City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [93]
‘Finish it, queer,’ Malum grunted.
For a moment Brynd considered that, but threw his own sword away to one side. There were certain things he had to prove now. ‘We fight with fists. Or are you scared you’ll get aroused by close contact with a man?’
‘Fuck you.’ Malum lunged towards him and knocked him to the ground. Brynd smacked his head on the stone, but he immediately recovered, concentrating on the fight. He kneed Malum violently in the chest sending him sliding sideways. Brynd was already standing ready as the other shifted to his feet, and kicked him in the ribs, but Malum grabbed his foot, and sent them both tumbling. Malum leapt sideways but he was wearying by now and Brynd suddenly pinned him to the ground, then punched him hard in the face twice. ‘I’ll let you live if you get your men to fight!’ He couldn’t stop eyeing the man’s fangs.
Brynd paused for a response.
Malum’s face was scored badly across his lip. ‘Fuck. You. Queer.’
Brynd lost control, punching Malum in the face repeatedly, but Malum merely laughed. Was the fucker insane?
An arrow shot suddenly across in front of Brynd’s face, inches away, and skidded away across the cobbles. It was only then that he noticed the man’s gang advancing—
– Then men on the opposite side of the iren, Night Guard soldiers, ten of them, running over to Brynd’s side. Lupus was there, hauling Brynd away from the gang leader, who was struggling to his feet. ‘You keep behaving like that, and you’re a thug just like them. You understand, commander?’
‘What?’
‘We’re here to protect people of the Empire, not kill them. You are not here to exchange blows with a thug. You are a Night Guard soldier.’
‘I’m no hero, private. That much is clear.’ Heaving breaths. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Heard you were in a spot of bother, sir.’
Brynd watched dumbly as his men formed a protective wall against the gang, tried not to feel sentimental as he realized how his men were standing by him.
Malum shambled back into the midst of his gang members, wiping his broken mouth. Like two opposing tribes, the Night Guard and gang stared at each other across the courtyard.
A bell rang abruptly, from the Citadel. Brynd instantly knew what it meant.
Ignoring Malum, he turned to lead his troops back towards the barracks, at a run through the freezing night-streets of the city. More soldiers appeared, Dragoons, about twenty of them, and they were sprinting toward the docks.
Brynd located their commanding officer and demanded a report.
‘Small attack unit, sir – a boat heading for Port Nostalgia. No more than ten of them aboard.’
‘The Okun?’
‘Aye, sir.’
They scythed a path through the bitter chill, along the dark streets, preparing weaponry. Brynd realized he himself wasn’t armed properly.
The Night Guard soldiers didn’t refer to prior events, though Nelum was now here, leading the group.
Shouts began arising from the district of Shanties, and from Port Nostalgia. The snow abated. Two minutes later, they rounded a corner and were presented with a view of the docks, where a unit of soldiers was already engaged in combat. Thankfully the light of one of the moons broke free of the clouds, and they could see what they were dealing with.
Men were screaming and dying. The last soldiers fell, and only two Okun were left standing, moonlight glinting off their shell-armour and dark claw-blades.
Lupus nocked an arrow, fired it into the neck of one creature where he knew there was no protection. As it collapsed twitching to the ground, he did the same with the other, but this time missed. He tried again but clipped the top of its well-protected head.
Brynd ordered a walled attack. Three privates of the Night Guard formed a line and advanced forwards with locked shields, the commander just behind. The surviving creature made that clicking sound, sparing in its movements