HE WHO FIGHTS

by Mike Morris

  Douglas shot up, musket ready, scanning all around them. "Are there others?"

  "I don't know. Could be. Probably. Bracke never travel alone. We go on regardless. Look for somewhere we can defend if we have to."

  "There's a dead Bracke ahead," shouted Douglas down the line. "Keep your eyes peeled."

  Cries, curses and prayers answered him in equal measure. Even the horses were jittery. Rane hoped it was only the smell of the dead demon dog that was effecting them. He forced himself to be calm and unhook the longbow from his saddle. If the dogs were abroad, he'd rather shoot them from a distance than fight them up close. Kibon disagreed, eager for more blood of its own. The pain between Rane's eyes sharpened as if to emphasis the point but Rane still wouldn’t give in. He dug one end of the bow into the ground beside his foot and leaned in to bend the yew. Once he had the curve right, he slipped the bowstring in place. He'd let his arrows do the killing instead of his cursed steel.

  He headed to Fia's wagon next.

  "Is everything okay?" asked the priest. Her husband sat next to her, axe propped against his leg, brows knitted together in worry.

  "Need Karn to get on top of the wagon," replied Rane.

  Karn exchanged glances with Fia, none too happy at the news. "I'd rather stay here, look after my wife."

  "Need someone to look out for all of us and you'll have a better view up there." Rane pulled a pistol out of its holster. "You ever use one of these before?"

  Karn nodded.

  Rane passed the weapon to him, butt first. "Keep it to hand but call me first if you see anything. Understand?"

  "Yeah. But the smoke..." Karn's voice shook with fear as he spoke.

  "Just do the best you can." That's all any of them could do.

  To Karn’s credit he didn't protest anymore. He passed the reins to his wife before he clambered from one wagon to the other, shaking and sweating. He settled uncomfortably on the roof of Fia's wagon, one arm hooked through the golden circle at its centre and nodded to let Rane know he was ready.

  "Do you think we're going to get attacked?" asked Fia.

  "Let's pray not," said Rane. "But I'd be happier if Hazia and Tanya joined you in your wagon with Joassa and the children as well. Just to be safe."

  "As you say," agreed Fia. "It'll be a squash, but we'll make do."

  Tanya, looking lost and scared without her husband beside her, led Hazia, all red-eyed and deathly pale, by the hand to the temple wagon. Joassa stood waiting for them with the wagon door open, full of grim determination. It took a few minutes to get everyone rearranged. Rane could hear the upset children inside as there wasn’t any hiding the concern on the adults' faces but there wasn't anything he could do to make it better. Keeping them alive was going to be hard enough.

  Soon enough though, they were ready to move on, with Myri leading the way. Rane rode beside her, arrow nocked on his bowstring as he watched the bones on either side of the road for sign of more Bracke.

  “Douglas had a point,” said Myri. “The Bracke are meant to be dead. We burned them here. Their bones are all around us.”

  “Maybe they didn’t all die. Maybe some have been living here in the Dead Lands. It’d explain why no one else has made it across alive. I was attacked by one the day before Kara died, at our cottage down south, but it could have come from here. Maybe they’re breeding here amongst the fires.”

  “Fucking wonderful.” Myri reached back and touched her sword hilt, twitched as the magic hit. “As if we didn’t have enough troubles.”

  “Better than the thought Heras has released them out into the world once more. With the Legion in hiding, we’re not in a position to fight and win another war with Her forces.”

  Myri raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like perfect planning.”

  21

  They moved slowly. Cautiously. Rane's heart raced as he scanned left and right for danger, arrow at the ready. Myri was no better, scowling through the gap between her hood and scarf. Twitching at the wind.

  The wind swirled smoke and ash around them and rattling the bones enough to spook Rane every dozen or so yards. Trouble was there were too many places to hide. A demon could be a yard away, buried in the bones, and no one would spot it. But there was no turning back. Only forward. But Rane couldn't help he was leading everyone into a trap that they'd not walk away from.

  Each passing minute and each passing yard brought no respite from the fear that the demons were out there, waiting, watching. Tension built amongst them all.

