----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Lear ‘Razor’ Hik
‘Captain’
‘Butcher of Drek River’
‘Man from Atetalerso’
‘Best killers coin can buy’
Part II
-'They'll come this way as well'-
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
image [https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSdlSKvD6aVRoMaYzF7sHaqbABpIlvhuhIoaTTsRCW5CaPS-9sbQyfYFyPSY1LSuSuD0kbZ1fGg8ROwUNkc6fSpvjrOmluyqHsWjeY6qwPJJJzub8O3VcN1hRy44Jh48j_EnC0p5kM3945DtT8ccscB4ipId9ggCMtR9GmtApCsFv5_h4oZ7DAR-dk/s2000/Asturia%20city%20v2.jpg]
Your predator's instincts urge you to do one thing, Lear thought coiled as a spring about to snap into action. Skills honed through repetition, fueled by relentless resolve to help you get out of fights to the death. A wounded wolf or the trapped beast is always twice more dangerous.
Your mind works different than normal folk, because you are not normal. Not in this line of work. You can’t be. Not after what you’ve done. That’s another layer of survivability. Deserved or not it’s there.
So your mind tells you to let the cards reveal themselves instead.
Leave the killing as a last resort.
Lord Bernard is a skilled scion they say, sharp in mind and on the track to inherit one the richest most powerful duchies in Regia. Some say Asturia is a small kingdom unto itself. You have to take its ruler into account. Lucius first action upon returning to Regia was to tie the old Duke to his fortunes. Lord Holt had always been an ally but Asturia is a big motherfucking city and Bernard a different man with no connections but one.
Do you love your sister boy? Lear’s cold eyes asked the young scion that sipped from his wine trying to collect himself behind the desk.
Manuela didn’t need any of that. She remained unruffled by his appearance, because that carriage waiting by the alley was big and she hadn’t come to visit Bernard alone.
More fucking killers in the house.
You kill me, her eyes were saying. You’re dead as well.
Then I’ll kill your friends and win the game from the grave.
The mad bitch was hateful enough to do it.
The Bank is our home, Eleonora had declared. There was fanaticism there because Federico had brainwashed his children and close kin first.
This was important to the Bank. Not because of Eleonora’s death or Laudus’ secrets. It was important because they believed it might derail their plans. They couldn’t leave it to chance.
“I was informed there is a bounty on your head Mister Hik,” Lord Bernard started calmly, trying to navigate the problem diplomatically. Lear Hik was from Lesia. A relatively known general of the previous generation. Fought under the Lord’s father. He’d worked in Regia bringing nasty people to justice. Mostly their heads. He’d worked in Kaltha doing the same. A man with a considerable reputation, bad or not, you wanted to tread carefully with. “I had heard some rumors earlier. But when it’s about something like that. You want to have the details. Now I have them.”
Lord Bernard puffed out and stared at the two of them. Both his visitors were a lot older than him. Holt’s second son was in his early twenties.
“I’m a little shocked of what I heard. Murdering a noble woman… and Lady Manuela’s brother,” Lord Bernard continued with a grimace. “Is this true? I must ask.”
“My job requires killing,” Lear replied raspingly. “This specific contract had a lot of that. Reckon with more yet to come.”
“There,” Manuela said and crossed her legs tying her hands at the knee for support. “Nothing more to say Bernard.”
“Lady Manuela,” Bernard said pushing back on his chair. “I’d like to hear the words clearly. I serve in the Duchy’s judicial council.”
“Did you murder Fausto Lear?” Manuela asked Lear acerbically.
“He tried to stop me from getting to Laudus,” Lear replied coolly. “I disabused him out of the notion but he didn’t survive the lesson. Same for Eleonora. According to the rules of the guild, a person trying to prevent a bounty hunter from completing a capital-punishment contract suffers the fate of the accused.”
“Laudus has been charged with assassinating King Jeremy,” Lord Bernard said. “You were after him.”
“Per the written order of the Legion’s Intelligence Department head Director Ramirus,” Lear replied coldly. “I had accepted the contract and was given the green light to uproot the conspirators, bring back Laudus and all his associates. Dead or alive. For the former I need to provide proof of death. I shall provide proof of death.”
“Eargh,” Manuela hissed narrowing her eyes and Bernard blinked nervously.
“You accuse Fausto Mclean of being part of the conspiracy?” Lord Bernard asked.
“There’s no accusation. We’re past that. He tried to have me killed to prevent the truth from coming out. He was guilty and I administered proper punishment. End of story.”
“What more do you want?” Manuela asked Bernard and he grimaced.
“Murdering the King’s brother. A former king himself,” Bernard retorted trying to keep his composure. “This is a serious matter my Lady.”
“You don’t actually believe him? The man’s a murderer!”
“What does Jack say?” Lear asked.
Bernard pursed his mouth. “Mister Hik, Jack has given a partial corroboration to Lady Manuela’s words. You’ve put the matter in a different context though.”
“There’s only one context,” Lear expounded. “Laudus was ordered to murder King Jeremy. I believe we all know who did it and why. We also know who knew and attempted to cover it up.”
“Say this is true,” Bernard started palming at his lower face as if his jaw hurt.
“It is. You’ll surrender Jack to me,” Lear said. “And I’ll bring him to King Lucius.”
“There is a war going on that might affect the Kingdom,” Bernard argued and Lear realized the noble scion had figured out much of the plot. “While you make strong case for informing the King, other matters must be taken into account.”
“Let the King decide that.” Lear countered soberly.
“The Bank had nothing to do with that,” Manuela intervened coldly. “I reject the implication and maintain the ‘Butcher of Kadrek’ is lying.”
“I did the butchering in yer father’s orders and to stop a war,” Lear retorted hoarsely. “I won’t shy away from the nastiness of my actions but he who gives the order can’t stand above blame. Accuse the blade all you want but the hand that wields it is the culprit. Let’s ask Jack if the Bank is innocent in this.”
“Lady Manuela,” Bernard said visibly concerned. “You requested to have ‘Tracer’ Jack released into your custody. Now I’m feeling your intentions weren’t perhaps benevolent.”
Manuela eyed the young Lord frostily. “Blaming the Bank is not in Asturia’s interests Lord Bernard.”
“Is that a threat my lady?” Bernard gasped and stood back.
“I believe I was clear,” Manuela replied stiffly. “Lesia can survive because we are proactive in our thinking.” She pointed at the strange bottle of wine. “This is just the beginning of the infiltration. The moment it becomes a reality, people will flock to the real thing. They’ll crave for it. For every other fabled trinket or hallowed delight. Everything will be affected. All businesses. When the next Bacchanalia come around, your city shall stand empty of tourists and devoid of coin.”
What? Lear thought confused. What is she talking about?
“The King will put the Kingdom above all else,” Bernard muttered pursing his mouth.
“Would you risk it? He’s human,” Manuela countered.
Bernard stared at Lear Hik. “Say the Mclean drop their bounty, will you consider keeping the matter contained far as their involvement goes?”
“They won’t. You’re either naïve or shortsighted,” Lear retorted raspingly still unsure on what they feared would happen anyway. “The matter should be placed in the hands of the King. Let him decide what to do with it. It’s his family. His call.”
“You are hinting at a bigger involvement.”
“Two kings have been murdered.” Lear grunted. “Theodor endorsing the violence points a clear finger to the culprit.”
“The man died during the attack,” Bernard argued.
“Cut down whilst helping the assassins according to Laudus.”
“Laudus can confirm it? It’s your word.”
“Jack can if it comes to that. People not wanting word of it getting out, also paint a clear picture that this is the truth,” Lear countered. “Speak to Jack.”
“Bernard you—” Manuela hissed and Lear got up from the chair with a grimace of pain. She stopped to stare at him sourly.
Move. There might a pre-agreed attack time.
“My lord,” Lear said hoarsely and got his large folded razor out. “Whatever Jack said initially made you uncomfortable I suspect. Enough to keep him in here for months. Else Jack would have been released to the Mclean by now and she wouldn’t have to make the journey.”
Bernard scrunched his face, looking at Lear’s razor unsure on what it was and seemingly troubled with the conundrum he had found himself into.
“You’ll trust Jack to back you up now?” He asked Lear. “He said you killed his closest friends.”
That’s a strong word. Jack’s best friend is Jack.
“The moment Jack sees her, he’ll know what’s up.” Lear retorted and Manuela pursed her lips. Bernard shook his head and then sighed.
“Ton…” he started and Lear flipped the razor in his fingers opening it up. He stepped forward and pointed it in Manuela’s blank face. “What in the Goddess’ name?” Lord Bernard gasped seeing the flat thin blade shining in the light of the several lit oil lamps inside the office.
“She won’t let you do it,” Lear explained raspingly. “But she’ll give word to her killers to storm the villa first chance she has. I reckon they’ll kill us all and torch the place.”
“What?”
