Luke Scull - The Grim Company

‘There’s a girl? Huh. First we get to kill. Then I get to fuck.’

Although they were standing in the morning sun, the looming presence of Garmond the Black seemed to sap the very colour from the world. Fully seven feet tall and as wide as two normal men, the huge Augmentor wore a suit of enchanted plate armour that devoured nearby light. As a result, he resembled a gigantic shadow. The horned helmet that enclosed his entire head only added to his nightmarish appearance.

Garmond carried no weapon — his reinforced iron gauntlets and terrifying strength were enough to shatter a man’s spine or collapse a skull with a single punch. Behind his enchanted armour the huge Augmentor was near invincible.

Legwynd, on the other hand, wore very little protection save for a leather vest. His belt bristled with daggers of all shapes and sizes, and his boots glowed with the faint blue that signified magic. ‘I’m ready,’ he said. As if to prove it, his legs suddenly began vibrating in a blur too fast for the eyes to follow.

‘Enough,’ ordered Barandas. ‘You’re going to draw attention to us.’

‘So?’ demanded Thurbal. He was a burly middle-aged man with close-cropped grey hair and chainmail. His sword hand fell to the pommel of the terrible weapon at his belt. ‘We’re Augmentors. It does these peasants good to fear us.’

‘I said enough.’ Barandas dropped a hand to his own weapon.

Thurbal might be a bastard and a killer and a murderer rivalled only by Garmond the Black, but he knew better than to challenge the Supreme Augmentor. ‘As you say, Commandant,’ he conceded.

Barandas relaxed and drew a deep breath. ‘There’s our target,’ he said, nodding at the ruined temple of the Mother. ‘Ready yourselves. They won’t be expecting us, but if any manage to get away… Legwynd, you know what to do.’

The wiry Augmentor flashed an almost beatific smile and licked his lips. Barandas shook his head and sighed.

Time to get this over with .

There was no response to their careful knocking at the door, so Garmond put his shoulder to it and literally tore it from its hinges. The massive warrior stumbled up into the sanctum of the old temple, holding the door out before him as a shield. Crossbow quarrels thudded into the wood and bounced off his armour, but not one of them managed to find flesh. With a roar, Garmond hurled the door across the room into a small group of the rebels, sending them scattering in all directions.

One of the men, calmer than the rest, took aim, his weapon locked on Barandas’s head. There was a blur, and suddenly the man was staring down in confusion at the dagger buried in his neck. His crossbow bounced off the floor and he sank to his knees, blood welling up around his fingers as he clutched at his throat. Legwynd grinned and drew another dagger.

Two men ran towards Barandas, both clutching swords. The Supreme Augmentor parried one and then reversed his grip, thrusting behind him to skewer the third man who had tried to sneak up on him.

Thurbal sidled into view, his jagged scimitar raised in a defensive posture. The rebel who had swung at Barandas launched a diagonal downward swipe at the grey Augmentor, who casually raised his glowing weapon to parry. There was a screeching sound, and suddenly the rebel was missing the top half of his sword.

Thurbal took advantage of his opponent’s confusion to launch a swing at his neck. The blow was almost desultory, lacking any real power, yet the scimitar sheared through flesh and vertebrae as easily as it had steel. The head lolled horribly for a second before tumbling to the ground. The body toppled down next to it and proceeded to pump blood all over the ruined floor of the temple.

Legwynd had closed the distance with the crossbowman lurking in the nave, and now they fought hand to hand, dagger against dagger. Almost too late, Barandas noticed another man targeting him from behind a pillar. The crossbow clicked. Time stood still.

The bolt bounced off his longsword and ricocheted harmlessly off a wall.

The Supreme Augmentor had devoted countless hours to studying every text on the art of combat that could be found in the city. He had regularly spent entire nights practising his swordsmanship, performing routines of such tedium and precision they would drive most men mad. It had cost him much, but Barandas had not achieved his current position by luck. He stalked towards his attacker. The crossbow clicked, and again his sword was there, deflecting the quarrel. He leaped forwards and came up in a roll just before the pillar. The rebel discarded his crossbow and went for the mace at his belt, but he fumbled it. Barandas waited for him to pick the weapon up off the floor. It would make no difference to the outcome.

A quick exchange of blows and the rebel was sagging back against the pillar, his punctured heart leaking blood down his chest to pool around his lifeless legs. The sight gave Barandas pause.

Battle cries split the air, and two large men burst into view. One wielded a hatchet, the other a wooden club spiked with iron rivets. Garmond, gore dripping from his bloodied gauntlets, immediately focused his attention on them. ‘Mine!’ he growled. The two rebels circled him warily.

The brother with the club — they were twins, Barandas realized — swung at Garmond, a powerful blow that would have flattened a lesser man. Garmond the Black raised an arm and deflected it with his vambrace. At the same time, the other brother yanked a loaded crossbow from where it had been hidden underneath his cloak and fired it. The bolt flew true, hitting the steel gorget around the Augmentor’s neck. It should have snapped it, damaged Garmond’s windpipe at the very least, but the enchanted metal held and the quarrel bounced away.

With incredible speed for a man of his size, Garmond launched himself forwards and unleashed a right-handed hook at his would-be killer, who had dropped the crossbow. The man twisted to avoid the full impact, but the gauntleted fist caught him a glancing blow and sent him flying to the ground.

Suddenly Garmond stumbled and went down to one knee. The other brother was attempting to tackle him from behind. The rebel was himself large by any normal measure, but Garmond the Black could not be compared to other men.

The Augmentor reached behind him with one arm, dragging his opponent away from his legs and along the ground towards him. With his other hand, he shoved his fingers into the rebel’s eyes, pushing down with terrible strength. Screams erupted from his unfortunate victim and rivulets of blood welled up beside Garmond’s fingers as they probed ever deeper.

A hatchet suddenly crashed into the back of the Augmentor’s helmet with enough force to jolt his head viciously forwards. Barandas thought Garmond might be in serious trouble, but the giant stumbled to his feet in time to catch the follow-up blow in his open gauntlets. Blood dripped from his hands where the hatchet had made its mark.

Garmond didn’t seem to care. Snarling from behind his horned helm, he tore the hatchet from the rebel’s grip and sent it hurtling across the temple. The twin reached desperately at his belt for another weapon, but he was out of time. Garmond was upon him, his mighty fists shattering the man’s cheekbones, then his jaw, and finally opening his skull with a sickening crack .

‘Enough,’ Barandas commanded. Garmond let the corpse drop to the floor. The other brother twitched once nearby, and then lay still.

Taking stock of the situation, Barandas saw that Legwynd had got the better of the rebel he’d been fighting. Bodies were strewn everywhere. He counted eight corpses. ‘Do we have their leader?’ he asked.

‘Over here, Commandant,’ Thurbal shouted. Barandas walked over to the shadowy alcove where his fellow Augmentor was waiting. He stared down at the grisly sight on the floor. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded.