“You,” Dragon said severely, “come o'er here.” He spoke with the sense authority of the very young, who had not yet learned how powerless they were
Temper said, “There now, Dragon, don’t torture poor Scythe. Go to your father.” She passed the boy over and stepped back. “My Lord, I must sincerely and humbly apologize. It is becoming apparent to me that we acted rashly, and alarmed you and your staff unnecessarily. We will take our leave…”
“Nonsense, you will stay at least for a short visit, and Scythe as well. Come and sit.”
Temper hesitated, “We merely wanted to give warning and ensure that you and your family were safe, My King. There are many other duties…”
“What is this? Offering offense to your kinsman? In this room, we are family.” She seemed to have hit a tender nerve with her formality, because his tone sharpened. “This is the one place, in a life that you know well, cousin, that I can enjoy the pleasures of family.” When she was too startled to answer, he said, making an effort to calm himself, “Please, stay and let us enjoy a rare moment.”
She closed her eyes and bowed, sincerely regretful, “I...we will, cousin. Please forgive me. I have injured my loved one.” She took the seat that he offered her across from them.
Scythe stepped forward when she motioned him to follow, but paused, listening to a distant poof, and then a nearer bump and sliding sound from just beyond the wall. A nearly instantaneous second poof was answered by a grunt and the sounds of scrambling.
Time slowed down. Scythe' s mind was whirring, but his body reacted sluggishly. Each little movement took an exasperatingly long time, as if he swam through thick, sticky paste. He looked at Temper and then at the King, who held his son on his lap, his head turning toward the hall that led to the entrance. The prince, who was oblivious to the situation, gripped his father’s sleeve with one hand and sat calmly watching Scythe.
Time sped up the instant that Temper yelled, “Move!” and pointed to a dark bedroom. One of the guards called loudly, “Intruders! We are under attack in the King’s quarters!” He continued speaking into his com, “Koreg is down, I’ve been hit and the Hall of Flame is compromised.”
Then they all caught the scent of blood.
As Scythe, Temper and the royal family crossed the room, Scythe spoke for the first time, “My King, do you have any weapons here?” His fears were realized when the man pointed to the wall where various historically invaluable treasures were arranged in order of time period. Scythe had seen them, but was hoping for a gun, especially since they were facing at least one sniper. There was nothing remotely close to one on the wall. Nevertheless, given a choice between nothing and antiquated relics that looked like they were going to fall apart any second...he rushed to the display and began wrenching items from their brackets.
The radio announcement that reinforcements were being sent echoed over the sound of running feet. Scythe didn’t have time to work on getting anything else free. He ran across the room and around the partition to find the two guards that were stationed within the King’s private residence. One was lying dead on the floor close to him, and the other was sitting against the wall across the way from him; the man was breathing heavily and suffering from a serious wound to the chest.
The smell of blood was strongest there, less than two feet from the dead man and it wound its way through the air and into Scythe's head. As his own blood began to stir, he noticed with a slight frown that the aggression he was used to seemed somehow...reluctant. He waited for the fire to fill him, but strangely, only a fraction of what he expected crawled forward. He blinked. Where was the bloody fervor that was more effective than any weapon he owned and deadlier than any skill he had learned?
He didn’t have time to consider the change in his body because the man across from him suddenly sucked in a deep breath and brought himself around to fire at the person who was pounding down the hall toward them.
“No!” Scythe warned him, but as soon as the guard was clear enough to shoot, he was knocked onto his back by another bullet to the chest, this one on target. The man lay still, a twin of his partner on the ground.
Scythe advanced with his back up against the wall until he was just inches from the opening to the long entrance. The footsteps of just one person, slowed and then stopped. Scythe had contemplated the idea of going for the rifle that was held loosely in the hand of the first guard just a foot away now, but then disregarded it. He had no way of grabbing it without putting himself within the view of the sniper who had taken both men out and was covering his partner’s approach.
Quiet settled down over the home, giving them a quick break before it made its inevitable, hasty departure. Scythe knew that help was just minutes away, maybe sooner, which meant that the assassins had to move quickly or risk missing their targets. The fact that there was no way they could be planning to escape afterwards was useful information. It meant that they were very dangerous, but it also made them predictable. They were going to continue to come in fast and hard…
Then he heard a rustle and a pink sound, and he pushed away from the wall and ran. He noted absently the force of impact and the duration between each of the footsteps that were now retreating in the other direction. Behind him there was a clink of metal on stone, and then two more. He was halfway around the room and through a doorway with his hands over his ears, when the grenade blew up. Hunched against the wall just inside the door, he felt his whole body shake and his head scream in protest from the explosion. In the white silence that followed, Scythe felt the heat within him spread a little farther. A very elemental part of him didn’t like weapons like that, the kind that tore up homes and lives indiscriminately. That part of him wanted to get right up close to the one who used them for some very personal retribution.
