“Where are all the survivors? Where is the rest of the Wings’ Fifth?” Nila hurried over to a man calling out for help, but by the time she reached him, his last breath had rattled from his throat. She backed away from the body.
“Over there,” Adamat said, pointing to a small knot of soldiers, many of whom were leaning on their comrades for support. Officers circled the men, separating out the wounded, trying to get the healthy back into columns. Adamat pointed to another group, this one looking even more ragged and disorganized. “And over there. The Kez overwhelmed the entire Fifth before Adran reinforcements arrived. They’ll be lucky if more than a thousand are able to still fight.”
Three thousand wounded and dead. And that was just among the Wings. The number staggered Nila. That was the entire staff of the Eldaminse household a hundred times over.
Nila caught sight of the colonel of the Wings’ Fifth and found herself glad that the woman had survived the battle. She still held her saber in one hand but had lost her hat, and she clutched her other hand to her thigh as she called out orders. Soldiers began to respond to their officers, and gradually the column began to re-form.
“What are they doing?” Nila asked. “Shouldn’t they be helping the wounded?”
Adamat leaned wearily on his cane. “They’ll round up any Kez prisoners and place a few guards, but everyone else needs to be ready in case of another attack. The battle is still far from decided.” He peered toward the smoky southern horizon. “I think.”
The idea of having all this slaughter and destruction happen again made Nila’s stomach churn—and she’d been unconscious for most of the first fight. She struggled to keep down her breakfast. “What in Kresimir’s name is that smell?”
“War,” Adamat said.
“But… it’s like cooked meat!”
Adamat raised his eyebrows at her. “I don’t think you…”
Nila’s gaze rested on the blackened ground off to the southwest. It was an enormous swath, with little more than ash and dirt, and—was that bone? She blinked slowly at the view, remembering her legs pumping beneath her as she ran toward the Kez troops. She recalled the heat of the fire, and the pain and pleasure of the power that had coursed through her before her world had gone dark.
The realization nearly knocked Nila off her feet. That smell of burned flesh had been caused by her. She grabbed Adamat by the elbow. “How many did I kill?”
“Nila, you saved many…”
“How many did I kill, Inspector?” she demanded. “How many?”
Adamat looked at her with pity, which somehow made it all the worse. “I can’t be sure.”
“Guess.”
“You should let go, Nila,” he said, his voice strained.
Nila looked down to find her knuckles white from squeezing Adamat’s arm. She snatched her hand back. “I’m sorry. Please, tell me how many I killed.”
“Thirty-five hundred. Maybe more. Maybe less. It looked like you torched the better part of a brigade.”
Nila bent over and heaved, emptying the contents of her stomach in one long retch. She heaved once more when she realized she had just vomited all over a dead man’s legs. She felt Adamat’s hand on her shoulder and let him help her up.
“I can’t… I don’t even…”
“Stay quiet for now,” Adamat said. They started walking, and Nila had no sense of time or space until she looked up to realize they’d left the battlefield and even the Wings’ camp behind and were about a third of the way toward the Adran camp.
She dragged a sleeve across her face. “Where are we going?” she sniffed.
Adamat’s eyes were fixed firmly on the ground as he walked, and it was several moments before he responded. “To see Field Marshal Tamas.”
“We should go back and help.”
“You don’t need to see that right now,” he said sternly.
She wanted to fight him. To pull away and run back to the Wings’ camp to help with the dead and the wounded. She deserved to see and smell the results of her power. Was she a coward for not doing so?
“Why the field marshal?” Nila asked.
“Because I need to report to him, regardless of whether or not we win this battle.”
“You could have left me behind. I’m not a child. I could help.”
Adamat stopped and turned to her. She felt him grab her by the shoulders, and he waited until she finally looked up into his eyes. There was a sort of fatherly, stern caring there. It was painful. Couldn’t he see what she was capable of? Didn’t that terrify him?
It damn well terrified her.
