“Men are approaching, from the west!” Bevan pointed towards the mountains.
Fin looked to the direction. Bernard had loaded a ballista turret and was waiting for the men to reach firing range. The commander sighed, then walked towards the distraught slayer.
“Thank you Junior,” Sonja said, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder.
He nodded fast and enthusiastically, excited he had done something to help.
“Bernard!” Fin called out.
“They’re coming,” Bernard responded calmly. “We need to be ready for them.”
“I’m sure we will be fine.” Fin gently placed a hand on the slayer’s arm. “This doesn’t quite look like the numbers you warned me of.”
“More will come,” Bernard said through a trembling voice. He turned to the commander and stared vacantly into his eyes. “And when they do, they will come fast.”
“I appreciate your caution,” Fin said empathetically. “But I don’t want to start a war with these people. If we can avoid conflict, I think it would be best.”
Bernard shook his head. “I don’t think they are going to offer peace.”
The commander’s eyes were stern, determined, resolute. “You’ve been a slayer for a long time,” Fin said, then cleared his throat. “And what happens when someone—or something—takes one of our own?”
“We hunt the fuckers down,” Bernard responded without hesitation.
“Correct. We hunt the fuckers down!” Fin smirked. “So if these people are half as determined as us, and we kill some of their men—without good reason—what do you think they will do?”
Bernard swallowed hard. “Hunt us down?”
“I understand your caution, Bernard, but let’s not give them any more reason to be aggressive.”
Bernard began to nod. “Yes, Commander.”
Fin gave a smile, then brought a looking glass up to his eyes. After scanning the approaching men he said, “There is quite a few of them. Still, nothing we couldn’t handle. If we need to.”
“Like I said, more will come…” Bernard sighed. “This is but a tiny part of their army.”
“Can you see if they have any of our slayers with them?” Sonja queried. “Arnis, Theodoric, Knoch…” she took in a deep breath. “Rigst?”
“It looks like they have Arnis and Theodoric with them,” Fin said with relief. “Perhaps they may be returning them in good faith.”
Bernard shook his head. “I doubt it, not after what they said before.”
“We’ll wait and see,” Fin said calmly. “Man the ballista, but whatever you do, do not attack first.” He looked to Sonja. “Captain Bluwahlt and I shall greet our guests.”
“Is that wise sir?” Bernard asked. “If they take you—both of you—who will lead our defences?”
“They won’t take us.” Fin gave a confident smile. “And if they try, we have you.” He looked at the ballista. “Prepped and ready to rain down destruction.”
Bernard smiled at that. “Of course, Commander.”
“Come, Captain Bluwahlt.” Fin started back down the wall walk. “Let us prep for our visitors’ arrival.”
Sonja was uncomfortable with this whole situation. She had had beasts, wyverns, and horrors try to hurt the people of Holtur, and there was no hesitation to fight back and destroy them. The thought of fighting humans though, it was filling her with concern and worry. She could hold her own against other men; she had done so many times, fist to fist, and when practicing weapon play in her younger years. But having a group of men come to her home—possibly with deadly intent—filled her with discomfort. Could she feed her claymore through a man’s heart? Slice open a man’s neck? Could she be merciless to an ill-doer if they begged her to stop—even if their words were lies? When a wounded wyvern or beast yelped and cried, it was just part of the process, but a human?
Commander Maver gave out precise orders to the slayers while Sonja fought a battle inside her mind. The ballista turrets were all manned. Almost every slayer had been equipped with long bows or crossbows and had concealed themselves behind the battlements. Other slayers had prepared themselves in the courtyard, prepared for a melee encounter if the gate was breached. On each side of the inner gate, an alpha wyvern crouched ready. Excited juvies puffed smoke around the large legs of the alphas.
By the time the defence had been readied, the foreign men were close to approaching. Sonja and Fin walked through the gate, and the portcullis slowly dropped down behind them.
“I do hope we did all that perpetration for nothing,” Sonja whispered, her gaze fixed on the oncoming men.
“As do I,” Fin agreed, “but over-preparation is in no way a curse.”