“He’s a mad dog,” Manuela hissed looking at the blade in front of her face. “A deranged murderer Bernard.” Lear raised a brow impressed at her poise.
“That’s an insane accusation Mister Hik,” Bernard croaked and stood up as well. Ton was heard entering the office behind Lear. The young Lord had a sword at his waist and dropped his hand on the pommel. “Put that thing away.”
“Enough talking,” Lear replied and unsheathed his sword with the other hand angling to keep Ton in his peripheral vision. “You’ll learn a lesson today my lord or you won’t. Bring Jack here.”
Manuela opened her mouth to threaten Bernard but let out a pained curse instead as Lear’s snapping razor had cut her below the collar before she jolted away. The dress she had on painted red just above her left breast.
It was a small cut.
“Mister Hik!” Bernard snapped and Lear turned the longsword on him above the desk. The young lord backed away failing to draw his blade.
“Get Jack here now. Hurry whilst you still can,” Lear repeated and turned to eye the shocked Ton who had his sword out as well. “Sheathe that thing afore you hurt yourself son.”
“Bernard the man is psychotic,” Manuela hissed. “Just let him have the bounty hunter.”
Ah, she has a lot of people in Asturia.
“You’ll never leave the city,” Bernard croaked unsure whether to draw his sword or not. Lear lowered his. “I’ll have you arrested for this.”
“You’re missing the point,” Lear told him. “Speak to your father and think it through. Ton go get Jack. I hear the alarm raised and we are going to have a problem.”
“Sir?” Ton asked unsure.
Bernard nodded and stared at Manuela while the guard walked out. “Are you well my Lady?”
“She’s fine,” Lear replied rigidly and looked at the large office. A window at the far edge facing a back street. “Anyone has the key to the office’s door?”
“I do,” Bernard replied and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not serious… Mister Hik, you are behaving erratically.”
“By the time you put two and two together it may be too late for me and Jack,” Lear explained and signed for the noble scion to drop the keys on the desk. He did and Lear used the tip of the blade to pick them up. Then he retreated towards the door, closing the razor and inserting it on his waistband.
“For all that’s holly,” Bernard protested and got around the desk to check on Manuela’s wound. “Let me handle this Mister Hik,” he added giving the redhead a hankie to press on the bleeding cut. “What if you are wrong? The realm just came out of a war!”
“Plenty of people killed already,” Lear replied raspingly and inserted the key on the outside of the door to close and lock it shut. “Reckon plenty more will die afore it’s over.” He pointed at the window. “Stay away from the window. I’ve a man waiting outside.”
----------------------------------------
Lear walked the narrow corridor looking for Ton and spotted the guard shoving a disheveled and protesting Jack out of a bedroom. The bounty hunter spotted Lear coming down the corridor and his face distorted in a grimace of horror.
“Get his keys,” Lear said looking at Jack who blinked, then ogled both eyes to stare at the grimacing Ton.
“Where’s Lord Bernard?” The guard asked and went to draw his sword but Lear grabbed his wrist, turned it left and then right, bones crackling until Ton gave up on the handle. He then shoved him back inside the bedroom and turned to Jack who was holding a set of iron keys. “Lock him in.”
“Lear,” Jack croaked but proceeded to lock the bedroom door. “I want you to know I forgive you for what you did—”
“Manuela is here,” Lear cut him off stiffly and Jack clenched his teeth manically in a strained grin. “Is there a back door?”
“We make a left down the corridor. It leads to the garden,” Jack replied and cursed as Lear heaved him forward grabbing at his shoulder. “Dead dog’s arsehole,” Jack protested stumbling forward. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Laudus said Theodor got them in the King’s quarters,” Lear grunted looking behind him for anyone following. The guard at the door might just decide to come looking at some point or if they start calling for help. Maybe a couple of more sleeping inside. Half a dozen if they have shifts and then there is this Rebus dude that also lives here since the villa is in his name.
“Alright,” Jack agreed, as Lear kept shoving him forward. “What do you want from me?”
“I’m saving your arse,” Lear grunted. “You owe me big you piece of shite.”
“Huh? You killed my friends Lear,” Jack said soberly and Lear gave him a kick that sent the smaller bounty hunter crashing on the door leading to the garden. “Fuck’s sake. You philistine!”
“Open the door,” Lear grunted.
“It’s locked.”
“Use yer darn keys,” Lear urged him and Jack started working them inside the keyhole one by one.
“Fucking all hells,” Jack kept saying. “Is she dead?”
“No.”
