Chapter 56
Bok’than the Merciless
Mogdun was in two minds as he watched Pete take a casual stroll through the gap in the wall where the gate used to be.
The visions he’d had – of his family suffering, dying, and being sold into slavery – brought into stark focus the true scale of the atrocities Bok’than had carried out, and would continue to carry out if he was not stopped. Following Pete and helping him bring an end to the bandit leader’s reign was the right thing to do.
Mogdun knew that.
But he also knew it was six against sixty, and he was one of the weakest bandits in the gang. What help would he really be? Maybe it’d be better to make a run for the forest, return home, and try to put the whole thing behind him…
His thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Mogdun’s eyes widened and he looked down to find Rel staring at him.
He’d forgotten about the squirrel…
Mogdun immediately started walking towards the camp.
It turned out to be a pretty straightforward decision after all – a fighting chance against the bandits, or certain death at the paws of a vengeful squirrel who could wield lightning.
The first thing Mogdun heard upon entering the camp was whimpering. Zekkruk was writhing on the ground, Allaria’s arrow still buried in his shoulder. The rings of his chainmail glistened red where blood seeped from the wound.
It was a beautiful sight… Zekkruk was a bully – a ruthless savage who took great pleasure in causing pain. He was almost as bad as Bok’than.
Mogdun flinched when he met Zekkruk’s eyes. The bandit’s pain was briefly overtaken by a surge of anger, and he raised a trembling finger to point at Mogdun.
“You betrayed us, you pathetic little rat,” Zekkruk hissed between ragged breaths. “Once your new friends are dead, Bok’than is going to make you suffer. He’ll take you apart, piece by pie– ”
Zekkruk didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. In fact, he’d never get the chance to finish a sentence ever again.
As Rel walked past, he raised a small paw, and a bolt of lightning split the air. It struck Zekkruk, and the orc’s body exploded. Huge chunks of charred meat and metal crashed to the ground, and Mogdun had to duck to avoid being bludgeoned by Zekkruk’s left arm.
Mogdun’s gaze drifted across the ground, pausing briefly on each dismembered body part. He was suddenly incredibly grateful he hadn’t tried to make a run for the forest.
“Some people need to learn when to shut up,” said Rel, who’d paused briefly to admire his handy work. He shrugged, then waved a paw at Mogdun. “Come on, keep moving.”
The bandits were assembling a welcoming committee. Around twenty of them had already gathered, forming a very disjointed mob. More were still streaming from the various houses scattered throughout the village, pulling chain vests over their heads or strapping on armour as they stumbled forward to join the party.
Mogdun scanned the growing crowd for Bok’than, but there was no sign of the bandit leader. He felt a flicker of hope – perhaps he was out on a raid? If he was, their chances of making it out alive would go from impossible to highly improbable.
“Right,” said Pete as he came to a stop before the mob. “My original plan had been to come in here and kill you all. However, you’re in luck… well, some of you anyway. I met your lookout, Mogdun, who, despite being a clueless idiot, made me realise it’s possible not every one of you agrees with what Bok’than’s been up to. Some of you might have been too scared to speak up or leave…”
His words trailed off as he glanced over at the mangled corpse impaled on one of the wooden wall spikes.
“And I can’t say I blame you… that’s not a pretty sight. Here’s my offer: if you were an unwilling participant in Bok’than’s fucked-up shenanigans, go and stand by the wall over there. But be warned – if Mogdun says you’re full of shit, you’re going to die regardless of where you stand.”
As the eyes of nearly sixty bandits suddenly fixed on him, Mogdun wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
He took a deep breath, then met the eyes of his former comrades.
As to be expected, the majority looked like they wanted nothing more than to tear him to pieces, but he was surprised – and more than a little relieved – to see that around a third of the assembled bandits looked troubled.
Mogdun knew that someone had to be brave enough to make the first move – to be the pebble that started the avalanche.
What he had not expected, however, was that he would be the one to do it. He moved to stand beside Pete.
“Brothers,” he said, the word coming out as little more than a hoarse whisper.
A small voice in Mogdun’s head – the one responsible for self-preservation – screamed at him to stop talking, to avoid attention, to attempt to slip away in the chaos that would soon follow. For the first time in his life, he ignored that voice. He took a deep breath and continued.
“I can’t stand by anymore and pretend I’m okay with what Bok’than has been doing… the torture, the murder, the slavery. It’s truly awful. I thought about leaving so many times, but I was too scared. I told myself I didn’t have a choice. That if I just kept my head down and stayed out of the way, eventually everything would work itself out. That was a lie. I was just being a coward. But we do have a choice. So, if you know this isn’t right… stop pretending and go and stand by the wall over there. You don’t have to be part of it anymore.”
In the moments that followed, Mogdun felt his heart drop. No one moved. No one spoke. He sighed and turned, moving back to stand beside Rel.
“You’re right.”
