Of Bone and Thunder (41 page)

Why the fuck does every dwarf want to kill me?
“Understood,” Carny said. “Is he still breathing?”

Pagath didn't even look down. “Don't know. Don't care.” He turned and walked back along the rag's spine, his hammer held firmly in his left hand.

“Check him!” Listowk shouted.

Carny sighed. “Bard! Is he breathing?”

Directly behind Ahmist, the Bard lifted his head from his crossed arms and looked up in surprise. “Is who breathing?”

“Ahmist! Didn't you see what happened?”

Bard shook his head. “I ain't no hero, Carny. Hey,” he said, finally noticing the slumped form of Ahmist, “what happened to Ahmy?”

Carny was beginning to understand the looks of frustration that crossed Listowk's face. “Bard, is he breathing?”

Bard reached forward, grabbed the butt of Ahmist's crossbow, and pulled on it. He managed to twist Ahmist around so that his back was against the dorsal plates and his face pointed skyward. A large, round divot marred Ahmist's helm near the top. “He's breathing, but he's sound asleep or passed out. Nasty cut on his head, too.”

Carny looked forward at Listowk and gave him a thumbs-up. The steel plate of their helms was a good eighth of an inch thick and fire hardened. In addition, between the steel and quilted linen skullcap there was usually a wad of horsehair padding for extra cushioning. Hopefully, Ahmist had left his in and the worst he'd have was a splitting headache. Carny certainly had one.

The rag lurched, side-slipping fifteen yards to the left and thirty feet down. Carny's stomach heaved. Men groaned. Several others retched. The rag began beating its wings faster. They were climbing again.

A thin blur passed by the rag to the right, going nearly vertical. Another one followed after it a moment later. A third punched a neat, round hole one inch in diameter in the rag's right wing near the wingtip.

“We're under attack!” the thaum shouted. She reached into a pocket of her leather flying jacket and flung something into the air. A small, dark shape arced above the rag and then burst into a bright red flash.

Arrows whistled into the sky, some trailing smoke and flame.

Everyone ducked. Carny closed his eyes, but the red light easily penetrated his eyelids like the sun through lace curtains.

“Hang on!” the driver shouted. Carny opened his eyes as the red light was left behind, still burning furiously as it floated toward the ground.

The rag roared and made a sharp turn to the left. Carny's body lifted up off the rag and was flung into thin air. He tried and failed to grab the leather thong as he fell backward. A jarring pain in his left ankle halted
his flight as the stirrup arrested his descent. His trajectory changed to that of a pendulum and he swung down and slammed back against the side of the rag, hanging upside down. The contents of his rucksack went flying.

“Carny!” Knockers shouted, reaching forward and grabbing Carny's other foot.

The formation of rags broke apart, their lighter-colored bellies flashing as they banked and caught the rays of the sun.

His crossbow dangled below his head, the sling riding up until it was wrapped around his neck. Carny's head grew heavy and he flailed with his arms to grab something to hold on to.

The trailing edge of the rag's massive wing swung past Carny's face and his breath was sucked out of his lungs. He didn't even try to scream. More hands grabbed his legs. His ears filled with a roaring that wasn't the rag's. He felt a tug on his belt and he was suddenly perpendicular to the rag.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” the dwarf asked, leaning out from the side of the rag. One square block of a hand had ahold of Knockers's trouser leg while the other hand gripped Carny's belt. Knockers, for his part, was bent over double with both hands on Carny's right calf. The dwarf gritted his teeth, his cheeks turning bright red, and heaved. Carny flew upright and then slammed down onto the heat blanket.

“Thanks,” Carny said, grabbing the leather thong and holding it with as much strength as he could muster.

The dwarf let go of Carny's belt and fixed him with a glare. “I didn't do it for you. You almost hit poor Carduus's wing, you wool-headed ass.”

“My mistake,” Carny said, but the dwarf had already hopped through a gap between dorsal plates and was gone.

More arrows laced the sky. It looked to Carny like they were flying through a swarm of long, thin insects. The heat coming through the clay blanket increased, as did the glow of the rag's wings.

“Carny, get your ass up here now!” Listowk shouted.

