Seven Swords - Michael E. Shea (best manga ereader txt) 📗
- Author: Michael E. Shea
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Jon unbuckled his belt and handed his guns and rapier to Ca’daan. Reaching around back he drew his offhand dagger from the sheath at the small of his back and another blade from the top of his left boot. The men of the militia shuffled nervously. Ca’daan clutched the weapons in his arms. Leaving them behind made Jon feel naked but this had to be done right.
Jon approached the big man. Barnam stood tall, his jaw clenched.
Jon slapped him. He didn’t hit the man hard but it was loud. All of the men shifted and gripped their spears. Barnam looked at Jon in shock. Jon slapped him again, harder. The man’s face was bright red and anger flashed into his eyes. Barnam shoved hard with his left hand. Jon bent around the blow and slapped with his other hand. Welts grew on each of the man’s cheeks. He turned to look at Severn and Jon hit him again. The last one did it.
The man’s rage boiled and he rushed Jon. Jon sidestepped and threw his leg out low. The man sailed over it and into the dirt. He was up quickly. He tried to butt Jon with the end of his spear but Jon pushed it aside and kicked the man hard in the thigh. The man went down again. When he came up the tip of his spear came up with him. He stabbed at Jon. Jon caught the spear, guided the tip into the earth, and stomped the shaft. The spear snapped in half.
The big man, face puffy from Jon’s beatings, dropped the broken spear and drew a heavy slaughtering knife. He charged Jon, knife high.
Jon waited until the man was nearly on him and then stepped in. He grabbed the man’s arm and tunic, turned left, and threw the man hard over his hip. Jon fell with the throw, landing all of his weight on the man’s ribs. Jon felt the air go out of the big man. Jon twisted the man’s wrist. The man let out a high pitch wail and the knife fell from his hand. Jon twisted, putting the man’s arm between his legs and arching his back. With his hips as a fulcrum and using all of his strength against the man’s elbow, Jon could have snapped his arm. He held the position for a moment, the man wailing softly, and then rolled back to his feet.
“That was your best man and I beat him unarmed,” said Jon. “That man behind me,” Jon pointed to the Kal. “He is twice the unarmed fighter I am with twice the strength. Your man wouldn’t have remained conscious after the first blow.
“The bandits, murderers, demons who destroyed Fena Set are as tough as we are. They are seasoned and thirst for blood. They will impale you on your spears and burn you. They will eat your children. When they come here they will kill you all. They are real and they are coming.”
Jon let the statement hang in the air a moment.
“My friends and I can help you. We can defend your town. We ask nothing but food and shelter. We ask that you listen to us and understand what is coming.”
“We will stay one night. Tomorrow we are leaving. May the Gods watch over you if you choose to let us go, though they seem to care little for the life of men.”
Jon did not wait for nor watch for a response. He turned, took his belts from Ca’daan, and walked back to camp. The others followed.
“What do we do now?” asked Ca’daan.
“You will go back to them. Do not talk. Only listen. Do not defend us. Do not try to convince them that they need us. In fact, do the opposite. Understand their view. Tell them that you fear us but you fear the raiders more,” said Jon. He knew it was true.
“And then?” said the Kal.
“Then we wait,” said Jon. He turned to San’doro.
“Go scout the town tonight. Get an idea of how we could defend it,” said Jon.
“I am no commander. I helped sack villages not defend them,” said San’doro.
“That is why I want you to do it. You are better suited than any of us to know what vulnerabilities we have.” He was here less than two days and already he thought of this town as home, something he wished to protect. San’doro nodded and faded into the darkness as silent as death.
“If they do not accept us, what do we do?” asked Thorn. He and Vrenna sat together by the warmth of the fire. To the right, Adrin cleaned one of his pistols.
“We have a choice. We can circle the village and make camp on the south where the bandits will come or we can leave. If we choose to stay, many people will die but we can hopefully bite into the bandits on their way in. Without a proper defense it will be bloodshed in the street. If we leave, they will all die.”
Jon awoke the next morning, the sun shining over the eastern mountain wall. He saw Adrin standing on the rocks above where San’doro sat two nights past. A cool morning breeze caught Adrin’s cloak and whipped it around the man. Jon saw the gleam of the pistol in his left hand and the shine of his rapier in his right. How far the boy had come. Jon climbed the rocks and sat down in the same spot he had two nights ago. Adrin spoke without turning.
