Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  “Maybe later, Pax. After their questions, I’m going to need a drink. Blackbrew sounds good right now.” Mya strode down the corridor and greeted the constables. “Sorry I took so long. Thank you for waiting.”

  Dee busied himself filling a blackbrew pot and arranging another plate of cookies. He carried the tray out to the common room, not really paying attention to the conversation. Mya could handle herself there. Her mind had always been her best weapon, even considering the physical enhancements of her tattoos. He filled cups and handed out the cookies, playing the dutiful assistant.

  A heavy thump at the front door brought the conversation up short.

  “Tovi?” Sergeant Benjamin called, putting down his cup.

  No answer.

  A chill ran up Dee’s spine.

  The sergeant seemed just as discomforted. He rose to his feet, his eyes as sharp as his clothes were slovenly. “Wanless, check the window. Jorren, the door.

  Mya also stood. Shooting Dee a warning glance, she jerked her chin at the door, and he followed Corporal Arryx.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Wanless said as she peered through the window.

  Arryx opened the door and Private Tovi slumped into the room, a crossbow bolt buried in his chest.

  “Tovi!” The corporal bent over his fallen comrade, and a crossbow bolt buzzed over his head.

  Dee felt the breeze of its passage before it thunked into the far wall. He was in motion even before Mya shouted “Close the door!”

  Dee dashed forward to slam the door shut as Corporal Arryx dragged Tovi inside. Before his outstretched hands hit the stout oak, however, a gleaming cylinder flew through the open portal to strike him painfully in the chest. Stumbling back, he caught the shiny rod reflexively. As long as his forearm, capped on both ends with brass, and hot enough to scorch his hands, he’d never seen anything like it. Inside, a green liquid bubbled ominously.

  This isn’t good…

  “Dee! Throw it!”

  Dee pitched the cylinder out the door and slammed the portal shut. As the gap closed, he caught a glimpse of figures running from the burned-out building across the street toward the orphanage. The heavy latch clicked an instant before an explosion rattled the door against Dee’s hands and popped his ears. Glass and splintered wood blasted inward from the three front windows.

  Dee threw the bolt and whirled. The constables seemed unharmed, flattened against the walls, steel drawn and ready. Mya stood at the center of the room, a dagger in each hand, glaring out at the street. Glass pocked her skin and blood ran in tracks down her face, but she paid her wounds no notice.

  “Pax!” she called toward the kitchen. “Watch the back! Dee! Get crossbows for the constables, then help Pax! They’ll come at us from both sides!”

  A crossbow bolt zipped through one of the shattered windows, and Mya jerked aside to evade it.

  Dee didn’t want to leave, but knew she was right. He dashed to the bottom of the stairs and shouted, “Crossbows!”

  “Gettin’ ’em!” Digger called from above.

  Dee glanced down the hallway. The back door was still closed, and there was no sign of Paxal. “Come on!” he muttered, listening to the kids pounding around upstairs to retrieve the weapons.

  Suddenly the back door crashed open, and a man with a crossbow stepped through, the weapon aimed directly at Dee’s heart from barely twenty feet away. Dee stared, empty handed, unable to move to save his life.

  Paxal lunged through the kitchen doorway and flung a huge pot of boiling soup into the invader’s face. The crossbow cracked, but the bolt flew wild, lodging in the ceiling. With a scream, the man dropped to his knees, clutching his blistered face. The empty soup pot rang like a bell off the man’s head, silencing his screams and sending him to the floor. Pax backed into the kitchen as another crossbow bolt zipped through the open back door to clatter off the wall.

  Twigs and Digger trundled down the stairs, their arms loaded with crossbows and quivers. Dee grabbed one and leveled it at the gaping back door. “Take the rest to the common room!”

  Digger dropped a quiver of bolts, and the boys dashed off.

  A short woman in leathers leapt through the back door, firing her crossbow before she cleared the stoop. Dee flinched at the hot sting of the bolt grazing his side as the assassin dropped her weapon and charged, daggers filling her hands.

  Dee shot her square in the chest.

