Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments by Tom Lloyd Page A

the man’s back. The bolt tore right through him, a cloud of blood and chill vapour bursting from his chest to hang briefly in the air as the man was hurled through it by the impact.
    ‘Stay where you are!’ roared Payl, holding her ground while Lynx and Kas advanced as fast as they could.
    The echoes of the icer seemed to still be reverberating around the trees as they both added their voices to hers, repeating her orders as Varain and Tyn did the same. The hush of the forest was shattered by their shouts and Lynx could see the terror on the faces turning their way – bewildered and shocked into inaction by the noise and violence.
    Here’s the moment
, a voice said in the back of Lynx’s mind.
Here’s where we’d have killed them all.
    For a heartbeat he was back in the Greensea, the forest region surrounding a great inland sea that had been So Han’s first conquest. Rising from the undergrowth, flashing out through the dark, the commandos would converge as one man – gunshots echoing out, bloodthirsty warcries on their lips – and cut down the defenders before they even knew they were under attack.
    Taking prisoners had been impossible – it would have crippled their lightning assaults – but there was little time to discern those soldiers trying to fight back and those still wondering what was happening. Before that could happen they were all dead, or watching swords and axes begin their final fall.
    He stormed forward, aware he was outstripping Kas as the ghosts of his army days carried him on. From the right Tyn and Varain appeared too, still yelling madly, Varain closing the chamber of his gun as he came, another bolt loaded. Lynx stopped at the edge of the hollow, not wanting to get close enough for anyone to make a foolish grab at him. As he reached it what remained of their targets’ resolve dissolved. Two fell to their knees, sobbing and crying for mercy. The others stumbled back in the face of the onrushing mercenaries, hands raised in surrender.
    ‘On your knees,’ Lynx commanded. ‘Hands on your heads!’
    They obeyed without question, the last two dropping down as if their strings had been cut. Varain slung his gun over one shoulder and drew a short-sword, holding it ready as he half-dragged the bandits all in a line and threw their weapons out of the way. It was a paltry selection of hunting bows, a spear, an axe and three long knives. Payl arrived last, carefully pulling the fire-bolt from her gun’s breech and leaving the gun empty as she spoke.
    ‘So, who’s in charge here?’
    The four quailed at her voice, but eventually the eldest of them, a woman with greying hair, coughed and croaked out a reply. ‘Guess it’s me now.’
    ‘Wrong!’ roared Varain, cuffing her around the head. ‘We are, got it?’
    There was a moment of silence. ‘Ah, Diviner?’ Payl said, almost apologetically. ‘I meant which of them, you damn fool.’
    ‘Eh? Oh. Right.’ The veteran scowled and took a step back. ‘Answer the question, then.’
    ‘I … I am,’ the woman said hesitantly, cringing slightly.
    ‘Who do the bows belong to?’
    She nodded towards the dead man. ‘Vass.’ A pause. ‘And Obe here,’ she added in a reluctant voice, turning to the youth beside her.
    Two of the others were young enough to be her sons, but from the look of them Lynx guessed they weren’t. Obe was one of those, the last of the prisoners being a woman not much older than the boys. He couldn’t see much of the dead man, lying face down with a hole in his back, but he was bigger than any of them.
    ‘Dead man looks fat,’ Lynx said, ‘fatter’n the rest of you anyway. I’m guessing he was the boss?’
    A nod.
    Payl took a step forward and looked Obe in the face. ‘You ambushed a wagon a few days back? You shot a man.’
    ‘Weren’t me!’ the youth exclaimed, wild-eyed with fear. He was a gangly one, cheeks marked with spots of Vass’s blood. ‘Vass did it!’
    Lynx watched the faces of the others as