by J. F. Halpin
“Likewise. Ask her why we’re talking right now.” Summers wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, not with the growing crowd in the distance.
Synel had come up to meet them alone, but that didn’t mean it would stay that way. If there was one thing Summers had learned in his time here, it was not to underestimate what people were capable of. Even if all they had were primitive weapons.
He registered a moment of surprise on Synel’s face as Asle spoke.
“She apologizes if she offended you. She’s . . . apologizing a lot? They only want to pass,” Asle explained, just as Synel gave them a slight bow. “They’re offering tribute for . . . the honor. To honor us? I don’t know what that means.” Asle turned back in confusion, or as close to that emotion as the girl could manage.
Summers paused before responding, remembering the towering monster that lay dead behind them. Now that he thought about it, Synel had mentioned she was heading south as well. Which meant there was a chance their meeting here was entirely accidental.
“Hold on, I think I’m the asshole here.”
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As it turned out, the city didn’t bother sending anyone after Summers’ group. From where they’d found the bodies, and what they knew of the guards who were killed, it was pretty clear what had happened. Whether or not that would have helped their case should they have stayed in the city was unclear, but it was obvious that Summers and his friends were not the kinds of people you fucked with.
So, the city’s leaders, in their wisdom, had placed the blame solely on the dead. With the rumors Summers’ group were actually godlings in disguise—a translation that took far longer than it should have because of Asle’s confusion on what exactly constituted a god—the caravan was all but begging them to show mercy.
After that had been cleared up, Summers had, in the most polite way he could manage, asked for a ride. And Synel had provided. In fact, she’d provided a little too well.
“I feel kinda guilty . . .” Nowak walked beside the wagon whose previous owners Synel had—by Summers’ best estimation—kicked to the curb. Or rather, they now looked to be sharing a wagon three sizes too small with another group. There was an argument brewing between the two. Summers was sure it was going to end badly, but it wasn’t like they didn’t need the space themselves. Between their supplies and the gear they’d managed to save from the Humvee, the wagon was a godsend.
“I don’t. Pretty sure we just fed these people for a month.” Cortez gestured to the growing mass of people around the corpse of the lizard alpha.
Groups of men were doing what they could to preserve the giant creature, all while taking slabs of meat, bone, and other choice cuts to wagons of their own.
Summers had sold the rights to the beast to Synel almost immediately. He was certain the wagon they’d received in payment was a sweetheart deal, but he wasn’t about to complain. It’s not like they could have taken it with them.
“Just be happy we don’t have to walk,” Summers agreed. Logan grunted from his side. He doubted that sword he was using for a leg would hold the weight of a full-grown man and a fully loaded pack.
“Either way, we got a lot of eyes on us. Make sure you’re keeping your heads on a swivel,” Nowak called over to the rest of them. He was on edge.
The paranoia was not unearned, however. Almost every elf in the caravan had paid special attention to their group. They’d even picked out the biggest, meanest-looking cow to pull the wagon for them. One Cortez had aptly named Tank 2.
Summers was pretty sure that was a status thing.
“I’ll take first watch.”
“No, you won’t,” Nowak responded. “I’ll take over your watch. I think you could use a few days.”
Summers reached down to his side. He didn’t notice during the fight, but some small pieces of shrapnel must have hit him after the blast. His entire body was covered in small wounds. Most of them didn’t hurt, but in a world without penicillin, they could become a problem.
“I’m fine, Sarge. Nothing big.”
“Not up for discussion.” Nowak took a moment. “Look, we’ve been through some shit. And right now, we probably only have to worry about a few thieves. So, take the time and get your head straight.”
“My head?”
“You heard me . . . I can’t have you rushing in to die next time, all right?”
Summers didn’t know how to respond to that. Cortez was off to the side, looking the other way and doing a terrible job of feigning interest in a nearby wagon.
“Yeah, all right.”
“Good.”
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Summers awoke a few hours later to yelling. His gun was already in his hand by the time he registered the source of the noise.
It was the merchant whose wagon they’d taken. Apparently, the mild tiff they’d witnessed had progressed into a full-blown screaming match. Then one of them grabbed a spear.
“Well, that’s not gonna go well,” Summers muttered. He rubbed at his face, now fully awake.
“Nope,” Cortez agreed.
He had started forward when Synel’s voice stopped him.
“She’s asking that you don’t interfere.” Asle spoke up from a few feet away. She was watching the fight escalate with everyone else. “Also, this is normal,” she added.
“Pretty sure they’re gonna stab each other.”
“Yes,” Asle agreed.
“Uh, nobody wants to stop that from happening?” Summers looked at Synel hesitantly.
Asle thought for a moment.
“It’s . . . honor? Does that make sense?”
“Like an honor duel?”
“Yes!” Asle nodded. “He says the tall one stole from him.” She indicated the previous owner of their wagon. “So, they’ll fight to see who’s right.”
