‘So which is it?’ she demanded.
‘Which what?’
‘Which are you?’
‘Me?’ He peered round and caught Yusen’s amused gaze. He glared in response then turned to Ursa. ‘I’m quite healthy in that — area, thank you. No need to wonder.’
She looked him up and down, as one might a horse at auction. ‘I will decide that, foreigner. Now, come with me.’
‘Come with … you?’
She stood to peer down at him from over the wide shelf of her bosom. ‘Yes! Come. Let us see how much of a man you are.’
Well — how could he let such a challenge go unanswered? He stood also, and bowed his farewell to Oroth-en who answered with a nod, the same small smile at his lips as had been there before. He’d known all evening. Next to the elder, Yusen used the marine sign-language to send: onward!
Murk gave his own emphatic sign to the captain then followed the big woman out.
Much later he was thoroughly exhausted, content and dreaming when the very floor of the hut seemed to rise up and throw him aside. He sat up, dazed, to see Ursa tying on her wrap.
‘I heard something,’ she whispered, snatching her spear. ‘Something I’ve never heard before.’
‘What?’
‘Quiet,’ she hissed.
Then he heard it, a bright sharp blare; and knew what it was. He fumbled for his linen trousers and stumbled down from the hut into the starlit central clearing. Here the villagers gathered, peering about, quite terrified. Hopping to slip on his boots, Murk found Yusen and Sour. ‘The rally horn!’ he called.
Yusen nodded, grim. ‘They’re under attack.’
Oroth-en came pushing his way through the clamouring crowd. ‘What is this noise?’ he demanded.
‘Our friends are being attacked.’
‘Attacked?’ the elder repeated, quite surprised.
‘Will you guide us back, please?’
Oroth-en instantly set aside his confusion to nod his agreement. ‘Of course. Collect your weapons.’
Yusen gave a quick bow of thanks. He turned to Sour and Murk. ‘Get your gear then return here.’ Both turned and ran. At the hut Murk found Ursa pulling on her thick leather skirting and shirt. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded as he sorted through their commingled gear, all tossed down together in the heat of their first round of lovemaking.
‘I am going.’
Murk pulled on his laced shirt. ‘No, you’re not. Stay here. It’ll be dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ The woman let out a great braying laugh and slapped him on the shoulder so hard he almost fell over. ‘You have no idea how dangerous it is out there, foreigner.’ She hefted her spear. ‘Come!’ and she leaped from the hut.
Oroth-en and a portion of the village’s warriors guided them through the woods. The moment Murk slipped under the surrounding jungle edge he entered a deep shadowed darkness. He gestured, summoning Meanas, and cast a Shadow-derived mage vision over Sour and Yusen, who signed back indicating that they had it. He then hurried to Oroth-en’s side.
‘As a mage, a shaduwam, I can help you see in the night-’ he began, but the elder waved the offer aside.
‘No need. We have no difficulty.’
Indeed, now that Oroth-en said this, Murk realized that his warriors and scouts had all dodged ahead, slipping into the dark with ease. The fact of this now troubled him as he jogged along, struggling to keep up. Soon his breath came short — he was in poor shape after so many days of privation.
Blasts of munitions now echoed from the jungle far ahead. The shockwaves raised howls, cries and shrieks of protest from the many night-creatures. Swarms of bats churned overhead, disturbed from the highest reaches of the canopy. Damn. Gettin’ serious. Who’s attacking? Another village?
Ursa emerged from the brush to come to his side. ‘What is this new noise like thunder, lover?’ she demanded.
‘Munitions — ah, powerful blasts, like magery.’ She grunted her half-understanding. ‘Watch out-’ but she was gone again, dodging into the thick fronds of the undergrowth.
Gods damn them! No one’s listening!
It began to rain. The advance was a nightmare of flashing bodies dodging between trees, slapping branches and dripping leaves. He turned his ankle on a fallen log and limped along as best he could. All around him the locals sent up war whoops and yipping challenges to the night. They clashed the hafts of their spears against the shells and lattices of sticks they wore woven over leather as armour.
Why are they making so damned much noise? Then it came to him — putting up a scare. They were hoping drive off the attackers. He lent his own voice to the shouts.
Far too long later, long after the distant clash and eruptions of munitions had died away, Murk emerged into the meadow and stepped on to the torn mud of the aftermath of battle. Members of the company knelt with those fallen, wrapping wounds or comforting ones too far gone. He sought out Burastan. He found her with Yusen, her face slashed and the cloth and armour of her arm ragged and torn as if some sort of animal had been raging at it.
‘Who was it?’ he demanded, barging into their conversation.
‘Creatures,’ she answered, exhausted. ‘Half-human, half-monster.’
‘D’ivers? Soletaken?’
Her answer was an unknowing, utterly spent shrug.
Nearby, Oroth-en listened to reports from his scouts who slipped into the clearing, whispered to him, then sped off once more. His warriors helped guard the clearing’s perimeter.
‘You have a count?’ Yusen asked Burastan.
She nodded, wiped a bloodied sleeve across her face. ‘Some fifteen seriously wounded. Eight dead.’
Murk peered about for Sour and spotted him already tending to a wounded trooper. Good. The man wasn’t much of a bonesetter, but he was the best they had — gods help them. Strangely, two of the locals were kneeling there helping with the binding and treatment and they appeared to be debating techniques with him.
He then began hunting through the tall grass for the litter and its perilous burden. The troopers had obviously hidden it away, but the power of the object glowed like a dazzling ember in his mage-vision, guiding him. He found Dee and Ostler standing guard.
He asked Dee: ‘Did it … do … anything?’
The big swordsman eyed him as if he were an idiot. ‘Whaddya mean?’
He turned away. ‘Never mind.’
While he was walking off the swordsman called, ‘I will tell ya this, cadre. They wanted it. Them beasties wanted it.’
Murk offered a nod for the information — accurate or not. A thought came to him and he paused, considering. There was someone else he could question here regarding the attack. It — she — had been gone lately, and he was frankly quite happy to leave things at that. But perhaps …
‘Celeste …’ he called through Meanas. ‘Celeste … are you-’
He broke off because in his mage-vision he could see the faint jade glow of something approaching through the grasses. The image of a young girl. Nearby, Dee and Ostler acted as if nothing were happening; they were obviously completely unaware of its — her — presence. He moved off into the dense grasses for more privacy.
He was terrified to have to talk to this thing. Who knew what she might do? She might get annoyed by something he said and blast him from the face of the earth with the flick of a finger. Yet out of everyone here he was the one who ought to be doing this, and so he remembered his mage training and struggled to relax his mind into the state of ‘forced calm’.
The diminutive flickering image stopped before him. She peered about curiously with her big child-like eyes as if fascinated, yet completely mystified, by the mercenary soldiers coming and going. Closer now, he was struck by something familiar in the simple straight style of her hair and plain peasant clothes. She looked like a farm girl from northern Quon Tali. Had it taken this image from his mind? But then he remembered that she’d mentioned another.