Of Bone and Thunder (49 page)

CARNY STRETCHED OUT
on the sailcloth hammock acting as his bunk and watched the festivities. He had to give it to the dwarves—they built quality stuff. Hammocks lined both sides of the barrack, strung between large bamboo poles sunk into the ground, which doubled as roof supports. The whole barrack reeked of mold, but the smell of the shield was already overwhelming it.

An aisle six feet wide separated the rows. Bamboo pegs had been hammered into the poles, giving the soldiers ample places to hang their gear. Woven grass mats were placed by every hammock. The dwarves had even dug fire pits every seventy-five feet in the aisle.

It was perfect. Well, almost. The reason for the current commotion was the dwarves' sense of height, or rather, lack thereof. The roof of the barrack, yard after yard of faded sailcloth, was only five feet off the ground. Carny didn't see it as all that big an issue. They'd had far less headroom on board the navy's
Daeskus
on the trip over.

“You loathsome little vermin did this on purpose!” Ahmy said. He was currently being restrained by Knockers and the fawn, Frogleg. Blood poured from a gash on Ahmy's head where he'd hit a bamboo cross-pole.

A group of ten to fifteen dwarves stood just inside the entrance of the barrack staring up at Ahmy with murder in their eyes. Carny knew he should be intervening. He was second-in-command, and with Listowk absent, he was command.

“Fuck it,” Carny said, stuffing more Flower into his cheek. “Fuck all of it.” He meant it too. Ahmy could damn well deal with his own shit. Let the dwarves kill him. It would save Carny a lot of heartache. Besides, the dwarves weren't staring daggers at him this time, which was a nice change. He squinted from his hammock, trying to make out the dwarves in the lantern light. They looked familiar, but then all dwarves looked alike. Still, these ones seemed particularly . . . obstinate.

“You want space above your head?” one of the dwarves said, stepping forward. “I will send you to your sky forest right now.”

“LC, aren't you going to do something?!” Knockers shouted, struggling with Ahmy. Frogleg's heart was in it, but he was as scrawny as his namesake with about half the strength. The rest of the shield that were there were
drunk or otherwise enjoying a few medicinal herbs. Ahmy, naturally, was sober, but that only made him more manic. It occurred to Carny that what Ahmy needed was a few drinks, a wad of Flower, and a snort of Sliver. Maybe, just maybe, he'd calm the fuck down.

Ahmy spit, because of course he would. The dwarf lunged, and the lantern nearest the door crashed to the ground. Shouts, grunts, and a single scream echoed through the barrack. Carny closed his eyes, the thumps of fists against flesh coming to him over a great distance, like the sounds of waves crashing on the beach. He missed the mountains.

High-pitched shouting rose up over the din and someone started blowing a bamboo whistle. Carny instinctively rolled to port, expecting the rag to bank, and fell out of his hammock onto the floor.

“Mercy sakes, all of you! Stop this at once!”

Carny pushed himself up from the floor and looked over his hammock. The lantern had been picked up and relit. It was officer so-and-so, the human in charge of the dwarves. He was barefoot, holding his trousers up with one hand and his hewer in the other, though it was still in its scabbard. Carny wondered if he realized that.

SL Listowk strolled in and looked around the room. Carny caught his eye and waved. Listowk ignored him.

“Shield Leader, thank the High Druid. I'm at my wit's end. I really am. I just—”

Listowk walked past the officer and to Ahmy. Without missing a beat he punched Ahmy in the gut, dropping him to the floor and taking Knockers and Frogleg with him. Carny had never really given much thought to the expression about hearing a pin drop, but in that moment he was convinced he could.

Listowk looked around at the members of Red Shield. “In your bunks, lanterns out, now. Where's Big Hog?”

“A few slyt villagers have a compound here in camp,” Knockers said, getting to his feet. “They do the laundry and stuff. Big Hog went to talk with them about the land. Said if we're going to be here awhile he'd see about planting a garden.”

“When he gets back, tell him he's now the LC.” The soldiers looked over at Carny.

Carny shrugged.
Never wanted the fucking job.

Listowk turned and faced the officer. “Sir, I suggest you take your men with you and call it a night.”

