Dave Duncan - A Handful Of Men 3 - The Stricken Field

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The horde had enjoyed an unusually good day. As was his custom, Death Bird had deployed his men in

two columns. When they converged at sunset, they entrapped a large band of refugees. Camp was

pitched earlier than usual to enjoy the spoils: women for rape, horses for food, men for sport—everything

a goblin’s heart could desire.

For Kadie it had been an exceedingly bad day. The weather was unbearably hot now, bringing dust and

insects, but in the last few weeks she had learned to endure those. Her cramps and nausea did not come

from weather alone. Even goblins came down with fever, and why should she expect to be tougher than

them? Trouble was, sickness was weakness in this army. The ones who couldn’t keep up were killed by

their friends. Sympathy was about as common hereabouts as killer whales. By afternoon, she was barely

managing to stay on Allena’s back. Running alongside as always, Blood Beak naturally noticed her

distress, but he jeered much less than she expected. Indeed, he seemed almost concerned.

The goblin army camped by totems. The prince himself was a Raven, but his bodyguards came from a

wide variety of tribes. The little band would attach itself to a different group each night. Blood Beak was

gaining authority. The men had begun to regard him more as their leader than their ward, and would

generally do what he said, as long as he did not try to overrule their standing orders. This night he

insisted on joining the Beavers, who were setting up alongside an unburned barn. He got his way,

probably because it was a good campsite, near a well.

With the magnanimous air of an imperor bestowing a dukedom, he told Kadie she could have the barn.

Shelter and privacy were rare treats, and she was grateful. Then he ordered one of the guards to

unsaddle the mare for her, and again was obeyed, although not very willingly. Blood Beak could be quite

pleasant at times, for a goblin.

Ignoring her own light-headedness and aches, Kadie first established Allena in a corner by the door with

hay and water, and only then made a nook for herself at the far end, behind some bales of straw. She

had no desire to eat, but she felt even more sticky and filthy than usual. She must wash before sleeping,

she decided.

That was when she discovered what the trouble was. Her mother had warned her, of course, that such

things would happen. Most of her friends had started long ago, and back in Krasnegar she had been

quite worried that she was taking so long. Lately she hadn’t thought about it. Well, now it had started. It

should be an exciting milestone in her life, the start of womanhood. Thousands of leagues from home in

the middle of a barbarian host, it was a very unwelcome development indeed. Fortunately she had some

spare garments to use as rags—there was no shortage of such plunder and it wasn’t really stealing

because anything she did not rescue would just be burned by the goblins.

As the sky grew dark, she settled down to try to sleep, sore and unhappy. She laid her magic rapier

within reach as she always did and pulled a tattered old cloak over herself for warmth. More than

anything, she thought she would like a hot brick wrapped in a blanket, just to cuddle. She had barely

closed her eyes before a nerve-curdling shriek rang out close by. It was followed at once by another,

even louder. The goblins had begun the evening’s entertainment, and the Beavers’ fire was right outside

her barn. She was used to it by now, of course. Even Allena hardly flicked her ears any more at the

sounds or smells of torture, but it was rarely so close. There was rarely so much of it.

Every time Kadie began to settle, another scream would jar her awake. The night outside was bright

with moonlight and campfires, and loud with torment, far and near-agony and raucous merriment in

Evil-spawned choruses.

Tonight of all nights she needed to sleep. She needed her mother, whom she had not seen in over two

months. In fact, she had not spoken with any woman in that time. She spoke to hardly anyone except

Blood Beak.

Blood Beak, her future husband, the goblin prince. By his standards, she supposed, she would now

class as nubile. The wedding could come any time now. She wished she had a breviary, to know the

right prayers to say and the right Gods to invoke. But she would not be able to read it in the dark, and

probably there was no proper prayer for this situation. Mom had told her that exact words didn’t really

matter. She hoped they didn’t, because she’d done a lot of very unorthodox praying lately. She’d even

prayed to the God of Rescues, and she wasn’t at all sure that there was a God of Rescues. Perhaps she

had prayed wrongly—to the God of Battles to send the legions and kill all the goblins, for example. The

God of Battles had not heeded her appeal. And the God of Rescues, if there was one, was not rescuing

those poor men and women outside. At least nothing that bad had happened to her, at least not yet.

If only they would be quiet outside there and let her sleep! There were so many victims tonight that the

torments might go on till dawn.

“Kadie?”

Perhaps she had floated off into a half sleep. It was not a scream that wakened her, it was a whisper.

She sat up with a stifled cry that was half a groan. Her hand fumbled for her sword. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

“Go away!” And yet she was relieved that it was Blood Beak. She could see him now. The barn was

not completely dark.

“I need to talk with you.”

“We talked all day. You can talk all tomorrow. Go away. I’m sleeping.”

“You were weeping. I heard you.” He came closer. “Why were you weeping?” He spoke impish very

well now, when no one else was listening.

“I wasn’t. Why shouldn’t I weep? What does it matter to you? Go away!”

She had her sword ready, although her palm was so slippery wet and shaking that she doubted she

could use it. Her heart was pounding madly. She had driven Quiet Stalker to his death and she would kill

Blood Beak if he tried to touch her. Yes, she would! He did not come close enough. He knelt down by

her wall of straw, just out of reach.

“Don’t want you to weep.”

She couldn’t think of an answer. The more she thought about it, the more that remark seemed totally

wrong. “Kadie, I’m worried.”

And that one, too. “What’s the matter?” She saw a gleam of firelight on his face and chest, and dark

stains. “You’re hurt!”

“No.”

“That’s blood!”

“Yes. I cut an artery by mistake.”

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