The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) Read online

  “Yeah,” Rory grumbled low enough that Maddy couldn’t hear from the other side of their fire, “I just wish they wouldn’t make so much racket. Probably scaring all the animals away.”

  There was another rising whine, the upper reaches of it aching at the top of Ian’s ears. He felt similar sentiments running around their company, Kieran in particular shifting angrily.

  “—whine like her,” Ian caught Kieran whispering.

  “Maddy,” Lord Wester looked up at his daughter, “would you please shut them up?”

  “But father—” Maddy said, hurriedly swallowing, “I’m not done—”

  “Just do it.”

  “Yes, father,” Maddy said, sounding somewhat chastened. But she quickly finished her last spoonful, plucked a piece of meat in her mouth, and skipped off to her wyverns.

  Ian watched her go and waited a few uneventful minutes. The dinner conversation was in something of a lull after the long travel day, and the talk was stubbornly on their prospects for tomorrow’s hunting. As much as Ian always liked that, it didn’t seem like there was anything new to be said.

  So, finishing his own meal, he stood.

  “Want to go see them?” Ian asked Rory, looking off at the clump of tassi trees where the peals had stopped.

  “I’m still eating,” Rory protested.

  “That’s fine,” Ian said, starting off casually in that direction. It would have been much better if he had someone to go along with him. He didn’t want people to get the impression he was hanging around near Maddy, but the wyverns were a tantalizing reason to risk it.

  The wyverns were like the brisa, only Ian’s interest in the pack animals had worn out fast as they were slow and plodding. But these were things that could fly, and fight, and even fly with people riding them, and fight while people were riding them—well, actually Ian didn’t know about that. But the point was, they easily beat out the brisa in terms of appeal.

  Kicking around at the grass and dirt and meandering a lopsided trajectory toward that particular clump of trees, Ian discovered he didn’t have a plan. He just wanted to see them.

  Coming around the corner, he could hear her talking to them. At first, it was too indistinct to tell, and the responding snoffling sounds muddled over her voice. But gradually, he deduced that she was talking about the food from supper, and that she must have given some of it to them.

  “Like that, don’t you?” Maddy was turned toward one of them, petting its muzzle. “Well you should, it’s really good meat. Better than the stuff back at our stables, isn’t it?”

  Ian stopped, his hands in his pockets and his consciousness well aware of how visible he was to the margrave’s daughter if she should happen to turn his way. She was beside the lighter of the two wyverns. The other was a darker, more mottled complexion and was a little ways off. Ian had of course caught plenty of glimpses of them since they had joined their caravan. But his assignments hadn’t really been near them, and he hadn’t previously had any reason to stare. Not that he did now either, but he couldn’t help it.

  They were lizard-like creatures of some considerable length—fifteen feet? They had tails almost as long again as the rest of their bodies and were currently resting on all fours. Ian knew though, from what little he had seen that they were more apt to stand on their hind legs, which looked much bigger and stronger than their forearms. Their heads were somewhat wide at the top with long snouts, and their wings were black and furled tightly against their backs.

  Eyeing the lighter wyvern’s foreclaws that spasmodically lengthened and retracted as Maddy ran her hand over its snout, Ian frowned and looked back toward camp. No one was looking his way, but he doubted that it hadn’t already happened or would soon. He looked back at them. He didn’t want to talk, at all, but he really wanted to talk about the wyverns.

  “It’s been awfully hot today again, hasn’t it?” Maddy said to the one she was petting. “We had better stretch out your wings.” She looked over at the darker one. “Hup hup, Cuppy. We’d better stretch your wings, too.”

  The darker one, who presumably went by Cuppy, merely made the effort of turning its head over to look at her for a moment before turning back.

  Ian found himself smiling.

  “Oh, come on now, lazy bones,” Maddy protested, “hup hup, now. Hup hup!”

  She started toward the darker wyvern, who noted this and begrudgingly yanked itself to its feet.

