Read Online What Remains of Heroes by David Benem - Free Book Online

him. He would drive this blade to the hilt through the Lector’s belly while the man wept in agony. Perhaps the Lector was holy. Perhaps killing him would invite the wrath of the dead gods.
    But therein resided the challenge, the allure, the glory. By killing the Lector, Karnag would prove his measure. He would kill to prove he could .
    “Why shouldn’t we?” Drenj’s voice was frantic.
    “Because I do not do these things for the coin.”
    Drenj shook his head dumbly. “It’s the coin that justifies these abominable deeds. The coin feeds my family and buys me a better life. It gives me a reason. Without the reason there is only depravity.”
    “You sound even more the whore than you look.”
    Drenj’s eyes snapped back to Karnag. “I daresay you are not a good man.”
    Karnag chuckled and spat. “Good? I do not quibble with my conscience, nor do I try to divine the whims of dead gods. My ‘goodness,’ if there is such a thing, is defined by my usefulness, my effectiveness. I am a slayer of men, and in that I endeavor to be the very best of all.”

    After midday they came upon the remnants of the Lector’s next encampment, a swath of trampled ground in a clearing. Karnag counted eleven empty wine bottles, and the amount of discarded food was enough to feed several men. He smiled, thinking how soft these men were, how easy the task suddenly seemed.
    He found the carcass of a roasted pheasant near a fire pit and shooed away the flies buzzing about it. “The Lector eats well,” he said, picking a chunk of meat from the bones.
    Paddyn scratched his short, sandy hair and squatted low to the ground. “Perhaps a dozen men,” he said, his voice whistling through his missing tooth. “And at least as many horses. More than we thought.”
    “These are soft men, Paddyn,” Karnag said through a mouthful of meat, “and no match for us. You need not fear.”
    Drenj inspected the fire pit. “The ashes are still wet. The Lector and his men got a late start, then lingered here for lunch. This fire was doused not long ago.”
    “We’re close, then,” said Paddyn, green eyes searching the forest about them.
    “Aye,” said Karnag, leaning back against a poplar and tossing away the bones of the pheasant. “We’ll let the horses rest for a while. We’ll wait and come at them in the night while they’re sleeping off another feast.”
    “You’re right, of course.” Drenj said as he retrieved a discarded bottle and drained its contents. He looked at Karnag and smiled sheepishly. “Or we could run off with the advance we were paid.”
    “You know my answer to that. You’re welcome to ride to Raven’s Roost with Tream, where the two of you can wait for me to pay you a third of your share.”
    “I don’t take it you’d come,” said Drenj.
    “Never.”

    Karnag lurked in the darkness, masking himself in the trees near the camp’s perimeter. It was much as he’d expected. The Lector, a thin and ancient man draped in white robes, knelt close to a fire with hands knotted in prayer. His men bantered loudly, faces glazed with the grease of cooked meat and teeth stained by too much wine. Counting the Lector there were eleven in all.
    Karnag turned to his company, making sure they’d not fled or strayed too close to the camp. Paddyn’s gap-toothed grin shone in the dark, an expression Karnag reckoned was one of anxiety. “Keep your mouth shut,” Karnag snapped. Paddyn shot him a puzzled look but complied.
    The company had grown restless as they’d waited in the dark, their unease obvious. Karnag noticed Drenj’s eyes wandering back to the direction of their horses, a few hundred feet away. Few truly relished the moment of the kill.
    “We do this,” Karnag growled.
    He returned his attention to the firelight, studying the Lector and his party. The Lector seemed frail and unacquainted with the demands of travel. The man shivered in spite of the spring night’s warmth and the heat of his fire. His robes were