Daniel drummed his fingers nervously along the stone parapet. From this vantage he could see the Sixth’s camp as well as a small gathering of merchants, farmers, and other travelers who’d come to enter the city but were barred by the lockdown. Arnica stood beside him, leaning casually against the battlements. She had adopted a deliberately languid posture to hide her worry, but it only half worked. Her eyes kept drifting off in the direction she’d pointed out earlier.
He didn’t blame her. If the threat that had driven Rhud’s people off the northern steppe—and killed her fellow necromancers—had come here? Worse, if it had followed them here? What horror might they have brought upon this city? He hoped it wasn’t true, that the Sixth Army’s mages were concerned about something else.
Arnica hadn’t voiced their suspicion to Deirdre. The woman was already stressed to her limit trying to keep her city in order and deal with a noble military commander who seemed all too keen to throw his weight around. He wondered how much longer they should hold back though. If the threat out there really was what he suspected it was, the governor should know as soon as possible.
“Tell me about them,” Daniel said, “the things that attacked you up north. I know they’re dangerous, but what exactly are they?”
Arnica shrugged. “That’s the ironic part,” she said, “we don’t actually know. There were always ice fields scattered across the steppe. Some stretched out into the ocean, some filled massive basins in the ground, and others sat high in the mountains. They are natural, to some extent, but they always had an air of sorcery about them. Ancient sorcery.”
“And these things came from the ice one day?” he asked.
“It was a process. That sorcery began to ebb, to fade away. When it did, the ice receded with it. The creatures that were freed by this thawing, we called abominations.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes. “Abominations? You called me an abomination.”
Arnica returned the gaze unperturbed. “It was deliberate. They distress the world around them nearly as much as you do. They are twisted, and they corrupt everything they can.”
“I’m not twisted!” Daniel protested. “I’m just from somewhere else. My soul was normal there.”
“Therein lies the difference between you,” Arnica agreed, “though I doubted it at first. You resemble them in some respects but could not be more different in others. If the reaction between you and sorcery weren’t so… violent, I would have been interested in studying your nature further.”
“And I’d be just as keen to see those results as you,” Daniel said.
He lifted his hands from the parapet and found that the stone beneath them had begun to crumble. Hairline cracks spread through the stone block, though it hadn’t quite lost its structural integrity yet. Daniel crossed his arms, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying attention.
This particular effect, the destruction of matter, was one such object of his curiosity. It wasn’t instant, and it wasn’t constant, like his relationship with magic. He wished that he’d pressed the priestess Dira about it further. She, of all the people he’d met, possessed the best understanding of his condition. He would have to find her, once this debacle was settled.
Silence had fallen between Daniel and Arnica again, and he almost dared call it a companionable silence. It wasn’t hostile, at least, which was a step in the right direction as far as things went between him and the necromancer.
The governor had gone to quell the crowd, something Daniel wouldn’t have been much help with. His true value lay in dealings with the Sixth. Telann technically outranked Arlan, Arnica had explained to him, although the lord commander retained absolute command over his forces. The loss of Rhud brought some ambiguity to his station, but while he acted as the duke, Daniel served as a walking reminder of the empire’s failure to protect its own.
This message may be lost on Arlan, sure, but Deirdre had assured him that there were good men and women in the employ of the Sixth Army and that despite the blind eye the capital was turning toward the steppe, most people weren’t so heartless.
Daniel hoped she was right.
The shouts from the mob on the city side of the wall periodically swelled and abated, interspersed with harsh chastisement from Deirdre, which had an uncanny ability to cut through the rest of the noise like chaff as she argued with them.
She was a good fit for this city, Daniel decided. He hoped the citizenry agreed, and that they let themselves be wrangled long enough for them to sort out the issue with the Sixth. For now, at least they seemed relatively peaceful, though a few drunken rioters had thrown pieces of rotting food at the watchmen. They hadn’t dispersed, however. Not all of them. They knew just as surely as the governor did that the gate needed to open sometime. Neither the army nor the city could survive for long without traffic and commerce passing through it.
“There’s movement,” Arnica said, interrupting Daniel’s reverie.
