“You think that’s it? That you’ve stopped me? I’ll just find another.” Peevan spat, a globule of his phlegm rolling down my cheek, it mixed with the rain, falling from me and mingling with the blood on the ground. His blade arm hung uselessly at his side, the tendons severed. I held his lost blade in my off hand. My own at his throat. Both blades dripped with blood, mine and his.

  Our life essence merged together on the stone slabs and seeped into the cracks between them. My body and arms ached. I’d been cut several times, and some of them quite deeply. But I had fended off the killstrokes. Just as my opponent had taught me. The family he’d tried to slaughter had got away, thanks to me. A mother, father. The young boy who would never wield a blade. Perhaps he would thank me if he knew what his future might have been. Instead, they looked at me with fear when the ferocity of my master and me was unleashed against each other. I couldn’t stand by and let him do to them what he did to my family.

  “You took my parents. I won’t let you take more.” I growled, keeping the shakes out of my hand by tensing every muscle I had.

  “Poor, orphan Tullen. I was more of a parent than yours were. Drop the fucking blade and get me out of here before the guard comes.” He rolled his eyes, sneering at me.

  “My parents never got the chance to raise me. That’s on you.”

  “The world needs more Steelweavers Tullen. Hard people. Bloody people. The only ones who can push against darkness by wielding it like a fine blade. Training more is the only way. Look how far you’ve come, eh? You took me on. You’re a Steelweaver through and through.” The bastard smiled, a thin-lipped, cruel-looking thing.

  “All these years. I’ve only now realised you’re just a sad, deluded old man. Filled with bullshit. You just want another person to control. Another legacy.”

  “Careful, boy. I am your master still. You think your small victory will—”

  My blade bit into his throat as his eyes widened. His blood sloughed out of him. Pattering on the floor like the hard rains of autumn. He dropped to his knees, bringing his off hand to his throat. Blood seeped through the gaps in his fingers.

  His eyes never left mine. Even as he fell backwards.

  “I always had you to think for us. But it’s time to start doing it for myself now.”

  Peevan’s eyes stared blankly. I heard the cries of men in the distance. Turning toward the noise. I saw a mother and father pointing at me, holding their boy close. Guards sprinted past them, spears and shields at the ready.

  “HALT! DROP THE WEAPON.”

  I went back to staring at my master’s corpse. He was dead. The act of killing him had made me a master of the sword. Perhaps the last living one.

  I dropped them both and raised my hands. Rain fell on my face as I looked into the sky and slowly closed my eyes.

  #

  I awoke with a start in my bed, sweating. My eyes were tired and my mouth dry. I wish I’d stop thinking about that bastard.

  The sounds of people chattering downstairs and the general hustle of the city had broken me from my sleep. I felt like I’d spent the night drinking, although I’d had none of the indulgence leading to that. I must have only had a few hours' sleep. If that.

  I threw on my clothes, grabbed my sword stick and flung my door open.

  Gertha was standing there, fist raised.

  “Let a man eat before you punch him in the face, eh?” I smiled.

  She snorted, “I was coming to wake you, we have shit to do.”

  “Well, I’m awake. Let’s get cracking.”

  Gertha turned away and walked down the corridor toward the stairs. I pressed my hands tight against my eyes, trying to smother the image of Peevan’s bleeding corpse.

  It helped, but only a little.

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  The others were sitting at one of the tables, plates of eggs, bread and meat were laid out. Kizran’s work, no doubt. I saw no sign of him, so I took the one empty seat and began shovelling food in. Last night's activities had me famished. I looked up at the others as I inhaled my food. Sayo had rings around her eyes, like mine, no doubt. Gertha picked at the remains of her food while Sila leaned back in his chair, pushing an empty plate away.

  “You look shattered, Tullen. Did you not sleep well?” Sila asked evenly, his eyes flitted to Sayo and back to mine. He seemed coiled like a snake, ready to strike.

  “Had a long walk last night, ran into a little trouble. It’s handled.” I said, my mouth half full of bread.

