by D. P. Prior
“Your legs?” he asked.
“Broke …” The scout grimaced. “Broken.”
“Anything else?” Nils asked, bending to examine the blood coming from the dwarf’s lips and fearing the worst.
“Bit … my shogging tongue. Hurts more’n the legs.”
Nils knew he’d never be able to lift the tree off, but he sheathed his sword and gave it a try anyway. Like he thought, it didn’t budge. He looked about for something that might help. An overhanging branch from the neighbouring tree gave him an idea.
“What … what you thinking?” the dwarf asked.
“If I had some rope—”
The dwarf closed his eyes. “Didn’t bring any. Too darned heavy.”
“Wait here,” Nils said. “I mean don’t go … I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t … Not worth it. I’m done for. Just … remember what I said. Keep him from my peop—”
Nils’s eyes alighted on a thick branch on one of the leaning trees. It had been split almost clear off and was hanging by a thread. If he could just get up there he might be able to …”
The dwarf shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking. Won’t work. Too short to give you enough leverage.”
Nils frowned at him.
“Get to know these things as a dwarf. Father was …” The scout sucked in air through his teeth and screwed his face up. “My father was an engineer.”
It made no sense, but Nils was starting to feel guilty. It weren’t like he’d even known Nameless back then. He’d been just as scared as everyone else when the Ravine Butcher’s army had laid siege to New Jerusalem. He could still remember the distant booms as sappers tried to blow their way through the Cyclopean walls. Still remembered the grim-faced militia building their defences street by street in case there was a breech. Mind you, bad as things had been in NJ, from what he’d heard the dwarves had it worse at Arx Gravis, especially the ones who hadn’t gone along with the Butcher’s plans.
“Well, we gotta shift this trunk somehow,” he said. “Heard about a man trapped under a slab of granite once.” Actually, it was more than once. Big Jake used to tell the tale when he was drunk, which was most nights. The Olga Bridge had collapsed when the Night Hawks’ wagon train had passed over it. They were returning from a big steal up in Portis on the banks of the Chalice Sea. The bridge was ancient, and riddled with cracks. One of the wagons had ended up in the shallows, shattered to splinters by falling stones. The driver got it worst and they’d had to leave him trapped under a slab while tools were brought up from New Jerusalem. “When they finally got the slab off him, the man got real sick and died. Big Jake—he was a wharfie, but he did jobs for my dad—said it was crush syn … syn … Said the poor bastard’s own body made the poison that killed him.”
The scout nodded. “My father said he’d seen the same thing in the mines. Doesn’t take long either. Even if I told you where to find my people, bring help, it would be too late.”
“Tell me anyway,” Nils said. “I’m a good runner. Fastest in NJ, I reckon.”
The dwarf attempted a weak smile, but then shook his head. “I can’t. Can’t risk it. Leave me. It’s better for one to die than—”
“I ain’t leaving you, and that’s final.” Nils stared at the loamy ground beneath the dwarf where a shallow depression had formed due to the weight of the trunk. If he had something to dig with … He reached under under the branches covering the dwarf’s waist and hips.
“What?” the scout said. “What is it?”
Nils’s fingers located the hilt of the dwarf’s dagger and he yanked it clear of its sheathe.
“Wait,” the scout said. “Let’s not be hasty. Don’t—”
“You silly shogger,” Nils said, raising the blade and laughing. “What, you thought I was gonna finish you off?”
The dwarf spluttered something, face going as red as a radish.
Nils rammed the dagger into the soft earth by the dwarf’s trapped legs and began to scrape away at the topsoil.
“Oh, I see,” the dwarf said. “You’ll never do it in time. It’ll take forever.”
“Take a damn sight longer if you don’t shut up complaining.”
A few more stabs and he’d broken through to the even softer soil beneath. Dropping the blade, Nils got on his knees and began scooping out dirt like a dog digging up a bone.
“See, I’ll have you out from under there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nils paused for a moment. “Not rightly sure. Something my mum says a lot. Expect it had to do with Granddad being a farmer. What I mean to say is—”
“Yes, yes,” the dwarf said. “I get the point.”
