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Authors: David Drake

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BOOK: Up From Hell
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“Why should you care about Dubnoreix having his way after all?” she said, raising a mocking eyebrow. “If you don't know the answer to that, you're not the man I thought you were.”

I laughed; she was a sharp little piece, no doubt about that. “All right,” I said, “but you'd better be able to ride the way you claim you can. I swear by the Dagda that I'll drag you on a rope if you can't.”

This time she laughed. “Get me a horse, then, and you can judge for yourself. And I think we'd better do it soon, because your chief didn't sound like he meant
maybe
when he told you to get moving.”

I grunted and led the way to the corral. Galo stumped along behind.

*   *   *

Vincingo, the warband's head wrangler, likes me and my troop. Whenever we stumble on something particularly good, we make sure there's some of it left for him.

That means we get our pick of the horses; better, we get Vincingo's pick, because he knows them better than any of us do. We don't get pretty-looking mounts that don't have stamina, or are shortsighted, or are likely to kick for no reason except they've got a clear shot at your ribs; those horses go to other troops.

Vincingo and his crew had already started to cut out mounts for me and Galo when I arrived at the corral. I'd just as soon not have been the day's hot gossip, but it made getting out of camp quicker and easier than it would've been if I'd had to explain why we were leaving again when we'd just got in.

Vincingo hadn't heard Alpnu was going with us, though, and she had her own opinions about horses. They were choosing one for her while the crew put together strings for me and Galo.

While we waited, I had my first chance to relax since we'd gotten back to the camp. That's what I was doing, leaning on a post and trying to forget the gouge along my ribs, when Galo said, “I wish that woman wasn't coming along.”

I opened my eyes; looking at Galo was better than the way my memories were turning. “She rides well enough,” I said, nodding toward Alpnu and Vincingo. “Rides better than me, anyhow.”

Another thought struck me, and I said, “Or are you worried that she'll get away? Don't be. I think the Crow would be just as glad if she disappeared, given the trouble she's been already. I wouldn't mind either.”

That last part wasn't quite true. Alpnu was a puzzle, and I like figuring things out. The problems I play with aren't usually people, though. If she ran, I wasn't going to hunt her down.

“I'd like it if she disappeared,” Galo said, wrinkling his forehead. “Etruscan women are witches, you know.”

I laughed and said, “All women are witches, Galo, I figured that out before I was sixteen, and nothing I've seen since has changed my mind.”

The sun caught the clear jewel on Galo's chest. It was a perfect sphere the size of the nail of my index finger. It hadn't been drilled: gold wire held it to a gold neck chain.

“Galo,” I said, “where in hell did you find that necklace?”

I spoke partly to change the subject. I didn't know what I thought about Alpnu, and at the back of my mind I was afraid Galo was right.

“It was in the box that the Etruscan chief wore around his neck,” Galo said uncomfortably. “Do you want it, Taranis? You killed him, I guess.”

Something as valuable as that ought to be turned over to the Crow, to be granted at his will. That would generally be to the warrior who took it, but you didn't want to get above yourself with the Crow. On the other hand, Galo didn't take anything for himself—and I took bloody little. If he wanted this bauble, I'd make it all right if anybody pushed the point.

“No, I don't like things around my neck,” I said. The stone didn't have any color, but sometimes the sun hit it so that it blazed like when bellows drive a smith's fire. “Why d'you suppose he wore such a pretty thing in an iron box?”

Galo shrugged. “I just like it,” he said. “It makes me think of the woman I dream about.”

I clapped him on the shoulder and said, “It's yours, then. And here comes Vincingo and Alpnu back, so I guess we can be out of here as quick as we want to. Which
I
say is pretty quick!”

*   *   *

Galo was leading like he usually does when we're heading out from camp. Normally there'd be a couple of the boys as outriders, but it's Galo who says which way when a path forks or we have to pick our way through tangles, which is often enough.

The locals—the Etruscans—farm, but they keep moving the plowed fields around so most of the country is growing up in brush at any one time. Not a life I'd want.

