by Ben Cassidy
Chapter 12
Kendril allowed himself one fraction of a second for grinding self-blame. He should have gone with his gut and avoided the bridge like the plague. It was the kind of mistake an amateur might have made, and he was no amateur. In all likelihood he had just gotten them all killed. Well, he and Maklavir, anyway.
The rifle was at his shoulder in an instant, and without thinking he snapped back the lock, readying the weapon to fire.
Jade and Maklavir had seen the two riders by now, and they were moving as quickly as they could.
Kendril just hoped it would be quickly enough.
He sighted down the length of the rifle, swiftly lining it up with one of the approaching horsemen. It was a difficult shot. His friends were partly in the way, and there was nothing to rest the rifle on in order to steady it.
Two riders, one shot. There was certainly no way he could reload the weapon again before they would be on him. It would be pistol and sword work then.
And where were the other two men? The bounty hunter had had three henchmen that Kendril had seen. There should be four of them all together. Perhaps they had split up?
Tracking the horseman on the right with his rifle, Kendril fired.
Maklavir drew his sword. The steel flashed momentarily in the setting sun.
Jade continued to stare at the two men riding towards them, her body paralyzed with terror.
“Jade!” Maklavir vaulted onto Veritas, breaking her from her trance. He held his hand out to her.
Jade shook her head, forcing herself out of her shock. She grabbed the diplomat’s outstretched hand, and he pulled her onto the horse behind him. Simon brayed loudly, turning in all directions in an agitated manner. Jade wrapped her arms around Maklavir’s waist, then looked back over her shoulder.
The riders were almost upon them, close enough for her to make out their faces quite clearly. One had a musket slung over his back, but neither had the tell-tale eye patch.
Neither one was the bounty hunter, at least.
She felt Maklavir dig both heels into his horse’s flanks. Veritas gave a cry, then leapt forward, his hoofs pounding on the stones beneath them.
At the same moment, a rifle shot cracked out through the cold air.
A cloud of blue smoke exploded in front of Kendril’s face and his ears rang from the sound of the gun. He stepped swiftly to the side, slinging the smoking rifle onto his back and reaching for his pistols.
No good. The two riders were still coming. His shot had missed.
Kendril swore under his breath, pulling out a pistol in each hand and readying them to fire.
Oh, well. It had been a difficult shot to begin with.
The white shape of Veritas maneuvered around Kendril’s panicking mule, and came racing down the bridge. Maklavir was urging the horse onwards, and Jade was right behind him. The horsemen were on the bridge now, and one of the riders gave a swipe of his sword at Simon, who hurried out of the way, braying like a little mare. Kendril sighed, raising his pistols.
Worthless animal.
Maklavir and Jade were coming up fast. He waved them on with one of his pistols, pressing himself against the side of the bridge. If they could get by, he might be able to hold the other two riders back, or at least slow them down. It wasn’t a very good chance, but it was the only one they had.
Just as he was contemplating which horseman to shoot at first, Kendril heard Jade shouting his name over the clattering of hooves. For a moment he couldn’t tell what she was saying.
And then, as if the shutters of a lantern had been thrown open, he realized what was going on. He snapped his head to the right and looked behind him.
Two men were emerging from the mill, carrying crossbows. They were blocking the end of the bridge.
There was no way out.
Montrose had never considered himself an exceptionally gifted person.
He was a decent fighter, surely, but no monster in hand-to-hand combat. He was a fair marksman, perhaps, but no archery competitions were in his near future. As for tracking, he was probably as good as most woodsmen, but certainly didn’t count himself amongst the best.
No, he was definitely not an exceptional individual in any particular aspect. But there was one thing that Montrose did have in abundance, and it was no coincidence that it was the one thing any good hunter needed.
He was a very, very patient man.
After the events of the previous evening Montrose had begun to think he had bitten off more than he could chew. The Ghostwalker had already killed four of his men, the girl had gotten clean away, and the rest of his men were ready to mutiny and hand him his own head on a pike. Things were about as dark as they could possibly get.
But in the morning, when they had found the trail, Montrose had regained some hope. The Ghostwalker was a fantastic swordsman, no doubt, but obviously knew little about tracking or forestry. The trail they had left behind had been an easy one to follow, with trampled grass, broken branches, and footprints that even an amateur could pick out. Truth be told, the trail had been so obvious that Montrose had at first suspected that it must have been a fake to lead them off in the wrong direction. That had quickly proved to be an unfounded fear.
As soon as he knew the girl and her newfound companions were heading north, he knew that he had them. There was nothing to the west for miles. The girl would head east. It was the quickest way for her to get help, but it would also prove to be her undoing.
