by Jeff Gunzel
He gazed hard at each of the whimpering men in turn, a final tactic to ensure someone would talk. “One of you is going to live, and the rest will die. The first man who tells me what I want to know will leave with his head.”
“She was here!” one of the riders cried out, his long black hair clinging to his face, damp with tears and sweat.
The pack leader moved closer to him, still holding the severed head. “And where is she now?” he asked, his growing impatience more evident than ever.
Rovin’s mind screamed out in panic. There wouldn’t be another chance. He had to act now. Most of the blood pack were lounging around lazily, and the leader’s attention was now squarely on the rider who spoke out. At least he had been right on one account: the quick pat-down given to the drivers had not revealed the dagger in his boot. This wasn’t about him anymore. He had to do something to help Anna, even if it meant sacrificing himself. With his hands still tied, he reached back and slid the hidden blade from his boot.
“So where is she?!” shouted the pack leader, throwing the severed head at the terrified rider.
“I don’t know! She was riding in the first wagon with him,” the rider shouted, pointing towards Rovin with his chin. The leader glared angrily at Rovin, then turned toward the wagons. In truth, he had been trying to discover which direction she might have run, or if they had dropped her off somewhere nearby. They had already checked the wagons, but not in any great detail. It never occurred to him she might still be here. The sudden realization made him feel stupid, which angered him even further.
“Tear the wagons apart!” he ordered, before driving a dagger into the rider’s neck. Even through his long black hair, the whites of his eyes bulged in shock. “Find her, and kill this useless lot!”
This was it. Adrenaline pumped through Rovin’s veins. Ironically, knowing he probably wouldn’t survive gave him all the courage he could ever ask for. Nothing to lose meant nothing to fear. “Anna, run!” he shouted, springing to his feet with the dagger clutched between his tied hands.
A similar clarity surged through Anna after hearing his cry. All this time she had been hiding underneath these furs, trembling in terror; doubting she could find any way out of this predicament. All alone with the cries of dying men, dying for her! Now, hearing Rovin’s desperate call to her, the feelings of helplessness vanished in an instant.
Furs flew into the air as she burst from her hiding place and scrambled to the back of the wagon. With one foot inside and one still on the ground, a green-faced man looked up in surprise as the girl leapt toward him. His hesitation was rewarded with a fork in the eye. He screamed and tumbled backward onto the ground.
“There was a scuffle here,” said Yiph, moving along with his head down. “These prints are small. Too small to be a man’s. They belong to Anna!” His voice was growing with intensity as he moved faster. “There...there was a chase. She was pursued!” Nearly running now, he followed the tracks only his keen eyes could see.
Anna landed on her feet and began running. “Capture her alive,” came the call from behind. Amongst the chaos, her eyes somehow landed on Rovin, who was running right toward her. His tied hands were raised over his head, gripping something that seemed to sparkle. Time seemed to move in slow motion, sifting slowly like ice melting. She wanted to run into his arms, to feel safe for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
“Get down!” he yelled, his mouth opening wide in slow motion to her eyes. She dropped to her knees and covered her head as he ran past. She looked back just in time to see him drive the dagger into the chest of her pursuer, one she had no idea was even there. He pushed it in all the way up to the hilt, then used his momentum to drive the man back into the other three behind him. They all tumbled to the ground in a heap.
Anna got up and kept on running...and hated herself for it. Part of her wanted to go back and help him, but what could she do? His sacrifice would be in vain if she got caught. They wanted her, after all, not him. Maybe they would leave him alone and just follow her? That’s what she told herself as she ran like the wind.
“Her tracks lead this way!” Yiph shouted, moving through some thicker brush. Ninal stayed with him step for step with the dog handlers close behind. Their hounds barked wildly, sensing the growing excitement amongst the men. Was it possible? Had she actually escaped capture from the blood pack? More importantly, was she still alive?
