Blackwood Marauders

by K. S. Villoso

  “That would be the Dageians,” Hana said. “Now we really have to run.”

  “Luc was going up to the Dageians to keep them away from us,” she replied.

  “We can’t be worrying about him when we’ve got other shit on our plate.”

  “We should. If it wipes out our men, we’ll be in trouble.”

  “I don’t think that’s our problem right now.”

  “You were the one who told me we need to work as a team.” She dropped the bag of books in the corner and brandished her sword. “Agartes killed these things all the time. Luc killed one. Don’t tell me we can’t?”

  “Fuck,” Hana grumbled. But there was a tremble of excitement in her voice.

  ~~~

  Hearing the Dageian Prefect and the mage create plans and bark out orders gave Luc the impression that they, at the very least, knew what they were doing. He had watched with a measure of awe at how quickly the soldiers responded to their officer’s commands, arranging themselves in a formation that left the center clear, where Luc was asked to stand while the mage and his apprentice scribbled runes and set up candles around him. Afterwards, the mage placed his hand on Luc’s chest, and he felt the dreaded heat around the tattoo again, spreading down and through his veins. It wasn’t painful enough to make him retreat, but a few moments in, he could feel his knees weaken, and an ache began to build up inside his head, like someone was trying to force his thumbs through Luc’s eyesockets.

  As he struggled to remain composed, he saw the soldiers breaking down the main doors.

  They never even made a dent.

  A clawed hand smashed through the window and grabbed the closest soldier. His scream was cut short as he was dragged through the glass shards and broken iron grates, which shredded his body before it could even stop flailing. There was a moment of silence as the other soldiers backed away from the windows, followed by the unmistakable sound of grinding and chewing, and swallowing…

  “Get ready,” Prefect Zeno called out, as if he was somehow still under control. Everything was going according to plan. The frightened expressions on his soldier’s faces were all normal. “Bearer Lorkas?”

  “Yes,” Lorkas said with a grim nod. “I can feel the connections now…I think I can—”

  The creature began to crawl its way through the hole.

  It moved a lot slower than Luc imagined it was capable of—every motion was erratic, jerky. It dropped to the daise, its fur stained with blood from the soldier it had just killed. Bits of flesh decorated its bristly snout, like berries on a holly bush.

  Luc could feel a tinge of curiosity mixed in with his fear. The creature looked nothing like the one he had killed in Toskthar. This was a lot smaller, with a face that seemed halfway between a human and a wolf. There was patchy fur throughout its body and tusks where a wolf would have fangs. Its eyes were small, black. Empty, just like the other’s had been. What was drawing it to them? Not hunger, not the prospect of a meal. It ate because it wanted to, not because it had to.

  It continued to approach them. None of the men were moving. They’re frightened, Luc realized. No one wanted to be the first to strike. What happened? They were supposed to be soldiers, these men. Trained. But confronted by something like this, they’re just men.

  Both Prefect Zeno and Lorkas seemed unaware. Zeno was too far away, and Lorkas was focused on the runes. He made one last scribble and then stepped back. “Now, Ogrihn!” he called.

  Ogrihn remained motionless.

  “You fool, you’re going to get us all—”

  The beast charged. Chaos erupted.

  Luc scrambled away from the runes as half a body landed in front of him. Blood spattered everywhere. Guts. The air was thick with a foul scent he couldn’t even name anymore—iron-tinged, slime, urine…

  He jumped over a stone fence and managed to hide behind a tall post. Here, he took a moment to gather his breath and wrench his sword free. He turned around in time to see what was left of Oghrin in the beast’s mouth.

  Luc clutched his sword tightly and began to pray.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Roena had always known, of course, that the problem lay in her desire to play by no rules other than her own.

  It was a nagging inconvenience, at best—one that tended to earn her family’s ire even before she could open her mouth. Everyone knew about Lady Roena’s contrary ways and had long ceased to be amused by them. And she would’ve stopped if she knew the answer, if she could’ve been assured that doing exactly what others thought she should would solve all her problems. But following wouldn’t even solve theirs.

  It was a dangerous habit, at worst.

  As Hana worked to unlock the doors, she could see that Luc was all alone with the Dageian soldiers. The other mercenaries were nowhere in sight. That should’ve been a good enough sign—common sense demanded that she turn tail now. Let the monster rip them all up to pieces. She could still save herself. And Luc? While unfortunate, she really shouldn’t be risking her life for a man she’d known less than a few weeks. She hadn’t even decided if she was fond of him or not.

  The thoughts disappeared as the doors swung open. If there was one other thing she was sure of, it was that she wasn’t a coward.

  She saw the Dageian officer screaming at his men to fall in line. Two soldiers had recovered from their stupor long enough to rush at the creature with their swords. She watched as the creature lunged, wrapping all four limbs around the nearest man and raking its claws into its back. The man screamed as the creature bit into his shoulder.

  The other soldier struck the creature along the length of its body. Black blood seeped out of the wound, but the creature didn’t seem fazed—it continued to rip the first man apart. The soldier lifted his sword a second time and only then did it reach for him, almost lazily—like a child grabbing a toy.

  Roena wasn’t sure, but it was almost as if the creature had grown slightly larger than when she had seen it last.

  Luc had disappeared. Roena gave the grounds a cursory glance to catch a glimpse of him before her attention drifted back to the creature, which had torn off the second man’s head and was now decorating the stone steps with rivers of blood.

  There was a crackling sound. A glow of light struck the creature with the impression of a noose being tightened. A man in mage robes approached, sweat dripping off his face.

  “You need to lead it down—” the mage was saying. “Around the steps, Prefect! Before I lose control!”

  “That’s not a dog you just whistle to,” the officer hissed.

  The creature bucked. Cracks appeared on the air around it as it struck an invisible barrier. The officer drew his sword and approached it again.

  The mage gave a cry. “No! Without Ohgrin…”

  He never got to finish what he was trying to say. Glowing shards burst around the creature and it struck him with one blow, ripping his body in half. The officer charged just as it bore down on the mage, managing to sink his sword into its back.

  A howl, coming from the creature. It wasn’t a howl of pain. If Roena had to name it, the closest she could think of was bloodlust. It grabbed the blade with its claws, dropping the mangled mage. It twisted the sword deeper into its body as it pulled the officer with it. It seemed to grin before its jaws snapped around the officer’s neck.

  Luc came around with his sword with such speed that she almost didn’t see him. Roena swore and began to race after him at the exact same time. No time to talk or argue about strategy. The creature was still impaled with the officer’s sword as it ripped his face off.

  Roena reached it first. She struck it on the side. It flung her aside just as quickly, arm striking her across the jaw. She flew, landing shoulder-first on the hard ground.

  Blood rushed through her head. Somehow, she had avoided its claws. She struggled to her feet and saw that Luc—true to his name—had better luck. He had pinned its leg to the ground. On any other beast, it might’ve been brilliant. But Roena quickly rea
lized that Luc was left wide open and that the beast had lost interest in the officer’s flayed corpse.

  A sound tore its way out of her throat. Hearing her warning, Luc managed to duck. Hana appeared behind him, her own sword cutting into the creature’s neck.

  Roena hurtled down towards them and stabbed it in the back.

  She let go of the handle and retreated a few steps away as she watched the creature attempt to dislodge her sword. There were four blades inside of it now. Four. Yet it remained standing, blood dripping from every crevice they had carved into its body. And they were defenceless. Roena still had her dagger, but she didn’t think she’d be able to get close without getting her head ripped out of her body like the Dageians.

  She glanced at the bodies, wondering if there was anything she could use as a weapon. She spotted a sword a few feet away, half-buried in the bloody soil. She wondered if she should make a break for it.

  A whistle split the air. Roena turned and spotted Jona by the gates, an expression of shock and disgust on his face. She almost expected him to run.

  He didn’t. He seemed to come to a decision on the spot and charged the creature like a man possessed. Roena took the opportunity to dash for the sword. The handle was slippery and the blade awkward, but she didn’t need any more than that. The creature was intent on Jona, who—for a man his size—was doing a fair job of keeping himself away from its attacks. He knew how to fight, at the very least.

  Roena struck it again, this time pushing the blade down. Die, already, she thought, gritting her teeth. How had Agartes killed these things? How had Luc? But then before she could begin to panic, she saw the creature drop to its knees. Its fur began to fall out of its skin as it slowly disintigrated into the wind.

  “Fuck,” Jona spat. He strode over to Luc and dragged him to his feet. “Saved your ass this time,” he grinned, looking pleased with himself.

  Hana gave a nervous chuckle. “I hope that was the only one.”

  Roena turned to the building.

  “The books—” she started. Two figures appeared at the doorway. For a moment, she thought they were mages, come to check on their dead companions. But as they stepped out of the light, she saw the pale complexion and elongated features of ka-eng.

  Luc swore.

