I intercepted the Guard’s strike with my blade, holding it in place as his own weapon pushed back against mine. I flicked my wrist downward, parting the swords, and the sudden lack of resistance took him off balance, lurching him forward into the kick I sent into his stomach. He staggered back, wheezing, and I could smell the faint scent of onions on his breath as it was driven from him. I didn’t know what he hoped to achieve, attempting to use brute strength with a weapon of finesse, but I didn’t train him, so I wouldn’t be able to give you insight into his mindset, except that it was flawed.

  “STOP THIS AT ONCE!” Gertha shouted.

  Nimmond leapt in with a swipe aimed at my neck; he was going immediately for the kill. He wasn’t slowed by flowery flourishes or other such bullshit, just dogged, pragmatic devotion to his objective. I could respect that. I stepped backwards at a diagonal angle, enough to break the line of attack and redirect my own. I came at him with a telegraphed swipe from my own left side, forcing him to parry on his right. I stepped forward, levering my pommel upward, as if I were elbowing him in the chin. Instead, I brought my pommel back down between the hilt of his broad blade and the handle. I yanked my sword backwards so that the tip of the blade pointed at his throat, and his weapon went clattering against the stone behind me. I was pleased; it was a flawless execution of the Defanging, but I was already sweaty, and my legs were burning. So much wall work had robbed me of some of my agility. Peevan would have me on conditioning for weeks on end if he could have seen me now.

  Nimmond glared at me, breathing hard and fast. I was glad he looked more tired than I did. He looked me dead in the eye as he bared his throat. He awaited death with utter courage, and I was reminded of the one whose life I traded for the Black Wyvern upon my face. They had also faced their death well, not even crying out when I thrust my blade through their throat.

  “Tullen! Please. Stay your blade, it hasn’t gone too far yet.” Gertha pleaded.

  Death wouldn’t come for Captain Nimmond yet; however, the guard I’d kicked heroically jumped between me and Nimmond, striking at my blade to knock it out of the line toward Nimmond’s throat.

  I saw Gertha put a coin in her mouth.

  “SUBMIT OR DIE!” the hapless man cried as he lunged toward my chest.

  As I was forced back, I knocked his blade to the side with a beat attack, riposting straight toward his throat, but he was quicker than before this time, darting backwards and bringing his blade up to a guard position. I paused. It would not be beyond the realms of possibility for me to kill this man and Nimmond in the next few moments, perhaps a minute tops. But there was an unknown threat potential at play here, and given that I didn’t know the full scope of Gertha’s capabilities. I was wary of her potentially deciding that I was a threat that needed to be dealt with by whatever dark sorcery she had at her command. I was also sweating through my undertunic, the exertion of the Lindwyrm and now this two-on-one fight highlighting my lack of regular training. You might think me cowardly for thinking all of this, but the ancient bones of brave warriors from wartime litter the ground of the Free Forests. Besides, we were in unprotected territory here, and we no longer had safety in numbers. No matter how flimsy it had been to begin with.

  “If we keep making noise like this, we will draw the Lindwyrm or some other scaled bastard to us,” I said, holding a hand up to try and calm the two men.

  Gertha nodded slowly, watching me and the others as she ran her tongue across her front teeth.

  “Then you should submit to King Perek’s authority and face justice,” Nimmond said, retrieving his blade warily.

  “You and I both know that justice will be death, and that I only wielded a blade to help save your bloody lives.” I did well to contain my rage at this point. How on earth these men could have the gall to see things in such black and white, any String Guard who’d actually fought these things would know I did the right thing. These…posers didn’t have a clue; they were so rigid they were like a tree fighting the wind. Eventually, they would snap in two.

  Nimmond and the guard squared up, slowly dropping into ready stances. I kept my blade lowered but between me and them. For what it's worth, I wanted to avoid any fight if I could because there was less of a chance of me getting injured or worse. Again, that’s not cowardly; look at any of the apex predators like the Drake or the Fang Dragons. They’re wily and picky about their fights, and I’m convinced those beasts wouldn’t know fear if it bit them between the arse.

