Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

They were mistaken.

The Syldoon let them take a few hesitant paces to face the ripper before laying into them from the rear. If the previous melee had been confusing, this was utter chaos. Men yelled, the ripper shrieked and pounced, the Syldoon slashed and stabbed and cut the Hornmen down.

And then, after several prolonged moments of screaming, shouting, bodies filling the street, it was over. The Hornmen commander was lying on his side, trying to hold in the guts that were sliding through his fingers, and without him, the remaining Hornmen morale broke. They started to flee in all directions. Some away from the ripper, some around it, others scrambling for doorways, some simply trying to get away from the Syldoon.

The ripper chased a pair of Hornmen down a side street, and the rest kept running too, but that didn’t stop the Syldoon from mowing them down. Several Hornmen died with wounds to their backs. Vendurro cut one deep in the calf as he tried to run past, and Mulldoos stepped in to strike the Hornman several times across the shoulders, the back, the arms, driving him to his knees. None of the blows sheared mail-it looked like doing so with a one-handed weapon was nearly impossible, if the mighty Mulldoos couldn’t manage it-but he and Vendurro pummeled the soldier into submission. Or what would have and should have been submission. Only Mulldoos wasn’t much interested in taking prisoners just then. He stepped over the moaning figure that was slowly trying to push himself up, and chopped down across the back of the neck. The figure slumped back down, not even twitching, and even from that distance I could see the exposed and mangled spine.

Mulldoos spit on the dead Hornman’s back and looked around for others to cut down, but most had escaped, running free. I saw that Braylar wasn’t any more forgiving of a fleeing foe. His opponent was trying to back away, fending off blows from Bloodsounder, looking over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t trip. But when he saw Hewspear closing in on them, he had no choice. It was obvious he was waiting to deflect a final blow before turning to run, but Braylar must have sensed that. Instead of striking again, he held Bloodsounder at the ready, just on the inside of his own shield, and stepped forward.

It would only take a moment before Hewspear closed the distance, so the Hornman changed tactics. He slashed out with his sword toward Braylar’s helm, hoping to either drive him back or force the shield up long enough to block his vision and provide an instant to go. But Braylar antic ipated and stepped into the blow, deflecting the sword up into the air and swinging Bloodsounder in time. After starting to swing the flail, he jerked the handle up to the left, and then when the Hornman’s shield moved to intercept, it proved a feint, and Braylar brought the flail heads down low, a blur. The spiked heads struck the Hornman in the side, hard enough they either broke bones beneath the padding or completely knocked the wind out of the soldier. Either way, he bent over, shield down, and Braylar raised Bloodsounder to finish him off.

Hewspear shouted something I couldn’t make out, but it stopped Braylar before he could deliver the blow. The captain looked at his lieutenant as he ran up, moving awkwardly.

The Hornman threw his sword on the ground, and was struggling to get his arm out of the shield straps, favoring his busted ribs, clearly surrendering, when Hewspear lashed out with the slashing spear, striking the Hornman in the side, shearing the baldric strap. The mail hadn’t given way, but something underneath had, as the Hornman doubled over as his horn fell into the dirt. He was starting to raise his head, likely to plead, but he never had the opportunity. Hewspear had stepped in, and almost casually ran the long edge of the spear across the Hornman’s throat. The soldier collapsed, and at least didn’t suffer longer, as his blood dyed the beaten earth darker.

I walked over to them, angry, watching as the remaining Hornmen escaped. At least the Syldoon didn’t pursue them and cut them all down. I was ten paces away, and while I intended to hold off and share my protest quietly to the captain alone, I found myself instead shouting, “Why did you kill them like that? They were defeated! Unarmed!”

Braylar was still staring at the last of the Hornmen as they disappeared around a corner and then looked at the body of the soldier Hewspear had just killed. He slipped Bloodsounder onto his belt, bent over, and pulled his helm and aventail off his head, the mail slithering. His hair was slick with sweat instead of the usual oil, and red across his forehead where the helmet padding had pressed tight. Finally he turned to me and replied, each word hotter than the last, “I seem to recall another defeated, unarmed opponent who was granted reprieve. Do you? Do you recall him? Because,” he gestured around Broadbeef and the dead and dying, “that was a triumph of stupidity. And you can be sure I do not intend to allow it to happen again. Now shut your mouth, lest I think you the dumbest shrunken cock ever born.”

All anger drained away immediately, and my cheeks flushed, reminded again that this ambush, the casualties, the mortalities, were all tied to my moment of mercy in the Green Sea.

Braylar put his helm in the crook of his arm and said, “Anything to add? No? I thought not.” The he called out to his men, voice more hoarse than ever. “To the horses. We have overstayed our welcome in Alespell. And Mulldoos, make sure Lugger and Brunzlo get something extra on their next pay. Also, be sure they have to wait at least a tenday longer than usual to get it.”

Braylar led the way, with Mulldoos limping on one side, and Hewspear using his spear as a staff and support on the other, having aggravated his rib injury and possibly compounded it. Two Syldoon ran ahead to be sure the path to the horses was clear, and two more hung back to be certain the Hornmen hadn’t regrouped, or the city watch or Brunesmen hadn’t been alerted to the bloodshed in the streets and come exploring. I kept looking everywhere, expecting to see more soldiers storming down on us, or the ripper plunging out of an alley and tearing someone to pieces.

I hadn’t even noticed Vendurro alongside me until I heard him say, “Saw you back there, when you took out that Hornman. Only thing I caught, but saw you do that. Acquitted yourself real good, Arki. Real good. You keep it up, might end up a better shot than most Syldoon. Not me, of course. But most.” He winked and I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else. I was trying very hard not to think about what happened. I glanced up at the shuttered windows to see who was spying on the group of bloodied, armed men tromping through the mud below.

But when Soffjian walked past me quickly and fell in alongside the captain, I moved forward as well, wanting to be just close enough to hear but not so close to draw a rebuke.

I heard her say, “Your intelligence was quite something today, brother. Exceptional even. You seemed to know which route those soldiers would take, even before they did. Very impressive. Even Memoridons can’t manage communication with such skill and precision. As ever, I am in awe, Bray. Though I do wonder how it was you pulled that off.”

Instead of replying to her, Braylar turned slightly in Mulldoos’s direction. “Who am I?”

Mulldoos didn’t pause in the slightest before replying, “Meanest plaguing bastard to stalk the world.”

“Fair point. But professionally speaking.”

Mulldoos looked over. “Captain of a Syldoon company.”

“Ahh, yes. Thank you. I sometimes forget that. Since I seem to constantly field questions about every little tactical or strategic decision I make, and the conduct we engage in to carry them out. Peculiar, yes?”