There was a bridge, Montrose knew, just a few miles down the eastern road. It crossed the Arneth River, and the girl and the two men she was with had to cross it if they wanted to get out of the woods. It was the ideal spot to trap them, and Montrose was not one to let such a golden opportunity slip by. He had ordered Derik and Calham to continue following their quarry’s trail down the eastern road, while he and Uther had galloped ahead to the bridge. Once they had arrived, Montrose had tied up their horses deep in the woods on the far side of the river, then he and Uther had hidden in the old mill, barricading the door and trying to stay as quiet as possible.
There had been some tense moments, of course, like when the Ghostwalker had appeared on the bridge.
Uther had started to remove the boards from one of the windows to shoot the man, and Montrose had been half-tempted to let him. But as always, it was Montrose’s patience that won the day. If the Ghostwalker was shot down on the bridge, the girl and the other man, assuming they were somewhere nearby, would flee. The only thing to be done was to wait it out, and try to catch the whole lot of them at once.
Montrose and Uther had held their breaths in the dark, hay-filled lower room of the mill as the Ghostwalker had unsuccessfully tried the door. For a moment the bounty hunter had thought they were given away, but his fears proved false.
The man had continued up the road and disappeared into the forest.
It was here again that doubts began to play over Montrose’s mind. What if the Ghostwalker had separated from the others? What if he actually was alone, or going for help while the girl and the other man hid out in the woods? As the seconds had crept by and nothing happened, Uther had become more and more impatient, and Montrose more and more doubtful.
But patience, as Montrose’s father used to tell him, is always a hunter’s best weapon. A few minutes later, after a suffocatingly long wait, the Ghostwalker had reappeared on the bridge, and signaled the other two, who had come out of hiding.
It had been a near-perfect set-up. Derik and Calham had been tailing the girl, staying just out of sight and waiting for her and the man in the purple cape to break cover and reach the bridge.
And now, as Montrose and Uther emerged from the stuffy mill, he knew that he finally had her.
She and her companions was trapped. There was no place for them to go.
Of course, a trapped animal was always the most dangerous, and the Ghostwalker would not go down easily. The next few seconds would decide everything, and Montros
e had no intention of letting his prey escape again.
Taking quick stock of the situation, he barked rapid orders to Uther.
The henchman quickly raised his crossbow, looking for a good shot.
Derik and Calham were bearing down on the bridge from the west, their swords glinting red in the fading daylight.
Montrose allowed himself a quick grin.
He finally had them.
“Maklavir!” Jade cried, pointing to the far end of the bridge.
The diplomat’s heart sank.
Two men were emerging from the mill, crossbows at the ready.
Maklavir pulled back on the reins, bringing Veritas to a rearing halt. Jade held on for dear life.
He swiveled his head to look behind him. Veritas champed at his bit and stomped impatiently at the stones beneath him.
The scene was enough to freeze the blood in his veins. The two horsemen were crashing down upon Kendril, who was standing in the middle of the bridge with a pistol in each hand, ready to fire.
Maklavir felt a begrudging swell of admiration for the man. The Ghostwalker might be a less-than-desirable traveling companion, but one could certainly not doubt his courage.
He swung his head back around to the left. The two crossbowmen were completely blocking the end of the bridge. There was no way off.
With a sudden, lurching feeling in his stomach, Maklavir realized that they were all going to die.
His last thought, strangely, was of a feather bed.
Not the cheap kind, but the ones made of real goose down, with the pillows that were so soft and deep that you could sink your head into them and never come out. It had been years since he had slept in a feather bed. Actually, come to think of it, it had been weeks at least since he had slept in a proper bed at all.
Yes, one more night in a feather bed would have been nice. He was really going to miss that.
With a spark and then a roar, both of Kendril’s pistols fired, spitting out flame and smoke.
One of the lead balls missed, tearing through the sleeve of the rider on the left. He barely noticed its passage.
The other shot, however, struck the horse on the right squarely in the neck.
With a pitiful scream the animal crashed to the ground, its legs kicking wildly. The rider was thrown clear over the head of his mount, the sword flying loose from his hand and skittering down the cobbled bridge.
Kendril flung himself backwards just as the second horse stumbled over the fallen form of the first, unable to stall its headlong flight.
The bridge was too narrow to allow for much maneuvering. The second rider tumbled off his horse as the poor animal gave a great whinny as it desperately to keep from falling.
The horse of the first rider was already in its death throes, giving out heart-rending screams that mixed with the shouts and curses of the men.
