At that comment Badan paused, gauging the effect of his words. He saw none. What does that tell us? Nothing good . He half turned and gestured. ‘There, those ones, they’re from Primly’s squad. But Sergeant Primly is dead. So is Hunt and so are Neller and Mulvan Dreader, and Corporal Kisswhere’s gone … missing. You’re left with Skulldeath and Drawfirst.’
Trailed by his corporal, the sergeant walked over. ‘On your feet, marines,’ he said. ‘I’m Sergeant Gaunt-Eye, and this is Corporal Rib. The Tenth is no more. You’re now in the Eighteenth.’
‘What?’ demanded Drawfirst. ‘A squad of four?’
The corporal replied. ‘We’re picking up two more from the Seventh, and another two from Ninth Company’s Fifth.’
Ruffle limped up beside Badan Gruk. ‘Sergeant, Sinter’s back.’
Badan sighed and turned away. ‘Fine. She can handle this, then.’ He’d had his moment of spine. Nobody would have to look his way any more, expecting … expecting what? Hood knows. They’re just collecting up scraps now. Enough to make a rag . He returned to the remnants of the fire, sat with his back to the others.
I’ve seen enough. Not even marines do this for a living. You can’t die for a living. So, sew together new squads all you like. But really, just how many marines are left? Fifty? Sixty? No, better to let us soak into the regulars, sour as old blood. Hood knows, I’m sick of these faces here, sick of not seeing the ones missing, the ones I’ll never see again. Shoaly. Strap Mull. Skim, Hunt, all of them .
Sinter was speaking to Gaunt-Eye, but the tones were low, level, and a few moments later she came over and squatted down at his side. ‘Rider in from the Burned Tears. Kisswhere’s still mending. That broken leg was a bad one.’
‘They took them away?’
‘Who?’
‘That sergeant.’
‘Aye, though it’s not so much “away” as “just over there”, Badan. Not enough of us to sprawl.’
Badan found a stick and stirred at the ashes. ‘What is she going to do, Sinter?’
‘Kisswhere?’
‘The Adjunct.’
‘How should I know? I’ve not talked to her. No one has, as far as I can tell – at least, the Fists look to be in charge at the moment.’
Badan dropped the stick and then rubbed at his face. ‘We got to go back,’ he said.
‘That won’t happen,’ Sinter replied.
He shot her a glare. ‘We can’t just pick up and go on.’
‘Keep it down, Badan. We pulled out more soldiers than we should have. We’re not as mauled as we could have been. Ruthan Gudd, Quick Ben, and then what happened at the vanguard. Those things checked them. Not to mention Fid getting us dug in – without those trenches, the heavies would never have—’
‘Died?’
‘Held. Long enough for the Letherii to bleed off pressure. Long enough for the rest of us to disengage—’
‘Disengage, aye, that’s a good one.’
She leaned closer. ‘Listen to me,’ she hissed. ‘We didn’t die. Not one of us still here—’
‘Can’t be more obvious, what you just said.’
‘No, you’re not getting it. We got overrun, Badan, but we clawed through even that. Aye, maybe it was the Lady pulling in a frenzy, maybe it was all the others stepping into the paths of the blades coming down on us. Maybe it was how rattled they were by then – from what I heard Lostara Yil was almost invisible inside a cloud of blood, and none of it her own. They had to check at that. A pause. Hesitation. Whatever, the plain truth is, when we started pulling back—’
‘They left us to it.’
‘Point is, could have been a lot worse, Badan. Look at the Khundryl. Six thousand went in, less than a thousand rode back out. I heard some survivors have been wandering into camp. Joining up with Dead Hedge’s Bridgeburners. They say Warleader Gall is broken. So, you see what happens when the commander breaks? The rest just crumble.’
‘Maybe now it’s our turn.’
‘I doubt it. She was injured, remember, and Denul don’t work on her. She needs to find her own way of healing. But you’re still missing my point. Don’t break to pieces, Badan. Don’t crawl inside yourself. Your squad lost Skim, but nobody else.’
‘Nep Furrow’s sick.’
‘He’s always sick, Badan. At least, ever since we set foot on the Wastelands.’
‘Reliko wakes up screaming.’