blade lighter through the air, and biting deep into the man's arm.
The man howled and dropped his sword as Vesna dragged the spitted youth in an arc to block the rest, kicking the wounded man to drive him back into a comrade.
Kill and move, yelled the voice in his head, and Vesna obeyed.
Pushing off one foot he darted out of the way of two blows, then ran forward into two hasty cuts which he caught on dagger and sword. Swerving left he stepped around one and slashed down the man's ribs. He ignored the man's screams and continued moving, kill and move, barely getting his sword up in time to deflect a falling axe before taking the opportunity to hammer his pommel into the next man's face.
Blood squirted down his cheek but Vesna ignored it as he kept up the momentum and pushed past the broken-nosed novice to slash at the next man's legs. The man hopped back and collided with another mercenary as Vesna rashly followed it up. A sword-tip scraped over his cuirass as the man rode the impact and lunged forward himself.
Vesna felt the sword nick his arm but his training saved him as he pulled his dagger back to his chest and twisted left to pin the sword. Pushing off his left foot he cut up into the man's armpit and tore his chest open. Kill and move.
The pinned sword was released as the novice fell so Vesna used the guard of his dagger to flick it at the nearest novice. As that one batted the flying weapon into the ground Vesna turned, aware there were men behind. His fencer's instincts saved him again as a sword flashed forward and a line of fire cut through his ear and scraped his skull; he stepped forward past his enemy's hilt and drove his dagger into the man's side.
Moving like a dancer now, Vesna swung his sword underneath his extended left arm, pivoted and slashed up at the next novice to reach him. Steel rang on steel as the man parried, but Vesna didn't wait to trade blows, instead using his impaled enemy as a shield. In his haste to wound the hero, the mercenary followed and was caught by a comrade's mace. As he cried out, the comrade hesitated. Vesna didn't. Kill and move.
The novice fell in a heap with the injured man as a roar came from somewhere behind Vesna and he turned, caught a sword stroke on his cuirass and again stepped closer to slash at the man's hand with his dagger. Instead, he caught the sword blade, but he smashed down onto it with the dagger's guard and knocked it from his attacker's grip, then stabbed the unarmed man in the belly.
Now, as men closed in on both sides, he retreated a couple of steps to some clear ground behind where he could see all of his attackers. One man he'd driven back tried to catch him off-guard, delivering a high cut as he attempted to kick Vesna off-balance. Rotating sideways, Vesna caught the cut and stabbed his dagger into the man's knee in a single movement. A quick twist freed the narrow blade and he took another pace back, drawing in an enormous gasp of air as,;he at last remembered to breathe. The crippled man toppled over, howling in pain.
Two more advanced towards him: the leader of the group and a tall man brandishing an axe. Behind them, the man with the broken nose was shaking blood from his face, but he still carried his sword. One more was struggling up from underneath the corpse of his comrade.
Time to show off, Vesna thought, sucking in as much air as he could manage. He tossed his dagger up in the air, transferring his broadsword from right hand to left while the dagger spun through the night. Instinctively the men watched it looping lazily up. This was a duellist's trick, one that relied on sleight of hand as much as skill to succeed. Vesna swept a low cut through the air between them and the pair instinctively hesitated and lowered their weapons to follow.
Vesna grinned as he felt the dagger slap down into his right palm and he hurled it at the taller man's unguarded chest. Without arms or axe to avoid, it was an easy throw; it caught him straight in the heart. To his credit the leader didn't turn as his man gasped and staggered, but it made little difference now that he was alone. Bringing his hands together, Vesna traded two blows before nicking the man's forearm. The injury only put the leader off balance, but the next cut neatly opened his throat.
Vesna dislodged his sword with a grunt of effort and assessed the remaining enemies. Kill and move. The choice was easy as the man whose nose he'd broken ran forward, yelling his fury. Vesna turned the blade aside and checked him with his shoulder, almost knocking the man off his feet. The novice staggered back a step, his eyes widening with horror as Vesna's sword ripped across his gut then hacked into his neck.
Five men left, all injured. The one he'd speared first lay where he'd fallen, unmoving, so Vesna discounted him. Another had fallen to his knees, hands over his belly, and was making some sort of a mewling sound. Vesna dismissed him too; no one carried on after a sword to the gut. Of the last three, one had a ruined knee, and two were standing, weapons ready, but both favouring one arm. The younger looked far from confident about using his left hand so Vesna made it easy for him. He ran forward and cut down the other two with ease before stepping clear once more.
'You,' he roared, pointing at the last novice left standing, 'drop that now and you'll live.'
The man looked at his kneeling comrade and saw he was effectively alone. He let the weapon fall to the floor and raised his hands in surrender. In the blink of an eye the shadows behind the man boiled with activity and a figure stepped forward from the darkness. A weapon flashed, once, twice, and the two remaining novices fell, headless.
Vesna gave a cry of surprise and stumbled backwards, his sword already raised, but the newcomer only laughed, while his black robes whipped all around him like living shadows.
'Apologies, but there could be no witnesses.'
'What is going on?' the count demanded. 'Who are you?'
The figure stopped and sheathed his black-bladed sword with a flourish. Vesna focused, and found himself face to face with a hairless young man a little taller than he was. He had a tattoo of bloody teardrops falling from his right eye.
Oh Gods, that's no tattoo…
Vesna dropped to one knee, his limbs shaking from the exertion of the fight, but still obeying him. 'Lord Karkarn.'
The God of War surveyed the slaughter surrounding Vesna with an expression of professional satisfaction. 'You fought well. I am impressed.'
'Thank you, my Lord.' Vesna coughed, watching the blood tears fall in horrified fascination. He knew there would be fifteen, one for each of the slain. Piss and daemons, please let there be only fifteen.
'Ah, how did you know, my Lord, that they were going to ambush me here?'
'I arranged it, of course,' Karkarn snapped, his face shimmering in a brief moment of anger, almost as though underneath this face was another that had briefly asserted itself, the Berserker Aspect of the War God. Vesna remembered the six temples in the heart of Scree whose Gods had been worst affected by the chaos there. Karkarn was one of them.
Merciful Gods, don't let the Berserker out, he prayed silently. I won't survive that.
'Have I offended you, my Lord?' Vesna bowed his head as he spoke, not daring to see the reaction to his words.
'Not at all – you've pleased me. But I had to test your abilities. I was right to think that one group wouldn't be enough, too,' Karkarn said dispassionately. 'A good thing I brought those two together, I think.'
'Ah, my Lord, you're testing me?'
'Stand up, Count Vesna,' Karkarn commanded, his voice suddenly booming, resonating with the weight of centuries.
Shakily, the count did as he was ordered.
'The heresy of Scree has nicked me – no great a wound, but one I cannot ignore, and one that festers in the blood of my priests. It fell to me to defend the Gods at the Last Battle, to lead the charge that broke the enemy, and that cost me dearly. I do not intend to allow such a thing to happen ever again.' There was a growl of barely restrained fury as he spoke.
Vesna nodded hurriedly to show he understood.
'Good. It is clear there are forces at work that go unnoticed by divine eyes. I need a mortal agent to protect the interests of the Gods/
Karkarn stepped forward and looked hard into Vesna's eyes. The God had iris-less eyes the colour of steel. As he breathed, Vesna recognised the foetid stench of the battlefield.
'I- I don't understand what you are asking of me. I'm no Chosen, Lord, I'm no white-eye.'
