Oromir’s men bent down to scoop up mouthfuls of worms as they moved through. Jammed them into their mouths happily, their smiles coated with dirt and half-chewed worms.
Cabbage tried one bite, but quickly spat it out. He decided his next meal would come from the skyship, or in the afterlife. Whichever came first.
Near daybreak, they reached a wide streak of fallen Daintrees that ended at a cliff. Their trunks had all been snapped near the base. Only one thing could have done that.
“The skyship crashed here,” Bershad said. “Jolan and Kerrigan, stay with the donkeys. Everyone else, on your bellies and moving up with me.”
Cabbage opened his mouth to ask if he could guard the donkeys, too, but Simeon hauled him to ground before he could get a word out.
* * *
They reached the lip of the ridge, which looked out on a bowl valley.
As expected, the wreckage of the skyship was below. One side of the hull had been torn off during the crash, making it easy to see the contents of the cargo holds. Some were packed with sacks of rice. Others piled with cured meat. Shelves were lined with jars of beans and pickled vegetables. One entire hold was packed with cheese wheels the size of a warden’s shield. Cabbage’s mouth watered at the sight.
What they hadn’t been expecting was a second ship—perfectly intact—with a steady stream of soldiers and skyship crew coming in and out of it. They were moving rice sacks into the second ship, the hull of which was festooned with extra cargo netting. There were longbowmen perched along elevated positions, looking out at the forest.
“Well, this is a proper goatfuck, isn’t it?” said Felgor.
“Whisper when you speak, Balarian,” said Oromir. “The grayskins can hear over great distances.”
“Don’t see any of those around,” said Felgor, although Cabbage noted he was whispering now.
“Naw,” said Simeon. “But there’s plenty of clock fuckers.” He took a big breath in. “Some Ghalamarians, too. I can smell ’em.”
“Where they’re from is less important than the fact they’ve got every angle of approach covered with those longbows,” said Oromir.
“Might be we can rush ’em,” said one of Oromir’s men. “Get in close before they get a second volley off.”
Nobody responded to that right away, but a few moments later there was a rustling in some ferns about two hundred strides out from the skyship.
“Movement to the south!” an archer called. Then he loosed an arrow with smooth, confident efficiency.
The arrow landed in the ferns and a boar came screaming out of the undergrowth at speed, one arrow jammed in his hide.
A second archer loosed another arrow that plugged the boar just above the eye, dropping the beast.
“By the fucking forest gods, that was a good shot,” the warden muttered.
“You still want to rush them?” Oromir asked.
“I do not.”
“Hey Ashe, what’s the range on your death orb things?” Felgor asked, motioning to the satchel where she kept her lodestones.
“Thirty paces, tops. They’re too spread out.”
They all passed a moment in silence, studying the scene below.
“They do have a few blind spots in their route to and from the ship,” Oromir said eventually. “See them? There. And there.”
“Aye,” said Simeon, then he grinned. Snapped his fingers, which sound like bones being broken in half. “Here’s how we’ll do it. Oromir sneaks some o’ his murderous men down and waylays the porters. Dress up as them and spread out around the whole area nice and quick. Then I’ll rush in from the south, making a real big ruckus and attracting their arrows. You and yours take out the bowmen while they’re focused on me. Just be quick about it. Even my armor isn’t impervious to those arrows.”
“Works,” said Oromir. “I’ll take a score to the first blind spot. Kes, you take the second. Wait for my signal and—”
“Nope,” Bershad cut in. “We’re not doing that.”
“You got a better idea? ’Cause that dragon’s not here to help you and I’d rather not get porcupined today.”
“I don’t want to get porcupined either,” said Bershad.
“It’s an inconvenience to you. It’ll kill me and my men,” said Oromir. “So you can politely go fuck yourself, my lord.”
“Calm down, Oromir,” said Bershad. “There’s a way to do this without bloodshed.”
“Why would we want to do this without bloodshed?” Simeon asked.
“Because we’re not all shrouded in dragonscale armor,” said Ashlyn. “What are you thinking, Silas?”
Bershad pointed to a slender woman wearing dark armor. She was standing in the shadow of the skyship, scanning the tree line with a lens.
“I’m gonna go have a chat with her.”
“That’s a Papyrian widow,” said Oromir.
“I’m aware,” said Bershad. “We know each other.”
Ashlyn squinted at the skyship. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yep.”
“I see. Okay. Let’s go down and talk to her.”
“You all on friendly terms with the rest of those archers, too?” Oromir asked. “’Cause that widow doesn’t leave their sight lines, and judging from the fate of that boar, they’re gonna shoot on sight.”
“There’s a way around that.” Bershad said. “Felgor, you still have the skyman’s uniform in that pack?”
“Oh, there’s no way I’m ever parting with this baby. Skymen get all the perks back in Floodhaven. The best part is—”
“Put it on, then follow me.”
17
VERA
Crash Site of the Eternity
After scanning the forest for enemies, Vera ran a long, circular patrol around the skyship, keeping an eye on the men who were loading the food.
