Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (34 page)

‘Yup.’ Toil reached over and attracted Sitain’s attention. ‘Hey, you; finger off the trigger. In fact, maybe holster that for now.’

Sitain stared back at the woman for a moment in astonishment, then realised how foolish she’d been. She carefully unpeeled her finger from around the steel trigger and placed it down the side of the stock as Lynx had been at pains to show her.

‘All of you, hold fire. Last thing we want to do is tell it we’re here.’

‘Ah, Sitain – you call that thing here? Attract its attention with your magic?’ Lynx asked, staring off towards the trees still. It was all dark there again but the crackle of flames and the sound of something large moving were still audible.

‘How should I bloody know?’ she whispered back angrily. ‘Wasn’t my idea now, was it?’

‘Still, best you stop whatever you’re doing.’

‘I’m doing nothing.’

More bellows rang out, deep cries that rose in intensity and volume until the shudder of them echoed inside Sitain’s gut and turned it cold with fear. Then the light returned, red and orange flames that burst up from nothing. It moved abruptly, heading north, and the trees screening it caught alight. Leaves that were starting to wither under autumn’s touch ignited in a heartbeat. Soon the whole line of trees were alight, fire consuming the branches and spitting sparks at the undergrowth as a dirty yellow light was cast over the whole scene.

‘Guess that’s why I could smell ashes on the wind today,’ Lynx commented.

‘It’s coming for us,’ Anatin said, struggling up, ‘we need to move.’

‘Stay there!’ Toil insisted. ‘Just wait.’

‘You mad, woman?’

She stared up at him for a moment. ‘Fine, fucking run then,’ Toil said angrily. ‘Just not back the way we came. If it follows you, I don’t want to get in the way and I’m staying right bloody here.’

That was enough to make Anatin hesitate. ‘What if it’s coming this way?’

‘Then we’re fucked anyway, firedrakes are a whole lot faster’n us. Even on horseback, assuming we could see well enough to gallop.’

Another, even louder, roar came from the far side of the trees and the whole group instinctively ducked low. Then it was answered by a second, further away, and the sound seemed to antagonise the first. The night sky shuddered under the force of its bellow and the light intensified – then Sitain saw a shape moving against the blackness. For a moment she couldn’t make out what it was, just a great ball of yellow flame, but then a long curve of fire extended out above it before sweeping down and turning the nearest trees to ash.

The fire elemental left a dancing trail of red as it surged forward, heading away from the mercenaries. Great sheets of fire beat at the wind while a spear of light reached forward from the massive body, just the suggestion of a blade-like head visible before it disappeared from view. More roars followed, the ground trembling distantly with heavy impacts while the crackle and flash of fire hung in the sky above.

‘They fighting?’

‘Who knows?’ Toil shrugged. ‘Hard to know much about firedrakes. Anyone who gets close gets crispy soon after so taking notes proves tricky. Gives us a new problem, though.’

‘Another?’ Lynx growled.

The man had been subdued since they’d entered the wild and Sitain didn’t think it was just the lack of cuisine. There was a harder look in his eyes now, an edge to his manner he’d been careful to keep in check back in Grasiel. He looked more like the sort of man her mother had feared, the sort many in these parts would fear.

‘Might be a lair up there,’ Toil said. ‘Hard to tell until daylight. But we don’t want to cross one, we’ll have to skirt around.’

‘And give the Charnelers time to catch up?’ Anatin snapped.

‘Not a lot of choice there, ’less you want to fight a firedrake?’

‘Thought you said they’d leave us alone?’

‘It’ll not seek us out. We cross its lair carrying magic-charged weapons, that’s a whole different matter.’

‘So what, then?’

She sat up and pointed south-east. ‘The ridge that we saw running that way. Most likely there’s a road below it, from that tunnel entrance we passed. Oftentimes they cleared the rock by shoving it upwards, the Duegar mages. We follow that, we’ll find an entrance or a path around the firedrake. Leave the Charnelers to walk into that mess instead.’

‘Assuming they don’t catch us up.’

‘Aye, but at least they don’t have those scouts no more.’ Toil settled back against Reft’s hip. ‘We’ll start out at first light, see if we can get a jump on ’em. Until then, catch whatever sleep you can. Tomorrow’s going to be a hard one.’

