Path of Bones (43 page)

“
Are you on now?” he asked.

She watched him, suspicious, but with a smile on her face. 

“No.”  Slayne just nodded in response.  “You’re smiling,” she said, her Islander accent faint but there, exotic and enticing.  “Why?”

“
Because the game has gotten interesting,” he said.  “Stay sharp – we’ll be killing Red Hand before you know it.”

She nodded, and smiled.  Hatred of Bloodspeakers was one of the prerequisites for joining the Black Eagles. 

“Well, then,” she smiled, her teeth impossibly bright, “this promises to be fun.”

She stepped close, and Slayne grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his tent, closing the flap behind him.  She removed her armor in a swift motion.  Her loose grey shirt came free as Slayne practically ripped both of their clothes off.  Her breasts were small but firm, and her skin was soft and smooth as he ran his tongue from her navel all of the way up to her neck.  He was so hard his cock pained him.

“No matter what happens,” he said into her ear, practically panting, “we kill as many of those black-tongued freaks as we can.”  He threw her onto her back, and she moaned and bit into his ear and he pushed inside her.  Within minutes of his violent and desperate thrusts the juice of her sex splashed all over his stomach and groin.  They didn’t bother being quiet, and before long they were both growling and hissing as they violently took each other there in a camp in the middle of the dead wilds.

Fifty-Five

Blackhall pulled himself up from the bed.  People had burned in his nightmares, and those images still clouded his mind. 

Another night had passed with practically no rest.  The lack of sleep was starting to ail him, and even medicinal herbs and nightshade liqueur hadn’t helped.  Blackhall’s vision swam as he stumbled across the chamber; his shoulders were sore and his head felt like a piece of battered tin.  Though he’d navigated the room when it was dark a hundred times he still managed to collide with a bench as he made his way to light the nearest lamp. 

This keeps getting worse. 
He was sleeping less and less, and what little rest he did manage to get was uneasy and plagued with nightmares.  The men of Wolf Brigade hadn’t burned, not in the technical sense, but that hardly mattered.  Dead was dead, and he was responsible. 

He pulled a loose shirt over his sweaty chest.  How long had he been asleep?  He still couldn’t get used to the lack of light in the tower, and now more than ever he considered ignoring Gess’s advice and moving himself into an inn or even a bivouac. 

Blackhall saw motion from the corner of his eye, and his breath caught in his chest.  A distinct humanoid shape moved just out of the lamplight.  He snatched his bastard sword off the table and held it ready.

“
Whoever you are,” he growled, “you just made the biggest mistake of your life.”  He stepped sideways across the room.  The intruder had vanished, but Blackhall still sensed something there in the gloom. 

How had someone gotten that deep into the tower?  He was reminded of when Ijanna Taivorkan had intruded, but Gess had assured him that the Veilcrafted safeguards on the doors had been enhanced, and Blackhall knew for a fact that patrols around the citadel had been doubled since they’d relocated it to the middle of Ebonmark.  Not so much as a kitten should have been able to get within throwing distance of the stronghold.

Blackhall’s pulse quickened and his blood boiled.  He moved towards the intruder, dodging around support columns as he went.  The light from the lamp only shone so far, but he knew there was little chance of drawing the man out.  Moving through that darkness was like walking in a carbon fog. 

“
Come out!” he shouted, and at the sound of his voice the intruder shot forward, and Blackhall saw a glint of armor and steel.

It was a corpse – a dead man in Jlantrian armor, the blue and white tabards dripping blood.  The stench of rot and flame blasted across Blackhall’s face.  Crimson haze hung around the dead man’s skull, and his eyes dripped burning tar.  Blackhall stumbled back, his blade slack in his hand.  Fear hammered his spine.

“Colonel?”

The soldier was gone, and Blackhall stood alone in the room.  His lungs felt ready to burst and his skin was pasted with icy sweat.  Though the corpse had vanished he still tasted the stench of soiled blood and corpse rot in the back of his throat.

“Aaric!”

Gess stepped up and took Blackhall by one shoulder to steady him.  His head pounded behind his eyes. 

It had been a dream, or a vision.  He’d imagined the whole thing…but it had felt so
real
, so vivid.  The smell of death, the dripping blood, the sound of the man’s sword scraping against the stone.

Blackhall sat down heavy on his cot. 

“Goddess…I’m losing my mind, Toran.”  He felt weak and unbalanced. 

Toran Gess waited, watching. 

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“
No,” Blackhall said with a humorless laugh.  “No, I’m not.  Those men didn’t deserve to die like that.”  He’d made mistakes before, but nothing like this.  It was killing him inside.

“
I beg to differ, Aaric,” Gess said.  “You know damn well what Wolf Brigade was capable of.  More than a few innocent people died by their hand.  They slaughtered children, then raped the mothers and sisters with the blood still fresh on their hands.”  His tone was cold, and his eyes burned with anger.  “They were
monsters
, Aaric.  And they deserved what they got.”

“
They were
soldiers
, Toran,” he snapped back.  “They might have been mercenaries, but they were Jlantrians, and they were following orders.”

“
You have to bury it, Colonel,” Gess said.  “Before it buries
you
.”

“
I can’t,” Blackhall said.  “I’ve tried.  Goddess knows I’ve tried…”

“
What other choice do you have?” Gess asked.  “Tell the truth?  Expose Slayne and myself?  We did what had to be done, and it’s time to move on.  The Empire needs you, Argus needs you…your
wife
needs you, Aaric, and she needs you healthy and sane.  Those men died so we could save lives.  If you had the opportunity to do it again, would you act otherwise, knowing that Wolf Brigade would have brought all-out war to the streets of Ebonmark?”

