Orb Sceptre Throne

those few years alongside his brothers and sisters, jumping rival gangs and cleaning out anyone not a local and foolish enough to wander into their territory. He’d felt untouchable then, utterly secure. Wanted and appreciated. Valued, even, it seemed to him now, looking back. He’d gone from worthless to valued. When they’d all been together on the street they could stomp on anyone’s face and no one dared say anything! He remembered how Biter and Short Legs had held one kid down and invited him to lay in. And he’d kicked and kicked on and on until the kid coughed up an explosion of blood and never moved any more. How they’d all laughed! Good times then.

Now when I say ‘Butcher’s the name’ I just get funny looks. Even outright laughs. What’s wrong with everyone? There’s a guy in the 10th named ‘Rabbit.’ What kinda name’s that for a soldier?

His squad spent the days digging a big-arse ditch to surround the new fort. Other squads were dragging logs from the nearest woods, raising a palisade. It was a damned crowded camp: all the remnants of the Second, Fifth and Sixth from Pale all jammed together on one round hilltop surrounded by a deep ditch that put the top of the palisade logs a good three man-heights above the head of any attacker. And on top of that Fist Steppen had them sharpening a forest of stakes to set leaning out like the quills on one of them mythical spiny lizards.

It was gettin’ so troops were starting to call her ‘Scaredy-Step’. Bendan just called her a dumb-arse granma hiding behind her walls when everyone knew the way to win was to go break heads. He had said as much to his squaddies and Corporal Little had come back with some watery talk about how winning was control of ground, not battles. Ground? He understood that. In Maiten town he and his brothers and sisters had had theirs — and defending it meant fighting! You had to be out there every day showing those rivals you were strong and so crazy- arse violent they’d better leave you alone. That he knew and understood.

Then Corporal Little had said something really loopy. She said that the best way to win was not to have to fight at all! How the fuck was that possible? You had to fight to win. You had to tear the head off the other guy — otherwise it was you without a head! He was starting to suspect that maybe Little was some kinda gutless woman hiding behind her fancy book-learned ideas.

Not to mention how she slapped his hand away when he grabbed her tit. Imagine that? Turning him down? Back in Maiten town every girl he cornered went along with it in the end. All it took was a little playful arm-twisting — not like he was gonna really hurt them. This corporal must prefer women, not like a proper gal at all.

Then orders came for a march west. Minimal gear. The squads formed up, including his, thank the gods! And they were off even though it was near dusk. Rumours flew up and down the column as they trotted along. Some of theirs under attack, apparently.

They jogged through half the night until they came over the rise of a gentle valley slope and there before them, under the bright starlight and emerald glare of the Scimitar, churned a horde of horsemen all circling a dark knot.

Sergeant Hektar slapped him on the back as they headed down without a pause. ‘Now there’s action, hey, Butcher?’

‘But look how fucking many there are!’

The big black fellow made a face. ‘Naw — that’s just an advance force. Just a few thousand. Enough for you to butcher, hey?’

‘Well … yeah,’ he answered as they picked up their pace. I suppose so … but why? Just to rescue a few troopers stupid enough to get caught out in the open? What a dumb waste.

‘Ready shields!’ came the order.

Bendan struggled with his big rectangular burden as he trotted along.

‘Form square!’

The column thickened and slowed to a steady march. And just in time, as elements of the cavalry swung off to encircle them.

‘Halt!’

Once the manoeuvring was done Bendan’s squad was far back from the front rank. They would wait for their turn to cycle through to the shield wall. Dust blew up, obscuring his view beyond the square. Riders, men and women — Rhivi, he recognized — circled them, firing their short-bows and hurling javelins.

What’s gotten them all riled up?

Then the frantic call came: ‘Merge! Merge!’ and the square shuddered, shields scraping shields. Everyone shifted position as men and women came surging into the centre, many supporting others or even carrying them over their backs. All grimed and dirt-smeared, battered, and gulping down air.

Useless bastards. Gonna get killed ’cause of you. Hope you’re happy.

Being near the centre he saw the captain commanding the column salute some beat-up burly fellow and heads around him craned, gawking, and people whispered: ‘K’ess.’

‘So who’s this K’ess?’ he asked Bone next to him.

The man gave him one of those funny looks as he struggled to keep his shield overhead. ‘Served on Onearm’s staff. Put in charge of Pale when the Host headed south. Now he’s in charge of this whole mess. Other than the Ambassador, o’ course.’

Shit! And we had to rescue him? Piss-poor start if you ask me.

Orders to reverse sounded and they turned to face the way they’d come. Then started the inevitable grinding march back. Bendan’s squad cycled through to a turn in the shield wall. The Rhivi circled past, whooping and shouting and throwing their slim javelins. He watched from over the lip of his shield, fuming. ‘Why don’t the order come to rush ’em?’ he demanded. ‘We’re just hidin’ here behind our shields like cowards!’

‘Be my guest!’ Bone laughed, and he hawked up a mouthful of all the dust they’d been swallowing.

‘Hey, Tarat!’ Bendan shouted to their squad scout. ‘Them’s your people out there, ain’t they?’

‘Just bone-headed fools tiring their horses for no good reason,’ she commented, sour.

‘Looks like they’re havin’ fun,’ Hektar said, a wide smile on his face.

‘What’re you smiling about?’ Bendan snapped.

The big man turned his bright teeth on him. ‘I’m smilin’ ’cause I see we got nothin’ to worry about from these Rhivi. Another day’s soldierin’ under the belt, lads!’ he added.

Laughter all around answered that.

What was with these fools? Why were they laughing? Couldn’t they see that one of these arrows or javelins could easily take any of them?

The sun was just topping hills to the east when their slogging retreat brought them within sight of the fort. The shield on Bendan’s arm seemed to weigh as much as a horse itself. His arm was screaming and numb all at the same time. Dust coated his mouth and he was stumbling on his feet. Horns sounded then, pealing from behind the palisade as if welcoming the sun, and from all around, amid the fields of tall grass, crossbow ranks rose as if sprouting from the ground. The circling Rhivi flinched aside, their cartwheeling attack broken as wings of the cavalry swung to either side. Orders were shouted and salvos of bolts shot to either side of their square. Men and women in the formation shouted and bashed their shields, sending the Rhivi on.

Bendan rested his bronze-faced shield on the ground. Gods almighty! It was about Burn-damned time. What a useless errand! They’d been safe in the fort — why should they have to stick their necks out for these fools? And all they did was hide behind their shields. They didn’t kick anyone’s head!

New clarion calls sounded from the fort. The men and women around Bendan searched the horizons. Sergeant Hektar, one of the tallest of them all, grunted as he peered to the west.

‘What is it?’ Bendan demanded.

‘Company. They almost succeeded.’

‘Who succeeded? At what? What d’you mean?’

A woman’s voice bellowed astonishingly loud from within the square: ‘To the fort! Double-time! Move out!’

The entire detachment immediately set off, jogging swiftly. Troopers ran carrying others on their backs, or supporting wounded between them.

Then thunder reached Bendan. Thunder on a mostly clear dawn. He squinted back over his shoulder to see a dark tide flowing over the distant hills. A flood that seemed to extend from horizon to horizon. Dead god’s bones! Thousands upon thousands of the bastards!

He heeled and toed it even faster for the cover of the fort.