  ~~~

  Although Luc had only seen ka-eng that one time, he knew these were the same ones—the sisters he had met in the woods. There was no mistaking the expressions on their faces, including that seemingly permanent look of amusement. He drew himself away from Jona and came up to them. “Are you just going around following me?” he asked.

  Their ears pricked up. “Is it a problem?” the first sister asked.

  “Maybe we just admire your courage, your resilience, and your…knack…for killing such things,” the other sister said, glancing at all the blood with a clear look of disgust. She pressed a hand over her nose.

  Luc shook his head. “And now you’re going to tell me this is all a coincidence. That you went all this way for some other reason that had nothing to do with me.”

  The first sister smiled at him. “Will you believe that if we tell you?”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “He’s gained some fire,” the second sister said, approaching him close enough to pat him on the head. “Humans grow so fast. How long has it been, sister?”

  “We met him at the turn of the winter,” the first sister replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “It’s now spring.”

  Luc’s eyes widened. “No, it’s not. You can clearly see the snowstorm—” He glanced at the horizon. The sky was clear. More than that—the snow that had covered the ground was gone. He could see the red light of the setting sun reflecting off the marsh water.

  “Does this have anything to do with the spells?” Roena broke in.

  The sisters smiled at each other. “He found a girlfriend,” one sister said.