Sitain forced herself to lie back and settled into the comforting warmth of Kas. The image of a Jester card appeared in her mind – the short cape and bell-festooned mask that were characteristic of the Jester in every deck. In the Mercenary Deck, however, the Jester carried a stiletto in one hand, a wine bottle in the other. She looked down at the short-sword she’d been given on her first night. It was hardly a stiletto and right now she’d have gladly traded it for some wine.

‘Just a Jester,’ she muttered sourly. ‘I should’ve asked for more.’

‘Me too,’ was Anatin’s muffled reply.

Exalted Uvrel stood at the edge of the Knights-Charnel camp, facing away from the small fire they’d lit. It would warm too few bodies to serve the entire force, but normally she’d not have permitted anything at all. The troops were weary, though, she could see it in their eyes and knew she couldn’t trust regular troops to endure too long. Not in the wilds where humans rarely ventured and rumour was all most of them knew. One campaign mug of bitter black tea, or whatever else they had to hand so long as it was hot, had revived spirits.

She cradled her own in her hands, the tapered mug almost empty and the warmth spreading through her body. Uvrel was used to hard riding, she had done enough of that in her time, and the discomfort was only minor after two days. She had pushed them hard, done her best to erode the assassins’ lead, and her troops had obeyed, but still it hadn’t proved enough. Every turning on the road had provided a delay; every minute trying to recover her vision after that light-bolt had let them slip further away.

The dragoons were picked soldiers, well aware that the price of their elevated position was hardship, while the cavalry knew this routine well enough. The light infantry and grenadiers were suffering, however. She could hear the muted griping in the background and once they reached Shadows Deep the going would be harder and on foot.

She smelled tobacco on the wind and nodded to herself. A few small luxuries, that was all they had time for, but it was easier to ask a soldier to risk their life after such moments. Uvrel had risen through the ranks of light cavalry then the dragoons; she knew exactly how far troops could be pushed.

Someone joined her, wreathed in pipe smoke. Out of the corner of her eye Uvrel saw the magnificently whiskered profile of the sergeant in charge of the grenadiers, an old campaigner by the name of Oudagan. Unusually for the Knights-Charnel he was from the south, dark-skinned and squat-bodied.

The Order had fought dozens of campaigns there, gathering up the abandoned boys and girls not of fighting age. Many became servants of fighting units, camp followers in the employ of officers, before coming of age and earning a uniform of their own. Taken far from their home, such recruits had nothing beyond the Order and fought accordingly.

‘Sergeant,’ she acknowledged.

‘Exalted,’ he replied in a thick homeland accent, clearly having learned the language from the roughest of northern troops.

‘Problem?’

‘No, sir. My lads reckon this is why we joined up.’

‘To see the sights?’

Oudagan chuckled nastily. ‘Aye, see the sights then blow the shit out of ’em.’ He patted one of the bulky boxes on his hip where he carried his grenades. ‘Any idea how far we’re behind?’

‘Perhaps five miles? Our scouts can’t have been further than that and they’d have kept a good distance from the Crows for fear of ambush.’

‘’Cept that didn’t work for ’em.’

‘No mercenary did that,’ Uvrel said with a shake of the head, remembering the mess they’d found earlier which, they’d had to assume, was the remains of their vanished scouts.

‘Could’ve been a grenade. An ice-bomb leaves something similar once it’s melted back.’

‘For a pair of scouts? I doubt it. They won’t have grenades to waste on just two men.’

‘Bad luck for them, then.’ Oudagan grinned. ‘We’ve got fifty-odd to play with.’

‘Save them for the wildlife. I want the assassin alive if I can. You’ll find enough to kill elsewhere.’

‘That I don’t doubt, sir. How about, ah, the locals, sir?’

‘Locals?’

The man’s grin widened, teeth bright in the gloom. ‘Wisps, sir. The way I hear it, those Wisp hunters can be troublesome.’

‘We have a mission here, Sergeant,’ Uvrel said sternly. ‘Whatever games you want to play with Wisps, they happen only after we take these murderers. Any of your men thinks otherwise and I’ll shoot them myself.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Uvrel took another mouthful, grimaced at the cooled tea and spat it out on the grass. She tossed the rest away. In the distance a dulled orange light shone out and the pair stood in silence and watched the brief flares past the treetops.

‘Good few miles off,’ Oudagan commented. ‘Whatever it is. Firedrake, mebbe?’

‘Or our mercenaries using fire-bolts on the wildlife.’

‘Let’s hope the locals’ve done our job for us.’

