Of Bone and Thunder (43 page)

“Keep it to yourself. Now move, or I swear I will kick your ass all the way.”

Ahmist held Carny's glare a few more flicks, then said something under his breath and turned and headed after Knockers.

Carny let him get five steps before following after him. The moment he stepped through the trees and into the jungle it got darker and hotter. It was as if he'd put a wet, hot blanket over his head. He patted his uniform with his left hand while holding his crossbow in his right, hoping to find a small wad of Flower tucked away.

A loud snap up ahead froze him in place. Ahmist dropped to one knee. Carny followed suit, straining to see through the thick foliage. He could barely make out Knockers in front of Ahmist, and he was only ten yards ahead. A rag roared somewhere above them, followed by cursing.

After what felt like a lifetime, Knockers vanished into the bush. Ahmist rose to his feet and began walking after him. Carny stood up, slowly swinging his crossbow in an arc. Slyts could be anywhere. He reached up and eased his helm backward on his head, then thought better of it and pushed it back down. He'd suddenly pictured a slyt archer aiming straight at the point between his eyebrows.

A whirring noise grew on the air. It was somewhere above the trees and falling toward the ground.

Carny pictured a rag cartwheeling through the sky, its wing shattered, its furnace of a body glowing bright red as it plunged toward the earth.

The noise got louder, grinding into his ears until it reached his brain. Ahmist ran, crashing through the trees like a frightened deer. Carny wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't let him.

The rag—Carny was sure that was what it was—hit the top of the trees sixty feet above. Wood splintered and shrieked as bone and scale ripped through the foliage. Carny tried to move his legs, but all he succeeded in doing was stumbling to the ground. Chunks of wood fell around him. He curled up in a ball and closed his eyes tight, hoping he'd be crushed before he was burned.

Trees shattered and debris rained down as the entire world shook. Carny opened his mouth to scream, but the noise of the falling rag made it impossible for him to tell if his voice made any sound at all.

Carny pissed himself as the very heavens collapsed on top of him. He drew in one last breath, only now thinking to call for his mother, when the destruction above him ground to a chattering halt.

Bits of jungle continued to fall on Carny, burying him in a thick mat of humid vegetation. He spit a leaf out of his mouth and pried open his eyes. At first, all he saw was black. Trembling, he forced his hands to push away the debris until sunlight broke through. He squinted. How could it be so bright?

“Carny?”

That was Big Hog.

Carny pushed himself up, shedding the pile of leaves and chunks of wood on top of him. Big Hog stood at the edge of a clearing eight feet away. It took Carny's mind several flicks before he understood what he was seeing. A rough circle twelve feet across had been carved into the jungle. Every tree and bush had been sheared to no more than a couple feet off the ground. All except one spindly trunk dead center of the clearing.

“Thought you were dead!” Big Hog said, a huge grin stretched across his face.

“Where's the rag?” Carny asked, reaching for a leaf and cleaning himself as best he could before standing up. The air was filled with shredded bits of jungle. It looked like green snow.

“Wasn't no rag,” Big Hog said, stepping over mounds of splintered logs. “It was
that
.”

Carny looked at where he was pointing. A single log lay stretched across the clearing, skewered in the middle by the one standing trunk, except now Carny saw it wasn't a trunk at all, but a long bamboo pole. He took a closer look at the log. It had been honed to a blade shape on each side, although the edge was chewed and cracked now.

“I don't—”

“Damn clever,” Big Hog said, stopping when he reached Carny. “It's a giant scythe spun like a child's top. Gets launched through the air, spins up something wild, then falls to earth. That pole sticks into the ground and the log there spins around chewing everything to shit. Another foot and it would have got you.”

Carny looked around the clearing. “But that's not fair,” he finally said.

Big Hog clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe, but you know, it gives me some ideas about taking in the hay. A contraption like this would mow my large field before lunch. Course, if thaumics is involved that'll complicate things, but I think it's just a whole lot of mechanicals, you know? Fiddly bits working together.”

Carny turned from the destruction to look at Big Hog. “What?”

