The Captain of the Quiet Grave

Act I: The Grinder

Valerius spat pink saliva into the dust. The spit sizzled on the black rock before it evaporated. Heat rose from the Obsidian Wastes in shimmering waves that turned the horizon into a blurry oil painting. There was no moisture here. The air sucked the water from his eyes and the sweat from his skin.

He stood at the edge of the ridge. He checked the straps of his cuirass. The boiled leather was stiff and cracked like dry mud. He looked over his shoulder. One hundred men of the Sun Dogs stood in formation. They were a small company. They did not look like heroes. They looked like beef jerky wrapped in mismatched steel. They leaned on their spears. They shaded their eyes against the glare of a bruised purple sky.

Sergeant Kael crunched through the ash to stand beside him. The big man smelled of stale sweat and old iron. He rested the head of his maul in the dirt.

"Captain," Kael rasped. He pointed a thick finger at the ridge ahead. "Scouts are back. The rocks are moving. Stonehide Lashers. A whole nest of them. Maybe two hundred. And behind them is nothing. Just more rock."

Valerius raised his spyglass. The lens was scratched. Through the glass he saw the target. The Razor. It was a jagged spur of black stone that jutted from the earth like a broken tooth. It guarded nothing. It watched over nothing.

"I see them," Valerius said.

A horn blew from the rear lines. The sound was wet and flat.

Valerius turned toward the command tent. It was a patchwork of stitched hides that flapped in the hot wind. Warlord Gorgash sat there. He sat on a crate covered in a snow leopard pelt. The pelt was already ruining in the heat.

Valerius walked to the tent. Gorgash looked up. The Warlord wore a breastplate that belonged to a bigger man. The metal gaped around his neck. He fidgeted with a massive double-bitted axe. He ran a whetstone along the edge. Rasp. Rasp. Rasp.

"My Lord," Valerius said.

Gorgash stopped sharpening. He looked at his bodyguards. The Unbroken stood in the shadows of the tent and lined the perimeter outside. There were two hundred of them. Two hundred elite killers in plate armor. They watched Gorgash with the blank stares of men who sold their violence to the highest bidder.

"You have orders," Gorgash said. He stared at the axe blade. "Why are you not marching?"

"The orders are flawed," Valerius said. He kept his hands away from his sword. "The Lashers have the high ground. We only have a hundred spears. We will be walking into a meat grinder."

Gorgash stood up. He knocked the whetstone off his knee. "You question me?"

"I question the value of the rock," Valerius said. "It is empty stone. It is not worth the lives of my company."

"It is mine!" Gorgash screamed. He slammed the butt of his axe into the dirt. "I say it is valuable. I say we take it. That makes it worth blood."

Gorgash stepped closer. His breath smelled of sour wine. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

"You think I am new," Gorgash hissed. "You think because I killed the old chief in his sleep that I am weak. I will show you strength. Take the ridge. Or I will have the Unbroken skin your sergeant while you watch."

Valerius looked at the perimeter. The Unbroken outnumbered his unit two to one. They shifted their weight. Hands drifted to sword hilts.

Valerius nodded once. "As you command."

He walked back to the line. The heat pressed down on him like a physical weight. He looked at Kael. He looked at Tobin, the young banner carrier. Tobin wiped dust from the sunburst symbol on the flag.

"Draw steel!" Valerius roared.

One hundred swords slid from scabbards. The sound rang out like a single chime.

"Shields up! For the pay! For the drink!"

The men banged their swords against their shields. The rhythm was slow. It was a death march.

"Advance!"

They marched. Dust billowed around their boots.

They reached the base of the slope. The ground rumbled.

A Lasher crested the ridge. It was a lizard the size of a wagon. Its scales were the color of granite. It opened its mouth and hissed. The sound was like steam escaping a vent.

The beast charged. It tucked its head and rolled down the hill like a boulder.

"Brace!" Kael screamed.

The Lasher slammed into the shield wall. Wood shattered. Men flew into the air like ragdolls. The beast whipped its tail. The appendage cracked like a whip and cut two men in half.

"Push!" Valerius shouted.

He stepped into the gap. He thrust his sword at the beast. The steel sparked against the rock-hard scales. He aimed for the eye. The tip sank in. Black blood sprayed over his tunic.

The beast thrashed.

