quietly pleased. He’d always respected the erstwhile admiral of Dorminia’s navy, who was loyal and forthright if somewhat uptight. Kramer would need all of his experience to handle a crew comprised mainly of convicted criminals, especially out on the Swell. The corpse of the god Malantis corrupted the waters of that dreaded stretch of the Broken Sea. Mining the region for magic was so fraught with peril that it had never been seriously attempted in the past. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures. Barandas supposed anything was better than dying in a gibbet.
He turned to the three men he had chosen to accompany him on this bloody assignment. In truth, there wasn’t a great deal of choice in the matter. Most of his Augmentors were still recovering from the siphoning. Goodlady Cyreena was a notable exception, but her skills did not lend themselves to the nature of the black work the four of them were about to undertake. He cleared his throat.
‘You know why we’re here. One of the most powerful merchants in the city has been secretly funding a terrorist group for the last decade or more. It is time they faced justice.’
He stared at the dilapidated old temple across the way. Whoever this rebel leader was, he had succeeded in evading discovery for longer than most. He had to admire the cunning of the man, to have chosen a base so conspicuous and yet so widely shunned that few ever gave it a second thought.
‘Our informant told us to expect a dozen rebels.’ Barandas paused for a moment. It was unpleasant, but it couldn’t be helped. ‘We are to execute them all. Including the girl.’
‘There’s a girl? Huh. First we get to kill. Then I get to fuck.’
Although they were standing in the morning sun, the looming presence of Garmond the Black seemed to sap the very colour from the world. Fully seven feet tall and as wide as two normal men, the huge Augmentor wore a suit of enchanted plate armour that devoured nearby light. As a result, he resembled a gigantic shadow. The horned helmet that enclosed his entire head only added to his nightmarish appearance.
Garmond carried no weapon – his reinforced iron gauntlets and terrifying strength were enough to shatter a man’s spine or collapse a skull with a single punch. Behind his enchanted armour the huge Augmentor was near invincible.
Legwynd, on the other hand, wore very little protection save for a leather vest. His belt bristled with daggers of all shapes and sizes, and his boots glowed with the faint blue that signified magic. ‘I’m ready,’ he said. As if to prove it, his legs suddenly began vibrating in a blur too fast for the eyes to follow.
‘Enough,’ ordered Barandas. ‘You’re going to draw attention to us.’
‘So?’ demanded Thurbal. He was a burly middle-aged man with close-cropped grey hair and chainmail. His sword hand fell to the pommel of the terrible weapon at his belt. ‘We’re Augmentors. It does these peasants good to fear us.’
‘I said enough.’ Barandas dropped a hand to his own weapon.
Thurbal might be a bastard and a killer and a murderer rivalled only by Garmond the Black, but he knew better than to challenge the Supreme Augmentor. ‘As you say, Commandant,’ he conceded.
Barandas relaxed and drew a deep breath. ‘There’s our target,’ he said, nodding at the ruined temple of the Mother. ‘Ready yourselves. They won’t be expecting us, but if any manage to get away… Legwynd, you know what to do.’
The wiry Augmentor flashed an almost beatific smile and licked his lips. Barandas shook his head and sighed.
Time to get this over with.
There was no response to their careful knocking at the door, so Garmond put his shoulder to it and literally tore it from its hinges. The massive warrior stumbled up into the sanctum of the old temple, holding the door out before him as a shield. Crossbow quarrels thudded into the wood and bounced off his armour, but not one of them managed to find flesh. With a roar, Garmond hurled the door across the room into a small group of the rebels, sending them scattering in all directions.
One of the men, calmer than the rest, took aim, his weapon locked on Barandas’s head. There was a blur, and suddenly the man was staring down in confusion at the dagger buried in his neck. His crossbow bounced off the floor and he sank to his knees, blood welling up around his fingers as he clutched at