The Mad God's Muse (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 2) (28 page)

Ahmed tensed as another of the
strange, screeching cries rang through the air. He searched the
mostly-bare tree limbs above, but whatever the thing was, it was
well hidden, and surely it had best remain so. It seemed to have no
regular pattern, shrieking randomly, a grating sound that set his
heart pounding. If the beast showed itself, he would put a javelin
through it just for the nuisance it was making of itself.

They were making progress,
better than they had expected. The winter temperature, while
unpleasant, was still of use, freezing otherwise muddy ground and
killing back plant growth that would have required hacking through
to pass.

That acknowledged, and Ilaweh
be thanked for it, the constant cold did little for morale. They
were ill clothed for it, though their armor helped greatly. For the
first time in his life, Ahmed was actually pleased at how warm armor
could make a man.

Even so, he could feel the cold
sapping away at his vitality, stiffening his muscles, sinking into
his bones. He thought back to a time not so long ago when he had
promised himself that someday he would see snow, and chuckled at the
irony. Surely, he had seen enough of it now, and surely he would see
much more before he was done here. One should truly be careful what
he wished for.

His men took the weather
stoically, and he could do no less. It was likely they were more
experienced than he with such things. Erikar was rumored to have
similar weather at times, and surely these men had endured much
during the fighting. Even so, it would look ill for a leader to seem
weak to his men. Ahmed tried to show his discomfort as little as
possible.

For this reason among many, he
was actually pleased to encounter a hostile force. This threat, at
least, they could fight.

The men stood directly in their
path, weapons drawn, highwaymen without a highway. They were dressed
in little more than rags, a dirty, irregular lot, some natives, some
who might pass for Gruppenwalders or Laureans if they were bathed.
Ahmed found himself strangely unsurprised at this. Save for Nihlos,
this was a land of bastards and half measures.

Sandilianus called out “Arms!”
The men reacted smoothly, shields and swords readied in fluid motion
without breaking stride.

Eleran spat on the ground.
“Elgies.”

Ahmed turned to the Nihlosian,
one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “'Elgies'?”

Eleran nodded, his face full of
loathing. “Cultists. Freaks. They kill people and think
they’ll get super powers from Elgar.”

Ahmed nodded gravely,
remembering his encounter with similar men in Brust. Yet this did
not feel the same. These were villains, true, but they were minor
evils at best, common. They lacked the malignant wrongness he had
felt from the others. Ahmed would have preferred to know more of
them, but it would be bad form to halt and discuss the matter. It
would make them look hesitant and embolden the enemy. “Kill
them, then?” he asked. That would have to be enough.

Eleran answered with a single,
quick nod, and then they were upon the hostiles. Sandilianus marched
the men within ten feet of the opposing force and called a halt.

The ‘enemy’ hardly
merited the honor of such a word. An enemy was someone you fought,
not slaughtered. Ahmed counted thirty two of them, and not a fighter
of worth amongst them. They stood, stoop shouldered, hesitant, some
crazy eyed, trying their best to look fierce, but Ahmed was unmoved.

One of the Elgies, presumably
their leader, stepped forward. He reminded Ahmed of a weasel, his
beady eyes darting this way and that as he approached, rubbing his
hands together. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ahmed interrupted
him. “Dog! Why should we not slaughter the lot of you?”

Weasel stopped short and
blinked. That was obviously not in the script. “Give us your
money and we will let
you
live.”

Ahmed couldn’t help
himself. He burst into laughter, and the rest of his party joined
him. Ahmed struggled to master himself as Weasel grew more incensed.

The flesh below Weasel’s
left eye began to pulse with a nervous tic, making him look as if he
were winking. “Laugh all you want, but we outnumber you, and
we have archers in the trees.”

Ahmed raised an eyebrow at
this, and turned to Sandilianus. The elder soldier pursed his lips
in disdain and shook his head, his meaning clear: a lie.

Ahmed looked once again at the
‘enemy’. Some were young. Too young. He would give them
a chance. “In ten seconds, all who stand before us die.”

A number of the Elgies looked
back and forth, shaken. Weasel’s entire face seemed to twitch
now, but he was committed. “You will be the ones to die!
Surrender!”

Sandilianus called out in his
high-pitched command tone, “Javelins!”

