Serpent Sword: A Steampunk Military Fantasy, page 21
“I’ve got enough men for that,” Murray said. “Hopefully Jacinto will be reinforced sooner rather than later.”
“The north bank is clear,” Campbell interrupted. “The civilians were fleeing south before we even started advancing and destroying the Merrill rear-guard was an easy thing. I’ve plenty of men to clear the south side, and the division has given me plenty of latitude to attack other targets of opportunity.”
“Your enthusiasm is appreciated,” Gyrdsson said. “The First Norridge can supply dirigibles to ensure the immediate area is clear of enemies and ensure any remaining civilians are … cooperative.”
“We’ll need labor for pulling the wrecks from the river and repairing the bridge. We’ve got enough soldiers to make sure nobody causes trouble.”
“And some of the breeding pits have been getting right crowded,” Campbell added. “I’m sure there will be many volunteers if additional labor is required.”
Falki knew intellectually what Mangle’s “breeding pits” were, but Campbell’s casualness made his stomach twitch. Just how terrible were they that forced labor would be an improvement?
“Your offer is appreciated,” Gyrdsson told the Blood Alchemy man. “I may take you up on it. But locals know the lay of the land better, and it’s their community they’ll be rebuilding.”
And it’s wasting Guard’s time, chasing runaways from the freak camps, Falki noted, although he wasn’t foolish enough to actually say that.
“Fair enough,” Murray said. “When we finish, I’ll put together my hunting parties.”
Campbell and his monstrous minion both nodded. “Same.”
“Excellent,” Gyrdsson said. “Let me know when everything is ready.” He rose from his seat and turned toward the door. Falki followed.
“Will the Obsidian Guard be part of this?” Falki asked once he was sure they were out of the earshot. “Other than the dirigibles themselves?” It had been a long time since he had the chance to hunt, be the prey on two legs or four. The Merrill fugitives would make for good game.
“Some,” Gyrdsson said almost casually. “But I must write a report on those two dirigibles we lost, and we need more ammunition.” Falki nodded. The Guard’s reliance on Old World weaponry made them hit harder than anything between the mountains and the desert and the sea, but supply could be difficult. Gyrdsson lowered his voice. “Between you and me, if it’s us securing Lufkin while these characters clear the woods, that might get the civvies back into town and working.”
That made sense. The Guard didn’t rape its captives to breed freaks, and it certainly didn’t eat them. Better to take one’s chances with a drumhead tribunal if someone acted up than fall into the hands of the Flesh-Eaters or Blood Alchemy Host.
“You looking to join in the fun? Your file says you’re a good hunter.”
Much as he might’ve wanted to, Falki remembered he had something else to do. He’d read Nora’s letters a couple times after they’d arrived, but he’d neglected to write back. Although he’d had a lot on his plate, he didn’t want to keep her waiting, or else Alexander might complain to Father. With his company to manage in an increasingly vicious war, he didn’t need that. And then he’d write to Rosalyn as well. Her duties looking after the First Norridge’s families no doubt kept her busy, but — hopefully — she missed him. And he would see to the men’s families, especially those of men who’d died last night.
“Not right now, if you do not need A Company,” he said. “The man are still tired from last night.”
Gyrdsson nodded. “Makes sense.”
PARLEY
Grendel stood once more in the balcony overlooking Long Branch. The city was an enormous clockwork machine. Trains rolled in and out, and tiny rectangular streetcars rolled up and down the streets. People walked to and fro on sidewalks connecting the red brick buildings.
All supervised by Obsidian Guard and Flesh-Eaters stationed on convenient street corners and manning the dirigibles high overhead. If he had the time, he could set up his easel and start sketching, to fill in the dark outlines with paint later on.
It would not be long now until he had the time. He turned his attention to the papers laid out on the small table beside him. The Obsidian Guard raiders — including Falki, who had been performing admirably according to his superiors — had cleared the Merrills from the Armand. The Guard now directly controlled multiple river ports and bridges and had bolstered Flesh-Eater control of the rest. Additional Obsidian Guard detachments had been sent to threatened cities, including a large group to Jacinto itself, to prevent any unpleasant surprises. The Blood Alchemy Host gathering north of the Grand River was dealing with the Merrills there. The rivers would make a perfect supply line for the army once it was unleashed.
