The Raz'ac meet Real Soldiers.
The group of soldiers crouched by the side of the road. They were brightly dressed in quilted striped clothing and their doublets and breeches were slashed so ribbons of white protruded. Each wore at their side a thin sword and a round hilted dagger. Several had oblong shaped helmets with a small visor that shielded the eyes and nose and three had leather vests over their doublets. Two of the men had heavy leather belts slung over their shoulder from which hung twelve small pouches.
It was dark, and the moon had not yet risen. A man in a leather jerkin put a slow match to the clay pipe he had clenched in his teeth. "And Heinrich? We camp or continue?"
A man with a wide brimmed hat smiled at the speaker. "No, we wait for riders dressed in black. Like we were told in that last town."
"Who were they again?" Another of the gaily-dressed men fingered the trigger of his crossbow. He stroked the heavy bowstring. He brought the weapon to his eye and peered through the sighting notch at the end of the stock.
"They just said they had lots of gold. Two riders in black." The man in the wide brimmed hat replied. "Said they had soldiers."
Dieter laughed handing the match to another soldier. "Nothing I'm sure to match us. Did you see how they looked at the crossbows?" Heinrich nodded one side of his face rising in a wry smile. A long scar down the other side of his face kept the other end of his mouth in a continual frown.
"As if they had never seen them before." Heinrich said, still smiling. "Pierre, hide the slow match, someone may see it."
The soldier looked down at the match, lit his own pipe and then set it into a slot on the side of the long wooden club he carried. He took a puff on his pipe. "Better?"
Heinrich slapped him on the back. "That's where it belongs."
Another soldier stood pulling himself up the shaft of his spiked polearm. "Riders." Heinrich nodded. He gestured to Dieter and Pierre, pointing to the bushes along the trail. Both nodded and quickly hid themselves.
"Etienne", Heinrich pointed to the other side of the road. Etienne nodded and pulled on his helmet. He stuck his foot into the stirrup at the base of his crossbow and drew the sting back. "Karl!" Heinrich shook another soldier awake. Karl looked up alarmed. "No time to sleep, join Etienne."
Karl drew the match from around the brim of his hat and stuck it into the lock on his harquebus and blew on it to stoke the fire.
The hooves pounded along the trail. Five men stood in the center of the road with Heinrich. He stuck his sword into the beaten earth of the road and adjusted his gauntlets. The sword was nearly as tall as he was but with its broad hilt and handle was well balanced. The other five men had various polearms. Each weapons' head was a scalloped blade with spikes on the top and bottom, made specifically to unhorse a rider and to undercut metal armor. Made specially to kill the heavy knights the soldiers were accustomed to fighting.
"Remember to stand your ground. These come at a gallop." Heinrich smiled wryly. The cavalry they usually faced charged at a trot. He knew though that a horse would not ride through a man. The rider could goad his horse to attack, but a charging horse would always shy away at the last instant. In that instant you killed the horse to equalize the fight between mounted and dismounted men.
The horse approached them; the rider was clad all in black. There was no armor on the horse. This would be easy. The rider slowed, as if to size up the men in the road. Their clothes were rather obvious even in the darkness, but much less than a slow match.
"NOW!" Two crossbow bolts sped at the rider. One hit the black clad rider in the arm the other imbedded itself in the flank of the horse. Heinrich and the polearm-wielding soldiers started forward. The rider began to gesture and speak quickly in clicks. Then two claps of thunder split the night. The horse reared up as one ball hit it in the neck. The other struck the rider with a load crack but still he did not tumble from his mount.
Heinrich bounded forward and swung his massive blade at the horse's leg. It came off cleanly and the horse toppled. The fallen rider now faced the blades of five polearms. It swung its fist throwing one to the side. Another soldier rammed his weapon forward and caught the fallen rider's arm between the poleaxe's spikes. The rider twisted to one side with a speed that astounded Heinrich, avoiding another blade, but the head of a fourth found it and tore into its chest.
"That's the way Rudolf!" Heinrich cried. Rudolf jerked his weapon down and it burst forth from the rider's chest, tearing a giant rent in it. Black blood flew from the wound. The rider emitted a screech and staggered backwards. Heinrich swung his great sword neatly decapitating it. The head flew to one side, and the hood it wore fluttered away. The face was a hideous shiny black mask, with large multifaceted eyes and a beak, but in the faded light of the rising moon it looked vaguely human.
"What is that?" Rudolf stammered, poking the head with the end of his polearm.
"A dark hunter", Dieter said reloading his crossbow. "Like an insect, they once hunted us, drove some to this wretched land."
Metzger held aloft a bag jingling with coins. Heinrich wiped the dark blood from his blade on the saddle blanket of the fallen horse. "That's what we're here for."
Karl grimly reloaded his harquebus. "There's another right Heinrich?" He poured the powder in the pan and closed the cover.
Heinrich nodded. Charles threw another jingling bag to him that he caught in midair. With his teeth he pulled open the drawstring. "Gold. Odd markings. Not any I've ever seen." He dropped the coin back into the purse. He jerked his head up. "Here comes the next!"
"No surprising this one, he'd have heard the guns", Pierre said as he tapped the butt of his harquebus on the ground to seat the ball.
The rider pulled back his mount at fifty paces. "Youuuu, outt offff the rrrroad." It hissed. Its voice grated on the ears, Heinrich thought. It began to gesture again. Something did not seem right as it did.
Dieter grabbed his chest and fell forward with a sigh. "Fire!" Heinrich cried through clenched teeth.
