How Black the Sky

into focus, but they wouldn't obey. A black and red blur approached. It was tall. Its voice was husky. Pierce flipped up his faceplate, took off his left gauntlet, and rubbed at his eyes. The blur resolved. She offered him a hand.
He took it, let the woman help him stand up.
"Thanks," he said.
The woman had the build of a westerling - tall, wide hips and shoulders, thick, corded muscles that were flattered by the mold of her dyed leather armor. Her jet black hair was tied into a high ponytail that stuck up above her gem-infused circlet. Her face was broad, angular, with bright yellow eyes and cheeks painted as if for war.
"Gorgonbane," Pierce commented on the warpaint's pattern. "They did good work back in Alba." The woman didn't say anything, just gave him a polite smile. Pierce flinched, having a thought. "Wait, no. You're not..."
"Scythia of Chasmreach," she introduced herself, clasping his arm in greeting.
This woman was a living legend, and he'd just been stupid enough to assume her warpaint was borrowed, a tribute.
"How did I look out there," he grimaced, honestly curious about his performance. Recruitment was part of the reason he'd been in this mess to begin with. "I know the situation wasn't ideal, but you wouldn't believe where I just came from."
"You actually looked pretty good, from where we were standing," Scythia said, raising her brow.
We? Ah right, there had been a man with her. If this was Scythia of Chasmreach, the man had to be...
The man strode up casually beside his wife, taking Pierce's arm in a firm grip. He was built like a tree - tall, gnarled, strong - and little about him was refined or attractive. His face was hard-set under its thick covering of red beard, but his eyes were earnest and approving. "Axebourne," he said.
"The Cleaver," Pierce breathed in awe. "Sir, it's an honor to meet..." he flicked his gaze to Scythia, "To meet both of you. Mr. Cleaver, my dad fought with you, years ago. He told me so many stories!"
Axebourne screwed up one side of his mouth and scratched the side of his red head.
"Making me feel old, kid," he said.
"Sorry, sir," Pierce said.
"Ah, don't do that..." Axebourne groaned.
"What?" asked Pierce. "Apologizing, or calling you sir?"
"Neither!"
"Sorry sir, it's just really exciting."
Axebourne shook his head.
"Look, my wife's right," Axebourne said. "You did alright. It's not always pretty, kid, but that thing's dead, and you're alive. I'd say job done." He looked over at his wife. "Buy him a drink?"

CHAPTER TWO
Mead
The tavern Scythia and Axebourne brought him to was a dump. It was tucked into the corner of a row of closed shops, its front entrance blocked off so you could only enter through the alleyway. Inside it was dim, low-ceilinged, stuffed with regulars, and quiet in that way only a long-established drinking house can be.
The barkeep imperceptibly raised a wet rag to greet the two living legends and their guest.
A pair of merchants stood near a lonely wooden pillar in the middle of the long room, looking as if they wished to sit, but only one table was open, and it was the one that the legends led Pierce to. He removed his helm and set it down on the sticky floor. Thankfully, the chair was sturdy enough to accommodate the bulk of his armor. Most furniture would be in a place like this.
Sitting, Axebourne raised a hand, holding up three fingers, and not long after, a server came by with three steins full of golden mead. It smelled sweet, but tasted dry and strong. Pierce dove into it greedily, relishing the distance it put between him and thoughts of the Underlands.
"So?" Axebourne prodded, and Pierce realized he'd gotten lost in the moment.
"Ah, yes sir, sorry sir," he apologized and sat up straight in his chair.
Axebourne balked, scrunching up his face. "Sir again. I ain't your officer, boy," he said. "But do tell us, what was that all about?"
Pierce closed his eyes, as if remembering something distant.  Well, he had been down in the Underlands a while, hadn't he?
"The most important thing's first, if you don't mind," he said. "Kash has found a way to invade Overland. I have to stop him."
Axebourne looked incredulous, Scythia frowned.  "Just you? And how do you know this?" she asked.
"I was trapped in Testadel," Pierce said.  It was embarrassing, but true.
Axebourne made another face, and like the first, Pierce thought it strange on him.  He seemed so serious, but his honest confusion and big red lips made the look of disbelief humorous.  Pierce thought he would make a good dad.
He realized he'd paused again.  "Sorry," he said tapping one of his temples. "I get sidetracked."  He cleared his throat and tried once more.
"I went down to the Underlands to get my tribute," he said.  "I figured if I came back with something awesome, something brutal, I could get the post I wanted in Dogranborn, or some other group like yours.  Your old one, anyway." Pierce started. Had he just insulted them? They didn't react. "I mean, I don't actually know what you're up to now, not that you have to be up to something, but Gorgonbane really kicked..."
"It's okay," Scythia said calmly. She fixed his green eyes with her yellow ones. Did the gems in her circlet brighten? "Stay on track."
"Right," Pierce said. "So I dove down at Murkfathom, and..."
"Wait," Axebourne cut in, "you swam to the Underlands?"
Pierce nodded.
"Through Murkfathom?"
"Yes sir," he said. "It was nasty, but I figured that would be a great feat to tell the other mercs about, get some clout. But have you ever seen a shriekeel? Heard, I should say.  You don't see much in Murkfathom. They really scream! Feel it right in the gut, and then..." He cut himself off.
Axebourne didn't believe him. His face wrinkled in an amusing scowl.
"Look, sir," he said, trying to keep eye contact with the Cleaver. "That won't be the craziest thing I say, and I'll stay on