Grim Company 02 - Sword Of The North

by Luke Scull

Kayne saw Grunt’s head turn to stare off into the night. Then the big mute stopped dead in his tracks and gave a growl of warning.

  Kayne squinted as he drew alongside Grunt. Shadowy figures were descending the hill ahead of them. Heart heavy with foreboding, the old warrior unsheathed his greatsword. Behind him, Jana Shah Shan called the orphans to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Kayne shouted at the advancing figures. ‘Best state your intentions, before I make up my own mind and act accordingly.’

  The silence that followed was broken by a sharp, barking laugh that sounded more animal than man. ‘Red Rayne ain’t gonna believe this,’ said a voice that poked at old memories.

  ‘Red Rayne? What d’you know about him? Who the hell are you?’

  The nearest of the approaching figures slunk into view just as the silver plate of the moon emerged from a passing cloud and bathed him in a hoary glow.

  He was rake lean and leathery skinned, as old as Kayne himself. Sharp yellow teeth flashed a smile in a face that seemed distantly familiar. ‘They call me Ryder. You and me go back a-ways. Remember Skarn?’

  ‘Skarn?’ Kayne repeated, his throat suddenly raw. ‘Aye, I remember him. Broke his skull with my bare hands. You threaten a man’s family, you can’t be surprised at the things he’ll do to make certain you never get the chance to carry out those threats.’

  ‘I told him. After you fled to that house, the one we set fire to, I told Skarn to smash the door down and stick a blade in you. You know what Skarn was like though. Never one to pass up the chance to wreak a little havoc. It was his undoing in the end. You cut off my bloody ear, remember that?’

  ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘Dead? Ha! I was the one that got away. Though I won’t lie, my head hurt like a bitch for months. I fled south, all the way to the Greenwild. Spent years there, living among the Wildfolk till I judged it safe to poke my head back out. Fortunately the new King is happy to let old grievances lie. Except where your boy’s concerned. He’s taking his sweet time getting his payback on that one.’ Ryder laughed again, a high-pitched bark that set Kayne’s teeth on edge.

  ‘Who are these others with you? More of the imposters Krazka calls Kingsmen?’ Kayne could feel his old anger starting to build, the terrible rage threatening to return. He’d managed to keep it under control for many a year, ever since that terrible day he’d returned from the Sky Reaching. The day that had changed him forever.

  ‘Naw. These are friends from the Greenwild. They attack outsiders on sight, but they remembered me. The sorceress that helped those foundlings escape burned down their homes and now they want blood, don’t you, lads?’

  Right on cue, the Wildmen approached. They were naked beneath their thick fur coats, wooden cudgels and simple hand axes clutched tight between hairy knuckles. They reminded Kayne a little of the hill-men from the Badlands, though they weren’t as broad.

  ‘I dreamed of the day I’d run into you again. Skarn called you angel eyes. Let’s see if they look so pretty when they’re full of arrows.’

  Kayne saw Ryder draw his arm back, heard the twang of a bow a split second later. He was already diving to the right when he felt the arrow whistle by his cheek, missing by a matter of inches. ‘You always go high with the first shot,’ he growled, rolling to his feet. Ryder cursed and fell back behind the Wildmen, who rushed Kayne like a pack of feral dogs.

  He cut down one, turned and caught the cudgel of another with the cross-guard on his greatsword. Someone stood on his shoulder and then Jana Shah Shan somehow sailed over his head, spinning in mid-air to kick his assailant in the face so hard Kayne heard the man’s jaw break. Jana landed and caught the axe of another attacker between her palms. She jerked the weapon away from the Wildman, chopped down with both hands right on his neck, dropping him like a stone.

  Ryder was backtracking whilst attempting to nock another arrow, a feat that would have been mightily impressive any other time. Kayne didn’t pause to admire the man’s skill. He charged right at him, desperate to reach the archer before he could release his arrow. He got there just in time and the outlaw-turned-Kingsman turned to flee, a smidgen too slow. Kayne’s greatsword would have cleaved him in half, but at that exact moment another Wildman leaped out and disrupted his attack. Instead of taking off Ryder’s head like he intended, Kayne caught the man’s remaining ear with his sword. The mass of skin and gristle sailed away as Ryder twisted free, newly earless and none too pleased by the fact, judging by his howl of outrage as he fled.

