The Mirror's Truth (Manifest Delusions #2)

“Sorry,” he said, unsure what he apologized for. Maybe everything.

She spat at him and he almost fell out of the saddle when he flinched. “I see you found a curvy arse to follow,” she said, showing yellow teeth. “You abandoned me for that,” she nodded in Zukunft’s direction, “and haven’t even rutted her yet. Pathetic.”

“Not like that,” he said.

“How is it then?”

“You’re alive. Trying to kill me.” He grinned, wobbling in the saddle. “All part of the plan,” he lied.

“Your plans are shite old man,” she said. “You know I’m going to kill her, right? To punish you. It’ll be your fault, of course.” She looked away, glared hatred at the back of her horse’s head. “Then I’ll kill Wichtig. The idiot’s death will be your fault too.” Stehlen glanced at him. “Great plan.”

“I know,” he said. “And then you’ll kill me.”

“No.” Stehlen sagged. “I love you.”

Bedeckt snorted laughter and caught himself before toppling from his saddle. He looked around in confusion, not recognizing his surroundings. The horses had stopped and stood shuffling nervously. Zukunft stood beside her horse, stroking its nose. He realized she was whispering his name and had been for some time. Stehlen was nowhere to be seen.

A few strides ahead, two men blocked the path with their own horses, two mangy beasts with mad eyes. The men stood ready with drawn weapons.

“I didn’t see them until it was too late,” said Zukunft, eyes begging forgiveness.

Both men wore the livery of Gottlos, grey on green, but their uniforms were burnt and blood spattered. The larger of the two caught Bedeckt’s eye. The man was huge and carried a rusted iron cudgel that looked older than Bedeckt. His eyes were dead, devoid of emotion. He stared at Zukunft, never blinking.

The other, carrying a longsword and bearing the markings of an officer, had eyes only for Bedeckt. The man looked haunted, hollowed by some recent horror. He’s seen death and it broke him.

“Greeting, good soldiers of Gottlos,” he called to the two men. Then he whispered, “Did your sister show you this?” to Zukunft.

She shook her head. “She only shows me the farmhouse.”

The man with the sword spat and said, “Won’t be Gottlos for long.”

Bedeckt nodded his understanding. Keep them talking. Kill when the chance arises. “War,” he said.

“Holy war. Nothing can stop the Geborene Geisteskranken. Three of them attacked my troop.”

The dead-eyed man stared at Zukunft, licking his lips with quick flicks of a wet tongue. He watched her like she was a meal and he starving. Bedeckt wanted to chop him down, split him open, empty him into the dirt.

“How many did you lose?” asked Bedeckt, pretending to be at ease.

The officer dropped his gaze and Bedeckt knew that look: Shame.

“Ran away, didn’t you,” he said. “Left them to die.”

The officer met Bedeckt’s eyes and bared his teeth. “Things, demons, clawing their way out of my men, tearing them open from the inside. The gods-damned ground rose up against us. I had six thousand men but…you can’t fight…”

“Sounds bad,” said Bedeckt not bothering to hide the mockery.

“And they have something following them.” The officer glanced at the sky, eyes flinching from the shadows lurking in the clouds. “It’s big. Killed hundreds in a single pass.”

“War is tragedy,” agreed Bedeckt. “Now, if you’ll step aside.”

The officer focussed on Bedeckt, his eyes hardening. “I don’t think so.”

Bedeckt, still mounted, squared his shoulders and glared down at the man, filling his voice with as much confidence as he could muster. “You don’t want this.” He rested a hand upon his axe.

“It’s not about wants, right Kot?”

The big man with the iron cudgel and dead eyes pulled his gaze from Zukunft. He looked dumb with hunger, a hulking brute of a man. He shook his head once and returned his attention to the girl, licking his lips again.

“Can’t exactly report back to the king, can I? No.” The officer looked past Bedeckt. “I hear Geldangelegenheiten is civilized. If you have money. I can sell your horses. That’s a start.” He nodded toward Zukunft. “If Kot doesn’t accidentally kill her, I can sell her too. Or whatever is left.”

The man was too calm. He knew Bedeckt offered no real threat. What was this, kindness? Pity?

Bedeckt ground the remains of his teeth in anger and gestured at Kot with his half hand. “And him? You think he’ll be welcome in the clean streets of Geldangelegenheiten?” He spoke loudly to be sure the big brute heard. “You’re really going to share your ill-gotten gains with a commoner?” He forced a laugh. “Hardly.”

“Killers are welcome everywhere,” said the officer, “as well you know. Kot will do fine.”

Remembering an earlier conversation with Zukunft, Bedeckt really did laugh this time. “Zukunft, we have a nobleman here. He’s one of your people. The classy ones. The wealthy elite. He left six thousand farmers and peasants to die and now he’s running away.”

Michael R. Fletcher's books