A Winter's Mercy, page 15
Wish had a reasonable vantage point at the curve of the road, lying prone by a tree, vines twisting overhead, rifle propped on a branch and scope powerful enough to pick out the spots on one young man’s nose. She could hit them without the scope from here.
A gentle scuffling of leaves behind her announced Quickness’s arrival, whispering as she hunkered down, “Dalliance says total six soldiers visible from his side of the road. No way round, unless we wanna spend half the day hacking through thorns.”
Wish glanced sideways. Couldn’t see her fellow marksman from this angle, but she suspected he’d got the better spot.
“Two in that building closest to us here,” Quickness explained, guessing who she couldn’t see. The squat stone cottage with a thatched roof marked the entrance to the village, about thirty metres ahead, barely big enough for a latrine, with no windows on this side. “Latebite reckons there’ll be at least two more watching the other side of town.”
“There’s windows in the clock tower,” Wish said. “They’d be mad not to have at least one person up there.”
“Think they could’ve seen us already?”
“Could’ve,” Wish said, though she’d taken every precaution, slowing to a crawl as soon as Unders announced they were getting close. When the tip of that tower came into view, she’d kept an eye on it every step closer. “They didn’t, though. No one raised an alarm.”
“So how do we do it, boss?”
Wish checked the village again, the little portion she could see. There was plenty of cover amongst the buildings. She said, “We’ve got maybe two hours of daylight left. Major Bluefern might catch up in that time, so we’d better handle this before then. Still, the lower the light the better. Tell everyone to wait for my lead. We’ll keep watching, be sure we’ve learnt all we can.”
A thump like thunder split the air, as if the sky disagreed with her plan, and Wish frowned as it echoed lightly through the trees. To the east of the village, a flock of birds took flight squawking angrily, and two of the guards at the central barricade stood, looking in the direction of the sound. Quickness swore.
“Guess that was Iggy,” Wish murmured, unhappy with both the timing and the result: that explosion plainly did not sound very far west. A green-coat burst out of the closest hut, looking worriedly at his friends at the barricade, then out to the forest. “Shit.”
The man shouted in Drail, likely what was that? His friends called back, equally concerned, and started a short argument: one of them was probably blaming the Stranded while the other two thought it was something they needed to check out.
“Boss,” Quickness muttered. The nearest man was turning towards them. “What should we do?”
“Hold on,” Wish said. “If they send word to Sober Sound, we’re done.”
The arguing got more heated, and the soldier in the road shouted something offensive. Behind the machine gun, Wish saw another man turn heel to jog the other way. Past the clock tower, towards the north road – to Sober Sound and potential reinforcements.
“Fuck. We need to take them out. Can’t let anyone go – everyone to follow my lead.”
“You mean –”
The jogging soldier was about to turn a corner, a second from slipping from sight, when Wish’s survival instinct took over. She pulled the trigger and he jerked through the air, down, then she aimed to the left, where the nearest man was a big target ducking in the road. She fired again, square in the chest, throwing him into the wall. The blasts of her rifle sent Quickness scurrying, relaying her orders in yelps, as the two soldiers behind the barricade ducked. Dalliance’s rifle fired from across the road and the glass of the nearest hut shattered, a man inside screaming. It was a bad sign: he wasn’t dead. Another shot from Dalliance, and another, tearing into the stonework. He had the man pinned, but couldn’t hit him.
Wild Wish rose to a crouching run, charging the hut, and made the distance just as she saw movement behind the barricade, another soldier bolting. She slid into the cover of the wall and leant out, sighting the machine gun through her scope. No one there yet – the men might’ve fled. But she kept her scope on the position.
Dalliance stopped firing and she heard the man in the hut whimpering in Drail, praying: Wish knew the words even in his language, having heard them often enough: “Saints save me.”
Rapid footsteps brought company. She recognised Quickness’s light breath as she slid in behind her, along with two men. Wish calmed her own breathing as she instructed, “We need to get through to the other side, catch anyone leaving.”
