Abercrombie, Joe - The Heroes

‘That’s what it is to be an old bastard.’ Flood stepped over with a grin of his own, and a limp of his own too.

‘Knew there had to be an upside to it. You know Caul Shivers, do you?’

‘By reputation.’

Shivers showed his teeth. ‘It’s a fucking beauty, ain’t it?’

‘How’s the day been over here with Reachey?’ asked Craw.

‘It’s been bloody,’ was Flood’s answer. ‘Had a few young lads calling me Chief. Too young. All but one back to the mud.’

‘Sorry to hear that.’

‘Me too. But it’s a war. Thought I might come back over to your dozen, if you’ll have me, and I thought I might bring this one with me.’ Flood jerked his thumb at someone else. A big lad, hanging back in the shadows, wrapped up in a stained green cloak. He was looking at the ground, dark hair across his forehead so Craw couldn’t see much more’n the gleam of one eye in the dark. He’d a good sword at his belt, though, gold on the hilt. Craw saw the gleam of that quick enough. ‘He’s a good hand. Earned his name today.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Craw.

The lad didn’t speak. Not full of bragging and vinegar like some might be who’d won a name that day. Like Craw had been the day he won his, for that matter. Craw liked to see it. He didn’t need any fiery tempers landing everyone in the shit. Like his had landed him in the shit, years ago.

‘What about it then?’ Flood asked. ‘You got room for us?’

‘Room? I can’t remember ever having more’n ten in the dozen, and there’s not but six now.’

‘Six? What happened to ’em all?’

Craw winced .‘About the same as happened to your lot. About what usually happens. Athroc got killed up at the Heroes day before yesterday. Agrick a day later. Brack died this morning.’

There was a bit of a silence. ‘Brack died?’

‘In his sleep,’ said Craw. ‘From a bad leg.’

‘Brack’s back to the mud.’ Flood shook his head. ‘That’s a tester. Didn’t think he’d ever die.’

‘Nor me. The Great Leveller’s lying in wait for all of us, no doubt, and he takes no excuses and makes no exceptions.’

‘None,’ whispered Shivers.

‘’Til then, we could certainly use the pair o’ you, if Reachey’ll let you go.’

Flood nodded. ‘He said he would.’

‘All right then. You ought to know Wonderful’s running the dozen for now, though.’

‘She is?’

‘Aye. Dow offered me charge of his Carls.’

‘You’re Black Dow’s Second?’

‘Just ’til the battle’s done.’

Flood puffed out his cheeks. ‘What happened to never sticking your neck out?’

‘Didn’t take my own advice. Still want in?’

‘Why not?’

‘Happy to have you back, then. And your lad too, if you say he’s up to it.’

‘Oh, he’s up to it, ain’t you boy?’

The boy didn’t say a thing.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Craw.

‘Beck.’

Flood thumped him on the arm. ‘ Red Beck. Best get used to using the whole thing, eh?’

The lad looked a bit sick, Craw thought. Small wonder, given the state of the town. Must’ve been quite a scrap he’d been through. Quite an introduction to the bloody business. ‘Not much of a talker, eh? Just as well. We got more’n enough talk with Wonderful and Whirrun.’

‘Whirrun of Bligh?’ asked the lad.

‘That’s right. He’s one of the dozen. Or the half-dozen, leastways. Do you reckon I need to give him the big speech?’ Craw asked Flood. ‘You know, the one I gave you when you joined up, ’bout looking out for your crew and your Chief, and not getting killed, and doing the right thing, and all that?’

Flood looked at the lad, and shook his head. ‘You know what, I think he learned today the hard way.’

‘Aye,’ said Craw. ‘Reckon we all did. Welcome to the dozen, then, Red Beck.’

The lad just blinked.

One Day More

It was the same path she had ridden up the night before. The same winding route up the windswept hillside to the barn where her father had made his headquarters. The same view out over the darkened valley, filled with the pinprick lights of thousands of fires, lamps, torches, all glittering in the wet at the corners of her sore eyes. But everything felt different. Even though Hal was riding beside her, close enough to touch, jawing away to fill the silence, she felt alone.

‘… good thing the Dogman turned up when he did, or the whole division might’ve come apart. As it is we lost the northern half of Osrung, but we managed to push the savages back into the woods. Colonel Brint was a rock. Couldn’t have done it without him. He’ll want to ask you … want to ask you about—’

‘Later.’ There was no way she could face that. ‘I have to talk to my father.’

‘Should you wash first? Change your clothes? At least catch your breath for a—’

‘My clothes can wait,’ she snapped at him. ‘I’ve a message from Black Dow, do you understand?’

‘Of course. Stupid of me. I’m sorry.’ He kept flipping from fatherly stern to soppy soft, and she could not decide which was annoying her more. She felt as if he was angry, but lacked the courage to say so. At her for coming to the North when he had wanted her to stay behind. At himself for not being there to help her when the Northmen came. At both of them for not knowing how to help her now. Probably he was angry that he was angry, instead of revelling in her safe return.

They reined in their horses and he insisted on helping her down. They stood in awkward silence, with an awkward distance between them, he with an awkward hand on her shoulder that offered less than no comfort. She badly wanted him to find some words that might help her see some sense in what had happened that day. But there was no sense in it, and any words would fall pathetically short.

‘I love you,’ he said lamely, in the end, and it seemed few words could have fallen as pathetically short as those did.

‘I love you too.’ But all she felt was a creeping dread. A sense that there was an awful weight at the back of her mind she was forcing herself not to look at, but that at any moment it might fall and crush her utterly. ‘You should go back down.’

‘No! Of course not. I should stay with—’

She put a firm hand on his chest. She was surprised how firm it was. ‘I’m safe now.’ She nodded towards the valley, its fires prickling at the night. ‘They need you more than I do.’

She could almost feel the relief coming off him. To no longer be taunted by his inability to make everything better. ‘Well, if you’re sure—’

‘I’m sure.’

She watched him mount up, and he gave her a quick, uncertain, worried smile, and rode away into the gathering darkness. Part of her wished he had fought harder to stay. Part of her was glad to see the back of him.

She walked to the barn, pulling Hal’s coat tight around her, past a staring guard and into the low-raftered room. It was a much more intimate gathering than last night’s. Generals Mitterick and Jalenhorm, Colonel Felnigg, and her father. For a moment she felt an exhausting sense of relief to see him. Then she noticed Bayaz, sitting slightly removed from the others, his servant occupying the shadows behind him with the faintest of smiles, and any relief died a quick death.

Mitterick was holding forth, as ever, and, as ever, Felnigg listening with the expression of a man forced to fish something from a latrine. ‘The bridge is in our hands and my men are crossing the river even as we speak. I’ll have fresh regiments on the north bank well before dawn, including plenty of cavalry and the terrain to make use of it. The standards of the Second and Third are flying in the Northmen’s trenches. And tomorrow I’ll get Vallimir off his arse and into action if I have to kick him across that stream myself. I’ll have those Northern bastards on the run by …’