Children, gather close. Your mother’s days are fraught now. She needs you. She needs us all.
Glancing up, he saw Tavore studying him. ‘Banaschar, was it you who removed my helm? Wiped down my face and combed through my hair?’
His gaze dropped. ‘Yes, Adjunct.’
She made an odd sound, and then said, ‘I am sorry … I must have looked a mess.’
Oh, Tavore.
Fiddler rose suddenly and said in a gruff voice, ‘I’ll saddle your horse, Adjunct.’
Hedge watched as the three riders rode back into the camp. ‘Bavedict, distribute the munitions.’
The alchemist turned and in a startled voice asked, ‘All of them?’
‘All of them. And get ’em kitted out – water, a little food, armour and weapons and nothing else.’
‘I’ll go talk to the sergeants.’
Nodding, Hedge set off.
He found Fiddler on foot, just outside the Adjunct’s tent. The man was alone, standing looking down at the ground.
‘We’re coming with you,’ Hedge said.
Fiddler looked up, scowled. ‘No, you’re not.’
‘The Bridgeburners are coming with you – nothing you can do about it.’
‘It’s all over with, Hedge. Just leave it alone.’ And he turned away.
But Hedge reached out, pulled the man round. ‘I already asked the Adjunct – I did it last night, once I figured out what was going on. You need me there, Fiddler. You just don’t know it yet – you don’t know the half of it, but you’ll just have to trust me on this. You need me there.’
Fiddler stepped close, his face dark. ‘Why? Why the fuck do I?’
Passing soldiers paused, turned to stare.
‘You just do! If you don’t – I swear this, Fid, I swear it – you’ll spend the rest of your days poisoned with regret. Listen to me! It’s not only us, can’t you see that? You need the Bridgeburners!’
Fiddler pushed him back with both hands, staggering Hedge. ‘They’re not Bridgeburners! It’s not just a fucking name! You can’t just pick up any old useless fools and call them Bridgeburners!’
‘Why not?’ Hedge retorted. ‘It’s what we were, wasn’t it? At the beginning? Young and wide-eyed stupid and wanting to be better than we were!’ He waved an arm to take in the camp. ‘No different from these Bonehunters – don’t you see that?’
‘Don’t follow me!’
‘You’re not listening! I went through – I came back! I have no choice, damn you!’
There were tears glistening in Fiddler’s eyes. ‘Just don’t.’
Hedge shook his head. ‘I told you. No choice, none at all.’
When Fiddler pushed past him, Hedge let him go. He looked round, scowled. ‘It’s almost noon – go eat something, you slack-jawed bastards.’ Then he headed back for his company’s camp.
Fiddler cut between two staff tents, and made it halfway down before he stopped and slowly sank to one knee, his hands over his face. As tears broke loose, shudders drove through him, wave upon wave.
We’re going to die – can’t he see that? I can’t lose him again – I just can’t.
He could still feel Hedge’s shoulders where he’d pushed him, and see the hurt look on the man’s face – no, don’t. His hands stung, his hands burned. He balled them into fists, head hanging, forcing himself to draw deep breaths, forcing all the rawness away, and with it the terrible anguish that threatened to break him, crush him down.
He needed to go to his soldiers now. The sergeants would have them ready. Waiting. Marines and heavies, the last of both. One more thing to do, and then we’ll be done. All of it, finished.
Gods, Hedge, we should have died in the tunnels. So much easier, so much quicker. No time to grieve, no time for the scars to get so thick it’s almost impossible to feel anything at all.
And then you showed up and tore them all open again.
Whiskeyjack, Kalam, Trotts – they’re gone. Why didn’t you stay there with them? Why couldn’t you just have waited for me?
Still the tears streamed down his face, soaking his beard. He could barely see the matted dead grasses beneath him.
End this. One more thing to do – they’ll try and stop us. They have to. We need to be ready for them. We need – I need … to be a captain, the one in charge. The one to tell my soldiers where to die.
Wiping at his face, he slowly straightened.
‘Gods,’ he muttered. ‘First the Adjunct, and now this.’ He sighed. ‘Let’s just call it a bad day and be done with it. Ready, Fid? Ready for them? You’d better be.’
He set out.
There was glory in pissing, Corabb decided as he watched the stream curve out and make that familiar but unique sound as it hit the ground.
‘Doesn’t look like you need both hands for that,’ Smiles observed from where she sat nearby.
‘Today, I shall even look upon you with sympathy,’ he replied, finishing up and then spitting on his hands to clean them.
‘Sympathy? What am I, a lame dog?’
Sitting leaning against his pack, Bottle laughed, earning a dark look from Smiles.
‘We are going somewhere to fight,’ Corabb said, turning to face her and the others sitting on the ground beyond. ‘Today, you are all my family.’
‘Explains the sympathy,’ Koryk muttered.
‘And I will stand at your side, Koryk of the Seti,’ Corabb said.
Smiles snorted. ‘To what, keep him from running?’
‘No. Because, this time, he will stand with us. He will be a soldier again.’
There was a long moment of silence from the gathered squad, and then Koryk rose and walked a short distance away.
‘There’s demons crouched in his brain,’ Cuttle said under his breath. ‘All that whispering must be driving him mad.’
‘Here comes the sergeant,’ Corabb said. ‘It’s time.’ He went to his kit bag, checked the straps once again, picking up the crossbow and admiring it for a moment before tying it on to the satchel. He re-counted the quarrels and was satisfied to find that they still numbered twelve.
‘Load up,’ Tarr said when he arrived. ‘We’re headed northwest.’
‘That’s damn near back the way we came!’ said Smiles. ‘How far? If I even come within sight of that desert, I’ll slit my own throat.’
‘It’s a big lake now, Smiles,’ Bottle pointed out.
Tarr said, ‘Should be there by noon tomorrow, or so the captain says. Take food for two days, and as much water as you can carry.’
Corabb scratched at the beard covering his jaw. ‘Sergeant – the regulars are getting ready to break camp, too.’
‘They’re going east, Corporal.’
‘When do we rendezvous?’
But the sergeant’s only reply was a sharp glance, and then he went to his own gear.
Smiles edged up close to Corabb. ‘Should’ve used that thing for more than just pissing, Corporal, and now it’s too late.’
Oh. I get it. We’re not coming back. ‘Then we march to glory.’
‘Hood’s breath,’ Smiles sighed.
But he caught a look on her face – quickly hidden. She is afraid. She is so young. ‘And you, Smiles, shall stand on my other side.’
Did she almost sag towards him then? He could not be sure, and she kept her face down, turned away as she worked on her satchel.
‘You have let your hair grow long,’ he said. ‘It makes you almost pretty.’
Cuttle edged close. ‘You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you, Corabb?’
‘Form up,’ Tarr said. ‘We’re in the lead to start.’
Cuttle met his sergeant’s eyes and gave a faint nod. Tarr turned and looked ahead to where Fiddler waited. The captain looked ill, but he held Tarr’s gaze without expression, and then Fiddler swung round and set off.
Their march would take them through the entire camp of regulars, down the central, widest avenue between the uneven rows of tents, awnings and blinds. The sapper looked up at the sky, then back down again – those blazing slashes seemed closer than ever, unnerving him.