Of Bone and Thunder (17 page)

“Bodies? I thought we were clearing the path,” Tiffanger said, looking past Listowk to where the deceased were laid out.

“Yes, sir, but the bodies are first. Sorry to rush you, but we should probably get started. It only gets hotter here,” Listowk said.

“Hotter? Well then, I think you're right. Best get at it.” He turned and waved a hand at the mules. “C'mon, fellows, up you come. Time to get to work.”

Carny leaned out farther on the path to watch as the mules approached. The lead mule stared hard at Carny as it came on, changing its direction just enough that it headed straight at him.

“Welcome to the Lux,” Carny said.

“Fuck you and the tree you fell out of,” the mule said, lifting a broad, two-headed axe off of one shoulder and casually swinging it around to rest it on the other. “I'm a free dwarf. I don't need you welcoming me anywhere.”

Carny couldn't hide his surprise. The dwarf's voice was surprisingly clear and fluid. He'd expected something closer to gravel being ground against steel. Voice aside, he had seen free dwarves before, but not like these. Yes they were stout and broad and low to the ground, which was probably why they were called mules in the first place. They were also heavily bearded, so that little more than their eyes and the tips of their noses gave any indication that there was a face under there. They wore armor-plated aketons similar to Carny's and carried a mix of axes, shovels, and picks—a very common sight among the mule gangs where he grew up. Really, there was only one thing different.

“Your parents own slaves, did they?” the dwarf asked, stepping closer.

These dwarves weren't afraid. They stood up straight, their huge shoulders pushed back and their chins, or at least their beards, jutting out like rocky piers in a sea of tangled moss. But it was their eyes that truly set them apart. They didn't look down, not one of them. Every dwarf was looking up at Carny and the rest of the patrol. They were free, and nothing, not even death, was going to take that away from them.

“Oh bloody lightning! Master Pioneer Black Pine, we discussed this,” Commander Tiffanger said, his shoulders slumping with obvious exasperation. “There is no problem here. Commander Weel assured me his men are
civilized and versed in the societal changes that the Kingdom is undergoing. Isn't that right, Mr. Listowk?”

Listowk nodded. “Yes, sir, civilized and versed. We don't have a problem with your—with them.” It wasn't a resounding affirmation, but Tiffanger seemed satisfied.

“You see, Black Pine? No problem. You're free, they're free, and we're all in the same army fighting a common enemy. Let's all try to remember that the past is behind us, shall we?”

The mul—
damn
, the dwarves, had only been freed shortly before Carny was born. Dwarves were now considered citizens, to a point. He wasn't sure if they were allowed to own property or not, but they had been granted the privilege of being conscripted into the army.

“Yes, sir, no problem,” Black Pine said. The top of his helm barely reached Carny's armpit, but Carny had no illusions about his chances if the dwarf decided there indeed was an issue. His continued glare at Carny guaranteed it.

“Master Pioneer Black Pine, I am your supe . . . I mean, you know damn well what I mean,” Tiffanger said. It was clear he wasn't entirely comfortable with his command, but the man was valiantly doing his best. “That soldier did nothing more than welcome you. If you want to hear slurs in every greeting, you will damn well do it on your own time. Right now, you will get your section to work. That's an . . . well, that's an order.”

Black Pine looked over at Tiffanger, then back at Carny. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He stepped forward and Carny moved to the side, allowing him and the rest of the dwarves to pass. As each dwarf marched on by, each one kept his eyes on Carny.

“You sure know how to make friends,” Wraith said, coming up behind Carny.

“All I said was hello,” Carny said, realizing he was shaking.

“Did your family own slaves?”

Carny looked at Wraith. “We're as poor as squirrels in early spring.”

“Well, something about you rubs them the wrong way. I'd watch my step if I were you,” Wraith said, patting him on the shoulder.

“But I didn't do anything,” Carny said, looking around for support and
finding none. He stood there until Listowk threw a stick at him to get his attention.

