Of Bone and Thunder (23 page)

His nostril and the back of his throat immediately burned. He lowered his hand, dropping the leaf to the ground with the clod of dirt. The burning faded, to be replaced by a numbness, while his brain felt like it had been dumped in a glacial lake. He smiled, every nerve feeling razor sharp. He looked over at Big Hog.

“Tell me more about shit and potatoes,” Carny said, standing up a little straighter and patting his crossbow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Big Hog asked, waving a hand at Carny in obvious disgust.

“Just lovin' the Lux,” Carny said, wondering what had been bothering
him earlier. It was a beautiful day. He was out for a walk in the sunshine and felt more alive than he could remember ever feeling. He stared into the heat haze and watched the colors dance.

“IT'S AN ENTIRELY
reasonable request,” Pioneer Commander Mallowry Tiffanger said, addressing himself to Master Pioneer Creavus Black Pine. Tiffanger held his helm in his hands and nervously played with the chain-mail curtain. The column of dwarves of the Eighteenth Pioneer Support Group stood in a tight formation behind him, waiting to hear the result of the confrontation.

Parmik debated stepping in and decided against it. Tiffanger had to make the dwarves understand that their help was crucial to get his cats where they needed to be.

“If it's a request, then the answer is no,” Black Pine said. He stood with his thick arms crossed, staring up at Parmik. The sun glinted off the edge of the huge two-headed axe slung on his back.

Tiffanger placed his face in his palm and shook his head. “I phrased that poorly. It is an order, but a reasonable one,” he said, looking back up. “The catapults are needed to provide support for the shields. We are in a position to help. It won't take us more than a fourth of a candle.”

Black Pine kept staring at Parmik. “Right, because we're just a herd of fuckin' oxen.”

Tiffanger looked imploringly at Parmik.

“People used to throw rocks at our house when I was a kid,” Parmik said. “Said they should send me back to the quarry and get a real son.”

“Oh, poor fuckin' you,” Black Pine said, raising his voice so the dwarves nearest them could hear. “He gets a few rocks and catcalls thrown his way. They bury your pa up to his neck and then stone him to death because he asked for more milk and bread for his sick child?”

Parmik shook his head. “No.” Damn. He'd wanted to show the dwarf he understood his anger.

Black Pine started breathing heavily. “Anyone hold you down and brand their family crest on your back with a red-hot iron when you turned ten?”

“No,” Parmik said, now hating himself.

Master Pioneer Black Pine uncrossed his arms and stepped forward until he was only an inch away from Parmik. His nostrils flared as he spoke. “Then
fuck you
, and
fuck
the Seventh Phalanx, too.”

“What's the damn holdup?” a red-bearded dwarf asked, striding up to the front of the column. He wore the same uniform as the other dwarves: sturdy, calf-high leather boots; dark green trousers; a sleeveless light green aketon; and an iron-and-steel helm. He also carried two haversacks, one on each hip, and a small rucksack on his back. He wasn't as bulky as Black Pine and was an inch shorter, but Parmik saw the other dwarves all stiffen as he went past. It took Parmik a moment to realize why he seemed so different. Unlike all the other dwarves, this one didn't carry an axe.

“Ah, Wizard Magnolia,” Tiffanger said, the relief in his voice clear. “I was wondering where you'd got to.”

Magnolia stood to attention and saluted Tiffanger. “Couple of troopers caught sun vapors or I would have been here sooner,” he said, quickly looking at Black Pine and Parmik. “I'm Wizard Ramac Magnolia,” he said, turning and saluting Parmik.

“Subcommander Parmik, Bear Battery, Eleventh Field Artillerists,” Parmik said, snapping off a quick salute in return.

“What can we do for you, Subcommander?”

“I have cats that need to be moved, and I need your men to help me do it,” Parmik said, projecting a gruffness he in no way felt at the moment.

“A reasonable request,” Magnolia said, turning and looking at Black Pine.

There was a shuffling of boots as the dwarves reacted to Magnolia's words.

“The fuck it's reasonable!” Black Pine shouted. “He's asking us to be slaves.”

Magnolia crossed the ground to Black Pine in a flick and landed a heavy left hook on Black Pine's chin. Black Pine wobbled but didn't fall. A straight right jab from Magnolia followed by another left hook finally sat Black Pine on his ass.