“You spared her? Why? She’s going to hunt us down!”
“Better her than the old man,” Lear retorted. “You need to come to terms with the dangers of the job Jack,” he added watching him trying the keys. “You can’t hope they’ll stop coming or forget about it. You need to make it impractical for them. Too fucking expensive. Make the danger outweigh the reward. The Bank has no soul, but a father has. So you look to avoid upping the danger where you can.”
“You killed Fausto,” Jack hissed and finally unlocked the door.
“Yeah but there was no way around it and Federico loves his daughter more,” Lear replied and walked outside after him. “I never said the danger goes away completely.”
Jack looked about them at the dark backside of the villa to orientate himself.
“Where?” Lear asked him as Jack always had an escape route planned ahead.
“We climb a sycamore tree near the wall and jump over it.” Jack replied thoughtfully. “I got out here every day to catch a bit of sun but haven’t for a while due to the weather. We follow the outer wall of the city towards the northeastern gates—”
“We’ll head for the copse, follow Goddess’ Walkway and use the south gates instead,” Lear cut him off.
“Why?”
“I have Edge waiting out of the city,” Lear explained and eyed the grimacing bounty hunter. “You help me to climb the wall and I pull you up.”
“You are heavier than a fat mule old man!” Jack protested, himself naught but five years younger than Lear.
“That’s right,” Lear agreed with a leer. “I don’t trust you to pull me up afterwards.”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
----------------------------------------
Lear Hik trailed after ‘Tracer’ Jack inside the stretched out well-maintained woodland that reached as far as the warehouses of the now-closed South Market following Asturia’s outer walls. The Slums beyond them.
“I don’t think you’ll make it old bones,” Jack yelled looking back at the scowling heavy-breathing Lear and then he stopped himself to catch his breath. With a booming sound coming from the sky, it started raining again. “Damn, this will take us a moment.”
“Look for horses,” Lear rustled reaching the bounty hunter. “Edge has left a couple for us.”
“You had this planned?” Jack asked and went near a shed to check a small public stable adjoined to it.
“The route yes,” Lear replied and walked under a tree’s branches to avoid the weather. “Didn’t expect Bernard or Manuela to be there. How did you end up in Asturia?”
“I wasn’t going to trust Lord Dolf with my life,” Jack said and was heard yelping a moment later. “Hah. Edge… delivers! Well, this horse looks like shit.”
“Just get them out,” Lear grunted and Jack appeared dragging two horses after him.
“We should split up here,” Jack suggested.
“Get on the horse,” Lear rustled warningly. “We’re going to Cartagen.”
“God’s darnit Lear,” Jack protested. “I don’t think I’ll be safe there!”
“Don’t be a spineless cunt,” Lear grunted and heaved himself on the saddle with a grimace of pain.
“You need to relax a bit and think of the future,” Jack replied following after Lear on the second horse.
“Manuela was going to have you killed. Your plan sucked,” Lear said raspingly and pressed with his knees to get the horse going faster.
“Fucking Laudus started talking and then Mist told Fausto all them details,” Jack griped. “That dandy shit had gotten her drunk. Fucking on the job. Greedy motherfucker with a wife like Eleonora you’d think he would have been a bit more faithful?”
“That was his wife’s idea probably,” Lear retorted. “She was the kinkier of the two.”
“You don’t actually think?” Jack gasped pondering about it as he came to ride next to Lear.
“Jack you’re from Croton,” Lear rustled cutting off his reverie.
“I am?”
“We sold our wares and return to the town,” Lear continued. “The guards won’t be that interested with this downpour over their heads.”
“Right-right.” Jack agreed now getting it. “Still, I can’t imagine Eleonora sharing her husband with Mist and I liked Mist and all.”
“Eleonora was Manuela’s lover,” Lear explained. “I know you can’t wrap your mind around it but the Mclean have their own rules in everything. Why did Theodor Brakis got involved in the King’s murder?” He asked changing the subject.
“Alistair?” Jack asked and grimaced. “There was talk about doing something about him. The King was fixated with the North while the realm changed. Eleonora had said that. Word seeped down and that dumb Ursus fourth cousin decided to act. But it was ‘at the worst possible moment’ as Laudus told us.”
“The King’s murder was a fluke?” Lear asked with a grunt.
“Not exactly when you talk about the deed for months prior but yeah, far as timing went,” Jack replied.
“Laudus was Alistair’s inspector of ports and public works,” Lear noted.
“Yeah.”
