Ilbei Spadebreaker and the Harpy's Wild (12 page)

“By the gods, I’ve seen newborns stronger than that,” Ilbei muttered, but he shouted down to Kaige. “Can ya help him? Get him up to me, and I’ll push him through. I can’t get inside.”

Kaige shouted back that he could, and he waded into the creek. He caught Jasper and the rope and dragged the mage onto the shale. Jasper was still sputtering and wheezing as the big warrior picked him up and set him on his feet again. “I’ll help you this time,” Kaige said. “You go on and try again. I’ll come up behind. You can lean back on me, sort of sit in my lap.”

Jasper started to protest, but Ilbei’s shout came down upon them both like thunder. “Come on, girls, we haven’t got all day.”

“Go on,” Kaige said again. He gave Jasper a gentle push toward the rope. “Just lean back like you seen Sarge do, and make sure to set your feet. Put your weight on me.”

Jasper did as he’d seen Ilbei do, and before he could protest that he didn’t have the arm strength to hold himself like that for long, Kaige pressed in behind him and reached around Jasper on both sides for the rope. He gripped it firmly, with his elbows outward enough that Jasper still had room to move a little from side to side, but the big man now supported both their weights. The curve of Kaige’s steel cuirass pressed solidly against Jasper’s back, which set the sorcerer to complaining some, as did the hilt of Kaige’s dagger jabbing into the back of Jasper’s thigh. But, Jasper’s discomfort aside, soon Kaige was half walking, half hoisting Jasper up the shifting slope. Shortly thereafter, Kaige got the wizard to where Ilbei waited impatiently, at which point Ilbei grabbed the mage by a fistful of robes and hauled him up and shoved him into the hole as if he were stuffing a pillow.

“Sorry,” was all Ilbei said as he did so, but there was little else to do, and he didn’t have time for more whining. He jammed the scrawny sorcerer into the current as far as possible, keeping a hand on his foot so he wouldn’t be washed out. Just when he was satisfied that Jasper could get through on his own, they heard Meggins shout.

“Curses, I’m diseased!” Meggins cried. That was followed immediately by a yelp and a splash. Ilbei looked past Jasper, blinking, trying to see through the spray. Meggins was sliding toward them at speed, flat on his back, washed out by the current and coming with enough momentum to blow through Jasper and Ilbei both. Meggins shot a full pace into the air and fell, landing hard in a natural chute formed by centuries of erosion. Jasper, blown out by the impact, landed right behind him. The slope was steep enough and the rock smooth enough to prevent major injuries, but they bounced together, grunting in unison, and then shot down the wash, sliding around the waterworn bend with enough current behind them to carry them thirty paces downstream.

Ilbei had it somewhat better than the other two, as he’d been holding onto the rope. The impact with Jasper and Meggins had swung him away from the hole, but he was strong enough to maintain his grip, saving himself being flung down into a cascade of miserably sharp stone. As it was, he slammed into the rocks two spans beneath the hole, where he spent some moments scrabbling in the shifting shale, trying to get his bowed legs underneath him for his descent.

By the time he managed it, Meggins and Jasper were straggling back, both of them panting as if they’d just run the Queen’s marathon. Ilbei didn’t have to ask what had gone wrong, for Meggins was yammering on about it like a city girl who’s had a mouse run up her skirt.

“I seen it,” he said, his eyes wide and his face pale. “A harpy all right. And me crawling in that water, choking my way through that hole with my mouth open half the time. I’ll get the craze for sure!”

Kaige looked horrified. “There’s a harpy in there?”

“Damn straight there is. Dead as dust and seeping disease into everything. I’m sure to die of something terrible.” He turned and grabbed Jasper by the front of his robes. “You’ve got to save me. Don’t let me die in some horrible wasting way. I need something bad. I don’t want to rot or bloat up or get all scrofulous like they say, not even dead before I’m all filled with maggots and decay. Please, Jasper, I’ll give you all my share the rest of the year, the rest of my career even. Don’t let me get the craze.”

