I was up twelve Souls for officiating over an animal sacrifice and I silently thanked Kril for inveigling me into doing the honours, despite the barbaric nature of the ritual. The animals had died quickly, with as little pain as one could hope for, but it still felt wrong somehow.

I made my way back through the tents and once I was outside Krils yurt I stripped off the no longer white tunic. I used a bucket to lift water from the barrel and scrubbed my legs and did what I could for the tunic, leaving it still stained and draped over a guy rope. I donned my dull green tunic once again and settled down to investigate the basket Kril had handed to me.

It was a warm night and the sound of singing and dancing rang out from the centre of town. Naturally, I wasn’t concerned about not being present, large gatherings made my skin crawl even when it was normal people and not stone age savages. Inside the basket I found a bowl of still warm vegetables and some thick slices of meat. I chewed into one and concluded that it had been cooked yesterday at best but it was well seasoned in a way I hadn’t tasted before. I couldn’t think of an analogous taste from Earth. It was a delicious compliment to the vegetables and I devoured the meal in minutes.

There was also a stoppered bottle in the basket and I set it aside after taking a sniff. Once I’d eaten and felt better I’d picked it back up and had another smell. Faintly cheesy but with something that almost had some bite to it… I took a swig and stared at the bottle.

This was booze. It was hardly a fine wine or nice cold lager but the tang of alcohol was clearly there in between the dairy flavours. I took a long swig and felt a faint warmth run out from my stomach into my limbs and head. Kril had earned my gratitude once more. The bottle contained something like a litre and a half of the fermented milk and before I was half way done I had a pleasant buzz going. I put the stopper back in carefully and laid back on the grass, staring at the star I had worked out was this world equivalent of Polaris.

Going north felt wrong. I had a simple enough job to do, in theory. Getting to the marks would no doubt involve some work but none of them had any experience of people like me from back home. Honour and fair play were words other people used to complain after you had won. I had no compunctions about slipping a blade between their ribs or shooting them - with an arrow, I supposed - in the back without warning.

I took another swig of the “milk” and continued to watch the stars turning slowly above me. Off to one side there was a faint rustling sound and I cocked my head over to look. Gedrik had returned and retreated into his cosy lair of furs under a nearby wagon. I turned back to the stars and started trying to pick out recognisable shapes.

The total absence of light pollution made the night sky a brilliant diorama of pinpricks of light. Some flickered and pulsed like Sirius had on Earth. Others were stable and constant. To the east was a shape that resembled a bow, a large D shape in the sky composed of over a dozen brighter specks. To one side of it something that reminded me of a bird stood out, roughly shaped wings crowned by a trio of stars to form a beak.

I took another swig and continued to watch the sky until gruff cursing from nearby disturbed me.

“Fucking ropes,” a man muttered.

“Are you ok?” I asked. I felt remarkably at peace and relaxed. Kril hadn’t been joking about “the good stuff”. I didn’t get a reply but the footsteps came closer until a man in a long leather apron stumbled around the next tent along. As soon as he saw me he started in my direction with narrowed eyes.

“I saw you watching her. Fayala is not for a fucking slave!” he snarled as he unhooked his mace from his belt. Who the hell was Fayala? Who the hell was this pri - ah! As he got closer I recognised Jytik, the slinger whose stone had knocked me out when I was captured. Anger flared through me, replacing the calm in an instant. I tried to fight it down but the alcohol was affecting me.

“Not so tough without your rope and stones,” I mumbled as I surged to my feet.

“You shouldn’t have survived. I saw that bullet hit your skull. Sometimes maybe a mace is better than a bullet!” he snarled as he leapt forward, his mace descending overhead and aimed at my temple. This would be a killing blow to most men, if it landed.

Without thinking my left hand shot out and caught his wrist, holding the mace in the air. My right snapped forward, driving my fist into his solar plexus and knocking him backwards. He stumbled away and got caught in some lines, falling on his ass. I started laughing. I couldn’t help it, I broke into guffaws that stole my breath away as I watched him trying to get back to his feet without knocking over the next tent along. He failed.

“Fucker!” he spat as he got back to his feet. A flint dagger appeared in his other hand and he came at me again. I was laughing so hard I missed the block on the mace, only deflecting it from my head so that it slammed down on my shoulder. The pain brought me back into a focussed state. I caught the dagger arm firmly, despite my drunken condition.

With the pain in my shoulder clearing my head somewhat I squeezed with my hand on his wrist. He began to shriek as bones ground against each other. I kneed him in the balls and he collapsed to the ground. I was on him in an instant, throwing the dagger and mace into the darkness as I snatched him up by the front of the stupid apron, lifting his head off the soil. My other fist came down three times. Each time there was a satisfying crunch. He had gone quiet on the first blow to his face. As I brought my fist back again a quiet voice hissed out.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

“Stop you fool! He’s one of the king’s men!” Gedrik scurried out of his den and latched onto my upraised arm, trying to hold it in place.

“Too strong… Aresk damn you, stop! We need to dump him somewhere that will explain his condition. If anyone finds out you attacked a kings man you’re dead!” The boy hissed.

“He’s worth ten,” I muttered. Then I pulled myself together, put my greed aside and focussed. “Where?” I asked.

“By the horses. If he’s found at the edge of the paddock they’ll think he just got trampled!” Gedrik suggested.