“I killed a child.”
“It was two years ago,” said Adrin, the wind whipping at his cloak. “I had left the estate of my family. The boredom and tedium of noble life tore at me. I left with dreams of becoming a brigand, a highwayman. My father had me instructed by Del’Rosa. It cost quite a lot and I resented it at first but it helped me win my share of bar duels and enough money to sleep with a roof over my head.
“I was in Graydawn walking the street late at night. A young woman was struggling with an older man. She saw me and I was struck by her beauty, or maybe it was the wine in my blood and the way her corset held her breasts up. The older man glared at me. When I asked of the lady’s health, the man insulted me. My upbringing is one of honor, the sort of honor that binds you to improper action when such an insult flies. I drew, stabbed through the man’s shoulder, and took off his left ear. I took the girl and fled.
“She was amazing. I never felt anything like her at the time. I saw her then as an angel but now I understand it for experience. She was a noble’s daughter and the horrid man I left in the street was her betrothed. She was as much a rebel as I. We spent the week together in bliss, in bed. She told me of her dreams to run off with me and become a princess of the south. Her foolish child dreams bored me until I felt her mouth on me again. I grew tired of her as young men do when the gold always shines over the next mountain.
“I left her and left the city, heading west. They caught up with me in Salvora. I was in a tavern drinking with two women on my lap when my name was called. A man in leather armor, cuffed and guarded for dueling, stood at the door. I had infected his sister with the spawn of my loins, he said. He would cut off my manhood and deliver it to her father to prove his intent that no other face the horror of my seed. Again the instinct of action against insult took over. The whores fell off of me when I stood. He walked out into the street and I followed.
“He was dead before the tavern door stopped swinging. He turned and drew his rapier. I drew mine. His thrust was slow and weak. I disarmed him easily and before his rapier touched the dirt my own had pierced him through his breast and out his back. I let the blade stay in his chest as I pulled off my glove and slapped him with it. The blade had pierced his lung and it was only a few seconds until it filled with blood and suffocated him. A tear ran down his cheek as he stood there. He had not a stubble of hair on his chin. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen years old all dressed up in dueling armor. I didn’t even see how small he was until he was dead. I pulled out my blade and he died. This kid. Her younger brother. He wanted to make his father happy so he went off looking for me and now he died outside of a whore’s inn in the dirt.
“His family had lost a son and a daughter now. They hired every man with a blade to find me and kill me. So I fled south where the meager money of a small noble house couldn’t afford to kill me no matter what I did to their son and daughter.
“But I can’t escape them, can I,” Adrin turned to Jon. Jon saw the shine of his eyes under the shadow of his three-cornered hat.
“No,” said Jon. “But you can live with them.”
“Ca’daan’s back,” shouted the Kal. “The council wants to meet with you.” Adrin turned and smiled at Jon. “He has more bread,” said the Kal. Before Jon had opened his mouth, Adrin had rushed past him in a flash of his red cloak.
For many people standing alone in front of a council of village elders may have many people nervous. Jon had overcome such things. The old man looked at Jon for a long time. He had debated whether or not to bring his guns and blades and ended up deciding to bring them. It was important to show strength. He didn’t really need them. His strongest weapon was at his side holding his hand and watching the old men with her own green eyes.
“You assaulted one of our militia men yesterday,” said the fat one, Emrold. “Explain yourself.”
“I felt a demonstration was needed of what danger your town faces,” said Jon.
“From you, perhaps,” said Tyroid, a thin man with a few wisps of gray hair on his bald scalp. “There is no other danger but that which stands in front of us.”
“We do not need your help,” said Oden. “The torrents protect us as they have for centuries. And we have the militia.” He turned and pointed to Severn. Severn lowered his head.
“These are powerful warriors,” said Severn. “We could use their assistance should it be needed.”
The other men turned and stared at the salt miner.
“We need to discuss this matter alone, sir. Please give us a moment.”
Jon bowed and left. Outside the early day breeze brought the smells of grass and leaves. Jon closed his eyes and enjoyed the comfortable warmth of the high red sun that had burned him so often.
A man approached from the trail to the large house. He was older and leaned heavy on a shaft of oak.
“I am Gauve, Ca’daan’s uncle,” he said. Jon bowed. “I thank you for coming and I am sorry I cannot be more of service.”
“Your nephew risked much to find us,” said
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