The Last Shield by Cameron Johnston

Author:Cameron Johnston [Johnston, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Epic, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781915998033
Google: 9ATjEAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1915998034
Publisher: Angry Robot
Published: 2024-08-12T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

The heavy jug of tainted ale sloshed from side to side, held in Selma’s sweaty and shaking hands. In the crook of her arm, she carried a basket of smoked fennel sausage, the heavy seasoning deemed ideal by Briar for hiding the taste of poisonous herbs and powders. Selma clutched the jug tighter, lest she drop it and the reivers take it out on her hide – and they would; of that she had no doubt. She forced her reluctant legs forward, one small step at a time, down the hallway to face the bastards that had murdered her friends.

She glanced back towards the kitchen, seeking a measure of reassurance that the sole loyal Shield remaining in the palace would come to her rescue if things went sour. Briar’s stony expression stared back at her, and a firm, irritated wave urged her onward to victory or death. Little reassurance from the seasoned warrior. The cook took a deep, shuddering breath and then stepped into the main entrance chamber of the palace.

The four unkempt men guarding the inner gate looked up from their game of knucklebones and turned towards her, weapons rising. None of them had properly bathed in weeks, their ripeness lingering in the air like a sticky miasma.

“Ach, it just be that saggy drudge,” said the man Selma knew to be called Milgen. He lowered his bronze-banded club and glowered at her. An older man with an eye patch and two fingers missing from his left hand, he was the chief of their wretched little pack of Wildwood Reivers, and the one Selma was most wary of. His weapon was well maintained, and his clothes and furs were old but well cared for. He was probably also the father of the others, given their crude, inbred resemblance.

Selma was too scared to take umbrage. She thrust the ale and basket out in front of her like a shield. “Ecksa said to bring you food and drink.” They stared at her for a long moment, while sweat beaded her brow. Had they seen right through her ruse? Were they about to rape and murder her?

They came for her like a pack of hungry wolves, stripping her arms bare of food and drink. Grimy hands stuffed slices of spiced sausage into their mouths, yellow teeth ripping and tearing at the fatty meat. Hairy lips smacked, and tongues sucked the grease off fingers. Sighs of satisfaction filled the silences between wet open-mouthed chewing.

Selma started to back away into the hall, taking her chance while the bastards were busy gorging themselves. One of the reivers peered down into the jug. “Huh. What’s these green things floating in the ale?”

“You stop right there, drudge,” Milgen said, grabbing her arm. He cleared his throat and spat a glob of phlegm onto the floor right by her foot.

Selma froze, every muscle seized solid with absolute terror. Her back and armpits slicked with cold sweat. She wanted to run, to hide away in a dark corner, to cry out to every god she could think of.

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