5 – Fifty-Five Dragons The Rainwood swamps still reeked of blood and decay.
Rek’Sai sat astride Pig’s broad back.
The giant Boar King walked with heavy, deliberate steps, casually crushing every bush in its path.
Behind them, Brienne trudged through the mud in her badly dented half-plate, each step a struggle.
She stopped beside Roland’s ruined body.
Her knees almost gave out.
The young squire’s chest had been completely flattened.
“Hunter.” Her voice was hoarse.
“I’ll add one more gold dragon.
Bring Roland with us.” The moving mountain of muscle ahead stopped.
Rek’Sai did not turn around.
“He was my squire.” Brienne tightened her grip on the sword until her nails bit into her palm.
“A knight does not abandon those who swore themselves to her.
Not even their corpses.” Rek’Sai tugged the coarse bristles on Pig’s neck.
The huge boar turned its bulk with clear irritation.
Looking down from that height at the freckled noble girl, Rek’Sai remembered that in the original story this woman would not become a true knight for many more years.
“You’re a knight?” “I will be a knight!” “Fine.
Two gold dragons.” Brienne stared.
Rek’Sai patted Pig’s rough hide.
“A master does work for his disciple, he charges for it.
Two gold dragons.
One copper short and you carry this pile of meat back to Evenfall Hall yourself.” “Deal.” She forced the word through clenched teeth.
Rek’Sai swung down from the boar.
He walked over to Roland’s corpse, seized the back of the collar with one hand, and lifted the entire body as if it weighed nothing.
With a casual heave he tossed it onto Pig’s hindquarters.
The Boar King snorted in protest until Rek’Sai gave it a sharp slap on the rump.
It quieted immediately.
They had not gone far when Pig suddenly halted.
Its short ears pricked up and a low, uneasy sound rumbled in its throat.
A body lay sprawled ahead.
Pat.
In his panic the boy had crashed headlong into a thicket of thorned vines and knocked himself unconscious, head bleeding.
Brienne started forward, but Rek’Sai was already striding across the mud.
He grabbed Pat by the belt, lifted him one-handed, and tossed him onto the pile of corpses without ceremony.
“That makes four gold dragons.” His voice was completely flat as he climbed back onto Pig’s back.
Brienne followed, staring at the broad wall of his back.
Crude.
Greedy.
Opportunistic.
As long as the price was right, this human-shaped beast seemed to refuse nothing.
“Drop the soft-heartedness.” Rek’Sai’s rough voice cut through the quiet of the forest.
“Beasts can smell blood from far away.
Carrying two bleeding bodies is the same as painting a trail for every predator in the woods.” The words were still hanging in the air when the canopy to their left exploded into motion.
A yellow-and-black blur dropped from above—a powerful rainforest leopard driven mad by hunger.
It lunged straight for the corpses on Pig’s back.
Brienne cried out and reached for her sword, but the damaged armor slowed her by half a beat.
Rek’Sai remained seated, completely unmoved.
He simply raised his thick right arm.
Boom!
No weapon.
Pure muscle.
The fist struck the leopard’s skull with perfect accuracy while it was still in mid-air.
The dull crack of shattering bone drowned out the sound of the wind.
The fierce cat never even managed a scream.
Its neck snapped at an unnatural angle and the heavy body crashed into the mud two meters away, twitched twice, and went still.
“Did you see that?” Rek’Sai shook the blood from his knuckles.
“That is killing.
Find the weak point and break it in one blow.” Brienne swallowed hard.
She looked at the dead leopard, then at the longsword in her hand.
All the knightly guards and counter-techniques she had practiced since childhood suddenly felt ridiculous.
“Too many movements.
Too many thoughts cluttering your head.” Rek’Sai’s voice was cold.
“Flashy techniques are worthless.” He tossed the leopard’s corpse onto Pig as well.
Brienne silently sheathed her sword.
She offered no argument.
At last they left the edge of the Rainwood.
Daylight spilled down.
In the distance the salt tang of Shipbreaker Bay rode the wind, and the stone walls of Rain House appeared and disappeared beneath the low clouds.
Ahead on the road, the rapid thunder of many hooves broke the quiet.
More than thirty fully armed riders came pounding through the mud.
At their head rode an older knight with white hair and beard, wearing excellent half-mail.
The cloak over his shoulders bore the quartered sun-and-moon of House Tarth.
Ser Goodwin, master-at-arms of Evenfall Hall.
“Whoa—!” At fifty meters the warhorses suddenly went mad.
More than thirty trained mounts smelled the apex predator.
