we do.”
Goblin looked, too. He shook his head to lessen the beer buzz. “We’ll have to
think about that.”
“What are you doing, One-Eye?” I was beside him now.
One-Eye indicated the spear proudly. “Little something I’ve been working on in
my spare time.”
“It’s ugly enough.” Nice to know he could do something useful without being
told.
He had begun with a black wooden pole and had worked it for a lot of hours. It
was covered with incredibly ugly miniature scenes along with writing in an
unfamiliar alphabet. Its head was as black as its shaft, darkened iron finely
traced with silver runes. There was some color on the shaft, too, although so
fine as to be almost invisible. “Very nice.”
“Nice? Sigh. You heathen.” He pointed. Loftus looked. So did I.
Shadowspinner’s party, sadly depleted, surrounded by swarms of pink sparkles and
mocking crows, was getting close.
One-Eye snickered. “This here is my Shadowmaster blaster, bastar’!” He howled.
He must have put away a lot of that beer. “Nothing he couldn’t stop on a lazy
afternoon, but this ain’t no lazy afternoon, is it? Loftus shoots, this stick
won’t be in the air five seconds. That’s all the time he’ll have to figure out
what’s coming and what to do to unravel the spells that are there to keep him
from turning it. And look how busy that asshole is already. Loftus, my man, get
ready to carve you a big victory notch on this thing.”
As anybody with any sense does, Loftus ignored One-Eye. He laid his weapon with
an artist’s care.
One-Eye babbled, “Most of the spells are designed to penetrate his personal
protection, counting on him not having time to do anything actively. Because I
wanted to concentrate on piercing one point in a passive . . . ”
I shut him out. “Goblin. Any chance this will work? The runt’s not exactly a
heavyweight.”
“It’s workable, tactically. If he really worked that hard on it. Say One-Eye is
an order of magnitude weaker than Shadowspinner. That really only means that it
takes him ten times as long to get the same work done.”
“An order of magnitude?” So that was One-Eye’s problem.
“More like two orders really, probably.”
He lost me. And I didn’t have time to wring an explanation out of him.
Loftus was satisfied he was leading his target perfectly, he had the range,
whatever. “Time,” he said.
Black Company GS 6 - Black Seasons
28
“Loose,” I suggested. The ballista offered its distinctive thump. Silence spread
along the wall. The black shaft darted across the night. The occasional spark
floated behind it. One-Eye said five seconds of flight. The truth was more like
four but they took forever.
There was ample firelight to illuminate the Shadowmaster. Shortly he would
disappear behind one of the enfilading towers. He stared back at the hills as he
rode. Those bizarre riders out there were on the plain now, daring someone,
anyone, to answer their challenge.
I gasped.
Widowmaker carried the Lance. The standard itself was not apparent but that was
the lance on which it had ridden from the day the Black Company left Khatovar.
Every single Annalist has kept close track although the reason for doing so has
been forgotten. I focused on Shadowspinner in time to see One-Eye’s treasure
arrive.
Later Goblin told me Spinner sensed the threat as the missile hit the peak of
its arc. Whatever he did then, it was the right thing. Or he was lucky. Or a
higher power decreed that this was not his night to die.
The spear changed course by scant inches. Instead of striking Shadowspinner it
hit his mount’s shoulder. And ripped through the beast as though it was no more
substantial than air. The wound glowed red, flickered. The red spread.
Shadowspinner bellowed in rage as the animal threw him. He fell in a heap, lay
there twitching long enough for One-Eye to start nagging Loftus about hitting
him with a
Goblin looked, too. He shook his head to lessen the beer buzz. “We’ll have to
think about that.”
“What are you doing, One-Eye?” I was beside him now.
One-Eye indicated the spear proudly. “Little something I’ve been working on in
my spare time.”
“It’s ugly enough.” Nice to know he could do something useful without being
told.
He had begun with a black wooden pole and had worked it for a lot of hours. It
was covered with incredibly ugly miniature scenes along with writing in an
unfamiliar alphabet. Its head was as black as its shaft, darkened iron finely
traced with silver runes. There was some color on the shaft, too, although so
fine as to be almost invisible. “Very nice.”
“Nice? Sigh. You heathen.” He pointed. Loftus looked. So did I.
Shadowspinner’s party, sadly depleted, surrounded by swarms of pink sparkles and
mocking crows, was getting close.
One-Eye snickered. “This here is my Shadowmaster blaster, bastar’!” He howled.
He must have put away a lot of that beer. “Nothing he couldn’t stop on a lazy
afternoon, but this ain’t no lazy afternoon, is it? Loftus shoots, this stick
won’t be in the air five seconds. That’s all the time he’ll have to figure out
what’s coming and what to do to unravel the spells that are there to keep him
from turning it. And look how busy that asshole is already. Loftus, my man, get
ready to carve you a big victory notch on this thing.”
As anybody with any sense does, Loftus ignored One-Eye. He laid his weapon with
an artist’s care.
One-Eye babbled, “Most of the spells are designed to penetrate his personal
protection, counting on him not having time to do anything actively. Because I
wanted to concentrate on piercing one point in a passive . . . ”
I shut him out. “Goblin. Any chance this will work? The runt’s not exactly a
heavyweight.”
“It’s workable, tactically. If he really worked that hard on it. Say One-Eye is
an order of magnitude weaker than Shadowspinner. That really only means that it
takes him ten times as long to get the same work done.”
“An order of magnitude?” So that was One-Eye’s problem.
“More like two orders really, probably.”
He lost me. And I didn’t have time to wring an explanation out of him.
Loftus was satisfied he was leading his target perfectly, he had the range,
whatever. “Time,” he said.
Black Company GS 6 - Black Seasons
28
“Loose,” I suggested. The ballista offered its distinctive thump. Silence spread
along the wall. The black shaft darted across the night. The occasional spark
floated behind it. One-Eye said five seconds of flight. The truth was more like
four but they took forever.
There was ample firelight to illuminate the Shadowmaster. Shortly he would
disappear behind one of the enfilading towers. He stared back at the hills as he
rode. Those bizarre riders out there were on the plain now, daring someone,
anyone, to answer their challenge.
I gasped.
Widowmaker carried the Lance. The standard itself was not apparent but that was
the lance on which it had ridden from the day the Black Company left Khatovar.
Every single Annalist has kept close track although the reason for doing so has
been forgotten. I focused on Shadowspinner in time to see One-Eye’s treasure
arrive.
Later Goblin told me Spinner sensed the threat as the missile hit the peak of
its arc. Whatever he did then, it was the right thing. Or he was lucky. Or a
higher power decreed that this was not his night to die.
The spear changed course by scant inches. Instead of striking Shadowspinner it
hit his mount’s shoulder. And ripped through the beast as though it was no more
substantial than air. The wound glowed red, flickered. The red spread.
Shadowspinner bellowed in rage as the animal threw him. He fell in a heap, lay
there twitching long enough for One-Eye to start nagging Loftus about hitting
him with a
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