The officer looked down at the groaning Ahmy, then at Listowk. “I can't say that I approve—”

“Now would be good, sir.”

The officer paused. Carny could see the man's mind going through the scenarios. He was the highest-ranking soldier in the room, but when all was tallied that added up to fuck-all.

“Out,” the officer said, turning and motioning to the door.

The dwarves shuffled their feet but didn't appear ready to leave.

“
Out! Out the . . . the fucking door now!
” the officer shouted, the veins on his neck bulging as if he'd swallowed a nest of snakes.

Carny made a half step toward the door before he realized the officer was talking to the dwarves. With a few glares, the dwarves turned and left the barracks. The officer took one last look at Ahmy and then turned and vanished into the night.

Listowk looked around the room. His face gave nothing away, but Carny could feel the anger. He knew he should say something, but the damage was done.

“Get your rest,” Listowk said, heading for the door. “Tomorrow's going to be a long day.”

Quiet reigned in the barrack as Red Shield stood and looked at the doorway. Finally, Knockers broke the silence. “What do you think he meant by that?”

The answers weren't helpful.

As everyone went to their hammocks Carny sighed and walked over to the groaning form of Ahmist. He looked down at him for a long time. Finally, because there was nothing else for it, he dragged the boy down the aisle to his hammock and lifted him into it.

When Carny climbed back into his own hammock his happy feeling was long gone. He didn't bother with more Flower because he could tell he'd be chasing that feeling the rest of the night. As the lanterns went out, Carny lay back and stared up at the canvas roof. Of all the soldiers in Red Shield, he figured he was the only one wishing for the morning to come.

RED SHIELD
MARCHED the
valley floor
for
a quarter candle, turning toward and then away from the eastern mountains. The peaks cast long, pointed shadows across the valley floor, creating the image of walking into a giant maw. Carny brought his boot down hard on the first shadow tooth he reached, daring the jaw to bite into him. He felt stupid, but if soldiers could wear amulets of the Sacred Tree and others with seeds and nuts from trees in their villages around their necks and tiny scrolls with safekeeping spells on them tucked inside their helmets, then he could and would kick these teeth.

The shield marched in silence. The events of last night coated everything like the dew on the grass. Ahmist walked with a calm, unwavering smile that Carny found disturbing. Big Hog refused to look at Carny, while Listowk remained near the front of the shield marching as if he'd been taken over by Sinte's ghost.

Carny expected Listowk to give them a break when they reached the Formaske River. They could all see the other shields that were fanning out across the valley and marching toward the jungle on either side. Several were stopped, their soldiers standing around talking, smoking, taking a piss. Carny wouldn't have minded all three.

Listowk, it turned out, had other ideas and instead of leading the shield over the low, wide bridge the dwarves had built, he turned left. Wraith moved to take ST and began searching the saw grass along the riverbank.

They were less than a mile from the northern end of the valley when Wraith stopped, turned to Listowk, and shrugged. Listowk immediately turned to the river and walked right into it. After a stunned few flicks, the shield followed, wading across in water up to their armpits, with their
weapons held above their heads. It was cool, much more so than Carny thought it would be.

Soaking wet, the shield slogged their way across a series of untended dosha swamps instead of walking along the earthen berms that surrounded them. It was like walking through shit-colored snow. The dry top crust of the dosha swamp broke and they sank to their knees in fetid mud. The smell was vile. Carny gagged, but he hadn't eaten since yesterday so nothing came up.

They were being punished, that much was obvious, but to Carny's mind it was excessive. He brightened when Listowk took the shield out of the fifth dosha swamp and onto the berm. Finally.

A few flicks later, Listowk swerved and set off through a tangled mess of saw grass and bamboo. The long-silent shield began to grumble, but no one spoke loud enough to draw attention to himself.

The dew vanished and the air quickly became hotter and heavier. Sweat coated Carny in a wet sheen from head to toe. The insides of his thighs at his crotch started itching. He desperately wanted to grab some camphor out of his pack and rub it on, but Listowk's fast pace made that impossible.