Yiph stopped cold, throwing his hands in the air. The others were there in an instant. Ninal, the handlers and even their hounds stood in silence, gazing around at the gruesome scene. A moment ago there was considerable excitement in the air. Now, a single man clearing his throat sounded like thunder.
Chapter 6
Anna charged blindly through the heavy brush, covering up while leaves and twigs lashed across her face. Even the loose vines winding up the trees seemed to reach out and grab hold of her, as if trying to slow her down so the blood pack could catch up. Her face was hot and her arms bled from the constant battering. Her lungs burned for air and her thumping heart seemed like it might burst from her chest. She could hear the taunting calls from behind getting closer and closer. It’s over, just give up, she thought to herself.
A heavy jolt rattled her body and she stumbled back a few steps. A fitting end. I’ve run into a tree, was her first thought. Regaining her wits, her eyes focused on the shadowy figure she had apparently run into. From underneath a low hanging hood, the dark eyes of a hawk bore into her like sharp knives. With a quick shove, the mysterious man threw her to the side. She hit a nearby tree then slid down to the base of the trunk. Too stunned and exhausted to keep running, she just sat there, her waning consciousness flickering in and out.
The cloaked man reached inside of his cloak, then flicked his wrist away from his body. The movement was so fast that Anna’s eyes barely registered it. He repeated the motion, snapping his hand out several more times. Green-faced men came stumbling into the clearing, two of them clutching their throats, blood streaming between their fingers. A third with a visible dagger protruding from his eye tumbled to the ground and skidded across the grass.
The cloaked man reached to his sides and unleashed his swords as another dashed toward him. They clashed swords momentarily, but the fight was short lived. With dazzling speed he shredded the man’s chest in a blur of spinning steel, exposing white ribs before he fell dead. That was four dead within seconds, but more were still coming. Azek dropped down low, his swords crossed out in front of his face, and waited while more came dashing into the clearing. Upon seeing the dead bodies of their fallen brothers, they drew swords but didn’t rush him. Clearly this stranger was extremely dangerous. Instead, they circled him so he would have nowhere to run while waiting for more to arrive.
“Whoever you are, the girl does not concern you! She is our property,” said one of the blood pack, eyeing the fallen men nervously. “You’ve made a grievous mistake, stranger. No one dares to—”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Azek calmly interrupted, still crouching down with his blades crossed. “Go now, leave the girl with me, and I let you live. Stay, and you join your friends.” Gripping their swords, the green-faced men eyed one another uneasily. By all rights, they should have been able to overpower him easily, but the sight of four of their own, killed with such ease, could not be taken lightly.
Azek stood up fast. The others jumped back from his sudden movement. “Better decide now,” he said, lightly tapping his blades together. “I’m not known for my patience.”
Three more burst out from the brush, one wearing a black fur over his head. The leader looked around at the dead, his expression a combination of confusion and anger. Upon seeing the cloaked figure—his blades coated with fresh blood—any questions he might have could wait. That man needed to die now! “Kill him!” he ordered, drawing his own blade.
With newfound courage because of the additional numbers, as well as the presence of their leader, the men stepped forward. Azek moved his swor
ds out wide in a very loose stance. His eyes found the original man whom he had spoken to, and his lip curled up in a snarl. “You were given a choice,” he said, his low growl rivaling that of a wolf’s. “It seems you’ve chosen death.”
The assassin lashed out, his lightning-fast blade drawing a line of red across the man’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged out as the thin line became thicker and thicker. He leaned his head back as if to scream, then his neck opened up so wide it seemed his head might fall off. A spray of red drenched his front before he collapsed to the ground. Enraged that this stranger had killed another with virtually no resistance, the others all swarmed at once.
Flashing swords assaulted him from various angles. His blades danced in intricate circles, smoothly deflecting each in turn. Leaning against the nearby tree, Anna watched on in a dreamlike state. She had seen trained soldiers sparring in the fields back home. She rather enjoyed watching the skilled bladesmen engage in the art of combat. Because of this, Anna knew superior skill when she saw it, but those sparring sessions were nothing like this. The assassin’s blades whirled around his body at impossible speeds, fluidly chipping or deflecting multiple strikes with ease.
