The Infernal Battalion (The Shadow Campaigns #5)

Vess snorted. “Words. We see where that got Leti.”

“I can get you on the ships,” Winter said, again loudly enough for everyone to hear. “All of you. You don’t have to die here.”

“Winter carried me from the field.” Yath dropped down from a tree branch. One leg of her trousers was still ripped and stained with blood. “She ran here to fetch Abraham, and only by his power am I alive.”

Vess turned on her. “And so you would follow her? Was being shot so exciting you’re eager to repeat the experience?”

“The enemy commander,” Yath said to Winter, ignoring Vess. “Kollowrath. The one who said we would have to sell our bodies for safety. He was at the root of the killing.”

“I know,” Winter said. “Last night Abraham paid him a visit. He’s no longer in command.”

A murmur ran through the Haeta. Vess looked back and forth, furious.

“I’ve spoken to the new commander, Lieutenant Dobraev,” Winter went on. “He’s promised shelter and passage across the river for all of you.”

“Lies,” Vess said weakly.

Winter leaned close to her and spoke quietly. “Why would I lie, Vess? What would I have to gain? If we wanted to leave you behind, we could have done that already. I want to help you, damn it.”

Vess’ fists were clenched, but her eyes were bright with tears. “You should have helped my sister.”

“I should have done a better job,” Winter said. “But it’s for her sake I’m here. She wouldn’t want the rest of you to die.”

“You don’t get to talk about what she would have wanted.”

“Then tell me I’m wrong.”

Tears started to leak from the corners of Vess’ eyes. She crouched, clutching her knees, head bowed, as sobs racked her small body. Winter looked to Yath, who sat down next to the girl and put an arm around her.

“Go and tell the white-?coats we are coming,” Yath said, to murmurs of assent from the others. “We don’t want any more surprises.”

*

Once again the two sides faced off in the tall grass outside the gates of the fortress.

This time all the Haeta were there. Twenty-?nine young women, spears in their hands, standing in a single tight knot except for Vess and Yath, who came forward to speak to the Murnskai. Across from them stood Lieutenant Dobraev, unarmed. Winter knew that Sergeant Gorchov was waiting back at the gate with another detachment. She’d left Alex and Abraham there, too. Hopefully, they can keep anyone from doing anything rash.

“You command here?” Vess said. In the few hours since their last meeting, she’d regained her composure, though her eyes were still red. She avoided Winter’s gaze, staring instead at Dobraev.

“I do,” the lieutenant said. “Captain Kollowrath has been... taken ill.”

“We wish only your help to pass to the other side of the river in safety.”

“I believe I’m prepared to grant that,” Dobraev said with a slight smile. He glanced briefly at Winter. “You’re welcome to take shelter inside the walls until we’ve got the ships ready.”

“We will not be attacked?” Vess said. “Not pressed into... service?”

“I give you my word as an officer,” Dobraev said.

Vess nodded and took a long breath.

“I am sorry,” she said, after a moment. “For your men who died yesterday.”

“And I am sorry for your friends,” the lieutenant said.

“Winter!” Alex shouted.

Oh, hell. Now what? Winter looked back to the gate and saw the girl sprinting toward her. She was gesturing wildly toward the forest. With a frown, Winter turned.

Points of light appeared among the trees, two by two, the malevolent crimson of a banked flame. First a dozen, then a hundred, on and on, spreading out along the tree line.

Oh, saints and goddamned martyrs. It knows we’re getting away, and it’s not going to wait.

“What the hell is that?” Dobraev said, following her gaze. The Haeta were already shouting to one another.

“Everyone inside!” Winter shouted. “Now!”





Part 3





Interlude



Janus


Through one set of eyes, Janus watched long lines of blue-?coated infantry marching wearily down the road. Through another, he saw colonels and generals debating at a map table, and he offered a few choice suggestions. Another, and he could ascertain personally how much progress a flanking column had made, and then back to the map table to update the estimate of their arrival.

It was the dream of every general since the beginning of time. To be everywhere, to see everything, to be able to speak across the miles without delay or fear of interception. To learn things as they happened, not hours later and filtered through the eyes and understanding of others.

He felt like a god.

This is all I would need. All the other powers the Beast possessed—its ability to ?take control of new bodies, the depth of knowledge it had gained from its thousand-?year existence, everything—?were unnecessary. Communication, information, is everything. This is all I would need to conquer the world.

He felt a moment’s pity for poor Marcus d’Ivoire. The man was perfectly competent, and under ordinary circumstances Janus would have enjoyed the chance to match wits against him, though of course the outcome would be a forgone conclusion. But with the near ?omniscience of the Beast behind him, there was simply no contest. It was like fighting a blindfolded opponent.

The only thing that could catch him off guard was the Beast itself. He knew it was watching him, making sure he conducted the campaign in its interest. But he hadn’t expected its sudden rage, pushing all the red-?eyes in Satinvol in a desperate attempt to get to Marcus. Nor had he thought the Beast could capture new bodies at such long range, though he suspected the effort had cost it a great deal of energy. It is not to be underestimated.

Now its primary focus had withdrawn again, back to the north, where the pursuit of Winter Ihernglass was coming to a head. There was nothing Janus could do there beyond what he’d done already, not with the Beast paying such close attention; he could only put his trust in others, and hope. Winter hasn’t let me down so far.

Instead, he took the opportunity to work on his letter. It was tricky work, since the Beast always watched him most carefully when he made use of his original body. A few words here and a few words there were all he could manage, written in haste when the demon’s focus was otherwise engaged. He hoped the result would be legible.

“What are you doing?”

It was Jane’s voice, inasmuch as there were such things in the strange mindscape of the Beast. Janus saw her hovering nearby, another miniature whirlwind like himself, held together by sheer force of will. And, perhaps, madness. What Jane had managed was even more impressive than his own survival—?she’d apparently extricated herself from the Beast’s core. I suppose it no longer cares about her.

“The Beast has found me useful,” Janus said. “It cannot split its attention, so it has delegated some relatively unimportant tasks to me. I am prosecuting the campaign against the Vordanai army.”

Django Wexler's books