Of Bone and Thunder (60 page)

“Breeze, get Black Star to find that crowny Rickets and have him waiting for us at the roost,” he said.

“Should I say why?”

“No, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise.” He leaned forward and gave Carduus a few good thumps. “All right, boy, get us down in one piece and I'll personally chark the biggest, juiciest brorra you've ever seen.”

“UNACCEPTABLE!” WEEL SHOUTED.

Vorly stood at ease in the heart of Weel's keep and reminded himself that this little fuck wasn't the reason Walf was dead, he was only part of the reason. Vorly hated the bastard, but he'd stop short of putting his fist through Weel's face.

“I'm sorry you feel that way, Commander, but I chose to exercise my prerogative and attack the enemy,” Vorly said. “A successful attack, I might add, and in the course of returning to the roost we discovered the arrival of the main Forest Collective force, not to mention their use of thaums.”

Weel glared at Vorly from across the large table. “What you succeeded in doing was nothing short of gross insubordination. You have no authority to conduct missions without my approval.”

Vorly smiled. “I understand your confusion. I do have the authority. What I didn't do, for which I do apologize, was to notify you in advance.”

“I outrank you,” Weel said, pulling out what he probably thought was his trump card.

“Yes, sir, but as I've been temporarily granted command of all Aero Service, your rank doesn't really matter.” Vorly expected Weel's head to explode, but the man suddenly calmed, as if all his rage had been whisked away, or clamped down into a little ball hotter than the insides of a rag.

“Commander, you Aero Service types are all alike. Your former boss, he was much like you. A proud, impetuous man with little regard for authority or procedures.”

Vorly's smile wavered.
Hit him and you're done. Breathe
. “We believe in taking the fight to the enemy,” Vorly said through clenched teeth.

“Indeed,” Weel said, placing his hands behind his back and staring at Vorly with absolute contempt. “But in your zeal to prove yourself you
overstepped. Those soldiers weren't yours to command. High Command has been alerted to your breach of conduct.”

It had, in fact, occurred to Vorly that this would be a problem. He turned and looked to his most unlikely of saviors. “Crown Representative Rickets has something to say about that.”

Rickets stepped forward, beaming from ear to ear as if there were no other place in the world he'd rather be. Vorly wondered if it wasn't an act and the man actually lived for this kind of madness.

“Commander Weel, I must say this is a lovely keep you're building here. Thick walls, deep in the ground and well away from the wall and the fighting. Sort of a like a gopher hole, really.”

Weel's nostrils flared and his hands came flying around from his back. “How dare you talk—”

“Shut the fuck up, Arthuw, before I have the flock commander here feed you to one of his rags.”

Weel was so taken aback his mouth hung open for several flicks. When he finally regained it he sputtered with rage. “You . . . you're finished. Your career, everything! It's all over. You understand that?”

Rickets shook his head sadly and pulled out a sheaf of papers and laid them on the table. Vorly knew they were his Cow and Country Commission papers and that they were so much bullshit. Was Rickets really going to rely on bluffing Weel? Vorly suddenly questioned his reliance on Rickets, but it was too late to change course now.

Weel looked down at the papers, reading the title. He laughed. “If you think that gives you authority to—”

Rickets reached into his tunic and pulled out a small black shield that fit in the palm of his hand. He casually tossed it onto the papers. It landed with a thud.

Weel and Vorly leaned in for a closer look. Vorly had known Rickets was up to no good the moment he saw him, but he'd had no idea until now just how right he'd been.

“Mother of the Sacred Tree. You're a Dark Ranger,” Vorly said, whistling softly. “And all this time I figured you for some simple spy with a crooked streak.”

Rickets nodded his head. “I have . . . many talents.”

Weel stood transfixed, his gaze riveted on the shield. “I . . . that's not . . . how do I know it's real?” he asked, finally looking up. He'd gone white, and his eyes darted about looking for something that wasn't there.

Rickets shrugged. “Officially, you don't. But tell me, Arthuw, what does your gut tell you?”

