Return of the Crimson Guard

Kyle straightened, his weapon falling. ‘Greymane!’

One of his eyes was swollen shut. His upper lip split and swollen. The entire side of his face was blossoming dark purple while his hair was clotted with dried blood. His armour lay piled in a corner. He gestured to Stoop's grinning shade. ‘I knew it would be a Guardsman, but I wasn't expecting you.’

Kyle crouched at the fire. ‘What're you doing hiding here?’

The man looked uncomfortable, lowered his gaze. ‘Well… the Imperials still have a price on my head, you know.’

And Kyle remembered. Head worth a barrel of black pearls. He waved to the brothers. ‘Well, we'll help get you out — won't we, Stalker?’

The eldest of the Lost brothers pressed a hand to his brow, sighed. ‘Sure. Of course. Seems that's all we do.’

Badlands crouched at the fire. ‘What's that you got roasting there?’

‘Rabbit.’

‘Looks done. C'n I?’

Greymane gestured for the man to help himself.

‘We should go south,’ Badlands said, pulling off a tear of flesh and licking his fingers. He rested his great hairy arms on his knees.

‘North,’ Coots immediately said.

‘I was kinda thinking west,’ Greymane offered, somewhat bewildered.

‘I like north,’ Stalker said, nodding to himself.

Chewing, Badlands raised a hand for silence. ‘But you know — south would really be better.’

Kyle just grinned, sat down next to the fire and started untying his leggings. This could take all night.

‘You're shittin’ me, aren't you?’ Nait told Heuk.

‘No — it's true. I've heard it from all kinds of people.’

‘People like who?’

‘Like all kinds.’

‘Damn.’ Nait sat back into the cool of the trench. ‘Dammit!’

A cavalry officer bearing Cawn colours rode up next to the trench. He squinted down into the dark of the deepening afternoon shadows. ‘I'm looking for a Sergeant Jumpy.’

Urfa stood, goggled up at the man and smiled her uneven teeth. ‘Nice horse.’

Jawl, Stubbin and Kibb came walking up carrying broken timbers and slats that they dropped next to a pile. The officer eyed what looked like a large bonfire in the making. ‘You're not going to sit out here tonight, are you?’

‘Yes, we are,’ Nait said, standing. ‘What of it?’

‘I understand orders are to marshal east along the trader road. This is one broad killing field. It's unhealthy. And dangerous. There'll be jackals.’

‘Jackals don't like fire,’ Nait said, deadly serious.

The cavalry officer blinked, uncertain. ‘So… there's no Sergeant Jumpy then?’

‘No, sir,’ Nait answered. He waved to Least who, passing, raised a hand in salute. ‘Lim?’ Nait called. Least gave a thumbs-up.

‘Try third company,’ Urfa suggested.

‘What company is this?’

Urfa's eyes crossed as she frowned. ‘Don't know, sir.’ She turned to the trench. ‘Hey, you useless lot! What company are we?’

Voices muttered from the shadows. ‘I thought we was first.’

‘Fourth.’

‘Naw, I think it was first.’

Smiling raggedly, Urfa winked. ‘There you are, sir. We're either first or fourth. Sure you won't stay? Got a fire. Got a big ol’ fish to fry. We're gonna get drunk and say goodbye to all our friends.’

‘Sounds enchanting,’ the Cawn officer observed drily. He gave his reins a gentle pull. ‘I'll leave you to it then.’

Urfa fell back down into the trench. ‘Damn. He was cute. I like cavalry officers.’

‘He'll find the cap'n,’ May warned from where she lay in the last of the sun next to the trench.

‘Eventually,’ Nait said. He crouched again next to Heuk, who sat hugging his jug to his chest. ‘So — they can't take it off? Really?’

Eyes shut, Heuk gave an exaggerated nod. ‘Never. Doesn't come off.’

‘Shit.’ Nait stood, examined the wood pile. ‘Call this fuel for a bonfire? I want twice this! C'mon, another trip to the wreck. Let's go!’

Groaning, his squad slowly climbed to their feet, ambled off.

‘I thought that, from what she said… that maybe, y'know — it was possible.’

Heuk mouthed a silent ‘No.’

‘Then how do they do it?

A lift and drop of the shoulders from Heuk. Cursing, Nait threw down a handful of dirt and stalked off. Heuk cracked open an eye to watch him go and smiled. Good. Tourmaline — you owe me three kegs of Moranth distilled spirits. And you better come through else ol’ Nait will discover that armour does come off after all.

CHAPTER V

The slaughter spread for nearly a league in all directions. Hurl walked her uneasy mount gently around the field of picked-clean Seti dead. Two days and nights old they looked to her; stench beginning to thin; clouds of carrion drifting away but for the odd fat kite or crow too befuddled with food to bother flying from them; jackals and their rival wolves trotting slunk low across the gentle hillsides.