HE WHO FIGHTS (Nathaniel Rane Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  "I'll certainly pray for you," replied Fia. "I'll pray for all of you."

  Rane nodded and nudged his horse on after Myri. He could feel Kibon's frustration pressing down on his back, warning him that he was being foolish. Why risk the Legion's safety for people he barely knew? But Kibon wasn't going to be his master. Fear wasn't going to control him. He had to be better than that.

  Myri's mood hadn't improved by the time he caught up with her. She'd moved her sword from her back to her hip and looked keen to use it.

  "How many days to Orska?" asked Rane.

  "About five," replied Myri.

  "And to Napolin?"

  Myri glanced back the way they'd come, back to where Fia and her pilgrims were. "Seven or eight. Why?"

  Rane hesitated, unsure if he should tell Myri what had happened, but they had to have trust between them, especially if their lives depended upon it. "Fia's reporting us to the head of her order when she gets to Napolin, telling them about Orska."

  "The church of Odason hangs Legionnaires. We’ll have the Inquisition after us."

  "I know."

  "I hope you put them all in the ground."

  "You know I didn't."

  "Fool." Myri went to turn her horse and head back but Rane put his own mount in her way.

  "We stick with the plan. Go to Orska. Get cured," said Rane. "Once we've done that, we can get this death sentence lifted off us. With the magic gone, there's no need to hang anyone. The Lord General can talk some sense into them."

  Myri shook her head. "Nothing's that easy."

  "Gathering a force against us won't happen over night. We could have two or three weeks before any sort of army or militia would be ready to march."

  "It's still safer to remove the risk altogether. The dead don't talk."

  "We're Legionnaires, not monsters. Not yet. Fia and the others are just scared. We need to show them we're better than that."

  "Not monsters?" grunted Myri. "We're monsters all right. Have been for a long time. It’s just that we're not as bad yet as some of the others out there. But give it time."

  Rane was lost for an answer. Too many dead flashed before his eyes. And the joy he'd felt in killing them. He held onto Kara's locket, the last part of the life he'd wanted.

  Myri saw him, sneered. "Sometime soon you'll realise that's just a sliver of metal and it won't stop you becoming whatever you're going to become."

  "Then why are we going to Orska? Why are we fighting this curse? We might as well kill ourselves right here, right now."

  "Aye, we could." Myri smiled that dead grin of hers. "I'll tell you what, you go first. I promise I'll cut my own throat right after." She stared at him for a moment, then arched her eyebrow as she waited for his answer. Finally she chuckled. "Thought not. Let's move on. It's a long ride."

  For two hours they rode in silence. At least they were moving forward again now, with nothing to stop them getting to Orska. Marcus was gone, the children safe and the Dead Lands left further and further behind them. Whatever pressure Myri was under and regardless of the danger both their lives were in, worrying about any of it wasn't going to change anything. Rane just had to concentrate on the road before them. Their path for now was set.

  At least there was pleasure to be found in the countryside around them after the scorched earth, bones and constant fire and smoke of the Dead Lands. The colours of the grass and trees around them looked more vivid than any Rane could remember seeing for a long time. Even the autumn hues that were starting to creep in amongst the green had a beauty that almost brought a tear to his eye. And the easterly wind carried fresh air to clear out the muck that had accumulated over the previous days. Rane almost felt human again.

  But the weight of Kibon on his back reminded him otherwise.

  They stopped to eat and rest the horses next to a small brook. The pilgrims had given them two loafs of bread, some rice and some dried meat. Enough to keep them going most of the way if they were careful. Myri sat with her back against a tree, facing back down the road, squinting into the distance.

  "No one's following," said Rane.

  His voice seemed to startle her, as if she'd forgotten he was there. "What did you say?"

  "No one's following."

  "I know," replied Myri and went back to eating her heel of bread but every now and then, her eyes would look up and reconfirm the road was empty all the same.

  Later that afternoon, they passed a village consisting of not much more than an inn and a couple of farmhouses, but the Legionnaires stuck to the woodland and kept out of sight.

