Stand Short and Proud

by Billy Wong

  Stand Short and Proud

  by Billy Wong

  Smashwords edition

  Stand Short and Proud Copyright © 2017 Billy Wong

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  All characters in this compilation are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Credits and author page

  Sample of Iron Bloom

  Chapter 1

  Meg lay on the bottom of the muddy slope, breathing slowly while gentle raindrops pattered on her face, her orange-red hair getting in her eyes. The cool autumn rain drizzled into the wound in her flank, relieving it slightly albeit only on the surface. Beyond that it burned deep inside her, making her want to retch though she didn't dare try and turn to her side to do so. She tightened numb fingers to make sure she still had her sword in hand, felt relief at the hardness of the hilt. Even if she'd been seriously injured, she should be ready to defend herself should more enemies approach. But she was so weak, and couldn't move... She heard the splash of a footfall to her right and looked through blurry eyes. A bearded man loomed over her with spear poised to stab, having gotten so close before she noticed in her disoriented state. Damn. He thrust down and she forced her heavy arm to respond, swinging her blade up clumsily to deflect it. She sliced a gap into his white-painted mail with a backslash, but wasn't sure she even reached flesh as he stepped back with an expression more of surprise than pain. Her arm flopped down in the mud, short but sturdy sword tumbling from her exhausted grasp after the spurt of defiance.

  "Please have mercy," she rasped, voice at once dry and choked. "I am defeated, I can no longer fight."

  The bandit sneered. "After you killed so many of my friends, bounty hunter? I'll show you the same mercy you showed them. Die, witch." The spear plunged down, seeking her throat.

  She caught the shaft just behind the head with her empty sword hand and wrenched it aside, stabbing up at the same time with the hidden blade she had slid from her sleeve. It sank through the cartilage between his ribs, piercing his heart. He stared at her with mouth wide, then fell away. "Just getting you to let your guard down," she muttered to his corpse. She lay back again, hand pressed against her wound that had been agitated by the movement. It hurt so bad, it took all she had to push back the lightheadedness and not faint. Distantly, she heard more footsteps approach. Again, already? Meg groped for her sword on the ground, but couldn't find it as she had probably let it roll too far away. Shit. Was this the end for her? No, she would never give up. She turned her head in the direction of the sound, intending to fight to her last-

  A stocky youth with a round face walked towards her with poleaxe in hand. He grinned down at her. "Never thought I'd see the day when I found you an injured person at my mercy."

  "I'm not at your mercy," she said in an irritated tone. "I could still hand you your rear if I wanted." She tried to sit up, then a fiery pang shot through her and she fell back clutching her side.

  Her partner Patrick's eyes widened. "Are you all right? Your bloody gash looks nasty."

  Meg rolled her eyes at his crude attempt at humor. "I admit it does rather hurt." She reached up. "Here, just give me a hand."

  He laughed. "No need to be so proud. If you aren't ready to stand yet, I'll carry you until you feel better. But first, let's get that wound wrapped."

  "Are all the enemies dead?"

  "I think so, at least if Gavin did his part. I trust our glorious leader not to have failed where we succeeded."

  "Fine, you can carry me after patching me up. If we encounter more foes though, don't hesitate to put me down so I can fight with you." Patrick bound her injury with strips of cloth and scooped her up into his arms. The utter ease with which he did it made her acutely aware of how small she was. While not so large at five foot seven and seventeen years old, a couple years her junior, he seemed very tall and long limbed compared to her. Even if she could beat many a warrior bigger than herself, thinking of her natural disadvantage still made her uneasy. "By the way, my disapproval of us taking this job is only stronger after the fact. Killing men is a little different from killing monsters, you know."

  Patrick looked curiously at her frowning face. "So the unshakable battle mouse shows a soft side?" His features likewise drooped. "I don't like it as much either. But since the slaughter of monsters is discouraged now while stragglers from the southern invasion don't get the same consideration, we have to make do with what work is available."

  "I'm sure we could still find people willing to pay to dispose of monsters if we look hard enough. Not every lord and village always follows the will of their own government, let alone that of great Aerilea."

  "That's true, though I don't know how easy such work will be to get. Anyway, we'll discuss it with Gavin."

  They made their way towards the bandit camp's entrance, beyond which their elder partner had waited to intercept any who fled from them after they snuck down the basin surrounding the grouping of tents to make their attack. Before they reached the makeshift gate of long sticks, they spotted two grimy-countenanced men rushing at them. For a second Meg feared they had slain Gavin, then judged from their frightful looks that they'd simply fled in turn from him back into camp. Patrick set her on her feet after an insistent nod from her, then she drew her sword and met one gangly bandit in a clash of swords while he engaged the other. They traded a few strikes, blades ringing until a particularly jarring impact made her gasp and reel back.

  "Meg!" Patrick cried as a sword flashed towards her stomach.

