Slayers, Part One (standard:fantasy, 1448 words)
Author: Vincent Collevera	Added: Apr 04 2010	Views/Reads: 2867/1773	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Twenty mercenaries of enormous reputation are drawn into a battle of morality in which they will all have to decide what side they're on.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

royals, Sparks.  You really aught to stop making bets against him.”  
Kicker thumped him across the shoulder as he walked past.  “She's 
right, mate.  That brother of mine ain't likely to lose nothing he's 
attached to again.  Take my word for it and just let him be.”  
Grumbling at the injustice of it all, Sparky promised to pay her when 
they got back to base and followed after his comrades to the counting 
grounds. 

It would be three or more days before they had all the dead accounted
for and stripped of usable or sellable equipment.  Being mercenaries, 
even with their reputation, it was possible for an employer to 
disbelieve that they would return from a suicide mission lacking not a 
single soldier and attempt to refuse payment.  It was the smartest 
decision to take what they could from the dead, since they wouldn't be 
needing it anymore. 

The weather was balmy, with a cool autumn breeze blowing the stink of
blood and death and excrement away from the camp.  The chirping of 
birds and buzzing of insects belied the carnage that filled the 
clearing and the fierce combat that had taken place so recently that 
some of the enemy soldiers had to be finished with a swift and certain 
thrust of sword or dagger.  It was an odd scene, twenty men and women 
cheerfully stacking corpses in tidy rows and piles to be counted and 
stripped one by one before being loaded onto a series of pyres in the 
center of the clearing. 

Banter floated back and forth over the dead, interrupted by the periodic
cawing or screeching of a carrion bird as it was shooed from its feast. 
 The only ones who did not partake in the almost gleeful exchanges were 
Dark and Loudmouth; one because he simply said very little, and the 
other because he never said anything at all.  His moniker was something 
of a jest given to him when he'd first requested in writing to join up 
with their unit. 

The second day of ‘Processing,' as it was known, yielded an unexpected
complication.  Legs came back from scouting the area; in case of the 
enemy's too-late reinforcements, breathing easily regardless of the 
distance she'd sprinted on her circuit.  “Captain, developments.”  He 
nodded and set down the piece of Vallenwood he'd been carving into a 
miniature replica of Sparky.  “Report.”  She spilled out the details of 
the majority of her scouting mission with an air of professional calm.  
She became visibly excited over what she'd found, however.  “Captain, 
there are four large supply wagons about six miles due East of here as 
well as a number of burnt remains of other ones.  The four remaining 
wagons were hastily started, but failed to take proper flame and appear 
only slightly damaged.  Sir, one of them is a slave wagon.  I'm taking 
Dark, Loudmouth and Cutter with me.” 

Her tone brooked no argument, though she knew she'd get none.  Captain
Stonehand nodded curtly and said, “Keep me appraised of the situation 
and bring those wagons back here.  Are any of the horses still there?”  
She shook her head in the negative.  “The horses were cut loose and 
taken.  The wagons are fairly large, but Dark and I have Vallenwood 
legs, so we should be able to pull them.  Loudmouth can do his thing 
with the slaves and Cutter can make sure they aren't carrying pox or 
too badly dehydrated.”  At his nod, she saluted with a smile and turned 
to gather her assistants. 

Grinns stepped up beside the steel-haired Captain.  Stonehand glanced
once at the scars on either side of Grinns' face before catching 
himself.  Everyone did it, and Grinns was used to it by now, but it 
still bothered the Captain that he couldn't resist the reflex.  “Long 
day, Cap'n.”  Stonehand didn't reply.  “Gonna be another long-un 
tomorrow, I expect.”  This was Grinns' way of speaking; one sentence at 
a time, as though awaiting a reply.  In fact, speaking was somewhat 
painful for him, so he paused after each sentence to brace himself for 
the next one.  “Think we'll have a couple weeks before the next job?”  
The Captain frowned for a moment.  “We should.  As a matter of fact, in 
light of the amount of work we've been doing lately I think it would be 
fair to take a few weeks of rest.  Everyone is getting edgy lately.  
Some down time will be good for morale.  Tell them they can expect one 
week of leave when we get back to base.  I will see about delaying a 
few contracts to see if it can be extended beyond that.” 

Grinns nodded and clapped the Captain on the shoulder with one large,
wooden hand before turning to go back to the rest of the company.  
Captain Stonehand continued to gaze out over the neatly piled rows of 
bodies stretching the full length of the field in four rows, three 
corpses high. 


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