Calder got hold of the scalpels and was determined to return Jade’s favor.
Haddock had his eyes on Skadi. The money from the prospect of her death drove him blindly. But two other girls were in his way.
Thaena was next within Haddock’s reach and was greeted by his axe. With no solid weapon in her hand, she tumbled backwards against Kyra, blocking her line of sight, preventing her from casting a spell. Jade saw an opening in Haddock’s ferocious attack and swung her mace against his leg. It splintered bone and sent him to his knees, screaming. But what time she had bought Thaena was running out against defending herself from Calder’s scalpel. Jade had no time to do anything other than hold her hands in front of her face. The blade cut through the flesh of both forearms in zigzag lines. The pain made her drop her defense and Calder got hold of her, ready to slice her throat.
Kyra was fighting with herself whether to intervene. She had no clear line to the enemies. Releasing her powers in confined spaces would not be a good idea and would maybe do more harm than good.
Jade wrestled with Calder’s hand to hold the scalpel away from her neck. A package fell out of her pocket and was trampled under Calder’s shifting feet. It was the present Kyra had given to Dryston.
Kyra’s fury was enough to tear down walls. Something on the ground shook. A tremor rumbled through the earth beneath the house. The forks and knives in the kitchen began to shudder. All kinds of items were lifted up and accelerated, as if attracted or pushed by a powerful magnet.
Skadi was still standing on the stairway, paralyzed by the bedlam that had unfolded in just a matter of seconds. Haddock lunged out with his axe. He was too far away to reach her, so he threw his weapon.
Kyra’s force missed the whirling axe entirely and failed to take it down.
Something massive gripped Skadi from behind and threw her against the wall, a second before the axe hit home and the shockwave of Kyra’s spell sent metallic shrapnel showering over the fighters in the hall.
It was Dryston who brought her out of harm’s way. He got back on his feet and realized the axe had ricocheted off the stairs and come back. It had left a gash in his fist weapon. Thick blood was streaming out where his little finger was missing, cut clean off by the axe head. But it had saved Skadi’s life for a second more.
ALL COMBATANTS WERE KNOCKED DOWN from the shockwave, wounded from magnetic bullets, or showed scalpel cuts on the forearms. Skadi seemed unconsciousness, probably hit by the handle of Haddock’s axe to the back of her head. Kyra looked pale and exhausted from casting, shortly before passing out. Seeing the girls lying in a puddle of blood, slumped together like sacks of meat, made Dryston’s heart sink. He felt sick and nearly threw up due to his unstopping blood loss.
The door to the outside was broken open. It creaked on its hinges. Haddock and Calder stirred on the ground, obviously dazed. They tried to get up. Dryston wouldn’t let it come to this. He knew he only had seconds left before he would black out himself. He picked up the axe that had claimed his finger and tumbled over to the assassins. He swung the axe in an upward chop that shattered Haddock’s jaw. The ground had turned into a sea of blood. Before he could turn to Calder he grew dizzy and fell forward awkwardly. Everything depended on who was the last man standing, Dryston thought, before he blacked out.
SHE AWOKE IN THE SURGEON’S HOUSE after a sleep that felt like it had been days. The room was filled with an unpleasant smell of antiseptic and the much worse metallic tang of dried blood. Thaena’s feverish dreams had haunted her in the sleep world she couldn’t escape. She had dreamt about the Wild Hunt. It was for the first time in her life that she could remember this, but she knew what it was from the stories she had been told as a little kid. The Wild Hunt was a flying army host of outlandish ghosts, mostly descending from a non-human race that were said to precede a war in the real world. Thaena tried hard to think about reasons for this becoming reality. There were no signs whatsoever.
She set up from the makeshift cot she had been laid on when she was unconscious and shook off the worries of the nightmare. She felt stitches over her brow, back and upper arms. Other patients were lined up beside her in the small room to accommodate as many as possible, bruised and sewn together. She recognized them as her friends. Far on the other side, two corpses were covered on stretchers.