  “Is it trouble that’s going to come back on us?” Gertha asked, leaning in toward me.

  I swallowed my food down before taking another large bite, this time of eggs, which were the perfect amount of runny.

  “No. Trouble’s sorted now. Sayo helped.” Yolk spilt out of my mouth, and I wiped my sleeve across it. Sila breathed a large sigh and smiled, tension in his shoulders loosening.

  “Swallow before talking, please, Tull. We’re in a city.” Gertha groaned.

  I gulped, emptying my mouth “Sorry. Ravenous.” Sayo poked Sila in the ribs.

  “Oww?” He gasped.

  “Enough. We planned to go to this butcher. To try to get one or both of your jobs. Don’t go ruining it before we begin.” Gertha shook her head, although I saw the slight smile she tried to hide.

  “Tell that to her, not me,” Sila whined as Sayo chuckled.

  I popped a piece of bread in my mouth, soaked in egg yolk.

  “I’m ready, let’s get you two layabouts jobs.” I laughed.

  “Tullen swallow for the Gods' sake.” Gertha hissed as she smacked me around the back of the head.

  #

  “Don’t need extra hands. Working on a Royal order for the next few months.” The Butcher said. I raised an eyebrow at the three fingers on his left hand, and he fixed me with a hard glare. His red nose and craggy face were the signs of a life lived long, but not altogether well.

  His right hand, with all fingers intact, was wrapped around a large cleaver. A slab of meat lay in front of him in a small puddle of blood. Flies hovered around it, occasionally being wafted away by the cleaver. The stench of meat threatening to turn filled the entire butchery, and I had to steel myself against it. The competing smells were familiar and beyond me, each one masking the other.

  “Give us your shit jobs work. These two are dab hands at skinning, and I’ll shovel or wash whatever you need.” I gestured to Sayo and Sila, then to the larger space we stood in. Gertha waited outside, not wanting to step into such a place. A long wooden counter ran for the length of a banquet table. It was empty; there was no meat for sale for the common folk here. Behind the counter was another story. Piles of meat lay arranged on carts, I could make out carcasses of pigs, cows, deer and several others that seemed familiar but I couldn’t quite place.

  They’d been hacked beyond recognition. Beyond that was a larger warehouse; it looked like a forest of hooks upon which hung more meat. I wondered how many animals had lost their lives to populate this place. I saw workers moving between them as if they were stalking deer.

  “Yeah, you look like you could sling your share of crap, but I don’t need you lot, and I’m not paying more people than I have to. Try one of the other butcheries.”

  I knocked my knuckles on the work surface, taking a deep breath in as I stroked my medallion.

  The Butcher’s face softened. “Look, friend. I know times are hard. But I have my own to think of. You understand.”

  I waved him away, “I know when we’re defeated. Thanks anyway.”

  He didn’t reply, instead looking over his shoulder, “Mullo. I want those carts ready for the guards' pickup come nightfall.”

  “Want me to let ‘em in?” A faint voice called.

  “They have keys.”

  I heard the muffled reply coming from underneath one of the carts, but I was lost in thought.

  A seed of an idea is blooming.

  “No luck?” Sayo asked as I joined her and Sila.

  “Fuck all, we’ll have to try our luck elsewhere,” I said, raising my voice so the Butcher would hear.

  “Luck to you.” The Butcher called back as we stepped out of the wooden double door into the streets.

  Immediately, the smell of civilisation hit us, and gradually the stench of death faded like ice in the sun.

  “I’m assuming the faces like slapped arses mean you’re all still layabouts?” Gertha said.

  “You’d be right,” Sila said.

  “It wasn’t much of a plan, really, was it?” Gertha smiled sadly.

  “Let’s come back when they’re empty. Before the guards let themselves in.”

  “What are you thinking?” Sayo asked.

  “Our way in is through the carts,” I said, striding down the street.

  “Best wear our bad clothes then.” Sila groaned.

  “Great.” Sayo sighed.

  Gertha just swore.