Kendril leapt backwards to avoid the crashing beasts, and deftly holstered both of his pistols. He risked a brief glance behind him.
The idiot diplomat was sitting just a few yards away on his horse, staring at him blankly.
“Go!” Kendril shouted. He drew one of his short swords. Without waiting to see if his order was obeyed, he snapped his head back around.
One of the men had gotten to his feet, and was coming at him with a sword already in mid-swing.
Uther spun his crossbow around and lined it up with the white horse and its two riders.
Montrose cursed and smacked the henchman’s weapon away. “Don’t shoot!” he raged. “You’ll hit the girl!”
Uther opened his mouth to reply when the air was torn by two gunshots in rapid succession, followed by a cacophony of horse screams and shouts.
Montrose looked back down the bridge.
Unbelievable. The accursed Ghostwalker had brought down both horses.
Shouldering his crossbow, Montrose leapt up onto the side rail of the bridge for a better shot, squaring the weapon’s sights on the man in the black cloak.
It was high time he brought this menace down.
Kendril’s shout seemed to wake Maklavir from a dream.
The diplomat turned toward the two crossbowmen at the end of the bridge, then swallowed. Tugging hard on the bridle, he pulled Veritas around and gripped his sword all the tighter.
Right. Death or glory, then, and all that rot.
“Hold on!” he shouted back to Jade, then kicked his heels into the sides of his horse, The animal obediently catapulted towards the far end of the bridge. The diplomat extended his sword down into a striking position, his heart in his throat.
Charging two armed crossbowmen was nothing short of sheer madness. He and Jade would most certainly be killed. Well, he would be killed, at least. As long as Jade stayed behind him she might survive. If he could shield her, that is.
He would try. It was the only gentlemanly thing to do.
Kendril barely got his sword out in time to block the incoming blow.
The harsh clash of metal on metal rang in his ears as the force of the attack smashed him back into the stone railing. He almost lost his footing. The long rifle slung on his back came loose from the impact and clattered to the ground.
He didn’t have time to retrieve it.
With blurring speed the henchman hammered his sword down in another blow.
This time Kendril was more prepared.
He caught the blow on the edge of his own sword and deflected it, then pressed forward with an attack of own.
The man tripped backwards and barely managed to avoid the Ghostwalker’s flashing blade.
The horse Kendril had shot had finally stopped thrashing, the gushing blood from its wound staining the cobblestones of the bridge. The second rider was screaming obscenities, his leg trapped under the animal’s body.
The first rider’s horse had regained its footing, and was retreating down the bridge to the west.
The only intelligent one in the lot, Kendril mused.
He came in fast with his blade, throwing two hard strikes at the standing rider.
The man, panicked from the sudden onslaught, barely blocked the attacks. He tripped over the outstretched leg of the dead horse behind him and lost his balance.
Kendril took a step back, then turned for an instant to look behind him.
In that exact moment, something hit him hard on his left side ad threw him backwards.
Jade held on to Maklavir’s waist as tightly as she could. The pounding of Veritas’ hooves filled her ears as she peered around the diplomat’s side.
The bounty hunter with the eye patch was up on the railing of the bridge, aiming his crossbow. She saw him fire, and the weapon gave a low thump as the bolt sang through the air.
A sudden blind terror filled her mind. She turned to look behind her.
Kendril was hurled back against the side of the bridge, and his sword fell to the ground.
He had been hit.
Before Jade quite knew what she was doing, she leapt off the back of the horse.
She hit the ground, bracing her fall as well as she could with her hands. The right leg of her trousers tore open as her knee scraped against the rough stone.
Biting back the pain, she got to her feet, one hand reaching for the pistol in her belt. She ran back towards the stricken Ghostwalker, her knee surging with pain at each step.
Cold air stung Maklavir’s eyes as he came up fast towards the end of the bridge. He heard a crossbow fire off to his left.
Rather miraculously, nothing happened.
That was rather odd. A white horse with two riders at point-blank range was a difficult target to miss.
Maklavir swung his sword up. Its keen edge glimmered in the fading light.
The second crossbowmen stared up at him in a panicked and confused manner, as if uncertain what to do.
Maklavir shut his eyes and prepared to strike as Veritas pounded forwards.
He could only hope that his luck wo
uld continue to hold.
Kendril felt his lower back slam against the side of the bridge. His vision swirled as he crashed to the ground.
Disoriented, he grabbed at the railing and tried to pull himself back to his feet.
His side flared with a tearing pain that almost blinded him. He lost his hold on the railing and slipped down to the ground again.