‘Do you want to be the one who tells the Lord-Exalted we have no one to interrogate or execute?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Nor do I.’ She looked back at the camp. Her dragoons had claimed control of the fireside, four squads of handpicked men and women. On one flank they had the ragamuffin woodsmen of the light infantry, on the other the neat uniforms of Commander Quentes’s cavalry. The grenadiers had again kept their distance, an understanding both sides seemed to take as a sign of superiority. Almost a hundred soldiers now they’d left the other cavalry company at the ford – odds of ten to one in a straight fight. But it meant they moved slower too. It was a natural law of soldiering.

‘Have your men ready to leave at five minutes’ notice. As soon as it’s light enough to ride, I intend to move out. The last man ready runs the risk of getting shot.’

‘Aye, sir. You’ll never find grenadiers disorganised, that I promise.’

Uvrel nodded. She’d never erase the memory of the first time she saw a fire-bomb hit a company of men. With destruction like that in their hands, grenadiers were meticulous about their kit. The ones that lived beyond the first few days, anyway.

A boot in the side woke Lynx. For a moment he flailed, reaching for a weapon. His hand tightened on the first thing he grabbed and Sitain howled as his fingers dug into her arm. The woman tried in vain to haul herself free before the panic cleared and Lynx released her.

‘Someone’s fun in the mornings,’ Teshen commented, standing over him.

‘What do you expect if you kick me?’ Lynx growled, frowning as he blinked the sleep away.

‘Next time slap his arse instead,’ suggested Kas. ‘Gets him going a treat.’

Anatin raised an eyebrow as Varain snorted and reached over to pantomime doing just that. Lynx flinched at the touch, still jittery after a poor night’s sleep.

‘Thunder’s teeth,’ Sitain hissed, rubbing at her arm. ‘Careful, Lynx.’

‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

Teshen squatted down in front of him. ‘Bad dreams, eh?’

‘Why d’you say that?’

‘You were all elbows there, think I got a bruise for every time I moved.’

‘Yeah well, normally I … ah.’ Lynx sighed and ground to a halt. ‘Nope, I got nothing.’

‘Bit early for wit?’ Teshen straightened and scooped up his pack. ‘For the rest of us too.’

Lynx sat up and looked around. There was a morning mist lurking around the trees, while the sun hadn’t yet risen above the tree-line. Everything was washed in a grey, ghostly gloom – one that had seeped into his limbs, given the chill numbness he felt as he moved.

He stood and felt a black knot tighten behind his eyes. The presence of bodies on either side of him as he slept, as welcome as their warmth had been, meant he’d only dozed fitfully across the night. Now that was coming back to haunt him.

‘Get your shit together, Lynx,’ Teshen added after a few moments of watching the former commando totter like a man searching for another beer.

‘I’m getting there.’

‘Do it faster,’ the cold-eyed Knight snapped. Teshen pulled his hair back from his face and fixed Lynx with a look as he tied it back.

‘Aye.’

Lynx stretched up as far as he could then started to shake his arms and legs out, trying to restore some warmth and movement into them. That done, he swallowed a mouthful of water and slipped his long gun sheath on to his back, having slept in his coat. His tricorn hat he found battered on the ground, where they’d all slept, but he worked it back into shape and rammed it on his head anyway.

‘We head for the ridge over that way,’ Toil announced, returning to the camp with her mage-gun resting on one shoulder. ‘There should be a way around the firedrake lair. If we’re spotted, we run and duck down the first hole we find.’

‘Since when were you giving orders round here?’

‘Since I’m both paying your wages and the best chance you got in these parts. You don’t like it, fine. I’ll just head into Shadows Deep first chance I get and leave you to your chain of command. You’re welcome to tag along if you don’t slow me down, but I’ll make it through alone if I have to. The rest o’ you, I’d not give good odds on you crossing the wilds by yourselves, let alone the deepest dark. The Charnelers’ll find it harder to follow us underground, though, I promise you that much. We’d have to be more than unlucky to find the Exalted on our tail as one of their relic hunters.’

‘Why? Why harder to follow?’

Toil patted her pack. ‘I’m a girl who likes to be prepared. Half of this is rope, a grapple and a lantern.’

‘They could have all that.’

‘Doubt it, not like mine.’ She pulled a compass from her pocket and checked it briefly before nodding to herself. ‘You all ready? Good, let’s not waste time.’