David Weber - The Road to Hell

“And what did you hear Hundred Olderhan and Fifty Garlath say?”

“Fifty Garlath didn’t say anything. I could hear men crunching through dead leaves and dried, brittle branches as they searched all that timber. I could hear someone curse under his breath for some reason, a miss-step, maybe. Then I heard Hundred Olderhan shout at Fifty Garlath.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Hold fire! Hold fire, Fifty Garlath! Damn it, I said hold-’ Then I heard the thwack and twang of an arbalest.”

“He ordered Fifty Garlath not to fire? You’re certain of that?” Trisbane pressed, and she nodded, her face like stone. The lawyer waited a breath or two, as if to let that settle into the court’s mind. Then he said, “Continue, please. What happened next?”

“Next?” She rubbed her arms, cold to the bone. “Next, I heard a hideous, meaty thump. And the most horrifying, choked scream I’d ever heard in my life.”

She shuddered in memory.

“Then it sounded like the gates of hell opened. The whole clearing erupted in thunder and horrible screams and more arbalest fire. I heard Fifty Garlath screaming, again and again. Much as I despised him, hearing him die like that…It was ghastly,” she whispered. “No one should die in that much terror and pain.”

Her fingers had tightened into fists in her lap.

“But it got worse. As Rahil is my witness, I will never, ever forget those terrible minutes. All I could do was lie there and listen while men I’d come to know and respect died just a few yards away.” She unclenched her fingers to wipe her face, which was wet. Her fingers shook. “They died because of one man. One screw-up of a man, an insubordinate, insolent idiot who disobeyed his commander’s direct orders. Disobeyed and shot down an unarmed man.

“I couldn’t believe he’d done it. Even having watched him for two weeks, I couldn’t believe he’d done it. That he’d disobeyed orders like that, orders that important. That critical . It was almost like he’d done it on purpose, to be deliberately defiant. As though he wanted to make Hundred Olderhan look incompetent or maybe to hog some kind of glory for himself. To be the man who caught Osmuna’s killers, so Hundred Olderhan wouldn’t get the credit.”

The officers ranged along the bench studied her with thoughtful frowns tugging at the corners of thinned lips, and Gadrial shook her head.

“I don’t know why he did it. But I do know he had to’ve heard that order. I was fifty yards away, down in a gully, and I heard every single word of it. I’ve called Garlath an idiot, but he wasn’t actually stupid. He had a brain, a decently agile one; he just didn’t use it very often.

“You could tell he was smart, but he was sly, playing mind games to get out of doing his job, instead of just doing it. To defy his superiors and find ways to make them look bad, to cover up the fact that he’d never done an honest day’s work in his life and had no intention of ever doing one.”

She bit her lip and wiped fresh tears.

“Even Magister Halathyn detested him.” She drew a ragged breath. “I will never, ever forgive Shevan Garlath for starting this war. For setting in motion the events that killed Halathyn vos Dulainah.” Her voice shook as she said that, shook with pain and grief. “He started a chain of events that destroyed Hundred Olderhan’s whole company. He caused the slaughter of innocent Sharonian civilians in that clearing. And thanks to what he did there, hundreds of more Sharonian civilians have died, needlessly, in an invasion we started.”

Absolute silence gripped the courtroom.

After a moment, Count Tisbane spoke quietly again, in his beautiful, cultured voice.

“Magister Gadrial, there’s not a man in this room who doesn’t bitterly regret the pain and suffering you’ve endured because of this war, because of this man you’ve testified started it.”

“He did start it,” she snarled, eyes flashing.

Tisbane lifted both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Peace, Magister,” he murmured. “Believe me, Magister Gadrial, I understand your reasons for feeling the way you do. But at the moment, we’re speaking in legal terms, for the sake of this court-martial. Bearing that in mind, what more can you tell us about the events that transpired and Hundred Olderhan’s role in them, after Shevan Garlath shot down the Sharonian crew leader?”

Gadrial nodded and drew a long, steadying breath.

“All right, I’ll do that. Everything was really crazy for a couple of minutes, with people shouting and screaming and the crack and thunder of the Sharonian weapons sounding like a thunderstorm without rain. A lot of the shouts were from the Sharonians. They sounded…astonished. Furious. Terrified.

“And right in the middle of all that confusion, I heard Hundred Olderhan shouting orders to his men. Very clear orders. He shouted at them to encircle the clearing, to contain the enemy. To prevent their escape and stop anyone who tried to run for the portal with a message. He also ordered his best arbalest shots to try creeping forward under cover, to take out as many of the enemy shooters as possible, but their rifle fire was relentless. There was never a lull in the shooting, not once, not until every last Sharonian had been shot down.

“I heard Hundred Olderhan shouting to bring the field dragons up, which was the only thing that saved the platoon. I heard him order three separate firing lines. The artillery crews kept screaming in agony and Hundred Olderhan kept shouting for replacements, ordering specific men forward by name to man the dragons. I was cowering in terror on the ground, listening as he directed that fight. I couldn’t believe my ears, he was shouting orders with such clear-headed deliberation. I’d never heard anything like it.

“My bodyguards were swearing a blue streak. Not because they were angry. They were frustrated, mostly, because they were stuck babysitting me. But even that wasn’t the whole reason. I was curled up on the ground, shaking in my robes, while they stood over me with cocked and locked arbalests, and the most amazing thing was how they were swearing. They sounded the way my brothers did when their jarrca team made some great play. The kind of play that netted the point that propelled them into a championship game. It sounds crazy, probably, but that’s what it sounded like.”

“Thank you, Magister, for your testimony,” Tisbane said formally. “If there are no direct questions from the bench, I’ll turn the witness over to the prosecution.”

Gadrial steeled herself for the moment she had dreaded for weeks.

She watched Commander of Five Hundred Ghulshan Vreel, Jasak’s Accusator, closely as he rose and left the table where he’d sat since entering the chamber. Five Hundred Vreel wasn’t a typical Andaran. He was tall, certainly, but his uniform clothed a frame just shy of skeletal. His eyes were banked down coals, eyes that pierced to the quick, probing for the secrets one hid from the entire world, and Gadrial controlled a shiver by dint of sheer willpower as those eyes focused upon her.

“Magister Gadrial,” he said slowly, his voice as cadaverous as the rest of him, “your testimony’s been extremely complimentary to Sir Jasak Olderhan.”

Gadrial didn’t rise to the bait, whatever he was fishing for; she merely looked at him, waiting for him to make his next point.

“Your status as a theoretical magister is beyond reproach. And despite your relative youth, you’ve suffered great adversity, great emotional pain. Your professional and personal lives have been a source of both satisfaction and upheaval, none of it your fault.”