If not for Leoman of the Flails, Corabb himself might have given up long ago, slipping off into the blowing sands to seek his own destiny, discarding the trappings of a rebel soldier, and settling down in some remote city with memories of despair haunting his shadow until the Hoarder of Souls came to claim him. If not for Leoman of the Flails.
The riders reached the well, spreading out to create a circle encampment around its life-giving water. Corabb drew rein a moment after Leoman had done so, and both dismounted, boots crunching on a carpet of bones and scales from long-dead fish.
'Corabb,' Leoman said, 'walk with me.'
They set off in a northerly direction until they were fifty paces past the outlying pickets, standing alone on the cracked pan. Corabb noted a depression nearby in which sat half-buried lumps of clay. Drawing his dagger, he walked over and crouched down to retrieve one of the lumps. Breaking it open to reveal the toad curled up within it, he dug the creature out and returned to his commander's side. 'An unexpected treat,' he said, pulling off a withered leg and tearing at the tough but sweet flesh.
Leoman stared at him in the moonlight. 'You will have strange dreams, Corabb, eating those.'
'Spirit dreams, yes. They do not frighten me, Commander. Except for all the feathers.'
Making no comment on that, Leoman unstrapped his helm and pulled it off. He stared up at the stars, then said, 'What do my soldiers want of me? Am I to lead us to an impossible victory?'
'You are destined to carry the Book,' Corabb said around a mouthful of meat.
'And the goddess is dead.'
'Dryjhna is more than that goddess, Commander. The Apocalyptic is as much a time as it is anything else.'
Leoman glanced over. 'You do manage to surprise me still, Corabb Bhilan Thenu'alas, after all these years.'
Pleased by this compliment, or what he took for a compliment, Corabb smiled, then spat out a bone and said, 'I have had time to think, Commander. While we rode. I have thought long and those thoughts have walked strange paths. We are the Apocalypse. This last army of the rebellion. And I believe we are destined to show the world the truth of that.'
'Why do you believe that?'
'Because you lead us, Leoman of the Flails, and you are not one to slink away like some creeping meer-rat. We journey towards something – I know, many here see this as a flight, but I do not. Not all the time, anyway.'
'A meer-rat,' Leoman mused. 'That is the name for those lizard-eating rats in the Jen'rahb, in Ehrlitan.'
Corabb nodded. 'The long-bodied ones, with the scaly heads, yes.'
'A meer-rat,' Leoman said again, oddly thoughtful. 'Almost impossible to hunt down. They can slip through cracks a snake would have trouble with. Hinged skulls…'
'Bones like green twigs, yes,' Corabb said, sucking at the skull of the toad, then flinging it away. Watching as it sprouted wings and flew off into the night. He glanced over at his commander's featherclad features. 'They make terrible pets. When startled, they dive for the first hole in sight, no matter how small. A woman died with a meer-rat halfway up her nose, or so I heard. When they get stuck, they start chewing. Feathers everywhere.'
'I take it no-one keeps them as pets any more,' Leoman said, studying the stars once again. 'We ride towards our Apocalypse, do we? Yes, well.'
'We could leave the horses,' Corabb said. 'And just fly away. It'd be much quicker.'
'That would be unkind, wouldn't it?'
'True. Honourable beasts, horses. You shall lead us, Winged One, and we shall prevail.'
'An impossible victory.'
'Many impossible victories, Commander.'
'One would suffice.'
'Very well,' Corabb said. 'One, then.'
'I don't want this, Corabb. I don't want any of this. I'm of a mind to disperse this army.'
'That will not work, Commander. We are returning to our birthplace. It is the season for that. To build nests on the rooftops.'
'I think,' Leoman said, 'it is time you went to sleep.'
'Yes, you are right. I will sleep now.'
'Go on. I will remain here for a time.'
'You are Leoman of the Feathers, and it shall be as you say.' Corabb saluted, then strode back towards the encampment and its host of oversized vultures. It was not so bad a thing, he mused. Vultures survived because other things did not, after all.
Now alone, Leoman continued studying the night sky. Would that Toblakai rode with him now. The giant warrior was blind to uncertainty. Alas, also somewhat lacking in subtlety. The bludgeon of Karsa Orlong's reasoning would permit no disguising of unpleasant truths.