I saw flashes of the aqueduct in the hills not far to the west, the grey stones partly visible through the branches.
My saddle sores were gone, but I was still anxious to get off my horse. I had welts on my arms, chest, stomach, and the outside of my thighs from the beating Mulldoos had administered. While I was greener than any rank recruit he had ever seen—something he seemed to delight in repeating over and over, in as many foul ways as possible—and I apparently had a better chance of killing someone with a quill than with any bladed weapon (which also gave him great pleasure in declaring), he’d decided it was time to begin sparring. And while we were moving at half speed and three quarters most of time, we finished each session with full-speed sparring. He didn’t have to exert himself much to demonstrate how I’d allowed my shield to drift open, or failed to step out of a blow even when it was clear it was coming, or stuck my sword arm out too far, exposing it, or a hundred other gaps in my defense.
My bruises had bruises.
It seemed so simple—you had a weapon in one hand, a shield in the other, and your feet to move—but notoriously difficult to put it all together. Occasionally I moved well, negotiating the space properly, and didn’t do a terrible job of deflecting blows, but neglected to throw any of my own. Or I overextended, got too aggressive, and lost my balance, or forgot my shield work completely and took another clang to the helm or a stinging rebuke to the ribs.
“Welts are the best teacher of all,” he’d said, hooking my shield with the edge of his to pull it out of the way and delivering a thrust to my thigh. “You’re a real plaguing attentive student,” he said, laughing, as I managed to block two blows in a sequence but lost sight of him, blinding myself with my own shield, and then heard a stout shot and felt the reverberations in my helm as he struck me when I tried peering over the edge. “I’m a crippler, you’re a scribbler. Think you can change that any, pen monkey?” Another blow, another welt.
So it was a relief when I finally climbed out of my saddle at the abandoned mine site, especially since it was nearly dusk, so there would be no more training today. I was stiff, sore, and tired.
But, I reminded myself, at least I wasn’t in a Deserter cell, waiting to be drained of memories and husked. Or a corpse. No matter how much my body hurt, it was better than the alternative.
Braylar trusted his men, but set out to explore the site as much as the fading light allowed, whether to assure himself it was a secure location, or simply to do something to stretch his legs. The rest of the company took care of their horses and made camp, and again the Jackals and Eagles gave each other space.
After a cold, unsatisfying meal of beans, hard bread, and of course the ubiquitous dried meat —it was so tough it was impossible to tell what animal it possibly could have been—I walked away from the abandoned mine, leaving the forgotten shafts and the miners’ shades who might have still haunted them. The trees weren’t as plentiful or towering as those in the southern tracts of land in clerical or royal forests, but they were woods, just the same. As I lost sight of the mine and soldiers gathered there, and headed out to empty my bladder, it was something of a relief to escape the low conversations, crude jokes, and wistful reminiscing about some soft maid or warm hearth or delightful diversion that seemed worlds away. The Syldoon might have been among the toughest men and women in the world, but they were not immune to longing for comforts, even simple ones like wine, now that the last stolen skins of it had run dry.
But that only made it less bearable. I was glad I couldn’t see the aqueduct anymore either. The prospect of climbing up onto it soon, walking miles in the cold water to sneak into the most well-protected city in the known world on the most covert operation ever conceived, seemed only slightly less doomed than jumping into a bear pit with a blindfold on.
I heard some something scuffle through the dried leaves behind me and reached for Lloi’s sword.
Rudgi laughed, its own scuffling sound. “You barely know which end of that thing to hold, but at least you have good ears. You might make a half-decent sentry. That’s something.”
She stepped out from behind a tree as I replied, “That has always been my life’s ambition.”
Rudgi said, “‘Dream for the sky, or the horned moon in it,’ right?”
I nodded, wondering how much of my face she could see. We were quiet for a few moments as she walked closer. It felt cold enough to see our breath ghosting, but it must have just been the brisk breeze stirring the trees, as there was no breath to be seen.
