A Veteran Returns Home: Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
The morning transpired as usual. A few cups of spiced tea, ale for Pasinah, while sharing a platter of flatbread, dips, olives, and cheese. Nemo sat in his leather jacket, buttons fastened and his sword by his side, waiting for the inevitable. He even wore his wrist bow from Ramascus and fired a few practice shots into the storehouse in the garden. Much to the distress of the two horses, and Tura.
Vispa was dulled. Her eyes sunken and her appetite minor. Nemo teased her for it. She claimed she “had only had a few.” Nemo chuckled as he drank spiced tea, revelling in a clear minded focus. Isvat chortled along, winking at Vispa who turned away from his gaze.
The four were cheery on the morning of an expected raid. Tura had been sent out to gather the strongest, and willing, villagers to move the “wall on wheels” into place. Pisi had been gone since last night, hiding in whatever dwelling was his families somewhere in the alleyways of Forgiskill. Best option really, Nemo thought.
‘Tura has placed the two crossbows on the corridor upstairs near the middle window,’ Vispa said wearily through bites of bread.
‘Can you reload one?’
‘Of course. Can do it with my eyes closed. I tried,’ she shot Nemo a creasing smile that replenished, for a moment, her youthful energy. Her grey pallor and tired eyes returned with a vengeance soon after.
‘Good. You need to be quick and you need to be prepared to point out targets too if need be. Two sets of eyes is better than one,’ Nemo said.
‘I know. Same with pickpocketing.’
‘Huh-uh,’ Nemo nodded.
Pasinah finished a cup of ale and refilled it with spiced tea. His chainmail clinking against the table as he did so. He had leant his sword on his cushion, the hilt within reach of his sword arm at a moments notice. His jaw tense, his shoulders raised, and fist clenched against the edge of the table.
Nemo felt a tension in his neck. A crick of nervousness. ‘Would you relax?’ He glared at Pasinah.
‘How can I?’ He answered. ‘Always been stiff before a fight. You seem relaxed enough for the two of us.’
‘I was,’ Nemo rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.
‘Where is Tura anyway? Isn’t he meant to be upstairs being lookout?’ Pasinah grumbled. Age mixing with worry in a guttural manner.
‘He’ll be here.’ Though maybe Vispa should be lookout.
An hour or more passed, the platter of food emptied, the pot of spiced tea gone too. Tura had yet to return but the bandits had yet to arrive either.
‘I can’t stand this waiting,’ Isvat said jumping to his feet, ‘I need to move,’ he paced the length of the room and ran upstairs.
‘Well he can be lookout then,’ Nemo said hearing his footsteps echoing through the ceiling. Back and forth, back and forth, along the corridor.
‘You should go up too and be ready with those crossbows,’ Nemo said to Vispa.
‘Not yet,’ she protested.
‘You may not have time when they arrive.’
‘I will. Swap places,’ she said.
Nemo stood up and Vispa shimmied across the cushions.
‘Now I can sprint for the stairs,’ she said.
Nemo frowned, ‘Alright.’
Minutes felt like hours. Tura had still failed to appear. Nemo fretted he had been found by the bandits and forced to reveal the plan. Pasinah’s nervousness was contagious it seemed. Heaven’s help me, he cursed, I could be half way home by now seeing the gates of Tanussi behind me and Beargarth a few days away. He sighed.
‘What’s the matter?’ Pasinah asked.
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘I doubt that,’ he tittered.
‘I should be racing home to be with my children. Instead I’m here waiting for bandits that outnumber us and a doddering Mayor who gets lost in his own town,’ Nemo said, his voice raising in annoyance.
Pasinah nodded with sage-like restraint, ‘I know how you feel,’ he muttered. ‘At least with regards to wanting to see your children again.’
‘Where are yours?’ Nemo asked, his annoyance draining.
‘Dead,’ Pasinah answered. ‘War, raids, and ship wreck. In that order. There may be others out there, somewhere, but I don’t know them, I didn’t raise them. I raised three that died before turning thirty. Though maybe that was better than what awaited them now.’ He picked a splinter from the table with muscled hands and, balancing it on his thumb, flicked it across the room. ‘That’s life,’ he finished.
Nemo wanted to ask more. Was about to ask more. His lips parted and dust rained down from above with three heavy thuds of a boot.
