Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  “It’ll waste a spell,” warned Menrihk.

  “It’s only a waste if it doesn’t work.”

  Elizandria’s scout was the first to climb up. He came to a stop, surveyed the land around him like he had done a hundred times already, and was just about to give the all clear when something rustled his instincts. He cocked his head to one side, uncertain of what was out there. Lowered himself down. Listened some more.

  The rest of the mercenaries lumbered up the mountain, their attention no longer on the look out for an ambush.

  Elizandria raised her hand. “Wait …” Peered at the scout. Everyone came to a standstill.

  Ewen’s head turned my way. So did Gilmero’s. I kept my focus pinned on the mercenaries down below. Ewen and Gilmero soon got the message and did the same.

  Agnarr stopped beside Elizandria, no doubt asking what the trouble was. Berik heaved in the back. Slow blinking. A couple of bruises lined the side of his face, one around his eye, the other across his chin. He held one hand against his ribs as he tried to breathe in deep. Winced.

  Elizandria nodded to two more of her people. They fanned out, three scouts now searching the mountainside for whatever had tipped off the first guy to our presence.

  Menrihk whispered his spell.

  One of the sailors carrying Draegor’s silver cried out. “Woah, woah!” A hundred coins spilled out from his sack, bouncing through the thin snow and running away from him. He dropped his load in an instant, scrambling after the escaping fortune as his buddy in the lead swore at him. Their pole thumped against the hard ground, splitting the sack open even more, and the entirety of their haul flooded the snow.

  “Down! Down!” cried Elizandria. Everyone dropped. Weapons out. Eyes searching.

  The first sailor continued running after the coins. Agnarr shouted out after him. The sailor did what he could to gather the coins but he would never find them all. The other raked his gloves through the snow, scooping up the majority while unintentionally burying many more.

  Silence fell around us.

  Elizandria called out, presumably a, “Who’s out there?” in her native tongue. We gave her a moment to sweat it out, letting her people tire from not knowing when the attack was going to happen. That was the funny thing about adrenaline: It has a useful life expectancy that is far shorter than what people give it credit for. It clears your mind and makes you aware of incoming danger, but if you can’t use it quickly then you start to become your own worst enemy. You list all the problems, trying to keep tracking of every possible threat in front of you. Eyes on that tree, careful of that bulge in the ground, check that my retreat has not just been cut off.

  Elizandria called out again.

  I gave them another moment, allowing doubt to creep in. Maybe they hadn’t just walked into a trap after all. Then I raised my voice. “Agnarr!”

  Sixty heads turned my way, all squinting into the sun.

  I nodded to Kilmur. He tugged on Saskia’s gag. Started poking her.

  She didn’t growl.

  He poked her again.

  Still no growl.

  Agnarr spoke. I had no idea what he said.

  Kilmur swung his fist into Saskia’s gut. She snapped a quick hiss, an animal-esque bite followed by a long, guttural rumble. Half of our opponent’s shoulders raised up in defense.

  Agnarr spoke again. I got the idea that he was asking what I wanted. I helped to spell it out for him.

  “Elizandria? Our issue is with Agnarr, not with you. You and your people can leave.”

  Elizandria rolled her head towards Agnarr, giving him a look of, ‘you said you would handle this.’

  “You can take the sailors with you as well and all the silver you are carrying. The coins on the ground are ours. There are two people we want.”

  “Two?”

  “You know how this goes.”

  She scanned those with her. Double checked her options. “We have you outnumbered.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Thirty four of you landed in Brilskeep. I am sure.”

  “Let’s say you were right. What would you get out of it by fighting to the death? More gold and silver? You know we’re not carrying any because you have our gold and silver. The ability to add a few mercenary kills to your history? That would be kinda pointless. You could try ransoming us and our captain might even entertain it, but you’re going to be disappointed when you find out that you won’t be making much money from us at all.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Do you really think General Kasera sent his own daughter up here?”

  Confusion ran through them all. “She announced herself as Alysia Kasera Lavarta in front of all of us,” said Elizandria.

  “I announce myself as Raike. What’s my real name?”