The man in the hut shouted to his companions. Someone replied from between the buildings. Then another shout, at least two men trying to coordinate.
“Someone roll a grenade in,” Wish suggested, and Latebite replied, “On it.”
She didn’t take her eye from the machine gun as he moved past and tossed his grenade. The soldier shrieked and dashed to get out, footsteps hitting the dirt just before the bomb exploded. It blew out what was left of the window and a few chunks of stone, but was contained. The soldier cursed in fear, having escaped, but a gunshot from Latebite silenced him.
Another soldier screamed a long, accusing word that was probably his dead friend’s name, then a hand finally shot up to grab the machine gun, squeezing the trigger blind. The weapon opened up in a barrage of heavy fire, bullets shredding through branches and hitting walls. The shots spread wide, tearing into the sky, as the man raked the weapon back and forth, screaming. Wish glimpsed more movement in her periphery, another man running under the barrage’s cover, but she had to leave him. Another moment . . .
At last, the shooter’s head poked up to aim, and she fired, ripping his head back and ending the salvo. There was a moment’s stillness before the remaining soldiers started yelling in panic and Wish ordered, “Advance! No one gets out alive!”
She sprinted from the hut into the cover of the next nearest building, followed closely by her troops. There were shouts down the road, a few gunshots aimed at the clock tower or into the road to warn off anyone waiting. Wish raced on, confident with her cover – the little paths between buildings left limited visibility for anyone further out. She leant around a corner and saw a distant green-coat disappearing behind a cottage. No chance to hit him. She ran on, towards a roofless house with the walls half broken, mossy and in disrepair rather than damaged. She slid down to shelter in what little wall there was, and Quickness pressed in just behind her.
As they stopped, gunfire blasted from high above, and a brick next to them erupted. More rifle shots followed, peppering their position and making Wish and Quickness flinch.
“Shooter in the tower!” Wish shouted, as another gun joined in, two rifles in the tower, covering both directions. And more – rifle fire from ground level. She gritted her teeth, glancing ahead. It was a couple of metres in the open to the next building and better cover, or a couple of metres to retreat. From the sounds of the gunfire from both sides, no one was in a better position to hit the tower.
Shit shit shit. The Drail didn’t need a good sniper to cover the whole village from up there. She looked back to her support: Latebite and, surprisingly, Gaussica, both crouched at the next building ready to follow, with Lieutenant Jonus and a few of his men in tow.
“We’re pinned down!” Wish shouted. “Has anyone got a shot on this fucking guy?”
“Want me to shake them out?” Emi offered loudly, unseen.
“Absolutely not! We can’t let Sober Sound know we’re here!”
“Might be a bit late for that,” Latebite said, and Wish shot him a fierce look. It wasn’t, she told herself. The gunfire wouldn’t travel that far; they might’ve heard Iggy’s blast, but without confirmation from here there was a chance they wouldn’t appreciate the threat.
“I can get up there,” Gaussica said, barely raising his calm voice.
Wish scowled, disbelieving, at his blank expression. “Not sure we can get closer than this,” she said, as the rifle fire continued erratically. She held his gaze and found it coldly certain; he was waiting for an order, that was all. He was supposed to be capable of great things. Well, screw it – she nodded. He did not retreat to find another route, as she expected. He ran past her, without waiting for a break in the gunfire.
Latebite cursed with surprise and Quickness gasped as the Azirian passed with a nearly casual gait, bullets slamming into the walls around him. The Drail were shouting again, equally startled by his movement, panicked by their failure to hit him. He cleared the opening, pressed his back against the wall of the next building, and took a breath. From his still-blank expression, it was just a pause for air, not to settle any nerves. He pushed off and continued, jogging around the corner. A barrage of rifle fire erupted at ground level, in his direction, then stopped. No more movement or shouts. Had they got him?
“Did he even have a gun?” Latebite asked incredulously, and Wish realised she hadn’t seen one. He was either a brilliant maniac or already dead.