  Her startled blue eyes blinked in surprise, and her daggers clattered to the floor. She fell to her knees, mouth agape. The bolt’s fletching twitched with the last beats of her heart, and she fell forward.

  Dee reached for another bolt. “Pax, are you okay?”

  “Bastard ruined my soup!”

  Dee reloaded his crossbow. “Well, that’s one good—”

  “Down!” Mya screamed from the front of the house.

  Dee flung himself into the protection of the stairwell as an explosion shook the building.

  Mya dodged yet another crossbow bolt, her eyes flicking between the three shattered windows and the bolted door. Outside, figures flitted from cover to cover as they approached the building. The ones firing crossbows were not her biggest worry. The ones carrying explosives were.

  Kittal… The Master Alchemist was obviously behind these attacks. Such specialized bombs weren’t readily available. Lakshmi and Umberlin, too? she wondered. Would the three masters cooperate to kill her, or compete with one another, each eager to gain the guildmaster’s ring?

  Twigs and Digger dashed into the room clutching armfuls of crossbows. Without taking her eyes off the street, Mya motioned toward the constables, who took the weapons gratefully and aimed them out the windows.

  Another bolt buzzed through a window. Mya knocked the shaft aside before it struck her, but its course was true. Without her enhanced reaction time, it would have hit her square in the chest. Mercenaries. Better ones than Hoseph hired, and a lot of them.

  Digger caught her eye and Mya waved him and Twigs back. “Out!” she ordered. “Get—”

  The front door smashed open, and a man leaned through and fired a crossbow. Mya flung a dagger at him as she dodged, but the bolt flew wide and high. A distraction! she realized too late. A rod of gleaming brass and glass tumbled through one of the windows.

  “Down!” Mya snatched up the two fleeing urchins and flung them to the floor, upturning the divan over them. The constables sprawled for cover as the cylinder smashed against the far wall.

  The explosion slammed Mya across the room. She hit the wall hard enough to ring her ears, but was back on her feet in a heartbeat. The room didn’t fare nearly as well. Furniture had been shredded and splintered, and crumbling plaster hazed the air. Tongues of flame consumed the curtains and licked up the walls, spreading fast. There was no hope to control the fire. The orphanage would burn.

  “Out! Out the back!” ordered Sergeant Benjamin as he hauled the dazed Wanless to her feet. Together, they grabbed their less-fortunate comrades—Alli and Kert lay unconscious or dead—and Corporal Arryx heaved Tovi to his shoulder.

  Mya didn’t know if the back would be any better than the front. Well-trained mercenaries, which these surely were, wouldn’t leave such an obvious avenue for escape. Nonetheless, Benj was right; they couldn’t stay here. The room was in flames and more assailants sprinted across the street, weapons at the ready. They’d be coming through the door and windows in moments. Mya flipped the scorched divan upright, and the two urchins scooted out.

  “Digger, lead everyone out the back. Tell Dee and Pax I’ll be right there.” The boys dashed off without question. Good kids…

  “Miss Moirin, we can’t leave you!” protested the sergeant. “You’re our only witness to—”

  “Out!” she ordered. “I’ll cover you. I can take care of myself here, but I can’t take care of you, too.”

  “Go!” Sergeant Benjamin shouted after the briefest hesitation. The uninjured constables carried and dragged their dead and wounded down the hall afte
r Digger.

  Mya took a heartbeat to listen carefully, trying to filter out the shouts from the back of the house, hoping that they signified a successful retreat. They’ll be fine, she told herself. I’m the target here. Come get me, you bastards.

  Feet scuffed outside the front door. A man ducked in to shoot at her, but Mya was ready this time and put a dagger between his eyes. She took a step back, trying to look everywhere at once.

  Attackers swarmed through the door and windows in a coordinated assault, crossbows cracking. Mya evaded two bolts, caught a third and sent it flying back at the shooter, and wrenched a fourth out of her thigh. Her eyes darted from one attacker to the next, seeking the real danger. There!

  Though the door, behind the crossbowmen, a short figure stepped into the open, twisting the brass caps of a glass cylinder. Mya plucked her last dagger from her dress and hurled it into the man’s stomach. He folded forward, the bubbling explosive falling from his grasp to roll across the floor. His comrades stared at the cylinder in panic and dove for cover.

