Blood Mercenaries Origins

by Ben Wolf

  Behind him, Aveyna had already slain a fourth of the traitorous Inothian elite soldiers either with her sword or other displays of powerful light magic, so Kent opted for Fane. If the gods intended for Kent to die that day, he would gladly perish knowing he’d taken Fane with him.

  He absorbed the crystal’s essence into his magic and extended his right hand toward Fane. A barrage of crystalline spikes sprung from his fingertips, careening toward Fane like arrows from a dozen bows.

  Fane recoiled, but a wall of darkness arose before him and shattered the crystals before they could reach him.

  Kymil stood ten feet away from him.

  Kent gritted his teeth and moved to throw another barrage of crystals, but he saw Kymil holding something in his hand. Something small, grey, and writhing.

  Red light formed in Kymil’s palm, and then it flashed toward Kent.

  Kent dove out of the way and rolled up to his feet, then he dove again, dodging blood arrows as fast as Kymil could conjure them. Crouched low, he erected a wide, crystalline barrier, and the blood arrows plinked off of it one at a time.

  That barrier marked the end of his crystal, though. Kent opened his hand, and the last remaining granules of the crystal fell to the ground. He stole a glance back.

  Several yards away, Aveyna continued to thrash and defend against the remaining elite soldiers and royal guards. Any time one of them hurled a magical attack at her, it hit some sort of invisible shield surrounding her with a flash of white light and deflected harmlessly away.

  Lumbering footsteps thundered closer. From Kent’s left, Grak barreled toward him, sword in hand.

  Still crouched, Kent didn’t have time to draw his own sword or even to get another object from his pouches to use magic, so he dug his fingers into the dirt and pumped magic into it instead.

  The magic burned through the dirt quickly, but Kent managed to summon a cloud of dust from the ground that obscured Grak’s view. Kent dodged Grak’s attack and then drew his sword, ready to finally test his mettle.

  Grak emerged from the cloud and stalked toward him.

  “I thought you loved her.” Kent held his sword at the ready. “Why would you betray her?”

  Grak glowered at Kent, his rageful eyes reddened from the dust. “She didn’t love me back. If I can’t have her, I sure as hell won’t let you have her either.”

  Their blades met with a mighty clang, and the vibration hurt Kent’s hands. They exchanged blows, parrying each other’s skillful attacks and evading others.

  Kent gradually found his stroke again, and the thrill of engaging in high-level swordsmanship surged through his veins. Their blades locked, and Kent pushed Grak back with a hard shove.

  As Kent readied his sword for another attack, a shock of sharp pain dug into his side, and he gasped.

  He looked down. An arrow made of sickly green light protruded from his gut.

  Kymil.

  Kent searched the field for him, and their eyes met.

  Kymil dropped a long, shriveled cord from his hand. A serpent of some sort?

  Whatever it was, the arrow burned Kent’s insides, and it was spreading.

  Grak stormed toward him, his sword keen to finish the job.

  Then a blast of white light launched Grak off of his feet and sent his armored body bouncing toward the Murothians.

  “Kent!” Aveyna rushed to his side. When she noticed the arrow, she gasped. “No… no!”

  Kent dropped to his knees and then slumped onto his good side, fighting the immense pain spreading throughout his chest and legs.

  “It’s a venom arrow.” Her voice sounded distant, tinny, but she was kneeling right next to him.

  His vision flickered and blurred, and he lost feeling in his torso, and then his legs. Then the sensation started creeping into his arms.

  All around them, a glistening dome withstood blasts of fire and repelled every other attack. It flashed with white light upon every impact, creating a vivid display to Kent’s faltering eyes.

  But even with his vision failing, there was no mistaking the delighted sneers of Grak, Fane, and Kymil standing just outside the shield, watching him die.

  In the distance, high above the battle, a winged beast flew toward them, and sunlight glinted off of its blue-green hide.

  “I have to heal you,” Aveyna said. “But I can’t keep the shield up if I do.”

  “No. Save yourself,” Kent uttered.

  His vision clarified, and he realized the beast was the wyvern and its rider.

