by Scott Moore
Mollie did not move for the bait, however. Minus started to circle her, holding both of his daggers down toward the ground. Malik could tell by his chorded forearm muscles that Minus did more than talk the talk. This was a man who trained daily on his craft, which just so happened to be murder and death.
Mollie’s eyes watched every move Minus made, but her body did not react. Abrie had taught her that to move before you were ready was often a fatal mistake. If she allowed even a slight advantage to Minus, she would die in an instant. Malik was not so sure they would not all die in an instant anyhow; no matter what the outcome of Mollie’s first movement.
“You know we could make this a lot easier on you.” Minus twirled the blade in his right hand, trying to distract Mollie with the movement. Abrie had taught her better, Malik knew it would not work. “We could easily just put you back in those ropes and walk you to Sweet Tongue.” Minus twirled both blades.
Mollie lunged forward but did not attack Minus. She outstretched her sword like a lance and then slid low on the ground while keeping the point of her sword steady. Minus moved easily, but that had not been the point of the attack. The point of it was the small kick she had given Malik’s chin before she did so. The point was that Malik was supposed to shoot Minus when he was caught off guard by the sudden act. Malik’s hands had other ideas; he fumbled the arrow and watched as it slowly toppled from his fingertips toward the dirt at his feet. The plan Mollie had been so quick to come up with, fell apart just as quickly. Mollie tried not to show her displeasure. Minus looked from Mollie and then to Malik, who he now noticed had a bow.
“Oh clever,” he said, looking oddly impressed with the plan. “I was for sure a goner. Too bad your friend is so clumsy.” Minus jumped toward Malik who turned his bow out just to create distance. Minus ducked under and came up in Malik’s guard. Both daggers pressed into his throat and Malik could feel the searing pain of ripping flesh. It would only be a matter of moments and he would be dead.
Malik did not breathe for fear of doing the job for Minus. He could see Minus’ teeth clenching and the spittle forming across his lips. Minus was not a happy man to be tricked in such a way. Why could Malik not do anything? It should have been simple. Minus was not even expecting it. He could have ended this charade with a single arrow. Sure, the others would have charged them, but at least Malik would have killed one Tempre on his way out. Now he was going to die a coward.
“How about you fight the one with a sword, coward,” Mollie said.
She was taking her turn at goading. Minus was right in Malik’s face and he could hear the slow, ragged breathing coming from his mouth. Minus loosened the blade. He could still easily kill Malik with a simple thrust, but Malik no longer felt the hot pain in his throat. Now he only felt the warm blood trickling down from where the blades had cut into him.
“I will kill you in a moment,” Minus said. “For now, I want you to watch the show,” he turned toward Mollie.
He showed no fear in turning his back toward Malik. He did not even ask him to drop the bow. Malik had proved himself a coward and now Minus did not care about him at all.
Mollie was doing a good job of not letting her nerves bleed through. She held her sword up without shaking; Malik wished he could have done the same. She started the same circling that Minus had done before. Malik knew that to stand still in a fight was death. Provide a moving target; he could hear Abrie’s words.
That was why they were here. They were here to save Abrie, if he was even still alive. They had to get into those gates to do that, but Minus made sure that would be impossible. Malik lifted up his hand to his face. It was still shaking uncontrollably.
He heard Mollie grunt and looked through his fingers to Minus and Mollie. Mollie was swinging with all her might, but Minus ducked and slashed at her shoulder. Malik knew how the searing pain must have been running through her. He looked back toward his hand. It would not obey his mind. He could tell it to stop moving a thousand times and it did not listen to him.
Malik clenched his hand into a fist. He could still hear Mollie and Minus fighting in front of him. He could not focus on it though. He knew that when Mollie died, it would be his fault. He could have saved her. He could have stopped this fight from ever happening. Instead, he had clammed up and dropped the arrow. Malik felt a hand on his shoulder. He half expected it to be Minus’ fingers ready to pull the life from him, but it was not Minus; he was still fighting Mollie.
“You have to save her,” Khris said into Malik’s ear.
Malik glanced quickly toward Mollie. She was being pressed back, and he did not doubt she would soon falter.
“I can’t,” Malik said.
Khris squeezed his fingers around Malik’s muscle. “If you don’t you will never forgive yourself,” he said.
Malik knew that was the truth, but it did not change anything. He blamed himself for Abrie, but that did not mean he could change it. He would watch Minus take Mollie, just like he had watched Sweet Tongue take Abrie. Malik was a coward and there was nothing he could do about it.
“At least try,” Khris pleaded.
Malik looked at his hand again. It was still shaking uncontrollably, but Khris was right. He had to at least try. Malik reached back, holding his hand out to Embre for another arrow. She gave him one without a word. Malik looked at it for what felt like a lifetime. He was willing it to fly true. He was willing it to fly at all. Malik put the arrow on the string.
“Hey Minus,” he yelled.
Minus rolled from Mollie’s upward thrust and looked at Malik. He only let a small smile part his lips. He had no belief that Malik would be able to shoot. He had no worries at all about the scared little arrow boy. Minus did not even bother to reply. He looked directly at the bow and the notched arrow and then turned away. He was not afraid. He was not even slightly concerned about Malik. He knew, like Malik, that Malik was a coward and would never shoot the arrow.