‘They’re here,’ shouted Isvat through the inn.
Vispa leapt from her cushion, shot under the bar, and jumped the stairs two steps at a time.
Nemo hurried to his feet and went to the bar. Pasinah strapped his sword back to his belt and stood a few steps behind Nemo. Isvat rumbled down the stairs and hopped over the bar. The three exchanged glances across the room.
His heart in his ears and throat he nodded to Isvat. Hearing Pasinah’s heavy breaths behind him he opened and closed his fists. The room plunged into eery silence. The air grew heavy. The sunlight too bright and the air too hot.
Nemo breathed deeply through his nostrils and blew the breath out between pursed lips.
The air snapped and the ringing receded as the door to the inn burst open and in walked the same man as last time. Older, scarred, and roaring with energy. Behind him was Liangshi and the younger bandit, too young to be intimidating.
‘What have you done to this town, Tura?’ The veteran bandit looked around the inn. ‘Where is he?’
Nemo shrugged.
The man shrugged back, ‘Wrong answer.’ He strode towards Nemo.
Shouting came from outside, ’Move, move, move,’ followed by a loud rumble. It was Tura and the “wall on wheels.”
‘Set,’ Liangshi called.
The man approaching Nemo spun on his heels at her Dohanlu voice. ‘What is it?’ He yelled.
‘Look,’ she pointed out of the door, propping it open with her body.
‘What the hell is that?’ Set asked.
‘It looks to be another fence… made of… furniture,’ Liangshi said.
‘Are you planning on fighting? Really? Villagers with pitchforks and torches? And you three vagabonds?’ Set snarled, his derision palpable.
A scream erupted from outside. A bolt planted in a man’s shoulder. He cried. Breathing heavy while he hissed air. His mouth down turned. The white of his eyes wide and bloodshot. He held the bolt in one hand and pulled. He screamed as he did so but failed to remove the bolt. The angle too high. A second bolt flew through the air with only the faint twang of a crossbow. Blood erupted from the man’s neck and his head fell limp to one side. Eyes vacant. He fell to the ground. His own bow slipping from his grasp.
‘What the?’ Set began.
Nemo, sword in hand, swung for the bandit leader. Isvat and Pasinah accosted the younger man as he moved towards the stairs behind the bar.
‘No you don’t,’ Isvat said the tip of his blade aimed at the man’s face.
Liangshi darted out of the inn shouting at her comrades. ‘Someone get in there and put those dogs down,’ she nocked an arrow and spun towards the inn, letting the arrow loose towards the corridor above Nemo.
The door swung once, and he saw her loose a second arrow. It swung again and a man and a woman entered gritting their teeth with a sword, and a mace in hand. Nemo blocked a savage swing to his thigh and called to the others.
Pasinah broke off from the younger man and engaged the recent arrivals. Sword in one hand and dagger in the other. He parried and blocked in sequence as the mace and sword hammered him down.
He can’t keep that up for long, Nemo thought parrying another thrust from Set. Focus on your own problems, he scolded himself and lunged for Set’s midriff. The attack was blocked and rebounded. Set followed the block through with an underarmed swing to Nemo’s left. Nemo rolled his wrist from right to left bringing his scimitar down on Set’s sword, knocking it off course. Nemo pushed Set’s sword further forcing his opponents sword arm close to his body.
Pulling his dagger from his belt Nemo lunged for Set. The enemy twisted his body away from the dagger and Nemo cut through empty air. Set kicked a cushion away, then the table, into the wall.
‘Sneaky. Those damn daggers you all seem to have. Making me want to use a shield again,’ Set spat as he finished. His tongue running along his blackened teeth.
‘Why not a dagger?’ Nemo said offering a simple swing to the upper arm.
‘Not my style,’ Set said, blocking the blow.
‘You mean you can’t do it,’ Nemo pulled his sword back along Set’s. The metal screeched. He thrust with his dagger left. The screeching stopped and Nemo sliced down with his scimitar.
Set slipped his leg back and parried the dagger by hitting Nemo’s arm with his own. A dangerous move. ‘None of that,’ he said swinging wildly.
