Mythica, book 2, Chapter 3.

Chapter 3.

From what Orren had told her about the city, Shamrahar was independent from any of the other, larger kingdoms and empires. To protect its neutrality, the guard of Shamrahar had to function as both police force and military. The attack that had been going on earlier was over, and the council forces were pulling back to the camp for the night. They looked exhausted and didn’t have the spirit that a victorious army would normally possess. These were men and women who were just going through the motions, putting in the minimum effort needed to please their masters.

The camp itself didn’t impress her. It was set up roughly like a military encampment should be, but it had a slapdash look to it. Latrines were too close to the camp, and the small stream that provided fresh water was too far away. The tents were wildly different, with some being ornate things a nobleman would have, and others were just strips of canvas held up by a stick. The difference between the haves and the have nots in this city was very evident.

“You’re a bit young to be put in charge of this lot, but I’ll not question Councilor Emmet’s commands,” the watch officer in charge of the stockade told Sabine.

“Thank you, what’s your name?” Sabine asked the watch officer.

“Hamilcar, and I’ve drawn the short straw and have to oversee this dump. I suppose there are worse duties than manning the stockade, I could be out there on the front lines,” Hamilcar told her.

“How long has this been going on?” Sabine asked. If Hamilcar was feeling talky, she was more than glad to speak with him and get as much intel about the situation as possible.

“About a month now. That bastard Kazla decided to make his play to take over the whole city. Councilor Emmet and a few others made it out, but Kazla killed off over half of the council. Most of the guard sided with the council, but Kazla had used the city funds to hire several mercenary bands to support him,” Hamilcar said.

“How are things now, are we outnumbered?” Sabine asked, digging further.

“Nah, I think we outnumber them by at least two to one. Their mercenaries are a tough bunch, though, and when they initially pushed us out of the city, they secured some formidable defenses. What’s left of the city treasury escaped with the councilors, so I hear, and they’ve been spending it like drunk sailors to hire every sellsword in the area.”

“How many troops do we have?” Sabine asked.

“I’d say there’s about six hundred or so guardsmen left in fighting shape. Another fifty or so are in the healer’s tents, but most of those won’t be back in the fight anytime soon. There’re just over three hundred mercenaries from various groups running around, and other than the fifty knights of the council guard, that’s about it,” Hamilcar told her.

“So, what’s the deal with these mercs?” Sabine asked, pointing toward the stockade. “What exactly am I going to be dealing with?”

“These are the remnants of a few bands that were first hired on. The council used them up as fodder and now they’re refusing to honor their contract and fight. I’ve got to admit, they got a raw deal. The council, and Councilor Emmet especially, aren’t real big on letting people out of their contract. They either have to get back into the fight, or get the headsman’s axe,” Hamilcar advised.

“How did that happen? I don’t know of any reputable mercenary groups that would sign a contract without a casualty clause. Usually, you get to 30% or so losses and you can call it quits without any penalty. If word of this gets out, the city will never be able to hire a mercenary again,” Sabine said with disgust.

“Ha, that’s the problem for this crew, their officers were greedy and took an extra sign on bonus to wave the normal restrictions.”

“Idiots, and I take it the officers are all among the dead?” Sabine asked.

“Aye, though I suspect more than a few met their end on their own employee’s blades. Now the remnants of those shattered groups are all rotting in the stockade and the council had to pull my squad of twenty guardsmen out of the fight to keep watch on ‘em,” Hamilcar said.

“How many are in here?” Sabine asked. The stockade had been slapped together with some old fencing that someone had pilfered from a nearby farm. Sabine could see glimpses of people through the gaps in the fencing but couldn’t get an accurate count. The layout was small enough that they couldn’t have packed more than twenty or thirty in there at the most unless they were stacked on top of each other.

“You get your pick of seventeen of the poor fools. Though I figure about half will try and kill you and run the first chance they get,” Hamilcar warned.

