Shattered

by Stef M Ensing

  “Can you now?” Shrrrink.

  Payton didn’t answer straight away. Instead, she stared at Brisen as she weighed her options. Telling the woman who was paying her what was likely the best and most steady job she and her brothers could get at the moment that she can mind her own business would make things decidedly worse. It was clear there was a power play at work here. One that Brisen had to feel like she won if the Clark siblings wanted to keep working.

  Holding back a litany of retorts, she swallowed her pride. Shrrrink. “I realize that I should not have done that last night while being a walking advertisement for your company. In the future, I’ll curb my damsel saving habits to fall in line with your wishes.”

  Brisen studied her. Suddenly she threw her head back and laughed. “You do that.” She placed the dagger and whetstone on the table, finally done with sharpening it or done with trying to intimidate Payton. She wasn’t sure it mattered which it had been. “You can keep your bar gig.”

  “I wasn’t aware I was asking permission.”

  The head of the Onyx Wyverns merely smiled at her. A cold and calculating one that left the raven-haired rogue feeling unsettled. “Hitchens will have your assignments for today. Waste no more of my time,” she dismissed. She waited until Payton was at the door to stop her. “And Payton? I’m separating you and your brothers. You’re joining Patrick’s crew as of today.”

  Payton had to bite her tongue to keep from replying that she and her brothers were stronger together and separating them was idiotic. Instead, she gave a sharp nod and exited, shutting the door a little too forcefully behind her.

  Blasted woman.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Working with someone else wasn’t horrifically awful. The worst part about it was getting used to someone else calling the shots. When she had been with her brothers there were only three other mercenaries with them so the control ended up balancing out whether it was intended to or not. That was not the case now. She had joined what was an already established group. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses knew when to compensate and who to send in specific situations. They also worked all hours, day or night. Her work with them was a bit more interesting, less guarding crates and more keeping thieves and bandits from businesses. Not that she craved battle or anything, she just disliked monotony.

  She was surprised when the order came down that their group was being sent out to escort a caravan headed to a city just on the other side of the Veloris Mountains. She did not think Brisen liked her very much anymore. Not since the Pegasus mess. In the week since she had only made it once to Pegasus to help Nyla and she had been sure to don the vest that managed to help her survive Aodhan – the only spare armor she had. It would get annoying to have to switch armors all the time but pissing off the boss wasn’t worth it.

  All in all the trip out to Dhonis was fairly uneventful. A five-day journey on foot walking beside a train of wagons and carts pulled by persnickety horses and mules who left giant piles of dung that they had to avoid stepping in. Which was easier said than done because the carts would inevitably roll over said piles and either flatten or splatter them about and it took all of a day and a half before Zoe, their rambunctious dagger-wielder who kept herself – and them – entertained with random antics, made a game of it. Whoever had the least amount of poop on them by the end of the day won.

  The first prize was an extra helping at dinner, which Kathleen had won. The redhead warrior sarcastically said her thanks for the bit of mutton and berries they had as rations that were neither flavorful nor particularly edible. Second day it was a floral crown she made – she proudly dropped it on Anthony’s head; he glared at her but his normally imitating expression was completely erased by how ridiculous he looked. Third day Payton was rewarded with a spoon – and by that point, she was certain Zoe was just handing out randomness to each person of the party. It was idiotic and stupid but it made the fact that they stank and were filthy a lot funnier and easier to deal with.

  They spent all of a day and a half in Dhonis. It was equal parts interesting and dull. Payton wanted to explore the city a bit more as it was absolutely fascinating. The city was one of the primary mining hubs for Estaria and as such had carved out giant chunks of the mountainside in search for the magical gems used to mage staves or the even rarer Absorbe stone. Instead of wasting the space or tossing the unneeded rock, they used both and built their homes into the abandoned spots making a tapestry of multitier levels to the city that wove up and down the mountainside before spreading out on the actual ground. It was amazing to look at and she wanted to explore but she and the rest of the Wyverns were required to stay with the merchants.

  Nothing makes you want to bash two peoples’ heads together more than if you sit there and listen to them haggle over whether something should be two silvers more expensive or not. TWO SILVERS! She had had half a mind to slam the two silvers in question in front of them saying that they could take it from her, just to be done with it all. Finally, they were able to do the joyous – not – job of watching supplies be exchanged, the carts reloaded, and then like that, they were off again.

  It wasn’t the most eventful set of days but it was far more interesting than standing around a dock back in Imeryn and watching the same process happen. At least this way she got to see a different city.

  They were three days into their journey back when everything went to hell. Patrick was in the middle of an animated conversation with Zoe when he was cut off mid-sentence. The moment of impact was an audible clang followed by a grunt and he staggered back, his hand going to his shoulder where an arrow was lodged between his neck guard and breastplate. It had just missed his head.

  “We’re under attack!”

  The unnecessary shout bolted them all into action as people appeared from nowhere and everywhere, flooding in with their weapons drawn. The animals were going wild in panic, kicking up their legs and becoming just as dangerous as the attackers.