He followed her gaze, and sure enough the army camp resembled a bustling anthill. Soldiers moved to and fro, dissembling tents and kicking out cookfires.
“Are they leaving?” Daniel asked. “It’s so soon! I thought Arlan wanted to wait it out?”
The city watch had noticed as well, and they now pressed against the edge of the wall trying to see what was happening and gossiping with each other. They chattered excitedly, some claiming that the army had decided they were outmatched against the great city of Rhud, while others thought they were mobilizing to attack.
Arnica grabbed him by the arm.
“See the cavalry!” she hissed.
Daniel looked. One unit of soldiers wasn’t participating in breaking camp. They were with the warhorses. Several men were brushing them down, while others were wrestling with massive sheets of cloth and metal.
“Is that armor?” he asked.
Arnica nodded.
“Do they normally ride in armor?” Daniel asked.
“Not for travel. Only for battle, or demonstrations, like parades.”
“Do you think they’re planning a parade?”
Arnica slowly shook her head in response.
Someone had informed the governor of these changes. It had been enough to pull her away from her shouting match with the crowd, and she now approached the wall’s edge, muttering a string of curses that could make a sailor wince. A few officials trailed behind her and were no less worried, though they were quieter about it.
Deirdre took a spot beside Daniel. “Captain Vymes!” she gestured to one of the watchmen in an officer’s uniform. “Have they shown any signs of aggression toward the city?”
“Not yet, ma’am,” the man grunted in response.
“Or toward the travelers?”
Captain Vymes squinted at the cluster of civilian wagons that were still held up outside the city.
“It appears they’re being rounded up, ma’am.”
Deirdre swore again. “Even that imbecile Arlan should know better than that!”
Captain Vymes cleared his throat. “Actually, ma’am, it appears they’re being brought closer to the city. To the gates, in fact.”
“Why?” Daniel asked. “If they want to assault the city, then they’d want the civilians as far out of their way as possible.”
“They don’t want to assault the city,” Arnica replied. “They’re preparing to defend it.”
The governor glanced between Arnica, Daniel, and the watchman Vymes. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Stolen novel; please report.
Arnica nodded. “Their mages have dropped all subtlety. They’re questing out openly to the West with their sorcery. Something is coming.”
Deirdre bit her lip for a moment, then came to a decision. “Send a messenger down, now!” she said. “If the Sixth is expecting a fight, I want to make sure our efforts are coordinated. Vymes, raise the off-duty watchmen and the militia.”
She turned to Daniel. “Duke, you have more battlefield experience than any of my officers. I want you ready to sortie should it become necessary. Can I count on you?”
Memories flashed through Daniel’s mind. Chaos. Blood mixing with mud and pus to form a putrid miasma. Stinging cold that numbed his wounds and stole the dexterity from his fingers. And oh so much noise. He remembered war. Despite this, despite himself and every ounce of common sense he hadn’t lost since coming here, he replied.
“Of course, Deirdre,” Daniel said, with a bow that felt too natural. Why? I don’t have the experience she expects! He would be a liability were she to rely on him. And yet, something deep down in his core wouldn’t let him deny her request. Is that you Telann? Is Taur right? Are you in there somewhere?
Or maybe he, Daniel, had an ounce or two of heroism of his own. It was laughable, he knew that, but somehow he still hoped it was true.
The governor answered him with a satisfied nod that made Daniel’s heart burn in some strange mixture of pride and shame. He prayed to whatever benevolent god might hear him that he hadn’t made the wrong decision.
Somewhere, a raven screeched.
----------------------------------------
The sun climbed high overhead as the army made its preparations. The bulk of the infantry had gathered in front of the gate while the cavalry rode off to a hill a little to the North. The army bore a mix of weapons throughout the ranks, though predominant, Daniel noted, were the pikes and muskets, just as Arlan had described the day before.
Despite the change in circumstances, the lord commander did not come to the wall to communicate directly with the governor. Deirdre’s messengers were sent back with curt instructions for the city soldiers to hold the walls and refrain from missile fire—bows, slings, and such—in any segment of the battlefield where the Sixth had assets. There was too much risk that the relatively untrained militiamen might make a mistake while firing over the heads of the soldiers, and the city forces were too few to make the risk worth it.
