City of Daggers (The Iron Teeth Book 2)

by Scott Straughan

  Blacknail found himself slowly retreating as he desperately struggled to keep the assassin’s blade at bay. The sword in Malthus’s hand flowed like water through the air and had a grace Blacknail couldn’t match. The hobgoblin could only burn Elixir and muster as much speed as possible in an attempt to keep up. The bushes at the edge of the clearing were getting very close now. He couldn’t back up forever. Not unless he wanted to risk tripping over something and then getting stabbed as he flailed around on top of a thorn bush.

  Blacknail batted aside one slash that was aimed low, but Malthus’s blade twisted back around toward his face in a quick fluid motion. The hobgoblin hissed in alarm and threw himself to the side. Instead of following up though, Malthus took the opportunity to brag.

  “I’ve got your measure now. I suppose you’re not a bad swordsman, all things considered. You’re better than you look anyway, but far from a master. This next pass will be your last,” Malthus remarked disdainfully.

  The assassin then lunged forward again with a confident smirk on his face. His blade whistled through the air toward Blacknail. The hobgoblin stepped back to lessen the power of the blow and block it, but Malthus grinned. The assassin’s dark cloak rippled as he spun around to the side. His blade twisted around like a snake, and suddenly an alarmed hobgoblin found his sword being knocked from his hands. Desperately, Blacknail managed to keep a grip on the hilt, but the tip of the blade was forced down. However, Malthus’s technique wasn’t finished. His own sword slid forward and stabbed toward Blacknail’s gut. The hobgoblin hesitated for a moment before letting go of his weapon and jumping out of the way. The sword hit the ground with a muted thud as Malthus stepped passed it. The assassin quickly descended upon the now unarmed hobgoblin.

  “And now you’re mine,” he gloated as he raised his blade above his head.

  A panicked look appeared on Blacknail’s face as he cringed away from the blow. He threw himself backward and to the right, but there was nowhere for him to go. The thorn bushes were behind him and Malthus’s charge was too fast. The razor-sharp edge of Malthus’s sword sliced down toward the hobgoblin, but Blacknail wasn’t worried. His mouth split open to reveal a wide, toothy grin. Malthus noticed the change and he hesitated, but it was far too late. As his sword swung downward, his foot hit the trap. Leaves and other debris exploded into the air as the rope concealed beneath the grass sprung into motion. It wrapped around Malthus’s foot and pulled it savagely up into the air as the bent-over sapling it was tied to unfolded with a loud snap.

  “Ahhh, hells,” the assassin yelled as the slithering rope wrenched him off his feet.

  The sapling wasn’t tall or strong enough to get him completely off the ground, but it didn’t have to. Malthus was dragged roughly across the grass, and his head hit the ground with a loud thud. His sword slipped from his hands as he was pulled away. When he came to stop, the stunned assassin was lying on his back next to the still-swaying tree. His clothes were disheveled, and he was covered in bits and pieces of torn-up plants. It wasn't the best look on him. Blacknail grinned smugly to himself as he appreciated his handiwork. It had taken a lot of work to place so many traps everywhere, but it had been worth the effort. It was a good thing he had spent so many hours learning to make rope…

  As Malthus groaned and blinked in confusion, the hobgoblin skipped happily over to his side. The fun part was finally here!

  “And now you’re mine, stupid human,” Blacknail gloated as he loomed over his prey and grinned wickedly. The hobgoblin wanted to take his time and enjoy this. What should he do to his catch? Should he skin him like a rabbit, cut off all his fingers and toes, or set him on fire? All three options had pluses and minuses. It was so hard to choose…

  Oh, he knew! He could combine all of them and make Malthus jerky! It probably wouldn’t taste all that great, but it would be very satisfying in other ways. Blacknail reached down to pull one of his knives out, but was interrupted when he felt Malthus grab his leg. What was the man up to? He wasn’t strong enough to do anything with his bare hands. As the hobgoblin looked down in curiosity, he felt an odd tingling sensation. He frowned and then was thrown sideways as pain burnt its way up his leg. He landed on the ground several feet away and yelped as every muscle in his body started to spasm.

  Blacknail writhed painfully on the ground. What had Malthus done? Some sort of magic? Whatever it was, it hurt a lot!

