Of Bone and Thunder (66 page)

Carny took a step forward, ramming the last of his bolts into the feeder mechanism. The sound of cocking bows filled the night. Soldiers moved up beside him. Red Shield, what was left of it, leaned forward, waiting only for his command to unleash their final volley.

Carny gritted his teeth, knowing these were the remaining moments of his life and realizing that there was nowhere else he'd rather be. As the slyts formed ranks and took aim, Carny smiled. He wouldn't die alone, and he wouldn't die in vain. He was with his brothers, and that was everything.

“Fire!”

Red Shield and the survivors from the destroyed fortresses that had joined them let loose with a howl that drowned out all other sound. The front row of the slyts facing them crumpled as bolts and arrows tore through them. It was a horrible sight, but Carny only had eyes for the following rows of slyts moving up to take their place. With the last of his bolts spent, Carny slung his crossbow and grabbed his hewer. He raised it high in the air and then pointed it forward.

“Make it count!”

Men and dwarves charged forward, their voices raised in fury and fear.
Shadow and light raced across the battlefield like windswept flames, turning everything in front of Carny into a jumbled mess. The slyts, caught off guard by the charge and the flashing light, were unprepared when Red Shield crashed into them.

Carny swung his hewer down, cleaving the arm off a slyt bowman. The force of his swing sent Carny stumbling past the slyt and headlong into another one, bowling him over and taking Carny to the ground with him. The slyt's hand flew up and grabbed Carny by the throat. Carny kneed the slyt in the stomach then brought the handle of his hewer down on the slyt's head. There was a loud crack and the slyt's hands fell away.

Two more slyts appeared to Carny's right. He raised his hewer and using a backhand stroke sliced them across their chests. Without armor, the blade bit easily into their flesh and bone.

The flashing light grew brighter, turning the battle into a dance of shadows. Carny got to his feet and swung his hewer around his head, unable to determine slyt from shadow. Heat wafted over him, as if a fire had been lit.

A knife blade flashed out of the melee aimed for his neck. He turned, already knowing it was too late as the slyt lunged forward. Carny opened his mouth to scream as a rock flew past his ear and caved in the slyt's head.

Carny wheeled around to see Black Pine standing a few feet away, another chunk of rock in his hand. He had his arm cocked back ready to throw. Carny dove for the ground as Black Pine heaved. The rock sailed over Carny and took another slyt in the chest, slamming into his rib cage with a sickening crack.

Unsure if Black Pine was throwing at him or the slyts, Carny rolled and got up in a crouch, facing the slyts. He raised his hewer, prepared to swing it for the last time when the blade glowed red and became hot.

“Fuck!” he shouted, dropping the hewer as the sky above him erupted, spewing white light into the ranks of the slyts. He dropped to the ground and curled up in a ball, cringing for the moment the flame would burn him. A roaring wind blasted the field of battle, threatening to pick him up off the ground and fling him into the sky. The heat around him rose and then subsided, as did the sound.

It took Carny several flicks to realize the nightmare was gone and he was still alive. He raised his head, blinking. Smoke and ash drifted in the air. The slyt frontline was no more. In its place were smoldering bits of charked flesh. Further back, those slyts not caught in the fire were running.

“Did you see that?” the Wiz shouted. “Look at him go!”

Carny looked up into the sky. The comet he'd seen earlier was ascending into the night, its glowing body trailing a wake of twinkling sparks. The rag rolled its body as it climbed, as if it were playing. Carny imagined it could reach the very stars and keep going.

A single trebuchet shot landed among the slyts, but it was unnecessary. Their screams of terror grew more distant by the flick as they stampeded to flee the valley.

A new sound filled the night as rag after rag launched from the roost and took to the air. The mass of fires burning around the valley gave them more than enough light to fly, and the lightning, Carny realized, had stopped. More fire poured down onto the retreating slyts, drowning their screams in molten death.

The Bard walked up to Carny and stopped. His eyes were wide, but he had a grin on his face. “That was fucking amazing!”

Carny smiled and looked up to follow the rag's flight. The mist choking the valley was evaporating. He could already see some stars in the night sky.

The sound of hooves made Carny turn.

