Fall of Light (The Kharkanas Trilogy 2)

Prazek remained on his horse, and suddenly Galar understood the value of that, as the man abruptly straightened. ‘Soldiers of the Hust Legion! Your wise commander has given me leave to address this momentous moment! Did I truly say “momentous moment”? Why, indeed I did, since we are about to witness a moment so important it demands twice saying.’

‘I missed that,’ Dathenar called as he watched the unfolding of the hide. ‘Pray say it again.’

‘’Tis overfamiliarity, Dathenar,’ Prazek said in a growl, ‘that makes you careless in my company.’

‘No doubt. Now then, Prazek, in keeping with your moment of momentous import, do call to me our own precious squad, which we found upon the road on our way here. The commander would see what we have made of such misanthropic gallywags.’

‘Why, we have made nothing of them yet.’

Dathenar frowned. ‘No time like the present, which, if you think on it, could not be truer, with the past done with and the future forever undiscovered. Call them to me, Prazek. The

y may not be officers, either in material or comportment, but in answering the former we mayhap invite the latter. Failing that, we simply kill them all.’

Prazek swung his mount round and gestured. ‘Be not shy, my pretties. Do recall, it was slothfulness on the road that proved your doing in the midst of your quicker comrades’ undoing. Dulled of wit and spark, you but stood unnerved while the blood, guts, limbs and heads of your fellow deserters flung about as if of their own accord. Come now, reveal the mercy of your officers in that we permitted your return, and let it be a sundry lesson of fate to everyone else, should one or two be eyeing the empty plains beyond the camp.’

The ragtag deserters shuffled into view.

Seltin caught Galar’s eye and the commander answered with a swift nod.

Dathenar now raised up a hauberk of heavy chain. ‘Abyss below! We shall be adorned in the impervious! Thus weighted, no such line will ever take a back step! Why, link by link, we best our enemy – and see here, the vambraces! What so amuses them, I wonder? No matter – see if they laugh when I inadvertently sit on them. And the greaves, bracing enough to fend off whatever might seek to bark my shin, be it pup or grovelling servant. And what are these? Scales to drape my shoulders, a coif for head and neck, and at last, the helm! Oh, hollow-voiced one, I would fill your space with bold thoughts – yours if not mine! Now, who will dress me?’ He swung round, squinted at the oversized squad of deserters, and then pointed at a woman. ‘You are comely enough. Shall we make a game of it?’

Sudden laughter from the crowd of prisoners. And upon that rustle of sound, the manic mirth of the weapons fell away, leaving behind a silence that drew gasps from many.

Dathenar frowned. ‘As I suspected, Prazek! For all this performance, Hust iron is without humour. Or any natural delight in the softness of a caressing touch, the chance meeting of shy gazes, a brush of hips – ah, still my sword that I hold – some things aver public witness, for now, at least.’

Prazek stood in his stirrups to face the crowd. ‘Leer if you will at this graven and solemn scene of disrobement followed by … er, robement. Your attention is most welcome, and hopefully enlightening for the virgins among you.’

Wheeling from renewed laughter, and a few lewd shouts, Prazek kicked his horse forward into a loping, lazy trot, reining in before Galar Baras. The lieutenant dismounted and saluted. ‘Commander, by command of Lord Silchas Ruin, we are now at your disposal.’

‘Silchas? Not your lord’s?’

‘Just so, sir, as Lord Anomander has not yet returned to Kharkanas. Captain Kellaras sends his regards.’

‘You found some deserters upon the trail, lieutenant?’

Prazek frowned. ‘A wayward patrol, I’m sure, sir. Returned to the fold as you see, barring a few malcontents.’

‘You are welcome to their care, lieutenant.’

‘We shall adopt them indeed, sir. But between us, I would wager none fit as officers. Still, glory is possible in any corner. We will retain a measure of misplaced optimism suitable to the fate awaiting us all.’ Prazek then stepped closer. ‘Sir, all is amiss in Kharkanas. Lord Urusander will not wait until the season’s turn, or so it is believed. He will bring blood’s fire to winter, but few will find comfort in its bask.’

Galar Baras nodded, and then turned to Wareth. ‘Inform the quartermaster that there is no further need to wait. Distribute weapons and armour to the regulars.’

He saw a flash of uncertainty in Wareth’s expression, but then the man nodded and walked off.

Bedecked in the unusually robust armour of Hust iron, Dathenar approached. ‘See me, sir, in jangling array. Six with linked arms could make a wall, twenty in a circle a bailey. We will attend to the field like legged keeps. I feel assembled into a fortress, with myriad taunts from the battlements of my shoulders and nape, and upon the helm’s brim, why, such mocking derision as to infuriate the enemy.’

‘Heavy kitting,’ Galar Baras agreed. ‘It was in Lord Henarald’s mind to see a new kind of soldier, stolid and steadfast. The Hust Legion has a history of holding a line, and often it was will alone that blunted the foe’s desire. But now, with armour such as this, we will add iron to our spines.’

‘Well said, sir. I trust Prazek has informed you of our elevation.’

Galar Baras smiled with little humour. ‘I wondered at what insubordination led you here.’

‘A bridge left unguarded was the first of our crimes,’ Dathenar replied. ‘But worse than that, we malingered too long in the Citadel, lured into cups until we sloshed with careless aplomb. Fools that we were, to so offend the white crow with our indolence. We judge this just, and will endeavour, sir, to avoid all future disapprobation.’

‘By this,’ Prazek added, ‘he means we will serve with all the distinction nature has accorded us, and more besides.’

‘Pushed past nature, aye,’ Dathenar said, nodding. ‘Into arcane constructs of obscure logic, yielding to us the perfect symbol with swords that crow and armour eager with contempt. See how well it fits, sir. One day the Hust Legion will be asked to stand against the impossible. I foresee this legion breaking hearts, sir.’