Free Even Gods Must Fall by Christian Warren Freed Page B

where he believed the only threat to be. How has this fool managed to gain a lordship? He should be dead already . Ingrid and the rebels could be right behind, striking without warning. Boen concluded the mercenaries were no better than armed brigands. No real fighting force worthy of mention would find themselves so woefully underprepared in the face of imminent danger.
    Fools with pointy sticks, he decided. Their previous engagements weren’t as violent or climactic as the river men had been but there were more than enough mercenaries to cause trouble. Even Boen wasn’t strong enough to defeat two hundred fighters. Satisfied the majority of the camp was still asleep and lacking any sort of vigilance, Boen drew his broadsword and charged.
    The thunder of hooves awakened a handful but by then it was already too late. Boen was crashing through sleeping roles, trampling those unfortunate enough to be caught asleep. His sword hacked and slashed those precious defenders quick witted enough to get up. Ropes of blood flew across branch and snow. Men screamed. Boen roared as only a Vengeance Knight could. His pass through the camp lasted a handful of heartbeats. In that short period of time he’d struck down three and trampled another five to what he hoped was a painful death.
    Boen raced off into the forests. Snow kicked up in his wake. Shouts and roars, oaths of vengeance trailed after him as the mercenary camp was struck. Skaning gave in to his fury and ordered them after the Gaimosian. All thoughts of Bahr, brother of the king, fled as the irrepressible desire for payback subsumed reason. Men strapped on their armor and weapons and climbed into saddles. The dead and wounded were forgotten, left in the care of a skeleton group consisting of the lone medic. Skaning led the charge, never realizing Boen had slowed enough to allow them to catch up.
    The chase ranged across fields and small patches of woods. Boen took them due north, hoping to put enough distance between them and Bahr that they wouldn’t be any hindrance in the next three days. Standing his ground wasn’t an option. If the enemy was smart they would surround him at distance and gun him down with enough arrows to slay an army. Boen wasn’t counting on them being intelligent, especially now that their ire was up.
    Foresight would have given Boen time to plan a few surprises along his escape route, but time and necessity seldom cared for one’s desires. Boen had no other option but to flee as fast and hard as he could. The rest would settle itself. Not even his great endurance was enough to outlast his foes forever. At some point his faithful mount would flounder, giving out long before they reached Arlevon Gale. His one hope, slender as it was, came from the need to reach safety by nightfall. Unfortunately the day had just begun.
     
     
     
    Exhausted, horse covered in sweat, Boen dashed into the trees as the sun dropped. The snow was blessing and bane. No matter how hard he tried there was simply no way he was going to lose his pursuers. Not with several feet of snow covering the ground in most places. He’d tried running up streams and over rocks where the heat of the sun melted the snow and ice. None of it worked. Skaning’s mercenaries continued, plodding their way closer and closer.
    Boen tried, unsuccessfully, to get Skaning to split his forces but the young lord was wise enough to know that was akin to a death sentence. No good commander divided his strength, especially not when facing a lone warrior. Frustrated and hampered at every turn, Boen welcomed nightfall. Tired as he was, so too must be the others. The chase was long, arduous at times, and time consuming. He hadn’t been involved in such a situation for as long as he could recall, leaving him certain neither had the mercenaries.
    No doubt by now they’d been filled with complaints and argued to stop. Mercenary companies were seldom paid well during the campaign and, given the conditions