I stood there, she stood there, and it wasn’t as awkward as I expected. Still, it felt like one of us ought to say something.
“So—” I began, just as she stepped in and kissed me, our teeth clinking together. Her hand was in my hair, on the back of my head, across my neck, exploring, and I started kissing her back, bringing my hands up, unsure where to touch, what she liked, so simply running them across her back.
Rudgi slid her tongue in my mouth, tentative, just a quick dart at first, then more assertively as I opened my mouth and responded, repositioning my head, suddenly feeling not the least bit cold at all.
Then I thought about the last time a woman was forward and kissed me and pulled back.
“What is it?” she asked, looking around. “Those keen ears hear something?”
“No,” I said. And she reached for me again, but I stepped back slightly. “Did Vendurro put you up to this?”
She replied, laughing, “So, are you asking if I’m a copper-grubbing harlot, or if my commanding officer can tell me who I should be fucking?”
“No, I’m . . . I didn’t mean . . . I just meant that, well—”
Rudgi reached her hand up, gently stroked my cheek for a second, then withdrew it fast to give me a quick slap. “For having a brain so big, you really don’t have the first clue how to use it half the time, do you?”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Rudgi, I’m just not used to—”
“Oh, you didn’t offend me, Arki. You think my skin’s that thin? I’m a plaguing Syldoon. You amused me some, but didn’t offend me.” She stepped closer, and I braced for another slap. “Not used to a woman showing you what she wants, eh?”
I wanted to reach out, to taste her again, to stop us both from talking. She was hardly a lady who stepped out of a romantic mural—Rudgi was muscular and a bit stocky, with that bent nose like a busted adze, and there was no question that she was a plaguing Syldoon. But she also had a becoming smattering of freckles, an easy smile, and lovely eyes.
“Well, actually, I am,” I said. “Used to it, that is. It seems that’s the only kind of woman I attract, truth be told. Or maybe it’s just that I’m usually too uncertain to initiate. Romance. To initiate romance.” I cursed myself. “What I mean is—”
She put two callused fingers on my lips. “How about I talk. There’s no romance going on here, Arki, never fear. And to answer your question, on the subject of who puts their fingers, tongue, or cock in me, nobody says when that happens except me, you understand? My Towermates respect that, and I’d gut any man who didn’t. Now, I’m here to let you do those things. Are you going to, or do you want to go back to counting pine cones in the dark?”
Rudgi was right about the romance. I stepped forward, grabbed her shoulders that were only a little lower than mine, leaned in to kiss her. And bonked her on the nose. She adjusted deftly and turned her head and our lips were together again, and I forced myself not to flinch as she ran her hands over my sore ribs. She reached under my tunic, raked her nails over my chest, around to my back as our mouths met. I’d had little enough experience with women, so I wasn’t sure if her forwardness was typical or not, but it was a far cry from Skeelana or the other girl I’d lain with. Rudgi was more animal than woman. A hungry animal. I wasn’t sure why she wanted me, but just then didn’t care.
I slid my hand over her tunic, circling one small breast, and she grabbed my fingers and pulled them under, positioning my hand where she wanted. I circled her
nipple with the tips of my fingers and gently squeezed and she moaned and pressed herself into me, her own hand undoing my laces, nails scratching as she raked my stomach and then reached between my legs to grab me. “Mmmm, that’s what I like about you young bucks—stiff as a staff at a moment’s notice.”
I didn’t have a chance to wonder how many bucks she’d been with or to care, as she stroked me and bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. “Want my mouth on you?”
Nodding, I replied, “Yes. Unless you mean teeth.”
Rudgi laughed and dropped to her knees. “No promises.” I looked around, certain Vendurro or someone else would come crashing through the woods to interrupt us, but had no time to think about that either, gasping as she took me in her mouth.
I wished it were lighter out—I wanted to see her face as I ran my hands through her kinky twisted curls of hair, pulling hard once as she scraped her teeth along me, though she was only being playful.
