Olufemi stopped, hesitant.
He paused but didn’t release the captain. He remained in place; his knee against the man’s back, a hand in his hair, and another cocked back above his head. His gaze flickered to Ezril. Ezril shhok his head and there was a tense moment before he finally rose, getting off the man.
Darvi walked up to Captain Noem as he rose to his feet. Ezril had been certain Olufemi would be unable to evade the captain’s blow. His brother had surpassed his expectation. He’s grown stronger, he thought. What is he truly capable of?
For the first time, Ezril found himself unsure of Olufemi’s capabilities. He failed to imagine just how far his potential could go. With it came the realization that he may one day come to fear his brother should he turn that power on him.
“You may have worked with various priests, captain,” Darvi began, standing before Noem, “but not with us. I heard you were once of the seminary. It seems it succeeded in making you dangerous. But it would seem that is all you are; a dangerous man. Your time in the army has made you even more so. Still, that is all you are; dangerous, but not deadly.”
Noem stood at his full height now and Darvi had to tilt his head back to address him. “You may have been a brother of the seminary once upon a time. However, you are wrong about one thing: we are not like the other priests you’ve worked with. You’ve never worked with a team that had the first bow.” He paused. “Or an Olufemi. And we have both. Because this is your first time working with us, let me tell you how it goes. We will do whatever we want, and you will do whatever you must. And when it comes to something you do not agree with, then we will do what we want and you will do what you can do about it.”
Noem’s exit was immediate. He left them, giving no reply to Darvi’s words. He had obviously not liked how he was treated, and though his expression promised a retribution in due time, Ezril couldn’t help the feeling that the captain had found them amusing, as a child would a new toy.
In time, their silence returned.
“Was that really the best idea?” Takan asked, breaking the silence. “He is a captain; a big captain, and he does have an army. I reckon he could do a lot of planning. Perhaps flay us before morning,” he added, doing nothing to mask his obvious humor.
Salem snorted as he retrieved a strip of dried meat from his cassock. He ate it. “He has an army, but he was once a brother of the seminary. He’s not stupid enough to incur its wrath.” He stroked the handle of his poleaxe absently.
Ezril learned he had taken it to the previous battle. It seemed he was developing an attachment to the Merdendi weapon. His brothers could see it was slowly beginning to replace his Sunders.
Salem turned his attention to Olufemi, his hand still on the axe. “I know of your talent, brother, but I didn’t know your skill of the melee to be so… advanced. I must say I found it very perturbing.”
Ezril took solace in not being the only one. Olufemi remained quiet, which was completely expected.
Takan spoke a moment later. “I suppose you don’t pay much attention to our brother, Salem. If you did, you would realize there was nothing turbing about his actions.”
The night bore a calm breeze as it caressed them. It so peaceful remained quiet. Ezril wondered if it was aware of the massacre that was to happen. If it mourned the blood that was to be spilled. There was a pregnant silence, too. No one moved, save Darvi who took his time to turn his attention from the enemy camp to their brother.
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“Perturbing,” he said.
Takan looked up. “What?”
“Perturbing,” Darvi repeated. He said his next words slowly, as if educating a child. “If Salem watched our brother, he would realize that there was nothing perturbing about his skill.”
“W… wait,” Takan stammered. “It’s perturbing? You’re not fuckin’ with me, right?”
“It’s quite so obvious I’m shocked at how you could have even considered saying what you did.”
“I reckoned it was turb,” Takan said, appalled, “and when it affects someone, its perturb.”
Salem seemed considerably baffled at their brother’s attempt at justification. Ezril couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression and Takan’ growing shame. “You’ve been saying turbed for a while, haven’t you, brother?” he asked.
Takan frowned. “No,” he muttered.
“That right there, brother, is a load of horse shit if I ever did hear one,” Ezril laughed. “I can’t believe you’ve been saying that comfortably.”
“I find it even more disturbing that no one has ever thought to correct him,” Salem interjected. “I don’t know if to remain baffled or become amazed.”
Ezril laughed harder. “I, personally, am amazed.”
Takan frown deepened. “I don’t say it normally.”
Ezril’s side hurt from laughing. He held it, suppressing his laughter as best he could. “Of course you don’t. And I don’t stick my Sunders in the ground. And Olufemi didn’t just wipe the floor with Noem.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “There are a lot of things that we don’t do, brother.”
Salem snickered. It seemed his control was better than Ezril’s.
They had long since found it easy to lose themselves in Takan’s grammatical errors. And though tonight was not a night for such, they found themselves unable to resist. It was not so often they got to laugh. This was something Ezril noticed in his brothers. The killing did not eat at them. Suffice to say, it had robbed them of whatever innocence the seminary had failed to take from them.
If she never came would I become like them? Ezril asked himself. With Lenaria he often felt as if he could still feel a little bit of his innocence.
“I think you’ve gone too far,” Darvi chided them both, a smile lingered on his lips. “Our brother has learned something new today. Leave whatever he has done in the past alone. What is done is done.” His face grew neutral as his gaze turned to a part of the forest closest to the camp. “It will soon begin.”
They all grew alert. Salem picked up his axe. Ezril sheathed his Sunders and drew his bow. Unlike his brothers he had one more worry. Perhaps Olufemi shared it too. However, if he did, he showed no sign.
Lenaria was in the first company; the sacrificial group.
They had expected a gentle growth but the Merdendi proved themselves capable of handling the ambush. In mere seconds what should have been an ambush turned into a full on brawl. Although they couldn’t see the details, the carnage was very much palpable as the cries of war and pain filled the air.
They were to await the signal that would beckon them to aid. Five minutes, Ezril thought with a frown. It would take Noem’s soldiers that long to reach the battlefield from where they were stationed. The Hallowed could do it in lesser time than that. But this was to be a team effort; they would advance at the same speed as those not Hallowed. Ezril glanced at Darvi, wondering if they would follow the army or advance at their own pace.
Ezril’s attention flustered. It was brief, like something out of the edge of his vision. Ezril had to do his best not to react. He inched closer to his brother, keeping his eyes on the battlefield. “Did you notice it?” he whispered.
Darvi turned his attention to him casually. “Notice what?”
“We’re being watched.”
Darvi’s frown was slight. He hid it quickly. “The captain?”
Ezril shook his head. At least he didn’t think it was. Although, how Noem had tracked them to this spot in the first place was more than impressive for a soldier. Leaving a trail was an action they subconsciously avoided. Still, he doubted the man would stay away from his troops at a crucial hour as this to keep an eye on them. And he didn’t find it possible that any of the man’s soldiers could keep an eye on them without their knowledge.
Ezril looked at Olufemi. The look in Olufemi’s eyes spoke of an awareness of what was happening. Ezril was certain he hadn’t imagined it. His brother had just helped reassure his certainty.
Perhaps the Merdendi?
The possibility troubled him. Ezril had half the mind to chase down their observer, but it was not the time. Besides, he had long lost track of whoever it had been.