“Since you're not doing anything, make yourself useful and keep your eyes peeled,” he said, motioning with a hand at the jungle around them. “And don't get into that snow and Flower, either. I want you focused.”

“Sure, sure,” Carny said, cradling his crossbow and scanning the jungle. He yawned, suddenly realizing how damn tired he was. Ignoring the LC's order, he broke off a chunk of snow, mashed it up with some Wild Flower, and popped it between his gum and cheek on the left side of his mouth. The cool sensation of the snow numbed the whole side of his face while the heady sting of the Wild Flower wrapped his mind in light gauze.

Carny smiled, a little drool trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Damn mules. He had no gripe with them. He took a couple of chews and squeezed more of the numbing liquid around his mouth as he inhaled the vapors.

He might be stuck in this shithole of a country, but he didn't have to feel it.

VORLY ASTOL LIFTED HIS
chin and gloried in the rush of wind cooling the sweat on his neck. The temptation to unbutton the collar of his tunic made his fingers twitch, but he already knew he wouldn't do it. Despite the blazing sun heating up his metal helm so that it was hot to the touch, his uniform would remain intact.

He would rather sweat than burn.

It was that mantra—it sounded better than saying
fear
—that had motivated him to wrap strips of wool cloth soaked in a mixture of wet clay, aloe, and camphor around his legs from ankle to groin before pulling on his heavy canvas trousers and leather boots. The cool, soothing effects of his efforts were the saving grace in what he knew would soon become a pair of stiff woolly casts that he'd have to hack off later with a knife. Still, it was a discomfort he was prepared to endure.

He'd seen men who hadn't taken such precautions. At least, what was left of them.

He snapped the leather straps at the ends of the steel-chain reins in his hands. “Higher, Carduus, higher!”

The rag responded at once, his twenty-yard wingspan gracefully pumping with smooth, heavy strokes. The jungle below lost definition as the rag climbed the sky. Vorly leaned forward in his saddle, squinting as the sulfur-tainted wind blasted his face. This was living.

“Whenever you're ready, sir.”

The voice, a bit high and thin to Vorly's ear, sounded appropriately deferential. That only made him resent it more. He turned his head slightly to look at the RAT sitting two feet behind him on Carduus. He caught a smile and helpful nod before turning back. The only good days in the Lux were those when he flew. Now even that was ruined.

“Exactly,” Vorly snapped, “when
I'm
ready.” He enjoyed his brief victory, knowing damn well that he would eventually carry out what this little prick of a RAT wanted him to do.

The uncomfortable silence didn't last nearly long enough.

“I realize it must come as a bit of shock, sir, but this
is
the future,” the thaum said in a voice markedly louder than before. “It's a vast improvement over the old communication system.”

There, right there.
The wet stain pissing in his ear had as much as said Vorly was old. Vorly snarled but held his tongue, instead focusing his attention on the rectangular sheet of crystal propped up on a short wooden easel, which blocked a sizable chunk of his view to the right. At two feet tall, a foot wide, and over two inches thick, the crystal was a bulky annoyance he could do without. And he didn't trust the copper braid that snaked down from the lower edge of the sheet and back to the RAT behind him, who had a similar contraption. It was all too newfangled.

Despite his initial hope that the . . .
thing
was far too fragile, the birch frame surrounding the crystal showed no signs of falling apart. Its canvas cover, however, had been blown away in the wind, exposing the sheet. Vorly risked a look into it, ready to slam his fist into the crystal if anything happened that he didn't like. All he saw was refracted sunlight.

“Broken,” Vorly said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “Looks like your little doohickey isn't up to the task, RAT.”

Even in the wind, Vorly heard the sigh.

“It's dormant, sort of like sleeping. It's just waiting for you, sir.” Again, deference marked each word, but Vorly listened to the silences in between and heard condescension.

Vorly grunted and eased Carduus out of his climb. Once the rag leveled off, Vorly twisted around to face the thaum. “Let's get one thing straight,
RAT
—you and your contraption are here despite my express wishes that you not be.”