Garwin had refused to order his men to help, so it was just the regular skymen doing the work. One of them men bumped into her as she made her way around the cargo hold, mumbling an apology and some excuse about jungle heat.
Vera came around to Decimar, who was standing over the boar he’d killed.
“A decent shot,” she said.
“Mediocre, I think.” He winced. “I was aiming for the eye.”
Vera laughed. “You longbowmen are all perfectionist assholes.”
“And you widows are all insane. Jumping out of skyships for fun.”
Vera shrugged. They both scanned the forest for a few moments.
“Seems pretty quiet,” Decimar said. “Apart from the boar.”
“Yeah.” Vera watched the men load the food. “I wish we could move this along. I want this done so we can go to Pargos.”
“You’re still planning on going through with it, then?”
“Yes.”
“What about Garwin and the Hangman?” Decimar said, lowering his voice and gesturing up to Garret, who was standing in the shadowy nook of the skyship’s upper level with his arms crossed, staring at them. He seemed to be waiting for something to happen, although Vera wasn’t sure what that could be. “Don’t expect they’ll be interested in a side jaunt when this is done.”
“I’m aware.”
“So, what’s the plan there?”
“I’ll think of something,” Vera said, reaching behind her breastplate to dig out her smoking kit. She always came up with better ideas after a smoke.
But her kit wasn’t there.
She frowned. Started patting her pockets and pouches. Nothing.
“Black skies,” she muttered.
“There a problem?”
“I must have left it on the skyship…”
“Left what?”
“My—”
Vera stopped talking when the familiar scent of her pipe tobacco wafted across the open field and filled her nostrils. It was coming from a thicket of ferns that grew beneath the shadow of a massive Daintree.
“Vera? What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said to him. “I’m go
ing to scout that undergrowth, though. Tell the men. I do not want to be shot.”
“Why’s that undergrowth suddenly in need of a one-person patrol?”
“I just want to make sure there aren’t any more boars around,” she responded. “Can’t let you have all the glory.”
Vera made her way into the jungle alone. The smell of her pipe got stronger as she moved closer to the Daintree. She knew it might be a trap, but it seemed to her that if someone wanted her dead, they wouldn’t have used such an elaborate way to get her attention.
All the same, she approached on the prowl, careful to stay in the shadows of the undergrowth and avoid moving any ferns or branches. She eventually got to a vantage point where she could make out a big man smoking a pipe. She didn’t recognize him until he looked up at her and smiled.
“You got some sneak to you, Vera. But if you wanted to ambush me proper, you should really do something about the way you smell. Papyrians have a specific kind of stink to them when they don’t bathe for a while.”
Vera stood up. Sheathed her blade. “Fuck yourself, Silas.”
18
CABBAGE
Crash Site of the Eternity
After Ashlyn, Felgor, and Bershad snuck down through the woods, Oromir ordered his score of wardens to surround the skyship, but stay out of sight. Then he took out a lens and started glassing the crash site.
“This whole situation is a serious misallocation of my skill set,” Simeon muttered, crossing his arms and scowling.
“I didn’t hear you put up much resistance to Lord Bershad’s orders.” Oromir said Bershad’s title like it was an insult.
“Fuck off, Almiran. He slipped away before I could reinforce my case.”
“Uh-huh. For such a legendary murderer, you eat an awful lot of dragonshit from Silas and Ashlyn.”
On instinct, Cabbage scooted backward from his spot a little bit. He didn’t want to get any of Oromir’s blood on him after Simeon tore the warden’s arms off, but Simeon just threw Oromir that spooky smile he got when he was impressed with someone’s grit.
“You wanted a fight, too,” Simeon said. “Didn’t hear you pushing back.”
“I follow orders.”
“Sure. When old Flawless will stove your head in for disobeying them, you follow them to the letter.”
Oromir put the lens down and gave Simeon a measured look. “I heard he stoved your head in pretty good up on that island of yours. That’s what Felgor said, anyway.”
“Untrue,” Simeon said. “Silas and I were fighting square, and it could have gone either way. Then the witch queen interrupted with her sorcery, which is a cheap way to win.”
Cabbage was tempted to point out that all those years of Simeon murdering men in regular armor while he wore the dragonskin wasn’t exactly fair, either. But he liked his arms in their present location.
“I don’t believe you,” said Oromir.
“Cabbage was a witness.”
Simeon turned to him.
“Uh. Yeah. I was … and the fight was—”
“Don’t care,” Oromir interrupted, putting the lens up to his eye and continuing to scan the crash site. “Either way, you got cowed, and now you’re whipped worse than a farm boy fawning after the warden who took his cherry.”
Simeon shook his head. That smile was still on his face. “You got anything to throw out besides idle talk, Almiran? Because if not I’ll—”
“Quiet!” Oromir hissed, all his focus on the crash now. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Cabbage asked.
“I saw a man moving around on that upper tier. Could have sworn he had a rope coiled on his hip.”
“Uh, my vision’s not so good over long distances,” Cabbage admitted. “What’s it matter if one of ’em has a rope?”
“I think it was Garret,” Oromir muttered.
“Who?”
Oromir ignored him. Closed his lens. “I’m going down there.”
