A Sellsword's Mercy

by Jacob Peppers

  “Damn,” the captain hissed, laying the body down with a gentleness that surprised Wendell. When he turned back to look at the others, his eyes were hard. “I’ve known Nick for years. He was a good man, a loyal one. Grinner has a lot to answer for.”

  “Yes,” Adina said, “and I promise you, Marcus, that he will answer for what he’s done. But we must find May and Hale. They, as much as anyone, will be instrumental in explaining the crimes for which Grinner is guilty.”

  The guard captain gave a short, angry nod. “Yes, of course, Princess.”

  Wendell shot a glance back at the crowd in front of the platform and was met with dozens—hundreds—of angry sneers. And had the crowd been so close, when they’d climbed onto the platform? He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t be sure. “Princess—”

  “But how do we find them?” Leomin asked. “It’s a big city, after all, and we can’t search all of it, certainly not as quickly as Grinner and his men can.”

  Adina glanced at Seline, raising an eyebrow in question, but the other woman shook her head, clearly frustrated. “I couldn’t—not so much. I’m not…I’m not very good with it yet. I get really tired, more tired than I thought possible and after the fight with those men that attacked us…”

  There were dark circles under her eyes, and her face looked a bit sunken, as if she was coming down with something. Adina must have seen it too, for she only nodded. “That’s alright,” she said, glancing around the square. “Maybe we can find someone else who knows where they went or…”

  “Princess,” Wendell said, still eyeing the crowd, and there was no question that they were slowly coming closer now. “Whatever you intend to do, we’d better do it and soon. Seems to me we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

  The princess and the others followed his gaze to the gathered people, noting their sullen glances for the first time.

  “Perhaps they know something,” Gryle ventured uncertainly. “If we only explain to them what has really happened and…”

  “You ask me, Chamberlain,” Wendell said in a low voice, “they ain’t in a mood to listen.”

  “The sergeant’s right,” Adina said. “We can’t stay here. We’ll split up. Leomin, you and Seline take the western side of the city and be sure to check the ships—they might have sought refuge there. Gryle, you and I will search the north. Sergeant, you go with Captain Marcus and Hugh and check the south.”

  “Princess,” the captain said, “I don’t mean to be difficult, but do you really think it’s wise to go off on your own?”

  Adina gave the man a smile with no humor in it. “I won’t be alone, Captain. I’ll have Gryle with me—you’ve seen what he is capable of. I’m sure he’ll be able to handle any trouble we run into.” Wendell could see by the chamberlain’s expression he didn’t necessarily share the princess’s confidence in him, but he said nothing.

  “Adina,” Leomin said hesitantly, “are you sure—”

  “No,” Adina said, “I’m not sure, but there’s no time to argue it. Every second we waste here is a second we can’t help May and Hale.” She looked at each of them in turn, giving them a chance to object, if they wanted to. Wendell himself didn’t like the idea, but he couldn’t think of a better one, so he remained silent. When no one else spoke, Adina gave a nod. “Now go, and the gods keep us all.”

  Wendell glanced at the bloody carnage on the platform. Gods keep us all? Well, seems to me they’ve been doin’ a pretty shit job of it so far. But he followed the two guardsmen as they left the platform, hoping the crowd wouldn’t choose this moment to attack, hoping they would find the club owner and the crime boss in time. But most of all he hoped they hadn’t just doomed themselves, for if the city was a great, hungry beast in search of a meal, they’d just managed to split themselves up into nice, bite-sized portions.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  May was exhausted. It seemed they’d been running forever with no end in sight. Hale led the way, taking one alley then another, never hesitating—as if he’d memorized a map of Perennia. Which, she supposed, he probably had. A crime boss such as Hale would want to know his way around the city, would want to know what parts of it were best for ambushes or escaping the guards. But his seemingly remarkable knowledge did nothing for the waning strength in her legs as muscles she’d had little cause to use in the dungeons screamed in protest.

