The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 5, Chapter 24

Valen

"Varnell, choose a special detail of five soldiers," the captain ordered, immediately after Roderick's insight set the fear of the Gloam into everyone in earshot. "Your five best fighters. I'm getting each platoon to put a fist together, in case we need to punch the Gloamtaken back. It can't be you, and it can't be Aranhall. Platoons need their commanders, and soldiers need medics like plants need water."

"Valen, obviously," Lieutenant Varnell said instantly. She waved her hand with sardonic indifference, as if she was getting tired of having to say his name. "As if you expected me to say anything else."

"And the others?"

He had his own guesses. But Valen kept silent, knowing how little he knew of second squad. But he suspected, unless he was off his mark, that his own could make up most or even every finger in the fist.

"Mack, Hendricks, Mildred, Sarina. Aranhall will take direct command of First Squad, treat it as an over-strength battle group."

"Good," Captain Dremora said with a simple nod, the way someone does if they're only barely a part of the conversation. "Varnell, the Fourth is on standby. Have some sentries watching the streets, in case the Gloamtaken slip behind us somehow..."

The way the captain's words trailed off was unnerving, as was when he turned his head and stared down the street behind them.

There was someone at the end of the street. A single figure, hunched over, moving with a strange, shuffling aimlessness that no one alive would exhibit right now, when their lives were in danger.

The captain dropped it was a single shot to the chest. "Blackened heart of the abyss," he swore as he reloaded. "They've found a way through the rubble barriers. Sandson, sweep the area from here to our third defensive position, check the charges, be ready to pull back at a moment's notice."

"Aye sir," Fredrick Sandson wheezed. The sound made Valen flinch, in both sympathy and shame.

Valen turned around and pointed at Gwen. "Have everyone arm up. Fifty shots at least. Drink water, food can wait."

"Sir," Gwen said, and saluted. It looked passable.

"Fredrick, have someone check your ammo every minute. There's a damn good chance that whatever power is out there could extinguish our Salamander rounds any moment from now," the captain said.

"What makes you think that?" Varnell asked.

"If they get the Gloamtaken behind us, and then extinguish our ammo? We'd be hobbled, and exactly when it matters most. If I were commanding the invasion, it's what I would do," Captain Dremora said. "Also, Fredrick, send a runner to the Third, tell them to move up to the third line on the west side, have them hold aggressively. We're going to skip the second line and drop every building ahead of the town square."

"Aye sir," Fredrick said, with an impressive amount of force for how quiet his raspy voice now was. "Good hunting."

"Varnell, Fourth Platoon, with me," Captain Dremora ordered.

Mackaroy and Gwendolyn stepped beside Valen. Gwen had her strange gun resting on one shoulder, and her medical bag slung loosely on the other. Mack seemed to be spinning knives between his fingers. "The squads are ready," Mackaroy said.

Valen nodded at the old shadow. "They look it."

"They know the stakes now. And they know they can fight," Mackaroy said. "This is not the same group of people you had yesterday."

It was an odd thing for the old shadow to note. Though, Valen suspected, it made a strange kind of sense. Of everyone in Varnell's platoon, Mack might have been the least affected by everything they've gone through. If anything, the scarred shadow stood up straighter and met people's eyes more often, an indication perhaps that his emotional pains hurt a little less.