The Colour of Vengeance (22 page)

As Henry hit the ground she rolled onto her knees. Something sharp and painful bit down onto her left arm. Without thought she stabbed at it, brought her knife down at the base of the dog's neck. A pain-filled yelp of surprise burst forth from its mouth and the beast teetered a step before collapsing and dragging Henry to the dust with it. She reached up with her right hand, prised the dog's jaw open and pulled her bloody left arm free. Then she stabbed the dying beast in the chest and again and again and again.

Henry lost track of how many times she stabbed the laughing dog. She was vaguely aware of Thorn shouting at her but paid him no mind. She stabbed and she stabbed and she stabbed. The blood lust slowly draining away and she found herself kneeling in front of the beast, arms slick with blood; its and hers, and both sweat and tears mixing and pouring from her face.

“Henry! Fer fuck sake, ya crazy bitch. Wake up!” Thorn shouted at her.

She turned her head to look at her old friend. His one eye was staring with the intensity of two and his voice was hoarse with a tone of command she didn't recognise coming from him.

“Ya back with us yet, Henry?” Thorn asked.

Henry nodded and pushed herself onto unsteady feet. “Aye. I reckon so.”

“Then get me the fuck out o' these binds.”

Henry did as she was told. She stumbled over to Thorn and quickly sliced through the ropes on his wrists then tended to the ones holding Anders.

“I, uh, thank you, my lady,” Anders said as he edged towards the wine skin. “You are of course most kind and I, ah, just... think it might be best if I...”

“Leave it, Anders,” Thorn ordered. A pair of small blades had appeared in his hands, each no longer than a finger.

“But I...”

“What's more important, the wine or ya life?” Thorn asked.

“Is that a trick question?”

Two more laughing dogs appeared at the edge of the clearing and by the sounds of it they weren't alone. The damned creatures just seemed to form from the shadows.

With a loud and resigned sigh Anders pulled the wine skin from the ground and slung it over his shoulder. “I suppose it will keep... for a short time.”

“I'll swap ya,” Henry said to Thorn as they readied themselves for the laughing dogs. The Blackthorn looked down at his dual knives and nodded. “Always was better fightin' with two blades.”

Anders joined them. “Don't I get one?”

“No,” Henry and Thorn said in unison.

“I'll just talk them to death then, shall I?”

“Any hints on killin' these things?” Thorn asked.

Henry snorted. “I find stabbin' 'em 'till they stop movin' seems ta work.”

“Right ya are.”

Three more laughing dogs appeared and they began to circle, surrounding Henry and the other two. One of the dogs let out a high-pitched laugh and the others replied with similar noises. Henry really hated being laughed at.

Anders snatched up a broken bone with his left hand; his right was cradled against his chest and bleeding slowly into his tunic. Henry knew they'd need to deal with that and soon but right now there were more pressing concerns. They all stood back-to-back in a triangle as the beasts circled, each waving their pathetic weapons about in as menacing a fashion as was possible. Henry could feel her leg aching, could feel her left shoulder aching, could feel her left arm dripping blood. Thorn stood next to her, half as tall as her again but in no better shape; his face below his nose was a red mask, his little finger on his left hand, while set, was still broken, and judging by his breathing the soldier had done a real number on his ribs.

One of the braver laughing dogs darted forward and snapped at them. Thorn aimed a savage kick at its face but it jumped back out of range, mocking the Black Thorn with a laugh. Another of the beasts lunged forward but backed away again as Anders shouted at it, waving his sharpened bone in its direction. They were starting to get braver, coming closer and closer.

Henry watched a sixth laughing dog emerge from the shadows and pad towards the one she had killed. It sniffed at the corpse for a couple of seconds and then tore off a mouthful of flesh and started wolfing it down.

“These fuckin' things eat each other!” she shouted in disgust.

“Well of course,” Anders said. “They're not attacking us out of malice, they're just hungry.”

“Meat is meat,” Thorn said. “Gives me an idea.”

Another of the dogs made a move to snap at Thorn but instead of trying to kick at it he kicked a cloud of dust at the animal. Taking a face-full of dust the laughing dog, stopped, sneezed and shook its head wildly from side to side. Thorn didn't give it chance to recover; he was on it in a second. He stabbed the creature twice in the chest then picked it up, avoiding its snapping mouth and threw it as hard as he could towards the other fallen animal. It landed with a meaty thud and didn't move.