  Behind them, William drove the first wagon. Douglas sat next to him, with the butt of his musket lodged in his shoulder, finger resting next to the trigger, not sure whether to watch the Legionnaires or watch the road as far as Rane could tell. Fia's wagon trundled after with Karn perched on its roof and the rest of the women and children locked inside. At the rear, and out of sight, were Olivik and Regas. Not much of an army if trouble found them but all Rane had.

  As the day drew closer to its end, the Crow's Road stretched on to the horizon, bones pilled high on either side, fires burning in every direction, choking them with smoke and ash. Nothing had changed after two day's slog through the Dead Lands. It felt like they'd made no progress whatsoever. Only now Bracke possibly lurked amongst the dead.

  "Nathaniel." Myri's voice was all but a whisper as she pulled on her reins, stopping her horse.

  "What?" replied Rane, halting beside her.

  She stared straight ahead. "Marcus."

  Rane raised his hand to let the others know they were stopping and squinted down the road as clouds of smoke billowed across. He couldn't make anything out, but that didn't stop the fear rising in his gut. "I can't see any..." And then there he was. A hundred yards ahead.

  Marcus stood facing them. Smiling. His clothes hung off him in tatters, displaying an ugly red scar where Myri had opened him up from shoulder to hip but otherwise he looked normal. Like his old self. Not twisted. Not tainted. All the years had fallen from his face, like he was young again, without a care in the world. But there, held casually by his side was his sword, unsheathed and as black as night, to remind Rane of who he really was. What he was. A body, too, lay at his feet. The girl, not moving. "Greetings brother. So good to see you again. And you've brought me new friends to play with."

  Rane's only reply was to pull back his bowstring as he raised his bow. As his right hand brushed his cheek, he took aim, locking his left arm, let out a breath and released the arrow. It shot towards Marcus as he reached down for another.

  Marcus swatted the first shaft away with a flick of his sword as Rane released his second arrow.

  "Nathaniel." Marcus took a step towards them. "You disappoint me." He twisted his hip to let the second arrow fly past without breaking stride. "Why go through this charade? You must feel the call as I do. Let us journey together and leave these sheep behind."

  "I'll show you who's a fucking sheep," said Myri, drawing her pistol.

  "Don't waste your bullet," said Rane. "He's still too far away." He released another arrow for all the good the others had done.

  Marcus, eighty yards away, knocked the arrow to one side. Seventy-five yards. Seventy. "Good to see you're still with us, Myri. How's the hand?"

  "What's going on?" shouted Douglas from behind them. "Can you see Sarah?"

  "Stay where you are." Rane didn't dare look back. Didn't dare say the girl looked dead at Marcus's feet. They all had to stay alive through whatever was going to happen next. He slid from his saddle as Marcus closed the gap to fifty yards. Dropping to one knee, he took aim once more. Smoke drifted across the road, obscuring his view, but he shot again, hoping this time it would strike Marcus. The arrow disappeared into the murk. Rane sent two more swiftly after it.

  Rane and Myri watched and waited as the smoke billowed and swirled through the bones and over the path. For a fraction of a second Rane felt hope but it shattered as Marcus burst through the clouds and came at them in a sprint. His sword swung back over his shoulder, eager fo
r blood.

  The boom of Myri's gun roared above Rane's head but it didn't stop Marcus. Rane dropped his bow and reached for Kibon. The time for arrows was past.

  Time slowed as Marcus closed the gap, his face contorted into an insane grin. Rane had his hand on Kibon's hilt, felt the first pulse of energy in his fingers. The voice roared in his head. It was time.

  Marcus ran at them, feet pounding the ground, little clouds of ash trailing behind. Kibon sighed as it slid from its sheath, eager as always. The blade sprung free just as Marcus leaped. Rane followed through on his stroke but found only empty air as Marcus soared above it. His foot struck Myri in the mouth, knocking her from her saddle with a sickening crack, and then he was passed them both, heading for the others.

  Rane spun around and gave chase. He jumped over Myri, lying deathly still, and prayed to the Gods she wasn’t dead.

