Brothers of the Snake Page 20

  For a long thirty seconds, Priad felt weak and nauseous, deafened by the blood thumping in his ears.

  Then the burning discomfort eased. The pain passed away. The only signs of the injury that remained were the scab-tissue on his leg and a swelling of the Betcher's glands in his hard palate. Rather than neutralising the deadly toxin, his sophisticated body systems had captured it and taken it for storage to the glands of his mouth.

  A good omen. Now, for a time, this Iron Snake brother could bite like his namesake. As a rule, the Chapter did not actively practise use of the glands, deeming it unmanly and crude. But when accident made it possible, it was considered a benediction from the God-Emperor. To be envenomed by snake bite was lucky, a singular omen craved by every member of the phratry.

  Priad slowly turned his gaze back to the clearing ahead. The noises were closer now. He could not see or sense either Andromak or Pindor, even though he knew they were there. Their skill was as good as ever.

  The petitioners came into view. There were eight of them, all youths of seventeen or eighteen years, in the final months of implantation and induction. This wasn't their first field test, but it was their first nine dayer in the wilds with actual battle-brothers. They were young, but full-grown: massive figures whose skeletal and muscular structures had been amplified to post-human size by the long rigours of their genetic enhancement. In greaves and cuirass-plates, armed with blunt lances and shields, they looked like full members of the phratry, except that their chitons were novice white instead of red.

  They moved well, Priad noted, but their noise discipline was imperfect. Two of them – Lartes and Temis – carried their shields too low, leaving their throats exposed. Aristar held his lance badly, the grip too far back on the haft for a balanced pivot or strike. But they were wary, observant. They came forward.

  Priad had set the day's drill three hours earlier. He called it the cheese run, for that's what it had been called when he'd been a petitioner, dodging through these glades on exercise thirteen years earlier, under the watchful tuition of Veii squad. He'd taken a small curd of goat's cheese, the highlight of the day's meagre camp-feast, wrapped it in muslin, and handed it to Klepiades, the leader of the petitioners. The petitioners, all twenty-five of them, had been assembled at Starchus Rock at the peak of the headland. The task was to get the curd of cheese safely to the anvil stone, eight kilometres away in the thinning jungle at the tip of the Isthmus. If the petitioners succeeded, by any means, they would win the task. The brothers of Damocles squad vanished into the forest, and lurked there to stalk the petitioners and prevent them from accomplishing the drill.

  The eight youths edged closer. Priad began to count to himself. Five steps, four, three, two...

  On one, he came out of hiding. So did Andromak and Pindor, who had been making the same mental count in perfect unison. The three battle-brothers of Damocles burst out of cover, raising the ululating yell of attack, lances raised.

  One of the petitioners squealed aloud in dismay. Another turned to run and tripped over.

  Priad and his brothers fell upon the rest.

  Priad thrust his lance and cracked a combat shield in half, the blow landing so heavily, the petitioner behind the shield dropped on his arse, winded. Rotating, Priad crunched his shield boss into the guard of another, and took the boy's legs out from under him with the flat of his lance. Andromak smashed the side of his blunt lance-tip across Aristar's ear, pulping it, knocking the boy over. Aristar hadn't been able to pivot his own lance up in time.

  Pindor broke a lance shaft with his shield edge. The crack of wood was as loud as a lasgun discharge in the enclosed glade. His lance-tip stabbed in and winded Temis, doubling him up, gasping and gagging. Then Pindor, oldest of them all but as fast as a darting fish, swung his lance about and jabbed again, smacking another of the petitioners between the eyes. Nasal bone broke. Blood spluttered out of the petitioner's nostrils and hung in long, sticky ropes as the boy went down, clutching his face.

  A lance-tip came at Priad, and he knocked it aside, spinning on his left foot to swipe with his shield, slamming a boy clear across the glade. Priad turned, saw the youth who had fallen as he tried to flee. He was still trying to get up.

  Priad placed the tip of his lance on the youth's shoulder. Yield,' he said.

  'I yield, sir!' the youth yelped.

  Priad nodded, then struck his blunted lance tip across the youth's scalp to reinforce the lesson.

  He looked around. All eight of the petitioners were writhing on the ground, broken and hurt. Andromak shouldered his lance and kicked Lartes in the rump. 'Keep your shield up next time.’ he scolded.

