Mercenary War - Book 2

Chapter 6

         The young woman rode with her guard out of the courtyard and out of a side entrance of the royal grounds. The entrance was made for the purpose of a quick exit should there ever be a need. Her cloak was pulled close about her to hide her face and she wore riding boots under her gown. She clutched what appeared to be her swaddled child to her breast as she carefully rode over the long grass, looking around uneasily as she went.

         Eyes followed her, hungrily. The three mercenaries hiding in the bushes smiled insanely, considering what they would do once the queen was in their hands. She was small, young, and inexperienced, and they would revel in her misery and torment. Two elves followed Giatro as he kept low and out of sight. He had changed his tactics since Fallon had left, gaining wisdom from Anohean and how his student had become the best of them. He would make no mistakes. Her guard was a mere soldier of Kezna and the woman had her child. They would be easy, and he would be careful. What he failed to realize was the invisible presence that stalked him from behind. The elves were in front of him now, moving silently through the grass toward the guard just in front of the queen’s horse.

         And then the screams began. One elf appeared, dead on the ground. A blade wound in the back of his neck, severing his spinal column. The woman kicked her horse to a gallop and so did her bodyguard. The other elf turned and caught sight of the unseen assassin just before she reached him. Dane was already moving on Giatro, sword drawn, eyes burning. The mercenary barely managed to block his harsh blow before it reached his neck. He glanced at where the elf lay dead in the grass. How had this happened?

         Then he saw her. The queen, dressed similar to Fallon, chainmail gauntlets, metal soled boots and all. She had vanished, killed one elven mercenary, and appeared in the middle of a battle with another. Her swordsmanship was exemplary and her strength was astounding. His miscalculation may have cost them their lives. Giatro kicked out, hoping to connect with Dane’s abdomen, but instead, the guard dodged, pressing back and throwing his adversary off balance. Dane was fast. Faster than most men the mercenary had fought. He also seemed familiar with his enemy’s fighting style before he had even begun to clash with him. How was this possible?

         The answer sounded like a death knoll in his mind. He knew why. Fallon. He had personally trained this man. He was nearly an equal match. The downside is that he could anticipate Giatro’s moves because he used similar tactics to Fallon. But this guard had a fighting style all his own. Panic began to set in as he realized he may have met a man more than his match. He was on his back in the dirt. His sword was knocked away, but in a sudden act of desperation, he clawed at the dirt, throwing it into Dane’s eyes.

         Dane fell back, his eyes grainy and in pain. Trying to ignore the discomfort, he blinked and took his stance. Tears began to obstruct his vision, and he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. His enemy was up, sword in hand, more than ready to finish this.

         Calya had seen what happened out of the corner of her eye while locked in a deadly dance of her own. She was not evenly matched in her own fight, but she was clever and had learned from the best mercenary there had ever been. She was able to make some space to step back, the elf’s sword swinging down when she dropped her own blade. The queen grabbed the blade with her hand, the chainmail protecting her skin. Instantly, she had a throwing knife in her hand, and taking a quick glance in Dane’s direction, loosed it. She then punched the elf in the gut, surprising him with her strength. Noticing his expression, she smirked, her look cold and lethal. “You aren’t the only one with elven blood running through your veins.” Her opponent’s eyes sparked with renewed anger at her words and she laughed, already knowing how she would finish her battle. Her eyes flared and turned red, and a white hot pain burned through the elf’s eyes and hands. He stumbled, caught completely unprepared. He tore at his eyes in agony, crying out in horror, the burning so intense it made him want to rip them out of their sockets. He refrained and tried to hold his blade up. But his hands also burned and hurt too much for him to defend himself. The queen grabbed him by the throat, closing his windpipe with her ability as she did, her face a mask of pure rage and hatred. “You should never have come after my son, you bastard. Now die!” With one smooth motion she cut his throat, the blood spurting and pouring over her gauntlets and her arms, spattering her face and clothing as well. Calya let him drop into the grass, turning back to check on Dane.

         When the throwing knife hit Giatro, He froze, shock evident on his face. The blade had caught him in the back. Not a lethal blow, but enough to rescue Dane and give him the opportunity he needed to end things. A moment later, the mercenary’s body fell to the ground, his head rolling a foot or so away. Dane looked up at his queen, coming toward him. He saw her falter and then collapse in a heap. He sheathed his sword and ran to her, dropping to the ground beside her. His eyes still stung and he could not help but rub them with his sleeve. She was unconscious and worn out, but alive. Her breathing was slightly labored and her heart rate a bit elevated, but he was sure she would be fine. The two decoys rode up to them then, concern on their faces. They were Dane’s good friends. A husband and wife so dedicated to one another that when Dane had asked the man who was a soldier to help him out, his wife refused to let him go alone and resolved to see the plan through with her husband. If something happened to the decoys, the wife wanted to die with her husband. They had no children and their immediate family lived in the Lowlands. When they heard their queen was alright and had merely overexerted herself, they were greatly relieved. Dane had been given the horse the husband rode and held Calya steady while the other man rode with his wife back to the palace. He let out a deep sigh. At least for now, everything was over and the queen and her child were safe. Peering down at her face, he once again found himself astounded by how well her plan had come together, and just how skilled she was at defending herself. He smiled then. Fallon, if only you knew how much like you your wife really is. You would have never left her here without you.