“We can fall back, Captain,” Jonus called out as the gunmen in the tower resumed their random shots. “Take cover and keep them busy until Bluefern arrives. We’ve got plenty of ordinance that can take down a tower.”
“Not quickly or quietly enough,” Wish replied. “We don’t have time!”
“I’ll go,” Quickness volunteered, with a sharp breath. Wish spun to lock eyes with her, to tell her no, but the woman was already up, inspired by Gaussica’s example. She was the fastest they had, after all.
Quickness ran past before Wish could complain or pull her back, a leaping step taking her into the opening. Immediately, a rifle fired above and she was thrown to the side, gun flying as she hit the ground. Wish shouted, rising to follow her, but a strong hand caught her shoulder.
“Hold, boss!” Latebite shouted in her ear, as the shooter fired on their position again, stone shattering where Wish’s head had been an instant before. She tried to squirm free, eyes fixed on Quickness as the woman lay on her back, mouth gasping. Her chest was torn open, blood pooling. “Angry won’t make you bulletproof!”
Wish shook Latebite’s hand off and twisted to him baring her teeth, but his frightened eyes stilled her. He must’ve made a dash himself to stop her, now crouching where Ness had been.
Wish looked to her soldier lying on the ground again. Her friend. Dying.
The gunfire continued and she couldn’t move. Could only stare as Quickness’s head rolled her way. Eyes wide as they found Wish’s, lips moving in a silent question. Why? How? No. Wish shuddered as a voice came back to her: Loose, beautiful Loose, the moment before she was thrown from a cliff. No. A scream. Fixit’s terrible scream as she was cut down by a grekkel. Newk, down and bloody, just like this. Wish hunched down, tensing all over, and it was all she could do to keep hold of her gun and not explode.
Then the gunfire cut off with another horrible scream, a man’s, descending, with a cascade of shattering glass. Wish rose unthinkingly to look as Latebite warned her stop. His grip was weak this time, though, as he looked too.
A big, heavy shape hit the barricade at the base of the clock tower, breaking over it with a squelch. Wish glanced up to the top window, smashed and empty. There were only a couple of scattered Drail voices left now, shouting as they ran, followed by rifle shots not far behind.
“He got them,” Jonus announced, running around the corner, towards the village centre. He raised his voice. “It’s clear! Secure the road ahead!”
Wish glanced from him and her platoon racing out of cover to the final retreating soldiers, down to Quickness, unmoving. Eyes glass. She yelled, “Medic! Medic over here!” Men’s voices echoed hers, spreading the word as she ran to Quickness, knelt by her. She took her hand, fully limp. She held her other hand just off the open wound, startled by how wide the hole was, how thick with blood. To put pressure on it could cave in her chest.
Heavy footsteps brought Graveguard next to her and he shoved her aside, swearing as he tore at his medical packs. He took Ness in, similarly pausing in shock.
“Ah fuck,” he said gruffly as Wish stared at Quickness’s face, like a broken doll’s, already pale. Wish felt her pulse peaking, her face hot, and she squeezed her rifle tighter. She turned towards the centre of the village, her men and Jonus’s spreading out through it, and strode towards the crumpled heap on the barricades.
Wish shouldered Jonus out of the way as he stepped into her path to speak. She stomped around the barricades, past the bodies of two men missing parts of their heads, and up to the fallen body. He was a heap of dark rags, a monstrously big man broken into unnatural angles. Wish lifted her rifle, the barrel an inch from his forehead, eyes locked on his as they stared up. She clenched her teeth, making sure he saw her, this bastard, this animal who’d taken her friend. But what was left of his bloody face stared back with a horror that equalled Quickness’s own. The same big eyes and mouth open in pleading. The same fear.
The same emptiness of death.
17
Much is recorded about the rise of the battle mages with near-mythical impacts on the war, while similarly effective elites are often ignored or erroneously consigned to that same “magic” group. General Potexous, in particular, championed unconventional fighting units who explicitly did not rely on magic, including Ardent Daggermen, Weagalian Sky Spears and, most feared of all, Lock Cavern Ghosts.