  “Listen to sense, I don’t have to be your enemy,” I cautioned.

  “The King wants you dealt with Tullen; he gets what he wants,” Nimmond replied. This time, he and the guard parted from each other and began to circle me. It was a better strategy, and it irked me; clearly, they’d had enough time for the red haze to fall from their eyes, and they could think clearly. That made them far more dangerous.

  “I made your friends' death quick out of mercy, yours will be quick because I need you out of my way,” I growled, raising my blade into a ready stance. Gertha locked eyes with me as she began murmuring to herself.

  “I tried it your way, Fizzmouth,” I said, shrugging with a faint smile.

  My opponents moved, springing toward me at the same time, Nimmond on my left, the guard on my right. I darted backwards diagonally to my own right side, feeling the spring of the grassy ground beneath my feet as I then side-stepped. Both of them had converged on the space I had occupied, but I had now positioned Nimmond on the other side of the guard. They turned to face me, Nimmond having to spend a precious second stepping around his partner, but I was faster.

  I launched myself into a darting lunge, moving again on the right side diagonal line, whirling my blade around in an arc toward the neck of the shocked-looking guard. I was in line with his elbow from about a meter away, which meant his parry would be at an awkward angle.

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  “No!” cried Nimmond, but it was too late.

  I delivered one of the fatal cuts, Rictus. My blade bit into the guard's flesh, opening the trademark crimson smile the cut was so famed for. Blood spurted out in an arterial spray, not unlike how Gedden had been wounded. The guard dropped his blade and clamped his hand to the side of his neck. Nimmond roared in rage as I whirled the blade and struck the guard's head from his shoulders, in the process severing his hands from his wrists as they held onto his bleeding wound. Although quick, it’s a disrespectful way to kill someone, but it was part of my strategy and therefore necessary. Peevan would have grunted his approval if he'd been there. The Captain flinched as his comrades' blood sprayed over his body and face, blinding him. He tried to wipe it from his eyes with his off hand as he stumbled backwards, flailing his blade in front of him to deter me from advancing directly.

  I simply circled him. I would stab him in the back of his neck, ending this pointless combat.

  “Dakh Mezhl FALLUH!” shouted Gertha as she pointed a finger toward Nimmond, then a thin bolt of light punched into his chest, and he jerked and grunted. As the bolt hit him, I heard the wailing of a baby and the overjoyed crooning of a mother echoing off the trees. The noise made me feel sick.

  Captain Nimmond’s eyes rolled back in his bloodstained head, and he crumpled to the floor, still gripping his sword. I noticed with interest that he was still breathing shallowly; whatever Gertha had done to him, he was still breathing. I walked toward him and placed the tip of my blade at his neck. He wasn’t in a position to defend himself, and it wasn’t really the done thing to kill an unconscious opponent, but he was a threat, and I wasn’t going to take him with me.

  “Tullen, there is no need to kill Nimmond now,” Gertha pleaded.

  “He’s marked me for death and is operating under the orders of the King. What am I supposed to do?” I held the blade there, determined to make my point, pun not intended.

  “Tullen, I’m indentured, like you are…do you see anyone around to keep us from taking our freedom?” she said, approaching me slowly. There was no click of coin against tooth accompanying her words, which meant she probably couldn’t do anything to me.

  “Only him,” I said sullenly.

  “He won’t be up for a few hours, more than enough time for us to get away.” She smiled, her firm eyes betraying a hint of softness. Was that pity?

  “Avandun is our home; its walls keep us safe,” I said, resolutely keeping my blade at Nimmond's neck.

