Brave Men Die: Part 3 (9 page)

‘From what I’ve heard, the Emperor and his advisors want you to get to the bottom of Derrick’s death.’

‘He was killed by the Murukans.’

‘That’s what we’ve been told, not what we know.’

‘The Church?’

‘Have been pushing the mage connection. But it conflicts with the other things that I’ve heard, that the cell that raided the tunnels consisted of three men. No women, thus no Murukan magi.’

‘Is that a fact or a rumour?’

‘Only what I’ve heard, but I wanted to give you a heads up before you go in there and hear the shit that the bishops are about to tell you.’

Chase raised an eyebrow.

‘You know my allegiance is to the Empire, but I don’t take stock in the blind faith that the populace puts into religion. Neither do you, which is probably why you were selected, despite you never vocalising that belief. But if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll do whatever I can.’

The two men embraced tightly. Chase believed every word the younger man said. There was something happening in the heart of the Empire and if he wasn’t careful he would be swallowed up in it and never return home to his wife and daughter. He left Patric behind and had Hugh check out the hall before he emerged, ready for the battle ahead.

Chase made his way to the conference room, passed his sword belt to Abe, and entered the room as his men stood at attention beside the entrance. The room was full of people and only half of them were familiar faces. He swallowed the concern building up the back of his throat and wished he was armed.

There were a lot of people dressed in the robes of the clergy. The Hand of God had an incredibly strong presence on the Emperor’s council. More than half at a quick glance. Chase acknowledged the fact and quickly scanned the other faces, hoping that some of the other lords would be amongst them.

He could only see one and wasn’t particularly thrilled to see him.

So this was going to be an utter dogfight.

Chase walked toward the throne and dropped to one knee before the Emperor. His chin resting firmly on his chest, he did not look up at the man until he was instructed to. Raising his fist and placing it above his heart, he gave the military salute. Chase noticed the disapproval from the clergy in the room — who would have all indicated their allegiance to the man as the spiritual leader of the Empire rather than the military commander, despite the war that consumed their citizens.

He stood with the grace of a much younger man, ignoring the small twinge in his left knee as his weight shifted. Clasping his hands loosely behind his back, he stood at ease until he was instructed to do otherwise.

His relationship with the man behind the throne was more informal, the occasional drink and laugh, but only ever when they were alone or with Alina and Carolyn. But in situations like this, the formality, the presence of the Church and the State officials, Chase knew the protocol to follow.

‘Lord DeVile, you have been summoned to Dagenham at the Emperor’s request to perform the most honourable duty.’

Chase’s eyes shifted ever so slightly to the man standing to the Emperor’s right, a bishop of high standing who appeared to be the current favourite. This must be Bishop Draze. It appeared that the Church had more authority in the room than he had initially anticipated.

‘As you are aware, Prince Derrick Jorgh, first son of the Emperor, was slain by a cell of villainous Murukans armed with steel and magic. The Emperor, the chosen of the One God, wishes you to discover the name of the murderers, especially of the witch, so they can be hunted down. You need to find out who harboured them, who gave them safe passage through the Empire, and follow the chain of command to discover who sent them on this assassination.’

Jorgh’s expression gave nothing away as to his thoughts about the dribble that came out of the bishop’s mouth — no indication whether he believed the Murukans were behind it or if indeed it was a female caster with the cell. Even if he had an opinion, Chase would surely not learn about it in that room. His position would be weakened if he was seen contradicting Pyxis’ decision to declare war on the southern country. His daughter may have leapt to the conclusion that Murukia was behind her brother’s death because of the taint of magic in the tunnels, but that didn’t necessarily lead to the Murukans.

‘Lord DeVile, are you willing to accept responsibility for this charge? Will you aid the Empire in this quest to name the Prince’s killers?’

Declining was never an option and Chase smiled to himself. He’d be dead before he could leave the palace if he failed to accept an order that appeared to be decreed by the Emperor.

Focusing solely on the Emperor Chase answered, ‘Of course my Lord, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you or the Empire.’

The only reaction he got was a slight nod, barely a fraction of movement. That was more than Chase expected. He saluted once more, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room, taking his offered belt and strapping it on mid stride.

