The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 5, Chapter 21

"Varnell," Rhavin Dremora said as he approached. He sounded oddly relaxed under the circumstances — the only hint he wasn't having a conversation was that he spoke loudly enough for everyone around them to hear. "I already promoted you."

"Sir?" Emily asked.

"At the moment, it looks like you called me over here just to gloat over the pile of Gloamtaken you killed. Yes, it's impressive. But I've already jumped you up further and faster than anyone in the City's history." The captain frowned during his pause, and turned away while rubbing his chin. "Remind me to verify that in a few weeks. But if you're angling for a medal or housing in High Central, Lieutenant Varnell, this really isn't the time."

"Sorry, sir. I sent for help," Gwen said, sparing Emily what she realized was probably the captain's way of trying to normalize her macabre decision to pile the fallen Gloamtaken into a barrier. A gesture meant to help alleviate the shock her soldiers were going to feel as soon as the adrenaline faded. "Gloamtaken had gotten into the building, and were dropping down on us from the upper floors. Sergeant Decklan was trapped under bodies, and the lieutenant took a hard knock to the head. But Varnell turned the situation around as soon as she recovered."

The captain nodded, as if being told about the weather. There wasn't even a hint of surprise. "Yes. Raining Gloamtaken. Volenski reported this odd weather change a few minutes ago. I take it some of yours are in the building now?"

"Hendricks and Cameron are holding the doors. Mildred's setting the fuses, and Mack is clearing the upper floors so it stops raining dead bodies," Varnell reported.

The captain frowned, and looked over each of her soldiers. "I expected Valen to be back by now."

Captain Dremora looked as if he was going to say more, but Mildred pushed her way through a nearby doorway, and waved her arms. "Mack's helping hold that doorway, but they have no way of barricading it again. And some of them are using the rubble to climb to second-storey windows."

"Flaming cauldron of shit, that's too much of a front to hold," Emily cursed.

"Agreed. Prep to withdraw to the second line," the captain ordered.

Hearing that order felt very, very good. "Mildred, rig up a three minute fuse. After that, tell Mack to pull out of there. Once they're clear, we'll follow."

A prick in the wind, barely more than a slightly shrill shift in the noonday breeze, passed in and out of Emily's awareness like a single breath. But the noise, not enough for her to have ever paid much attention to, had the captain's head turning as if a Golem had been just outside of town all this time. "That was a whistle," he said. "One street over, on the other side of that building."

"Far side? That section was blocked with rubble," Emily replied, sheathing her sword and checking the shot in her Salamander. "Ivan, grab the Tolun sisters and come with me. Decklan, the post is yours."

"I'll take over here," Captain Dremora's interjection was quick, almost a reprimand. "Varnell, take Aranhall and Poe with your chosen rangers. A rescue mission for a possibly stranded soldier requires a medic."

A short woman, her uniform dirty and slightly singed, stepped past the others. "I'm just to provide extra firepower."

Extra firepower. A part of Emily wanted to see this Poe in action. Anyone Captain Dremora sent in lieu of a squad would be exceptional. The short, quiet corporal was a surprisingly forceful presence, one that Ivan and the Tolun sisters naturally fell alongside. Poe gave Aranhall a wary look; but Emily didn't think much of it. Her entire platoon was just a little afraid of Corporal Gwendolyn Aranhall. "Aye, sir. We'll be quick."

Emily didn't need to look back to know they were following her. She knew most of them, and even Poe came from Captain Dremora's chosen. They were harder than the swords they carried. "Time isn't on our side," Emily said as they jogged around the building. "So we move quickly and drive them back. Ivan, Candice, if..."

There were Gloamtaken everywhere in the narrow side street. Their bodies littered the cobbles as if the mob had only just fallen down on the march; some of them were still slumped against the walls or sprawled against some rubble. Their shrivelled, emaciated frames were already beginning to decompose, as the Gloam had relinquished its grip on the people they had once been.

"What?" Ivan asked, his mouth opening and the grip on his Salamander going limp. "What the burning hell happened here?"

"Who happened here, you mean," Aranhall said. Unlike herself, Ivan, or the Toluns, Gwen was shouldering her weapon and closing the straps on her medical bag. As if she knew she wouldn't need them. "Looks like the Gloam found a way through the rubble barriers, and nearly hit us from behind."

"Yeah, but I didn't think the captain sent another squad out here to support us," Ivan protested.

"Captain didn't send anyone else," Poe said, and much like Aranhall, she didn't look surprised by what she saw. "This was one of yours."

"Redgrave?" Ivan asked. "Just Valen burning Redgrave?"

His question was answered from the other end of the street, where someone was waving. "Lieutenant," Valen called, waving with a free hand as he shoved something into a nearby pile of rubble. "I could use a hand plugging this back up."

"Yep. Just Valen burning Redgrave," Gwen said, as she took the lead and crossed the street.

Emily followed, her eyes growing wider and wider as she stepped over or around more dead Gloamtaken. She hadn't actually seen the man in action yet, only caught glimpses of his work when his squad accompanied Volenski and Dremora during her rescue. She couldn't see the wounds on most of these fallen creatures; at best only a single strike against the side of a rib, more likely a small thrust. Often the creatures fell onto whatever wounds felled them.

And the were dozens. Perhaps half a hundred. Perhaps more. Emily wasn't all that inclined to count them. It already looked like an impossible feat; a triumph for a squad, a job well done for a platoon. For a single soldier, even if he was a talent worthy of this storied company, it was the kind of story that deserved to be told and retold.

And it wouldn't be believed. A story like this, as it was told and retold, would be viewed through the lenses of distance and ignorance as fancy, as embellishment, as outright lies. And the important part of the tale would be forgotten, that this was what a single life could accomplish.

Was this why Captain Dremora had raised her up? Hoping to cement her deeds in the memory of the people they rescued? If it was, she owed her sergeant the same.

"I can't lift anything into that gap with only one hand," Valen explained, pointing to the small crevice in the pile of rubble blocking the street. "If I cram something small inside, they just pull it out. And if I try for a good sized boulder, they slip through before I can get it close enough."

This was an apology. Emily gaped, torn between wanting to hit him and congratulate him. Valen was troubled by not being able to finish holding the entire street by himself. "Fair enough. Ivan, help the Tolun sisters pile a couple of boulders into the gap. It doesn't need to be perfect, it just needs to last a few minutes until we pull back."

"We're abandoning our first line?" Valen asked.

"We are. Damn creatures are climbing the buildings to drop down on us like the plumbing stopped working in High Central and the important people high up started emptying their chamber pots out an open window," Emily said. "Captain's likely thought of a way to sidestep this tactic for our next line. You get that message to the First Stone?"

"I did," Valen confirmed.

"Redgrave," Poe said. "Captain will want to know your count."

"Another seventy-one here. Three hundred and fourteen in total." And Valen had the gall to say that as if he was just reporting the contents of his backpack.

"Captain will be pleased to hear it," Poe smiled. Emily suspected the ranger hadn't had a lot of practice making the expression.