Read Online The Fall to Power by Gareth K Pengelly - Free Book Online

laughed.
                  “Why did we refuse you, remind me? You must have been quite swordsman in your youth.”
                  The sergeant patted his leg.
                  “Ah. Well that’s too bad. To be a Khrda is to pursue perfection in the art of killing. Anything that holds you back from that, be it a gammy leg, or,” he gestured at the corpse of his fallen soldier, “be it overconfidence, means you can never rank with the best of us.”
                  The Tuladorian sergeant raised an eyebrow.
                  “Aye? And you have none of these disadvantages, I presume? You have achieved perfection?”
                  Memphias smiled.
                  “Indeed.”
                  “Hmph. Now that’s overconfidence.”
                  Memphias laughed, holding his black-gloved hands out to his side to show that he was wielding no weapons.
                  “Please, try me.”
                  The sergeant needed no encouragement, seizing the opportunity to charge the man, hoping to extract at least some vengeance from his predicament.
                  His silver sabre flashed out, left, right, weaving a web of death that only a skilled duellist equally armed could hope to survive, but the Khrda simply leaned, this way, that way, his feet shuffling as though in some ballroom dance of the Merchant Coast, evading every stroke as though he saw it coming a mile off.
                  Finally, Memphias grew bored with the play, disappointed with himself for letting things drag on so long, catching the blade of the sword between his spiked vambraces and snapping it in two, before punching the sergeant in the stomach, causing him to buckle over, then grasping the man about the throat in a headlock, the cruel barbs of his armour pricking his throat and causing tiny beads of blood to well up.
                  “You did your duty bravely,” he told the struggling man, “but this is where it ends. Just think, if not for that leg of yours, you might have been on the winning side today. Ah well, we cannot choose the hand that’s dealt us, eh sarge?”
                  The grizzled man struggled on his knees, knowing his time was done, choosing his last words carefully.
                  “There are only two types of sarge…”
                  The Khrdas never got to find out what they were.
     
    ***
     
    Bounding down the stone stairs two at a time, Marlyn burst into the guardroom next to the gatehouse, gazing about in abject disbelief at the men he saw lounging, oiling their weapons.
                  An officer, Sergeant Ranclif, if he remembered right, glanced over at the trooper as he struggled to regain his breath, a hand of cards kept close to his chest.
                  “Hah! Poland sent you for a glass-hammer, trooper?”
                  The gathered guardsmen chuckled at their sergeant’s words, before Marlyn exploded, causing them to start.
                  “Are you… are you all mad? ” he gasped in genuine exasperation.
                  The sergeant rose, to his feet, laying his cards down, forgotten on the table. It was a losing hand, anyway.
                  “Best have a good reason for that little outburst, recruit…”
                  Marlyn stalked up to him, face serious.
                  “We’re under attack! The walls are lost!”
                  The sergeant frowned, suspicious as the men began to mutter amongst themselves, gathering weapons in readiness.
                  “Attack? We heard no alarm…”
                  The youth went to retort, then paused, thinking. There hadn’t been an alarm; they’d been cut down too fast to raise it.