“Now or never,” Khris said. “Don’t be the coward.”
Malik never got the chance to shoot the arrow. Egg, who had been oddly quiet, flew through the air, landing on Minus’ back. Mollie had dropped to a knee out of exhaustion, but Egg was fresh. Minus let out a concerned grunt and then a scream. Egg tore into Minus’ flesh with his razor sharp fangs. Malik almost felt sorry for Minus.
“Do not kill him,” Mollie reminded Egg from the ground. She was huffing and puffing from the exertion of the sword fight.
Egg ripped away a chunk of flesh. It would not kill Minus, but he probably wished he were dead after the pain.
“What in the world is that thing.” Minus had freed himself from Egg long enough to get a good look at the creature. Recognition lit Minus’ eyes when he saw the unmistakable claws and white stripes on black skin. “You are one of the guardians,” he stammered, but Minus was bleeding so badly that his body started to wobble from disorientation.
Mollie walked up behind him, slapping the twin blades from his hands. Those in the growing crowd, who had wanted to help Minus, were too shocked to move. Mollie grabbed Minus around the throat from behind, pressing her forearm into his neck.
“We are looking for a man named Abrie,” Mollie said.
Minus was fading fast, but he still managed a mangled laugh.
“What do you want to be associated with that old fool for?” he asked.
Mollie put a little pressure into her grip, although Malik almost wondered if Minus could even feel it over the pain of his other wound.
“I just want to know where he is,” Mollie said.
Minus reached his hands up to Mollie’s arm, but did not have the strength to fight back. “Sweet Tongue is taking him to a very special place. Just as a reminder of what he left,” Minus answered with labored breath.
“A reminder of what?” Mollie pressed.
Minus laughed again, although there was hardly anything behind it. “You don’t leave the Tempre Warriors. Not if you want to live a long life,” Minus said, his eyes slowly fading
.
“Leave the Tempre? What do you mean leave the Tempre?” Mollie was asking the question to an unconscious, limp body. Minus was not dead, but without the proper care, he soon would be.
Malik let his bow drop finally. He had barely noticed he was still holding it at all. What was Minus talking about? Were his words the delusions of a dying man? Or had they actually meant something else?
“We have to get out of here.” Khris was still beside him, hand still gripping his shoulder. Malik shrugged away.
“How do you suppose we do that?” Malik asked.
Khris stuttered a few syllables, but nothing that actually made any sense. Minus was passed out now, but the surrounding mercenaries were slowly starting to come out of their shocked daze. Soon they would surround Malik and the others and then there would be no escape.
“We have to get out of here.” Khris finally got some words to escape his mouth.
Malik rounded on him. “We know that genius, but how do you suppose we do it?” he asked again.
Mollie moved over to Egg and lifted him off the ground. His mouth was dripping with the thick, maroon blood of Minus. He was the only thing deterring the other mercenaries from being the first to charge in. After the first grew brave enough, it would be a numbers game. Even Egg could not fend off a thousand mercenaries.
The first man finally came, and Egg jumped at him, ripping into his flesh with sharp claws. The second man fared no better, but the next few came in a group and even though Egg killed a few, even more surrounded Mollie. Mollie had her sword back up and fought with experience and bravery, but she was not used to fighting multiple opponents. Soon, both Egg and Mollie were surrounded. The mercenaries had gathered a rope net from somewhere and tossed it over Egg who fought with claws and teeth to escape. Four men came at Mollie and she had no chance to win. Six more men and women popped out of the crowd and attacked Embre, Khris, and Malik. None of them bothered to fight. It was pointless to contend with the masses, there was no way to win.
Malik watched as the men relieved Mollie of her sword and a woman took the bow right from Malik’s fingertips. They tied Egg up in the ropes and slung the creature on their backs.
“We can’t kill them, Sweet Tongue will reward us all well for this,” one of the mercenaries said.
“What do we do with him?” asked another, pointing toward Minus.
The man with Egg on his shoulder shrugged. “We should probably bring him too,” he answered.
Malik did not put up any fight when the butt of a spear pressed into his back, marching him forward. He came up right next to Khris and Mollie.
“Guess we are going to get in those gates after all,” Malik said.
Chapter 27
City Gates
Their captors were not the friendliest of people. Not to Malik, Mollie, Khris, Embre, and Egg. Not to each other either. They were vile, foul mouthed, angry, and violent. Before they had even made it fifty steps, two of the mercenaries got into a fight about who would follow the furthest behind. Those two were probably still back there fighting to the death over something that was already pointless.
Malik tried not to focus on his captors. There were plenty of other things he needed to lend his attention to. First, he needed to figure out a way to get away from being captured at all. He had wanted to get into the city gates, but this was not the way to go about that. This way would see him right to Sweet Tongue’s hands and eventually his death. This way would not lead him to rescuing Abrie.
