“Are the women there truly always naked?” Polecat asked, brightening.
“The men, too, I heard,” Jackal replied mildly. “But I couldn’t say. I doubted Crafty would have allowed his destination known unless it was a false trail. I sailed directly for Kyrneolis, from there to Traedria, where the gamble paid off. I nearly had him a few times, but he knew the cities far better than I did and had friends within the guild families. He slipped me and fled to Majeth. From there it was a chase east. Once I reached Ul-Kadim, I ceased to be the hunter. Crafty vanished into the courts of Tyrkania and I had to begin hiding from the knives of the Black Womb.”
Culprit’s brow creased. “Black Womb?”
“A cabal of sorcerers that Crafty both serves and commands,” Jackal said.
Culprit remained confused. “Cabal?”
“They’re like Crafty’s hoof,” Shed Snake told the younger rider.
“Ah.”
Jackal folded his arms. “They also employ assassins, princes, merchants, pirates, prostitutes, anyone they can buy or manipulate. That is to say nothing of the demons they bind to their service.”
“And they sent all that after you?” Oats asked.
“They did,” Jackal replied simply.
Polecat issued a low whistle. “So…with all that, and what we saw you do in Dog Fall, you’re, what, a wizard too now?”
Jackal put on his reassuring grin. “No. I found I had to learn a few of the wizard’s tricks if I wanted to have a chance of surviving the rest of them.” The stares he received made the grin widen, but its edges now contained quivers of apprehension. “Brothers, it’s me. Same Jackal as ever.”
It was obvious from the twitches, scratches, and throat clearings, he was the only one who believed those words.
Shed Snake’s fingernails raked absently down his scarred arm. “If you can’t take Xhreka now, and you haven’t killed Crafty, that mean you’ll be leaving again?”
Jackal hesitated.
“It’s not his decision,” Fetch said, drawing all eyes to her. “And the answer is no. Crafty can wait. Jackal, we need you here in the Lots. Without a home, we got nowhere for a bird from Strava to come. The Betrayer Moon could rise and we would be caught unawares. But you’ll know, won’t you? You’ll be pulled back to Strava.”
“Yes,” Jackal said.
“Then that’s all the warning we’ll get. You stay until then.”
“Yes, chief.”
Fetch took a steadying breath. “Boys, we got our people to look out for. They have to reach the Cradle. Nothing else matters. Set yourselves to it. Come morning your only concern is leading our people safely south. I don’t want you to think about anything else until you smell saltwater. We’ll be passing through the Skull Sowers’ and the Tide’s lots. If they agree to take us in, all the good, but we won’t count on it. Tomb isn’t given to generosity and Boar Lip’s likely all out of charity for us. Plan on having to go all the way to the coast. Bastards, you got them to Batayat, you got them to Dog Fall. I need you to be the best damn riders in the Lots just one more time.”
“Hells-damn fucking right,” Polecat said.
“Can I offer an alternative?”
The entire hoof was taken off guard by Jackal’s mildly voiced question. Intrigued, Fetching nodded.
“We ride east,” he said. “Make for Urci and take a ship from there, sail to Mongrel’s Cradle. Use the coast to reach the coast. Urci is closer by land and over easier ground. We just have to pass through the Stains’ lot. Even with the walking, it’s less than a week.”
Urci was little more than a fishing village resting almost square in the middle of Ul-wundulas’ eastern shore. Like most of the coast, it belonged to the Crown, but like all of their lands here, it was all but neglected.
“How do you know there will be a ship there to take us?” Fetch asked.
“Because the one that brought me is anchored there, waiting for my return.”
He knew the admission would cause her pain. He was right, but it helped that it hurt him to give it voice.
“What do you think, brethren?” Fetch asked. “Any of you mongrels get seasick?”
“Wouldn’t know,” Shed Snake said.
Culprit rubbed the shaved half of his head. “Can hogs get on a boat?”
“Not on all of them,” Jackal replied with a smile. “But this vessel has enough room on deck and in the hold for us, our barbarians, and our folk.”