  Ian jerked a little himself, backing away as Maddy roused the darker wyvern to a more reactive state. When he was back far enough and the wyvern was making sufficient noise, Ian turned and briskly walked away, all the while berating himself.

  That’s a cowardly thing to do, he thought.

  What did he care what other people thought?

  * * * *

  Ian ran in near the four horn, just enough for it to see him and turn his way before Ian leaped back. For a moment, even he thought the animal was going to pursue him, but it stopped again as the shouts from the other rangers made it look back again.

  “Hold your ground, private!” the captain shouted from across the way. “Unless you really would rather die.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ian said, not taking his eyes off the tiny, beady sort that the four horn had. It was somewhat insulting, as Ian was sure he had just kept it from charging at the captain and Corporal Hanley. But there had been a scared note in the captain’s voice, so Ian just decided to take it.

  “Turn him—turn him—” Captain Marsden was shouting.

  “We’re trying,” Ian said, with much gritting of teeth as he leaned in closer to it.

  Rory was to his left and a little behind him, his captain and corporal on the other end of their sloppy semicircle. In the middle, the four horn bull was angry, confused and very angry. The margrave was roughly in the center of their circle and well back and elevated on the hill where they had started, trying to line up a third shot. The first shot might have downed it, but it had moved at the last moment, and the second shot had been as likely to fail as this third one, as the tough, nearly impenetrable hide that coated the four horn’s body was further coated by large armor plates that were impenetrable for all their company’s present purposes. There were only a few vulnerable places to hit it with anything smaller than a field cannon, and really only one that was guaranteed to drop it. Right under its jaw, under the fleshy folds. Not at all unlike Rory’s well-revered shot on Ian’s long buffalo, but the trick was that they were supposed to let the margrave have it.

  Captain Marsden let out a cry and jumped forward a bit, shooting his rifle at the four horn’s feet. That was enough to jar the animal loose of its indecision. Grunting, it swung its well-armed front after the captain. Fortunately, even as the rest of them tried to deter that, the captain had more than enough room to jump out of the way. The four horn was enormous and could build up a fair bit of speed, but it wasn’t especially built for sharp turns. It did its best, which ended up consisting of it plowing between Captain Marsden and Corporal Hanley.

  The margrave let off a shot as it passed. Ian didn’t see how it landed, but it was a decent idea. It was dubious whether a decent hit behind its shoulders would drop it, but it was the second best place.

  More bellows came as the four horn made a gradual loop around where the three other four horns were standing some distance away. Their hunting party wasn’t really concerned about them, only the largest bull mattered.

  “Well,” Ian said, taking his spare cartridge from the side of his rifle, the others also reloading as they watched the four horn, “it could be worse.”

  “It could be better,” Rory muttered, coming up behind him.

  “Captain?” Ian called over to his slightly shaken-looking superior.

  “My Lord,” Captain Marsden said toward the margrave, without taking his eyes off the four horn.

  “Good work, captain,” the margrave said, softly lowering himself to one knee.

  Captain Marsden took his eyes away from the four ho
rn to look and see that the margrave wasn’t.

  They all held steady, their eyes back on the four horn as it stayed by its fellows, bellowing and looking back at them. It had its shoulders raised up and—

  the air rang out with the margrave’s report. The thick, wide-open bay shot slashed out into the four horn’s chest, the startled pain quickly issuing back from the animal. It staggered to the right, kicking its head up and losing its footing. All but one of the other four horns scattered away, the closest female mewling close to it as the bull slowly collapsed in stages, still trying to bellow.

  “Incredible shot,” Ian heard the captain say.

  Ian watched the four horn a moment longer before he looked back at the margrave, who was slowly rising back to his feet, looking as though he was momentarily satisfied of some burden.

  “That finishes it nicely,” Ian let out a breath, watching the other four horns.