  Marcus slashed one of the wagon horses across the neck. Blood gushed as the animal collapsed, dragging the other one down with it. Douglas stumbled as the wagon tilted, throwing off his aim. His musket went off and the bullet struck the floor of the wagon. He didn't get a second chance. Marcus was up on the wagon in an instant and thrust his sword though Douglas’ heart, laughing all the while. Impaled, Douglas was lifted up off his feet by the force of the blow. Marcus threw him off the wagon with a flick of his wrist. He turned on William as the man tried to draw his pistol.

  Rane skirted around the dead and trapped horses, desperate to get to Marcus, afraid of what would happen when he did. The man had beaten him twice already. What hope was there that this time would be different? But he had to try.

  He jumped up, swinging Kibon, as Marcus brought his sword down on William. The man screamed, took a step back and fell off the side of the wagon just as the black blade came down.

  Marcus turned as Rane reached him, stabbing straight at Rane's heart, fast as lightning, and Rane only just managed to bat his blade away.

  Marcus's sword swung down, seeking to split Rane from shoulder to hip. He reacted on instinct, blocking where he thought Marcus' blade would be rather than by what he could see. Steel kissed steel again and again.

  As Marcus attacked again, Rane flipped back off the wagon, desperate for some breathing room. Marcus followed, giving Rane no time to catch his breath. Marcus slashed his blade from left to right and Rane dropped Kibon to block it just in time. The swords skidded along each other in a shower of sparks until guard locked with guard, the two men's faces all but touching. Marcus pushed down, grinning from ear to ear, forcing Rane to his knees. The black blade moved closer to his face. Death only an inch away.

  Rane managed to get a foot under him and used that to twist himself sideways, breaking free and sending Marcus clattering to one side. He was back on his feet in an instant, pressing his attack, forcing Rane back once more. He countered Marcus's thrust, swung a boot out in response, caught the demon’s elbow but the blow had little effect. Rane retreated, fighting for his life, using every bit of skill and knowledge built up over ten years of war, drawing on every ounce of power within Kibon.

  Marcus rushed at him, but he sidestepped the assault, and struck with Kibon, hacking at his friend's neck. Marcus ducked down under the blow and brought his own blade up in response. Rane threw himself back, feeling the slightest of nicks as the black blade caught his neck. His hand went to it, could feel the blood, warm and wet, but it wasn’t deep — he could still breathe. Thank the Gods.

  "Having fun, brother?" Marcus smiled. "How I've missed you."

  "The feeling's not mutual," replied Rane as he backed away, swallowing his fear. Marcus was so much faster and stronger than he was.

  There was a crack of pistol fire but only the Gods knew where the bullet went. It hurt neither man. Karn on the wagon wasting the one shot he had. Rane would've cursed the man if he wasn't so desperately trying to stay alive.

  Marcus laughed at the madness of it all and came at Rane again. Rane deflected the first lunge, parried the second but the third strike drew blood, slicing through cloth and flesh. He jerked back, dropping his guard and Marcus flicked his blade across Rane's face, cutting him from jaw to cheek.

  Rane chopped down at Marcus's knee, hoping at least to slow him down, but Marcus swept his sword away almost before Rane had begun the move. He followed through with an elbow strike at Marcus's face but hit nothing but air as Marcus danced away, almost giddy in delight, punching Rane in the face he moved. Rane rocked with the force of the blow but somehow he managed to stay on his feet.

  "Come on, Nathaniel. You can do better than this," chuckled Marcus. "I thought you were a great warrior. The best. Do you need a moment to catch your breath? Perhaps I should go and have a chat with the women and children while you work out what to do?"

  Rane hacked at Marcus with all the strength that he had left but again Marcus twisted around the blow and pummelled Rane with the hilt of his sword, sending him sprawling in the ash. As Rane pushed himself up onto all fours, Marcus kicked him in the stomach, cracking ribs, and flipping him onto his back. He gasped for air, trying to get his lungs to work as Marcus stood over him.

  “I can taste your fear, Nathaniel,” goaded Marcus. “Never took you for a coward. How could you be scared of me?”

  Rane swung his sword but Marcus simply stepped over it like a child with a skipping rope. He picked Rane up so they faced each other. "Don't make it too easy for me. Use your gift," he whispered. Rane spat blood and phlegm in Marcus's face in reply. Marcus smiled. "Still some fight left in you then. Good."

