The Crippled God

privileged … from both sides. Closer to their god than to their unordained flock.’
    ‘But that is not you, is it?’
    ‘Adjunct, I am kneeling beside you.’
    There was the flicker of something in her eyes, something raw swiftly suppressed, and then she was setting a boot in the stirrup and drawing herself into the saddle.
    Banaschar stepped back. Looking away, he saw rank upon rank of soldiers turned, facing them, and now they slowly shifted as Tavore trotted her mount forward. She reached the southwest corner of the formation before wheeling inward to pass along the back line. She rode straight in her saddle, a figure in tattered chain, upon a starved, dying horse.
    The image seemed to sear itself in Banaschar’s mind.
    Reaching the far end, she swung round the corner – making her way up to face the front of the three, much-reduced, legions. She wouldspeak to her soldiers now. And, much as he yearned to hear her words, he knew that they were not for him.
    Chest aching, the priest turned away.
    As she rode towards the head of her forces, Tavore could see the dust cloud from the approaching army, and it was vast. Wheeling her horse, she walked the animal on a course parallel to the presented ranks, slowing the beast’s steps enough to move her gaze from one face to the next in the front line.
    When the Adjunct finally spoke, her voice carried firm on the wind. ‘Does anyone know you? You, who stood in the shadows of the heavies and the marines. Who are you? What is your tale? So many have seen you – marching past. Seen you, standing silent and unknown. Even now, your faces are almost lost beneath the rims of your helms.’ She was silent for a long moment, her eyes tracking each and every visage.
    And then she halted, gaze fixing upon one man. A Falari. ‘Corporal Grid Ffan, Third Squad, Eleventh Company. Bonehunter. You carried Sample – the soldier on your left – on your back. The last day in the desert. And, before the Blood for Water, the only thing that kept you – and her – alive was your love for her.’
    The man seemed to sway before her words. She nudged her horse forward. ‘Where stands Wreck-Eye?’
    ‘Here!’ cried out a voice from a dozen ranks back.
    ‘When Lostara Yil lost consciousness protecting my life on the day of the Nah’ruk, you led your squad to recover us. Myself. Henar Vygulf. Captain Yil. You lost a brother, and to this day you can find no tears for him. But be at ease. There are those in your squad who have wept in your stead. At night, when you sleep.’
    She walked her horse forward a few more steps, found another face. ‘Sergeant Ordinary Grey. When Sergeant Gaunt-Eye’s squad of marines broke and tried to murder him, you and Could Howl held them all off – you cut them down to save Gaunt-Eye. Because once, long ago on the Holy Desert of Raraku, he showed kindness to you.’
    She reached the end of the ranks, turned her mount round and began retracing her route. ‘Who are you? I know who you are. What have you done? You have stayed with me since the very beginning. Soldiers, hear me! This day is already lost to history, and all that happens here shall remain for ever unknown. On this day, you are unwitnessed.
    ‘Except for the soldier to either side of you. They shall witness. And I tell you this, those soldiers to either side of you, they are all that matters. The historians’ scrolls have no time for soldiers like you – I know, for I have read hundreds of them. They yield a handful of words to speak of defeat or victory. Perhaps, if so warranted, they will make mention of great valour, extraordinary courage, but the weight of thosewords is no more and no less than those used to speak of slaughter and murder. Because, as we all know, one soldier can be hero and villain both.
    ‘We have no place in their histories. So few do. They are not us – they were never us, and we shall never be them.
    ‘You are the Unwitnessed, but I have seen what you see. I have felt what you feel. And I am as much a stranger to history as any of you.’
    The Adjunct reined in again, at the very centre, and swung her horse round to face the silent troops. ‘On the day of the Na’ruk, they stood for you. Today, here, you shall stand for them. And I shall stand with you, my beloved soldiers.’ She held up a gauntleted hand. ‘Say nothing. We are walls of silence, you and me. We are perfect reflections of the one we face, and we have faced each other for so long