Forest Kingdom Trilogy 3 - Down Among the Dead Men

the trestle tables around them in a simple barricade. The lightweight tables weren’t very sturdy, but they gave a feeling of protection and security, and that was what mattered. Even with all the candles and torches and lamps, the dining hall was still disturbingly gloomy and full of restless shadows. The size of the hall gave every sound a faint echo that was subtly unnerving, and outside the fort a strong wind was blowing, moaning in the night. And yet when all was said and done, none of the Rangers really gave much of a damn. After the day’s hard journey they were all bone weary and half asleep on their feet.
    Flint volunteered to take the first watch, and nobody argued with her. They unwrapped their sleeping rolls and laid the blankets side by side. There was something comforting and reassuring in the simple proximity, and there was also no denying that the dining hall had grown uncomfortably cold.
    MacNeil considered starting a fire in the open hearth, and then decided against it. A fire would be more trouble than it was worth, and anyway, it was a summer’s night, dammit. It couldn’t be that cold… . He climbed into his blankets and pulled them up around his ears. The floor was cold and hard and uneven, but he’d slept on worse. Already he was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. He yawned, scratched his ribs, and sighed contentedly. It felt good to be off his feet at last.
    Flint fussed over the Dancer’s blankets, sorting them out for him while he watched patiently. The Dancer was hopeless at the little practicalities of life. He couldn’t saddle his own horse either, and if he had to live on his own cooking, he’d starve. No one ever said anything. The Dancer’s talents lay in other directions. Flint finally got him settled and sat down beside him.
    “We should have looked for a room with an adjoining bath,” she said quietly. “We could both use one.”
    “Speak for yourself,” said the Dancer.
    “I am,” said Flint. “I once fought a walking corpse that had been buried in soft peat for six months, and it smelled better than I do right now. But that can wait till tomorrow. Get some sleep, Giles. I’ll wake you when it’s time for the next watch.”
    The Dancer nodded sleepily, laid back, and closed his eyes. Flint smiled at him affectionately for a moment, and then drew her sword and rested it across her knees, ready to hand. Flint believed in being prepared.
    Constance came back from the closed-off corner they’d designated as the latrine, and clambered stiffly between her blankets, next to MacNeil’s. “First thing tomorrow morning we find a room with its own jakes and move there,” she said determinedly. “That soup tureen is no substitute for a chamber pot.”
    MacNeil chuckled drowsily without opening his eyes. “Good night, Constance. Pleasant dreams.”
    The dining hall grew quiet as the four Rangers settled down for the night. The only sounds were the rising moan of the wind outside and faint snores from the Dancer, who was already well away. The Dancer could sleep through a thunderstorm, and often had. Constance tossed and turned for a while, unhappy with the hard stone floor, but eventually grew still. Her breathing became slow and regular, and some of the harshness went out of her face as her features slowly relaxed. MacNeil lay on his back, comfortably drowsing, occasionally staring up at the shadowed ceiling past drooping eyelids. Sleeping in the fort was a calculated risk, but he didn’t think there was any real danger in it. Not yet. Whatever it was that had gone on a killing spree, there was no sign of it in the fort now.
    Whatever it was … The Demon War had awakened a great many creatures that might otherwise have slumbered on, undisturbed by the world of man. The Forest’s past lay buried deep in the earth, but after the time of the long night, the past no longer slept as soundly as it used to. Some of the deeper mine shafts were still sealed off because of what the miners had found there.
    There were giants in the earth in those days… .
    MacNeil stirred restlessly. If by some chance he was wrong, and whatever it was hadn’t left the fort yet, well, at least this way there was some bait to draw it out of cover. Bait. MacNeil smiled sadly. That’s what Rangers were when you got right down to it. Rangers were expendable troops, used to draw out an enemy and expose its strengths and weaknesses. The only difference was that this bait had teeth.