“Nila, once there’s any sort of organization in the Wings’ camp, they’ll come looking for you. They’ll either want you to get to the front and fight for them or they’ll realize that you’re not in full command of your powers and they’ll try to control you. Either way, I couldn’t leave you alone back there.” Taking her by the arm, Adamat continued walking toward the Adran army.
Nila let herself be dragged along. She breathed in deep—the air was clearer here, between the armies, and the scent of sulfur was almost gone with a northerly wind. But that smell of charred flesh still hung in her nostrils, as if it had been painted on her upper lip.
Adamat produced papers from his jacket to show the Adran pickets, and they soon went around two companies of irregulars waiting for orders and climbed a steep hill to the command tent. Adamat showed his papers once more and asked to see Field Marshal Tamas. One of the guards ducked inside and returned a moment later, nodding them forward.
“Go on in, Inspector. Ma’am.”
Nila followed Adamat inside, only just realizing what she was doing. This was Field Marshal Tamas! She had been his personal laundress for months, and even been courted by his bodyguard. She had seriously considered murdering the field marshal. There was no way they could know that, could they? What if Olem was here? How would she explain her presence?
She scrambled for some excuse to remain outside, but was ushered in before she could voice any.
It was with some relief that she found the tent devoid of both Field Marshal Tamas and Captain Olem. There were a half-dozen messengers standing at attention along one wall, and a large table laid out with maps, papers, and notes. The biggest map was covered with hundreds of small military models of fifty different sizes and shapes. A young woman in an Adran-blue uniform with black hair and a powder keg pinned to her breast stood over the table—a powder mage and, from the stripes on her shoulder, a captain.
A messenger pushed past Nila and saluted the powder mage. “Two companies of Kez cavalry have broken around the Seventeenth and are pushing toward the Hundred and Second Artillery!”
The woman moved one of the models on the map and then scrambled through piles of notes on the table in front of her for several moments before finding one to her satisfaction. “Send the Seventy-Eighth Irregulars to shore up our eastern flank, and tell General Fylo to throw everything he has at the enemy’s left. Those cavalry were the only thing keeping us from taking command of that hill.”
The messenger was off like a shot. The woman shuffled several of the notes and then dropped into her seat with a shaky sigh. Her face was drawn and pale, and Nila thought she heard a few quiet curses.
“Captain Vlora, was it?” Adamat asked.
The powder mage gave a curt nod. “Inspector Adamat? The field marshal was hoping you’d turn up sometime today.”
“I’m here to report,” Adamat said. “Where is the field marshal?”
“He’s not here,” she responded rather crossly.
The prospect cheered Nila slightly, until she realized the implication. “Where is he?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Vlora peered at her. “You’re Bo’s apprentice? I take it we have you to thank for torching the Kez auxiliaries?”
“Yes.” Nila tried to force a smile, but it felt as limp and cold as a dead fish. She let it slide off.
Vlora was already looking back at Adamat. “
The field marshal is gone. He’ll be back in a couple of days, if all goes well.”
“But we were told…” Adamat started, looking somewhat confused. “I thought he was here.”
“He was.”
“But he’s not now.”
“Correct.”
“But the battle. It looks like we’re winning.”
“I think we are,” Vlora conceded, albeit hesitantly.
“If Field Marshal Tamas isn’t here, who is in command? Who is giving orders?”
“Tamas is in command,” Vlora said, gesturing at the table full of maps and notes. “He fought the entire battle yesterday, on paper, and then headed toward the mountains on personal business.”
“You’re joking,” Adamat said.
“Not at all. And the field marshal was hoping you—both of you—would wait for his return.”
CHAPTER
17
Taniel was more than a little surprised to find that Bo had not killed the rest of the Adran infantry.
Thirty-seven soldiers worked to free the rest of their dead and wounded from the results of the rockslide. A rather conspicuous pile of gleaming slag lay a few dozen feet from the bodies that had already been pulled from the rubble. Taniel thought he recognized air rifles, bayonets, and knives, all melted together by preternatural forces.
