Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,66

unfit slumber. He slowed his breathing, drawing on the inner peace all Gaimosians took into battle. His mind centered. He became focused.

“Horse tracks are everywhere. So where is he?”

“Fool that big can’t have disappeared.”

“Already killed too many of us for thinking the same. Shut your mouths and keep on your toes. He’s crafty, aye, but we got numbers.”

Boen’s eyes flew open. He marked the voice. The leader always stood out. All Boen had to do was link a face to the voice and remove the mercenary’s command structure. The others should buckle under his assault. Torchlight broke through the trees, bathing his hiding space with red-orange light. Six figures followed, weapons drawn and ready. Boen burst from cover without waiting for them to get situated.

The mercenaries jerked back with a start. Boen roared an angry sound like a wounded beast. For the mercenaries, it was a warrior bent on murder. His sword plunged a foot deep into the first mercenary’s belly. Blood fountained out of his back as he fell screaming. Ripping the blade free, Boen spun in a full circle while lowering his center of gravity. His backhanded sweep took a second man above the knee. The severed limb flopped away before the rest of the body dropped beside it.

Boen moved quickly and stomped his heavy boot down on his victim’s exposed throat. The mercenary died with a loud crunch and soft gurgle. His last move gave the others enough time to recover and they fanned out in a rough semicircle. Their swords were lowered and pointed at him menacingly. Boen found it amusing and hardly the threatening gesture it was meant to be. They almost seemed to be toying with him.

“Got you cornered this time, you bastard,” the leader sneered.

Boen offered his most ferocious grin. “Have you?”

“Kill him already. Bastard’s already done too many of us.”

“Best listen to him. I aim to kill you too,” Boen taunted, hoping to force a rash decision.

Four against one wasn’t bad odds, but Boen wasn’t at his top condition. Tired, hungry, and ready to go south, he needed to find any advantage possible. Mercenaries weren’t known for their valor or intelligence. Every so often a rare one took up arms and led his peers. Boen wasn’t counting on the slender, foul-looking one calling the shots to be among the best. He pressed harder.

“Come on, scum. That steel’s doing nothing but getting cold.” He spit at the leader.

It worked. The mercenary captain lunged without thinking. Boen ducked back, raising his sword to block a savage swing. Steel clashed, sending sparks down to the ground. Boen grit his teeth as he absorbed the force of impact. Stronger than the Gaimosian anticipated, the mercenary tried to shove him back. Boen dug in his heels and shoved back.

They stood locked like that for tense seconds. Sweat beaded on their brows. Muscles strained. Boen gradually won. He outweighed the mercenary by a good thirty pounds and was several inches taller. It took longer than he figured but the mercenary was cast back. Boen charged in to finish him off. He slashed with a pair of jabs, taking the enemy off guard. Once he spotted his opening, Boen ripped his sword up diagonally. The tip of his sword caught the mercenary at the base of his throat, tearing out much of his neck and partially decapitating him. Hot blood melted snow. One of the mercenaries doubled over and retched.

Boen continued with a series of well-rehearsed attack moves on the nearest mercenary. Striking from high, the Gaimosian drove down with powerful blows. The strength of his assault forced the surviving enemy back. One tripped over a half-buried root and tried to roll away before he got trampled. Boen leapt over the fallen man and plunged his sword into the soft belly below the mercenary’s armor.

Hands reached up to grab his ankle before he could jerk his sword free from the dying mercenary. Boen became off balance and fell. Weaponless, he kicked back and was rewarded with a muffled cry. He felt bone crunch under his boot heel. Both legs freed, Boen pulled himself up and fell on the prone mercenary. He rained down blow after blow on the already ruined face the mercenary was so desperately trying to protect. His defense was nothing compared to the inherent savagery of a Vengeance Knight. Boen didn’t stop striking until the mercenary was long dead.

Chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, Boen slowly climbed off of the corpse. He couldn’t