Different, Not Damaged

by Andy Peloquin

  "I know what our terms were," Lord Eddarus snapped in a petulant tone, giving a dismissive wave. "But I decline to meet them."

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes. Lord Eddarus fancied himself a shrewd negotiator; the success of his many business ventures had proven his skill facing down his fellow nobles and business rivals. He had no idea the danger of the game he played tonight.

  "So you decided to send assassins." The Hunter snorted and threw a leather satchel to the floor at the nobleman's feet. "After me?"

  Raising an eyebrow, Lord Eddarus leaned over and twitched open the bag. Severed fingers of varying lengths, skin tones, and thicknesses spilled onto the floor. The nobleman's florid face turned a shade paler.

  "When we spoke, did I not make it clear what would happen if I didn't get paid?"

  Lord Eddarus took a long sip of his brandy but gave a dismissive wave. "A terrifying threat, truly." His face hardened and he leaned forward in his armchair. "Unfortunately for you, I don't take threats kindly."

  "I made no threats, Lord Eddarus, simply a promise. You made a grave mistake by failing to keep your word." The Hunter's fingers tensed, his hand hovered just above the hilt of his sword. "You will find I always keep mine."

  Lord Eddarus leveled an impassive stare. "Your words may terrify the thugs and ruffians of Lower Voramis, but you can't possibly expect them to have any sway over me. I am second cousin to King Gavian himself. If you so much as touch a hair on my head, every Heresiarch in the city will be turned loose to hunt you down like the dog you are."

  "Your words wound me, Lord Eddarus." An icy, dangerous smile twisted the Hunter's lips as he drew Soulhunger. "Like a knife to the heart."

  Lord Eddarus' gaze darted to the blade. He, like all in Voramis, had heard the tales of the Hunter's accursed dagger and its terrible powers. A hint of fear flashed in his eyes.

  "A fool makes deals he has no intention of honoring." The Hunter spoke in a low voice filled with menace. "And only a coward hides behind the protection of the King."

  Lord Eddarus stood slowly. "You call me a fool?" He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. "Here I was thinking you the fool for falling into my trap."

  The wall behind the nobleman slid to one side, and from the darkened room beyond spilled a handful of armored figures. The Hunter whirled to see more men flooding into Lord Eddarus' study. He tensed, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, but stopped as a trio of guards leveled crossbows at him.

  Lord Eddarus gave him a smug smile. "As I said, I've been expecting you."

  Hard, rugged men with scars of combat surrounded him. Their stony expressions revealed none of the nervous tension the Hunter could smell leaking from their pores. Steel plates reinforced their mail shirts, and all wore steel gauntlets, pauldrons, and greaves. Short swords, axes, maces, and daggers hung from their belts. No mere thugs or sellswords, then. Lord Eddarus had to have paid a small fortune to hire such men.

  Laughter bubbled up from the Hunter's chest. "Really?" He counted the men around him. "Twenty guards? Is that the best you can do?"

  Anger darkened more than a few of the armed guards' faces.

  Lord Eddarus scowled. "There's only one way you get out of this alive, Hunter. Mostly alive, anyway." Despite his nonchalance, the nobleman's grip on the crystal goblet tightened. "Walk away, and never return."

  "Just like that?" The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "How magnanimous of you."

  The nobleman's gaze dropped to Soulhunger. "The dagger stays. It is the price of your life."

  "I'm glad to hear you value my life so highly. Truly, there is nothing like Soulhunger in all of Einan. No one else owns a dagger that can steal the very souls of its victims. A treasure beyond compare." His smile turned wintry. "Unfortunately for you, Lord Eddarus, I'm afraid I must decline your offer."

  The Hunter moved before he finished speaking. Three crossbows swiveled toward him, but the Hunter backpedaled before the bowmen's hands squeezed the trigger. The bolts punched through the heavy armor of the guards nearest the door. One screamed and fell backward, a quarrel protruding from his shoulder. The other gawped at the pair of bolts feathering his chest.

  The deaths of their comrades did nothing to deter the remaining guards from rushing him. The cramped quarters of the office prevented more than five from closing in on him, but they came from all sides, swords, axes, and maces flashing in the firelight.