Vorly realized that was the second time Rickets had used Weel's first name. It shouldn't have been a threat, yet Weel seemed to think it was.

“There are witnesses here,” Weel said, pointing around the room.

Rickets didn't bother looking. “In a Frontier Castle surrounded by the enemy? Witnesses are only useful if they're alive.”

Vorly's joy at Weel's destruction vanished. Rickets was a Dark Ranger. Forget the bland exterior, the smile, the banter; the man was a killer for an organization renowned as much for its ruthlessness as it was for its secrecy. If Rickets wanted someone to disappear, Vorly had no doubt he could make it happen.

Weel looked utterly lost and Vorly found himself pitying the man against his better judgment. Yes, Weel was a prick, but Rickets was a diabolical prick on a scale Weel—and Vorly—was only just beginning to comprehend.

“What do you want?” Weel finally asked.

“Peace in our time,” Rickets said. “Alas, I don't see that happening in the near future. So instead, why don't we all focus on working together to see that our heads don't wind up as ornaments in a slyt hut?”

Weel nodded.

“Wonderful,” Rickets said, pocketing the shield, and rolling up the papers and stuffing them in his tunic. “Now, we need to talk about how we're going to save our skins,” Rickets said, walking around the table and looking at the map of the valley on the wall.

Weel stood up straight. Some of his former arrogance had clearly returned. “We have the Forest Collective exactly where we want them. They will wreck themselves on Iron Fist and limp back to the Western Wilds, and the war in Luitox will be over.”

Vorly stared. “You understand we're surrounded,” he said. “And outnumbered.”

Weel smiled. “Gentlemen, this,” he said, pointing to the map, “is my
field of expertise. The plan has always been to lure the Forest Collective into a fight and then destroy them. We had to offer them a tempting enough target, and with enough incentive, that they would have no choice but to attack us. Being surrounded is but a part of the plan. All it really means is anywhere we choose to attack, we will find slyts to kill.”

Vorly looked at Rickets, who seemed more bemused than anything else. “And what if this plan of yours doesn't go exactly as envisioned? The FnCs are moving everywhere. The army isn't coming to our rescue any time soon.”

Weel waved away Vorly's concern. “A minor inconvenience at best, although when we do defeat the Forest Collective here, and I assure you we will, our victory will be all the greater because we did it alone.”

“Are you hearing this?” Vorly asked, turning to Rickets.

“I am,” Rickets said, “and I hope, for all our sakes, that Commander Weel is right. I suggest you two work out your differences. I have other matters to attend to,” he said, nodding and then turning and walking out.

Vorly watched him go, then sprinted after him. He caught up to Rickets in the stairway. “That's it? ‘I hope'? That's the best you've got?”

Rickets looked up at Vorly. “I quashed his desire to court-martial you. I think you will agree that his mind is now firmly focused on the coming battle and his glorious victory. What else would you have me do? Of my many skills, commanding legions in battle is not one of them.”

And there it was. Rickets, snake that he was, was right. He'd done Vorly a great service, but only just. There was still a battle to be fought.

“What was with using his first name?” Vorly asked. “He turned white when you said it.”

Rickets looked blankly at Vorly. “Some things are better left unknown,” he said, moving to head up the stairs.

Vorly reached out and grabbed his arm. “Fuck that. I want to know.”

Rickets looked down at Vorly's hand, then up at Vorly. “Arthuw isn't his first name, it's Narcus. Arthuw is his son's name. Lad just turned two last week.”

Vorly let go of Rickets's arm. “You'd kill a child to get what you want?”

Rickets's expression never changed, but his voice deepened so that Vorly felt it as much as heard it. “Do you know the oath I swore, that all
Rangers swear? It's ‘For the Greater Good.' Sounds nice, right? But they left a word implied at the beginning, deliberately.” He leaned in until his face was only inches from Vorly's. “Do you know what that word is?”

Vorly shook his head. He'd broken out into a sweat and found the keep walls were starting to close in around him.

Rickets leaned back, an affable smile on his face. He was the chatty, harmless crowny again.
“Anything.”