  Wafer. Kent’s head swam, but he remembered their names. And Aeron Ironglade.

  They were coming in for a landing. Aveyna raised her hand and opened the top of the dome, and Wafer landed with a thud near Kent’s head, obscuring most of Kent’s view of the sky with his scaly belly.

  Kent’s limbs went completely numb, and the effect was spreading up his neck.

  “I’m going to heal him,” Aveyna called to Aeron over the shouts and impacts from everyone around them. “But the shield won’t. I can’t do both. I want you to take him out of here. Do not take him back to the fortress or back to Goldmoor.”

  “Your Highness?” Aeron asked. “We cannot carry you both. What about you?”

  “Do as you’re told,” Aveyna replied. “You will leave me behind.”

  Kent used the last of his energy to shake his head. Through numbing lips, he said, “No, Aveyna. You can’t. You’re the queen.”

  “Not anymore,” she said. “Grab him, and I’ll heal him.”

  “This doesn’t feel right…” Aeron said.

  “Aeron!” Aveyna snapped. “You will do as I have commanded!”

  Aeron gulped and gave a reluctant nod.

  As Aveyna laid her hands on Kent’s body, the wyvern repositioned itself and hooked its talons under Kent’s arms.

  White light flared between Aveyna and Kent, and she closed her eyes.

  Kent could only see the light at first, but the numbness throughout his body reverted back to pain, and the pain faded to nothing.

  The shield around them cracked from a heavy blow.

  Aveyna pulled the venom arrow out of Kent’s side, and the pain fully extinguished from his body. As Kent’s cognition returned, the arrow in Aveyna’s hand dissipated to nothing.

  Then the shield exploded into thousands of shards of light.

  “Go!” Aveyna yelled.

  “Wait!” Kent shouted, but the ground dropped out from under him.

  Magical attacks streamed past them.

  As Kent ascended away, a glowing red arrow hit the center of Aveyna’s chest.

  Aveyna grabbed it and slumped over, and Kymil approached her with a sword in his hand, radiating violet light just like the one Eusephus had wielded.

  And then Kymil killed her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kent screamed and shouted and demanded and begged Aeron to take him back to the battle, but Aeron refused.

  Wafer didn’t stop flying until they’d left northern Inoth far behind. As dusk began to fall, they landed on the far side of the mountains separating northeast Inoth from southwest Govalia.

  When Wafer finally released Kent from his grip, Kent stormed around to the side and yanked Aeron out of his saddle. He held Aeron by his breastplate and shook him.

  “What the hell did you do?” he yelled in Aeron’s face. “You left her there to die!”

  Wafer hissed from behind Kent, and Aeron shoved Kent backward. Kent let go, and Wafer’s mouth clamped around Kent’s shoulder, with his long snout across Kent’s chest.

  Wafer’s pointed teeth pressed into Kent’s torso, and he froze. It hurt to even draw breath.

  “If I tell him to kill you, he will,” Aeron said. “A wyvern’s jaw is strong enough to crack most types of rock. Your ribcage would shatter, and you’d either die from the excruciating pain or you’d bleed out from the puncture wounds to your organs. But that would be a shame seeing as the queen just gave up her life to save you.”

 
Kent closed his eyes, but the image of Kymil slaying Aveyna replayed in his memory, so he opened them again.

  “Look—I’m content to let you be on your way.” Aeron folded his arms. “I’ve done my duty, and my contract with the queen is over now that she’s…” He hesitated. “I’m moving on. I can’t stay in Govalia for very long due to… personal reasons.”

  Kent said nothing. The sadness wracking his nerves didn’t let him.

  “But I know what you’re capable of. I saw some of your fight from the sky,” Aeron continued. “I think we’d be good together. Maybe we could be partners.”

  Kent looked at him. He didn’t want anything to do with Aeron. Yes, he’d saved Kent’s life, but he’d also allowed Aveyna to die in Kent’s place.

  “I’m prepared to let Wafer kill you if you intend to cause more trouble, but if you agree to behave, I’ll set you loose.” Aeron folded his arms and raised his eyebrows. “What’s it gonna be?”