  The Hunter met them with bared blades. His long sword, made of the best Voramian watered steel, deflected a vicious thrust, turned aside a blow descending toward his exposed head, and laid open a man's throat. He hacked and slashed with impossible speed, his movements precise and controlled yet with a strength even the well-trained guards couldn’t match. The heavy, notched swordbreaker in his off-hand kept the attacks at bay while his long sword sought unarmored flesh of throats, faces, and thighs. Within seconds, two guards lay bleeding from deep gashes in their thighs. A third staggered back, his arm nearly severed at the elbow.

  Pain exploded in the Hunter's right side as a blow slipped beneath his outstretched sword. His leather armor bent beneath the impact of a spiked mace, his ribs protested. The Hunter staggered backward, his sword arm dropped. The injury that would have stopped a normal man only slowed him. His body raced to repair the damaged bones, muscles, and flesh.

  One eager guardsman sought to take advantage of his momentary weakness. He stepped forward, for a heartbeat blocking his companions. His elation turned to horror and dismay as the Hunter drove his swordbreaker up beneath the man's chin until the tip protruded from the top of his skull.

  The voice in his mind shouted of danger. The Hunter spun, placing the still-dying man between himself and the crossbowmen. The body jerked and twitched, the tips of three crossbow bolts buried into his back.

  The guardsmen arrayed against him hesitated for a moment. The Hunter couldn't fault them. He'd eliminated one-quarter of their force in less than a minute. Armies had broken after sustaining fewer casualties.

  Truth be told, he bore the guards no ill will. Under ordinary circumstances, he'd have retreated and found another way to kill Lord Eddarus. Perhaps killed a few men, but let most escape with shattered bones, dislocated joints, broken noses, and perhaps an amputated limb. He took no pleasure in unnecessary killing.

  But these circumstances were anything but ordinary. He'd come to send a message—to Lord Eddarus and anyone else seeking out his services. The more bodies he left, the clearer the statement. No one would consider cheating him again.

  With a snarl, the Hunter hurled the body at the nearest cluster of guards. The man's dead weight took three to the floor.

  The Hunter moved before Lord Eddarus' men could close in on him, leaping over a nearby settee and rolling beneath a vicious axe blow. He grunted as something carved a line of fire in his back, but he had no time to stop. The crossbowmen had nearly finished reloading.

  He finished his roll with a sweeping slash. The tip of his sword bit into the exposed flesh of the crossbowmen's legs and came away bloody. One actually managed to trigger his weapon, sending a bolt flying over the Hunter's head. The crash of glass echoed in the study, followed by a cry from Lord Eddarus.

  The Hunter spun to deflect a descending axe blow. The heavy weapon crashed into the hip of a guard who had gotten too close. The mail shirt stopped the axe head from biting into flesh, but the man screamed and fell, his hip shattered. The Hunter brought his sword down to shear the axe-wielding guard's arm at the elbow.

  Something slammed into the back of his head. He staggered forward, stars spinning in his vision. His left arm went suddenly numb. Triumph shone in the eyes of the guard who had buried his sword in the Hunter's shoulder.

  With a roar of pain and anger, the Hunter pushed off the wall and drove his sword home with impossible strength. Watered steel pierced plate and chainmail, cloth hauberk, flesh, muscle, and spine. The guardsman gagged on the blade impaling his chest. Releasing his grip on the sword hilt, the Hunter drew Soulhunger,
ducked beneath a beheading axe blow, and rammed the dagger into his opponent's groin.

  The man screamed, a sound filled with utter terror and an agony beyond understanding. The gemstone in the dagger's hilt flared to life. Crimson light filled the room, momentarily blinding the men facing the Hunter. Power and vitality flooded into the Hunter as Soulhunger consumed the hapless man's soul. Bone and muscle re-knitted, his body healing itself with the energy coursing through him.

  Releasing his grip on Soulhunger, he yanked his sword from the dead man's chest with a rasp of steel on steel. He opened two throats, took off an arm, and hacked the head from an axe in the space of a second. He drove his foot full into a man's chest and hurtled him into his comrades. Two more guardsmen died before the light leaking from Soulhunger's gemstone dimmed.

  Fewer than half Lord Eddarus' guards faced him. Shock filled their eyes, tinged with horror and a hint of fear. The Hunter had carved through their ranks like a hurricane through a field of dandelions. Their professionalism and courage wavered in the face of the impossible.

