He had his own secret reasons to fear
them. Why was the wizard accompanying them? Mages usually did not
go with patrols. They were too busy studying the stars, brewing
spells and potions, and scaring the hell out of lesser mortals
around camp.
“Move out!”
shouted Lieutenant Sardec.
Chapter Two
The lead mahout
blew his signal horn. The drivers gave their strange hissing call
and struck their beasts on the back of the neck with their
pike-length staves. With a stomach-sickening lurch the bridgeback
rose and Rik found himself twice the height of a man above the
ground. He felt the usual moment of fear. Sometimes straps snapped
or buckles on howdahs gave way and they tumbled to earth, leaving
their contents to be trampled under the claws of the wyrms. Another
prod, another hiss and the beasts strode towards the distant
hills.
Rik had heard a
great deal about the sense of power being astride a bridgeback
gave. It was nonsense. He felt very much at the mercy of the twenty
ton creature carrying him. He had no control over the thing
whatsoever, a fact brought home to him with every uncomfortable
step. He felt like a sailor on the deck of a ship in a choppy
sea.
Occasionally
the wyrm turned its long, long neck to look at the occupants of the
howdah and he felt as if he was being weighed up as a snack. He
could almost feel the hunger that burned like fire in the
creature’s belly.
He was
embarrassed by the sense of relief he felt as it gave its attention
back to the leaves of passing trees. Occasionally the huge tail
whipped upward and long snakes of turd emerged. They turned into
pungent pancakes as they smacked the ground. There was a lot of
farting as well, which the Barbarian claimed was probably how
alchemists produced the fatal gas they captured in their glass
grenades. He should know, Rik thought, since he was a master
producer of flatulence himself.
As they marched
he thought about how many people were misled by the great parades
they saw in Place of Sorrow, Tower of Joy and other cities of the
Realm. Like so many others he had always thought of wyrms as moving
in lock-step like Guards on parade, disciplined as elite soldiers.
He now knew that most of the time, those wyrms were controlled by
Terrarch sorcerers using leashes, sorcerous adjuncts that allowed
their wearer to dominate the beast by force of will.
When under the
direction of a mere mahout, a bridgeback’s progress was more like a
meandering stroll. They left the track to seek choice morsels from
the branches of nearby trees and returned to it only in response to
a great deal of prodding, hissing and chanting by their
drivers.
Still, for all
the maddeningly erratic nature of their progress, they moved very
swiftly. The wyrms' long stride ate the ground quicker than guards
marching at double step. The foothills of the mountains came closer
with alarming speed.
“This is the
life,” said Weasel, fumbling in his pocket for a stick of biltong.
The Lieutenant was far from their howdah, leading from the front as
he always liked to do. With him were the wizard and Vosh. Rik
shared the howdah with the Barbarian, Leon, Weasel and several
others including the Sergeant. “No marching. No climbing any bloody
hills. Just a nice, relaxing excursion into the countryside.”
“You call these
hills?” said the Barbarian. “In the Northlands we would call them
molehills, just as we would call those things you say are mountains
hillocks.”
“Perhaps you
would care to get down from the back of the beast and jog along
beside us up them, as you were wont to do as a youth back in your
rugged homeland?” said Leon in deliberate mockery of the
Barbarian’s manner. The pipe had moved to the far left corner of
his mouth and bobbed up and down cynically at every word.
“They are not
steep enough to give me any exercise.”
“You’ll be
getting exercise soon enough when we get where we are going,” said
the Sergeant. They all looked at him, suspecting that, as he
usually did, he had a better idea of what they were about than the
rest of them.
“What do you
know, Sergeant?” asked Weasel. “Don’t keep us in the dark.
1 comment