Weel appeared astride a white horse. His helm gleamed and he held his hewer in his right hand, swinging it above his head. Squeak, astride Gallanter, rode up beside him. The messenger looked miserable which brought a smile to Carny's face.

“We have them on the run!” Weel shouted. “Now it's time to finish them off! Charge!”

His horse reared, then took off at a gallop across the dosha swamp and after the retreating slyts. His coterie of staff, their horses shying and whinnying, eventually followed suit. Squeak and Gallanter remained in place. Carny walked over to Squeak. Squeak started to smile, but it froze on his face when Carny reached out and slapped Gallanter's rump. The startled pony bolted into the night after Weel carrying a screaming Squeak along with him.

No one said anything. Carny stared after the impromptu cavalry charge long after he could no longer hear the hooves, or the screams. Carny finally turned and faced the shield.

Red Shield was a terrifying sight. Bloodied and blackened, what was left of their uniforms hung in tatters from their bodies. Almost every soldier sported a bandage cloth soaked in blood and filth somewhere on his body. Many had several. Even now, the Wiz was tending to a fallen soldier, dressing his wounded arm.

Carny wished Sinte and Listowk could be here to see them now. Sinte, because it would drive that bastard crazy, and Listowk, because he'd be so damn proud.

“Are we going after him?” the Bard asked.

“Fuck him. Let him count the slyts himself,” Carny said. He cradled his crossbow in his arms, gently rubbing his fingers along the wood and metal, checking for damage. Amazingly, the strings hadn't snapped. Carny didn't care how Tryser got it, but he wanted rag sinew for every bow in the shield. “Wraith and Knockers are out there somewhere. We don't go anywhere until we find them.”

There were grunts and nods. Carny set off, walking with purpose toward the jungle. The Bard fell into step beside him. Carny glanced over his shoulder. Red Shield followed close behind. They spread out, bows facing in different directions, covering all angles. Carny knew they were exhausted—he was too—but he also knew they'd follow him to the Valley of Fire and Damnation and kick the gate in when they got there.

Carny turned and started walking backward. “Red Shield. Take a drink, check your string, and grab bolts and arrows as we go.

“I have no idea what we'll find when we get in there—only the LOKAM knows.”

“Fuck the LOKAM!” roared Red Shield in response. Carny smiled and turned and began walking forward again.

The Bard started to pull out his psaltery, then stopped. “Sorry, SL, guess this isn't the best time.”

Carny looked around at the carnage and the flames. Cries and groans drifted on the air. The smell of blood mixed with the smoke and left a stain inside him he knew he'd never be able to clean. “Actually, this is the
perfect time. Play one of those new songs you've been working on. You know, something that tears through the shit and the haze like that rag just did. Something,” Carny said, clenching his fist, “that roars like the very wind is on fire.”

The Bard smiled, his teeth flashing in the night. “I've got just the thing,” he said, raising his right hand high in the air and bringing it down hard across the strings.

A reverberating wail went up, assaulting Carny's ears and making him wince. He looked over at the Bard.

“Too loud?” the Bard asked. “I had that dwarf make some modifications to it.”

Carny grinned. “Fuck no. Louder. I want the High fucking Druid to hear it. Red Shield!” he shouted. “Let's go get our boys!”

JAWN SLID OFF
plane, his body shaking and drenched in sweat. He fell out of his chair and onto the dirt floor. He vomited, gagging for what seemed an eternity before his stomach stopped heaving.

He'd done it. The slyt thaums were dead and he was alive. At the last flick he dispersed himself throughout the aether, slipping through the slyt thaums' grasp. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks. The arrogant young man who had been so concerned about glory and battle was gone. This was his true purpose. The possibilities that his thaumics had to offer would change the world.

Breeze would be fine, he knew it. She was strong, she was smart. Of course she'd slid when they fired. It was the prudent thing to do. He'd rest for a few flicks, then get back on plane and find her.

Footsteps thudded on the steps.

“Who's there?”

“It's me,” Rickets said, walking into the room.

“Rickets! We did it. It worked. The slyt thaums are dead.” Jawn forced himself to his feet.