Nemo parried and blocked as he took two steps back. Set had regained lost space. Nemo smiled knowingly. Set rolled his shoulders and brought his straight sword in an angle before him. Nemo held the scimitar in his right and dagger in his left, both facing ahead, leaving his body open for a strike. A lure.
Set dropped his sword low and swung at Nemo’s unprotected shins. Nemo twisted his scimitar down to deflect the blow but Set’s sword had already shifted. The tip of the straight blade rose through the air, Nemo turned his dagger hand, palm down, to block. A crescent of blood followed the tip of Set’s blade through the air.
Nemo hissed. His shoulder stung. He glanced seeing torn leather and blood dripping from his left collar bone. He moved his left arm. Blood rushed from the wound but his arm still moved. That’s fine, he told himself feeling beads of sweat gather in the ridges of his forehead. Mucus rippled in his nostrils as he drew air. The wound stung with sweat and pulsed with blood. He worked his fingers over the hilt of his scimitar the leather slick with sweat. It’s fine.
‘One of you fools get upstairs and deal with that crossbow,’ Liangshi shouted from outside. Arrows struck the wall of the inn with heavy knocks.
Set smiled and restarted his offensive. Swiping and thrusting at Nemo’s left side. Each blow Nemo parried another followed. He set his feet sideways in a duelling stance, his sword facing Set and his dagger behind and useless.
Pasinah fought to his left, nearer the door, his assailants failing to encircle the old veteran. His dagger was less of a dagger and more of a short sword moving on its own. He parried a blow from the mace and kicked the woman in the knee. She squealed and fell to the floor. At least for a few moments it was an even fight, though maybe not a fair one.
Nemo held his knife behind him, out of view from Set, while he thrust and swung. Each attack aimed not for the body but for the weapon. A terrible tactic. And Set knew this by the look on his face. Eyes narrow and wicked curl to his lips. Nemo let the knife slip a little in his hand, now slick with blood, and balanced the dagger hilt in his fingertips.
Nemo swiped right for too long, leaving his torso unguarded. Set struck. A nasty thrust that could pierce ribs if it landed. Nemo dropped his right shoulder, his left rising, the dagger in hand. He straightened his arm as it rose letting the knife dangle on the edge of his grip and as Set’s throat was firm in his vision he let go. The knife darted through the air. Droplets of blood rushing along the handle and flying from the pommel.
Set’s face twisted. His thrust halted. Mouth open and gasping. He fell to his knees. Unable to move his neck. The dagger protruded from his neck, blood gushing from the wound and frothing at his mouth. He reached for the dagger. Before he even felt the hilt he was dead.
‘Set!’ The mace wielding woman cried.
She unleashed a flurry of blows against Pasinah. His sword arm met each with a grimace. Pasinah gritted his teeth as a well of blood burst from his side. He roared in pain as the mace crashed into his leg with bone shattering ferocity. He fell to the floor, covered in his own blood, still blocking blows with his sword.
Nemo rushed to defend his ally. Parrying a mace blow to Pasinah’s groin. He stood over the injured man holding his scimitar in both hands deflecting the barrage of strikes from the two assailants.
The hilt of a sword appeared by his left arm. Deflecting a mace swing aimed at his shoulder he reached for the second sword with his left hand and used it to block a lazy swing from the other bandit.
Nemo swung both swords, the left feeling slow and unbalanced in his hand. It didn’t matter. What mattered was making space. He stepped over Pasinah and heard the old man crawling away allowing Nemo to take up a proper stance.
Isvat yelled to Pasinah in a language Nemo didn’t know. The old man responded with a tone of incredulity. Isvat suppressed a half laugh of disbelief as he parried a blow from his target and stabbed the young bandit in the shoulder and sliced across his chest.
Nemo swung with both swords held together aiming for the woman’s mace. She blocked the blow with a gritted teeth and released a yelp as the force of the blow rattling up her arm. Her weapon off to her left Nemo swiped down from left to right and sliced through her torso. Yelping again as blood gushed forth. Her intestines hanging out of her stomach. No chainmail, Nemo thought odd. Or none where it mattered, he turned to the man halted by shock.
A sword appeared in his neck. Isvat at the hilt. He fell alongside his screaming companion while she clung to her innards.
