Dead Man's Hand_The Knights of the Golden Dragon_Book 2

by Troy Reaves

  Boremac was impressed. The student was now the teacher. It would be a great boon if his words were true, but Ardature were not known for their skill at deception, or trusting and working with thieves, which was obviously what the predator facing Rinoba thought as well. “You have a moment more, fool. Chose how you die or I will choose for you.” Boremac quietly made ground fall some distance from the bowman to his right side. He was confident he could take out the extended wrist holding the bowstave with his daggers, having struck moving targets much smaller when hunting. Timing would be everything. The predator would engage him after the strike once the ruse had been exposed. Taking out his stronger arm might save Rinoba and Boremac in a sword fight with him, but only if Rinoba was able to wield his longer blade, Boremac reasoned. He was good against practiced, even some professional, swordsmen but this Ardature was a whole different animal. Boremac was certain he would come up short, with even both his daggers, against him. He hated to admit it, but the hunter simply had him outmatched in a straight fight, and the rogue felt he would not fare much better even if his victim were lacking use of an arm.

  Rinoba answered boldly and quickly, although his tone still seemed unaffected. “You may fire at my heart when you are ready. I think you might even hit it at this range, but know if you do not, my blade will taste your blood and revel in the taste of it. Do not deliver a nonlethal blow. That would be insulting to us both. If I am to bleed out then so be it. I will not waste time praying for my innumerable sins. The time will be better spent cursing you if I cannot slide out of a shot meant to kill me.”

  The Ardature’s features pinched in concentration for a single moment, though whether he was focusing or simply had become irritated with the interplay Boremac could not have said for certain from his vantage point, giving Boremac the chance he needed. One of the rogue’s throwing daggers penetrated the Ardadure’s wrist that gripped the bowstave, neatly striking the bowstave as well. It was almost enough to completely throw the aim of the hunter off... almost. Rinoba was struck violently by the arrow in his left shoulder blade, the point and half the shaft now poking out his back. Boremac was glad at least the arrow poking out of Rinoba had struck his weaker side. Both of them might be able to take the hunter... maybe. Three blades against even one so skilled was by no means a guarantee but Boremac was starting to like their odds.

  The Ardature engaged Boremac in a way that startled and dismayed the rogue. Three throwing daggers appeared near where Boremac had been hiding when he had tossed his own balanced dagger. The only thing that saved Boremac was that he had disappeared behind another tree immediately after releasing his own assault. “Damn the Abyss.” Boremac swore under his breath. The blades, imbedded in a perfect vertical line where he had just been, still vibrated with the force behind the throws. He and Rinoba were in way over their heads now.

  The Ardature voiced an answer to Boremac’s near silent curse. “Indeed.” He turned toward Boremac now as he continued speaking. “I can move silently enough to break the stealthiest of predators’ necks in the Great Forest, thief, before they know they are being tracked. I nod to your accomplishment. No human has fared so well against me, nor caught me quite off guard, before now. Perhaps someone should carve into the stone that marks your shallow beggar’s grave when I slay you, ‘He got close.’ Perhaps I will, out of respect.” The Ardature chuckled in a way that made Boremac’s blood run cold. “Tell you what I will do. I will make my weapon more fitting to yours out of respect for the efforts of you and your friend. Come out and let me see with what you prefer to challenge me. The boastful one can join at his convenience.”

  Boremac emerged from the tree line with his weapons in hand, his preferred short bladed daggers. The Ardature smiled. “Yes, they are roughly the size of my skinning knife so I will use that. You could not avoid the reach of my sword long enough to be interesting.” As if to illustrate his point, the predator drew out his long sword and rapidly ran it over Boremac’s own dagger blades in such a way that sparks flew at the contact. The well-tended blades of both fighters were rubbed against each other, the sword’s keen edge tracing the blade of one then the other dagger before the predator tossed it casually to the side. Boremac knew that his chance had passed when the Ardature drew out his hunting knife, roughly the size of one of Boremac’s daggers. “You won’t mind if I bind this fresh wound, would you?” The hunter drew a neat cut of leather and cloth from Boremac’s leather shirt in a perfectly even sided rectangle before the rogue could respond. The Predator withdrew the piece from Boremacs’s leathers and economically wrapped his bad wrist, tying off the wound.

