Chapter B3C40 - Earning a Living

Chapter B3C40 - Earning a Living

Trenan braced his shield tight against his flank as he drew back his hammer. Unheeding the danger, the rift-kin, a ‘frost-ghoul’ as the slayers had taken to calling them, lunged forward, claws and teeth of ice coming for him. At the last moment, he stepped in, stuffing the attack with his shield and knocking the monster off balance.

The claws scratched at him, but without weight and power behind them, all they could do was scratch his armour. As soon as space opened up, he tightened his grip on the hammer and swung it upward, controlling the motion and rotating his body, bringing the weapon up vertically to smash into the kin’s jaw.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

Formed of ice, the head exploded, which forced Trenan to lower his head. The last thing he wanted was shards of ice in his eyes. Someone had already met that fate after enthusiastically smashing a frost ghoul while leaning too far forward. Thankfully, the rim of his helmet protected him from that terrible fate and he kicked the now limp body of the creature away as he turned to assess the field.

“How are we looking, team?” he called.

“Miserable.”

“Cold.”

“My ass hurts.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered before he hardened his tone. “We are in the field, you slack-jawed dickheads. I swear if one of you gets killed mouthing off in the broken lands, not only will I paint ‘I told you so’ on your casket, I will piss and shit on the grave.”

“All right, Trenan, stop swinging your dick around. We get it,” Brigette said wearily. “We are clear of kin as far as I can tell.”

“Clear over here as well, Trenan,” Arthur said.

“I swear my cheeks are about to freeze off. Also clear,” Chol called.

The Hammerman sighed and allowed himself a brief moment to indulge in self pity. Believing promises made upon graduating the academies was a foolish act, and now he’d come to regret it. They’d be professional, they’d said. One hundred percent serious on the job, they’d promised. Absolute horse shit.

“We aren’t far from the rift here, so stay alert,” he warned them. “Only the gods know what might come through at any given moment, so be ready to run.”

Brigette rolled her eyes, then held her hands up when he turned to glare at her.

“I get it,” she said, “it's just, we haven’t seen anything except boars and frost ghouls come through for weeks. It’s hard to maintain the tension.”

With her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid and the freckles on her face, one could almost picture Brigette as a smiling village girl, if you managed to overlook the two-handed bastard sword slung across her back and the broad shoulders and thick arms she sported. Talented, no doubt, but too lax.

“Brigette, we are less than a month into our careers as slayers, and already, you can’t maintain the tension? How eager are you to die?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she waved him off, still grinning.

Never team up with your friends, he lamented to himself, not for the hundredth time. It never works out well.

“Sixty percent of slayer teams lose a member before they reach silver rank. I do not want to be a part of that statistic,” he said flatly.

“We know,” Chol said as she walked up to stand beside him. “And that’s why we wanted to join your team in the first place.”

“You want to be on this team? Fuck, could’ve fooled me,” he grumbled.

The dark skinned woman grinned, flashing her flawless teeth at him. “I know myself. Without someone like you kicking my poor, frozen backside, I wouldn’t last, and neither would my Arthur.”

“We aren’t married yet, Chol. I don’t know if you need to say my Arthur.”

He heard the skeleton coming, its bones clacking against the rock as it raced up behind him. When he was certain he wouldn’t be able to outpace it, the Hammerman firmed his grip, braced his shield and turned, trying to sense his opponent through the fog.

“Arthur? Chol? Light!” he snapped.

His footing was sure, his posture correct, as good a place to fight as any.

“I can’t find Arthur!” Chol called back, panic in her voice.

“Try to focus and give us some light, dammit!” Trenan barked back.

A second later, a dull glow sputtered into existence, suppressed by the dark cloud. From the gloom, a skeleton rushed forward and he barely raised his shield in time before the sword of bone struck down. The blow held surprising power, but the Hammerman was skilled with his shield, and much stronger. He slanted the face, allowing the sword to slide off it, and prepared to swing his hammer before the undead could recover, but another one was already there. Another wide swing, caught on the shield, then another, keeping him on the defensive.

“Brigette? Where the hell are you?!”

He hadn’t heard from the swordswoman and that worried him. She was usually the loudest in a fight, whooping and hollering as she swung her weapon with deadly grace.

“She’s indisposed,” came an unexpected reply. A human’s voice, a man. Who?

In a blink, the burning fog rushed to the ground and began to dissipate, leaving Trenan blinking and uncertain. He brandished his shield and hammer as he tried to take in the situation, eyes darting wildly.

He was surrounded. There were dozens and dozens of skeletons now, with more coming down the mountain. There must have been hundreds of them.

There was also a man. Young, not much older than Trenan and his team, light build, dark hair and burning eyes. There were at least ten skeletons between the two of them. Should he try it?

“I wouldn’t bother,” that voice was so cold. “You wouldn’t reach me. Besides, it would be a shame to break up such a new team.”

Brigette and Arthur, both motionless, eyes staring, were carried forward by a group of skeletons each before being stood on either side of this strange mage.

“What have you done to them?” Trenan growled, trying to suppress his rising fear.

“Temporarily dominated their minds,” came the matter of fact reply. Those eyes still stared at Trenan, as if trying to bore a hole through him. “Now put down your weapons. You and the mage.”

Chol allowed her staff to drop from her hands, her gaze locked onto Arthur. Trenan was reluctant, but lowered himself to place his shield and hammer nearby on the ground. He rose, his hands in the air.

“What you’re doing is illegal,” he tried to keep his voice steady, and almost succeeded. “You cannot interfere with slayers in the performance of their duty.”

The man gave him an incredulous look and Trenan realised how ridiculous he sounded. This mage was clearly beyond caring what was legal and illegal, pointing it out was useless.

“I will tell you what is going to happen. I will take the weapons from the four of you, then we will travel to Cragwhistle together. You will be held outside of the town while I contact a few people inside, then I will release you to them. Understood?”

Trenan was shocked.

“You’re going to let us go?” he said.

Chol looked hopeful, latching onto the chance she might get her partner back.

“Of course. There’s a rebellion on, after all. Young slayers like yourselves might just prove yourselves to be useful. Now let’s go.”