Carny usually dreaded the tree line because it meant crossing over from open, safe space into the dark unknown. He didn't like it. He didn't understand Wraith's willingness to go into it alone, and at night. There was nothing friendly or inviting about the jungle the way there was about the forests back home. Everything here was overgrown, tangled, covered in barbs, and crawling with bugs that scared Carny more than rags.

By the time they reached the eastern tree line at the edge of the mountains the shield was a sweating, groaning shambles. With most—Carny included—suffering from the ill effects of their binge the night before, Carny doubted they could fend off a rabbit.

“Drink,” Listowk ordered. No smile, no banter.

Carny forced himself to walk the few steps to where Big Hog had slumped against a tree trunk.

“So, could you plant corn here?”

Big Hog studied the water skin in his hands as if it were the first time he'd seen one.

Carny looked around, then back at Big Hog. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know Listowk would pick you.”

“You mean you didn't care,” Big Hog said, looking up from his water skin. “That's you, isn't it, Carny? Nothing matters. Not us, not the war, not the Kingdom.”

“The Kingdom?” Carny said, cracking a smile. “You've been out in the sun too long.”

Big Hog didn't smile back. “Yeah, the Kingdom. I know you think it's all one big joke, but I believe in it. I believe in what we're doing over here. It's messy, but that's what wars are. What do you think would happen if the Forest Collective took over? You think they are going to teach these people how to farm and make better lives?”

Carny looked around, but all he got were blank stares. “You're a farmer with more kids than cows on some piece of dirt in the backwoods. You really telling me you care about what happens here?”

“No, Carny, I'm done telling you anything,” Big Hog said, slinging his water skin and pushing off the tree. He stood a foot away from Carny, looking down at him. “Drink your water, we've got a lot of climbing ahead.”

Carny watched Big Hog's back as the soldier turned and walked over to Listowk. The rest of the shield started slinging their equipment and preparing to move out.

“Vooford was right, you know,” Carny said, his cheeks flushing. “Every one of us here is a fool for fighting this war. The king that ordered it is dead, and he wasn't even a real king.”

Soldiers started walking past Carny as Listowk set off into the trees. Carny looked around him. He spotted Knockers and reached out a hand to grab his arm. Knockers pulled his arm away and kept on walking.

Carny stood there until he was the last one. He could probably walk back to the barracks and no one would care.
They'd like that.
He stood there a few flicks more, then kicked his boot across the dirt and followed after them.

SUBCOMMANDER PARMIK WATCHED
the shields disappear into the eastern tree line from his vantage point atop cat 4 in Fortress Thunder II.
He didn't envy the soldiers tramping through that jungle. They were little more than bait, at best hunting dogs sent to flush out prey for the cats. It looked like sweaty, dangerous work.

Parmik preferred working with the cats. He chose not to examine too closely the fact that they were huge. Parmik just knew that of all the duties in the service, chucking large rocks spoke to him. Yes, the danger of being crushed, or torn to pieces if a main brace exploded under pressure, was always present, but he'd take that any day over marching in that damn jungle.

A light wind from the north fluttered the map of the valley resting across his knees. He looked up at the flagpole on cat 4 to judge the speed. Of the three triangle flags on the pole, the lowest, made of blue silk, flapped fitfully. Above it, the yellow flag made of cotton barely moved, while the top flag, a red triangle of linen, was perfectly still. Parmik looked over at cat 3, positioned thirty yards to the south of cat 4; unlike cat 4, it currently faced toward the western mountains. Its wind flags were in concurrence with cat 3's.

Parmik opened the cover of his leather-covered notebook and wrote down the wind conditions and time of day. Unlike standard candle time, the artillerists used the position of the sun. He knew the wind would pick up as the day progressed, but for now there was no need to make a correction to the cats' aiming points. He traced his charcoal stick along the grids that marked the fire sector for cats 3 and 4 and the path the shields were going to take today. As long as the soldiers stuck to the plan, his cats would be able to support them with crushing fire.

Cat 4 trembled slightly and the sound of heavy boots vibrated up through the structure. “Master Magnolia,” Parmik said, looking down from his perch at the climbing dwarf wizard.