  If their grueling pace affected the big man at all, he didn’t show it, running on as if he could do it forever, his breath strong and even, a cruel counterpoint to May’s own ragged gasps. “W…where are we going?” she managed.

  “The docks,” the crime boss called over his shoulder. “I figure that’ll be the best place for now and if things really do go to shit, well—” he gave her a wink, grinning as if he was having fun, “—then we can always go on a little boat ride.”

  May frowned. She might not be as familiar with the city as the crime boss seemed to be, but she knew enough to be well aware that they were heading in the opposite direction of the docks and had been for some time. She said as much, and the big man nodded.

  “Sure,” Hale agreed. “Whatever else that bastard Grinner is, he ain’t a fool, and I reckon he’ll know that’s where we’ll head. The quickest way between two points might be a straight line, but you ask me, that’ll also be the quickest way to our graves. Better to lead them on for a bit, make ‘em think maybe we’re making a break for the city gate.”

  Well, there was no arguing with that, so May only followed after the man as he led the way down another alley. They hadn’t encountered any resistance yet which surprised her. The few people they’d passed had gotten out of their way quickly enough when they saw the bloody axe the giant carried. But Hale was right about one thing—Grinner was no fool—and it seemed to her that if he was smart enough to know they’d go for the docks, then he might well be smart enough to know they wouldn’t head there directly, might expect them to do exactly what they were doing. But she had no better ideas, so she ran on, forcing her aching legs to take one more step, then another.

  She didn’t know how long they ran, she was too concentrated on trying to breathe past the stitch that had risen in her side to pay much attention, but eventually they came out on one of the city’s main streets. “Alright then,” Hale said, “time to head to the—” His words turned into a grunt of surprise as what May was sure was at least a hundred armed men piled out of the alleyways in front of them, spilling into the street.

  “Shit,” Hale growled. “Turn around, lass, we’ll lose them in the alleyways.”

  Fear lending her energy, May spun to do just that but froze as more men filled the street behind them as well, and soon they were surrounded. The two prisoners and the men gathered around them only stood in silence, studying each other, then a familiar figure wearing a silver mask came to stand in front of the armed men.

  Although she couldn’t see his face, May could hear the satisfied grin in the old crime boss’s voice. “Lose us in the alleyways, will you?” He shook his head, letting out a soft laugh. “Come now, Hale. Surely, you are not foolish enough to believe you could escape me so easily. There are thousands of ears in the city to hear your steps, thousands of eyes to mark your passage, and all of them belong to me.”

  Hale grunted, and if he felt the thrill of fear that had overcome May, he showed no sign. “Too bad none of ‘em have a spare face for you then, eh?”

  Grinner visibly tensed. “Make what jokes you will,” he hissed, “you’ll be dead soon enough.”

  “Maybe,” Hale agreed, “but you’ll still be an ugly bastard.” Then, in a low voice, barely loud enough for her to hear. “The door, lass. Give it a pull, why don’t you?”

  At first, May had no idea what he was talking about, her thoughts scrambled from her shock at how quickly their doom had come upon them, but saw they stood next to a shop door, the sign hanging over it marking it as a tailor’s place of business. Not trusting herself to speak, May tried the handle and found it locked. Of
course it would be, she thought angrily. The tailor had no doubt closed to go see the execution, just like so many others in the city. “It’s locked.”

  Hale grunted. “Good thing I brought a key then,” he said, his eyes still not leaving Grinner. “You’ll want to take a step back.”

  May did, about to ask what the crime boss meant by “key” but then she saw clearly enough as he exploded into motion, swinging the axe quicker than she would have thought possible. The wood around the door handle shattered in a shower of splinters. “Give it a go now, lass,” he said, “might be it’ll open for you this time.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Grinner called from down the street. “You think to what, exactly, take shelter in a tailor’s shop? Well, I suppose it will serve as a grave as well as anywhere else.”

  “Never mind him,” Hale said, “just go on.”

  May swallowed hard, and pushed at the door. It slid open without any resistance. “It’s open.”

