The Lost War, Karl Gallagher [recommended reading txt] 📗

of the fish. Just whether this thing will catch any of them. And if it will last long enough to be worthwhile.”

Goldenrod had evaded the Autocrat’s process for allocating labor to projects. The Court was hesitant to authorize new ideas. But it seemed receiving forgiveness in lieu of permission would have to wait on delivering fish.

***

“We found him! He got free, he was halfway back home. He’s in bad shape though.”

Lady Burnout ignored the brash fighters escorting Strongarm into her tent. She focused on the injured man, assessing his injuries. His halting walk indicated more damage than was visible on the surface.

“Help him up on the table,” she ordered.

Strongarm lay on his side, tugging on the borrowed tabard to cover himself.

“Good. Off with you, boys, go kick some ass,” said Lady Burnout.

The fighters clattered out with promises of vengeance. Strongarm didn’t answer them.

“I’m going to start by disinfecting those claw marks. This will sting.”

“’Sokay.” He didn’t look at her.

None of the scratches were deep enough to be dangerous. Bruising was extensive.

He flipped to his other side without protest.

That side was no different.

“We need to talk about the elephant in the room,” she said.

Strongarm hunched his shoulders.

“Look . . . back at my old emergency room we had a patient. Nasty guy. Gangbanger, killed three rivals in drive-bys. One day he got drunk off his home turf and another gang grabbed him. Took him to their clubhouse, raped him for hours, then dropped him on a playground. He came in the ER walking the way you did just now.”

Strongarm took a few deep breaths. “Does anyone else know?”

“Some might guess.” She’d cleaned some orange streaks off his thighs.

“Shit.”

“I need to examine and treat you.”

“I know. Just . . . I don’t want to be on my belly.”

“Can you lift up your knee?”

That gave her access enough. The tears were scabbing over. She applied ointment and, after dithering, the last dose of injectable antibiotic. He didn’t complain.

After washing her hands Lady Burnout walked around to talk face to face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell.”

“I figured that. What else?”

Strongarm stayed silent. Burnout bit her tongue and out-waited him.

“Why?” he burst out. “They’re not human, I’m not one of them. Why would they even be interested in doing that to me?”

“Humans fuck other species. How many sheep jokes have you heard?”

“Oh, I’m a sheep. Now I know what they’ll call me.”

“You’re a good fighter. What did you do to the orcs before you went down?”

“Killed two.” He’d seen the bodies when he woke. “Might’ve hurt some more.”

“So they’d be mad. Might have wanted revenge like those gangbangers. Or, yeah, it could be the sheep thing. We’ve never seen one of their females.”

Strongarm was looking past the wall of the tent. “I thought I was dead when I fell down. I was just glad I’d gotten more of them than they were killing in me.”

“We’ll get you back in shape and you can up that score some more.”

***

“What the hell?” said Newman as they came around the bend in the rhino trail.

A pit had been dug in the trail. Dirt covered the bushes on both sides of the trail. The depression was cone shaped, at least six or eight feet down at the deepest point.

All the Wolfheads laughed. “You didn’t hear about that?” asked Husky.

“No,” said Beargut. “Going to share?”

Borzhoi told the story. “The royal guard has to work now. They decided to justify their existence by bringing in some big game. So they came up with a plan to trap a rhino in a pit.”

Footprints of the massive herbivores were visible in the dirt.

“How’d that work out for them?” asked Newman.

“They’d gotten this far when a herd, I mean crash, came down. The bull didn’t even slow down. The cows were fine. The first calf struggled but made it out. The second calf was stuck. Kept trying to get over the edge, couldn’t.” Borzhoi took a sip from his canteen.

“Well?” demanded Beargut.

“Then the cow at the end of the crash put her horns under the little guy’s butt. He flew out, at least three feet off the ground. The royal guard stopped wanting to hunt rhinos.”

***

Today was Strongarm’s first patrol since it happened two weeks ago. There were more patrols than hunting parties now. Autocrat Sharpquill wanted the orcs cleared away, even if doing it frightened the game.

Armoring up wasn’t new. Strongarm had been training new fighters since he’d healed enough to walk smoothly. He hadn’t volunteered for any patrols but Captain Spear needed another experienced fighter for this one.

When Spear asked if he was up for it Strongarm answered “of course” as if he’d been waiting to be asked.

Whether he was actually up for it . . . he wanted to know.

The newbies on the patrol wore the usual mix of borrowed and improvised armor. Strongarm inspected them. The few problems were fixed with duct tape or leather cords. A couple newbies were missing gorgets. They’d just have to hope no orc hit them in the throat.

Crusher was the patrol leader. He ordered the other veteran, Maximus, to take point. “Strongarm, you’re in the middle with me.” The newbies formed a single file before and after them. They marched out the gate.

The cleared zone outside the walls was a little wider. The sun beat down on his helmet, starting a bit of sweat. Some women were out with blades, hacking at any bush that might offer cover to an enemy.

Strongarm could hear the usual forest noises as they walked up to the trees. Wind in the leaves. Birds complaining at each other. Nothing indicating a large animal.

He scanned the trees, checking for anything behind them. Just more