The thaum blinked her eyes and dipped her head slightly before raising it again and holding his stare. “Yes, sir, you've made that very clear.”

Trees and fucking
lightning!
They would have to give him a female RAT. Probably hoped he wouldn't punch one.

“Look, it's damn unnatural. I've been doing this going on twenty years
without one of these,” he said, waving a hand at the crystal sheet device in front of her.

“I know, sir—it's why I asked to be assigned to you,” she said, staring at him with green, unblinking eyes. Strands of red hair that had escaped the severe bun she'd put them in swirled about her face in the wind. Even with a spray of freckles rouging her cheeks and a too-thin-looking face that suggested she'd have a hard, severe countenance when she reached crone, she wasn't ugly. Really a wisp of a thing, like a boy without the muscles, though it was hard to say for sure as her canvas pants and tunic were fully two sizes too big on her.

Vorly figured she must be midtwenties, long past the point where she should have been married with a litter of kids tugging at her apron. She sure as hell shouldn't have been
here
.

“Why in the High Druid's green forest would you ask for me?”

“Because choosing you was the easiest path to get what I want.”

The boldness of her statement left his mouth agape. He slowly closed it. “Did you just call me stupid?”

Her eyes flared, but her voice remained controlled. “If I convince you of the value of what we're doing, you have the power to convince the others. They listen to you. You are their commander.”

The corners of Vorly's mouth twitched as he fought to keep the smile off his face. The little vixen was flattering him. Worse, it was working.

“Fine. What do I do again?”

“Touch the copper braid running down the left leg of the support,” she recited, managing to keep any sense of frustration hidden. “That's very important, as it ensures your body is in tune with its surroundings. It aligns the aethereal plane with your cardinal position. Then you simply place the fingertips of your nearest hand on the lower edge of the sheet.”

“That's it?” Vorly asked. He'd heard this several times over the last week, but now that it came down to it, he found himself slightly annoyed that there wasn't more here.

“There's actually a lot of thaumic process involved, not to mention the constant need to compensate for any movement. It's one of the reasons we couldn't test the system on the ground. We need to utilize the field energy of the dragon while controlling the flow from the rear position so that—”

“So I touch the copper first,” Vorly said, regretting that he'd opened his mouth. The last thing he needed was some snot-nosed RAT lecturing him. “Fine, here goes nothing.”

He reached out his right hand and put his fingertips on the copper braid. Nothing happened, which he took as a good sign. He moved his hand up the easel to the crystal sheet. It felt much cooler than the air around them, even with the wind.

“Hold, please,” she said.

The vein on the left side of Vorly's forehead began to throb.
If she asks me to start whistling I'm going to—

“There, I have the pathway!” she shouted, her voice giddy. She coughed and continued. “Okay, sir, the crystal is yours. You can remove your hand.”

Something cold brushed the tips of Vorly's fingers, as if he'd left them dangling in a stream as a fish swam underneath them. He quickly plucked his hand away from the sheet. Its surface was now a swirling cloud of black and gray. A different, smaller set of fingertips moved across the sheet with a grace and precision he could only marvel at.

“Those are your fingers,” Vorly said, knowing that was the case because he'd been told that's what would happen in several briefings. Still, it was startling to see it.

“Yes, sir. I have aligned your sheet with mine and opened the gate to the first aerius plane. You can begin anytime now.”

Vorly continued to stare at the sheet.
This really is happening.
The world he knew was changing before his eyes.

“Sir?”

Vorly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. He leaned over and put his face six inches away from the crystal sheet. The sweat on his cheek turned to frost, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Obsidian Flock, this is Sky Horse Leader! I am conducting a—” was all Vorly got out before a wave of cold needles passed through his body. Carduus must have experienced it as well because he reared and lunged for the sun with a violent pump of his wings.

“You stupid—!” Vorly shouted, struggling to sit up straight on the rag while putting both hands back on the leather straps at the end of the steel-chain
reins. The harnesses over his thighs dug in as he tilted backward and his feet flew up in the air.