by J. P. Ashman
Those around the fire ran at a warning shout from the elf.
Exley had no time to move as the arrows and bolt travelled towards him. Unbeknown to him and his men, however, he didn’t need to. As the three shafts reached the basket, they slowed, twisted and launched back into the trees from whence they came. A cry sounded from the shadows and Exley laughed out loud.
‘The balloon’s charmed, it’s protected,’ he crowed to his witchunters, as they reloaded their crossbows and loosed again, this time down at the four figures that rushed towards the safety of the trees. Both bolts missed in the dark and Exley realised the balloon was dropping still lower.
‘Turf them out,’ he shouted, and his witchunters heaved the dead bodies over the side. The balloon lifted suddenly as a ball of green fire burst from the trees, before arcing off away from the balloon and high into the sky. Exley laughed again and loosed his crossbow blindly into the trees from where the green fireball had originated.
‘They have a mage, it seems,’ one of the witchunters said, and the other looked to Exley, a grin on his face as he handed a clay pot to the Witchunter General.
‘What’s this?’ Exley demanded, unimpressed.
‘They call them grenados, General. Gnomes make ’em. Seen ’em used down south for mining, here.’ The witchunter held the grenado’s wick over the dwarf machine in the centre of the basket, the flickering flames lighting the end of the wick easily. He threw the clay pot out into the trees and within heartbeats a mighty explosion flashed and boomed within the small copse. Exley grinned and held out his hand for another as he lit the first he’d been given and threw it, whooping into the sky as it exploded.
‘We need to hover here. How did he do it?’ Exley asked, as the balloon continued to drift over the camp, now skimming the trees their targets had entered. Both witchunters shrugged, but before Exley could curse, one of his men pointed to the far side of the copse they were now fully drifting over. The pounding of hooves met their ears and a small number of riders left the dark copse at a gallop. Another horse whinnied below them and so Exley swiftly lit another grenado and threw it down into the shadows below. The explosion shook the basket of the balloon and Exley looked at the two witchunters with a mischievous grin.
‘Oops, bit close then.’ He laughed hard and his companions joined in.
The horse below had stopped whinnying, but the riders who'd left the trees were heading to a distant tree line to the east, and fast.
‘Hit that damned propeller thing again and burn some air, hurry,’ Exley ordered, and his men obliged. They might not have been able to stay in a steady hover, but they were able to propel the balloon towards the escaping riders easy enough. Exley lit another grenado as the fire heated the air in the balloon, and threw the explosive over the basket into the middle of the trees for good measure, laughing as it exploded; the trees now fully ablaze.
***
A breeze of fresh air – in comparison to the sewers – hit Longoss as he lifted his bandaged head above street level. Despite it being dark after extinguishing his torch in the mucky waters below, the shadowy street Longoss looked out onto seemed light indeed with the clear night sky’s stars shining down.
‘Is it clear?’ Coppin asked. She had not long since had her first lesson in setting a trap for their pursuers, who’d unknowingly made themselves known by the sudden rush of rats that had swiftly and noisily entered Longoss’ chamber, no doubt attempting to escape the large black rat Longoss and his companions knew nothing of.
Longoss only just heard her with his good ear as he scanned the shadows and rooftops. ‘Doubt it lass, but we have no choice, we must move on.’ He didn’t mention the small boy he’d seen run off across the first roof he’d looked at. Well, he’s either a gang watcher or a Black Guild watcher. Either way, we’re in the shit. ‘Come on,’ Longoss said, climbing up onto the filthy cobbles. Rising to his feet, he drew his knife whilst continuing to check about him. He didn’t turn to help Coppin out of the hole, because he knew it was time she started doing these things for herself. She had an aptitude for fighting and both Sears and Longoss knew it from what they’d seen. That was in a safe environment though. The real thing would be completely different and if she was to survive without them both helping her, she needed to use that strong independence he knew she had and start fending and thinking for herself, rather than relying on either of them.
‘Gods that’s fresh,’ Sears said, taking a deep breath and pulling himself to his feet, before drawing his sword. I never thought I’d say that about Dockside. ‘Where now?’ he asked Longoss, his own eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He’d put his maille hauberk back on before they left the sewer chamber, but hadn’t had chance to clean or oil it, despite the barrel of oil they’d used on the floor for the explosive trap. His face matched his beard and hair from the rusting iron links, and Coppin couldn’t help but smile to herself as she looked upon the serious, orange face of the big man.
‘We make a stand here,’ Longoss said, surprising them both.
Sears rounded on the former assassin, a question on his lips. He stopped short of asking that question as his eyes followed Longoss’ to a rooftop, which now revealed the silhouettes of several figures. Those figures moved to the edge of the roof and looked down on the trio, weapons drawn. Sears took a deep breath and let it go heavily. ‘I see.’
Coppin swallowed hard and licked her dry lips, the appearance of the armed men above finally distracting her from the awful smell coming from her and her friends. ‘We can’t run?’ she said finally.