“They are dead,” a deep voice told her casually. Cormack pushed himself from the kitchen counter and sat beside her.
Thaena was wondering how long he had been watching her sleep.
“The bad guys,” he added. “Scythed the last one down. May I?” Cormack asked and pulled Thaena’s blanket from her leg.
She was frightened by the long cut-wound that was stitched together on her thigh.
“It will heal,” Cormack said. “Thanks to the doc.”
Thaena swallowed. “And thanks to you,” she said quietly.
Cormack looked up at Dryston.
“You think you can walk?” he asked Thaena.
She carefully tried to put pressure on her leg and nodded.
“Good. Because we have to go.”
DRYSTON WAS EYEING KYRA, since she was up from her cot. She felt his glance on her but tried to ignore it as best as she could. Her reflection looked miserable, her lip split and bloodied from the spell that had turned the whole room upside down. Dust and blotted blood had ravaged her hair. But what really hurt her wasn’t on the outside.
To see the present she gave to Dryston in Jade’s hands made her waver on how she felt about him. She couldn’t allow herself to trust what was between Dryston and Jade after what she had seen. But had she the right to demand what he had to do?
“How long do you want to keep looking at me like that?” she asked eventually.
“Until you tell me what it is that’s standing between us,” Dryston said.
She shrugged. “You don’t know what it is?” She was looking at Dryston for the first time since they were awake. “What happened to the thing I gave to you?”
Dryston hesitated. It took some time till he was sure she meant the small package he had given to Jade.
“It was the price to pay to get to you,” he answered.
THOSE OLD HANDS, the blood caked them. Almost like a second skin. There were places where it was always difficult to remove it. Ultimately, it got absorbed or dissolved. But the iron smell and the dried feel never went away. They had seen plenty and would see plenty more. But he feared for his children, if they perhaps had seen too much at that young age. He feared for their mental health. What if they would become killers one day? He had failed to protect them from the cruelty of the outside world. It had come to his house, knocked on the door, and he’d let it in. Once you’d let it in, you couldn’t get it out anymore. There were things that couldn’t be unlived or unexperienced.
Doc Sage had treated them through the night and saved their lives, but only to get rid of them. He hadn’t treated the assassins, as that would have only brought more problems. He was in the middle of drilling a hole into the one’s skull to release the pressure on his brain. Then he just stopped and let the drill fall. He began to think about what to do. Turn his back on the oath he swore and do what little he could to save his home, or continue to save the lives of those who’d invaded his house? Eventually, he made a decision, one he had never made before. He let one side die to end the bloodshed.
Every one of them was injured, cut, bruised, concussed and not fit to leave their cots for some time. But they couldn’t stay any longer. Searching parties would soon knock on the surgeon’s door and ask questions.
He wasn’t even sure he would cover up for them once they left, and the dead bodies would be found. They had broken his home beyond repair, and Sage hadn’t forgiven them for this.
The constant terror, and staying awake washing his hands in blood the whole night had left him a wreck by the time the group could be urged to leave.
Dryston stopped beside him as Sage held open the door to show out the desecrators of h
is house.
“We owe our lives to you,” Dryston said to him.
Sage considered him with shrewd eyes. “I have nothing but disgust for you and want you out of my home. Leave and never come back.”
“Thank you,” Dryston added and turned away from him.
CLUTCHING HIS BANDAGES, Dryston stepped through the door. The world outside was sun-drenched but not nearly as warm as it first looked. Ravens croaked on the tops of the roofs and leafless trees.
There was always a feeling of disappointment when the hard part was done and his job was to get everyone going back to earn their price. He wanted it now as a reward, but he knew it would take hours and a long journey, even though he had done everything that was asked of him.
Down south in the outskirts, thin smoke was rising from the extinguished fire. The pleasant smell of burned wood, along with the stinging chill, soaked through his nostrils. He popped the collar of his mantle and strode down the street, boots sinking in the muddy ground.