  As day turned into night, they reached a crossroads; to the north-west was the road to Napolin, to the north-east was the way to the coast and Orska. It was the point where they should have been saying their goodbyes to Fia and the others but they weren't living in the days of fond farewells.

  Rane caught Myri looking back again and this time, he too turned to gaze down the road they'd just travelled. It stretched long and empty back into the woods and out of sight. The pilgrims were probably a half-day behind them at the speed they moved at. Despite how they'd parted, Rane wished them a safe journey on.

  They found a hollow off the main road, a nice dip in the ground with a fallen tree to one side, offering some decent shelter for the night as well as cover from anyone on the road. Myri and Rane tied up their horses and began setting up a camp.

  Rane soon had a fire going and a pot of rice cooking. "I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this. When was the last time we had hot food?"

  "Probably the last time you bathed," replied Myri and this time her smile was genuine, as warm as the fire they were sat around.

  "We must stink," chuckled Rane.

  "Something else to sort out when we get to Orska."

  The rice, when it was cooked, provided enough for a small bowl each, but it was more than enough for Rane. He savoured every grain, enjoying the taste of something warm again, of food untainted by demon fire. The two Legionnaires may only have had a dry patch of ground to sit on but he had a full stomach, and was warm and comfortable for the first time in an age.

  "Why don't you get some rest?" said Myri after she'd finished eating. "I'll take first watch."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Sure," Her voice was soft and gentle. "You've been through enough these past few days. Get some sleep."

  "Thanks. Wake me in a few hours and I'll take over," replied Rane. He lay down on the ground, the dirt feeling softer than any bed. How long had he been awake? Two, three days? He was so very tired. He closed his eyes.

  27

  Rane woke to an empty campsite. Myri was nowhere to be seen. Her horse was gone.

  Where was she?

  It was early still; the sun no more than a promise in the sky, the wind sharp enough to quickly clear the fog from his thoughts. Had she left him, headed off to Orska on her own? The road ahead was empty — how long had it been since she’d left? He glanced back the way they’d come, back towards the crossroads, back to the where Fia and the others would be travelling. Unease grew in his mind. Her threats churned his gut.

  No.

  She wouldn’t have gone back to kill them — not after all they’d been through to save them. But even as the thoughts flashed through his mind, he knew only too well, she could.

  Had he lost her to the sword?

  He stood there, staring down the road, full of dread and fear, praying to the Gods that he was wrong.

  "You’re awake," said Myri from behind him. He’d not heard her approach.

  "Where were you?" asked Rane without turning. Kibon burning in his mind, warning him that Myri could be tainted. Lost forever. Better to kill her now. Before it was too late.

  "I heard noises. Went to investigate." There was a thud on the ground, something heavy.

  Rane looked over his shoulder. A Bracke head lay in the dirt.

  "Thought I'd bring you a souvenir just in case you didn't believe me," said Myri, her sword sheathed and on
her hip. She walked out of sight again and returned with her horse.

  Rane took deep breaths to try and get his fears under control, aware that he was grinding his teeth and his body was racked with tremors. Was it Kibon making him that way?

  She unsaddled her horse, seemingly unconcerned that he was watching her. When she was finished, she walked past him, squatted down and threw more wood onto the fire.

  NO screamed Kibon. Myri was a threat. Best be quick, attack before it was too late. The voice pounded away in his brain. His hand twitched, eager to feel Kibon once more. But Rane fought back. The sword's weight pressed down on him a thousandfold, but the sword wouldn’t be his master. His arms shook with the effort but he ignored its warnings.

  "Gets harder each time, doesn't it," said Myri. She raised an eyebrow as if she knew everything he was thinking. "You should try doing when it's as black as night and you've only got one fucking hand." She stood up, walked towards him. "Trouble is, you and I are both charged up with all this magic and power and got nothing but each other to take it out on."

  Rane shifted his posture, unsure of what was about to happen. But her sword was still sheathed.