  Priad found Klepiades, the leader of the petitioners, the youth whose nose had been broken by Pindor's quick jab. He dragged the young man to his feet. Despite his painful injury, Klepiades was laughing. It was a snotty, snorting sound.

  'Something funny?' Priad asked.

  'Yes, brother-sergeant,' Klepiades choked, spitting blood.

  With a terrific howling roar, the rest of the petitioner company came charging out of the undergrowth around them, shield-rims to their eyes, lances back over their shoulders for thrusting. They rushed the three seniors of Damocles together.

  Priad took three glancing blows from lance tips before he got his shield up to guard. He smiled as he counter-struck. He was almost impressed. Klepiades, who had been chosen as leader because of his quick, cocky manner, had almost outsmarted the veterans. He'd set a trap, with himself and his party as bait. He had thought to give Priad and his seniors a stiff beating, taking them by surprise.

  Almost, that was the key word. No petitioner, no matter how smart, got the better of a brother-sergeant, especially not a brother-sergeant as gifted as Priad, whose innate grasp of tactics had elevated him through the ranks faster than most. Priad seldom considered how he had come to take Raphon's place on Rosetta after only three years in the squad. He hadn't ever questioned it. He did what was expected and asked of him, and had never really appreciated the trust and admiration his superiors had shown him. In truth, all the phratry seniors, from Great Seydon himself on down, had seen in Priad enormous promise from the very start. The fact that Priad himself was oblivious to his own talents was a key part of his worth. He had no arrogance, no vice of ambition. He was the very model of the selfless Astartes.

  And he could think two or three moves ahead of just about anyone.

  As the petitioners came in, cracking lance-tips and shields, trading blows, and relishing the opportunity to thrash their drill masters with impunity, Priad gave out a yell.

  The petitioner he was engaging stumbled back in alarm at the cry and the smile on Priad's mouth. Priad swung his lance and felled the boy with a skull-crack.

  Damocles appeared. Rushing from cover, Kules and Natus, Scyllon, Xander and Dyognes. They landed blow after blow, free hand, on the backs and arms of the petitioners, forcing them down into the yield position. Those that fought back got their fingers broken, their noses too, their shields and their shoulder blades. Praid watched Klepiades's face fall in dismay.

  'Your trap,' Priad said, 'out-trapped.'

  'I submit, sir,' Klepiades said, falling to one knee. 'The petitioners submit. I bow to the might of Damocles.'

  I should think so!' Xander yelled, running past, thwacking a fleeing petitioner across the buttocks with his lance.

  'Stand down!' Priad shouted over the cries of pain and the sound of blows. 'Let them be! They did well, bless them. Spare your fury!'

  Laughing and joking, the brothers of Damocles shouldered their lances and grouped around the cowering petitioners.

  'Nice try,' Scyllon said.

  'Bold try,' Andromak agreed. 'Setting a trap. Gutsy. I like gutsy'

  'Still got their arses whipped, mind,' Kules said. The brothers laughed again.

  'Payment where due.’ said Pindor.

  'That's how you learn the lesson.’ Natus added.

  'And have you learned, boys?' Xander called aloud
. The petitioners, most of them down and in pain, moaned an assent.

  'Have youV

  Priad turned. Khiron and Aekon emerged from the undergrowth.

  'Meaning what?' Priad asked his Apothecary.

  'Have you learned from these boys, brother-sergeant?' Khiron said.

  'Have they got anything to teach us?' Priad asked. 'By the way, where were you two?'

  Aekon shrugged, a little furtive. 'The lad and I swung west, presuming they might come along the shoreline.’ Khiron said. 'We were wrong. We got here as quickly as we could.’

  Priad nodded, not really interested. What did you mean, old man?' Priad had come to call Khiron 'old man', fully aware that Khiron despised the label.

  'I mean, brother-sergeant... have you counted heads?'

  Priad frowned, and did a head count. Twenty-four petitioners.

  'Little bastards!' he hissed.

  'Who's missing?' Pindor asked, annoyed.

  'The lanky one.’ said Xander. 'What's his name...?'

  'Pugnus.’ said Dyognes.

  'That's the bastard!'

