Part 22 (2/2)

Another coil of rope, one end trailing, settled across the arm that Kel gripped. Hanging on with one hand, she wound it around the metal-and-bone limb. She tossed the rest back to the man who had thrown it. He gripped it and pulled as Kel jumped clear of the arm. She lurched and nearly fell, her back a thudding, grinding source of pain.

Two other men were on the ground, trying to trap the monster's remaining limb. Letting its full weight hang on Wolset's rope, it had freed the leg on which it stood. Now it hacked with it, cutting a long slash in one man's scalp as he tried to thread a rope through metal bones and rods. He shook blood from his eyes and finished the job, giving the free end to his companion. They separated and ran to tie each end of rope to opposite trees. The thing was secured, for the moment. It struggled like a fly on a spiderweb.

Gasping, Kel reviewed the situation. The thing wasn't beaten, only halted. As it struggled, even the thickest of the trees that anch.o.r.ed its ropes shook. It was slowly pulling Wolset back up from the far side of its rock. If he were shot or if his body crested the boulder, the thing's head would be free. It would be able to put its entire strength into its battle with their ropes. Kel was reasonably sure it would free itself. They had to kill it now. Someone had to get close to it.

She yanked the warhammer from her belt and grabbed a fist-sized rock. ”Mithras, don't let me die,” she pleaded, and ran to the trapped monster. Turning her warhammer so the long spike faced out, she dug it into the cables and bone of the monster's torso and pulled herself up like a mountain climber.

The men yelled for her to stop. ”We can hold it!” one insisted. Kel knew they were wrong.

To the monster that had just tried to bite her she said, ”You don't scare me.”

The thing turned its head toward her, its mouth on the same level as her face. ”Mama?” it asked in a child's voice. The visor opened; razor-teeth snapped. Kel jammed the stone between them. She'd picked the right size: the monster couldn't close its mouth. Kel heard metal grind as it kept trying to shut those visor-lips.

She took a deep breath. Grabbing the cables of one arm with her free hand, she dug a toe into a metal crevice and worked her warhammer free. She raised her weapon and smashed the hammer's spiked head onto the monster's metal crown. It dented - the spike was made to pierce armor. Kel raised the hammer and smashed it down in the same place. The monster thrashed, fighting its bonds.

One more blow ought to do it, she thought. Kel wedged one foot in the slot between the monster's outstretched arm and the boulder. Bracing her knee on its shoulder, she extracted the other leg and pulled it up onto the thing's opposite shoulder. She balanced shakily, freeing both hands. Third time for luck, she told herself, and drove the warhammer down into the thing's head with all that remained of her strength.

The spike caught. Yanking it free, she lost her balance. Down she fell, twisting an ankle and landing flat on her very sore back. She yelped and struggled to her feet.

White steam, or something like it, hissed from the hole in the thing's skull. It formed a pale, wavering shape that cried, ”Mama?” in the same voice as the monster. The wind blew the shape apart. The creature collapsed against its ropes.

Kel pressed a hand against her aching side. ”You, and you.” She chose men who had not been forced to wrestle the thing. They looked fresher than those who had. ”Get more ropes on this creature. Wrap it up like a spidren's supper. I don't want it waking to cut our throats.” She looked up at Wolset, who had dragged himself to the top of the boulder. ”You're promoted to corporal,” she croaked. ”For understanding that the head had to be trapped. What have we forgotten?”

He blinked at her, then looked at the men. ”Weapons, positions, eyes front,” he ordered as he slid to the ground. ”We don't want the enemy following this thing to us!” He faced Kel as the men scrambled back to their places. ”That was right, wasn't it?”

Kel nodded.

”Then, sir - lady, may I ask something?”

”Ask,” Kel said, and coughed.

He pointed to the thing as Kel's chosen men coc.o.o.ned it in rope. ”Is that enough kraken for you?”

It was dark when men in army uniforms reached them with torches. Lerant came too. ”We can stand down,” he told Kel. ”General Vanget rolled up our friends, including the other giant. My lord already did for one. Dom's going to be fine.”

They all sighed their relief. Kel hadn't thought the wound deadly, but it was always good to know.

Lerant goggled at their prize. ”What in the name of Torsen Hammersmith is that?”

”Good question,” croaked Kel, whose voice was raw. She must have been shouting, though she hardly remembered it. ”So happy you asked. Give us another, if you like.”

Lerant shook his head. ”You get more like my lord every day. I suppose you'll want combat pay for the dog and birdies next.”

