S. Turney - Interregnum

He’d seen the two men disappear into the doorway of the extramural bath house just as the disguised captain reached the bole of a particularly large tree. He himself skidded to an all-too-noisy halt behind a low bush, watching the captain through the upper tendrils. A moment passed as the captain waited for his quarry to move deeper inside the edifice and then he moved very quietly, but surprisingly fast to the entrance of the baths, taking up a stance by the doorway and leaning close enough to the door to hear the echoed conversation within. The man slowly pushed back the hood from the cloak to facilitate his spying and all his attention was riveted to the bath house.

Brendan smiled a smile of pure malice as he slowly moved to the huge tree the captain had last frequented, hoping his prey wouldn’t turn and notice the somewhat noisy pursuer. He paused at the huge trunk and pondered, suddenly well aware that he’d left both his sword and dagger back in his quarters. Hell, he’d only been out to answer a call of nature, otherwise he’d be safely hidden away and blissfully unaware of the events outside the walls. Grumbling quietly to himself about his lack of blades, he looked around desperately until his eyes lit on a large branch lying half buried beneath a wild, creeping bush. Crouching, he reached out and slowly teased the branch from beneath the fronds of the plant. Every time the bush shook or the branch caught on something, Brendan winced and snapped his head back to check on the captain, but each time the man was more intent on what was going on inside and his attention couldn’t be easily diverted.

Finally the bulky mercenary had the branch, which seemed to have been stripped down of its twigs and leaves almost as though designed for the very purpose, and wielded it as a club. He hefted it and spun it a couple of times to test the reach and the weight before grinning. With one more look at the captain, he checked out the lie of the land between the two of them. There was precious little cover. That hadn’t bothered the captain as his prey had been inside the baths, but the man himself was in the open. There were a few low bushes in a line that would cover part of his approach if he was quiet enough, but he would have to run the last half in the wide open space. Well there was precious little he could do about it now. He’d sort of committed himself to a course of action when he’d first left the doorway in the palace and he couldn’t go back now.

Keeping as low as he dared without overbalancing, he ducked from the tree to the first of the small bushes. For a moment he considered halting and moving slowly to the next one, but his momentum was too good. Before he’d decided what he actually wanted to do about it, he’d run the length of the row of bushes and burst out into the open. Still the captain hadn’t turned. As he ran, Brendan raised the branch to shoulder height, gripping the narrowest end as tightly as he could. At the last moment the captain turned, perhaps out of some sixth sense or perhaps Brendan was making more noise than he thought. In any case, there was nothing else for it now. As he covered the last six yards he let out a roar of anger and defiance and, pulling the branch back behind him, swung it with all his might.

It is often in anticipation that the veteran shows his skill over a green recruit. The captain was of rank and considered himself a good officer. He’d been involved in a few small engagements; enough to have achieved the level he had, but had fought as an officer, not on the front line of a unit. He smiled as he turned, watching the large, shaven-headed man closing on him, branch raised and coming for a swing at head height. In response and perfectly timed, the captain dropped to one knee, reaching into his tunic to withdraw his dagger. At the last moment however, the angle of Brendan’s branch changed and the heavy chunk of wood came forward and down at forty five degrees. The captain wasn’t even paying attention, struggling with his knife as he was, when the branch connected with the top of his skull. There was an unpleasant cracking sound and a spray of blood across the grass.

To the captain’s credit, despite the obvious agony and confusion he was suffering, he staggered back upright, his head rolling and a short blade clutched shakily in his hand. Brendan exhaled gently. The man was slowly shaking his head, coming out of the daze. The bulky mercenary pulled back his club once more and took another swing. This time he didn’t attempt to adjust the swing and just let it go at head height, allowing the widest arc he could. The end of the branch slammed into the captain’s temple and the crunch this time sounded distinctly final. The captain’s eyes rolled up into their sockets and the dagger fell from the suddenly loose fingers. Perhaps in confusion and pain, or perhaps already dead, the captain staggered and twisted twice before collapsing like an old, crumbling column. Brendan watched the legs kick once and then leaned down and pressed his fingers against the man’s neck. Nothing.

With a sigh, he stood again and wondered what to do, but never got the chance to decide as Minister Sarios and Commander Sabian both appeared in the doorway of the baths. The commander had his sword out in a threatening manner. He stared at Brendan and then at the body on the floor.

“What in the name of seven hells is going on here?”

Brendan coughed nervously. “I’m Borus the fisherman…” he began a little uncertainly.

“Absolute shit” replied the commander, sheathing his sword. “You’re one of the Wolves. I don’t know which one, but you’re one of them. What are you doing smashing the brains out of my second in command?”

There was a thoughtful look on Sarios’ face as Brendan looked helplessly between the two. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Sabian” he addressed the commander. “You don’t seem right bothered? Why’s that, eh?” Since the commander made no reply, the mercenary grinned. “Think I jus’ saved y’a job, eh? Yer do know ‘e was spyin’ on yer, dontcha?”

Sabian sighed and turned to face away. For a moment Brendan considered taking his branch to the back of the commander’s head, but decided against it. Sabian stood for a moment and then turned back with another, deeper sigh.

“All Cialo’s hard work.” He crouched and picked up one of the captain’s arms. Dragging the body toward the baths he shook his head. “What a waste” he added as he removed the islander’s robe from the body and sheathed the captain’s knife once more.

Brendan watched, bemused, as the commander dropped the body of his captain into the passageway just inside the door and then re-emerged, rubbing his hands in distaste. He walked towards Brendan and held out his hand expectantly. The mercenary just stared blankly at him.

“The club?” suggested Sabian.

Still steeped in confusion, Brendan passed the branch over to the commander, not entirely sure why he was trusting this man. Sabian nodded slightly and then turned and walked over toward the bath house. Raising the branch to shoulder height and drawing it back in a wide arc, he swung it with great force, emitting a grunt of effort. The branch connected with several newly placed replacement blocks just below the keystone. The mortar here was new and solid, but that binding the surrounding stones was old and crumbled and the arch emitted a warning groan. Brendan grinned as he realised what the commander was doing.

He stepped forward smiling and held out his hand. “Y’may be clever, but a job like this’n needs brute force.”

The commander frowned for a moment and then returned the branch to Brendan. The mercenary dropped the point of the branch to the floor and spat in his palms, rubbing his hands together. Picking up the club once more, he pulled it back and swung it with all his might.