by Angus Watson
He resolved to watch them die and then set off west himself. He’d find The Meadows on his own. He was certain he’d discover a better class of Scrayling there. He’d befriend them at first, then rule over them. The men would admire him and the women would know their place.
Bodil Gooseface was excited because she was going to see her mother and father again. Hardworkers didn’t mourn the dead, but she had been missing her parents and she regretted following Sassa to her farm when she could have stayed in town and died with her mum and dad.
She headed for Finnbogi. She’d always liked him and now, after their moment in the grass, she knew he liked her. He was walking away, though, towards Thyri and Garth. She followed him.
Keef took her arm: “Bodil …”
“Sorry, Keef, no time!” She shook him off.
Finnbogi stopped when Garth and Thyri started kissing. Garth and Thyri kissing! How long had that been going on?
Finnbogi turned to meet her, tears in his eyes. Oh, she liked him even more for being so sensitive!
“Don’t you worry,” she said, putting her arms around him and giving him one of her really good hugs. “You die when you die! It’s the beginning, not the end.”
He hugged her back and heaved with a big sob. What was this? Was he a Krist-lover like Gunnhild and scared of death?
“All right, you cunts, time is up,” shouted the gravelly voiced Lakchan chief. “Line up. I’ll shout ‘go’ and we’ll get this fucker over.”
Finnbogi pulled his face from Bodil’s shoulder, dragging out a string of snot between her squirrel-skin jerkin and his nose. She smiled at him, not seeming to mind. He wiped his eyes and glanced over to Thyri and Garth. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, weapons out, ready to charge. Thyri’s glare was fixed on the enemy, but Garth spotted him looking and winked.
Loakie’s arse!
He blinked tears away. This was not how he wanted to go to Valhalla! If he dropped his sword and refused to fight, he would go to a different hall, maybe Gefjon’s hall of virgins, but more likely he’d go to Hel Loakiesdottir’s realm, which was meant to be shit. But what could be shittier than having to see Garth and Thyri together?
“Cheer up, Finnbogi, this is a happy time.” Keef was gripping Arse Splitter, face ablaze with a small-toothed grin. “In Valhalla we’ll fight all day and drink all night!”
“Whoopee.” He joined the line next to Bodil. She was unarmed.
“You have to have a weapon to get to Valhalla!”
“Do you?”
Finnbogi thought for a second. “Actually I’m not sure.”
“Here, take this.” Keef handed her a knife.
“What do I do with it?”
“Run at the Scraylings. Die.”
“Oh.”
Finnbogi looked along the line to his left. There was Wulf and his hammer Thunderbolt and Bjarni with his sword Lion Slayer. Sassa had her bow on her back, a knife in one hand, the other hand on Freydis’s shoulder. Gunnhild was brandishing her Scrayling beater and holding Ottar to her hip. Ottar had his racoon cubs clutched to his chest but he was unarmed, as was Freydis. Children didn’t go to Valhalla. They went to a friendly, comfortable place. Finnbogi wondered if he’d be allowed to visit them? Or even stay with them so he wouldn’t have to see Thyri and Garth? Maybe he’d be able to have a word with Tor and get transferred.
Gunnhild whispered something to Ottar. The boy crouched and stood, no longer holding the racoon cubs.
The image of Thyri kissing Garth sprung into Finnbogi’s mind like a lion leaping out of a tree onto a baby. He tried to tell himself it was good to know now, before he embarrassed himself in front of the gods, but he’d much rather it hadn’t happened. Why did such terrible things always happen to him? Everyone else just had the pain of dying to deal with. None of them knew what it was like to have your heart ripped from your chest and chopped into a million pieces by two sharp axes called the Biter Twins.
“Ready?” shouted the Lakchan chief from the centre of his fifty archers. A couple were looking at Finnbogi, and he guessed they’d chosen him to shoot. He hoped they were good shots. He wanted to go down with an arrow in the heart. An arrow to the gut then writhing around and waiting to be banged on the head did not appeal.
“Ready,” said Wulf the Fat.
The Lakchan chief raised his hand. “When I drop my hand, you fuckers charge.”
Chapter 12
A Big Cat
Sitsi Kestrel jogged along next to Morningstar in the middle of the bunched runners of the Calnian Owsla. They crested a rise and a new, wide view of trees and lakes opened before them. As they headed down the slope, the women sped up and became more strung out.
Sitsi had been waiting for an opportunity when everybody else was out of earshot: “I think you’re very lucky. Sofi would have been well within her rights to kill you and eat you. What were you thinking?”
Morningstar shook her head.
“And why didn’t you tell me?” Sitsi continued. “I thought you were my best friend. I would have talked you out of it.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“What did you hope to gain?”
“I was born on the Mountain of the Sun, Sitsi, and I don’t like living like a Low. We’re the best fighters in the world but we eat Low food and sleep on Low beds and we live outside the citadel—alongside the nasty, stinking Low. We should have everything that the empress has. More. And we could have it. We could take it with ease.”
“Look at us now, running through the land with our friends, headed for adventure. How many Low get to do that? What more do you want?”
“Slaves, a palace, as much honey and maple syrup as I can eat, my own sweat lodge, not to be ordered about the whole time—”
“You’d be bored.”
“Oh, I would not. A team of fan men would be good as well.”
“You would be bored. I know it doesn’t compare with your dad being emperor and everything, but my mother and father are pretty high up—my mother might be the next chamberlain. Compared to ours, their lives are extremely boring. And I’m sure they’re not happy. They spend their days talking about crop yields and wall height. Their only excitement is watching us in the Plaza of Innowak. And my big brothers, they’ve got something wrong with their minds. They sit by the window, smiling at the sun and every now and then they hit themselves and scream at shadows. We’re really lucky to be who we are and do what we do. Why would you try to spoil that?”
“You’re right, I’m sure. I know you are. It’s just … Do you know how we got our powers?”
“Training and well … no, I’m not sure what they did to us. I can’t remember much. I remember it wasn’t very nice.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I used to give hand jobs to my father’s chief warlock Pakanda in exchange for information.”
“You did what?”
“I’d pull at his—”
“Yes, I know what a hand job is. I’m just surprised. And disgusted.”
“He wanted more, but I would never have done anything else. Hand jobs are easy. Bit of a shake, then you wash your hands. He was really quick. Afterwards it was like he hated me, but Pakanda would tell me anything to get one. I learnt loads of good stuff.”
“Hang on … that’s why Pakanda was exiled!”
“Yes, we got caught. He would have been executed if I hadn’t sworn that I’d persuaded him, rather than the other way round.”
“Is that true?”
“He was difficult to persuade at first but I knew he wanted it, and there were things I needed to know.”
“Wow. You are … disgusting. How did we get our powers then?”
“It’s more of a how do we than a how did we. You see—”
She was interrupted by a shout from the forward scout Paloma Pronghorn. “Dagger-tooth cat, coming fast!”
&n
bsp; The two Owsla looked at each other. Chatting, they’d dropped back so that only Yoki Choppa was behind them. They sprinted to catch the rest.
They reached the other five on the crest of a hill. Grassland stretched away down a gentle north-facing slope. Usually a landscape like this would be busy with grazing buffalo, white-tail deer, elk or any number of animals. But there was only one beast in view, a dagger-tooth cat, three hundred paces away and galloping towards them.
Sitsi Kestrel’s serious-minded parents had taught her everything they knew about Calnia, its empire and the world around, and sent her to a variety of wise people to learn what they couldn’t teach themselves. They were determined for her to rise high enough in Calnia for her own good, for their pride, but mostly, she thought, to protect her older brothers. Because of their defective minds, Zaltan had ordered her brothers’ deaths. Shortly before they were due to be executed, Ayanna had killed Zaltan. The new empress did not find her brothers offensive—quite the opposite, she believed they should be indulged and protected—but she might not last for ever.
As a by-product of her parents’ protective pushiness, Sitsi knew more about Calnia and its empire than the rest of the Owsla’s women put together. So, although she had never seen a dagger-tooth cat, she knew all about them. There were two types. Most common, spotted every couple of years around Calnia, was known simply as a dagger-tooth cat. They were bigger than lions, with the two great teeth that earned them their names curving down from their upper jaws, but generally they were timid. They had killed people, but almost all those people had been idiots—young men, in other words—who’d cornered or otherwise threatened them.
The other type, monstrous dagger-tooth cats, were much larger and were thought by most to be a myth. Some said that they were as common as the normal dagger-tooths, but, because they attack and kill humans on sight—or smell—people rarely lived to talk about an encounter. Sitsi believed in them. Plenty of people from Calnia and its empire disappeared in the woods every year. She didn’t think it outlandish to believe that an animal was intelligent enough to kill people while steering clear of settlements.
Judging by the size of the animal charging them, monstrous dagger-tooth cats were not a myth.
Sitsi blinked, to make sure she hadn’t misjudged the perspective. No, the big cat really was larger than a buffalo, with two great fangs as long as her arm. When he’d remade the world after the great flood, Innowak had created some wonderful creatures, but this, surely, was the most wonderful.
Sitsi Kestrel pulled her bow from her back and an arrow from her quiver. None of the others had bows. The only other projectile weapons were Sadzi Wolf’s rabbit sticks, but those wouldn’t be much use against such a beast. Neither would arrows, for that matter.
They needed strong spears and lots of them, but they didn’t have any. All the other women, bar Chogolisa Earthquake, had short melee weapons which would be next to useless against this creature. Chogolisa carried no weapons. Her strength was enough to defeat any armed man. But any monstrous dagger-tooth cat? Sitsi doubted it.
Fleeing would be the worst option. This animal could smell them a mile off. Perhaps Paloma Pronghorn would get away, but it would track the rest of them down and eat them one by one.
She loosed an arrow. It hit the beast’s neck and ricocheted. She looked to Sofi Tornado for command.
The captain was watching the charging beast, looking more like an engineer pondering a broken bridge than a woman about to be attacked by several tons of muscle, claw and tooth.
After what seemed like far too long, she said, “Morningstar, give your shield to Chogolisa and stand here. Paloma, you’re there. Sitsi stand here and keep those arrows flying, but use small game blunts and aim for the body, not the head. Your goal is to annoy it, not injure it.”
Sitsi did as she was bid, whizzing arrow after arrow into the charging animal’s flanks while Sofi Tornado continued instructing the other women.
The monstrous dagger-tooth cat seemed even more colossal as it neared. With her alchemically enhanced eyesight Sitsi could see that its dagger teeth were stained yellow with age but its eyes were clear. Was it bigger than a buffalo? Surely not.
The Owsla captain ran to meet the cat, arms in the air. The animal roared and leapt at her.
Sofi dived and rolled, twisting to avoid a swipe from the cat’s long claws as it flew overhead.
It landed. Chogolisa Earthquake, with Morningstar standing on her shoulders holding her hair for balance, slammed the shield up into those huge fangs. Morningstar leapt, turned in the air and landed astride the big cat’s neck.
The beast roared and shook its head, enraged by the shield stuck to its teeth.
Morningstar raised her punch-club—a stout pole with a ball of polished wood at either end—and slammed it down onto the monstrous dagger-tooth cat’s skull. All the women had their skills. Morningstar’s was a punch that could fell a buffalo. But could if fell a monstrous dagger-tooth cat?
The animal roared, whacked its teeth into the ground and smashed the shield. It bucked, desperate to throw the head-hitting burden from its back.
Morningstar yelled, pulled back her club then drove it with all the might of her alchemy-given punch into the back of the beast’s head.
The cat froze for a moment, then collapsed.
Sadzi Wolf ran in with twine that she’d woven from the long grass. Sitsi dropped her bow and joined Sadzi Wolf, Paloma Pronghorn and Talisa White-tail trussing the cat.
“Don’t kill it,” said Yoki Choppa, ambling up to join them, casual as a spectator arriving late to a sporting event that he doesn’t care about.
“Wasn’t planning to,” said Sofi.
The unconscious cat’s muscular, orange-brown body rose and fell a good foot with each breath. It smelt like murder on a summer’s day.
Sofi Tornado cut one of the great fangs from the animal’s mouth with her obsidian knife, Sadzi Wolf pressed healing herbs into the wound and sewed it up and Yoki Choppa took clippings from its fur. Sitsi Kestrel ran a hand across its surprisingly soft pelt, then followed the flattened grass back along its attack path to pick up her arrows.
Sitsi admired Sofi Tornado’s battle tactics—kill a creature like this and its spirit might chase you for ever, so knocking it out made sense—but she wasn’t sure about taking a fang.
“Aren’t you worried it might follow us to get its tooth back?”
“No,” said Sofi. “He attacked us, so should pay a price. He’ll understand.”
“Aren’t you worried he’ll starve?”
“No, he’s a canny one. He’ll untie himself.”
Sofi Tornado jogged on at the head of the column, pleased with her new dagger-tooth knife, but more so by the way the women had collaborated to defeat the animal. All their training in Calnia, all of it, was based on single combat—one on one, one on two, one on three and more, but always just the one Owsla. It was a failing that had been highlighted by having to fight an enemy like the monstrous dagger-tooth cat. It was possible that one day they’d come across more powerful beasts, or even people more powerful than they were, but their training had never considered than. They’d be much more potent against such a foe if they could fight as a team.
When they’d killed the Mushroom Men and returned to Calnia, the first item on their training agenda would be teamwork.
That evening Sitsi Kestrel followed Morningstar to the campsite stream.
“So?” she said, once they were out of earshot.
“So what?”
“So how do we get our powers?”
“Sorry, Sitsi, I’ve been thinking about it. I’m going to keep it to myself for a while.”
“Aw. Why?”
“Secrets are useful.”
“Oh. We could share the secret?”
“Then it wouldn’t be a secret.”
“I suppose not. Oh, well, never mind, have a good wash!”
Sitsi jogged back to the camp. She’d never let it show, but she w
as annoyed with Morningstar because she’d very much wanted to know how they got their powers. Her amazing vision and her skill with a bow was all well and good, but if she could see into the future like Sofi Tornado, and get Paloma Pronghorn’s speed and Chogolisa Earthquake’s strength …
She reached the camp and Yoki Choppa handed her a bowl of steaming stew.
“Thanks!” she said.
Chapter 13
Fatherhood
“Hold!” shouted a Hardworker voice that Sassa Lipchewer had never heard before.
The Hardworkers about to charge to their deaths and the Lakchans about to shoot them paused.
“Well, I’ll be Loakie’s uncle,” said Wulf the Fat.
“That is a large bear,” said Freydis the Annoying. “It’s not a humped bear, either. I don’t know what kind it is.”
Walking towards them from the north-west was the biggest bear that Sassa had ever seen. Alongside the bear was a man dressed like a Scrayling and swinging a Scrayling war club, but with the pale skin, blond hair, blue eyes, beard and bulk of a Hardworker. She couldn’t decide whether the giant bear or the mysterious man was more surprising.
“I’m going to lower my hand,” shouted the Lakchan chief. “But don’t shoot the cunts, not yet anyway. We’ll hold off killing the fuckers until we’ve heard what this silly cunt has to say for himself.”
Kobosh dropped his hand. Hardworkers and Lakchans alike let their weapons fall to their sides and watched the unlikely pair approach.
At first Sassa had thought the man was unusually short and the bear very big, but, as they approached, she realised that the man was large, at least on a par with Garth, and the bear was foul-an-owl enormous. It was walking next to the Scrayling-dressed Hardworker on all fours, but its eyes were level with his. Hardworker sagas mentioned large white bears in the north, but surely they couldn’t have been this big or the sagas would have made more of a fuss about them. And besides, this one was brown.