  “It’s a trick,” hissed Agnarr.

  Whisper: “Probably.” Out loud: “Why lie to us? We’ve questioned your soldier here. He told us the truth.”

  “He told you shit and you know it. We came to deal with Agnarr. Not Draegor. Getting ambushed was annoying as hell but turned out to be not a complete waste of our time. We did what we had to in Brilskeep, left, still had a job to do and we tried to do it, then this fuckwit jumps on a ship in the dead of night and leaves us with our dicks in our hands. It’s like he wants us to kill him. So, here we are, still trying to do that fucking job. Hand over Agnarr and Berik and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Your job was to kidnap Agnarr?”

  “No. It was to get him to come to Galinnia so he could have a face to face chat in the comfort of the empire where they could lavish him with one indulgence after another. I guess they caught wind of something going wrong with spies and the like, so we came instead. If everything had gone right he would’ve been there and back already. Only he’s been dicking us around this whole time. You too. That I don’t mind so much – you helped us more than you realize and I hope we can work together one day – but him? He’s been pissing me off and we have a job to do that’s getting more time sensitive with every passing day. Hand him over.”

  “How did you find us?”

  “Nice try. Hand him over.”

  “Do something,” whispered Agnarr.

  Elizandria signaled to her people. They formed a quick defensive line. “We’ll never be able to work in Vasslehün again if I give a noble to Ispar.”

  I gave her some time to think it over, allowing the restless assholes to simmer. Twenty seconds. Thirty. Forty was probably long enough. I whistled a signal. Menrihk fired off his next spell. One of the sailors broke into a tirade of korla-this, korla-that, and a lot of korla-us. His brothers scrambled to pick up the loose coins running away from them.

  I called out. “We don’t want to kill him. I mean, we do want to kill him but we’re not going to. We’re just going to bring him back to Orkust. If necessary we’ll drop him off in Lietsmar and let his people pick him up. He won’t die but I assure you: he is coming with us today. Him and Berik. The rest of you can leave with whatever money hasn’t fallen to the ground. Agnarr’s not supposed to be gone for long, just a few days. If we leave empty handed then we’re gonna have to tell Ispar that the vaults are empty and Brilskeep is prime for the taking. We’ll also tell them who now has all of that gold and where it’s heading.”

  “We’ll be long gone before they ever come for us,” said Elizandria.

  “Yes, but you’ll have to be gone. It’s not as easy to set up somewhere else as you think it is.”

  Murmurs spread through the northerners. Awkward looks as well. Agnarr snapped at them, reminding them all of who was boss.

  I gave him one last chance. “If he comes willingly he’ll be back in Faersrock in five days. If we have to take him by force we’ll keep him for a month. Can his house remain in charge of Faersrock for that long, or will someone like Elmark take his chance and become the new nobleman of the fjord? It’s your choice. All you have to do is meet our employer. You’ll have the chance of coming back strong with a
southern ally who will help you deal with your enemies, or you will come back deposed, possibly kicked out of Faersrock and handed over to Brilskeep for orchestrating a coup, a heist, and for personally inviting Ispar onto your shores and into your broken homes. You’ve heard they have a new emperor. Emperor’s like to expand their territory as soon as they can to prove their strength. They usually don’t need an excuse to start a war, just a target. Agnarr has given him both.”

  The would-be king glared through the trees, still trying to find us. With a quick command, four of Agnarr’s raiders sprung forward, racing towards me. And towards the spikes we had wedged into the ground and covered with leaves and snow.

  The first leapt over the obvious looking trip wire and landed, bounded, and seized immediately with a hiss as the first spike skewered his foot. Ewen activated the ramming rod, the end slamming into the leaper’s chest, skewering him through is back and throwing him to the ground.

  Three arrows flew through the air, the first catching the second raider in the neck, the second hitting the third in the back.

  The fourth raider charged forward. Ewen swung the ramming rod towards his face. Gilmero swiped from down low, slicing through the raider’s knee. Scrambled back. Ewen deactivated the ramming rod.