I’d never had a woman do that to me before, and it was almost too much, too intense. “Whoa, slow down,” I whispered.
Rudgi stopped long enough to say, “Please.”
“What?” I exhaled hard as she teased me a bit more.
“You’re a gentle lad, a scholarly sort. Use those manners, scholar. Say please.”
“You want me to—”
She engulfed me again, and I didn’t want this over too fast. I grabbed her head and said, “Please. Please stop.”
She ran her tongue along my length and laughed. “Wrong time and place for manners, Arki.”
Before I could say anything else, her head was bobbing again. “Stop,” I insisted.
“Why?” she asked, between torturous licks.
“Because. I . . .”
“Because you want to put something else in me, is that it?”
I nodded, then realized she might not be able to see that. “Yes,” I whispered.
“I bet you just do,” she said, grabbing my hips, and got to her feet. Then she took one hand and guided it into her own breeches. “What do you think? Think I want the same?”
I touched her, amazed at how wet she was. Not trusting me to figure things out on my own, she nudged my hand further. I started exploring her, sliding a finger inside, and Rudgi leaned in, nuzzling my neck and then biting it, and not especially gently. Breathing heavy in my ear, she asked, “Ever given a woman a southern kiss, Arki?”
I almost admitted I had hardly done anything anywhere with a woman, but instead settled for, “No.”
“Tonight’s your lucky night then, scholar.” With that, she wiggled out of her trousers. I started to reach for my own with my free hand, but she said, “On your knees, boy.”
I was in no position to argue. I did as she bade, and she placed her hands in my hair and guided me again where she wanted.
Rudgi said kiss, so that’s what I started with, uncertain, on her thigh, looking up, watching her throw her head back. “Good. That’s a start. Now get a little more intimate, Arki . . .”
I’d seen drawings in illuminated manuscripts of this sort of thing, but that was the full extent of my experience. She seemed to sense that and told me what she wanted, and how.
Holding the backs of her thick thighs, I complied, using my lips, my tongue, trying my best to please her, and either I was wonderful or horrible, as it wasn’t long before she pulled me back up to my feet, stepped around me, and leaned against a tree, looking over her shoulder. “I’m not some delicate lass you need to woo, scholar. Grab me like you plaguing mean it. Don’t get shy on me now.”
I did, moving over to her, squeezing her flesh in my hands, pressing my body against hers. While she was stocky and her legs were rippling with muscle, her bottom was soft and felt wonderful in my hands. She pushed herself back into me. “Now. I want you in me now.”
I dropped my breeches, lowered my hips a little, missed the mark at first, and she reached back and took matters into her own hands, guiding me a final time.
She let out a long, low moan. “That’s it. Yes. Just like that.”
I held onto her tightly and reached forward to grab her hair as I took her, wishing she hadn’t used her mouth on me, no matter how good it felt. I wanted her to enjoy this as much as I would, and knew I wasn’t going to last long. So I slowed down, forced myself to focus on the ten thousand thousand stars in the black sky above us, trying to calm myself. Which only made her more enflamed. “Take me, scholar. Like you. Plaguing. Mean it.”
And so I did, picking up the pace, pleasure the only thing that mattered. Not our unlaundered clothes or unwashed bodies, not the possibility of being discovered, not the likelihood that we might die tomorrow. Just the hot sticky moment and our bodies slapping together, the scent of ghost pines and sweat and sex in the night air.
I grunted as every frustration and fear and angry thing inside seemed to be released all at once, body shaking hard, my hands squeezing her harder, and Rudgi arched her back as she pushed herself into me, head dropping.
There was an awkward moment when I was still inside her, and I had no idea what to say or do, if she’d achieved the same sort of pleasure I had.
She moved forward, stood straight, and slowly turned around.
“Thank you,” I said, and cursed myself.
Rudgi laughed and shook her head. “Like I said, Arki, this is no time or place for manners. Glad you enjoyed yourself, though.” She leaned in and nibbled my ear and then kissed my mouth sweetly, tenderly, at odds with the coupling we just had.