“He discovered what they were doing and kept it a secret,” Lear continued reciting what Laudus had told him. “He was compensated for it but also got involved. Now he had skin in the game.”
“As it goes.”
“So Alistair goes down at an inopportune time,” Lear continued, blinking to clear his eyes from the falling rain. The trees providing some protection from it but not a lot. “Kaltha goes to war with the Khan and the throne is vacant which makes the kingdom vulnerable. Jeremy was put on the throne but not because anyone wanted him there.”
“Lord Doris was the one who wanted Jeremy on the throne. He didn’t trust his sister,” Jack explained. “But the young King caused them problems and then Sula just wouldn’t roll over ‘n breathe his last, while Cartagen proved a tough nut to crack,” the bounty hunter paused to think about it. “King Davenport started having doubts about the viability of the military operation and the Bank just wanted the ports to move on Eplas from the beginning. One thing led to another.”
“Jeremy wanted to win the war.”
“If Lucius were to lose one battle the whole thing could have collapsed,” Jack replied.
“So Brakis pulled back and the Bank convinced Davenport to agree to a ceasefire. This freed Lucius hands and tossed Ligur under the chariot’s wheels.”
“Ligur was about to maul the Duke’s army. He may even have forced them to talk terms. Split the Kingdom in two.”
“Lucius could have broken out of Cartagen.”
“Not with Ligur on his back and Lesia on his flank. Something had to give. This could have taken years to resolve.”
“So Jeremy had to go.” Lear said.
“That’s the long and short of it.”
“What else?”
“That’s most of what I heard them talk about and Mist told me,” Jack replied. “Alistair dying made them lose three or four years and it might be too late already. I guess they need to use a scapegoat to test this theory.”
“Too late for what?” Lear asked his mind on the road ahead. “Going to Eplas?”
“Some clever thug or an alien creepy creature got his hands on Wetull’s riches,” Jack said. “That’s what they said. If allowed to grow this could turn into a tsunami and cut us off from the lands beyond. Zilan are a problem. They are too clever and move too fast.”
“Have you even seen one?” Lear asked harshly.
“No,” Jack replied. “But the Bank has dealings with them already. They have their own bank now and use their own coin. Square gold doubloons hey big,” Lear glanced his way soberly. “Not Dinars or Eagles. Mclean doesn’t like that.”
“Um,” Lear murmured thoughtfully, his mind briefly reminding him of the elusive thief from Shroudcoast. A weird case that. Left open. Seeing the turn towards the south market and the city gates he lowered the hat over his eyes. “Be convincing,” Lear cautioned Jack.
-
image [https://i.postimg.cc/hP9PWrFX/Storm-s-Rest-195.jpg]
A day later
17th of Penultimate 194 NC
The road to Croton
Asturia Forest
East side of Framtond River
Lear saw the laden mules and horses first, then the figure of Edge standing by the road looking their way. Mark wrapped in a cloak to withstand the chill after a day of heavy rain and Nis O’ Toren smoking his pipe a couple of meters from the young man.
Allgods damn it, Lear cursed as he rode near his friends.
“We heard the alarm,” Edge commented, his eyes on Tracer Jack.
“We were through by the time they got the word out,” Lear explained stopping the horse. Nis had brought them new ones, so he was going to leave it behind.
“You had to bring him along?” Edge asked watching Jack that jumped from the saddle with a fierce upper lip grin. A sole golden tooth splitting the smile down the middle.
“Good ole Edge,” Jack said warmly and tended a hand to greet the scowling bounty hunter. “Nice to see you again. Know that I’ve forgiven you—”
Edge had closed his fist while Jack was talking, pulled it back some and then swung a good hook that caught Jack right in the mouth cutting his words off. Jack’s head was hurled violently to the side, feet stumbling in the watery mud and then the bounty hunter went down on his arms and knees.
“Fuck…ouch… you stupedth… brute…” Jack gasped bleeding down his chin, a gap where that tooth once stood. Mark run to help him up but Jack slapped the young man’s boots away from the ground around him. “The toolth… find the fuck-ling tooth!” He implored hoarsely.
“Huh?” Mark grunted and looked in the muddy terrain. “Where?”
“Use… yer bloodly… fingers. Feel… for it!” Jack mumbled. “Don’t just… stand there like an idiot!”
“It’s just a tooth!” Mark protested.
“Gold…toolth!”
Lear eyed the old adventurer under furrowed brows and then turned to Edge that was rubbing at his hurt knuckles. “Didn’t I say not to let him come along?”