  “Ha, as if you could defeat me! I’m the greatest knifeman in Daggerpoint, and you’re just a jumped up beast. My master selected me to succeed him and trained me to be undefeatable. I have all his skills and the power of a Vessel at my fingertips,” Malthus exclaimed as he cut himself free and slowly stood up. For all his bluster, the assassin sounded pained, and he made no move to approach the fallen hobgoblin. He seemed unsteady on his feet and barely capable of standing.

  The pain running along Blacknail’s nerves suddenly died down. He coughed and quickly rolled into a defensive crouch. As Malthus watched, he stood up and met the man’s eyes. Both of them stared hatefully at each other as they caught their breaths and cleared their heads.

  The nearby songbirds had been startled by all the noise, but they resumed singing now that things were quieter. Around the two combatants, colorful leaves continued to drift lazily down from trees onto the knee-high grass. Blacknail hissed softly to himself. His entire body hurt, especially his leg, and the pain focused his thoughts. He now was utterly focused on killing his opponent. He would rip the man apart with his bare hands and enjoy the squishy feeling of his wet flesh between his fingers.

  “Your pants are on fire,” Malthus dryly pointed out.

  The hobgoblin’s first instinct was to ignore the man and assume it was a trick. However, his leg did sort of feel funny… Blacknail looked down. There was a large hole in the cloth below his knee where he had been grabbed, and it was smoldering.

  “Eeep,” Blacknail yelped as he hopped up on one foot and began trying to put out the flames. He slapped his leg repeatedly with his hands until it stopped smoking.

  “It would be far too embarrassing to die by your hands, so I’m going to have to go all out now,” Malthus remarked with a pained sigh.

  As Blacknail calmed back down, Malthus unwrapped a thin short chain from around his waist. It was no longer than a man’s arm and ended in a weighted hook.

  It didn’t seem like that threatening of a weapon, but Malthus wouldn’t have drawn it without a reason. Something told Blacknail it was connected to the burning attack from earlier, and that could only have been caused by one thing.

  “Magic, but you’re not-ss a mage,” Blacknail hissed in annoyance as he drew a pair of daggers and stared Malthus down.

  “Indeed,” Malthus chuckled. “Not all Vessels are created equal.”

  The assassin raised a hand up to where Blacknail could easily see it. As the hobgoblin warily watched, little tendrils of lightning danced between the man’s fingers.

  “That’s cheating!” Blacknail exclaimed annoyance as he scowled.

  “It’s a flashy trick, but it consumes a lot of very expensive Elixir. Stabbing someone is almost always easier anyway,” Malthus added in explanation.

  Blacknail hadn’t known Vessels could do magic tricks. How come he didn’t have a power like that? He wanted a fancy magic trick, and he didn’t care how much it cost! It wasn’t like he paid for his own Elixir anyway. Also, Mahedium was definitely going to get an annoyed visitor later. How dare he not give Blacknail the best magic possible!

  The combatants were only a dozen feet from each other and had both recovered enough to move. Malthus took a step forward and began to spin his chain. It made a whirring sound as it cut through the air. Blacknail raised his daggers and took up a knife-fighting stance Saeter had taught him. He knew the chain had to have some sort of trick to it. Most likely it could somehow shock him like Malthus’s touch had. If that was the case, this fight was going to be very bothersome, and more than a little painful.

  The h
obgoblin kept his guard up as Malthus suddenly lunged at him. The man’s spinning chain shot out toward Blacknail’s chest. He didn’t try and block it. Instead, he dodged left and slashed over the chain toward Malthus. The assassin simply stepped back out of the way. His chain had a lot more reach than a dagger.

  “Crunchy maggots,” Blacknail cursed.

  Knives weren’t the best weapon for this, and his sword was too far away to get at. Maybe he should have kept that crossbow… Malthus suddenly swung the chain around toward the hobgoblin’s head, and Blacknail was forced to duck out of the way. The assassin kept attacking without a break. The chain rattled as it swung toward its target over and over again. Blacknail managed to dodge every blow, but he couldn’t get near his opponent. Malthus had too much of a range advantage.

