Traitors' Fate

by Andy Peloquin

  The sudden burst of flame and explosive sound had an instant, violent effect on the horses pulling Lord Damuria's carriage and carrying the guards. The four Steel Company mercenaries were nearly thrown from their rapidly swerving mounts, and the carriage tilted at a dangerous angle as the Blood Forest horses evaded the fire. One of the mercenaries clinging to the coach's tail board flew off, colliding with the solid trunk of a nearby tree.

  With a growl of frustration, the Hunter drew out a second sphere. He waited a few seconds, adapting to the rolling gait of the horse beneath him, then threw. Triumph surged within him as the pouch smashed into the rear of the carriage. A heartbeat later, green flames consumed the carriage box, the tail board, and the mercenary riding there.

  Shrieking, the man beat at the flames, loosening his grip on his perch. He fell beneath the trampling hooves of the four mercenaries riding behind the coach.

  The driver must have managed to gain control of the panicking horses, for the coach slowed and pulled toward the side of the road. The four mercenaries riding in the rear drew up their horses and whirled to face the Hunter, drawing swords.

  The door to the coach popped open, and the Hunter caught a glimpse of Lord Damuria’s royal purple robes and disheveled white-blond hair. Captain Dradel emerged a heartbeat later, moving to put himself between the threat and his employer as he rushed the two of them toward the front of the convoy.

  The Hunter didn't slow his charge. He swerved to the left, blocking a frantic attack, and raced past the mercenaries. He gave the burning carriage a wide berth and thundered around the horses panicking in their traces. His sudden appearance startled the four mercenaries leading the convoy. A moment later, he hurled the last of the three glass spheres he'd purchased from Graeme—more than worth the exorbitant price—into their midst.

  The pillar of smoke leapt upwards, encircling the four men in green flames. Their thoroughbreds panicked, rearing and letting out shrill screams. Only one man remained horsed; the other three were flung from their saddles to splash in the burning Serenii fire. Their cries of agony joined the cacophony of terrified beasts, shouting men, and crackling flames. The horses fled, flowing tails and manes alight, leaving their riders to roast in their steel armor.

  Captain Dradel appeared around the carriage as the fire consumed his men. He reacted with the speed of a trained warrior, dragging Lord Damuria away from the wreckage of his coach and the carnage before it.

  "Get him to a horse!" the captain shouted.

  Snarling, the Hunter turned his mount and sent it racing back toward the rear of the carriage. One of the four rear-guard mercenaries charged around the side of the burning vehicle. The Hunter blocked the wild swing but had no time to follow up.

  Smoke billowed around the Hunter, filling his nostrils with the foul scent of charred meat and metal. Lord Damuria's ruined carriage blazed beside him, the bodies of his guards smoldering among the wreckage. The taste of death hung thick in the air.

  The three remaining mercenaries had circled their horses around Lord Damuria and Captain Dradel. One vacated his saddle, and the nobleman made to mount. With a loud cry, the Hunter thundered toward them.

  "Back!" Captain Dradel dragged his employer from the saddle as the two mounted mercenaries turned to meet the Hunter's charge. "Into the forest!"

  The Hunter reined in his horse. "Run!" he shouted, barking out a callous laugh. His midnight eyes met Captain Dradel's cold, grey ones. "You will not escape me, you bastard."

  The captain and Lord Damuria disappeared from view, flanked by the seven mercenaries still alive. The sound of men crashing through the foliage reached the Hunter.

  A grim smile broadened the Hunter's face. On foot, the men had no chance against him. The trees would provide him with ample concealment; he'd have no problem stalking the heavily-laden mercenaries and their garishly-dressed employer.

  He dismounted, wincing at the pain in his still-healing left leg. Stooping, he retrieved one of the mercenaries' fallen crossbows. It was heavier than he expected, with a solid wooden stock and steel arms that proved surprisingly difficult for him to bend. Loading a bolt, he took off after the fleeing men.

  The Hunter's woodcraft was limited; he moved through city streets with far less noise than he made in the brush. But the thick forest canopy provided shadows to conceal his movements. The fleeing mercenaries in their heavy, clanking armor and thick boots made enough sound to drown out a stampede of bloodbears; there was no chance they'd hear him coming.