“Others have tried, and I’m still here. Let me see if I can get them motivated and back in the fight. I don’t suppose you’d cry too hard if I have to kill one or two to get things rolling?” Sabine asked.

“Each one you kill is one less for the headsman’s axe, and one less for me to worry about, so have at it. Just give us a holler before you kill anyone. I’m sure the boys would love to watch. These haven’t exactly been model prisoners and we’re all a bit fed up with them,” Hamilcar said.

Sabine nodded and headed toward the stockade door where a pair of guards unchained the entrance and let Sabine in. Skrix trailed right behind her, hands on the pommels of the daggers on his belt. Sabine was willing to bet that Skrix had another dagger held tightly by his tail and hidden under his cloak. The little verminkin was deadly, and any of the mercenaries that wanted to cause trouble would likely find themselves bleeding out on the frozen ground before they knew what hit them.

The group in front of her was a mess. They had been stripped of any armor, weapons, or anything that would tell what mercenary band they had belonged to. It didn’t really matter, since all her knowledge of the various bands was about twenty years out of date. Sabine and Skrix were met with silence and hostile glances as they entered the stockade. When the guards closed the gate behind her, some of the prisoners began to stand and approach the pair.

“Look boys, they brought us some toys to play with. Come over here beautiful, let’s have some fun,” one of the mercs, a slimy looking fellow with a bloody bandage over his thigh, said as he stood and approached. Sabine warned him to stay back, but the man only increased his pace and laughed at her command.

Pulling Reckoning from her belt, Sabine pushed mana into the weapon, increasing its range. This wretch would serve well enough as an example. As she struck, the chain on the flail extended and the skull-shaped, spiked head of the weapon hammered into her target’s face. A sickening crunching sound was heard, followed by an equally unpleasant wet squelch as Sabine reeled the weapon back in. The mercs sat there in silence and kept switching their gaze from Sabine to the bloody corpse of her victim.

“I was told that there were seventeen of you for me to command, now I’m down to sixteen because that moron,” Sabine pointed toward the corpse. “He figured I was just some weak woman for him to mess with,” Sabine said. She could feel the pull of her undead nature, urging her to take more lives, numbing any feelings that she might have had over the incident. She fought its pull, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Who are you?” One of the prisoners, a younger man with a patch over his eye asked.

“My name is Sabine Giroux, and I’m your new commander. I may look young, but I’ve led mercenary companies in the past and I have more combat experience than any man here. You may not like it, but you signed on for the duration of the conflict. The fools that agreed to those terms are dead, but you’re still bound by that contract. Fight alongside me and you’ll have a chance to live. I’ll even see that you are paid any wages you’re owed after the battle’s over,” Sabine offered.

“I doubt you’ve ever seen a battlefield in your life. You took out Kranston easy enough, but that’s because you got some fancy weapon. It’s easy to boss people around when you’re the only one armed,” another prisoner complained. He was a huge man with a beard that would put a dwarf to shame. Sabine recognized the barely controlled fury in his eye, it was the same look she would get when she mouthed off against her superiors.

“You think so? I see we’re going to have to do this the hard way.” Sabine said, thinking for a minute. It was going to take a larger show of force to get through to this group, but she really didn’t want to see any more of them killed in the process, she would need every man that could hold a blade. The tiny voice of her conscience tried to warn Sabine that her callous attitude toward the men was wrong. She shouldn’t see them as just expendable resources, but her undead nature shook off the warning.

“Why don’t we do this, I’ll take on any two of you in hand-to-hand combat, no weapons. If I win, you will all agree to follow me. If I lose, well, I guess you’re back where you started from. So, any takers on my offer?” Sabine asked.

This group was shocked at her sudden attack on the first prisoner, but none doubted that they could take her on unarmed. The bearded man accepted the challenge and there was some argument among the others over who would get the second spot. Eventually, a slender man with a mean look to him was chosen as the second opponent.

