Ordenan Imperial Army—The Westlands
Raltan Gan wiped a sheet of sweat from his forehead as his squad’s longboat glided smoothly through the calm, fog-shrouded waters of the bay. The fog was so thick that even in the full light of the blue moon, he could just see the keel of his small boat cut through the small moonlit waves.
Here close to the uninhabitable region in the south of the Westlands, the oppressive heat threatened to suffocate him even now in the dead of night. Before long, the hot mist filled his nostrils with the swampy marine scent of the coastal town the locals called Raalek. They were close.
He looked about him, eyeing each of his squad mates. He had fought beside them countless times, beating back hordes of poorly armed peasants, horrific alai’ahn monsters with their ancient alai binders, and even the dread black Malithii priests themselves once or twice. But none of his companions had been with him as long as Skinny Jack. Jack had joined the Ordenan Imperial Army in the Dark Nations near the same time as Raltan, and they had fought to earn their freedom for the four years since.
Raltan nudged Jack. “Hey, Jacko. You shouldn’t be here. Your years are up. You are a full Ordenan citizen now, you got your tattoo. Go home and find yourself a nice willing lass. There will be any number lining up for you, even ugly as you are.”
Jack chuckled, teeth bared in a smile that always seemed to charm women in moments. “You think so, you iron-faced ox?”
Raltan grinned. “I do indeed. Now me, I just got to put in four more years for Mel, and all that Ordena has to offer is ours. But you could go back now.”
“I will someday soon, I will. But if I go, who’ll keep your sorry ass alive? If I am not here, you’ll be butchered like the pig you are the next day, most like. Then who will take care of that beauty of yours back home? Assuming she has not already found another nice bloke to cozy up to.”
Raltan slugged his friend in the shoulder, ignoring the glares of his squad mates on the oars who now had to combat the sway of the boat. “Not my Melia, not while I still breathe. ’Sides, if I die in service to the Empire, she and my sweet girl are free sooner than I could have hoped and set up with plenty of copper besides.” He smiled. “I would rather just liberate a few of the dread black priests of their heads to earn some years off my time, and live to see them again myself, though.”
Jack shook his head, his long hair swaying. “You do have a death wish. I have told you, stay away from those Malithii bastards. They are not usually stupid enough to come into the protected zone themselves, but I have seen it once. Not pretty. You are big, and good in a fight, but not that good. Especially since the damn commander did not send any Imperators with us. Going to scout an entire infusori Well regiment that has gone silent and we do not have a single mage.” He spat over the side of their small wooden craft before continuing. “If you want to earn extra time and stay alive, just collect binders from a few of their lifeless monsters. We already have enough between us to take a whole year off your girl’s time. We will have enough for us to go home together in no time.”
Raltan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to keep emotion out of his voice. “Thank you, Jack.”
Their captain whispered hoarsely from the back of their longboat, “Shut your damn mouths. Silent approach.”
The reality of their assault was beginning to set in. They’d been on plenty of raids, but something felt different about this one. The Imperial Army command hadn’t had word out of this region for some time, odd enough that command should have sent far more than ten longboats with ten men each to retake a town of this size. There were normally a hundred of the Imperial Army stationed here—or there had been. Command wanted a situation report, but only sent an equal number as what had likely been wiped out. Did not make a whole lot of sense to him. Unfortunately, his lot was to follow orders, not to understand them.
The rocky shoreline came into view just before they slid to a stop with a muted tinkle of rounded pebbles. Raltan and Jack jumped into the warm surf to help the squad pull the boat farther up shore, and started the boot-squelching two-league march toward the small but high-walled town that circumscribed the highly coveted infusori Wells.
The fog had thinned to be merely an annoyance by the time they joined the other two squads at the rally point, a small hill several hundred paces from the wall. The buildings within sat dark and silent in the still of the deep night, but a thimble of caution was worth a bucket of blood, as Jack was fond of saying.
The intelligence reports said that a small service gate on the northwest side of the wall provided their best point of entry, and if Raltan remembered the map correctly, it should be a straight shot from the hill.
