Roderick

His stomach was trying to throw itself out of his mouth. Squeezing in vicious, violent, spasms that felt like his own body was spitefully lashing out at him. The small amount of water and hardtack he had eaten an hour ago was splattered on the cobbles along with near every spare fluid his body contained. The whole lot could have fit into a pint glass with room to spare.

Sweat covered his face, his neck, his hands. Cold beads that made him shiver, the air too cold even in this late afternoon to wick the water away. His arms hung at his sides, too heavy to lift, and his knees were perhaps a dozen pounds from giving out.

"Just breathe, Ranger. Just breathe," Captain Rhavin Dremora said, patting him on the shoulder. "The worst of this will pass in a few moments. Once it does, drink a bit of water and eat a few bites of something bland. And remember, you did well. Don't doubt that."

"Sir?" Roderick asked. He tried to stand upright, and managed it by setting a hand against a wall. "What we did there. Was that really okay?"

The captain frowned as he looked back down the street. To Roderick, the man's thoughts and attention seemed all at once right here with them, and a hundred miles away. As if he was watching them from up in the clouds. "You did something monstrous back there, no denying it. But if you find, in the coming hours, that you can't accept doing it for the reasons you did, I suggest you surrender your scarf and head for a refugee centre in the City. The only reason I wouldn't have done what Varnell ordered you to do, is I wouldn't have thought of it."

Roderick coughed, and gulped in some more air. Surprisingly, his head and neck felt extremely cold now. "Thank you, sir."

"Good man. Go rejoin your squad, we found your missing sergeant," the captain said, and pointed down behind him.

Lieutenant Varnell had returned, and along with the detail of soldiers she had left with, like seeing a torch in the Gloam, was Sergeant Redgrave. Roderick hurried over, and quietly rejoined them.

The lieutenant might have been chewing Redgrave out. It was hard to tell, discipline usually wasn't conducted with a tone of incredulous awe. "So you just ran into them from behind while running down the street, and instead of running for help, you see four dozen Gloamtaken and just decide you'll treat it like being late for work because your elderly neighbour needed help with her plumbing?"

"Sorry, ma'am," Valen replied. "No one answered the whistle, I doubt you could hear it over the noise of fighting all these Gloamtaken. And fleeing without blocking them off would risk them flanking us or bypassing us entirely and getting further into town."

Emily laughed, more nervous than amused. Beside her, Ivan - when he could look at Sergeant Redgrave - would shake like he was going through the same sickness Roderick had just felt. But Emily just waved her hand and shook her head. "No, disregard it, Sergeant. From most people, what you did would be the kind of suicidally brave thing I can't afford to let you do right now. But judging how Poe and Aranhall took the sight, I guess this storybook feat is something you've done before. Though I still think you're inflating your count."

"He's under-reporting it," a short woman with a hard, cracked grin said. A corporal, one of the Rangers that accompanied the Captain to relieve them. "There's at least another fifty or so he won't claim, because he can't remember how many of them he killed."

"Which means I'm still behind," Captain Dremora said as he joined them. Beside him, Mack joined them, along with Cameron, Hendricks, and Mildred.

Mildred was the one to speak next, taking one step forward. "The charges detonate in another two minutes. We ought to be another block away, at least, when the building comes down."

"How exact is that estimate, specialist?" the captain asked.

"Give or take about fifteen seconds. Fuses aren't exact, and I've had to count the seconds in my head," Mildred answered.

"Ash-bitten stupidity," The captain grumbled. He waved his hand when Mildred gaped as if Rhavin had slapped her. "No, sorry corporal. Not you. Just remembering my wife in a supply meeting with the Bureau of Civil Development, trying to convince them the army needed pocket watches almost as badly as train controllers do. I'll spare you the details, but it was like trying to talk a fire into going out.

The captain rolled his shoulders and shook his head. "We lost so many battles on our way to the Fifth. Anyway, Fourth Platoon, head to the town square. Stock up and get a few bites of food in. Second and Third platoons will head the next layer of defence."

"Next layer?" Roderick asked.

"You'll see in about a minute and a half," Mildred said, patting Roderick on the shoulder both affectionately, and as a way to steer him into motion. "Going to leave the Gloamtaken a bunch of rubble to try and climb over."

At the end of the street they turned North for half a block, then east towards the town square. Only then did they see other soldiers, part of the platoons Captain Dremora lead into the fields to slow the Gloamtaken down. Most of them were wielding pry-bars and rope rather than guns and swords, lifting crates or rolling boulders into the street.

It began to become clear why, as Roderick had to weave left and right, from one side of the street to the other, to avoid the barriers the rangers were making.