Two more of the dogs broke off their attack to see to the one the Black Thorn had just done for. After a quick sniff to determine it was dead they tore into it. It didn't take long after that for the final two to join the rest of their friends.

The small crew backed away from the laughing dogs slowly. Henry bumped into something hard. She turned to find it was one of the wooden stakes they had been tied to. Sat atop of the stake was a Carrok bird near as big as she was. The giant bird watched them through huge dark eyes then let out a shrill
squark
and took to the air.

“Reckon I'd like ta get the fuck out o' this hell-hole now,” Henry said to no one in particular and not expecting a reply.

“Ya know this place, Anders? Know the best way out?” Thorn asked.

“I do.”

“Then lead the way.”

Anders led the way and he seemed to know where he was going. He led them away from the clearing, away from the way they had come, away from Crucible. They almost ran into a nest of land lizards but the beasts seemed to be sleeping so they went around the nest slowly, carefully and very quietly. Just one of the lizards could take down a dozen people and Betrim counted four of them dozing in the sun.

On the outskirts of the Boneyard they stopped. Anders collapsed against a bone that looked to be a giant rib and swallowed three mouthfuls of wine before relaxing with a satisfied sigh. Betrim wrestled the skin from the drunk's hands and took a gulp of the sour liquid himself and then passed it to Henry. They had been all day without anything to drink and Betrim was more than a little parched. Truth was they needed to find a water source sometime soon or they'd all be dropping from dehydration.

Betrim handed the wine skin back to Anders and had a good look at his missing finger. The bitch hadn't taken his full finger and it ended in a stub just after the second knuckle. Luckily for Anders the bleeding had slowed to a near stop. Betrim tore off a strip of green cloth from Anders tunic and bound the stub as tightly as he could

“Unless ya got a healer ya know some place nearby? Reckon we're gonna need to fire it,” Betrim said in a grim tone.

Anders swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Cauterize it?”

“Caw... what? Fire it. Burn it. Ta seal the wound.”

“Won't that hurt?” Anders asked. Betrim could see fear plain on his face and truth was he could sympathise.

“Like all the hells. At least it ain't ya face,” Betrim said tapping the burned side.

He turned to look at Henry. She was standing, scanning the horizon, her face hidden underneath the brim of her hat. She wouldn't complain but Betrim could tell by the way she was standing that she was hurting something fierce, maybe everywhere given what they’d just been through. Looked like she might have done herself a bit of damage freeing them from the Boneyard. Betrim pulled the wine skin from Anders' hands again and approached Henry.

“Need ta do somethin' 'bout that bite, Henry,” he said.

“It's fine.”

“Either ya let me have a look or I knock ya on ya arse an' look anyways,” Betrim said though truth was he really hoped she wouldn’t opt for the latter.

The little woman tilted her head and gave Betrim a dark stare but then pulled her left sleeve up past her elbow, wincing as she did. Betrim had a good look at the wound, didn't look to be infected but then it weren't easy to tell sometimes. He poured a healthy portion of wine over the bites and washed them as best he could. Anders groaned but said nothing at the use of wine. Afterwards Betrim tied a dirty bandage around Henry's arm.

“Well it ain't pretty an' it ain't exactly the best healin' I ever done but it'll have ta do 'till we find some real supplies.”

Henry grunted and turned back to the horizon.

Betrim looked around for a good leaning spot, there was none, none of the bones around were anywhere near tall enough and the rest of the surrounding area was bleak; nothing but dust and finger-long grass. He let out a low growl, folded his arms and took up a position where he could see both Henry and Anders.

“So which one o' ya wants ta go first?” he asked.

“Eh?”

“Pardon?”

“Reckon ya both got a story ta tell an' I reckon it's 'bout time I heard 'em.”

“Not sure what you mean, boss,” Anders said though his face made it fairly clear he was lying.

“I want ta know why ya da' jus' tried ta have us all killed an' why that bitch was ready ta take so many digits from ya. An' you,” he pointed at Henry. “I know you an' Swift never got on too well but these days every time I mention his name ya look like ya wanna tear the sun down from the sky an' give it a good kickin'.

“So which one o' ya wants ta start?” he asked again.