‘Are we screwed now, Chase?’ Abe asked in a hushed whisper as they hurried through the hall.

He turned slightly over his shoulder to catch the man’s eyes. ‘We now have a target on our backs. If we don’t find the right information in a timely manner, we won’t be making it home.’

The parley was in place to allow both sides to collect and bury their dead. The seventh day was chosen, mostly to respect the Kyzantines’ religious practices but the Murukans also loved a good seventh day off.

Pollux had ordered his men out at first light under the protection of a yellow flag of truce that fluttered high from the tower top. The enemy had assembled their own flag and a man stood within eyesight at all times holding it up. Weapons were not to be drawn under any circumstance but Cygnus had given permission to his men on the walls to have their bows at the ready. Pollux swore under his breath if the man ordered them to fire on unarmed soldiers there would be hell to pay.

Pollux stood with Ara at the gate, her arms folded across her chest, leaning back against the shadows watching events unfold. Pollux counted the number of men that went out, he didn’t want to leave any out there for the enemy to find.

Octans led the pack out and was the first to come back with a dead Murukan over his shoulder. He dropped the body in the designated area and went running back out, flashing a quick smile at Pollux and Ara. He was in jovial spirits despite his grim task.

Once all the dead had been collected — there weren’t many Murukans outside the walls and some had been destroyed in the fires — Pollux counted the numbers off inside his head and once he was sure that there was no one left outside he ordered the gates closed.

‘Octans, do you want to organise men to dig the graves? I’m going to look over the Kyzantines on the tower top to make sure Cygnus doesn’t do anything stupid.’

‘Always give yourself the tough jobs huh?’ Octans said with a smile. ‘We will have the dead ready to be buried in a couple of hours and I’ll let Byrn know to start performing the last rights for the baron.’

‘Coming with me, Ara?’ Pollux asked, admiring the way her face looked in the shadows. He was suddenly concerned that she wouldn’t come and wondered just how he would feel about that.

‘You’ll need someone up there to break up the testosterone or else you might kill each other and leave Octans in charge. Then we’re all fucked.’

‘Hey, that’s not fair. I haven’t lost a man in two days,’ Octans replied.

‘Octans, you were stepped down to rest yesterday and today is the truce. You haven’t seen action for those two days,’ Ara replied.

‘It doesn’t matter, any more of a body count and we will have no one left on the walls to defend it anyway,’ Pollux interrupted. ‘Octans, get those graves dug, and Ara, stop being a bitch and follow me.’

‘Acolytes show magi greater respect than that.’

‘I’m not an acolyte, just the guy who puts his body on the line every time to protect your ungrateful arse. So I think now and again you can do as I ask and come protect me from killing someone I shouldn’t.’

‘You know, I kind of like you when you get all serious and in charge. Alright, let’s go stop you from killing Cygnus.’

The tower top was awash with archers as Cygnus paced between each man, whispering orders to watch this one or that one. Perspiration dripped down his forehead, the heat, the pressure, or the paranoia contributing to the sweat. His eyes were wild and alert, peering down at the enemy waiting for one of them to do something they shouldn’t. Anything that would give him the excuse to open fire.

‘I hope you remember that we don’t want bloodshed Cygnus. This is the first truce to collect the dead. If anything goes wrong we won’t be getting another and it could be your body left out there to rot.’

Cygnus turned at his voice and Pollux prepared himself for the onslaught to follow, but the shower of spittle and harsh words never came. Cygnus ran his fingers through his hair, closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

‘The enemy are swarming down there,’ he pointed back to the battlefield. ‘Everyone is on edge, expecting the worse because those traitorous dogs have never kept their word. In any second, they could come charging at us.’

‘That might be a bit hard with dead bodies over their shoulders, but they do look to be a fit, strong bunch of soldiers down there. Maybe they have the strength to use the dead as shields and attack us by throwing the bodies about,’ Pollux replied, peering down over the wall.

‘Why don’t we just wait and watch them for a bit. If we see any sign of treachery we can decide what to do about it. For now, let them collect their dead, and we should be burying ours.’