When the white filled in with sound and color, he looked out at the damage. The dust had not yet settled around it, but he could still see that the wall which stood at the end of the corridor was nearly gone. The living area in front of him was also in ruin: the furniture had been ripped up and most of the lighting overhead had shattered, littering the ground with glass and leaving much of the room in shadow. If it were him, he would have waited until he heard footsteps and sent another grenade after the first, but waiting wasn’t what they could afford to do. He wasn’t surprised to hear two pairs of feet making their way forward down the hall. Scythe looked across at the room that he knew Temper and the King were in. He watched her slip out and stand just inside an adjoining room with some type of small blade in her hand...maybe a letter opener. There was no sign of the others.
He lowered himself to a crouch and made his way back toward the entrance, ducking into one of the closer rooms just as the two assassins burst through the opening, spraying the room with bullets. He felt some satisfaction, imagining their frustration at finding a dozen or so rooms to check and no time to check them in.
Listening to their movements, he frowned. They moved directly toward the rooms the King’s family inhabited. That information should not have been easy to get for someone unconnected to the family, but then, there were always servants, guards and attendants that could provide it. In any case, they knew just which way to go once they got inside, and that was valuable information, the type that helped a good hunter find his prey. Now he only needed to concentrate on surviving until morning showed itself so that he could follow the trail to the extremely resourceful and clever people who had orchestrated the impossible: an attack on the Blood Dragon in his den.
He unslung the old crossbow he had thrown over his back and slowly loaded the two bolts, wincing at the condition of the aged wood. He risked a glance around the doorjamb to see one Human standing outside the first doorway, scanning for movement and swinging his automatic back and forth while his partner swept the room behind him. So they didn’t know exactly which room to go to; it was good to know that their information wasn’t perfect.
The man turned his head toward the entrance when the voices from the
Hall of Fire became loud enough for him to hear. Taking the opportunity the distraction gave, Scythe rose and then stepped away from the door and deeper into the room. Standing in the darkness of the unused room, he aimed, released the two bolts and ducked back into the shadows. Bullets showered his half of the living room, flying past his place next to the door and tearing into the exposed area of the bedroom.
That was it for his only distance weapon. He placed the bow on the ground and took up the curved blade and the dagger.
“Shit!” The gunner grunted; Scythe smiled, knowing that he would have some trouble pulling the bolts out of his shoulder and abdomen.
“You see which one?”
“No.”
“Move.”
Scythe risked another look. They advanced to the second room, and the first man entered to check it quickly while the gunner pulled out another grenade. Scythe pocketed the dagger.
“Wait for it.”
“I know.”
They moved to the third room, and when his partner disappeared, the gunner pulled the pin on the grenade and held the spoon closed. His eyes were on the rubble around the entrance; the sounds echoing down the hall told them that their time was up. Scythe shifted onto the balls of his feet, lowered his center and gripped the doorway. At the sound of many boots moving down the hall, the gunner lifted his arm and began his toss. Scythe sprinted out of the room toward him, seeing Temper in the corner of his eye do the same. The gunner brought up his weapon awkwardly in his left hand, swinging it toward Scythe, and completing his toss at the same time. Temper crashed into him from the side, her blade sinking into his neck. They went down in a writhing heap, the rifle coughing out a few rounds before laying still. The grenade flew wildly up in the air instead of toward the doorway. Scythe began to count, and veered to intercept it, yelling, “Grenade!”
With the time he had, he could only afford to bat it, instead of catch it and toss it. He would have liked to have been able to throw it into the third room and take out the second man, but he couldn’t with Temper there. He swung his arm, pivoted his body, and smacked it with his empty hand across the room toward the unused chambers. He landed, threw himself down behind a fallen portion of the wall, and covered his ears. He ground his teeth as the shards of glass on the ground pressed into his back, bottom and legs.
A few feet from the wall, it went off, wreaking havoc on his ears, blowing a hole in the building, and extinguishing another large portion of the lights. When he could, Scythe rolled over, brought himself to his knees and then sprung up. He shot past Temper who was finishing off the gunner with an efficient slice. That left only one they could get information from. He sighed inwardly. It was so much safer to go in for the kill.
He charged into the remaining man like a bull, arms around his torso, and knocking him back into the room he was emerging from. The curved blade in Scythe’s hand raked across the man’s back, sinking into his skin and muscle until it caught on his spine. Scythe brought his other hand around, placing it on the man’s hip to get leverage to yank the blade through the bone, when he was pummeled by an elbow crashing into the space between his neck and shoulder, numbing the arm on that side and stunning him. They both went down and their combined weight embedded Scythe’s weapon further into the man’s back.
The man grunted, but the pain didn’t stop him from encircling Scythe’s head with one arm, reaching his hand around to hook his jaw. Before he could get in position to break the neck, Scythe shot forward with his whole body, smashing into the man’s jaw with his head. The assassin’s head was jerked back and he was dazed for a few seconds.
When his vision cleared, he was staring into a sea of green.
Chapter 26
Mercy knew that place, which was good because she was having trouble remembering anything else. Her hand slid along the wall as she walked, her fingers jumping over the uneven bricks. There was something familiar and comforting about the scratchy feeling on her fingertips.
