The camp of the brigands is by no means impressive, simply large. Ten tents in total, three different firepits and a latrine which should have been dug a little further away.

  However, its location is chosen quite well. It sits on the top of a rocky hill. The ascent is rather steep and there are no trees to hide an advance towards the camp for the last hundred meters or so. A hundred meters is plenty for them to get into position and deal some damage.

  To make things worse, the brigands outnumber the Knight Flayers. While the Knight Flayers number only six, since Rabbit is still paralyzed, the brigands number between fifteen and twenty, from what the villagers said. And even worse, at least three of them are deserters left behind by the passing armies. That means they not only have better training, but better weapons and armor.

  “Sir Tanner, how do you want to handle this?” Thorvald asks.

  Landyn clicks his tongue: “Tsk. Don’t call me that.”

  Thorvald chuckles. Landyn won't escape that nickname any time soon.

  They are hiding behind the roots of an upturned tree, observing and planning. They have already parked the sled back in the village, leaving all non-combatants there and only grabbing weapons and water with them.

  Now everyone leans against the trunk of the upturned tree, while Landyn scouts with his helmet off so as to not reflect light.

  Landyn: “Viper, you think you can sneak around and see the other side of the camp?”

  Viper: “Not in this armor… Plus, the forest is not that dense around here. It’d take me a long time. Probably until past dark.”

  Landyn mutters: “Shit.”

  Saul: “I think I can at least hit them from here.”

  Landyn: “And what good is that? Last time you hit a guy he only died because he fell off his horse.”

  Saul: “I could imbue the projectile with fire…”

  Landyn: “...You mean you can set it on fire before you throw it?”

  Saul: “Yes.”

  Landyn: “Then just fucking say so! God's sake man, don't hide shit like this from us! …Alright. I’ve got a plan.”

  —

  The Knight Flayers are in tight formation, advancing slowly up the hill. They are so close together that none can even swing their weapons, but being so close means that the shield of the man on the left and right of each one can cover any exposed spots. Saul is not among them.

  It does not take too long until they are spotted, but still longer than they expected. They’d already made it twenty paces, advancing up the less surveilled side of the hill, the side with the latrine. The brigands start crowding around up above and throwing stones down at the mercenaries. Only two of the mercenaries have crossbows, and the crossbows they have are made of wood and incapable of piercing shields or armor. A lucky break for our heroes.

  Thorvald: “Hahaha! It’s like that time we were out in the hail all night! D’you remem- ACK! Phuk! Ma lip! Bish!” A large rock had hit Thorvald’s shield and pushed it right into his upper lip.

  Eagle Eye: “HAHAHAHAHA! That’s what y- OW!” His shoulder took a glancing blow from a stone.

  Landyn shouts to be heard over the loud banging of the rocks against their shields: “Shut up and keep yer shields up! Be ready to charge!”

  They eventually make it to within ten paces of the brigands. A little bruised and tired, but in one piece.

  Suddenly a bolt of fire shoots from the treeline at the bottom of the hill. It goes almost straight up at first, and when it is directly above the target it changes direction and goes straight down.

  “Ha! Your surprise attack missed! You fuckheads! You’re all gonna die on this hill you cousin-fuckers!” One of the brigands shouts, stirring laughter among his men.

  None of them realised that the attack was not meant to kill them outright, but to set fire to something. The wooden lid they’d put over the latrine burns for a few seconds more before the flame gets through to the flammable methane trapped beneath.

  Unlike the explosion Landyn had envisioned, the lid only raises a little bit from the pressure and flaming methane spews from the gap, dragging bits of shit out with it as it flies. Just enough to cook a few shins medium rare and set fire to their pants, but also enough to spread a real pungent smell.

  Now, stunned and divided, the brigands are not ready for the charge.

  “NOW! FUCK THEM UP!” Thorvald shouts, dropping his shield and unsheathing his falx.

  He then jumps over the latrine, right into the middle of the enemy’s formation. His targets are the ones burned by Saul’s attack. He activates his magic, increasing his strength and making his myriad tattoos glow red. Thorvald’s falx turns to a scythe. It reaps three souls at a time. No armor could stop him when his strength magic is active, especially not the cheap pilfered armor these poor brigands wear. He showers in blood, so much so that his neck strains against the added weight of his blood-soaked hair and beard.

  He is not perfect though. Even he were, no warrior could block three axes at once. At the end of it all an axe is stuck in his shoulder, but thankfully it stops in his dense muscle before reaching bone. If they'd found some armor that fits his frame, then the axe would've never reached him.

