Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 282

Chapter 282: Dealing with rats(2) Chapter 282: Dealing with rats(2) The man hung against the wooden wall, his body a broken and bleeding .

His knees sagged, one twisted grotesquely, the shattered bone jutting unnaturally beneath his skin.

Blood dripped steadily from his arms, pooling at his feet, staining the coarse wooden rags clinging to his battered frame.

His hands were nailed to the rough surface above his head, the pirates making sure he could not move .

Around him, a pair of tormentors wielded stout sticks, delivering rhythmic blows to his ribs and thighs.

Each strike forced a desperate, anguished cry from the man’s lips, his pleas echoing in the confined space as wood met meat and bone  “Mercy, please, in the name of the gods!” he begged, his voice raw with desperation appealing to a force that had no power now.

 Wearing chainmail and a helmet , the man he was talking to leaned casually on the hilt of his sword.

His name was Korran,and right now he was losing his patience.He came here for silver not to be preached at.

He tilted his head slightly as he coldy observed the man “You know what to do to make this stop,you are the only with the power to do tha, no gods nor devils need to be invoke, you are your own prisoner after all ” he said The bound man sobbed uncontrollably, shaking his head as much as his restraints allowed.

“There is no gold!Nor silver!This is a small temple for a small village.Why would anyone give us silver?” he cried, his words barely coherent through his shuddering breaths.

“I swear on all the gods, there is nothing left!” Korran stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the broken figure.

He knelt, bringing his face level with the man’s, and stared into his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered, his voice ice-cold.  Korran smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement “Why would you remain here,” he asked, his voice low and deliberate, “while everyone fled, if it wasn’t to protect something?I have been on the sea for a long time, and I have met dozens of people like you” He said as he touched his nose ”You know how many times I have heard those words?And that they were then proved to be falsehoods?

Too many to remember…” The priest, bloodied but resolute, raised his chin, his voice trembling but steady.

“This is the house of the gods!

And we are its keepers.

It would be sacrilege for a priest to abandon his oath.” Korran snorted, leaning closer.

“Didn’t seem like the others thought the same.

You must have had some helpers, no?Where are they?” “They are not priests,” the man snapped, his desperation edged with anger.

“They have taken no oath.

They are simply helpers, nothing more.

What they did was cowardice in face of death, not sacrilege.

Don’t you have any respect for the gods?Don’t you fear their wrath and what comes after, all man is set to meet them , how will you?” Korran straightened and chuckled darkly.

“Respect for the gods?

We serve only one-our God of the Sea and Storm.

Our only temple is the sea itself, who devours believers and heretics alike.

That’s the only altar we kneel to, you landers have added four more gods, but to us the only one is the one with the sea” He turned on his heel, facing his men, and gave a sharp nod understanding he was only wasting more time.

The beatings resumed with renewed ferocity, Korran’s expression remaining stoic as he waited for the truth-or another excuse-to spill from the prisoner’s lips.

One of the men standing behind Korran shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“This is getting boring.” His voice carried just loud enough to draw a sharp glance from his companion, but Korran remained focused on the battered man in front of him.

The muttering man shrugged and turned away.

“I’ll go see if the meat’s ready,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, before heading for the door.

As he passed a group of men lounging around inside the temple, one of them called out, “Hey, bring us back a piece, will you?” Another man chimed in, “Make it a big one, I am starving here!” Grumbling, the man pushed open the heavy door and stepped outside.

The chill evening air met him as the smell of smoke and roasting meat wafted toward him.

Several campfires flickered in the gathering dusk, their orange glow throwing dancing shadows across the rough ground.

Around the fires, men crouched or sat, eagerly tending spits where slabs of meat sizzled and dripped fat into the flames.

For a week, they had subsisted on tough jerky, chewing endlessly on leathery strips of dried meat that offered little satisfaction.

The promise of proper roasted meat now was enough to keep morale high.