Synel said something that Summers must have missed, and Asle responded in her own language.
“She’s flirting with you.” Asle paid the woman a glance before looking back to the fight. A ring was forming around the two.
“I’m sorry?”
“She says my job is hard. She’s being too nice.” Asle tilted her head. “I don’t like her.”
Summers didn’t get much time to process that, as a scream went up from the fight. The tall man now had a spear in his side, and as he fell to the ground, his opponent didn’t give him even a moment to recover. He pulled the spear out and stabbed down, once, twice . . .
It occurred to Summers that they probably shouldn’t be letting Asle watch this.
By the time the man had finished, he was breathing hard and barely able to get to his feet. He must not have seen the other man land a strike.
“Now, he’ll take some blood so that he gets stronger. See? Simple.” Asle spoke as if she was giving a lesson. The man, meanwhile, cut his hand with the blade of the spear he’d just used to kill the merchant.
“Metal,” Cortez said, still not taking her eyes off the display.
“Okay, first off, why?” Summers asked.
“Ceremony?” Asle looked to Logan, who nodded. “It’s polite to honor the spirit and bring it with you. Like you.”
“What—”
Before Summers could finish the question, Logan answered.
“I think she means the dog tags.”
“Oh.” Summers noticed the crowd had already started to disperse now that the excitement was over. “Wait, is that what you were doing with the general? Back when we first met?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were trying to eat him.”
“That, too.”
Their group all looked to Asle, who didn’t seem in the least bit bothered.
“You know what, I’m just going to stop asking questions.” Summers found Synel directing a few of her men to the site. They quickly got to cleaning up the corpse. “So, how was she flirting with me?”
“She said she could teach you to speak. But I speak better.”
“What?” Nowak blurted.
“Why does she want to teach us?” Summers couldn’t help but ask.
“Wants to flirt with you.” Asle looked at the woman. “Said things are really dangerous in the south, and I could be hurt, so she would do it to keep me safe. She’s a liar.”
“Okay, Asle, in the future, please let us know when the important people are flirting with us, even if you don’t like it. Just so we know. Okay?” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Right. Uh, Sarge, what do you think?” If Summers was being brutally honest with himself, he didn’t join the army because he was a grade A student. He had his strengths and weaknesses, and learning was not what he counted among his strengths.
Of course, he’d never had a very motivated, very attractive teacher before, but that was just another reason why he should let someone else weigh in.
Nowak considered for a moment before he finally answered.
“Asle, why don’t you like her?” Nowak asked.
“Merchants always want something.”
Nowak considered that for a long moment.
“Well, I think she’s gonna try to find a way to get close to you no matter what, so you may as well get something out of it. Besides, I don’t see how it could hurt.”
“Asle?” Summers looked to the girl. “Keep in mind that it’ll help us teach you to speak even better. Also, you won’t have to follow us everywhere all the time.”
Asle seemed to think that over for a long time before finally agreeing.
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“This is stupid,” Asle muttered.
Synel sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Summers. She’d drawn a small symbol on the card in front of her. What Summers could only guess was a symbol of some kind.
“Are you mad, or is that actually the word for stupid?”
“It’s her name. So, yes,” Asle responded.
Summers stifled a laugh before saying Synel’s name out loud.
Throughout the day, they’d spent time making the equivalent of flashcards for various animals, objects, and now, names. Summers was actually a little proud of the progress he’d made. It had cost him a bit of a headache, but he’d at least managed to learn a few very important phrases. Things like “stop,” and “don’t move,” which apparently had some important distinctions.
To Summers’ surprise, the structure of the language was almost exactly the same as English, which meant that it was more of a memorization game than anything. He probably wouldn’t be a master by any means, but there was a good chance he’d have a functional understanding after a month or two.
However, the thought of spending that much time with Synel was daunting, to say the least. Summers was getting a little uncomfortable at the attention. It’s not that he didn’t like it, he just didn’t know how to process it.
To be fair, he couldn’t actually speak to the woman yet, and any body language that might be considered “relaxed” could potentially offend a powerful person they’d be spending the next few weeks with. At least, that was the estimate she’d given them before they arrived at the next city.
“I’m tired,” Asle said.
“Right . . .” Summers held up a hand to stop Synel from starting on the next card. “We’ll get some rest, okay? Could you thank her for me?”
“Can I tell her we don’t need her help, now?”
“No. We already started, and this is actually pretty easy for me.”
“I still speak better. I’m not afraid of soldiers.”
Summers paused.
“What do you mean, soldiers?”
“Soldiers.” Asle pointed to Summers. “She said there’s a war. Soldiers dangerous for me. That’s why she wanted to protect me. She’s a liar. You killed many soldiers already.”
Summers had to take a moment to remind himself that Asle was still a child.
He was going to have to learn very fast.
Chapter 15: Newer Friends
“Lower your arm. Keep your foot back here. Right.”