More Lashers poured over the ridge. They swarmed the small unit. One hundred men against a tide of monsters.

Valerius saw Tobin go down. A set of jaws clamped around the boy’s torso. The banner fell into the dirt. A heavy claw stomped it into the mud.

"Fall back!" Valerius yelled. "Retreat!"

He looked back at the command tent.

Gorgash stood outside surrounded by his guards. He pointed his axe at the retreating Sun Dogs.

"Fire!" Gorgash screamed.

A line of Orc archers released a volley. The arrows did not target the lizards. They fell into the crush of bodies.

Valerius watched an arrow punch through the neck of a soldier next to him. Gorgash was killing them to stop the retreat.

Valerius turned. He saw Kael swinging his maul. The sergeant smashed the leg of a lizard. The bone crunched. But another beast lunged from the flank. It grabbed Kael by the thigh and dragged him down.

"Captain!" Kael screamed. He reached out a hand.

Valerius lunged. He took one step.

A tail struck him in the chest.

His ribs gave way. The air left his lungs. He flew backward and hit the hard earth. His head bounced off the rock.

Grey spots filled his vision. He tried to stand. He could not move his legs.

He looked down the hill. Gorgash threw his head back and laughed.

The darkness swallowed Valerius.

Act II: The Fine Print

Valerius woke.

He shivered. His teeth chattered against each other.

The heat was gone. The Obsidian Wastes had turned into an icebox. The sun was gone. A pale and sickly moon hung in the sky. It washed the black rocks in silver light.

Valerius rolled onto his side. He groaned. His chest felt like a bag of broken glass. Every breath was a labor.

He looked around.

The Sun Dogs were still there. They lay in piles where the lizards had dragged them. One hundred bodies. The blood had frozen into black patches on the grey ash. The silence was absolute. It pressed against his ears like deep water.

"A waste of good material," a voice said.

Valerius scrambled to his knees. He looked for a weapon. He found a broken spear shaft near his hand.

A man stood ten feet away. He wore robes of heavy black wool that seemed to absorb the moonlight. He did not look like a scavenger. He had soft hands and clean fingernails. He held a staff topped with a skull carved from green crystal.

"Who are you?" Valerius asked. His voice was a wreck.

"I am a Binder," the man said. He walked through the carnage. He poked the body of Tobin with the end of his staff. "I collect things that others throw away. Ambition. Rage. Unfinished business."

"Get away from him," Valerius snarled. He used the spear shaft to stand. His legs shook.

The Binder ignored him. He looked at the field of corpses. "The Warlord spent them like cheap copper. He sits in his tent now. He warms his hands over a fire. He drinks wine and tells his captains that he is a genius. He sleeps while your men rot in the cold."

Valerius tightened his grip on the wood. The image of Gorgash laughing burned behind his eyes.

"He murdered them," Valerius said.

"He did," the Binder said. He turned to face Valerius. His eyes were black pits. "And he will get away with it. Unless you intervene."

"They are dead," Valerius said. "I can do nothing. I am one man with a broken rib."

"You are a Captain," the Binder corrected. "That is a rare thing. Magic can raise meat. Any hedge wizard can make a corpse walk. But meat has no discipline. Meat has no will. To make an army you need a leader. You need a focus."

The Binder stepped closer.

"I have the power to wake them, Valerius. But I do not have the soldier's heart to lead them. You do."

Valerius looked at Kael. He looked at the ruin of his friend. The big man lay twisted in the ash.

"You can bring them back?" Valerius asked. "Truly?"

"I can stitch their souls to their bones," the Binder said. "I can give them the strength of the grave. No fear. No pain. No fatigue. But they will be wild dogs without a master. They need you."

Valerius looked at his hands. They were shaking. He thought of Gorgash safe in his tent. He thought of the injustice of it.

"I will do it," Valerius said. "I will lead them."

"Be careful what you offer," the Binder warned. His voice dropped. "The laws of the Void are strict. To command the silence you must be part of it. The dead do not answer to the warm. They do not respect the living. To be their King you must be their kind."

Valerius paused. He looked at the Binder. He understood the words but the desire for revenge was a roar in his blood. He looked at his dead men. He could not leave them here.

"I accept the terms," Valerius said. "Make me their Captain."