Dueley’s Comprehensive: The One War in 10 Volumes (Vol. 4), p. 139
“Well what the fuck is all this?” Wish demanded, striding into the clock tower loft and receiving a strange look from Gaussica. There were paintings everywhere of landscapes with fantastical colours, decorated by swathes of blood. The furniture was scattered and broken, and a green-coat lay half-shredded on the floor, as if he’d been killed by a grekkel. He was even more dead than the man broken on the barricades, not a trace of Drail left for revenge.
“They put up a fight,” Gaussica said flatly. “I’m not normally so . . . imprecise.”
Wish eyed him, recalling the chaotic violence of the troll house and the bloody state he’d come out in then. Not unlike his appearance now. The ruined heap of bones on the barricades might also disagree. Then again, the soldier she’d found outside the tower door had been cut down with a single cut to his neck.
She looked out of the window, north. Lots of trees, and a glimmer, the distant suggestion of water. The lake. No other buildings beyond the village, with the road eaten by branches only a short distance off. However far off Sober Sound was, there was no line of sight between them.
“We’ve taken the village?” Gaussica asked, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Yes. And . . .” She waited, still watching out the window as a man ran back into the village. Dalliance? He drew up to Ohno and the ogre pointed up. Wish waved. He raised a hand, thumbs up. They’d got whoever had fled. As far as they were aware. She said, quietly, “We should be safe. Except for Quickness. She died, following you.”
Gaussica placed down his bloody rag. “I’m sorry. I did not intend for anyone to follow me.”
“No,” Wish replied. No, you’re not sorry. No, that’s not enough. No, just no . . . Was it his fault? Bitingly, she spoke without knowing where the words came from: “Do you see more now? Are you close, here? Is the barrier between life and death thin enough for you?”
Gaussica considered the questions seriously, not reacting to her tone, studying the mess. “For a moment, there was something. But there was no choice involved. Only, that which –”
“Save it,” Wish huffed, no interest in more distracting bullshit. “It’s done, it doesn’t matter.” She took in the butchery again and let out a big sigh. Just another image that I will have for the rest of my life. The worst of it was that he’d obviously not needed help. Quickness’s sacrifice was meaningless. Not expecting an answer, she said, “Why did they get her and not you.”
“Because they were expecting you,” he said, simple as that. He offered no more, and she understood. He wasn’t in uniform, just a strange civilian with archaic weapons and too casual an attitude to make sense. If she’d seen him jogging about on a battlefield, she might’ve hesitated to shoot too.
“Well shit,” Wish said. “If there’s nothing useful up here, come down. I’m going to address the platoon.”
She left and he came down the stairs behind her, saying nothing more. She wanted to twist back and cut his ankles open. To toss him down the steps. She knew it wasn’t rational, but dammit. He’d cost her a friend. He’d cost her any chance of justice for Quickness’s killers. However much he’d hurt them himself.
Wish exited the tower, into the fading light of the village centre, to find most of the platoon were already gathered. Emi was with Graveguard, arms folded and looking upset, the pair standing vigil over Quickness’s body, covered by a sheet. There was a mix of sombre looks and a few slightly elated, coming down from the adrenaline of winning the day and struggling to hide it. Wish supposed that was the real reason Quickness was dead. She’d got caught up in it, thought she was invincible . . . wanted to make up for disappointing Wish about not volunteering earlier? By Bly, let it not be that.
“We’ll bury her before we go on,” Wish said quietly. “I don’t think she was a part of any particular church.” There were some murmurs of agreement. She was too young to care about such things. Younger even than Wish. Not even old enough to sign up? How had she got here? So much Wish didn’t know, and never would. “That’s the last of the Drail, right?”
“Yeah,” Dalliance said. “Caught one runner. No sign of another.”
“No sign of reinforcements,” Ptrangus added, “but we’ve got a couple boys keeping watch.”