The green-faced men slashed away fearlessly, knowing the stranger couldn’t mount any offence as long as they kept the pressure on. Of course, the fact that he was deflecting so many strikes from so many angles was starting to become unsettling. What was it going to take to break through his defense? The clanging of steel on steel rang through the forest, like the sound of one hundred bells all being rung at once. Sprays of orange and blue sparks bloomed off in every direction. Azek’s whirling blades even countered blows coming from behind, as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
For an instant, time seemed to slow. The assassin whirled about in a vicious circle, his blades extended out to arm’s reach. The surprise maneuver was just enough to drive his attackers back a step. With his left hand, he threw that sword high into the air. Void of conscious thought, irrepressible instinct taking over, they all looked up as the blade tumbled upward.
Azek dropped to one knee. Using all the speed and strength he could muster, the assassin slashed his remaining blade in sweeping circle. Pushing hard, he exploded through the resistance of flesh, driving across their stomachs until his blade finally halted against a ribcage, several men down the line. Tearing it free, he then caught the other as it tumbled back down.
More than half the circle dropped to their knees, writhing hands slick with blood trying to hold back the soft innards that seeped from their bellies. Dead or dying, they no longer posed any threat.
No longer surrounded, Azek sidestepped so his back was against the thick of the forest. He held out his bloodstained swords and pointed to each remaining man in turn. “I offer you one last chance at life,” he said, his voice steady and barely breathing hard. “The girl stays with me. If any of you follow me, I will not be so merciful next time.”
Whatever ransom this girl might command, it wasn’t worth their lives. That much they could all agree upon. “That’s enough, men,” said the man with the black fur. He looked around at the carnage and shook his head. “Leave the dead,” he added, then glared at Azek with raw hate in his eyes. How could one man have ravaged his ranks like this? “This isn’t over,” he said, pointing a finger accusingly.
Azek zipped across the clearing in a single stride, and placed a bloody blade to the man’s throat. The movement was so fast the leader barely had time to blink. “From what I see, it is over. If I were you, I wouldn’t be so quick to see all my men slaughtered for the sake of gold.” The leader put his hands up, then slowly backed away. He and the others melted into the forest like ghosts.
Still dazed, Anna looked on from the tree. Azek ignored her at first, certain she wasn’t going anywhere. He ran back and rummaged through one of the wagons until he found what he was looking for, then returned holding a roll of twine. Kneeling down beside her, he began wrapping her hands together. “Rovin,” she mumbled, eyes out of focus, staring over his shoulder. “We have to go back for him.”
“Whoever you’re talking about, he is already dead. I saw none alive. You are the last survivor, Anna.” Hearing him call her by name snapped her out of the trance a bit. “Yes,” said Azek, answering her unasked question. “I know exactly who you are, Lady Drine. I’m afraid you will have to come with me.” He pulled the knot tight as if to emphasize his words.
Ninal and the dog handlers gazed around at the scattered bodies. These were not men from the caravan, but members of the blood pack. They had all been slaughtered by something or someone. It seemed doubtful that Anna Drine could have survived such a massacre. “By the gods,” Ninal whispered, resisting the urge to cover his nose from the smell.
“The gods were clearly not present on this day,” Yiph mumbled while scanning the area. With a shove from his foot, he rolled one of the bodies over, which brought a groan from the men. Ignoring their less than subtle protests, he continued to move the bodies around in a similar rough fashion. He was not squeamish of the gore, and needed to see all the tracks in order to piece this mystery together. Every now and then he would measure one of the bodies’ feet using his own fingers to estimate, then walked around in circles, presumably to retrace that man’s final steps. Yiph finally stopped and began scratching his head.
“Enough stalling already, you’re wasting time. What conclusion have you come to?” said Ninal. This was all taking too long, and some decisions needed to be made.
