Chapter 18

The avenue was narrow but thankfully empty as Dryden led Captain Wilson’s squadron down the lane. He had been this way many times over the two years that he had served in Vurun. It was one of the better ways to go between the Red Fort and the V.A.C. fort which was the Company’s headquarters in the city. He had gone on patrol frequently between the various forts of Vurun, which now stood empty and unguarded. Now he went down the lane one more time. The same lane on which they had first encountered the undead that now plagued the dark places of the sprawling city. He rode onward. It wasn’t far, now. Burning indigo smoke continued to billow and darken the skies above. It had looked distant when they began, but now it loomed over them as they approached the Company’s aethium district. The fire was spreading too, they could tell. The smoke from the aethium warehouses was indigo, but the fire burning the buildings was thick and black as treacle. The men did not speak as they rode. Even the horses refused to whinny or neigh. The only sound was the pounding of hooves on the dirt road and the sound of wind as they passed rows of Vuruni hovels. Then, in the distance, the first retort of gunfire was heard, followed by a volley of musket fire. A cannon roared. Dryden spurred his horse to a gallop, and the men followed with him.

The lane turned a final time, and the V.A.C. fort came into view. It was a low fort made of earthworks and brick. It was not one of the old forts built by ancient conquerors. Instead, it was a modern fort built in the shape of a star, made to withstand cannon barrages and provide defenders enfilading angles of fire down onto those who would assault it. Dryden could see now that those angles served them well. Hundreds of skeletons were presently assaulting the walls, climbing over one another to get up to the men in the fort. Because of the nature of the star fort, the defenders were able to fire into the rear of the mindless skeletons. These undead were no threat to the soldiers in the fort but prevented their leaving. Perhaps that was the point.

“13th, form a line!” Dryden yelled back at the men riding with him. He could tell his horse was tired, but Rosie was a sturdy steed, well suited to the rigours of war. He slowed his horse and men quickly rode in and began to form a line for a charge. Though the road widened into a broad avenue as it approached the V.A.C. fort, they could not fit many horses shoulder to shoulder, their front was perhaps only two dozen men wide. It was deep, however. It would have to be good enough. They wasted no time. As soon as they were lined up, the order to charge was given on the bugle, and the line moved forward. They went slowly at first, staying together in close formation. Then, slowly speeding up to a canter, a trot, and finally a gallop. They did not go as fast as the horses were able. It was all they could do for the mass of mounted horse to move as one. This was no elegant battlefield charge. They were crammed together in the street and riding against a mass of moving bone.

Dryden’s heart pounded. The thunder of hooves matched the rhythm in his chest. He pointed his cavalry sabre out in front of him, using it as a kind of lance, as did all the troopers in the front row. Time seemed to slow just before they hit. Skeletons with darkly glowing eyes turned to face them. Some held ancient spears and swords. Their jaws opened in a noiseless battle cry, but the dead made no sound. Dryden found himself bellowing a wordless cry as the horses slammed home into the skeletal ranks. The momentum of the horses was not easily slowed by the dry bones. Ribcages and skulls crunched in the impact. Skeletons fell into heaps and clattered as they collided with the weight of the horses. They were trampled under the hooves of the steeds. By the end of it, several horses and men had fallen, but their skeletal foes had been vanquished. Groups of troopers were dispatched to clean up the remaining skeletons. It was simple enough work for men on horseback.

A voice called down from the top of the wall, “Ahoy, 13th!” It was a man in a black uniform. The uniform was that of a Company soldier and he wore the gold epaulettes of a colonel. Dryden recognized him as the man who had accompanied Lady Belfair at the ball. He was Colonel Hood. He had only met the man once and had not been formally introduced. He knew him by reputation alone. He was a young lord, an Earl, and to Dryden’s understanding, a fine officer. He had gone the route of joining the V.A.C. rather than the King’s army. His family was well entrenched in The Company. Half a dozen Hoods were colony governors, board members, or colonels in the V.A.C.

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“Colonel Hood, I presume.” He began, “I’m Major Dryden of the 13th. Brigadier Belfair and Lieutenant-Colonel Havor have sent me to ask if you would join us in our retreat from the city!” He shouted up at Hood.

