by Tom Lloyd
‘Shattered gods, woman,’ Anatin whimpered, ‘you trying to kill me?’
‘Suits?’ Fashail muttered to Lynx.
The bigger man looked around, trying to fathom a pattern in what the rest were doing. Before he could, Kas appeared and pointed at the left-hand group.
‘You’re there, most likely,’ she said to Fashail. ‘You’re a recruit and I’m betting you’ll be part of Sun.’
‘Sun?’
Kas gave a dirty laugh. ‘Anatin’s Mercenary Deck, remember? You just spent the night playing horsey for the Knight of Sun, I’m guessing you belong to her now. Go introduce yourself to Karra, Fourteen o’ Sun – guess that’ll make you the Thirteen.’
‘And me?’
‘Can’t you work it out, Stranger?’
Lynx nodded, remembering the previous night. The mercenaries had moved into five groups so if the suit of Sun was on the far left, the far right would be the suit of Tempest. ‘Stranger o’ Tempest, right. Ain’t many of us, by the looks of it.’
Kas shrugged. ‘Couple of wounded aren’t along for this job, but you’ve got the Knight of Tempest leading if you get sent off on a job. Teshen’s worth a dozen, trust me.’
A door banged behind Anatin, the sound echoing around the courtyard, and the second of the shop boy recruits stumbled out into the morning light. A few paces forward and he slowed, realising every eye in the courtyard was now turned his way.
‘Looks like we got a winner,’ Kas commented as Anatin twitched in his seat. ‘Late to muster, there’s always one.’
Very slowly the commander tightened his grip on the armrests of his chair and levered himself up. He turned with the jerky deliberation of a reanimated corpse, hair hanging loose over his face, until he was staring straight at the newcomer.
‘Name?’ Anatin growled.
The young man quavered, fear making his words just a whisper. ‘Ah, Hule. Sir.’
‘What?’
‘Hule,’ he repeated, loud enough for the courtyard to hear this time. ‘Sir.’
‘Hule.’
For a while Anatin just glared at him, but eventually he levered himself around to Payl. He tried to adopt some sort of dignified pose, chin resting in one hand, but he was too drunk to keep his elbow on the armrest and eventually he gave up. ‘Hule?’
‘One of the new recruits,’ the tall woman said baldly. ‘You gave him to Deern. Two of Blood.’
‘Two o’ Blood.’ Anatin seemed to spend a while considering that detail, but eventually he looked up again. ‘Deern?’
Payl nodded. ‘Aye, sir.’
‘You heard them, worm!’ Deern roared at the recruit once Payl gave him a nod. He stepped forward with an evil grin on his face. ‘Get over here, time for your punishment detail!’
‘Deern?’ Anatin repeated, wincing at the shout. Eventually something seemed to click into place in his brain. ‘Recruit turns up late, slams door right by my ear just to spite me, and … and, ah, other crimes too. And he’s to get his punishment from the scrawniest fuck I ever met?’
The malevolent glee on Deern’s face wavered, but not for long. ‘Can pass it up the chain if you like, chief,’ he said, pointing back towards the vast bulk of Reft behind him. ‘Knight of Blood.’
Anatin cackled briefly, almost falling out of his chair and having to clutch at one armrest to keep himself in it.
‘Don’t want to kill the little bastard,’ he muttered. Anatin made an effort to stand and got halfway there before his body folded sideways on itself and he dropped like a corpse on to the ground.
Lynx kept quiet, as comical as it was. There were a few smiles from the rest of the mercenaries, but no one was enjoying the sight too much.
I bet Anatin’s the sort of bastard who remembers everything you say. No matter how drunk he is it’ll all come back sometime.
‘Take your shot, Deern,’ Payl ordered, stepping around her commander. ‘Punishment for being late to muster, recruit, one to the gut from your direct superior.’
Lynx noticed then the badge sewn to her breast, a simple playing card design denoting the Knight of Sun. A quick check around identified the others. Clearly there was only one Prince in the company – Anatin – but all five suits had a Knight to lead it.
There was a wild-haired northern woman wearing the Knight of Stars at the fore of the next group, while the unmistakable Reft wore the Knight of Blood. The moustached duellist displayed the Knight of Snow, and lethal-looking Teshen was Lynx’s own commander – the Knight of Tempest.
