In the Shadow of Lightning

52

It was late when Idrian finally managed to track down Mika. She was well behind the camp, all the way back with their support staff, who had taken over a little farming village a good three miles to the east of the rest of the army. Dozens of her engineers swarmed all over one building in particular, as well as the massive conical kiln in the garden behind it. Idrian surveyed the workstations covered in clay, then walked over to tap Mika on the shoulder.

“What is it, big man? I’m busy.”

“With what?”

She sucked on her teeth loudly. “Thinner walls,” she instructed one of her engineers, “thick at the bottom for weight. These things have to soar, remember?” She glanced at Idrian. “Glassdamned Demir Grappo told me to design a new grenade. He wanted it small enough to use in our grenade slings, light enough to fly a thousand yards, but packed with enough powder to crack breacher armor.”

Idrian scoffed. “And when did he give you this assignment?”

“About eight hours ago.”

“And?”

“I had to use a new powder blend I’ve been experimenting with, but let me tell you: I’m amazing, Idrian. Just the absolute best at what I do. I want you to remember that when some enemy copies my design and flings them at you.”

“So you’re saying that you’re going to someday, indirectly, get me killed?”

“Correct.”

“Oh good. Is this whole process well in hand?”

“I suppose. Why?”

“Because Demir said I could borrow you for a few days.”

“A few days?” Mika echoed, glancing distractedly at her engineers. “Squeaks!” she shouted. “You’re just playing with that clay now! Get back to work!” To Idrian she continued, “Everyone says Kerite and the Grent will be back for blood soon. What devilry gets you and me away from the army for that long?”

Idrian jerked his head, indicating for Mika to follow him out into the street and away from the flurry of activity that was her impromptu workshop. “You remember back in Marn, when we first met? We were sent to hunt down that glassdancer that was killing all our cattle in the hopes of destroying our meat supply and transportation?”

“Yeah, sure. That was a hairy situation, I tell you. I swear that scar on my ass hurts every time I see a glassdancer.”

“Tadeas and I told Demir about the winged glassdancer on the roof of Fort Alameda. We think it’s been targeting our scouting parties. He’s given me permission to go on the hunt. We’ll disguise ourselves as scouts on patrol. When the thing comes for us, we’ll kill it.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“It’s the best idea I have. That thing killed General Stavri’s entire staff. It almost killed all of us. I’m not gonna give it a third chance to sneak around murdering people. I want to lure it in and kill it.” He paused, waiting for some kind of retort, but Mika just chewed on the inside of her cheek and stared off into the darkness. When the silence continued, he said, “I’ll understand if you need to stay here to oversee things, but I will need a couple of your engineers. I want to use grenades to drive it to the ground.”

“Idrian,” Mika said quietly, “I haven’t been able to sleep well since we saw that thing. I don’t know what it is – some kind of mythical monster or the results of experimental godglass – but it haunts my dreams. Yeah, of course I want the chance to blow it up. When do we leave?”

Idrian felt a stab of relief. He would have taken any engineers, but having Mika herself was better than any three of the others. “Before first light. We’ll cover the regular patrol all day, then return to camp. We’ll stay close enough that if a battle does start, we can be back to help in no time at all.”

“I’ll be there.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I know just which type of grenades to bring.”

“Bring Squeaks, too. I’ve already asked Valient to lend me Fenny and a handful of his best infantry. Jorfax is giving me a glassdancer.”

“Done.”

“Then I’ll see you at my tent before first light.” Idrian slapped Mika on the back and began the long walk back to the main camp. It was a solitary walk, despite the constant flood of soldiers, support staff, and camp followers. Idrian spent it in his own head, half wishing he hadn’t come up with this damned plan. He preferred to rest before a battle – to drink, play cards, maybe share his sleeping roll with someone. Instead he was heading out to lure in some great winged piece of shit that might well kill him and his companions. It was a dour thought that made the child’s laughter come back, distant and following him through the darkness.

He was just walking up the hill to the Ironhorns’ camp, passing rows of tents marked with the wolfhead sigil of another battalion, when someone fell in beside him. She walked with a stiff gait, back perfectly straight and head raised as if constantly scanning the horizon for threats. Even though it was after ten o’clock at night, every blond hair was perfectly in place and her uniform was immaculate.