  The rest of the Knight Flayers followed suit, splitting in two as agreed beforehand and coming at them from two sides. They drop their shields to charge in faster, to swing their weapon faster and to kill faster. Their armor will act as their shield from now on.

  Viper caves in a skull with his mace, then parries an axe with his dagger. The one who swung the axe is finished off by Eagle Eye with a quick thrust of his spear to the eye.

  On the other flank, Landyn stabs a terrified brigand through the heart with his longsword. He pays no heed to the puny one-handed sword his enemy swings in his death throes, knowing that his armor will protect him from all his futile attempts. Kale kept his shield and with it he bashes a man away from his leader then with his warhammer caves in another man’s helmet.

  A few of the brigands are already running. Who could blame them? After twelve of your friends died in seconds before your eyes, would you stick around to try your luck? But three of the brigands stick around.

  They must be the deserters, since their armor sets them apart from the rest of the rabble. They are covered head to toe in chainmail, their torso is covered by a cuirass, their arms reinforced by coutiers and their heads covered by much heavier helmets than their fellow brigands.

  “Stop! We can negotiate!” One of the deserters tries to stop the dying.

  Landyn steps in close, his blade pointed downwards in reverse grip so as to not be threatening. The deserter smiles and clears his throat to speak again.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  But Landyn throws his sword upwards, catching it by the blade. He swings down with full force on the unprepared brigand’s head. The pommel leaves only a small dent in the helmet, but the blow is strong enough to stagger him. Before he can even register what has happened, the pommel is thrust into his nose. Shards of bone ricochet around his skull like in a pinball game.

  “You motherless bastard!” Another deserter shouts.

  The other Knight Flayers rush in to help their leader.

  Eagle Eye thrusts at eye level again but is deflected by the enemy’s shield. Kale then rushes in with his warhammer against the same opponent, but the enemy has a warhammer of their own. Kale’s hammer slides across the brim of the deserter’s helmet, but the deserter does not miss. The beak of his warhammer slides between lamellar plates of armor then pierces through chainmail, gambeson, shirt and flesh.

  As Kale screams out in pain and collapses, Eagle Eye’s spear slices through the enemy’s neck.

  With his head now only half attached, the deserter only wishes he would have run sooner, the same way he'd run away from his army before. Knowing his weapons are no good to him anymore, he drops them both. Knowing that there is no stopping the bleeding he does not bother to raise his hands. Knowing he is dying, the fire in his eyes disappears. He tries to speak, but chokes on blood instead. He takes two dizzy steps back and as he sees his end coming his jaw goes slack in defeat and he shrugs.

  By now the fight has ended. The other brigand was dispatched by Thorvald, Landyn and Viper without incident.

  Kale, squirming in pain: “He got me! Fuck! He got me good!”

  Everyone rushes over to see the condition their friend is in, ignoring completely the pained moans of dying brigands.

  Thorvald’s eyes grow wide and before anyone can get a better look, he picks Kale up and throws him over his back: “It’s the liver! I’ll run ahead!”

  The liver is not only a very painful target, but if ruptured the bleeding can't be stopped with mere bandages. They're on a timer now.

  Landyn quickly sheaths his sword and comes running after him: “I’m going with Kale! You two stay here and get the loot ready for the carriage!”

  Too tired to bother, Eagle Eye and Viper sit down and pant their exhaustion away like dogs in the sun.

  Saul sees them finally coming down the hill. He smiles and waves: “I got two of the runners too!”

  Landyn and Thorvald are outright sprinting down the hill.

  ‘Oh? They’re running to me? Do they want to high-five? Did they like my magic that much?’

  Saul raises his hand for a high-five and smiles wide, almost jumping with excitement. But they all thunder past him.

  Landyn shouts: “Go up the hill!” and then quickly disappears between the trees.

  Saul drops his head.

  ‘Of course they don’t high-five after killing people. What are you, mad? Get it together…’

  Poor Saul. Left hanging, and now he’ll also have to do the chores of war for the first time in an especially smelly battlefield…

  —

  While doing their chores, picking up anything made of metal left on the battlefield like usual, the three start talking to pass the time faster.

  Viper: “Damned Thorvald and his falx! Look at this shit! A perfectly fine maille shirt! Not even rusted, not nothing! Split in two! The fucking chain links are all bent and fused together!”

  Eagle Eye: “Well, I wasn’t gonna wear it anyway. It was sprayed with shit from the latrine.”

