BW C74

Chapter 74

Thus Hoeun was the very first to pass through the hospital gates. He rode all the way up into the broad courtyard so that those behind could follow, then leapt from his horse in a single motion. His legs still trembled, body shaken as though still astride the saddle, and for a moment he staggered—but by luck or will he did not fall. He turned and ran back toward the gate. He had to see Gilsang.

“Please, please…”

He prayed Gilsang would not die. He didn’t want him wounded, either.

One after another the Jeokudae soldiers poured in through the gate. Hoeun craned his neck skyward, searching desperately to glimpse where Gilsang was. But with so many horses, corpses, and men packed in, he could not find him.

Hoeun gnawed at his lower lip—until, at last, the very last man came through the gate. It was Gilsang, child still safe in his arms.

“Haa…”

Hoeun exhaled a desperate sigh of relief. Yet it came too soon. For the monsters were charging after the Jeokudae, slavering toward the hospital. Their beastlike charge rattled the very ground beneath them until it quaked.

Hoeun fumbled at his side, drawing forth the pistol. He knew he could not kill one with it—but perhaps he could distract at least a single foe.

KRRRRAAAGH! KHRRKH, KHRRK! KAAHHHK!

They closed in fast. Hoeun raised the pistol, aiming it at the wave rushing upon them—but just then.

The soldiers stationed at the hospital—town guards—dragged out great machines, the size of Hoeun’s own body. They gleamed black, iron shapes long as rice cakes, widening in the middle, narrowing at the tip, a gaping mouth carved circular at their ends.

Cannons.

Hoeun’s jaw drooped open. Slowly his pistol lowered back down.

“Load!”

A soldier bearing the shoulder patch embroidered with the Taeguk rosette shouted. Obeying, the guards hefted iron shells large as heads, slotting them down the throats of the guns.

“Aim!”

Five, six cannon mouths all turned together toward the very breach through which Jeokudae had entered moments before.

“Fire!”

Sparks leapt, flames roared, and BOOM—the blast ripped the sky in two. Smoke burst white into the air, swallowing all sight. Then erupted another thunderous POP-BOOOM that shook the air itself.

The sound was like grenades, but the force was far beyond. The ground and heavens both shivered. Wind blasted searing against them, like the gale of a typhoon.

KRRIIEEHHK… GHHHK…

The monsters were hurled backward, bodies ripped to pulp. Where grenades had severed only limbs, this scattered torsos, smashed bodies into slop.

Only their skull-helmets remained stubborn, that hideously hard bone. Fractures appeared in some, no more. Still, with bodies pulverized, they were as good as dead. Left alone, they would expire on their own.

Now Hoeun understood—yes, this was how the hospital had endured. Beyond the fence lay piled corpses, mangled just so. It was the cannons’ work—their last defense.

Several booming volleys later, the breach through which Jeokudae had spilled was again clogged, blocked by carcass upon carcass until nothing could be seen.

But still some monsters, their legs miraculously intact, clambered atop the dead pile and tried to force their way through. Jeokudae soldiers unsheathed weapons immediately, striking them down. Fortunate—these were injured, easier to finish.

“…”

Hoeun watched in grim silence. Then through the press of men, Gilsang came toward him.

“Young master, you are not hurt?”

“No. Thanks to you. Thank you.”

“Good.”

Gilsang smiled faint. The child was still cradled in his arms, limp-limbed, worryingly slack. Hoeun stepped nearer, meaning to ask about him—

“Greetings. You are Jeokudae, are you not? Thank you for coming, though the time was tight.”

The officer who commanded the cannons bowed to Gilsang.

“Of course. It is our duty.”

Gilsang returned the bow. The officer smiled briefly—then darted glances about, as though in search of some presence, though clearly only putting on the act.

“And the General… where is he?”

For Jeokudae had come, but not its head himself.

“He went west, to secure the shelter. He will come here after.”

“Truly? Truly he will come? The situation is most dire…”

He all but wrung his hands in dismay. Gilsang nodded firmly.