The Binder smiled. It was a sharp expression. "Then the contract is sealed."

He raised the staff. He spoke a word that vibrated in the fillings of Valerius's teeth. He slammed the staff into the frozen ground.

Emerald light bled from the crystal skull. It did not illuminate the dark. It stained it. The light poured into the earth like spilled ink.

The ground churned.

Crunch.

Valerius watched Kael’s hand. The fingers dug into the frozen soil. The arm flexed. Kael pushed himself up. His neck was twisted at a wrong angle. He reached up and snapped it back into place. Click.

His eyes opened. They were not human eyes. They were green flames burning in hollow sockets.

All around the ridge the dead rose. One hundred soldiers picked up their weapons. They stood in silence. They did not breathe. They waited.

Valerius felt a surge of triumph. "Form up! Kael! Get them in line!"

Kael did not move. He stared at the horizon. He did not even twitch.

Valerius walked up to him. Panic fluttered in his chest. "Sergeant. I gave you an order."

Kael did not blink.

Valerius turned to the Binder. "You lied. They do not obey."

"They obey the Pact," the Binder said. He dusted ash from his sleeve. "I told you the rule, Captain. A sheep cannot herd wolves. You are still warm. You still bleed. To them you are nothing but noise."

"I am their leader!" Valerius shouted.

"Not yet," the Binder said. "You have the will. Now you need the nature."

The Binder pointed a finger at Valerius.

"Soldiers," the Binder said. "Initiate the commander."

Kael turned his head. The green fire in his eyes flared. He looked at Valerius. He did not see a friend. He saw a necessary step in the ritual.

"No," Valerius said. He backed away.

Kael moved. He blurred. He closed the distance in a heartbeat. He grabbed Valerius by the throat. The hand was absolute zero. It burned the skin. Kael slammed Valerius into the dirt.

"Kael!" Valerius choked. "Stop!"

Tobin stepped forward. The boy drew a jagged dagger from his belt.

Valerius kicked. He struggled. But Kael held him pinned with the weight of a tombstone.

"This is the price," the Binder said softly. "You wanted to lead them forever. Forever begins at the end."

Tobin raised the dagger.

Valerius looked into the dead eyes of his banner carrier. He saw no malice. He saw only obedience.

Tobin drove the blade down.

Steel pierced the heart. Valerius gasped. The pain was sharp. Then it was cold. Then it was nothing.

The world went black.

Valerius opened his eyes.

He stood up. He pulled the dagger from his chest. There was no blood. The wound was a dry hole.

He looked at his hands. They were grey. He felt the wind but he did not shiver. The cold was no longer an enemy. It was a part of him.

He looked at Kael. He felt it now. A thread connecting them. A cold iron chain of will that bound every soldier to his mind. He could feel their strength. He could feel their hunger.

He looked at the Binder.

The Binder bowed low. It was a gesture of respect between monsters.

"Your legion awaits, Captain."

Act III: The Lesson

Gorgash sat in his command tent. The heavy canvas walls were thick. They muffled the sound of the wind.

He sat at a long wooden table with his inner circle. Twelve of his best captains. The leaders of the Unbroken. They ate roasted pork with their hands and drank wine from silver cups.

Outside, the army camped. Two hundred men. Usually, they were loud. They sang. They fought. But tonight the noise seemed distant.

Gorgash raised his cup. Grease shone on his chin. "To the grinder! The weak die so the strong can eat!"

The twelve captains laughed. They raised their cups.

Hiss.

The fire in the central brazier convulsed. The flames turned a sickly, necrotic green.

The heat vanished. The air in the tent turned freezing cold. Gorgash saw his breath steam in front of his face. Frost raced up the side of his goblet. The wine inside froze with a sharp crack.

Gorgash dropped the cup. He stood up and grabbed his axe.

"What sorcery is this?" Gorgash bellowed.

The twelve captains stood up. They drew their swords. They looked at the fire with wide eyes.

"The air," one captain whispered. "It smells of the grave."

"Silence!" Gorgash shouted. "Goro! Check outside. See who plays tricks on us."

Captain Goro nodded. He walked to the tent flap. He untied the leather strings.

"It is too quiet," Goro said.

He threw the flap open.

Gorgash looked past Goro. He expected to see campfires. He expected to see his army.

