Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (16 page)

Lynx had expected that much. The Asann controlled most of the things mercenaries were interested in after a long march and he was far from unhappy about that. The city’s forges would be Surei-owned, and anywhere metal was being shaped you’d find Knights keeping a discreet eye on things.

It took a long bout of haggling to secure space for the entire company, both Anatin and the innkeeper seemingly unaware that they were effectively blocking the street until the Assayers stepped in. At that point the two immediately agreed on a compromise price and the Steel Crows started to clatter through the wagon-sized archway, calling for beer.

The faces of the inn’s other guests told a rather less welcoming story, but the sight of Payl bellowing her troops into order seemed to alleviate matters. With the count at forty-four in the company they easily outnumbered the other patrons and unit discipline would be the only thing preventing trouble. The main part of the inn was a three-storey building on their right, abutted by a wooden bunkhouse, while ochre bricks peeked out through breaks in a curtain of viper rose around the perimeter until it reached the stables on the far side. The wagons were backed up beside that under a battered slate roof, then the horses taken off to be cared for.

As the tables along the inn’s side of the courtyard quickly filled with thirsty mercenaries, Lynx followed Teshen and several of his fellow Tempests – no, not currently, right now they were Shrikes – towards the bunkhouse where a shirtless and grinning young lad waved them forward with exaggerated gestures.

‘You watch the bunkhouse?’ Teshen demanded of the youth. No more than twelve years old, he was so tanned it seemed unlikely he’d ever worn anything more than his ragged trousers, which made his brilliant blue eyes all the more startling.

‘I do, sir – come, take your beds. Clean blankets, no lice, and the snakes eat all the rats!’

Lynx almost laughed before he realised the youth was offering his hand forward. Curled around his arm was a dusty-brown snake, tongue questing out towards the mercenaries.

Teshen gave the youth a level look. ‘Make sure my blanket’s cleaner than everyone else’s,’ he said, ‘and you keep a good watch on our kit. Every one of us has their cartridge count in their head.’ As though by magic he produced a blade. Lynx barely saw his hands move; one moment they were by his side, the next Teshen had a knife blade touched to the back of the snake’s head. ‘Or you’ll find out I really am faster’n a snake.’

The youth’s eyes widened at that, his air of confidence shaken enough that he just swallowed and bobbed his head.

‘Good,’ Teshen said, a little more gently. ‘What’s your name, boy?’

‘Calil, sir,’ he said with downcast eyes, touching protective fingers to the unharmed snake.

‘I’m the Hammer of the Steel Crows,’ Teshen said. ‘Any o’ these fucks mess with you, you just let me know, right? I set a high value on anyone who brings me clean blankets.’

The youth nodded and scuttled inside. Teshen gave his subordinates a cold grin and followed. Soon they each had assigned bunks – nothing in the way of privacy, but at the back of Lynx’s mind was a hope that he’d not be sleeping there anyway. Through the open shutters of the window came a gust of wind and the sweet flavours of onion, garlic and pork, frying somewhere in the inn. As Lynx turned to breathe it all in his stomach rumbled loud enough for Braqe to look up from where she was and snort.

‘No one better get between fat boy and his dinner,’ she muttered.

Lynx looked at the wary faces that turned his way, anticipating trouble, and gave his ample belly a slap. ‘Can’t argue there, I’m a man of appetites.’

Before she could reply he tossed his tricorn on to his bunk and theatrically pushed his sleeves up, declaring, ‘Now all o’ you get out my way! There’s beer somewhere out there needs hunting down.’

He swept out, noting the smothered smiles as he went but mostly just keen to leave the argument behind. The courtyard was bathed in sunlight as he emerged and he slowed, blinking around at the milling mercenaries, before he spotted a broad woman with a tray full of battered tankards. He headed over, noticing a slate with tally marks by the door that indicated they’d gone through a dozen tankards already.

So this is on Anatin
, Lynx thought as he pushed his way forward and grabbed a beer.
Until pay day that is, I bet. Never known a merc captain who wasn’t tight-fisted and sneaky and I doubt I’ve met one now.

As he got comfortable on one of the benches, he spotted Sitain lurking away from the rest of the mercenaries. The young woman had her arms wrapped tight around herself as she watched the unruly crowd, then glanced at the open gate. Lynx sighed inwardly as he realised she was debating with herself if she wouldn’t be better off alone, but before she came to a decision he caught her eye.

