The Marching Dead by Lee Battersby

Author:Lee Battersby [Battersby, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, dead reckoning, still running, dead and undead, Marius don Hellespont
ISBN: 9780857662897
Publisher: Angry Robot
Published: 2013-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

“What–“

“Ssh.” Despite the quietness of their conversation, Marius had never learned to concentrate on external matters while also listening to someone’s voice inside his head. He frowned, trying to locate the hidden sailors.

“What’s happening?”

“Someone’s coming. From up there.” Marius pointed towards the path. Behind them, careful footsteps resumed. Marius heard movement back towards the boats and the almost silent hiss of weapons being retrieved and unsheathed.

“What do we do?”

“Stay still and keep quiet.”

Something pointed and extremely sharp pressed coldly into the back of his neck.

“Well now,” said a voice in his ear. “What do we have here?”

Marius discovered new depths of stillness.

“How the hell did you do that?” he asked quietly.

“I think,” the point dug slightly deeper, “that I might ask the questions first, don’t you?”

“You know, I think you might.”

“Mighty civilised of you.” The sword in his neck urged him around, pointing him back towards the beach.

“My pleasure.”

A poke had him moving back down.

“Don’t speak too soon.”

They trooped in silence: Marius, Gerd, and the two unseen bearers of the swords. They reached the overhang at the base of the cliff, where their legs were kicked out from underneath them, depositing them onto the shingles.

“Ow.”

The sword pricked him on the chin.

“Shush, now.”

Marius shushed.

“What now?” Gerd in his mind.

“Just wait.”

“What for?”

A shape appeared before them, dark upon dark, blocking out the grey cliffs at the other end of the beach.

“Oh,” Gerd projected. “That.”

“Yep.”

The shape stepped into the overhang.

“And what the fuck,” it said, with a female voice that wouldn’t have been out of place in a classroom of naughty children, “have we brought in with us tonight?”

Marius peered at the figure. “Brys? Brys Kenim?”

“Keep your bloody voice down!” The reaction was automatic, quickly followed by: “Marius?”

A short scrape of metal on metal as the cover of a lantern was swung open. A flash of light momentarily blinded both men.

“Bloody hell! Marius! What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Hello, Brys.”

“Bloody Marius bloody Helles. Give us a hug, you lovely bugger.” The shape leaned down and scooped Marius to his feet, enveloping him in a blanket of arms, boobs, and long black hair.

“Brys, this is my pal, Gerd. Gerd, Brys Kenim, smuggler, pirate and all-round cove,” Marius mumbled in the few moments he was able to peel his face away from Brys’ embrace. “Brys and I ran weapons together for a while.”

Gerd groaned, and rolled his eyes. “Is there anyone in this country you haven’t shagged?”

“I never…” Marius was swallowed by the embrace once more. His hand waved behind Brys’ back: never, then, one finger. Two. Five. More or less. Finally, she let him go, and held him at arm’s length.

“Marius bloody Helles. Let me look at you.” She scanned him up and down. “Bloody hell. You as well, eh?”

“What do you mean?”

She jerked a finger behind her. “Half my crew are dead men. Work cheap, and carry twice as much as a live one. Figured you had a few more years in you before you copped your whack, though.”

Marius shrugged. “I’ve not let it get to me.

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