“I'll tell you later, we have to move. Listowk told me to bring your ass back dead or alive. Seeing as you're alive, I don't have to carry you.” He wrinkled his nose but refrained from commenting on the odor. “Follow me,” Big Hog said, turning and stepping back over the debris.

Carny looked skyward through the gaping hole that had been cut through the jungle all the way to just above him.

A tree on the edge of the clearing cracked and began falling. Carny grabbed his crossbow and ran after Big Hog.

“HOLD HIM STEADY!” BREEZE
shouted.

Vorly kept Carduus in a tight, banking turn as a spinning scythe whirled up from the jungle. The weapon was graceful and terrifying at the same time. It was big enough and spinning fast enough that it would cleave Carduus in two if it hit him. The spinning blade reached the top of its arc another two hundred feet above them, then tipped over and spun down, crashing into the jungle in a spray of green mulch.

“If you'd take your face out of that unholy sheet for a flicker you might notice we're getting shot at!”

“My job is to hunt the thaum. Yours is to fly Carduus and keep him steady,” Breeze said.

“Well I can't very well keep him steady when every fucking slyt in the Lux is chucking something up at us!” Vorly said, turning in his saddle to look at her.

Breeze looked up from her crystal. Her windblown red hair formed a briar patch sprouting out from beneath her helm. “Then send the other rags down to attack the slyts,” she said.

Vorly growled. “That's a great way to lose more rags. These rags aren't nimble enough for that kind of play. We need sparkers,” he said. “Get Modelar on plane and ask him where the hell that flock got to.”

Breeze muttered something in a language he couldn't understand, but he knew a curse when he heard it. He was equally pissed, but for a reason he didn't want to admit to her. The damn sparker flock should have crystal sheets and thaums on them. If they did he'd know exactly where in the fucking Lux they were.

“I can't track the thaum and call Modelar at the same time,” she said. “That would be straddling two planes covering a great distance. I—”

“Sky Horse Leader, this is Sky Horse Three. We've got company coming in from the east,” Gruupher said, his voice booming from the crystal sheet.

Vorly turned and looked over his left shoulder. Several black dots were approaching their position just above the jungle ceiling.

“About damn time,” Vorly said. “Breeze, keep on that thaum. The sparkers will deal with the slyts.”

“I will once you get Carduus back on a stable track,” she said.

“This is why I never got married,” Vorly said. “Okay, boy, let's get back in our turn so Breeze can find the slyt thaum,” he said, nudging Carduus with his left boot heel.

Carduus responded, swinging his tail hard to bring them back onto their previous course.

“Better?” Vorly asked, peering down at the jungle to look for more chunks of wood hurtling skyward. He had yet to spot a single slyt in the open. If this was the way it was going to be, High Command had better come up with some new ideas on defeating the slyts, and fast.

“Ten yards up, increase speed two beats,” Breeze said in answer.

“Fucking right I'm never getting married,” Vorly said, adjusting Carduus's height and speed per Breeze's wishes. “Got all the nagging I need right here.”

SINTE DIDN'T SMILE
when Listowk stepped out of the jungle and trotted across the clearing. Several soldiers hooted, happy to see their missing comrades, but Listowk waved them silent.
Bastard's in a mood.

“I want a skirmish line twenty yards in from the tree line from there to there,” he said, motioning with his left hand. He slowed down to a walk, not wanting to get to Sinte before he'd positioned the shield. Carny and Big Hog emerged from the jungle. Big Hog was smiling like he'd just fathered another child. Carny was covered in leaves and staring up at the sky.

“Carny. Carny! Anchor the left side. Big Hog, I want you all the way to the right. Wraith, set up with your bowmen another twenty yards back and cover the line.”

The shadow of a rag flitted across the clearing and a ballista shot into the air, but it was nowhere near the rag.

“Five hundred yards into the jungle at least,” Wraith said, tracking the flight of the spear.

“You stay put. I'm not losing the shield in there,” Listowk said, hoping Sinte didn't countermand his order. This rescue had all the makings of a disaster. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

Listowk watched to make sure his orders were being carried out, then turned and faced Sinte.