  The raider hissed and limped, enraged with blood lust but with no one close enough to fight. He tried to put weight on his injured leg. Hissed and hopped about again. Found Saskia tied to a tree. Just as he was about to call out our numbers and positions Elgrid and Gilmero engaged him, both nervously checking his attacks and getting haphazard strikes across his arm, mid-section, then chest.

  Annoyingly, I had to stride in. Rammed my sword through the raider’s chest. Twisted. Stepped back. Glared at the two apologetic soldiers. Yes, he should’ve surrendered. Yes, the fight was heavily in their favor.

  I whistled again. Menrihk fired off the last spell he had to irritate the raiders. The third satchel of silver split, spilling the coins to the ground, leaving the sailors with a quarter of what they started with.

  We waited. The wind kicked the snowfall into our faces, leaving most of us to shiver while the northerners dealt with the cold well.

  I whistled in a double burst. New command. An arrow flew, skewering the raider kneeling next to Agnarr. He cried out, the arrow sticking through his chest and likely through one lung as well. Still alive but not for long.

  We waited.

  Agnarr bellowed. “My people are going to chase you down. I have seven captains loyal to me. We know where you live. We know how to strike at you.”

  I whistled again – twice. Two more raiders dropped.

  Agnarr carried on. “They will strip the skin from you and leave you hanging for a hundred years as a reminder of your grave mistake.”

  We waited.

  “That’s it? Out of arrows? Out of threats?”

  A crack of wood. A barrel splitting open. And two mercenaries scrambling out of the way. “Back! Back! Everyone back!” Adalyn had found their Galinnean Fire and was ready to ignite it.

  Elizandria threw her hands up. “Okay! You can take him!”

  Agnarr spun. “Fuck you!”

  The entirety of Elizandria’s mercenaries turned their weapons on Agnarr’s raiders, outnumbering them forty eight to eighteen. The raiders began raising their hands to surrender.

  Elizandria called out. “Take him!”

  Agnarr growled back at her. “I will kill you myself.”

  Elizandria stepped back. Gave the order to her people. The mercenaries pulled away, creeping up the mountainside, nervously checking both sides of the path as well as Agnarr’s people behind them. Ten feet. Ten yards. Twenty. If Elizandria changed her mind now then we’d be royally fucked.

  She stepped away from Agnarr, eyeballing him carefully. Her scouts had us located easily enough from their higher vantage point. They also knew we had a vampire with us with Kilmur’s hand on the quick release.

  The blue-eyed mercenary queen gave me one last look in my direction before disappearing through the snow.

  The raiders remained. Agnarr turned his glare onto Berik. Issued a quiet command, one that looked an awful lot like ‘kill him.’ The guy holding Berik prisoner lifted his sword towards Berik’s throat. Jarmella obliterated his hand from thirty yards away.

  The two raiders standing the closest to Berik stepped away, wanting nothing more than to keep their limbs in tact. It also gave Agnarr a moment of consideration.

  I called out. “Berik? Head down the mountain a quarter of a mile. We’ll find you.”

  Berik took a nervous step back. The raiders growled at him, furious at losing their best bargaining chip but also refusing to strike when we had them outnumbered and overpowered.

  Berik retreated, stumbling back with quick glances over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t about to tumble ass-over-head. After thirty yards he stepped behind a tree, turned, and ran for his life.

  The energy within Agnarr’s people dissipated.

  “We only want Agnarr. The rest of you can leave.”

  Looks abounded. Threats of, “Don’t you fucking dare,” fell upon deaf ears. One by one the raiders gave up, scooped up as many of the silver coins as they could, and started following Elizandria’s people up the mountain.

  “Cowards!” shouted Agnarr. “I will skin you all and your children for this!”

  Their numbers dwindled. Some helped the injured raiders away, wrapping their wounds and throwing arms over shoulders to help them move, until Agnarr was all alone.

  He spun his sword through his fingers, keeping his energy alive. “I have spells for all of you. Twenty years I’ve been preparing for this. Twenty years of restless nights, of starving myself in the winter. Twenty years of bad harvests helping to make me stronger! You’re all going to fucking die before the sun goes down, so who’s first? Raike? Come on, let’s see what you have. You and me. One cheating motherfucker to another.”

