Bones of the Empire (57 page)

“Gather up the clans,” Raeln announced loudly as he scooped up his bedroll and wrapped it tightly for travel. “We march in one hour.”

*

The Marakeer were true to their statement of distance. Long before Raeln was ready to risk having his people stop again, the entire army began the slow ascent out of the Maw. The light of day slowly grew brighter as they neared the plains of Turessi. Along with the increase in light, the temperature also dropped rapidly, forcing many in the army to don gloves and cloaks that had been removed. The Turessians handled the change well. Yoska, Raeln, and many of the slaves huddled in their cloaks when the winds first hit them. The Marakeer seemed not to care about the temperature, but most of them hurriedly wrapped light cloth around their heads, shading their eyes against the bright light.

Raeln stopped the majority of the huge force behind him as they neared the top of the hill, where they would no longer have any shelter from the fog. Calling to Yoska, Ceran, and Dalania, he took those few up the last twenty feet. They lay in the snow so he could peek over the top of the rise and out at the plains ahead of them. Despite not having called for the man, the white bear wildling joined them, sliding over the snow behind the group, nearly invisible despite his size.

Spread across the rolling snow-covered plains, Raeln could see thousands upon thousands of broken, leaning humanoid shapes, many with ravens pecking away at them. With a gust of wind, the snow drifted over many of the undead. The corpses stood at least ten rows deep that Raeln could see, and he was willing to believe there were far more than that. Judging by how far the lines went in either direction, he could be looking at easily a hundred thousand troops, with even more within reinforcement range. The formation curved around the plains to the north and south.

“No Turessians,” Raeln whispered to his companions. “A small blessing.”

Dalania put a hand on his arm. “There are five that are hidden in a small camp deep in the lines. Similar camps are set up every few miles. I would guess there to be a hundred Turessians on this side of the temple alone.”

“How do you know that?” Ceran asked incredulously. Then, turning to Yoska, “How could she know that?”

Smiling across Raeln at the others, Dalania made a slight flick of her hand toward the enemy army and a thousand ravens took flight. They moved slightly west and then circled a spot Raeln could not see directly. “That is where their camp is.”

Raeln shook his head and slid farther down the hill so he knew he would not be seen as they talked. “Attacking them isn’t like attacking a general of a normal army. Killing them won’t break morale, it won’t scatter their troops—hells, it might not even be possible. Liris practically tore me apart the last time we met, and no one had a way to kill her.”

“We circle around farther north and hope for spot where we can fight through?” Yoska asked.

Ceran said, “I can hold Liris for some time, if we can find a way to end the fight. She may be untalented, but there are limits to my strength.”

“The longer we stall, the more undead will arrive to fortify the area,” Raeln said. “I want to be at the temple steps by the full moon. That gives us maybe two days. As it is, when the clans see this many undead, what will they do, Ceran?”

“They will question whether tradition and hope have fled,” she answered, looking back toward the undead. “Few things can demoralize my people as an army of ancestors treated so. They will fight bravely to right this wrong, but if they must think on it for days, they will abandon our cause. Only the preservers are prepared for a protracted battle against the dead. We have twenty-three preservers.”

Raeln rolled onto his back and stared up at the cloudless sky. To his surprise, a few tendrils of mist were creeping up the horizon. The mist appeared to be dragging itself slowly over the dome-like barrier that kept them out of Turessi. Clenching his jaw to keep himself focused, he looked past the mists at the sky, trying to judge how much daylight was left.

“Three hours until sunset,” he told the others. “I don’t want to start this fight as the sun goes down. Soldiers—the humans specifically—will be blind during twilight as they adjust. They will die by the hundreds within minutes when the light goes. Maybe the undead will be equally blind once the sun is down.”

“My pretty lady,” Yoska said to Ceran, giving her a sly smile, “you know thing or two about undead, no?”

Scowling at him and yanking her hand away when he tried to touch her, she answered, “I am a preserver. I likely know as much about the dead as anyone outside that temple in the whole of the world.”

“Do the undead see well in the dark?” Raeln asked.

Ceran opened her mouth and then closed it again. She thought a moment. “No better than in the day and only a little worse. We gain no advantage over the mindless ones, no matter when we attack.”

“What of the others? The undead Turessians.”

Ceran smiled. “Old research into forbidden magic, such as what was used on the Turessians we fight, spoke of it enhancing strength and speed and all but removing the need for food and water. It was quite clear in that most other frailties of the mortal form would remain. They may be different from what I have studied, but it is possible that they are as limited as they were in life…though that limitation is equal to our own. If unprepared, I doubt they will see any better than we will.”

“I have an idea,” Raeln said, sitting up. “Every time one of you wizards casts one of those balls of light in front of me without thinking, I lose my sight for the better part of a minute. My sister used to love doing that to me when it was dark out so she could pull my fur without being caught. If the Turessians—those Turessians—have the same issues, we could blind them with concentrated fire on their location. It will disorient them while we attack. They can’t heal being surprised.”

“And the undead will not attack a target without specific orders,” Ceran added, laughing. “Brilliant in its simplicity. We will still need to find a way to kill them, but we may be able to start the battle with the advantage. We do, however, need to get close to them to cast those spells. With luck, the Marakeer will be able to kill them if we can get into melee. If not, perhaps we can do enough harm to their bodies that we can escape before they mend.”