         They made their way away from the destruction of the villages, moving as fast as the horses could manage. Kole rode Fallon’s horse urging it on with his elven words and his sure guidance. They had turned southeast to reach the village of Tant as soon as possible. It would take at least a few days to make it there if they were to stop and rest at all. The first day passed by mostly uneventfully. The second day likewise. The third day however, they ran into traders coming from somewhere much further south. Most likely the Lowland cities were their origin. The traders rode, surrounding a wagon. Ventris stiffened. And flagged the other riders with his hand. The mercenary hunters turned aside and gathered, still on horseback.

         “What is it?” Kole inquired.

         “That is a slave transport. The wagon is filled with children on their way up to Dorsha for the auction.”

         Ishain looked around. “I don’t see a reason we should lay low and let them pass. Dorsha has been sending elven children to Harta. And why should we allow Dorsha anymore slaves themselves?”

         Raffine, who had been mostly silent this entire time, spoke up. “Trint and I will stay behind to watch over Fallon while you two and Ishain go on ahead. We can not take any chances that someone will sneak up on any of us alone with him unconscious.”

         The others nodded their agreement and hid the horses and their king. Trint agreed with Raffine to stay back and let the others take down the transport. Ventris and Kole met each other’s gaze and smiled, disappearing from view. Silently, they made their way to the back of the slave traders’ riders. Ishain kept his horse and rode up to the head slave trapper.

         He raised his hand in a friendly manner of greeting and pulled up short to wait for them to meet him on the road. The leader held his hand up for a halt and the wagon creaked to a stop behind him. “May Misheth bless you, good sir,” he began, inclining his head in respect. “I do hope you will not find me too bold, but I would like to request something of you.”

         The head trapper nodded. “May he bless you as well. Please continue. How may I be of help to you?”

         A smile lit up the guard's face. “My name is Ishain. I have come from Dorsha and will be unable to return for some time. My slave was killed when our camp was attacked some nights back and I was somehow fortunate enough to find your transport. I assume you are heading to the slave auction in Dorsha. Would I be correct?”

         The other big man looked at him skeptically. “I am. These elves are for the temple. They were requested specifically. You know how faithful the priests are to Misheth.” This was all a game of pretend faith and good acting on the part of both men. Slave traders cared nothing for the religion of any group. Their only desire was the money they could make off of the temples’ use of slaves.

         “I understand, sir. But I will pay a generous amount if you would allow me to just purchase one. Maybe an older boy to help me until I can return. I will pay three times his value at auction and you can give the money to the temple to compensate.”

         The game of words continued back and forth as Ventris and Kole silently began dropping one trader after the other behind the wagon, calming their steeds so as to not alert the others that there was a problem. By the time they looked back to see riderless horses grazing behind them, the wagon would have to be empty and the children escaping. Ventris cut open the back cloth and looked into the wagon. Children from four years old and up sat, looking at him in stark terror. He put a finger to his lips and climbed in with them, cutting through their bonds and setting them free one by one. He could hear the conversation in front of where he sneaked around. Ishain had apparently managed to convince the trader.

         “I have the perfect boy for you. He is twelve, well mannered, obedient, and strong. Good looking too if your mistress might want some company, if you know what I mean. I will go get him.”

         Ishain played along so well it actually turned the elf’s stomach. “Actually, now that you mention her, my mistress is very… uh… particular in her tastes. She would not be satisfied by only an attractive face. I would need to check each boy for proof of what he could bring to her bed as well. I would normally appreciate you choosing your prized slave, but she would not forgive me if I passed up the opportunity to hand pick a bed mate for her since I know her so well. I hope you would not find that too much of a bother.”

         The leader must have been shaking his head. “I understand what you are looking for and I assure you, I can choose the perfect slave for you and her both. But it is our practice to allow no one to view our product until they are seen by the temple. You would not want us to lose what little money we make from these slaves if the temple were to ever learn that they were not the first to see these slaves.”

         Ishain was skilled in his ploy and had done a very good job at keeping up pretenses with the trapper. However, he could only argue so long before the man would consider this a waste of his time and Ishain too picky and difficult to work with to afford anymore of his attention. Ishain seemed to pause and ponder this offer for a moment. His expression must have kept the leader focused because it was silent. “Tell you what. I will give you a description of her preferences if you would not mind going to the slaves and seeing if you have a boy that matches as closely as possible. Would that be too much to ask?”