Ahmed allowed himself a grim
smile, listening to the sound of the men at the rear switch weapons.
This was ridiculous. “Five seconds.”

Two of the younger Elgies
wavered, knees shaking, then turned and bolted. Six more, emboldened
by their example, followed moments later.

Ahmed reached zero in his mind,
stretching the time to allow any more who wanted to flee. He gave
them another full ten seconds, and three more men chose life. The
rest, he judged, would stand.

“Cut them down!” he
called.

It was not a fight. It was, as
he knew it would be, a slaughter. The Elgies rushed forward,
impacted harmlessly against the Xanthian shield wall, and were
promptly skewered by javelins and short swords. In less time than he
had given them to flee, they had lost more men.

Fools they may have been, but
even a fool knows when his comrade has been spitted like a pig and
is lying screaming on the ground. The twelve survivors, Weasel among
them, turned and bolted.

Sandilianus called out,
“Archers!”

Ahmed held up a hand to stop
any more slaughter. “Let them go. Except for the leader. I
want him alive.”

The aftermath of the battle was
as distasteful as it was necessary. A few of the enemy were still
alive, though none would survive more than a few days, their last
moments filled with agony. Ahmed took it upon himself to give them
mercy. It was pointless to ask what a coward wanted, so he did not
give them a choice, any more than he would ask a dog. It was for the
best.

Ahmed sat on a great, gnarled
root at the edge of the river, sharpening his newly cleaned blade
and watching Sandilianus and Bashir drag Weasel toward him. Weasel
was considerably less belligerent with an arrow in his thigh. He
squawked at the two Xanthians as his heels bounced against the hard
ground, craning his head backwards to see where he was being taken.
Ahmed smiled, knowing full well it must appear to Weasel as if he
were being taken to an execution. Ahmed saw no reason to disabuse
him of that notion.

They dropped Weasel like a sack
of potatoes. With a groan of pain, the Elgie rolled on to his good
side, then his belly, and coughed furiously.

Ahmed poked Weasel in the back
of his neck with the point of his sword. The wounded man flinched,
but would not meet Ahmed's gaze. Ahmed let out an exaggerated sigh.
“So, you are a coward as well as a fool.”

Weasel stared at the ground, a
thin, bloody line of saliva trailing from his lips. “Aye. So
it seems.”

“My Nihlosian friend
tells me you are murdering scum, cultists who do not deserve the
mercy of a sword. He urges I use fire instead. What say you?”

Weasel grunted and, to Ahmed’s
surprise, raised his gaze up to meet his captor’s. “I
reckon he mostly has the right of it. Murdering scum, maybe. But we
ain’t cultists. Not no more.”

Ahmed snorted at this. “Gave
it up, eh?”

Weasel shook his head.
“Everybody went to some gathering, claimed Elgar summoned ‘em.
It was pretty much a one way trip as I figured.” He laughed, a
cruel sound, and spat more blood in the dirt. “Turned out,
some of us were there more for the murdering scum part, and screw
the religion.”

“So you became bandits?”

Weasel grunted. “That was
the plan. It didn’t work out so good, like you see.”

Ahmed nodded and raised his
sword overhead. “Are you prepared to die?”

“Nope.” Weasel’s
eyes narrowed as his lips formed an ironic, resolved smile. “Reckon
me being ready don’t matter much, though.”

“No. It doesn’t.”
Ahmed brought his arm down in a flash, his blade passing little more
than a hairsbreadth from Weasel’s neck. Weasel shuddered a
moment, slowly realizing he was still alive. Moments later, he
heaved up the contents of his stomach.

Ahmed waited until Weasel had
regained control of himself, then spoke. “The next time we
meet will be the last.”

Weasel struggled to rise to his
feet, then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His looked
Ahmed in the eye, his face pale like a corpse, except for the bright
sincerity in his eyes. “This was the last.”

Two days passed without
incident. They assumed they were least halfway to Nihlos by now,
though no one was really certain. Sandilianus was the only one who
had made the trip before. There should have been a detailed map, but
their notes had been taken by the Nihlosians when they were
captured. Sandilianus’s dead reckoning was all they had.

Sandilianus scowled as he gazed
through the spyglass. “You are too merciful, Ahmed. The fools
stalk us.”

Ahmed shook his head, amused.
“Paranoid.”

“I am no such thing! I
saw
a man.”

