The Fallen World

Fort Battleaxe - Part 2

     Colonel Vento was now the city’s commanding officer since, despite all their precautions, a clay man had managed to enter the tower and murder General Malchor. It had then come after the Colonel in the General’s guise, but fortunately his young aide had arrived at exactly the right moment, just as it was about to plunge a dagger into his back.

     “I took the liberty of ordering the attack for high noon,” said the old priest after a Senn guard had confirmed his identity. “When we get the most benefit from the yellow sun.”

     Vento nodded. “Even that may be waiting too long. I’m finding it hard to keep a clear head, and I’ve always considered myself rather strong willed. Just how bad is it out there?”

     “Bad. I never hoped to see good men put under that kind of pressure. You know how I normally feel about breakdowns of discipline, but for the first time in my life I find myself pitying them and wanting to give comfort. I have to keep reminding myself that what they really need is the firm anchor of authority to cling to, and plenty of mind deadening, routine tasks to stop them thinking. Thank the Gods there’s so much rubble in the streets to be cleared. So far, not one man’s asked why we’re bothering when we’re about to abandon the city.”

     “There is one ray of hope,” said the Colonel, rubbing his eyes wearily. “We’ve just had word that a flotilla of shayen troop carriers has arrived in Seaton, carrying a full division of the Army of Life. They were going to come here, but there’s no point now so they’re going to Tatria instead.”

     “About time they turned up,” said the old priest gruffly. “Not that they’ll make much difference. It’ll take a lot more than one division to stem this tide. What about the trogs?”

     “Most of them made it back to their tunnels. They promised to return to the war as soon as they’ve had time to regroup and reorganise.”

     Resalintas nodded. Although he appreciated all the help they could get, he hadn’t expected them to make much of an impression on the Shadowhosts. In their own tunnels, just the right height for their own diminutive build and uncomfortably cramped for the taller races, they were formidable fighters and greatly feared, but out in the open their relatively short reach cost them dearly. Added to the fact that they were incapable of using any form of magic, that meant that they could never hope to be a major military force in the surface world. Still, they had distracted several divisions of the Shadowarmy for a few weeks, and that had to have had some effect.

     It occurred to the old priest that, apart from a few glimpses on the battlefield, this might be the last he saw of his superior officer. It was certainly the last chance he’d get to speak privately with him, and he searched his mind for some final words, some way to say goodbye and tell him what he’d meant to him over the years. Vento was the closest anyone had ever come to being a personal friend, and he knew that he couldn’t let this moment pass without saying something, anything. The trouble was that his communications with other people consisted almost entirely of barking orders and shouting reprimands. The sort of thing he wanted to say now was foreign to him, completely against his nature. He had to try, though, or he knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

     He gave an embarrassed cough therefore and cleared his throat. “Sir, I’d like to say that it’s been a pleasure serving with you. You’re one of the few men that I truly respect, and it saddens me that you are to be denied the glorious, victorious death that you have earned.”

     “Why, thank you, Captain,” replied Vento in surprise, almost unable to believe that those words had come from ‘old granite arse’ as some of the younger men called him. “That means a lot to me.” To tell the truth, though, he’d been trying very hard not to think about the fate that lay in store for him, and wished he hadn’t been reminded of it. He couldn’t let Resalintas know that, though, and he knew he had to say something in return before the old priest read it in his face. “Do you realise something, Captain?” he said therefore. “Despite all the years we’ve known each other, I don’t even know your first name.”