That seemed to go over well with those who could hear, and the men marched on in peace.
“But why did the gods frown on us?” Leon asked from his place on the captain’s right. He was sincere, and kept his voice low. “We sacrificed before leaving Dura, and the omens were good.”
“Am I a priest?” Damicos countered. “You know as much of the gods’ will as I. Let’s just get back to Dura. Then we can talk of what should have been, and what may yet be.”
CHAPTER 34: BETTER THAN GLORY
“Don’t you want the hides?” Perian asked the next morning.
The company was up and getting ready to march after a quick breakfast. Every saddlebag bulged with ape scalps and all were eager to get clear of the forest once and for all, and to collect their pay.
“The baroness is paying us for dead apes, not behemoths,” said Captain Pelekarr. “And I don’t think any of us covets the task of stripping such large hides off these smelly, loathsome creatures. Nor transporting them.”
Perian shrugged. “They’re worth money among your border traders.”
“Money?” Deltan asked. A gleam came into his eye, and he shifted in his saddle to face the tracker. “How much?”
“It would depend on the trader and the season,” Perian answered. “But there was a mighty hunter of the Demon Hill clan who slew a behemoth years ago by luring it into a pitfall trap. I don’t know what your people used its hide for, but they gave him eight good horses for it.”
The captain did a quick calculation in his head and then turned to issue an order, but the sergeants were already bawling at the men. “Get those skins off! Shift yourselves! Don’t mar them, they’re worth more than you are!”
Captain Pelekarr bowed to the guide from his saddle. “I thank you once again, Perian. You will share in the pay for this campaign along with the men.”
Perian smiled.
It took them almost an hour to get the skins off with a team on each carcass using ropes to roll the huge creatures over. The one Makos had slain was far smellier, older carrion and the men who weren’t involved in the removal stayed far away. Perian advised them to post scouts to ward off any dangerous scavengers that smelled blood on the wind, and the captain did so, but nothing came around to bother them except for a few birds that waited in the trees for them to leave. It seemed that the other creatures of Ostora knew how dangerous it could be to tangle with a breeding pair of behemoths.
The monstrous skins were rolled up and laid across the backs of two horses each. Finally the men were on the road again, moving through the trees toward the settled country. This time Perian led them southeast, following the White River.
From time to time the terrain necessitated a detour inland, but the men were glad to remain mostly in the open near the river’s edge. The White here kept a fairly straight course.
So skilled was Perian’s woodcraft and so comprehensive her knowledge of the region that just past noon they exited the forest, south of Greenfield and close to Painlock Fold. She had avoided the lands of her own tribe, the hazards that had plagued the company during their earlier foray, and brought them out in half the time expected.
“Soon we’ll draw up a map, you and I,” the captain told her. “Of the lands along the frontier, with all the major landmarks in the forest. You’ll save us hundreds of hours of riding.”
They passed through fields of young grain, pastureland filled with grazing livestock, and a few fortified settlements and farmhouses. Pelekarr again decided to take a small contingent with him into Painlock Fold; he didn’t want a hundred testy and road-sore warriors facing off against the baroness’s guards if the negotiations became difficult, but he also wanted the company far from the taverns and brothels when they finally got some coin in their pockets. Craya didn’t deserve to have any of that pay filtering back into her own holdings.
He selected ten troopers to escort five extra horses, each carrying saddlebags bulging with ape scalps. Keltos and Makos, as champion beast-slayers of the company, were the first to be chosen. The behemoth skins were left behind with the main company. Pelekarr made it clear to those in the party that no word was to be spoken of the giant beasts unless he broached the subject himself.
Again they passed under the great gates, and were led through the cobbled streets to the keep as before. The town was less crowded now, but still an impressive population center for this region of Ostora. The courtyard was as Keltos remembered it. The saddlebags, which had taken full afternoon sunlight for several hours, stank. Kel felt his horse trying to shy away, and he could hardly blame it. Every creature with a nose was restless.
