Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 15: Practice

{There is nothing more dangerous in this world than a mercenary. Adhering to neither alliance nor creed, these merchants of death operate outside the sphere of kingdoms and empires, selling their swords and souls for the highest bidder. These types of people should always be kept at an arm's length. No amount of honor can protect you from their blade. Neither promises nor sweet words can stop them from turning against you. Only the soft jingle of coins will keep you on their good side. That is, until someone else decides to pay them more.}

-Chronicler Practus, an excerpt from "The Economy of War."

"It's just up the hill," said Elba reassuringly. "Not too far now." Libro dogged after her as fast as his crippled ass could carry him, huffing and puffing all the while, his face drenched with sweat, his right leg a giant ball of twisted, searing pain.

"You said that fifteen minutes ago," he gasped the words, the handle of his cane wobbling dangerously against the ground. "Any further, and I'm apt to fall over and start balling like a child."

"And if you do, I'll hoist you over my shoulder and carry you like a child." threatened Elba. She peered over her shoulder, lips curled devilishly to one side. "Is that what you want?"

Fire danced across Libro's cheeks. The thought did sound rather appealing, but to imagine the indignity he'd receive from the others made him think otherwise. "No, not particularly."

"Then stop whining and climb." Elba dug her heels into the dirt and climbed up a steep embankment. She turned, held out a hand, motioned for Libro to come closer. With one outstretched palm, he grabbed hold of her, gasping as she lifted him effortlessly over the threshold.

"Where are we going anyway?" asked Libro as he settled back onto solid ground. "When you said you were going to train me today, I'd thought you meant in the sparring ring closer to camp."

Elba waved her hand as if to shoo away a pesky insect. "It's too loud down there.  All that groaning wood and stone makes my head hurt." She stepped around a thin, scrubby looking tree, and Libro saw past her the land stretched out before him.

It was quite the beautiful countryside, he had to admit. The mists were thinner up there, settling down in a sort of gray overcast that hid little of the magnificence laid out before him. Even in the dead of winter, the grass still held a semblance of life, surrounded by bare black trees, their limbs stretched out like gnarled fingers, shivering with every catch of the wind. 

Down below in the Vangen camp, he could just make out the silhouettes of the guardsmen as they hurried in their work, the odd shapes of trebuchets arming and firing, the cracking boom from the siege engines like distant thunder. Further on, the city of Middengard stood huddled with its back to the mountain, its massive black pillar of a fortress leering, its three walls still seeming impossibly large even from so far away.

Libro swallowed. Up there, he felt like a god watching as his creations made war with one another, hurling stones against each other like primitives. A frigid coldness settled into the gauntlet on his right arm, and he instinctively brushed his fingers against the black metal, afraid to look down and see those eyes again just like he had all those years ago. Back when he was a boy and a Chronicler and the lives of men were not held against his grasp.

"Catch!"

Libro turned too late as Elba tossed him something. It hit him in the face, and he flinched back, pain arcing up the right side of his body, the muscles in his leg spasming. "Ouch," he grumbled as he massaged his forehead, peering down between his fingers to see what struck him. It was a stick. "What? You want me to fetch like a good dog?" He stared up at her, one eyebrow arched curiously.