They reared, screaming, fighting to turn and flee.
The neat formation collapsed in an instant.
Several less skilled guards were thrown hard into the mud.
Ser Goodwin hauled on the reins with all his strength, legs locked around the horse’s barrel, struggling to calm the terrified animal.
He drew his longsword, cloudy old eyes fixed forward.
The view was completely dominated by the moving hill of flesh.
A two-meter-high, four-meter-long giant boar, its hide stained with dried dark blood, tusks thick as the scythes of death.
And worse—the thing riding it.
The man was simply too tall.
His bulk made a full-grown warhorse look like a child’s toy.
Corded bronze muscle covered his bare chest.
Dark-green vertical pupils held open, unfiltered savagery.
Two enormous war-axes hung at his waist.
Just sitting there, he radiated a suffocating, primal pressure.
“Form ranks!
Protect the lady!” the guard captain roared.
More than a dozen spears leveled.
Crossbows rose.
Iron points aimed straight at Rek’Sai.
Pig felt the hostility.
Its front hooves tore at the mud and a thunderous growl rolled from its throat.
Without Rek’Sai’s calming hand it would have charged and smashed the fragile human wall to pieces.
Rek’Sai’s gaze swept the trembling spearpoints.
A mocking curve touched the corner of his mouth.
These well-equipped soldiers had nothing but fear in their eyes.
“Ser Goodwin!
Stand down!” Brienne came running out from behind Pig’s massive body.
She was covered in mud, her once-fine half-plate badly deformed, face streaked with blood and dirt.
Goodwin froze.
When he recognized the bedraggled girl he let out a long breath of relief.
“Lady Brienne?
The gods be good—you’re alive.” “Lower your weapons!” Brienne snapped at the guards, then strode quickly to Goodwin’s horse.
The old knight dismounted, still wary, eyes constantly shifting between Rek’Sai and the enormous boar.
“He saved me.” Brienne pointed up at the giant.
“He subdued the Boar King with his bare hands.” Goodwin’s sword hand trembled slightly.
He had fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and seen every kind of desperate man.
Subduing the tyrant of the Rainwood bare-handed was beyond anything he had ever witnessed.
He stopped five paces from Pig, drew a deep breath, and gave a small, formal nod.
“I am Ser Goodwin of House Tarth.
Thank you for protecting our heir, hunter.
Lord Selwyn will reward you handsomely.” Rek’Sai looked down at him from above.
He did not return the courtesy.
He simply patted Pig’s back.
“She owes me fifty-five gold dragons.
Price already agreed.” Goodwin blinked.
“And one more thing.” Rek’Sai showed his sharp white canines.
“She is my disciple now.
Oh—I forgot to introduce myself.
Rek’Sai Storm.
Hunter of the Rainwood.” Silence fell like a blade.
More than thirty guards exchanged stunned looks.
The heir of House Tarth—a noble girl raised from childhood in proper knightly training—had taken a rainforest savage as her master?
Goodwin’s face darkened.
He turned to Brienne.
“My lady, what is the meaning of this?
You are the heir of Evenfall Hall.
Your marriage and your future are decided by Lord Selwyn.
You cannot simply swear yourself to some nameless—” “He is not nameless!” Brienne cut him off, voice rising.
“He is stronger than any knight I have ever seen!
He has agreed to teach me real combat!” Goodwin studied the absolute conviction in her eyes and knew this was not the moment to argue.
He glanced at the corpses and the unconscious Pat draped over Pig’s back and forced down his anger.
“In that case, Master Storm.” His tone had gone stiff and unfriendly.
“Rain House lies ahead.
House Wylde will offer us lodging.
As for the matter of tuition and apprenticeship, that will have to wait until we return to Tarth.
Lord Selwyn must decide in person.” “Lead the way.” Rek’Sai spoke only two words.
The gates of Rain House rose high.
When Rek’Sai rode Pig up to them, the Wylde soldiers on the walls raised their spears in open panic.
Only after Ser Goodwin stepped forward and spoke did they reluctantly open the way.
Rek’Sai dismounted and pushed through the narrow arch built for ordinary men.
His bulk and the enormous boar filled the tight street.
Common folk on both sides cried out and scrambled into alleys.
Ser Goodwin walked at his side, frowning at the huge shadow Rek’Sai cast across the stones.
Rek’Sai glanced at the still-gray progress bar of the [Disciple Quest] on his vision.
The old man had just called him “Master Storm”—a pointed reminder of the gulf between them.
It was beginning to irritate him.