Mogdun froze mid-step.
Slowly, he looked back.
A bandit walked past him. Then another. And another.
Soon, nearly twenty bandits had gathered by the wall. Some looked relieved, like orcs who’d just been handed a second chance. Others, seeing they were still outnumbered two to one, looked as if they were already regretting their moment of moral clarity.
“I didn’t realise there were so many gutless snakes among us.”
The remaining bandits parted, making way for the orc who’d spoken.
Bok’than.
*
I raised an eyebrow as Bok’than emerged from the crowd. After everything Mogdun had told us, I’d expected him to be… bigger. I’d had visions of a great, lumbering brute whose facial expression was fixed in a perpetual state of moronic cruelty.
The reality was very different.
I had a sudden theory as to why he was such a colossal piece of shit… he was incredibly insecure. He was at least a foot shorter than the other bandits, and half their weight. Standing among them, he looked less like a leader and more like someone’s annoying little brother who’d wandered in and decided he was in charge.
He wore a sleeveless chainmail vest over a cloth tunic. His pale green face was framed by long, wispy black hair, thinning heavily at the crown where his greasy scalp glistened in the sun. He held a cleaver in one hand and a serrated knife in the other.
And then I met his eyes.
There was plenty of cruelty, but there was nothing moronic about it. The guy was a vicious little bastard. He looked like the sort of person who’d been bullied at school and, instead of doing anything about it, quietly kept a list of everyone who’d ever crossed him. Then, twenty years later – long after they’d forgotten he even existed – he’d show up, burn their house down, poison their dog, and then pull out the list and tick their name off right in front of them.
Once he reached the front of the mob, his eyes passed briefly over me and the others, then settled on the bandits who’d decided they’d had enough of his shit.
“I’m very disappointed in all of you,” he said softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Once I’ve taken care of our guests, I’m goin–”
I held up a hand.
“Listen, you walking, talking sack of excrement,” I said. “After all the awful shit you’ve done, I’m going to kill you. This doesn’t end in any other way. However, I’m going to do everyone here a favour and get it over with before you start your psychotic rambling about all the horrible things you’re going to do to the bandits who were smart enough to ditch your dumb ass.”
I took a step toward him, then paused, glancing at my hand which was still hovering in the air.
“Talking of psychotic rambling…Back on my home planet, there was this animated show I really enjoyed. It was about these aliens who flew around conquering planets. For some reason, all the males had moustaches. I know a lot of people think moustaches are lame, but honestly, they made it work. You know what? I bet that show inspired so many guys to grow one. In fact, I actual–”
Rel cleared his throat.
“Right, sorry. Anyway, these aliens… they were ridiculously strong and durable, and they didn’t need weapons because, well, their bodies were the weapons. They’d do this thing where they’d hold their hand straight like this.”
I demonstrated, stiffening my fingertips, and grinned as I took another step towards him.
“Then they’d just go swoosh.” I made a quick slicing motion through the air. “And cut people open like they were made of paper. Then, the person’s guts and intestines would just start falling out. It was some crazy shit. Every time I saw it, I wondered if it would actually work. Well, Bok’than, you vile bastard, we’re about to find out.”
Bok’than stared at me for a few moments, the look of savage cruelty temporarily replaced by one of utter confusion. He shook his head, then grinned.
“You’re rather fond of the sound of your own voice, aren’t you?” he said, raising his knife and licking the jagged edge as he stared at me. “I think I’ll start by taking your tongue. We’ll see how much you en–”
He didn’t have the chance to finish.
I appeared in front of him.
His eyes widened and he tried to speak. No words came out – just a rasping gurgle, blood bubbling up between his lips.
I nodded down to his stomach, and he followed my gaze. For a moment, he didn’t seem to understand what he was looking at. He shook his head and reached down to touch the trench that my fingertips had carved into his stomach.
Holy shit.
It worked.
I won’t go into detail because it wasn’t a pretty sight, but I watched with a mixture of disgust and morbid curiosity as Bok’than tried desperately to push everything back into the correct place.
Several of the orcs who’d chosen to back him tried to subtly shuffle over to join those by the wall. Rel blocked their path, hovering in the air with his arms crossed, lightning crackling in his eyes.
“Kaelis, Voklum, Allaria,” I said, dragging my eyes away from Bok’than – who’d now fallen to his knees – to glance over my shoulder, “you’re up. Finish them off.”
Kaelis and Voklum answered with a battle cry, charging forward with axe and warhammer raised. They ploughed into the crowd of startled bandits, cleaving and crushing with brutal efficiency. By the time the bandits had regained their senses, half of them were either dead or seriously disfigured.
The survivors eventually rallied, trying to overwhelm Kaelis and Voklum with sheer numbers. It didn’t matter. Every time they thought they’d found an opening, one of Allaria’s arrows punched through the air and buried itself in an eye, a throat, or a gap in their armour.