4 City of Strife Read Free

none of his business. He did not know any of them, and he certainly did not owe the kid anything. And yet, he stood there. He was not used to be reckoned so lightly. His pride was hurt. And he had never liked bullies.
    “There’s no need for any trouble,” he said. He kept his tone mild.
    The big youth laughed and tapped the knife at his belt. “Oh there won’t be any trouble,” he said. “If you know what’s good for you.”
    One or his lieutenants had drawn his dagger and was ostentatiously cleaning his nails with it. Another smirked at Kormak already certain that he would do nothing. They had the look of small-time troublemakers, of the sort who were used to intimidating peasants and small tradesmen and passing pilgrims.
    He glanced around again and could not help but wonder why they were so certain they could get away with behaving like this in plain view of the citizenry on a street where the Watch were likely to pass at any time. He saw a midden, and on top of the midden a rat. It looked at him with glittering eyes and scuttled away.
    “What’s the problem here anyway?” he asked. “Surely you can talk it out.”
    “Surely you can talk it out,” said the youth with the drawn knife. He spoke in a mincing, effeminate echo of Kormak’s words. The others laughed.
    “Are you still here?” said Bors. There was real menace in his tone now. He moved forward, crowding Kormak, so close that the onion-laden smell of his breath was obvious. Normally Kormak would not have let anybody get so close but he did not want to draw his sword. He was still trying to avoid trouble although he suspected things had already gone too far for that. “I thought I told you to go.”
    Kormak slowly raised his hand, put it on the youth’s chest and pushed him away. The big lad looked at him as if he could not quite believe what he was seeing. The youths had started to crowd forward. There were knives drawn now. He saw their rusty blades glitter in the distant torchlight.
    “Have you ever seen a warhorse fight?” Kormak asked. He kept his tone conversational.
    “What?” Bors asked.
    “Have you ever seen a warhorse fight? It takes years to train them, but once that’s done they are vicious.”
    “What in the Shadow’s name are you talking about?”
    “Star here is a warhorse. I’ve seen him crush men’s skulls with his hooves and rend their flesh with his teeth. The last man he bit, he pulled the cheek right off; you could see the jawbone and teeth through the hole. He made a strange sucking, whistling sound whenever he breathed.”
    The youths had started to back off now. No one wanted to be quite so close to the horse any more. “All I have to do is whistle and he’ll break your skull. He’ll take pleasure in it, for he’s a vicious brute if truth be told.”
    “You’re lying,” said Bors. He did not sound so sure of himself now. He glared at Kormak caught between fear, anger and losing face in front of his gang. “That nag is no warhorse.”
    “Would you like to bet your life on that,” Kormak said. For a long moment, they exchanged glares.
    “Sure,” said Bors. “Why not?”
    Kormak whistled.

Chapter Two

    IN THE INSTANT all eyes went to the horse, Kormak kicked Bors very hard between the legs. The youth screamed and bent double. Kormak reached down and pulled the knife from Bors’s scabbard, then brought its pommel down on the back of his head, sending him sprawling on the snow-covered cobblestones.
    Before the gang realised what had happened, he stepped towards the weasel-faced youth with the drawn dagger. He was ready to parry any strike the youth might make but the boy was still looking at the horse. Kormak knocked the knife from his hand then smacked him on the side of the head, dropping him.
    By the time the gangs’ eyes were back on him, he had picked up the dagger and had a blade in each hand. They stared at him as if he were a magician, still not quite understanding what had happened. One of them