Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 72

"Prepared well I hope?" said Farren as she came up to greet him. She'd donned her armour and spiked helm, but no weapon.

"As ready as I'll ever be," said Xenro calmly, preferring not to sully this beginning by voicing his concerns yet. "You are not armed?"

She drew her cloak about herself and sighed, breath steaming into the air. "Lost my axe far back in the woods of Kinallen. There're extras in the backs of the wagons--I know, but the one I had was a dear."

"And you'll get your dear back." A tall shadow fell over them. Sergeant Wolturs had come up from behind, hands folded behind her back. "Come."

Curious, they followed her to where stood the cart with the mysterious big box. Up close, it was about ten paces in length and four in width. Thick metal chains and a heavy padlock secured the lid.

But the sergeant made no move to open it, as they'd hoped. Instead, Klo reached into the back of the cart and brought out a huge, two-handed battle axe--and handed it to Farren.

She ran her hand fondly along the blade of shimmering steel and the spear-like top, sharpened upon whetstones recently, its handle wrapped in shiny new leather.

"By. The. Gods." She gaped. "You found it? But how? The woods are huge!"

"That they are." Klo gave a half smile. "We still found Alastair, didn't we? And the good thing about axes is that they don't have troublesome little legs to walk around. Usually."

"And you sharpened it too!" said Farren, pressing her fingers rather dangerously upon the edge of the blade, so much that Xenro actually had to step forward to swat her hand away. "Gods, how will I ever repay you?" she asked.

"Oh, that you will in due time," said Klo with a mysterious smile. "In this mission, I'll make you all work hard."

"Is the exact details of this mission as secret as the content of this box, Sergeant?" asked Xenro.

She gave him a nod, then noted his insignia still left on his cloak. "All in good time, captain."

They watched the cart go up the steps to the palace gate, wheels sliding across a wooden ramp, and vanish from sight within the palace. More soldiers from Brittlerock had come to lend a hand, as the princess preferred to involve the Royal Guard little.

When they came upon the city gates, Byton slept, a slumbering giant beneath a blanket of fog. The townsfolk turned in their beds, some lavish and some a bare pile of hay, stirred in sleep, in pleasant dreams or nightmares, all but unaware of the fifty odd soldiers and mercenaries marching away, so that the walls surrounding them could remain standing.

Quiet lay the streets, deserted lay the market square, the trampled flowers and smouldering embers only reminders of the festivities of the previous night. Come the eve the lights would glow again, and songs would be sung, but they would be a long way away by then. Soft silence lingered like dewdrops on a grass blade.

A dark haired woman clad in worn clothes watched them with mild interest from where she sat on the steps before the guard-house, her braided hair tossed over one shoulder. The company passed by the commoner, hardly taking any notice.

Leaving the city behind him, Xenro walked out of the gates, and turned his back on Byton. A white maned dun horse awaited him where the mercenaries were gathered. The gentle beast snorted as he patted down its soft mane and led it by the reins.

Here they said their last goodbyes. A few soldiers from Brittlerock, and a recruit named Helmer tailed them up to the stone bridge over Lockefell river, Linder in their lead on his black stallion.