Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

Without calculating, Hewspear replied, “Twenty, Captain. Though Benk and Jotty are riding rear, keeping a keen eye for Brunesmen.”

Braylar shook his head and replied, “Those are not good odds,” just as Soffjian and Skeelana rode up.

“What odds are those, Bray?” No one answered right away as Soffjian looked at all of us, at the dust still settling in the ground, and then up the road. “Are we expecting company? The only time men speak of odds is gambling with coins or gambling with lives. Please tell me you are going to roll dice.”

Still no one answered, and Soffjian fixed her gaze on all of us in slow turn. Finally, Braylar said, “There is a large party of Hornmen heading our way. I suspect they do not have cards.”

Soffjian scowled as Skeelana said, “So just how bad are these odds, then?”

“Bad enough that wasting time talking about them now will get us killed.”

Mulldoos asked, “How about the quarry?”

“We are the quarry, Lieutenant.”

Mulldoos pressed on. “Passed a deserted one, several miles back. We could-”

“Even if we could make it back there in time and manage to hide ourselves, which I doubt, I’m entirely certain the Hornmen are looking for us. They would likely send men to investigate the site, and then we would be trapped and surrounded. And while we haven’t sighted them yet, the Brunesmen are behind us somewhere as well.”

Soffjian said, “I know you, brother-your notion of ‘bad odds’ is ‘certain doom’ to anyone else. If we can’t hide, we ride then. You have what you dragged us off into the wilderness for,” she jerked a thumb toward the rest of the retinue behind us. “You have your prize. Let’s run. All the way to Sunwrack if we have to.”

Braylar slapped the side of the wagon. “The priest is no encumbrance. But the wagons would slow us down. The Hornmen would overtake us, for certain.” He looked at Hewspear and Mulldoos. “Our only choice is to take them on. Rolling gear formations. Whittle them down.”

Mulldoos soured immediately, and while he was biting his tongue to avoid openly questioning his captain in front of the Memoridons, he clearly was trying to find words to disagree without being insubordinate, and it was a visible struggle.

But Soffjian saved him the trouble. “And what cargo is so precious that you’d throw all your lives away rather than leaving it for the Hornmen? I respect technique and skill more than anyone, and know all too well what your men are capable of, but even with crossbows and evasive maneuvers, you won’t be able to fight off a far superior force. Which it must be, for you to admit the lousy odds. How many men are coming? Forty?” No one replied. “Fifty?” Still no one. “Gods, more? You better have the King of Anjuria stuffed in a box back there, brother. And even then, doom is doom. So what is it? What are you carting along?”

Hewspear interjected, “Captain, none here are cowards. If you issue the order to fight, we all will, to the last if necessary. But these odds are… long indeed. Perhaps we-”

“We do not leave what we have sacrificed so much already to gain.” The captain got off the bench and jumped down to the grass and walked back to untether Scorn.

Soffjian called after him, “You’ve been a fool most of your life, brother. Rash, brazen, irreverent, and at times treating your own life with less value than a pile of shit. But not so with your men. Run. Before it’s too late. You cannot defeat fifty or sixty men. You might make their victory costly, but you cannot win. My abhorrent charge is to see you home, and I mean to do it. But I have fought for you twice against my better judgment already, and will not do so again. Run. I implore you.”

Captain Killcoin mounted his horse and rode back to the front of the wagon, one of the harnessed horses shying away from Scorn.

Mulldoos said, “Pains me something fierce to agree even halfway with a witch, Cap, but I think your sister might have the right of it. We got Henlester. The rest of it, well… the hard part was finding it all in the first place. We lose it now, ain’t near as lost as it were before. We can get it back from the Hornmen. But not if we’re all dead.”

Braylar seemed genuinely torn. While he was as hard a man as I’ve ever met, Soffjian was absolutely right on one count-he did not throw away his men’s lives willingly. But he shook his head, pulled his crossbow up and began spanning it. “The land is hilly, but not overly so. Not enough to appreciably reduce our range. The Hornmen will not be as well armored as the Brunesmen. They never are, and especially a host this size. We circle and loose and drop their numbers until the odds are not so dire.” He slid a bolt in place, devil’s claw slapped back down on the stock, looked up, and gave a feral grin. “It’s a good day for crossbows. Ready the men.”

Soffjian shook her head and started turning her horse, clearly not intending to stay, when Skeelana offered, “Perhaps a trade would be in order.”

Everyone looked at her, having forgotten she was even there. She continued, “A war Memoridon could come in quite handy right about now. She could probably tip the odds considerably. Maybe even make counting heads irrelevant, assuming she could meet the foe on ground of her choosing.”

A wrinkle bridged Soffjian’s dark brows, “And why exactly would I want to do that? This fight is ridiculous. An unnecessary waste of lives.”

Skeelana said, “If the good captain here were to indulge us, reveal what the terribly secretive cargo is, perhaps a resident war Memoridon might be inclined to put aside past rancor, save the company, and help everyone get back to Sunwrack with no more lives lost. Speaking hypothetically, of course, not being a war Memoridon myself.” Her half-smile tilted this way and that. She seemed entirely too pleased with herself, given that we were minutes away from being overwhelmed by a small army and utterly destroyed.

I expected Braylar or Soffjian to immediately dismiss the idea, singly or in unison, but it hung there between them, seeming to gain strength the longer it went unchallenged.

Mulldoos said, “Hate the idea of needing help from the likes of her, Cap. But might be she could turn this one.”

“She is right here,” Soffjian said, “and given how rigidly I disagree with this engagement in the first place, my uppity comrade might have overstepped herself. I wouldn’t spill tears to leave you here to be ridden into the ground. But the Tower Commander wants you back. As does the Emperor.” She paused before adding, “Comply with Skeelana’s suggestion, and I-”

“They are scrolls,” Braylar said. Soffjian waited and then he elaborated, “Books. Stray pages. Any ancient recording I could find. Chests of them. Three years of hunting them, obtaining them.” He pointed a gloved finger at me. “To be translated in full now that we have a competent scribe.”

Soffjian looked intrigued, but not entirely convinced. “You would risk your entire company over some documents?”

“They are in Old Anjurian, some in Middle, so it is impossible to adequately gauge their value. But I hope very much to find the secret to severing the bond I have with this black thing that plagues me.” He hefted the flail heads and let them fall back to his thigh. “These records were purchased from collectors, stolen from temples, plundered from dusty crypts. You of all people should appreciate the irony of that.” The captain gave his sister a wicked grin. “Bloodsounder grieves me, wracks me, in ways I cannot possibly explain to you. So yes, I would risk almost anything to be rid of it. Or at least control it. Add ‘selfish bastard’ to the list.”

She smiled back, though no less wolfish than his own. “It is near the top already. And if I didn’t have an imperial mandate hanging over my head, and a witness,” her eyes flicked over to Skeelana long enough to register anger, “I would likely applaud your selfish death spiral. But I realize the admission must have cost you, pained you even, which brings me a little pleasure.”