Joe Abercrombie - Half a King

Rulf dumped an old fleece around his shuddering shoulders. “I’m lending that,” he said, “not giving it.”

“Much appreciated … either way,” Yarvi forced through his chattering teeth as he watched Sumael hang his clothes facing the flames, where they began to gently steam.

“What if someone sees the light?” Jaud was asking, frowning back the way they had come.

“If you’d rather freeze, sit in the darkness. You’ll find plenty of it.” Ankran tried to prod more warmth from the fire with a twig. “For my part I suspect the fight, then the ship aflame, then the ship sinking, will have dampened their appetite for a search.”

“As long as we’re well gone before dawn,” said Rulf.

“Gone where?” asked Sumael, squatting beside Yarvi.

East was the obvious choice. East along the coast the way the South Wind had brought them. But west was where Yarvi needed to go. West to Vansterland. West to Gettland. West to Odem, and vengeance, and the sooner the better. He glanced around this motley fellowship, all huddled over the life-giving flames, faces pinched and strange in its light, wondering how he could possibly convince them to go the wrong way.

“East of course,” said Rulf. “How long ago did we pass that trading post?”

Sumael spent a moment reckoning on her fingers. “On foot we might make it in three days.”

“It’ll be hard going.” Rulf scrubbed with his nails at his stubbly chin. “Damn hard going, and-”

“I’ll be going west,” said Ankran, bent jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the flames.

There was silence as they all looked at him. “West to where?” asked Jaud.

“Thorlby.”

Yarvi could only raise his brows at help from such an unexpected quarter. Rulf burst out laughing. “Thank you for giving me one good chuckle before I die, Master Ankran! Our ex-storekeeper’s walking to Gettland.”

“To Vansterland. I’ll try to find a ship to take me from there.”

Rulf chuckled again. “So you’re only going to walk to Vulsgard? And how long a stroll do you reckon that to be, oh navigator?”

“At least a month on foot.” Sumael said it so quickly she already must have worked it out.

“A month of this!” Rulf waved his broad hand towards the snow-covered emptiness they had struggled through already, and Yarvi had to admit the thought was by no means a heartening one. “With what gear?”

“I have a shield.” Jaud swung it off his back and knocked at it with one fist. A large, round shield of rough wood with an iron boss. “I thought to use it as a float.”

“And a generous guard lent me his bow.” Rulf plucked at the string as if it was a harp. “But with no arrows it plays no music. Does anyone have a tent? Extra clothes? Blankets? Sleds?” Silence, aside from the moaning of the chill wind just outside their firelit hollow. “Then the very best of luck, Master Ankran! It’s been my pleasure to row beside you but I fear our ways must part. The rest of us will be going east.”

“What fool put you in charge?”

They all spun about as the voice croaked from the darkness, and Nothing was there. He was streaked with soot as well as his usual dirt, rags and hair and beard all blackened. He had Trigg’s boots on, and Trigg’s jacket, blood crusting one shoulder. Over the other he carried a great roll of singed sailcloth, and cradled in one arm, like a babe against the freezing night, the sword with which Yarvi had seen him kill six men.

He dropped cross-legged beside the fire as though it was a meeting long arranged and gave a satisfied sigh as he held his palms to the flames. “West to Gettland sounds well. We will be followed.”

“Trigg?” asked Sumael.

“You need give no more thought to our overseer. My debt to him is paid. But between me and Shadikshirram the account is still open.” Nothing licked a finger and polished a blemish from the blade of his sword. “We must put her far behind us.”

“Us?” snapped Sumael, and Yarvi noticed that, just behind her back, the hatchet was ready. “You’re inviting yourself along?”

The firelight shifted in Nothing’s mad eyes. “Unless someone else wants to invite me?”

Yarvi held his hands up between them and smoothed the way for Father Peace. “We need all the help we can get. What’s your name, even?”

Nothing stared off into the night sky as though the answer might be written in the stars. “I have had three names … perhaps four … but all of them brought me bad luck. I would hate them to bring you bad luck too. If you must talk to me, Nothing will do, but I am no great talker. Shadikshirram will be coming, and she will expect us to go east.”

“Because going west is madness!” Rulf rounded on Sumael. “Tell them!”

She pressed her scarred lips together and narrowed her eyes at the fire. “East is quicker. East is easier.”

“There!” barked Rulf, slapping his thigh.

“I’m going west,” said Sumael.

“Eh?”

“East there will be people. Anyone who got off the ship. Then that trading post was crawling with slavers.”

“And Vansterland isn’t?” asked Rulf. “Because we always did good business in Inglings there.”

“East is dangerous,” said Sumael.

“West is nothing but weeks of wilderness!”

“There is forest. Forest might mean fuel. Might mean food. East has the trading post, but then? Only the fens and the wild, hundreds of miles of it. West is Vansterland. West is civilization. West is … maybe … ships that go further west. That go home.”

“Home.” Jaud stared into the flames as though he glimpsed his village there, and that well with the sweetest water in the world.

“We head inland,” said Sumael, “out of sight of any ships. Then west.”

Rulf flung up his hands. “How will you find your way out in the snows? You’ll end up walking in circles!”

Sumael slid a leather package from inside her coat, unrolled it to show her eyeglass and instruments. “I’ll find my way, old man, don’t worry on that score. I can’t say I much look forward to either route. Especially in this company. But west might be the better chance.”

“Might be?”

Sumael shrugged. “Sometimes, might be is the best you can hope for.”

“Three for west.” Ankran had the first smile Yarvi had seen him give since Shadikshirram knocked his two front teeth out. “What about you, big man?”

“Hmm.” Jaud propped his chin thoughtfully on one fist and looked about the circle. “Huh.” He carefully eyed each one of them, and ended on Sumael’s instruments. “Heh.” He shrugged his heavy shoulders, and took a long breath. “There is no man I would rather have beside me in a fight, Rulf. But when it comes to getting from a place to a place … I trust Sumael. I go west. If you will have me.”

“You can hold your shield over me when it snows,” said Sumael.

“You’re all bloody mad!” Rulf slapped down a heavy hand on Yarvi’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Yorv.”

“I’m very flattered by the offer …” Yarvi slipped from under Rulf’s hand and his fleece together and back into his shirt, not altogether dry but close enough. “But the first thing we have to do is stick together. Stick together or die apart.” That and his chair, and his oath, and his vengeance all waited for him in Gettland, and the longer they waited, the less his chance of ever claiming them. “We’ll all be going west.” And Yarvi gave Rulf a grin, and slapped him on the shoulder with his good hand. “I prayed for younger help but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Gods!” Rulf pressed at his temples with his heels of his hands. “We’ll all regret this.”

“It can keep the rest of my regrets company.” Nothing stared off into the darkness as though he saw a ghostly host beyond the firelight. “There are enough of them.”