Carny looked past Listowk to the jungle ahead. Thick green vegetation covered most of the surrounding land save for a large, rough pie section carved out of the jungle with the point nearest them. Large stands of
bamboo were interspersed between swathes of tall elephant grass. Here and there huts dotted the edges of the clearing. Small shapes ran across the clearing heading for the jungle.

A smaller clearing, if it could be called that, lay a few hundred yards to the east of the larger one. A trail of broken trees pointed to it like an arrow. The missing rag sat in the middle of that clearing looking skyward.

Motion at the left edge of the larger clearing drew Carny's attention. Another blur leaped into the sky heading straight at them.

“They've got ballistas!” Carny shouted, pressing his body against the rag as it tilted to the left and away from the incoming spear. Carny knew the chances of being hit by a ballista, really just huge crossbows mounted on pedestals, were close to none. Carny judged the one that flew past to be around four feet long. He thought—hoped—the rag's scales would defeat the spear, but unlike its body, its wings weren't armored, and those were what was keeping them in the air.

Soldiers started wrestling with their crossbows, trying to unsling them while still keeping themselves secured in the leather strapping.

“Keep your weapons safe! No one fire!” Listowk shouted, standing in a half crouch and facing back to address the soldiers. “You couldn't hit a castle with a cow from this distance. Carny, get up here!”

“How in bloody lightning am I supposed to do that?” Carny asked. He judged the distance between him and Listowk to be no more than fifteen feet, but it was the distance between the rag and the ground that kept Carny rooted to his spot.

“Like nursemaiding a herd of lambs,” the dragonsmith said, reappearing on the other side of the dorsal plate nearest Carny. “Carduus just took an arrow through the wing, but do you hear him moaning? I'll walk you up, but don't think it means I'm courting you.”

Carny looked up at the dwarf peering over the dorsal plate.
He's serious!

“I'll die!”

“It happens,” the dwarf said.

“Carny! Now!”

“Fuck, fine!” Carny shouted, reaching up with his left hand and grabbing the dwarf's. It felt like gripping roughhewn stone. Carny felt a tug and was lifted onto the back of the rag in one smooth motion.

“Stay low, always keep one hand on a plate, and whatever you do, don't—”

Carny lost the last part as Carduus roared and banked to the right. Carny dropped to his knees and clutched a dorsal plate with both hands.

“What?” Carny shouted.

“Follow me!” the dwarf said, walking up the rag's spine toward its head.

Carny forced himself to stand, his legs shaking. As he stood, he saw Ahmist strapped down to the side of the rag. The sight of the soldier gave Carny a new strength.

Gingerly, fully expecting each step to be his last, Carny made his way forward. The swarm of arrows and spears no longer dotted the sky and Carny risked looking up from his handholds. They'd climbed again and were circling back around toward the clearing.

He made it as far as the thaum's position when his knees gave out and he slid down the side of a plate, hooking his left leg under the big chain.

Listowk leaned toward him. “Look, this could get pretty rough. I need to know you've got your head on straight if something happens.”

Carny looked over at the thaum, who was busy tracing patterns on the sheet of crystal in front of her. He had no idea what she was doing or why, but he could have watched it all day. Her hands moved like they were in water, all slow and smooth with sudden quick surges. He turned back to Listowk.

“I haven't taken anything!” Carny shouted, then lowered his voice. “I sure as fuck want to, but I haven't.”

Listowk nodded. “Good. Keep it that way. If I go down, you're in charge.”

Carny shook his head. “Why me? Wraith is the better soldier.”

“He is,” Listowk said, agreeing far faster than Carny thought necessary, “but he's not the better leader. Wraith works best on his own. If I catch it, you take over.”

“But Sinte's down there,” Carny said. It was an odd feeling to be happy about the presence of Sinte.

“Maybe,” Listowk said. “And maybe the slyts have already tarped him.”

Carny could tell by the look on Listowk's face that there was no arguing with him, but he didn't care.
I'm not ready to lead! I don't want to fuckin'
lead!
He had just opened his mouth to say that when the rag nosed over and began picking up speed.

“Prepare for landing!” the driver shouted, half turning in his saddle and waving his arm in the air.

