Frays In The Weave 27 Sacrifice: 5

Kalvar bowed stiffly. "I'll escort the caravan. Six or none, not much of a difference maybe."

He held an aura of solidity that belied his size. Oath breaker by birth but none by deed, and Gring held her silence, waiting for him to find words. Halfmen needed to explain their decisions, as if the act of speaking carried more weight than what they spoke about.

"Colonel Laiden gave me an order." He scratched his head. "I hope the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds find nothing but dragon packs out there. I wish I could bring them to justice, but my mission is to see these fat pigs return home safely." He drew back his shoulders and breathed hard. When he let air out again Gring felt the difference.

So, he's found his resolve.

"I'll escort them. All the way to Ri Nachi. I'll see those merchants responsible tried and executed, and then I'll report back to Verd."

"Why should they listen to you?" Six against a kingdom. He presumes a lot.

"They will. I just realized." A flicker of steely joy flashed over his face. "The caravan started in Verd. The murderers, all of them," he shot the pa.s.sing wagons an almost longing glare, "have put a mission of great economic value to Keen in danger."

More coins. Always the bits of s.h.i.+ning metal.

"I don't care much for fattening greedy pigs, but I can use this. As the saying goes: steel in De Vhatic gold."

Gring had never heard the expression before, but she guessed. Even humans knew halfmen prized the coins from Verd over all others. They never lost shape from age, couldn't be sc.r.a.ped and if violently cut, immediately lost shape and became uneven discs of metal, just like most coins made elsewhere. She was unclear why this made halfmen want them more than any other coins.

"We don't fight for gold, but we'll bring war to those who would threaten what makes gold grow." Kalvar growled. "They'll hang their own or we'll tie them a noose of sabres"

She had guessed wrong. The stench of fear ran along her own spine. She had also been right. Trindai was a very dangerous man, they all were.

"Good hunt, ma'am. Lord Karia, do what is right for you." Kalvar clasped arms with the lordling from Braka. Then he mounted his horse and rode to join his pitiful command.

She watched Kalvar ride with his remaining men along the caravan. Six of them. He's brave for a halfman. With an honour of his own.

"Halfman, you should go." Gring looked down at Karia. He had fought bravely in the stone tomb his kind of halfmen called home. She wished him no ill.

He stared back. "We follow you."

"Stupid oath breaker! Where I go no halfman can follow." She only smelled a cold, calculated fury.

"We follow. I was her sworn man. These are my sworn men."

"You know nothing of the plains."

Halfmen boasted about eyes of steel, or smiles of iron. Karia had none. In his eyes a slow fire flared, like ice burning. It was nothing like steel. "Then we learn, but we follow. When our horses die we walk, but we follow. When our legs fail we crawl, but we follow. When you kill us we die, but we follow. We were her sworn men."

Gring gasped. "Karia Graig. I will call you oath breaker no more, halfman no more. You are Karia a warrior and you have my honour. Follow!"

And so they did. Each night they killed, each day they stalked. They slew men eating and men sleeping. They cut sentries from behind. They stabbed those who begged for mercy and the injured alike. They tracked two legged prey on the plains, counting each one they killed.

Sworn men no longer. Soldiers no longer. Warriors no longer. Killers only, hunting in the dark.