“Listen to this mongrel,” Polecat muttered, nudging Snake. “Captain Jackal the Backy Seafarer.”
Fetch chewed on it. A ship was safer, though it had never occurred to her. Why would it? The hoofs rode. They weren’t fucking seamen. Still, if Jackal could put them on the waves, then their folk could be delivered far more swiftly to the Sons of Perdition. An easy decision.
She looked at Jackal. “Are you certain the captain of this ship of yours will agree to take all our folk?”
“He’s a good man,” Jackal replied. “You’ll see.”
Another moment’s consideration and Fetch nodded with approval. “Reckon we’re sailing, then. Hood, I need you to ride out now, scout a path for tomorrow. Be back by morning.”
The pale mongrel slid away.
“The rest of us will stand watches. Go.”
The hoof began to break away, but two remained behind.
Oats tilted his kerchiefed head at Jackal. “You need to tell him, Fetch.”
“I don’t.”
“Then I’ll tell him.”
“No, you won’t.”
“No, he won’t,” Jackal agreed. “And no, you don’t. But I wish you would.”
He’d lowered the head wrapping of his desert garb, exposing all of his troubled face. He waited, fixed her with those damn eyes, encouraging without demanding. She almost gave in.
“It can wait for the sun to come up,” Fetch told him, and turned away.
She checked the camp, made certain the orphans weren’t frightened, the Winsome folk were as comfortable as possible, the slops were steady. It was only when she’d finished those duties that she realized Starling was gone. Fetch didn’t bother asking if any had seen her slip away. All she could do was choose a direction, stare into the night, and silently wish the elf all the fortune she would need. And more.
Fetch placed herself in the middle of the watch rotation, paired with Culprit and Gosse, ordering them to the flanks of the camp, nearer the river, while she took the center. She patrolled a crescent between them, far enough out to prevent Womb Broom’s hoofbeats from disturbing the sleepers, but close enough to see the light of the fires. At the apex of every circuit she pulled her hog to a stop and scoured the night-shrouded badlands for signs of threat.
What she feared most was the end of her watch.
The Claymaster’s inner torments had destroyed the Grey Bastards. His thirst for vengeance against Hispartha brought Crafty into their midst, drove him to make a pact with the orcs, tore his hoof apart from within. She would not make the same mistake. She would not seize the Bastards in a death grip and drag them down when her own demons came baying. She hated the Claymaster, but hells fuck him, she understood him now too. The fear of showing weakness, of losing the confidence of the hoof, of thinking their voiced opinions eroded her leadership. The same impulses had weighed on the Claymaster. Fetch only wished it were as simple as knowing what he would have done and taking the opposite path, but the foul mongrel’s mistakes were not so simply sifted.
Neither were her own.
There might have been another way. She wished for it, battered her brains to find it, but her watch ended without finding one. She ordered Gosse and Culprit to their bedrolls, told them she would rouse their replacements.
It was Xhreka she woke.
They exchanged no words, not even in whispers, understanding passing b
etween their shadowed faces the moment the halfling opened her eye. They’d said all they needed after leaving the Sitting Young. Together, they crept from the camp, stealing off to Womb Broom, left waiting behind the same boulders where the hoof met. They had just mounted when Jackal stepped around the rocks.
Fetch shook her head, loosed a soundless laugh. “Time was, only Hoodwink could have caught me sneaking.”
“Time was,” Jackal said. “That’s why you sent him to scout.” His gaze shifted to Xhreka, remained placid as he spoke. “You don’t have to run. You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Don’t fear you at all, cheekbones,” Xhreka said. “Don’t trust you at all either.”
“Then trust me.” Oats appeared behind Jackal.
Xhreka loosed a weary breath. “Idris…”
“I know this mongrel, Xhreka,” the thrice said. “Knew him long before he was the Arm of Eat-A-Quim. And I got his word. You’re safe. No one here will take you back to Strava.”
“I know. Because I won’t be here.” The halfling held up a hand, halting Oats’s next protest. “I’m going, Idris.”
