Page 116 of The Infernal Battalion

“You are...” Marcus shook his head. “Enough. We’ve established that I’m not going to surrender. Is there anything else?”

“I suppose it won’t help to remind you what you owe me,” Janus said.

“What about what you owe us? All of Vordan?”

They glared at each other, a few yards apart, and there was another awkward silence. Then Janus stepped forward, one hand extended.

“As you wish, Marcus. If this is how it has to be.”

For a moment Marcus considered ignoring him, just turning away. It would be a nice, dramatic gesture. But he still couldn’t bring himself to hate this man, who’d brought him so far. It doesn’t make sense. He stepped forward and clasped his old commander’s hand.

“I wish things were different.”

“So do I,” Janus said. Oddly, he refused to meet Marcus’ eye, fixing his gaze instead on the buttons of his coat. “So do I.”

Then he was walking away, hands tucked into his pockets. Marcus stared after him, then down at the palm of his hand, where a single much-​folded sheet of paper had been pressed.

19

Winter

“Inside!” Winter shouted. “Everyone inside now!”

Lieutenant Dobraev looked at her, startled. “What—”

Fortunately, Sergeant Gorchov had more sense. “Back to the gate!” he thundered, in a voice that would have done credit to a parade-​ground instructor. “At the double!”

Dobraev took the hint and started to run, and his escort followed. Vess and the Haeta needed no further urging. They sprinted for the gate, overtaking the more heavily laden Murnskai soldiers. Winter, following behind, sent up a silent prayer that the guards on the walls wouldn’t interpret this as an attack. But there was no repeat of yesterday’s disaster—​either Dobraev had been careful with his instructions, or Gorchov’s shout had carried clear back to the wall.

Alex and Abraham stayed with Winter, who slowed a little as she turned to look behind them. From the trees an army had emerged, a strange, ragged force whose only common trait was their battered condition. There were Murnskai soldiers in muddy whites and Vordanai men in stained blue. Peasants—​men, women, and children—​in leather and homespun, their outfits ragged and torn. Hunters with fur caps, scruffy-​looking bandits, priests in red and white robes whose distinctions had been erased by the mud.

Quite a few of them carried muskets, Winter was surprised to see. It must have decided it needed a stronger force to get to me. The Beast had nearly waited too long, and now its prey was on the verge of escaping.

They passed through the big timbered gate, and Dobraev waved frantically to the guards, who shoved the log barrier forward on its rope hinges. When it was in place, they slotted two iron bars across it, each the size of Winter’s arm. Deeper in the fortress, a bell was ringing, a tinny clamor of alarm.

“To the wall!” Dobraev was shouting. “Every man to the wall! We are under attack!”

There’s too many. She’d gotten only a glimpse of the Beast’s force, but there had to be hundreds of red-​eyes. “You won’t be able to hold the wall,” Winter said urgently. “We have to get the ships ready and fall back—”

“With all respect, Miss Ihernglass,” the lieutenant said, his expression rigid, “I am most appreciative of your warning, and your removal of my oaf of a commanding officer. But this is an hour for soldiers, so I would appreciate it if you would stay out of my way.”

“I—” Winter shook her head, frustrated. Weren’t you just complaining about being in charge? She shook her head. Not the time. People are going to die.

She left Dobraev and went to the Haeta, who were huddled together in a clear space among the shacks and lean-​tos. The soldiers who ran past gave them curious glances on their way to man the wall walk, where the cracks of musketry were already sounding. Alex and Abraham stood at the edge of the group, waiting anxiously for Winter.

“Just in time, huh?” Alex said.

“It was waiting for us,” Winter said. “It must not have been certain it had enough bodies, so it held off.”

“It certainly looked like enough,” Abraham said. “Do you think they can hold the wall?”

“No,” Winter said shortly. “We need those ships ready to sail, with everyone on board. Fyotyr said the sails and oars were taken to the keep. Abraham, do you think you can talk to the refugees? There must be a few sailors here. Get as many as you can to help you get those ships ready.”

“I... can try,” Abraham said, taken aback. “There’ll be a rush to get aboard once they know what we’re doing.”

“Let them. But no cargo, only the people. We’re getting everyone out of here.” Winter glanced over her shoulder at the wall, now wreathed in smoke. A white-​coated Murnskai soldier pitched backward off the wall walk with a scream and landed hard in the mud, and others scrambled to take his place. “Alex, go with him in case anyone tries to get in the way. Do not let those ships leave until everyone’s aboard.”

“Got it.” Alex pointed to the keep. “Come on. Let’s find some oars.”