Magnolia panted for breath for several flicks before turning to face the dwarves. “We aren't slaves. We're soldiers. You can follow me, or you
can let me explain that concept to you one at a time like I just did with Black Pine.”

The dwarves shuffled into a neat column. Parmik risked a quick look at Black Pine. The dwarf's eyes blinked oddly, each one on its own. He stared up at Magnolia, the malevolence unmistakable.

“We don't have time for this,” Magnolia said, holding out his hand to Black Pine.

Black Pine ignored Magnolia's hand and got to his feet. “This isn't the end of this,” he said through clenched teeth.

Magnolia sighed. “No, I didn't figure it would be.”

Black Pine turned and addressed the dwarves.

“Troop! By the left . . . at double time . . . march!”

Black Pine set off at a fast trot, not bothering to wait for Parmik or even look behind him. Parmik backed up a few paces as the dwarves rumbled past. He felt a tap on his arm and looked down to see Magnolia pointing after the column. “Probably best we get you up to the front, on account of they don't know where they're going. The mood Black Pine's in, he's liable to march them right through the Western Wilds.”

“Yes, right,” Parmik said, trying to find words to express what he was feeling and giving up when he realized he didn't know what that was. “Commander, shall we go?”

Tiffanger saluted, then brought his hand down in surprise. “What? Yes, yes, we should go. Their legs are short, but once they get going, it's a bit like a rolling stone down a very steep hill. Oh, no offense, Magnolia.”

“Why the fuck would I possibly be offended?” Magnolia said, already a couple of yards away and picking up speed.

“YOU HEAR THAT?” CARNY
asked. Red Shield was spread out across a field along with the other shields of the Second Javelin. He stopped walking and cocked his head to one side. They were still several hundred yards from the village and crossing yet another dosha swamp.

“What?” Big Hog asked. He crouched down, raising his crossbow up to his shoulder. The rest of the shield did the same.

“What is it?” Listowk asked, running in a low crouch to kneel between Carny and Big Hog. “Slyts?”

“Singing,” Carny said, turning and smiling at the LC. “It's singing.”

“I don't hear it,” Big Hog said, slowly standing back up.

Listowk stood up, too. He walked over to Carny, grabbed his lower jaw, and pried it open.

Carny batted his hand away. “LC, easy. I kept my promise. No Wild Flower, no snow.”

“But you hear singing?” Listowk said. He peered up at Carny like he was examining a suspicious piece of meat in the village market.

Carny nodded. “Yes. Don't you?”

Listowk backed up, staring at Carny, and motioned with his hand for Red Shield to get moving. Soldiers stood up and started walking again.

“Don't be another Vooford,” Listowk said. He walked over to Big Hog and whispered something to him, then walked away.

“I'm fine,” Carny said after Listowk. He shrugged.
I haven't felt this good in ages.

A clod of dirt struck his helm, showering the back of his neck with crap. He reached a hand up to wipe it from his neck. “That's big hail,” he said. He brought his hand down and looked at it. “Dirty, too. The weather here is terrible.”

“Just walk, and keep your mouth shut,” Big Hog said, rubbing his right hand on his trousers.

Carny gave Big Hog a thumbs-up. “I can do that,” he said. He didn't understand why everyone was in a bad mood.
Everything is so . . . alive out here
.

The skirmish line walked to the next berm and paused as Wraith crawled over it and looked at the other side. When he stood up the line moved again, walking over the berm and down into the next dosha swamp.

“An enemy beast,” Ahmist said, pointing with his free hand.

Carny squinted through the haze. A lone brorra lay with its legs tucked underneath it beside the next berm seventy-five yards in front of them.

“Where'd that come from?” Carny asked. Had it always been there? He looked down at the ground, then back toward where they'd come from. Dust plumes rose into the sky in several places. He heard the singing again, too.

“They're everywhere,” Big Hog said. “And they ain't cows,” he added.

The brorra raised itself off the ground, first pushing its rear up, then bringing up its front half to stand. It looked at Carny, contentedly chewing its cud.

Movement on Carny's right caught his attention. Ahmist had his crossbow to his shoulder and was aiming at the animal.