  “Well, that’s alright then,” the big man said. “Now, go on inside, see if there’s a back door.”

  “Enough of this!” Grinner yelled. “Your little sideshow in the town square will avail you nothing, just as this will avail you nothing. You will still die, Hale. This ends today.”

  “That so?” Hale called. “Well, if you’re so keen on seein’ my blood, then why don’t you get a blade and come on up and take it, old man? Might be my axe can finish what your assassin started with your face.”

  “I have no need to sully myself fighting you,” Grinner spat, “I have men to do that work for me.”

  Hale yelled something back, but May was inside the tailor’s shop now, and his words were muffled. She hurried around the room, searching behind racks of shirts and dresses, for some means of escape. She saw a door behind the counter and felt hope blossom in her chest only to wither a moment later when she saw that the door led to a small, windowless office. With a curse, she spun and hurried back out into the street. “There’s no other door!” she said, unable to keep the rising panic from her voice.

  The big crime boss nodded. “Too much to hope for anyway, I guess. Now, just get yourself back inside, lass.”

  May frowned, swallowing past her fear. “But what about you?”

  “Me?” Hale said, glancing at her, a humorless grin on his face. “Well, I’ll watch the door then, won’t I?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Aaron arrived at Perennia’s gate to find only one guard there to greet him, a young man that stepped forward uncertainly, paling visibly at the sight of the Akalians flanking the sellsword. “W-who goes there?”

  “General Aaron Envelar,” Aaron said. “You’d best just let us through, lad.”

  The guard hesitated, clearly wavering between his duty and his fear. Finally, he seemed to settle on duty, drawing his sword. “General, you have been deemed a traitor by the city of Perennia, and I must ask you to come with me.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

  The guard licked his lips nervously, but managed a nod. “Yes, General. I must…I must escort you to the dungeons.”

  Aaron sighed, shaking his head. “Well, alright. Come on then.”

  The man hesitated, shooting an anxious glance at the Akalians. Finally, he seemed to screw up his courage and took a step forward. “Sorry, General, but until all of this is sorted—”

  He never got to finish what he’d been about to say. Aaron lunged forward, drawing the blade at his back and using the sword’s handle to strike the guard on the temple, and he collapsed at the sellsword’s feet. “Sorry about that, lad,” Aaron said, stepping over the unconscious form. “You’ll have a headache in the morning, I’d wager, but at least you’ll be alive. For a day like the one this one promises to be, you’ll be getting off light.”

  Inside the city, Aaron paused, closing his eyes and calling upon his bond with the Virtue of Compassion. The power came easily this time, more easily than ever before. Perhaps, the time in Tianya’s dream world had somehow increased his control of it. When he opened his eyes, the buildings and the street looked gray and lifeless. He could see through their blurred forms, as if they were hardly there at all. Scattered throughout the city, he saw thousands upon thousands of magenta glows, marking the city’s people. “Come on, May,” he said, searching, “where are you?” He filled his mind with thoughts of the club owner, her fiery red hair, the temper that matched it so well, the confidence and self-assurance that she wore like a cloak. Soon, one of glowing beacons seemed to shine brighter than the others.

  Aaron let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Still alive then. Whatever had happened, she wasn’t in the city square—that much, he knew. What’s more, he noted another glow near her, and he quested out with the power of the bond, finally recognizing the gruff crime boss, Hale. Both, it seemed, had escaped their execution, but for how long? For with the power of the bond he could also make out what looked like a hundred or more men surrounding the club owner and the crime boss, and it didn’t seem all that likely that the city had decided to throw the two of them a party.

  Another thought struck him, and he turned his thoughts to Adina. He knew her well, the smell of her, the smile she gave only to him. It didn’t take long to pick her out among those multitudes filling the city. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her, alive and well, but one that was cut short when he realized that she was traveling in the direction of May and Hale, and those hundreds of men that surrounded them.

  “Shit,” he cursed.