  Boremac repeated his curse, “Damn the Abyss.”

  “Indeed.” The single word reply from the hunter drove the steel of concentration into Boremac’s spine, pushing all thoughts but that of survival from his head. He could not play with this foe. Both of the knife fighters dropped into their respective fighting positions, each maximizing their balance. Boremac could see immediately that with a single mistake this fight would be his last, and possibly would be with no mistakes. Rinoba had to engage soon or they would both be dead. Even then nothing was certain. “I will allow you to demonstrate your limited prowess first, thief. If you cannot kill me with my hands at my side then I can assure you that I will have that chin hair you wear as my next trophy.” As the Ardature finished speaking, he sheathed his blade and dropped his hands to his sides. Boremac reflexively jabbed his own daggers at the predator’s midsection, one aimed for the kidney and one into the middle of his lung on the opposite side, hoping one at least would bury itself into soft flesh. He underestimated the hunter’s speed and grace. The Ardature bent himself backward at what seemed an impossible angle, causing both blades to meet empty air. As the hunter straightened himself, Boremac’s arms were swept to one side by the predator’s wounded wrist. Now defenseless and off balance, Boremac found he could not breathe as the Ardature struck him squarely in the center of his chest. “My turn,” was all the Ardature said as he dropped back into his fighting stance and drew his hunting blade into his good hand.

  Boremac was allowed to regain his own balance and breathe what he felt sure would be his final breaths. The Ardature would treat him with the same respect a cat gave a mouse before killing him. Boremac was certain that Rinoba would be quickly slain next, but the thief took little solace from the thought. He had to admit that he had come to almost like the arrogant bastard and knowledge of his pending death gave Boremac no peace.

  The thief wished for a moment that he had some faith to call upon, some higher power that might take pity on the fool he obviously was now, but Boremac had never much given any consideration to such beings and Alchendia seemed content to sit this one out. Faith was for dupes and when he had encountered believers, Boremac had been all too happy to fleece them. All the prayers in the lands would not save him this time. He smiled as he dodged most of the hunter’s first strike, thinking how interesting it would be if Lady Luck intervened on his behalf and dropped a very large tree branch on his killer. Yes, this would be his last fight, Boremac mused as the blood streamed from a fresh wound at his shoulder. He allowed the pain to bring him back to the present and decided if he was going to die then he was going to go with the fury of a sewer rat and not a cowering barn mouse. “Let’s dance.”

  Boremac opened with a ridiculous maneuver, stabbing at the Ardature while crossing both arms in front of him at the elbows. This seemed to take the hunter off guard, and Boremac drew blood for the first time in the melee, catching the Ardature in his bicep on his already wounded arm. Boremac saw the surprise register on the predator’s features and had an idea. He erased all expression from his own face and stated in an even tone, “Scorpion sting.” The thief then dropped to his back, rolling as if to kick the legs from under his target. The distraction worked once more as Boremac sat up and stabbed each of his blades at his opponent’s legs. One of them landed allowing Boremac time to once more confuse the Ardature, saying simply, “Snake bite.” A
nger hardened the Predator’s features as he launched an attack where Boremac’s face had been the moment before, but Boremac was on his game now and anticipated the attack. The thief gracefully flipped himself backward, taking a cut in the side from the hunter in order to land a glancing boot blow under his chin. As Boremac planted his feet firmly upon landing, he did not bother to adjust his stance, now almost teasingly naming the strike, “Boar’s hoof.” His revelry was swept away immediately.