  I pulled the knot free on Saskia’s restraints. “Get him.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Saskia sprinted towards the would-be king. Agnarr’s attention shifted from dismissing it as a lone soldier on a suicide run to a look of concern. She wasn’t armed. She was breathing strangely. And there was blood lust in her eyes. The moment Agnarr realized that she was a vampire he side-stepped defensively, sword out, ready to run with no hope of out pacing her, panic flooding his veins. Twenty yards away. Ten. Five.

  I shouted out to the mages. “Bring them down!”

  A pair of spells knocked both Agnarr and Saskia off their feet at the last second, sending the vampire colliding into the nobleman. She landed on top of him, buried her face into Agnarr’s throat and broke his skin. Agnarr grunted a winded and terrified cry, shifting his body to try to push Saskia off him, but she was pinned to his throat and using all of her strength to drink her fill.

  “Grab her!”

  We raced in, wrenching her free with all five infantrymen struggling to overpower her and another four mages to keep Agnarr still while he screamed bloody murder. Saskia seethed, hissed, and shuddered, her first taste of human blood intoxicating her to the point of delirium. The infantrymen bound her, wrapping her in more rope than we could afford to use and cocooning her, pinning her down next to Agnarr.

  I pushed my sapphire wrap against Saskia’s cheek. “Lick his wound closed.”

  She hissed, breathing quickly to the point of almost hyperventilating as she eyed me up as her next victim.

  I pushed my other wrap against her forehead, her skin starting to sizzle. “Lick his wound.”

  Agnarr screamed, his voice twisting in fright as the poison from Saskia’s mouth started to paralyze him, numbing his wound and sapping his strength.

  Saskia howled at me – “I’ll kill you!” Not yet realizing her full strength but definitely learning quickly. She forced Elgrid off his feet and managed to buck Kilmur away. I skewered her thigh – howls, shrieks, and cries deafened me – and twisted my sword for good measure.<
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  “Lick his wound.”

  Hissing and growling, Saskia pushed her jaw forward and began licking, drinking up the last of the blood pumping from Agnarr’s throat and slowly – almost too slowly – closing his wound. Agnarr lay on his back, eyes staring at the clouds above, breathing deeply as a whirlwind of death-bed panic consumed him. Too young to die, too fucked to give himself a fighting chance.

  Wilbur scooped up a handful of silver coins. “Sir?”

  “Everyone grab as much as you can. It’s our payday.”

  We met Berik and Jarmella’s team half a mile away, moving quickly in case any of Agnarr’s or Elizandria’s people decided to take us on after all.

  Berik was gasping for air and massaging his wrists, his eyes watering with tears, arms coming out for hugs all around. “Thank you. Oh, to every god out there, thank you.”

  Jarmella’s voice cracked under the strain. “I’m sorry we left you behind.”

  “I’m just relieved you got me out before it was too late.” Berik glanced around at our weary faces, sensing something wrong but unsure of the full extent of our situation. “Miss Kasera Lavarta?”

  I looked to Jarmella. “You tell him. I have a nobleman to question.” We propped Agnarr up against a tree, giving him a chance to sit upright while the shock of Saskia’s poisonous bite started to subside. “You remember me?”

  Agnarr’s eyes narrowed upon mine. “Of course I remember you. I will always remember you.”

  I prodded his chest. “I’m the one who beat you.”

  “You haven’t gotten me yet.”

  Admittedly, I’ve said something similar, bound and manacled, held against my will with no obvious way out. So he certainly had a chance of escaping, no question there. “I followed you that night to the boat.”

  “I let you,” slurred Agnarr.

  “Then thank you. It really helped me out a lot. Hasn’t quite helped you as much as you wanted but I’m perfectly okay with that. I gotta say though I am thoroughly impressed. If I’m right then you just pulled off one of the ballsiest heists I have ever heard of and I love hearing about ballsy heists. That’s what it was, right? Please tell me yes.”