Of Bone and Thunder (63 page)

Breeze brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at him.

“It's not that simple. I'm worried he's going to sacrifice himself in order to kill them,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“He will find them and keep them engaged while we close in on them and destroy them.”

Vorly remembered something about this from the thaum Jawn killed before. Only then he'd done it on plane.

“He can't do what he did before?”

“They have four thaums working in what we call an entanglement.” Breeze looked at Vorly and continued. “Think of it like a briar patch, all intertwined.”

“Sure, I can picture that. But we have more thaums than they do. Why can't all of you tangle up and beat them at their own game?”

“Because their thaums will never untangle. They joined on plane and will never be able to separate. That's why we've been having such a hard time finding them. There aren't four distinct signatures; it's one that's spread out but still connected.”

“And you can't do that?” Vorly asked, still holding on to the crux of their conversation, but only by his fingertips.

“Our best guess is that their thaums are in a deep sleep they'll never come out of. They're dying, slowly. But while they're alive they remain on plane and lethal.”

Vorly thought he understood. “You're right. I want to fly, but not at the cost of you and the others killing yourselves.”

Breeze smiled, but it was forced. “But Jawn will. He alone has the ability to meet them on anything like even terms. He won't be able to defeat them on plane, but as long as he's engaged with them, I'll be able to locate them for us to strike.”

More memories from Jawn's fight with the thaum came back to Vorly. “But if he's engaged with them when we kill them, he'll die too, right?”

Breeze nodded.

“Can't you warn him to disengage before we hit them?”

“I'll try, but even if I can, I don't think he'll listen.”

“You like him,” Vorly said.

“Of course I like him,” Breeze said.

“No, I mean you really like him. In a way you don't feel for Rimsma.” Vorly waited to have his head taken off, but Breeze only sighed.

“Yes, I like him. A lot.”

Vorly finally got it. “Breeze, we're all scared. We've all lost people we care about. We're cut off and far from home with an army of slyts closing in who want to kill us. None of us want to lose anyone else, but time isn't on our side, Breeze. This shiny little anvil is turning into a sucking pit that will take us all down with it before those reinforcements get here if something doesn't happen, and soon.”

Breeze didn't say anything. Vorly tried to read her face in the dark, but it was too difficult. He was starting to nod off when she finally spoke.

“He'll be ready tomorrow night.”

“Then so will I.”

Breeze nodded. She placed her hands on her thighs and stood up. As she walked to the door she paused and turned.

“Does this valley really matter that much? Is it worth the cost?” Breeze
asked. “I mean, all the work, all the sacrifice and even if we win, we're going to walk away from it.”

“It isn't about the valley,” Vorly said. “Maybe Weel thinks it is, but he's wrong. It's about you and me and Jawn and that shield leader Carny and everyone else. The criers can tell the people back in the Kingdom we're fighting for ideals and philosophies at odd sounding places on a map, but what we're really fighting for is each other. Our sacrifice out here isn't for this valley—it's for them.”

Breeze stood in the doorway and seemed to think about what Vorly had said. “Get some sleep, Commander,” she said, and walked out the door.

Vorly stared after her, then eased himself down on the saddles. “No one else is dying if I can help it,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

“FORTRESSES ELEVEN AND THIRTEEN
have fallen. We have to hold this line!” Carny shouted, walking crouched over as he moved along the hastily constructed skirmish line. Red Shield was five hundred yards outside Iron Fist, strung out along a dosha swamp berm. Black Shield was on their left flank, and Gray Shield held their right. Cats 7 and 8 were providing a constant barrage of stones a hundred yards ahead to block the path of the oncoming slyts. The bastards had taken the eastern mountains, the river, and now controlled most of the valley floor.

“I've got movement!”

Carny squinted in the dark. Several figures were running across a dosha swamp and making their way toward Iron Fist.

“Hold your fire!” Carny shouted, standing up on the berm for a better look. He started to yell for Wraith to shoot up a star but remembered the soldier was still missing. “Bard, put a star up.”