Malik looked over to the others. He could see the determined look on Mollie’s face, but she was not thinking about their escape. Mollie’s eyes were glued to Egg. Egg was still squirming and gnashing at the thick strands holding him, but so far was not able to wiggle out. Malik wished that Egg would get out. At least then, there would be a distraction. They could not fight their way out of things, but they could run.
Malik looked to Embre and Khris who were so far into their own worlds that they followed like mindless animals. What was the point anyhow? If they escaped this group, there would be another waiting after that. There were at least seven thousand mercenaries in the camp and there was no way they were going to get out. They were going to arrive on a silver platter for Sweet Tongue and there was nothing that they could do about it.
Malik tried to think of what Abrie would do during a situation like this, but he thought Abrie would have never gotten into a situation like this. Khris had been right up there on that small hill. They should have never tried this stupid plan. They should have gone onward and left well enough alone. Malik had known there would be no way to save Abrie. Yet, he could not just leave it alone.
Malik was the reason that all of his friends and Khris would die. He wished he could tell them he was sorry, but they were not paying any attention to him.
“What do you plan to do with your portion of the capturing funds?” one of the captors asked another.
“I plan to join the Tempre. I didn’t travel a thousand miles to get a sack of coin. Although, that will be a nice little bonus,” the other man answered.
“If I get the coin, I don’t need to be a Tempre. I can retire and relax for the rest of my days,” the first man said.
Another man stepped up. This man did not look friendly to either of the others. “I say you’re an idiot,” he said to the man who had just finished talking.
The man holding Malik’s ropes tensed. “Care to back that up?” he asked.
The newcomer smiled and patted the sword on his hip. “Anytime,” he answered.
The man dropped Malik’s rope, but it was still pointless for Malik to run.
“Then let’s settle it right here and now.”
The newcomer laughed. “I can arrange that,” he said, pulling his sword from his belt.
“Do we really have to do this? We all have so much coin coming our way,” the man who had initially been asked the question chimed in.
Malik took two large steps back. He was still in the circle of mercenaries, as were the others, but he was now out of the direct line of swords.
The two men came together to clash. They were going to fight over silly words. One of these two men would die for their pride. Malik thought back to his countless fights with the drunken patrons of the local inns and taverns. He had never wanted to kill any of them before. He could not say the same about those who fought him, but none of them had ever succeeded, mostly in part to Abrie.
The newcomer stuck his hand out and pressed the pleading mercenary in the chest. “Move or you will be next,” he said.
The man did not move. While the newcomer had not been paying attention, the man had been slipping out a small blade from his cuff and he drove it into the newcomer’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged and then he crumpled in a pool of his own blood.
“Well that takes care of that,” the man said, wiping off his blade on the dead man’s shirt.
The man who had asked the question stepped back over to Malik and grabbed his rope. “I hate when people can’t mind their own business,” he said.
Malik looked back to the dead man and realized that soon he would be meeting that man again.
“Let’s keep going,” the man pulling Malik’s rope said, while pulling hard on the bindings.
Malik lurched forward, without saying a word. There was nothing to say. Mostly, words would get you killed. Malik looked back over his shoulder at the dead body. No one stopped to check on the man, to see if he were still alive. Everyone just stepped over him as if he were some kind of parasite. Malik’s stomach roiled at their blatant disregard for human life.
Malik felt the tug again, as he slowed down. The man carrying the rope did not look pleased at the halting, so Malik sped back up.
Malik had once believed only a few short miles separated them from the wall. He could see them hovering in the background. However, walls and mountains were funny like that. They were so large that you could see them from very far away. Sometimes, when you walked toward them, they ne
ver seemed to grow or get closer. Malik walked for a very long time in his binds. There was no way to tell exactly how long it had been, except that the morning sun had raised to the afternoon sun, and then started to set for the evening.
Malik saw thousands more mercenaries. The camp ranged from nice areas, to the run down slums. There were makeshift tavernstents selling rooms like an innand there were items for sale around every bend. Malik was not approached by any of the mercenaries. There had been several fights amongst themselves. Two more men had been killed before their walk was done. One man was killed for stealing food from another’s bag and another for joining the procession of captors without permission from the man holding Egg in the sack over his back.
Malik still found himself hoping and wishing that Egg would somehow escape. If those claws could get to work on the throats of these men, then maybe they could run. Over the course of the day, Malik realized there were two problems with that plan. Egg had already been caught once with overwhelming numbers, and there was nowhere to run. In every direction, were more and more mercenaries.
The city walls did eventually grow taller. They came closer and started to throw shadows onto the evening ground. Malik passed so many people it was not lost on him just how devastating this was to the city. Having this many extra mouths, boots, and swords had forced Bently to stock extra men on the walls. There were so many men that Malik could not find an empty spot in the lines. The wages that Bently was paying the men would strain his coffers even further. Malik wondered at how much money the kingdom of Luberg was losing daily. He wondered how Bently was keeping the citizens at bay. Although, he supposed Bently could just threaten them with the mercenaries outside his gates.
Malik wondered what the Tempre offered a king. Luberg, far from the largest kingdom that Malik knew, did not have any problem bringing in revenue. Bently would have enough money, gems, and gold to last him a hundred lifetimes. He already had power, what more could he possibly want for?