Nils got back to it, his fingers already sore and bleeding, but there was no way he was gonna let that stop him, not for all the gold beneath the Gramble Range. He’d made a sizeable hole when the dwarf screamed as his hips dropped away from the pressure of the trunk.
“Sorry,” Nils said.
The dwarf waved for him to carry on, face screwed up in agony.
Nils switched sides and deepened the hole. “You ready?” he asked finally.
“Ready.”
He got behind the dwarf’s head, took hold under his arms, and yanked.
This time the screams went on forever, but inch by inch, Nils dragged him from under the tree. When the dwarf’s boots were clear, Nils laid him down and then collapsed on the ground beside him.
“Always keep some angelseed in my breast pocket,” the dwarf said, removing a dried black pod and popping it under his tongue. “Helps …with the … pain. Want some?”
“What for?” Nils said. “I ain’t got no pain.”
“Won’t have none myself in a minute,” the dwarf said. “Cairn Sternfist, by the way.”
“What?”
“My … name. Cairn Sternfist.”
Nils pushed himself up on one arm. The dwarf’s face was pale, his eyes unfocused and dull. “Nils,” he said. “Nils Fargin.”
“Thank … you, Nils,” Cairn Sternfist said, and with that passed out.
***
The serpent circled the island, its enormous body breaking the surface of the lake in three scaly bumps before it dived out of sight.
“Third time it’s done that,” Ilesa said. “Keep watching now. If I’m right, it’ll surface right there.” She pointed to the shore opposite where they’d last seen Nils. “Last time round it took to the count of fifty three to come back round.”
“Well, that settles it then,” Nameless grumbled. “There’s no way you can reach the shore in that time.”
“Don’t bet on it.” She’d always been a strong swimmer. It came with the territory. “Everyone swims in Portis. You have to, what with it being right by the Chalice Sea. If you’re not a fisherman, you’re the spouse or child of a fisherman. Save those that work the mines in the Gramble Range, that is.”
“That where you’re from?” Nameless upended his axe and twirled its head on the ground, sunlight glinting from the twin blades.
Ilesa sighed. She shouldn’t have said that. Didn’t pay to give anything away. Still, the damage was done. “Yeah,” she said, hazy memories of days by the beach teaching Davy how to swim rising like slurry to the surface. “My brother said I could out-swim a shark, except there aren’t any sharks in the Chalice Sea.”
“So I heard,” Nameless said, his face looking softer, warmer. He smiled, encouraging her to go on.
“Fresh water. It’s really just a big lake.” She cast her eyes around. “Damned sight bigger than this one, that’s for sure. Funny thing is, if Davy had seen what I can do—you know, now I’ve got some control over this power of mine—he might have had a point. I did a sort of mermaid thing once, just to see if I could.” The thrill of zipping through the water at such a speed brought back more images from the past. She almost smiled, but of course memories seldom travelled alone, and not all of them were good.
“W
hat, lassie? What is it?”
Ilesa squatted down in front of the dwarf. “Remember what I said, about being immune to bites from wolf-men?”
Nameless nodded, his brown eyes kind and cheery in the sunlight.
“I’ve seen them before. Back when I never knew I had this … thing.” She looked at her arm where Nameless had stitched her up and put a bandage over the top. “A pack must have found a way across the Farfalls. It was a while ago. I’d not long had my first … You know, I’d not long been a woman. They came down through the Fells, slaughtered the villagers just outside of Arnk. The good people of Arnk drove them off with fire and spears, and that’s when they came hunting for food in Portis. A lot of people died that day. Big shogger broke into our house. The bastard—my father—ran out the back door, left me and my brother to it. Davy hid behind me, but it threw me to the floor, bit through my shirt.” She lifted her bodice to show Nameless the puckered white scar just above her hips.
Nameless was watching her intently, willing her to go on, it seemed.
