the complete confusion of the reports.

He ordered his division to form for battle.

Backboned by his own City Battalions the force was well-drilled, if not veteran.

Within two hours Singh had the enemy in sight. The invaders and their traitor
native allies were involved in a huge, bloody melee with all of the Taglian
troops Mogaba had been able to hold together or who had not been able to run
away. Evidently the invaders had not remained sufficiently concerned about
Singh’s division.

Aridatha’s advent was close to a complete surprise. As for its effectiveness . .

. His soldiers had no experience dealing with the terror. And they all knew that
their brothers in the other divisions had lost their battle already and were
busily doing their dying.

The exhausted armies disentangled as the day waned. The soldiers on both sides
had endured so much horror that, gradually, they just stopped trying to
interfere with an enemy who seemed willing to go away without causing trouble.

But who won?

On that day arguments could have been made both ways. Final determination would
be in the hands of those historians who examined the effect the battle had on
Taglian society and culture. It could be a watershed or it could be nothing
important, depending on what followed and how the population responded.

Beside the Cemetery:

Sorrows Gathering
Not even Sleepy had the physical or mental energy left to do anything useful.

She slumped against the saddle of a dead horse, let the twilight and exhaustion
wash over her. She felt no exhilaration even though she had broken the backbone
of the last Taglian army and had, for the first time, been the one who held the
field when the fighting ended. Mogaba, if he lived, was the one slinking away
this time.

A big contributor to her mood was the fact that this accomplishment, such as it
was, was as much Suvrin’s responsibility as her own. Suvrin, alone, had not
abandoned all thought of the third Taglian division. He had been able to move
his brigade in response, feebly, when the rest of the enemy appeared. But for
Suvrin’s cool head, the Great General would be here, holding the field, yet
again. Though the numbers of dead and dying, likely, would be much the same.

Suvrin settled beside her. He said nothing for a long time. Neither did she. For
the first time in decades she wanted to hold someone, wanted to be held by
someone. But she did not act upon that want.

Finally, Suvrin spoke. “Willow Swan is dead. I saw his body a while ago.”

Sleepy grunted. “I have a feeling there’ll be a lot of old friends to mourn once
we collect the dead. I saw Iqbal and Riverwalker go down.”

“No. Not Iqbal. Who’ll take care of Suruvhija?” Singh’s wife was not all that
bright.

“The Company, Suvrin. Until she chooses to leave.” And Runmust, if he had
survived. It was his obligation under Shadar religious law. “She’s one of our
own. We take care of our own. Do we have anyone capable of handling picket
duty?”

Suvrin responded with an interrogatory grunt.

“That’s the Great General over there. Iron Man Mogaba. If he’s still even a
little bit healthy and can pull together some kind of night attack he’ll be
back. Maybe even if he has to do it all by himself.”

Suvrin took several deep, thoughtful breaths. “We have quite a few recruits who
didn’t do much but hide in the cemetery. I’ve already shamed some of them into
picking up the battlefield.”

“It won’t matter if they run away as long as they run toward us.”

“Uhm.”

“Willow? He never did . . . Never found his dream.”

“I always pictured him as your basic everyman. Just drifting wherever the tides
of life took him. Showing a flash sometimes but never really getting up and
grabbing the reins. He might have been a hopeless romantic, too. According to
the Annals. He had a case on Lady once. And a case on the Protector, where he
was much more lucky but lived to regret it. He even had it for you for a while,

I think.”

“We were friends. Just good friends.”

Suvrin did not argue. But there was a quaver in Sleepy’s voice that made him
wonder if, possibly only once or twice, there had not been something to lend
substance to rumor.

It was none of his business.

“I should’ve avoided this mess until Tobo and the others got back.”

Suvrin observed, “Mogaba wouldn’t have let you. So don’t beat yourself up. He
would’ve chased you hard, trying to take advantage of the fact that they were
gone.”

