Age of War

Chapter 17

‘First light’ quickly became a misnomer once the army entered the fenland proper. The mist that had settled the previous evening still clung low to the ground and it was worse where the land was already saturated with water. The air surrounding them was greyish-white, with only the thin, twisted shapes of stunted trees to break the monotony. The trail was rough going. In was barely a trail at all in fact, just a winding route of relative safety that the scouts had managed to find. They’d only travelled a mile inside the marshes though, so after that their pace would slow even further as they tried to find a path to the other side, and Chronus. Albrihn had ordered all the troops to dismount, so a great long line of soldiers, no more than five abreast at any point, trudged along morosely in the grey nothingness, leading their horses along. The air was clammy, and droplets of water settled on clothes, skin and hair so that, without even realising, they all gradually became soaked through. The sunlight peeked through the mist wanly, but it was as if they marched through some strange otherworld from which all topography had been stripped. There was nothing to hold the attention, and the unrest along the column soon became palpable.

Albrihn walked near the centre of the army, alongside the Seventh who had nominated themselves unofficial honour guard for the commander, since he now stood outside the normal command structure and lacked his own regimental staff. In many ways it was much like before, except now Albrihn’s eyes roved around constantly, and he was aware that two-thousand lives were in his hands. He felt like he couldn’t drop his guard, even for a moment. Periodically messengers would make their way up or down the line, reporting to him on the findings of the scouts – the only troops still mounted – or the state of the rearguard. He received their missives with politeness, but there was really very little he could say or do to alter their situation. They just had to keep walking. The trail was far from direct, and privately he wondered whether the original estimate of the time it would take to traverse the fens was wildly optimistic.

Morrow’s mood matched his own, and the normal bellicose captain seemed to have settled into a sullen silence. She walked beside him, occasionally peering out into the swirling fog, seemingly looking for something. She had her bow in her hand, though unstrung because of the moisture in the air. “No bloody game,” she said, and her voice actually made him start. They’d been walking in silence for so long – not just he and Morrow, but all the soldiers within earshot – that hearing someone speak was a shock. Sound travelled strangely here too, sounding muffled one moment and then booming across the flat, boggy country the next.

“Game?”

“By my reckoning,” she went on, “it’s lunchtime.”

Albrihn looked up at the sky. He couldn’t even see where the sun was – the light might as well have been coming from all around them. “How can you tell?”

She patted her stomach and gave him a small smile. “I can tell, commander.”

He returned her smile, but shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll catch anything here, Morrow. In fact, I’m not sure there’s anything to catch.”

“There must be. Birds, rabbits…even a fucking newt, you know?”

“You don’t want to eat a newt,” Hasprit said from behind them.

“Why not? I’ve eaten frogs.”

“Not wild frogs. You can’t just go picking things up out of bogs and eating them. I knew a lieutenant, handsome young fella, who ate a newt he found in Hades once. Cooked it up all nice over the fire; looked fine, smelt fine, no problem. But afterwards, he didn’t feel right. Sick for days.”

“That’s not so bad. I’m hungry enough for fresh meat to risk it…”

“Ah, let me finish. Sick for days he was, then he started to feel better, and then when he next took a shit, all his guts fell right out of his arsehole.” He moved his hand downwards, as if they didn’t already have a vivid image of that unfortunate officer in their heads.