EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (234 page)

“Bones!” someone called.

Tikaya glanced at Agarik. Was that a name? Or a discovery?

Agarik said nothing. Every man in the squad stood still, apparently drilled to do so until a command came. Well, she was not a marine. She sidled out of line. Ten meters in front of the formation, two men stood around something pale half-covered in snow.

Would she get yelled at if she went up to investigate? Did she care?

Tikaya shrugged and walked to the front of the line. Men glanced at her as she passed, but no one stopped her.

She slowed as she approached, regretting her decision to leave the squad as soon as she identified the object on the ground.

It was a naked man. A
dead
naked man.

Snow mounded against one side of the body, and ice crystals gathered on limbs blackened by frostbite. He had died face down, an arm stretched out, fingers splayed.

“Nothing to translate here, woman.” Lieutenant Commander Okars, a stocky man with eyebrows thicker than the fur trimming his parka hood, leaned against his rifle. He removed a plug of tobacco from a pocket and gnawed off a corner with stained teeth before handing it to the other man. “What d’you think?”

The second marine looked so similar to the commander that Tikaya thought them twins for a moment. The name tabs on both their parkas read Okars, but this fellow wore lieutenant’s pins and had fewer lines on his face. He spat a brown stream into the snow by the body. “Looks like he was running from something.”

“I called you up here for a more professional assessment than that, Sawbones.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to inquire about his health and see what ails him? Perhaps if he’ll give me a list of his symptoms, hm.”

At that point, Tikaya realized ‘sawbones’ was slang for doctor. The connotations in that name disturbed her—she had never visited a healer who did not work as much with the power of his mind as with his hands—and she hoped she did not require this man’s services any time soon, especially if he kept serrated metal tools in his kit.

“Bones,” the commander snapped. Strange that he used the term instead of his brother’s name. Maybe the staid Turgonians had regulations against familial familiarity.

“What?” Bones asked. “He froze to death. What do you want me to do?”

“Figure out what drove him to run out here naked and suicidal.”

Bones levered the barrel of his rifle under the corpse and leaned onto the stock. Ice snapped, and the rigid body rolled over. Tikaya jumped, surprised at the irreverent treatment of the dead. That did not keep her from staring. The front half was no more illuminating than the back, but the face, eternally contorted in terror, made her shiver. The man had died afraid, very afraid.

Bones shook his head at the commander. “Nope, no clues.”

Okars ground his jaw. “Curse the Headquarters desk-rider who thought it’d be amusing to put my little brother on the same ship as me.”

“Exquisite torture, isn’t it?” Bones grinned.

Tikaya stared at the brothers. They were joking. A corpse lay before them, a corpse probably belonging to one of their own citizens, and they were joking. Uncharacteristically intense irritation stirred within her.

“Animals,” she blurted before she could still her tongue. “Where’s your respect for the dead?”

The commander’s bushy brows lowered, and a cold, almost predatory expression darkened his face.

Bones placed a hand on Okars’s sleeve. “You’d best get back to your place, ma’am. Stay out of the way and let us do our jobs.”

She nodded and backed away.

“Mouth shut, Tikaya,” she muttered. “Keep your mouth shut around these warmongering fools.”

Strange, she thought she had learned that lesson already.

Chapter VIII

W
HEN
T
IKAYA
AND
THE
MARINES
reached the shoreline, it differed little from the ice they had been marching across. The ground rose subtly, and she supposed a beach lay somewhere under all the snow. Two docks, embraced by ice, stretched away from a couple of wooden warehouses with drifts piled to the eaves along their northern walls. One of the dogs lifted a leg and yellowed a sign post promising the availability of alcohol at the
Rat Wrangler
.

The town itself, with a single snowy road running parallel to the waterfront, seemed more outpost than community. Unpainted wood dwellings hunkered against the elements. Three long rectangular buildings overlooked the town from the crown of a hill. No life stirred anywhere. A stiff northeasterly wind rattled shutters, and somewhere a door banged against a wall.

“Welcome to Wolfhump, ma’am,” Agarik said, speaking for the first time since the discovery of the body.