It would be a long trip back to the army camp, and even more so now that they were wounded. But at the end of that path stood the reward for their struggles. With the warlord Jarnsaxa Ornsdottir, they would bargain over their share.
THEY RETURNED OVER THE FLOODED BRIDGE into the desolate hinterland. The woods were dark and brooding, not soaked from constant rain like the day before, but displayed in the sunlight like a dried water corpse washed ashore. Toppled trees jammed the roads that had become overgrown. Alongside the way, yellow, breast-high grasses rustled.
Thaena noticed moss-covered road signs on junctions. She instantly knew that they were not to be trusted. Outcasts, bandits, non-humans all lived in the vast wilds. They preyed on the travelers that left the safe cities and were at the mercy of nature and its creatures. Often, road signs were repositioned to aggravate the journey and lead into an ambush. This was a tactic especially used by the non-humans.
Cormack always kept an eye on the tree line. They were climbing up a hill ravaged by storms and were giving off sweat and the odor of blood that would attract predators. Not a single tree was left standing in the wide clearing that gave them a view on the forest surrounding them and the fields beyond. Dryston halted at Cormack’s side while the girls kept going forward.
Jade Cyrus realized that the two were holding back and turned to them to have a private word.
“Kyra’s magic is a liability,” she said. “She lost control back in the house and could have killed us.”
Dryston shook his head.
“Careful. You let the enemy inside,” he answered.
“You really blew it, Jade,” Cormack added.
Dryston tried to calm down. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It is over and we will not let anything like it happen again.”
Cormack seemed not so sure about that. “If Jarnsaxa decides we’re not going to get paid, things might turn ugly. Her terms were the deserters alive, remember? But I didn’t risk my neck twice to go home with empty hands.”
“Neither did I,” Dryston said. “Maybe saving Skadi’s life is worth something for someone in Jarnsaxa’s camp.”
He didn’t know in what context yet. Dead or alive, as guardian or as pursuer. It was always difficult to take someone with you you didn’t know. Even places where you had been before could turn against you in a heartbeat, if you showed up in the wrong company.
SKADI WALKED NEAR KYRA AND THAENA with only a fraction of the weight the others were carrying. Where the other two had backpacks, weapons and multi-layered clothes, Skadi made do with a torn dress and a sharp stone she had picked up from the wayside. Her belongings were lost in the fire together with the two men that had come to meet her.
“Thaena?” she asked.
“Yes?” Thaena turned to her.
“What will you do after this?”
Thaena smiled. “Return home. My kids are waiting for me. As is my husband. I haven’t been around in a while, you know.” She wallowed in memories. “They live in a crypt in the mountains. Last time I came home, the kids saw me from afar and almost instantly stopped playing. They just dropped everything and ran down the slope to embrace their mommy. They don’t know which day I’m coming, but I have a hunch they somehow can feel it.”
“That sounds like a reason to live, work and die for,” Skadi said. “And what about you, Kyra?”
“I have someone. We’re building our place together right now.” Kyra smiled. “A small block house by the lake. Actually, he is the one building it. I got the property from King Tancred for my service. My darling says the house will be my wedding gift, and that I won’t have to work anymore after it’s finished, just relax and do the beautiful things in life.” The thought made her shrug and blush. “I can almost see him now, hefting his axe, cutting the wood and waiting for my return. All alone, surrounded by a dangerous world,” she added.
“As we all are,” Skadi said.
She realized that the other two were staring at her.
“What are you going to do?” Kyra asked.
“I can’t rest,” Skadi said and indicated the tattoos on her back, “not till the list is fulfilled.”
THE ARMY CAMP was a small city in itself, Dryston fancied as they approached. It was bustling with activity, functioning in ways that were not visible to the naked eye at first. The army drills taking place on the parade grounds took most of his attention. Messenger couriers hurried through the tent rows. There were the faction quarters, one for each: mercenaries of different professionalism, rangers, artillery corps, barbarians, and amidst them the notorious berserkers, followed by support regiments of the smith guild, armorers and artificers, merchants and livestock drivers.