  This newest Wildman was more skilled than his fellows. He and Kayne exchanged a few blows, the old Highlander taking the measure of his opponent before eventually picking him off, driving the steel blade through his sternum with a vicious popping sound.

  Kayne dislodged his greatsword from the Wildman’s body and took stock of the situation. He wondered if he might catch up with Ryder before the bastard escaped, but it didn’t seem likely – he’d only been fighting a few minutes but already his breathing was laboured and he doubted he would be able to sprint more than a hundred yards before he was knackered.

  ‘Well, that was easy,’ Jana Shah Shan proclaimed, dusting her hands together. No fewer than four Wildmen lay unmoving at her feet. Kayne’s eyes scanned his friends, making sure everyone was unhurt.

  When his gaze settled on Jerek, however, his blood went cold.

  The Wolf was staring at him with an odd expression. It was part grief and part utter fury. For a moment Kayne was confused, but then he remembered his exchange with Ryder and a terrible understanding dawned.

  ‘You told me it was my family they were looking to kill,’ Jerek whispered, his voice hollow, matter-of-fact, as though he were pointing out some trifling detail. ‘You told me you happened across them just as they was burning down the house.’

  ‘Jerek,’ Kayne began, searching for the words. But there weren’t any words. Ryder had said all that needed to be said. The lie he’d allowed to fester for years, for decades, had been exposed, and every inch of its ugliness was revealed in the agonized expression on Jerek’s face.

  ‘You let me think you got involved to try and save them,’ the Wolf grated. He took a step towards Kayne, coal-black eyes never leaving his face. ‘Twenty-five years you let me believe a lie. Twenty-five fucking years.’

  ‘Listen, it weren’t like that. I fled there seeking shelter. I didn’t know they would set fire to the building. And I came back for you. I came back for you and your family—’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Jerek snarled. There was a pain in his voice Kayne had never heard before, a pain he had never imagined the grim warrior was capable of. ‘I risked my life for you countless times. I thought I owed you a debt. Turns out you treated me like a cunt. Fuck you.’

  ‘Jerek—’

  The Wolf was on him in a flash. Steel axes slashed down with terrifying speed, a flurry of devastating blows that would have ended a lesser warrior in seconds.

  Brodar Kayne blocked them all, first one axe and then the other, edge scraping against edge and forming a screaming song of steel. For a moment their weapons locked together. With a roar, Kayne pushed back and the two men came apart.

  ‘I thought we was friends,’ Jerek rasped, his voice raw with grief. ‘I thought we was brothers. You played me for a fool, Kayne. One of us ain’t leaving here alive.’

  ‘Stop it! Don’t fight!’ Brick yelled at them. Children were crying now. Kayne caught a glimpse of Grunt’s amber eyes, wide in confusion. Jana’s face was pale with shock. The Wolf’s gaze held only burning fury, a promise of death Kayne had seen countless times before. But he was the Sword of the North, and death was as familiar to him as an old blanket.

  Jerek came at him again, a whirlwind of cutting, biting axes, countless blows raining from every angle, bone-jarring strength behind every blow. Kayne’s hands began to hurt from the impact of blocking the relentless assault, his eyes blurring from the effort of trying to follow the attacks. He saw an opportunity for a counter, a riposte th
at had defeated countless men in the past, and in desperation he seized the moment, waited for the Wolf’s error to leave him vulnerable and deliver that deadly blow.

  Somehow Jerek anticipated his counter, turning it aside before it landed. They came together in an embrace, the Wolf’s breath warm on his face, too close for either man to bring his weapons to bear. ‘You got my family killed,’ Jerek rasped, his eyes seeming to bore into his skull. ‘My parents. My sister.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Wolf,’ Kayne gasped, sucking in air. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

  ‘Shove it up your arse, Kayne.’

  He felt Jerek’s muscular arms close tight around him. A moment later he was lifted bodily off the ground and flung away. He hit the earth hard, somehow managed to turn the impact into a roll and came back to his feet just as Jerek charged. He saw the glint in the Wolf’s eyes and knew exactly what he intended. It was a combination that had slain countless men over the years, a brilliant chain of attacks, near impossible to parry unless you knew exactly how it went.