  “That’s almost adorable,” the other added.

  “I’m not his—can one of you just explain this?” she hissed.

  “And she’s a smart one, too. Maybe too smart for him.” The first sister came around to prod at Luc’s chest with her finger. It was still sore. “You’d think the Dageian masters’ explanation would’ve been enough.”

  Her sister gave a pause. “His Dageian masters? I don’t think they call them that anymore.”

  “Don’t they, now?”

  “They’ve got titles. Bearer. Giver. Keeper.”

  “The Dageians. Always so ahead of their times.”

  “The spells here are different,” the second sister explained with a smile. “The Dageians’ spells depend on these runes, which they create using their connection to the agan in the first place. But the spells around here are ancient. They are weaved from the land itself, from the deepest crevices of the Kag. Our people are responsible for them. And so…” She touched Luc’s rune, making it glow softly. “What they made you into—they made you into a vessel. You don’t see or feel it yourself, but the spells react to you. Sometimes, they even distort time itself.”

  “What am I?” Luc asked.

  “Nobody,” the sisters said. “An anomaly. A useful one, to be sure.” The first sister held up a leather pack.

  “That’s ours!” Roena exclaimed.

  The sisters nodded. “And the boss is extremely thankful that you were able to find them for him with so little trouble.”

  Luc glanced at the dead bodies. “This isn’t little.”

  “Well, no,” the second sister said with a grin. “I suppose it’s not. Still, better them than you or us. That pesky thing was becoming such an inconvenience.”

  The first sister placed a purse in his hands. “For your trouble. Head on back to Crossfingers. Your benefactor will meet with you soon.”

  “Do try not to get too distracted,” the second sister tittered, looking at Roena.

  He felt his cheeks burn. “Aren’t you going to explain more? What you were doing in the village—if you were working for our client this whole time…”

  “Hush,” the ka-eng said, pressing a finger against his lips. “That isn’t the only thing in this city. If I were you, I would take my men and get out as fast as I could.” With a giggle, she drew a hand across his neck before stepping away.

  He watched them stroll past the blood-drenched courtyard and felt his irritation disappear. He was just tired, now. Too tired. The battle must’ve lasted no more than a few minutes, but it felt stretched out into an entire day, and now this new revelation just made him feel like a fool being strung along from one thing to the next. “Those two were in Toskthar,” he said, turning to Hana. “They were pretending to keep an eye on the village for their elder. I should’ve known it was all a lie.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. They can play their games all they want. We did what we came to do.”

  He glanced at Roena. “How are you?”

  “Don’t worry yourself about me,” she snapped.

  He wanted to ask her what was wrong and then realized she would probably take it the wrong way. He picked his sword up from the ground just as the rest of the mercenaries appeared in the courtyard.

  “Glad you could finally join us,” Hana said, crossing her arms smugly. “Not that we needed any of you.”

  “We heard the screaming,” Treda said. “We thought you had it under control.”

  Demon glanced at the bodies with what appeared to be an expression of awe. “Did you do that?”

  “Agartes, no,” Luc breathed. “The creature did.”

  Caiso was shaking his head in amazement. “Second one you’ve killed.”

  “Roena took care of it this time,” he said.

  “Good of you to notice,” Roena murmured. She sheathed her sword and walked past them. “You heard what they said. We have to get out of here before we attract the attention of the rest.”

  There was something in her voice that was hard to read, but Luc wasn’t about to argue with her. He gathered
the mercenaries and they left the city just before darkness fell. Here, they found out the truth in the ka-eng’s words—it was spring already. Not a single patch of snow remained, and buds were poking through the dead grass.

  “I’ll be damned,” Treda whistled.

  They gazed at their surroundings in silence for a few moments. It was Jona who broke it with a snort. “Like you bastards aren’t happy you’re not freezing half to death. We knew what was waiting for us here. Damn surprised no one got themselves killed.”

  “Luc almost did,” Roena said.

  Jona guffawed.

  They returned to the fort ruins. The man they had left the horses with was gone, and so were the horses; not a single track remained on the road. Had it only just been weeks? The snow had obliterated every sign of the camp they’d left for what just felt like hours ago. For all Luc knew, they’d been gone for years.

  ~~~

  They headed south on foot. The road was rough, chewed up from the worst of the winter, and many of the bridges that ran through the marshlands were nearly impassable. It was slow going, made worse by the fact that in all this time, Roena barely spoke to Luc. He didn’t know why she’d choose to avoid him now after everything they’d been through. She still slept in the same tent as he did, but she kept well away from him, initiating nothing. He found himself staring at her sleeping form often, wondering if he should approach her himself or if he would get a knife in the throat for his efforts.

  His own thoughts kept him occupied. The feeling that they had successfully completed yet another job was overshadowed by the screams of dying men and the pervading smell of blood. He could still see them in his dreams—Lorkas, Zeno…men he had barely known for a few hours, ripped apart in front of him. Hana told him this was normal. “Better them than you,” she had said with a grin. But better how? Every time he felt the dull ache in his chest from the agan-infused rune, he remembered how his father’s face would light up every time he spoke of how he saved Luc. The man never bragged about how he did it.