Debut Fiction: 'Dead Men Walking' by Inosh K

The bandit came rushing at my blade and unlike most of my kills, I didn't even move my blade to skewer him. It was not my fault, really. He screamed even after being skewered. I hated screamers and I soon put him out of his misery.

"Oi, Darre," Sete called " You sure you are trying to die?" gesturing at the body from the horse. I bared my teeth at him, not that it was particularly terrifying for I was missing most of my front ones.

" I said I would die at the hands of a worthy foe," I said, " I am not going to lay my life down for any bumbling bastard who cannot carry a bastard sword. I am still the King's Man. I will not bring him dishonour, even in death." Mercy nickered from where she stood. My lovely mare had some sense, and bless the Faceless for that, for Sete had not half the sense nor half the strength.

He had tagged along in my quest to die, for his quest was the very opposite. The lad had the wasting disease and none of the afflicted had survived beyond twenty summers. But he was sure that he was the outlier, the one who would find a way to survive the disease that plagued the Iron Duchies for centuries.

We stumbled along the road, both of us laughing, passing the wineskin back and forth, in search of the next monster. If our laughter sounded a little forced, eyes dead and desperate, we knew not to mention it. For we were both dead men walking, me in search of my death to outrun my demons and him trying desperately to bargain for little more time from death itself. We walked into our sunset but what followed was the night.