“I’m...afraid you won’t trust my findings, general,” said Yiph. He was always one to speak his mind, and had complete confidence in his own abilities. It was odd watching him hesitate like this.
“That decision is mine and mine alone!” Ninal replied angrily. “Having an opinion that does not match my own is not a crime, Yiph. But withholding information after I’ve given you a direct order to tell me what you’ve found...most certainly is. So unless you fancy being locked up for the rest of your days, you will give me a full report, immediately.”
Yiph sighed and turned back to face the carnage. “Very well, sir,” he said, clearly dealing with his own self-doubts. “The massacre that occurred here was carried out by a single man.” Murmured grumblings of doubt rose up from the group.
Ninal said nothing, but one of the dog handlers spoke out. “That’s impossible. They tell us you’re the best tracker there is, yet you come to such a preposterous conclusion,” he said. “If you’re going to make something up, at least make it believable.”
Yiph ignored the comment and went on. “There is only one set of prints unaccounted for, and that man is no longer here,” he explained. “If you wish to prove me wrong, then by all means, approach and try to sort this out any way you see fit.” The handler grunted and looked away. “I understand it’s hard to believe. In truth, I came to the conclusion a while ago. Like you, I didn’t believe it was possible, so I ran through the pattern a second time. I needed to be sure. You all must trust me on this. Whoever did this is dangerous, and what’s more, he now has Anna Drine.”
He marched to the back portion of the clearing, then pointed down a subtle path. “Both their tracks lead off in this direction. I can’t say if she has been captured or rescued, but she is indeed with him.” Yiph turned toward Ninal. “Sir, the Lady Drine is still alive. I can continue to track them, and possibly even catch up, depending how much of a lead they have. But it is your call.” Yiph nodded his head. “Awaiting orders, sir.”
Ninal didn’t hesitate. “Ardo, come here boy,” he said to the young scout, snapping his fingers. Ardo approached, his eyes respectfully low. “Turn around, lad.” Unquestioningly, he did as he was told. A moment later he felt the crinkling of parchment unroll across his back, followed by the scribbling sound of a quill. When the parchment was lifted, he turned around. Ninal placed a cork into a tiny vial of ink and placed the quill back into a pouch. He then rolled up the freshly scribbled parchment and thrust it into Ardo’s grasp.
&
nbsp; “I need you to get back to the city as fast as you can,” said Ninal. “Once you reach the front gate, give this to the first soldier you see. In the meantime, the rest of us will be out on the main road. We can’t let the trail go cold, so we have to keep moving.” He placed his hands on the young man’s shoulders. “This is my final order to you. You have done everything the city of Taron has asked. Complete this task, and your contract is fulfilled. If you still wish to return and join us, you are more than welcome to do so. If not,” he brought his fingers to his forehead, then touched his heart, “then it has been an honor.”
Ardo tucked away the parchment, nodded his head, then took off running. Once he was several paces away, he stopped and turned around. “After I deliver this, I’ll meet up with the rest of you. Don’t worry, sir, we’ll find Lady Drine.” With that, he was off and running again.
Yiph headed off down the path, handlers with their barking hounds following closely behind. Ninal brought up the rear, letting the trackers take point. Help is on the way, Anna. By the gods, I hope we’re not too late.
* * *
A frigid chill washed over the girl as if she were thrown into a lake. Anna’s eyes popped open, and she gasped. When her vision cleared, a lean man with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail stood before her. Tall with brown britches and an open black vest, he was actually rather handsome. He sneered at her, still holding the empty bucket. “Did you sleep well, your highness?” he said in a shrill, mocking voice.
She did in fact, despite being tied in a chair all night. But she wasn’t about to admit that. The brutal combination of mental fatigue and physical exhaustion had fortunately swept her away into a deep sleep. Still, her rest had come at a price. Her neck was stiff and her shoulders ached from sleeping in an upright position. She shook away the frigid water and said nothing, shifting her gaze to the floor.