No, not long at all.
Although he had sneered at Jasper Clark for allowing that village boy to challenge him to a knife-fight, he found himself excited. This fight with the Merrills was not some idiotic squabble between his own men like had broken out between the Blood Alchemy Host and the Legio Mortis, but a battle against an actual enemy.
James Merrill had all but spit in his face when he had offered Falki as a husband for Catalina in exchange for his submission. He had advised John Merrill to undo his father’s mistake and lost his ambassador for his pains. And Alonzo Merrill had not only continued his hopeless war, but through sheer luck had bounced back, killing one of Grendel’s sworn men and giving his new order a bloody nose.
He would look forward to bringing an end to all this nonsense.
Footsteps announced the arrival of a messenger, a short dark-haired man barely old enough to shave wearing an Obsidian Guard uniform. “Yes?”
“Sir,” the youth said. “The Merrill ambassador has arrived.”
Finally. “How large is the Merrill party?”
“Not large, sir. There’s the ambassador himself and five soldiers.”
“What is his name?”
“Colonel Thomas Rhoads.”
This was not Gideon Paul, who ruled the territories Alonzo had wrested from the Flesh-Eaters from Pendleton while Alonzo led his army. Nor was he Thomas Hutton, who served alongside Alonzo and, Grendel suspected, turned his master’s ideas into strategy.
No, the Merrill pup was not risking anyone of significance. A bit insulting to send a mere colonel, but not unwise.
“Given Colonel Rhoads and his men appropriate quarters, supervised by Obsidian Guard.”
General Hardin and the other senior Flesh-Eaters likely suspected Alonzo Merrill’s proposal was not in their best interests, and he did not want them interfering before he gave the matter whatever attention it deserved.
“Yes sir. Colonel Rhoads has also presented sealed terms, to be delivered to you.”
The heavy brown envelope, sealed with green wax, appeared immaculate. Nobody, Flesh-Eater or Obsidian Guard, had damaged the seal in the slightest.
Good. The Obsidian Guard would not be the weak link in the chain, and young Alonzo had taken hostages to deter Flesh-Eater interference. General Hardin was wise enough to order his underlings not to meddle and strong enough his word was obeyed. This was a marked improvement over the dissension when he’d first arrived.
Grendel hefted the envelope in his hands. It was not heavy. He could appreciate the simple approach. Much less work.
“I will review these and see Colonel Rhoads tomorrow. Dismissed.”
The messenger nodded. “Yes sir.”
ONCE IN HIS private office, with no Flesh-Eaters to be seen, Grendel cut through the thick green wax. He carefully slid the letter from the envelope and took in Alonzo’s neat handwriting. His eyebrows rose slightly at some of his wording.
“The boy must think pretending to be a skald will impress me.”
As Grendel suspected, Alonzo was offering to submit to him as the first lord of the Northlands, as his own father and elder brother should have. He would serve as Grendel’s man in Jacinto and rule the Grand River Valley as his forefathers had done, as the Flesh-Eaters did now. This would end the war immediately and save many lives — excluding the Flesh-Eaters, of course. Alonzo’s proposal for them was to join forces and destroy the Flesh-Eating Legion in its entirety.
Grendel snorted. How foolish did Alonzo think him? Betray an ally so flagrantly, and his own men would start wondering when they would be next. His own plan to place Havarth on the throne of Jacinto would be the work of years for that very reason. And his invasion of the south would provide many opportunities to give Quantrill a glorious — and unsuspicious — death in battle.
Then he reached something that truly raised his hackles. “My son, a fully-honored member of House Merrill?” Grendel could barely keep himself from laughing.
The sheer audacity to try to claim his son for the boy’s own failing line! And Grendel had not been born yesterday. He knew exactly what Alonzo would do with Havarth if he ever had the boy in his power.