“Red Shield reporting, SL,” Listowk said, looking past Sinte at the downed rag. The mule dragonsmiths were already crawling all over it, making whatever repairs were needed to get the beast in the air again. He turned his focus to Sinte and blinked. The man looked like shit.

“Casualties?” Sinte asked, looking off into the jungle and removing his helm.

His face was pale and his eyes red rimmed, like he hadn't slept at all. Most shocking, black stubble marred his normally smooth skull. Listowk couldn't remember a time when the SL hadn't found a moment to shave at least once.
Guess falling out of the sky loosens even the tightest asses.

“None, nothing major anyway,” Listowk said. He was damn proud of that, too. No need to bore Sinte with Ahmist and Carny. Listowk would sort them out. The boys had just tackled their first hot landing and survived. Now they had to survive this battle. That meant getting that rag back in the air as quickly as possible.

“We need to deploy the shield,” Sinte said, his voice trailing off as if he were preoccupied.

“Already under way,” Listowk said, looking closer at Sinte. His aketon was unbuttoned and one of his greaves was covered in mud. This wasn't the shield leader he knew. He'd seen Sinte in combat and even then he'd kept his Kingdom-issued ramrod firmly stuck up his ass.

“Good . . . good,” Sinte said.

“SL, we've got slyts in the trees!”

Listowk turned. The shield was spread out across the clearing, the men
either crouched down or already on their knees. Crossbows twanged as bolt after bolt ripped into the foliage. He couldn't see a damn thing but counted at least five arrows flying out from the jungle.

“This could all go in the midden in a hurry,” Listowk said.

Sinte blinked and stood up straighter. He fixed his gaze on Listowk and sneered. “Pull yourself together, LC, you sound like a whining beggar on Merser Street.”

“SL, we're out on a pretty long limb here. If—”

“Stow that shit. Our orders are clear,” Sinte said, putting his helm back on his head and buttoning up his aketon. “You see to that infernal beast. I'll take care of
my
shield.”

“By your command,” Listowk said, turning away before he said something he'd regret. “Dragonsmith!” Listowk shouted, running toward the downed rag. “How long until you get your beastie in the air?”

The mule, Pagath, stood up from the far side of the rag's spine plates. “An eighth of a candle, and that's a high hope.”

“We've got slyts coming in on us,” Listowk said, looking back to the jungle. The shield was now firing in a more disciplined manner. He needed to be there. Sinte was back to being the same fucking hard-ass, but something was missing.

A whirring noise passed overhead. Listowk looked up. Another one of those sinister spinning blades went sailing past before plunging into the jungle. Leaves and wood geysered into the air a moment later, followed by a cracking, grinding noise.

“I am aware,” Pagath said, waving at the air. “Look, I'm no more keen to be here than you are, but it's going to take time to stitch Cytisus's wing back into flying shape. You can hold them off, can't you?”

A salvo of ballista spears arced through the air and fell into the clearing, marching their way toward Listowk and the downed rag. The last one hit less than twenty yards from where Listowk stood. He looked back at the shield. Sinte continued striding across the clearing like he did on the parade square. He never changed his pace or direction. How the hell the spears missed him Listowk didn't know.

“We're taking a lot of fire,” Listowk said, turning back to Pagath. “A lot
more than some scout force. Ballistas aren't small, and they need a herd of brorra to haul them around, not to mention those whirlers. We might need to get out of here sooner than we figured.”

“I'm not leaving Cytisus behind,” Pagath said, grabbing the rag's dorsal plate and holding on.

Listowk shook his head. “I get that. But can't you just make a patch so he can fly a mile or so? Then you can do more repairs.”

Pagath started cursing in mule and stomping along Cytisus's back. He stopped when he got to the rag's hindquarters. “All right, a sixteenth of a candle, and that's against my better judgment!”

Listowk was ready to tell the mule to fuck his better judgment when a pair of whirlers sliced into the edges of the jungle to either side of the rag. The bloody things had come in almost horizontally. Whole trees flew through the air.