Run! was what she was supposed to do, she knew that. Who had told her that?
Blasting noise that tore at her ears. Screaming, lots of screaming. And gunfire. Run!
Empty eyes.
Her heart started beating painfully. No, it wasn’t good to think about it. She rubbed her fingers back and forth on the bricks and kept walking.
Hm, she thought, looking down a street to her left. Something’s not right there…
A bomb went off, blasting another hole in her mind. When she looked up from her position crouched against the wall, she saw that the building at the end on the left was on fire. Okay, now that looks right. She nodded and went forward, because she wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be right up there.
When she got to the cart, she sat down to wait. She wasn’t sure who was coming, but Mercy knew she was supposed to wait for them, so they were probably good people. Maybe they would have a jacket or a blanket because it was cold.
She blinked her eyes and covered her nose from the smoke that hung in the air. She squinted at the people passing her on the street, some carrying boxes and some just running. She wondered if she should tell them about the cart and invite them to wait with her.
The wall wasn’t helping anymore, so she shifted, leaned her back against the building, and put her hand on the painted wooden wheel to steady herself. Absently she began to pick at the flakey paint.
Was the gunfire getting quieter, or was she just getting used to it?
A man ran by with his daughter, who was crying loudly. Mercy frowned. She didn’t like that at all.
Why is it taking so long? she wondered when the pair disappeared around the corner. Is this the right cart? She scanned the street, the shops, and the apartments overhead. The open balconies were furnished with chairs or plants; occasionally a shirt or towel hung from the railing to dry. Some were on fire like she remembered, but others were still untouched. It looked like the place...
“Over here!”
Mercy turned and watched them come jogging down the street toward her.
“You!”
At first, she was relieved because it looked like they were the ones she was waiting for, but then she saw their expressions and she started to grow nervous. It wasn’t until they were really close that they began to resemble another group that had come for her in the night. Her childish nervousness grew up and became fear.
But, she didn’t run. She was supposed to wait for them.
“A Human!”
“We got one! What, a girl?”
A man who was obviously their leader roughly pulled her onto her feet and demanded, “Are you involved in these attacks? Are you a terrorist?”
“No!” she swore, cringing away from him. The fingers on her arm were so tight. Let go. Let go! I don’t like to be grabbed like that!
The soldier did let her go, but only to pass her off to another. “Meruge, you two take her in.” Meruge tied her hands together in front of her with plastic bands while the leader spoke into a mic at his shoulder, “Unit three. We’ve got one, a Human female. Sending her to section thirty-four detention.”
Another explosion ripped its way out of a nearby building, and a startled Mercy tried to catch her balance with her bound hands. Just as she got them in front of her, she was knocked into the wall by the tall man, Meruge. her head struck hard and she saw a flash of light for a brief second. When the stars that followed faded, her head was pounding and two fingers on one hand were throbbing. She blinked a couple of times and found that she was on the ground again, pinned to the wall by the Kin.
“Shit,” Meruge cursed, “Get up!” He gripped her shoulder, helped her up and started down the street away from the explosion, signaling to his partner, the only female soldier in the group, to lead the way. The rest ran in the other direction.
Mercy craned her head to look past Meruge at the others who were quickly growing very small. Didn’t they know that no one who had gone down there had come back? She didn’t think it was a very good
place to be running to. Then she wondered with a start if she should have told them that, or told them not to go that way. She turned her attention back to the two who were with her and opened her mouth to say something when she saw it ahead of them: a narrow, dark alley. All of her thoughts were pulled into its shadows.
“How could they do this here?” the woman asked, her eyes flitting to each shadow that hovered along the sides of the street as they ran.
“We’ll ask this one, when we get a chance,” he answered, pulling Mercy up against the wall suddenly and gesturing to his partner. She started down the alley.
Peering around him into the narrow backstreet, Mercy found a thought and gave it her voice, “Don’t go.” That’s a bad place.
“Shh!” Meruge shook her and gripped her tighter.
“Don’t go down there!” Mercy said louder, stepping forward and fighting his hold on her. Ahead, the woman paused and her hand cut through the air sharply.
“Shut up!” Mercy was pulled roughly back, a hand wrapped in her hair. With her head held close to him at an angle, she felt his breath on her cheek. “I’ll tape your mouth, if I have to. You want that?”
She wouldn’t like that at all...did he really think that she would? She shook her head, and he let go, clutching her shoulder tighter and more painfully than before.
The woman continued down the alley. Her boots padded softly on the pavement, and she swung her automatic in a regular pattern. At the end, she raised her hand and waved. They followed, stepping over some old newspapers and walking around a large bin. When they were halfway down, Meruge took his hand off Mercy’s shoulder. She shrugged and brought her fingers up to rub the sore spots where his fingers had dug in.
The woman ahead of them took her attention off the road at the end of the alley for a brief second and glanced back at them. Her eyes grew wide and she pivoted in place, yelling, “Down!” She brought her weapon around and started firing at them.
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