         A brief hesitation. Ventris was becoming antsy as he sawed through the last child’s ropes and helped them down, out of the wagon. Then he heard voices again. “I suppose that would not be too much to ask. I will see what I have to match your mistress's preference in the back as long as the price you offer is acceptable enough.”

         A jingle of coins was heard and a low whistle. “I think you will find my offer more than acceptable, my friend.” The description of the type of boy he was looking for began and made the two hidden hunters sick.

         A moment more, and Kole was standing on the wagon just behind the driver. He was growing weary from keeping himself hidden all this time and he had to cease concealing himself. He appeared abruptly and the driver let out a loud yell of dismay. He was silenced, but not before the head trapper looked back.

         Ishain spoke again, drawing his sword. “I guess you may have changed your mind about the price being acceptable, am I right?” In front of him, Kole stood, an imposing mass, his eyes dark and disapproving as he glared at the leader. Shocked, the trapper turned back around, but was met with Ishain’s blade at his throat. “Sorry, but this conversation has disgusted me enough to last me the rest of my life, I would prefer it if there was no chance we could ever have it again.” With that, he swung his blade, slicing the other man through the throat and dropping him from his horse. The slave trader had not even had the chance to process what had happened to his transport before he was despatched by the guard.

         Kole jumped down from the wagon seat, wiping the blood off of his sword with the edge of his tunic. He would have preferred it if he had released the children, but he was very aware of the fact that he was probably the scariest looking person Fallon had recruited. Tris,” he called back over his shoulder as he began searching the men they had killed.

         The elf walked over, cleaning his blade, the gathering of children close behind him. “I’m here. The children are all safe. It does not appear that they were injured before we arrived.” He turned around to the oldest boy who, by the looks of it, seemed to be the twelve year old that the trapper was speaking of.

         Ishain joined them and his face darkened. The boy looked at him uneasily. The guard walked over to him, knelt in the grass and hugged him tightly. The hunter’s stomach churned and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying or throwing up. The boy started to cry softly, hugging him back. After a fatherly moment with this orphan, Ishain pulled back and looked past the boy, taking account of how many children were with him. “What is your name?”

         The elf sniffed and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his tunic. “My name is Fioray, sir. Did… did you really come to save us.”

         “We did.” The big hunter looked soft, like a father with his own child. If the king had not required that all of them remain unmarried, he would have made an amazing father for a child someday. “But listen, son, You need to be careful and bring the rest of these children safely to Tant. continue straight southeast,” he said pointing in the direction they were to follow. “There you will find Tant. Their king is giving refuge to all elves. They will take you in and care for whatever needs you and the other children may have. You will be more than safe there. It also may be the best chance you all have to be reunited with any family you and the children may still have left. I wish we could accompany you, but if you continue at a steady pace, you should be there by tomorrow night.”

         The boy nodded and seemed to stand a little straighter, holding his head a little higher. He was now responsible for the safety of the other children and he would do everything he could to make sure that they arrived safely in whatever type of place Tant was. If these men had specifically chosen to save them, then he would trust them and make sure all of the children arrived together at the city gates. “Thank you.” He bowed in respect. “We all owe you our lives. We will never forget this.” He nodded to the other two men and then waved for the rest of the children to follow him as the older kids carried the little ones and the middle children all held hands to stay together.

         The three hunters watched them go, smiles on each of their faces. For the first time in a long time, they each felt as if they had made an incredible difference. They knew that their party had been responsible for disposing of a decent number of mercenaries by now, but the full impact would not be realized until they had finished, or they were all dead. But this. This was a tangible outcome that they felt great about. The killing of the traders almost seemed easily forgettable compared to the hope they had been able to restore to all of those children.

         As they stood there watching the children shrink in the distance, Trint ran up to them. “Fallon is awake! I untied him and let him down, but he said he was going to kill whoever tied him to his horse. Kole, you had better leave now before he finds out it was you.” They laughed and hurried back to where their lord sat, rubbing his wrists and eating some squirrel meat.

         “Kole,” he said darkly. “I know you tied me to my horse. I would not have been upset except that no one can possibly untie your knots.” He let out a chuckle and the men all slapped Kole on the back or the back of his head.

         “It is good to see you awake, sir. Also it seems I need more practice since I see you have indeed escaped.” The half-breed unmounted and walked over, putting a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

         Fallon looked up, clearly tired and worn. “It is good to be awake. I have recovered enough. Why don't we all sit and eat and you men can inform me of what I have missed since I have been… unavailable.”

