Weaponsmith (Weaponsmith Chronicles Book 1) by Mike Crawshaw

Author:Mike Crawshaw [Crawshaw, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Weaponsmith Books
Published: 2013-04-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

“Schmied.” Hans Grüber, wagon driver, about fourteen years old, country boy, brighter than he looks. I don’t have to ask. He leads me to a spot on the outer perimeter of the stores area. By sheer ill luck she must have been out there on her own when the attack came in. Her dagger still in her hand, bloodied.

“Don’t look too close, Schmied.”

But I do, though we don’t try to pick her up. Hans brings two shovels off the nearest wagon and we dig the grave. I kiss Anna on the forehead, which isn’t damaged, close her eyes, and we ease her into the ground as gently as we can.

I sleepwalk back to the workshop wagon, and sit down on the steps. I want to cry, but I can’t. I sit there wishing the world would go away, or myself out of it, when a hand touches my shoulder. It’s a light touch, and for one mad, logic-defying moment I think it’s Anna, and the world turns over. But it’s a child’s touch, Seven, reaching out from the wagon.

“Schmied – is it over?”

“Yes.”

I make myself say it. “Anna’s dead.”

I haven’t been able to cry, but Seven does it for me. Big, big tears well up in his eyes, and he sobs enough for us both. He doesn’t ask how or why, which is a relief, just takes the news from me as fact. He is a child crying for a lost mother – Anna had been the nearest thing to a mother he’s had since he can remember, and he may be eleven or twelve years old, but half that falls away in the moment.

It’s a mercy that the first person who speaks to me is someone more overcome than I am. I realize that the world hasn’t stopped and there are still things to be done. Langsdorff has told me to take over and with the shooting stopped there are more sergeant majorly things waiting, like making lists. Sergeant majors are always making lists. I haul myself off the steps.

“Get back in the wagon and wash your face,” I tell Seven, who was starting to calm down. No way he could keep up that intensity of feeling for much longer.

“I killed one,” he says. “With your carbine. Over there.”

It looks as if his victim had been trying to get round the back of Sheehan’s position.

“Hope you didn’t mind me using it.”

“No.” I’m relieved to get him on to soldiering matters. “Well done – as long as you give it a good clean.”

“Thanks, Schmied.” Something to do, and stop him thinking. Do the same for yourself. I go looking for Langsdorff’s one-handed corporal, Schwartz.

Langsdorff had set up shop in a room, or more properly a large store cupboard, at the end of Sheehan’s stronghold. Schwartz is reloading a pistol, with difficulty. He looks up as I enter.

“Takes time, but I get there in the end. What can I do for you?” Then he notices. “Schmied, you all right?”

“Anna’s dead. No details.

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