The man’s stomach growled as he approached one of the fires, where another was turning a spit slowly, the juices glistening on the surface of the cooking meat.

“Hurry it up,” the man growled, his eyes locked on the spit.

“We’ve been chewing tree bark for days.

Let’s get something decent in our guts.” “Almost ready,” came the reply, the cook poking the meat with a dagger to check its tenderness.  ”It’s perfect” The man said as he tore a piece of meat from the skewer with his teeth, savoring the first proper meal after days of chewing on leathery jerky.

He barely had a moment to swallow before an unexpected sound broke the peace.

-Thuds-Thuds-Thuds He turned sharply, hearing something repeatedly hitting the ground , his brow furrowed in confusion, only to see a dark object spinning through the air.

Before anyone could react, the projectiles struck with deadly precision, skewering two of his companions and pinning them grotesquely to the dirt.

Blood sprayed, and their gurgled screams were cut short as they spit blood.

“Cavalry!” one of the men managed to shout, panic lacing his voice, as he scrambled to draw his weapon.

But his warning was cut off as a javelin whistled through the air and drove into his back piercing the rusty chainmail he had,while throwing him frontward onto the ground, coughing for a few minutes before death would claim him.

The ground shook as the cavalry surged into the village, the thunderous roar of hooves drowning out the panicked shouts of the pirates.

Steel glinted in the sunlight as axes, javelins, maces and swords gleamed in the hands of the charging riders.

Dust rose in great clouds, swirling around the chaos like a storm.

A pirate wielding an axe swung wildly at an oncoming rider, but the rider’s javelin pierced his chest before the blow could land.

The pirate was thrown backward, the force of the blow driving him into the dirt.

Nearby, another pirate managed to dodge the thrust of a spear and lunged at the cavalrymen’s leg with a dagger as he had left his weapon onto the ground near the fire.

The horse reared, its powerful hooves crashing down on the attacker’s head, leaving him lifeless in the dirt.

Further into the melee, two pirates attempted to hold their ground against a mounted rider.

A mace came down upon on one of their shoulder, shattering bone and sending him crumpling to the ground, holding the broken limb.

The remaining man cried out in fury, leaping to grapple the man.

But the rider’s comrades arrived swiftly, one slashing the pirate across the back with a saber, ending his struggle in a gory mess, while simply throwing at point blank his projectile on the second screaming pirate.

At the edge of the village, a group of sea-men tried to flee, scrambling over fences and through narrow alleyways.

Yet the cavalry pursued relentlessly, their riders dismounting to cut down those who thought they had found safety.

A pirate crouching behind a cart sprang up to attack but was slashed in the back of the head by a rider behind him.  Pirates fell left and right, their cries of pain swallowed by the chaos.

Blood stained the earth where they fell, trampled beneath the hooves of warhorses or cut down by the sharp edge of blades.

Realizing their disorganized defense was crumbling, many of the pirates turned and fled, their faces pale with terror, after all they were no soldier.

They raced through the narrow streets and alleys of the village, desperate to reach the sanctuary of the temple where their remaining comrades had taken refuge , or at least the most of them, as some were simply too slow .

The pounding of hooves behind them spurred them on, but not all were quick enough to escape.

A young pirate carrying a spear stumbled and fell, only to be crushed beneath the hooves of a charging steed, the final step bringing him to the afterlife-the one that battered his head onto the dirt.

Another tried to fight back, turning to swing his axe at an advancing horsemen, but his throat was slashed by a sword before he could even raise his weapon.

He collapsed, blood pouring from his wound, his gurgles drowned out by the thunder of battle.

“To the temple!” one of the pirates screamed, rallying the others.

Dozens of them sprinted toward the stone structure, their ragged breaths mingling with the distant tolling of the temple bell that seemed to mock their plight.

They slammed against the heavy doors, throwing them open and piling inside, the last few struggling to shove the doors shut behind them as their comrades hurried to barricade the entrance.