“HE'S STILL OUT THERE,
Shield Leader,” Knockers said. “We have to go get him.”

Carny stood in front of the shield by Watchtower 7 on the southern wall. The sun was barely up and the valley was already a hive of activity. Fog obscured the valley floor while a lingering mist clung about the peaks. Rags were taking off constantly. Sparkers had already set five different fires as they attacked slyt forces coming over the mountains. So far they had managed to destroy every spinner and ballista the FnC had hauled up the far side of the mountain, but based on what Carny saw last night he doubted they could keep up the pace.

The cats positioned in Iron Fist banged out another salvo, making it impossible to talk. A dwarf wagon train hauling stone shot from the quarry rumbled through the gates, adding to the mayhem.

“Look, I'm as worried about him as you are. I asked the flock commander to have all his drivers keep an eye out for him, but they've got their hands full,” Carny said. “If anyone can make it out there on his own, it's Wraith.”

“If he's not back by tonight, I'm going after him,” Knockers said. He was shaking, but he held Carny's eyes and didn't look away.

As much as Carny admired Knockers's loyalty and determination, Carny couldn't risk the shield to look for one man, not when the slyts of the Western Wild were here. “Knockers, I haven't forgotten, and I want him back, too, but we just have to stay put for now. I'm sorry, but he's going to have to fend for himself for a little longer.”

Knockers didn't nod. “No one gets left behind,” he said, then turned and walked away.

Carny looked around and caught several soldiers turning their heads
away as he looked at them. Damn it, there wasn't any other choice. They had their orders and Carny's job was to keep as many of them alive as he could. On top of everything, they were currently sitting around while the other shields were marching to battle. The Sixth and Eighth Phalanxes were pushing through the southern end of the valley in an attempt to open up the river while the Ninth and Tenth Phalanxes were doing the same in the north. Meanwhile, the Seventh was assigned static defense of Iron Fist and the fortresses.

“He's awake!”

Carny looked past the shield to see Wiz running toward them. Carny's first thought was
Why wouldn't Wraith be awake?
, then he realized who Wiz was talking about.

“Big Hog?”

The shield crowded Wiz as he ran up. He was flushed and breathing heavily, but the smile on his face said everything.

“He . . . he woke up this morning. Asked what all the racket was,” Wiz said to much laughter.

The bastard's awake!
Carny turned away to brush a tear out of his eye.

The shield started moving en masse toward the infirmary.

“Where the hell are you all going? Get back to your posts. We'll see that layabout later. Right now we're guarding this wall.”

The looks on their faces couldn't have been sadder than if he'd just kicked a puppy.

“Druid, give me strength. Fine, you can go visit Big Hog, two at a time.”

There were groans, but Carny immediately cut them off. “It's that or you all wait until we're relieved.”

The shield quieted.

“Bard, I'll let you choose who goes first. I've got to go see a dwarf again.”

Carny left as the shield crowded around Bard.
I'll be damned, he pulled through.
More tears came to Carny's eyes, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. He looked up as another salvo of rocks thundered overhead. A chunk from one split off and landed at his feet. He bent down and picked it up, weighing it in his hand. Good four pounds.

He looked up to the sky again and heaved the chunk of rock after the salvo.

“Fuck the Lux,” he said, smiling like he'd just learned how.

“WE WERE LUCKY,”
Jawn said, holding on to a clay mug as he sat at the communal table for Obsidian Flock. “The FnC thaums overplayed their hand. If they hadn't, I don't know if you would have made it back.”

Chair legs scraped and he heard the other drivers and thaums get up from the table. Breeze must have been shooing them away.

“Yes, they're gone,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Why are you doing this? You saved our lives. The only one who doesn't seem to know it is you.”

Jawn knew she wouldn't understand. “I was lucky, Breeze. Don't you see, that's not enough. Luck runs out.”

She placed her hand on his. “Jawn, you're more than lucky. You plane-shift like the very wind. None of us can keep up with you. It's nothing short of amazing. Your power is—”