by Jon Kiln
“You were pleased enough on the Way of Blood.” She coughed and thick blood spilled out over her lips.
“Your father was a murderer and a plunderer. He did terrible things to innocent people. That is why he died, and your brother also. They deserved it. My village did not. My family did not. Your family chose a way of killing, and that is why men like me were sent to end them. That is justice. You need to answer for following in their path. Put down your sword and surrender, Daughter of Zulag.”
“I am Solag Son of Zulag!” She screamed with her voice breaking on every word. “I am vengeance. I am justice. I am fear and darkness. I am the shaper of bones and destroyer of kingdoms!”
“You are defeated,” Berengar whispered.
Her expression fell and she backed toward the edge. “I took your family just as you murdered mine. I brought you the endless pain you deserve.”
“And you will die for it now, and for every other terrible deed you committed.” Berengar took a step toward her.
“The gods curse you,” she said. “Someone else will take the horned crown and lead my father’s army against you and your unworthy king. And another after him.”
“I will lift it from your bloody head after you are dead. I will burn it, crush the horns, and melt the metal. You, your evil father, and your dead brother will be forgotten forever as you should be.”
Solag glared at Captain Berengar with her insane eyes as wide as saucers. Her face was painted in blood from dozens of cuts and splatters from wounds. She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but then closed it.
She took another step back and teetered on the edge. Berengar lifted his blade and advanced. She lowered her sword and then smiled in a way that looked like a cornered animal baring its teeth. She took a casual step backward and vanished over the edge.
Berengar stared at the edge in shock. He took a step forward and looked over. The rock face beyond the drop was sheer. He thought he saw motion, but then could not pick up the fall of her body, nor where she might have landed.
He considered that he and Nisero had survived a couple drops along this journey, but none like this. He was disappointed that he lost the opportunity to burn the bear cloak and horned helmet of Zulag for good. He wondered if he would have to deal with this woman or another bandit king donning it before his life was over.
He had cut her deeply and she was far from dressed for the extremes of this region, even if she did survive that fall in some way. Still, he had his doubts.
Berengar stepped away from the edge and turned to face down the slope. He saw his daughter at the front of a scattering of friendly faces approaching him.
Captain Berengar dropped his sword and wrapped his daughter Arianne in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground. Nisero stopped a few steps away and sheathed his own sword. The rest of the Elite Guard stood staggered down the slope of the rocky rise. They lifted their fists and weapons and cheered.
Berengar released his daughter and looked down through the faces of the men he had known so well for so long. Blood marked the fronts of the crests and dripped from their weapons. As they still stood, he assumed most of it was that of the bandits.
In the distance, he saw scattered pockets of dark figures fleeing the ruins of the ancient castle. They would probably be a problem in the future. They might be Berengar’s problem or Nisero’s, or maybe some future generation of the king’s warriors, but that would always be the way. If he pursued and slew every last man and his relatives, others would rise in time. A man would rise to lead the dark forces, or perhaps another woman warrior, in time.
He turned and looked at the drop off. “Perhaps Solag again.”
“Father?”
He turned and looked at his daughter. Berengar smiled and kissed her on the forehead.
She smiled back. “I’m sorry I defied your wishes and came back. I should have trusted you.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t really know what I was doing, but that never stopped me before.”
He stepped away from her for a moment and wrapped Nisero up in a hug. The men cheered again.
“You were all the army I needed, lieutenant. I owe you my life – my daughter’s life.”
“I could never repay all you have done for me, sir. Even with all this, I still consider myself eternally in your debt.”
Berengar released Nisero. “It is kind of you to say, lieutenant Nisero, but saving my daughter is an immeasurable value. I am the one that owes you, and will be at your side at a moment’s call for as long as my bones are still held together by skin.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Berengar thought about Daughter Solag playing with bones in the dungeons of the ruined castle, and he thought about her ruined mind. He shook off the dark feelings and hoped she was really dead.
“I guess I should call you captain now,” Berengar said.
Nisero shook his head. “No, sir. Not yet. Forseth was promoted to captain in my absence. He led the men out here under his command as soon as word of the fate of your village reached him.”
“Forseth?” Berengar sighed. He looked at Nisero and then looked away. “I’ll appeal to the king myself. Once your bravery is known, they will find a command for you somewhere, I’m sure.”
Nisero patted the captain’s shoulder. “It is fine. I am happy serving with the Elite Guard. My time will come.”
“Your time has come,” Berengar protested. “You lost the promotion because you came with me. You deserve it. You lost it because of me.”
Nisero shook his head. “With respect, sir, you are wrong. I made a choice. Sacrifice means giving something up. My time will come when it is meant to come. I serve the Elite Guard by serving my captains. If I made you a better captain by being your lieutenant, then it is my time to do the same for Captain Forseth, for a while. I will serve him and my king with honor. He led well this day and deserves it.”
“You will be the best he could ever hope for,” Berengar said.
Forseth climbed the slope and smiled up at the two men. “Why are you two playing on his barren rock? Let’s get out of this awful land, back to where ale and women are more pleasant toward me.”
“I’d hate to slow you down, Captain Forseth,” Berengar said.
Forseth looked between Berengar and Nisero. “You heard?”
Berengar walked down and patted Forseth’s shoulders. “I get great views in my retirement home. Do you like it? It could use some work.”
Forseth looked from Berengar to the castle. “It’s a bit remote, sir. I had some trouble with your neighbors.”
Berengar nodded. “I’m tired. Maybe we’ll move a little closer in to civilization, if you don’t mind escorting me.”
“Of course, sir,” Forseth dropped his voice lower. “I’m sorry for your grave loss, but rejoice that you and your daughter are safe together. Do you know where you will go?”
“I don’t know. We’ll rebuild somewhere under the protection of the Elite Guard. Thank you for coming for us.”
Forseth nodded and turned back down the slope. “Of course, we never considered any other option.”
The other Elite Guard descended as well.
Berengar looked back and saw Nisero holding Arianne’s arm as he helped her down. The captain narrowed his eyes and wondered if there was something there growing in their shared experience of fleeing the bandits. Berengar supposed she could do far worse than Nisero, but the captain wasn’t sure he wanted the life of a guardsman’s wife for her. Maybe she wouldn’t either.
Nisero lifted and held out the hilt of Berengar’s sword for him. Berengar took it and resheathed it for what he hoped would be a very long time indeed.
Berengar fell in beside Nisero and did not break the contact between the lieutenant and the captain’s daughter. He put his hand on Nisero’s shoulder as they made their way down the mountain.
He glanced back toward the drop off one last time. He reached up and touched the raw claw marks in his cheek. He had taken many new s
cars in the course of this journey, and Solag had marked him in ways that could not be seen. The sting of the scratches distracted him from other painful wounds in his spirit that he did not want to think about, for now. As he stared back at the cliff, Berengar realized that he expected to see Solag climbing back up behind him, but he saw nothing.
He turned back forward and navigated his way down from the dark mountain as best he could.
About The Author
Jon Kiln writes heroic fantasy. His major influences include David Gemmell and Conn Iggulden.
Sign up to his mailing list or contact him at JonKiln.com.
Continue the adventures of Berengar and Nisero in Betrayal, available now on Amazon.