Free Exiles of Forlorn by Sean T. Poindexter

curled up and rolled away, shaking. I caught a glimpse of Antioc doing the same, only wincing in pain and holding his chest. The sound was worse than hearing Threestep’s head get smacked off; worse than hearing a man crushed under a dying horse. It made me wish for death.
    Uller fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks. The glutton laughed and turned its attention back to Antioc. I got a look at the giant’s face. What remained of one eye was a big, gooey socket with a slimy mess trailing down his pudgy face. The remaining eye was enflamed with red veins. The glutton’s lips rolled back to reveal a mouth full of sharp, filthy teeth, the shortest as long as my fingers. It advanced on Antioc, bringing up its club while I trembled there, huddled in a ball, helpless and pathetic.
    My friend was going to die. On his back, in this Daevas forsaken place, and I was going to die next.
    A pair of sharp twangs echoed through the trees, follow by wet thumps. The giant groaned. I looked up at him and saw two arrows jutting from him, one in his eye, the other his throat. He stopped and raised his head, confused. I looked back and saw Reiwyn and Ferun, each holding their bows with arrows drawn and nocked.
    “Give it to ‘em again!” cried another familiar voice. I looked between them and saw Blackfoot hiding in their shadow. He hadn’t abandoned us at all. He’d gone for help. I could have almost kissed him. I wasn’t going to but . . . almost.
    Our archers let two more arrows fly. Ferun’swent low and struck the giant between the ribs. Reiwyn’s went into his eye right next to her first shot. The monster howled and grabbed the arrows. How was it still alive? I’d ponder later that the gluttons don’t use their brains much, so having an arrow in it probably isn’t so fatal to them.
    Regaining some semblance of my composure, I looked for Antioc, but he was gone. I heard another war cry, this time from behind the glutton, and my friend returned. He jumped in the air and wrapped his legs around the monster’s thick, stubby neck. The glutton grunted and shook, but couldn’t get him off. Antioc raised his big, smooth rock above his head and brought it down hard. A crack followed and the glutton’s struggle ceased. Thick, black blood ran down his face and neck. He slumped and fell. Antioc leapt off as he hit the ground. He landed well, but lost his balance and grabbed his side before falling.
    “Are you fair?” I ran to his side. “I’m sorry I made fun of your rock!”
    Antioc grinned.
    Ferun and Reiwyn approached, arrows poised at the downed giant as though a split skull might not be the end of him. When sufficient time passed without his reanimation, they lowered their bows and proceeded to extract their arrows from his corpse.
    Blackfoot aided Uller while I helped Antioc get to his feet. Once we were all together, we looked beyond to the headless corpse of Threestep slumped against a tree. Reiwyn let out a sad sigh as Uller and Blackfoot looked away. I studied Ferun, he seemed curiously taciturn in the face of a comrade’s death; his one good eye unflinching and cool. I’d seen that look before, and I could tell from Antioc’s reaction he’d seen it before, too. It was the look of an officer who bought glory with the lives of his men. I don’t know why I was naïve enough to think I’d get away from men like him in this place. They were everywhere.
    “You two,” Ferun pointed at Uller and me. “Collect Threestep. Blackfoot, get his gear and let’s leave.”
    “Antioc’s wounded,” I said, straining to hold up my friend.
    “I am fair—”
    “You are certainly far from fair.” I looked at the big, red and purple bruise on his side. “You’ve mostly likely cracked a rib or two.”
    “He was fair enough to kill this thing,” Ferun said with a sneer. “He’s fair enough to walk back.” He put a boot on the dead glutton’s chest. “Well done, by the by.”
    “Yes, well done.” Reiwyn was