Jasper’s eyes were nearly as wide as Meggins’ were. He’d never seen the soldier discomposed, and for once, he didn’t think a litany of statistics or probabilities was what he was supposed to say. He glanced beyond Meggins to Ilbei, who nodded at him, the suggestion that Jasper should give some assurances. So he did. “I won’t let you get it,” he promised. “Surely that quartermaster will have provided us with scrolls that will help. They have policies for that sort of thing, don’t they?” He tossed the issue back to Ilbei with a glance.

“I reckon they do,” Ilbei said, though he had no idea how army policy went when it came to the procurement or issuing of magic scrolls. “So let’s get movin. It’s a long way back.”

Nobody spoke much along the way, only what was necessary. It turned out that one dead harpy was enough to kill humor entirely.

Chapter 10

U
pon their return, Ilbei saw to it that Jasper did in fact have a scroll suited to preventing any onset disease: a spell called, simply, “Purge Disease.” Jasper looked the spell over and explained that it was suited for most common varieties of ailments—colds, influenzas and minor infections—but he confessed he could not be sure it would meet for whatever the craze was. He also reported that it was his only copy of the spell. Ilbei told him to read the scroll on Meggins anyway. The young wizard shrugged and set to work, Meggins seated on a rock beside him, twitching his leg nervously.

Leaving them to it, Ilbei set off for Major Cavendis’ tent, bringing with him one small pouch half filled with coppers and not one silver slug more. He stopped on his way only long enough to stab a thick slab of venison on his knife, a generous portion that Hams carved from a deer haunch sizzling above the fire as fat dripped into the coals, hissing and spitting and filling the air with its savory smell. With a grateful nod to Hams, Ilbei was on his way to ruffs.

“Spadebreaker,” the major said when Ilbei finally appeared, “you’re an hour late.” Seated next to him at a table that had been set up for the game was a man Ilbei did not recognize, a lean fellow of middle years, well dressed, well groomed, and with a long blond mustache that drooped well past his lips on each side. Despite his polished and even urbane appearance, he had a weathered look about him that belied a life in leisure. A glance behind the man revealed a fancy black longbow and a quiver with green-fletched arrows to match, leaning in the corner of the tent. It hadn’t been there that morning before Ilbei left.

“We had a run-in with a dead harpy,” Ilbei said. “And our wizard, young Jasper, is seein to one of the lads so as he don’t come down diseased.”

“Right, then,” was the major’s response. “And where is your man Meggles, so we can get the game underway?”

The lack of interest in the soldier’s condition made Ilbei’s cheek twitch. “It’s
Meggins
, sar, and he’ll be along shortly. He was the feller what had the run-in I spoke of.”

“Ah, I see. Well, we’ll give him a few moments, then. In the meantime, I’d like you to meet Locke Verity. He’s the local huntsman extraordinaire. He provides most of the meat the locals eat. You can thank him for that fine meal you’ve got speared there on your knife.”

Ilbei inclined his head politely. “A pleasure, Master Verity.” To show his gratitude, he took another bite. He was famished beyond manners from the rigors of the trek.

“So you found a harpy, you say? That’s an odd discovery. Where was it, and were there signs of others around?” The major caressed a stack of silver coins on the table before him, lifting the top half of the stack a few hairsbreadths and then letting the coins slip through his fingers onto the rest again with a
clink
,
clink
,
clink
.

Ilbei saw it and his cheek twitched again. He didn’t bring silver, and he wouldn’t be fetching any either. “We did find some tracks near a couple of dead fellers, their bones was picked clean as gleanin. And the dead harpy itself, we found that in a cave where the creek come out. Meggins seen it. He figured it had been dead a long time, maybe six months or more, rot hadn’t got it all ate up yet fer the water bein so cold.”

“Birds in general are nasty creatures,” the hunter said. “Harpies worst of all. I found signs that they were what killed a woman from Cedar Wood a year and a half ago. I tried to track them down, but, well, it’s difficult to track creatures that fly. So I never found anything. Then I spotted a pair of them a few months ago. Filthy things. Not sure if they were the same ones, and I would have shot at least one of them, but there is no telling what kind of trouble that would have caused. There are no harpy wilds around here anymore, not for a hundred measures at least, but who knows how far they’ll fly for revenge, so best to let them be. The fact that they saw me, saw that I had spotted them, was enough to run them off. I haven’t seen them before or since, so I imagine they were passing through. It’s not entirely unexpected to have a run-in every few years, way out here like this, I suppose.”