  “You said yourself he is operating under the orders of King Perek, do you really think you’ll be safe back behind the walls of Avandun? The walls that were so mysteriously breached on your section?” Her voice took on a firmer tone, and I was reminded of some of the nuns and monks who had taught me my letters as a boy, the same letters I speak to you through now so much later in my life. She was right, my old life, no matter how shite it was, was gone now.

  “I’ve spent the better part of a decade being a pariah, Gertha. What am I supposed to do now? Wander and die in the bloody forests?” I looked down at the unconscious form of Nimmond, who breathed so peacefully, like a newborn babe. Killing him would remove a threat to be sure, but I’d already killed once dishonourably; I wasn’t sure I had it in me to do it again.

  “This is our chance to get free, make a life for ourselves, with your skills with a blade and my…abilities. We can get better than the lot we have now.” She smiled as she got closer to me, placing a soft, slightly wrinkled hand on mine, squeezing it tight. She cupped my face, and the tenderness of such a gesture took me aback.

  “Show mercy and the Godbody will show it in kind.” Oh, great, the Fizzmouth was a corpse worshipper.

  “I suppose you’re right, Cemfyllen would pay a pretty penny for insight into Avandun, and the Zellish clearly wanted the egg for something.”

  “Exactly, we have options," she smiled.

  “We could even look at the Free Nomads, maybe they’d take us,” I ventured.

  “Hmm, maybe,” Gertha replied, her face impassive.

  “Well, whatever we do, we need to take only essential supplies and put as much distance between us, Avandun, and this corpse-ground as possible.” I withdrew my blade from Nimmond’s neck, and Gertha let out a sigh as I did so.

  “Tullen…thank you. You won’t regret this,” she said. I gave her a thin smile while turning my back on her to begin preparing.

  “I bloody hope not”, I mumbled as I strode toward Gedden’s corpse and stripped him of his scabbard and weapon maintenance kit.

  Stowing my blade in the scabbard, I then retrieved my weapons from where they lay next to the cart. I strapped my quiver behind my scabbard and rested my bow stave on the hook hanging from it. My spear I would use as a walking aid, but it had a leather loop fixed upon it so I could rest it across my shoulders if I needed.

  I glanced around the clearing. Gertha was rifling through the pockets of each guard with practised ease, taking any coins or metal scraps like arrowheads she could find. She stowed them in a large leather pouch she kept strapped under her armpit. She saw me watching and merely nodded at me with a grin on her face. She was a little odd, I admit, but I wanted to know more about her. Besides, with magic like hers, I was better off keeping her onside.

  Finally, I was ready to retrieve my last item, the strange egg I had discovered, which I'd hidden behind the boulder. My heart sank; the egg wasn’t there. I frantically searched around the area for it. Had it been taken by a creature in the forest? I swore at myself. I should have run to safety with it.

  Then again, why should I have done? Why was I so protective of it?

  I lashed out in anger with the butt of my spear at the boulder, scraping the wood as I struck the rock, and I laughed in relief. Sitting exactly where I’d left it was the egg.

  “What are you pissing about with me for?” I asked the Mummer, as always, but I got no reply from the bastard.

  I smiled in relief and picked up the egg; it wasn’t squirming now, but it still felt pleasantly warm to touch. I held it close, stroking the shell with my thumb, enjoying the sensation of it on my skin. The egg vibrated slightly as I did it, reminding me of cats I’d held when I was younger.

  “Shall we make like a tree and leaf?” Gertha asked.

  “Get glinted, are you a Mummer follower as well?” I groaned.

  “Each of the Gods has their place in the world, just like us.” She smiled.

  “Let’s just get a move on, and away from where that bloody Lindwyrm went,” I said.

  “Well, the Lindwyrm went west. Let’s head deeper into the forest. Northeast will take us close to the western river from The Jut. We can then follow that north, far from Avandun’s reach.” It wasn’t a terrible plan, and I didn’t have one for now, so I was happy to go with the Fizzmouth’s recommendation.

  “Let’s get going then,” I said, striding toward the treeline as I continued stroking the egg.