  Kneeling, the Hunter ripped Soulhunger from the silent, unmoving body of the guard. The metallic tang of fresh blood hung thick in the air. Fear tainted the scents of the men around him. Only then did the Hunter notice another odor: smoke. The crackle of flames penetrated the pounding of Soulhunger's voice and his rushing pulse.

  Fire consumed the western wall, devouring scrolls, dusty volumes, and wooden shelves with the eagerness of a starving child at a nameday feast. One of Lord Eddarus' guards fought a losing battle against the flames. One of the wall lanterns had fallen and shattered, spraying oil across the room and into the fireplace. The study—filled with furniture made of wood and flammable cloth--would be fully ablaze within minutes.

  Triumph surged within the Hunter and a peal of predatory laughter burst from his lips. With a flourish, he leaped toward the nearest guards. The bodies of their comrades and the blood slicking the floor hindered their movement. His speed and agility, more than human, gave him the advantage over the guardsmen. He batted aside wild blows and met the terrified desperation of Lord Eddarus' men with calm precision. One by one, the guards died.

  Like the coward he was, Lord Eddarus turned to the door—not yet consumed by fire—to flee.

  "You're going nowhere, you bastard!" The Hunter's drove his long sword into a guardsman's thigh. Drawing his handheld crossbow, he squeezed the trigger twice. Two bolts leapt across the room to bury in Lord Eddarus' back. The nobleman flopped to the ground with a wail of pain.

  Blood spurted from the guardsman's thigh as the Hunter tugged his sword free. The Hunter darted toward the remaining three men. His sword flashed thrice. Two hands dropped to the floor, weapons still clutched in severed fingers. Air whistled from the tear in the final guardsman's throat.

  The Hunter alone stood, while all around him Lord Eddarus' men groaned, squirmed in pain, or lay silent. The crackling of the fire grew louder as it lapped at the wooden wall panels, the stuffed furniture, and the plush carpet. The fiery carnage brought a twinge of sorrow; few would escape. The guards would die in service of a master undeserving of their loyalty.

  With a snarl of rage, the Hunter sheathed his sword and strode over to Lord Eddarus. The nobleman wriggled with all the gracefulness of a bisected worm. One of the Hunter's bolts had pierced his spine midway up his back. Lord Eddarus' pathetic movements drove the other bolt deeper into the meat of his shoulder.

  The Hunter knelt atop the nobleman's back and ripped the bolts loose. Lord Eddarus' scream drowned out the sounds of death and destruction around him.

  "Come now, Lord Eddarus, no clever quips? No insults to hurl at me?"

  "Please!" The thick carpet muffled the nobleman's pleas. "Please, let me—"

  He screamed again as the Hunter pressed Soulhunger's tip into the muscle beside his spine. A raw, ragged scream of terror burst from the nobleman's lips. A hint of light flared in the gemstone in Soulhunger's hilt. The dagger begged the Hunter to drive it home to feast on Lord Eddarus' heart blood. After a moment, the Hunter pulled the blade free. The steel soaked up the drops of blood until nothing but glistening metal remained.

  The Hunter cast a glance at the fire. It would reach the nobleman in a minute or two.

  "Come, my lord." Sheathing Soulhunger, the Hunter gripped the nobleman's leather belt and dragged him across the carpet. "You and I need to continue our conversation…elsewhere."

  Grunting with the strain, the Hunter heaved Lord Eddarus' bulk through the picture window. Glass shattered and the nobleman screamed as he plummeted out of sight. Satisfaction thrummed in the Hunter's nerves at the meaty thud of the corpulent body hitting the paving stones three stories below.

  Soulhunger wailed in protest in the back of his mind. The dagger tugged at his belt, as if pulling him toward its victim. He could all but hear the weak thump, thump of Lord Eddarus' heart in his thoughts.

  Interesting. The Hunter paused to analyze the sensation. Perhaps it would be something worth exploring in the future. If he could find a way to connect the dagger to his victims, he'd have a much easier time tracking them down.

  He tucked the nugget of information in the back of his mind and stepped out the window. His strong fingers sought cracks in the masonry, his feet finding purchase on the ledge. With the agility of a seaman clambering through the rigging of a sailing vessel, he leapt to a gargoyle protruding from the wall, dropped onto a second-story balcony, and jumped the remaining distance to the courtyard below. His legs absorbed the impact without protest.