“I forgot about it and when I remembered it seemed wrong to reject him. He taught me how to hold a blade Captain,” Edge admitted and then puffed out tensely.
“This is a dangerous contract Nis,” Lear grunted and Nis let out a noisy burp afore replying, smoke covering his head.
“You are not me mother young blood,” Nis told him soberly and emptied his pipe on the ground. “Would be nigh awkward if you were.”
“I need to reach Cartagen fast Nis. You’re going to slow us down,” Lear griped while Jack and Mark were searching the mud for the former’s missing gold tooth.
“You won’t in this weather. Reach it soon that is and I brought an extra horse. Not in the mood for walking.” Nis replied calmly. “Also I like this time of year and this might be the last chance I’ll have to see the capital. Maybe we’ll make it, maybe we don’t. Still a good enough reason to make the journey. A contract for a King. A good enough reason to go out with a purpose.”
“Oh, that’s just great...” Edge griped sourly. “…fucking uplifting words you relic. Can’t believe I defended your wrinkled arse!” He grimaced in frustration and then they all watched for a while in silence the bleeding Jack and the determined Mark shifting the mud about to search… for gold.
Literally.
“Want to check on your new horse?” Edge casually asked interrupting their contemplation.
“Um,” Lear replied over the yelps of enthusiasm Mark let out when he finally discovered Jack’s broken tooth.
-
Three weeks later
Ultimus of 194 NC
Thirty kilometers from Hammer Mounts Quarries & Kato’s Bridge
Forest road on the east side of Framtond River
Ninety kilometers from Croton
A hundred kilometers from Storm’s Rest
Twitchy snorted, the name given to his horse by Mark, the thin snow that had fallen the previous day already turned to mud but the chill coming from the mountains felt in Lear’s bones through the coat he had on.
He waved for Edge to put the fire out since darkness had come and it would be visible from afar. The humidity adding to the waterlogged forest by the sides of the widened road. The Legion engineers had increased the smaller route at least to twice its former width. Several caravans had passed them by and as many merchants they had caught early enough to avoid.
The reasoning plain.
It was difficult to discern friend from foe on the road unless he had a uniform on.
Mark was pulling the mules away from the road. Four of them. Six horses that could handle the road but still they were moving slow. Heavy rainfall had flooded the road, the river turning impassable and several brooks spurting out of the forest hissing like snakes in the grass.
Lear stared back at the road leading to Croton, wild grey beard covering his wrinkled face. The breeze whistling though the trees and into the empty opening. The light of the moons trying to break through the clouds.
“They’ll come,” Nis rustled coming to stand next to him, thick staff stabbed in the mire-covered gravel. “They’ll wait by the narrows and outside Storm’s Rest. In the Navel. But they’ll come this way as well. Nothing cuts like gold. Or attracts killers as strongly. The more coin thrown about, the more wild dogs shall gather drawn by the smell of blood.”
Best killers coin can buy, Lear thought pursing his mouth.
“I reckon,” Lear murmured and glanced at the frustrated Edge kicking at the fire to put it out. Nothing pissed the old guy out more than sleeping in the cold.
“Naught to reckon,” Nis retorted sucking at a lined cheek covered in red and white hairs. “That ain’t no thunder’s rumble young blood.”
The noise could be heard approaching, still unseen. On and on without interruptions. Until it was almost there it seemed.
And then it stopped.
“Get the plaguing animals out of the way Roland. Everyone else get your weapons ready,” Lear rustled and turned to stare at Nis. The timeworn adventurer snorted and grabbed at the thick long staff with both hands. Turned it once this way, twisted it the other and the part stabbed in the gravel cracked open a foot above the end. The hidden blade now unsheathed and the small wooden lid staying nailed in the ground.
“I’ll need a better sword Razor,” Jack griped reasonably. “This is too heavy.”
“Use it as a club. You’re a lousy swordfighter Jack,” Lear retorted walking briskly towards the nervous dragging at his horse Mark. Lear slapped the ranger’s shoulder hard, grabbed his elbow to keep him near and used the time to retrieve the crossbow from the saddlebag and shove it in Mark’s arms.
“Find a good spot. Don’t shoot a friendly in the back,” Lear ordered the tensed ranger and then went to stand in the middle of the road.
----------------------------------------
The two riders trotted silently near the curve of the road, sound drowned by the distant rumbling of the pregnant river and by the cloth they used to cover their horse’s hooves with. They had to stop for a bit to do it since riding on them for long tended to wear the fabric out and make it useless.
When you were on gravel.