  Payton’s weapons were out and blocking an attack at lightning speed. The twisted grin the bandit was giving her made her scowl. Shoving him back, she tried to knock him off balance but his footwork compensated for the change. He took a swipe at her with his axe and she spun out of reach, barely escaping the edge of it. In the flurry of her movement as her daggers flew in her own assault they danced around the area, neither gaining the advantage. Finally, they locked blades, breathing heavily as they did. That smirk appeared again and he tried to hook the edge of his axe around her dagger to jerk one free from her grip.

  Not bloody likely.

  Even though it was a stupid idea, Payton slammed her forehead forward, connecting with his nose. Pain throbbed through her head but she could not help the satisfaction that spread through her when she saw him grunt and stumble back as blood poured out his broken nose. Not giving him a moment to recover, she swiped out with her blade, slicing it across his throat.

  Hamilton, the mage in their group, had taken out the archer if the smoking pile of remains with the bow near it was any indication. Hamilton appeared to have been downed at some point after. Whether he was dead or just unconscious remained to be seen. The rest were holding their own decently save Patrick who was struggling to fend off attacks while one arm was rendered useless thanks to the arrow through his shoulder.

  Charging forward, she appeared at his side, knocking the bandit away and blocking the blow. “So, I feel like our nice friendly stroll through the woods got a little derailed,” she said conversationally.

  “Yes, of course. It’s all just a misunderstanding. I’m sure if you explain it to them,” Patrick grumbled as their opponent got back up.

  “Hey Mister Bandit,” Payton started as the man ran at them.

  “Clark, I wasn’t serious!”

  Two on one made it stupidly easy, even if one of their two only could use a single arm. The bandit dropped fast but was replaced by two more in quick succession. Payton wrinkled her nose, ducking out of the way of a mace attack.r />
  “I think their multiplying.”

  “Oh shut up,” Patrick snapped.

  The heavy weapon was slow to wield but Payton knew from experience against Isiah and his greatsword that she could not block things with that sort of weight. It became a dance of sorts as she darted in and out of reach, trying to make the warrior over swing and strike his ally instead of her. Patrick did what he could, using his shield to absorb blows and shove the bandits back. It was in that moment Payton wished Isiah was there so they could do a spring step. It would bring at least one of these bastards down but she had never tried it with anyone else.

  So she had to figure this out on her own instead. And all she managed to figure out was a way to trip them. Or trip one. The big one with the mace that was determined to crush her was not watching where he was stepping and their back and forth flurry of dodges and advances had moved them off the path and into the woods.

  Faking a turn she ducked and rolled to her left and when he turned to follow his foot slid out from under him, slipping on the fresh pile of moss they had walked right into. He stumbled and nearly regained his balance. He might have actually done it if Payton hadn’t been ready for his near fall with her dagger poised up. He was impaled through the eye. He twitched, his body going dead weight but she swiftly slit his throat to be certain.

  Yanking her daggers free she went for the other man who was looking as though he was about to win the fight with Patrick. One look at what she had done however had him backing off and fumbling with something around his neck. She wasn’t going to let him drop a vial of poison or knock out gas. She’d—

  A whistle?

  The bandit put it to his lips and blew. The sound was almost imperceptible. Shrill and high. Was he calling for back up? If he was, he would not live to see it. Three moves. Three moves and he was down, whistle still on his lips. He had never stopped blowing it.

  That was when she heard it. A thunderous rustling through the trees. Payton turned just in time to see something massively large take a flying leap at her. It was luck she had managed to throw herself out of the beast’s path. Pure luck. She fell to the ground but used her momentum to roll to her feet. The animal landed hard and snarled, skidding on the forest floor, its massive paws making an audible scraping sound as it dug its claws down in order to twist around to face her. She knew she should move. Run for cover. Charge in a surprise attack. Scream in terror. Bloody do something. But all she did was stare.

  “Who brings a manticore to a bandit run?!” she exclaimed.

  She had never seen one in real life – which was likely a good thing. In stories, they were fierce monsters, five hundred pounds of solid muscle. As if the body and head of a lion weren’t terrifying enough, nature had to add scaly bat-like wings, and then there were the spikes. Spindly sharp spikes running all over its body, raised like a cat’s fur when aggravated, and coming to a dangerous looking tail that couldn’t look more bloodcurdling than if someone had attached twenty daggers to a post and then tied it to a wild beast.

  Drawings in books had nothing on the real thing.

  Payton recanted everything she said in her youth about wanting to see the beasts of knightly legend. The only beast she ever wanted to see again was skewered and cooked on a plate. Things without teeth and claws and—

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Payton wanted to echo that sentiment as she joined the others in the race for cover. The damned thing was shooting those spikes now. Hunching down and expelling them through the air like arrows. Leaning against a tree she heard several impacts it before the sounds stopped. Breathing heavily, she looked at the one that was stuck halfway through her arm. It was as thick around as her pinky and was suppler than she had expected. Grasping it, she gave a sharp yank and pulled it out, ignoring the way it cut into her glove.