  She’s heading right for them, Aaron.

  Aaron grunted, turning to the Akalians. “This way.” And then they were running again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Hale stood inside the door frame of the tailor’s shop, cutting down Grinner’s men with a strength and speed that was hard to fathom. May had already last count of the number the crime boss had slain, the number of times Grinner’s men had been forced to drag the corpses of their comrades out of the way before they could come at him again.

  Hale stood in a widening puddle of blood, growing bigger with each sweep of his axe, yet still he fought on, striking down each man that came within his reach with an efficiency of motion that reminded May of a lumberjack at his trade.

  But efficiency of motion was where the similarities between the two ended. Unless, that was, lumberjacks laughed as they went about their work, a deep, resonating laugh that sent chills down May’s spine despite the fact that the crime boss was on her side. His axe went up and down, from one side to the next, leaving corpses in its wake. May had thought, a dozen times at least, that surely the man must grow weary, that sooner or later even his strength must have an end. But if it did, they had not reached it yet, and he was just as deadly with the axe now as he had been over half an hour ago when the killing began.

  Outside in the street, May could hear Grinner screaming with impotent rage, urging his men on. But here, at least, his words, his lies, did him little good. The axe held a truth of its own, one that could not be bent or swayed, one that could not be changed or dissembled. And so men came and men died, and the last sound they heard before they were sent to Salen’s Fields was the sound of the giant’s laughter.

  May was tempted to think Hale wasn’t a man at all, but a god inside a man’s body, come to the earth to seek a bloody celebration, so well did he fight. Yet, for all his incredible skill, for all his unflagging strength, the crime boss had not had it all his way. More than a little of the blood gathered at his feet was his own. It oozed from a dozen cuts, all relatively minor on their own, but May knew that, given time, the amount of blood loss, if nothing else, would finish him.

  Still, none of these small wounds were what worried her the most. Instead, it was the deep puncture in the crime boss’s left shoulder from where one of Grinner’s men had impaled his own comrade—killing him before Hale’s axe could—to strike the crime boss. The steel had dug deep into Hale’s shoulder in a spurt of blood before his a
xe gave answer, cutting his attacker down. The laughter had faltered at that, giving way to a grunt of pain and surprise, but only for a moment, and then it had started once again, and for all the strangeness of it, May had been glad when it did.

  The man couldn’t go on forever, this much she knew. She’d tried to think of some way to help, to give him a moment to rest, but so far she had come up empty. After all, the door wasn’t big enough for two people to stand abreast—no doubt the reason he’d chosen it in the first place. The only other option was to replace him altogether to give him time to rest, but such an act would require Grinner and his men to give them a minute or more of a break, and she thought it more likely that Nalesh, the Father of the Gods, would appear to lend his aid than for Grinner to allow them a moment’s respite. Not that it would have mattered in any case, for May was a woman who knew well her strengths and her weaknesses, and she wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds in that doorway.

  So she only stood and watched Hale go about his grizzly work, waiting for the time when he would inevitably fall, and Grinner and his men would come in to claim their prizes. Thinking of that moment—as sure as the sun would rise the next day, though she would never see it—filled her with a great sadness. Not for herself, or at least, not just herself, but for the giant crime boss too. She had known the man for years, had known him to be a thief, a liar, and a murderer, and the truth was that he was all those things, but he was also the man who stood when others would have run, who laughed and roared while others would have whimpered and pleaded.

  A criminal, yes, but a man who faced the monsters alone, knowing, surely, that sooner or later the monsters would win, but fighting them anyway. And though May knew he would have denied it, she knew that he stood in that doorway not just for himself, but for her, too.

  He was her savior, a man who accepted wounds and let his own blood flow so hers wouldn’t. At least for a little while longer. She wished desperately that she could somehow reverse years and treat him differently, knowing now what he was. But, of course, she could not. Time moved how it would, and not even Hale’s prodigious strength could stand against it when it chose to march. So May watched; she watched, she worried, and she waited for the end to come.