Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (7 page)

‘It’s simple enough, has to be for all of us to remember. No screwing while we work. We’re mercs and we fight for a living. If we let personal shit get in the way, folk die. Anatin only likes grown-ups in his company; he’s seen enough of dumbshit farmboys thinking the rules don’t apply to them. Might be, the odd evening out on the road, he’ll call leisure time for anyone not on guard duty, but that’ll only happen when we’re safe and secure, which ain’t often on most roads.’

‘And you all keep to it, no issues?’

‘Hah, wouldn’t quite put it like that. Mercs aren’t the cleverest folk around.’

When he turned around again, she’d pulled on her small things and was untangling her trousers from the pile of discarded clothes. ‘But
you
do?’

She paused and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Aye, I do. Some folk’ll fall in love first tumble they have – me, I can enjoy it for what it is and go back to work. Don’t mean I’ve not got feelings, but it’ll take more’n one night for me to fall for anyone.’ She gave him a sly smile. ‘Don’t take it as a complaint though, half-decent’s a pretty high standard.’

Finally Lynx did laugh. ‘Suppose I’ll take what I can get then,’ he said, ‘so let’s start with my clothes.’

She tossed him his drawers and he pulled them on quickly, feeling less foolish now he wasn’t completely naked.

‘I meant what I said, though,’ she added in a more serious tone.

‘About what?’

‘I want your story one day.’ She brushed the tattoo on his cheek with her fingers.

Lynx tensed. ‘Not much to tell.’

Kas nodded, pulled her leather jacket on and began to lace it up. ‘If you say so, but most folk don’t wedge ’emselves against the wall and flinch if they’re touched in their sleep.’

He frowned and looked away, very aware he was showing all too much but just as aware he couldn’t help himself. ‘Aye, well, I’m used to sleeping alone.’

Kas nodded and sat to haul her long boots on while Lynx fetched the rest of his clothes. ‘That you are. But some of these bruises I got the fun way last night, and a couple I got when I brushed your arm and your hand closed like a vice on me.’ She held up a hand. ‘I ain’t demanding answers, just saying I reckon you’ve got some history to you. One day I’d be glad to hear it.’

Lynx pursed his lips. Unseen by Kas he touched his thumb to the silver ring he wore and nodded. ‘That’s the thing about history,’ he said gruffly, ‘it’s all in the past. Best place for it.’

‘Not sure it
is
all in the past for you,’ she said as she grabbed her weapons, ‘but it’s your history and you tell it as you want, Lynx. In the meantime, I’m for a piss and some food.’ She slapped him on the backside one final time and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him close for a last kiss that was a lot more tender than before.

‘Thanks for a good night all the same,’ Kas whispered. ‘Don’t dally, though. I’m not pulling rank; if a recruit’s the last to muster Anatin might make an example of ’em and you get Reft, not your superior.’

‘Get him for what?’

She grinned. ‘Stay here a while longer and you can find out.’

Muster wasn’t quite what Lynx expected. Over the years he’d seen quite a variety, from the arrow-straight ranks of So Han parade grounds to the sergeants-at-arms of mercenary armies corralling their troops with bullwhips. Today was a little different, mostly because the man in charge, Anatin, was still so drunk he couldn’t even stand.

The courtyard round the back of the Witchlight Inn was a spacious square, with plenty of room for two-score-odd mercenaries to mill aimlessly around while carthorses were being hitched up to three large wagons. They were all painted red and blue, presumably the company’s colours; two had canvas-covered frames, while the largest was a caravan with a rounded wooden roof and a shuttered window at the side. It was easy to pick out some of those he’d played with last night, most obvious among them being the pale giant, Reft, who was even vaster than Lynx had remembered. The morning light seemed to make the man’s hairless skin glow – he could almost have been a Wisp but for the slabs of muscle.

They don’t speak either
, Lynx reminded himself, casting his mind back to the one time he’d glimpsed a member of that underground-dwelling race and heard their story.
Never heard of a half-breed before, though. Is that even possible? And Banesh’s Promise, was his human parent a giant?

At Reft’s side was his scowling companion, Deern, and behind them the white-haired seer, Estal. She paused in her conversation with an elegantly dressed easterner with an extravagant moustache to give Lynx a nod. The easterner followed her gaze and had a long, hard look at Lynx himself, but Lynx ignored it. With brown skin, flowing black hair and, for some reason, a skirt, the man was clearly an exile of Infri or somewhere like that, well away from anywhere So Han had brutalised. He had the lithe build of a duellist, though, and protruding over his shoulder was an ornately worked brass gun butt – no doubt he held a high rank in the company and was sizing up his new comrade.

