Darkness Descending

Kun stared at him over the tops of his spectacles. “The only mountain ape I see in these parts is you.”

“Oh, you won’t see them, Kun,” Istvan said, nodding toward Szonyi. “No, you won’t see them. But sure as sure, they’ll see you.”

“Bah!” Kun kicked a pebble. “If they didn’t keep the cursed things in menageries, I wouldn’t even believe in them. And I’ll bet you anything you care to name that nine stories out of every ten the old grannies tell about ‘em are lies. I’m no superstitious fool, not me.” He puffed out his weedy chest and looked wise, or at least supercilious.

“Have it your way,” Istvan answered with a shrug. “One thing the grannies say is that whoever calls someone else a fool names himself, too.”

With an angry grunt, Kun kicked another pebble down the steep hillside. Istvan ignored the little show of pique. His eyes were on the slopes above the path.

Somewhere up there, mountain apes were liable to be staring hungrily down at his companions and him. Years--centuries--had driven them up into the desolate heights and taught them wariness when it came to man. That did not mean they would not sneak down and raid, only that they picked their spots with care.

One of the lowlanders newly attached to the squad, a broad-shouldered fellow named Kanizsai, said, “I heard a savant claim once that mountain apes weren’t really apes at all, not like the apes in the jungles of Siaulia. What this chap said was, we ought to think of them as really stupid people instead.”

That notion kept the next couple of miles light and full of laughter. Everybody had his own candidate for who should be reckoned a mountain ape, starting with childhood rivals and ending up with King Swemmel and most of the population of Unkerlant.

“And what about us?” Szonyi added. “If we had any wits, would we be tramping through these miserable mountains just because somebody told us to?”

“Oh, now wait a bit,” Kanizsai said. “We’re warriors, by the stars. This is what we’re supposed to be doing.” The argument took off from there, like a dragon taking wing. Istvan and Kun sided with Szonyi. Most of the new men, men who hadn’t yet seen action, ranged themselves behind Kanizsai.

“You’ll find out,” Istvan said. “Aye, we’re warriors. That means we know how to fight and we’re not afraid to do it. Ask anybody who’s seen real war if he likes it, though, and you’ll hear some different stories.” Now Kun and Szonyi supported him.

“But there’s glory in crushing the foes of Gyongyos,” Kanizsai declared. “The stars shine brighter when we show ourselves to be true men.”

“Where’s the glory in huddling in a hole in the rain while the enemy tosses eggs at you?” Istvan returned. “Where’s the glory in sneaking up behind a Kuusaman who’s squatting in the bushes with his trousers around his ankles and cutting his throat so you can steal whatever food he’s carrying?”

Kanizsai looked revolted. Having been through the course that hardened recruits into warriors, Istvan knew it stressed ferocity. That was all very well--to a point. He wanted men at his side who would not give way in battle. But he did not want men at his side who would endanger themselves and him by rushing ahead when they ought to hold back.

Today, all that hardly mattered. The Unkerlanters offered no resistance to the advance. Maybe the war in the east did preoccupy them. Maybe they just didn’t care about losing this stretch of mountains. Had it belonged to Istvan, he wouldn’t have cared about losing it either.

When evening came, the squadron encamped on the flattest stretch of ground Istvan could find. It wasn’t a very flat stretch of ground, or very large, either. “We’ll keep two men on watch,” he ordered. “Three shifts through the night.” He named the sentries for each shift. One of the best things about being promoted to sergeant was that he didn’t have to take a turn on sentry-go himself. As he rolled himself in his blanket, he smiled at the thought of sleeping till morning.

Someone shook him. He came awake at once, as he’d learned to do on Obuda. Men who couldn’t rouse quickly and completely there often never roused at all. The dying embers of the campfire gave the only light. “What is it?” he asked, his voice a thin thread of whisper.

“Sergeant, someone’s coming,” Kun whispered back. “I can’t see anybody, but I know.”

“Your little piece of magecraft?” Istvan asked. Kun nodded, the motion next to invisible in the gloom. He’d used that trick he’d learned from his master before, back on Obuda. Istvan seized his stick and got to his feet in one smooth motion. “All right. You’d better show me.” The squad was his. This was the price he paid for not having to stand guard or do some of the other things common soldiers did.