  Overhand slash with the right, swing in low from the left, pivot and then back to the right for the reverse stroke…

  He parried the third and final attack, lashed out with the pommel of his greatsword and smashed it right into Jerek’s face. That should have ended the fight right there and then. The Wolf’s nose broke with the impact, blood spraying out to splatter all over his chin – but the relentless warrior might as well have been hit in the face by a stray leaf for all that it fazed him. Even as his nose shattered Jerek kicked out, catching Kayne hard in the stomach and sending him staggering away.

  ‘Stop it!’ Brick screamed again, his voice cracking.

  Just then there was another scream. It came from somewhere off in the night, and it sounded like Ryder.

  A lurid orange glow appeared on the other side of the hill, moving inexorably towards them. Kayne and Jerek tore their attention away from each other and turned to watch the approaching menace. It flowed around the hill and finally came into view. Intense flames danced around an endless void shaped like a man – a god-forged weapon of infernal wrath with but a solitary purpose, to eliminate life from the world, body and soul, leaving nothing but dust and memories.

  The gholam had come for them. And Milo and Tiny Tom were directly in its path.

  Kayne screamed for the boys to run, but they were transfixed by the horror bearing down on them and didn’t seem to hear him.

  There was a green blur and Grunt suddenly barrelled towards the youngsters, thrusting them out of the way just as the gholam surged forward. Grunt placed his body in front of the children and the gholam engulfed the big mute, who fought with all his prodigious strength but couldn’t disentangle himself from that ruinous grasp. Soon he began to smoke, his green skin turning a darker shade of olive as he was incinerated from within. He opened his mouth and let out a heart-rending cry, a sound that no man or beast should ever make. Kayne caught a final glimpse of those brilliant amber eyes staring out from his blunt and honest face. And then Grunt began to crack, and the sight was so awful he had to look away.

  Moments later the gholam let the ash that had been Grunt fall from its hands and turned towards Brick. Corinn and the rest of the foundlings huddled behind him, frozen with terror. Jana Shah Shan was on her knees, hands covering her face, her earlier bravado a distant memory. She knew better than anyone what the gholam was capable of. She knew it was over.

  Kayne lifted his greatsword for what he knew would be the final time and prepared to charge the gods-forged killer. Maybe he could buy the others a little more time. Just a little more.

  ‘Kayne,’ rasped Jerek’s voice. The old warrior turned to stare back at his friend.

  The Wolf was watching him, blood pouring from his nose, his bald head bathed in the orange glow of the gholam’s fire. There was a strange look in his eyes: an odd acceptance, as if he had come to some decision. He raised an axe and gestured at the tunnel nearby. ‘When I move, round up everyone and get the fuck away from here. I’ll keep it busy as long as I can.’

  ‘Jerek—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it. I ain’t doing this for you. If I ever see you again I’ll kill you. That’s a promise. Now fucking move.’

  Without another word the Wolf turned and stalked towards the horror that had levelled entire armies. At first it ignored him as it closed on Brick and the foundlings. The youngsters were frozen in place, paralysed by terror. But Jerek raised an axe, took aim, and sent the weapon whirling end over end. It disappeared into the void that was the gholam’s body and the nightmarish being stopped dead – and then very slowly turned to face this new annoyance.

  Time seemed to stand still. Kayne met Jerek’s gaze one final time, and what he saw there made him want to weep for his friend. There no anger in the Wolf’s eyes now. Only a deep sadness that something he had once cherished had been broken, never again to be made whole. A brotherhood sundered.

  What followed would etch itself in Kayne’s memory for the rest of his life. Jerek stood before the gholam, alone and defiant, a fire seeming to burn in his own dark eyes as he turned his unflinching gaze back onto this fell creation of the gods. The deadliest weapon of destruction the world had ever known.

  ‘Come on, you motherfucker,’ the Wolf snarled. ‘Let’s see what you got.’

