Deathwing (4 page)

The place was nearly empty. Two Heads
Talking looked around
at
the
packed
earth
floor
and
the
crudely
made
tables over
which slouched
a
few
ragged, unwashed
drunks.
The
walls
were
covered
in
rough hangings which
repeated
a stylised
four-armed pattern
made to look like a crude
star.
Outside,
in
the
distance,
he
heard
the
long.
lonely
wail
of
a steam whistle.

The innkeeper leaned
forward against
the
counter,
gut
straining
against
the
bar-top.
Two
Heads
Talking
walked
over to him. As
he reached
the
counter.
he realised that
he had
no tokens.
'The
innkeeper
stared
at
him
coldly,
rubbing
one stubbled,
broken-veined
cheek with a meaty paw.

"Well,
"
he demanded
peremptorily. 'What
do you
want?"

Two Heads
Talking
was
surprised
by
the
man's
rudeness.
The
People
had
always
been
a
polite
folk.
It
paid
to
show courtesy
when an offended
party
might hit you
with a stone
axe. He met the
man's gaze levelly and
exerted a
portion
of his will. He met no resistance
from the
man's weak spirit, but
even
so,
the
effort was fatiguing.

The innkeeper
turned
away,
eyes
downcast,
and
poured
a
drink
from
a
clay
bottle,
without
being
asked.
Outside
the doorway
came the
sound
of footsteps.
The doors
burst
open
and
a
crowd
of
workers
flooded
in,
bellowing
orders
for drink.

Both
men
and
women
had
gaunt,
tired
faces.
Their
hands
and
bare
feet
were
as
grimy
as
their
clothing.
Two
Heads Talking guessed
that
a shift
had
just
ended.
He
took
his
drink
and
sat
down
in
a
comer,
watching
the
workers
slump down
in
the
chairs,
listening
to
them
listlessly
curse
their overseers
and
their
lack
of
tokens.
A
group
set
up
a
dice game in the
comer and
gambled indifferently.

After a
while,
Two
Heads
Talking
noticed
that
people
were
drifting through
a
doorway
in
the
back
of
the
tavern.
He rose
and
followed them. No-one seemed to object.

The
room
he
entered
was
dark
and
smelled
of
animal
fat.
In
its
centre
was
a
pit surrounded
by
cheering,
cursing workers. Two Heads
Talking made his way forward, and
the
crowd melted away about
him. He stood
at the
edge
of
the pit and
saw the
object
of everyone's
attention.

Down
below,
two
great
Plains
weasels
were
fighting,
ripping
long
strips
of
flesh
from
each
other
while
the
audience roared and
betted.
Each was
the
size
of
a
grown
man
and
wore
a
spiked
metal
collar.
One
had
lost
an
eye.
Both
were bleeding
from dozens
of cuts.

Two Heads
Talking was disgusted.
As
a youth.
he had hunted
weasels,
matching stone
axe against
ferocious
cunning. It
had
been
a
challenge
in
which
the
warrior
gambled
his
life
against
a
fierce
and
deadly
adversary.
There
was
no challenge
to this
cruel sport.
It was simply a safe
outlet
for the bloodlust
of these
weary, hungry
workers.

The
Librarian
departed
from
the
pit,
leaving
the
workers
to
their
sport.
As
he
left
he
noticed
that
a bluecoat
had entered
the
bar and
was talking to the
bartender.
As
he stepped
outside,
he saw that
they
were looking in his direction. He hurried into the
smoggy
night,
thinking that
he felt inhuman eyes
watching
him.

Cloud Runner looked at the
faces
round
the
fire.
They
were
waiting
for
him
to
begin.
He
took
three
deep
breaths.
By long tradition, he must be the
first to speak.

A Gathering of Warriors was not
an argument in the
formal sense,
where
words
were used
as weapons
to count
coup on
the
.enemy. It was a pooling
of experience, a telling of stories. Words
must
have
no
sharp edges
on
which
to snag anger.
He chose
his carefully.

"When
I was twelve summers old."
he
began.
'I
dwelled
in
the
Yellow
Lodge
among
the young
bucks.
It
was
my
last summer there, for I was pledged
to marry Running
Deer, who was the
fairest maiden of my clan.

"Often
.
the
bucks
would talk of the
Warriors from
the
Sky. A
hundred
years
had
passed
since
their
last
visit,
and
the

red star
was visible in the
sky. The time was near for their return.

"Hawk
Talon,
my
grandfather's
grandfather,
had
been
chosen
and
taken
to
the
spirit
realm
to
serve
the Great
Chief Beyond
The Sky. My bloodline had
acquired
much
honour because
of
it,
although
he
had
left
his son
fatherless
and needing
to found
a new lodge.

Silver
Elk
was
a
buck
with
whom
I
had
vied
for
Running
Deer's
hand.
Because
she
had
chosen
me,
he
hated
me.
He boasted
of how he would be chosen.
His words
were a taunt,
aimed at belittling my
kinsman's
honour.
Silver
Elk's
own line had
no spirits
who had
ridden Deathwing and ventured beyond
the
sky.

"I was stung
and
responded
to
his
taunt.
I
said
that,
if
that
were
so,
he
wouldn't
mind
climbing
Ghost
Mountain
and visiting
the Abode
of the
Ancestors."

Cloud
Runner
paused
to
let
his
words
sink
in,
to
let
the
warriors
imagine
the
scene.
The memory
seemed
fresh
and clear
in
his
own
mind.
He
could
almost
smell
the
acrid
wood
smoke
filling
the young men's
lodge
and
see
the
fun hanging
from its ceiling.