Deern sauntered out into the middle of the open ground and beckoned Hule forward. The young man didn’t move for a moment, before he realised he had no choice and edged closer. Once he was near enough, Deern took him by the shoulder and gave him a merry smile as he tapped him on the cheek. ‘Next time it’ll be Reft and he’ll knock you into next week, understand?’
Just as Hule opened his mouth to reply, Deern hammered his fist into the youth’s gut and Hule doubled over the blow. As the young man wheezed and an assortment of laughter came from the mercenaries, Lynx took the opportunity to join Teshen and the handful with him. Teshen gave Lynx only the briefest of nods as he reached them, one hand grabbing at someone behind him as he did so.
Lynx frowned at the movement until he saw the dark-skinned woman Teshen had caught hold of, her cheeks scarlet with rage and eyes full of murder. Lynx stopped as he saw her hand was around her sword-grip, only Teshen’s fingers on her wrist preventing her from drawing the weapon. Her face meant nothing to him, nor the Jester of Tempest badge she wore, but he’d seen that look before.
‘We going to have a problem?’ he asked quietly.
The woman bristled as Teshen slowly shook his head. ‘That depends,’ she snapped, ‘on where you fought. Who you raped and murdered.’
‘No one,’ Lynx relied. ‘That was where me and the army disagreed.’
‘Bullshit, all you So Han fu—’
Teshen’s hand moved in a blur, two fingers coming to a sudden stop an inch from the woman’s eye. ‘Enough, Braqe,’ he said softly. ‘Walk away, go and talk to Kas.’
There was an intake of breath as Braqe readied herself to argue, but Teshen snapped her a look that made her think twice. Jaw clamped shut, the woman swallowed her rage and stalked away to where Kas now stood at the rear of Reft’s group.
‘Thank you,’ Lynx said.
‘Didn’t do it for you,’ Teshen said coolly, ‘but you outrank her now and that’d make it my problem.’
‘Fair enough.’ Lynx hesitated. ‘Will she give it up? I can still walk away.’
‘But you won’t, not now. As for Braqe, mebbe you’ll have a problem, mebbe not. Mebbe Kas will persuade her otherwise. She hates your lot with all the fire of a zealot and nothing’ll change that, but she’s no fool, for all that she wears the Jester.’
Lynx sighed. ‘Think I just remembered why I hate mercenaries.’
At that, Teshen raised an eyebrow. ‘Think I just worked out why some of ’em hate you.’ He nodded forward. ‘Our prince stirs. If he can stand, it’s time to go.’
True enough, Anatin was floundering on the ground in a way that made it clear he’d end up standing at some point, by accident if nothing else. Payl continued to ignore him, however, and did the count from memory – reeling off a list of names and apparently checking them against faces, given she didn’t wait for anyone to reply when their name was called.
In minutes it was done and Anatin was precariously balanced on two legs. The entire company seemed to take that as their cue to grab what bags they had left and sling them into one of the wagons. One of the older mercenaries pulled himself up and began arranging the bags according to some system Lynx guessed was the same as the muster count. Lynx watched and waited for his own card to be reached, but when the man muttered it aloud he gestured for Lynx to keep hold of the bag.
Lynx narrowed his eyes, expecting some sort of joke, but the man didn’t seem interested in laughing at him, just carried on with the remainin
g few until everything was stowed neatly. Only the fact that a few others also still had their belongings told him that this wasn’t some sort of recruit hazing, but before he could ask what was going on the wagons were pronounced ready and a variety of horses were led out of the stables. He guessed Anatin had already been poured into the caravan, given the snoring that was coming from it, while Payl mounted a beautiful grey horse and waved the company forward, singling Lynx out once she’d done so and beckoning to him.
He trotted over to her, idly wondering if he was expected to salute, but the woman just started talking as soon as he was close enough to hear.
‘We got a commission this morning. A Mistress Simbly who wants her husband’s murder avenged.’
Lynx blinked and dredged up the widow’s image from when he’d met her the previous day. ‘Guess that doesn’t surprise me,’ he said, ‘but don’t we have a job?’
‘The money’s good and the wagons are slow.’
