armistice.
Shadows slithered and swirled and pranced around them. Nothing could be seen of
any of them except vague shapes. All four chose to conceal themselves within
robes of black, behind black masks.
The smallest, one of the couple, broke a silence that had reigned an hour. “She
has begun moving south. Those who served her and still bear her indelible mark
are moving also. They have crossed the sea, and they come bearing mighty
talismans. And their road is strewn with those who would join their destinies to
that black standard. Including some whose power we would be foolish not to
beware.”
One angle of the triangle made a sound of contempt.
The other asked, “And what of the one in the north?”
“The Great One remains secure. The lesser one who lay in the shade of the
prisoning tree does so no longer. It has been resurrected and given new form. It
comes south too, but it is so insane and vengeance-starved that it is not to be
feared. A child could dispose of it.”
“Have we cause to fear that our presence here is known?”
“None. Even in Trogo Taglios only a few are convinced that we exist. Beyond the
First Cataract we are but a rumor, and not that above the Second. But he who has
made himself master in the great swamps may have sensed us stirring. It is
possible he suspects there is more afoot than he knew.”
The reporter’s companion added, “They come. She comes. But harnessed to the pace
of man and animal. We still have a year. Or more.”
The one snorted again, then spoke. “The swamps would be a very good place for
them to die. Take care of it. You may impress the one who rules them with the
majesty and terror of my Name.” He began to drift away.
The others stared hard. The anger in the place became palpable.
The other ceased his drift. “You know what sleeps so restlessly upon my southern
border. I dare not relax my vigilance.”
“Unless to stab another of us in the back. I note that the threat becomes
secondary whenever you care to try.”
“You have my pledge. Upon my Name. The peace will not be broken by me while
those who bring danger from the north survive. You may speak of me as one with
you when you extend your hands beyond the shadows. I cannot, I dare not, give
you more.” He resumed his drift.
“So be it, then,” said the woman. The triangle rearranged itself so as to
exclude him. “He spoke one truth, certainly. The swamps would be a very good
place for them to die. If Fate does not take them in hand sooner.”
One of the others began to chuckle. The shadows scurried about, frantic, as
growing laughter tormented them.
“A very good place for them to die.”
Black Company S 4 - Shadow Games
Chapter Eleven: A MARCH INTO YESTERYEAR
At first the names were echoes from my childhood. Kale. Fratter. Grey. Weeks.
Some the Company had served, some had been its foes. The world changed and
became warmer and the cities became more scattered. Their names faded to legend
and memories from the Annals. Tire. Raxle. Slight. Nab and Nod. We passed beyond
any map I had ever seen, to cities known to me only through the Annals and
visited only by One-Eye previously. Boros. Teries. Viege. Ha-jah.
And still we headed south, still making the first long leg of our journey. Crows
followed. We gathered another four recruits, professional caravan guards from a
nomad tribe called the roi, who deserted to join us. I started a squad for
Murgen. He was not thrilled. He was content being standard bearer and had
developed hopes of taking over the Annalist’s chores from me because I had so
much to do as Captain and medic. I dared not discourage him. The only
alternative substitute was One-Eye. He was not reliable.
And south some more, and still we were not back to One-Eye’s origin, the jungles
of D’loc Aloc.
One-Eye swore that never in his life, outside the Company, had he heard the name
Khatovar. It had to lie far
Shadows slithered and swirled and pranced around them. Nothing could be seen of
any of them except vague shapes. All four chose to conceal themselves within
robes of black, behind black masks.
The smallest, one of the couple, broke a silence that had reigned an hour. “She
has begun moving south. Those who served her and still bear her indelible mark
are moving also. They have crossed the sea, and they come bearing mighty
talismans. And their road is strewn with those who would join their destinies to
that black standard. Including some whose power we would be foolish not to
beware.”
One angle of the triangle made a sound of contempt.
The other asked, “And what of the one in the north?”
“The Great One remains secure. The lesser one who lay in the shade of the
prisoning tree does so no longer. It has been resurrected and given new form. It
comes south too, but it is so insane and vengeance-starved that it is not to be
feared. A child could dispose of it.”
“Have we cause to fear that our presence here is known?”
“None. Even in Trogo Taglios only a few are convinced that we exist. Beyond the
First Cataract we are but a rumor, and not that above the Second. But he who has
made himself master in the great swamps may have sensed us stirring. It is
possible he suspects there is more afoot than he knew.”
The reporter’s companion added, “They come. She comes. But harnessed to the pace
of man and animal. We still have a year. Or more.”
The one snorted again, then spoke. “The swamps would be a very good place for
them to die. Take care of it. You may impress the one who rules them with the
majesty and terror of my Name.” He began to drift away.
The others stared hard. The anger in the place became palpable.
The other ceased his drift. “You know what sleeps so restlessly upon my southern
border. I dare not relax my vigilance.”
“Unless to stab another of us in the back. I note that the threat becomes
secondary whenever you care to try.”
“You have my pledge. Upon my Name. The peace will not be broken by me while
those who bring danger from the north survive. You may speak of me as one with
you when you extend your hands beyond the shadows. I cannot, I dare not, give
you more.” He resumed his drift.
“So be it, then,” said the woman. The triangle rearranged itself so as to
exclude him. “He spoke one truth, certainly. The swamps would be a very good
place for them to die. If Fate does not take them in hand sooner.”
One of the others began to chuckle. The shadows scurried about, frantic, as
growing laughter tormented them.
“A very good place for them to die.”
Black Company S 4 - Shadow Games
Chapter Eleven: A MARCH INTO YESTERYEAR
At first the names were echoes from my childhood. Kale. Fratter. Grey. Weeks.
Some the Company had served, some had been its foes. The world changed and
became warmer and the cities became more scattered. Their names faded to legend
and memories from the Annals. Tire. Raxle. Slight. Nab and Nod. We passed beyond
any map I had ever seen, to cities known to me only through the Annals and
visited only by One-Eye previously. Boros. Teries. Viege. Ha-jah.
And still we headed south, still making the first long leg of our journey. Crows
followed. We gathered another four recruits, professional caravan guards from a
nomad tribe called the roi, who deserted to join us. I started a squad for
Murgen. He was not thrilled. He was content being standard bearer and had
developed hopes of taking over the Annalist’s chores from me because I had so
much to do as Captain and medic. I dared not discourage him. The only
alternative substitute was One-Eye. He was not reliable.
And south some more, and still we were not back to One-Eye’s origin, the jungles
of D’loc Aloc.
One-Eye swore that never in his life, outside the Company, had he heard the name
Khatovar. It had to lie far
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