Free Grim Company 02 - Sword Of The North by Luke Scull

arse.’
    Kayne placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Let’s see if we can’t do this the easy way,’ he whispered. He lowered his greatsword, resting the tip on the ground. ‘We mean no harm,’ he shouted affably. He pointed towards the north. ‘We were just riding by.’
    ‘Nargh,’ said the largest of the hill-men again. He bared oversized teeth and thumped his hairy chest.
    Kayne turned to Brick. ‘What’s he saying?’
    The young bandit shrugged his narrow shoulders. He already had an arrow nocked.
    ‘Right then,’ shouted Kayne, taking a step forward. ‘We don’t want any trouble and besides, it’s shitty weather for a fight. Sorry about your dead friend. We lost a horse, so I guess we’ll call us even, eh? What do you say?’
    The savages looked at one another, then began to hoot and holler and beat their weapons on the ground. The female raised a hand and they all fell silent except for the largest. She snarled and cuffed him around the back of the head and he quietened with a whimper.
    Kayne relaxed a fraction. Even among these wild savages, it seemed a man knew when to listen to his wife or mother. Likely one and the same around these parts, he reckoned, noting the uncanny resemblance between the brutes.
    The hill-woman scrutinized him thoughtfully. Then she shrank back, squatting down on her haunches as if preparing to grovel.
    Kayne shook his head ruefully. ‘There’s no need for that. It was our fault for intruding—’
    The woman suddenly thrust an arm forward and launched something at him. It connected with an ominous squelching sound. Kayne’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the fresh shit splattered over his hide shirt. The other savages began to howl and then they too were hurling slimy brown turds or smearing excreta across their bodies.
    ‘Fucking unbelievable,’ rasped Jerek in disgust. Before Kayne could respond the savages rushed towards them. Brick’s arrow struck one in the eye, dropping him lifeless, and then two of the stinking bastards were right in Kayne’s face, swinging with terrible strength. The cut he had taken above his eye still leaked blood, leaving him half-blind as he blocked blows powerful enough to shatter bone, driving him back against the ridge. He parried a cudgel aimed at his head. The impact almost knocked the greatsword from his hands, which were quickly growing numb.
    ‘Fine,’ he spat between gritted teeth. ‘I tried to be reasonable.’ He lashed out with a boot, hitting the nearest savage firmly in the groin. The hill-man’s eyes took on a distant look and his feral face twisted in agony. Kayne responded by wiping blood from his wounded eye with the back of one hand and then cleaving the dazed savage open from neck to sternum. It was a good kill, and would have merited a satisfied grunt had not his greatsword got stuck in the dead man’s chest.
    ‘Shit,’ he said, giving the weapon another tug. It didn’t budge.
    The remaining savage slammed into him like a runaway wagon. Kayne’s back crunched into the rock face behind him, the air knocked from his lungs and the greatsword torn from his wet grip.
    The hill-man pressed huge palms around Kayne’s throat and forced him back against the embankment, shit-smeared mouth and brown teeth straining to take a bite out his face. Kayne struggled to pry the savage’s fingers loose but the brute was as strong as hell. Seemed everyone he fought was stronger than him lately. Here he was again, overpowered by a younger and more powerful man.
    Still. He was Brodar Kayne, and he wasn’t once named Sword of the North for nothing.
    He let go of the hill-man’s wrist and reached up to the savage’s filthy mane. The savage squeezed harder but Kayne ignored the terrible pressure as he tugged hard on the bone charm hanging there. It came away in his hand in a tangle of slimy black hair. He turned it slightly in his shaking palm, angling the sharp point upwards.
    Then he stabbed with all his remaining