“You can’t do this, Fetch,” Jackal put in.
“I have to.”
“Your people need you here.”
“They need me far from here. It’s for their sake I am leaving.”
“Don’t mean the two of you have to go alone,” Oats said, setting his jaw. “Just let me saddle Ug.”
“And what of our people, Oats?” Fetch asked. “You trying to sell me that you’d leave them alone in the badlands? You’d leave Thistle and the orphans? Beryl?”
The thrice’s bearded face fell.
Jackal came to his rescue. “Then I’ll go. Oats and Xhreka stay with the hoof. Fetch, I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t even know what’s happening here, Jack.”
“Then tell me,” he said, his voice gaining some heat.
“Fucking hells, this orc…he’s hunting me. He wants me. Anyone, everyone near me is in danger. Do you fucking see? I’m not taking Xhreka with me to protect her from you, Jackal. She’s coming to protect me from him.”
Jackal took a step closer. “I’ll protect you.”
“The hells you will,” Fetching said.
“I understand you don’t trust me. I even understand why.” Both lies, but Fetch let them go unchallenged. “But from what I’ve heard of this uq’huul, I have the best chance of keeping you safe.”
It wasn’t a boast. Jackal made the claim without passion, a calm truth. Hells, she wanted to allow him. The thought was a comfort. A fierce, hateful joy filled Fetching at the thought of having Jackal by her side when she faced Ruin. If there was one mongrel in all the Lots who could stand against that dread thick it was him. Fetch wanted to accept the offer, almost as much as she wanted to spit it back in his face. As her instincts went to war, Jackal went on.
“Let me come with you. I can help.”
His voice remained even, but his gaze held the stirrings of a plea.
Fetch’s conflicted feelings slaughtered each other. Sick of the temptation that clung to his every word, she gritted her teeth and loosed a harsh, aggravated breath.
“Don’t you see? I don’t need you.” She pointed beyond him, to the camp. “They do! If you believe you’re the greatest protection I could have, then you damn well can be the greatest protection for them. You want to right a wrong, start there! Because that is where I need you, Jackal. It’s what you wanted, remember? You wanted to lead a hoof. There it is. See if you can keep them alive. I promise it’ll be a damn sight tougher than you ever imagined.”
“I’m not the chief of the True Bastards. You are.”
“And as chief, I am ordering you to do this. Stay with our hoof, prove you’re still one of us, fix your mistake. Our folk were safe. You robbed them of that when you came back. Make it right! Lead them to the Sons’ lot. Talk to Father. And don’t hesitate to accept what he offers you.”
Jackal’s eyes narrowed. “What will he offer me?”
“The same thing I’m entrusting to you. A hoof.”
Jackal took a deep breath, and for the first time his calm countenance cracked, revealing the old, jagged defiance. He wrestled with it, eyes smoldering, jaw bulging. Fetch had seen him fight his nature many times. It rarely lost. She steeled herself against the fight that was brewing.
“I will stay,” he said, swallowing the rebellion. “I will see our folk to the Cradle. And when that is done, I am coming to find you. Fuck Father and his offers.”
Xhreka clicked her tongue, craned around to look at Fetch. “He’s no Hoodwink. But I’m starting to see it.”
Fetch had to smile. “Me too.”
Womb Broom snorted and shook his head as Oats approached.
“Shut it, pig,” the big mongrel said. He leaned to embrace Fetch and Xhreka in turns. “See you both in a small while.”
As he stepped away, Jackal was there. He reached out and Fetch allowed him to grasp the back of her neck. Their foreheads met.
“Stay alive,” he whispered.
“Talking’s a waste of your damn lips.”
And he kissed her.
It was strange after so long, after so much misery. Strange and rejuvenating. She broke it off long before she wanted to, pushed him away.
Fetch turned her hog and left all she loved to the embrace of shadow.
THIRTY-EIGHT
THE RABBIT SIZZLED on the spit. Fetch gave a final turn and began to lift it away from the fire.
“Not yet.”