  As he fought, the hobgoblin furiously tried to come up with a solution. He needed a new plan. What tools did he have on hand? What could he use? Suddenly, Blacknail remembered some of the preparations he’d made earlier. There was something nearby he could use!

  As Malthus continued his assault, Blacknail sidestepped another attack and circled around to the left. With one eye on his opponent, he hurriedly started backing away. The assassin immediately followed him, and his chain slashed out at the hobgoblin’s legs. Blacknail jumped over the weapon and continued his retreat. Then Malthus lunged forward again, and his chain smashed into the hobgoblin’s upper arm. Blacknail felt a crunching sensation as the weapon impacted his flesh and bone, but no shock. He reeled to the side but managed to keep on his feet. Ow, now his arm hurt too!

  “Huh, your clothing must have been too thick. I’ll have to hit somewhere else next time, or just beat you to death,” the assassin remarked as he resumed spinning his chain.

  “No, you won’t-ss do any of those things,” Blacknail hissed angrily back.

  He had grown tired of this fight. He was exhausted, in pain, and really wanted to kill this stupid, stinking human bastard! The hobgoblin kicked the ground at his feet. The tip of his boot hooked a branch that was lying there and flipped it up into the air. Immediately, Blacknail burned Elixir, and he felt the magic energy drive away some of his aches and pains. With inhuman speed, he grabbed the long heavy branch out of the air and swung it at Malthus’s head. The man’s eyes widened in surprise as the improvised club closed the distance between them. There was a loud thud and cracking noise as the branch slammed into his face and knocked the man over sideways.

  Malthus crumpled onto the ground, and Blacknail didn’t give him any time to try any more tricks. He stepped forward and continued his savage assault. The clearing was filled with wild growling and heavy thuds as Blacknail ruthlessly beat the assassin to death. Soon, there was nothing left but a wrecked and bloody corpse. The assassin’s skull had several dents in it, and one of his eyes had been knocked loose from his head. From experience, Blacknail knew humans couldn’t survive nearly that much damage.

  “Ha, I win!” The exhausted hobgoblin moaned as he dropped the club and turned around.

  He was breathing heavily as he started slowly walking back to the battlefield. Both his leg and his shoulder hurt, but his mission had been accomplished. It was time to return to his tribe, so he could demand extra cheese and take a very long nap. He’d earned it.

  Chapter 42

  Feeling exhilarated after his victory over the assassins, Blacknail exited the brush and began running through the city. He had to get back to his tribe so he could brag! Almost immediately, he heard a shrill scream. Down the street, a blonde woman that he hadn’t seen ran into her home and slammed the door shut. Oops, Blacknail had forgotten to fix his appearance. At this point, he was wearing nothing but dirty rags that completely failed to hide his face. With no other choice, he quickly turned back to loot some clothes from his fallen enemies.

  None of Malthus’s stuff was salvageable; nothing was left of them but bloody scraps. It had been totally worth it though. He regretted nothing. However, Blacknail found intact clothes and a useable cloak on the other fallen assassins. Once he had managed not to look like some sort of murderous drifter, even if he kind of was one, the hobgoblin stepped back into the city. He slipped out of the bushes at the edge of the scrubland and into a nearby alley.

  The cool air in the shady alley was a welcome change from being out under the hot sun. All the clothing he wore got very hot when he did strenuous activities such as fighting off squads of assassins and dueling their leader. It didn’t take Blacknail all that long to trace his way back to the edge of Herad’s territory. He kept his head down and his distance from any crowds as he walked the city streets. There weren’t a lot of people around anyway, and those that Blacknail did see were moving quickly and looked nervous. Word of the battle taking place had undoubtedly already spread. All the magical explosions from earlier had probably gotten people’s attention as well. Like rabbits or mice that had heard an unexpected noise, the citizens of Daggerpoint were seeking shelter and finding other less dangerous places to be than out on the streets.

  As he drew closer to Herad’s base, the sounds of fighting became more and more obvious. The cloaked hobgoblin stopped at the entrance to an alley and looked up over the city. As his eyes roamed over the rooftops, he listened to what was going on around him. It sounded like the battle had started up again. Zelena must have attacked again while he was gone. Blacknail’s chest tightened painfully as he felt a sudden sense of urgency. He picked up the pace and started to jog. He didn’t really want to join the fighting, but what if something bad was happening?