  The gholam began to flow towards Jerek, covering the rocky ground with terrifying speed, leaving the stone scorched and blackened in its passing. The Wolf’s jaw set in utter determination and then he turned and sped off, sprinting towards the tunnel. He reached it twenty yards ahead of his hunter. Stepped into a personal hell at the end of which waited only his death. And he didn’t hesitate even for a moment.

  The gholam followed him into that dark maw and once again the night was still and silent, as if the madness of recent events belonged to a nightmare that was thankfully over. But the pile of ash that had once been Grunt and the petrified faces of the children opposite Kayne revealed that lie for what it was.

  He spurred himself into action, raced over to the foundlings and yelled at them to get moving. Brick recovered the quickest and immediately set about rousing the others. Jana Shah Shan climbed unsteadily to her feet, her body still trembling. To her credit she quickly mastered herself and within moments she was herding the orphans northwards. Kayne brought up the rear, his greatsword clutched tightly in his sweating palms in case the gholam returned, though he knew it would do him no good. He was exhausted, the various blows he had suffered in his fight with Jerek causing his body to ache fiercely as he ran. Yet it was as nothing compared to the agony in his heart at seeing two friends lost, their lives sacrificed because of him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

  The Returned

  The storm was still raging above the streets of Thelassa when Cole finally emerged from the ruins of Sanctuary, Derkin stumbling breathlessly behind him. Thanates’ anger had been terrible to behold. For a moment Cole had been convinced the wizard was going to take out his fury on them. Instead he’d twisted away and began laying waste to the Hall of Annals. The great library was well on the way to becoming a red-hot inferno when Cole and Derkin had finally fled.

  Thanates had come to that place seeking truth. In the end, the truth had pushed him over the edge.

  The streets were cloaked in rain as the two friends exited the abandoned building. The cellar below connected to Sanctuary, one of several such access points across the city. The torrential downpour battered them as they walked, washing away the grime of the ruins. Above the howl of the wind and rumbling thunder, screams could be heard. The fighting had spread beyond the harbour. Cole ducked down behind a wall as a group of Whitecloaks came marching down the avenue that led to the palace. The army of the dead he’d unleashed were still occupying the city’s defenders, just as Thanates had demanded. Across Thelassa, the freed miners were running rampant. The thought of the Condemned wreaking havoc in this peaceful city made Cole deeply uneasy. He remembered the
blonde-haired noblewoman back in Dorminia whom he had rescued from a Sumnian looter. Technically the southern mercenary and Cole had been on the same side, but sides had become meaningless when confronted with the brutal truth that an innocent woman was about to get her brains scrambled by a chair leg just because she served the wrong man.

  It is the lesser evil, Thanates had said. It seemed to Cole there was no ‘lesser’ evil – just evil. He was tired of people trying to justify their dark deeds to him.

  There was a flutter of wings overhead and Cole glanced up to see the black shape of a crow winging its way towards the palace.

  ‘Thanates,’ he muttered.

  ‘He’s going to confront the Mistress,’ Derkin said. ‘To seek his revenge.’

  ‘Revenge,’ Cole echoed. The word tasted sour in his mouth.

  ‘I’m heading back to the harbour. I need to check my ma is okay. We’re going to cross the channel and try our luck in Dorminia.’

  ‘I’m going with you.’

  Derkin looked at him in surprise. ‘But this is your chance. Your opportunity to get back at the White Lady for what she did to you.’

  Cole stared at his palms. He thought of Thanates and the woman he had once loved and the tragedy of what had befallen them. ‘I’m tired of violence, Derkin. There are more important things than pursuing a grudge. Sasha’s waiting for me.’

  Derkin grinned at him. ‘Come on then,’ he said, his big eyes bright with enthusiasm. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  Together they set off west towards the docks. They’d only gone a short distance when they ran into an unexpected face. Sitting on the soaking wet ground cradling the body of a cat was a huge bear of a man, his sobs audible even above the sounds of the storm. The animal he held in his arms was blackened and charred, as if it had been caught in a fire.

  ‘Ed?’ Cole said incredulously.

  The big simpleton turned to stare at him. ‘Ghost!’ he squealed. Cole could see the thick bandages covering his chest, splotches of pink bright against the sodden dressing.