Read Grim Company 02 - Sword Of The North Online
Authors: Luke Scull
Grim Company 02 - Sword Of The North
For Mum
He could hear them crashing through the trees behind him. He half-skidded down the slope, ruined boots finding little purchase on snow frozen solid. His feet were numb with cold, felt as dead as the lamb flopping wildly over his shoulder. Blood still leaked from the slit throat of the beast and soaked the filthy rags that covered his body.
There was a curse from one of the men chasing him, followed by an angry yell. He shifted the carcass on his shoulder and allowed himself a grin. He was losing them, even weighed down as he was. He reckoned a few had given up already. They were old men, most of them. Well past thirty.
He would get some distance on them and find somewhere to hide. Lie low for a bit and get a fire going. His stomach gave a mighty growl, a reminder that this winter had been desperate. Harsher than any he could remember.
He leaped a fallen tree, managing to keep his balance despite the thick patch of ice just beyond. Moments later he heard a thump and a fresh flurry of curses turned the air blue – he guessed one of his pursuers had blundered into the log and landed flat on his face.
He wondered what had become of Leaf and Red Ear – or Dead Ear, as he decided he would take to calling his hapless friend. Red Ear was supposed to be keeping watch while he and Leaf raided the farm. They were just done slaughtering the first lamb when someone raised the alarm. It turned out Red Ear was about as useless a sentry as he was a cook. How he’d survived in Skarn’s gang as long as he had was anyone’s guess.
The trees finally parted. He could see the river now. Once he was across the Icemelt’s surface the stubborn bastards would surely admit defeat. He ran on, rapid breaths throwing up clouds of mist – but approaching the bank he realized he had things all wrong. The Icemelt had yet to fully freeze over. Massive chunks of ice churned in the surging rapids, grinding together with enough force to crush a man to pulp. There wasn’t a chance in hell of swimming across that raging deluge.
Listening for the sounds of the chase, he swerved, intending to head downstream and circle back into the forest.
Two men emerged from the trees, blocking his path.
‘You’ve gone far enough, boy.’ The nearest of the pair was panting, but there was no mistaking the grim resolve in his voice. Nor the glitter of cold steel at his waist.
He didn’t waste time replying. Instead he dashed forward and drove his forehead into the speaker’s face. He heard bone crack, felt cartilage break beneath the force of the blow. He spun immediately, shrugged the lamb off his shoulder and raised it as a makeshift shield. The other man’s sword thrust wedged in the animal’s flank, and his assailant’s surprise lasted just long enough for him to get in three quick blows, dropping his opponent to the ground.
He retrieved the lamb and was tugging the sword free when someone barrelled into him from behind, knocking him down and sending both the sword and the abused carcass flying from his grasp.
He twisted around to grab the newcomer. This one was a real piece of work, as tall as he was and a good bit heavier. Though he’d always been unusually strong for his age he couldn’t get the bastard pinned down for a solid hit. He took a glancing blow to the mouth and spat out blood. The other man grabbed him in a headlock and forced him down. He pushed back desperately and narrowly avoided getting his skull dashed against a rock.
He lost all sense of time as he struggled with the big Easterman. A minute or an hour might have passed as they battered each other on the bank of the river, neither able to get the upper hand. Finally they broke apart and his opponent stepped back, breathing hard.
Slowly he became aware they were being watched and he turned. Half a dozen faces stared back. One he knew well, beneath the bruises that had turned his boyish features into a discoloured mess. Leaf.
One of the men held a long dagger at Leaf’s throat. Two others had arrows nocked and drawn. The meanest-looking shook his head and spat on the snow. ‘Where the rest of you hidin’?’
‘The rest of us?’ He knew whom the man referred to, or reckoned he did. And if that was the case, he was as good as dead.
‘Your gang. Been raiding the settlements near the Borderland for the last year. Left a family murdered in their beds, mother and children and all.’
The memory made him wince. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and examined the bloody smear it left. He glanced up. The sky had grown dark as an old bruise.
‘I’m waiting for an answer, boy.’
He narrowed his eyes and stared at the dead lamb lying skewered by the side of the river. ‘It wasn’t me what did that. Nor Leaf nor Red Ear.’
‘You gonna tell me the three of you split from the group when it started killing folk?’
‘It’s the truth.’
The leader of the Eastermen spat again. ‘We’ll do this the hard way then.’ He gestured at the man holding Leaf. ‘Drown him in the river. Slowly, mind. Give our friend here time to ponder whether there’s anything he should be telling us.’
Leaf began to struggle as he was dragged to the river. His friend was little more than a child in truth, and his efforts to wriggle free were hard to watch, but he didn’t turn away. Not even as Leaf’s head was forced under the churning water.
‘How old are you?’ the leader asked, once Leaf’s head was dragged back up again.
‘Sixteen,’ he replied. He could see Leaf’s teeth chattering uncontrollably. The wiry youngster was struggling to catch his breath and his skin had turned a nasty shade of blue.
‘Huh. Hardly more than a boy and yet you knocked two of my men senseless. Butchering that woman and her kids must’ve been easy work.’
He was growing angry now. ‘I told you we didn’t do it! All we ever did was steal some livestock. We left Skarn and the others before they reached Eastmeet.’
Leaf went into the water again. When he came back up his eyes had rolled back in their sockets. He wasn’t struggling any more.
The leader gestured at the limp figure. ‘He’s done. Finish him and throw the body in the river.’
Rage surged within him. He liked Leaf, who was smart and had a cheerful nature despite the fact he’d cut his uncle’s throat rather than spend another night in his bed. Leaf had watched out for him when he had joined Skarn’s gang; saved him from a bloody confrontation or two when his pride wouldn’t let him back down.
‘You drown him and I’ll kill you.’
The men with bows shifted slightly, their arrows nocked and ready to loose. Their leader gave an ugly little chuckle and nodded at the man holding Leaf. ‘Drown him.’
He charged.
The next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, staring up at the leaden sky. Snowflakes fluttered down to melt on his face. He reached for his knee and felt the arrow protruding there. A face loomed over him.
‘That was stupid. Brave, but stupid. Men!’
He felt himself being dragged across the snow towards the sound of rushing water. They turned him roughly and held him out over the river. He stared out across the Icemelt, watching as Leaf’s body twisted and spun like his namesake before it finally went under. Then someone took hold of his hair and his own head was pushed down, down towards that freezing maelstrom of ice…
‘Wait.’
His would-be executioners hesitated and his head came to a halt an inch above the water. He stared into its savage depths.
‘What’s your name?’ asked the voice. It was deep and powerful and sounded like it was directed at him. He turned his head a fraction and saw the speaker was the big bastard he had fought earlier.
‘What does it matter?’ The leader was clearly annoyed. ‘He’s a brigand. Kill him and be done with it.’
‘The boy’s got fire in him. Fire and steel. We could forge him into something with purpose. The spirits know we need fighting men at the Keep.’
‘He’s a cold-blooded killer. A child-murderer. Besides, he’s just taken an arrow in the knee. Few ever recover from a wound like that.’