Sleepy knew that was true but truth did not alter her emotional state. A lot of
people were dead. Many of them had been comrades of long standing. It was her
mission to preserve them, not to waste them. She had failed.

And the full, grim scope of the tragedy remained to be revealed.

Fortress with No Name:

Down Below
She looks so peaceful,” Lady intoned. We stood over her sister, in the cavern of
the ancients. Soulcatcher now filled the identical spot that Lady had occupied
during the Captivity.

I needed a moment to realize that she was being sarcastic, repeating the
inanities you hear at funerals. She was sure Soulcatcher was partially aware of
what was happening. And she could not interact with her sister in any more
intimate way.

I said, “We’ve done what we came to do. We need to think about getting back to
the Company.” Though I remained tempted to hazard a recon run through the
Khatovar gate before it healed completely.

And I had a notion to take a gander at the dark thing that had been toying with
our lives and destinies since before we ever heard any of her names.

“Yes,” Lady said. “There’s no telling what mischief Booboo and the Khadidas and
Mogaba have gotten into without Tobo and Howler there to baby-sit.”

I said, “If Mogaba realizes that Sleepy’s got no wizards, he’ll be all over her
like a snake on shit.”

“That was colorful, if nonsensical.” I noted that she did not include herself
with Tobo and Howler. Yet I suspected strongly that she was capable of sucking
Kina’s power like a queen vampire nowadays. Sometimes I wondered what that
augured for the day it came time to pay up to Shivetya. She really hated turning
into something old and dumpy and grey that looked way too much like the mother
she barely remembered.

“I just remembered a Company sergeant from before your time. A man named Elmo.

He had an unusual turn of phrase.”

“You are getting old.”

“I spend my whole life living in the past, darling. Let’s saddle up.” We had
come down the long stair to the cavern aboard Voroshk flying posts. What a
marvellous way to deal with stairways when you are no longer twenty years old.

Lady started to pat her sister on the shoulder, an ordinary little action.

“Don’t!” I barked, with enough urgency to cause a couple of small ice
stalactites to fall somewhere back in the depths of the cave.

“Oh. I wasn’t thinking.”

There were frost-encrusted old men all along the sides of the cave. No one knew
who they were. Except, possibly, Baladitya. Most of them were still alive. They
were, like Soulcatcher, exiles from some unsympathetic power. But a few,

including way too many Company brothers from the time of the Captivity, were
dead meat. And all it had taken to kill them was a thoughtless, gentle or
friendly touch.

Lady pushed past me. I surveyed the local population. As ever, it seemed the
open eyes all stared right at me. I met Soulcatcher’s dull gaze. For no reason I
understood, I winked. We were old conspirators. We went way back. I knew her
before I knew her sister, in olden times of terror.

It may have been a trick of the light or of my imagination but it seemed there
was a flicker of response.

When we returned up top we found the others involved in the initial stages of
getting ready to leave. Howler was exulting, loudly, to all and sundry, in his
new ability to remain silent. He seemed almost grateful. Being an old cynic
myself I have strong notions about the true value of human gratitude. It is a
currency whose worth plunges by the hour. Though thoroughly confused, the two
old Voroshk sorcerers were collecting themselves for the journey, too. Which
meant that they had surrendered to Tobo’s blandishments while Lady and I were
down below. They had surrendered their flying posts and special clothing rather
than be forced to return to their own world.

They must have gotten some really unpleasant news.

“You understand what this means?” I asked Tobo.

“Uh?” The kid was relaxing by flirting with Shukrat. I got the impression that
those two might have started sneaking off into dark corners. They had developed
that goofy way of looking at each other. And they could not stay away from one
another.

That would not instill Sahra with great joy.

“It means we have to stash Gromovol downstairs, too. Or kill him. Which wouldn’t
be politic. Because there’s no way I’m going to give him the opportunity to give
us any more grief by letting him come back with us.”