He saw nothing. The camp was dark. The fires were out. Two hundred men lay on the ground in the moonlight. They were not sleeping. They were dead. Their throats were cut. Their chests were crushed. They had died without making a sound.

"They are gone," Goro whispered. "The army is gone."

Goro turned back to the Warlord. Terror twisted his face.

A grey hand shot out of the darkness. It grabbed Goro by the back of the head.

Kael stepped into the light. The undead sergeant was drenched in fresh blood. He slammed Goro’s face into the tent pole. Crunch. Goro went limp. Kael tossed the body aside like a rag doll.

Gorgash backed away until his legs hit his throne.

Valerius stepped into the tent. He was flanked by Tobin and ten other Sun Dogs. They squeezed into the space. Their armor dripped with the blood of the army outside.

"Valerius," Gorgash said. He gripped his axe tighter. "I watched you die. I saw the lizards eat your banner boy."

"You saw what you wanted to see," Valerius said. His voice was the sound of grinding stones. He stepped into the light of the green fire. The hole in his chest was a black void.

Gorgash bared his teeth. He did not beg. He was a warlord and he had an axe. "You think a few parlor tricks scare me? You are a corpse. Corpses stay in the ground."

"We dug our way out," Valerius said. "Because we had unfinished business."

"Business?" Gorgash scoffed. He gestured to his eleven remaining captains. "You are outnumbered. You are rotting. You died once before. I will hack you apart again."

Gorgash raised his axe. He pointed the blade at Valerius.

"Kill them!" Gorgash roared. "Send them back to hell!"

The eleven captains charged. They were elite soldiers. They screamed their war cries.

Valerius did not draw his sword. He just nodded.

The Sun Dogs moved. They did not shout. They moved with a terrible, silent speed.

Kael swung his maul. It took a captain in the chest and folded him in half.

Tobin ducked a sword swing. He drove a dagger into a neck. He ripped it out and stabbed the next man.

It was not a battle. It was butchery in a cage. The Unbroken captains hacked at the dead men but their blades did nothing. They cut grey flesh that did not bleed. They stabbed hearts that did not beat.

Gorgash watched his elite guard fall apart. Arms flew. Heads rolled. Blood sprayed the canvas walls.

In moments the eleven captains were dead. Their bodies lay in a heap around the green fire.

The Sun Dogs stopped. They stood still. They looked at Gorgash.

Gorgash stood alone. He breathed heavy. His chest heaved. He looked at the monsters. He looked at Valerius.

"My turn," Gorgash snarled.

He charged. He swung the massive axe with both hands. It was a blow meant to cleave a horse in two.

Valerius caught the haft of the axe with one hand.

The impact shook the tent but Valerius did not move. He stood like a statue rooted in the earth. The green fire in his eyes burned bright.

Gorgash strained. He pushed with all his strength. His veins popped in his neck.

Valerius twisted his wrist. The wood of the axe handle snapped loud as a thunderclap.

Gorgash stumbled forward. Valerius backhanded him. The gauntlet struck Gorgash across the jaw and sent him sprawling into the dirt.

Gorgash spat blood. He looked up. Valerius loomed over him.

"Finish it," Gorgash spat. "Take my head. Put it on a pike."

"No," Valerius said.

Gorgash frowned. "What?"

"Death is easy," Valerius said. "It is quiet. You do not deserve quiet."

Valerius leaned down. His dead eyes bore into the Warlord’s soul. The cold coming off him made Gorgash shiver.

"You will live," Valerius whispered. "But you will live in fear. Every shadow will look like me. Every cold wind will feel like my hand. You will never sleep without dreaming of this green fire."

Valerius stood up. He clenched his gauntleted fist.

"Sleep now, Warlord."

Valerius swung. The metal struck Gorgash in the temple. The world went black.

Gorgash woke with a gasp.

He sat up. He vomited bile into the dirt.

He reached for his axe. It was gone.

He looked around.

The tent was gone. The bodies of his captains were gone. The dead soldiers outside were gone.

He was alone in the middle of the empty Wastes. The sun was rising. The heat was returning.

There were no tracks. No blood. It was as if the night had never happened.

Except for one thing.

In front of him a small campfire burned.

It burned with a sickly, silent green flame.

Gorgash stared into the fire.

Gorgash screamed into the silence. No one answered.

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