Longoss shook his head.
Before another word was spoken, the street-assassins dropped down from the rooftop to face the trio.
‘They’re meant to hold us here until someone with my mark arrives, I’m sure of it,’ Longoss said, moving out to the right as Sears moved to the left, leaving Coppin in the middle brandishing a long knife Longoss had given her back in the chamber.
‘Then let’s go!’ Coppin said desperately.
‘Too late, lass,’ Sears said, agreeing with Longoss.
‘Think of Elleth when they come at us.’ The former assassin pulled the bandage from his head and threw it to the ground. He cocked his head slightly to compensate for the missing ear as the group of street-assassins approached. Lopsided grins showed on the youngest faces, all of which were looking at the green haired girl in wet clothing.
‘I will.’ Coppin held the knife lightly like she’d been taught, but clenching her teeth tight.
As the first two – both of them teens – rushed towards Coppin, she ran left as Sears launched himself ahead and right, straight into their path. His sword plunged awkwardly into the lead boy’s chest, crunching through ribs before being swiftly withdrawn. A gurgled cough of blood was the only sound that left the collapsing boy’s mouth. His companion hesitated through shock, resulting in his head rocking back as Sears smashed his palm into the lad’s face, knocking him unconscious.
Before the lad had hit the floor at Sears’ feet, Longoss had charged into three others, all of which were seasoned street-assassins by his guessing, although he recognised none. Longoss led with his knife, which was easily parried by the lead assassin’s blade, who grunted in surprise as Longoss jammed the palm of his other hand into the man’s throat, stunning but not killing him. The next man fell swiftly from a heavy kick to the groin and instantly threw up whilst doubled in pain. Longoss barely evaded the third man’s rondel dagger, which he saw pass close to his face. He used the close proximity of the man’s arm as an opportunity to throw his head forward and crunch golden teeth into the flesh and bone of the dagger wielder’s hand. The man cried out and pulled his hand in close, removing the threat of the dagger from Longoss and opening himself up to Longoss’ right boot, which thumped between his legs, creating a similar response to the other street-assassin, minus the vomit. Moving past the three men swiftly, Longoss headed for Coppin who disengaged from the teenager who’d gone for her, opening him up to Longoss, who
barrelled him off his feet.
Coppin ran to the three stunned men Longoss had been fighting. To Longoss’ surprise, as he looked up from the unconscious lad beneath him, the woman thrust her knife into the first man’s back, screaming in anger as she did so, tears streaking her face.
Sears had advanced across the street and was battling four men armed with a mixture of weapons. Coppin’s scream turned him slightly and he received a glancing blow to his left elbow from an axe. The blade sliced across Sears’ maille, the links giving way slightly and allowing the axe blade to slide clear, but the kinetic strike of the blow rang up Sears’ arm. The impact on his elbow flashed fire up to his shoulder as numbness flowed down to his hand. Realising Coppin wasn’t hurt, but was surprisingly yet aggressively finishing off the three street-assassins Longoss had injured, Sears used the sudden burst of adrenaline his pain and fear for Coppin had created and rounded on the man who’d struck him with the axe.
The axe hit the ground as the man fell back, crying out as he tried to stem the flow of blood from the stump where his right hand had been.
The blow Sears had dealt the axe wielder left the guardsman open to an attack from an old looking short-sword, which slid across his back harmlessly, his maille again saving him.
Before his luck ran out, Sears ran forward suddenly, away from the swordsman behind and into the other two men, who lashed out at him hastily, surprised at his sudden charge. Sears ploughed into the man on the left, who was the larger of the two, and smashed his forehead into the man’s face, leaving an orange stain on the flattened nose. At the same time, Sears parried the other man’s poor lunge with his short-sword. In the moment it took for the larger man to recover and the swordsman behind Sears to close in, Sears pulled his sword back from his parry and thrust it into the stomach of the man who’d lunged at him. Grunting in pain, the street-assassin fell to the floor as Sears pulled his short-sword free and turned swiftly, slamming the pommel into the already broken, orange nose to his left.
Longoss saw Sears turn on the street-assassin behind him, but missed what happened as a giant black rat leapt from the sewer hole next to him, latching itself onto his left arm and biting down hard. Surprising himself, Longoss cried out in pain as the long teeth scraped across bone. He flung his arm to the side, which took some effort with the size of the rat, and the animal flew from his arm and skidded across the floor, taking a chunk of Longoss’ meaty forearm with it.
Almost dropping to one knee, Longoss raised his knife a fraction too late to fend off an incoming blow from a hafted-axe. Luckily, his defence wasn’t needed, as green hair flashed past and the attacker cursed angrily, the long knife that had slashed across under his arm causing him to pull his blow and miss his target. Longoss took the opportunity and threw himself up and forward, knowing the hafted-axe was near useless at such close quarters. Biting down hard, Longoss took the man’s cheek and spat it and the blood that came with it into his face, blinding him temporarily. At the same time, despite the immense pain thumping through his forearm, