“Barrol,” Benthok said. “You’re up, with a chance to make it a serious lead.”
“Nothing to it,” Barrol said, stepping up to the line. He loaded his sling, took a short breath, and then swung. His shot went wide, missing the hopper’s head by a near foot.
“Thulla’s bones, curse it,” Barrol hissed.
Though he was relieved Barrol had missed his cast, Tovak felt himself frown with distaste at the mild curse. He’d heard worse in his time, but too many people these days felt free to take Thulla’s name in vain. There should be more reverence for the great god.
“I thought you said your boys, veterans all, were good,” Thegdol said. “That you trained them yourself.”
“It must be the wind,” Logath said.
“The wind my ass,” Thegdol said.
“A miss from Third, but they’re still up one,” Benthok said. “Staggen, I believe it is your turn.”
Staggen stepped up to the line, sighted his target, and, without hesitation, swung and let fly with an easy motion. His shot hissed out and drilled the head of the nearest hopper, dropping it where it stood.
“And we’re tied again,” Benthok said.
“Nice shot,” Barrol said from the side.
“That was a good cast,” Lok said.
“Very good,” Barrol agreed.
“Why thank you. I’ve been doing this since almost before I was walkin’,” he drawled. “My father used to have contests like this with me and my brothers. The loser had to muck out the barn stalls, so there was motivation to win, and besides, I don’t like to lose.”
“Bane,” Benthok said. “You’re up.”
Bane stepped up as Staggen moved away. He sighted a hopper near to the one Staggen had killed. He paused for a moment, staring at it, and then, in a smooth motion, he lifted the sling overhead with both hands and swung. There was a loud crunching sound. The force of the blow knocked the hopper right over. It lay on its side, legs twitching feebly.
“Third gets a kill and is back up one,” Benthok said.
“Thulla’s bones,” Staggen said. “Nice shot . . . ya bastard.”
Once again, Tovak felt a slight distaste with his squad mate’s choice of words, but it wasn’t the time or even his place to speak up. Not many held a high regard of their ancestral god. No matter what he thought or how much he believed, there was simply nothing he could do to change things.
Bane gave Staggen a slight bow and then stepped aside.
“Tovak,” Benthok said, “it’s your turn.”
“You should just give up now,” Logath said to Thegdol.
“Why’s that?” Thegdol asked. “Gonna sneeze again?”
“The boffer’s new, with no training,” Logath said, sparing Tovak a huge grin. “We’ve already won.”
“Is that so?” Thegdol turned his gaze to Tovak, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Show him how it’s done, kid.”
Tovak felt a sudden surge of pride. His squad leader had faith in him. He was nervous down to his boots, but he knew he could do this. He stepped up to the invisible line, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to control his pounding heart. He felt everyone’s eyes upon him.
Tovak understood he had to put that out of his mind. He heard Jodin and Dolan whispering behind him. It sounded like they were making a wager. He shut it and everything out, clearing his mind as he’d been taught. He had a sudden recollection of something an instructor had said during his training: When you have a target to kill, there is only the target. The rest of the world must cease to exist. Remember to focus.
He hefted his sling and slipped a shot into the pouch. Searching the field before him, he singled out a heratta slightly larger than the others. It was about twelve yards away. The creature had the whole of its left side facing him and it made an excellent target. He let its faceted eye fill his vision. His mark was just behind the eye, beneath the wide, waving antennae that twitched at the air with slow, swooshing motions as it ate grass.
Time slowed. Tovak breathed in and held it. There is only the target . . . .
He raised the sling and let fly in a smooth motion.
Crunch.
His shot had drilled into the heratta’s head, right where he’d aimed. The insect’s legs stiffened, as if it were about to leap, then it sagged and, a heartbeat later, rolled over onto its side.
“I don’t bloody believe it,” Logath hissed through his teeth, looking over at Tovak in astonishment and barely concealed anger.
“Dead on,” Tovak said under his breath, with a look thrown to Thegdol. The squad leader shot him a wink of approval. Tovak turned to see his whole squad looking pleased. It was a good feeling and one he wanted to savor, for there had been few of those. He walked over to join them.
“Nice shot,” Gorabor said, slapping him on the back. “You nailed it.”
“Lucky shot is more like it,” Logath said.
“Oh, I don’t know, Logath,” Staggen said, raising a dubious eyebrow. “Looks to me like he hit exactly what he was aiming at. Wouldn’t you agree, Bane?”
Bane returned only half a nod, punctuating it with an annoyed grunt.
“That’s what I thought,” Staggen said, with more than a bit of satisfaction. “Nice job, Tovak.”
“Enough,” Benthok said. “There is too much jawing going on. It’s tied. Logath is up.”
“I hope you sacrificed something to Fortuna today,” Thegdol said. “I have a feeling you are going to need it.”
Logath gave him a funny look and then stepped up to the line, drawing out his sling with a flourish. He placed a single shot into the leather pad and then scanned the heratta, making a show of picking his target. He took a deep breath, raised his hand, and let fly.
The shot flew out, and for a moment it looked dead on, but at the last instant, the heratta shifted in the grass, taking a hop forward. The shot missed by a hair’s breadth. The projectile hit the grass and bounced up in a low arc, careening into the thick leg of another hopper just a few feet beyond.
The startled insect let out a chattering cry and leapt into the air, its translucent wings buzzing out a fierce drone. In the blink of an eye, the entire swarm took flight, and a deep, thrumming buzz filled the air. Most of the hoppers moved as one, clumping together in midair. For a moment their massed bodies blocked one of the suns as they sailed farther up the valley, only to disappear into a stand of trees about quarter mile away. When they were all gone, there were only three hoppers left, about thirty-five yards off and still gorging themselves on the grass.
There was a moment of awed silence at what they had just witnessed. It had been like a massive flock of birds taking flight, only more impressive.
“First Squad wins—” Benthok started, but Thegdol held up a hand and spoke.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Thegdol said. “That just doesn’t seem right to me. Since we’re tied, I don’t believe the game is over yet, sir. There still be hoppers out there, sir.”
“Not according to the rules I set out,” Benthok said.
“I’d like my turn, sir,” Thegdol pressed. “To put First Squad up proper-like, if you don’t mind, sir.”
“Very well,” Benthok said. “You may take your cast, Corporal.”
“And there’s no need for the line to move up either, sir,” Thegdol said.
This seemed to surprise the lieutenant.
“Are you certain?” Benthok asked, looking out on the last of the hoppers. “That’s a difficult shot for a short sling.”
“I am sure, sir,” Thegdol said, taking up position on the invisible line.
“Thegdol’s opportunity to win it all, then,” Benthok said. “You may cast when ready.”
Thegdol stood up straight, eying the nearest hopper. He held his sling loosely in his right hand, while the other stroked his beard.
“You’ve got this, Thegdol,” Staggen said.
“Easy as mead,” Morda added.
“You’re gonna miss,” Logath sai
d and gave a nasty chuckle.
“Like you did?” Thegdol asked, without turning his head.
Logath’s cheeks colored, but he clamped his mouth shut.
Tovak held his breath.
Thegdol took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His finger dipped into the pouch at his waist and drew forth a lead shot, which he placed in the sling. In a single, fluid motion, he raised the weapon, swung it over his head, and let fly as hard as he could. It was a powerful throw and the sling cracked in the air as the shot flew outward and slammed into the target’s head with a loud smack.
First Squad, Tovak included, erupted in a riotous cheer that frightened the last two hoppers, who had not gotten the message yet. They leapt into the air and went sailing away after their fellows.
“I declare First Squad the victors,” Benthok said. “Excellent shot, Thegdol, well played.”
“Thank you, sir,” Thegdol said and then walked over to Logath. He held out his hand. “No hard feelings?”
“I’d say that hopper moving at the last moment was just a little bad luck for you, wouldn’t you?” Benthok looked meaningfully at Logath.
“Yes, sir,” Logath said, though he did not sound convinced. “It was bad luck with my shot, is all.”
Logath turned his gaze back to Thegdol, and despite his words, it was clear he was simmering with barely contained rage. The corporal of Third Squad looked down at the extended hand, forced a smile, and then shook. “No hard feelings.”
“We’re one big happy family again,” Benthok said, clapping his hands together. “Corporal Logath, take your squad and gather up the carcasses here and on the other side of the hill. We’ll be breaking camp as soon as we have everything in and the last of the kills loaded onto the carts.”
“We’re heading back tonight?” Logath seemed surprised by that. “With all these hoppers about?”
“Yes,” Benthok said. “I received orders from the captain. The warband is making good time, and from what I understand, Karach wants to pick up the pace even more. We can’t linger here another night or we will be playing a game of catch-up with them, and that we do not want to do. No, we’re heading back to the warband tonight. Now, Corporal, kindly get your squad moving.”
“Yes, sir,” Logath replied, snapped to attention, and offered a salute.
Benthok returned the salute.
“Third Squad,” Logath called, “we’ll start work at our original position. Let’s go.”
Third moved out, quickly cresting the small hill and disappearing down the other side.
“First Squad,” Benthok said, “take a seat. Time for class.”
They sat down around the lieutenant.
“As skirmishers,” Benthok said, once everyone was settled, “operating outside of the safety of the main line, you might one day have need of the finger speak, and when it matters too. So pay attention.”
Tovak was grateful to be off his feet. His legs still ached badly. He took a pull off his waterskin, then stopped it closed.
“Let’s review the signals I’ve been teaching you these past few weeks, to see what, if anything, has stuck,” Benthok said. “Thegdol, you already know all this, so no helping.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Thegdol said in a weary tone. “I need a nap anyway, sir.”
With that, Thegdol removed his helmet, leaned back on his hands, and turned his face towards the suns. The corporal closed his eyes.
Benthok held up a hand and made a quick gesture. The signs were small, almost jerky motions of the fingers that Tovak knew only a keen and trained eye could clearly interpret.
“Gorabor, what did I just say?” Benthok asked.
“Move forward silently,” Gorabor replied.
“That’s right,” Benthok snapped his fingers. “Good memory. Now, I am going to sign it again. Repeat the motions for me, all of you. Good,” Benthok said, waiting and watching. “Very good. And this?” He made another sign and then touched his ear. “Lok? What did I just say?”
“Move to the left?”
“Close,” Benthok said. “The distinction is that I touched my left ear. I didn’t say I wanted anyone to move to the left. If I had given the sign to ‘move’ in that direction, like this”—Benthok used an open palm to point—“then you would be correct. If I had pointed to my eyes, it would have meant ‘look.’ Motioning to the ear, with this sign here”—he repeated the finger speak—“indicates that I’ve heard something to the left and that those with me need to listen.” He looked at them expectantly. “Do you understand the difference?”
“I do, sir,” Lok said.
“Good,” Benthok said. “Then show me.”
Lok made the same sign.
“Now everyone else,” Benthok said.
They repeated the sign, including Tovak. Benthok stepped forward, correcting Jodin. What Benthok was teaching were the basics. Tovak felt a wave of disappointment as the eagerness for the lesson fled. He’d already learned this and more. He was starting to realize that what he’d been taught at the Academy put him well ahead of the rest of his squad. If this material was new and Thegdol’s squad was just learning it, then, at least for a while, there wouldn’t be much Benthok would be teaching him.
Over the next hour, the lieutenant went through quite a few different signals, with Tovak’s squad mates calling out the answers. It was clear the squad had a lot to learn. Not once did Tovak raise his hand. He just watched and remained silent, as he did not want to call attention to himself. Between the others and the lieutenant’s patient prompting, they mostly managed to get what had been signed, but there was no telling who would give the correct answer. At points it was almost painful for Tovak not to point something out.