AT JUNCTIONS, the stream of women, men, animals and materiel was regulated by lictors, with their fasces in place over their left shoulders, a bundle of wooden rods with an axe half-hidden but still visible inside.
Like in any huge collective, the bottom of the heap offered ground for scum.
The souls that sold their swords to Jarnsaxa Ornsdottir were all driven by different reasons: famine, disease, resources, racism, corruption, drugs, crime, love, distraction, madness. But deep down, without speaking it out loud, they had one goal in common, and that was to repel the end of all things everyone feared. No one knew if and when it came. But there was always something in the back of everyone’s mind.
War, with its machinery, was a business on its own. Jarnsaxa had realized it and built a company with this war host from the capital she had inherited. With the money that bought swords came might, and with might came more money, and the circle continued. It was a simple concept, had it not been for all the killing and dying.
DRYSTON STRODE on to Jarnsaxa’s tent, Kyra close behind him. Something wasn’t right. Freya, a female lictor was blocking their way. She had taken her fasces down from her shoulder, ready for escalation.
“By the authority of Lady Jarnsaxa, I order you to halt!” Freya said.
Dryston went right through her.
“Stop wasting my time, lictor,” he said. “I had a deal with your warlord, and I’m coming to claim my share. And as you can see, I got bad news for her.”
They clashed shoulders and locked eyes for a moment.
“She doesn’t want to be disturbed right now,” Freya said, pressing out each word.
“I’m sure she’s interested in hearing what I have to say,” Dryston said.
“All right,” she said and moved aside.
Dryston exchanged telling glances with Kyra. Then he grabbed the thick fabric of the tent and lifted it.
The inside felt warm and cozy. The scent of incense sticks standing out of horns and bowls in every corner was trapped inside the confined space. It was dimly lit by heavily burnt down candles, touching the ambience in dark shades of red fabric and brown wood. Jarnsaxa stored her belongings in a heavy chest and her jewelry on a nightstand together with blades. Like a warrior queen, Dryston thought as his eyes wandered over the scene. Heavy blankets were lying over
the chest and from a chair down to the ground. The wide bed was empty.
Dryston advanced further, following muffled voices from the shadows of one corner. He spotted Jarnsaxa’s legs first, glinting in the candlelight, as she sat at a table. She took a sip from a brass goblet before turning her attention back to the person that sat opposite of her.
Covered in half-light, a man sat there Dryston didn’t recognize. His allegiance was showed openly in the frock coat held in the heraldic designs and lavish black and red of Treveria. He bowed his head to the newcomers and showed a ring on his hand with the sigil of the Crown. Before Dryston even learned the stranger’s name, he already knew this man would be trouble. He was an ambassador of the Crown, and the only crown there was, was that of King Tancred.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EXPOSED
JARNSAXA STARED AT DRYSTON with icy blue eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had intruded upon her private room or because of her fear of the ambassador and her unspoken pleading to Dryston to help her. No one knew what the man was doing here. Dryston felt his fist clench, and a cold sweat broke out on his spine.
The man was watching them in a cocky, amused manner and checked Kyra from head to toe. If he knew about the conspiracy, he would have Jarnsaxa hanged, and probably anyone else he deemed was involved with it. That could not be allowed to happen. This man was not allowed to leave the army camp alive, if he knew. But why would he then knowingly surround himself with traitors while all on his own? This was suicide and only a thing someone with the hubris of the Crown would do. Unless the ambassador passed off as something he was not. He looked too confident for a mere bureaucrat around armed strangers. Dryston peeked under the layer that was acting as the king’s ambassador. The skin of his knuckles was raw and red from throwing punches. Make-up tried to cover up a bruise on his temple. Yet there was no dent in his ego. Whatever conflict there had been, he seemed to have come out of it victorious, and he was probably quite used to it.
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