“Colonel Jorfax,” Idrian greeted her.

“Don’t do that, Idrian.”

Idrian glanced around and took a deep breath. “Tilly,” he said. Not many people actually knew her given name. It was, even by the standard of military nicknames, a silly one; the fact that she’d been born with it made it worse. He often wondered if her demeanor would be quite so cold, her reputation quite so fierce, if her parents had named her something less diminutive. “How are you?”

“Pissing nervous. We’ve got Kerite less than six miles away, Grent reinforcements just behind her, and our commanding officer is a volatile, half-broke piece of–”

“Careful,” Idrian cut her off. “That’s Tad’s nephew you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well. It’s my people who are getting killed because of his plan.”

“We’re soldiers. Our job is to get killed. And his plan was working until a great winged beast started killing those scouting parties.” Idrian took another deep breath. Jorfax’s presence wasn’t unwelcome, it was just … complicated. She was one of the few people who had known him before he was a breacher – and one of even fewer who had known his father. It was a connection to his past life that left him on edge. The madness creeping around in the back of his head responded by causing little shadows to dance around her shoulders. “I still need that glassdancer for my plan.”

“To use as bait,” she said flatly.

“The whole group will be bait, myself included. The glassdancer completes the deception and lets us know when that winged asshole is getting close. Don’t push me on this, Tilly. People will die. Maybe me. Maybe the glassdancer. Maybe one of the trusted friends I’m bringing with. And don’t try to tell me about how one glassdancer is worth a hundred soldiers. I’ve killed glassdancers. They’re just as gooey on the inside as anyone else, and they die as badly as the most naïve Ossan officer.”

They’d known each other for over thirty years and Idrian still had no idea why Jorfax let him talk to her like that. It wasn’t because of their shared past. She’d abandoned closer friends to secure her place in the world. It wasn’t because he was a breacher. She’d once nailed a breacher’s feet to the ground with glass for groping her ass. But she’d never rebuked him, or turned that cold stare on him. He spread his arms, waiting for one of those things to happen.

She just snorted. “I envy you, you know?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Idrian retorted. His blood was up now, and he just wanted to go to bed. He pressed a palm against his godglass eye, listening to the distant sound of child’s laughter. Was it laughter? Or was that child actually saying words now? He tried to ignore both the hallucinated sound and the rising panic that came with it.

Jorfax stopped walking, forcing Idrian to turn around and face her. She shook her head. “I have never been able to separate caring about people from killing. If I care, I can’t kill. If I kill, I can’t care. You’re a superb killer, and yet you have hundreds of friends. You care about your battalion like a father. I respect my people – my glassdancers – and I do my best to keep them alive, but I don’t care about them. I will spend them like soggy banknotes if need be. But you’ll put up that mighty shield of yours, your own life on the line, for people you’ve never even met.”

“And you respect that?” Idrian asked doubtfully.

“I do. I find it weak and demeaning to your entire role as a killer, but I respect it all the same.”

“I feel like this conversation isn’t reflecting well on either of us.”

“I want to know how you do it. How do you look at all these” – she gestured at the camp around them – “insignificant ants and care about them? They aren’t strong, not like us. They have no sorcery, no armor, no resistance to glassrot. Just those little godglass baubles that they cling to like it makes them better.”

Idrian thought about that for a moment. “Because I don’t look for their weaknesses. If that’s all you want to find, of course you think of them as ants. But if you find the strength in your friends, and you nurture it, then you will always be surrounded by giants.”

Jorfax walked past Idrian, slapping him on his shoulder as she went. “You’re an optimistic idiot, Idrian. It’s going to get you killed someday. Strangely enough, you’ll still die content, which is more than I can say for myself. I’ll see you before first light.”

“Wait,” he turned to call after her. “Does that mean you’ll send someone?”

“That means I’m coming myself. Don’t worry, you’re still in command of the mission. But nobody, not even a monster, spends the lives of my people. That’s my job.”

Idrian pressed hard on his godglass eye as he watched her go. For the first time in days he thought of the debt marker hanging around his neck. How long did he have left on it? Just a couple of weeks? The time was ticking down in the back of his head, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. Was it a blessing or a curse? Would he ever even know?