Their section of the river bank had become churned mud streaked with the gore that no one had yet had the time or the stomach to clear up. The wounded were being treated just inside the forest canopy in lines three deep and twenty long at least. The dead were piled up downstream and downwind, ready to be burned. And soldiers and mages lay everywhere, exhausted and filthy.
‘How many attacked us?’
‘Just six,’ said Jeral.
‘But we killed them, right?’ Jeral didn’t answer. Hynd sighed. ‘But there are elves among the dead.’
‘Just Sharps. Some blamed them.’
‘They’ll have to carry their own kit now.’ Hynd spat. ‘Fucking idiots. We know exactly who is to blame for this.’
‘But we couldn’t lay a finger on them. We lost fifteen soldiers and about thirty mages yesterday, because the elves targeted any casters trying to neutralise the poison. We got lucky, you and I. We were the last men our saviour managed to heal.’
‘And what about the poisoned men who didn’t get help?’
‘Some lived, some died.’ Jeral shrugged. ‘Fancy some breakfast?’
‘Can’t wait. But no oats this time, all right?’ Hynd stretched his back. He must have lain badly; the ache was growing. ‘This can’t go on. They’re beating us, Jeral. You’re the captain of First Company. Time to speak to your general, isn’t it?’
Jeral nodded. ‘I was waiting for you to wake up. You’re company lead mage, after all.’
‘And you don’t want to take the blistering on your own.’
Jeral smiled and spread his hands. ‘You know how I like to share.’
‘It figures. Come on then. Before Loreb starts the day’s drinking.’
Jeral rubbed at his back and screwed up his face. ‘They could have found us a mattress or something. I feel like I’ve been rabbit-punched. Let’s go.’
The pair picked their way along the river bank past disconsolate groups of soldiers, mages with nothing left to give and anxious-looking groups of Sharps. Out on the river, the barges were alive with activity. Hynd could feel castings being played over the food cargo as mages tried to discern what was poisoned and what was not.
Every barge was being checked. Hynd could feel the suspicion among the men. He shared it. Soldiers were gesticulating. Someone heaved a crate over the side of a barge and a mage and a barge skipper went nose to nose over it. Shouting filtered across the water. Hynd shook his head.
‘Look at that. Can’t say I disagree with them. Frankly, I’m not going to eat anything I don’t catch or pick myself.’
‘Looks like you’ll be going hungry, then,’ said Jeral.
‘It won’t matter. We’re all going to die anyway.’
Hynd spun around. The voice had come from a group of Sharps. One of them was staring at Jeral from her position, hunched on the ground. She looked dreadful — they all did — fatigued, malnourished, bruised and ragged. One of the other Sharps dug her side with an elbow and tried to hush her.
Jeral spat on the ground between his feet and pushed his sword under her chin, lifting her face a little further.
‘Think your pathetic band of warriors can really bring down this army?’ The Sharp shook her head. ‘Want me to prove exactly how easy it is to kill an elf?’
The Sharp smiled, revealing a mouth of rotting teeth and bleeding gums. ‘Make it quick because the alternative is agonising and your mages will be powerless against it. I ate the poison too, and I know what’s coming next.’
Another dig in the ribs was followed by some angry words in elvish. Jeral blew out his cheeks and sheathed his sword.
‘We’re going to find your city and kill every last one of you inside it. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you watch as the light of your race goes out for the last time.’
He turned away. Hynd made to follow him.
‘Is your back sore yet? Just wait until you need to piss.’
The human terminology sat uncomfortably on her tongue.
‘What did you say?’
Hynd massaged at his back absently. The Sharp pointed and shrugged.
‘That’s how it starts. When the urine makes you scream then the poison has hold of you and by then it’s almost too late.’
Hynd dropped to his haunches and grabbed the iad ’s ragged shirt, pulling her featherweight towards him easily.
‘What is it? What have they done?’
‘God in the water, Hynd, you don’t believe this bullshit, do you?’
Hynd felt a sweating cold encase his hands and face. There was truth in the Sharp’s eyes, he could see it.
‘Tell me,’ he ordered. ‘And the rest of you shut up or my friend will start cutting out your tongues.’
‘Hynd, we don’t have time for this…’
‘There is nothing more to tell,’ said the Sharp. ‘All of us who ate the black mushrooms will die. You thought last night’s pain was bad? You know nothing of pain. The whole forest will hear our screams and Shorth will be waiting to take us to his heart and to condemn you to torment unceasing.’
‘You knew it was poisoned and yet still you ate?’
‘To refuse would spark suspicion. I am proud to die for my people, for the TaiGethen. They will remember me. No one will remember you as you lie and rot.’
Hynd shoved her away and stood up, wiping his hands down his shirt as if it would cleanse him of her words.
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because a human who dies in helpless terror is a joy to behold as I make my own way to Shorth.’
Jeral’s blade jabbed in front of Hynd and into her throat. She jerked in shock and blood flooded down the blade. Her life flowed away terribly quickly. Jeral removed the blade, and as she slumped into another Sharp’s lap, Hynd could have sworn she was smiling.
‘Enough of that sort of chatter,’ said Jeral. ‘Any of the rest of you want to speak up?’
He wiped his blade on the dead elf’s clothes and walked away towards Loreb’s command post. Hynd hurried after him, fighting against a seething anger.
‘You’re judge and executioner now, are you?’
Jeral did not break stride and Hynd could hear the growing comments in support of his action coming from all around them.
‘You expect me to listen to that sort of shit from a Sharp, do you?’
‘She was trying to help us.’
‘Really?’ Jeral rounded on him. ‘It sounded very much like a promise of an agonising death to me.’
‘That’s because you weren’t listening,’ snapped Hynd.
‘She’s just messing with your head.’
‘You’re so sure of that? You’ve got a pain in your back, haven’t you? Over your kidneys? Me too. And it’s not getting any better.’
Jeral’s expression bled just a little anxiety. Hynd took a quick look around the First Company.
‘Looks like we have a whole lot of people with back trouble here, don’t you think?’
‘You’re seeing things. It’s just tiredness.’
‘What if it isn’t? Want me to check you over? It won’t cost you a bean.’
Jeral shrugged and rubbed at his back. ‘If you must. But make it quick. Loreb’ll be getting thirsty by now.’
‘Turn around, then.’
Hynd laid his hands on Jeral’s back and formed the shape for a seeking spell. He was tired and the shape was difficult to maintain even though it was a simple enough construct of fine mana tendrils. He probed into Jeral’s back, letting the various signatures the casting touched register in his mind: veins, bones, arteries, nerves. The casting brushed a kidney.
‘God on a burning pyre,’ he breathed.
The sensation of sickness overwhelmed him and he had to step back. The kidney had been grey, dead and cold over almost all of its surface. A parasitic disease was swamping its function, bloating the organ and rendering it practically useless.
‘What is it?’ asked Jeral, anxiety in his voice now. ‘And can you fix it?’
‘You’d better hope so,’ said Hynd. ‘Lie down.’
Hynd poured everything he had into the casting while trying to ignore the knowledge of his own situation. The shape came together in a fractured form but it would be all right. All Hynd could think to do was smother the disease in a thick blanket of mana then blow it clear out of Jeral’s body. He was sure there was a more delicate, targeted spell that would do the job but he didn’t have time for complexity. Hit it now and hit it hard.