         With the mood drastically lightened by both the good fortune of being able to free the children and their lord waking healthy and well, they all sat and passed dried meat and cheese around with a canteen of ale.

         “You men did well. I may have chosen to leave the traders alone, but I can not say I am not proud of all of you. You did something that no one expected and was not required of you and you handle it flawlessly. I wish I could have sat back and observed.” Fallon sat at the edge of a fire as night began to slowly darken the landscape around them. He had wished he had seen the children freed. It would have helped his mood since the last memories he had were of Iskale’s demise and his destruction of the last three mercenaries.

         “So, Fallon, are we going to Tant still?” Trint’s eyes were fixed on him.

         “No.” He shook his head and pointed further south. “Our next destination is the Mordin region. We will wait near Mordin, away from Kikarii’s city, and draw as many mercenaries into the swamps as possible. The larger the number going into the swamps, the higher chance of them being completely overwhelmed by revilers and other creatures. Our small number should be able to remain relatively safe. Normally, I would avoid the marshes, but I feel we have sufficiently angered Anohean enough where he will be reckless in his attempts to remove me from the picture. I firmly believe they will use excessive numbers to try to catch us in the marshes. However, they will cause their own annihilation if I know their leader like I think I do. Anger is a powerful weapon that can easily be turned against you if you let it. And one thing I know well. Every one of the mercenaries has uncontrollable anger.”

         The hunters turned in for the night, leaving Kole on the first watch. He heard a sound behind him and turned to see Fallon walking over to sit with him. “You are supposed to be sleeping.”

         A shrug of the other’s shoulders told him that his words were wasted. “Kole. I’ve been sleeping for nearly a week. I think I have gotten enough rest to hold me over until this is finished.” He handed his companion the ale canteen and looked up at the stars. “You finally figured out how long you could remain hidden for, didn’t you?”

         Kole finished drinking and handed the jug back. “Well, I already knew. I just did not know how long I could stay out of sight during a confrontation. Ventris can stay hidden much longer in the same situation. I am somewhat embarrassed by my lack of ability.” He stared at the ground, scuffing the dirt with his boot.

         “I doubt it is any lack of ability that is to blame. Your lack of a pure bloodline limits how well you can perform certain things and for how long. You should not be embarrassed or ashamed. You have done what I have asked and there is nothing more I could possibly expect.”

         Sighing, the younger man looked out into the darkness beyond the firelight. “Do you really expect Anohean to make such a reckless move as going into the marshes with a large force?”

         A laugh exited Fallon’s throat. It was dark and cold. A similar sound to what the young half-breed would have expected him to laugh like in years past. “I know him well. He was my trainer and the man I took the position of second in command from. There is nothing he would not risk to see me snuffed out.”

         Nodding in acknowledgement, Kole reached for the canteen again. “So in other words, he is the most dangerous man we have to confront.”

         “Not at all. The elven mercenaries are. Anohean became second in command before the elves were trained. I assume that any elves we see are still in training. The men that had held me the other night were probably the two strongest and most trustworthy he had.”

         Silently they sat together. “Well, Fallon, if you are wide awake, I would actually prefer to go to sleep myself.”

         His honesty made the king laugh and pat his friend on the back. “I would love to agree. However, this is your watch and no matter how much I would like to remain awake, I must admit, the pain has not left me yet, and I would be minimally effective should anyone come upon us tonight.”

         A hawk landed on the perch near Anohean’s office. He went out and took the rolled up paper from the bird’s leg. His eyes narrowed as he read it. “So you’ve made it out alive again, my student. And apparently your wench and bastard somehow have, too.” He whistled and Hasin ran up to him. “Go rally the best elves we have and all of the men who know the eastern Lowlands and the Mordin region the best. I think it is time that we finish this and catch our rat.”

         “Yes, sir.” Immediately Hasin ran down the corridor and began rallying their elves and other men. Within one hour, the force was pouring out of the underground stables and filling the landscape with a black plague. They headed toward Mordin and for the rogue mercenary.

          Three more weeks had passed by the time the mercenaries were spotted in the distance, and Fallon had already laid out a trap. He had sent Kole behind them to ensure the scouts sent on ahead would catch their trail and follow them away from Tant. The elf materialized out of the mist beside him and smirked. He was beginning to understand Fallon more and more and Fallon was beginning to be much too comfortable around him. Kole now reminded him of himself and it was an uncomfortably comfortable feeling. “Their scouts have picked up our trail and are headed this way. They should be entering the surrounding area in about thirty minutes.”

         The look that crossed his lord’s face was sinister and dangerous. “Perfect.”

         Ventris also appeared next to him, swords out. “Give me the word and I will draw them into the mist. Trint, Ishain and Raffine are further into the marshes. They have moved the horses outside the boundaries and tied them safely hidden in the trees. We are all set.”