  Boremac never even saw the strike that shoved him violently into the tree nearest the melee, and it took a moment more to realize why he could not move. The hunter’s blade was buried to the hilt into his shoulder and held his feet mere inches off the ground. The pain was overwhelming, driving all thought and breath from the thief. The Predator let him hang there only briefly while the he unsheathed his dagger. “Yes, I think I will enjoy the memory of acquiring this trophy more than many I possess, thief. Your scraggily beard will hold a greater place of honor hanging from my leathers than it does on your face. If you don’t mind, or even if you do, I will take it while you are still alive. It should be easier to preserve that way. Feel free to scream. I am patient and will take time to make a clean cut.”

  Boremac willed himself to pass out at least but found he could not. His trained eyes did note the slightest shifting of shadow among darkness of the trees. Whoever was there appeared interested in the drama taking place in the copse, but they were not moving to aid him. Boremac could not fault them for it. He would have done the same. The Predator brought the blade into position slowly, taking pleasure in Boremac’s tightening features as he moved to begin the removal of his prize. The Ardature and Boremac both were caught completely unaware by what happened next.

  Once more Boremac found himself amazed by the prowess demonstrated by the people of the forbidden forest as an arrow speared the hand of the hunter that had been about to carve his face, nailing the offending appendage next to Boremac’s waist. The dagger dropped at Boremac’s dangling feet and the roar of pain and rage from the hunter nearly deafened the thief. Another Ardature, clearly the bow-master responsible for the shot, dropped from the nearby tree so lightly Boremac almost thought he must be able to fly, or at least glide. The rogue could only imagine the height from which the archer must have been watching in order to remain undetected by one of his own kind, and had the shot not just saved his hide, literally, Boremac would have thought firing from such a precarious position in the darkness would have been impossible. The new arrival wasted no time disabling the hunter, breaking the wrist that Boremac had wounded with a sharp snap. The hunter bit back any sign of complaint even as the bow-master turned his attention to the wounded hand stuck to the tree and did the same. Boremac almost felt sorry for his torturer.

  Boremac found the even tone of the newcomer so similar to the predator’s that it was haunting. These Ardature seemed completely unaffected, neutral to a point that gave no hint of emotion. “You have done well, rogue. I doubt you knew certain death would have been your reward in hunting this animal without intervention. Fate keeps you for some destiny I cannot surmise. Another watched your melee in secret, though I cannot know their intent. One dark as the shadows of night obviously had no intention of rescuing you, of that much I am sure. They have gone.”

  Boremac was glad to know he was still able to trust his eyes and breathe with his face intact. He felt moved to share his thanks with the new arrival. “Thank you for saving my face... literally. I would have liked to see the one I entertained though there is little left in me to challenge anyone, in the event they would want to explain themselves. There was ample opportunity while I was stuck to this tree for them to stab this bastard.” Even as Boremac spoke, he was reminded of the fact he was hanging above the ground and the pain his position involved. “Any chance you could get me off this blade?” Boremac gritted his teeth, forming his lips into a tight grimace in the process anticipating the Ardature’s reply.

  “Of course.” The newcomer slammed the predator to one side as he removed the offending blade and gently eased Boremac to the ground. Even as his eyes clouded with tears, Boremac had sense enough through the pain to note Rinoba had risen and moved somewhere. The thief could not find where he had gone and at this point could not make himself care. If Rinoba was moving then he was not bleeding out, and that was good enough for Boremac.

  Rinoba’s reappearance seemed to surprise only Boremac, which the thief attributed to his ineffectual state at present. The hunter was still stuck to the tree facing his captor, and he violently brought his head backward, seemingly in preparation to strike the Ardature Elite. At the same instant, the elite shoved his open hand past the Predator. The actual intent of the actions became clear immediately as a loud grunt was followed by an unmistakable thud. Boremac smirked through his pain, “Nice try, Rinoba, but I suggest you sheath your weapons before you get dead. It appears the hunter is not defenseless just yet and his captor has things well under control. If he wanted to carry this bastard home, he would have killed him already.” In reply, the elite drove his fist into his captive’s forehead, knocking him unconscious for the time being.