“No matter what happens, I suggest that none of you approach Skrix here or you’ll find a dagger lodged in a very unfortunate place,” Sabine said as she dropped Reckoning and Toe Picker onto the ground, as well as the dagger from each boot. She took off her armor and placed the Shell Hound Plate next to her weapons. Without the weapons and armor, Sabine would have appeared small and unthreatening to the assembled mercenaries. Now it was time to show them that she was much more powerful than she looked.

“Come on then, are you scared?” Sabine taunted as she pushed the smallest amount of mana that she could into her fists and feet. After being nearly drained of mana earlier and using some to extend the range of Reckoning, Sabine’s mana pool was only at 18% after infusing her hands and feet. It would have to be enough.

The big guy with the beard came in fast, which she expected. She met his lunge with a kick to the chest. When the crushing damage from the mana unleashed, the man folded over and grunted loudly as the air was forced from his lungs. The skinny mercenary was taking things slower, trying to circle around Sabine. To his credit the big guy fought through the pain and grabbed onto Sabine’s leg. A kick with her other mana infused foot landed on the side of the man’s head.

The strike would have been a deadly one, but at the last moment, Sabine reabsorbed the mana, not wanting to kill anyone she didn’t have to. Despite the lack of mana, the kick hit with more force than her diminutive frame would suggest. Her strength was enhanced by her undead nature and the kick was enough to knock the man unconscious. Hopefully, there wasn’t going to be any permanent damage from the blow.

Distracted by trying to fine-tune her kick, the skinny man shot in behind her and grabbed Sabine around her waist, lifting her and slamming her to the ground. She hit the frozen ground face first, but there was no pain. The damage wasn’t even enough to trigger her healing ability. The man had her on the ground and moved in for a choke. Whoever this guy was, he had some decent training in grappling in the past and the leverage he gained overcame her increased strength.

Normally, this type of choke would cut off the blood flow to the brain and render the victim unconscious. Sabine was already dead, and no blood flowed in her veins. Instead, she reached up and released the mana in her left hand into the man’s arm, choosing crushing damage once again. The released power knocked the arm back from her throat, breaking the man’s arm in the process. He staggered back and clutched his arm in pain.

“Are you done?” Sabine asked the skinny man.

Instead of replying, he lunged for the pile of weapons that Sabine had left behind. Before she could catch him, Skrix reacted, drawing two throwing daggers and hurling them into the man. Both struck him in the side, but he still staggered forward desperate to get his hands on a blade. Skrix’s tail lashed out from under the cloak. As Sabine suspected, the end of his tail was wrapped around another dagger that Skrix slashed across the man’s throat. The man staggered one final step and then fell to the ground dead.

“Thank you Skrix,” Sabine said before addressing the prisoners. “While I didn’t finish both opponents myself, I think we can all agree Skrix’s intervention was warranted as soon as that one decided to go for a weapon,” Sabine said, pointing toward the skinny man’s body.

She waited for some response from the remaining mercs, but they seemed stunned by what had just happened. In less than a minute she had taken out two of their best fighters, all while unarmed. With the Mask of False Life that she wore, the mana no longer left a telltale sign of its presence, so to this group, it would have just appeared that she was freakishly skilled.

“I think we can say you won that fair and square. Can I see to Zeb? He was in my unit, and I’d like to help him if I can,” the man with the patch over his eye asked.

“Yes, go ahead, he’s alive and should recover in time. For the rest of you, are you willing to serve with me as your commander, or would you prefer to rot away inside the stockade?” Sabine asked.

“We’ll serve, as long as it’s not another suicide mission,” one of the mercenaries said. The others agreed, a few reluctantly, but Sabine didn’t sense any immediate threats from them, but she was sure there would be more problems in the future.

“Hamilcar, I hope you enjoyed the show, let’s get these gates open. My men need to be fed and equipped while I figure out our first mission,” Sabine ordered as she pulled on her armor and belted her weapons back into place.