Luke Scull - The Grim Company

‘Raped Mhaira so bad she couldn’t walk, then grinned as the Shaman burned her alive. My wife , Borun. The woman you gave away during our joining.’ He paused. He could remember their wedding ceremony as if it were yesterday, every detail. Proudest moment of his life, with maybe one exception.

‘I called you brother,’ he said. He tried to keep his voice level. As well try holding back a river with his bare hands.

‘Aye, you did. Don’t think it ain’t a weight I carry about my neck every moment of every day.’ The two men stood in silence for a time. Borun’s men shifted uneasily. Probably expected to be knee-deep in blood by now. Not listening to a couple of old men reminiscing about the past .

Borun blinked and then hefted his great two-handed battleaxe. Its oak shaft was covered in notches. ‘You gonna try and add one more to that?’ Kayne asked, nodding at the brutal weapon.

‘Aye,’ Borun replied. ‘The deepest cut of all, I reckon.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘Only one of us can walk away from here.’

One of the warriors next to Borun, a young heavy-browed fellow Kayne didn’t recognize, jabbed his spear in the air and spat. ‘We’re gonna fuck you up good, old man. Don’t expect any help. Not unless that streak of piss knows how to handle a blade.’ He leered at Vicard, who had slowly begun backing away. In the distance Kayne saw three more Highlanders emerge from behind rocks and shrubbery to cut off Sasha and Isaac.

Borun gestured and his men moved forwards, weapons raised and eyes eager for blood. ‘You still got it after all these years, Kayne?’ he taunted, his massive axe glittering cruelly in the sun.

Brodar Kayne didn’t respond. He simply waited, hands on the pommel of his greatsword, his body perfectly still. ‘You’ll want to run, I expect,’ he hissed to the cowering figure of Vicard behind him. No sooner had the words left his lips than he heard the alchemist break into a scrabbling half-hop, half-sprint punctuated by pained gasps.

The ugly fellow with the spear suddenly thrust the weapon at Kayne’s head. He shifted his neck, felt it brush past his ear. The jagged edge of a half-rusted longsword slashed at him from the right and he swivelled, watched the blade whistle through the empty air. All right. Now it gets serious .

He forced a smile onto his face. ‘That the best you got?’ he said. ‘I might be old, but I ain’t dead. Put some effort in. Come at me .’

The spear-wielder duly obliged, lunging forwards and aiming for his chest. With lightning speed, Kayne thrust his body to the right to avoid the jab, grabbing hold of the shaft with his left hand and pulling it towards him. He glimpsed the surprised look on his attacker’s face a split second before his head shattered the man’s nose.

Still with one hand on his greatsword, he grabbed the stunned Highlander by the neck and pulled him to one side, positioning the warrior between his own body and the descending blade of his other opponent. Blood spurted as the rusted blade tore into the spot right between the neck and shoulder of his human shield and then stuck there.

Silently thanking his luck, Kayne raised his greatsword and buried it in his shocked opponent’s sternum as he struggled to free his snagged weapon from the other man’s body. It burst through his back in a splatter of gore. He slid the blade free and watched as the dying Highlanders sank to the earth in a tangle of limbs and iron.

Borun stared at the carnage with a look of consternation. His two remaining men suddenly seemed a great deal more wary, the eager looks on their faces draining away with the lives of their comrades. ‘You told me age had caught up with you!’ Borun said accusingly.

Kayne shrugged. ‘I ain’t what I used to be. Can’t piss in a straight line, if at all. I got aches in places I didn’t know could ache. But if there’s one thing I still know how to do,’ he added, moving towards the three men, ‘it’s killing. You never really lose the instinct for it.’ He nodded at Borun’s axe. ‘There was a time when I thought to record my kills,’ he said quietly. ‘When I ran out of room on one weapon, I’d choose another, a different kind. It’d be rough going for a while.’

He was opposite the three Highlanders now. They spread out and moved to surround him. He met the eyes of each in turn, and then focused his attention on Borun. ‘You remember me back in the day. All fire and thunder and fury. Fact is, a year spent caged like an animal changes a man. Seeing your wife get burned alive changes a man. You learn to accept what can’t be undone and bend so you don’t end up breaking. You adapt .

‘For example,’ he said, as Jerek finally reached them and his axe split the head of the Highlander to his left, ‘you don’t pass up an advantage when it presents itself. What’s honour to the kind of men who’ll rape a woman and then burn her alive? The Code ain’t worth two shits as far as I can see.’

Borun and the remaining Highlander had spun the instant they became aware of Jerek among them, but it was too late. The Wolf was already stalking towards the warrior on Kayne’s right flank, twin axes raised.

Borun snarled in anger. ‘Coward’s tactics that, distracting us for your dog to sneak up behind.’

‘Like I said, the Code don’t mean anything. I reached that conclusion long before the Shaman stuck me in a cage. Couldn’t stomach the hypocrisy no more. Course, I was stupid enough to tell him that to his face. Just goes to show that it don’t matter how well a man thinks he understands something. He never really does, not until he’s taught the lesson at first hand.’

‘I’ll teach you a fucking lesson,’ Borun bellowed, and he pounced. His axe came flashing down. Kayne raised his greatsword and caught it, turned it aside. The two men came together in a flurry of feints, parries and clashing steel. Borun was every bit as good as he remembered. Unlike him, Borun hadn’t spent a year in a cage, his muscles withering away to nothing. He hadn’t spent the best part of two years running from the Brethren, giants, and even worse things. He hadn’t just survived a damned shipwreck.

The haft of Borun’s axe caught him a glancing blow on the face and he stumbled backwards. He felt blood dampen his right cheek, trickling down to his chin. His body hurt all over and his heart hammered. Borun feinted, punched forwards with the head of his huge axe and then brought it swinging around in a devastating overhead slash. Kayne ducked and rolled out of the way, his body screaming in protest. No sooner had he finished his roll than Borun was upon him, his axe swinging downwards in a fierce overhead chop. He caught it with his greatsword, but the effort sent pain jarring through his neck and shoulders. He was on his knees, the weight of the muscular warrior pushing down on him.

Ten years ago, maybe even five, he would have summoned up the strength to push back. Borun might be the larger man, but he was Brodar Kayne , and his strength had been legendary.

That was then. This was now. Try as he might, he could not overpower the huge, stinking warrior looming over him. Fact was, he wasn’t the man he used to be.

You have to adapt .

He dived to the left, heard the heavy steel head of the axe thud into the turf an instant later, missing his head by a hair’s breadth. There was an angry grunt and then Borun was on him again. Still on his knees, Kayne parried the first blow. He dropped a hand to the magical dagger at his belt and parried Borun’s second slash one-handed, his arm almost buckling with the effort.

With his free hand, he drew the blade and slammed it hard into Borun’s stomach.

The big Highlander gasped and stumbled backwards, staring down at the hilt quivering in his midriff. Blood seeped around it, dribbling between his legs.