Army of the Night (1900)
The woman looked at me beadily. "You can read then, can you?"
I nodded, and her wrinkled brow drew upwards in surprise. She pursed her lips, then gave a large, false smile, showing yellowed and broken teeth. "Well. You see, it was as well you were sent to the temple." She nodded as if agreeing with herself. "If your parents had lived, you'd just be another unlettered farmer out here on the Border. And here you are, a big, importantwhat is it you are again?"
I shook my head, trying not to show my impatience. "That's of no matter. Will you let me see the letters?"
She grumbled a bit, but finally hauled her ancient carcass out of the rocking chair, and toddled off to find them.
I remained where I was, sipping too-dark, unsweetened tea from the cracked bit of pottery she'd given me.
The air was dank, still, oppressive. Was this really where my father had grown up? I couldn't imagine a child in this house. A thin layer of dust covered the floor, and the sparse furnishings seemed liable to break at any moment. But more than that, there was something almost sepulchral about the place. As if it neither admitted nor harbored life, and my very presence was an affront. A child playing and running about would have been unthinkable.
I shifted in my chair.
After a time, she came back, carrying a small wooden box. She grinned at my obvious discomfort. Harridan. "Here you are then. Don't know why we kept them, but maybe they'll be some use to you. Give you some idea how to talk to a woman!" She laughed. No,
cackled.
I glowered, but reined in my temper. This had been difficult enough without throwing obstacles of my own making in my path. I reached out to take the box from her.
She was oddly reluctant to let it go. When she finally did, she stepped back as though startled, blinked a few times, then tottered off without a word.
I snorted. This woman did not give me high hopes of my fathers character. Still, what was, was. I would find the truth.
I carried the box with me to the front of the house, outside, where I could think, and see properly. I sat just outside the door. Slowly, with a feel of reverence and ceremony, I opened the small wooden box.
The aged paper crackled.
Dear Nora,
Fortunate day! Did a favor for one of the men in my troop. Good fellow. Happens he was apprenticed to a scribe back in his home village, and hes agreed to write out letters for me every so often. Hes going to try and teach me to write toome, write! What a thought. Bet you were startled no end to get this from me! (Brother Theo, I know youre reading this to Nora. Please do a fellow a favor and dont let on to her parents Im writing her.)
Nora, Im sorry for how things happened before I left. Well get married the very moment I get back, whatever your father says. You know I mean it for true.
Soldiering isnt an easy life. Its not what I thought. Theres no heroic rides and battles and rescues like in the stories. Its all marching and eating and sleeping and keeping watch. And when its not one of those things, youre sitting about with nothing to do.
The others, the veterans, tell me to be grateful. They tell me that when we meet with the Army of the Night Ill wish I was back being bored.
This isnt what I wanted. I thought I was to help protect our people from the Night, not grind myself into dust with marching. These packs get awful heavy.
All that keeps me going is thinking of you. I think of the farm well have when I get back, of our children and our comfortable house. Well have lovely green fields with no stones, and enough cows that you could bathe in the milk, and a nice plump little girl. Ive always liked the name Jennie.
Two months from home, and it feels like half a lifetime.
Love from your Robert
I looked up. I wondered vaguely whether Brother Theo had ever read these letters to Nora. Had the fever taken her by then?
I chuckled at my own foolishness. Two months. No.
I reached for another letter, this time from further toward the middle of the stack. I pulled it out, carefully smoothing the paper.
Dear Nora,
I saw my first battle.
Well, more of a small skirmish, the veterans tell me. A unit of enemy scouts charged right into our flank as we were marching. Dont know what they thought they could do as there werent many of them.
I couldnt see much from where I was. There was a minute of flashing swords and armor, and everyone was terrified we were being ambushed, but it was finished quickly. Only a few casualties on our side, and nobody I knew.
After they were defeated, we werent allowed to go near and see the bodies. I heard that they have glowing eyes, and mouths like a beetle, and all-black armor. A fellow said that the reason we couldnt go see was they were actually our own dead from other battles, returned by sorcery to fight on the side of Night.
I dont know if Im supposed to tell you these things. Sometimes I wonder if my friend is really writing it all down. Are you writing it just like I say? Tell me honest now. All right, no need for that. I didnt mean nothing by it.
Im trying to think of something happier to tell you. Oh, I know.
I saw quite a sight a few days gone. Passed right near the biggest city I ever seen. Palaces and city walls and towers and all. And when we passed over a hill, we could see inside. There was a great marketplace, like what you hear stories about. There were all kinds of grand buildings, temples and palaces and other things I couldnt put name to. And a river ran right through the middle of all this, with bridges scattered all about the city. Some were big, some were small. Some were fancy and well kept, some were smaller and crumbling. But they all crossed the river just the same.
You'd have smiled to see the bridges, I know you would.
Wishing I was home with you.
Your Robert.
So. He had been a part of the infamous Army of Light. I scratched at my chin.
Even now, near twenty-five years later, that last battle between them and the so-called Army of the Night was the subject of much speculation and argument. Mandibles and glowing eyes? More likely the officers didnt want the soldiers to see that the enemy they were taught to hate were ordinary men like themselves.
I hesitated, only for a moment, then reached to the back of the box for the final letter. The handwriting was different. Messier. I frowned, but began to read.
Dear Nora,
Its nearly over. Theyve told us that tomorrow well face the Night.
One of the lieutenants came around just before we went to sleep. Older fellow, with a scar down one cheek, an eye-patch, and a good thick mustache. Wish I could grow one like that. Anyway he told us that we were coming up on the final confrontation. And he said that the general wanted us all to hear what we were fighting for.
What we face tomorrow will be difficult. We will likely be outnumbered, and the Nights warriors are fierce. But I want you to remember that you fight for no more and no less than the safety of all our world from darkness. Our sisters, wives, children. We fight so that they may be preserved from evil.
He smiled widely. A snake dies when you cut off its head. And so it is with the Army of the Night. The Queen, in her wisdom, sent a small force of her greatest warriors into the Dark Kingdom itself. Their task is to kill the King of Night, and end the war in one stroke.
What we do here will buy them time. The longer we can keep the Night at bay, the greater the chance of success for our brave heroes. Take heart! Whatever may happen tomorrow, know that we shall triumph. He clasped us each on the shoulder, then strode off to the next fire.
Far from being comforted at this tale, I felt betrayed.
We were no more than a distraction. We were drops of water being thrown pointlessly at a the flames of an inferno, while others sought and destroyed its source. This was not what I had signed on for.
Rumors swept the camp again. The heroes had already succeeded, and the Army of the Night would be swept away on the morning breeze. No, the heroes had already failed, and we were all going to die pointlessly. No, there had never been any heroes at all, we were outnumbered two to one, and we were still going to die.
It took me hours to fall asleep, and I kept waking at small noises. I finally lay there staring at the sky, wondering what was true and what false.
Many deserted while we slept. Nearly one in ten was gone when the sun rose. The rumors of the previous night had damaged morale, but this hurt to the bone. This was betrayal. They left us. They were supposed to be our companions, our friends, our brothers! And they left us to die, slithering away in hopes of saving their own skins.
They will suffer for this.
The handwriting changed again, becoming still more agitated.
I stood there in my sweaty armor, holding a spear. The sun was high, and the horses and men were getting nervous.
I itched.
At last the Army of the Night marched into view, and we found that our guesses had been wrong. They did not outnumber us two to one.
It was nearly ten to one.
Howling masses of them advanced towards our line, waving sword and axe and spear above their heads, yelling their terrible battle cries. They were a torrent, a flood, an unstoppable tide.
Some broke and ran then. Cowards. Perhaps they thought they had a better chance being hunted down later than standing and fighting. Perhaps they were right.
But the bulk of the army stood their ground. Gods bless them, they stood their ground, even as the Army of the Night broke over them like a wave, and their companions fell around them.
They stood their ground.
I allowed a brief smile to touch my lips.
That battle was a much-discussed mystery. What had caused the Army of the Night to retreat, after winning the greatest victory of that brief war? Where did they go? And what happened to them?
But one thing all agreed on was that the Army of Light, brave fools, had been slaughtered to a man. Everyone who had fought in that battle was dead.
Everyone who had
fought.
I folded the letter and put it in my coat pocket. It was time to go searching again.