He had been hit. Shot by one of the crossbowmen at the end of the bridge, no doubt. Kendril could feel the bolt as it burned like a hot iron in his side. It was a bad wound, he thought as he tried to get to his feet once more. He could already feel warm blood running down his left pants leg.
Grinding his teeth against the searing pain, Kendril managed to make it to his knees and pressed his right hand against his side. He lifted his head and tried to focus through the red fog that was clouding his vision.
The first rider had regained his feet, and was coming at him again. The man drew back his sword for a killing blow.
Kendril started to lift his own sword to parry the strike, until the truth dawned on him.
The sword was no longer in his hand.
Maklavir swung his blade with all his might, closing his eyes at the last moment. He never could stand the sight of blood, his or anyone else’s.
He didn’t feel his blade hit anything, which didn’t really surprise him. What did surprise him was the fact that he was still alive several seconds later.
Opening his eyes, he saw the brown dirt of the road stretching before him, and the trees of the forest looming ahead.
He was off the bridge.
Uther hurled himself out of the way, flattening himself up against the wall of the mill. He covered his head as the white horse and its purple-caped rider flew by him, and heard the swish of the rider’s sword as they thundered past.
Montrose screamed out a string of obscenities as he fired off his second shot at the retreating figure.
The bolt flew wide.
“Talin’s ashes!” the bounty hunter blared as he leapt down off the railing onto the bridge. “Why didn’t you shoot?!”
Uther stared at his boss blankly for a moment.
“You told me not to,” he said, confusion filling his voice.
Montrose swore again and drew his iron mace. “The girl’s not on the horse any more, you idiot! She’s on the bridge!”
Before Uther could even think of a reply, a gunshot blasted into the air.
The sword was halfway to Kendril’s head when it suddenly flew out of the henchman’s hands. Sparks exploded from the blade.
The astonished henchman leapt back, holding his arm at the wrist and cursing loudly.
Kendril glanced to the side, ignoring the pain as he moved.
Jade was about ten yards away, a smoking pistol in her hand. The bullet must have struck the rider’s sword, he realized, and had almost shattered the blade in the process.
It was certainly one of the best shots he had ever seen in his life.
Kendril turned his head back to the stunned rider. The man had noticed Jade as well.
The henchman’s eyes flittered down to Kendril’s sword, lying where he had dropped it a few feet away.
Recovering quickly, the man lunged forward and his hand reached for the weapon.
Jade stared. The billowing smoke from the pistol made her eyes water.
She had hit the rider’s sword dead in the center. It had been one shot in a million, and one that had undoubtedly saved Kendril’s life.
Of course, she had been aiming for the man’s head.
A shout from her caused her to whirl around.
Maklavir and Veritas were quickly disappearing into the forest far beyond the bridge, almost out of sight.
The two men with the crossbows were running down the bridge towards her, blocking off any chance of escape in that direction.
With trembling fingers she reached for one of the extra pistol cartridges in her pocket.
Maklavir flinched involuntarily as the crossbow bolt zinged past him. It missed him by a good foot or two.
Incredulous at his good fortune, he urged Veritas on. He was quickly passing down the dirt road into the safety of the forest. A pistol shot sounded from the bridge behind him, but he didn’t dare to risk a look back.
The road curved to the left, and he followed it for several seconds. His sword was still in his hand, though the blade was shaking violently for some reason.
Oh, right. That would be because his hand was shaking. And his heart was still lodged in his throat, despite his best efforts to force it back down to its proper place. Charging those two crossbowmen had been one of the most insane things he had ever done. He couldn’t quite believe he was still alive.
Actually, he thought, it felt rather good. Not that he’d ever want to do it again, mind.
Kendril, on the other hand, was almost certainly dead by now. The Ghostwalker had bravely given his life for them, for somehow Maklavir doubted that even that man could fight off four villains at the same time.
Still, Kendril’s death would not be in vain. At least Jade was safe.
“I say, Jade,” he said, turning in the saddle, “We don’t—”
He blinked in dumbfounded amazement. Jade was no longer behind him.
Veritas slid to a snorting stop as the diplomat yanked back on the reins. He swung the beast around, staring behind him at the empty road.
The girl was nowhere to be seen.
Come to think of it, Maklavir hadn’t felt her arms around his waist for a while, not since…well, not since back on the—
“Oh, bother,” he said.
The rider’s hand was almost to the hilt of the sword when Kendril slammed into him and knocked the henchman a few steps back.
Off balance, Kendril tried to grab the sword himself, but the shooting pain in his side caused him to stumble. He caught at the rail for support instead and almost blacked out from the pain.