“Cut it out, Ahmist,” Carny said. “It didn't do anything to you.” Carny wriggled his back. It felt itchy. His mouth was dry and the heat was making it worse. He reached into his haversack and fished around for another leaf despite knowing that Bristom had only given him one.

“The creature is in service of the enemy,” Ahmist said.

“We could get a good feast off of it,” Big Hog said. “Doesn't look too bony.”

The brorra turned its head and looked at Carny. The animal chomped contentedly, tufts of thin grass hanging from its mouth. A cloud of black flies rose and fell on its back with each lazy swish of its tail.

“It's not serving anyone right now,” Carny said, looking around for support. “It just wants to be left alone. I can tell.”

“It serves the enemy,” Ahmist said again, dropping down to one knee. He rested his left elbow on his thigh for support and sighted his crossbow
on the animal. The skirmish line had frozen again as the shield stopped to watch.

“It's just a—”

The metal arms of Ahmist's crossbow sprung forward with a heavy metal twang as he fired a bolt. The bolt made a shallow arc through the air, striking the brorra at the base of its neck just in front of its shoulder.

The brorra started. Two streams of blood squirted out several feet in the air from either side of the bolt. The animal took two steps forward, then its front legs buckled and its nose struck the ground. Its back legs galloped in an attempt to run, which succeeded in rolling it over its head in a flailing somersault.

Soldiers hooted and cheered. A couple started running forward.

“Hold your position! Keep the skirmish line straight!” SL Sinte shouted.

Ahmist stood up and made the sign of the tree. “The High Druid be praised,” he said, looking not to the sky but directly at Carny.

“Keep your positioning, damn it! Keep moving!” Sinte shouted.

Carny walked, not that he could feel his boots hit the ground. He was a dry, crumbling leaf. The force of the entire world spurted out of the brorra's neck and onto the dusty dosha swamp. The animal kicked its back legs and lifted its head, trying to stand, but with less and less energy.

“I know it ain't cow, but that'll make some good steaks,” Big Hog said. Carny looked over at him. The farmer had tucked his crossbow under his arm and had his hunting knife out, sharpening the blade with a whetstone.

“We're not stopping so you can dress a brorra,” Listowk said, stomping their way again. He stopped when he got to Ahmist. “Who the fuck told you to shoot?”

Ahmist shrugged his shoulders. “It serves the enemy,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Listowk's mustache ticked a couple of times before he replied. “Report to Field Deputy Rhomy at the Second Javelin Command Group. They need a runner.”

“But—”

Listowk grabbed Ahmist by the arm and flung him out of the skirmish line. “Now!”

Ahmist stood still for a moment, his mouth open in surprise. When Listowk made a motion to walk toward him, Ahmist closed his mouth and started walking back to the rear.

“The rest of you, keep moving. Anyone who stops again without orders will get my boot up their ass.”

“Waste of perfectly good meat,” Big Hog said hotly, sheathing his hunting knife and putting away his whetstone.

“It's not dead yet,” Carny said. Blood still trickled from the wound and the tail made a couple of feeble swishes.

Carny's eyes fixed on the brorra as he approached the next berm. The animal lay just fifteen yards away from him, the tangy smell of blood thick in the air. Carny kept walking, up and over the berm, not bothering to wait for Wraith to scout the other side. No one shouted. He kept walking.

“Still lovin' the Lux?” Big Hog asked.

Carny said nothing. He reached his hand back into the haversack before remembering there were no more leaves. His fingers touched the wad of Wild Flower. He tore off a piece, put it in his mouth, and kept walking.

JUST A MONTH
ago, Subcommander Brobbi Parmik had never seen a palm tree and had no idea they existed.
Look more like big weeds than proper trees.
He had a hard time imagining these strange things in the High Druid's eternal forest, but it wasn't his place to judge. What he did know was that he was thrilled to finally be standing under these three particular trees. Bear Battery's six field cats were finally in position and being readied to fire. He looked up at the sun. They'd get a rock in the air before noon.
Fuck you, Weel.

He'd been tempted to slow things down so they wouldn't have the cats ready on time just to spite him, but all that would have done was deny covering fire to the troops up ahead. He couldn't justify that to himself, and so he trotted at double time with the dwarves all the way to the cats, and even grabbed a rope and did his share to get them in position on time. Now he was anxious to see the dwarves off. Being around this many for this long unsettled him in ways he didn't want to examine.