         “Good. Both of you need to be as careful as possible. They will have as many trained elves as they can spare. Kole, you are in more danger than Ventris. Stay out of range and out of sight as much as possible. Disappear the moment you get back and do not reappear until you are with me and the others. No exceptions for either of you. You both are too valuable for me to lose either of you.” The two friends nodded and vanished again, heading out to lead the scouts on.

         “There, sir!” a scout shouted, pointing to a figure in a tree.

         “Over there, Hasin!” another hollered from a different spot. By the time the commander looked to the second place, the figure had vanished and another figure appeared elsewhere. Hasin was unable to tell if they were multiple people or the same. “Graith!” he yelled behind him. “Find them. Whoever they are.”

         “Do you want captives? Or kill anyone we find.”

         “Do whatever you want. Just make sure you kill the Black Demon as quickly as possible.”

         The man signaled to the elves he commanded and rode ahead. And then the arrows began. One here, another there, sometimes two. Four of Graith’s men had been struck and fell dead instantly. Dismounting, the elves vanished from sight. The chase was on.

         Ventris and Kole stayed separated, racing back as silently as possible. They would be able to see the elves coming after them, but it would be too difficult to try and spot them as they made their escape. They were at a disadvantage and they knew it. Speed was their greatest option. They heard Hasin give the order and the rest of the men rode toward the bog. If this was Anohean’s second in command, he was definitely not suited to the position. They were bringing their horses in which meant they greatly increased their chances of being attacked. The two soon spotted Fallon and their full plan began. Many of the men hesitated, not wanting to enter. Hasin yelled at them from the side. “Move! Remember your orders!”

         The last hesitation faded and the men who avoided the marshes split and skirted the mist. Ventris and Kole kept an eye at the sides of the marsh, watching the mercenaries go around to come in from behind. They reported back to Fallon as they returned and joined the next phase of their trap. They all released arrows into the air that would arch and come back down disturbing the waters. While not magical themselves, revilers were able to smell elves, even when they cloaked their scent, and attack them efficiently regardless of whether they were visible. And they did so now. Fallon and his men moved back until the moving water was further than they could either hear or see.

         Screams pierced the quiet and dark silhouettes began to take shape in the fog. Vanishing themselves, Kole and Ventris sneaked into the middle of the chaos and took out their enemies one by one, slipping away and letting the revilers finish off the felled mercenaries as they found more victims to feed the hungry beasts. Given Fallon’s tendency to mix poisons when he was in Harta, he had made a mixture to attract marsh snakes. The two friends would carefully wet the cloaks of distracted elves before backing off and let the snakes find their prey. The small group had wrapped their legs in cloths too thick for marsh snakes to bite through so they would be safe. They doubted the mercenaries had done the same. The entire swamp was filled with the sounds of splashing, screaming, screeching, and death. The smell of blood began to permeate the thick mist and overtake the smell of rot and stagnant water. Raffine moved away and made his way further into the gray curtain, followed by Trint, Ishain Fallon, and then Kole and Ventris. Any survivors would come full force at them, they were better off moving as far from here as possible. Somewhere along the planned route, they broke off in different directions, intending to scatter the soldiers behind them to make it easier for them to be killed off. The trails led off in all directions, seeming to double back toward the oncoming mercenaries.

         However, as they weaved through the mist, Raffine and Trint met up again on what looked to be a road through the marshes. They stared at each other confused. Their eyes held the same question. Where did a road come from and who made it? Was this road constructed by the people of Tant? Did they claim all of Mordin as their own? They would find out later. The fog dissipated over the road and put them dangerously in the open. How had they missed this? The dirt road extended to either side of them and out of sight. A noise sounded behind them and they spun around, swords in hand. Three mercenaries stumbled out of the marsh and onto the road, momentarily disoriented. Yet before they could be taken by surprise, they saw the two hunters and rushed them. Trint swung his blade, clashing with his opponent, Raffine leaped out of the way of his two attackers, blocking one of the blows. It was clear these men had learned to fight together and he would have little to no chance to win against them. He heard his companion grunt and throw back the mercenary he fought.

         Trint heard his arm crack from the impact of the blow as searing pain shot through his arm and shoulder. He realized too late that his adversary was an elf and ground his teeth in bitter resolve. If he could not win this fight, at least he would take this scum down with him. But Raffine was severely outmatched and had no chance to make it out of his fight or to take out both of his enemies himself. The pain in his arm exploded as he blocked another swing. Attempting to land his own blow against the elf. As if summoned, Kole and Fallon came surging onto the road, stopping to take in their surroundings. They immediately saw the fighting and joined their comrades. Kole disappeared from sight, hoping to attack before the men knew he was there. But one of the men fighting Raffine was an elf and knocked him back. The air left Kole’s lungs as he reappeared and hit the ground, gasping for breath. He desperately rolled out of the way of a strike and landed a devastating kick to the elf’s temple. The elf stumbled, putting a hand to his head and letting out a sharp cry.