Nemo retrieved his knife from Set’s neck and thanked Pasinah for the sword. The old man nodded while he lay on the floor. Breathing heavily and clinging to his leg he used the sword to pierce a cushion and pull it nearer. He shuffled his head and shoulders onto the cushion and forced a smile.
‘What do you need?’ Isvat rushed to the man’s side.
‘Something to stop the bleeding,’ Pasinah said.
‘What about the leg?’
‘Oh nothing to be done for that. The bone is shattered,’ Pasinah said.
Nemo wondered how the veteran was sure of that. Maybe it has a distinct sensation, he thought, never wanting to find out.
‘Look out!’ Vispa shouted from upstairs as the doors to the inn burst open.
Liangshi had nocked an arrow and raised her bow towards Nemo. Tears streamed down her cheeks while her eyes burned.
Nemo moved his left hand and squeezed his middle finger to his palm. He felt the string of the wristbow ping off the catch. The quarrel, a little longer than a finger, caught Liangshi in the chest.
Her arrow struck the floor as she coughed blood and fell to her knees. She looked to Nemo with rounded eyes as blood welled over her bottom lip. A red streak glided across her skin and down the head of the dragon etched into her neck.
Vispa hurtled down the stairs with crossbow in hand. Hair clung to her face all coated in sweat. ‘Oh, good,’ she said between rapid breaths.
‘Vispa look after Pasinah. Isvat with me,’ Nemo said pointing to the veteran.
‘But…’ Isvat began.
‘He’ll be fine. We have the rest of the bandits to deal with,’ he looked to Vispa.
‘Yeah, three of them,’ she answered grabbing a bottle of something from behind the bar and a handful of clean rags.
Nemo burst out the door scimitar first. He pulled the short bolt out of Liangshi’s neck as he stepped over her and reloaded his wristbow. He squinted as he stepped into daylight. Eyes stinging he made a pass over the square they had created with barricades.
The wall on wheels leaned to one side, a few wheels missing. Good thinking Tura, he thought catching a black cladded man pulling at the chairs, tables, and drawers that made the wall.
‘Isvat,’ he said pointing with his sword.
The eager soldier leapt the steps and made a sound of surprise as he blocked a sword swipe. A bandit peeled himself away from under the veranda of the inn and launched himself at Isvat. The one by the wall turned at the snapping of clashing steel and ran to attack Isvat. Nemo aimed his wristbow but the man moved too fast for the speed the short string could muster. The bolt burying itself in the sand behind the man. Nemo leapt to the defence of his ally.
The wild sword swings of men baked by the midday sun berated them both. Faces twisting into snarls of anger and fear. Their comrades dead. Their leader among them. No hope of bounty but none of escape either. The only avenue left was relentless violence. A path once chosen not easy to renege on.
Vispa said three, he remembered blocking the savage swings of a two handed sword almost the height of the man swinging it. Its reach was deadly. Its weight deadlier still. Nemo tried to turn the blade rather than meet it but every few strikes he could feel the reverberations travelling from sword to elbow to shoulder and it made him wince and want to drop his sword, stretch his arms, and rest. The wound in his shoulder screaming in agony.
Isvat broke through the defences of his opponent and thrust for the man’s torso. The enemy looked surprised, stumbled, and then smiled as Isvat’s sword slipped across loops of chainmail. He hopped back avoiding a one handed swing.
‘Of course he is,’ Isvat said. ‘One of them had to be.’
Nemo shook his head, ‘Yeah but why not all of them. Doesn’t make sense.’
‘Overconfidence. Why wear something heavy and hot when you aren’t going to fight?’
‘Good point,’ Nemo finished side stepping an overhead swing.
Nemo planted his foot on the flat of the blade with its tip half buried in the sand. He slashed at his opponents uncovered wrists. The bandit dropped the two handed sword, his wrist squirting blood in thin crescents dotting the sand with crimson flower buds. Nemo pursued his mark to the moving barricade. The bandit slobbered over himself while his tears curled around his nostrils dripping with mucus. Hands gloved in blood he pawed at a table on its side in the barricade. His fingers refusing to bend. Nemo sighed as he approached and lifted the man’s sweat laden shirt up with the curved tip of his scimitar. The bandit shivered and watched. His breathing catching on tears, lips quivering. No chainmail, Nemo nodded and slew the man. Cutting him across his torso.
