Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,207

charge of godshot. In case. But we don’t want to use that.”

Hecht stepped on a flash of anger. This was not their fault. This was his. They had done what he had told them to do. In truth, they had done more.

He had not expected this to last. He had counted on massed fire to panic the enemy. But he should have considered the possibility that they might be manipulated by a maniac sorcerer willing to spend them to the last man.

Hecht said, “Things didn’t go the way I expected. But there have been dramatic changes over there. I’m told.” Slight gesture toward the man in brown. “So, for now, we hold on, every weapon loaded. Instead of spreading your munitions around, though, concentrate them with the weapons that will keep firing after the first salvo.”

Hecht looked to Cloven Februaren, hoping to hear something about the improbability of another serious attack.

The old man understood but could promise nothing.

“Don’t kill people trying to clean up down there.”

Prosek said, “We might have a problem with theft. I’m missing several kegs of firepowder.”

A ghost of a smirk shadowed the lips of the Ninth Unknown.

Hecht understood. “They didn’t go to waste, Drago.”

The respite stretched for hours. The enemy removed his dead and wounded amid gathering carrion birds and insects. The Righteous took care of their own.

Cloven Februaren contrived to vanish without being noticed.

The Patriarchal force did not move again till late afternoon, when Hecht had begun thinking about standing down for dinner, then slipping away.

There must be a castle somewhere big enough to hole up in till the weight of the Empire made itself felt elsewhere.

But he did not want to abandon his falcons.

He would have to if he ran.

So standing his ground was his only real choice.

He worried about Clej Sedlakova. There had been no word.

The day’s costs haunted him already.

Some key veterans had fallen, men who had been with him since the City Regiment days.

And Titus had suffered his first serious wound.

“Here they come!” went up across the slope. And this was no false alarm. The enemy entered the meadow and crept forward on the flanking hills. Hecht said, “Titus, I didn’t look at it close enough before I decided to do this. If this goes bad …”

“Never mind, boss. I put myself here. It’s all right.” Boldly said but it was not all right.

Hecht knew he needed to have a face-to-face with his soul if he survived. He was not sure if hubris, arrogance, overconfidence, or a combination of those was his trouble, but there was something.

A smile tickled his lips as he recalled feeling like this in every tight situation where his enemies gave him time to brood. He began to have irrelevant thoughts, too. As usual.

He should have studied the Construct more diligently. He would have a way out of here, now. Though he might be at less immediate risk than his men. Serenity might want him taken for special attention later. He seemed the sort.

Fire discipline held. The falcon crews waited.

The advance slowed as it approached a suspected kill line. Most of those men had seen what had happened to those who had gone before them.

Officers safely farther back cursed and threatened.

The advance stopped dead.

A tremendous explosion took place out of sight, down the road. Gray smoke rolled up into the late-afternoon light, accompanied by shouts and screams. Everyone out front jumped, surged, surprised.

Hecht ordered, “Fire the full salvo.”

The falcons roared. Reddening sunlight tinted the smoke a fierce orange-red.

That smoke, for a short while, drifted upslope, pushed by marginally warmer air from down the mountain. Soon, though, the air cooled. The smoke drifted downhill again. No one and nothing emerged from it.

The smoke concealed the sources of a lot of noise. Something was going on in there. To Hecht it sounded like every man turning on his neighbor. Partly true. Each man had become desperate to get away. But sorcery that messed with men’s minds added to their desperation.

Hecht gave orders that there be no firing unless the attack developed.

Darkness came. The smoke went away. Indifferent stars came out. Rivademar Vircondelet reported that the Patriarchals had withdrawn from the meadow, around a sheltering knee of mountain. The meadow was carpeted in a fresh human harvest. The enemy was removing their wounded. Night scavengers were moving in.

At some point, unnoticed till he spoke, Cloven Februaren had rejoined the Commander of the Righteous. Hecht’s people paid him no heed. They stepped around him but did not speak to him or