  She glanced at the rest of her people around her. Hamilton was still down and Nathaniel had joined him though she did not see how. Anthony was near Zoe hiding behind a set of trees, Kathleen was outright missing, and Patrick… Payton’s throat grew thick. Patrick was on the ground, three quills along his face, one in his eye, another his temple, the third his jaw. He was dead.

  She swallowed hard. There was nothing she could do for him now. She had no idea where the merchant went and the horses and mules had broken free and run sometime between the fighting and the manticore’s arrival. So now it was just them. Three against this beast.

  Rubbing her head and pushing a few of the strands that had escaped her ponytail away from her face, Payton struggled to think. To plan. She could hear the manticore moving around, sniffing the dead. It would never let them escape. As soon as it heard them move, they’d be done for. Which meant what? Each second that ticked by her heart felt as though it beat faster, pounded louder. Could the manticore hear it? What could they do? What… Her eyes went up. The tree.

  She made a little wave to the other two and made a few mad gestures. If it had been her brothers, they would have understood. They would have yelled at her later for her crazy plan but they would have been able to figure out what she was thinking because they knew her too damned well. But Zoe and Anthony had not known her long enough. They were confused and scared and she could not wait for them. The manticore was losing interest in the corpses and it was becoming a now or never moment.

  Securing her daggers, Payton grabbed the lowest branch and hauled herself up. She heard the manticore snort as she made noise. Quickly as she could she climbed a little higher, trying to hide within the branches of the tree. The beast was coming over to investigate. Its spiked tail was raised threateningly.

  Closer… closer… Abruptly Payton dropped down, driving her dagger into the manticore’s back with the full force of her falling body. The beast let out a monstrous wail and threw itself upright, tossing Payton off. She hit the ground with a thud but scrambled to her feet. The manticore was charging at her, grunting and growling. Darting to the side, she dragged her daggers up its chest and it howled again. The tail flew at her and missed her by inches. Then again and again. It smashed into the ground always just missing her because she threw herself to the side at the last second.

  She had not known that a beast could do a fake out – pretend to do one thing but then do another – but this manticore did. Sick of missing and eager for revenge, it lunged at her. Once. Twice. It was rewarded with cuts each time and then it happened. The manticore acted as if it intended to strike from the right with its tail so Payton dodged… right into the beast’s pounce.

  Payton was slammed into the ground, her daggers slipping from her grip and the air pushing from her lungs. A massive paw swiped down her middle, her armor barely protecting her from those sharp claws. She stared up in terror at the monster, her hand fumbling, trying to pull the hidden knife from her bracer. If such a thing could gloat, that was what it was doing as it leaned down and exhaled its foul smelling breath over her. It opened its mouth revealing the horror of its sharp, blood splattered teeth, drool dripping down.

  The hilt finally was freed and she pulled. In one swift movement, the knife was in her palm and she swung it upward, burying it as deep into the beast’s throat as she could. It let out a gurgling roar and tried to move back but she refused to let it. She jerked the blade, sawing it and yanking it along the maw. The river of blood that was pouring out and drenching her arm made her hand slippery but she could not stop, could not let go. With a war cry of her own, she gave one final tug until her knife came out the other side, ripping a seven-inch gash in its neck.

  Victory became very clear when it began to collapse.

  Payton scuttled her way out from under the beast, slipping in the pool of growing blood causing her to get her foot pinned under the manticore’s head. Kicking it repeatedly with her foot, she managed to squirm herself free. Panting, she crawled away and collapsed onto her back.

  “That… was amazing!” a voice came from the trees. Anthony.

  “You… you just single-handedly took down a manticore. I�
��ve never heard anyone take on one with less than five men!” Zoe this time. Their voices were coming closer.

  “Shut… up…” she said between breaths. It took her a minute – alright it was probably closer to five – to feel like the world was right again. To make her body and mind catch up with each other and fully comprehend she had not died. Finally, she pushed herself to her feet and turned to her… ‘teammates’. “You bloody left me to deal with that thing by myself! Why didn’t you help me?!”

  “You looked like you had it in hand pretty well,” Anthony said awkwardly.

  “Had it in hand? I was barely staying on my feet out there, hardly doing any damage.” She shook her head in disbelief. “What about when I was pinned down? Did I have it in hand then?!”

  “I thought it had eaten you.”

  “Zoe!” Anthony hissed.

  “What? I did!”

  Payton huffed. She would never trust them to watch her back again. She went toward the carts that had broken axles and bodies strewn around. Moving forward she checked for survivors – on both sides.

  There were none.

  Patrick, Hamilton, and Nathaniel all had been slaughtered, either by the bandits or the manticore. Or a combination of both. They deserved to be brought back to Imeryn. If they had families at least they could get closure.

  Straightening, Payton focused on the actual reason they had been in this mess, to begin with. “So… anyone see where the merchant ran off to?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “A manticore?” “That refugee who joined the Wyverns, she took one out last week in the Olarkin Forest.” “You can’t be serious. Her?” “Single-handedly?” “I heard she ripped its throat out with her bare hands.” The talk followed her everywhere. Payton had no idea how it spread so quickly. No. That was a lie. She knew exactly how. Brisen. She could strangle that woman.