For a moment, Grendel pondered finding the nearest candle and burning both the terms and the envelope. He had no intention of accepting this offer.
And the Flesh-Eaters, whatever suspicions they might have, could not be allowed to know he had even entertained it. He and his entourage were greatly outnumbered by the man-eaters in Long Branch. And it was not like the ordinary citizens loved him either.
No. Burning it would be overdramatic and wasteful. He folded the letter and slid it into his black jacket. He would save the dispatch until the meeting with Colonel Rhoads tomorrow.
Then this whole farce would be done.
GRENDEL’S ALL TOO familiar tread boomed outside, pulling Catalina’s attention away her book. She slowly set the volume aside and stood beside the bed. She would figure what the evil old bastard was up to, even if the means made her stomach sour. She adjusted her dress’s shoulder-straps and teased her hair as best she could with her hands.
The door opened and Grendel stepped inside. He carefully closed the door behind him. “My lord,” she began. She let the ghost of a smile cross her face. Tease.
He ignored her. She moved toward him. Grendel didn’t react. This was strange. He’d often used her or one of his other women as stress relievers when things weren’t going his way. For him to not only not do this, but ignore her own advances?
“My lord, is something troubling you?”
His gaze fell on her like an avalanche. “Your brother.”
Well that wasn’t exactly news. Hopefully Alonzo would trouble him for a right long time.
Grendel continued looking at her. His gaze, eyes gray like the mountains roofing the world, was like an oncoming wave. Catalina’s breath caught in her throat.
“You want him to win, do you not?” he asked. “Your father in his days of power had five times as many men, but Alonzo’s army has more Old World weaponry man for man. Smaller, but more potent.”
Catalina’s mouth worked, but no sound emerged. He had never been this open before. Was he starting to trust her? He couldn’t possibly be that stupid. But men could be exactly that, if they weren’t thinking with their brains. Before Grendel had offered her father Falki there’d never been any talk of a political marriage, but she knew that awaited her. Knowing how to use that to her advantage would be crucial, for her own sake and that of House Merrill.
But Grendel was still talking. “Your brother has offered me terms.”
Catalina caught her breath. Either Alonzo’s position was stronger than she’d realized, or he was right desperate. Maybe both. He might be winning now, but Grendel’s armies at full strength could crush him like a sledgehammer. Just like they’d done to John and Pa.
“Himself as my man in Jacinto, collecting taxes and mining the Iron Desert for Old World technology on my behalf,” Grendel continued. “A joint war to exterminate the Flesh-Eating Legion. You and Havarth returned to Jacinto, as ‘fully-honored members of House Merrill.’”
She still could not speak. Pa could have had that from Grendel years ago, with herself as Falki’s wife in the bargain. But Pa was so much stronger then.
You’re not lacking for courage, brother mine. But can you back it up?
“Would it hurt you to take his offer?”
Grendel’s expression darkened. “Why should I? Why should I not utterly destroy him?” He gestured toward the blank wall, beyond which Catalina imagined the Nicor and its murderous companions floating. “He refused to surrender after your father’s death, continued to raid the Flesh-Eaters who bent the knee to me, and then killed Jasper Clark, who ruled the region in my name. The forces I have already could destroy his armies as they are. The armies I am bringing in will. I have every reason to see his head on a spike and no reason not to.” His voice lowered. “If you are concerned for the people your family ruled, do not fret. With the losses they have taken, the Flesh-Eaters will tread more lightly.”
“You wouldn’t need the Flesh-Eaters at all if you made Alonzo your man.” Her own boldness surprised her. He could have her killed, yet here she was arguing with him. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. “He has support among the people the Flesh-Eaters or anyone else you put in their place will never have. You could end the war immediately.”
Grendel shook his head. “Did you not hear the last part? He wants you back, you and Havarth. Or Hayes, as you like to call him.”
Those last words fell like a bomb from a dirigible. How did he know she called her son that, that she was raising him to be more than just a son of Grendel?