  Quickly, Blacknail scuttled up the side of a nearby building and pulled himself onto the roof. Once up in the sunshine, he looked over to where Herad’s barricade had been built. Nothing remained of it but ash, and the stone around it was stained black. The flames had scarred the city. Farther back from the blaze, the cobblestone streets were red with blood. Ha, Herad really had dyed the streets of Daggerpoint with the blood of her enemies, and more than a few of her own minions as well. Saeter had told him she wasn’t being literal, but he’d been wrong!

  The killing was far from over though. Below Blacknail, the struggle for control of Daggerpoint was still ongoing. Blacknail frowned with concern as he realized Herad’s men were making a fighting retreat back toward their base. If the enemy reached the base, then all the hobgoblin’s things would be in danger, even his cheese!

  Zelena had finally committed her own forces, and they’d been joined by what was left of the mercenaries. A small solid square of shield-bearing infantry were pushing their way down the center of the street. On both sides of them were loose mobs of Zelena’s bandits. The attackers were steadily pushing the bandits of Blacknail’s tribe back, and they also had them outnumbered. They looked to have a man and a half for everyone in Herad’s tribe. However, the battle was far from over. Herad may have lost her wooden wall, but Blacknail knew she’d made other preparations. He’d spent a lot of time avoiding having to help set them up after all.

  The advance of Herad’s enemies was slowed by layers of obstacles such as overturned carts and piles of sandbags. Blacknail’s tribe made ready use of the cover as they fought. Before they could be overrun, they abandoned their barricade and moved to the next one. As the hobgoblin watched, a group of archers appeared on a rooftop down the street and opened fire. After several volleys had fallen on Zelena’s men, the archers quickly disappeared before the enemy could muster a counterattack.

  After looking around for a few more moments, Blacknail climbed back to the ground. The safest place to be where he could still keep an eye on things would be next to Herad and his master. At least it would be, as long as Saeter wasn’t doing anything too stupid. Blacknail hurried through the empty side streets that ran parallel to the battle. He ran until the sounds of battle were behind him. It was then he noticed the sentries. There were two of his tribe posted at the corner of the street, and they were doing a terrible job because they hadn’t noticed his approach. He wasn’t even trying to be all that stealthy
! Something really needed to be done about how terrible humans were at watching and waiting. After all this was over, maybe he should start attacking sentries at random. That ought to get them to pay attention, and all the really bad ones would end up dead.

  As the hobgoblin studied the two men in front of him, his first thought was that he should just slip past them unseen. He decided against it a moment later though. That would take effort, and he was too tired and sore for that sort of thing. Instead, he slowed down to a non-threatening walk and headed their way. The pair of sentries quickly noticed him and their shadowy forms tensed, finally. One of them stepped forward and drew their sword.

  “Stop, who goes there?” he shouted as he brandished his blade in what looked like a poor attempt to look intimidating.

  “It is I, Blacknail the faceless assassin and the greatest killer in Daggerpoint,” the hobgoblin bragged in answer. He’d gotten the last title after he’d killed Malthus. He was fairly sure killing the old greatest killer made you the new one. If that wasn’t case, then he’d just kill anyone else who tried to claim it. There was no response for several seconds. Both the sentries started whispering to each other.

  “That’s the hobgoblin, right?” a thin man with a scruffy beard asked.

  “Ya, tell him to drop his hood so we can be sure,” the shorter bald one replied.

  “Drop your…”

  Blacknail had already flipped his hood down. The bearded bandit squinted through the shadows at him

  “Well, he’s definitely a hobgoblin,” he remarked in relief. He seemed glad that a fight wasn’t about to break out.

  “Are we sure it’s Blacknail though?” the bald bandit asked apprehensively. His eyes were wide, and his voice shook with anxiety. He obviously didn’t like being in a dark alley with a hobgoblin. His companion turned and gave him an irritated look. Apparently, Blacknail wasn’t the only one who thought that was a really stupid question.

  “No, it’s some other random hobgoblin that has decided to play dress up and wandered over to see what’s going on. As if anyone but Saeter could ever tame a hobgoblin, or want to!” the bearded bandit replied with biting condescension.