On Lynx’s right, slumped in an armchair that had been dragged outside, was their illustrious commander, Anatin, with his lieutenant, Payl, at his side looking sternly on. The man’s hair looked greyer and lank in the morning light, his clothes stained. He gave a piteous whimper, just about audible above the general hubbub.

Lynx reminded himself a soldier didn’t last long if he kept aloof from the rest of his company, so he ambled over to one of the shop boys who’d been part of the game last night, Fashail. He nudged the youth with his elbow. Fashail jumped and darted to one side, only belatedly realising he wasn’t being jostled unceremoniously.

‘Got told to keep out the way, eh?’ Lynx asked, trying to remember how to look friendly. ‘She does seem a stickler for the rules, that one.’

The only response he got was a grunt and downcast eyes.

‘Had a good night?’

A nod this time and reddened cheeks.

‘You got the talk about company rules this morning too?’

‘I, yes, I did.’ Finally Fashail looked Lynx in the eye. He was a fair-looking youth, tall and strong with a scattering of freckles on his tanned cheeks. He had no kit or weapons, of course, just a heavy jacket and a belt-knife.

‘What—’ Lynx didn’t get any further as Fashail’s companion for the night stepped forward.

‘FORM SUITS!’ Payl yelled across the courtyard. The mercenaries were jerked into silence with the exception of their commander, who shuddered and lolled sideways to be sick.

‘Shattered gods, woman,’ Anatin whimpered, ‘you trying to kill me?’

‘Suits?’ Fashail muttered to Lynx.

The bigger man looked around, trying to fathom a pattern in what the rest were doing. Before he could, Kas appeared and pointed at the left-hand group.

‘You’re there, most likely,’ she said to Fashail. ‘You’re a recruit and I’m betting you’ll be part of Sun.’

‘Sun?’

Kas gave a dirty laugh. ‘Anatin’s Mercenary Deck, remember? You just spent the night playing horsey for the Knight of Sun, I’m guessing you belong to her now. Go introduce yourself to Karra, Fourteen o’ Sun – guess that’ll make you the Thirteen.’

‘And me?’

‘Can’t you work it out, Stranger?’

Lynx nodded, remembering the previous night. The mercenaries had moved into five groups so if the suit of Sun was on the far left, the far right would be the suit of Tempest. ‘Stranger o’ Tempest, right. Ain’t many of us, by the looks of it.’

Kas shrugged. ‘Couple of wounded aren’t along for this job, but you’ve got the Knight of Tempest leading if you get sent off on a job. Teshen’s worth a dozen, trust me.’

A door banged behind Anatin, the sound echoing around the courtyard, and the second of the shop boy recruits stumbled out into the morning light. A few paces forward and he slowed, realising every eye in the courtyard was now turned his way.

‘Looks like we got a winner,’ Kas commented as Anatin twitched in his seat. ‘Late to muster, there’s always one.’

Very slowly the commander tightened his grip on the armrests of his chair and levered himself up. He turned with the jerky deliberation of a reanimated corpse, hair hanging loose over his face, until he was staring straight at the newcomer.

‘Name?’ Anatin growled.

The young man quavered, fear making his words just a whisper. ‘Ah, Hule. Sir.’

‘What?’

‘Hule,’ he repeated, loud enough for the courtyard to hear this time. ‘Sir.’

‘Hule.’

For a while Anatin just glared at him, but eventually he levered himself around to Payl. He tried to adopt some sort of dignified pose, chin resting in one hand, but he was too drunk to keep his elbow on the armrest and eventually he gave up. ‘Hule?’

‘One of the new recruits,’ the tall woman said baldly. ‘You gave him to Deern. Two of Blood.’

‘Two o’ Blood.’ Anatin seemed to spend a while considering that detail, but eventually he looked up again. ‘Deern?’

Payl nodded. ‘Aye, sir.’

‘You heard them, worm!’ Deern roared at the recruit once Payl gave him a nod. He stepped forward with an evil grin on his face. ‘Get over here, time for your punishment detail!’

‘Deern?’ Anatin repeated, wincing at the shout. Eventually something seemed to click into place in his brain. ‘Recruit turns up late, slams door right by my ear just to spite me, and … and, ah, other crimes too. And he’s to get his punishment from the scrawniest fuck I ever met?’

