Glen Cook: The Black Company

A tribune of the garrison shoved through the door. “There’s a mob at the gate. They have a ram.”

“Let’s go,” the Captain said.

It took only minutes to disperse them. A few missiles and a few pots of hot water. They fled, pelting us with curses and insults.

Night fell. I stayed on the wall, watching distant torches roam the city. The mob was evolving, developing a nervous system. If it developed a brain we would find ourselves caught in a revolution.

The movement of torches eventually diminished. The explosion would not come tonight. Maybe tomorrow, if the heat and humidity became too oppressive.

Later I heard scratching to my right. Then clackings. Scrapings. Softly, softly, but there. Approaching. Terror filled me. I became as motionless as the gargoyles perched over the gate. The breeze became an arctic wind.

Something came over the battlements. Red eyes. Four legs. Dark as the night. Black leopard. It moved as fluidly as water running downhill. It padded down the stair into the courtyard, vanished.

The monkey in my backbrain wanted to scamper up a tail tree, screeching, to hurl excrement and rotted fruit. I fled toward the nearest door, took a protected route to the Captain’s quarters, lei myself in without knocking.

I found him on his cot, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His room was illuminated by a single feeble candle. “The forvalaka is in the Bastion. I saw it come over the wall.” My voice squeaked like Goblin’s.

He grunted.

“You hear me?”

“I heard, Croaker. Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Yes sir.” So. It was eating him up. I backed toward the door...

The scream was loud and long and hopeless, and ended abruptly. It came from the Syndic’s quarters. I drew my sword, charged through the door-smack into Candy. Candy went down. I stood over him, numbly wondering why he was back so soon.

“Get in here, Croaker,” the Captain ordered. “Want to get yourself killed?” There were more cries from the Syndic’s quarters. Death was not being selective.

I yanked Candy inside. We bolted and barred the door. I stood with my back against it, eyes closed, panting. Chances are it was imagination, but I thought I heard something growl as it padded past.

“Now what?” Candy asked. His face was colorless. His hands were shaking.

The Captain finished scribbling a letter. He handed it over. “Now you go back.”

Someone hammered on the door. “What?” the Captain snapped.

A voice muted by thick wood responded. I said, “It’s One-Eye.”

“Open up.”

I opened. One-Eye, Tom-Tom, Goblin, Silent, and a dozen others pushed inside. The room got hot and tight. Tom-Tom said, “The man-leopard is in the Bastion, Captain.” He forgot to punctuate with his drum. It seemed to droop at his hip.

Another scream from the Syndic’s quarters. My imagination had tricked me.

“What’re we going to do?” One-Eye asked. He was a wrinkled little black man no bigger than his brother, usually possessed by a bizarre sense of humor. He was a year older than Tom-Tom, but at their age no one was counting. Both were over a hundred, if the Annals could be believed. He was terrified. Tom-Tom was on the edge of hysteria. Goblin and Silent, too, were rocky. “It can take us off one by one.”

“Can it be killed?” “They’re almost invincible, Captain.” “Can they be killed?” The Captain put a hard edge on his voice. He was frightened too.

“Yes,” One-Eye confessed. He seemed a whisker less scared than Tom-Tom. “Nothing is invulnerable. Not even that thing on the black ship. But this is strong, fast, and smart. Weapons are of little avail. Sorcery is better, but even that isn’t much use.” Never before had I heard him admit limitations.

“We’ve talked enough,” the Captain growled. “Now we act.” He was difficult to know, our commander, but was transparent now. Rage and frustration at an impossible situation had fixed on the forvalaka. Tom-Tom and One-Eye protested vehemently. “You’ve been thinking about this since you found out that thing was loose,” the Captain said. “You decided what you’d do if you had to. Let’s do it.”

Another scream. “The Paper Tower must be an abattoir,” I muttered. “The thing is hunting down everybody up there.”

For a moment I thought even Silent would protest. The Captain strapped on his weapons. “Match, assemble the men. Seal all the entrances to the Paper Tower. Elmo, pick some good halberdiers and crossbowmen. Quarrels to be poisoned.”

Twenty minutes fled. I lost count of the cries. I lost track of everything but a growing trepidation and the question, why had the forvalaka invaded the Bastion? Why did it persist in its hunt? More than hunger drove it.

That legate had hinted at having a use for it. What? This? What were we doing working with someone who could do that?

All four wizards collaborated on the spell that preceded us, crackling. The air itself threw blue sparks. Halberdiers followed. Crossbowmen backed them. Behind them another dozen of us entered the Syndic’s quarters.

Anticlimax, The antechamber to the Paper Tower looked perfectly normal. “It’s upstairs,” One-Eye told us.

The Captain faced the passageway behind us. “Match, bring your men inside.” He planned to advance room by room, sealing all exits but one for retreat. One-Eye and Tom-Tom did not approve. They said the thing would be more dangerous cornered. Ominous silence surrounded us. There had been no cries for several minutes.

We found the first victim at the base of the stair leading into the Tower proper. “One of ours,” I grumbled. The Syndic always surrounded himself with a squad from the Company. “Sleeping quarters upstairs?” I’d never been inside the Paper Tower.

The Captain nodded. “Kitchen level, stores level, servants’ quarters on two levels, then family, then the Syndic himself. Library and offices at the top. Wants to make it hard to get to him.”

I examined the body. “Not quite like the ones at the tomb. Tom-Tom. It didn’t take the blood or organs. How come?”

He had no answer. Neither did One-Eye.

The Captain peered into the shadows above. “Now it gets tricky. Halberdiers, one step at a time. Keep your points low. Crossbows, stay four or five steps behind. Shoot anything that moves. Swords out, everybody. One-Eye, run your spell ahead.”

Crackle. Step, step, quietly. Stench of fear. Quang! A man discharged his crossbow accidentally. The Captain spit and grumbled like a volcano in bad temper.

There wasn’t a damned thing to see.

Servants’ quarters. Blood splashed the walls. Bodies and pieces of bodies lay everywhere amidst furniture invariably shredded and wrecked. There are hard men in the Company, but even the hardest was moved. Even I, who as physician see the worst the battlefield offers.

The Lieutenant said, “Captain, I’m getting the rest of the Company. This thing isn’t getting away.” His tone brooked no contradiction. The Captain merely nodded.

The carnage had that effect. Fear faded somewhat. Most of us decided the thing had to be destroyed.

A scream sounded above. It was like a taunt hurled our way, daring us to come on. Hard-eyed men started up the stair. The air crackled as the spell preceded them. Tom-Tom and One-Eye bore down on their terror. The death hunt began in earnest.

A vulture had evicted the eagle nesting atop the Paper Tower, a fell omen indeed. I had no hope for our employer.

We climbed past five levels. It was gorily obvious the forvalaka had visited each...

Tom-Torn whipped up a hand, pointed. The forvalaka was nearby. The halberdiers knelt behind their weapons. The crossbowmen aimed at shadows. Tom-Tom waited half a minute. He, One-Eye, Silent, and Goblin posed intently, listening to something the rest of the world could only imagine. Then, “It’s waiting. Be careful. Don’t give it an opening.”