"That
was what Silver Elk had
wanted
me to say.
He sneered
and
replied that
he
would
go
to
the
mountain
if
someone would accompany
him as a witness.
He looked straight
at me.

"So I was trapped.
I could
not
back out
without
dishonour.
I had
to go, or he would have counted
coup
on me.

"When
she
heard,
Running
Deer begged
me
not
to
go,
fearing
that
the
spirits
would
take
me.
She
was
a
Shaman's daughter
and
had
the
Witching
Sight.
But
I
was
young.
with
a young
man's
pride
and
folly,
so
I
refused
her.
Seeing that
I could
not
be swayed,
she
cut
a braid from her hair and
wove
it about
with
spells,
making
it
a
charm
to
return
me safely
home.

"It
was
a
three-day
trip
at hunter's
walk
to
Ghost
Mountain.
Fear
was
our
constant companion.
What
had
seemed possible
in
the
warmth
of
the
lodge
seemed
dreadful
in
the
cold
autumn nights
when
the
moon
was full
and
spirits flitted from tree to tree. I believe that
if either of us
had
been
alone, we would have
turned
back,
for
it
is
a
terrible
thing to approach
the
places
of the restless
dead
at night
as
winter approaches.

"But we could
show
no fear, for the
other
was witness,
and
our rivalry drove
us
forward. Neither wanted
to
be
the
first to turn
back.

"On the
evening
of the
third day, we met the
first warning totems,
covered
by
the
skulls
of
those
the
sky
warriors
had judged
and
found
wanting. I felt like running
then,
but
pride kept me moving on.

"We
began
to climb. The night
was still and
cold. Things
rustled
in the
undergrowth,
and
the
moon
leered
down
like a Witching
Spirit.
Stunted
trees hunched
over
the
pathway
like
malign
ghosts.
We
climbed
till
we
came
to
the vast empty plateau
marked by the
sign
of the
winged skull.

"We
were filled with a sense
of achievement
and
our enmity was, for the
moment, buried. We stood
in a
place
few
men had
ever seen.
We had
defied the
spirits
and
lived. Still, we were on edge.

"I don't
know what I thought
when Silver Elk pointed
upward. There
came
a
howling
as
of
a
thousand roused
ghosts, and
fire lit the
sky. Perhaps
I thought
the
spirits
had
chosen
to
strike
me
down
for
my
presumption.
Perhaps
I
was
so filled with terror that
I thought
of nothing.
I know that
I was frozen in place, while Silver Elk turned
and
ran.

"If I had
been
afraid before, imagine how I felt when I saw that
great,
winged shape
in
the
distance
and
heard
the
roar of the
approaching
thunderbird.
Picture my horror when I saw it was Deathwing itself, steed
of the
Emperor. chooser
of the
slain, Winged
Hunting
Skeleton.

"I bitterly regretted
my folly. I could
not
move to save
myself, and
waited for Deathwing to strike me with its
claws
and release
my spirit

"I was surprised
when the
thunderbird
stooped
to
earth
in
front
of
me
and ceased
its
angry
roaring.
Still.
I
could
not run. Its
beak
gaped,
disgorging
the
massive,
black-armoured
forms
of
the
chosen
dead.
On
each
shoulder,
they
bore the
sign
of the
winged blade.

"I knew then
that
I was in the
realm of spirits,
for Hawk Talon,
my
grandfather's
grandfather,
stood
among
them.
I
had seen
his face carved
on the
roof pole of our family lodge. He looked old and
grey
and
tired,
but
there
was
still
a
family resemblance.

'To see
a face so
familiar and
so strange
in that
dreadful place was somehow reassuring.
It enabled
me
to
overcome
my fear. Filled with wonder, I walked forward
till
I
stood
before
him:
that
terrible,
grizzled
old
man
whose
face
was
so
like my own.

"For a long
time,
he
simply
stared
at
me.
Then
he
smiled
and started
to
laugh.
He
clasped
me
to
his
armoured
breast and
shouted
that
it was a fortunate
homecoming. He seemed just
as
pleased
to see
me as
I was to see
him."

Cloud
Runner paused,
comparing
his ancestor's
return
to
his
own.
There
was
no
laughter
here
as
there
had
been among those
Marines
long ago. He understood
now how glad the
old man had
been
to see
a familiar face.
He
was
glad that
Hawk Talon wasn't
here now to see
the destruction
of their people.

"Of course,
I was overwhelmed, standing
among these
legendary
warriors,
speaking
with
my
ancient
blood-relative.
I knew they
had
returned
to choose
their successors
in
the
Emperor's
service,
and
forgetting
everything
else,
I begged to be allowed to join them.

"The
old man looked at me and
asked
me whether
I had
any
reason
to stay
or
any
reason
to
regret
going.
I
thought
of Running
Deer, and
I hesitated,
but
I
was
a
callow
youth.
Visions
of
glory
and
the
wonders beyond
the
sky
filled
me. What
did
I
truly
know
of
life?
I
was
being
called
on
to
make
a
choice
that
I
would
have
to
live
with
for
centuries, although
I did not
know it.

"My ancestor
did.
He
saw
my
hesitation
and
told
me
better
to stay
in
that
case. I
would
have
nothing
of
it,
and insisted
that
they
put
me to the
test.

'They strapped
me
to
a
steel
table
and opened
my
flesh
with
metal
knives.
I
had
endured
the
Weasel
Claw
ritual
to prove
my bravery,
but
the
pain
was
as
nothing
to
what
I
then
endured.
When
they opened
my
flesh,
they
implanted things
which they
said
would bond
with my flesh and
grant
me spirit power.