A blood curdling scream erupted behind Nemo. He turned to see a woman charging from the alleyway on the far side of the pen he and Vispa had created. A flash of metal rings from under her shirt revealed preparation. Hair tied back in a tail, roaring with teeth wide and ready to bite. A halberd, its part spear, part axe head, trained and ready for a low to high sweep. She held the pole in two hands on her right side.
Nemo had less than seconds to react as the tip of halberd scratched along the ground and swiped across his body. He turned the blade and stepped back. She spun the halberd over her head and swiped for his neck. Nemo ducked. The blade resting near her left side.
She shot him a glare from bloodshot eyes. Lips pressed white against sunned skin. A wisp of hair caught in her eyelash waved in the breeze. She grunted and shoved the iron tipped end of the pole-arm into Nemo. He winced as he caught the brunt of the blow on his lower arm. He flailed backwards into the shadow of the inn. Into a corner of wall and veranda fencing.
Sand blasted Nemo as he wild swiped the tip of the halberd away. The dust settled as quick as it rose and he was face to face with the long tip of her weapon now balanced on one shoulder and hand. He pushed his foot back, sand rippling over his boot, until he hit the wall of the inn. Alright, he breathed slow.
With flared nostrils and white lips she drove the tip towards Nemo’s head. He batted the blade away and swung for her meeting only the wooden pole banded with iron. He stepped into her halberds sweep range and thrust for her thigh. Bringing the blade of the halberd towards her awkwardly she blocked and took two steps back.
Good, he thought circling away from the inn to his back and instead Isvat and his assailant. Wide open space to fight and she wants to do it in the shaded corner. He deflected a few weak swings and continued to step back into the centre of the square between barricades.
She squinted as she swung for Nemo’s left. Nemo dodged right. She raised her hand to cover her eyes from the sun balancing the halberd in one hand with her elbow pressed to her side.
Nemo smiled and attacked swinging in basic attacks for shoulders and thighs knowing none would hit, at least not first time.
She spun the halberd between swings, blocking with either end of the pole-arm, all the while with one eye closed against the sun’s glare.
Nemo halted his attack with a wide stance. Inviting her to attack. She did. A thrust to his stomach. He stepped into the thrust, parrying the halberd off to his right side. With a swift two handed motion he slashed down into her neck with the curved tip of the scimitar. Her left eye closed as he did so. She stumbled, eyes open, as her life rushed to escape her. Her halberd fell with a clatter as she fell to the ground lifeless eyes staring into the sun as she gasped for air.
He watched her fall. Cocking his head as she did so. Her blood dripped from his scimitar into the sand and cracked soil of the road. His arms ached. His stomach rumbled and his throat felt dry. His scalp itched with the heat of the sun. Turning to face the inn he watched Isvat and the last bandit scrap. Each swiped and slashed to no avail. Their shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Isvat spat into the dirt and attacked with a grunt. The bandit parried and struck back. Isvat stepped away.
Nemo pulled his knife from his belt and strode towards the last bandit. The black clad fool was absorbed in his duel with Isvat. Nemo walked up to him and slashed at his unprotected thigh. The man dropped and swung his sword wildly. Nemo blocked the swipe and sliced at the man’s wrist with the knife. With his enemies sword in the dirt he kicked the man in the stomach. He doubled over in a coughing fit.
‘Tie him up,’ he told Isvat climbing the steps to the inn. He cleaned his weapons on his shirt, soiled with blood, sweat, and sand already. Pasinah and Vispa both froze as he entered. Deers who had caught their hunter in sight. Both sighed within seconds.
‘Done?’
‘All done,’ Nemo answered.
Doors slammed, voices were raised, and then the door from the kitchen swung open. It was Tura.
‘Where have you been?’ Nemo spat.
‘I was moving the wall Vispa made,’ he answered. ‘Took a little longer to find people willing is all,’ he shook his head and cursed.
Nemo hummed disproval and turned to Vispa and Pasinah, ‘How is it looking?’
Vispa shook her head.
‘Not good she tells me,’ Pasinah said. ‘And I know it isn’t going my way. I knew that the moment I felt the bone break.’