“He will come.”

He slid his eyes toward Hoeun. With the General’s guide here, of course Taemuk would come. Yet Gilsang chose not to speak that aloud—better protect Hoeun’s identity than soothe one officer’s panic.

“Soon. He must come soon…”

But the officer could not calm. His body swayed like a reed, back and forth with anxiety.

“Our shells are nearly gone. The arsenal exploded—every powder and stock destroyed. And the monsters come in waves, always—they press and press. How much longer can we hold?”

“You say the armory is gone? How many shells remain?”

The two men’s tones dropped grave. Hoeun stood caught between them, biting his lips, fidgeting. He only stared at the child limp in Gilsang’s arms, the blood pooling down his trouser lace. He must be treated at once…

“…Sergeant.”

Unable to hold his tongue, Hoeun spoke cautiously. He knew they discussed urgent things, but the child could not be ignored. Gilsang let out a low sound. Then said, unexpected:

“You are exhausted, yes?”

“…What?”

“You should go inside the hospital. I will accompany you.”

He gestured toward the entrance.

“Ah … it’s not too bad…”

Hoeun let out an awkward laugh, peeling back a damp curl sticking to his temple.

But Gilsang’s eyes lowered to his hand. Hoeun followed—

“Ah…”

Red welts branded his pale palms, raw grooves where the reins had bitten. They blazed angry, like the lash of a cane across them. His wrists, his fingers twitched small tremors, strained from clutching so tight so long.

Hoeun hadn’t even realized—yet his skin was pale, slicked with sweat. In late autumn’s chill, sweat like midsummer glistened upon his brow.

“And you—too need treatment. So, inside.”

Gilsang shifted the child better in his arms.

“…What?”

It was not Hoeun who questioned. One of the local guards, who had hovered listening, burst out in alarm.

“If the sergeant leaves, what then becomes of us?”

His jaw quivered, and Hoeun startled. The look—the officer almost seemed to blame him. And rightly so, perhaps. Gilsang was the highest-ranked Jeokudae here—he must bolster this garrison, oversee its defense. Yet now he would abandon post just to safeguard Hoeun? Impossible.

“You are right. Perhaps only carrying the child inside—he need not…”

Hoeun tried hesitantly. But Gilsang shook his head at once.

“No. You will not go alone.”

He looked around—the fence gnawed by monsters, the anxious defenders, Hoeun pale with weariness, the bleeding child. His teeth set tight. He must guard Hoeun—but the needs were many.

Then his eyes turned.

A soldier was hacking at a monster with her sword, the blade sawing through its gums relentless. Blood sprayed—but not once did she blink.

“Im-ah. Come here!”

At his call, the soldier turned. Flicked blood from her blade with a swing, and approached. Her hair was bound high, long. A woman.

Hoeun blinked, surprised. Unknown to him, her face unfamiliar. But then—

“She is my guide.”

Gilsang’s words shocked him so hard he gaped. A heartbeat only, then he bowed deeply to her.

“Ah, I—I’ve heard much. Forgive me for so late an introduction.”

Of course—of course. A Military God would have his guide. Taemuk had Hoeun. Dongja had Mansu. Then Gilsang’s guide too should be here. He simply had never considered, lost in chaos.

“…”

The woman bent low in brief greeting. No words came. No expression on her face.

Hoeun’s heart dropped—had he offended? But Gilsang said, softly,

“She cannot speak.”

“…Ah.”

Yes. The scar was clear now, ragged across her throat, the center depressed deep. A terrible wound, long healed. Hoeun faltered, flustered, unsure what face to wear. Gilsang nudged her shoulder toward him.

“Go with her. She will aid you.”

“….”

The woman shot him a glare sharp as a blade. Gilsang only grinned, teasing. She turned away with a click of her tongue, as though disgusted.

In her hand, a sword near matching his own—steady grip, calm eyes. A guide, yes—but one with power scarcely less than Gilsang’s.