“Find as many Turessian wizards as you need and ready them.” Raeln slid down the hill with the others following until he was far enough away from the edge that he could stand without being seen. “We’ll take a small team into that camp to cripple the leaders until our troops can reach us. Everyone else needs to wait for the signal and then charge in. Our troops push past and keep going toward the temple while we try to deal with the Turessians.”

“It’s more than we had a minute ago,” Dalania said, taking his hand in hers as they headed back to the army. When Ceran cleared her throat challengingly, Dalania gave the woman a stern glare and tightened her grip.

Harassed by the fae or not, Dalania was finding a strength of will that Raeln had not seen in her when they met. She would need that soon if the battle was going to be as bloody as he expected.

*

As the sun sunk below the mists that covered most of the horizon, Raeln stood with Ceran, Yoska, Dalania, the white bear, and four other Turessians. All of them had donned ragged, stinking clothing provided to them by the Marakeer. It gave them a battered, haggard appearance Raeln hoped would help hide them as they snuck into the enemy army.

“Keep to the plan,” he said as he adjusted a rag that partially covered his face. The cloth felt sticky from mold and made him want to gag, but he had no choice but to keep breathing through his mouth and endure. “Yoska, Dalania, and I will deal with any undead that recognize what we’re doing and will strike at the Turessians when we get in there. The six of you are to keep yourselves hidden until we can see the Turessians. Unleash everything you have on them once we can see them, but then turn your attention to clearing a path back to the army. Without a way out, we’re as good as dead. If the three of us get trapped, your orders are to keep going.”

The bear wildling snarled and shoved Raeln hard enough that he nearly toppled. He quickly regained his footing and stepped up to the larger man, standing close enough that their chests almost touched.

He growled, “I gave you an order. Obey it or we can fight this out right now.”

Grumbling softly, the bear lowered his head beneath Raeln’s in submission.

All of the other men and women around them were silent and showed a calm resolve that made Raeln proud. They knew full well this was a suicide mission. One mistake and all of them would die for nothing. Even if they did everything right, the odds of coming back were slim. Today was about getting the army to the foot of the temple, nothing else.

Behind the group he was bringing, many of the former slaves had gathered to watch them depart. Somn watched Raeln nervously, having said nothing to him, though he had listened to much of the planning with a still tail and flattened ears. The orcs had been the most accepting of the plan, having cheered at the risks associated with it and lauding Raeln for being willing to die for his army. The Marakeer chittered loudly every time Raeln looked their way after Dalania had explained the plan. Even she did not really know what to make of the noise.

“Let’s do this,” Raeln said, once he knew his voice would not shake. Those being left behind particularly tugged at his heart, and he made a point to ignore them. Especially Somn, who he knew would try to convince him to let others do the job. The man had gotten a little more clingy than Raeln was ready to deal with of late. He felt guilty whenever Somn was close, though he knew Greth would never have blamed him. “Once we crest the hill, keep your pace slow, no matter what happens. If we have to run, it will be on my order, not before. The zombies never run until forced to by their masters. Any quick movement will give us away.”

Getting no objections, Raeln gave them each a quick look. Yoska looked ready to vomit, keeping his arms out a short distance from his sides to avoid touching the untreated hides Raeln had draped over him. Ceran stood calmly with no concern for how she looked or smelled. She’d even gone so far as to toss a hide with dried blood on it over her head to conceal her honor markings. Dalania incessantly picked at the hides, eyeing them as though she were trying to figure out more about the animal they came from. Of all of the people with him, she looked the most out of place, covered in heavy clothing for the first time since he had met her. The bear wildling towered over them all, giving Raeln no hint of emotion or concern. The other Turessians, who Raeln wished he had taken the time to meet properly, were mostly showing nervousness rather than any concern over their appearance. Every last person there looked half-dead, thanks to their outfitting, the flickering light of a single torch, and the fear that lined several of their faces.

“Let’s go.” Raeln threw an old rag over his own head, taking Ceran’s idea as a good one.

Moving up the rise, Raeln could hear the others marching along behind him in the shallow snow. He had been in the colder lands north of his home for months, but shivers ran down his spine to the tip of his tail. He realized they came from fear of his own plan, rather than the weather. All of his fur felt as though it were standing on end as he came into full sight of the undead army under the bright moon.

The entire visible stretch of the plains was filled with undead, standing shoulder to shoulder. They stood as still as trees, their clouded eyes staring straight ahead. He could not have thrown a stone without hitting more than one of the creatures. Standing on level ground across from them, the army appeared to go on forever.

Raeln walked on, keeping his stride short and his head low. He could feel the dead eyes on him, watching for a reason to attack, but the silence was almost unbearable. The only sounds he could pick out were his footsteps and pounding heart as he approached the waiting undead. The quiet made it all that much worse, gradually reinforcing the tiny voice in the back of his mind that urged him to run screaming.

Using the cloth over part of his face to conceal the movement, Raeln looked to either side briefly. Ceran and Yoska had his sides, with Yoska having affected a limp in his effort to appear more dead. Ceran shambled somewhat aimlessly, wandering a little farther away and then closer. Judging by the sound of heavy paws behind him, the bear had taken up a protective position right behind Raeln. The remaining Turessians and Dalania were spread out in an effort to make the group look less organized.