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 chain mail, 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 sati
sfy 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 had been 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.
Time seemed to stop as the woman hung in the darkness, like a flying beast of myth. Yet there was nothing mystical or magical about her shriek as the forces of nature gripped her and dragged her toward the unyielding cobblestones.
The wet thump rattled the Hunter's bones. He took an involuntary step toward her, stopped, and took another. The tangled heap of limbs and clothing shifted, groaned, and gave a weak cough. The bundle that lay a few paces away from her outstretched arms moved not at all.
The woman managed to lift her bloodstained face. Her eyes locked with the Hunter.
The servant woman!
Her gaze darted to the bundle, and the Hunter's followed. She tried to crawl forward on shattered arms and legs. Blood dribbled from between her lips, and her breath wheezed in her lungs. She managed to move just once before slumping to the ground.
Horror churned in the Hunter's gut. His eyes went from the dying woman to the pile of cloth. To her child.
He knelt and lifted the tiny, unmoving form, acid surging in his throat. The child weighed nothing in his arms. It made no sound as he placed the bundle in its mother's arms.
Unfamiliar sensations welled within him. His chest tightened, and his throat thickened. A voice spoke in the back of his mind. Your fault, it told him.
"No!" The Hunter shook his head and stumbled away from the bodies. He had no time for this. He had to get out of Lord Eddarus' mansion before—
Three guardsmen raced around the rear of the building, buckets of water clutched in their hands. They stopped at the sight of him. For a heartbeat, the Hunter's numbed mind and the guards' shocked surprise prevented movement and speech.
A guard's shout shattered the moment. "Assassin!"
Pails clattered to the ground, spraying water. One guard reached for his sword while the other two fumbled for the crossbows on their back.
The Hunter sized up the situation between heartbeats. He couldn't cross the twenty paces to the guards before they fired. Fleeing in the opposite direction would widen the distance between him and the bowmen, making him a smaller target. His body could heal from a crossbow bolt or two.
Turning on his heel, he sprinted toward the front of the house. He'd lose himself in the chaos of the mansion, slip out the front gate. A crossbow bolt traced a line of fire across the side of his right leg. The Hunter bit back a cry of pain as the second quarrel thunked into his upper back. The steel head grated on bone, sending agony lancing through him.
At least it's not iron!
"Assassin!" the guards shouted behind him. The commotion at the front of the house drowned out their voices but a few heads turned his way, eyes widening. He barreled onward, moving with a speed his pursuers couldn't catch. If he could get through the crowd gathered before the blazing mansion, he could slip out the gatehouse and disappear in the streets of Upper Voramis.
A quarrel clipped the side of his head. The crossbowmen were firing high to avoid hitting the crowd. He'd be out of their range within seconds.
His heart sank as more guards appeared from the gatehouse and raced toward him. He poured on the speed, hoping to close the distance before they could draw their weapons. The bolt lodged in his left shoulder inhibited the arm's movement. Soulhunger could heal him, but he needed the sword's longer reach to break through the guards. With a growl, he gripped the hilt tighter and poured on speed.
The foremost guard managed to raise the crossbow to his shoulder and loose a bolt. The Hunter twisted to the right, grunting as the quarrel buried in his left shoulder. Any chance the arm would heal in time for him to escape faded.
He brought his sword down in a vicious chop that severed crossbow stock and the arms holding it. The man fell screaming, blood spurting from his stumps. The Hunter ducked beneath a high swing, hamstrung the guard, and hacked through the bicep of his next opponent. Something slammed into his side with the force of a charging horse and spun him around. His breaths came hard, the steel tip of another crossbow bolt piercing a lung.
The Hunter's ribs protested as he cut down the next guard. The two men who had opened the gates to allow the mansion's occupants escape now wrestled the enormous doors closed. The Hunter's sword bit into one's spine just beneath his skull. Even as the man flopped, the Hunter spun and brought his blade across in a one-handed blow that severed the chain links of the guard's mail shirt.
Three more bolts thunked into the gate beside him, followed by a stab of pain in the back of his thigh. More guards swarmed from the front and sides of the mansion. Gritting his teeth against the fire racing through his shoulder, side, and now his leg, the Hunter slid through the open gates and dragged them closed with one powerful yank.
He wanted to stop, to rest, to catch his breath, but he couldn't. Even if Lord Eddarus hadn't posted men on the wall around his mansion, the guards would swarm up to the parapet to shoot at him as he fled. He had to get out of range.
He sheathed his sword and shuffled forward as fast as he could manage. His leg refused to cooperate, the muscles protesting with each step. The bolt in
his thigh hindered his movement. The adrenaline coursing through him dulled the pain, but he could feel his limbs growing weaker. Warmth flowed down his leg and filled his boots. The bolt had to have nicked or cut the artery in his leg.
Before he'd gone twenty paces, the shouts of Lord Eddarus' guards echoed from atop the wall. Crossbow bolts whistled around him. Most clattered on the stone street, but one sliced open his forearm, another carving a line of fire across the side of his neck.
The Hunter growled and forced himself to keep running. The gate groaned as it was hauled open. He had seconds before the guards charged out of the mansion and flooded the streets.
He half-staggered, half-fell around the corner. The wall of Lord Eddarus' neighbor hid him from view of the pursuing men, but his keen ears picked up the sound of the crossbowmen shouting at the men pursuing on foot.
Pain and blood loss played tricks with his mind. The image of the silent bodies, mother and child, floated before his eyes. The pulse rushing in his ears screamed at him. Your fault, your fault!
"Not my fault!" The Hunter's cry rang hollow, his voice weak from exhaustion. He had threatened the woman's life if she left her room. Her fear of him, of what he'd do to her child, had prevented her from fleeing the fire.
He tried to shake the image away as he stumbled onward. His legs grew heavier with each step. His right foot squelched from the blood filling his boot; he was bleeding out. He couldn't rip out the bolt for fear of damaging the artery worse. His body would heal, but he'd lose consciousness within a minute, maybe two.
I have to get out of Upper Voramis, now! The wealthier area of the city was home to vast mansions and sprawling estates. He longed for the twisting alleys and rundown buildings of Lower Voramis; he'd have endless options of hiding places. If he could just escape to the lower city, Lord Eddarus' guards would never find him.
Not a Keeper-damned chance I'll make it out the way I came in. It's too far.
Life for a Life Page 2