”They earned it,” Wolset told him. The other exhausted men nodded.

Lerant went away, still shaking his head. The squad discovered that the army reliefs had brought soup and bread as well as torches. The soldiers had to be reminded to hand over the food as they stared at the Owns prize.

Kel and her men ate as if they hadn't done so in weeks, feeding Jump and the sparrows as well as themselves. Kel knew she ought to tell the birds to go to sleep, but it hurt too much to talk. She sipped her soup cautiously, letting the warm liquid soothe her throat.

Footsteps made her look up. It was Raoul. His head was bandaged; another bandage on one arm showed a red stain. Kel waved to him weakly.

”My lord bagged himself another giant, we hear,” said Wolset with admiration.

”Those big fellows are all alike,” Raoul said with a weary smile. ”Smash 'em on the toe and they turn into kittens.” He approached the monster, now wrapped in rope, and inspected it thoroughly. Then he turned to Sergeant Balim, who had come with him. ”Send for General Vanget. He should see this, but tell him I also want Numair Salmalin up here, now. I don't care where he is or what it takes, I want Numair here yesterday.” As Balim hurried off, Raoul turned to look at the thing once more. ”Tell me, someone,” he ordered.

Kel looked at Wolset and nodded. He squared his shoulders and tried to stand.

”Oh, stop dancing, stay sat, and tell,” Raoul said impatiently. Wolset obeyed. The others added details as they saw fit. When the report was done, Raoul hunkered down beside the thing and pulled coils of rope aside for a better look. Kel gripped her warhammer; she saw the men reach for their weapons. The monster remained a dead pile of metal and bone, no more alive than the rocks on which they sat.

Finally Raoul looked at Kel. ”So here's one of those machines that Myles spoke of.” Worry filled his eyes. ”What are they cooking, up there in the north?” he asked very quietly. ”How many of these things are they going to send us?”

Kel shook her head. She had wondered the same thing.

eighteen ORDEAL.

The Scanrans were not beaten, or even mildly inconvenienced. Kel was in groups that fought them once more before the end of August and once in early September; other squads added four more clashes to the total. Around mid-September encounters with the northerners dropped. There was a nip in the air. Unless the Scanrans chose to stay, this was the time of year to pack their loot and sail or march home.

One morning near the end of September Kel was working on Third Company's account books when Raoul entered the new command hut rubbing his hands. ”Frost last night,” he commented, pouring a cup of tea. ”The leaves will...”

Kel looked up when he didn't finish his sentence. ”Sir? Leaves?”

Raoul went to the table that served as his desk and checked his almanac. ”Kel, it's the end of September.”

”Yes, sir.” She wasn't sure why this was important, though his tone said it was.

”How long to finish what you're doing?” he asked.

”I'm nearly done,” she said. ”Just one more Page.”

”Good. You need to pack.” Reading her puzzled look correctly, he told her, ”We have to go to Corus - unless you've changed your mind about that s.h.i.+eld and want to join us. I won't say no if you do.”

The words left her breathless. December. Midwinter. The Chamber of the Ordeal. ”Oops,” she said.

”We'll leave in the morning,” he said. He strode out of the hut. A moment later he stuck his head back inside. ”I don't want to get rid of you, mind. I could certainly use you. It's just that the realm needs you more as a knight.” He vanished again.

Kel heard him call loudly for Flyndan and Lerant.

The next morning Lerant came to the stable as Kel saddled Hos.h.i.+. He clapped the girl on the shoulder. ”Good riddance,” he said. ”Don't mess up your Ordeal. If you do and you come back here for a place, I'll have to hurt you.”

Kel grinned. She and Lerant understood each other quite well these days. ”Now that I've shown you how, look after my lord when he gets back,” she retorted, and swung herself into the saddle. Lerant got out of Peachblossom's way as Kel tugged on the gelding's lead rein.

Third Company turned out to see her and Raoul off. They said little, but scratched Jump's good ear, or fed the birds, or slapped Kel on the back. They patted Hos.h.i.+, though not Peachblossom. To Kel's surprise, even Flyndan wished her luck Her Yamani training kept her from crying as they rode through the gate, but it was a closely fought battle. If she leaked a tear or two, Raoul pretended not to notice.

Kel enjoyed the ride south. She and Raoul set their own pace, not having to rush to a crisis or dawdle in a dusty train of n.o.bles. They had chosen a perfect time to go: the realm was dressed in fall gold and the air was heady.

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