Chapter 254: You Can’t Keep an Old Hound Down
Konstantin sat cleaning his weapons deep in the rocky crevice where they had set their lookout. It was unnecessary, but it gave him something to do while he waited and mourned. He was still reeling from when Cornelius had revealed Eryk’s death to him. The blood compass had no pull on Cornelius’s sample.
The foolish boy had gotten himself killed, and it hurt more than it should have. He had mentored dozens of young men who had died, so why did this feel different—more painful? He compartmentalized his feelings and focused on his responsibilities.
He had been pulled from Castile’s company to assist the greatly undermanned Hounds. The Emperor planned to portal behind the Bartiradian Army and launch an attack from the rear. He had been among the first men through the portal and was paired with Western Hound, one of Centurion Sergius’s immediate subordinates, Gracilis. This assignment suited him. If Antonia’s plan was enacted, he would prefer to be as far away from the Emperor as possible when betrayal occurred.
Looking over at Gracilis, he shook his head. He hadn’t wanted to be paired with anyone but had no choice. At least Gracilis was competent. After exiting the portal, they moved undetected four miles southwest into the hills overlooking the Bartiradian army. Now, they watched the edge of the enemy camp from a mile away, ready to report any change. Gracilis was currently watching with the spyglass they shared.
“Any change?” Konstantin asked in a bored tone.
“Just two mages sneaking off into the woods for a quick romp. The woman isn’t too bad-looking if you want to watch.” Gracilis turned and offered the spyglass to Konstantin.
“How far outside of camp? Could we catch them unawares?” Konstantin asked, sheathing his blade. It had been months since he had slain an undead with his weapon, and its hunger gnawed on him after its gluttonous time in Caelora.
“No, there are sentries. Two, in fact, and they are enjoying the show from a large beech tree,” Gracilis said with a chuckle. “Shouldn’t be long now; dawn is coming.”
Konstantin grunted and stood. Hopefully, the army would all be through the portal by now. He wondered if Zyna would make her attempt on the Emperor’s life during the battle. He might depart the field and return to the safety of his palace if this battle was won. Konstantin moved to lie with Gracilis on the ground. In front of him was the message book, and Konstantin read the last few messages.
Centurion Sergius relied too heavily on these artifacts. The last two pages had dozens of shorthand notes. Most appeared to be the positioning of various Hounds and the progress of the Emperor’s army. He had to admit that knowing events in essentially real time was useful. He was about to ask for a translation of the shorthand when Gracilis hissed, “The alarm just sounded.” As if to echo his statement, short horn bursts echoed in the hills. Griffins took flight, one at a time, and raced in the direction of the Telhian portal.
“This is going to get messy,” Konstantin rasped, worried about his companions. He might work for Antonia, but his loyalty was to Castile as much as it could be. She was as close to a genuine leader as you could get among the mage ranks and more dependable than any First Citizen he had known.
The pair remained prone on their bellies as they watched the army stir over the next hours and begin to march. It was an impressive sight and very orderly for the amalgamation of different troops. Konstantin quickly needed clarification on what he was seeing. “Why are they committing all their forces to engage the Emperor?”
Gracilis checked his book before answering. “Tiberius has not marched yet. They probably think the army appearing behind them is Tiberius’s and Octavian’s forces.”
“Why are Octavian’s provincial forces with Tiberius?” Konstantin asked, confused. He was sensing something in the air. A danger, and not that of the Bartiradian army about to be crushed between the Emperor’s and Tiberius’s armies.
Gracilis’s slow response was suspicious. “Don’t know. I am just reading what my Centurion is writing.”
Konstantin was already on guard as Gracilis rolled into him and attempted to stab him. Konstantin’s viselike grip held the Hound’s wrist at bay, but he was not prepared for the short skinning knife that stabbed a half dozen times into his abdomen before he could distance himself and get on his feet deeper in the crevice. The wounds were not mortal, but a familiar paralysis started to spread from Konstantin’s gut. Gracilis didn’t give Konstantin a chance to draw his blade and tackled him.
Gracilis just needed to restrain him long enough for the poison to paralyze Konstantin. “Just let it go, old man,” Gracilis hissed. “Events are in motion, and you are not going to be part of them. Don’t make your trip to Pluto’s realm more painful than it needs to be.”
“You are fucking dead,” Konstantin said with spittle spraying from his mouth as he pushed the pain aside. Gracilis was not aware that Konstantin had dosed himself with the paralytic for years. He wasn’t immune but could remain somewhat functional. He slowly felt Gracilis overpowering him. He pushed all his aether into flinging a stone into Gracilis’s wide-open eye.
The impact surprised Gracilis, damaging his eye, and he briefly relaxed his hold on Konstantin. Konstantin took full advantage, pulling Gracilis toward him and biting hard on his nose; his teeth sank deep and metallic blood filled his mouth as he yanked his head back and forth. The crunching cartilage gave way, and Konstantin spat the bloody nose into Gracilis’s good eye.
Gracilis kicked away and drew his sword in one motion. His ruined nose gushed blood and it sprayed on his strong exhales. Konstantin was quicker, and his runic blade drove up into his opponent’s sternum. Unfortunately, Konstantin was still vulnerable even though his enemy was as good as dead. Gracilis’s blade bit deep into Konstantin’s arm, cutting through the armor to the bone. The bone was probably broken as well.
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The violent exchange only lasted ten heartbeats, but it took its toll on both men. Konstantin grunted, ignoring the pain as life flowed out of the Hound down his blade. The blood rushed down the blade’s length and soaked his hand. The weight of Gracilis slowly became too much, and Konstantin collapsed to his right.