  Mya whirled and dashed to her office, slamming the door behind her. One more thing to do… She ducked behind her heavy oak desk as the explosion trembled the building. Smoke billowed under the door, screams and shouts attesting to the carnage outside. She muttered a prayer that it came from the mercenaries, not Dee, Pax, and her urchins.

  Reaching beneath the desk, she hauled out the saddlebags containing the gold that Sereth had sent with Dee. Slinging them over her shoulder, she went to the door and warily opened it a crack.

  A wave of heat scorched her face.

  “Shit!” She slammed the door against the inferno filling the hallway. Even with her tattoos to heal her, she didn’t want to walk through that hell.

  But the office had no window. She was trapped.

  “Like hell!”

  Mya dashed to the desk and shoved it back near the door. Leaping across the polished surface to the other end, she braced her feet against the burning door and pushed. Her legs churning for purchase and a scream ripping from her throat, Mya shoved the heavy desk across the floor. Plaster shattered and wood splintered as the makeshift battering ram smashed through the wall and tumbled into the narrow verge between the orphanage and the next building. Mya plunged out behind it, landing in a pile of splinters and dust. She rolled to her feet, scanning for any mercenaries, but they must have concentrated their forces at the front and back entrances.

  “Mya!” The desperate cry came from the alley behind the orphanage.

  “Here, Dee!” Dashing around the corner, she breathed a relieved sigh as she skidded to a halt.

  Aside from the injured constables, the only bodies that littered the ground were dead mercenaries. Dee’s crossbow pointed at the open back door while the constables aimed theirs up and down the alley. Pax stood with a cleaver and butcher knife at the ready, and the urchins were armed with their own motley weapons.

  Mya did a quick head count. All here.

  “Sergeant Benjamin, I’m sorry about this.” She ignored the startled looks the constables gave her. “I didn’t think Hoseph would come after me again so soon, but he’s obviously hired some professionals. Can you take care of your people?”

  “Don’t worry, Miss, I can take care of everyone.” The sergeant brought a whistle to his lips and blew a high-pitched shrill. “Dozens of caps’ll be here in moments. We’ll take everyone someplace safe.”

  Uh-oh… “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” Mya insisted. “They were after me. My remaining with you only puts you in danger.”

  “But…”

  While the sergeant stuttered an objection, she strode over to Paxal and whispered, “Take the kids and find someplace quiet. When you’re settled, leave a note for me where we first met here in town.”

  The old innkeeper nodded briskly. “Right! Come on, you little rug rats!” The urchins grumbled, but followed him down the alley.

  “Wait! Miss, I can’t allow witnesses to—”

  “Sergeant, Paxal and the children were just bystanders and of no use to your investigation. I’m the one you were questioning. I’m the one Hoseph is after.”

  “That’s why you have to stay with us.” Benjamin ordered. “We’ll take you into protective custody, keep you safe.”

  “No, Sergeant. I can’t find the bastard behind this by hiding. I’ll be in touch.”

  “You’ll stay!” Benjamin’s expression brooked no argument.

  I don’t have time for this! Facing the constable squarely, Mya put her hands on her hips. “Are you arresting me?”

  “If I have to!”

  “No, Sergeant. You don’t want to do that.” With only two of the constables uninjured, she knew she could easily best them. She saw the same realization on the sergeant’s grizzled face. “I have to go. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch.” She grabbed Dee’s arm. “Come on, Dee. We need to find someplace to get squared away.”

  “Yes, Miss Moirin.” Dee trotted to catch up as she strode down the alley.

  The sergeant grumbled and swore, but there was no pursuit. Mya brushed the dust and splinters from her tattered dress. “Sorry about all this, Dee. I honestly didn’t think they’d attack so soon.”

  “Neither did I. I’m sorry, too.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Sorry for what? You saved our lives by catching that first explosive.”

  “That was more luck than skill.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the constables and lowered his voice. “When I thought you were caught in the fire, I…called you Mya, not Moirin.”

