Another violent fantasy story. I was really into swords and such when I was a teen, wasn’t I? Well, you know how it is. Worlds far away in time and space are always so alluring… and being a dashing hero who can seemingly do anything has its appeals.

I guess the overtones in the ending were based somewhat on my frustration with the world, and how capitalism and its importance on making money and profit overrode all other values and what little justice there is in the world. But, as always, a story is what it is to those who read it, and the author’s intentions don’t matter too much, do they?

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The Mercenary

Copyright © October, 1996

You’re a fool, Rogar, he thought, cursing loudly as he swung his heavy sword, and the last guard’s helmed head fell to the ground bloodied moss on the forest floor. His horse whinnied nervously, slowing his circular dance now that there were no more opponents to fight.As always, when he killed, he thought of the first man who fell by his hand. The man had been a mercenary, as Rogar was now, between jobs, and tried to have his way with Rogar’s sister to pass the time. Rogar had been barely old enough to understand what the man was trying to do, but the evil in his intent was obvious. The man had seemed surprised to find a child pull the dagger from one of his boots, and even more surprised when he found the dagger impaled in his heart.Rogar snagged one of the corpses’ shirts with his sword and started wiping his blade free of blood, pushing memories of his home from his head. This was supposed to be an easy job, according to that fool. Just walk in and grab the gem. Of course, he probably neglected to mention that I’d be walking into a bloody fortress. Darvanius is getting too arrogant. Maybe I should accept one of those offers for his head, the mercenary mused, finding his leather scabbard and sheathing his sword.

Wait, there are only five corpses! Rogar thought, as a badly aimed bolt flew from somewhere within the concealing shadows of the surrounding forest, and hit Rogar’s horse. It collapsed under him, screaming in pain. Rogar swiftly pulled out his own crossbow and fired it into the bush as he jumped from his horse, barely managing to avoid getting pinned. Rogar heard a satisfying howl from the bushes, and something heavy fell to the ground. Then silence.

Rogar bent to examine his horse. It was in pain, barely able to breathe, and would die soon. Rogar grimaced as he pulled out a slim dagger from his boot and cut the horse’s neck, letting its lifeblood pour out swiftly.

The bastards. They will pay, Rogar swore, getting to his feet.

* * *
The mercenary cursed as his bare hand slipped from its precarious position on the rain-slick stone. It just had to start raining when I was half way up the wall, didn’t it? he thought, searching for a secure handhold. The curtain of freezing rain that engulfed Rogar had saturated his clothes, weighing him down. This is what I get for trying to have some fun. I could be in a nice warm guardhouse slaughtering the garrison now, he thought regretfully as he hoisted himself over
the top of the 30 foot wall.He made his way unobtrusively down to the courtyard, where he efficiently dispatched the two guards in front of the main keep’s entrance. This is far too easy, he thought, carefully climbing to the top floor. Maybe Darvanius was right, for once.He found the room, encountering no one on the way. Rogar did not like this one bit, but the thought of the pay firmed his resolve. Kicking down the door as he rolled on the ground towards the guard that would fire a bolt at him, he raised his dagger to throw, and -

There was no guard. This is unbelievable, Rogar thought in disbelief. He wasted no time, however, and walked to the table at the centre of the ill-lit room. Carefully opening the lid of the small box that lay on it with his dagger, he looked inside, and found it empty.

Cursing, Rogar dove to his left, rolled towards a small window he might fit through, and came to his feet, sword drawn. The small box clattered to the floor, a quivering crossbow bolt imbedded in the wood.

He glanced up at the source of the bolt. “You!” he said, lowering his sword. He recognised the brown-haired woman before him. They had met a year ago, and had discussed – or rather argued – about business. That was not all they had done in his room at that shabby inn, and he remembered. “If your contract is to protect this room, I forswear mine.”

Her crossbow did not waver. “Fool,” she said, and Rogar’s eyes widened in wonder as he found that a bolt had imbedded itself in his gut. “Profit comes first, as you always said, and Darvanius does not like to be kept waiting.”

Rogar dropped to the floor, shocked. All the pieces fell together now. “You have been betrayed! He hired me, too,” he managed to say, before darkness took him.

“How observant of him,” came a deep voice from behind the woman. She whirled around. “He spoke the truth, Darvanius?” she hissed, her hand reaching for her sword. Her crossbow held double the bolts of a regular one, but that was still only two, and she had used both.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that!” a dark-haired man said, emerging from the shadows. He was elegantly dressed in embroidered silk fancier than a lord’s, and toyed with an object of some kind. It was a long metal cylinder with a wooden grip, with projections coming from the top, and a larger one from the bottom.

“Very well done. He was getting far too dangerous. If he had ever decided that it would be more profitable to have me disposed of, I would be dead. He was the best of the best. Like you.

“It really is too bad that the fight wasn’t more interesting. He seemed to like you. Pity,” he said, raising the device he had.

The woman held her panic at bay as she drew her sword. The ring of magic-forged steel echoed through the room. It was swallowed in the boom that followed. She sprung towards the man, sword raised to strike, but her limbs failed her.

The woman collapsed to her knees, staring at the smoking end of the strange device. The last thing she heard before she fell into oblivion was Darvanius.

“Amazing! There’s a lot of profit to be made with these!”