Even Gods Must Fall by Christian Warren Freed

afflicting Delranan, Boen wagered on this crew being no exception. He guessed he’d opened up at least an hour’s lead, that time lengthening the longer the day went. It wasn’t much but it was enough for him to leave something special.
    Boen quickly dismounted and took the time to rub some feeling back into his aching legs. His body wasn’t what it used to be. It took longer to recover from the simplest things. Frowning, he secured his horse under a small rock overhang deep in the trees. Boen cut a large branch from the nearest pine and hurriedly began erasing his tracks as he made his way back to the edge of trees. He didn’t have long before Skaning’s mercenaries arrived, if they chose to attempt an attack at all. Darkness falling certainly provided enough dissuasion, at least in his estimation.
    Crouched down behind a large tree trunk, Boen produced his looking glass and scanned the surrounding area. He didn’t like how easily his tracks led to the tree line but saw little else he could have done. Winter was his enemy. After a few seconds of searching, his efforts were rewarded. The lead scouts ranged into view. They were clearly in no rush to catch up to the man who’d singlehandedly removed nearly ten of their numbers in a matter of moments. No doubt rumors that they were chasing the Gaimosian had already spread. Skaning might be a fool, but he was more cautious than Boen hoped.
    Dismayed, Boen saw his chances for a quick victory slip away. He was going to have to get results the hard way. More than half of the enemy force was already in view and there they stopped. Boen froze. Where were the others? Did Skaning suspect a trap and slip them up? Boen had no way of knowing, not without speaking to one of the mercenaries. A spark lit. He grinned. The Gaimosian watched as the mercenaries broke off and headed towards a suitable camp site. Settling down until true dark, Boen waited to make his move.
     
     
     
    The armor was slightly too small and it chafed him awfully. The mercenaries didn’t seem inclined to indulge in personal hygiene he presumed. Adjusting the gauntlets on his wrists, Boen resisted the urge to scratch. He needed to blend in if there was any chance of getting away with his scheme. Feigning confidence, Boen emerged from the dark and strode up to one of the four fires in the enemy camp. He’d never done anything so brash. The exhilaration quickened his heart. Made him feel young again. Young or incredibly foolish.
    “Too damned cold for this sort of work.”
    “Quit griping. We’re getting paid ain’t we?”
    “Not enough. That damned fool got us ranging all across the middle of nowhere and for what? A single rider?”
    “A big one too.”
    “You seen how quick he was when he hit our camp? Coulda killed the lot of us and that’s a fact.”
    “You fool. If he wanted to kill us he’d a done so. I ain’t never seen a fella fight like that. Like he was possessed.”
    “Some folk say demons haunt these parts.”
    “Demons. Pah! You’ve been at the bottle again? Skaning’ll have yer head if he finds out.”
    “I ain’t been drinking. Just repeating what some of the locals been saying.”
    “I’ve seen demons.”
    The speakers stopped and turned to the newcomer. Boen met their gazes unflinchingly. The only way his plan was going to work was by trying to blend in.
    “What do you mean? You been drinking too?” the pock-faced mercenary asked and scowled. Half of his right ear was missing as well as a good patch of hair from his scalp.
    Boen shrugged. “I ain’t seen a drink in too long. Sitting my ass in the saddle for so long I almost forgot what it tastes like.”
    The other mercenary, younger and with a foul complexion, frowned. “See! He knows what I mean. Demons and monsters hiding in the forests.”
    “There ain’t no demons!” Pock Face scolded.
    Boen persisted, acting the part. “Maybe not around here, but I seen some.”
    “Where?” Pock Face insisted.
    “Down in the