Sitain froze like a rabbit in an eagle’s shadow, a flush of guilt in her cheeks before she could help herself, but Lynx only raised his tankard and pointed to it, beckoning her over. There was a moment of agonised indecision writ large across her face, then her shoulders sagged and she walked forward. Lynx got up, scooping up an unclaimed beer and heading round to meet her.

‘Stay for one night,’ he said, holding the beer out. ‘If you want out, fine – I’ll even help.’

Her resignation turned into astonishment. ‘Don’t you understand? I don’t want your help. I don’t know you. You’re not responsible for me!’ Her voice softened a touch. ‘I owe you for those Charnelers, I know that, but I’m responsible for me. I got sold out to them by someone in my own village, someone I must’ve known my whole life, and that’ll happen again and again if I rely on anyone but myself.’

Lynx raised his hands and backed off a step. ‘Fine. That’s how you want it, I’m done. A man can only offer his help so many times. Not my fault if you’re dumb enough to throw it back in my face, so bollocks to you.’

‘Dumb?’ she said hotly. ‘Dumb to trust some stranger and the honour of his mercenary friends?’

‘Dumb enough to think you’ll do better by yourself,’ Lynx snapped, ‘in a city you don’t know, with no friends and no money.’

‘Fucking So Han types,’ said a woman loudly behind him, ‘can’t help themselves but fight, even if it’s with their own bastard kind.’

Lynx turned sharply, fists tightening. ‘Get to fuck, Braqe, this is nothing to do with you.’

The mercenary gave him a scornful look. ‘Except you’re disturbing my drinking, fat boy.’

‘Still not your business. If you want to take a swing at me, stop standing there with your thumb up your arse and get on with it. I’ve only been with the company a few days and I’m already bored to shit with your miserable face.’

‘Hey!’ Anatin called from across the courtyard. ‘The pair of you, stow it.’

‘You know she won’t,’ Lynx said, keeping his eyes on Braqe. ‘Better we get it all out, right here.’

‘Sure, that’ll work well. One of you gets knocked down and we’re all friends again. Happens all the time, I find. You’ll discover a wellspring o’ respect for each other and fight side by side for all the years of your life.’

Anatin stepped between them and pressed his fingers into the cheek of each until they turned away. Just in case there was any confusion over what would happen if they turned on him, the silent giant, Reft, eased into the commander’s lee.

‘The pair of you – don’t speak or even fucking look at each other until we’re out of this city and our job’s done. The first one who starts something gets shot in the head, understand?’

‘I’ve given years to this company!’ the woman protested. ‘And suddenly this tattooed scum swans in like some blessed son? He giving the orders round here? You too scared of this murdering shite to kick him out?’

‘He ain’t some blessed son,’ Anatin said in a low, angry voice. ‘He’s far from that, but he’s on the roster and I’ve got bigger things to care about than him. He stays until I say otherwise, and you know why?’

Braqe looked him straight in the eye and shook her head.

‘It’s because of you, Braqe – all down to you. I’d half-thought to tell him to get fucked and make his own way in the city, beat a separate path to us, but you’ve been whining for days and it’s really pissed me off.’ Anatin jabbed a finger into her chest. ‘You don’t give the orders round here. You don’t get to decide who goes and who stays. I’m in command here and so long as you need reminding of that, the man stays. Now, walk away. Go inside and have a drink, eat some food and get ready to lose all your money once we start a game.’

Not wanting to give her time to reply in anger, Teshen appeared and slipped an arm over Braqe’s shoulders to walk her inside. Braqe had the sense to accept his urging rather than shrug him off and Lynx watched them all the way into the main building before finally relaxing.

‘Now keep your head down,’ Anatin growled at him as the conversations at the tables slowly started up again. ‘She fought in the Hand Valleys; she’s got a right to hold a grudge against So Han—’

‘Doesn’t make it my fault,’ Lynx replied, careful to keep his voice quiet and calm, ‘and if that’s what her grudge is about, you know she’ll come at me again. You’re the commander, I know that, but a man might observe that someone taking her gun away from her while we’re in close confines could be safer for everyone nearby.’

Anatin paused. ‘The observation’s noted,’ he said frostily, ‘it’ll be mentioned to Teshen.’