“Where’d ya see them two a few months back?” Ilbei asked.

“They were watering at the river, way up in the rocks, about a measure above Fall Pools where the waterfalls are worst and a man can’t really get around much. I could smell them even through the mist blowing off the waterfall. Worst sort of bird there is, worst of man and vulture. But birds are birds, like I said, and vultures aren’t all that much worse than turkeys and even chickens in the end. That’s why I stick mainly to deer, goats and pigs. I’ll go after pheasant and quail, even turkey if I have to—money’s money, after all—but give me a choice, and I’m going with four-legged meat. It pays better, and it’s a lot less likely to kill you after it’s dead.”

Major Cavendis smiled, but it was clearly strained. His stack of coins continued to clink. Ilbei couldn’t tell if he was irritated or simply bored, or just impatient for the game.

The major let go his coins and took up a goblet and a pitcher of wine, which he raised toward Ilbei invitingly. “So what did you find out about the bandits on your foray down the hill?” he asked.

“I’ll surely have some of that, thank ya, sar,” Ilbei said as he took the cup in his free hand. He let the major pour as he answered the question. “We didn’t find much else about them bandits. Seems they struck the lower camp just like the boys at Cedar Wood said they did, but after a month ago, they never come back. Neither has any of the folks what used to frequent that camp come back neither, though. That struck me odd, as they sent more’n a few off toward Hast fer help. Seems curious so many locals disappeared and no help come fer em.”

“I should say help arrived when you did, Sergeant. Or do you think your being here was some bit of chance?” He followed it with a patronizing sort of hum, which Ilbei ignored in favor of the contents in his cup, which he drained before answering.

“Well, that camp is only four days out of Hast if’n we’d gone direct, two if they’d sent us ahorse. Seems to me, someone might have been there a long time sooner than us here. Tangled-slow as things are sometimes, orders don’t take as long as all that to filter through, sar, beggin yer pardon and no disrespect to the methods of Her Majesty’s service, of course.”

“Of course.” He motioned for Ilbei to hand over his cup for a refill, which Ilbei gladly did. When he handed it back, it was filled so full that Ilbei had to be careful lest he spill on the white linen spread upon the major’s table. “Drink up, Spadebreaker. You’ve earned it. A long day, certainly.”

“And a hot one, sar,” Ilbei said. “Straight outta the gutters in the lowest parts of hell. Fry a man’s bacon just sittin in the shade—not that we had time fer sittin as such, given this here game and all.” He made a point of looking into the wine as he drank it rather than looking the major in the eye.

The major noticed, of course. “I take it you aren’t eager to play?”

“Not that I ain’t keen, sar, but I expect I don’t understand what the purpose is.”

“Sport, Sergeant. For the fun of it.”

“Well, seems a long way to come fer a game of ruffs, sar, but I’m in fer a few coppers before I hit the wool, maybe just to shave yer purse down some.” He put up a greedy grin, but it was all for show.

Just then Meggins could be heard outside, calling for permission to enter the officer’s tent.

“Yes, yes, come in, Megger—Meggins.”

Meggins entered and looked around. He was obviously uncomfortable, but seeing Ilbei gulping down the major’s wine relaxed him considerably.

“Have a seat, soldier,” the major said, directing him to an upright log to his left meant to serve as a chair. “Have you gotten yourself something to eat, as the sergeant has?”

“I did, sir. Hams set me up, and I wolfed it down quick as I could. Mostly why I was delayed in coming. I apologize.” He took note of Locke Verity and paused, a fleeting frown, then looked past him to the fancy bow leaning against the tent. “Have we played before?”

Verity looked Meggins up and down, pursing his lips for a few moments, then shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I never forget a man who has taken my money. I make a point of it, so that I know to avoid him. And if I’ve taken his, I make a sharper point of remembering that, in case I should find him following me one day. It’s not a game for carrying off a draw now, is it?”