"WITCH!" Rudolf screamed. Heinrich swung his massive blade signaling the rest of his men to follow him. Both guns fired. The horse jerked back as one ball broke its jaw. The second was lost to the night. The rider caught the crossbow bolt in his hand and flung it away. Charles grabbed his head and slid off his feet screaming. Blood flowed from his eyes and ears. Heinrich had his sword out, stopped on his feet and used the impetuous of his motion to propel the huge great blade forward and through the legs of the horse. The horse fell forward and the rider went tumbling over its head. It landed on its feet and had its sword drawn.
In a smooth motion it ducked below the swing of one poleaxe and parried another. A third caught it in the thigh and it fell back to one leg. Heinrich was surprised, as with any normal man the blow would have severed the leg. Metzger shook his head and took several steps back. Rudolf caught the rider's sword in the spikes of his polearm as the rider was parrying another. Rudolf started to shake his head and reeled back. Heinrich swung his massive sword.
The rider twisted around to parry. The force of Heinrich's swing would have crushed any normal man: this thing blocked the blow. Heinrich began to feel his head reeling, but he was far too old a soldier to let that break him. The head always reeled in battle. Karl and Etienne slammed the butts of their harquebuses into the rider and it lurched to one side from the impact. Its sword slid off Heinrich's blade so the mercenary leader swung his great sword around again and took off the thing's arm.
It stumbled back to its feet, twisting to face the two harquebusiers. Rudolf staggering like a drunken man stabbed forward with the head of his poleaxe and it impacted the rider's chest with a loud crunch. Pierre had joined them with sword and dagger in hand; he reached forward and plunged both into the rider's chest. Pierre kicked the thing in its chest to bring out his blades. Heinrich hit it on the base of its neck with the butt of his sword.
It fell to its knees and then tumbled to one side. Pierre flicked the hood off to reveal its features. The beak still moved.
"So dark one, for whom do you work eh?" Pierre held his blade to its throat. Metzger and Rudolf hooked the spikes of their polearms around its one remaining arm. Heinrich stuck his great sword into the earth and drew his dagger.
"Well can't you answer a simple question?"
"Galbatorix. He sssssshall all of you ssshhhheeee dead…"
"King Galba?" Rudolf mused. "Galba the Rex?"
"If you're the best he got, it'll be easy picking." Heinrich grinned only the one side of his mouth rising because of his scar. "You're almost as ugly as me." It only hissed in reply.
"Your witchcraft killed three, monster", Rudolf leaned close. The rider's head weaved back and forth and blood began to seep from its mouth.
"Enough talk." Heinrich plunged his dagger into the multifaceted eye of the creature. It opened its beak and let out a low hissing cough. Rudolf and Metzger plunged their blades through its arm; Pierre cut its throat.
"A bundle fell off the horse, Heinrich", Karl said absently. He turned and winked. "It's a nice bundle with copper hair." The soldier knelt down and pulled the bound woman to her feet.
Rudolf and Metzger smiled broadly at each other. "Gold and a woman!" Pierre shook his head as he rifled through the saddlebags. He tossed a sack of coin to Etienne.
"Lots of gold. Odd coins again, never seen them before. Not Spanish or Swiss or Roman or Musselman." Etienne turned a gold piece over in his fingers. Heinrich shrugged and yanked the gag from the girl's mouth. She was clad only in a stained and torn shift. Heinrich nodded to Karl who cut the bonds of her feet and stole a look up her skirt.
"Fresh", he said with a leer. He sniffed a lock of her hair. "Very fresh."
"Well girl, who are you?" Heinrich leaned forward on his sword.
"Katrina of Carvahall." She tried to hold up her chin but only managed to look more bedraggled. "Untie my hands…"
Heinrich shook his head. "Not till we're sure of you. Have you a man?"
"I have an intended back in the village." She cast her eyes over her shoulder. "I was taken from his arms this night."
"With him for the first time too", Heinrich noted. Katrina glared at him. "The blood stain 'tween your legs." She took a step back. Karl shook his head and gently pushed her forward again. "My men would like to use you some more, break you in for him."
Katrina's mouth moved silently as her eyes glazed over in shock. She shook her head and tears began to streak down her dirty face. "He, he should be here, he's a mighty fighter."
"I'm sure he's killed many, eh? A farm boy?" Pierre smirked still running his fingers through the gold coins. Katrina nodded.
"Who's first Heinrich?" Karl looked down at Katrina's chest and then back at the scarred soldier. Heinrich watched the tears staining Katrina's face.
"Who are you?" She managed between choked sobs, "You don't wear the red of the Empire."
"From across the sea. We're mercenaries. We heard that this place was in the shit, so we came. We're the first of many." Heinrich cocked his head to one side as her eyes widened. "You're surprised we killed these?"
"Yes, they attacked our village, killed there was no stopping them. They were so strong and fast. They ate one man…"
Etienne laughed. Rudolf joined him. Heinrich removed his hat and allowed himself another smile. "If these are the best they have, they're in trouble." He looked at each of his men in turn. All hardened soldiers accustomed to battle against greater odds than two riders. He had lost three though, including old Dieter. All three to witchcraft.
The soldiers were leering now at the half dressed girl. Heinrich began to unlace his yellow and red striped doublet. "I've a soft heart, I'll keep you safe for your intended. We have plenty of gold, enough to buy each of us a dozen doxies."
He cut the bonds on her hands and draped the doublet over her. "Wear it so my men will stop staring at your teats." The girl's face reddened. "I've lost three men, your village have a priest to give them a Christian burial?"
Katrina looked up at him confused. "Priest?"
"Someone to say some words over them" Karl said. "Not a Christian?"
"To the Pope, Karl we aren't Christians either", Pierre remarked.
"Katrina, you want to see your man again, lead us to this Carvahall." Heinrich gestured down the road. He shouldered his great sword and shrugged. "If this is the best this Empire has, they're finished. I'm certain they've never seen real soldiers before."
The mercenaries all shared a laugh.
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