It was the fourth time Xhreka had thwarted Fetch’s impatience.
“It’s going to be dry,” she complained, resettling the spit.
“That’s hunger speaking.”
“Damn well is,” Fetch muttered.
She had shot the rabbit near dawn while still in the saddle and on the move. Her stockbow was loaded with a broadhead, making a mess of the meat, but it was better than nothing. Besides, she didn’t have any blunts or game points in her quiver. She’d chosen not to stop immediately; they needed to gain some more distance. So she kept her hog’s ass facing the rising sun until it was well above the horizon. Now she squatted by the fire, willing the rabbit to cook faster.
“Enough,” Fetch declared, taking up the spit once more. “We’re eating.”
She began portioning the game with her knife.
“Maybe if you’d taken a moment to take some proper meat before we rode off, you wouldn’t be so itching to tear into this undercooked coney,” the halfling said.
“Wasn’t about to take any supplies from my people, Xhreka.”
“Not the meat I meant, mongrel girl.”
Fetching looked over the fire to find a single eye twinkling at her.
“Hells,” she grunted through a mouthful. “Only permitted that kiss so he’d be forced to endure the pain of pregnant cods all night.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh, fuck my ass!” Fetching shot to her feet and pointed at the tiresome halfling with a rabbit leg. “If I’d known you were going to be a waist-high cunt about it, I’d have left the rabbit until it was charred.”
Xhreka looked up, brow crinkled. “Aren’t all cunts about waist-high?”
“So you’re a jester now?”
“You’d rather I was angry, like you?”
“Angry is how I greet the days, waddler.”
“Truly? Appears to me you greet them hungry.” Xhreka took a slow, purposeful bite. “Perhaps I should finish this quicker. Before you snatch it from my hands with your teeth. Like a bitch.”
Fetch felt a smile growing. “Why, you little…”
Xhreka put a hand to her ear, leaned forward a bit. “Little…what? You’ve used ‘waddler.’ That all you got?”
“Yes,” Fetch said, shak
ing her head in defeat. “My quiver of halfling insults is empty.”
Xhreka went back to her food. “Shame. ‘Little black shit’ is my favorite.”
Fetch resumed her squat.
The morning wind was mild, but they rested on the bald plain so the fire was bullied by every gust, smoking and sputtering. For long moments, the thumping gasps of the flames were broken only by the sounds of grease being sucked from bones and fingers.
“Why did you come with me, Xhreka?” Fetch muttered through a fresh mouthful. “I’m grateful, but…you could go your own way. No need to face this with me.”
The small woman tossed a stripped bone into the fire. She picked some gristle from her teeth before answering. “Spent years running and hiding from my kin. Know well the turmoil of being hunted by a single-minded man that wields great power. Can’t do much about that. At least, not without causing a mountain of destruction to fall on those that don’t deserve it. No need for you to suffer the same if it can be helped, if I can help. Letting Belico off his chain, at last, giving us both a chance to unleash some of this wrath, I’ll take it. Even if it’s not pointed in Zirko’s direction.”
Fetch took a breath.
“And that’s all I’m going to say on it,” Xhreka told her, looking sharply over her meat.
Fetch held up a hand in acceptance. “Can you destroy him? Ruin?”
“Ever tried to hold a hot coal in your mouth? No, of course not, because that’s a half-wit thing to do. But imagine you did. How long could you endure? Now imagine that instead of your mouth, it was your eye socket, and instead of a hot coal it was an earthquake. In your skull.” The halfling’s eye pierced Fetch. “Got no problem killing this orc for you. You been good to me. But I’ll need everything I can muster to do it. I won’t make you any promises.”
“Understood.”
“Now I got a question for you, hoof chief. Why are you here? Why are you not taking ship with that smolder-eyed mongrel who just spent a night walking tender on account of his desire for you? Ain’t no orc can follow you across the Deluged to points east. There’s a stretch more world than Ul-wundulas out there and your Jackal has seen a good portion. The pair of you could have left all this, never looked back.”
The True Bastards Page 51