Dim pushed through the crowd, shepherding along a mussed and irritated-looking Wess. ‘Here he is.’
‘Where’d you find him?’ Suth asked.
Dim’s thick brows clenched in their usual expression of befuddlement. ‘In a hammock, of course.’
Wess stuck his hands into his belt and lifted his chin amidships. ‘What’s all this?’
Goss shook his head in awed disbelief. ‘Just get kitted up,’ he said.
The 11th was first up. Everyone had to use the wooden weapons the Moranth provided. While they were no doubt dull-edged Suth imagined you could still easily maim someone with the vicious things. He, Yana, Lard and Dim watched; Wess lay down on his jack of banded armour and promptly went back to sleep, or pretended to. Len stood with Goss next to Suth. One of the Moranth squads squared off against the 11th’s picked troopers, three male and three female heavy infantry. The captain of the Lasana ordered the start by giving the nod to a trumpeter.
It was over far more swiftly than Suth’s worst fears. Not because of any weakness in the 11th. Rather, it was because of a terrible tactical choice: they decided to take the fight to the Moranth. When the trumpeter blew his blast the troopers charged.
Their rush was magnificent. A great shattering roar went up from the assembled men and women of the 4th Company and the Lasana seemed to shudder. Even Suth felt the hair on his neck rise and he mouthed his encouragement: Yes! Get ’em!
But they charged as individuals, shields unlocked. The Blues held easily and picked them off one by one. It was a brutal and efficient lesson in what a disciplined wall of shields can accomplish. Suth was especially sobered; less than six months ago that individual bellowing all-out attack would have been his. And he would have gone down just as swiftly. Having had the discipline of holding the line beaten into him, he now understood something neither he nor his brothers and sisters growing up on the Dal Honese plains could puzzle out. How was it that man for man, or woman for woman, no Kanese or Talian was a match for the Dal Hon warrior, yet years ago their tribal armies crashed like surf against the Malazan legion? How could that be? Poor generalship had been the judgement against the chieftains of their grandfather’s time.
Now he knew better. For the warrior fights as one, while the soldier fights all as one. No single warrior, no matter how skilled, can defeat ten, or fifty. Or in this case, five. But he, Suth, could defeat two… if he could just count on his fellows to hold long enough. Yana and Lard would hold, he believed. But Dim — the big man was just too good-natured, nothing ever seemed to rouse him. While Wess… all the gods of the plains… how many campaigns had the man slept through?
The 6th was up next. No dash and thrust for them. Seven rectangular Malazan-issue heavy-infantry shields lined and locked. The Moranth squads traded out. The trumpeter loosed a blast. Two shieldwalls carefully edged towards one other across the decking. Shouting went up; running odds on the match — three to one against the 6th.
‘A good lesson here,’ said Len at Suth’s side.
‘A good many,’ Suth answered absently, a finger brushing his lips, intent on the Blues’ swordplay, the shields grating and sliding along each other.
‘Including the hardest of all…’ Puzzled, Suth glanced to the man, who lifted his chin to the other selected four from the squad. ‘Trust.’
Suth almost snorted, dismissing the ridiculous claim, but caught himself. Trust. Yes, he could see that… yes, he could trust Yana. But a useless fool like Wess, or Dim? How could he possibly trust them? That would take…And his shoulders slumped. Mocking gods… it would take trust.
So. He was stuck with them. Was this the canny old saboteur’s lesson? He caught the man’s eye and nodded, then turned to his squadmates. If I am stuck with them, then if I just complain or am sullen or resentful I am no better than Pyke. The obvious step, then, is if I want the squad to work, it is up to me to do everything I can to make it work.
‘I want an edge,’ Lard demanded, his gaze fixed on the fight below. A groan sounded from all around as a trooper fell, screaming and clutching at his gut.
Suth considered. At least if Lard broke the centre wouldn’t be compromised. He shrugged. ‘Fine with me.’
Yana nodded.
‘What about me?’ asked Dim.
‘Yana and I will flank you.’
The big man brightened like a child. ‘That’s great!’
Suth and Yana shared a look: either she or he would have the best chance of recovering when he went down.
‘Wess!’ Yana bellowed. ‘You have one edge!’
A muted grumble answered her.
Soon after the first trooper fell the Malazan line disintegrated and the infantrymen lowered their arms as it was clear they’d been overborne. The Moranth disengaged and saluted.
The 20th was next. If the 4th Company had a heavy elite the 20th was the closest thing to it. The men and women were all veterans, none unblooded recruits. They formed up and waited, silent. The trumpet blew and they charged, taking everyone, including the Moranth, by utter surprise.
This was no disorganized rush. Shields remained locked and smashed as a line into the unprepared Blues. The Moranth fell back nearly to the ship’s side. A roar erupted such as never before. Troopers of the 4th jumped up and down, buffeting one another; the sailors shook the rigging.
Even Goss managed a full smile and muttered, ‘Nicely done.’ But he added aside to Suth, ‘They won’t fall for that again.’
After some fierce swordplay the Blues righted themselves, leaning away from being pressed into the side. Step by step they began edging round to circle back to the mid-deck. Cannily, the 20th matched the sidelong shift of shieldwall to abut against the mainmast. Both squads chose to use the mainmast to anchor their flank and now the fight shifted to the opposite flank. Whoever could turn that would win.
Though the weapons were blunted wood, blood now flowed on to the decking. Suth winced at the thought of the force it would take to break skin. With a great heave the Blues turned the open flank, bringing down that trooper. Unlike the 6th, however, the 20th formed a square of four and grimly fought on. The men and women of the 4th Company, quietened by the turning of the flank, now gained their voices, shouting their encouragement.
But the engagement was long past any question; it was just a matter of time. The 20th shrank to a triangle of three, then the remaining two back to back, and finally the last cut down by thrusts from all sides.
‘Well, we’re up,’ said Goss into the silence following that brutal demonstration. Sailors came out and wiped the decking. The Moranth squads changed out. Suth and his squad pushed their way down to the midships.
They broke through to the cleared decking and though Suth had faced uncounted duels and matches, he found his mouth dry, his heart racing. He saw Wess tuck a ball of something into his cheek. ‘What’s that?’
‘Resin of d’bayang poppy, and kaff leaves. Deadens pain. Want some?’
Suth didn’t bother hiding his distaste. ‘Gods, no. I don’t want to be doped.’
‘You’ll want some later. Believe me, we’re in for some pain.’
Suth just grunted; he couldn’t dispute that. He turned to the rest of the squad. ‘If it looks like we’re going to lose a flank, form square.’
Lard laughed at that. ‘Yeah. A square of five. Ha!’
‘Just do it.’
‘Who made you-’
‘Do it,’ cut in Yana.
Lard subsided, looked to tightening his shield strap. Suth adjusted his helmet.
‘Ready?’ Ship’s Captain Rafall called down.
Yana pulled on her tall full helm, clashed her wood sword against her broad infantry shield. ‘Ready!’
The Blues squad readied their shields.
Five, Suth saw. One for one. And an idea came to him. ‘Yana, Lard — concentrate on your man on the end. We’ll take up the slack.’
‘Two against one, aye,’ Yana answered.
The trumpet blew.