Abercrombie, Joe - The Heroes

‘Make ’em think it’s our big effort.’

‘Any luck they’ll pull some men off from the Heroes, leave the stones weaker held. Once they’re in the open fields between hill and town, I’ll let slip Golden’s boys and he’ll tear their arses out. Meantime me, and Ironhead, and Tenways’ll make the proper effort on the Heroes.’

‘How d’you plan to work it?’

Dow flashed that hungry grin of his. ‘Run up that hill and kill everything living.’

‘They’ll have had time to get set, and that’s some tough ground to charge. It’s where they’ll be strongest. We could go around—’

‘Strongest here.’ Dow dug his sword into the ground in front of Skarling’s Chair. ‘Weakest here.’ And he tapped at his chest with a finger. ‘We’ve been going around the sides for months, they won’t be expecting us front on. We break ’em at the Heroes, we break ’em here,’ and he thumped his chest again, ‘and the rest all crumbles. Then Golden can follow up, chase ’em right across the fords if need be. All the way to Adwein. Scale should be ready on the right by then, can take the Old Bridge. With you in Osrung in weight, when the rest o’ the Union turn up tomorrow all the best ground’ll be ours.’

Reachey slowly stood. ‘Right y’are, Chief. We’ll make it a red day. A day for the songs.’

‘Shit on the songs,’ said Dow, standing himself. ‘I’ll take just victory.’

They clasped hands a moment, then Reachey moved for the entrance, saw Craw and gave a big gap-toothed smile.

‘Old Caul Reachey.’ And Craw held out his hand.

‘Curnden Craw, as I live and breathe.’ Reachey folded it in one of his then slapped the other down on top. ‘Ain’t enough of us good men left.’

‘Those are the times.’

‘How’s the knee?’

‘You know. It is how it is.’

‘Mine too. Yon Cumber?’

‘Always with a joke ready. How’s Flood getting on?’

Reachey grinned. ‘Got him looking after some new recruits. Right shower o’ piss-water, in the main.’

‘Maybe they’ll shape up.’

‘They better had, and fast. I hear we got a battle coming.’ Reachey clapped him on the arm as he passed. ‘Be waiting for your order, Chief!’ And he left Craw and Black Dow watching each other over a few strides of rubble-strewn, weed-sprouting, nettle-waving old mud. Birds twittered, leaves rustled, the hint of distant metal serving notice there was bloody business due.

‘Chief.’ Craw licked his lips, no idea how this was going to go.

Dow took a long breath in and screamed at the top of his voice. ‘Didn’t I tell you to hold on to that fucking hill!’

Craw went cold as the echoes rang from the crumbling walls. Looked like it might not go well at all. He wondered if he might find himself stripped in a cage before sundown. ‘Well, I was holding on to it all right … until the Union showed up …’

Dow came closer, sheathed sword still in one fist, and Craw had to make himself not back off. Dow leaned forwards and Craw had to make himself not flinch. Dow raised one hand and put it gently down on Craw’s sore shoulder, and he had to make himself not shudder. ‘Sorry ’bout this,’ said Dow quietly, ‘but I’ve a reputation to look to.’

A wave of giddy relief. ‘’Course, Chief. Let rip.’ He narrowed his eyes as Dow took another breath.

‘You useless old limping fuck !’ Spraying Craw with spit, then patting the bruised side of his face, none too gently. ‘You made a fight of it, then?’

‘Aye. With Hardbread and a few of his lads.’

‘I remember that old bastard. How many did he have?’

‘Twenty-two.’

Dow bared his teeth somewhere between smile and scowl. ‘And you, what, ten?’

‘Aye, with Shivers.’

‘And you saw ’em off?’

‘Well—’

‘Wish I’d fucking been there!’ Dow twitched with violence, eyes fixed on nothing like he could see Hardbread and his boys coming up that slope and they couldn’t come fast enough for him. ‘Wish I’d been there!’ And he lashed out with the pommel of his sheathed sword and struck splinters from the nearest pillar, making Craw take a careful step back. ‘’Stead of sitting back here fucking talking. Talking, talking, fucking talking!’ Dow spat, and took a breath, then seemed to remember Craw was there, eyes sliding back towards him. ‘You saw the Union come up?’

‘At least a thousand on the road to Adwein and I got the feeling there were more behind.’

‘Jalenhorm’s division,’ said Dow.

‘How d’you know that?’

‘He has his ways.’

‘By the—’ Craw took a startled pace, got his feet caught in a bramble and nearly fell. There was a woman lying on one of the highest walls. Draped over it like a wet cloth, one arm and one leg dangling, head hanging over the side like she was resting on some garden bench ’stead of a tottering heap of masonry six strides above the dirt.

‘Friend o’ mine.’ Dow didn’t even look up. ‘Well – when I say friend—’

‘Enemy’s enemy.’ She rolled off the back of the wall. Craw stared, waiting for the sound of her hitting the ground. ‘I am Ishri.’ The voice whispered in his ear.

This time he went right on his arse in the dirt. She stood over him, skin black, and smooth, and perfect, like the glazing on a good pot. She wore a long coat, tails dragging on the dirt, hanging open, body all bound in white bandages underneath. If anyone ever looked like a witch, she was it. Not that there was much more evidence of witchery needed past vanishing from one place and stepping out of another.

Dow barked with laughter. ‘You never can tell where she’ll spring from. I’m always worried she’ll pop out o’ nowhere while I’m … you know.’ And he mimed a wanking action with one fist.

‘You wish,’ said Ishri, looking down at Craw with eyes blacker than black, unblinking, like a jackdaw staring at a maggot.

‘Where did you come from?’ muttered Craw as he scrambled up, hopping a little on account of his stiff knee.

‘South,’ she said, though that much was clear enough from her skin. ‘Or do you mean, why did I come?’

‘I’ll take why.’

‘To do the right thing.’ There was a faint smile on her face, at that. ‘To fight against evil. To strike mighty blows for righteousness. Or … do you mean who sent me?’

‘All right, who sent you?’

‘God.’ Her eyes rolled to the sky, framed by jutting weeds and saplings. ‘And how could it be otherwise? God puts us all where he wants us.’

Craw rubbed at his knee. ‘Got a shitty sense o’ humour, don’t he?’

‘You do not know the half of it. I came to fight against the Union, is that enough?’

‘It’s enough for me,’ said Dow.

Ishri’s black eyes flicked away to him, and Craw felt greatly relieved. ‘They are moving onto the hill in numbers.’

‘Jalenhorm’s lot?’

‘I believe so.’ She stretched up tall, wriggling all over the place like she had no bones in her. Reminded Craw of the eels they used to catch from the lake near his workshop, spilling from the net, squirming in the children’s hands and making them squeal. ‘You fat pink men all look the same to me.’

‘What about Mitterick?’ asked Dow.

Her bony shoulders drifted up and down. ‘Some way behind, chomping at the bit, furious that Jalenhorm is in his way.’

‘Meed?’

‘Where is the fun in knowing everything?’ She pranced past Craw, up on her toes, almost brushing against him so he had to nervously step back and nearly trip again. ‘God must be so bored.’ She wedged one foot into a crack in the wall too narrow for a cat to squeeze through, twisting her leg, somehow working it in up to the hip. ‘To it, then, my heroes!’ She writhed like a worm cut in half, wriggling into the ruined masonry, her coat dragging up the mossy stonework behind her. ‘Do you not have a battle to fight?’ Her skull somehow slid into the gap, then her arms, she clapped her bandaged hands once and just a finger was left sticking from the crack. Dow walked over to it, reached out, and snapped it off. It wasn’t a finger at all, just a dead bit of twig.