Promise of Blood

There’d been weeks of this. Kez soldiers held the mountainside just beyond the first redoubt. They piled soil high on the road to give themselves cover and cowered behind rocks and dirt and whatever they could find. Artillery had been moved up. Blasted remains had tumbled down the mountainside not long after, destroyed by the Watch cannons. More artillery moved up, accompanied by shielded Privilegeds. After countless tries, they’d formed a beachhead, and now artillery thumped away at the bulwark from at least fifteen cleared spots on the mountainside.

Every few hours they rushed the bulwark—like clockwork they formed behind their barriers and readied their weapons. A horn would sound. They’d charge up the hill, only to meet with withering fire. Taniel could practically see the promises of glory in their officers’ eyes before he gunned them down. It turned his stomach.

Each rush failed, yet each time they inched a little closer to the fortress. The Watch was losing men too. Canister shot pierced Bo’s tentative shields of sorcery above them. Bullets took musketmen between the eyes when they lined up to take a shot. Even some sorcery was beginning to make it through. A man had been burned alive by a sliver of Privileged fire yesterday. The bastion still smelled of charred flesh.

Taniel finished loading his rifle with a redstripe and took a few deep breaths. Ka-poel flashed a hand signal. Target found. Eleven o’clock from his position. He pictured it in his mind. One of the gun emplacements.

His rise to take a shot was arrested by the arrival of Gavril. The big Watchmaster scurried toward Taniel, head down, a bottle of wine in one hand and a pewter mug in the other. He fell down beside Taniel, back thumping against the bulwark, and waved the bottle under Taniel’s nose.

“How are things on the front, Marked?” he asked.

Ka-poel tapped Taniel’s shoulder. Repeated the hand motions. He took a deep breath and stood up at the wall. Less than a second to line up his shot. He pulled the trigger and dropped back down, breathing deep of the powder smoke. Ka-poel watched. She gave him a nod, but moved her hand, horizontally at her waist. He’d hit the Privileged, but not a killing shot.

Taniel gave Gavril his best scowl. “Shot full of holes. Why are you so happy?”

“Saint Adom’s Festival wine!” Gavril held up the bottle. “They’ve sent enough from Adopest to get the whole Kez army drunk. Pity there’s a war on. Late spring is the only time of year I can abide Adopest. The festival wine certainly helps.” He paused to fill the pewter cup and offered it to Taniel. Taniel waved him off.

“Already had a lick,” he said. “Five minutes ago.”

Ka-poel took the wine bottle from Gavril’s hand. She upended the bottle, taking deep gulps. Taniel took it from her. “Not too much, girl,” he said. She snatched the bottle back, taking another draw from it.

“If they can kill,” Gavril said, “they can drink. This girl’s plenty grown up, Taniel. Just save enough for me, lass.” Gavril took the bottle back and drained the last of it in one long draft. He smacked his lips, thick cheeks flushed, and Taniel wondered how many bottles the Watchmaster had already put away. He felt a little concern—rumor had it that Gavril had started drinking heavily again during the nights. He hoped it wasn’t true.

It wasn’t the only rumor to concern him. “Wine’s all good,” Taniel said. “But I’d rather have gunpowder. Any word on the shortage?” They’d gone through their stores at an alarming rate. What should have lasted a year’s siege was spent in just a few weeks. The Kez just had too many soldiers.

Gavril shook his head. “Nothing from Adopest. The last courier said the army still has plenty. Even still, they shorted us two whole cartloads last week.” He scowled. “I ordered the artillery to go easy the next few days. I have the feeling we’ll be seeing hand-to-hand soon.”

“You really think they’ll make it over the bulwark?”

“Eventually.” Gavril suddenly looked very tired. His bulk sagged a little, and his face revealed a man fighting a war of attrition he felt he might lose. “We’ve killed twenty thousand men already. Wounded as many more, and yet they keep coming. They say there’s a million down on that plain below, each one with words of glory and promises of riches in their ears.”

“I heard Ipille has offered a whole duchy to the officer who leads the charge that breaks us.”

“Heard the same thing,” Gavril said. “And they’ll make officers of the first thousand soldiers who follow him in.”

“That’s a lot of incentive.”

“Aye. Gives us a lot to shoot at.”

“They have more men than we have bullets.”

“How many Privileged you think you’ve killed?”

Taniel ran his fingers along the notches on the butt of his rifle. “Thirteen dead. Wounded twice that many.”

“That’s a sizable chunk of their royal cabal.”

“Not enough,” Taniel said.

“Well, I want you to keep an eye on something else.”

Taniel frowned. “What’s more important than Privileged?”

“Sappers,” Gavril said.