Sonja jolted at that word, curse. It was just Fin’s way of talking, but since Tequidi flew into town, she couldn’t stop wondering if there was an actual curse on Holtur. She had no idea exactly what a curse was, or how it would have been created, but that didn’t stop the word ringing through her mind.
Both Sonja and Fin stood in silence, watching the men continue their approach. Bound and gagged, Arnis and Theodoric were at the head of the group. Seeing them in that way, Sonja had to fight against her instincts in order to keep her claymore sheathed. She noticed Fin twitch, clearly fighting a similar urge with his own blade. The commander’s knuckles turned white and the grip on his blue shield tightened.
These men didn’t march like an organised army, or share a familiar uniform. No glorified banners were held among their ranks. Sonja’s worry grew; these were free men. Free men that had joined together for a cause, and each individual was part of the purpose. She assumed this would mean every single man had the will to fight. Removing their leader wouldn’t stop them, maybe slow them down, but they would keep fighting for whatever it is they were seeking.
The advanced stopped about twenty metres away from the gate, and the two bound slayers were pushed down to their knees.
“What is it that you want?” Fin called out.
There was no response. The men all shifted about, gazing at the slayers before them, like sizing them up before a fight. Some were looking at the Holtur wall, a look of longing in their eyes. Arnis and Theodoric made no attempt to struggle against their binds, no attempt to talk.
“What is it that you want?” Fin repeated. “And why do you have two of Holtur’s people, bound and gagged?”
Still no response. The large group of men all turned away, their gaze set back up the western road. Fin and Sonja did the same. Something was moving along the road at great speed towards them. Plumes of white and brown were being kicked up into the air behind whatever it was. Snow, mud, and dust flung into the sky, drifting to the north after being caught by the cool, southerly winds.
Whatever it was, it approached fast. Sonja didn’t need to squint to see the thing, it was growing in her vision rapidly. There was actually four things moving towards them. Four black steeds of some sort, each with a rider atop them. Sonja had never seen such a creature before; they were faster than any horse, probably even faster than a wyvern!
The creatures slowed down, then split into pairs. The two units moved around either side of the group of men, they then came to the front of the group, stopping beside the bound slayers. The steeds weren’t much smaller than a horse and were covered in a pitch-black carapace. On either side of their necks, horns stuck out, curling forwards. Another horn shot up from the end of its snout. Beneath the snout, sharp black teeth, with mandibles on the side, gnashed at the air. It had six legs, all thin, but ripped with that pitch-black carapace, tipped with three sharp claws. Great, more insects. If it came to a fight, Sonja would be cautious about using any heat based offensives!
The men climbed off their insect-like steeds and stepped towards Fin and Sonja. The two outer men were dressed simply like the others in the group, plain furs, basic weapons, iron helms. A pair of crude, brown-rimmed goggles was all that set them apart. The two inner men, appeared much more decorated. On the right, the shorter man wore crimson armour, the edg
es were trimmed with shining gold. His breastplate had a wyvern’s head, jaws open wide, etched in gold. The wyvern’s head was atop a bronze triangular shape, that stretched up from his belt line. A thick black cape fell from his shoulders, whether for show, or for warmth, it appeared to be made from the darkest wolf fur Sonja had ever seen. Atop his head was a gold and crimson helm, and the goggles he wore shared the same colours.
The man on the left was tall, even taller than Sonja herself. Black must have been his favourite colour, it was all he wore. Thick, leather chaps stretched up from his boots to his waist. Atop his head was an open-faced helm, and over that sat thick goggles. His leather jacket was open over a shirt, and around his neck was the only thing that was not a dark black colour: a thick, silver chain. Still, something black was dangling from it, but she couldn’t make out what it was, not amongst all the black! He too wore a similar exquisite cape, black as the rest of his attire. Despite the darkness of the man, his complexion was incredibly pale. He was lean and the little skin he had revealed showed he was without a trace of fat. Every ounce of the man was muscle.
The four of them removed their goggles at the same time, looking up at the Holtur walls, ignoring Sonja and Fin. “So… this? This is Holtur?” the taller man said with a one sided smirk and brooding eyes. “This little shit hole is the promised place, huh?” He turned to the man in crimson and raised a brow.