The henchman recovered immediately, and ran back at Kendril with a bloodcurdling shout. One hand reached for a knife at his belt.
Gathering every ounce of strength that he had left, Kendril stepped to the side, then threw himself forward. He smashed into the man and grabbed at the hand trying to draw the knife.
Kendril tried to shout back at Jade, to tell her to run, but his voice vanished in his throat. Pain tore through his body, and purple splotches sparkled before his eyes. He could already feel blood soaking the entire left side of his shirt and pants, even the top of his boots. The crossbow bolt burned into his side. Kendril had to fight every second not to scream from the pain.
By sheer strength of will he fought off the dizzying shock, then spun to the side and aimed a kick at the man’s leg.
It was an old trick, but it worked. The rider was so intent on getting his knife loose that he didn’t see the blow coming until it was too late.
Kendril’s heavy boot snapped the man’s knee back and he toppled to the ground. The Ghostwalker staggered back, and reached for his sword lying on the ground.
It was the only chance he had.
Jade ripped the cartridge open with her teeth. She tried her best to hold the pistol steady despite her trembling hands.
Behind her she could hear the sounds of Kendril struggling with the rider, but she tried desperately to ignore the confusion.
In front of her the two men came closer by the second. The man with the eye patch was on the left.
Concentrate, she screamed to herself. What came after the bullet? The paper. Paper came after the bullet. Then the ramrod…
She drew the ramrod and forced it down the barrel of the pistol. The men running towards her were just yards away when she withdrew the ramrod and slid it back underneath the pistol, then snapped back the lock.
She had done it. The pistol was reloaded.
Maklavir started to urge the horse forward, but stopped, hesitating.
What should he do? Go back? At this point he might just be goin
g to his death. He was certainly no warrior, and if Kendril was dead there was no way that he could take on the bounty hunter and his band single-handedly.
But Jade was probably still alive. The bounty hunter had wanted her alive, anyway, and if she was in their hands than Maklavir couldn’t do her any bloody good by going back now to get hacked to pieces.
He looked around him at the darkening forest, his mind coming to a rapid decision. The first thing he needed to do was to get off the road, into the woods. Then he could head back to the bridge, hopefully without being seen, and try to tail the bounty hunter and his gang.
It might not be the best course of action, but he couldn’t think of anything better. Well, there was always running away, of course, but that wasn’t even an option. Well, not a very palatable option, anyway. Actually, it was beginning to sound better and better the more he mulled it over, but he still couldn’t leave Jade to her horrible fate.
His mind made up, Maklavir turned Veritas off the road and made his way into the forest.
Kendril grabbed at the sword, but the other man was faster.
The thug gave the hilt a wild kick and sent the blade flying out of the Ghostwalker’s reach. With a satisfied grin, the rider pulled out his knife and flipped it over in his hand.
Exhausted, Kendril fell back against the side railing of the bridge. His hand clutched feebly at the crossbow bolt impaled in his side.
His head was swimming. Sharp stabs of pain accompanied every movement he made.
Just a few yards away the second rider had finally managed to get his leg out from under the fallen horse. He hobbled to his feet, leaning unsteadily on his good leg and holding onto the stone railing for support.
“Not so tough now, are you, mate?” The first rider sneered. He held the knife out in front of him in preparation for a strike.
Kendril faltered, and his whole left leg almost collapsed from the unbearable pain. He backed against the cold stone of the railing.
“Are you going to kill me, or just talk me to death?” he gasped.
With a snarl the man pounced forward, and lunged his knife towards Kendril’s stomach.
Kendril pitched himself to the side and hooked his elbow around the man’s knife-arm as he came forward. He tried to twist the man backwards, but the thug’s forward momentum was too much.
Kendril felt his hip smash against the stone railing, and then, still holding onto the rider’s arm, he felt himself tip back. White pain flooded his vision.
His back hit stone, and then he fell into space.
Jade retreated a few steps, the pistol held at the ready.
She looked behind her just long enough to catch a quick glimpse of Kendril being attacked by one of the riders. She watched as both men crashed into the side of the bridge as they both struggled for the knife in the rider’s hand. They lost their balance, and plunged over the side of the bridge.
And into the river.
Jade flung off her hat and ran to the edge of the bridge. She turned and fired the pistol blindly towards the two men behind her, causing them to duck for a moment or two.
It was all she needed.
Jade sprang onto the railing and shoved the smoking pistol into her belt. She paused for a fraction of a second and took a deep breath.
Then she dove into the water.
****