Beyond the Rabbit Hole

A Change in Direction

Panic filled the commander's face as he caught a glimpse of a thick black blade preparing to swing toward his throat. He jumped back from the berserker, stumbling as a golden glint caught his eye. Cold sweat ran down his face as he searched for an escape. Bjurrin charged from the front, and Alyss aimed her war pick at his back. His eyes darted from one mercenary to the next. To Halic, and Hector, and to the others who remained, but nobody moved a muscle. No one stepped forward to defend him. As panic gripped his throat and two deadly blades flew toward him from both sides, fear held him firmly in place.

"Wait!" A desperate plea echoed through the rancid air.

Barbarossa turned his head toward the sound of the voice.

Bjurrin stumbled to a halt, but the momentum kept his axe going. His face twisted with red fury as his axe only grazed the commander's ear.

Alyss's attack stopped just short of the commander's neck. Shock furrowed her brow as she turned toward the voice as well. "Morgyn?"

"Please. . . just wait," Morgyn begged. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up, turning toward the commander. "Is one unnecessary death not enough?"

Alyss's fists clenched, and her eyes narrowed. Are you really trying to save this man? This man, who just murdered an innocent boy right in front of you? You would offer him your kindness as well?

A cold, deep laugh erupted from the berserker's throat. "If you want to preach, you can save it for his eulogy," Bjurrin said.

"And will his death be enough to satisfy you?" Morgyn replied. He carefully stepped forward and placed a hand on Alyss's arm, lowering her weapon. "Or will you move on to the Desiras next? What about their son? Will you stop before him or after?"

"I don't know. I haven't killed him yet," Bjurrin spat. "I'll tell you how I feel afterward."

Blood trickled down the commander's neck. His body stiffened as he watched his subordinate raise the dread metal axe aloft once more.

But before Bjurrin could swing it, a sleek black blade slid underneath his beard and touched his throat. He paused, his face relaxing slightly as the anger seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a deadly calm. "Do you take me for one who fears death, swordsman?"

"No," Benard spoke in a steely voice. "But I don't take you for one who seeks death, either."

The commander let out a quiet, deep breath. He brought his hand up to cover his ear and winced at the touch. "Do you think I wanted to kill the lad, Bjurrin?"

"Oh, don't you try to weasel your way out of this, Rossa," Bjurrin chuckled. "I know you better than anybody else here. You see our lives in stacks of gold, weighing them against each other with each command you give."

Barbarossa swallowed deeply before speaking. "I won't deny it. But isn't that how we've lived all this time? Do you think Espada Sangirenta would have survived this long, let alone risen to the point of working for a high lord, if I weren't the way I am?"

Morgyn's brow furrowed in frustration. "Is that truly all you see life as, Barbarossa? These men put their lives in your hands, and you readily threw one away just because it wasn't worth much to you?"

The words plunged into Halic's heart and twisted like a knife. The anger bubbling silently inside him boiled over, clenching his teeth and curling his fingers around the hilt of his sword. He drew it quickly and lunged forward, aiming it at the commander's throat.