         Four yards away, Fallon was locked in a lethal battle with another elf. Swords clashed and the sound of metal echoed dully through the air. Screams and wails sounded from all directions. Fallon’s knee was knocked out and he dropped to the ground with a sharp intake of breath. He threw himself to the side to avoid another swing and brought his sword around, cutting into the elf’s leg. Fallon rolled and struggled back to his feet, ready to continue. His eyes narrowed as the mercenary before him stood dazed. And then he watched as Trint’s blade burst from the man's chest as his companion came to his aid.

         Raffine thought he would have an advantage now, but the mercenary was still stronger than he was. Cautiously, the hunter led the fight to the edge of the fog, straining his ears to hear any movement of water or any creatures on the soggy ground. Somehow he heard what he was hoping for and dove straight into the midsection of his attacker. The two men disappeared off the road and out of sight of the others. Fallon saw and cried out. “Raffine! Don’t!” But it was too late. He was too late.

         Kole took advantage of his opening and, taking an arrow from his quiver, he shoved the tip into the elf’s throat. The bigger man struggled to stand, grabbing at his throat, his eyes wide and crazed. In a blind panic, the mercenary swung wildly, slashing a large cut into Kole’s arm. The half-breed grimaced and scurried back, away from the fight. He watched as the enemy’s eyes glazed over and stopped seeing.

         Now that their fights had ended, the three looked around for Raffine. They heard nothing and did not see any movement where he vanished. They all held their breath. Then suddenly Ventris stumbled onto the road from one side of the group, his own face mirroring the confusion that had filled the other when they found the road earlier. He stared at them, feeling their tension as they looked back into the marsh uneasily. He approached slowly and tried to follow their gazes. “What happened? What are we all waiting for?” No one answered. They all stood rigid, unwilling to admit that Raffine had not survived.

         Raffine had fallen directly into the water, pushing the elf he fought down under its placid surface. He heard the splash and felt the sickeningly warm water splash across his face. The other man had a firm grasp on his shoulder and back and pulled him under with him. And then the sound that turned his blood to ice. The dragging sound. The child’s shrieking. The sickening movements of the revilers. He fought to loose himself and began to panic. In a blur, the men rolled out of the water and onto the wet ground. Raffine was under the mercenary, his jaw tight and his hands grasping wildly. He finally grabbed hold of the man’s head and brought it down to meet his. Pounding fire burned through his skull as the elf loosened his grip. Raffine used one leg to kick him off balance. In a desperate move, he saw a reviler to his left and rolled the man in that direction. With one large, clawed hand, the beast tore into the mercenary’s back. The man tensed, his eyes wide and his body rigid as his hands released their hold and his body fell away. Raffine did not even look at what had been done to the elf. He rolled away and, scrambling to his feet, ran unsteadily away, cutting down a reviler a short distance from where he had fought. He had lost all direction and for what seemed like an hour, he tripped and hurried through the fog nearly blind, hoping to find the road again. He had moved further into the marsh than he had expected. Suddenly he broke from the mist and crashed directly into a very startled Ventris.

         “I’m back!” he shouted, louder than he meant to and sounded almost like he did not even believe his own words. Blood seeped from wounds that covered his body and dark bruises were beginning to form on his forehead and hands. Water came off him in streams, his clothing drenched.

         Kole was the first to respond. “We thought you died. Raff.”

         The other man laughed crazily. “I thought I did, too. We need to move. We can talk later.” He nodded to his king. “Fallon.” And then he pushed his hand through his wet hair and hurried the direction they had originally planned. The men split up again, but this time Ventris joined Trint and Kole stayed with Raffine to watch out for them.

         The five met back up closer to the far side of the marsh, preparing to exit. Ventris scurried ahead to scout it out and returned nearly breathless. “There is a large force waiting outside the fog. What do you want us to do, Fallon?”

         The king drew his sword and swung it around in his hand a few times and smiled. “How did you say you took down the slave transport again?” Ventris and Kole exchanged a look of great anticipation.This was slowly becoming fun for them as they pushed their physical abilities beyond what had ever been required before.

         “Ventris spoke first. “Well…”

         Kikarii stared up at the sun, the light burning through the clouds, the heat intense. He had lost nearly one hundred men in the battle at Kezna. While that should have bothered him much more than it did, he was wrestling more with his conversation with Calya and the outcome of his interrogation. He had been planning on telling Ariah this entire time, but she had never liked Fallon, and he figured she hadn’t changed her mind about him yet. He could not be sure, of course, because he avoided the topic altogether, but he had to assume so since she was his wife. Ariah could tell something was wrong with him ever since he came back from the prison, but she had left him alone until he decided to talk. He appreciated that about his wife. She rarely pushed him, and when she did, it was for good reason. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. “Ariah.”