Carny looked over the side and then looked away.

“Landing or falling?” he said to himself, bracing himself as best he could. He tucked his head as far into his shoulders as possible and searched for a memory of his mother that would make him feel better.

“You heard him, hold on tight!” Listowk shouted. “Bard, make sure Ahmist is secure. FnCs are everywhere. The moment we land, unstrap him and drag him off. The rest of you, run from the rag and stay low. The moment he takes off get out of the clearing. Head for the tree line to the east and hold there!”

“Which way is east?” someone shouted. Sounded like Knockers.

“Just follow everyone else!” Listowk shouted back.

Carny looked over at the thaum. Despite the rushing wind and the steep downward angle of the rag, she continued tracing on her sheet of crystal like she was sitting at a table at home.

“Should we load our crossbows?” Knockers shouted.

“No,” Listowk shouted back. “Just get off the rag as fast as you can and run. If a slyt pops up in front of you kick it, hit it with your crossbow, slash it with your hewer. Just keep running until you get to the tree line.”

“We're coming in hard and fast. Press your tongue against the roof of your mouth and bite down on some leather!” the driver shouted.

Carny didn't bother to ask why. He turned his head, grabbed some of the cloth of his aketon between his teeth, and bit down. As he did, the flashing green of the jungle canopy gave way to open space. The rag's wings flared and the beast tipped up until Carny was certain it was going to flip over backward.

For the briefest of moments, the rag hung in the air. Arrows and ballista bolts fired at its anticipated place in the sky went wide.

And then the rag leaned forward, dropped its tail low, and fell from the sky like a rock.

CARDUUS HIT THE CLEARING
hard, crashing through stands of bamboo and six-foot-tall saw grass. He bounced back up a good twenty feet in the air accompanied by the screams and wails of the soldiers on his back. He landed again fifteen yards farther away. His tail slammed down, its fins stabbing into the ground and digging a deep furrow to break his momentum. Dirt and vegetation flew everywhere, immediately enveloping Carduus in a cloud of debris as his wings drew the fouled air up and forward with each rapid beat. He tensed his rear legs and splayed the talons of his rear paws. They plunged into the dirt and dug in. Carduus pitched forward and his forelegs hit the ground a moment later, his entire body jolting. Neck muscles stronger than the mainmast of a warship were not enough to keep his head from slamming into the ground. He skidded to a stop ten yards later, his snout plowing a furrow through the grass.

Vorly groaned, the straps of his harness biting into his thighs. That wasn't the landing he'd hoped for.

Arrows zipped overhead, crisscrossing their landing zone. The sound of shouting, from both men and slyts, rose around him. Carduus lifted his head and roared, spewing a geyser of dirt and vegetation twenty yards into the air.

Vorly tapped Carduus four times with the gaff, two hard and two medium hits. Carduus rolled his wing shoulder joints and stretched his wings out parallel to the ground. With all the arrows and ballistas flying it helped present a smaller target.

“Get your troops off my rag!” Vorly shouted, turning around in the saddle and thumping the lead crossbow on the shoulder. “And go under his wings, not over them!”

The soldier glared at him but quickly unbuckled his strap, stood up,
and faced his troops. “Go, go, go!” The soldiers scrambled off the sides of Carduus and disappeared in the tall grass.

An arrow flew between Vorly and the soldier. The soldier either didn't see it or didn't care. A huge shadow raced over Vorly and he looked up to see the belly of a rag twenty feet above him as it came in to land.

“I'm picking up cross-currents on plane,” Breeze said. “This . . . this is incredible.”

Vorly looked at her. She was as oblivious to the arrows as the soldier. “And that means what?”

“There's a thaum at work,” she said.

“Every rag has a thaum, and we've got that special RAT along, too,” Vorly said, wondering how he ever got involved in this much thaumics.

Breeze looked up from her crystal. Her all-red eyes were wide and her mouth formed a perfect O. “No. An enemy thaum. I never thought I would encounter one.”

“Here?” Vorly asked, looking past her as two of the soldiers pulled another one off of Carduus. Pagath ran up Carduus's spine, checking the chains and heat blankets as he went.