“That’s the name of the town?” Tikaya asked.

“It’s a trade outpost for the miners working the mountains. I don’t think there’s a lot to do up here except drink and watch the wildlife, uhm, frolic.”

At the head of the formation, Commander Okars made a few hand gestures, dividing men into parties for scouting. Marines checked rifles and a couple strung bows. Tikaya wondered if she might talk the commander into letting her borrow one. She thought of letting an arrow fly into Sergeant Ottotark’s chest and his scream of pain as he pitched backward, sprawling on the ice. Tikaya jerked with surprise, startled her mind had conjured the grizzly image. Too much time spent with these Turgonians.

“As far as you know Wolfhump should be occupied?” Tikaya asked.

“Of course, it should be occupied,” Agarik snapped. He twitched, seemingly as surprised by his tone as her. “Sorry, ma’am.”

A growl rumbled up ahead. One dog dove at the other dog’s neck. Fangs sank into flesh and the victim squealed, a heart-wrenching cry that halted conversations.

Tikaya gawked at the brutal attack. Marines jumped into the fray, grabbing the dogs by the ruffs of their necks and trying to pull them apart, but the attacking canine had gone berserk. Muscles surged, fangs flashed, and soon blood spattered the white snow.

“Get those dogs under control, private!”

“Trying, sir!”

“Idiots,” Agarik muttered and strode forward to help.

Tikaya stayed back. The exchange had a bizarreness to it that left her uneasy. She glanced toward the icy sea again, wishing Rias was there to consult. Her gut lurched. The ship was gone.

Nothing to worry about, she told herself. It had probably just retreated to open waters to keep from being ensconced when the ice reformed. But that meant the group had nowhere to retreat to if they ran into trouble they could not handle. She squinted, trying to spot the main party, but the sun shone brilliantly on the ice. Even through her goggles, she could not make them out yet.

“Don’t touch—”

“Get off me!”

She turned back in time to see two marines crash to the snow. They wrestled and thrashed, and men previously trying to keep the dogs apart now turned their attention to separating the human combatants.

“Satters, Choyka, stand down!” Okars raced toward them, his voice strained and angry. Where was the calm confidence one expected from a senior officer?

 
Tikaya pulled her goggles up as if a clearer view might enlighten, but the scene only stunned. The smaller dog lay still, its neck torn open, blood drenching the snow beneath it. The other raced across the ice field, yowling like a wolf. Three marines grappled on the ground, clawing and punching at each other. The commander tried to drag one of them away and took a fist to the jaw. He slipped and went down.

The sawbones stood back, a bewildered expression on his face. At least he was not brawling with anyone.

Tikaya jogged over to his side. “What’s going on? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

He worked over the wad of tobacco in his mouth. “Nope.”

“Could it be the Nurians again? Trying to keep us from resolving whatever is going on in those tunnels?”

 
He froze, mid-chew. “How do you know—how much do you know?”

“I know they tried to kill me so I couldn’t help your people translate that unknown language.”

“I suppose it’s possible the Nurians have done...something. I can’t think of anything natural that would explain this sudden aggressiveness.”

The scuffles were dying down. Men’s ragged breaths frosted the air. A couple marines still struggled against those restraining them, while others seemed embarrassed. Blood flowed from broken noses and split lips.

“Bones, come patch people up.” Commander Okars did not appear wounded, but his eyes had a wild cast to them. “And tell me what’s going on.”

“No idea.”

“No idea? Grandmother Hakstor was a better sawbones than you. For spit’s sake, get your ass over here and figure this mess out.”

Amusement flickered in Bones’s dark eyes, and he gave Tikaya an irreverent salute, saying, “Nice talking with you, ma’am,” before he trundled off.

She was not sure what to make of the man’s odd humor or this situation. The fact that she was dependent on the marines out here rankled. She gazed down the flat coastline toward the mountains, wondering how many hundreds of miles lay between her and a town where she could find passage out of the empire. A lot, she feared, and she knew nothing about surviving in this climate.

“Corporal Dansk,” Okars said. “Head back and warn the others. Corporal Agarik?”

Tikaya shook away her musings and turned her attention back to the marines.