When prompted about the nature of the threat, the messengers could only shrug. They didn’t know, and apparently, neither did the soldiers they’d communicated with. Arnica said little throughout this process. She’d pulled out her pouch and held it delicately as she gazed off toward the impending threat.
“If it’s what I think it is, you’ve fought it before, right?” Daniel asked her. “Is there anything you could tell them, anything that could help?”
Arnica met his eyes, and for a moment he thought he saw fear in her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m no strategist. Even if I were, each one is different. Once we see it maybe… but Daniel, understand. There were so many of them in that ice. We only ever faced a few. That’s all it took.” She shuddered.
Daniel shifted on his feet uneasily.
They were trying to open the gates now to let the travelers inside the city. A few squads of city watchmen had gathered by the inside of the gate, wielding heavy clubs. The crowd retreated several steps, and their collective movement conjured to Daniel’s mind the image of an amoeba, a hungry, amorphous blob whose motion almost suggested intelligence, but just barely.
The gate itself consisted of two layers of heavy wooden doors, one set flush with the outer edge of the wall and the other on the inner side. The outer side was also protected by an iron portcullis. This was raised, and the outer doors were opened. Civilians were ushered inside until no more could fit, and then the outer doors were closed behind them.
Hearing the creak of hinges, the crowd grew agitated.
The inner doors opened. The mob erupted. A wave of bodies crashed forward, straining to reach the gate. The watchmen met this charge with ruthless swings of their clubs, cracking heads and breaking bones.
Just barely, and by the power of generously distributed violence, the watchmen held their ground while the civilians were ushered out of the gatehouse and down a side street. The mob paid them little mind. They still wanted to get to the people on the other side of that wall.
“Haven’t they realized?” Daniel asked. “Something more important is happening.”
“Not to them,” Deirdre replied. “Konti hasn’t been put under external threat for decades. That doesn’t seem real, and this is the first they’re hearing of it. That army though, that’s real. They killed folks that these people know, and they want blood.” She shook her head sadly.
“They don’t know the cost,” she continued, her eyes glazing over. “A blood price, it always seems simple enough. But it’s so easy that it just keeps flowing, and before you can stop yourself, you’ll drown in it.” She snorted. “If what the Sixth’s mages sensed is really coming—and if it’s bad enough—they may earn themselves sympathy, or gratitude even. Either way, I’m afraid this won’t end without more tragedy.”
Another round of civilians had been brought through the outer door, and as the inner door opened the crowd rushed in again. It was thinner this time as those injured by the first round or were too afraid of the vicious clubs stayed back. Once again, the watchmen were hard-pressed, but the gates were closed again without anyone breaking through.
That was all the civilians who’d been outside the gate. The wagons of those fortunate enough to have them had been confiscated and turned into barricades, further restricting access to the gate on the outside. It appeared that defending this point had been made a priority in the Sixth Army’s defense.
If only those bastards hadn’t fired those shots, Daniel thought, the army could fight from the walls. But then again, depending on the threat, the city could have been forced into a siege. This way at least, the matter would be settled on the open field of battle. For better or worse, it would be over more quickly.
----------------------------------------
Daniel knew the battle was imminent when he saw a pair of scouts riding for the army at a gallop. Their horses were frothing at the mouth and their eyes rolled wildly with fear. The men didn’t seem much better.
The scouts went directly to Arlan, who sat atop a horse amongst his personal guard. A crimson banner with his house insignia marked his position, held next to the forest-green ensign of the Sixth Army itself.
Daniel couldn’t hear the ensuing exchange of words, but he saw the action that came of it. Arlan gave some orders, and the army began to move. A small force was left at the gate while the rest marched forward.
“They’ve seen the enemy,” Deirdre said. “They’re moving out to engage them on the open field, where they’ll have space to maneuver and retreat if necessary.”
“And them?” Daniel asked, pointing to the unit that had been left at the gate. They seemed to be more heavily armored than most of the soldiers, and each wore a red cloth tied around their right arm.
