Chapter 10 Retribution

Often mothers and fathers sneak their newborn calves from the barn to give them to feral Prince-Eaters who hide them from the Magi and raise them in freedom. At night I sometimes gaze up at the stars and wonder what it would be like to live without the Magi hurting us and be able to roam anywhere I wanted. — Prince Eater #34

When Sergeant Isla MacDonald’s party appeared in the distance, Padraig produced a telescoping field glass and studied their approach. Finally, he folded up the glass, turned to Alec and the troop of Watchers, and said, “One officer, three archers – two of them inexperienced, two lancers, and four soldiers – Magi not Kings. We outnumber them three-to-one. They aren’t expecting anyone this far out here to challenge them, so all of their bows are empty and put away for riding. Several of them have swords in addition to bows, but those are in their scabbards, too. The lancers are flanking.”

“Try not to kill the archers,” Alec interjected. “They’re my friends.”

Padraig turned his face away so that Alec wouldn’t see him roll his eyes.

According to their plan, Alec rode out alone and circled carefully around the firing party to come up behind them. When he was in position, he rode into the open, shouting, “Wait up. Wait up.”

Sergeant MacDonald turned, rode back to within a meter of Alec, her face distorted with anger, and barked, “Return to your quarters, Soldier.”

Alec stared at his erstwhile friend and said firmly, “Figgict, Isla, you and I both know that you’re jealous, and that’s the real reason you’re leaving me out. I’m not letting you get away with it.”

A ripple of whispers and snickers ran through the soldiers in the firing party. Sergeant MacDonald scowled. As painful as riding this distance was after Captain Brady’s discipline, she knew that she risked far more if she raised the captain’s ire again. She exhaled slowly before acquiescing, “We’ll discuss this later, Soldier. But understand, you are out of second chances.”

Alec noted mentally that she had not referred to him as Citizen. Before he could frame a response, however, the archers present laughed and grinned widely at him. As soon as Sergeant MacDonald resumed her position at point, Archer O’Leary broke formation and came to his side.

“Captain Brady ordered her flogged, right then in front of our barracks, but two Grays stopped it after only a couple lashes,” O’Leary explained. “They talked with Brady for a long time, and it was left that she is on probation.”

Alec blinked his eyes in surprise and watched as O’Leary pulled back into position and the firing party continued forward. Alec nudged his horse to follow as if he too would fall in line. When the others resumed surveying the surrounding territory in search of their prey, Alec halted and swung to the ground. He silently loaded Jon’s crossbow and shot a quarrel into the center of Sergeant MacDonald’s back. SnakeIn’s Armed Watch stormed in from the perimeter and engaged the others.

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He strode to where Sergeant MacDonald lay splayed and bleeding to find that the bolt had torn through completely without damaging her heart. He grasped the quarrel with both hands and pulled it from the wound before he kicked MacDonald onto her back. He took Jon’s short sword from its scabbard and pushed the blade through her stomach, pinning her to the ground. As he turned away he muttered, “Jon was your friend, Isla. May you rot here for all eternity.”

Archer O’Leary loomed immediately behind Alec. He drew his sword and stepped toward Alec as he stammered in anger, “What the hell have you done? MacDonald was right all along. You are a figgict traitor.”

“I have and will always defend the princes. My oath was to protect them against any threat. Not any threat except for ones from the magi. Any threat,” Alec said as he displayed both of his hands to show that Jon’s crossbow was empty, and he was unarmed. “I’m not like that whoreson Isla MacDonald. I won’t blindly follow ex-cathedra demands.”

Archer O’Leary didn’t move.

“I love Jon,” Alec said.

When the archer still didn’t move, Alec warned, “Run, O’Leary. Get out of here. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

Archer O’Leary unfolded his hand to let his weapon drop. As the sword clanked against the ground, the archer said, “A —”

He stumbled forward with the point of Padraig’s war axe jutting out of his chest. O’Leary clutched at Alec as he fell. Alec caught his friend and laid him gently on his side. O’Leary opened and closed his mouth several times, but Alec couldn’t tell if he was struggling to breathe or to talk. As he tried to decide, Padraig strode over, put one boot on the back of the dying archer’s shoulders, pushed him down, and tugged his war axe from O’Leary’s back.

Alec lurched forward, his fists clenched, and hissed, “I told you not to kill any of the archers.”

“Stop gawping and fight,” Padraig bellowed as he raced to the defense of an Armed Watcher who was stretched on the ground at the mercy of a Magi Soldier.

Once the entire firing party had been slaughtered, two of the Armed Watchers scattered their horses while the rest fired numerous quarrels from the firing party’s crossbows, heaved axe heads into the ground, and broke sword blades until it looked as if a horrific battle had occurred. Alec shrugged off his jacket, drenched it in a pool of enemy blood, and tossed it over the cliff with the loose bundle of Prince Jon’s bloody clothes. The Armed Watch dismembered two of the deceased firing party and tossed them over the cliff after the bloody clothes, being sure to thwart identification by heaving the heads as far out into the sea as strength allowed.

While the others put the finishing touches on the massacre scene, Padraig bent down where Sergeant MacDonald moaned through the blood spewing from the corners of her mouth, “The king planned for Alec to get to Jon first…not us. The king…”

The commander stood and declared loudly, “Time to show mercy.” He hefted his war axe and planted it deeply in Isla MacDonald’s skull. He wiped the blood, bits of skull, and brain off using her fighting leathers before he casually strolled to his horse.

Once Alec and the Armed Watch rode from the battlefield and disappeared into the horizon toward SnakeIn, Prince Gunnar rode out from where he’d been hiding, dismounted from his stallion, and left the horse to graze while he paced through the remains of the melee. Stopping beside MacDonald, he reached down, yanked Jon’s short sword from her stomach, and wiped the blade across the sergeant’s undamaged leggings. He lifted it to the suns, inspected it closely, and then rubbed it over her leggings again, saying to himself, “Jon always did have a keen eye for weaponry.”

©2022 Vera S. Scott