The Far Wild

31 - A Fair Share Of Hard Days

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Theo

This wasn’t cooking smoke. It was too heavy, laced with that pungent, acrid bite of ash and a hint of blood. I’d smelled it all too often in the border skirmishes. But the smoke was only the beginning of our problems.

“Hold him,” I said, and eased the bulk of the sergeant’s weight on to Gabar. The outpost was just ahead of us now and, like any good outpost, it had a formidable palisade around it.

Twice as tall as a man and made of de-branched tree trunks, it began right where the island rose from the water and ran around its circumference. The stakewall wasn’t the only thing that had caught my attention, though. What lay beyond it was just as morbid a sight.

There were gaps thick enough that I could peer between them and I did just that, then cursed.

Inside the perimeter, the outpost had been leveled. And not recently. Fires still smoldered in some areas but, for the most part, the place was a pile of ash and scorched wood, and had been for at least a couple of days.

What had once been a collection of tents was now burned scraps of fabric. Where a lookout tower had once stood, there were but four support beams, seared along their length.

Every few paces, another corpse became visible. Most were burned black, their cause of death obvious. For others, it was less so. They lay face down in the ash, soot staining their skin and making it impossible to see any wounds from so far away.

“Something’s going on out here,” Elpida said, her voice surprisingly calm. “Two skyships downed and our outpost destroyed.” She shook her head. “This is going beyond espionage. This is targeted, planned. This shit’s going to touch off a war.”

“Damn this!” Gabar cursed, then pounded a fist against the stakewall. Some of the looser wood rattled with the impact. “Our way out’s turned into a glorified fire pit.”

“‘Damn this’ is right,” I said under my breath. What were we supposed to do now? Walk out? We had nowhere near enough provisions for that, the sergeant was in no condition to go any farther—and, even if we did attempt such a journey, we’d all likely be picked off by predators before... wait. I frowned, then pressed my eye harder against the palisade. I tilted my head for a better view. Was that... ?

“The skyship’s still here! Over to the left!” I near-shouted as my eyes fell across it. Despite the destruction inside the outpost, the vigilance-class vessel appeared intact. A few strides of the hull were blackened from fire, but there was no obvious damage beyond that.

“The Welkin,” Maritza said, giving out a cheer. “Atta girl! She’s seen her fair share of hard days out here, but she’s still a sight to set a heart soaring!”

Demetrias pushed up against the stakewall, wiggling to get a better look. “Engines appear in good repair. Hull, too. She might just fly.”

“Assuming we can get inside,” Gabar said. Frowning, he walked a few paces to the side until he came to a gate. He gave the boards there a pull. They shook slightly but didn’t open. A wooden plank was stretched across the inside of the gate. Locked from inside, then.

“We can break this down with some time,” Gabar said, shaking it again. “Though, actually... ” He peered through the crack below the gate’s hinge. “Well, no kidding. The other gate is open. Just on the other side of—”

“Quiet!” Elpida rushed over to him.

Gabar frowned, then opened his mouth.

Elpida clapped a hand over it.

“Shhhh,” she hissed, then tapped her ear.

Listen? I felt myself frown. Listen for what?

I looked to Oz. The guide had gone still, was poised with one ear to the palisade and a hand in the air. His palm was open and facing Elpida, with two fingers splayed.

Still listening, he closed his hand, then opened it again, with three fingers out this time. Then four. Then again, with five.

He was counting. But what?

Oz raised his other hand, adding more fingers.

Seven. Eight.

Nine. He had both hands up now and all but one of his fingers splayed.

Nine, then. But nine what?

I pressed closer to the stakewall, holding my breath to better listen.

There was... something. The wind, I thought at first. But no. This was deeper. Coarser. Sort of similar to a horse’s snort, but deeper still and somehow, airier, with a slight echo.

“What is that?” I mouthed to Oz.

He mouthed something back but I couldn’t make sense of it.

Where the herd?

There’s the bird?

And then, another sound. Low, deep. It lasted for no more than a second, but rose in pitch from a low rumble to almost a frog’s croak. There was a growl to it, though. A growl that seemed to reverberate from deep down in something’s chest.

Almost sounded like a gator. I spun around, reaching for my sword and checking the waterline.

Nothing.

And the sound was coming from inside the outpost, anyway.

“What is that?” I mouthed to Oz again.

The guide mouthed back, exaggerating the movements.

They’re... third?

I shook my head. Never had been good at reading lips.

From the side, Suni gave an exasperated sigh and finally spoke for Oz. Two words, hissed low and sharp.

“Terror bird.”

Oh.

I swallowed hard.

Oh no.