In the desert it was a different thing altogether.
Bigger flats, nice sandy expanse. No trees to sneak near.
Here you’ll use the forest side, since closer to the river the ground turned to quagmire. Sludge up to yer knees.
Lear cracked his neck right and then left, mouth pursed tightly.
A keen eyed fuck spots a glint of fire in the sunset’s dying breath above the treeline and most folk tend to think nothing of it. Unless yer a son of a wild dog out looking for flesh to sink yer teeth into.
The Issir Vonk pulled hard at the reins to stop the horse. More out of nerves and not because it was needed. A Lorian scout stopping right next to him. A new face.
Not as nervous.
Young bloods as Nis would say, think all is words and tall tales.
Most things are, but in this business and in this life one better be a hundred percent certain.
Fuck ups are lethal.
“Ah,” Vonk grunted seeing the still figure of Lear standing in the middle of the empty country road. “I’ll be damned. That’s ‘Razor’ Hik.”
“Are you sure?” His friend asked.
Lear raised his left arm high and Vonk twitched nervously trying to turn his horse around.
“How do ye Vonk?” Lear rustled and then downed his arm signaling for Mark to fire.
The headhunter ducked on the saddle, the bolt lodging in the reacting horse’s eye and exploding out of the back of its cranium. With a pained neigh it collapsed on its hind legs and Lear started moving forward.
“Get Sita!” Vonk grunted after taking a tumble in the muddy gravel and managed to draw his sword. “MOVE!” He roared at his colleague and the young scout kicked his legs to bolt it back the way he’d come from. Nis moving four meters to the right of Lear, custom spear in hand resting on his shoulder.
Nis took his time while the panicked scout turned the horse around, hooves digging in the gravel. Then the Nord pulled his arm back, paused for another moment to gauge the trajectory and heaved it with a hoarse oomph at the riding away scout.
Nailed him right between the shoulder blades and sent him flying over the horse’s head and right into its path. The horse jumped to avoid the hapless man but failed, broke both its front legs and crashed down on the scout almost snapping him in two parts. Man and horse tumbling for a while after they turned into a pile a bloody flesh and splintered bones afore they finally stopped right in the middle of the road.
----------------------------------------
“Fucking Lucky,” Vonk cursed stepping back to get his bearings as Lear came up against him sword in hand and Nis hurried to retrieve his spear from the bloody mess.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Lear replied making tiny circles with the tip of his extended blade testing Vonk’s eyesight in the semi darkness.
Vonk slashed to send his sword away and Lear whipped the sword in a sharp arc, almost took the pulling away Issir’s wrist off.
“Argh!” Vonk cried out and switched hands, having lost the index finger above the knuckle. Lear stepped forward and hacked diagonally to see whether Vonk had practiced wielding a blade with the left or not. The Issir managed to make a block at the last moment, swords clanging and the sound reverberating in the fast coming darkness.
Lear swung again going low and rising, then the opposite.
Once.
Twice.
The longsword striking Vonk’s blade with loud clangs, sparks erupting and arm hurting from elbow to shoulder joint.
But not as much as his opponent’s. Vonk cursed, half a grunt of pain and half a cry of despair and then Lear’s hack broke through, pushed the defending blade aside and lodged in the Issir’s shoulder alike a cleaver. It cut the leather after splitting the rings of the mail-shirt Vonk had on, butchered the flesh and broke the clavicle. The Issir dropped to a knee with a groan, Lear yanked the sword out and reached with his left hand to grab him by the ear. Kept him steady for long enough to ram the sword just under the Issir’s sternum. Heaved it once for the tip of the blade to break out of Vonk’s back between the ribs and then the Issir’s words fully registered.
Fucking… ‘Lucky’.
Shite.
Lear twisted his head around, caught sight of Nis returning slowly whilst carrying the custom spear and bellowed a hoarse warning, his boot planting in the dying Vonk’s chest next to the sword for purchase.
“SITA LOOPED AROUND!”
Then Lear yanked the sword out goring the Issir that fouled himself before expiring.
They both arrived back to their half-hidden camp with the vicious scrap still undecided sort of. Jack was getting hunted by Opiter around a tree, bleeding from a cut on his face. Mark was rolling in the mud missing the left arm below the elbow and losing a lot of blood and the tenacious Edge was fighting ‘Lucky’ Sita and Tiberius ‘Tibs’ Vero. Roland had to use both his blades as if was back in his twenties again. Since he really wasn’t this was almost over. The spear-wielding Vero had already scored a hit in the strained Edge’s sides and blood had painted the latter pants at the waist.