  She parried in the nick of time, lunged to put herself right in the man's face and sliced his neck before he could adjust. He fell, blood gushing between his fingers which tried vainly to stem the flow of blood from a cut artery. "Sorry to worry you," she said seeing that Patrick had downed his opponent too. She walked over to him. Suddenly the strength left her knees and she collapsed, but he caught her before she could fall all the way down.

  "Little mouse," he whispered with growing alarm, "you're really hurt."

  "I'll be okay. Stop fussing over me so we don't keep Gavin waiting."

  He resumed carrying her towards the gate, her pain quite a bit worse than she would've liked to admit. She wanted to cry, but bit back the tears. Already so outwardly frail, she couldn't afford to let anybody see mental weakness in her, not even close allies. Despite any damage to her tiny form, her resolve must seem unbreakable. Yet her eyelids grew too heavy, and drifted shut as she blacked out.

  A time later, a deep voice reached her through the darkness and brought her up out of it. "Is the sleeping beauty alright? She looks bad."

  "I'm fine," she said, opening her eyes. "Put me down Pat, I've rested enough." He reluctantly did so, and she strained to stay upright as her legs felt soft as noodles. Nonetheless, she turned stiffly to face Gavin d
oing her utmost to hide that anything was wrong. A burly fellow in his mid twenties with rough stubble covering his wide jaw, he'd been the one who inspired her and Patrick to leave their hometown to pursue their dreams of adventure back then. The rain slowly washed blood off the great studded cudgel he held hanging down at his side, which had no doubt brained a few unlucky souls today. "We shouldn't take a job to hunt humans again. When we started out three years ago, we agreed to help rid the land of monsters so people could live peacefully. This—watching men beg for mercy after I'd mortally wounded them only for their lives to drain agonizingly away—isn't what I signed up for."

  He cocked his head down at her. "You're shaken by that? I thought nothing got to you."

  She was displeased at having to expose an arguable chink in her armor just to bring this up, but couldn't not do so. "It's easier to be unmoved when the things you kill are just beasts without sentience."

  "But the Saint General Julianna claims the monsters have some degree of thought too. That's why we're supposed to avoid killing them so there can be peace between us, remember?"

  Meg had long been curious how much of the claims about Julianna, the former Saint Princess of Aerilea which headed the alliance between the five northern nations, were true. She had supposedly come back from the dead and saved their floating continent from falling, only to allow her heir to continue his reign and take a new title as his advisor. While most seemed to believe it, Meg wondered if it could be true. For one who had never witnessed anything close to its ilk, the tale of a mage who singlehandedly destroyed a mountain sized monster god and resurrected herself after being blown into half a torso was a tad hard to swallow.

  Either way, though... "The beasts had been attacking humans for years before Julianna returned, and haven't completely stopped now. If they threaten us, do we not have the right to defend ourselves?"

  "Of course. The Saint General did warn that the monsters are individuals in their own right, and all might not abide by the truce she struck. But as attacks from them have significantly decreased in the last year, work hunting them that can be justified as legitimate has become few and far between. You know this, don't you remember how close we were to starving before we found this last job?"

  She recalled how her stomach had rumbled when their funds ran low and hunting took longer than expected to prove fruitful, and she still felt weakened going into battle against the failed invaders turned brigands. "Yeah, but we didn't leave home to become murderers." Even if those bandits reportedly killed innocent victims before, she and her companions had still initiated the attack on them at the mayor of the nearby town's behest. To stain her hands with their blood without even offering them a chance to surrender... she'd only been able to go through with it by convincing herself someone else would have just done it in their stead. "If this is what it takes for us to keep pursuing our dream of being famous warriors, maybe we should give it up and go back."

  Gavin furrowed his brow. "Annoying how you act so soft. But I suppose we can look for monster hunting work again, since we'll have ample coin for the moment."

  "What will we take back as proof the deed is done?"

  Patrick hefted a small sack. "Already have it." The outline of a roundish object could be seen through the cloth, and the bottom of it was wet.

  "Is that..?" she asked, face paling more than it already had.

  "The bandit leader's head, still in his old One Army helmet. I took it before meeting you, so you wouldn't have to see it."

  She felt a bit bad to see he had become so hardened at his young age. She'd been ambivalent about letting him come along when they first set out despite his background, yet he might've already surpassed her in being inured to the violence. Or maybe not. She imagined the act had made him quite queasy, but he forced himself to do it for her sake. She would've done the same for him, if she'd thought of it and hadn't been lying wounded. "Thank you," she said to him.

  "No problem, Mouse. You blocked that stab for me earlier with your body, of course I should pay you back."

  Meg smiled. "Don't feel too grateful. I just didn't want my little brother to collect another scar to add to his warrior cred, when I could take it instead." Of course they weren't related by blood, but Gavin said they acted like they were so...

  "Are you strong enough to travel?" Gavin asked. "You're trembling."