  Even before Rinoba had finished dusting himself off, he voiced his primary concern to the Ardature Elite that had saved them both. “Do not think your arrival changes anything, tree dweller. We will be paid and I will take my trophy. Whatever this hunter carries on him becomes my prize to do with as I see fit.”

  The elite turned his attention to Rinoba only briefly. “I will tend the wounds of you both and then we can discuss payment of the contract. You will not be disappointed, but I require your silence for now.”

  “No. We resolve payment now.” Rinoba made to bring his sword back out of its sheath, only to find it disappearing into the trees.

  The Ardature answered in the same tone as he had before, however Boremac thought he could detect just the slightest touch of annoyance. “You will become silent. You may choose to do so, with or without my aid.” The elite did not seek acknowledgement as he removed a small pouch from his belt and began tending Boremac’s wounds. “The poultice will affect you in ways you may find curious, rogue, but it will not harm you. You and your companion should remain here and rest until first light. The master of the woods will make certain you are not disturbed and I will set a campfire for you before taking my charge home for trial.”

  Boremac had little time to wonder whom the elite called the master of the woods. He expected a ranger to emerge from the trees and anticipated an introduction. The true master of the woods made his presence known with a low growl that carried through the copse. Branches broke at the perimeter of the tree line in a ponderous, steady succession as something very large passed. The thief was glad the beast in question did not choose to enter the center of the copse. Rinoba was less enthusiastic. “Do you expect a big bear will keep us from pursing you? Death could not stop me! I will have my due! Stop this stonewalling and relinquish my charge! I will deal with him as I see fit, and you as well if you continue to prevent me! You can carry his corpse home.”

  The Ardature spoke a single word before rising. “Done.” Boremac felt his wounds begin to knit immediately, and a strange awareness came over him as the poultice began to seep into his veins. He saw the elite move before the action took place and felt a stupid grin grace his features. It was going to be an interesting night.

  The elite grabbed Rinoba so fast the obnoxious rogue never had a chance to react. Rinoba was gracefully spun around and propelled across the clearing into a tree far from where he started. He did manage to remain erect, much to his credit, jogging backward and pin wheeling his arms before slamming into the tree that rendered him unconscious. Boremac and the elite voiced the same thought nearly simultaneously. “Much better.” Boremac’s words came out, “moy battr,” as he continued to be affected be the poultice. The thief found the tiny fay creatures encircling Rinoba’s head where he now sat stunned all the more fascinating, and started giggling.

  “We
should settle your payment before I go.” Staring down at Boremac, the elite seemed to smile though Boremac could not be sure. The narrow features of the Ardature had lengthened extraordinarily to the rogue’s eye, with the elite’s chin nearly touching Boremac’s boots. “This is the Eye of Ardature from the hunter you helped me capture. It no longer glows with the blessing of the Goddess, but it is all the trophy your friend should require. The remains the poacher of the Great Forest traded in must be returned to the Forest. You may have these in payment.” The elite produced a ruby roughly the size of Boremac’s fist. Boremac’s eyes strained out of their sockets as he gestured with his hands, indicating the gem’s perceived dimension was too large to be borne by one person. His meaning was not lost and the elite eased his mind as best he could. “You fear no buyer would be able to handle such a gem. Would you prefer I break it for you?” Boremac shook his head so violently he feared his neck was going to break, but he found his lips and tongue had failed him. It seemed each had their own plans and were trying to climb over each other. “Let me help, rogue. Keep the ruby and these smaller stones as well. We do not understand why you covet them, but do as you will with them. I will script a message for your partner with his trophy to explain its significance.” Boremac somehow managed to get his eyes back into their sockets correctly and relax. Finally his mouth began to calm down and a lazy grin crept onto his lips.