‘You want us to just relax our guard? Let them take Black Claw?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. We both are flying the yellow truce flags, neither army wants to see people dead today when people shouldn’t be dying. Leave it alone. If you can’t stay calm and keep a level head I will take over the supervision.’

‘I have control over things here. You are free to attend the funerals of your dead and then we will do the same when Buckthorne’s men are done.’

Pollux nodded once it was settled, winked at Ara before realising he had, and headed back down the stairs. Her hand reached out and grabbed hold of his shoulder. Pollux half turned and her lips found his cheek.

‘You handled that well and you didn’t even need me to separate you two. Now let’s see how you go at the next task.’

‘This one is going to make the rest of them put together look easy.’

The remnants of the Buckthorne men stood together within their units side-by-side facing the small cemetery where they had been burying those who died during service. The vacant spots had been quickly filled and the cemetery had been expanded to accommodate the increasing number of casualties. In the last month the cemetery fence had been moved to incorporate the freshly dug graves three times, and Pollux suspected that it would not be the last.

Pollux looked out over the sea of faces and took note of the number of wounded men that were still serving despite their injuries. A few men had been shipped back home, where they could recover and then return to the fighting. He had seen the last lot off personally: they had filled up two wagons. Most he never expected to see again.

‘Attention,’ Byrn yelled and the soldiers snapped upright.

‘They are all yours now boy,’ Byrn whispered.

Pollux stepped forward, all eyes drawn to him. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, clearing his mind and calming himself.

‘Today we bury a lot of good men. Not only the ones we have recovered but those whose remains could not be found. We mourn for each of them and regret that their lives were cut short, but we appreciate that they died in service to the Kingdom, protecting the men by their sides.’

‘Among those that we bury is our baron. Cronos Scythe was a good man, a loving father and a strong leader. He knew his way about the business of war and he managed to get us lot through it as safely as he could. There were casualties, but this is war and we can’t blame the man who leads us for that.’

The crowd nodded their consent so Pollux continued. ‘There is one man amongst us who knows the baron well. He served with him on the front line while many of us were still children. Byrn would like to say a few words for a fallen friend.’

The old man looked forlorn with the brown leather strap covering his empty eye socket. He cracked his knuckles as he stood quietly in front of the assembled, trying to collect his thoughts.

‘I knew Cronos when we were boys, and then as part of the Buckthorne infantry. We served together for as long as I can remember, always together on those missions, no matter how dangerous. We fought together on the front lines, much like you do now. One time when we were younger, our patrol happened to stumble into a Kyzantine poaching ring near the ruins of Vargoth. We were completely outnumbered but Cronos wanted to attack anyway.’

‘It was a brutal attack in near darkness, Cronos was a blur, his blade dripped with blood. He killed over a third of them by himself, he was just that quick when he was younger — earned himself a reputation that day, all across the bloody Empire. We let one of them go just so he could bear witness and tell those other bastards to keep out of the Kingdom. Never had another problem with poaching around Buckthorne again, something that the baron was proud of.’

‘Cronos was a good man, a battle brother I will never forget. Every time I step onto the field of battle he will be by my side, giving me the courage to stand tall and firm, but above all else he will be missed.’

A single tear escaped his good eye. Byrn didn’t flinch at the weakness of emotion. Cronos was a man who deserved the utmost respect.

Octans stepped forward and placed a hand on Byrn’s shoulder, signalling that his moment was over. He coughed and cleared his throat, the attention now on him as he tugged his left ear lobe.

‘I’ll make this quick, but there is another that we bury here today who deserves special mention. Tove stood with us at the centre of Black Claw Gate when those wooden doors collapsed. He volunteered to step forward with no reassurance that he would survive. Tove died defending the Kingdom, he died defending the rest of us, gave us the time we needed to get the gates closed. The man was a hero and should be recognised as such.’

Octans nodded, done with his eulogy. Pollux appreciated the effort, knowing how hard Octans must have worked to carefully say everything he wanted to in front of all these men. ‘The men we bury deserve our respect. They gave their lives in service to keep others safe. They protected our backs, spent their time on the front line and killed the enemy. They shared food with us, told stories and laughed. We will be silent as their bodies are lowered to their final resting place and pray that the gods look after them in their journeys onwards.’