  Priad stared at Klepiades. 'Where's Pugnus, boy?'

  'Pugnus, sir?' Klepiades asked, as innocently as a youth with a shattered nose could. 'Do you mean our Brother Pugnus, also called flight-foot, the fastest runner in the petition class?'

  Praid nodded. 'You know who I mean, you rat-pellet.'

  'Well, sir, I believe he went running. You out-trapped our trap, but even that was just a diversion. We decided to keep you occupied. Right now, Pugnus is sprinting towards the anvil stone.'

  'Little bastards!' Scyllon exclaimed. 'They're going to win this bloody drill! That's never been done!'

  Yes, it has.’ said Priad, quietly

  'Damocles will be the laughing stock of the Chapter House for this!' Rules cried.

  'Letting petitioners pull a fast one!' Andromak cursed. 'Throne alive, we'll never live this one down!'

  'Relax.’ said Priad.

  'But they've bested us, on a cheese run!' Natus protested. 'That's never been done!'

  'I think you'll find it has, brother.’ Khiron said.

  'I say we beat them some more!' Xander said, hefting up his lance. Many of the petitioners quailed back. 'A few more broken bones will take the sting out of this shame for Damo-'

  Wait, wait.’ Pindor interrupted. He looked at Khiron. 'What were you saying, Brother-Apothecary?'

  Khiron grinned. The cheese run. It's been done. Once. Isn't that right, brother-sergeant? I believe Veii squad still nurse that hurt.’

  'They do.’ admitted Priad.

  You did it?' asked Kules.

  'I did. On my third nine dayer. Second proudest moment of my life.’

  'What was the first?' asked Andromak, his eyes wide.

  Take a guess.’ Priad said. 'Damocles! Up and ready! You petitioners too, no lagging! Double time! We're going to race this flight-foot to the stone! Now!'

  Out of breath, burned by the sun, the battered petitioners trailing behind, Damocles reached the anvil stone in the wiry thickets at the end of the Isthmus. There was no sign of petitioner Pugnus. Priad had half expected to see a muslin-wrap of goat's cheese sitting on top of the stone.

  Hardbills whooped in the thickets. Out beyond the point, where the ocean broke against the trailing rock in white ripples, scale-birds circled and called. The air was cool and fresh, and they could smell the sea.

  'No sign of him.’ Pindor reported.

  Priad waved the hobbling, panting petitioners up close, and grouped them around the stone.

  'Five minutes' rest.’ he ordered. Khiron went to treat wounds and bind cuts. He took his beak-nose pliers from his pouch to tug lance splinters from their flesh.

  Klepiades sat down beside the stone, put his hand against it, and began to laugh again.

  What's funny now?' Priad asked, getting tired of the youth's insouciant manner.

  We win.’ Klepiades said.

  'How do you figure that?'

  'We brought the cheese to the anvil stone. By any means, that was your instruction. You brought me here.’

  'And?'

  'I ate the cheese this morning.’

  Priad blinked. You ate the...' He started laughing himself, breaking out in great guffaws. One by one, the men of Damocles joined in. They started clapping their hands against their bare thighs in the mark of recognition.

  Well played.’ Priad said.

  'Can't we at least beat them again?' Xander asked.

  'No, brother. Full rations. And wine. They deserve this win.’

  Priad went and stood with Khiron. 'Smart boys.’

  Yes. I didn't think they had it in them. My mistake. I was telling Aekon I didn't think they had guts, but they've got brains instead.

  Maybe that's the future, my friend. An end to brawn and the rise of brains.'

  'Let's hope not, old man,' Priad said. 'Brawn is all I have.'

  'You sell yourself short.’

  Priad shrugged. 'A good day. And the petitioners will have the bruises to prove it.'

  'I'd say so.'

  'I just wonder...'

  'What?' asked Khiron.

  'Where's Pugnus?'

  They walked back into the group around the stone. Most of the youths were passing the wine skin and easing their aches and pains. Some lay down to doze in the sun.

  Where's Pugnus?' Priad asked Klepiades.

  'Surely I don't know, sir,' the youth said, his voice muffled by his badly swollen nose.

  'You told him to run here?'

  'No, sir. I just told him to run. As far away as he could. Run and hide.’

  'Or go swimming.’ one of the other petitioners muttered with a smirk.