“Raltan, Jack, Jian, Talli on point!” the Captain called quietly. “Have that gate open within ten seconds of arrival, or I’ll gut you myself. You know the plan; each squad puts eyes on their targets and we meet back at the boats an hour before dawn. Reconnaissance only.”
When they reached the small wooden side gate, Raltan used a small infusori Crafting to melt the hinges, lowering it to the ground with no more than a quiet creak. Jack and the other two ducked through immediately, short spears and shields at the ready. Raltan shoved his spear through a strap in his pack and drew his heavy-bladed short sword.
He sprang through the gate but pulled up short when he found himself alone in the dark courtyard of a compound of warehouses that reeked of fish. “Jack?” he called softly, crouching instinctively.
“Here,” the reply floated through the still, thick night.
Raltan scanned the courtyard but couldn’t see anything. Not a single building in the town had a light, and while the fog had cleared significantly this far inland, a slight mist still veiled the world. “Daft bastard…” Raltan mumbled, then raised his voice slightly. “Where?”
A hand abruptly waved at him from a shadowed alleyway, then disappeared.
Grumbling, Raltan turned back to the now-open gate, signaling the all-clear to the rest of the Ordenan troops waiting to enter the courtyard.
Each squad formed up briefly at the gate and then disappeared into the mist, marching in near silence toward their targets. If they were lucky, the forces that had attacked the Well would be regular Westland soldiers, like their commanders had claimed in the pre-mission briefing. It was going to be a long night—or maybe a short one—if any of the soulbound monsters or their Malithii priest handlers were here. What Raltan couldn’t figure was where the townsfolk had gone.
Raltan fell in at the end of his squad’s column this time, holding his sword ready as he slipped out of the alleyway and onto a street lined with wood-framed homes and shops.
A short and quiet jog brought them to their target, a section of the town full of older stone buildings that surrounded the two infusori Wells. This was where the Ordenans would be—or where they should be. He had half-expected to find the streets littered with corpses and the wreckage that always followed a battle, especially one with the Westlanders. But besides a broken door or window here and there, the entire town was just … empty. The Westlander civilians and Ordenan soldiers were just gone. He felt a chill roll through him, giving him goosebumps. And not the good kind.
Their task was to clear each of the warehouses. It would likely take all night. He prayed to the Silent Sisters under his breath as his squad broke into twos to inspect each of the buildings.
Jack hung back to pair with Raltan, as they always did. Their sergeant motioned them and two other pairs toward a large, dark building at the far edge of the complex, nearest the Wells. He made a big circle with one hand, telling them to work their way back to where they stood after they cleared the building.
Jack and Raltan wasted no time in moving with their four comrades, good men with whom they had fought for years. The building that was their target had most recently been used as the Imperial Army headquarters, but as they drew nearer, Raltan recognized it as an ancient church where the locals would have worshipped the Fallen God of Glory under the watchful eyes of the Malithii priests. Its ragged spires and crenellations looked to Raltan like the giant fist of some skeletal monster clawing its way free of the earth.
Raltan joined Jack in squatting behind the low wall ringing the cathedral grounds. His friend, being the most senior of the four, whispered orders hoarsely. “Jian, you and Talli take the left side once we’re in. Second pair go right. Let Raltan and me through first to clear the entry. We will get the door open and hold it.”
Raltan nodded. He wasn’t the most nimble, but he could hold a tight spot better than most. Besides, something about this didn’t feel right. It felt like a good night to be close to an exit.
Jack led the way, running in a crouch to the large metal doors at the front of the dark, silent building. He tested the door, found it open, and immediately slipped inside, weapon at the ready.
Raltan shook his head involuntarily in the darkness. He didn’t like it. Those doors should have been locked at the very least. Every door worth going through in this Sisters-cursed land needed kicking down, he’d found. This felt too easy.
Nevertheless, he followed Jack inside, where they cleared the high-ceilinged entry foyer while the other four entered and cleared the rest of the building. Jack set his feet on the left side of the main doors, so Raltan crept over to the right, his sword at the ready.
A large archway gaped empty and black at the other end of the foyer. Raltan stared into the darkness intently, his mind conjuring countless horrors. He’d have liked to clear it himself, but his job was to stay put with Jack. They’d have to wait for one of the other pairs to work their way through the building.