  "Do you ever think about us?" she asked. The firelight danced across her skin.

  "Us?"

  She smiled. "In that way."

  "Oh."

  "We used to have fun together back when we were in the Legion." She took another step closer. Inches separated them.

  "To be honest, I didn't think you remembered. It was a long time ago."

  Myri placed her hand against his chest. "You haven't forgotten either."

  "I haven't but..."

  "Come on. We've got this curse hanging over us. I lost my arm for Gods' sake. People are eager to do us harm. So I've been thinking. How I'd like to feel something good. Feel something that can make me forget this blackness that's growing inside me — even if it's only for an hour or two. Don't you, Nathaniel? Imagine what it would be like with all this power screaming inside us right now." She pressed herself against him, her cheek next to his.

  "Myri, I..." He cupped her face in his hand, only too aware of the primal rush he was feeling inside. "I wish I could but I can't."

  "You can't?" Myri took a step back, pulled her face free. "There's no threat to us nearby. We're safe."

  "I only lost my wife only a short time ago, and she may be gone, but I still feel her here." Rane patted his heart, "and I still feel married to her. I can't be with anyone else. Not now. Not for a long time. I'm sorry."

  "Un-fucking-believable." Myri laughed, shook her head. "I understand — or rather I don't — but whatever. Look, forget we had this conversation. I need some fucking sleep."

  "I'm sorry." He reached out for her again but she shrugged off his hand.

  "Don't be. And don't worry — it won't happen again." She spoke with her back to him, a shadow. "Wake me in a couple of hours."

  "Shit." Rane ran his hand through his hair, rubbed his face. "I'm going to go for a walk. I won't be far. I just need... I'll be back soon."

  Myri didn't reply, just curled up on the floor with her back to the fire and dragged her blanket over herself.

  Rane stood there for a moment, watching her, wondering if he'd made another mistake in more ways than one. But it was what it was. He picked up the severed head and walked until he came to a sharp drop. The forest continued a couple of hundred feet below.

  He threw the head over the side and watched it drop out of sight. Glad to see it go but deep down, he knew there would be more on the way. What were they even doing back in the world? Jotnar, Bracke, Valkryn, Grenduns — the Legion was supposed to have killed them all. He'd given his fucking soul up to rid the world of them, allowed half of Ascalonia to go up in magic fire to destroy them. Was it all for nothing?

  Rane dropped to his knees, letting out a loud sob as tears formed in the corner of his eyes. "Damn you. Damn you all," he said and punched the ground. Again and again. With his right then his left. He pounded the ground until his hands bleed and the bones broke. Tears ran down his face and still he hammered away at the ground.

  Finally, his fury died. He looked at his hands as Kibon’s magic set about healing them. Before his eyes, the bones fused and the wounds closed. Before long, it was as nothing had happened.

  He staggered back to camp, holding onto Kara's locket as if it alone had the power to save him from becoming a monster. Myri hadn't moved. She might've been sleeping or just pretending to be but either way, Rane was grateful not to have to speak to her again that night.

  Her horse snorted at him as he passed so Rane stopped to give the animal a pat. When he touched the horse, he was surprised to find the animal damp from sweat. Myri had ridden the horse hard somewhere while Rane had been asleep. He picked up some grass and began to rub the horse down. The last thing they needed was the horse to go lame with so far still to go.

  As he worked, thoughts of where Myri had gone played through his mind. She'd dealt with a Bracke but that must have been nearby for her to have heard it. So where had she gone to get the horse so worked up?

  The dread came back as only one answer made sense. Fia and the other pilgrims. Had Myri gone to find them? And there was only one reason why she'd do that. Myri had said they were safe, that there were no threats to the Legionnaires out there.

  He looked down at her sleeping body. Had she murdered Fia and the others?

  Part IV

  28

  "Nathaniel, wake up," whispered Myri.

  Rane was up in an instant, hand reaching for Kibon. It was still dark. How long had he been asleep? Not long enough that was for sure. "What is it?"