  'What was that?' Priad snapped.

  'Nothing, sir.’

  'Say it again. What's your name?'

  'Tokrades, sir.’

  'Say it again, Tokrades.’

  'I... I said Pugnus was a good swimmer, sir. A good runner and a good swimmer. That's all I said.’

  Priad turned away. 'He wouldn't be fool enough...' he began.

  What?' asked Khiron.

  'The trench.’ Priad murmured.

  Khiron saw Aekon stiffen. 'No one would be fool enough to try a stunt like that.’ Khiron said firmly. 'Not on a nine dayer under your command.’

  'Pugnus is ambitious, anxious to prove himself. When we looked over the lists, you said that much yourself. Him and Klepiades. Hot-heads and triers both. Klepiades has proved himself today. Pugnus may wish to do the same.’

  'He wouldn't be that stupid.’ Aekon said.

  A sharp chime sounded. It came from all of them, every member of Damocles, every petitioner. The chime came from the vox-relays in their belt pouches.

  Khiron took out his relay and read the display. 'Immediate regroup. The exercise is cancelled. We are summoned back to the Chapter House. Shall I assemble the-'

  'Not yet.’ said Priad. 'We all go back, or none at all.’

  III

  The beach was empty. Priad grouped the petitioners under the tree line, with Kules and Andromak to watch over them. The rest of Damocles fanned out, covering the length of the shore.

  Priad read the sand: the scuff-marks and the prints. 'Someone's been here.’ he said. 'Today.’

  Yes.’ said Aekon solemnly. He was about to speak further when he saw Khiron make a surreptitious throat-cut gesture.

  'Priad!' Scyllon's voice rang out down the beach. He was standing at the edge of the trees, holding something up. A leather cuirass and a white chiton.

  'Oh Throne damn it!' Priad snapped. He stuck his lance in the sand and began to strip off his training armour. The vox-chimes sounded again, insistent.

  'Brother-sergeant.’ Khiron began.

  'It will wait.’ Priad growled, unthreading his sandals.

  'Just so. I am, however, obliged to remind you of our duty.’

  'Duty?' Priad made a hollow laugh.

  Khiron put his hand on Priad's arm. 'Let me go.’r />
  'No.’

  'Have you dived the trench, Priad?'

  Priad glared at the Apothecary. 'Of course not. It's forbidden, and I'm no glory hound. But I'm not diving the trench, am I? I'm going after a bloody fool.’

  With respect, brother, the dive is difficult. For safety and sense, I'd recommend you let someone go who's done it before.’

  Priad dragged his red chiton up over his head. And is there any such a fool in my squad? I trust not! Tell me now, for shame!'

  There was a pause. Aekon was about to step forward when Kules raised his hand. Then Natus raised his too. A moment later, Andromak's hand went up, Pindor's, Scyllon's and Xander's. Hesitating, Dyognes lifted his palm.

  Aekon put his hand up. He blinked when he saw that Khiron's hand was also in the air.

  'All of you?' Priad murmured. 'Am I the only one not seized by this madness? I should cast the lot of you out of Damocles and start again!'

  'Priad...' Khiron said.

  'I've seen enough! Glory, how the hell do you follow me when you're all so much braver than me?' Priad demanded. His sarcasm was acid. All of Damocles winced at the disappointment in his voice. He turned to face the water.

  'Let me go.’ Khiron called.

  'No! It seems I've got something to prove, Brother-Apothecary, if I'm going to keep up with the valorous fools in my command!'

  Priad ran forward, the huge muscles in his bare back bunching as his arms came up in a spear-tip above his bowing head. He plunged into the waves, and ploughed out into the open water with powerful, windmill strokes. They watched as he paused, raised his head to fill his lungs, and vanished.

  'Emperor help us, he's furious.’ Xander said bleakly.

  'We'll not hear the end of this soon.’ said Kules.

  'He hates us.’ Aekon muttered. He blinked and corrected himself. 'I mean-'

  'No, son.’ said Khiron. 'You may be right.’

  'How long?' Khiron asked.

  'Twenty-two.’ said Pindor. Xander nodded, agreeing with the count.

  'I see h-' Andromak began to call, then shook his head. 'No, just a scale-bird.’