         She glanced at him, waiting for him to continue. He did not. “Kik?”

         He swallowed the lump in his throat when she said his nickname. She was going to hate him as much as she hated Fallon. He was so convinced of this that he struggled to tell her what he had done. “I.. uh… I am not the man you think I am.”

         A small chuckle came from her and she shook her head. “You are exactly the man I think

you are. Insecure, bitter, angry, traumatized and able to convince yourself of almost anything.”

         He stared at her in stunned silence. “Wait! That’s what you think of me?”

         “No. That’s what I know, but I love you anyway. Now what do you have to tell me?” She was beautiful. She was beautiful and she was cruel.

         “I broke a man.” He turned to look at the landscape in the opposite direction of her. “I broke him so thoroughly that he was unrecognizable after. I was so angry, my men had to pull me off of him. I disobeyed her highness and killed him with my bare hands. I left, covered in his blood.” The shame burned up his face and turned his cheeks red.

         “I know. I spoke with Calya myself before we left.” She was full of surprises today. “Was that what you have been hiding from me all this time?”

         He sulked. “Well I thought I was hiding it this whole time. I was afraid you’d hate me as much as you hate Fallon.”

         She laughed then, an ironic smile playing across her lips. “I guess I was right. You are insecure, bitter, and everything I said. You assume I still hate Fallon. Why?’

         He tried to think of a proper response. Because she does. Right? “Um… Because?”

         “I don’t and I have not for a very long time. Anger can make even the best of men lose control, my love. I hope you see just how human that man really is.”

         Kikarii tightened his grip on the reins and set his jaw tightly, the muscles bulging slightly. Why did he keep hearing the same thing? Was he really so much like that man? And was everyone else really so okay with that? He gritted his teeth and stayed silent, seething and lost in his thoughts for the rest of the day.

         Ariah left him alone, though she seemed amused at his discomfort. It was probably a cruel thing to do, but she had purposely restated what the queen had said to him earlier to make him think. He was so convinced that Fallon was the only person who could never change that he was keeping himself bitter and angry about a person that might as well not even exist. He would figure it out at some point, and she just hoped he would come around before she had to beat it into him herself.

         Dane noticed a significant change in Calya in the weeks that passed since her fight with the elven mercenary. She no longer wore gowns and dresses. She wore her pants, high boots and tunic, and carried her throwing knives and sword with her consistently. The queen had mentioned that next time, they would not make the mistake of delaying or sending a decoy. She would be in more danger the more the mercenaries were defeated. Their small military force was destroyed once, their assassins a second time. She was not confident they would get the privilege of a warning the third time. She knew they had been lucky these past two attacks. She was taking no chances in being caught unaware. She certainly was a force to be reckoned with. Thinking about being trapped with her as Fallon had been all those months in Harta and after made him realize why his king had fallen for her afterall. No mercenary would give up the chance to marry a woman who could fight like one of them. That is, if they would consider marrying at all.

         Calya was on high alert at all times now. The city was locked down and any merchants that came and went had to go through a rigorous questioning at the gate. Gammir had assigned someone to oversee the army and the gates in his stead since he stayed with the prince at all times. Merchants were told to send someone the guards could recognize or were given something to show they were welcome by the royal family into the city, else they were refused entry. Despite these precautions and inconveniences, each citizen was given a proof of citizenship that would be used for trade and city access in order to not hinder their ability to buy and sell in and out of the city.

         As time passed, she became more and more antsy and on edge, waiting for the day when she would be forced to fight once more. The queen trained everyday with Dane and a handpicked palace guard, also trained by the mercenary hunter. He was the best soldier she had and she was making use of him in whatever ways she could. Dane, of course, did not mind at all. What he had failed to do in the presence of his king, he had succeeded in doing here. He in no way felt that his current situation made up for the decision he had made back then, but he did not pity himself so much that he dismissed the protection and safety only he could offer his monarch.

         The new walls outside the old city borders were well underway, the structural steel, bricks, ribbing and other foundational necessities already being constructed a mile from the old walls. It would take a couple of years to finish the project completely, but the old walls would remain intact until then. Once the construction was finished, the old stone would be torn down and new homes and shops would be built for all those who decided to move into the protection of the walls. The gate frame was already finished, made of solid iron with what would eventually be a window that would open to allow whoever was inside to have a full view of whoever was outside without ever having to open the gate. It had been months since Fallon and his men had left and though there was an emptiness in the realm that was felt by nearly everyone but able to be explained by very few, things were returning to some semblance of normalcy.