A crash and a quickly stifled shout emanated from the rooms to the left. He and Jack started moving at the same time, crossing slowly to the left-hand doorway. Before they reached it, however, the darkness beyond writhed and became flesh in the form of two ragged figures lurching toward them.
Raltan’s blood froze in his veins before it turned to fire, as it always did in a fight. He’d need it, today. He and Jack had faced the undead soulbound before, but never even numbers, and certainly not in close, dark quarters.
“Get outside where we can butcher them proper,” Jack barked, readying his sword and backing toward the entryway. Raltan kept his eyes on the shambling soulbound as he followed suit, backing out the doors and into the courtyard of the cathedral.
Moonlight reflected dully off the monsters’ bald pates, sharply from the enormous weapons they hefted with unnatural ease. One of the creatures was slightly larger than the other, but both were nearly Raltan’s height, and he was about as tall a man as he had ever met.
The tactics drilled in Imperial Army training cycled through Raltan’s mind as he drew deep breaths to help himself focus.
Maintain distance at all times. Kill them quick. Run if you must.
Jack struck first, whipping his sword at the midsection of the soulbound nearest him, retreating before the creature could react. Thick blood splattered on the stones of the walkway.
The monster stumbled and slowed as its entrails flopped to the stones underfoot, but did not stop. It swung its mighty blade overhead, but Jack nimbly stepped aside, leaving the monster’s weapon to clang and spark against the stone where he’d stood. Jack struck again quickly, severing the tendons in the soulbound’s arm before darting back to safety.
Raltan wanted nothing more than to watch his friend’s beautiful sword work, but he had problems of his own. The larger soulbound had shuffled within striking distance. He brought his sword up just in time to catch the huge blade and deflect it to one side. A desperate grunt escaped his lips at the impact. Silent Sisters, soulbound weren’t supposed to be this fast. He desperately lashed out with a front kick.
He quickly followed the kick with a thrust to the soulbound’s midsection and was rewarded with a sickening crunch as his blade passed through his enemy’s rib cage. He took several rapid steps backward as he twisted his blade free, knowing that the fight wasn’t over. Soulbound took much longer than a living human to bleed out.
It lurched, but still swung its blade at Raltan with incredible strength. Stepping out of range just in time, he struck with a strong overhand blow that severed the soulbound’s head from its corpse in an eruption of thick, putrid blood.
Jack still battled his monster, stabbing and moving, stabbing and moving. His way would work, but it would take forever. Luckily, the remaining soulbound had its back to Raltan.
He covered the distance in a few powerful strides and sheared the beast’s sword arm from its shoulder. Before its arm hit the ground, Jack’s sword plowed through its chest but stuck in the monster’s rib cage. The soulbound’s remaining hand clutched Jack’s throat and pulled him close, seeking to crush the life out of him. Raltan roared as he leapt forward. Unable to use his weapon for fear of wounding his friend, he reached up to hook his fingers in the soulbound’s eye sockets and pull with all his might. He felt a snap, and the monster’s head rebounded violently when it hit the stone-covered ground. Still the damn thing clung to Jack, who rasped and kicked wildly.
Raltan reclaimed his sword and planted the point through one of the soulbound’s ruined eyes. It shuddered and finally lay still. Jack rolled free from its grip, coughing and breathing deeply.
Sweat dripped from Raltan’s brow and his breath came heavy as he leaned down to wrench his friend’s sword from the beast’s chest. “Might want to hang on to that in the future. No good wrestling them.”
Jack gasped a laugh. “Damn things die hard. Different when we’re not in a shield wall, eh, Ral?”
Raltan took a knee to recover the binder bracelets from the monsters’ wrists—these two alone would take another year off the time he still owed for Melia—and to catch his breath for a moment. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t make a habit of it. C’mon, let’s go see what our boys ran into.”
He heaved himself to his feet. Jack followed closely as they stepped carefully back through the door into the deep darkness of the cathedral of the Fallen. “Talli?” Raltan called softly. “Lomar? Jian?”
Nothing.