  Marcus threw Rane through the air. His smashed his head into the side of a wagon and his sword flew out of his hand. A surge of panic hit him. Everyone was going to die. He’d killed them all, leading them here. Blood dripped from the cuts across his face as he hauled himself onto his hands and knees. He had to find Kibon.

  He spotted it underneath the wagon and Rane crawled after it, every part of him screaming with pain. His fingers clawed lumps out of the dirt as he dragged himself closer. Someone somewhere was screaming but Rane ignored it. Kibon was all that mattered.

  He stretched out and his fingers brushed the hilt. Relief flooded through him as his fingers closed around Kibon once more. A pulse of magic deadened the pain and Rane pulled the sword closer, hugging it to his chest. Each breath brought stabbing pains from his cracked ribs but he was still alive.

  Though a half-closed eye, he spotted Myri still lying in the dirt. Was she dead? Please not another one lost. Rane slumped down. He had no energy left. No fight. He'd failed too many times. Marcus was too strong.

  It was over.

  "Nathaniel!" A woman screamed his name. Fia. Desperate. Scared.

  Only Rane could save her, save the others. Rane, beaten, broken and bloodied.

  He had to try.

  With one hand gripping Kibon, he hauled himself out from under the wagon. A wave of nausea hit him as he got to his feet, but he managed to blink away the black from his mind. Spat blood from his mouth.

  Marcus was playing with the others defending Fia's wagon. He could've killed them in an instant but Marcus wanted them frightened, needed them sacred. Marcus had Olivick dangling in the air with one hand while fencing with Regas with the other, cutting him here, nicking him there. Regas's body was a mass of cuts but none were fatal and to his credit, he was still fought on. Fia stood on her wagon with her body barring the door inside for when the men finally fell. Karn was still perched on the roof, watching helplessly.

  Rane stumbled forward and took Kibon in a two-handed grip. If he was quick, he might stand a chance while Marcus's attention was elsewhere. He raised Kibon over his head.

  But Marcus spotted him. He threw Olivick to one side, kicked Regas in the face, dropping him like a stone, reversed his sword before thrusting into Rane's gut.

  Rane almost didn't notice. So sharp, the sword simply slipped in without any pressure or resistance. A momentary burst of pain and then a cold sensation as it passed through Rane's stomach and then out of
his back.

  Rane looked down at the blade in disbelief but even the sight of the black blade piercing his body didn't seem to register. He coughed, spilling more blood down his chin and onto the floor. Kibon fell from his hand.

  Marcus had killed him.

  His old friend turned to face Rane, drawing as close as only a lover could be, his eyes wide with delight. And then Marcus twisted the blade.

  Rane screamed. The world disintegrated around him. He pulled his head back, trying to focus on Marcus's face. How could it have come to this? All for nothing.

  Blood seeped down his back, his life leaking away.

  No. Not like this. His hand fumbled for the pistol on his hip as he screamed once more. The darkness filled his vision. If he could just...

  "I'm sorry, Nathaniel," Marcus whispered. "But your death will make me mightier still."

  He pressed the pistol against Marcus's heart and pulled the trigger. He rocked with the blast as Marcus flew back, spraying him with blood.

  Rane fell to his knees, Marcus's sword jutting from his back.

  22

  The world lost all meaning as Rane knelt in the dirt and ash. Kibon lay next to him. He knew he should pick it up but his fingers didn’t work. Nothing did. He watched Marcus twitch on the ground a few yards away. The man wasn't dead, not yet. But Rane soon would be.

  Someone grabbed him — Karn — and dragged him backwards. His heels dug a groove in the dirt as he was pulled away from Marcus, away from Kibon. "My sword," he croaked. "Need... sword."

  "Just rest," said Karn, propping Rane up against a wagon wheel.

  Fia leaned over from the driver's seat. "Is he dead?"

  Rane didn't know if she meant him or Marcus but it didn't matter. Soon nothing would matter. He coughed blood down his chin. "Get my sword." The pain had gone from his gut but he could feel ice spreading through him from the wound.

  Karn nodded, mouth open, wide-eyed with fear. "Don't move."