Midnight Tides

The soldiers cinched the straps of their helmets then donned gauntlets, shifting their grips on the lances to a third of the way up from the butts. Seren drew her sword.



‘All right,’ Iron Bars said. ‘Corlo, keep them asleep until we’re thirty paces away. Then wake ’em quick and panicky.’



‘Aye, Avowed. It’s been a while, ain’t it?’



Halfpeck asked, ‘Want any of ’em left alive, sir?’



‘No.’



Iron Bars, with Halfpeck on his left and the two women on his right, formed the first line. Walk to trot, then a collected canter. Fifty paces, and no-one was stirring among the deserters. Seren glanced back at Corlo, and he smiled, raising one hand and waggling the gloved fingers.



She saw the three prisoners at the wagon sit up, then quickly crawl beneath the bed.



Lances were levelled, the horses rolling into a gallop.



Sudden movement among the sleeping deserters. Leaping to their feet, bewildered shouts, a scream.



The front line parted to go round the wagon, and Seren pulled hard to her left after a moment of indecision, seeing the glitter of wide eyes from beneath the wagon’s bed. Then she was alongside the tall wheels.



Ahead, four lances found targets, three of them skewering men from behind as they sought to flee.



A deserter stumbled close to Seren and she slashed her sword, clipping his shoulder and spinning him round in a spray of blood. Cursing at the clumsy blow, she pushed herself forward on the saddle and rose to stand in her stirrups. Readied the sword once more.



The leading four Guardsmen had slowed their mounts and were drawing swords. The second line of riders, in Seren’s wake, had spread out to pursue victims scattering into the ditches to either side. They slaughtered with cold efficiency.



A spear stabbed up at Seren on her right. She batted the shaft aside, then swung as her horse carried her forward. The blade rang in her grip as it connected with a helmet. The edge jammed and she pulled hard, dragging the helm from the man’s head. It came free and flew forward to bounce on the road, red-splashed and caved in on one side.



She caught a moment of seeing Iron Bars ten paces ahead. Killing with appalling ease, a single hand gripping the reins as he guided his horse, sword weaving a murderous dance around him.



Someone flung himself onto her sword-arm, his weight wrenching at her shoulder. She shouted in pain, felt herself being pulled from her saddle.



His face, bearded and grimacing, seemed to surge towards her as if hunting some ghastly kiss. Then she saw the features go slack. Blood filled his eyes. The veins on his temples collapsed into blue stains blossoming beneath the skin. More blood, spraying from his nostrils. His grip fell away and he toppled backward.



Drawing in close, a long, thin-bladed knife in one hand, Corlo came alongside her. ‘Push yourself up, lass! Use my shoulder-’



Hand fisted around the grip of her sword, she set it against him and righted herself. ‘Thanks, Corlo-’



‘Rein in, lass, we’re about done here.’



She looked round. Three Guardsmen had dismounted, as had Iron



Bars, and were among the wounded and dying, swords thrusting down into bodies. She glanced back. ‘That man – what happened to him?’



‘I boiled his brain, Acquitor. Messy, granted, but the Avowed said to keep you safe.’



She stared at him. ‘What sort of magic does that}’



‘Maybe I’ll tell you sometime. That was a nice head-shot back there. The bastard came close with that spear.’



He did . She was suddenly shaking. ‘And this is your profession, Corlo? It’s… disgusting.’



‘Aye, Acquitor, that it is.’



Iron Bars approached. ‘All is well?’



‘We’re fine, sir. All dead?’



‘Twenty-one.’



‘That’s all of them,’ the mage said, nodding.



‘Less than a half-dozen actually managed to draw their weapons. You fouled ’em up nicely, Corlo. Well done.’



‘Is that how you soldiers win your battles?’ Seren asked.



‘We wasn’t here to give battle, Acquitor,’ Iron Bars said. ‘Executions, lass. Any mages among the lot, Corlo?’



‘One minor adept. I got him right away.’



Executions. Yes. Best to think of it that way. Not butchery. They were murderers and rapists, after all . ‘You didn’t leave me any alive, Avowed?’



He squinted up at her. ‘No, none.’



‘You don’t want me to… do what I want. Do you?’



‘That’s right, lass. I don’t.’