He approached the left-hand doorway slowly, Jack swinging wide to cover him and get a better view of the room beyond. Something the size of a small man moved just inside the doorway.
“Lomar?”
Raltan caught the brief glint of moonlight flashing off metal streaking in Jack’s direction. Without thought, Raltan leaped to intercept it.
Pain lanced through his shoulder and chest. He hit the ground hard. He struggled to breathe. Someone screamed with rage. A cold laugh echoed through the chamber.
Raltan turned his head feebly to see Jack spring toward a shadow, blade raised. No, not a shadow. A Malithii priest robed in black, who met Jack stroke for stroke with a much smaller blade, almost a dagger.
He forgot his pain long enough to feel nothing but fear for his friend. They were going to die—or, worse, end up as one of the mindless soulbound monsters, enslaved by evil binder bracelets. Raltan fingered the hilt of the dagger that protruded from his right shoulder. He prayed to the Sisters for death to take him before he could be turned, before he had to see his friend be killed. Everyone knew that facing a black priest alone was a sure way to die.
But to his surprise, Jack wasn’t dead yet. In fact, he seemed to have the upper hand. He grunted with effort, his blade moving faster and faster, keeping the shadowy priest on his heels. The mind-numbing flurry of activity ended when Jack lunged, thrusting his blade through the priest’s midsection. The Malithii hunched over and fell, clawing feebly at the blade impaling him. Dangerous they might be, but they still died like any other human.
Jack bent over to retrieve his sword, and cried out, a hand to his thigh. The bastard priest had stabbed him with a small dagger, malicious even in the throes of death. Jack hacked at the priest until the form lay still, each fall of the blade a sick squelch.
His friend limped over to Raltan and knelt, inspecting the knife stuck in him. “You saved my life, twice over, Ral. I don’t think we should take that knife out of you just yet. It’s already bleeding plenty. Can you stand?”
Raltan summoned what strength he had left and lurched to his feet, swaying. “Find me a wagon, Jack. I won’t make it twenty paces. And get that priest’s head.” He already felt like he was going to empty his stomach, and the knife stuck in his shoulder ached something fierce.
Jack wasted no time on talk. He wrapped Raltan’s wound as best he could around the blade, wrapped his own bleeding thigh, then hobbled away to look for a cart, a horse, anything.
Raltan must have passed out, for the next he knew, he was bouncing along in the back of a hay cart next to the bloody tattooed head of a Malithii priest. They were already outside the town walls, speeding down the dirt road in the general direction of the longboats as fast as Jack could goad the cart horse into trotting.
Raltan watched deliriously as five hundred paces or so behind them, a mass of lumbering soulbound boiled out from the town’s gates. At least two Malithii priests drove the soulbound from behind with cracking whips.
“Jack!” Raltan called in a panic. His best friend in all the world put a calming hand on his head.
“I know, Ral. There’s thousands of the beasts. The whole town turned, likely the battalion stationed here too. Never seen anything like it. All our men are dead, or ran already. The damned soulbound came out of the Well compound right as I was loading your huge ass into this wagon.”
Raltan lay back, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on anything but the pain radiating from his shoulder and his impending death at the hands of a horde of soulbound. His wife’s face, and his daughter’s, floated to him from the warm depths of cherished memory. For a time he lost himself in them, their look, their feel, their smell. It was almost as if he were with them again. He missed them so much. Maybe Jack would kill him out of kindness.
“Ral! Raltan Gan, don’t you dare die after I hauled your giant ass out of that town. There’s a Mage-Healer on the galley. I’ve just got to row us out. Just hang on.”
Raltan regained consciousness long enough to realize that Jack had somehow put him in one of the longboats. The scrappy little man was stronger than he looked.
He reached out a hand after Jack pushed them away from shore and began rowing. He found Jack’s leg and gripped with all the power he had left to him. He felt the blood from Jack’s own considerable wound, warm as it oozed over his fingers. “Jack. Find my girls, Jack. Make sure they get their citizenship.”
Jack grunted through labored breaths as he rowed. “You’re not dead yet, you oaf. But if the Malithii have managed to make that many soulbound right under our noses, I’m not sure any of us are making it home anyway. The war just got a lot worse, I think.”