Silence descended upon the group. Betrim stood glaring at his friends, waiting for one of them to begin. Anders decided his missing finger was the most interesting thing in the world and Henry pulled her hat down to completely obscure her face. Neither of them seemed like they were about to be forthcoming with any details.

“Anders?” Betrim asked.

The blooded drunk sighed. “He didn't try to have us killed. Not really.”

“Uhh...” Betrim started. “Were you not there? Tied ta a stake. Hungry laughing dogs. Imminent death.”

“If my father had wanted me dead he'd have executed me in Crucible. He sent me to the Boneyard with you so we could escape and there aren't many who know their way around this place better than me. Truth is it doesn't matter what I've done, I'm still his first-born, his oldest son and my brother Francis is still an idiot. My father clearly believes that one day I'll come crawling back, apologise and be the good little heir he always wanted.” Anders snorted. “He might be a little bit mistaken there.”

Betrim shrugged. Anders' may have made some sense but he didn't answer the Black Thorn's question. “What did you do, Anders?”

“I wasn't always this peaceful, calm man you see before you now,” Anders said with a sigh. “Back before I was exiled I committed crimes. People got hurt. People died. Some directly, some indirectly.”

Betrim waited for Anders to continue, the wait extended for some time. “Ya got some details ta go with that?”

“It's not pertinent, boss.”

“Eh?”

The blooded man sighed. “It doesn't matter. It was years ago. Water under the bridge... you know, as long as we don't ever intend to go back to Crucible again, and I assure you I do not.”

“Matters ta us,” Henry said her voice quiet and dark. “Need ta know who we're crewin' with.”

“This ain't a crew,” Betrim reminded them both. “But aye. She's not wrong.”

Anders sighed. “Two years ago the blooded families were at peace. It had lasted four years. Might not sound like much but that's close to being a record. My father and D'roan were close, allies before the peace and good friends during. D'roan's only son, Nathan, was staying with us in Crucible. He was young and my father had it in his head that Nathan would marry my sister, Chero.

“Well truth was Nathan was a little fuck who got into my sister's bed and then ignored her afterwards, just another blooded woman he could say he fucked. It was pretty much what I'd been doing for years but he did it to my sister!

“I organised a surprise for Nathan D'roan next time he went riding. Hired a gang of mercs to ride him down, beat him and show him what it feels like to be fucked.”

Anders fell silent. It was the first time Betrim had ever seen the man look truly ashamed. Almost Betrim told him to stop his telling but problem was he really wanted to know the end.

“Nathan didn't go riding alone that day. He took Chero, Lisha's sister Elise, and a soldier by the name of Galnart Bert. The mercs I hired weren't the most intelligent of folk. They didn't like the surprise. They killed all of them.

“Lord D'roan wasn't exactly pleased at the death of his only son. He declared the peace over and within a month all the families were killing each other again. They haven't stopped since.”

“An' you reckon it's 'cos o' you. You think ya caused a war?” Betrim said with a shake of his head.

“If it weren't for me...”

“If it weren't fer you those blooded fools would jus' found another reason ta start slittin' each other’s throats. They been warrin' fer longer than any folk's been alive. A lot longer. Don't seem ta take much ta get 'em at it. Ain't your fault no more than the slaves in Solantis finally standin' up fer themselves is Henry's.”

“And the others? Chero, Elise...”

“So ya got a few people, who maybe didn't deserve it, killed. Ya ain't been playin' the game o' the wilds long or you'd know that's jus' somethin' that happens. We all done fer people who probably don't deserve it. Ya jus’ gotta… move on.”

Anders let out a bitter laugh. “I've played the game too long and too well, boss. It's why I'm here.”

“Eh?”

“Ya said four,” Henry said suddenly. “That bitch who took ya finger said five.”

Anders paled. “Lisha's sister was pregnant. I get the feeling she hasn't forgiven me yet.”

“Henry...” Betrim started.

“Why do you want this Kessick dead so bad?” she said interrupting the Black Thorn.

Betrim paused. He didn't feel like telling them that he dreamed of Kessick every night. Didn't feel like telling them every time he closed his eye he relived the night when Kessick beat him, stabbed him and tore his other eye from its socket and every time he could still hear the
thump thump thump
as if he were back in that damned cell.