The malevolent glee on Deern’s face wavered, but not for long. ‘Can pass it up the chain if you like, chief,’ he said, pointing back towards the vast bulk of Reft behind him. ‘Knight of Blood.’

Anatin cackled briefly, almost falling out of his chair and having to clutch at one armrest to keep himself in it.

‘Don’t want to kill the little bastard,’ he muttered. Anatin made an effort to stand and got halfway there before his body folded sideways on itself and he dropped like a corpse on to the ground.

Lynx kept quiet, as comical as it was. There were a few smiles from the rest of the mercenaries, but no one was enjoying the sight too much.

I bet Anatin’s the sort of bastard who remembers everything you say. No matter how drunk he is it’ll all come back sometime.

‘Take your shot, Deern,’ Payl ordered, stepping around her commander. ‘Punishment for being late to muster, recruit, one to the gut from your direct superior.’

Lynx noticed then the badge sewn to her breast, a simple playing card design denoting the Knight of Sun. A quick check around identified the others. Clearly there was only one Prince in the company – Anatin – but all five suits had a Knight to lead it.

There was a wild-haired northern woman wearing the Knight of Stars at the fore of the next group, while the unmistakable Reft wore the Knight of Blood. The moustached duellist displayed the Knight of Snow, and lethal-looking Teshen was Lynx’s own commander – the Knight of Tempest.

Deern sauntered out into the middle of the open ground and beckoned Hule forward. The young man didn’t move for a moment, before he realised he had no choice and edged closer. Once he was near enough, Deern took him by the shoulder and gave him a merry smile as he tapped him on the cheek. ‘Next time it’ll be Reft and he’ll knock you into next week, understand?’

Just as Hule opened his mouth to reply, Deern hammered his fist into the youth’s gut and Hule doubled over the blow. As the young man wheezed and an assortment of laughter came from the mercenaries, Lynx took the opportunity to join Teshen and the handful with him. Teshen gave Lynx only the briefest of nods as he reached them, one hand grabbing at someone behind him as he did so.

Lynx frowned at the movement until he saw the dark-skinned woman Teshen had caught hold of, her cheeks scarlet with rage and eyes full of murder. Lynx stopped as he saw her hand was around her sword-grip, only Teshen’s fingers on her wrist preventing her from drawing the weapon. Her face meant nothing to him, nor the Jester of Tempest badge she wore, but he’d seen that look before.

‘We going to have a problem?’ he asked quietly.

The woman bristled as Teshen slowly shook his head. ‘That depends,’ she snapped, ‘on where you fought. Who you raped and murdered.’

‘No one,’ Lynx relied. ‘That was where me and the army disagreed.’

‘Bullshit, all you So Han fu—’

Teshen’s hand moved in a blur, two fingers coming to a sudden stop an inch from the woman’s eye. ‘Enough, Braqe,’ he said softly. ‘Walk away, go and talk to Kas.’

There was an intake of breath as Braqe readied herself to argue, but Teshen snapped her a look that made her think twice. Jaw clamped shut, the woman swallowed her rage and stalked away to where Kas now stood at the rear of Reft’s group.

‘Thank you,’ Lynx said.

‘Didn’t do it for you,’ Teshen said coolly, ‘but you outrank her now and that’d make it my problem.’

‘Fair enough.’ Lynx hesitated. ‘Will she give it up? I can still walk away.’

‘But you won’t, not now. As for Braqe, mebbe you’ll have a problem, mebbe not. Mebbe Kas will persuade her otherwise. She hates your lot with all the fire of a zealot and nothing’ll change that, but she’s no fool, for all that she wears the Jester.’

Lynx sighed. ‘Think I just remembered why I hate mercenaries.’

At that, Teshen raised an eyebrow. ‘Think I just worked out why some of ’em hate you.’ He nodded forward. ‘Our prince stirs. If he can stand, it’s time to go.’

True enough, Anatin was floundering on the ground in a way that made it clear he’d end up standing at some point, by accident if nothing else. Payl continued to ignore him, however, and did the count from memory – reeling off a list of names and apparently checking them against faces, given she didn’t wait for anyone to reply when their name was called.

In minutes it was done and Anatin was precariously balanced on two legs. The entire company seemed to take that as their cue to grab what bags they had left and sling them into one of the wagons. One of the older mercenaries pulled himself up and began arranging the bags according to some system Lynx guessed was the same as the muster count. Lynx watched and waited for his own card to be reached, but when the man muttered it aloud he gestured for Lynx to keep hold of the bag.