He nodded. ‘So you’re sending them on ahead. Guess that makes sense, it’s not a long diversion if we’re on horses. Maybe just a night.’
‘There’s a horse for you,’ she said, pointing towards the stable. ‘The one with the white forelock. You have battle experience?’
Lynx nodded.
‘There’ll be seven of us. Better you guide us and hold back than get in the way. I’m told we outgun them, but I don’t want to get in any sort of fight.’
‘I led a strike company, once upon a time.’
Payl regarded him in silence for a few moments. ‘Commando, eh? You willing to take orders, then? From a woman too? There aren’t any in your armies, are there?’
‘Doubt it. Not been back in a while, though. But I’ll take orders unless they’re stupid or cruel, doesn’t matter who gives them.’
She gave a half-smile. ‘About as good as I’ll get from anyone round here. Some of this lot struggle if I just use long words. Mount up.’
Payl turned away to find five other figures with horses, all in the process of tying their belongings to the saddles. ‘You all ready?’
Lynx looked them over. They were an elite group, if their cards were anything to go by. Teshen stood at their fore, a grizzled veteran beside him wearing the Stranger of Sun. Behind them were Kas, a thin disease-scarred man who wore the Diviner of Tempest, and a broad woman with permanent crooked smile thanks to the flame-scar down one cheek. She wore the Jester of Snow.
None of them spoke, they just finished with their packs and mounted, waiting for orders. Lynx was the last to do so but he wasted no time in pulling himself up into the saddle and adjusting his weapons so they sat comfortably for riding.
‘Right, let’s be quick about this and back to the company,’ Payl announced. ‘Lynx, the lake-road towards Tambal, right?’
He nodded. ‘Maybe less than a day’s ride to where we were ambushed, if we push the horses hard. Road was bloody slow going by wagon.’
‘If we get close enough by mid-afternoon we’ll take the last part on foot, then. Kas and Teshen will sniff them out. We get it done by nightfall and start back in the morning. Get moving.’
Chapter 5
The seven mercenaries made good time under the warm morning sunshine as they retraced Lynx’s route back towards Tambal. As much as he distrusted the Militant Orders, even Lynx was happy to admit he was among the many who benefited from some of their efforts. The largest Orders all maintained dozens of highways across the continent, on top of the network of vast, ancient canals humanity had inherited, and trade flourished as a result. It meant the Orders felt they had the right to stick their noses into the business of anyone using either, but outside the cities the rule of law was generally the simple maths of guns anyway.
The road itself was straight and wide until it reached the tip of a long lake, branching left and right around the calm clear waters. Lynx could see white-faced ducks out on the water and swifts darting through the air high above, but dominating it all was a slender tower of mottled grey stone. Payl called a halt there to let the horses drink and Lynx allowed himself a moment to stand at the lakeside and enjoy the view.
The tower rose directly out of the centre of the lake, perhaps half a mile offshore and huge by mortal standards – a relic of the Duegar civilisation that had doubtlessly been scaled and picked clean of artefacts centuries ago. There were strange protrusions and platforms jutting at random from its sides and narrow windows that seemed not to conform to any regular design. Given Duegar cities were built mostly underground, Lynx couldn’t help but wonder at what was hidden beneath those idyllic waters.
There was a stark contrast between the two choices ahead of them. The wide well-maintained road of chalky stone continued left around the long edge of the lake, encompassing a dozen miles and a few villages, while the right-hand track was swiftly swallowed by the dark expanse of forest that engulfed the hills on that shore. Lynx knew they were taking the darker path, one that wound through the trees time and again to avoid the steepest ground before it left the lake behind and swung off east to the town of Tambal. It had been difficult going with wagons, but Master Simbly had at least been right that it remained a quicker journey than the better road.
His moment of peace was broken when footfalls idled up beside him; the plague-scarred Diviner of Tempest, Lynx guessed without turning, given the smell of tobacco hanging in the air.
A tight twist of paper was waved across his view. ‘Smoke?’
Lynx shook his head. ‘Bit early.’
The man shrugged and raised a coal pot, opening it and blowing on the embers inside before using it to light his cigarette. ‘Suit yerself,’ he declared with a satisfied breath. ‘Name’s Llaith.’