  The glow of the fire consuming Lord Eddarus' study illuminated the figure lying in a pathetic heap on the cobblestones. A weak groan escaped the nobleman's lips as the Hunter turned him over with his boot. Blood seeped from myriad cuts and scratches in his face, neck, and hands, staining his lavish blue robes a grisly purple. Shards of glass protruded from his shoulders, head, chest, and legs.

  "P-please!" Lord Eddarus gasped. His breath came hard. Pink tinged the froth dribbling from his lips. He wailed as the Hunter crouched over him. "Have…mercy!"

  The Hunter snorted. "Like you did to Count Irainan and his wife?" He shook his head. "You will find no mercy from me. Perhaps the Long Keeper will take pity on you."

  He tugged at Lord Eddarus' signet ring. The nobleman tried to close his fist, but the Hunter stamped the heel of his boot into the man's wrist. He slid the ring from the man's pudgy fingers and set it aside. "We'll need this for later."

  Reaching into his cloak, he drew out a vial. The liquid within glowed a dangerous green in the dim light. Lord Eddarus stared at him with panicked eyes.

  "The problem with rich, entitled men like you is you believe you can do whatever you want. Have your rival killed, condemn villages to starve, cheat men out of an honest day's wages. Worse, you believe there are no consequences to your action, as if the title of nobility is a shield behind which you can hide."

  He pried the cork free with a loud pop.

  "Yet you made the mistake of believing you could treat me as you did all the others you used for your own ends."

  An angry churning like boiling mud rushed in the Hunter's blood. Lord Eddarus' death would satisfy the dagger's demands, but he would never truly be free of the innate desire for death. He'd become an assassin to cope with those urges, yet it seemed each fresh kill only stoked the ravenous flames within.

  "You are not the first to try to cheat me. You will be the last."

  The Hunter tipped the vial and poured a single drop of the green liquid onto Lord Eddarus' chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Only the crackling fire and the sounds of the nobleman's labored breathing filled the darkness.

  Lord Eddarus' scream tore the night. The acid bubbled and sizzled, green turning to crimson as it ate through cloth, flesh, and muscle. The nobleman's torment continued for the space of three agonizing heartbeats. He deserved a taste of the suffering his actions had inflicted upon so many others.

  With a smooth motion, the Hunter drew a
dagger and slid it between Lord Eddarus' ribs. Dark blood gushed from the wound. The man's screams of agony weakened, faded, and fell silent. Shuddering, gasping out one last breath, Lord Eddarus lay still.

  The Hunter tipped up the glass vial and poured the rest of the contents over the dead nobleman's head, torso, and legs. The reek of burning flesh twisted his stomach, forcing him to retreat. Hair and clothing burned away, flesh bubbled and melted like butter, revealing gleaming bone beneath. Within the space of a minute, the vitriol had turned Lord Eddarus into an unrecognizable lump of viscera, meat, and osseous matter.

  The Hunter had taken care to keep the nobleman's right forearm and hand from being consumed by the acid. He knelt and slid the signet ring back onto his finger. They'll need to identify the body somehow.

  A few well-placed words and coins in the right hands would begin the rumors flying. Before the week's end, all in the city would know who was responsible for the nobleman's death. The name of "the Hunter of Voramis" would be spoken in hushed, fearful tones. He doubted he'd have to send another such message—no one would try to cheat him again.

  "Fire!"

  The distant cry snapped the Hunter back to the present. Flames had spilled from Lord Eddarus' study, devouring its way through the other rooms of the upper stories. A second-floor window burst outward, spewing fingers of greedy fire. Shouts of alarm echoed all around him. Servants burst out of the front and side doors, carrying valuables and dragging soot-stained, coughing comrades.

  The Hunter strode toward the rear of Lord Eddarus' mansion. The nobleman's walls were high enough to keep out thieves, but he was no thief. He could scale the wall and disappear from sight before any of the remaining guards spotted him. With his dark cloak pulled over his face, he'd be one more shadow in the night.

  A scream drew his attention upward. Firelight limned the figure of a woman standing on the ledge of a third story window. She cried out, incoherent in her terror, her head darting around as she tried to find a way to escape. Before she could move, a pillar of flame blossomed from the room behind her. Blazing fingers snatched her from the ledge and hurled her into empty air.