“Would have ripped my throat out. Should have done, only I got so scared it made me angry, and then it happened. Before I knew it my jaws were clamped around its neck and I bit its head clean off. Must have spooked the hell out of the others, because they just up and offed and we never saw hide nor hair of them again. Course, the bastard had to come back at that moment with his harpoon, make out he was trying to save us. He saw everything that happened.”
“Leaving you the hero of the day, eh?”
Ilesa snorted at that. “Then you don’t know Portis folk. Those that weren’t killed outright by the wolf-men had to be put down. Within days, they started to change. Problem was, I’d been bitten and I didn’t change. On top of that, the bastard told everyone what he’d seen. They reckoned I could turn at will. Said it was some kind of black magic, the sort of thing they didn’t want in their town, if you know what I mean.”
Nameless looked lost in thought. The change in his mood was palpable, like a cloud covering the faces of the suns.
“Only it wasn’t magic, lassie, was it?”
“Master Plaguewind—my old guild boss—said it was in the blood. Said it was a result of Sektis Gandaw’s experiments, generations ago.”
“Aye,” Nameless said. “Thought as much. Thank shog we’re rid of him, eh?”
“Guess that makes me a freak in your eyes.” Ilesa wouldn’t have expected anything less. Isn’t that how everyone saw her? Brau only put up with her because her abilities were useful.
“No more than a dwarf with no name.” Nameless rubbed his beard and offered her a half smile.
Ilesa stood and turned to stare at the shore, wondering what had happened to Nils.
That had been the last time she’d seen little Davy. Shog, he must’ve been a young man now. She remembered how hard she’d fought to be allowed to stay, how much she’d feared what would happen without her to keep the bastard away from him. She felt her jaw tighten, at the same time battening down the hatches that had flooded her with unwanted recollections. Last thing she’d done, before packing her bags for New Jerusalem, was to make sure Davy couldn’t be hurt again. Not by that pig. Not ever.
A splash drew her attention and she pointed to where the serpent’s head had poked up above the water, glaring at them with amber eyes.
“There, just like I told you.”
“Still say there’s not enough time,” Nameless said.
“Look, dwarfy, I just told you a whole lot of shit no one else has heard. I’m not happy about that, but it does tell me one thing. Maybe I’m starting to trust you. Now why don’t you do the same?”
Nameless looked deep into her eyes and bunched his shoulders up to his cauliflower ears.
“Maybe ’cause you forgot to mention you only came along for the bounty.”
She held his gaze, a familiar coldness settling over her. So it had come to this, and just when she was starting to reconsider.
“Not as stupid as you look, are you?”
“Guess that would be hard, lassie. Only thing that baffles me is why you haven’t done it already. Did Brau ask you to tag along, see what we found first, hoping you’d bring back some loot as well as my corpse?”
Ilesa took a step back, hands falling to the handles of her sheathed weapons. “Actually, he said just your head would do, but yeah, he thought you might actually find these dwarves of yours. Now Shent’s out of the way, Brau’s planning on taking over Malfen, and he reckons he’s owed a toll.”
Nameless nodded, looking down at his hands curled about the haft of his axe. “Only this place doesn’t stay the same for long, so even if we found the dwarves, and assuming they stayed put, you’d never be able to lead Brau to them.” A laugh rolled its way up from his belly. “Seems Brau suffers from overconfidence. What do you think a rogue like him could do against a company of dwarves? There must be hundreds of them, judging by the tracks I found.”
“Reckon you just got lucky at The Grinning Skull. Brau’s not the only wizard in his band. He picked up the survivors of the Dybbuk’s from New Jerusalem. Most of them are spell-casters.”
Nameless frowned. “Dybbuks?”
“My old guild,” Ilesa said. “Before that shogger Shadrak put paid to them.”
Nameless’ eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. “Shadrak the Unseen? Little fellow, white as a sheet?”
Ilesa seethed at the memory. “That’s him. Friend of yours?”
“Well,” Nameless said. “Well, yes.”
“Shouldn’t surprise me, I suppose. Took us out one at a time, and it didn’t matter what we did, how many traps we laid, he always seemed one step ahead of us. I tell you, that shogger has some weird powers of his own. We were the best of the guilds back then. No one messed with us, and yet he came like a ghost in the night and tore us apart.”