  "Bracke." Myri crouched, her own sword already unsheathed and ready. As she spoke, the horses picked up the scent of the demon and strained against their tethers, stomping the ground in fear.

  "How many?"

  "Just the one. Heard it coming up the slope."

  Rane sighed with relief. He was almost tempted to lie back down and leave the devil dog to Myri but better safe than sorry no matter how tired he was. "We could've had a fire after all."

  "Least we know now." In the week since they'd left Dead Lands, the two of them had been plagued by Bracke. Even some Valkryn had attacked them, swooping down from the night skies on their heavy wings.

  Rane and Myri had tried everything to shake the creatures off their tail, but it hadn’t done any good. That night they'd camped with no fire, hoping that would help hide them. But it had obviously not made any difference. The demons were drawn to them no matter what they did.

  "Let's get it done so I can get back to sleep." Rane pulled Kibon free from its scabbard. Immediately, a thrill ran through him, pushing the weariness from his bones. He moved to Myri's right, watching the peak for the Bracke to appear. "How many have we killed now?"

  "Too many. Not enough." Myri was her usual talkative self. They'd barely spoken since that night. The night she'd gone off only the Gods knew where. A week of silence that grew heavier by the day. If it wasn't for the demons coming after them continually, Rane doubted Myri would've said a word. But the demons kept appearing and Rane and Myri kept killing them. So much for hoping they'd left them back with the bones in the Dead Lands.

  “Where are they coming from?” said Rane.

  “Fuck knows,” replied Myri. “But I’m happy to slaughter them all.” She grinned, her black sword bouncing in her hand. With Orska so close, any restraint in using her blade had all but gone. She was going to be cured tomorrow so why should she worry about today? Even so, the sight of her so close to the edge terrified Rane. Every life she took, he worried that it would be the one that turned her into a demon like Marcus.

  He'd tried to deal with as many of the demons as he could to spare Myri from adding to her blade's taint, but there had been too many, too often. Neither of them were getting much rest, their nerves frayed, kept busy by the demons, fuelled by their swords' magic and dragged on by the pull of Orska. Even Kibon was showing more
signs of taint. But what could they do but follow the path they were on? At least a cure waited for them.

  The Bracke took its time approaching, claws scratching on rock as it made its way up towards them. It crept over the lip of the hill, pausing when it saw the two Legionnaires. It pulled back with a roar, baring its teeth, and putting all its weight on its hind legs, ready to pounce.

  "Let me..." said Rane, stepping forward, but Myri was already moving to attack, no longer worried about fighting with her left hand after all the practice she'd had.

  The Bracke launched itself at her with a roar, claws extended and jaws wide. Myri's sword cut it down in mid-air, the black blade barely visible in the night. She shuddered with the blow as the magic hit her.

  More blood fed to her sword.

  "Are you okay?" asked Rane once they'd sheathed their swords.

  "I'm fine," she replied, thin-lipped and taut.

  "Orska's close." Judging by the sea air and from what Rane could remember, they would be at the castle later that day. And not a moment too soon. Hopefully not a moment too late.

  Myri glared at him. Her eyes flint. She sucked in air through her nose as she chewed on something to say. "I'm fine."

  "You can talk about it. It's hard."

  "I'm fine," she repeated. Her body shook with the faintest of tremors, as if it was taking all her effort to control her temper but Rane had no doubt that violence would follow if he dared asked one more time.

  "Okay. Sorry." There was another twist in his gut. Sadness seeped through him. Sadness tinged with fear. He remembered what Marcus had become, what Myri was close to becoming. How many more kills would put her over the edge? Or was she already gone? Had she killed the pilgrims? He'd not asked her. Not that night, the morning after, or any of the days since. It was just one more of his nagging fears that he tried not to think about.

  Perhaps his face betrayed what he was thinking as Myri softened for a moment. "I really am fine. You don't have to worry about me." Her voice was a whisper, the anger gone.