  He followed the sound of their retreat, gliding from tree to tree. The crossbow slowed his movements, but he refused to drop it. The bow packed enough power to drive a bolt through the mercenaries' breastplate and chain mail—he couldn't say the same of his collapsible crossbows, hanging in their sheaths on his thighs. He was saving his argam-tipped arrows for Lord Damuria. First, he had to eliminate the mercenary guards. He'd incapacitate those he could, but no one would stand between him and his prey. Captain Dradel would die by his hand, up close, where he could stare him in the eye.

  The crashing of booted feet through the forest grew louder, and he used the sound of clanking armor to guide him. Not directly toward the fleeing men, but to their right. He'd go around them, cut off their retreat, herd them toward Dead Man's Cliff—a fitting destination. Hemmed in by the high stone walls, they'd have nowhere to flee.

  He peered through the trees. The seven mercenaries formed a wall of flesh and steel around Captain Dradel and Lord Damuria. He raised the crossbow and, sighting on Lord Damuria, pressed the trigger. The bolt cut through the forest gloom and punched into the chest of the mercenary immediately in front of the nobleman. The man died with a weak cough, spraying blood onto the man beside him.

  Lord Damuria flinched and cried out. The Steel Company hurried to form a defensive ring around the nobleman and their captain, facing outward, eyeing the forest warily.

  With a quiet curse, the Hunter flung aside the bow. The difference in power between the crossbow and his handheld weapons had thrown off his aim.

  His load lightened, he slithered through the forest, circling the ring of armored men. More than a few swords and three-bladed daggers wavered. Doubtless the mercenaries would have traded a fortune in gold for shields.

  He didn't attack; he had no need. The silence would wreak havoc on their nerves—Lord Damuria's certainly, if not the mercenaries’. He stepped on a large branch, cracking it with a loud snap. The mercenaries whirled toward the sound. One had held on to his crossbow, and he loosed a bolt. The missile slashed through leaves and twigs, burying itself into the muddy forest floor.

  "Idiot!" Captain Dradel's growl echoed through the forest. "Conserve your ammunition, you fools. It's the only thing keeping us alive." His voice turned to a yelp as the Hunter's throwing knife whistled past his nose.

  The bowman fixed the captain with a stupid expression, blood trickling down his face. He reached up to fumble at the dagger hilt protruding from his left eye. The crossbow slipped from his grip. He followed it a moment later, his corpse hitting the forest floor with a soft thump.

  The Hunter suppressed a bark of laughter. It had been a fortuitous throw—he'd intended to simply startle the men, add to their fear.

  "You cannot escape," he said. His voice echoed from the trees around him, and he grinned at the way Lord Damuria jumped at the sound. "There is nowhere on Einan I will not find you."

  To the mercenaries' credit, they hid their fear well. Lord Damuria, however, was less immune to the terror.

  "Whatever you've been paid, I'll double it!" His voice held a pleading note. "Triple, even."

  The Hunter spoke again, twenty paces away from where he'd been the last time. "Not enough. Not after what you've done." He had no idea why Lord Beritane of Praamis had wanted Lord Damuria dead, nor did he care. The nobleman was just a job to him. Captain Dradel, however, that was personal.

  The mercenaries whirled toward the sound of his voice, but he was moving again, circling around to their
left.

  "Surely there is something that will dissuade you," Lord Damuria begged.

  "I am the Hunter of Voramis." The Hunter's voice had a cold, cruel edge. "There is nothing to dissuade me. Your death is inevitable."

  The nobleman seemed on the verge of panic.

  "Get ahold of yourself," Captain Dradel snarled, gripping Lord Damuria's robes in a mailed fist. "He's toying with you, trying to draw you out."

  "And what are you doing about it?" Fear turned the nobleman's voice shrill. "He's killed twenty of you already. How can you hope to protect me with just the five of you?"

  "By staying together." Captain Dradel turned back toward the forest around him, not releasing his grip on the nobleman. "He can't kill us all, not if we fight him together."

  "Don't be too certain of that, Captain Dradel," the Hunter called out. "You've lost two already. Do you really think you can face me and live?"