“You went easy on them,” Taniel said.
“I asked very nicely,” Bo responded.
“I wish I could have done that.” Taniel caught Bo looking at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Well,” Bo sniffed. “I’m a little more persuasive than you. Oi! You there, put your back into it! That boulder isn’t going to move itself.”
Taniel watched two of the soldiers try to move a boulder off a half-crushed body, and attempted to sort out the emotions warring within him. These men had come to kill him. No question about it. Even the rankers knew who they were hunting. Part of him wanted to tell Bo to bury the whole lot along with their crushed comrades. But the blood already on his hands took the sting out of his anger.
“You could help them, you know.”
“Not a chance,” Bo said.
“I thought as much. Bo?”
“Hmm?”
“What the pit is that?” Taniel pointed down the valley to a brownish-red stain on the canyon wall. It looked like someone had thrown a handful of wet paint against the stones and left it there to dry in the sun.
Bo tugged gently on his gloves. “I made an example of the first one who tried to bayonet me.”
And splattered him like a grape. Taniel felt ill. “I was wondering why they were all so cooperative. A little messy, don’t you think?”
“I’ve found that a little messiness is like manure on a field when you’re trying to cultivate fear.”
Typical Privileged thinking. “Indeed.” Taniel watched the prisoners work at extracting the bodies for a few moments before noticing Bo tug at his gloves again. “You’re nervous.”
“Not really.”
Bo tugged on his gloves plenty; most Privileged did that. But he had one leg up on a rock, bouncing it rapidly. He was nervous, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “You are. What is it?”
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry your head about it.”
Taniel opened his mouth to argue, but he knew he wouldn’t get any further. Not with Bo. “I’ll go help Ka-poel,” he said. He hurried his way up the narrow path in the canyon wall that led toward the cave where he and Ka-poel had spent the last two weeks. He found Ka-poel just leaving the cave. She had her rucksack slung across her shoulder and had fastened straps from an infantryman’s jacket so that she could hang Kresimir’s casket from her back.
“I can carry something, if you’d like,” Taniel said.
Ka-poel handed him the rest of the rations they’d stolen from the infantrymen.
“Anything else?”
She laid a hand protectively across her rucksack and furrowed her brow. A moment later the frown cleared and she shook her head.
“Pole, I…” Taniel wasn’t quite sure what to say. She’d saved his life. Again. And despite the fact that their time in the mountains had been horrible and dangerous, he knew that his chances of being alone with her once they returned to civilization would be slim. There would be fighting to do, reports to give.
Generals to kill.
He realized suddenly that aside from the edge it would have given him in combat, he didn’t miss the powder.
Very strange.
They made their way back down to Bo and his prisoners. Bo lay on his back on a flat rock, tossing a pebble up in the air and catching it with one gloved hand. He seemed at ease now, even if he was still watching the soldiers carefully.
“I brought you this,” Bo said as they approached, holding out a powder horn that had been concealed in his jacket. “Forgot to give it to you earlier. But if you open that damned thing near me, I swear to Kresimir I will punch you in the face. Just carrying it gives me a rash.”
Taniel took the horn and turned it over in his hands. He could sense the powder within—the power that it could give him. It would soothe his aches and injuries, give him strength for the climb down the mountain. “Where’d you get it?”
“Stole it from a Wings infantryman on my way to get you.”
“Thanks,” Taniel said, looping the strap over his shoulder. Privileged didn’t like black powder. They had allergies to the stuff that made battlefields a nightmare. “Really, Bo. I wish I could repay you.”
“You didn’t shoot me in the head when your dad told you to. I figured it was my turn to do something nice for you.” Bo sat up and jerked a thumb toward the infantry. “We should go. I’ve given them a stern talking-to. They’ll finish their work and bring the bodies back to Adopest.”