Blackhall stared into the shadows.  Would he do things different?  Many of Ebonmark’s citizens would have perished in an open conflict, and the blame would have been laid squarely at Blackhall’s feet. 

You killed them to save lives. 

“
All right,” he said, taking a deep breath.  “Let’s move on.”

“
That’s all we
can
do,” Gess said.  “If you like, I’m sure I could concoct something stronger than nightshade liqueur to help you sleep.”  The Veilwarden removed his grey cloak and set it on the table, then poured a glass of thick red wine.  He was looking better, and he seemed to be getting more accustomed to using his off-hand.  Gess was still somewhat sallow and pale, but Blackhall had known enough amputees in his day to understand he’d always be a shadow of the man he’d once been.  Maiming meant the loss of more than just a limb. 

Gess poured a second glass and handed it to Blackhall.  The sweet red was heady and thick, and though his head pounded he found that a few gulps of the vintage actually helped ease the pain. 

“Thank you,” he said.  “What time is it?”

“
Just past dusk,” Gess said.  “And I’ve got some bad news that’s bound to take your mind off of your other worries.” 

Blackhall ran his hands through his thick black hair.  He was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew sleep was a long ways off.  He took another sip of wine, crossed the room to the wash basin and splashed cool water onto his face.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.  “Trouble with the remnants of the Black Guild?”

“
Some,” Gess said.  “Scouts found tracks from about thirty Tuscars plus mounts south of the city.”

“
I know about that,” Blackhall said.  “They went north, away from Ebonmark.  Good riddance.  They’re not our concern unless they come back.”

“
Oh, they may be our concern sooner than that,” Gess said with his usual flippant tone.  “Especially if we have to head north ourselves.”  Blackhall turned and looked at him.  “I received a message from Argus,” Gess continued.  “He isn’t certain yet, but he and Slayne fear they may require military support in Corinth.”

“
Damn it,” Blackhall said.

“
Argus says the Dream Witch has joined forces with the Red Hand.”

Blackhall wiped his face clean and walked back to the table to pour himself another glass. 

“That’s…not good.  And they still don’t know what to expect from the Princess, do they?”

“
No,” Gess said.  “They haven’t actually located her yet, but Slayne seems to think she’s held up in the ruins of Corinth, and that she has soldiers of her own.”

Blackhall looked at the map of Malzaria spread on the table and gauged the stretch of the Bonelands between Ebonmark and Corinth. 

“It would take us a week to crawl through Gallador,” he said, “and I don’t have enough men to provide any useful support and still be able to defend the city.  More soldiers are on the way from Ral Tanneth to help with the Tuscar incursions, but they won’t be here for another few days.”  Blackhall paced the room.  The air seemed to grow hotter, and he clenched his teeth in frustration.  “But we can’t leave Slayne and Argus out there on their own, not against those odds.  What do we need to do, Toran?”

Gess looked at the map, his gaunt face calm and his fine lips pursed in thought. 

“I’m not sure,” he said.  “Maybe instead of a large force we can put together a smaller unit that can travel faster.”

“
I’ve had issue with this from the start,” Blackhall said.  “Any troops I send wouldn’t even get there in time to find Argus’ body…how many can we safely move through the
cutgates
?”

“
Twelve, fifteen at most,” Gess said.  “If we had a more stable and permanent gate we could send more, but since I’d be stuck creating it on my own that’s the best I can manage.  House Blue has no other Veilwardens to spare.” 

“
What about creating multiple gates?” Blackhall asked.  “We could move smaller groups in rapid succession.  That way we could break a larger force up and send it over squad by squad…”

“
It can’t be done,” Gess said with a shake of his head.  “Forming a
cutgate
is taxing, Aaric, and if I tried to do it more than twice in the same
day
I’d end up killing myself.  And I’d like to think we’re not quite
there yet, thank you.  Besides, if you open too many
cutgates
to the same target destination in a short span of time the excess Veil energy seeps through the dimensional tear.”

Blackhall gave him a look.

“And that means…?”

“
People die,” Gess said.  “Lots of them.”

“
Could Argus do it?” he asked.  “Didn’t he use
cutgates
to gather his team?”

Gess shook his head, looking suddenly tired.  Toran had spent much of their first few weeks in Ebonmark driving Blackhall mad with questions and incessant prattle about the proper way to do things; Blackhall would never admit it out loud, but he was secretly enjoying getting some measure of revenge. 

“Yes and no,” Gess said.  “Argus used some artifacts in Ral Tanneth which allowed him to form
cutgates
at a greatly reduced cost to himself, but most of the destinations were pre-set.  That’s how he gathered the team – he knew both where they’d be and when, and each of them was under agreement to stay in their assigned areas until he came for them.”

“
Wonderful,” Blackhall said.  “Why do Veilwardens have to make things so damn complicated?”

“
We enjoy it,” Gess said dryly.  “Like I said, I can make a single small
cutgate
, enough for maybe fifteen men, half that if you want them mounted.  That’s the best I can do.”

Blackhall softly pounded his fist against the table. 

“Send Argus a message,” he said.  “Tell him we’re mobilizing a hundred horsemen as soon as the reinforcements from Ral Tanneth arrive.  They’ll ride north for Corinth unless we hear otherwise.  In the meantime, I’ll assemble a smaller group to send through a
cutgate
right away.” 

Blackhall grabbed the duty rosters from the pile of papers at the edge of the table.

“And this smaller group…?” Gess asked.

“
I’ll select my best men.  They’ll accompany you and me, assuming you’re up to it.”  Gess looked taken aback, but only for a moment, and nodded his ascent.  “Get ready, then,” Blackhall said.  “It sounds like we’re going to war.”