  Kent scowled at him. Even if he could break free, the prospect of fighting Aeron and a full-grown wyvern wouldn’t yield a favorable outcome, even with magic on his side.

  “I will not harm you,” Kent said quietly.

  “Good.” Aeron looked at Wafer. “Let him go, Wafer.”

  Wafer complied, and relief spread across Kent’s chest and back. Putrid wyvern saliva clung to his shoulder, and he frowned at it.

  “Your name’s Kent, right?” Aeron asked. “Kent Etheridge? The queen told me you’re Murothian.”

  Kent scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it on his shoulder to sop up the wyvern spit. He’d been forced out of not one, but two nations now. “I am no one anymore, and I have no country.”

  “Just like me.” Aeron grinned. “Look, I know you’re pissed about what happened back in Inoth, but I had to follow her orders. She was the one paying me.”

  Kent closed his eyes. He would’ve taken the burning from Kymil’s poison arrow over the pain of losing Aveyna if he could. Being reminded of it so soon after threatened to cripple him. “Can we not talk about this, please?”

  “Sure. Sorry.” Aeron glanced around. “I’m going to get some firewood. Why don’t you take some time to hang out here, gather yourself? Stay with Wafer. He’ll protect you.”

  “I do not need his protection.”

  Wafer snorted, and Kent shot him a glare.

  “Well, he’s staying here anyway, so get used to it.” Aeron headed toward a nearby forest. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Stay put. Or don’t. You can leave if you want.”

  Kent elected to stay. He didn’t know the area, and it would be night soon. It made more sense to stay for now.

  He sat down, then he lay on his back and covered his face with his hands. Sorrow pooled in his chest and head, and soon after, sobs racked his body.

  Many minutes later, Kent heard Aeron’s footsteps, so he wiped his eyes and sat upright again.

  Aeron carried a pile of sticks and small logs and dumped them onto the ground near Wafer, who now reclined on his side like a large, reptilian cow—except for his mammoth wings, which he’d folded and kept pressed against his body. Aeron started a fire using two flint stones from a pack tied to Wafer’s saddle and built it into a steady blaze.

  When Aeron stood up after building the fire, he winced and rubbed his back.

  Kent wondered why Aeron hadn’t asked Wafer to just ignite the sticks and logs for him instead, but he didn’t ask. Maybe wyverns didn’t breathe fire, though he’d always thought they could.

  They didn’t talk much for the rest of the night, nor did Kent eat anything. They hadn’t brought any food with them aside from Aeron’s magic mushrooms, two of which Aeron ate.

  Kent made the next run for firewood, and then they turned in for the night.

  As Kent lay on the cold ground near the warm fire, he thought of his nights in Aveyna’s bed and the hearth in her chambers. He sighed, closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep mired with nightmares.

  The morning sunlight ripped Kent from his dreams. He rose, fetched more firewood in the frigid morning air, and used the dying embers and some magic to get the fire going again.

  Aeron woke up soon after, though Wafer continued to snore.

  Aeron stood to his feet, and as he stretched, he noticed Kent tending to the fire. He said, “Thank you.”

  Kent just stared at the fire and nodded. He didn’t feel like talking.

  But Aeron did. “I suppose we need to find some breakfast. If you want, I can let Wafer do some hunting for us, or I can take us into a nearby town for something.”

  Kent shook his head. Physically, he was hungry, but he doubted he’d eat anything any time soon.

  “Have you given any more thought to my proposal?” Kent looked up at Aeron. “What proposal?”

  “That we partner up.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Mercenary work.”

  Kent looked back at the fire. He’d been a bounty hunter once, with Ronin, but now he didn’t want to do anything. “I do not know what I intend to do now.”

  “Alright. So picture this,” Aeron began. “You’re a mage, and you know how to fight, too. I’ve got Wafer, and I’m a trained wyvern knight. A lot of people would pay plenty of coin to hire us. A lot of people.”

  It was too soon to consider much of anything. Kent shook his head. “I do not care either way.”

