David Weber - The Road to Hell

Indeed Carthos was, and-like Neshok-he enjoyed the protection of no less a patron than Two Thousand mul Gurthak, himself. That was a reflection which brought Neshok quite a lot of comfort upon occasion. Harshu and Toralk might think they’d be able to use him as the sacrificial goat if the time came that some bleeding heart from the Commandery or Inspector General’s Office decided to look into any irregularities where the Kerellian Accords were concerned. In fact, he was quite sure now that Harshu had had that in mind from the beginning. He’d throw up his hands in horror when the investigators arrived and tell the multiverse he’d had no idea what his “out of control” subordinates were doing. Of course he hadn’t! But, after all, what could anyone have expected? It wasn’t as if the Office of Army Intelligence was one of the combat arms with a properly developed sense of honor, was it?

But that wasn’t going to fly when Neshok and Carthos testified under truth spell that their actions been authorized every step of the way. Especially not when their testimony would implicate not simply Harshu but also mul Gurthak, who was a far larger and more influential fish.

“As for the other material in the Thousand’s reports,” the five hundred continued after a moment, “his reconnaissance gryphons and dragon overflights have confirmed what we were able to deduce from the captured Sharonian maps, at least as far as everything within a thousand miles or so of the Nairsom-Resym portal is concerned. There’s virtually no sign of human inhabitants and the only ‘roads’ are little more than dirt trails hacked out of the undergrowth. There’s no way anyone without dragons could operate in that sort of terrain.”

“Good,” Gahnyr said. “Can you shoot a summary of his reports to my PC before supper?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Then I think that’s about everything.” The infantry thousand stood: he did not, Neshok noticed, offer to clasp forearms with him. “I’d best be going if I’m going to make that meeting on time. Thank you, Five Hundred.”

“You’re welcome, Sir,” Neshok replied pleasantly, and came to his feet respectfully as Gahnyr nodded, turned, and left the office.

Oh, you’re very welcome , the five hundred thought as the door closed. And I’ll be sure to emphasize all those little …irregularities Thousand Carthos has been up to. You and Two Thousand Harshu may think you can feed me to the dragon without getting your lily-white hands dirty, but it’s not going to be that easy. I may be a stinking little intelligence puke, not a proper combat officer, but you’re playing on my turf when it comes to information control. By the time I’m done, there’s going to be enough evidence tucked away in official records and documentation to lead any IG investigators straight to all of the rest of you, too .

It might not be enough to save his neck, but at least he’d have the satisfaction of taking all the others down with him.

And the thought of all those smoking dragons hidden away in the files ought to help motivate Two Thousand mul Gurthak to keep his promises about protection and promotion, as well. Because if he doesn’t, I’m godsdamned sure I won’t be going down alone .

* * *

“You realize Thalmayr would send us both to the dragon if he realized what you and I were talking about,” Commander of Fifty Jaralt Sarma observed almost whimsically, arms crossed over his broad chest as he tipped back in his chair and balanced on its rear legs. He was a relatively short, stocky, heavyset young man with unruly brown hair and dark eyes which Therman Ulthar suspected had gotten a lot harder in the last couple of weeks.

“Probably,” Ulthar agreed after a moment. “Assuming he didn’t just throw us into a cell along with the Sharonians and beat the hells out of us every other day along with them.”

Sarma’s lips tightened, but he didn’t disagree. In his own considered opinion, Hadrign Thalmayr was a sociopath. Whether he’d always been one or whether it was a recent development, following his catastrophic showing at the Mahritha portal, was more than the fifty was prepared to say, but it didn’t really matter. Regulations, the Articles of War, and the Kerellian Accords were very, very clear and explicit about the proper treatment of POWs. And even if they hadn’t been, there were some things Jaralt Sarma wasn’t prepared to stomach.

“Actually,” Ulthar went on, “if he threw us into a cell with Regiment-Captain Velvelig, he wouldn’t get an opportunity to beat the shit out of us. Velvelig would do it for him. In fact, he’d probably reach right down our throats and rip out our hearts with his bare hands.” The wiry, red-haired fifty shook his head, his expression even grimmer than Sarma’s. “That’s a hard man, Jaralt, and I’ve been watching him. Anyone who can drop a dozen gryphons all by himself-and put a bullet into the last one’s eye after he was down with an arbalest bolt in a shattered hip-is not someone I want pissed at me. He’s already decided what he’s going to do. He’s just waiting until he has the best chance to take some of us with him before he tries it.”

Sarma nodded. He hadn’t spent as much time as Ulthar had in Fort Ghartoun’s brig-whether as a prisoner himself or since the survivors of the fort’s Sharonian garrison had been imprisoned there-for several reasons. The most important of them was his lack of desire to draw Thalmayr’s attention to himself, but his own sense of shame was high on the list, as well. On the other hand, he’d never been Velvelig’s prisoner. He didn’t have the personal, searing sense of obligation Ulthar felt. No, his shame was for the way in which Thalmayr degraded and dishonored the entire Andaran officer corps by his actions. Not that Thalmayr was alone in that…which presented its own thorny problem.

“The question before the house is what we do about all of this,” he said. “We’re very junior officers, Therman. Whatever we do is probably going to put us over our heads in dragon shit by the time it all hits the wall.”

“ I’d already be there if you hadn’t stopped me,” Ulthar replied. “In case I didn’t already say it, thanks.”

He looked across at the shorter man, his eyes level and his tone somber, and Sarma unfolded his arms to wave one hand in a brushing away gesture.

“Couldn’t let you get yourself killed before I had a chance to come along with you,” he responded, and the lightness of his own tone fooled neither of them. If he hadn’t intercepted Ulthar on his way towards the fort’s office block, Commander of One Hundred Hadrign Thalmayr or Therman Ulthar-or both-would be dead by now.

“Maybe you couldn’t,” Ulthar said, “but this is a lot more on me than it is on you. The bastard’s my company commander, and I’m the one Velvelig and his healers did their dead level best to take care of. That makes it personal, Jaralt.”

“I know that. But you won’t do anyone any good if you try to storm his office. While I’ll agree Thalmayr’s dumber than a rock, there’s a reason he’s doubled the sentries on the HQ block. And if I had to guess, I’d guess that reason is named Therman Ulthar.”

“Probably,” Ulthar agreed.

“No ‘probably’ about it. You have noticed none of those sentries are Scouts, didn’t you?”

“Of course I have.”

Ulthar sounded irritated, although Sarma knew the irritation wasn’t directed at him. Ulthar and Thalmayr were both officers in the 2nd Andaran Scouts, one of the Union of Arcana’s elite units. The 2nd Andarans were famous for their high standards, proficiency, discipline…and unit loyalty, and Hadrign Thalmayr had been a member of the 2nd Andarans for less than a month before he got two of its platoons blown into dog meat by the Sharonians. Worse yet, he’d accomplished that by systematically rejecting the advice of Hundred Olderhan, who’d commanded C Company for the better part of two years and whose father happened to be the 2nd Andarans’ hereditary commander. There couldn’t be much love for Thalmayr among the unit’s survivors, and an outfit with the 2nd Andarans’ elan and history-with their battle honors and their sense of who and what they were-wasn’t going to take well to the dishonor they knew his actions were heaping upon them.