Brave Men Die: Part 3 (8 page)

Sighing, Chase drew his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. He pulled the shovel out of the earth and threw the garment behind him, taking a moment to pause and look over the fortifications the camp had constructed since his return. The blistering sun beat down on the work party and the sentries posted beyond the work zone.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, Chase thought that this was more like it. His muscles ached from the hard labour of reinforcing the Kyzantine camp. It had been two weeks since he had arrived in the Gorgon Pass, weeping at the loss of so many of his men. All of those that had stepped foot into the pass under the command of Dale and Peake had perished. There was not a single survivor, no one to tell their tale.

He spread his arms wide, feeling the muscles across his chest stretch, then lowered his shoulder blades to stretch his back.

‘Get on with it,’ Abe chided, swinging the mattock into the dirt.

Chase smiled, stretched a little longer just to play it out before planting his shovel back into the earth and getting on with it.

Chase had spent his time wisely, ignoring the Murukan presence at the bastion and focusing on making his own camp defendable. Dale and Peake had never had the opportunity, their orders were to strike immediately in conjunction with the other forces. But had they established a fall back position, some of them might have held off the cavalry force that ambushed them.

He’d taken Alina out of Dagenham the day after the funeral, before the mourning period had officially ended. Patric had understood. He’d offered to inform the Emperor of their absence and his need to return to the front and pass on a note to Carolyn from Alina.

Alina had understood his urgency, had understood the reasons why he didn’t want her by herself in Dagenham. The Church would use her. They would use her as a martyr when his nieces died, use her against Patric or against Chase, whatever they needed to suit their own purposes. She would be safer in Redisberg, and it would allow their daughter to resume her position with the Redisberg Guard.

Always too impatient for the political manoeuvrings, Chase had found comfort in the hierarchy of the military and ignored what happened in the capital. The centre of all the Empire’s scandal, Dagenham was where everyone went to make a name for themselves. Most were crushed within the first few months. Some like Patric and himself had managed to get through it all, but Patric thrived on it where Chase wanted nothing but to get as far away as possible. When the opportunity came to get out, he had. And then history repeated itself. He chuckled at the thought.

Under his armed escort they had made good time back to Redisberg, skirting on the tails of the second instalment of companies moving south. Under his personal banner, the civilian troops gave them a wide berth but the officers provided them with food when the march stopped each night. It had been useful until they turned onto a western trail that would take them home.

When Chase and Alina arrived back in the city, the streets were sombre and practically deserted. It had been mid-morning, the sky overcast and the city garrison was ill at ease. His daughter had easily brushed aside the announcement of their arrival and had continued overseeing the provisions being sent south for the troops. It was like he no longer existed and life had moved on in Redisberg — everyone was now taking orders from his daughter.

She had managed Redisberg better than he expected and he wondered how often she was listening when she had been running underfoot as he went about business. Chase smiled at the memory of his little girl holding onto his leg as he answered petitions and ordered his men about.

His daughter had dealt with the news of the crushing defeat in the Gorgon Pass and reacted as per her station. She was her father’s daughter, after all. She hadn’t kept it a secret from the people, she had mourned with the families, and had inspired the replacement battalion to march headlong into the same danger that had slaughtered their neighbours. There had been no sign of revolt, no desertions. His daughter would make him proud on the day he was on his deathbed, when she succeeded him.

His return home was short-lived. He’d spent a couple of hours reading over the reports, ensuring the city defences were in place before riding south with his entourage of six — the same six who’d ridden to Dagenham and back with him. Over the years his personal guard became more like friends, he trusted them with the safety of his family or walking into any situation by his side, like the Gorgon Pass.

His parting with Alina was as hard as it always was, but both remained stoic. He promised silently that he would return if it was possible and his faithful wife promised to be waiting. He’d run his fingers down the side of her soft face, brushing past her tangled blonde hair. His lips touched hers briefly, before he grasped her hand and pulled away. He’d get back to her if he could and she knew it.

They had travelled quickly under Chase’s unerring pressure to resume command of his own people. The information in the reports was unsettling. Pyxis had arrived quickly, taken command of all the soldiers stationed at the pass, and sent the majority of them in as fodder to save her own cavalry forces from the brunt of the attack. But she left as quickly as she came, in pursuit of some Murukan guerrilla outfit that had decimated the combined Kyzantine force in the pass.

It hadn’t been Duncan — the commander could defend his bastion against anything — but the unit that had struck against Pyxis, that had outflanked her, had ridden through her camp, they were something else.

Chase had his suspicions. The unit had probably come from Buckthorne, rather than the outpost at North Reach. If he could confirm the unit’s name then he would know for sure. Until then, it was safer just to stay out of their way, better to let Pyxis chase them over the countryside and let her own unit take the casualties.

The man left in charge when she left didn’t care about his people’s lives, he had an objective and was clearly determined to achieve it despite the cost. Chase had ridden into the rudimentary camp astride a sea of wounded bodies. There had been no perimeter set, no lookouts posted. Chase shook his head in shame; he couldn’t help but feel he had let his people down.

The captain had argued poignantly that the Murukan cowards had not once come out to meet him on the battlefield in front of the gates and as such he’d felt no need to construct a fortification around the camp. Instead he had been constantly sending Redisberg men against the walls in an effort to breach them. What infuriated Chase more was the captain’s stubborn belief that by throwing men’s lives away could he actually achieve it.

Duncan’s walls were unbreachable. He should know, he’d tried in his own youth.

Chase had unceremoniously sent the captain chasing after Pyxis and her unit. He’d wanted to kill the man for his incompetence but wanted to inflict the kind of damage he had done on Pyxis more. His niece had sacrificed his men and he hated her for it.