Pollux lowered his eyes, firmly believing all the Buckthorne men were doing the same. He looked up briefly to see the selected few start placing the bodies in the freshly dug graves and watched intently as they got the send off that they deserved. When the bodies were lowered Pollux spoke. ‘Mourn the dead but do not dwell on thoughts of death. They died so we can live, think of life today. Dismissed.’

The burial crew grabbed shovels and the dirt began piling on the bodies. Pollux saluted and wandered off. So many things needed his attention now he was in charge. Supply wagons had been due two days ago and the men were getting hungry. The doctors needed medical supplies and some of the wounded needed to be evacuated. Most of all he needed to sleep to keep his weary brain and bones working when it was his turn to stand on the walls amongst his men.

Pollux went about seeking solitude, but instead he found Octans walking directly toward him.

‘We need to talk,’ Octans muttered, glancing over both shoulders.

‘Make it quick Octans, I’m a busy man these days.’

‘I know, but not here. We need some place quiet.’

Octans ushered Pollux toward the edge of the compound, toward the entrance to the pass, and away from the cemetery. Away from a human population.

‘What is it Octans?’

‘I don’t trust Cygnus. He will get us all killed.’

‘He is a competent leader, Octans. His Howlers have kept the enemy off the walls when it’s their time.’

‘Cygnus won’t look after our men. He doesn’t like us and it shows with how he treats any of the Buckthorne soldiers when they are on the wall. He gets Ara to support his men but not ours. He has even told the doctors to aid his men first. If he is left in charge none of us will be going back home.’

Pollux ran his hands through his hair, pulled his head back and sighed. He knew Cygnus was favouring his own troops, but he just kept putting off the confrontation because he knew what it would lead to. He didn’t want to be running the show but there was no one else. Not now that Cronos was gone, Byrn had lost his nerve, and everyone else was dead.

‘I’ll support your claim for leadership. We could take it by force if necessary. The Fists will support you, hell, all of Buckthorne will support you. You are the best chance we’ve got of surviving this.’

‘Taking anything by force is ridiculous. There is no point us killing each other when the enemy are more than willing to do it. We need as many men on the walls as possible to keep the Kyzantines out of the Kingdom.’

‘Look Pollux, I don’t want to die because of him, okay.’

‘I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know as soon as I’m ready.’

‘That’s all I’m asking. Otherwise I will kill him, and you can have it that way.’

Octans stalked off, his shoulders slightly slumped, mingling amongst the men. Pollux didn’t need this shit now, he had enough to worry about. He turned his attention to the walls, saw the familiar silhouette of Ara staring out toward the enemy, and his heart went out to her. While they were burying his battle brothers today, she had mourned Daria as well.

Pollux climbed the stairs slowly. He didn’t know what to say and he dreaded the thought of making a fool of himself. Creeping softly along, he didn’t want to disturb her but then thought better of it — he didn’t want to startle her and make her cast. He let his footfalls echo slightly against the stones and her frame twitched slightly, signalling that she was aware of his presence.

He pulled up beside her, leaned forward and rested his forearms against the stonework, and looked over the battlefield. Ara was standing on the wall where Daria had crashed into the earth in some magical self-destructing storm and blown the enemy away. It was there that Ara landed and saved his life. Pollux owed both women more than he could ever say.

‘It doesn’t get any easier with time,’ Pollux muttered, staring at the enemy who were still collecting the dead from the scorched earth.

‘Why would you say something like that?’

‘It’s the truth. My father died when I was five. I still miss him. He was the reason I became a soldier. I can’t remember his face, but I remember him. It sounds stupid I know, but I remember the idea of him and I know that I miss that idea, that feeling when he was around.’

‘Daria was my teacher — my mother really. I haven’t seen my birth parents since I was selected to go to the Academy, but Daria looked after me. Daria treated me like her child, she didn’t have any of her own that I knew of. She punished me when I was bad, praised me when I did something right.