“And how do you know it
was these Elgies?”

Sandilianus’s mouth
thinned to a hard line. “Aye. I am assuming. For all we know,
it could have been Nihlosians.”

“It might have been
farmers, or goat herders, or teenagers slipping off for a fuck. Did
you see weapons?”

“No. But it means little.
We should be alert.”

Ahmed looked at Sandilianus and
grinned. “Are we not?”

They saw more fleeting figures
as the miles passed. The terrain changed from thick woods along a
steep riverbank to flatter land dominated by scrub. It increased
their field and distance of vision significantly, and Sandilianus
relaxed a bit, but it was a brief respite. A few more miles, and he
tensed again and pointed to the horizon. “Look there. Smoke. A
lot of it.”

Ahmed nodded. It was difficult
to miss. “What of it? A town?”

“Too many plumes. That is
a large camp. Mark my words.”

Ahmed looked at the smoke,
considering Sandilianus’s pronouncement. He could not see the
distinction, but he trusted his second's experience. “Call a
halt. We will need to investigate.”

Sandilianus turned and shouted
orders, and the group stopped where they were, some men looking
about curiously, confused at the delay. Sandilianus turned back to
Ahmed. “It is likely the Elgie dogs. The one you call Weasel
mentioned a gathering.”

Ahmed watched the plumes in the
distance a moment longer, considering his response. “It is
possible,” he said without turning. “But it feels
something else.” He mused a moment more, then turned to
Sandilianus. “Ready some scouts.”

They camped cold, no fires, and
waited for dark to dispatch their men. Sandilianus led the mission,
leaving Ahmed to brood and pray. Ilaweh, as usual, did not answer.
His will would be done whether Ahmed liked it or even understood it.
This is how Ilaweh teaches
patience
.

It was four hours past dark
when the scouting party returned. Ahmed took one look at Sandilianus
and knew the situation was explosive. He forced himself to ask no
questions until his second offered his report.

He did not wait long.
Sandilianus gestured with a roll of his head, and the two stepped
away from the others to speak.

Sandilianus offered him a wry
smile. “You were right. It is not Elgies. It is a Nihlosian
camp. We estimate two hundred men.”

Ahmed raised an eyebrow. “This
is no mere patrol. It would not seem to fit their pattern. Eleran
says they keep to their city for the most part.”

“Aye. There is something
going on alright. I am half a mind to attack them and avenge Yazid.”

Ahmed grunted. “We are
under orders to return with intelligence, not fuck around and get
ourselves killed for vengeance.”
And it would absolutely
put an end to any hope of cooperating with the sorcerers.

Sandilianus nodded agreement.
“It’s was just angry talk. There is more reason than
that to hold. They are not the only ones moving out here. We found
the Elgies, too.”

Ahmed could not conceal his
surprise. “What? What are they doing?”

“Hiding. Waiting. Our
best guess is that they plan to attack the Nihlosians in their
sleep.”

Ahmed clenched his jaw a
moment, absorbing the information. “How many?”

“Three hundred or close
to it. They are idiots, but they have weapons. With numbers and
surprise, they stand a good chance of slaughtering the Nihlosians.”

Ahmed felt a deep revulsion.
“In their sleep. Without declaration of war. It is inhuman.”

Sandilianus gave a grim
chuckle. “I told you before, boy, you are naive. It is all
too
human, in my experience.”

Ahmed glowered at his second,
insulted, but knowing Sandilianus had spoken nothing but truth.
Ilaweh is kind to have given
me such a wise and strong guide. I am ungrateful and proud
.
“What do you recommend, then?”

Sandilianus’s eyes
widened in mirth. “Me? I don’t make policy. I follow
orders. Give some. You need the practice.”

It was Ahmed’s turn to
chuckle. “So it is my choice? Then I say we intervene.”

“And who is our enemy?”

He is testing me. Making me
answer the questions I ought to have already asked myself.
Ahmed
gave him a solemn, quick nod, and answered with confidence,
“We
are at war with the Nihlosians, but it is an honorable war for the
most part. We can hardly condemn them for being confused. They did
the right thing in the end. But the Elgies....” He spat on the
ground in disdain. “They are are evil men, murderers who
attack like cowards, unannounced. It is the duty of all Ilaweh’s
followers to destroy evil.”