  Aeron sighed. “Look, Kent. I know you’re sad and pissed and probably hate me, and I’m sure this is the last thing you want to talk about, but you’ve got no coin and nowhere to go. I know of three or four jobs we could get in Urthia right now that would get us some quick coin.

  “At the very least, you’d be able to go somewhere else and do whatever you wanted after you helped me with these jobs. I can’t do them alone, and having a mage would help a ton, but I need to know if you’re in or not. If you’re not, I’ll drop you off on my way down to Caclos for another job, or you can stay here.

  “Obviously I want you to come with me to Urthia, but I’ll just as gladly leave you here. I’ll give you another hour to tell me what you want to do, and then I’m leaving. Crystal?”

  Kent considered Aeron’s words. He’d been in this situation before— stripped of everything and forced to restart with no wealth, no connections, and limited options. But this time, he knew how to use his magic. That was something, at least.

  He’d made good coin as a bounty hunter with Ronin, and he’d been skilled at the work. Mercenary work would mean more direct fighting, he imagined, and less tracking of targets, but the idea of more fighting didn’t scare him. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to release some of his pent-up aggression.

  He still needed to exact vengeance upon Fane, but now he yearned to avenge Aveyna’s death as well, meaning he had to get back to Inoth to kill Kymil and Grak. Killing Graeme Bouwen would come next, if he had to prioritize his targets.

  But with no coin, no weapons aside from his magic, and with no more authority in either Muroth or Inoth, the prospect of achieving any of it seemed impossible.

  If Kent wanted to live to see his plans for revenge come to fruition, he would need to eat. And to eat, he would need coin. And traveling the continent as a mercenary sounded like a fine way to earn some, even if he had to do it with the man who had, in part, allowed Aveyna to die.

  Kent looked at Aeron. “I don’t need an hour. I will accompany you to Urthia.”

  Aeron smiled. “Good. I promise you a wild ride.” Wafer chuffed and chirped.

  Chapter One

  Blood dripped from Mehta’s curved knives. His commission was fulfilled, and he had honored Xyon, the God of Death.

  Yet Mehta was not satisfied.

  Four bodies lay at his feet: a man, a woman, and two children. He had sifted them all, but he wished the children hadn’t seen him. He could have let them live otherwise.

  Then again, perhaps it was better that they not discover their parents and servants dead. Sifting them had prevented them from realizing th
eir family’s fate. Part of Mehta wished he’d been granted the same mercy as a child.

  A pair of servants lay dead in the next room of the grand manse, and the blood of the cook and two maids pooled in the kitchen one floor below. Before them, six armed guards had perished under Mehta’s knives.

  But it wasn’t enough. He had delivered everyone in the manse to the gates of Xyon, and it still had not quenched his bloodlust. He had to sift again. He needed to sate his thirst.

  Mehta stole through the nearest window and descended to the moonlit ground with nary a whisper from the grass, frosted over from the frigid night air. He would’ve sifted a passerby in the street if he could have, but the manse sat on a grand estate many miles from Etrijan’s capital city of Sefera. In such a rural area, no one else was around.

  I should go. The commission is fulfilled.

  His hands trembled, still holding his knives. He exhaled a vaporous breath in the icy air.

  I cannot go. Not yet. I need more.

  He tightened his grips and searched the horizon. A range of snowcapped mountains jutted into the sky. They reminded him of the mountain with the cratered top that rose above his childhood home. They reminded him of simpler times, of parents whose faces he could not remember, and of a little sister whose name he had long forgotten.

  His parents had been lying facedown in their own blood when the soldiers took Mehta away. Soldiers clad in black armor, decorated with the crest of a three-horned ram.

  He shook the memories from his mind and refocused on the scene before him.

  Before the distant mountains lay a sprawling pasture full of cows and sheep, some sleeping and some grazing under the moonlight. Only a simple wooden fence stood between him and more death.

  Mehta started toward the pasture.

  Within minutes, the reddened carcasses of dozens of livestock lay scattered throughout the pasture, young and old alike. Hot, sticky blood coated Mehta’s brown-skinned forearms and dotted his chest and thighs.

  The thirst persisted.

  Mehta knew what it meant, but he didn’t want to face it. Not now.