  “Men,” Captain Marsden said to them, “go scare off the rest of the beasts. And do not shoot at any more; I think we have had plenty enough work for this one.”

  “Yes, sir,” they answered. Corporal Hanley looked at Rory and Ian with an expression somewhere opposite of energetic, nodded, and they started to trudge in that direction.

  To some disappointment, Ian realized that no progress had been made either way in his bet with Kieran over shooting the first four horn. Ian wasn’t sure if it was a moot bet at this point anyway, given the recent developments. But plenty more of the expedition remained, regardless if their bet was ever mentioned again.

  “It seems too bad,” Ian said, looking at the downed four horn, “since I suppose we don’t eat this sort of meat.”

  “The margrave only needs one,” Ellis said.

  “That’s true,” Ian said. “But now that he’s gotten two of the big five, I suppose it’s going to be harder to find the others for him. It doesn’t seem like he’ll be pleased until he’s hunted a lion.”

  “I heard the guides say we’re getting near the trees where the leopards are,” Rory said.

  “But they don’t travel in herds like four horns or long buffalo,” Ian said, “and leopards will be the first ones to start hunting us.”

  “Are you scared?” Rory asked.

  “No,” Ian said, waving his hand, “I’m just taking realistic stock of the situation.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Rory said, wiping at his forehead, “we’ll get ‘em. I just wish it wasn’t always so blasted hot.”

  “May as well get used to it,” Ian said as they began to near where the four horn was laying. The other four horns were a good ways back, lingering in some short brush trees, while the female was still clinging to the same area as the bull. Ian raised his Allen rifle in the air and shot the cartridge with the bay wide open and the suppressor off, producing the loudest sound it could.

  Rory looked sideways at him irritably, but the female four horn finally bounded off after the others. Coming up close to the carcass, they took a minute to survey it. Ian took his boot and pressed at its array of horns that gave it its name.

  “Glad we don’t have to carry much of it back,” Ian said, looking back at the others.

  “Right then,” Corporal Hanley said, “better get at it.”

  Ian knelt and started at one side of the base of the primary horn with his hunting knife, looking up at Rory until he also knelt and started on the other.

  “Would be nice if we could just use our swords on this,” Rory grunted.

  “Yes,” Ian said, “it would be nice to tear them all to pieces.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to,” Rory said, “I just said it would be nice—”

  “And it would be nice if this hot planet wasn’t hot,” Ian said. “Unfortunately—”

  “That’s enough,” Ellis said.

  Ian looked down at his knife and tried to figure out the most efficient way to work it through the gray bone.

  “Which would you prefer then?” Ian asked, not looking up. “To be really hot or really cold?”

  “Cold,” Rory said, without much thought.

  “Really?” Ian asked. “I’d much rather be hot. When it’s cold you have to spend so much time putting on clothes and—”

  “It’s just cleaner,” Rory said. “You’re not sweating all the time, and you can’t ever really get away from the heat. Home is much nicer than this.”

  “I had plenty of home,” Ian said. “If I had liked it better there, I would have never joined with the Guard.”

  Ellis was frowning. “You don’t like home?”

  “It’s fine,” Ian protested, “but I don’t want to live there my whole life. There are far too many other places in the galaxy to see. All Wilome is—is fog and snow and a little bit of hot in the summer.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with just a little bit of hot,” Rory said, standing back up as Ian’s knife got close to Rory’s hands.

  “Well,” Ian said, leaning down onto the ground for a slightly better angle, “—get that one too, please—at least you got posted to the hottest livable planet there is. It’ll be all pudding from here.”

  “Yeah,” Rory agreed, “and no noble girls to bother with either.”

  “That’s for sure,” Ellis said, kicking down at the ground with his arms crossed.

  Ian went to say something but discovered he had nothing in mind to say.

  “Always complaining and talking and carrying on,” Rory said as he worked at the littler horn with his knife. “At least we get some rest from it when we go out here.”