“Why?”
“Because if I’m right, there’s a man down there I need to kill.”
“I like the attitude, kid, but if you go down in a huff the only person you’re gonna get killed is yourself,” said Simeon.
Oromir’s face screwed up into a mess of frustration.
“Don’t shit yourself just yet,” said Simeon, then pointed. “See that big rut in the ground from when the skyship crashed? We’ll use the ferns as cover to reach it.”
“We?” Cabbage asked.
“Shut up, Cabbage. We’re obviously going with him.”
Cabbage didn’t feel like that was obvious at all, but knew there was no point in arguing.
“Once we reach the rut, we crawl until we reach that crater formed by an uprooted rock. From there, we’ll have an angle on everything.”
Oromir nodded. Then gave Simeon a once-over. “That armor stands out. Can you take it off?”
“Don’t need to.” He turned to Cabbage. “Fetch mud and leaves.”
19
VERA
Crash Site of the Eternity
Bershad took a long drag off Vera’s pipe, then he offered it to her. “You want the dregs?”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“Same thing as you, I’d imagine. Awful lot of food going to waste in that crashed ship.”
“That’s our food,” Vera said.
“Ah. Well, me and five thousand of my wardens were all set to unleash one of those ambushes we’ve become famous for, but then I saw a familiar face who appeared to be supervising the operation, and I thought if I could have a little private chat, we might be able to talk this out rather than resort to steel and spilled blood.”
“Five thousand wardens, is it?”
“Yup. Got you fully surrounded.”
“You’re a shitty liar, Silas.” A little smile crossed her lips. “Even if the Jaguar Army was five thousand strong—which it isn’t—there’s no way you marched them all through that dragon-infested jungle.” Vera frowned. “How did you get all the way out here on foot?” she asked, glancing down and noticing that Silas wasn’t wearing any boots.
“Got my ways.”
“Uh-huh. And what about stealing my pipe?” she asked. “I don’t remember you being so good with your fingers.”
“Harsh, but fair. I had some help on that front.”
Bershad motioned to a clump of ferns, where a skinny Balarian wearing a skyman’s uniform was crouched.
“Hey, Vera.”
She squinted at him. “Felgor?”
He stood up and gave her a big grin, putting his minuscule teeth on happy display. “In the flesh.”
“Where’d you get that uniform?”
“Got my ways,” Felgor said, mimicking Bershad’s accent. He frowned. “Hmm, doesn’t sound as gruffly heroic when I say it.”
“Vera!” Decimar yelled out to her in Balarian. “You okay?”
“I’m fine!” she called back. “Stay where you are.”
“Sounds like you’ve gotten pretty good at the clock fucker’s tongue,” Bershad said.
“I take offense to the term clock fucker,” said Felgor. Then he whispered to her, “Your accent is pretty good, though.”
Vera snorted. “Look, I’m glad you’re both alive and all that, but this isn’t a great time for a reunion. If anyone sees you besides me, arrows are going to fly.” She jerked her chin to the tree line. “Go back to your jungle. You lost this one.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Cut the dragonshit about five thousand men. I’m not a moron.”
He shrugged. “Might not be quite five thousand, but I do have her.”
A woman in a yellow poncho walked out of the woods. It had been a long time, but Ashlyn Malgrave’s face was unmistakable.
Vera’s jaw hung open. “My Queen. You’re supposed to be…”
“Dead?” Ashlyn asked. “Not yet.”
Vera glared at Silas. “Anyone else you’re hiding in those ferns?”
He smiled. “That’s all for now. But we do have enough wardens to make things interesting if it comes to a fight. Was hoping you could tell your men to stand down and clear out. You can have whatever food you already loaded, we’ll take the rest.”
Vera shook her head. “I need that food.”
“If you try to tell me that the Balarian army is short on rations, I’ll lose my composure.”
“It’s not for the military. People are starving all over Terra.”
Bershad cocked his head, surprised. “And that’s a priority for Osyrus Ward?”
“It is a priority for me.”
“Huh.” Bershad scratched at his dirty hair. “Even split?”
Vera shook her head. “It’s not that simple. The longbowmen will follow my lead, but the Ghalamarians who are with me have their own commander, and he’s not really the even split sort.” She looked at Bershad. “You know him. Garwin.”
“Argel’s baron?”
“He’s a count now.”
“What’s a Ghalamarian count doing in this war?” Bershad asked.
Vera hesitated. Decided that Bershad didn’t need to know the full truth.
“Osyrus Ward compelled him to join the fight.”
“If you know him, that’s good for us, right?” Ashlyn asked.
“Eh, we didn’t leave things on the best of terms.”
“What does that mean?”
“Last time we met, I killed a bunch of his men, and his city was destroyed by a Red Skull.”
“By the fucking forest gods, Silas, are there any lords in Terra you haven’t pissed off or killed?”
He shrugged. “There’s you.”
Ashlyn just shook her head.
“So, what are we doing here?” Vera asked.
Ashlyn stood up. “I would like the chance to persuade Garwin that a peaceful resolution is best for everyone in this particular instance.”
Fury of a Demon Page 17
