‘What about more rigid tests?’ Brug enquired.
‘Give it a shot.’
Brynd lifted off his armour and placed it on a workbench. Several of them set about finding whatever blunt objects they could find in the vicinity and, with a breathtaking lack of logic, began to hammer down blows on the armour hoping it would bend or dent.
Nothing.
Hardly any scratches, not even a minor indentation. Despite the muscular enhancements of the Night Guard soldiers, despite their cultist-treated weapons, it seemed very little could make an impact.
Brynd used the moment of their quiet awe to inform them that they would be trialling it for tomorrow’s mission. ‘I would consider the conflict tomorrow to not be anywhere near as intense as the defence of Villiren.’
‘Thank fuck for that,’ someone muttered dryly. A few awkward chuckles spread about the room.
Brynd smiled. ‘Though nothing’s ever easy, as you all should realize by now. Now, this new material replaces our current body armour — it’s made to similar specifications as the previous design, so there should be no problem there. I know normally we give things a go in training sessions, but I think the potential of this could be vast. The only difference you should find is that this is significantly lighter. You’ll not tire as quickly and you’ll have more mobility. You’ll be able to take just as many blows, if not more.’
‘Sounds like a no-brainer to me, commander,’ said Tiendi, the only female member of the Night Guard. Her shoulder-length blonde hair seemed a stark contrast to the more aggressive-looking men around her, but she had been every bit their equal on the battlefield.
‘Indeed,’ he replied. ‘I’m glad you think so too.’
‘Only,’ she continued, ‘are these only kitted out for men? Some of us, you know, are crafted a little differently. .’
A few chuckles. ‘You’ll be relieved to know there’s one made with adequate room for your form. Now, are there any further questions about this or about the mission tomorrow?’
There were a few predictable queries regarding the briefing he had given them earlier. Further questions about tactics and formations. Brynd encouraged them to think of such things, to take a part in strategic planning and offer suggestions.
Managing soldiers was more than barking orders on the battlefield. These were the elite, the best fighters in the Boreal Archipelago, treated, trained and enhanced to be without peer, and they needed to be prepared.
‘Right,’ Brynd concluded, ‘you should all get some sleep. We wake before sunrise. Supplies are all sorted — you don’t need to worry about that. I don’t anticipate us being on the ground for long — perhaps a week at the most if things go wrong — but I’ve already dispatched several units of Dragoons by longship. It will take them much longer to get there, but when they do they can relieve us and permit us to fall back. The mission is not territorial — I want to stress that. It is a rescue mission.’
Brynd watched them file out of the room, a mixture of expressionless faces and determination. No one at this level really looked forward to engaging in combat these days: at least, no one who had survived and remembered the battle for Villiren.
TEN
Fulcrom didn’t think he could maintain optimism and reassure everyone for much longer. While the refugees and soldiers around him seemed calmed by his attitude, he believed in his own words and gestures less and less as the hours went by. People considered him a leader — many still called him ‘investigator’, others recognized him from Villjamur, though he wore no garb or symbols of the Inquisition and had left his medallion somewhere in the rubble of the city.
Even if he still wore it around his neck, it would represent nothing. Any previous structures seemed irrelevant now. Existence fell into two categories: those who could muck in and look after the others, and those who needed guidance. Some were using terms of leadership whenever they addressed him: boss, chief, sir. He waved them down and asked to be called simply Fulcrom, but they didn’t stop doing it, and soon their expectations seemed to weigh down on his shoulders.
Their hopes became his burden.
He found joy in small things: children finding the time to play the odd game amidst these ruined lives. Or a puppy looking up from a basket being carried by an old man. A few entertainers engaged in spontaneous juggling acts, lifting the mood of the crowd. Storytellers pulled people in around campfires in order to forget about the evils that tormented them. There were rumels, like himself, and of all colour skins — brown, black, grey — helping their human companions, and vice versa, without a single hint of racial tension. There were people from immensely wealthy backgrounds — lords and ladies, retired military officials, landowners — all reduced to poverty; the poor, trained by years in the caves, helped them out with advice on ways of looking after themselves. It was, Fulcrom had to admit, immensely touching.
Occasionally something might fly overhead, too quickly for him to discern, but it was enough to cause panic on the ground. Enormous gouts of people would surge towards the woodlands or throw themselves in soft snow, and all that happened was that more people would suffer from frostbite or pneumonia. And each day, a few more people would die.
Eventually, after many days trudging across the wilderness, two outriders returned to the convoy and brought their horses in alongside Fulcrom. A man and his daughter, both well-built individuals, were protected by wax raincapes and woollen hats.
‘The coast, investigator, it’s the coast,’ the woman said. ‘It’s within reach. We’ll make it before sunrise if we continue straight on through the night.’
‘If we take rest it will be well into the next day,’ Fulcrom called. ‘That means we’ll be exposed to attack for longer. We’ve been OK the last two nights, but I don’t want to risk anything — we should expect an assault.’
‘People are tired, investigator,’ the man grunted. ‘Should let ’em get some rest.’
Fulcrom shook his head. ‘Many have been on transport, and of course they’ll be fine through the night. But the others will have to manage. I don’t want to risk the sky-city catching up with us. We’ve gone two nights without an attack, without any sightings. I’m not a paranoid man, outrider, but I think it pays to be cautious. Could you live with the guilt otherwise?’
‘No, no,’ the man said. ‘My apologies.’
He watched the two outriders turn and ride into the distance before disappearing into a dark forest. Soon it began to snow — yet again. Within the walls of the city it never seemed so bad; out here, each fat flake seemed to press against his face with greater intensity.
The next hour was slow going. The dirt road crossed increasingly boggy terrain before leading them uphill. Fulcrom remained mightily unimpressed with this route.
‘This hill goes on forever,’ Lan mumbled from behind, squeezing her arms tighter as if to prompt him into speaking.
‘Sorry,’ Fulcrom replied glumly. ‘It’s the only route we can take. It’s the most direct way to the coast. It’s all we can do.’
‘I wasn’t complaining about your navigational skills, I was just saying,’ Lan replied. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just wish we could hurry, but we can’t force people to go any faster. I want to get to the top of that hill as much as you do.’
‘Will we see the coast when we’re up there?’ Lan wondered.
‘I very much hope so,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘We should be able to see in every direction from the top, and maybe see how far behind they are, and if any more are on the ground.’
They went on horseback alongside the lead land-vehicle’s front wheels, and far enough away so that the horse’s immense hooves would not crush them.