  The mercenary captain's face hardened, but three of his men exchanged nervous glances. The Hunter smiled. Perhaps he wouldn't need to kill all of them.

  "I've come for Lord Damuria," he shouted, moving between sentences to make it seem like he was all around them. "Turn him over to me, and no more of you need die. The Steel Company has valor, but would you waste your lives for him? He would not hesitate to sacrifice any and all of you, if it saved him."

  A grim satisfaction filled the Hunter as two of the mercenaries shot questioning looks at Lord Damuria.

  "Give me your employer, and I will spare you."

  Captain Dradel opened his mouth, but Lord Damuria's shriek of terror drowned out his words. The nobleman tore free of the captain's grasp, shoved Captain Dradel toward the sound of the Hunter's voice, and fled in the opposite direction.

  Perfect.

  The Hunter gave a vicious grin and raised his handheld crossbow. He sighted down the length of his arm, tracking the movement of the fleeing nobleman, and pulled the trigger. Just as Lord Damuria fell to the forest floor, tripped by a protruding root. The bolt flew above the nobleman's head. The springs of the Hunter's crossbow were already loading the second bolt, but by the time it was ready to fire, Lord Damuria had found his feet and darted away, vanishing among the thick trees.

  The Hunter didn't pursue. Lord Damuria wouldn't get far—his high-heeled shoes were built for comfort, not speed, and his expensive clothing would weigh him down. In a few hundred paces, he'd run into Dead Man's Cliff, a sheer rock face that rose above the height of the towering trees. Even if he risked the climb, the Hunter could catch up to him long before he reached Voramis.

  I have more important things to deal with. Lord Damuria's death could wait—he would have vengeance for Thrifty Pete and the others who had died at the hands of the Brotherhood of Pestilence.

  He slithered around the nervous circle of men, positioning himself close enough to overhear their words.

  "Damn it!" Captain Dradel had recovered and was glaring after Lord Damuria. "The fool's played into the Hunter's hands. He's going to get himself killed."

  "And us with him," retorted one of the mercenaries. The man held a bloody cloth to his head. Evidently, he'd lost his helmet when he flew from the back of the carriage and collided with a tree. "You heard the Hunter! He's come for Lord Damuria—I say we let the bastard have him."

  Captain Dradel glowered at the man. "Coward!" He seized the man's throat. "You'd abandon your duty to save your worthless life, Bolis?"

  "Damned right!" Bolis gasped out. "Ain't enough gold in Einan to risk the Hunter's wrath. You know what they say about him, what he does to the souls of his victims."

  "Tales!" Captain Dradel shouted. "Lies, meant to terrify weak-minded fools."

  "I'd rather be weak-minded than dead." The man's face grew red as Captain Dradel's grip on his neck tightened. He didn't break the captain's gaze.

  After a moment, Captain Dradel released him with such force that the man staggered. "Then flee, you coward!" He pointed with his sword. "But when we've dealt with the Hunter, you will regret your decision."

  "Pah!" Bolis spat at the captain's feet. "Wish I could say it's been a pleasure serving with you, Captain, but we both know that'd be a lie." With a sneer, he turned to leave.

  Captain Dradel darted forward and drove his three-bladed dagger into the base of the man's spine. The blade punched through Bolis' neck and out the other side, spraying blood. The mercenary gave a little gasping gurgle. Growling, Captain Dradel ripped his dagger free, and Bolis flopped to the forest floor.

  The captain whirled on the three remaining men. "You know the motto of the Steel Company: death before desertion. Any of you feel like joining Bolis?"

  The mercenaries exchanged glances. Fear showed plain in their expressions; even from this distance, the Hunter's sensitive nostrils caught the stink of their flop sweat. They were as terrified of their own captain as they were of him.

  The perfect time for me to step in.

  "Is this how you would die?" he called, and stepped into their line of sight.

  The three mercenaries and Captain Dradel whirled, raising their weapons.

  He strode toward them, as if uncaring that they held swords and daggers while his weapons hung in their sheaths. His advance was unhurried, yet inexorable. The closer he drew, the greater their nervousness.

  "Kill him!" Captain Dradel snarled.