“I know. Their army is pulling back,” Rickets said “That rag really put on a light show.”

“I saw it,” Jawn said, pointing to his head, “in here. It was . . . amazing.”

“And you did it all on your own,” Rickets said. “That's . . . that's incredible.”

He still sounded tired and dejected, but Jawn wasn't having it.

“Rickets, we all did it. I told you that.”

“I know.”

Rickets's hand fell on Jawn's shoulder and the two men embraced. Jawn wished he could look into Rickets's eyes, but the moment was perfect all the same.

“You're two breaths from passing out,” Rickets said, easing Jawn back onto his chair. “You need to rest.”

“Just a few flicks, then I have to get back on plane.” Jawn smiled. “Looks like the Cow and Country Commission came through in the end.” Silence greeted Jawn's statement. “C'mon, Rickets, that's funny.”

“You're right, I'm sorry. But you did it. You defeated them.”

Rickets didn't sound happy.

“I had help,” Jawn said.

“Do you understand the power you now have?” Rickets asked. “You're more powerful than any king.”

Jawn frowned. “I told you, it isn't like that. The power isn't mine. I only use it,” Jawn said.

“A distinction without a difference,” Rickets said. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were the most insufferable son of a witch I'd come across. If you'd taken a slyt arrow in the heart, I wouldn't have shed a tear.”

Jawn smiled. “I wasn't fond of you either.”

“You really are exceptional, you know that?” Rickets said. “The more I realized that, the more I wished it wasn't true.”

“It took me a while to accept that you weren't a complete asshole, too,” Jawn said, wondering if Rickets had been drinking. “But we can compliment each other later. You promised me a story about Ox and Crink, and I think I've earned it.”

“I suppose you have at that,” Rickets said. “I told you I met them, years ago.”

“I remember,” Jawn said. “I wish I had been there.”

“All their adventures, all those stories they told . . .” Rickets said, then trailed off.

Jawn heard the sorrow in Rickets's voice and suddenly didn't want to know any more. “Look, on second thought, I—”

“I wish it all could have been different,” Rickets said, cutting Jawn off. “Truly, Jawn, I want you to know that,” Rickets said.

Jawn heard Rickets's clothes rustle and knew he'd stood up.

“Save your story,” Jawn said, realizing now why Rickets had been so hesitant to share more about Jawn's boyhood heroes. “It doesn't matter, it really doesn't. We're Rickets and Rathim. Our adventures will surpass theirs a thousandfold.” Jawn stood, holding out his arms to embrace his friend again.

Something hard and cold jabbed into Jawn's chest below his heart. He gasped, understanding it was a blade. It slid out and his knees buckled. He fell to the floor, slumping sideways until he leaned against his chair. He tried to get up but his body wouldn't cooperate.

“Rickets . . .?”

“Why? Why the fuck did you have to be so good?”

Jawn heard him crouch down beside him. He tried to reach out a hand, but he could only make his fingers twitch.

“I don't . . . understand.”

“I know you don't,” Rickets said, stroking Jawn's hair. “It was never really about the crystals. It's always been about what someone like you can do with them. The other thaums, their skills are impressive, but not like yours. When you lost your sight, you became something else. That scared people, Jawn.”

Jawn slid a little farther down the chair. Why was it getting so damn cold?

“You . . . fucking . . . coward,” Jawn said, forcing out each word. He could taste blood in his mouth. “I only want to help people. I'm no . . . no threat.”

“But you are, Jawn, you
are
. The fact that you don't see it is what makes you even more dangerous. Those in power don't understand altruism. They can't fathom why someone would pursue power and then not use it to their advantage.”

Jawn gasped for breath. Rickets gently lifted his head and cradled it in his arms. Jawn wanted to move away, but he had no strength.

“And so . . . they ordered . . . you to kill me?”

There was a pause. Something warm and wet dropped onto Jawn's cheek and trickled into the corner of his mouth. It was a tear. “They actually left it up to my discretion. I . . . I couldn't take the chance.”

“Killing me . . . doesn't change a damn thing,” Jawn said. He gritted his teeth and forced the words out. “I'm not as special as you think. There will be others . . . others like me.”