Galo had his prybar crossways on his pommel like always. He was too clumsy on his legs to fight in the line, but believe me, nobody got up after Galo hit them with that length of iron.

I wasn't planning to fight on this outing. If something came up, though, we'd deal the best we could, just as we did when it was my whole troop.

“Has your man always been crippled or did he break his leg as a child?” Alpnu asked. We were side by side on this path. She rode well, but she'd never had to lead a string, so I led the remounts for me and Galo and the packhorse with the tarp and food for a couple days.

“Don't let him hear you call him crippled,” I said. “He'll tell you he's as strong as any two men, and that's true of any two men
I've
met. But yeah, he was born like he is now.”

There weren't any wheel ruts in the path, but the vegetation alongside was grass that came up to the horses' knees, no trouble to ride through. I had enough slack in the line that I usually didn't have to pull up when one of the horses paused to shit; that was the closest thing there was to a problem.

“Galo isn't really ‘my man,' either,” I said. “He's wellborn, as good as anybody, but he'd have had a hard time of it if he hadn't stuck to me from when we were boys. His leg you see, but he's a little funny in the head too.”

“You're a kind man, Taranis,” Alpnu said.

I looked at her, about as surprised as if she'd just flapped her arms and flown away. “I'm as hard as I need to be,” I said. “Don't you ever doubt that.”

“I don't,” she said. “Why doesn't your friend Galo like me?”

I pursed my lips, then laughed. “Galo thinks you're a witch,” I said. “Don't worry, I've told him you're all right. He won't cross me.”

“I am a witch,” Alpnu said, meeting my eyes. Her voice was calm as you please. “Does that change your opinion of me?”

Yeah, it feels like somebody's cold hand just grabbed my heart,
I thought, but that wasn't something that a man says. Besides, she was making a joke. A bad joke.

“You said Mamurcus was a witch too,” I said, “and he didn't give me much of a problem. I guess I'll take my chances with you.”

“You took Mamurcus unaware,” Alpnu replied, just as calm and serious as she'd been before. “Besides, you were holding iron in front of you. Mamurcus kept me bound within iron and under a roof, too; my powers come from the sky, not the ground like his.”

I laughed. I suppose it sounded phony. Dagda knows, it deserved to sound phony.

“So if Dubnoreix had dragged you off to his bed, you'd have turned him into a toad?” I said. “That's what you mean?”

Alpnu smiled. If I'd seen that smile on the face of a man coming at me, I'd have known to be careful.

“No, but before morning he might have felt a dagger coming up through his kidney,” she said. “I suppose it would be a matter of how much pleasure he'd given me. I've found that most men aren't worth keeping around.”

I didn't blurt anything, but she'd shocked me. I swallowed and said, “
My
people expect our women to be faithful.”

I sounded like one of the priests lecturing boys on the customs of the tribe. I felt myself blush, and that made me even madder than I'd been before.

Alpnu smiled again. This time it was the kind of expression a warrior gets from women often enough after a victory celebration … as I know well.

“Then you'd better not take your women from
my
people,” Alpnu said.

The path was narrowing with spiky brush on either side. She clucked at her horse and rode ahead.

That suited me better than I'd have cared to say.

*   *   *

We rode through the afternoon and into the evening, much longer than I'd planned. We needed to get a ways out from the camp, but I'd have been willing to set up anywhere after the first five miles. Galo kept pushing on.

I didn't move up alongside Alpnu again when the path would have permitted it. She glanced back over her shoulder once, but she faced front again when I pretended not to notice.

I didn't know what to think about her.
Not
thinking about her seemed a better idea.

The dark clouds didn't improve my mood. I wasn't hearing thunder, but occasionally heat lightning flickered to the south.

The farms and villas near the camp had been deserted. Occasional chickens and a goat or two wandered about, probably wishing they hadn't been left behind when their owners rushed in panic into Caere.