“I’ll talk to Nashun and the First Father.” He turned to Shukrat. “Come on,

honey.”

Hah. Honey.

A procession of flying posts went down to the cave of the ancients. Oh, that was
so much easier than clambering down and up. The elderly Voroshk, in borrowed
rags, rode behind Tobo and Shukrat. Gromovol rode behind Arkana. I figured she
owed him one. Her cast did not cause her any problems flying. She would be out
of that soon.

Gromovol whined and begged until he became an embarrassment to everyone.

I could claim I had no mercy but that would not be true. Had I been
appropriately merciless, pieces of Gromovol would have gotten distributed over
half a world after I made a few cutting remarks about his character and bad
behavior.

I felt like one of the Voroshk now. I looked like one of the Voroshk. So did my
beloved. The deal with the old men compelled them to refit their wondrous black
costumes for us.

Those would make marvellous complements to our Widowmaker and Lifetaker armor.

Tobo and Shukrat, too, boasted the black and undefined look, Tobo having helped
himself to Gromovol’s outfit.

It took only minutes to inter Gromovol, not far from the frozen corpses of
several men who had been my friends. His final pleas still echoed when I told
Lady, “I’m going down to the bottom of this hole. I want a look at that old
bitch who’s been fucking up our lives for the last fifty years.”

“Are you crazy?” Tobo yelled. “I wouldn’t go down there. I’m nervous just being
this close.”

“Then go back upstairs. Shukrat. Answer a couple of technical questions for me
before you leave. Please?”

The black barrier that had frustrated Blade so was back in place. It put a
terrible pressure on my mind. But the flying post did not notice it at all. The
post kept moving. The Voroshk costume I wore stirred slightly, enclosing me more
securely within its protection.

Although I know the names now I refuse to call post and costume by their proper,

clunkily cumbersome Voroshk titles.

I passed through the barrier. Lady made a funny little sound as she came through
behind me, like she did when we made love.

The scene was pretty much the way it had been described by others. What seemed
to be a vast, open cavern without evident bounds, illuminated by no evident
light source, and that extremely feeble. All that could be seen was a huge, ugly
sprawl of flesh the color of polished eggplant. It did not move, even to
breathe.

Kina looked like Shivetya’s homely big sister. Kina looked like the embodiment
of all the dark attributes I had heard assigned her, under all her many names,

since first I became aware of her existence. Kina looked like many dark things.

My memories of the next few minutes are completely unreliable.

Almost immediately the great hairless head turned our way. Kina’s mouth was
open, exposing ugly dark fangs. She seemed to have a snake or lizard tongue. I
did not recall that having been reported before in any of the conflicting myths,

though her tongue was supposed to be long, the better to lap up demon blood.

The eyes of the Goddess began to open.

The immensity of her will smashed at me like a tidal wave breaking. The lights
went out. For me.

“Looks like you were lucky this time,” Tobo told me. “Your post got you out of
there.”

I wanted to tell him luck had nothing to do with it. I planned it that way. I
set it up with the help of his girlfriend. But I barely had energy enough to
keep breathing.

I did manage to gasp, “Lady?” Had to check on my honey.

“Better off than you are. Sleeping right now. Said to tell you to just rest.

Here’s some Shivetya manna. It’ll give you a kick in the ass. If you can keep it
down.”

I managed to roll my head until I could see the demon.

Shivetya was looking back at me. A white crow was strutting around on his
shoulder. Not my white raven. The demon revealed a few teeth in what he might
have thought was a smile. Bizarre. I did not recall him ever having moved
before.

He must have seen the inside of my head. Must know I thought I had a notion
about how to get to Kina.

I hoped the Goddess could not look inside my head, too.

Someday. Down the road. If I could get all the pieces to fall into place.

The white crow sneered. I believe they can do that, those birds.

Tobo understood that something was happening but did not catch on. I think my
new daughters understood better than he did.