Lifting the sharpened log with five others, they carried it across the camp to the earthwork mound they had spent the last few days building. The work was tiring but it wasn’t costing him any men. They had not seen any sign of Duncan and his forces since Chase had arrived. The old man was too smart to come out from behind his solid walls anyway.

He planned to keep as many of his soldiers alive as possible in case the situation changed and they actually had an opportunity to attack without being slaughtered. If the Kyzantine forces were to break through at one of the other passes and circle around to the Gorgon Pass from Murukia then he’d finally have Duncan, drowning the old man’s garrison beneath two waves of Kyzantines. Until then he was smart enough to bide his time.

He squinted as he looked to the north–east, bringing his hand up to block the sun from his eyes, trying to make out the shapes riding toward the camp. The soldiers he was working alongside dropped the fortifications and moved toward their weapons, others lifted the tools in an aggressive manner. Chase took note and stepped forward to meet the newcomers, sure any threat would be met with immediate hostile force before his life could be put into danger. Abe was by his side within seconds.

Chase watched as the group of five men dismounted and approached cautiously, suspiciously scanning the crowd of soldiers. He noticed the Dagenham crest on their armour and sighed inwardly, already knowing that whatever they had come to tell him, he was sworn to do. Chase wondered what the Emperor wanted and hoped they would quickly get to the bloody point.

‘Lord DeVile?’

‘What do you want?’

‘I’ve got orders for you sir,’ the herald said, indicating the pouch at his belt.

Chase nodded and the man removed a wax-sealed folded envelope. He took it, running his eyes over the four soldiers that accompanied the messenger before lowering them and focusing on the orders. He read them twice, to make sure he believed what he was reading.

‘Who did these orders come from?’ Chase asked.

‘The palace in Dagenham. Bishop Draze gave them to me himself.’

Chase suspected that Bishop Draze was the current influential clergyman in court. If he had issued the orders they could have come from the Emperor, or they could have come from the Church. Everyone had their own motives and until he got to Dagenham he wouldn’t know who wanted him in the capital.

‘Was there anything else?’ Chase asked.

‘We’ve been instructed to escort you back.’

‘Is there that much trouble in the Empire?’

‘No, my lord, but they were our instructions.’

Either the man didn’t know about the Murukan unit raiding Kyzantine towns or was under orders not to mention it. That was interesting.

‘I’ll organise my own escort after I return to Redisberg. You are dismissed.’

The herald nodded and remounted. His escort followed suit and rode back down the pass.

‘My Lord, what are your orders?’

Chase turned to the young woman that was standing beside him, her shovel unceremoniously stuck into the ground at her feet and her skin sweaty and covered in dirt.

‘Tell Hugh I want to see him. Organise Grant and the others to get ready to ride immediately and ensure that our horses are saddled.’

‘Sir.’ The woman saluted and ran off.

‘I guess my time here was short-lived, Abe,’ Chase said, turning to the veteran.

‘Our time.’

Chase chuckled. ‘It might have been good to go up against Duncan again at the end.’

‘I reckon we could have taken the bastion this time round, he’s getting to be an old man these days.’

‘Those walls won’t fall in our lifetime, Abe.’ Chase was surprised by the honesty and the fact that he really did believe them.

‘If this is our last campaign, it was a pleasure serving with you. If I can ask, where were we ordered?’

Chase looked off into the distance. ‘First to Redisberg to see my wife. I have a feeling it might be my last. Then onto Dagenham at the Emperor’s request.’

Dagenham was much like he’d left it. He’d checked back into his favourite tavern, made sure that they all had something to eat. He was lingering, like he had done all journey. Had the orders actually come from the Emperor? It was possible that Sebastion wanted him in Dagenham for any number of reasons, but the fact the orders had come from some bishop worried him. The seed of doubt was growing in his mind. If the Church were the ones who wanted him here, he should be worried.

Chase took two of his entourage out into the town, making his way through the crowded streets and simply listening. He needed to know what he was getting himself into. Whatever he was going to have to do, he’d probably learn of it on the streets first.

There were rumours aplenty about everything. What Chase was interested in were the political movings of the city, rather than which women were already widows. Standing in front of the tailors on Seventh Avenue, he took note of the armed men wandering down the street holding up the book of the One God and yelling scriptures into the din of the crowd.

What was more interesting was the combination of the bishop supported by the enforcers of the clergy. The bishop was spouting verses about the damnation of magic and the crowd was getting restless, nodding their heads in agreement.

Clearly the populace was behind the damnation of the magic-wielding nation of Murukia but Chase wondered why the Church was so determined to push it. Everyone knew that Derrick was killed during a raid supported by a mage, he didn’t think it was essential that the people were constantly reminded of the fact.

Not unless the Church was pushing this as the motivation behind the invasion.

Chase kept on the move all morning, noting another dozen groups from the Church spreading the word of the One God. Always in a combination of bishops and enforcers. Always pushing the anti-magic theology.

His two men switched at midday and Chase felt he had the situation of the city in hand. The Church had a strong position and sway over the people and the Emperor. He wondered what the situation was like in the palace, whether the old man was still listening to any of his other advisers.

It was clearly the Church that had issued the orders to get him here. Now he just had to figure out why.

He went to the palace with Hugh and Abe, all three of them armed as if going to battle. His orders, not theirs. Chase would not be blindsided.

Patric pulled him aside before he could take even five steps within the palace and ushered him and his two men into a small side room. Closing the door behind him, Patric glanced back over his shoulder through the crack of the closing door to make sure they weren’t seen, before following Chase to the centre of the room. Chase signalled his men to guard the entry as he stepped into the confidence of the young man.

‘It took you a while to get to the palace.’

Chase shrugged. ‘I had things to do in the city before I made my presence known.’

‘I know,’ Patric said with a sheepish smile. He left what he knew unsaid.

‘So why have I been called back to Dagenham?’