The shorter man didn’t say a word, he just nodded, then continued scanning the walls.
“What is it that you want?” Fin asked for the third time.
“Woah, straight to the point, hey squire?” The man in black started to laugh. “So you really don’t know what we are here for?”
“All I know is that you have two of our men,” Fin said, looking to Arnis and Theodoric. “Bound and gagged, and have come with a considerable force.”
“Considerable force?” The man in black turned to his companion. “You hear that? They think this is considerable force!” The two of them began to laugh, then their men joined in. When the two stopped laughing, the others instantly shut their mouths too. “If you Holtur folk see us—this little welcoming committee—as any form of danger, then I suppose when the rest of us catch up, we’d have no issue razing your town to the ground?”
“That may be true,” Fin said, confidence still clear in his voice. “Let us know what you want, and we’ll be sure to deliver it to you.”
“Now that’s the kind of attitude I like!” The man in black flicked a pointed finger at Fin as he spoke. His dark eyebrows raised, and his hazel eyes twinkled. “You’re obviously an intelligent man! Tell me, what’s your name?”
“My name is Fin Maver,” the commander said cautiously, then gestured to Sonja, “and this is Sonja Bluwahlt.”
“I don’t really care what the woman’s name is!” The man in black began pacing between the bound slayers. “Although, I am happy to see your town has women! If my men get hungry, I’ll send them in. You know? To satiate their needs.” Wrinkles sprouted through his cheeks as he offered Sonja a large grin.
Sonja grunted involuntarily. The more this man spoke, the easier it would be to see him for the monster he was. Her worry about if she could slay a man was rapidly declining, for this individual anyway.
“The women of Holtur are ours,” Fin said sternly. “I would rather avoid conflict between our people, we will give you what you want, and you will leave us be.”
The man in black began walking towards them. “Ahh, Fin Maver, I too would rather avoid any conflict,” he said sincerely, then leant in close to his ear. “I just hope my men feel the same way! It’s been a long time since many of the men have had any action, if you know what I mean?” He winked.
Fin sighed. “What is it you want? And what should I call you?”
“Of course, where are my manners! You just seemed so excited to discuss business that I completely forgot about pleasantries! My name is Caede Nalem.” Caede then gestured to the man in crimson. “And this fine fellow, is Crispin Turice.” He then swayed his hand out to all his other men. “Together, with the rest of the men, we are the Brothers of Eternity.”
Sonja was keeping a mental note of everything the man said. She had a name for this group, Brothers of Eternity, and she knew it had a leader. Whether it was the one with the mouth or the one in red, it mattered not. After hearing Caede speak, she wondered if these men were following freely or out of fear? Perhaps there were two people who’s deaths could stall—perhaps even stop—this large mob: Caede and Crispin. They were dressed up nicely, but she couldn’t sense a superior physical prowess from either of them. In her experience, the strongest warriors were the most humble.
Fin politely nodded to both men. “Well, Caede, please, tell us what it is that the Brothers of Eternity want from Holtur.”
“Come on, Fin!” Caede looked at him sideways. “Surely you’re smart enough to know what we want?”
Fin shook his head. “I must apologise, I do not.”
Caede raised a brow and turned back to Crispin. “Can you believe this man?” He gave a snicker. “He doesn’t know!”
“The Eternity Grail,” Crispin said. His bright blue eyes pierced into Sonja’s. She had no idea what or how, but she suddenly felt a hot flush of nauseating discomfort.
“I have not a clue as to what an Eternity Grail is.” Fin shrugged.
“Well, then we may have a little problem!” Caede stood tall. “If you can’t bring it to us, we’ll have to come in and take a look around for ourselves!”
Sonja swallowed hard. She didn’t want any of these brothers entering her town.
“Are you sure what you seek is here?” Fin asked.
“The Eternity Grail is close,” Crispin said with a nod.