"Barriers and bottlenecks. Anything to slow them down and bunch them up," Captain Dremora announced.

"Captain," someone whispered from up ahead.

No, Roderick corrected himself as he looked. Not a whisper; a raspy voice trying desperately to be what it once was. Fredrick Sandson, Second Platoon's lieutenant, had taken a lung full of Gloam during their skirmish out in the fields. He knew very little about what the Gloam did to people, but from what he did know, it was a wonder the man was still standing.

"Second layer already?" Frederick asked.

"The First is pulling back. Gloamtaken found their way through the buildings, nearly flanked the Fourth. Oh, and like Volenski already passed on, the weather's changed. It's been raining Gloamtaken."

"Never heard of rain getting back up after it falls," Sandson noted.

"Yeah, that's new. Getting too much of that today," the captain agreed.

Frederick Sandson only nodded as they passed. Roderick, now listening to the metallic wheeze of the lieutenant's breathing, realized how important that seemingly trivial conversation was. In that careful, quiet way of his, Sandson had just told his captain that he was still able to fight. And the captain had answered, saying that he should remain at his post, facing their enemy.

And neither man would have done it deliberately. It was an undercurrent - the water and fire carried in the pipes beneath the walls. Something that flowed from one warrior to another, and was understood without being recognized.

Roderick wondered how long it would be, until he was a part of that current.

"Mildred," Captain Dremora said. "How long until those charges go off?"

"Should be any second now," Mildred replied. "Count in my head is five..."

Roderick turned around and looked, despite the building blocking his sight.

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

Only silence followed. Tense at first, waiting for something you know will frighten you. But as the seconds passed, doubling and then tripling Mildred's count, it became less unnerving and more...

Awkward.

"Where's the boom?" Captain Dremora asked.

"Should be any second now," Mildred insisted.

"There's supposed to be a boom."

"Should we send a detail back there?" Lieutenant Varnell asked.

"No. Not with potentially live explosives. Specialist Crispin, you did use the two minute fuse, didn't you?"

"I did sir. The one as long as my arm. Fuse rope was burning happily when I left it."

"Sir," Varnell said. "Do you think the Gloamtaken might have sabotaged it?"

"Given everything else they've done lately, I wouldn't put it past them."

"Then something should explode in about five seconds. I tucked the backup fuse well behind the charges and put some furniture in front of it."

"Do you want to give us another countdown, Specialist?" The captain asked.

"No, sir," Mildred said sheepishly. "I don't think I want to embarrass myself-"

The explosion shoved Roderick hard in the stomach, just as he heard it scream. He had to stop himself from falling by holding onto some of the crates stacked as a makeshift barrier.

"Further. Don't want to embarrass myself further," Mildred finished, frowning.

"The hidden backup fuse was a good call, Specialist. Well done," Captain Dremora said. "Sandson, let's just assume the Gloamtaken will recognize explosives and fuses if they come across them, and act accordingly. I'd rather not wait for them to come up with the idea of picking the damn things up and charging into our ranks. Barricade any room we plant charges in."

"Right, sir," Lieutenant Sandson replied.

Ashes of the abyss. Roderick knew that any of these tactics the Gloamtaken tried would have been his death if he was in charge. His, and everyone he was leading. The stories of the Fourth, of the Gloam rolling over walls gone dark as the Golems smashed their way into the City, none of those stories mentioned Gloamtaken being clever, of fires being extinguished by unknown powers.

They also didn't mention just how important good soldiers were to making a difference. How Aranhall's level head saved them, of how Valen could hold an entire street by himself, of how Varnell could reach down certain death's throat and yank victory out.

Of how Captain Dremora could fight tens of thousands of Gloamtaken with barely more than a hundred soldiers. "I think it's after you, sir," Roderick thought aloud.

The Captain whirled around at Roderick's musing, and he suddenly found himself directly beneath Rhavin Dremora's direct and focused scrutiny. It was almost enough, on its own, to make him shudder. "What makes you say that, soldier?"

"Just remembering fights with my older brothers. The way they looked when they couldn't just push me over and step on me to keep me down. When they had to put more effort into winning. What's happened to us since we got here, sir, it just reminds me of that."

Roderick thought the Captain might laugh at him. At best, he expected a shrug and a polite nod. But instead, Captain Dremora shared a worried look with Varnell, who now looked as if she had just seen their enemy at the end of the street.

"That makes an unnerving amount of sense, Captain," Lieutenant Varnell said.

"It does," Captain Dremora agreed. "By the abyss, I need to get you all back to the City."