Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

I looked around. Nearly everyone else was moving, gathering their sleeping rolls, packing any loose items, though we were all pretty light in that department, most of the supplies being back in the wagon or on the pack horses.

Vendurro stood, and I got to my feet as well, stiff all over, the blanket still wrapped tight. Everywhere I looked, breath was ghosting in the air. We were moving somewhere in a hurry. “What’s happening?”

“Can’t say for a certainty. Cap seemed real intent on getting the crew going. But whatever it is, it’s happening big and happening soon. Let’s hoof it.”

Almost with alarm, I realized the last thing I’d been thinking about before falling into that deep sleep was Skeelana, and that I was looking around at our party, trying to spot her.

I shook my head and focused on keeping up with Vendurro as we made our way through brambles and brush and onto the base of the hill that led up to the ridge. Though it took me long enough to recognize it, having been woken from the depths, it struck me suddenly that in addition to the lamellar on full display, weapons buckled and strapped on, shields slung over backs or bucklers clipped to belts, everyone was carrying loaded crossbows as well.

Vendurro must have read my thoughts. “Might get ugly right quick. Fighting in the dark is worse than fighting in full-on day. Can’t see the carnage or bloodletting, true enough, which is something of a blessing, but you also can’t make out friend from foe. Leads to bad decisions, bloody mistakes, even panic, you don’t have a steady hand running the crew. Lucky for us, we got Cap. He’ll see us through, even if we need to start loosing bolts before sunup. Buckle that quiver, ready that bolter.” I couldn’t be sure, but I think he smiled.

The small company was gathered together, looking to Captain Killcoin and his lieutenants who were standing a little further apart, arguing with Soffjian from the looks of it. The captain might have rankled at her being involved at all in this operation, but she did have the habit of turning him and his chief advisors into a unified front. Hewspear and Mulldoos might have had leave to question their captain’s decisions in private, at least to a point, but they never failed to support him in front of the troops, and never more so than when she was aligned on one side, and the three of them on the other.

I saw Skeelana then, holding herself apart from the rest, observing either everyone or no one. She was even less equipped for a confrontation than I was. Well, except for her ability to warp men’s minds of course. There was that.

Soffjian shook her head, rather violently, and then walked away, joining Skeelana, speaking quickly and quietly, clearly unhappy with the situation.

Captain Killcoin saw Vendurro and summoned him over with a quick wave of his arm, and when I didn’t immediately follow, he waved faster. I ran to catch up, ignoring the glances from the soldiers around me. Some were likely indifferent to my presence or my proximity to their captain, but I frequently sensed that others were none too pleased, even if being a part of Braylar’s inner circle meant increased likelihood of receiving a tongue lashing.

There was another Syldoon, one of the pair on watch at the ridge, I gathered, who had been waiting for Soffjian to move off but now joined the group as well. I approached the five men as Hewspear asked the soldier, “Has there been any movement? Anything unusual?”

The soldier had bloated lips and small eyes that could charitably have been described as beady. “No, sir. We alternated, just like you and Cap ordered. Been a fresh eye on the site the whole night. Torches on the wall, dying camp fires among the Brunesmen, so hard to make too much out. But nothing real peculiar.”

Mulldoos drummed his hand on the buckler on his hip as he faced Braylar. “What do you want us to do, Cap? Everybody got all dressed to scrap, but seems like we might be a mite early to the party yet.”

Captain Killcoin was looking up the hill, one hand on the top of Blood-sounder’s haft. I wondered if maybe he needed the elaborate whirling to capture the least muddied images and sensations, as he’d done in the grass. But even some of his men were familiar with the odd divinations, the two women in the group surely weren’t, and I knew he was in no hurry to reveal anything to them unless it was bled out of him.

I thought he was going to have to admit that Mulldoos was right, and order everyone to unclench the nerves and cool the bloodlust, but then I saw movement further up the hill, and heard metal and gear gently rattling as the other solider who’d been manning the ridge jogged down to us, stones and rotting leaves kicked ahead of him.

The Syldoon came to a stop in front of the group and saluted.

“Report, soldier.”

“Got some activity, Cap.”

Braylar stepped forward. “I gathered as much, since you nearly broke your neck racing down here to tell us as much. A few more details would be welcome.”

The soldier replied, “Aye, Cap. Sorry. Baron’s men, seems like they’re breaking camp.”

I couldn’t tell if Braylar was relieved or disappointed. “Pulling out?”

“Can’t say for sure, Cap. They’re pulling the pavilions down, alright, and some of the small tents too. But the command tent is still standing. And given that the commanders generally don’t like to choke on dust or step in shit, seems plenty queer that they haven’t broken that down yet. Plus, a lot of coming and going in the night the last few hours.”

Braylar turned to the beady-eyed Syldoon. “And that didn’t strike you as peculiar? Excessive traffic to Gurdinn’s tent?”

The soldier looked both red-faced and a bit confused. “Gurdinn, sir?”

“The man in the tent receiving so many midnight missives. In the future, please remember this moment the next time I ask you if anything unusual is afoot and be prepared to hurt your neck nodding furiously if you’ve encountered the same level of activity. In addition to preferring to keep their boots clean, commanders only like to be woken repeatedly or kept awake half the night for a phenomenally good reason.” He turned to the rest of our small assembly. “Come. Let’s see what to make of these camp happenings.”

The captain started up the hill as quickly as he could and still maintain his footing in the dark. The two soldiers loped after him and fell in on either side.

Mulldoos looked at Hewspear. “Devils take him, but he’s right too plaguing much.” Then the pair ascended as well.

Vendurro wasn’t struggling as much as the lieutenants-in fact, he seemed pretty adroit at avoiding injuries-but he chose to stay at my side as we followed. I wondered if he feared I’d stumble and roll back down to the bottom, or turn an ankle in the dark. Or possibly he just wanted some company. I imagine if Glesswik had been there, they would have kept pace with the rest.

He elbowed me in the side and nearly sent me toppling, so my safety clearly wasn’t paramount. “Mulldoos ain’t never found a comfort level of no kind with Bloodsounder. Distrusts the thing something fierce, even when it proves itself over and over. Can’t say I blame him-mighty unnatural. But it’s saved us more than once.”

I tried not to let my labored breathing show. “But it’s been mistaken before, hasn’t it? Led him astray.”

Vendurro pointed further up the hill, presumably at the soldiers and the captain ahead. “No more or less than anything else. Either way, he gets it more right than wrong. Lieutenant ought to quit fighting that fact so plaguing hard, no matter how plaguing queer the thing is.”

There might have been something to that. But just then, I was happy not to be wearing armor, despite my earlier misgivings. Trudging uphill in full Syldoon gear didn’t look like much fun, even if Vendurro had the youth and energy and training to show no ill effects.