The baroness was outside her keep this time when they passed the outer wall. She stood, dressed in a pale yellow gown that ill suited her, in the shadow of a gallows which several men were hard at work constructing. Her seneschal was cooling her with a long-handled fan as she looked over a scroll she was holding. She did not look up from it when the captains approached.
Pelekarr dismounted without waiting to be asked, and the others followed suit. Keltos glared at the men-at-arms escorting them, and felt a surge of satisfaction when they backed off and stood by the gate instead of hemming the mercenaries in like they had on the previous occasion. A moment later he realized their willingness to stand down was probably more due to the stench than to respect for the mercenaries.
The captain cleared his throat. “Baroness Craya, may we have a minute of your time?”
The woman turned and put a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. She handed her scroll to a page standing by. “You’ve returned!”
Pelekarr nodded once. “As promised. With good news for your people: the apes have been scattered.”
“Took you long enough, didn’t it now?” Craya loudly croaked. Keltos saw that she now wore a white ruffle at her throat instead of the black collar from before. He also saw her sharp eyes twinkle with fierce delight when Makos grunted angrily in response. “But I know how to reward a task completed—if not, perhaps, completed as soon as I would have liked.” Her eyes strayed to the gallows and the workers struggling to erect it. The tradesmen hurriedly continued their work, studiously avoiding the noblewoman’s gaze.
“I was not made aware when we reached our agreement,” said Pelekarr in a mild voice, “that there was a time limit. I am saddened that we have not earned your thanks, but according to our terms we have earned payment for the job.”
The baroness’ darkly shaded lips thinned, and her eyes flashed with annoyance. She held up a pair of fingers. “Two more farms threatened by sightings of those vicious beasts, while you and your men were swilling ale in your camp and bumbling around in the forest. Am I to thank you for that?”
“Perhaps not. But you are to pay us, one way or another.” There was a hint of stone in the captain’s voice, and he did not look away from the woman’s eyes even when a few of her guards subtly moved up to flank the riders. Keltos held his lance with a firmer grip, ready for anything.
“This time, perhaps. But only so that next time you take my coin, you’ll jump!”
“That will depend on next time.” Pelekarr spoke gracefully and quietly, and though Keltos felt nothing but rage at the arrogant noblewoman, he was proud of his captain’s limitless poise.
Unable to goad the man into misspeaking, the baroness leveled the demand they’d been waiting for. “I have other affairs to attend to before I take my supper. Show me proof that you completed the task, and I will have my seneschal fetch your coin.” She breezed through her words as if the matter were already settled, but her eyes stared beadily at the troopers in front of her, eager to play the next part of her cunning charade when they failed to produce the required proof. Pelekarr held her attention, and she had not yet noticed the dank saddlebags on the beasts behind him.
Pelekarr hesitated, half turning toward his men, and then glancing back at the baroness with raised eyebrows as if to ask a question. Craya nearly pounced, her mouth curving upward in a smirk, but realized she
had to wait for the captain to admit he had no valid claim on her before she could lay him low with a refusal to pay up. She held a hand out, palm up. “Well?”
Pelekarr shrugged and waved a hand at his men. Keltos and Makos led two of the packhorses forward, jerking loose the straps that bound the saddlebags. With a slopping noise, piles of bloody scalps slithered onto the dusty flagstones, gleaming wetly. Behind them three more troopers came dumping their burdens on the same spot. The grisly tokens made a sodden heap stirrup-high, and the flies instantly began to whine and buzz around them.
The baroness stepped back, her face a tight mask of sour hatred. Her seneschal stopped fanning and shrank away.
“Over a hundred of them here, Lady Craya,” Pelekarr explained, gesturing at the pile as the last man unloaded his cargo. “We’ll wait while you count. At six silver apiece, which I’ve been assured is a fair bounty, it’s more than enough to justify our full agreed-upon payment. And I doubt whether these blonde apes will bother you again for the foreseeable future.”
