Abercrombie, Joe - The Heroes

‘Your fight ain’t with me?’ Whirrun glanced about like he was looking for who it might be with. ‘You sure? Fights are twisty little bastards, you draw steel it’s always hard to say where they’ll lead you. You drew on Calder, but when you drew on Calder you drew on Curnden Craw, and when you drew on Craw you drew on me, and Jolly Yon Cumber, and Wonderful there, and Flood – though he’s gone for a wee, I think, and also this lad here whose name I’ve forgotten.’ Sticking his thumb over his shoulder at Beck. ‘You should’ve seen it coming. No excuse for it, a proper War Chief fumbling about in the dark like you’ve nothing in your head but shit. So my fight ain’t with you either, Brodd Tenways, but I’ll still kill you if it’s called for, and add your name to my songs, and I’ll still laugh afterwards. So?’

‘So what?’

‘So shall I draw? And you’d best keep always before you that if the Father of Swords is drawn it must be blooded. That’s the way it’s been since before the Old Time, and the way it must be still, and must always be.’

They stood there for a moment longer, the lot of ’em, all still, all waiting, then Tenways’ brows drew in, and his lips curled back, and Beck felt the guts dropping out of him, because he could feel what was coming, and—

‘What the fuck ?’ Another man stalked up into the firelight, eyes slits and teeth bared, head forwards and shoulders up like a fighting dog, no want in it but killing. His scowl was crossed with old scars, one ear missing, and he wore a golden chain, a big jewel alive with orange sparks in the middle.

Beck swallowed. Black Dow, no question. Who beat Bethod’s men six times in the long winter then burned Kyning to the ground with its people in the houses. Who fought the Bloody-Nine in the circle and nearly won, was left with his life and bound to serve. Fought alongside him then, and with Rudd Threetrees, and Tul Duru Thunderhead, and Harding Grim, as tough a crew as ever walked the North since the Age of Heroes and of which, aside from the Dogman, he was the last drawing breath. Then he betrayed the Bloody-Nine, and killed him who men said couldn’t die, and took Skarling’s Chair for himself. Black Dow, right before him now. Protector of the North, or stealer of it, depending on who you asked. He’d never dreamed of coming so close to the man.

Black Dow looked over at Craw, and he looked an awful long way from happy. Beck weren’t sure how that pickaxe of a face ever could. ‘Ain’t you supposed to be keeping the peace, old man?’

‘That’s what I’m doing.’ Craw’s sword was still out but the point had dropped towards the ground now. Most of ’em had.

‘Oh, aye. Here’s a peaceful fucking picture.’ Dow swept the lot of ’em with his scowl. ‘No one draws steel up here without my say so. Now put ’em away, the lot o’ you, you’re embarrassing yourselves.’

‘Boneless little fucker broke my nose!’ snarled Tenways.

‘Spoil your looks, did he?’ snapped Dow. ‘Want me to kiss it better? Let me frame this in terms you fucking halfheads can understand. Anyone still holding a blade by the time I get to five is stepping into the circle with me, and I’ll do things like I used to ’fore old age softened me up. One.’

He didn’t even need to get to two. Craw put up right away, and Tenways just after, and all the rest of that steel was good and hidden almost as swift as it had come to light, leaving the two lines of men frowning somewhat sheepishly across the fire at each other.

Wonderful whispered in Beck’s ear. ‘Might want to put that away.’

He realised he still had his steel out, shoved it back so fast he damn near cut his leg. Only Whirrun was left there, between the two sides, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other on the scabbard, still ready to draw, and looking at it with the smallest curl of a smile to his mouth. ‘You know, I’m just a little tempted.’

‘Another time,’ growled Dow, then threw one arm up. ‘Brave Prince Calder! I’m honoured all the way to fuck! I was about to send over an invitation but you’ve got in first. Come to tell me what happened at the Old Bridge today?’