  “There is that,” Ellis agreed. He laughed a little. “Though I feel as though she would come if she could.”

  “She thinks she’s so good at everything,” Rory said.

  Well, Ian thought, she arguably has a case in one or two categories.

  And they went on about the margrave’s daughter, Ian found he had nothing he wished to add. He didn’t really feel like there was much of an issue to bring up, but the way they sounded, Ian thought they could be on the subject for hours. There was so much indignation, irritation. And Ian could understand it, at least the basis for their scorn, but he noticed that he had a strong reluctance to voice even that. It didn’t feel right.

  “Come on, then,” Ellis said, looking at Ian, “have you got it yet, Kanters?”

  “Almost,” he said.

  * * * *

  It was growing toward midmorning, the sun being established enough to angle along Ian’s back as he crawled between the grasses. He took very sharp care with each movement, as agonizingly slow and tedious as it all was. For although he had a decent breeze and sound wasn’t a huge issue, he was wary of how easy it was to jar aside a tuft of the soft, springy grass, and how easy it would be to note, if one happened to be noting such things.

  And as far as tracking a leopard went, Ian wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be. Will had said that they had sharp eyes and ears—noses—pretty much every sense. Probably sharp taste as well, as it had the distinction of being the first predator they’d hunted.

  It had been half of an accident. Today was Wednesday, and they had set off early in the morning, beginning to run into larger areas of tassi trees. A half hour ago and the wyverns had begun acting up. This was fortunate because the brisa gave no similar warning. One moment their party was coming to a stop at the entrance of a wooded area, Madeline Wester and the Bevish servants trying to calm the wyverns, which looked as though they were set to twist off their packs and take off. And the next there was a piercing cry.

  Ian had been watching the wyverns, so he turned just in time to see a long body spring off from the second brisa, the Chax guide who was on top of it nearly coming down with it. Only the friction from the side of the saddle packs and his flailing arms stopped him.

  There had been a tumult of motion and voices, the wyverns screeching and the brisa loudly stamping. It took a few moments to sort out the confusion, their captain not really helping matters. Two shots had managed to be fired at the attacker, but nothi
ng had come close to hitting, and it had bounded away—in more than one direction, if all the varying reports could be believed.

  The leopard, the smallest of the planet’s large cats, was also purportedly the most cunning. They weren’t nearly as strong or fast as some of its closer relatives, but it was fast and had no match in the trees where it hunted from.

  “Very dangerous,” Will had roundly cautioned, as he always seemed to have to do. “They should only ever hunt at night, and rarely people. This one must be starving, or wounded.”

  “Good fortune, captain,” the margrave said as he calmly readied his rifle, “of all of our hopes for this excursion, I had not expected to find a leopard. And here it has dropped right into our laps.”

  They had summarily been assigned to hunt after it, five rangers haphazardly setting off in the general direction it had gone. The general notion was that they would protect the margrave while he shot it, as dubiously idealistic as Ian found that.

  Although he had no real way to be sure, his gut told him that the leopard wouldn’t have run straight off from where they’d last seen it. Running off the assumption that it was very good at what it was created to do, having been designed for strategy and stealth over power or special armaments, Ian had voluntarily run out to the farthest spot on their line, away from the trees and into the grasses. Rory had fallen in after him, huffing a little and looking irritated. But with this position, Ian was free to range farther than all of the others. In the end, this amounted to more of him waiting once he was in position as the inside of their line picked through the trees. He was afforded an excellent view, however, as he could see all along the tree line by crouching down just beneath the tips of the grass, and he didn’t have to move very often.

  This had also given him plenty of time to try to calculate what the leopard could have done, which grew more and more extravagant the longer they went without seeing it. Their direction wasn’t very conductive to limiting it either, as Captain Marsden twice changed up their composition. After twenty minutes, Ian began to sense that their company’s nerves were beginning to wear, as they became less focused and inevitably began to huddle closer together.