“A stern talking-to? You threatened them? I can’t get four squads of soldiers to listen to me when I threaten them.”
“You can’t pull their veins out of their bodies inch by inch. And if any run, they’ll spend the rest of their lives wondering if I’m around the next corner.” He barked a laugh. “Best punishment I can think of, really.”
“Ah.”
Bo’s gaze shifted to Ka-poel. “Good to see you again, little sister. Taniel knocked you up yet?”
“You bastard!” Taniel swung halfheartedly for Bo, who stepped deftly out of the way.
“Oh, don’t give me that. I knew you were in love with her that day you came for me on South Pike. Little sister, what have you got… oh dear Kresimir above!” Bo backpedaled suddenly, leaping away from Ka-poel with agility Taniel wouldn’t have credited him with.
“What’s wrong?” Taniel asked.
Bo cowered behind a boulder. He poked his head out from behind it after a few moments. “What the pit is in that box on her back?”
How would Taniel explain this to Bo? There was no possible way he could understand. He opened his mouth, only for Ka-poel to speed through a series of hand motions, pointing at Bo and then touching her finger to her throat, then back to him.
Bo licked his lips while he watched her go through the motions again. “What I just said?”
Ka-poel nodded.
“ ‘What have you got…’?”
Ka-poel made a get on with it motion.
“ ‘Oh dear Kresimir above’?” Bo said.
Ka-poel nodded again.
“ ‘Kresimir above’?” Bo confirmed.
One more nod.
“You’ve got Kresimir in that box?”
Ka-poel gave him a tight smile. To Taniel’s shock, it looked as if Bo believed her. Hesitantly, the Privileged worked his way out from behind the boulder. He was pale in the face, and he kept Taniel between himself and Ka-poel as he rejoined them.
“I could have fixed you up with a nice girl,” Bo said. “A girl from east Adopest. Someone who doesn’t go around keeping gods in boxes.”
Taniel took Ka-poel’s hand. “Not my type.”
“Of course not,” Bo said bitterly, tugg
ing at the backs of his gloves. “Now, can we get moving?”
“Are you in a hurry?”
“No,” Bo said as he set off at a brisk pace down the canyon. “Well,” he called over his shoulder, “yes. A little.”
Taniel jogged to catch up. “What is it?”
“Nothing at all. Can the girl get a move on?”
“Her name is Ka-poel.”
“Can little sister get a move on? I’m going to need some rest tonight and I would prefer to get it in the valley and not in this bloody canyon.”
“When’s the last time you slept?”
Bo counted silently on his gloved fingers. “Five days?”
“Pit, Bo, you—”
“That’s not really important.”
“Then what is?”
“I may have left my new apprentice in a war zone. And I killed both my horses getting here in time to save you.”
“Wait, wait. You have an apprentice?”
“Very nice girl. The kind I could have set you up with. She has some peculiar powers, and I’ve grown quite fond of her. She’s actually the one who figured out where you were. I wouldn’t have left her, except…”
“Yes, yes. You were coming to save me.”
“Right.”
They continued on in silence for the better part of the afternoon. Taniel forced Bo to slow down so that Ka-poel could keep up, and they worked their way down the canyon. They finally stopped to rest an hour after the sun had left their canyon in shadow. Ka-poel dropped Kresimir’s casket on the ground unceremoniously, making Bo wince.
“Tell me about this apprentice,” Taniel said as they made a meal of infantry rations.
Bo winced as if he had just cracked a tooth on a piece of hardtack. “How do you people eat this stuff? Blech. My apprentice? Not much to tell, really. Another sorcery slinger. You know.”
“You said you were fond of her.”
“Did I?” Bo made a show of gnawing on the brick-hard biscuit.
“You slept with her already, didn’t you? Isn’t there some kind of code of conduct against that type of thing?”
Bo glowered first at Taniel, then rolled his eyes over to Ka-poel, who sat on the ground fiddling with a latch on her rucksack.