Calder still had the fine cloak he’d been wearing when Beck first saw him up at Reachey’s camp, but he had mail underneath it now, and a scowl instead of a grin. ‘Scale got killed.’

‘I heard. Can’t you tell? I’m weeping a sea o’ tears. What happened at my bridge is what I’m asking.’

‘He fought as hard as he could. Hard as anyone could.’

‘Went down fighting. Good for Scale. What about you? Don’t look like you fought that hard.’

‘I was ready to.’ Calder slid a piece of paper out from his collar and held it up between two fingers. ‘Then I got this. An order from Mitterick, the Union general.’ Dow snatched it from his hand and pulled it open, frowning down at it. ‘There are Union men in the woods to our west, ready to come across. It’s lucky I found out, because if I’d gone to help Scale they’d have taken us in the flank and there’s a good chance the lot of you would be dead now, rather than arguing the toss over whether I’ve got no bones.’

‘I don’t think anyone’s arguing you’ve got bones, Calder,’ said Dow. ‘Just sat there behind the wall, did you?’

‘That, and sent to Tenways for help.’

Dow’s eyes slid sideways, glittering with the flames. ‘Well?’

Tenways rubbed blood from under his broken nose. ‘Well what?’

‘Did he send for help?’

‘Spoke to Tenways myself,’ piped up one of Calder’s men. An old boy with a scar down his face and the eye on that side milky white. ‘Told him Scale needed help, but Calder couldn’t go on account of the Southerners across the stream. Told him the whole thing.’

‘And?’

The half-blind old man shrugged. ‘Said he was busy.’

‘Busy?’ whispered Dow, face getting harder’n ever if that was possible. ‘So you just sat there and all, did you?’

‘I can’t just move soon as that bastard tells me to—’

‘You sat on the hill with Skarling’s Finger up your arse and fucking watched?’ Dow roared. ‘Sat and watched the Southerners have my bridge ?’ Stabbing at his chest with his thumb.

Tenways flinched back, one eye twitching. ‘There weren’t no Southerners over the river, that’s all lies! Lies like he always tells.’ He pointed across the fire with a shaking finger. ‘Always some fucking excuse, eh, Calder? Always some trick to keep your hands clean! Talk of peace, or talk of treachery, or some kind of bloody talk—’

‘Enough.’ Black Dow’s voice was quiet, but it cut Tenways off dead. ‘I don’t care a runny shit whether there are Union men out west or if there aren’t.’ He crumpled the paper up in his trembling fist and flung it at Calder. ‘I care whether you do as you’re told.’ He took a step towards Tenways, and leaned in close.

‘You won’t be sitting watching tomorrow, no, no, no.’ And he sneered over at Calder. ‘And nor will you, prince of nothing fucking much. Your sitting days are over, the pair o’ you. You two lovers’ll be down there on that wall together. That’s right. Side by side. Arm in arm from dawn to dusk. Making sure this shitcake you’ve cooked up between you don’t start stinking any worse. Doing what I brought you idiots here for – which, in case anyone’s started wondering, is fighting the fucking Union !’

‘What if they are across that stream?’ asked Calder. Dow turned towards him, brow furrowed like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘We’re stretched thin as it is, lost a lot of men today and we’re well outnumbered—’

‘It’s a fucking war !’ roared Dow, leaping over to him and making everyone shuffle back. ‘Fight the bastards!’ He tore at the air as if he was only just stopping himself from tearing Calder’s face apart with his hands. ‘Or you’re the planner, ain’t you? The great trickster? Trick ’em! You wanted your brother’s place? Then deal with it, you little arsehole, or I’ll find a man who will! And if anyone don’t do his bit tomorrow, anyone with a taste for sitting out …’ Black Dow closed his eyes and tipped his face back towards the sky. ‘By the dead, I’ll cut the bloody cross in you. And I’ll hang you. And I’ll burn you. And I’ll make such an end of you the very song of it will turn the bards white. Am I leaving room for doubts?’