“You’re more than a good soldier, Cart.”
He turned to look at her for the first time. She stood close by his shoulder, craning her neck to meet his gaze.
“That’s what you made me to be-your House, Lady Cannith. I’m a weapon of war.”
“A sword is a weapon of war, or one of the construct titans. You’re a man-a living, thinking, feeling man. My House intended you to think for yourself, to make judgments in the chaos of the battlefield. Not just tactical judgments, Cart, but moral judgments.”
Cart looked back at Caylen’s mangled body. Since Starcrag Plain, he had struggled with a growing sense that Haldren didn’t deserve his complete loyalty and obedience. He had begun to wonder whether Haldren’s years in Dreadhold had blunted his mind or hardened his already stony heart. He had never really considered whether following Haldren was right in a moral sense, but Ashara’s words seemed to strike to the heart of the discomfort he was feeling.
“The world should stop,” Ashara whispered.
“What?”
“It happens so often that we barely notice it, but the world should mark the passing of any mortal soul.”
An image flashed into his mind of a soul-Caylen’s soul-as a white bird suddenly caught and crushed in the black, oiled cogs of Haldren’s schemes and Kelas’s conspiracies. Ashara was right-sometimes on the battlefield he had felt a moment’s pause, the tiniest slice of silence in the din when someone nearby choked out his last breath. The rumbling wheels of war and rebellion should cease for an instant at least, to give some acknowledgment of the sacrifice made in their name.
Haldren barked at two soldiers to drag Caylen’s corpse outside the camp and bury it, before the stench of it drew the worgs down upon them again. The noise of the camp intruded back into Cart’s ears, and the instant of silence came to an end.
Fortunately, when Haldren put a competent sergeant in command of the overland expedition, he made a wise choice. The sergeant, whose name was Mirra, was resourceful and had connections in House Orien. Rather than march ten soldiers along well-traveled roads for three weeks, which would be certain to attract attention, she secured seats on the lightning rail for them all. The group split up to board and reunited in Passage, completing more than half their journey in a mere twelve hours. From there, it was only a week’s march to Arcanix and another four days to join Haldren’s camp near the canyon. An advance scout from the overland party met the sentries from the camp fully two weeks before Haldren expected reinforcements to arrive.
Haldren was not accustomed to praising the soldiers under his command, even when they displayed initiative and creative thinking. So he left that task to Cart, who thanked Mirra warmly and briefed her and the other sergeant on the situation in the canyon. In the week since Caylen’s death, the worgs had attacked the camp only once, and it had been a small group of scouts rather than a serious assault. Evidently, Haldren had withdrawn far enough from the canyon that the worgs no longer felt threatened by their presence.
Cart wasn’t convinced that twenty soldiers were any more likely to take the canyon than ten, but the doubling of their numbers did hearten the soldiers. Compared to his original assessment of the situation, things had improved somewhat. Cart’s team had scouted the canyon, identified their objective and its location, and determined at least a vague sense of the enemy’s numbers-roughly two dozen, perhaps a little less since Cart and Tesh had killed five. The worgs still outnumbered them.
Haldren had spent hours with Tesh, drawing a map of the canyon and filling in as many details of the terrain as possible. Cart and Verren had sketched in their estimates of enemy positions, though of course those could change constantly. Haldren thought he had a reasonably clear sense of what they faced, and had crafted a plan he thought would allow them to overcome the worgs’ defenses.
Cart’s role in that plan was to keep Haldren alive-the Lord General still trusted Cart’s ability to do that, despite Caylen’s death. Haldren’s magic, and even Caylen’s, had proven the most effective weapon against the worgs in their two previous skirmishes, so the main force of their attack would consist of Haldren’s spells. Cart and a single squad of soldiers would protect the Lord General, and Ashara would heal him-and Cart and the soldiers-as much as she could. The other three squads would harry the worgs’ flanks, strike quickly, and flee from strong resistance.
Cart reviewed the plan one last time as the soldiers broke camp, slowly shaking his head. It seemed workable, if a little blunt-edged. But given the way the mission had gone up to that point, he had little confidence in plans.
A single howl, long and high, greeted their first approach. As it faded into an echo in the canyon, another one began, immediately joined by two more, then a ghastly pandemonium of yips and wails. Cart saw the soldiers glance at each other, multiplying their fear as they saw it in their comrades’ faces. He’d chosen what he considered the best of the four squads-Tesh’s squad-to provide Haldren’s escort, but fear could poison the strongest soldier’s heart.
“Steady,” he said. “They will learn to fear us, soon enough.”
He glanced at Haldren and saw a couple of soldiers do the same. Cart and the Lord General marched together a few paces behind Tesh, with the sergeant a few paces out to Cart’s right, another soldier opposite on Haldren’s left, and the others trailing behind. Haldren strode ahead, arcane power brewing in the air around him, streaming behind him in wisps of red smoke and motes of purplish light. He wore the mantle of leadership proudly, accepting the burden that came with it-the burden of being this little squad’s sole hope for survival.
The sight of him bolstered the soldiers’ courage, and Cart nodded in approval. Haldren could persuade, could lead, could inspire fierce loyalty and tremendous courage when the need arose. At times his charisma did seem magical, as though spells were woven into his words to soften his hearers’ fears or steel their resolve, but Cart didn’t know how to draw the line between the Lord General’s natural leadership and his sorcery. It didn’t matter-his soldiers would follow Haldren gladly to their deaths.
Another chorus of howls erupted in the distance just as the canyon mouth came into view. The sound didn’t seem to be coming from the gap in the wall of boulders, but farther into the canyon. With a sudden jolt, Cart remembered how the worgs had caught him off guard before, with Tesh and Caylen-the constant sound of distant howls that didn’t seem to draw any nearer.
“On your guard!” he called. “Expect an ambush!”
Three worgs leaped out from hiding places in the brush and rubble ahead of them, and a quick glance behind showed him three more advancing on the rear.
Haldren didn’t hesitate and didn’t move an inch-he pointed at the three worgs behind them, the ones closest to each other, and engulfed them in a burst of flame. One of them staggered forward a few steps and then fell to the ground, its fur smoldering with foul black smoke. The other two hesitated, then turned and fled.
Cart could feel the elation of the other soldiers-with Haldren leading them, they felt invincible. They were chomping at the bit, ready to charge the remaining worgs. He reined them back-“Stay close. Let them come to us. Haldren is our sword. You’re his shield.”
At Cart’s reminder, the soldiers pulled back into a loose ring around Haldren and waited. Two blasts of flame erupted from Haldren’s hands and consumed another worg. The remaining two circled warily, careful to keep some distance between them so a single spell couldn’t easily encompass them both. Haldren snorted, spread his arms wide, and channeled a bolt of lightning in a line connecting him to the two worgs, passing neatly between the soldiers in their defensive ring.
Magic charged the air. Cart’s whole body, made and enlivened by magic, hummed with the echoes of the power Haldren had unleashed. The others must have felt it as well-they surged forward with Haldren as he resumed his stride, swept up in his storm of devastation.