Craya stared at the captain coldly. Her eyes flitted between the riders before her and the men with pole-axes behind. At last she spoke, her voice carefully measured.
“You shall be paid. And then you will remove this refuse from my courtyard.”
Pelekarr shook his head gravely. “No, that would not be honorable. We might be tempted to turn the scalps in elsewhere for a double bounty. No, these are for you, proof that we are men of our word. You and your men may do with them whatever you like. But we’ll not touch them again. A matter of honor, you see.”
Craya glared at the man with undisguised hatred while her seneschal retrieved a coin box from the keep. Captain Pelekarr took it without so much as glancing at its contents and handed it to Sergeant Bivar. Then he turned his horse to go, and the others wheeled after him.
They left the courtyard without another word, the baroness’s murderous eyes boring holes in their backs.
They were back in Dura that evening, joining their comrades and commiserating on the difficulties of this new life as mercenaries. The infantry had not suffered such horrendous losses among their ranks as other companies had, thanks to the quick action of Kallida and the captain. The tale of that and of Damicos’ duel were retold three times that night. But despite salvaging the company’s honor and avenging General Jaimesh as far as was currently possible, they had come away with a small fraction of the needed pay.
“At least what silver there is in the company coffers is to be shared out equally,” the veteran Cormoran muttered as he and Keltos walked into the Tooth and Blade Inn to renew their acquaintance over a few pints of local brew. “It’s poor comfort to the lads who’re buried in the field now. But for those of us that made it another day, it’s good to not starve.”
Keltos nodded. “But you’re buying tonight, right? I’ve got to outfit my new mare, and have my sword straightened.”
The two of them lowered their voices when they spotted Captain Pelekarr standing by the bar, deep in conversation with the proprietors, Brannon and his wife. At his elbow stood the new addition to their company, the exotic barbarian woman. She looked out of place among the tables, chairs, and glassware. And if the forlorn look on her face was any indication, she felt that way as well.
“Is she staying with us?” Corm muttered. “Someone said she was just trying to get north.”
“She’s with us for the time being,” Keltos replied. “There’s at least ten leagues of hostile country around her if she steps outside that doorway unescorted.”
“Well, so long as she’s not of the same clan as the foul fellow that nearly blinded me in the woods. He reeked of evil, among other things.”
“No. White River Clan, this one. They’re not a bad lot at all, fed us and praised us for killing some apes.”
Cormoran shrugged as they found a table and waved at the serving girl. “What I want to know is what happens next for us, for the company.”
“You mean where our next fight’ll be?” Keltos quietly asked.
“Or if there will be a next fight,” Cormoran growled. “Not everyone in this company is holding on so strong as the captains would like. There were several that nearly hauled off and raided Telros’ fortress on the way here.”
CHAPTER 35: A CRUCIAL TURNING
Somber’s voice was as close to cheerful as he ever got. “It’s not unheard of, after a crushing loss, to vote in a new commander.”
Makos shook his head. “We’ll be paid off and then disbanded completely, if it comes to that,” he whispered to the other men.
But Keltos wasn’t sure. Breakfast had been finished quickly once news of an oration by the captains spread, and the sergeants kicked the men into top form. Then they all followed the two captains half a league up the lonely north road to the complex of ruins outside Dura. Why would they be assembled here if the meeting was a surrender of the company?
Long low walls of eroded masonry crisscrossed the area, heavily overgrown with tangled vines and weeds. Fruit trees grew wild here and there, grown from discarded seeds and rinds. It was an open, quiet place filled with droning bees and flitting butterflies among the quiet ghosts and memories. Here and there a crumbling arch rose from the field, or a tree shaded the tumbled stone around it.
The company stood at attention in a large central meadow where once a great hall had stood, judging by the wide borders of the enclosure. Even now, under the loam, cracked flagstones tilted this way and that, making footing slightly difficult. Why did the captains want them lined up here, facing west? A lone farmer passed along the road with his son, headed for his fields, and glanced curiously at the ordered ranks among the ruins.