Farther on we didn't run into any habitations, abandoned or otherwise. I wasn't worried—I've slept rough often enough in the past—but it puzzled me. Galo was leading us more directly eastward than most of our foraging runs had been. That was the direction of Rome, which is where we were supposed to be going, but we weren't crossing any roads. There must be some; Rome claimed to be the chief city around here, after all.

I thought of asking Alpnu what she knew about the region, but I decided not to. Or I could bring Galo back and talk to him directly; it was about time to take a break and switch out our horses again.

A young goat poked her head out of the brush up the slope to our left and watched us. That decided me: if she hadn't moved, I probably wouldn't have noticed her.

Sorry, girl,
I thought as I transferred one of my three javelins to my right hand. I spitted her through the neck, which wasn't a bad cast at fifty feet from horseback. She bounded out of sight, spraying blood. She wouldn't get far.

“Galo!” I shouted—he was over a hundred feet ahead. “Come back here and we'll camp!”

I wouldn't normally have made so much noise when we were in the field, but we hadn't seen any sign of humans for over a mile except for maybe the goat. Even she might have been born wild instead of having been abandoned when the Crow moved south.

I swung off my mount, wondering if it would stand if I dropped the reins. I hadn't ridden this one before. Alpnu walked her horse back and took the reins from my hand without speaking.

Galo was picking his way toward me; he didn't look happy. Well, I wasn't happy either. I didn't like this place, and it didn't look like we were going to find a better one before night—and maybe rain—caught us.

I unlaced the goat where it had fallen and lifted it by the hind legs to drain as much of the blood as I could. Blood spooks a lot of horses, and all it would take to finish off this wretched day would be to have to hunt our skittish mounts in a rainstorm.

I brought the goat back to Galo and the woman. Before I could speak, Galo said, “Look, Taranis. Let's just go over the hill ahead, all right? I think it's close.”

“Bloody hell, Galo,
what's
close?” I said. “I don't like this place!”

“Well, we won't stay here,” Galo said, clutching the jewel with his left hand. “We'll go to the next valley, that's all.”

I grimaced. It couldn't be worse than where we were.

“All right,” I said, “but we camp there, that's final. I don't know what you're playing at, Galo, but I've had about enough of it.”

I didn't get the last of my words out before he rode off in the way he'd been going. I mounted and laid the goat over my pommel. At least we'd have fresh food tonight, though I'd have to grill the goat. I hadn't packed a pot to boil it.

“There is something very bad nearby,” Alpnu said. She was riding alongside me again. “Your friend clearly senses things that are hidden to others, but he doesn't seem bothered by this.”

“I've never known Galo to lead us wrong,” I said. “Maybe this'll turn out to be a good idea too.”

I put in that last bit to make myself feel better. I touched the hilt of my sword. Mostly the long blade just shows my rank; this evening I felt better for the weight hanging against my right thigh. My troopers carry daggers or the short, hook-bladed Etruscan swords. Those are as good as a hatchet to chop kindling or joint meat.

The slope down from the crest was steeper than most of the grades we'd followed, but the valley itself was open. Outcrops poked from the ground. The few scattered trees looked spindly, and even the grass was sparse.

Galo dismounted where the hillside started to flatten, near a face of bare rock. There wasn't any dry wood, but I could split one of the old windfalls beneath a pair of junipers to expose the punk inside. If I could build the fire before the rain hit, we'd be all right.

“We'll shelter under these trees,” I said. “Alpnu, you help Galo with the tarps and I'll get the fire going.”

I split the branch with my dagger and trimmed curls from the heart of it. Alpnu said quietly, “Your friend isn't listening to you.”

I looked up in surprise. Instead of unloading the packhorse, Galo had spiked the sharp end of his prybar into the face of the bare stone. He put his weight onto it, levering sideways.

There was a
crack!
and rocks tumbled down. Galo leaped back. The chunks ranged from grit to blocks you could use to build a foundation. Some of the big ones seemed to have been squared off.

“Galo, what do you have there?” I said. I'd started to unpack my fire starter, but I set the bundle down and got to my feet.

BOOK: Up From Hell
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