Nemo tensed and shivered from the sensation that played in his mind. The thud of the mace, the crack of the bone, the sting as splinters of bone tear through muscle. He swallowed, and thanked Kethus it had not yet happened to him.
The door flung open crashing against a table thrown on its side. Isvat cursed and swore as he dragged in the bandit caught in a fishing net. The black clad man kicked and jostled in his confines. Isvat dragged the captured man into the middle of the room and gave him a swift kick in the stomach.
‘Stop squirming,’ he shouted at the man. He wiped sweat from his brow. ‘Here you go.’
Nemo smiled his thanks.
The bandit wrestled with the fishing net. The rope and ties going on seemingly forever. He pulled the net around until he could see all of it bar what he was laying on.
Nemo drew his knife and waved it in front of the bandit’s vision. ‘I can cut you out,’ he dangled the knife above the net.
The man dropped the net and reached through a torn square in the net for the knife.
Nemo pulled away, ‘No. I said “I can” not “you can” but only after you answer some questions.’
The bandit shimmied himself across the floor with limited success. His fingers holding onto a gap between floor boards. He pulled himself along.
‘None of that either,’ Nemo said and stamped on his outstretched fingers.
The bandit wailed and tried to wiggle his hand out from under Nemo’s boot. He bit his lip in pain.
Pasinah started speaking in a different language. The bandit shot a look to the grey haired veteran.
Nemo made a sound of realisation and lifted his boot. The bandit folded his hand close to his chest, the fingers twisted wrong.
Pasinah asked him a question.
‘Usil,’ the bandit responded looking younger than before. His short black hair carrying a youthful sheen. His shaved face narrow and more elfin than the others.
‘His name is Usil and the language I am speaking is from the coast,’ Pasinah informed the others.
‘Ask, Usil,’ the boy stared at Nemo, ‘Are there any other bandits left?’
Pasinah translated to the guttural language.
The boy responded.
‘He says there is one more, Usan, he is away with the horses,’ Pasinah translated not breaking eye contact with the bandit in his netting.
‘Why does Usan have the horses?’
Pasinah asked, Usil answered.
‘He says, his brother, I think that word means brother, also had a cart with things to sell.’
Nemo breathed noisily out of his nose. ‘What things?’
Usil hesitated in responding. He stammered and said one word, ‘Prel.’
Pasinah frowned and checked his wound under a layer of bandage soaked in blood. ‘People.’
‘Slavers… Who are they selling too?’
‘Thesus,’ Usil answered. Nemo didn’t need that translating.
‘Is that also who is supplying them with food and weapons?’
Pasinah asked. Usil answered.
‘He thinks so but has never seen them. Liangshi or Set would go for long walks and return with pouches of gold or carts of food and more,’ Pasinah translated.
Nemo sighed. If slavers are this far south… then… best not think about that yet.
Pasinah coughed blood into his palm.
Nemo’s thought was shattered, thankfully, and he turned to his ally, ‘I’m out. Ask him what ever you want and let him go.’
The boy, Usil, stared at Nemo as he spoke and then at Pasinah as he replied.
‘Alright. I’m pretty tired anyway,’ he said pulling his hand away from his wound. The bandage passed sodden. It stuck to his hand and sucked at the wound still oozing thick blood. ‘And I thought it was going to be the leg that finished me off.’ He stifled a laugh.
Vispa sat on her knees at Pasinah’s side staring at the dark floor boards, a chunk of mouldy bread taking her interest. Her eyebrows curled round her eyes. Her chin low and lax pulling her lower lip wide.
‘You’re going to let him go? After all he has done?’ Tura screamed. Raging from his spot behind the bar. He flung the little door in the bar open and stormed to Nemo.
Nemo remained passive regarding Tura as a nuisance rather than a friend, ‘And what are you going to do? You can kill him if you like, or the town can, if you can deal with it. I will not. The bandits plaguing you are finished. Another death. Another young man’s death will not help you. He should be on a field with a plow, or in the city with a glass blowers pipe, not out in the desert with a sword in his hand harassing travellers. Give him a chance.’
‘Give him a chance? When did he and his lot ever give us a chance? You heard him he has sold our people into slavery. Killed and maimed us too,’ Tura spat. His cheeks blushed and spittle gathered on his lip.
Nemo asked in a passive manner, ‘Have you seen him before?’
