“You can say you’ve seen something that most men haven’t and never will. I thought they were extinct. Most of the Old Races are, if you believe the books. Just goes to show that you should take everything with a pinch of salt. The Ultari were all supposed to have died when the Terrarchs destroyed Achenar at the time they put Uran Ultar down.”
“Any idea why a wizard would be talking to one of those things?”
“You kidding?”
“No.”
“Most wizards would give their souls to talk with an Elder World demon. They’re supposed to possess all sorts of forbidden knowledge. Used to be all manner of folks sought them out to learn but the Inquisition put a stop to that. It all started in the days before the Terrarchs, in the Age of Men.”
“There was a wizard there. You think he was after knowledge?”
“I don’t imagine he was planning on having sex with it.”
“You never know.”
“What actually happened?”
Rik told him, leaving out the part about the books, stressing the fact that the wizard had been talking to the demon.
“Best be careful there, Halfbreed,” said Karl nodding slowly to emphasise his point. “That’s Inquisition stuff you’re talking about.”
“I know. I know. I just find my head full of unhealthy curiosity these days. Call me strange but I like to know why I killed someone.”
“You killed a wizard and stabbed an Elder World demon.” Karl whistled. “You’ve been busy. Planning on having a storybook written up about you?”
“It just happened that way. I was only trying to stay alive.”
“That’s a healthy attitude, one to keep in the forefront of your mind. Sounds like you were lucky.”
Rik looked at all the weapons. It was time to change the subject he could see. “What are you up to?”
“Just preparing my gear. We’ll be moving out soon, I’m guessing.”
“Have new orders come in?”
“Not yet, but they will. We’ve had dragon couriers, reinforcements and a new commander is on his way according to the Quartermaster, and he should know. The big boys are not doing this for fun. We’re going somewhere and my guess is over the border.”
Rik’s thumb jabbed in the direction of the pass. “That means war and not just with the Kharadreans.”
“I know. Why do you think I am taking such care with my gear?”
“You always do that.”
“I am doing a full inventory check. I might actually get to kill a dragon if we go against the Blues. Might get to kill some Purples too. I hate those slave-owning bastards like poison.”
“Why?”
“I thought you had read the history books, son. They think us humans are fit only for slaves and feeding to the dragons.”
“I can think of some on our side of the border who think the same way.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Halfbreed. Nobody on our side thinks the way the Blues do. They want to bring the past back to life. They want to repeal all the Scarlet Queen’s reforms. They want us all back in our place which is a big shit-hole with the lid pushed down heavy.”
Rik thought now would be a good time to change the subject. He was in no mood to listen to Karl’s ranting right now, even though he agreed with most of it.
“Who are these new guys?”
“Hussars, artillery. Scouts and siege workers. The usual mix. The cavalry men are snotty, their Terrarchs snottier still. The artillery are all right. I drank with some of them and talked about maths and mixtures.”
“Gunpowder mixtures?”
“What else?”
“When do you think we’ll leave?”
“When the General gets here. When we get all the carts and mules we need. When the Festival of Mourning is over. Take your pick.”
“Some high muck-a-muck coming then?”
“Yes. All sorts of rumours; maybe even one of the First.”
“That clinches it; it’s war. That sort don’t come to the field unless there’s the chance of glory.”
“Now you are thinking like a soldier,” said Karl.
“How long till he gets here?”
“Camp talk says another couple of days, three at the most. The Quartermaster says he’s already on his way.”
“Then we’ll wait for the skies to clear and be out of here.”
“That’s my guess. Before we go, there will be a whole round of exercises and inspections, just to keep us on our toes.”
“Thanks for the beer. I better go and see what the rest of my mob are up to.”
“Halfbreed?”
“What?”
“Be careful. After that business in the mines the Terrarchs will have their eyes on you. There will be an inquiry sooner or later.”
“So?” Rik felt sure his guilt about the books must show on his face.
“If you were an ordinary soldier, I would say you would be up for big things. Commendations, promotions, sugar plum fairies.”
“But I am not.”
“We both know you’re the bastard get of one of them. They don’t like that. Not in a common soldier. Some of them will think you are showing them up, others that you are getting above yourself.”
“Not much I can do about it now, is there, Karl?”
“You’re starting to sound like me now. You never know; they might make you a Wyrm Hunter.”
“Death or glory, eh?”
“The pay is good.”
“Yes, but I would have to hump one of those bloody big trunks around.”
“Be good for you, give you muscles. Say hello to Sergeant Hef for me. Tell him he owes me a beer and I’ll be around to collect.”
“Surely,” said Rik rising to his feet and suddenly realising how strong the ale was. He gave Karl a wave and reeled off downhill. As always the Wyrm Hunter had given him a lot to think about. He had not considered the fact that the Terrarchs might consider his heroism an embarrassment. That was something that could be potentially lethal — as if he did not have enough on his plate as things stood. It would be bad enough if they caught him this drunk.
He looked down slope one last time. The exercise was over. Lots of men lay sprawled in the mud pretending to be dead. Someday soon they would not be pretending.
Chapter Eleven
Sardec stood before Colonel Xeno’s desk. He had forced himself from his sickbed to make his report in spite of the wizards. They had wanted to make sure there were no lingering side effects from his wounds and the Ultari’s poison, but duty was duty after all, as his father was fond of saying.
His superior looked him up and down, paying particular attention to his bandaged head and his pallor. Sardec could feel Xeno judging him. The Colonel had never bothered to conceal his opinion that Sardec was just another placeman, an officer by virtue of his family connections, too young to be of any use whatsoever. Not that Xeno’s opinion made much difference. Xeno was Colonel only because Sardec’s uncle Ansalec, who owned the