  "Of course, a little shakiness won't stop me. Besides, if I wasn't I'd just demand for you to carry me since there's no way I'm waiting alone here." Then she felt a growing itch inside her nostril, and after a brief attempt to resist let out a sneeze.

  Patrick gazed worriedly at her. "Damn, you're hurt like that and you caught a cold?"

  "Maybe, could be from lying down in the cold rain. Might just be a one time sneeze though, which I hope. Anyway, let's just move on and get out of this place of death."

  "Should we bury the bodies? Leaving them out here in the rain seems a bit wrong, even if they were enemies."

  Gavin replied, "Just pile them up inside one of their tents for now and have the mayor send some men to take care of them later. I doubt the little sweetheart is up for digging graves right now."

  "I could," Meg insisted, a token display of bravado knowing she wouldn't be asked to follow through on it.

  After moving over a score of bandit corpses inside, they headed back towards town, Meg stumbling along as her painful injury affected her balance. She continued to sniffle and sneeze along the way, heightening her misery as each violent discharge sent agony through her side. Seeing her struggle, Patrick offered her some powdered herbs from a pouch he had. "Here, take a pinch of this. It should help with the pain."

  "You bought that with your own share of the profit, save it for yourself. My wineskin will do for me." He looked unhappy at her refusal, but drew the medicine pouch back.

  After a few hours, they made it to the settlement whose mayor had hired them to solve their bandit troubles. Meg thought them a bit lucky the town didn't use its own soldiers for the job, but then the country of Plasbias and the smaller territories that comprised it weren't known for maintaining a strong military presence. Entering a dark dining hall, Patrick handed his coppery smelling sack over the table to the thick-mustached mayor in his fifties. Meg noticed a wooden bar running between the rear legs of the chairs, and stood up on one of them so she would only be half a head shorter than the next smallest person in the room rather than almost a full head.

  The mayor placed the bag on the table and hesitantly peeked inside. His eyes widened. "W-well, it seems you have gone above and beyond in proving the completion of your task." Patrick frowned, seeming regretful at having gone so far if it wasn't strictly needed.

  "We weren't sure what your standard of evidence would be," Gavin said, "so better safe than sorry. Now about that payment?"

  "Yes, of course. My servant will have it prepared for you in no time." He motioned to the tall jacketed man watching from the door, who walked away presumably to fetch their reward.

  "Split it up into three equal sums," Gavin called after him, "to save us the chore."

  The butler disappeared from sight, and a brief period of silence followed. Figuring the others might not think to do so, Meg asked the mayor, "By the way, do you know of any other towns having monster troubles right now? We're always looking for more work, and hoped you might point us in the right direction."

  "I hear our neighbors about fifty miles to the north have problems with robbers similar to our own. Perhaps you could go there and solve them as well."

  She squirmed. "As I said I meant monster problems, our trade isn't usually in battling men." Hopefully Gavin wouldn't contradict her... "We're just three youngsters who would rather avoid potentially being targeted for revenge, and besides we're not so accustomed to it. I even suffered a severe wound taking down this group."

  "Severe wound? You seem fine, other than looking tired."

  She raised her chin high, feeling taller to know her veneer of strength held up w
ell. "Hunters like us aren't strangers to being hurt, even fairly bad ones won't slow us down much. Still, we prefer familiar work our skills have been honed for."

  He looked down. "I'm sorry to hear about your injury. But under the conditions you demand, I cannot help you. We have not gotten word of any hostile monsters in nearby areas, as the appearances of such have significantly dwindled in recent times. All I can offer you in addition to your compensation is a drink."

  The alcoholic numbness from her last swallow of liquor began to wear off, so after eyeing the pitcher on the table she nodded. He filled a glass with rich red wine from it and handed it to her. She tilted it towards her mouth, but momentarily forgot she stood on the chair and leaned back a tad too much. The chair tipped over backwards, and she yelped as she crashed down under it, wine splashing into her face.

  "Meg!" Patrick yelled, running to her while the mayor stared. "Are you okay?"

  She had curled up in a ball from the pain caused by her fall, but managed to rasp out, "Fine." A number of seconds later she gathered herself enough to start pushing herself up, and he helped her to her feet. "Sheesh, that was embarrassing."

  "You need to be more careful about climbing onto things, especially in your condition."

  Meg raised a hand and walked away to retrieve the cup which had rolled away across the floor. "Sorry about wasting your wine, Mayor. Darn, the glass is cracked. I suppose you'll have to take it out of my payment."

  #

  After receiving their pay, Meg gave back a few coins to compensate for the damaged property. Despite the mayor saying it reported no trouble with monsters, because they had no other leads and it was the nearest one on the map, they went north towards the town he'd mentioned. Maybe somebody there would have heard something that could help them. At one point she sneezed all over her bread roll, and had to force herself to still eat after wiping it off the best she could. Food wasn't something they could afford to waste with the scarcity of work these days, after all.