He tapped the embroidered badge on his breast, the design faded but done with skill once upon a time. It portrayed a black woman with white hair flying in the breeze, her cape quartered black and white, with a trident in her hands and a lightning flash in two corners of the card – Diviner of Tempest.
‘Quite a sight, eh?’
‘Aye.’
‘It’s Lynx, right? You’re Tempest’s newest?’
‘For the time being.’
Llaith sucked hard on the cigarette and turned to Lynx. ‘Oh?’ he croaked through a puff of smoke.
‘I needed a job that got me out of town,’ Lynx said with a shrug. ‘Ain’t making too many promises on how long I stay after the job’s done. Never had much love for mercenary work.’
The man gave a snort. ‘I’ll try not to get too attached, then,’ he said, returning his attention to the tower in the lake.
Lynx turned, immediately wary, but the man’s face betrayed no real offence so Lynx forced himself to swallow his caution. ‘Might be hard,’ he hazarded. ‘I’m pretty lovable.’
That made Llaith chuckle. ‘Don’t you take Kas’s affections to mean you’re lovable. Our girl treats sex like she’s in training for a shot at the title.’
Before Lynx could respond the pair of them received a cuff around the head. Lliath growled as his cigarette was jerked into the water, but Lynx barely caught himself in time, dagger half out of its sheath before Kas’s laugh stopped him.
‘Break’s over, boys,’ she announced, ‘so quit your gossiping and get back in the saddle.’
‘Piss on you, Kas,’ Llaith muttered, ‘you ain’t in charge here, ya bossy bitch, remember? Diviner trumps Madman so far’s I recall.’
Behind them all, Payl swung herself up into her saddle. ‘Break’s over, boys,’ she announced without looking at Kas. ‘Enough talking, all o’ you. Get back to it and, Llaith, ditch that bloody coal before we’re into the forest. If they smell it on the wind I’ll shove a burner so far up your arse you’ll be lighting your smokes with that instead.’
Llaith gave an amiable nod and produced a second cigarette with a conjurer’s flourish. He lit it and emptied the ember pot on the ground before scrambling back into the saddle, well aware that Payl’s stern eyes were watching him the whole time.
They pushed on in silence and Lynx found his eyes drifting towards the tower again and again through a screen of trees hunched over the water’s edge. Its height was impossible for him to gauge, but certainly far taller than any structure he’d ever seen. The still and silent presence lurked on the fringe of his sight, while the dark forest on his other side seemed to draw him inexorably in.
There were few Duegar ruins in So Han. The bulk were to the north and east, dotted around the inland seas, inlets, sounds, rivers and Duegar canals that were the lifeblood of trade in the continent. Shadows Deep, which they would hopefully be skirting in a few weeks, was probably larger than every combined ruin in the whole of So Han and it was by no means the biggest or most wondrous in the world. Lynx had no desire to investigate any of them, those dead places of a lost race that remained dangerous both by accident and design. He’d known a few mercenaries who’d worked at one time or another with relic hunters, but only the crazed signed up more than once or twice, despite the rewards.
With regular breaks to rest the horses, they were well into the afternoon by the time Payl called a halt. Easily long enough for him to observe his companions without looking overly rude. Payl wasn’t a natural leader, he thought; she’d been pushed into it and obviously disliked command, despite being good at it by Lynx’s reckoning. Having seen Anatin helplessly drunk, Lynx could well imagine the worth of her sober and capable manner to counterbalance Anatin’s uncertain flamboyance.
Kas and Llaith engaged in quiet, good-natured banter for much of the journey, mostly about the surly, muscular man called Varain who wore the Stranger of Sun badge, while Teshen rode ahead and barely spoke a word. The woman with the crooked smile was called Tyn, Lynx discovered once they halted. She had brought up the rear of the group the whole time, apparently preferring her own company.
At Payl’s order, the seven dismounted and led their horses down an overgrown rabbit path until they were hidden from the road. There they hobbled the mounts and left them in Llaith’s charge while Teshen and Kas produced recurved bows from their saddle holsters and set off through the undulating forest. Once the two scouts were at the crest of the first rise, Payl gestured for the remaining four to follow, Lynx, Tyn and Varain keeping close to her heels.