Belly of the Beast Warren Thomas (e novels for free .txt) 📖

            The dark soldier grew closer and closer, constantly stopping to study the ground and brush around him. Twice he examined broken bits of brush along Tane’s trail. And Tane thought he’d been so terribly careful, too. He fought the urge to ease deeper into the shadows, knowing the soldier was too close now, and began worrying that his clothes weren’t dark enough to blend into the night shadows.

            Tane slowly drew his belt knife as the soldier came within ten paces. He bunched his leg up beneath him, ready to spring at the man when discovered. Then the man was on the trail next to him, studying the ground.

            He took another step, then another. Stopping, he surveyed the trail before him. Tane waited, heart hammering, breathing shallowly lest he be heard, hand so tight on the knife’s hilt it began to ache. The soldier took another step.

            Tane held his breath when the man looked back down the trail he’d just covered. He knew the soldier was more wary now, having lost the trail.

            He suspects, Tane thought. He knows I am here somewhere.

            The soldier pulled his sword, turning to retrace his steps. Tane lunged at him, before the soldier could prepare himself. The sword leapt at Tane’s face. He ducked, cut left, then right, thrust his knife at the soldier’s throat. An armored arm parried the knife, then backhanded Tane across the mouth. Tane spun around, then stamped down on the man’s foot in a move he saw Joelle do against Quinn once.

            “You fight like a woman,” the soldier snarled.

            “And you die like a mad dog,” Tane said, throwing his knife at the soldier’s face.

            The soldier ducked. Tane whipped out his sword and swung at the crouched soldier in one smooth move. Both were equally surprised when the blade thunked deep into the soldier’s neck. Sliced cleanly through the spine. Tane saw the man’s eyes grow wide, shocked, accusing, then they rolled up as he collapsed.

            It wasn’t his first kill, but the first he’d had the luxury of looking into his foe’s eyes. He knew the fear and accusation in the man’s eyes would haunt him for some time.

            Hands shaking, Tane cleaned Bearclaw in the snow, then dried it off on the soldier’s black cloak. All the while he listened intently to his surroundings. There was shouting and arguing all around, but no indication that anyone had overheard their fight. If the patrols were quieter, he surmised, they wouldn’t have missed hearing the fight.

            Starting to remove the dead soldier’s armor, Tane felt warmth first, then wetness. The man was covered in his own blood, the fabric of his surcoat soaked through. Sickened, Tane left the mercenary as he was, taking only the black cloak, and moved on southward in search of another mercenary.

            He came upon the sentries guarding the perimeter quicker than anticipated. There were six within sight, with the clanking, muttering sounds of many more to either side. He saw no way to bypass such vigilant men, so eased back into cover.

            A loud crack reverberated through the forest as his foot snapped a dry stick. Tane cursed his clumsiness as several sentries called out. Freezing in place, breath held, he listened and watched for pursuit. Three men were dispatched to investigate.

            Cursing his lousy luck, Tane pulled his sword and waited in the darkest shadow he could find without moving too far and exposing himself against the bright snow. The dark shapes grew closer and closer, spread out in a short skirmish line.

            As the mercenaries grew closer, he was relieved to see they had strayed too far to the west. The eastern-most soldier would be a good ten paces away when he passed. Tane need only remain still and patient.

            He alternated between watching the approaching threesome, and their comrades huddled at the edge of camp. There were so many he believed the perimeter guards to be spread thin to either side, maybe leaving a gap for him to slip through in the dark. He decided to try, as soon as the small patrol passed out of sight and hearing.

            Glancing around to the nearest soldier, Tane watched as he probed the underbrush and shadows with a spear. Then he looked up, straight at Tane.

            Their eyes locked.

            Tane felt an instant of trapped animal terror, then sprang at the soldier with a loud bellow. The man froze, eyes wide. It was enough, giving Tane time to skewer the hapless mercenary. But the whole forest exploded with shouts and the sound of running feet.

            The second soldier arrived, her sword held high overhead and beginning its descent toward Tane’s skull. He ducked and sidestepped, thrusting at the center of her bulk as he was taught by Corporal Pendar. He misjudged the distance, with just the tip of his sword piercing her mail. But she screeched in pain, staggering away. He advanced on her, wanting to make a fast kill and escape. Instead, she turned and ran into the forest, away from the safety of her camp.

            “He’s running north!” Tane cried, pointing and setting off after her. He pretended to falter, holding his side, he called, “I’m wounded. Get him! Fast!”

            The last mercenary in the line turned and raced after his wounded comrade. Tane held his side, kneeling down as more soldiers stomped past. Glancing back, he saw only two men guarding the perimeter.

            Staggering to his feet, he made for the two guards. One came out to help him. Tane paused in the nightshadows of a large oak. He bent over as the soldier neared, to hide his clothes under the cloak and prepare his strike.

            “Can you make it?” the mercenary asked, worry in his voice.

            Tane felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t a fair fight. He was suckering the poor fool into exposing himself. He didn’t have a chance. Then Tane remembered the man had bartered his honor and