Summers stood above Asle. She was holding a Beretta M9 with one eye closed as she looked down the pistol’s sights.
“Fire when you’re ready.”
Summers watched as the gun muzzle flashed, kicking back for a split second. Asle didn’t flinch or break form as the bottle they were using for a target shattered. He had to hand it to the girl; she was practically a natural.
“Very nice work.” Summers’ praise earned him a nod from the girl. “Now, give it here.”
Asle carefully pointed the barrel down before handing Summers the butt of the gun, the motions almost reverent. The fact that he hadn’t needed to correct her discipline once was more impressive to him than anything. He stowed it in the holster at his side.
Since he’d taken his “time off,” the sidearm was usually the only thing he carried around camp. It was a little odd to be mostly unarmed after all this time, but it felt good to lose the extra weight and free up his hands.
Nowak was sat off to the side, acting as a supervisor of sorts.
“You sure this is smart?”
It was a valid question, one that Summers had put a lot of thought into. Nowak had learned to shoot when he was about Asle’s age, so there wasn’t any concern over ability. The problem was, they weren’t teaching her to fire a gun at a paper target. They were training her to use a weapon, then putting her into a situation where that might mean the difference between life and death. And not just her own. If they were marching into a war, there was a good chance they’d run into trouble, and as their interpreter, she’d be on the front lines with them.
“Depends. How confident are you that she’ll never need one?”
“You know what I mean.”
Logan stepped forward, placing a hand on Asle’s head.
“Sergeant, I don’t think we can really judge the kid’s maturity by our own standards. We’re different culturally, and that’s not even getting into biology.” Logan looked down at the kid. “That said, she’s never gone against orders or endangered herself unnecessarily during my time with her. Given the kinds of things we’ve seen, I’d say that’s impressive all on its own.”
“If we weren’t walking blind into this thing, I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Summers pointed out.
“According to your girlfriend, we’ll be in and out before shit hits the fan.”
“With the way our luck’s been, what do you think the odds are that things are going to go according to plan?” Summers countered.
“Fair point.”
“So, do we have any other options?”
“Not really,” Nowak replied. “I’ve been looking over the map. We can try going around, but there’s only a few towns nearby for resupply. If there’s trouble this close to home, I don’t expect the locals will be too friendly to strangers. Or have much to give in the way of food.”
“We could still risk it.”
“We could, but the caravan gives us the opportunity to learn the language. Plus, Synel has political sway, which might protect us against shit like what happened with the guards.” Nowak looked to Asle. “So, Asle, why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?”
“Merchants lie. She says there is danger to get close to him.” Asle gestured to Summers. “Then she says there is no danger, and we will escape. She’s a liar one way or another.”
“Asle, I don’t care if you think someone’s lying, or if you don’t like them. If you don’t tell us what someone is saying, we might not be able to see danger coming,” Nowak chided.
“To be fair, that’s another reason we need her safe.” Summers was looking at Asle now. “Logan said she had a five-man detail. We’re not going to be able to do that. One of those traders gets the idea of grabbing the kid . . . I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re scared of us now. But who knows how long that’ll last.”
Nowak considered that.
“I’ll think about it. But it’s gonna take more than
some target practice to change my mind. For now, we’ll stay the course.” Nowak pointed to Asle. “You hear Synel say anything else about where we’re headed, you tell us.”
Asle nodded in response.
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Summers walked back to their wagon to find Cortez seated on top of it. Every now and again, she’d have to shoo away a curious civilian. It’s not that they wanted to be rude, but despite all the ordinance they’d used on this trip thus far, they were still sitting on enough gunpowder to launch themselves into orbit.
As Summers got closer, he was surprised to see Cortez talking with someone. Or trying to, anyway.
“Shit,” Summers muttered under his breath. He saw the woman that had been putting the moves on Adams back in the city. She was talking to—or rather, at—Cortez in a very animated fashion.
Asle didn’t need to be told. She moved forward to speak to the woman. After a brief back and forth, the woman’s shoulders dipped ever so slightly. She said something, then turned to leave.
“She wanted to talk to the boy she met at the restaurant. I told her he’s not here anymore,” Asle explained. “She said she’s very sorry.”
“Appreciate it, Asle,” Cortez called down.
And now Summers needed a distraction. Or alcohol. Preferably both.
“Take five, Asle. I’m gonna hang out here for a bit.”
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Asle sat in the snow, kicking her legs back and forth.
She was bored.
Logan’s shift had just ended, so he was resting, and she understood that Summers needed some time alone. The others were either getting ready to sleep or watching the traders, which was good. They shouldn’t trust them, and she shouldn’t distract them. But it meant that she had no one left to talk to.
The caravan was setting up camp for the night, a few bonfires sending smoke spiraling into the sky. Every so often, she’d see someone glance their way. Naturally, they weren’t so rude as to show it, but the eyes told her everything she needed to know. There was uncertainty; they were afraid of Asle’s group. That was also good. They should be.