“Horses don’t step on people if they can avoid it?” I pointed out.

“What fucking horses do you know? Most of them are trained for battle. If we scare them a little so they make some noise no one will be any the wiser,” he whispered back. “Pick that prick up. I’ll go first and check for trouble. If I stop moving or start talking, hide!”

“Why?” I asked, meeting his frightened gaze.

“They might not just kill you for this. Also… You didn’t tell the master what I did. I owe you a little. Enough for this anyway. Jytik was always cruel to the orphans.”

The boy set off and I heaved the body over one shoulder and staggered off after the boy. The festivities were still in full swing and had hopefully provided cover for Jytik’s yells as we fought. Atonal chanting and singing flooded the darkness. No one was wandering the perimeter of the camp and I noted the vulnerability in this culture. A band of determined and stealthy men could have been in among the tents setting fires and killing the horses before anyone could react.

I focused on the silhouette of Gedrik as he slowed and waved me forward to join him.

“We’re clear. Can you get him into the paddock?” he asked.

I looked at the waist high fence of hammered stakes and grunted. I backed up, held Jytik under both arms and moved forward, spinning like a shot putter building momentum. I released and fell backwards as Jytik soared across the ten feet to the paddock. His leg caught one of the stakes, yanking it over on top of him as he cracked down against the well packed mud and horseshit.

“Too strong,” Gedrik muttered again and he flinched as he saw me looking at him. Did I have to kill this boy? Could I?

“I won’t tell no one, promise!” he swore.

“I kept your secret. You keep mine. Or else?” I said slowly. He nodded vigorously.

“Let’s get back. We don’t want to be missing when my master returns.” He didn’t include me among Kril’s servants, I noted.

We hurried as quietly as we could back to the tent to find Kril sitting outside waiting for us, looking up at the sky and finishing off the fermented milk I hadn’t gotten round to before Jytik intruded.

“Busy night, boys.” He pointed to a stone mace and a crude dagger he’d laid out next to him. “Who was it?”

“Jytik,” I replied calmly. “He’s been put in the paddock. It will look like an accident.”

“Dead?” Kril’s voice was sharp.

“No but he won’t remember much.” I smiled coldly.

“Raymond pounded his nose into his face in three blows! It was fantastic!” added Gedrik in a happy voice.

“I didn’t ask you to speak, boy. Into your den. Slave, I would have a word in private,” Kril’s voice was icy and sinister. We went into the tent and Kril closed the flap behind us.

“What did he see?” Kril hissed immediately.

“He saw me beat the guy up. Nothing… tricky.” I confirmed.

“I’ve invested a lot into that lad and he is the only one of a bad bunch that showed any fucking promise at all!” Kril’s voice was quiet but full of anger.

“Gedrik's a good kid. Why are you so hard on him?” I asked. Kril harrumphed and turned to his wooden chest. He felt around inside it and brought out the dagger I’d bought from the Shop and the satchel I’d taken from one of the attackers at the cave. I noticed he also took a small pouch that he slipped into his belt.

“You can have these back for now. Once we’re away from town I’ll set things up so you can be properly armed. You’re sure Jytik will live?” he asked.

“I expect so. He was still breathing and I didn’t hit him that hard,” I replied.

“If he wakes up before noon tomorrow you’re dead. Build the fire up and warm some water. I’ve noticed you’re skittish about unboiled water for some reason. I have a few errands to do. I need to speak to Hatrikahn and confirm the arrangements for the Kend. Get to sleep once the fire’s done. It will be a long few days starting tomorrow.”

I nodded and went to get the firewood as he left the tent. I heard some heated whispering from nearby, presumably poor Gedrik getting a bollocking, then quiet footsteps moved away into the night.

The next morning, as we walked towards the gathering Kend outside of the settlement, a bower bearing a long cloth wrapped shape was carried out of the palisade by four arms men in full aprons. Behind it walked three figures in bright red, followed by the rest of Hakubin’s fighters. I kept my eyes focused on the little gathering ahead of me and hunched down slightly to try to hide my height.

A hundred metres past the palisade half a dozen aurox were covered with bulky packs that hung down their sides and a dozen young men, their hair shaved at the sides but starting to grow out at the back into the clan mullet, kept watch on them.

To the right of the beasts of burden stood one of the largest Areskyn I’d seen, almost a match for my own stature and next to him stood three women wearing travelling clothes. One of whom was much taller than everyone bar the tall, grizzled warrior who seemed to be in command.

Kril, Gedrik and I approached them. The tall man stepped forward to greet us.

“Hail, Hakukril,” he intoned in a deep, resonant voice.

“Hail, Hatrikilo,” Kril replied jovially. “Are we ready to depart? It’s bad fortune to linger by a funeral when setting off on a Kend.”

“Who was it? Hatrikilo asked, nodding towards the procession.

“Jytik. In his cups he tried to fuck a horse last night and got trampled. Or so I heard,” Kril said happily. Hatrikilo broke out into booming laughter, loud enough to reach the ears of the funeral procession, and I saw smiles flash among the nearby warriors.

“Laughter is the first sound of freedom. Let’s go find some great-tusks!” Hatrikilo boomed.

I made a mental note that my murderous mentor Kril was not a man to be taken lightly.