“He’s not one of mine,” said Zukunft, hiding behind her horse, watching Kot over the beast’s back.
“Geisteskranken,” snarled the officer, angry. “Something in the gods-damned skies. We couldn’t even see it. It rained death.”
“Coward,” said Bedeckt. “Funny how little nobility there is in the nobility. Gutless wretches with a sense of entitlement. Thinks he was born to a life of luxury, like it’s owed to him. I’ve killed so many damn officers I can’t even remember most. Step aside, boy.”
The dead-eyed monster didn’t seem to have heard a thing Bedeckt said. Small unblinking eyes, spaced too far apart, remained locked on Zukunft. Kot groaned soft hunger and reached a hand in her direction as if she’d come to him because he wanted her.
The officer studied Bedeckt. “You look like you were once something. There was a time when you would have scared the shite out of me,” he admitted with no hint of embarrassment. “But that time is gone. You’re old. You don’t look like you have much life left in you, old man.”
Bedeckt thought about driving his horse forward, slamming through this little blockade. But Zukunft was dismounted. He’d be leaving her behind.
Do it. Better yet, turn around and run away. Ride east. Find that Geisteskranken Vergangene said was in Abgeleitete Leute. He realized he never asked Zukunft if that’s what her sister’s name really was. It didn’t matter now.
“Get off that horse,” said the officer, “and we’ll let you walk away. We have no use for you. No one wants to buy a broken old man.” He grinned, flashing straight white teeth. “You can even keep that monster axe. Just walk away, old man. Go find a nice tree to die under.”
Old man.
No one wants a broken old man.
Bedeckt’s skull groaned, his teeth grinding like stone on stone in his head. Rage. Red, unending, bloody rage. Pulsating anger. He breathed death. Pain was nothing. He would crush this self-important little bastard. And Kot—he hated the way the brainless brute stared at Zukunft. Bedeckt wanted his eyes, wanted to feel their jelly squish between his fingers.
“Not much life,” said Bedeckt, “but there’s a whole lot more death in me.”
The officer shook his head in chagrin. “You should have left when you had the chance.”
Bedeckt hefted his axe and grinned murder.
And then Arsehole shied and he fell off, landing in the mud on his wounded side and splashing his vision with arcs of fire. His skull filled with the taste of lightning.
The officer strode forward and kicked Bedeckt in the face, sending a tooth spinning into the muck. Bedeckt pushed himself out of the clinging mud with a roar of rage and the officer kicked him again, smashing his nose and knocking another tooth down his throat.
The world went black as he collapsed into the suffocating mud.
“Stupid old man,” he heard the officer say. “I think I killed him.” He sounded distant.
Someone kicked him in the wounded side but he didn’t feel much beyond the impact moving his body. He remembered working in a butchery as a youth, the rubbery way pig corpses reacted to being hacked apart.
Cold silence.
Damp earth sucked the warmth from half Bedeckt’s face, pressed mud into his mouth. He tasted soil and blood. Something moved beneath him, wriggling and wet against his cheek.
Sounds of struggle. Screaming. Tearing fabric. A girl, pleading, begging. She was fighting, clawing and kicking and biting. He knew those sounds. It wouldn’t help. The brute was huge.
The mud on Bedeckt’s face felt good, cool and relaxing. He wanted to sink deeper so it covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear any more. Surrender. Who knew it felt so good?
The ravenous grunting of a starved man about to feed.
Zukunft screamed. It was the sound someone made when they were opened wide, their guts spilling out onto the floor. Gods, how many times have I heard that very sound?
An eye cracked open of its own volition.
Kot pinned Zukunft to the ground, her torn clothes leaving her exposed. She clawed his face and throat repeatedly, gashing deep furrows in his flesh. The big man didn’t care. He bled profusely. The brute didn’t seem angry, just focussed.
Bedeckt watched as Kot forced her legs open and she kicked and screamed and begged and fought. Kot’s face, fixed in dumb concentration, didn’t change as she clawed another gash in his neck. Pushing himself between her thighs, the big man fumbled with his breeches. His gaze never left Zukunft’s face.
The officer stood watching, his back to Bedeckt. “Don’t kill her,” he said. “I’m not sticking dead slash.”
Bedeckt’s eyes focussed on something nearer: The haft of his axe. It was right there, within arm’s reach. Spitting mud and blood and fragments of teeth, he collected his axe and stood.
“Get off her,” he said through his crushed nose.
The officer turned, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you were dead, old man. Should have stayed down.” He drew his sword, calm and unhurried. “This time you will.”