The hiss of the burning arrow lit up the night as it flared a dazzling white. The running figures were revealed.

“This way!” Carny shouted, motioning for the survivors of the fortresses to come over to the skirmish line. “Watch out for the stakes,” Carny said, pointing down at the bamboo stakes driven into the north side of the berm. He'd hoped to have prick vine, but they'd had to make do with what they could scrounge.

The first soldier reached the berm and threw himself over it. He was shirtless and wild-eyed. Fifteen more soldiers suddenly appeared and came over the berm. Wiz collected any who were wounded and led them back to a stand of bamboo where he'd set up a makeshift infirmary. The rest gathered around Carny. He counted eleven, nine men and two dwarves. Only three had weapons.

“Those with crossbows fill in on the line. The rest, there are axes and hewers by the bamboo. Cut the bamboo down and make stakes four feet long.”

Carny looked at the faces as they walked past. He drew in his breath when he recognized the dwarf Black Pine. He let him walk past and stopped the last soldier walking to the bamboo. “Which fortress were you in?”

The soldier looked at him for a few flicks as if he couldn't remember. “Thirteen. I knew it was unlucky, but Raester said that was just superstition.”

Carny didn't bother pointing out that Fortress 11 had also fallen. “What happened?”

“They just didn't stop coming. Our cats tore holes in their line big enough to drive a team of oxen through, but more just took their place. Kept up a wall of arrow fire. Our cat looked like a porcupine. We were pinned down and couldn't get to the stones. Everybody that tried got killed.”

The soldier shook, his hands grasping at nothing. Carny realized he should direct this soldier to Wiz, but the man wasn't finished.

“That's when the mules saved our asses.”

“What?”

“Without those stones, we was done. We had a bunch of them mules from the pioneer company with us. They were setting up those harrows, only they never got time before the slyts attacked. So they ran to the stone pile and got us enough shot to keep firing. There were twenty of them. That one they call Black Pine, he was like a demon. He threw rocks nearly as hard as a cat. Saw him take a slyt's head clean off.”

Carny turned to watch Black Pine. The dwarf grabbed one of the hewers and set about cutting down the bamboo. “You go see Wiz,” Carny said. “He'll give you something for your humors.”

The soldier shook his head. “I'll cut bamboo if it's all the same to you.” He was shaking so hard now Carny feared he'd fall over.

“Here,” Carny said, reaching into his haversack and pulling out a ball of Flower. “Tear off a chunk of this and give it a chew. It'll help,” Carny said.

The soldier looked at it, then at Carny. “I know what that is. LOKAM says not to.”

Carny leaned forward and put the ball of Flower in the soldier's hand. “Fuck the LOKAM.”

The soldier seemed to consider that, then tore off a piece of Flower and popped it in his mouth. He started to hand the rest back to Carny.

“You keep it. I think I got all I could out of it.”

“Much obliged,” the soldier said. Carny wasn't positive, but he thought his shaking had lessened.

“SL, we just got more reinforcements,” Knockers said, pointing toward Iron Fist.

Carny turned. Two wagons pulled by brorra were making their way across the dosha swamps. Dwarves, dozens of them, were helping to pull the tarp-covered objects on the wagons.

“I'll check it out,” Carny said. “Tell Bard to make sure he has someone keep tabs on our flanks. I don't want one of the other shields hightailing it and leaving us holding our pricks in the wind.”

Knockers nodded. He took his unlit pipe out of his mouth and pretended to knock burnt tobacco out of it. Carny wondered if the soldier really thought there was tobacco in it.

“Wraith's still out there,” Knockers said. “The bridge across the river is just over there. I could sneak across and get to the other side and—”

Carny put a hand on Knockers's arm. “That's your death, and you know it. Slyts are everywhere. You wouldn't get fifty yards.”

“Wraith would look for us,” Knockers said.

Carny wondered about that.
Would he?
He honestly didn't know. “And we will look for him, but not now. I need you here. If we don't send these slyts packing we won't be of much use to anyone. Besides, odds are he's curled up snug as a bug in some tree.”