  "Or," the Hunter said in a quiet voice, "drop your weapons and live." He stopped just out of their reach, his expression as calm as his tone. He held up two fingers, a movement that caused the mercenaries to stiffen. "Only two men need die this day. Lord Damuria's death has been paid for." He folded his index finger, leaving his middle finger extended in a salute to Captain Dradel. "Your captain's death, let's call that personal."

  Captain Dradel's eyes narrowed. "Kill him, now!"

  His men made no move to advance. They fixed the Hunter with nervous glances, yet a hint of hope glimmered in their eyes. They stared death in the face—how could they resist the allure of life?

  "You have my word, the word of the Hunter of Voramis." He held his hands out wide. "Fight me and die, this I swear. Surrender, and live."

  They hadn't seen his true face, hidden beneath the disguise of a nameless Voramian nobleman. He could afford them that mercy.

  Captain Dradel's eyes darted between the three men. "What are you waiting for? Cut him down!"

  The thump of a sword hitting soft earth was his only reply. A moment later, two more followed, accompanied by three three-bladed daggers. The mercenaries moved quickly out of the reach of their captain's sword.

  "You cowards!" Captain Dradel railed. "You dishonor the Steel Company with your gutlessness, dishonor yourselves!"

  "What is honor to a dead man?" the Hunter asked, a cruel grin on his lips. He turned to the three mercenaries. "If I ever see you again…"

  They turned to flee, and disappeared before he finished speaking.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Hunter and Captain Dradel stood alone in the forest. A tense silence hung thick in the air. The sound of Lord Damuria's desperate flight had faded long ago. Even the birds had fallen silent, the leaves ceasing their rustling.

  The Hunter drew in a deep breath. Above the smells of the forest—the crispness of pine trees, a hint of wildflower sweetness, and the damp, fertile earth—Captain Dradel’s unique scent of rosewood, oak, and olive oil filtered into his nostrils. For the first time, the acrid reek of fear emanated from the man.

  His face, however, revealed little. The cold, grey eyes—the eyes of a cold-blooded reptile—fixed the Hunter with a disdainful glare. The only crack in his façade was the slight twitch at the corner of his lips.

  He lifted his sword. "I will not beg for my life."

  The Hunter shrugged. "I would not spare you even if you did."

  "Why?" Captain Dradel's eyes narrowed. "You say you were hired to kill Lord Damuria, yet your target flees while you stand here."

  "Lord Damuria will die," the Hunter said. "But you, you wi
ll suffer for what you've done."

  "What I've done?" Captain Dradel actually seemed confused.

  "You and your Brotherhood of Pestilence."

  The light of understanding dawned in the captain's eyes, replaced a moment later by puzzlement. "But why would you care about a handful of deaths?" His voice turned mocking. "Surely there are enough to go around."

  "There will always be deaths." The Hunter shook his head. "It is the way of life. Men, women, children—they all face the Long Keeper in the end."

  "So what is the problem?" Captain Dradel asked. "If death is so inevitable, what does it matter that we hurry it for a chosen few so that it is delayed for the rest?"

  "Who did you choose for your victims? The strong, the wealthy, the prosperous?" The Hunter's lip curled into a snarl. "No, you chose the weak, the infirmed, the helpless."

  "The ones who bring disease to the city!" The captain's voice rose. "What would it serve if the healthy were sacrificed for the wellbeing of the ill? That would be madness."

  "On that, we both agree." The Hunter thrust a finger at the mercenary. "But why does anyone have to die? And at your hands, no less?"

  The captain's jaw dropped. "This, from you? An assassin, a blackguard that makes a living from killing?"

  The Hunter snorted in amusement. "That is the difference between us: I do not make excuses for what I do. I make no attempt to hide it, dress it up in the disguise of 'right' or 'good'." He gestured to Soulhunger. "I kill because I must. But even I can see that what you are doing is evil."

  "Evil?" Captain Dradel barked out a harsh laugh. "Only a child or a fool believes in such a fanciful construct. There is no evil—there is simply the strong and the weak, those who can take what they want and those who cannot. I know which manner of man I will always be. Just as you are." His cold, grey eyes narrowed. "We may dress it up differently, but beneath the disguise it is still the same thing. We kill because we must. It is the way of the strong to prey on the weak. Your name reveals the truth—you are a hunter, just as I am."