  “Damn…I didn’t even realize. Do you think they noticed?”

  “I don’t know, but they certainly noticed you.” As they rounded the corner out of sight of the constables, Dee reached behind her. She felt a tug, and he showed her a bloody splinter as long as his finger that he’d pulled from her back. “Your dress is ruined, and I’m going to be picking shrapnel out of your back for hours.”

  “Great.”

  Another whistle shrieked from the alley, answered by several others from all directions.

  “Caps are on the way.”

  They strode quickly from the neighborhood, ducking through several narrow alleys to avoid the patrols running toward the burning orphanage. The clanging bell of a water wagon passed a couple of blocks away, obviously heading for the tower of black smoke that pinpointed the blaze.

  Mya tried to channel her fury into some kind of a plan, but her head felt full of cotton, and her shredded dress tugged at the splinters in her back. She was too keyed up. She needed to settle down and think.

  “We’ll stop here.” She pointed to a seedy flop house with a sign advertising rooms by the hour. “It’s perfect.”

  “Really?” Dee winced and looked over her scorched and tattered clothing. “You don’t think…”

  “Don’t worry. Nobody asks questions in a place like this, and nobody will think to look for us here. We’ll find a better place tomorrow.”

  “Fine, but I’m not sleeping in a bed in a place like that. I don’t need fleas.”

  Chapter IV

  Even though the day had only just passed to evening, the tannery yard was quiet. Hoseph took that as a good sign; the Hunters were busy elsewhere. He crossed the yard unopposed, his stride quick and firm, his mood lighter than it had been in weeks. Even the stench of the curing hides didn’t bother him.

  He’d slept much of the day and woken with only the mildest of headaches, nothing like the persistent pounding that had plagued him for weeks now. To forestall a recurrence, he’d decided to conserve the talisman for emergencies and walked all the way to the Downwind Quarter. There was no rush. He’d seen the fire in Midtown and later walked past the burned-out hulk of the building where the usurper had hidden behind children. Mya was dead, and the Grandmaster’s ring was within his grasp.

  The two Hunters standing at the door to Twist Umberlin’s office straightened as he approached, casting wary glances between them. They showed no sign of moving out
of his way.

  Hoseph’s good mood twitched. “Move.”

  “The master’s busy,” said one guard, unintimidated by the priest’s stare.

  The high priest repressed a murderous urge. He didn’t recognize these guards, so they probably didn’t know who he was. He’d forgive the slight…this time. “I’m Hoseph. Twist may not be expecting me, but he will see me.”

  After another shared glance between the guards, one of them knocked and opened the door.

  “Who the hell—” Twist Umberlin surged up from his desk chair. “Hoseph!”

  “Master Hunter Umberlin.” Hoseph smiled and strode toward the desk, ignoring the two Hunters in the office who trained their loaded crossbows at his chest. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?”

  “The ring.” Hoseph’s smile fell. “The Grandmaster’s ring! You took it off Mya’s dead finger today, did you not?”

  “No, I did not.” The Master Hunter’s tone was defiant, and he met Hoseph’s glare straight on. “The mission was unsuccessful.”

  The priest’s heart skipped a beat, and his face flushed with rage. “Unsuccessful? You had the perfect opportunity and more than half the guild at your disposal! How could you fail?”

  “Killing someone like Mya isn’t easy!” Twist snatched up a crystal tumbler half full of amber liquid and quaffed a third of it. “She took the brunt of two alchemical explosions without going down. I lost eight of my best Hunters and one of Kittal’s senior Alchemists. Also, you didn’t tell me she was working with the caps!”

  “Since when do assassins work openly with the constabulary?” Hoseph scoffed.

  “Since this morning. There were caps inside the house and out. My people think they killed a couple of them, but Mya got away.”

  “And did your people manage to follow her? You are Hunters, after all.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s a Master fucking Hunter and as deadly as a rutting dragon!” Twist downed the rest of his liquor and slammed the glass onto the desk. “Tracking a Master Hunter is difficult. Tracking Mya would be suicide. She’d have slaughtered my people like sheep. Besides, there were caps all over the place. My people did well enough to get out of there.”