  Viper: “Oh, come on. At least that can be washed off. If he’d just aimed for the head then this thing could’ve been saved. Now we’re gonna have to sell it for scraps!”

  Eagle Eye: “Yeah, well you also banged up a few helmets beyond repair.” He picks up a skullcap that’s been bent so much that the metal broke apart and shows it to Viper. “I know you’re young and all, but don’t you get tired swinging that thing so hard?”

  Viper: “Ah, I wasn’t swinging that hard even! Damn thing must’ve been rusted from being used as a pisspot!”

  They both cackle like drunk hyenas.

  Eagle Eye notices Saul has a sullen look on his face. He recognizes that look: “Why’d you look like that, kid? It wasn’t even your first time.”

  Saul: “This time it feels a little different… That knight I killed the other day was protecting such a vile woman… These guys were just making a living. They probably used to be normal guys before the war and famine came.”

  Eagle Eye: “Yeah. But they chose the wrong trade, the wrong way to live. You don’t have to feel bad about them.”

  Saul: “But still…” He starts gagging.

  He was searching a dead man’s pockets. Inside, he found a couple of coins, a small statue of some god, and a small straw doll. The straw doll had eyes made of charcoal and wore a dress made of some torn washcloth. Did he kill a father? A brother? Certainly a son at least. His mother…

  He vomits.

  Eagle Eye: “Oh come on now, kid… Ah, let it all out. Come on.” Eagle Eye wipes his hands on the clean part of a dead man’s shirt then rushes over to pat the young wizard on the back as he vomits.

  Viper: “Y’know, there’s no real reason for you to feel so bad about these guys. They may have been human like us once, but if their morals became so twisted that they became worth more dead than alive, then what we did here today was mercy. I’d say good riddance if you ask me. If anything, you should feel bad that some of them got away. *sigh* Anyway, you'll feel better when we get back and have a drink or two...”

  —

  “Where’s the healer!?” Thorvald shouts.

  “There-” Victor points toward the cave.

  The giant flies past him, still glowing red with magic and carrying Kale as though he weighed nothing. Women scream and men gasp when they see him bathed in blood and sprinting past them.

  Landyn comes behind him, completely out of breath and barely standing: “Wh- Haa Where?”

  “In there, in the cave.” Victor answers.

  “Thanks. Haaa… Fuck me he’s fast!”

  Rabbit saw the whole thing from the back of the sled: “Was that Kale?”

  “Aye. Hooo… Fuck. Let me catch my breath.” He stops in place and puts his hands on his knees while breathing heavily.

  Anna comes out of one of the tents after hearing the commotion. Before the tent flap closes Landyn sees Jacob sitting in the tent, eating gruel.

  Anna: “Is Viper alright?” She feels a lump in her throat and her eyes start to water.

  Landyn: “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s busy gathering the valuables with Eagle Eye and the new guy. Come on. Help me take Rabbit to the healer.”

  Victor: “No-no, let me help you.”

  Anna: “I’ll take the sled to pick up Viper and the rest.”

  Landyn: “No! Stay here. Three or four of them ran off into the woods and got away. It’s too dangerous.”

  The cave is dimly lit by a few oil lamps every few meters. They almost fell over a few times while dragging Rabbit to the healer.

  They come to a stop before curtains made of wolf pelts, where Thorvald also waits.

  Landyn: “How’s it going in there?”

  Thorvald: “Should be fine…” He sighs and tries to wipe the worry off his face with a bloodied hand before he realises that he is smearing himself.

  Victor pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to him: “Here, take it. And don’t worry, you got him here rather quickly. The old man knows what he’s doing.”

  Not long after the curtains fly open.

  The healer is an old man. His hair has greyed fully and his eyebrows have started to grow curly and long, almost meeting his hairline on the sides. His hands are still steady and his demeanor still demands respect.

  “Take this one away. He’ll be dizzy for a few days, he lost a lot of blood.” Then he points to Rabbit: “Lay him over there on that rock shelf and go.”

  Landyn nods thankfully: “Thank you very much, healer.”

  “Don’t thank me, sellsword. I lost many patients to your trade. I am only helping because this ungrateful child gave you my word for me.”

  Victor: “Sorry, but we had no choice.”

  The healer simply scoffs and goes to prepare for treatment.

  For the first time in a while, the company will be at full strength again. Still, this victory seems a little bitter. They’ll wash it down soon with some sweet mead anyway.