“Look, we are sporting men.” Caede gave a big, toothy smirk. “Tell you what, we’ll give you three suns to find the Eternity Grail. In three suns, you hand it to us, and we’ll be happy to forget this place ever existed. I’ll see to it my men even leave your women alone!”
Sonja grunted again at his words. “And if we don’t find it?” she asked.
“Then we’re gonna fuck you bitches like it’s the final sun of our glorious existence!” Caede gave a whoop, then thrust his pelvis in a mocking manner. “I might even give you the honor of fucking you first!”
“Why you…” Sonja unsheathed her claymore, only for Fin to restrain her with his free hand.
“Oh yeah, I like ‘em feisty!” Wrinkles covered Caede’s face as his grin continued to expand. “But, for your sake, best you let the men do the talking.”
“Stand down Sonja!” Fin commanded.
She went to sheathe her blade, only to be interrupted by the whir of ballista bolt flying towards the men. Crispin threw his fist in the bolt’s direction, unleashing a red plume of fire towards it. The energy intercepted the bolt with a thunderous noise. Sparks—and splinters of wood—flew in all direction.
“Damn…” Caede looked up the wall, his eyes meeting with the man by the ballista turret. “Bernard?” He laughed, exaggerating the hilarity by bending over and slapping his thigh. Caede stopped suddenly, and his gaze returned to the man atop the wall. “I let you live, Bernard. I give you the opportunity to tell of our coming, and you choose to repay me like this?”
Fin too was looking up at the ballista turret, brows furrowed with disappointment. He turned back to Caede. “My apologies Caede.”
“You really need to learn to control your men!” Caede paced back and forth. “Why, he could have hurt one of my brothers! Have you got any idea what kind of conflict that would have caused?”
“I do,” Fin said sternly. “I apologise, Bernard will be punished accordingly.”
“I’ve given you the opportunity to work with us, to keep your people safe,” Caede said with a smirk. “I trust you to do so, but, Fin Maver, I don’t trust that your punishment would be severe enough.”
“What would you have me do?” Fin was finding it harder to keep peace with the
man.
“Well, I would say bring Bernard to me, but I think that man is beyond any redemption that even I could offer.” Caede continued pacing back and forth, then walked up to Arnis. “Do you comprehend the situation? One of my men—one of my brothers—could have died this sun. All because your men lack discipline.” He picked Arnis up by the scruff of his furs and threw him at Fin’s feet. “He’s one of yours, yes?”
“Arnis Cena,” Fin said quietly. “A good man.”
“Execute him.” Caede tilted his head. He said the words with ease, lacking any remorse. “I came here to return these men to you, they’ve behaved well enough to earn their freedom. But… I’m afraid—if we are going to make this fair between us—you’re going to have to kill him. It’s only right you punish your own.”
“I have never killed a man,” Fin said. He tried to keep his voice calm, but this request had pushed a hint of fear into it. “And I intend to keep it that way.”
“Never killed a man?” Caede laughed, then turned back to man in red. “Crispin, this hardy looking man has never actually killed!” The two of them laughed for a moment, and he returned his gaze back to Fin. “Well, Fin, this is the sun you become a man!” He yelled ‘man’ loudly, as though the whole concept excited him. The Brothers of Eternity began to whoop and cheer. “There’s nothing quite as exhilarating as becoming a man!”
“Arnis is a good man,” Fin said with a shake of his head. “I refuse to harm him. None of your men were injured, surely you could forgive Bernard for his mistake.”
Caede sighed, then looked to the ground. “Really Fin? I thought better of you.” He strode forwards, revealing a black-bladed hatchet from the back of his belt. With a toothy grin he drove the hatchet into the back of the bound slayers neck. Blood splattered across Caede’s face as Arnis fell to the ground. He removed the hatchet and struck again and again. Each strike expunging more blood over Caede’s wide-eyed face. After the head was nothing but a bloody pulp, Caede stood back up, whooped, took in a deep breath, then appeared calm and composed once more. “The fact he failed does not change the intent!” He gave a smirk, communicating a different tone—mixed with the streaks of blood across his face—of intensified anger through his eyes.
The Holtur Curse (The Holtur Trilogy Book 2) Page 11