“Indeed? So you’re going through with it, then?” He shouted back.

“Even as we speak the army and colonists are retiring from the city. By sunset, you’ll be alone in Vurun. Pray, come down and speak in person, or let me in so we can speak properly.” Dryden persisted.

The colonel disappeared. A minute later the gate opened and he came striding out. He was a handsome young man. He had light brown hair, green eyes, and a pale thin face with slightly hollow cheeks. He was somewhat tall, and in his black uniform, he cut a striking figure against the billowing indigo smoke.

His voice had the air of someone used to getting his way, “So, you want us to accompany you on your little adventure down to Andaban, eh?”

“When we left them an hour ago, lead elements of the army were already making their way out of the city. Brigadier Belfair bids you to join us. He would see you and your men live, sir. This Kurush fellow has given us safe passage, as long as we go from the city. I had assumed you would, sir, since you burned your own aethium, that you had given up on staying.”

Hood glanced back at the smoke, “That wasn’t us. I had assumed it was some of you fellows making a poor attempt to convince us to come out and flee with the rest of you.”

“It was not. If it was neither of us, then whom?” Dryden asked.

The question was answered almost immediately. A small group of horsemen appeared. They were dressed in loose white clothing. They wore steel helms that covered their faces and were plumed with black horsehair. They were armed with very long lances. At the front was a man holding a white flag. It was Kal’kuris. He left his men and kicked his horse over to where Dryden and Hood were standing.

“Major, it is good you have come. These Company curs refuse to leave.” His tone was far less accommodating and diplomatic than it had been the other times that Dryden had met the emissary.

Hood scoffed, “I will not be made to leave. We were invited. We have contracts. We have a fort, and arms, and are well-supplied. We can withstand you and your cavalry as long as it takes to bring relief.”

“You agreed to leave.” Kal’kuris spoke to Dryden, “Were these dogs not informed of this fact?”

“They were.”

“Then we have no choice but to take action.” He signaled to his men and a horn was blown.

The warlord’s cavalry seemed to pour suddenly from every side street, and from around the fort, filling every space. Every one of them was armed with jezail rifles and long lances. They were men with hard faces and sturdy mounts. Dark eyes flashed from beneath steel helms. Horse hair plumes danced in the breeze.

“Hold!” Dryden shouted. He moved his horse in front of Kal’kuris, “You promised us until today.”

“They will not leave.”

“We have until the end of today. Is Kurush not a man of his word?” Dryden was nearly shouting. There was no response, so he said it again, “Is King Kurush not a man of his word?”

Kal’kuris spat on the ground next to Colonel Hood and grimaced, “He is.” The words came from the man’s lips with difficulty, “Your time is short. When the sun falls behind the Korum mountains, every man of Vastrum left in this city will die.” He practically whipped his horse around and rode off down a side street. His horsemen followed with him. After only a few moments all was silent but the wind and the sound of hoof falls retreating into the distance.

Dryden stared at Colonel Hood, searching for an answer in his face. He found none. The man would have been good at cards. As he waited for Hood to speak he noticed that the wind had changed. A gust whipped up from the east. It was icy cold and a chill ran down Dryden’s spine. He looked up and saw that the cloud of smoke was shifting towards them with the wind now. Dryden could see a wall of flame and indigo smoke billowing towards them. He turned back to Hood, “Sir, we must away.”

Something in Hood’s face broke seeing the flames turn, “Fine. We’ll go.”

The men of the V.A.C. were nothing if not efficient. They were ready to go within the hour. They had already made many preparations as a contingency if they were forced to leave. Behind the 13th they marched out of their fort. Guns were spiked, stores they could not use were destroyed, and finally, the fort was lit ablaze, the smoke adding to that of the aethium fires. They left just ahead of the blaze as it smouldered through the Company’s district. They met the rear of the army’s column just before sunset as they departed the edge of the city. Dryden turned one last time and looked back, the last man to leave the city. The final rays of sun shone down, lighting up the smoke and indigo haze, as the city burned behind them.