Characters: Mal, Jade, Jackrum
Rating: D

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.

Where the Metal Meets the Meat
by Amazon Syren

"Good to see you up and around, corporal," said the sergeant. Then he squinted at Mal for a moment. "Good gods, lad, you're blurring. How the hell much coffee have you had?"

"Sssssssss—" Mal winced, forced her mouth back under her own control, "ssucking on the bbeans, sir," lifting the little sack of Klatchian Rare Roasted. It was half-empty already.

The sergeant regarded the vibrating corporal. "Making up for lost time, I see."

Mal nodded, rather than try to test her tongue again.

"Well, make it quick, corporal, 'cause we are leaving in number ten minutes."

They nodded.

"Where to, Sarge?" asked Jade, getting to her feet.

"To the front, my lads. Lets see if we can't cause a little distraction to help out our men in the Keep."

Mal palmed a last half-dozen beans into her mouth, almost like Jackrum and his chewing tobacco. "What d-d-did you have in mmmmind, sarge?" she asked, tying up the little bag.

"Never you mind, corporal. You'll find out when we get there."

***

They crept down the hillside, the three of them, as the crimson sun sank below the hills. The battle would cease, more or less, for the night. Mal knew that. Mal wondered if they'd be spotted. The moon wouldn't be up until nearly midnight, but the sky glowed orange, even in the fading light of day.

She soon realized that ‘spotted' was exactly what Jackrum wanted.

He went out of his way to intercept red-coated patrol-men, whispering conspiratorially in the gathering dark. When they reached the camp-proper, every passing soldier got a nod and whisper as well.

Mal, of course, caught those whispers, easily. Whispers of Borogravian troupes infiltrating the Keep, trying to take it from the inside. Whispers of an awaited signal. Whispers of a plan to take the Kneck and win the war.

This is crazy, Mal thought to herself, as the three of them made their way towards what could only be a make-shift command post: A larger, open-air tent, over-which Borogravia's flag hung limply from a rusting pike. There were a couple of sergeants and a lonely lieutenant gathered ‘round a tattered map of the valley. Jackrum signaled that Mal and Jade should stay where they were. Then he marched forward and saluted smartly.

"Sergeant Jackrum reporting, sah!" he thundered.

The men around the table looked up. The two sergeants grinned. The lieutenant's mouth dropped open.

"Jack Jackrum?"

"The very one, sah!"

"I thought you were dead!"

"Happy to report otherwise, sir," said Jackrum, dropping his salute. "I have some news that may be of value to the war effort, sir," he said, striding forward.

It was like some sort of magic, Mal thought, watching. The sergeant bellowed his way into a situation and then proceeded to... herd people, and occasionally events, around so that the world looked like he wanted it to. And people agreed with him.

Upon receiving a signal from the Keep itself, the army would attack the main gates in a ‘flying column' formation. Jackrum didn't know what the signal would be — Maladict was personally doubtful that there would be one, even with Polly and Tonker in there — but it would surely arrive before noon. If it did not arrive before noon, they would attack the main gates anyway. In force. Which was suicidal.

Was she the only one seeing this?

She exchanged glances with Jade, who shrugged.

Jackrum came out from under the tent's awning, grinning his wicked grin.

"Get some sleep, lads," he told them, "tomorrow we take the Kneck."

***

Tomorrow came.

The sun flowed across the mud-flats of the valley, turning the Keep's high stone walls to rose-gold, even as the moon was setting behind it. In the valley, just beyond the range of the Keep's weapons, they stood, ranked in formation: The few hundred soldiers who remained of Borogravia's free army.

They stood and they waited.

It was nearly mid-day, when it happened.

No-one could have missed it, or mistaken it for anything else.

An entire corner of the Keep exploded, raining masonry down on the river banks.

As the dust settled, a voice rose, roaring:

"Soldiers of Borogravia!" came the thunder of sergeant Jackrum, "Give 'em hell!"

As one entity, the army moved, flew, towards the Keep. Mal felt the brush of arrows speeding past her. She caught one in her left shoulder, and pulled it out irritably, still running. She felt her skin heal over, even as she tossed the arrow to the ground.

Ahead of her, she could see Jade slam her tremendous weight against the gates. She heard the thunder of the blow, and saw the massive doors buckle under the impact.

The Zlobenian forces poured out of the ruined gates, and the two armies met and clashed, slamming into each other. Mal swung her sword with all her new-found skill, felt the blade connect with metal, leather, flesh, and bone. All around her there was shouting, the cries of the dying, and the rage of the living. The smell of blood was thick in the air, mingled with the smell of fear.

This was not easy. This was not easy!

She saw Jackrum pull his sword out of a thoroughly dead Zlobenian with a truly terrifying expression on his face, then turn to strike down another. There were bodies everywhere.

Gods, she needed a coffee.

Again.

She hacked at a soldier in a blue uniform, and dogged as a blade nearly took off her arm. Was this how it would always be? She was jittery from too much caffeine already, and surprised that she hadn't made some sort of fatal mistake yet, and even still, she needed more.

Well, she though, pulling her sword out of a stranger's fresh corpse, I never said I wasn't up to a challenge.

She lifted her sword to swing again, and—

"Hold, corporal!" She turned at the unknown voice.

Around her the battle carried on, but just here there was a sudden area of calm. Mal beheld the stranger, a man in major's pips. Jade was behind him, looking at her feet. There were shackles on her wrists and she was flanked by two trolls, one of whom was wearing a slightly dazed expression.

"You are corporal von Borogvia, yes?"

"What's thisss about?" Mal asked, not even bothering to answer. How many vampire corporals could one army have, after all?

"We have taken your squad into custody, corporal. You are to come with us."

"Wait, w-what?" Mal asked, as the major tried to manacle her wrists together. "We're being takennn prisoner by our ownnn army?? That's nnnot right!"

"None the less, it is happening, corporal. Do co-operate, we'd all like to get this over with, and I'd rather not have Iolite force these on you." The un-dazed troll grinned nastily at her.

Mal sighed. "Fine. Fine." Sheathing her sword, she held out her wrists like an obedient child. What the hell is going on here??

"What the hell is going on here?" came a familiar voice, dripping with plum pudding and death. Sergeant Jackrum blocked the major's path. "I note with interest, Major Crampon, that you have some of my little lads in chains. What is the meaning of this, sir?"

"I'm afraid I have to take them into custody, sergeant," replied the major, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Jackrum's face went from merely red to incandescent in less than a second.

"What??" he roared.

"They are to be tried with the rest of their squad, sergeant!" came the urgent reply. "These orders come from High Command! They are coming with us and you can not change that! Carry on with the fight, sergeant!" the major finished, as the trolls hustled Jade and Maladict out of the fray.

Mal though she heard Jackrum growl: "Damn right I will," but by then they were out of the court yard, and all she could hear for sure were the screams of the fighting behind them.