Tura stammered and rubbed his hands together then dried them on his trousers. He glanced down at Usil for a second. ‘Errr… no. Not this one. That doesn’t mean he isn’t as guilty as the rest of them.’
‘Perhaps. But he is also younger than the rest. How many young men must die in needless battle? How many?’ Nemo lost his calm as he asked. ‘The war, the bandits, and that damned Resistance. How much life will we toss away?’
Tura growled and tossed his hands in the air, ‘Whatever. It’s your call.’
‘Damn right,’ Nemo whispered as he turned to Pasinah. Isvat at his side.
Pasinah was whispering something to Isvat. The two were holding each others hands and Pasinah pressed a bracelet of beads with an odd symbol, a circle with a cross in the middle, hanging from the string too. Nemo didn’t recognise it and Pasinah spoke in yet another tongue he didn’t recognise. And judging from Vispa expression, neither did she.
Isvat padded his eyes with his sleeve, reaching awkwardly while he still clasped Pasinah’s hands. Blood mixed with tears and streams of red crisscrossed on his cuff.
Nemo pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Usil sitting under his tent of net. The boy bandit turned his head, the string of net brushing his hair flat as it passed, he gazed up with confusion, his mouth slightly open. Nemo pulled his knife from his belt and crouched down next to Usil. The boy panicked and started kicking backwards. Nemo reached towards the net, knife point first, he grabbed a handful of netting and folded the lengths of string in his hand. Cutting them with the knife Usil stopped kicking and even held part of the netting taut. Nemo hacked at the fishing net and smiled at the boy.
Usil pulled the net over his head and stood. He looked at Nemo then to Tura and, finally, to Pasinah. Nemo pointed to the door with a nod. Usil stepped towards it. Nemo repeated the instruction. Usil took another step and then ran out the door.
Tura banged the bar with his fist. He barged through the door into the kitchen at the rear of the inn.
‘You did the right thing,’ Vispa said. Her face turned with worry, ‘that wound looks deep.’
‘This? It’s fine’ Nemo said, rolling his shoulder with difficulty, as he returned to Pasinah’s side.
The man had started to look his age. His skin hung from his bones and sinewy muscle. Deep creases etched his face around his mouth and eyes. A dull yellow had covered the whites of his eyes and his skin all over had taken on a pallid grey tinge.
Pasinah groaned, his lips cracking white, a thick line of saliva stretching from one lip to the other. He smacked his lips together and turned his head away from Nemo and Isvat crouched on his right.
Isvat pinched the bridge of his nose and swept away any loose tears as they fell. He sniffed and glanced to Nemo, ‘I’m fine,’ he said.
Nemo nodded and reached for Pasinah’s hand. His hand was like ice. His fingers stiff. He gently rocked his hand against his chest. The veterans whole body moved with it in a laggardly manner.
‘Pasinah,’ he uttered under his breath.
He didn’t respond. His eyes open and staring at some point in the distance far from Forgiskill through the bar and walls of the inn.
‘Pasinah,’ Nemo said again with more force.
Still no response.
He clenched his cold hand and reached up for his eyes and closed them with the palm of his hand.
Isvat clung to the body of Pasinah. Embracing him with both arms and holding him close. Pasinah’s arms hung limp against the floor boards as he was lifted off the floor. His cheeks already sunken. He whispered to Pasinah as he held him. Nemo ignored the words he did catch for Isvat’s sake.
Laying the body down on the floor Isvat folded Pasinah’s arms across his chest and turned his head so it faced ahead. He then knelt beside the body, brushed his eyes with his sleeve, and prayed. He had in his hand a ring of dried seeds on a string that he pressed between clasped hands. Nemo remembered Isvat wore them round his wrist.
Nemo left the two alone and ushered Vispa to his side with a hand wave. ‘It’s time to leave.’
‘But what about him,’ she pointed to Isvat, ‘and Tura and the village?’
‘The village will be fine. They will move on from this. Isvat… Isvat has his own duty to attend to,’ Nemo said.
‘Can we not help him?’ Vispa watched Isvat pray.
‘No. And even if we could I would not. I must get home,’ Nemo said heading to the stairs. ‘Come and get your things,’ he called down.
Vispa hurried behind him.
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