Nameless chuckled. “That’s Shadrak for you.”
“I’m glad you find it amusing. I lost a lot of good friends to that piece of shit. Lot of good friends.”
Nameless pushed down on his axe and stood. “Yes, well we’ve all done bad things, lassie. Me more than most.” He drew in his lips, gave her a lingering look, and then stepped down towards the water’s edge.
“So where’s that leave us?” Ilesa said.
His back was to her when he answered. “You still plan to kill me?”
Truth was, she hadn’t given it much thought since … since she’d believed he’d perished going over that cliff; since he’d returned and made Silas heal her before she became one of of the living dead. Since he’d refused to leave her to the wolf-men.
“Brau was always a shogger. Never liked him. I was just waiting for the day when I could cut his throat and put the guild back together.” Give Master Plaguewind something to be proud of so that when she came across his shade in the Abyss she could tell him she’d done good, left him some sort of legacy. He was an evil bastard, Plaguewind, but he’d been good to her, and he certainly hadn’t deserved to die with a hole punched through his skull and no chance to even face his attacker. “You’ll be all right with me, OK?”
Nameless nodded.
Ilesa walked down beside him, watching the shadowy form of the serpent glide past beneath the surface. “Can’t make the same guarantees if I see your mate again, though.”
“Understood,” Nameless said. “So, lassie, you ready to try this harebrained plan of yours?”
Ilesa couldn’t be sure. It may have been the rising breeze whipping through his clothes, but she thought the dwarf was trembling.
“First thing Master Plaguewind taught me was you can never have enough planning. We watch it again and again, till we’re certain.”
“Sounds like a sensible fellow, this Plaguewind. Was he a dwarf?”
Ilesa mulled it over. Was sensible the right word? Plaguewind had been a meticulous planner, which accounted for the Dybbuk’s preeminence among the guilds. The only problem was he’d been blindsided by his arrogance. He never even considere
d that anyone else could be more obsessional than he was. It had proven a fatal mistake.
The serpent thrashed about in the water to the back of the island, and Ilesa took a deep breath.
“Ready?” she said to Nameless. “You count this time.”
***
“Right bleeding pickle you landed yourself in, Fargin,” Nils muttered, glancing from the unconscious dwarf to the trees. He was sure they’d shifted positions, though he wouldn’t have sworn an oath on it. Shadows flitted through the upper branches, but that could have been the clouds passing in front of the suns.
He uncrossed his legs and rubbed them to get the blood flowing again. Shouldn’t sit on the cold ground, Mum would have said. It’ll give you piles.
“You’re a plonker, Nils,” he told himself. “Why couldn’t you just have left him?” Dad would have done, and no messing. Ilesa and Silas would have done, too. But not Nameless, he reckoned. Mind you, it weren’t so hard being heroic when you had the tools to back it up. Nils had the heart right enough, but he was starting to think he lacked any real beef. Should have listened to Granny when he was a kid and eaten more. He had fire in his belly, but it was quickly doused soon as anyone raised a fist to him, let alone a blade. “Let’s face it,” he told himself, “maybe I just ain’t cut out for fighting and the like.” Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a Night Hawk.
“What you say?” Cairn mumbled. The dwarf’s eyes flickered open and he instantly winced. “My legs … Can’t move my legs.”
“That’s ’cause they’re broke, nitwit,” Nils said. “Gaw, what they put in that grog you lot are always drinking?”
Cairn laughed, but his eyes were brimming with tears, the pupils as big as a poytlweed smoker’s. “You know dwarves, lad. Aye, you know dwa …” His jaw fell shut and he turned his face away.
“Yeah, I know dwarves. Least I know a dwarf. S’pose you’re gonna tell me Nameless ain’t no dwarf no more, are you?”
“After what he did—”
Nils pushed himself to his feet and glared. “Way he tells it, it was the axe that made him do it, same as it would’ve anyone else who had it.”