As we pulled our trousers back up, she said, “Don’t sprain your conscience any, Arki. It was just a night in the woods. Not expecting a betrothal, nor wanting it, when it comes down to it. Just two soldiers—well, one and a half, maybe—finding some small pleasure before riding into battle on the morrow. Well, crabwalking in an aqueduct for five miles. But you understand me.”
Rudgi reached up and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You left first, you go back first. I’ll be behind a bit. And be ready to call out your name so one of the real sentries doesn’t stick a bolt in your skull.”
I started off towards the abandoned mine, head spinning even more than when the Deserter had rung my bell with a sling stone. You just never really knew what might happen when you walked off into the woods.
The next afternoon Thumaar’s rider arrived in our mine camp, horse frothing at the mouth, gambeson damp from wicking sweat off the man, breeches dusty.
The rider accepted a flask from another soldier and was about to take a drink when Thumaar marched up and stood before him, no more patient than Braylar was with any of his scouts. “Well? What is it, man?”
“Your army, my lord. On the move. Heading towards Sunwrack.”
“Well of course it is,” he snapped. “I didn’t imagine they would ignore my orders and sit in a circle with their thumbs up their asses. What opposition? Were there imperial troops? How many losses?”
The rider reported, “Not imperial, my lord. Thurvacians. They were mighty surprised to see a bunch of Confederate ships dropping off troops.”
“I just bet they were,” Thumaar said, frowning. “That is one thing the Empire’s been remiss about—our navy has never been especially good. Something I will remedy.” He looked closely at the rider again. “And? How did the governor respond once he took notice?”
The rider replied, “Took him a few days to muster forces. Met them on the Galvanized Road, just east of the foothills of the Moonvows. Pitched battle. But we caught him flat-footed. Or, more accurate, that Baron Brune did. Flanked the Thurvacians while they were engaging your troops and the Confeds.” The rider smiled, looking more boy than man. “Slaughter, really. Only lost a few hundred to their thousands.”
If the deposed emperor was pleased he didn’t show it. “And now? Marching fast for the capital?”
“Yes, my lord. Figure they’ll run into imperial troops soon.”
Thumaar seemed to notice the rider’s condition for the first time. “Take a drink, lad.
You’ve earned it.” He looked at Braylar, and there was a sheen of what might have either been sweat or ambition on his craggy face. “We leave an hour before dusk.”
Braylar nodded. “As you say, my lord. What could be finer than slinking across an aqueduct at night?”
Braylar pulled his normal retinue aside, though Rudgi and Benk were included as well. He looked around at his sister and his Syldoon and said, “In ordinary circumstances, I would leave a lieutenant or two behind to tend to the remaining soldiers—I do not relish the idea of risking all the officers on one mission. But this is something of an extraordinary circumstance. We will be leading our deposed emperor into the bowels of the capital—quite literally, as it happens, since we will finish our little journey in the cisterns.
“This is an unprecedented gamble. And I would have my best soldiers with me. But if there is a man or woman here who would like to volunteer to stay back with the remainder and ensure we have an escape route, speak up now.”
No one spoke for several moments, until Mulldoos said, “Pretty plaguing sure I speak for one and all here, Cap, when I say plague that. Plague that left, right, and center. We’re all going.”
As everyone else nodded or said, “Aye,” the captain smiled, one of the rare instances that seemed driven solely by mirth and not irony, spite, mockery, or pain. “I thought as much. Very good. Fifteen Eagles will accompany us, as mandated, and you may hand select the rest of the Jackals. Soffjian, you are entrusted with our resident Focus. I suspect she will like crawling through miles of aqueduct about as much as she enjoyed riding a horse for the first time, so your assignment is to ensure she does not panic, keeps her mouth shut, and never gives away our position or attempts to betray us. Understood?”
Chains of the Heretic Page 41