Konstantin tried to suck oxygen, but the paralytic only allowed for short, forced breaths. He worked his only lesser healing potion to his lips, cursing Gracilis and Centurion Sergius. He calmed as best he could and fumbled to wrap his arm so he would not bleed out, as the potion would not be enough for his extensive injuries.
He had lost a lot of blood and could barely move under the effects of the poison. Konstantin painfully dug out his canteen and searched Gracilis for a lesser healing potion. He forced the water down, angry that Gracilis only had a pair of lesser stamina potions in his belt and nothing in his small pack. The paralytic was making movement too difficult, so he crawled deep into the crevice. Morning had arrived, and the army in the distance was marching. All he could do was watch. Soon, his fatigue and blood loss caused him to fade into unwanted sleep.
When he woke, it was midday and the army was gone. He focused the spyglass and saw the camp was overrun with Telhian soldiers cutting down the camp followers. A few Bartiradians were being raped, and the screams drifted to him even a mile away.
Konstantin sucked his canteen dry and then drank the one in Gracilis’s pack. The effects of the paralytic had passed, but he was still groggy. He turned to studying the message book. Dozens of messages had been written since Gracilis had tried to kill him, but he couldn’t puzzle out the shorthand cipher.
He started to pack what he could and staged the body to appear as though Gracilis had been surprised by the Bartiradians. It might not make a difference if there was a civil war among the Hounds. He sensed this was more than a power play by Centurion Sergius, though.
He couldn’t use his left arm as the healing was incomplete and the bone was still broken. What treachery was happening? What had happened in the hours he had been passed out? Where should he go? He had ten days of food. He painfully shouldered his Hound pack with one arm and moved toward the battle.
Three hours later, Konstantin was on a bluff overlooking hundreds of dead as carrion raptors feasted. If he had been in charge, this was where he would have observed the battle. He was kneeling over the headless body of Cornelius. “You taught us always to be prepared for anyone to betray us, Cornelius. Looks like you got too old and forgot your own advice.” The body had been stripped, but Konstantin searched him anyway.
The tracks in the earth told him two Hounds had killed Cornelius and taken his head. Dragon shit. It meant he would be subjected to a necromancer, and all the conspirators would be revealed. It looked like Centurion Sergius had figured out the conspiracy and sided with the Emperor. Most likely, Antonia was dead, but should he try to confirm? He had no love for the scheming woman. Antonia was likely in the capital, but getting there was going to be a chore with a broken arm.
He sighed, realizing that Castile and Zyna must also be dead by now. He tried to convince himself that he would be dead too if he had stayed with Castile, but that didn’t ease his guilt. He shambled down to the battlefield and slowly exchanged his Hound gear for legionnaire gear. At least with this he could get his arm healed without drawing the attention of the traitorous Hounds.
He found an exhausted healing mage further into the bloody field. “I am close to burnt, legionnaire.” The man held up his hands in capitulation.
“Can you get the bone set and healed at least?” Konstantin winced as he moved his arm in the sling. The man sighed but gave a short nod, and he sweated through the healing. The pain eroded away and Konstantin flexed his arm.
“Most of the muscle is repaired as well,” the mage rasped, collapsing to the ground. Konstantin didn’t even thank him as he moved in the direction the battle had gone. He found an Imperial legionnaire waiting for healing on a rock. His left arm was missing from the elbow down. It would take a tremendous amount of aether to regenerate the limb.
Konstantin sat heavily next to him. “What news of the victory and the Emperor?”
The man coughed a laugh and spat blood. His injuries extended beyond the arm, apparently. “Victory, yes. The Emperor took all the cavalry he could muster to run down the remnants of the Bartiradian forces.”
Konstantin nodded but didn’t know how to ask if the Emperor had been betrayed or if it was common knowledge that the East and West Hounds were warring behind the scenes. Instead, he handed the Imperial legionnaire a canteen he had looted. The man took it as they watched a few soldiers run around the field to find the living and keep them so. When the legionnaire passed out, Konstantin made him comfortable, as he was likely to die without healing.
Konstantin eventually joined the search for the living as he looked for men he knew. He recognized a few faces among the dead but only recalled a handful of names. When he found Kolm’s body, he knelt, closed the man’s eyes, and said a short blessing on the body. He couldn’t find any other members of the company among the dead, but it was a massive battlefield that had shifted during the fight.
A rider wearing Octavian’s colors came racing on horseback through the field. He repeated the same message over and over: “The Bartiradians have killed the Emperor; Duke Octavian has avenged him!”
The few men around were stunned by the news. Konstantin didn’t buy it for one second. The Emperor had too many powerful mages and Imperial legionnaires guarding his person. He started to move in the direction the rider had come from, but slipped into the woodlands for cover. It took time to reach the site of the second battle. He observed from a safe distance.
It was clearly a mage battle. The scent of ozone was strong and many trees were still burning. Octavian’s men were stripping the bodies of Imperial legionnaires and mages. One Imperial legionnaire started to stand, and two of Octavian’s men cut him down. Then he saw Hercule and Sergius walking among the dead and cataloging them. Sergius had betrayed both Antonia and the Emperor. Konstantin ground his teeth, but he was in no position for revenge. He faded back into the woods, the fate of his company unknown.
He waited until night, when the men cleared the field. Then he walked among the dead. With the Hound goggles, it was not difficult to find High Mage Zyna’s red hair and stripped body. A hole was burned through her eye socket. She had moved on the Emperor, and maybe she was the one who had succeeded in killing him.
He needed to satisfy his curiosity as he searched the bodies. When he found Adrian, he felt the pain of loss. Adrian was like an estranged brother to Konstantin. There was no time to bury him. He couldn’t find Castile or a number of others in the company. Had they gotten away? Or did Octavian have them in chains?
With no allies and few places to go, Konstantin made his way north toward the capital to get the answers he wanted and the revenge he needed.
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