         Peering ahead, the mercenary leading the group that came to flank the hunters sat straight backed and ready for a confrontation. He expected at least twenty men to show themselves after the disappearing act earlier. Then, as if concocted from his very thoughts, a lone silhouette began to emerge from the thick mist. As the form took shape, the mercenary saw a blade in his left hand, his cloaked form hiding his identity. Was this the elf they spotted earlier? He somehow doubted it. The form continued approaching, solidifying and yet appearing like a wraith at the same time.

         As he emerged from the gray cover of the marsh, he took a tally of how many men were before him. There were about one hundred men. He hoped this was all that remained of the much larger number that had come to kill him. The faint sounds of death and terror could be heard behind him, the sounds few and the beasts’ screams becoming the more prevalent sound. Fallon raised his head, his eyes nearly glowing red in the dusky setting sun. the leader of the men before him gasped and suddenly, multiple horses began to shriek and dance in place, trying to get away or lay down. Their mouths foamed and their eyes bulged. A few horses began dropping to the ground dead, blood seeping from their mouths. Men began screaming as they struggled to get out from under their dead or dying mounts. Unease spread through the ranks like a cancer, causing a wave of fear to tear through their confidence. The name Black Demon fit Fallon perfectly, the title coming back to the mind of every mercenary that had known of him. His red eyes darkened, and some of the men started vomiting where they stood or sat astride their mounts. Blood came up with the vomit and splashed down their tunics and over their saddles. Chaos ensued as Fallon continued his agonizingly slow walk to the soldiers. As if by magic, more screams echoed over the landscape as men started being cut down by invisible entities. The fear and uncertainty overtook people and they started shooting arrows around and Fallon’s men returned the volleys. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Trint take an arrow to the chest. Looking back at his men, he saw Ishain’s face contort in horror as he dropped his bow and fell to his knees. He had misfired and the arrow hit Trint dead in the chest. The wounded soldier dropped to his knees, shock on his face. Fallon’s eyes went back to orange momentarily as the grief hit him hard. Then his eyes turned red again and the people he had been attacking poured blood. He solidified the wounds and stopped his attack, his walk faltering as his energy began to give out. He stumbled across the grass, trying to reach Trint before he died. He was desperate to try to save the man. Ventris and Kole appeared and disappeared in sequence, taking out the soldiers still left on the field. Fallon tripped over a body and went down, struggling to rise again. He dropped to the ground at Trint’s side.

         The guard looked at his king one last time. “I’m sorry, my lord. I could not stay with you till the end.” Fallon placed his hands on the guard, his eyes going from orange to red, but it was too late. Trint’s breath came in one, last, pained rattle and his eyes stared blankly. Kole saw his lord holding his companion’s dead body, his hands positioned for healing and his eyes closed, his expression focused. Ignoring everything around him, he ran. Leaping dead bodies and corpses of horses, he raced to Fallon. He could see that in his perceived failure, the former mercenary was going to try to bring Trint back to life. But the older man had told him the consequences of doing such a thing and he was too overwhelmed with grief to care.

         Diving forward, Kole tackled his king to the ground. “Fallon, no!” They tumbled into the dirt, Fallon losing his grip on Trint’s body. “Don’t try it, my lord. You know you would give your life for his and we need you. Your wife needs you!” His friend shoved him off and got to his knees. His head swam and his eyesight was a little hazy. He had taken the lives of some number of people. He could not quite remember how many. It was taking its toll now. He felt the pain and despair that he had inflicted on the deceased and dropped to the grass, gasping for breath. His thoughts were jumbled and he cried out, willing himself to lose consciousness. His gut wrenching shriek of agony rippled through the air, seeming to tear through the very fabric of space. Kole called to Ishain and Raffine to come pick him up and turned to view the carnage. Every mercenary who came against them here was dead. How many Fallon actually killed no one could guess since many of them were just incapacitated until Ventris and Kole and others could finish them off. He stared into the fog that hung thick above the marshes. Hasin would either be in there or on the other side. “Stay here.”

         Ventris came to stop him. “Kole, don’t go alone. I’m coming with you.”

         The look his friend gave him was cold, calculated, and heartless. “You do not want to see this and I would rather do this alone.” As the elf backed off, the half-breed moved away, into the mist and disappeared. Darkness had fallen, but the full moon was bright in the sky, allowing them to see easily. They sat down to wait after burying Trint. The time seemed to slow to a stand still. Fallon did eventually fall asleep. His twitches and groaning had sent chills through the men as they watched him, trying to find any possible way to help. Ventris had hunted for herbs to help with pain and after that, all they could do was wait. The king did not awake and Kole did not return. Raffin and Ishain tried to sleep while Ventris took the first watch. They had eaten little and drank little before turning in for the night.