Through it all, Grendel kept speaking. “A child mixing my blood and yours is a threat to your brother. Unless Havarth goes to Jacinto to rule there, he will die there.”
The tyrant’s words hit her like a blue norther. She fought against their power, but it was like fighting the ocean.
Alonzo would treat her kindly, as he always had, but he would show no kindness to a child of Father’s and John’s killer, the living proof he’d failed to protect his little sister.
Hayes was her son, not just Grendel’s, but Alonzo would never understand.
“In that case, I don’t want to go back to Jacinto.” Grendel raised an eyebrow. Time to strike while the iron was hot. “As you’ve said before, children need a mother and a father both. And my dear brother can be a bit of a hothead.”
Silence, then two words that rumbled like thunder. “Go on.”
“However, broadly agreeing to his terms doesn’t mean you agree to them all. You can reject that, and still accept most — ”
“Or I could reject them all. He has won a few victories, but the great weight of my armies is bearing down on him. In a month’s time, two if he is lucky, he will be dead.”
Catalina’s mind raced. How to convince him it would be in his own interest to spare Alonzo and his rebels? He’d talked about politics some nights they’d been together. Far too often, things she’d thought good and wise ultimately benefited him. She doubted the son of a bitch had a benevolent bone in his body, but appealing to his self-interest might work.
“But you could end the war now. I know how much wars can cost. Imagine the good it will do for your treasury to put an end to this.”
“Imagine the good it will do for my treasury to have all of this land under my control, obedient and ready to be squeezed. Try again.”
“Tell me, my lord, what is more productive, a land ruled by a man the people love, to whom they’d gladly pay taxes, or a seething ruin under your boot? With people shooting at your tax collectors when they can get away with it or even when they can’t?”
Grendel regarded her, his expression unreadable. A chill crept up her spine. In the years she’d been under his thumb, she’d never had the courage to argue with him. And if he couldn’t parry her words with his own, he had other weapons…
Grendel shook his head abruptly, as though he were shaking away an idea. “Not now. I need both of us well-rested and sharp for tomorrow.”
His words hung on the air with a terrible ominousness. “What … what’s happening tomorrow?”
“Your brother’s ambassador is in this very citadel. I will meet with him.”
Catalina felt sick. She knew where this was going. “And you will reject his terms.”
“Aye. And you will be there.”
His words fell almost like a physical blow. He was going to make her watch? Grendel could be cruel, but cruelty was not a sport for him. Even when he’d threatened to hang the prisoners until she spread her legs for him, there at least had been a purpose to that. This, this was just evil.
“No,” she whispered.
Grendel raised an eyebrow. “What?” There was an edge to his voice, an edge that set her hands trembling. He didn’t like defiance. He’d killed his concubine Alexandra Taylor for sleeping with a guardsman as part of an escape plan before they’d brought her from Jacinto. Her heart pounded. Her mind raced. Time to appeal to what was good for him again.
She straightened her back and forced the quavering from her voice. “My lord, do you want your enemies to know I’m here? The Flesh-Eaters are sitting on top of a barrel of explosives in every city they rule south of the mountains. I’d make a fine spark, don’t you think?” She drew herself taller, even though at most she came up to his nose.
Grendel studied her for a moment, his gray eyes pensive. Hope rose in her chest. Maybe she’d persuaded him. Maybe she’d saved her brother and his men…
Then he laughed, a terrible barking sound. “That, Catalina, is entirely the point.”
Catalina’s hands trembled. This was worse than petty cruelty. She was bait. Not only for Alonzo, but for Grendel’s enemies anywhere. She would be the magnet and they the iron filings drawn into the red-hot smelter.
A thick finger touched her chin. Grendel lifted her face so her eyes locked with hers. “I have been thinking. If our son is going to be a proper Merrill, he should know how to ride, and I am sure you will make an excellent teacher. When we return to Norridge, there will be riding gear waiting for both you and Havarth. Provided” — he paused — “you are sufficiently cooperative.” He smiled. “It is not as though I need your cooperation, but it is easier.”