The wounded who were in a condition to come had been laid under a tree near the captains with the rising sun warming their backs. The hoplites grouped in their individual fighting units on the left and the cavalry troops on the right, slanting so that every man could easily see the spot where the pivotal discussion would take place.
Once the men were all in order, Captain Pelekarr stepped up onto a raised patch of stonework that might once have been a dais or an altar of some sort. In full armor, helmet clenched beneath his elbows, with polished greaves and cloak billowing, the captain cut an impressive figure. He looked calm and collected as usual, and he looked over the men with a sharp and fearless eye. Keltos felt rising confidence that this would be no apology, no disbanding.
And yet Captain Damicos stood at his elbow, a long stem of grass jutting from his mouth and swishing back and forth as he chewed it. Keltos saw Makos frowning at that. The infantry captain was the very opposite of Pelekarr in stance and bearing, though Keltos knew he could be imperious and formal when he wished. Perhaps it was a statement of deference to the cavalry captain. On Pelekarr’s other side, the barbarian woman leaned against a waist-high portion of the ruined wall, arms folded and face pensive.
“Our battle in the forest,” Pelekarr began, “was the worst day of my life.”
There was a rumble of agreement from the ranks. No preamble was needed today; even the infantry knew by now the details of the cavalry’s disastrous rout.
“Captain Damicos tells me,” Pelekarr went on, “that the fight on the coast wasn’t much better. You hoplites lost fewer comrades, but came away with little credit and less pay. Now, I won’t attempt to mollify you by claiming we learned valuable lessons, or that we technically accomplished both jobs, even though it’s true.”
The words stung, but they were also refreshingly direct and unpretentious. Keltos listened carefully.
“So today we find ourselves with a choice,” Pelekarr resumed. “On the one hand, we could lean back and watch our pride go to pieces along with the whole Ostoran frontier. Whatever we end up fighting for, we’ll keep stumbling around in the forest, losing our brothers one by one and getting cheated by every dung-hill baron who thinks he can get away with it. That’s one way.
“Or we can change. Remake ourselves into something stronger, faster, some
thing new. Take back our honor and start showing this land what real soldiers can do, killing anything that gets in our way.” He paused. “I’ll let you guess which choice I prefer.”
He drew a deep breath, glanced at Damicos. The infantry captain squinted up at him, still chewing his stalk of grass, and then opened his mouth. “I tell you now, boys, what Pelekarr says is correct: we cannot remain as we are now and succeed as a company. As in nature, so with us: adapt or die.”
Pelekarr nodded. “Captain Damicos and I have a plan. It can work. It will work. But it requires a complete change in the way we think, train, and cooperate. It means becoming something entirely different than what many of us expected upon joining this company.
“That may be unwelcome to some of you. You signed on to do the same things the king was paying you for: basic soldiering like you learned overseas. What we’re proposing will include much more, and if you stay on for it, you’ll be expected to give your all. Beginning tomorrow at sunrise.”
Every ear was hanging on the captain’s words now. This was exactly what Keltos had hoped for, a bold new strategy to lead the company forward. But would anyone else go for it?
“The truth is, we lost our recent battles because we don’t understand this country,” Pelekarr continued. He pointed at the forested hills visible to the west. “Ostora is new to all of us. We didn’t realize the apes were smart enough to lay an ambush for us. We didn’t know that such creatures as the behemoths or the red worms even existed, let alone how to fight them. We expected Ostora to be like Kerath, and our friends died because of it.
“Our cavalry contingent, so dauntless on open plains, proved utterly ineffective in the deep forest. Once in the clearing, however, our horses were all that allowed us to maneuver around the charging giants and escape. Infantry caught in the open wouldn’t have stood a chance. Back in the trees where the apes hide, however, the advantage is again to the men afoot. Effective archers and skirmishers were sorely missed on both sides, though traditional use of arrow volleys would have done no good at all.”
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