Deirdre smiled, baring her teeth. “The jewel of the Sixth Army. That’s the Mailed Fist, Duke. A traditional unit, since my days with the old emperor. They’re the best of the best. If that boy Arlan has any wits, he’ll deploy them wherever the fighting gets thickest.”
Daniel nodded.
The center force of the Sixth stopped marching. Several units kept moving on the force’s wings, sweeping out to increase the breadth of the army’s flanks. From this distance, they looked like such a thin line between the city and what lay beyond.
Several minutes passed in near silence atop the wall. Among the few noises were the persistent complaints of the crowd behind them, many members still nursing their wounds from the city watch’s intervention. Joining that chorus was the steady beat of drums from the army on the field before them.
Then, the enemy appeared.
Figures emerged from the forest. First one, then another, then dozens behind them. From this distance, he couldn’t yet see details, but there was something odd about the way they moved.
Another figure appeared. This one was huge and hunched, like a massive, misshapen bear. More behemoths lumbered into view. Each was different from the last, and there was always something about them that fundamentally seemed unnatural, though he couldn’t see them clearly enough yet to determine exactly why.
“Are those them?” Daniel whispered to Arnica. “The abominations?”
Her face had gone ghostly white. “Just one,” she whispered back, clutching her pouch tightly. “Just one abomination, but it is a host unto itself.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“This one was there, at the fall of Rhud.”
“Is it the thing that killed Telann?” Daniel said quietly, so the governor wouldn’t hear.
Arnica shook her head. “No. But it killed plenty of us.”
“Can it be killed itself?”
“It still lives, so we never found out.” Arnica drew herself up, regaining her composure. “But it can be fought.” She summoned a messenger with a word. A nervous boy approached, eyes darting to the unfamiliar uniform she wore.
“Go to the commander and tell him not to leave casualties on the field. Not even for a moment, do you understand? As soon as someone goes down, they have to pull them out of the fighting.”
The boy nodded vigorously. His hands were trembling. He looked to Governor Deirdre. She had overheard the order. She raised an eyebrow at Arnica.
The necromancer did not elaborate.
“Go,” Deirdre said.
The messenger went, scrambling down a rope that had been dropped from the top of the wall and running out to the army.
Deirdre eyed Arnica critically for a few moments, then turned back to the battlefield.
The figures were drawing nearer, and now Daniel could make out individual features. The little ones were people, or at least looked like them. They walked haphazardly, often leaning too far in one direction or another like drunkards.
Daniel’s throat went dry. Nearly all of them had extra limbs. Arms curling up over their backs or emerging from their chests. Some had hands attached at their elbows, or knees where shoulders should be. There were more strange configurations than he could name
“What are those?” Daniel whispered to Arnica, horrified.
“They were once the people of Rhud,” she said mournfully. “I told you Daniel, the abominations corrupt the world around them. This one corrupts flesh. It takes the bodies of the fallen and keeps them alive, incorporating them into itself.”
He could now see the behemoths more clearly. He grew nauseous.
Where the smaller figures still resembled people, with these the human form had been abandoned entirely. They were writhing amalgamations of flesh. Torsos and limbs had been grafted together to form foul creatures that defied the very laws of nature. Daniel could even make out parts that appeared to come from animals. The tall leg of a moose, on one, the head of a bull on another.
Daniel heard a chorus of muttered prayers all along the wall as the watchmen saw the many-bodied abomination approach. Deirdre just stared; her bony hand clasped tight to a sword she wore at her hip. Seeing that, Danel touched the pommel of his own weapon, fastened to his belt.
The crowd behind them continued with its protests, oblivious to the horror that approached them on the other side of the wall.
“How many bodies does it have?” Daniel asked.
“As many as it can harvest,” Arnica answered. “If it takes the city, who knows how large it may become.”
A few of the watchmen heard this, and their eyes filled with terror.
“Then it won’t take the city,” Daniel said with resolve.
Arnica cocked her head at him. Then, her eyes narrowed, and she clutched her pouch even tighter. “It won’t,” she agreed.