Of course Edge could always be faking that he’s exhausted, Lear mused.
“LEAVE JACK!” Sita ordered Opiter and the burly Lorian turned around to block their advance.
“Go ahead,” Nis told Lear hoarsely, both men breathing heavy from sprinting the thirty meters to make it back in time. “I got this.”
Lear ducked under a swing, spine protesting and boots slipping in the sludge, left hand getting the razor out and the right changing the grip on the sword.
Almost dropped the bloody thing and he scolded himself for indulging in fancy footwork.
Sita did a bit of fancy footwork of his own sidestepping and then reached at his waistband to get a long dagger out. A moment later he started dancing away from Vero to give his partner time to finish off the now less-pressured and shit-grinning Edge. Lear started manically laughing as well. It birthed unwittingly from the tension whilst following the freshly shorn but also greying Sita, the headhunter closer to fifty than forty by now.
“Done fucked up,” a sweaty Sita grunted through his teeth. “You crazy bastard.”
“Reckon Tibs is fucked more,” Lear retorted his blood boiling and attacked while he was still running on adrenalin. Running about like a young fool whilst fighting can drain you pretty fast or you just pull a fucking muscle someplace and then ye get sodomized proper wit a blade as a reward.
Liber ‘Lucky’ Sita, a lithely built and pretty dangerous fighter that had garnered a reputation through surprise attacks with superior numbers after excellent scouting, knew he had to get rid of Lear fast to have a chance.
What had spoiled their plans was his boss, Manuela herself. She assumed Jack would be dead or useless in a fight, Edge the only surviving member of Lear’s group when they had Mark and Nis with them. And Jack… well, a man with a shitty sword still needs to be taken into account.
Sita attacked high and Lear parried the blade away using the sturdy razor to direct the secondary dagger attack sideways. His opponent hacked diagonally to confuse him, but Lear blocked it and pushed forward to close the distance briefly locking the swords together. Sita went for the always useful stab in them guts with the dagger, Lear kicked the inside of his ankle breaking it which is always handy and then exchanged a stab over his leather belt for a slash under Sita’s right ear.
Never take a razor slash to the face.
Or the vicinity of the head.
The right side of Lucky’s face peeled off to the molars and flapped open whilst spraying blood all over them. Sita stumbled back on a bad wheel, raising the dagger-wielding hand to keep his face together and barely saw out of the corner of his left eye Lear swinging the longsword high in a semi-circle. Sita should have ducked but he had too many injuries to think it through clearly and didn’t.
The heavy blade clanged on the headhunter’s desperately raised sword and pushed it aside afore jamming on the left –and good side- of his neck over the collar. Lear run a third of the blade’s edge length over the unprotected skin and soft flesh opening a ghastly wound, then stepped aside to deliver a vicious hack at the faltering –mostly a gory mess now- Sita.
In theory.
In practice, Lear botched the whole darn thing spectacularly.
The barking bounty hunter made two awkward backwards steps after missing the swing and went down on his back, hitting the ground like a sack of bricks. With a hoarse cough and a curse, Lear rolled to the side, mud mixed with gore and rotting twigs all about him and stood on a knee to look for his opponent.
“He’s bleeding out,” Nis expounded coming to stand next to Lear. “Opiter is unconscious….” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Nah. He’s dead. Yep.”
Lear breathed out and glanced towards Edge, but Roland had already finished off Vero and had rushed near the wounded Mark to help him.
“Took ye a good minute lad,” Nis informed him critically. Lear tossed a glare towards the old Nord adventurer’s way and then grabbed a helping hand Nis had tended to stand up.
“Light the fire you bloody weasel,” he ordered the returning out of the woods Jack. Motherfucker had kept running for a while. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
“The… arm…” the traumatized Mark croaked with his teeth rattling, when Lear approached to see the damage from up close.
Eh. The arm is gone son.
“You’ll get better,” Lear assured the young ranger over the tensed Edge’s scolding stare.
Once we burn it thoroughly.
“More on the way?” Nis queried raspingly seeing Lear’s angry expression.
“Manuela is behind us still but someone might be waiting over Framtond is my guess.”
“Storm’s Rest?”
Lear run his tongue over cracked lips and gazed at the lights in the night sky. The clouds had dispersed.
“We need to get him to a Dottore,” he finally said. “Jack see to find Sita’s horses in the woods. They must be near. Leave the fire to Roland. We might need the coin for fresh supplies.”