The Crippled God

‘Well, you couldn’t have not seen him then. Skulldeath. He jumps high, y’see. He was the only one of us cutting Nah’ruk throats , right? Jumps high, like I said. See those eight notches on his left wrist?’



‘Those burns?’



‘Aye. One for each Nah’ruk he personally throat-cut.’



Gaunt-Eye snorted. ‘A liar, too, then. About what I figured.’



‘But he never counted, Sergeant. Never does. Eight is what we saw him do, those who saw him at all, I mean. We talked about it, comparing and all that. Eight. So we told him and he burned those marks on his wrist. When we asked him how many he gutted, he said he didn’t know. When we asked him how many he hamstrung, he didn’t know that either. The rest of us couldn’t come up with numbers on those. Lot more than eight, though. But since we seen him burn himself, we decided not to tell him how many. He’d be one big burn now, right? And since he’s so pretty, well, that’d be a shame.’



She fell silent then, to catch her breath. She’d broken three or so ribs in the fight, so talking hurt. More than breathing, which hurt bad enough. Talking was worse. That had been the most words she’d used all at once since the battle.



‘Drawfirst and Mayfly,’ said Gaunt-Eye, ‘and you. All heavies.’



‘Aye, Sergeant.’



‘Get back in line, Flashwit.’



She gave him a bright smile that seemed to startle him, and then fell back, past one-armed Corporal Rib – who eyed her with something like suspicion – and then Drawfirst and Skulldeath, before positioning herself beside Mayfly.



‘Well?’ Mayfly asked.



‘You was wrong,’ Flashwit said with deep satisfaction.



‘About what?’



‘Hah. He only asked six questions!’



Gaunt-Eye was throwing more looks back at his squad.



‘Who’s he want now?’ Mayfly wondered.



And then the sergeant pointed at Skulldeath. ‘You blow me one more kiss, soldier, and I’ll wrap your guts round your Hood-damned neck!’



‘Well now,’ Flashwit muttered.



Mayfly nodded. ‘The prince ain’t missed yet, has he?’



* * *

Hedge could hear howling laughter behind him, and the breath gusted from him. ‘Listen to that, Bavedict! Fid slapped ’em up and down all right – I knew it!’



The Letherii alchemist tugged again on the ox lead. ‘Alas, Commander, I don’t know what you mean by that.’



‘Bet he gave ’em the old “Walking Dead” speech. It’s like cutting shackles, that one. There was a night, you see, when Dujek Onearm himself came into the Bridgeburners’ camp. We was working Pale then, the tunnels – I never shifted so many boulders in my life. He came in, right, and told us what we already knew.’ Hedge drew off his scorched leather cap and scratched at his fresh-shaven scalp. ‘We was the walking dead. Then he left. Left us to figure out what we were going to do about it.’



‘What did you do?’



Hedge tugged on the cap again. ‘Well, most of us, er, died. Before we even had a chance. But Whiskeyjack, he wasn’t going to turn his back on any of it. And Quick Ben and Kalam, gods, they just wanted to start the killing. Y’ain’t got nothing to lose once you’re the walking dead.’



‘I do admit, Commander, that I don’t much like being described in that manner.’



‘Got cold feet now?’



‘I always appreciate your wit, sir,’ said Bavedict. ‘But cold feet are precisely what I don’t want, if you understand me.’



‘So buck up, then. Besides, what Fid had to say to his Bonehunters, well, that’s up to him. Got nothing to do with us Bridgeburners—’



‘Presumably because the Bridgeburners have been walking dead since, er, Pale.’



Hedge slapped him on the back. ‘Exactly. It’s not like it’s an exclusive club, right?’



‘Sir,’ ventured Bavedict, ‘was it just this afternoon that you were complaining how your old friend had turned his back on you? That you were feeling like a leper—’



‘Things are easier when you’re dead. I mean, for him. He could put me away, on some shelf in his skull, and leave me there.’ Hedge gestured carelessly with one hand. ‘I get it. I always did. I just don’t like it. I feel insulted . I mean, I’m back. Anyone can see that. Fid should be happy. And Quick Ben – well, you saw what he did at the battle, before he skipped out. Went and did a Tayschrenn on us. Next time we meet, him and me are going to have some words, we are.’