The Trouble with Peace (The Age of Madness #2) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,203

he wanted to do it, as that he couldn’t stand the tension of waiting.

Pike paused, considering the chaos around the river, hands clasped behind his back. “Now,” he said.

The man looked taken aback, as though he’d only just realised what he’d been asking for the last half-hour. He licked his lips, then turned unsteadily towards the north.

“Cannon will fire in order from my right,” he roared, holding up his fist, “and continue firing until the order is given to cease!”

The aproned engineers, the burly men who handled the shot and powder, the boys who held the poles and sponges, all started to screw pellets of rag into their ears. Pike was doing the same.

Stiffly, cautiously, the engineer at the first cannon took match-cord from powder boy and gingerly touched the flame to the pan. The crew all turned away, hunching down, covering their heads. Vick winced. There was a pathetic little splutter and a puff of sparks.

“That’s it?” said Tallow, looking up.

The cannon jolted on its trestles, fire spurting from its mouth. There was a thunderous, barking explosion, as painfully loud as anything Vick ever heard. A moment later, the next cannon fired, and the next.

She shrank down against the hillside, clapping her hands against the sides of her head, and felt her skull buzz, and her palms tremble, and the very ground shake.

Felt like the end of the world.

“He wants you to hold,” growled out the Young Lion’s pet Northman, Whitewater whatever, “until he gives the—”

And everyone turned at a great low rumble. There was a flap and flutter as birds took off from the trees, then another rumble, and another, like thunder close at hand, loud enough Clover could feel the earth quiver through the soles of his boots. But then, they were a little worn.

“What’s this?” snarled Stour, striding to the treeline and staring off across the wheatfields. Far away, on the big bluff over on the other side of the town, puffs of smoke were going up and floating out across the valley.

“Fire engines, I reckon,” murmured Clover. A few of the older fellows looked as unhappy about it as he was. They’d seen ’em used at Osrung, maybe, and hadn’t much enjoyed the experience.

But Stour had slept through Osrung in his mother’s belly. His eyes shone as he watched the smoke puff out. “They call ’em cannons now,” he murmured, then turned about. “Get the men ready.”

“Eh?” said Greenway.

“You heard me.” Stour grinned out across that sea of windswept wheat towards that sloping green ridge with the flags at the top. “I want that hill.”

Clover winced. What the hell Stour planned to do with a hill in the middle of Midderland was anyone’s guess. Graze sheep on it? But the Great Wolf wanted it. So that was that.

Whitewater was staring at ’em all like they’d parted from their senses. Which they probably had, some months before, when they all consented to Stour being king. “Didn’t you hear me? The Young Lion wants you to—”

“I fucking heard you, boy.” Stour’s eyes slid across to him. “But I’ve had quite enough o’ the Young Lion’s pleasure.” It was almost a surprise that menacing slaver didn’t drip from his teeth. “He wants me to stop, he can come over here and stop me himself. No? Didn’t fucking think so.” He turned to roar into the trees. “Weapons, lads! War cries, you bastards! Time for you fuckers to fight!”

And there was a great clattering and hissing as swords were drawn and shields raised and spears hefted. A great growl and murmur of war curses and prayers to the dead, shouted orders echoing from further off as the call to arms spread down the long line. A great jingle and rustle as mailed warriors crunched through the brush to the very edge of the trees. Stour brushed Brock’s man out of his way and strode forward himself into the golden wheat, drawing his sword, and his gilded bastards crowded after, all falling over themselves to show how thirsty they were for blood.

“By all the fucking dead,” whispered Whitewater, staring after Stour and dragging at his red beard so hard he looked fit to tear it out of his jaw.

“Look at the sunny side.” And Clover slapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder. “After today, one way or another, I doubt you’ll have to deal with the idiot again.” He puffed out his cheeks as he drew his sword. “Some of us are stuck with this madness. Downside! Get the