Knockers put his pipe back in his mouth and nodded. “I have your word then. We won't leave him behind.”

Carny's respect for Knockers grew. The boy was willing to risk his life for a soldier who probably hadn't said four words to him. Carny held out his hand. “You have my word.”

Knockers reached out and shook his hand. His grip was firm though his hand was cold.

“Shield Leader?”

Carny released Knockers's hand and turned. Captain Tiffanger of the dwarf pioneers was walking toward him.

“Sir,” Carny said, nodding instead of saluting. No point in giving the slyts a better idea of who was in charge.

“Well met on this terrible night,” Tiffanger said, extending his hand. Carny was surprised but took it. Tiffanger's grip was even stronger than Knockers's.

“I'm guessing that's not roast brorra you've brought us,” Carny said, pointing to the wagons.

“No, although they'd be useful in kebobing them for the fire,” he said.

“Kebobing, sir?”

“It's a—best left for another time. No, I've brought you something better.” The tarps were pulled off, revealing six harrows.

“Nasty looking,” Carny said, walking over as the dwarves lifted the first machine off a wagon and began setting it up along the berm. With its rows of arrows it reminded Carny of a porcupine. He walked in front of it for a better look.

“No!” Tiffanger shouted, grabbing Carny by the arm and yanking him back.

“What the hell, man?” Carny asked, shaking loose.

“So sorry,” Tiffanger said. He let out a breath and shook his head. “We never, ever, walk in front of one of these. Never. The trigger mechanism is a bit . . . delicate.”

Carny looked back at the rows of arrows and briefly pictured himself impaled by them. It was . . . messy.

“That's probably the first thing you should mention,” Carny said, unable to get the number seven out of his head. It was, he calculated, the approximate number of arrows that would have pierced his cock and balls.

“Yes, again, I am terribly sorry. I have no doubt we'll get the trigger problem solved, but in our current circumstances it seems best to use them as is, with all precautions taken of course.”

“The slyts are that way,” Carny said, pointing north.

“Indeed,” Tiffanger said. “I'll ensure the harrows are properly positioned.”

Carny forced a smile. “Please do.” He nodded again to Tiffanger and walked back along the skirmish line. The Bard met him coming the other way.

“Are those the harrows I've been hearing about?” he asked.

Carny shuddered. “Yes. Stay well clear of them and under no circumstances walk in front of one. Tell the men that, too.”

The Bard nodded. Carny waited for him to broach whatever was on his mind, but he seemed hesitant to.

“Were you looking for me?” Carny asked.

The Bard sighed. “Knockers is gone. Just took off. He was stuffing saw grass in his aketon one flick and the next he vanished. Kept going on about Wraith being out there alone.”

“Fuck,” Carny said. No wonder Sinte and Listowk had looked like old men. Running a shield was an endless line of problems.

“What do you want me to do?” the Bard asked.

“He made his choice, there's nothing we can do,” Carny said. “If he makes it back I'll kick his ass, then put him in for a medal.”

The Bard nodded. He looked at Carny and Carny noticed for the first time that the soldier was clearly upset. Carny reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

“Look, if we live through tonight and the relief column gets here, I'll lead the search party myself.”

“That's not it. Aw, Carny, I'm sorry. I didn't want to be the one who told you. Big Hog's dead.”

Carny dropped his hand from the Bard's shoulder and stepped back a pace. “What?”

“I heard it from Wiz. He sent a couple of soldiers to the infirmary and one of them came back with supplies and told him.”

The world around Carny crushed down into a very small, very quiet space. “When?”

“Earlier tonight. I would have told you sooner but—”

Carny waved off the rest of the Bard's explanation. He'd put off going
to see Big Hog, saving the reunion as something to look forward to. The vision of seeing his friend again was the oxen pulling him through this nightmare.

“They say he just went back to sleep and that was it,” the Bard said.

Carny nodded. “Keep on the flanks. I don't want us losing contact with the other shields when things get going.”