Gorabor seemed to know far more than the others. However, none of them had a complete understanding of what Tovak considered the fundamentals of finger speak. He was the expert amongst them and they did not even know it. It galled him that he had to keep it hidden.
“You’re picking this up quick,” Gorabor hissed, leaning close after Benthok made them repeat a complicated sign and then practice amongst themselves. “He flashes the sign and you repeat it almost exactly. You might be a natural at this, like me.”
Tovak looked over at Gorabor, suddenly alarmed that his friend might begin asking uncomfortable questions.
“Okay,” Benthok said, looking over their heads in the direction of the camp, “the carts are back and we’re just about done with today’s class.”
The lieutenant eyed the squad, and, with his right hand, he pulled at his beard, tugging on it twice, before scratching. “I have one last sign I want to see if you can figure out. It is a combination of some of the signs we covered today.”
The lieutenant ran through a series of signs, all eyes save Thegdol following. The corporal appeared to be asleep.
“Lie down on the ground,” Lok blurted.
“What?” Gorabor exclaimed. He choked back laughter at the other’s sudden hard look and discomfiture. Lok’s answer was far from correct.
Morda and Staggen shared a glance filled with amusement. Of all of them, Lok was struggling the most.
“But I thought—” Lok started.
“No,” Jodin interrupted, speaking up. “I think the lieutenant signed the order to retreat.”
Gorabor raised his hand and when Benthok nodded, said, “Stop fighting, fall back, and fade.”
“Not quite.” Benthok ran through the signs one more time.
Tovak knew the answer. He looked at Benthok, whose eyes were shifting from one face to another, although he never even glanced in Tovak’s direction.
“Anyone?” Benthok asked. The lieutenant had been sneaky and obviously expected everyone to fail.
Heartbeats ticked by. Tovak could no longer hold back, because it was so simple and so terribly obvious. Sure, it was a trick, but he had no idea why they were having trouble with it.
“Gorabor is the closest, but they’re all wrong,” Tovak said quietly, t
hen instantly regretted speaking up. Oh, shit, he thought.
“You think you know the answer?” Benthok asked.
“I do, sir,” Tovak said, realizing there was no backing out now. He held up his left hand and repeated what Benthok had done. “That does mean ‘stop fighting, fall back, and fade,’ ” he said. “Before you made that sign, you tugged on your beard twice with your right hand. I believe that indicates whatever sign comes next should be reversed, which would suggest you are calling for a full frontal attack and that you think someone may be watching.”
“That can’t be right,” Lok said.
Thegdol opened his eyes and sat up, looking straight at Tovak. The corporal’s brow was furrowed.
“How could you know that?” Jodin exclaimed.
Gorabor looked confused.
“Yeah,” Thegdol chimed in. “How could you possibly know that? I wasn’t even watching and I know the lieutenant gave an advanced sign.”
“Enough,” Benthok said. “Tovak is right. Remember, finger speak is just as much a language as what comes out of your mouth. Whatever I speak, I can say almost as quickly with my hands. That’s why it is so important to learn. When it comes to a need for silence, finger speak is the best way to communicate. What I signed was supposed to be a trick question. Tovak even got the underlying meaning. When signs are given, you need to pay close attention. Observation is one of the hallmarks of being a pioneer. You must try to see everything and miss nothing. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the squad chorused.
“Tovak,” Thegdol asked, with an edge in his voice, “how did you learn sign?”
Tovak cursed himself for the slip. He didn’t want to tell everyone he’d been trained at the Academy and had been rejected by the pioneers. It would bring up uncomfortable questions he was not prepared to answer. “I just know about signs.”
“I think you’re playing games with us,” Jodin accused. “You’ve been trained, you lying bastard. I knew there was something shifty about you.”
“Keep your mouth shut, Jodin.” Benthok shot him a severe glare. “You’re in the shithouse with me as it is. You are a veteran who has proved himself repeatedly in battle. Had you not done so, what you did out there with the murinok and Tovak might be construed the actions of a coward, if you get my meaning.”
Reclaiming Honor Page 21