Lynx nodded, realising he’d be pushing his luck by suggesting anything more there. ‘Curfew lasting beyond the morning?’

‘There’s work to do in the morning.’

‘Any for me?’

‘You’ll do what your sergeant orders.’

‘Aye, sir, sure there’ll be something that can keep me out of the way.’

‘Count on it.’ Anatin stamped off towards the main building, but paused before he reached the door and caught the elbow of the waitress. ‘That one pays for his own drinks,’ Anatin said, jabbing a thumb back at Lynx.

She nodded and gave Lynx a level look. For want of anything to say he shrugged and raised his current beer in toast to her. A small smile appeared on the woman’s face as she started to gather up empty tankards and Lynx turned to Sitain.

‘Now, where were we? Stupid and friendless, right?’

She gave a snort and shook her head. ‘Oh shut up and give me that beer.’

Sitain floated in the dimness of near-waking, adrift in sleep but tethered by some small thread of the world beyond. Her thoughts were clouds in a pre-dawn sky; dark, drifting formless shapes, while the glow of faint awareness edged the horizon. Elusive glimpses of shadow shards danced at the edge of her thoughts, the memory of the night elemental.

Her eyes jerked open. At first she could see nothing, then a grey outline of the bunkroom unfolded. There was a figure beside her bed, unmoving, the thin gleam of a blade in its hand. Sitain gasped, in shock, in fear, and the figure flinched. It took a step back and the weak light showed enough to outline a woman’s face, broad build, dark skin – Braqe.

Braqe’s mouth opened, but whatever she intended to say went silent. Sitain felt a tingle rise from deep inside her, an involuntary welling up that swiftly built and seemed to take hold of her body like a sneeze. She felt it run out to her fingers, sparkling motes of blackness distorting the air around her fingers. Braqe’s eyes widened, a white gleam of fear echoed in the shine of her blade as she instinctively raised it.

Sitain threw herself against the wall behind her, scrabbling to be out of the knife’s reach. As she slammed her shoulders into the wood the magic in her fingers spat out like venom. Fractured shadows swallowed Braqe and the woman reeled – fell back a step then folded and crashed to the ground.

Curses and shouts rang out all around the bunkroom. A figure jumped down from her right and for a moment the air before Sitain went black as a haze of magic burst out. When she could see again there was a man staggering drunkenly, she couldn’t see who. Before he could fall someone else scrambled out of their bunk and grabbed him, ducking under the reeling man’s shoulder.

Faces started appearing all around the room, shock and fear made grotesque in the gloom. Panic started bubbling up from inside her then the tingle of magic again. Sitain tried to back away but all she could do was wedge herself into a corner of the bunk’s wooden frame. More and more mercenaries got up, growling curses, demanding to know what was going on, some just pointing accusingly at her.

‘I … I didn’t, I just …’

Words failed her in the face of mounting anger and fear, but before anyone could move or the magic demanded a release, Lynx shoved his way forward. The man wore only his small things, his pale belly rounded like an egg, hair wild and plastered across his face until he swept it back. The tattoo on his cheek was as black as midnight in the dark; it seemed to hover just above his skin as though it was some fragment of night magic that he wore as a charm. With one hand Lynx hauled back the mercenary nearest to Sitain, showing the power inside his bulky frame as he almost pulled the man off his feet.

‘All o’ you step back,’ he growled.

The angry faces turned his way as he placed himself between the mob and Sitain.

‘Are you fucking mad?’ demanded one. ‘Look at what she did to Braqe!’

‘I saw it all right. I saw Braqe had a knife in her hand – she was standing over Sitain with it. I thought for a moment she was going to stick her, was reaching for my gun when Sitain woke.’

Lynx turned side on to point down at the discarded blade and his back caught what little of the Skyriver’s light crept through the window shutters. Sitain gasped, not at the weapon but at the mass of lines and ridges that marked Lynx’s back. There was barely a scrap of skin that was smooth flesh. From shoulder to buttock there was just a haphazard mess of scarring. A landscape of brutal and repeated punishment. Sitain had never seen anything like it but her hands trembled as she imagined the pain it depicted.

He heard her gasp and glanced at Sitain, his face tightening as he realised what she was looking at, but he didn’t pause.

‘She’s a night mage,’ Lynx continued. ‘Someone check Braqe, my money’s on her just being out for the count. She’ll wake up with a sore head and that’s all.’