“Yes, sir?”

“We’re heading in. Stay here and guard the woman.”

Irritation flattened Agarik’s lips, and for a moment Tikaya thought he would question the officer. He kept himself to a glum, “Yes, sir.”

One man trotted back the way they had come, while the others marched away in pairs, leaving Tikaya and Agarik alone with the dead dog.

“You want to go with them, don’t you?” She lifted her eyebrows at Agarik, whose gaze remained fastened on the backs of the men. “To explore?”

He huffed a sigh. “No.”

“You must not lie very often, because you’re not good at it.”

A slight smile quirked his lips.

Tikaya’s gaze returned to the buildings overlooking the town. A giant cannon and a flag pole flying Turgonian colors stood before one. Military structures, she guessed. If there were any clues to this mystery, she wagered they would be in an office up there. Exploring the town might be hazardous, but, then, standing out here where anyone with a bow or a rifle could target them felt hazardous too. And if this strange aggression affected the main party... She thought of Rias holding a box of blasting sticks and shuddered.

“Why don’t we ramble up that hill and see if we can figure out what’s going on?” Tikaya suggested.

“We’ve orders to stay here.”

“Actually, I believe your orders were to ‘guard the woman.’”

“’
Stay here
and guard the woman.’”

A breeze gusted down the coast, icy fingers poking through Tikaya’s scarf. “They don’t encourage initiative in Turgonia, do they?”

“Not in the marines, no.”

She curled her fingers in her gloves. Even if she did not want to explore, she would have appreciated getting inside out of the wind. “Suppose the woman runs off and you’re forced to chase after her in order to guard her?”

“With respect, ma’am, I could catch you before you ran five steps.”

“Rias would run off with me.” It was a stupid argument, and she knew it. She felt like a stubborn five-year-old trying to wrangle an extra hour of play before bedtime. Unfortunately, manipulating men to get her way was not her specialty. No doubt her teenage years should have involved less time studying ancient tablets and more time flirting with boys at the beach.

“I’d rather he run off with
me
,” Agarik said.

The comment surprised a laugh from her and reminded her flirting would probably not work on him anyway.

A gun fired in the town, stealing her mirth. Someone shouted. It sounded like Turgonian, one of the marines, but distance muddled the words. Agarik’s grip tightened on his rifle and he took a step before he stopped himself. A scream of pain echoed from the dwellings, and it made Tikaya shiver.

“Something creepy is happening here,” she said. “We should check the buildings on the hill. They’re military, aren’t they? That’d be the place to start looking for answers, you’d think.”

“Tikaya...”

“Why are you being so frustratingly obtuse about this?” she growled. “You’d think I was asking you to—” She noticed Agarik’s startled expression and caught herself.

“Something creepy
is
happening here,” Agarik said softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I understand that you want to be the good soldier and follow orders, and I don’t want to get you in trouble. But...” Rias’s words flashed through her mind:
to live when the rest of your team died would be an unacceptable disgrace to many
. “Do you want to be the only one of your team left alive when the others catch up?”

His gaze jerked up, latched onto her. He closed his eyes for a long moment before sighing and asking, “When I get court-martialed and kicked out of the empire for following your suggestions, can I come live on your island?”

“Absolutely. Free lodging in my parents’ guest bungalow overlooking the sea. I’ll even introduce you to my cousin’s handsome friend who surfs nude every afternoon. He was in one of my linguistics classes; he has a gifted tongue.”

Agarik’s eyes widened, and he clapped her on the shoulder, leading the way toward the hill. “If you’d promised me all that the first time we met, we’d still be on your island.”

Tikaya peered down the main strip as they passed it, but she did not spot any marines. They must be exploring inside the buildings.

When she and Agarik rounded the back corner of a saloon, they jerked to a halt at the sight of skulls and bones half-buried in fresh snow. Human skulls and bones.

“Cursed ancestors,” Agarik grunted.

The snow had obscured footprints but did not quite hide the tooth marks scoring the broken bones, the marrow prodded out by tongues.

“How long has it been since your people had contact with this town?” Tikaya asked.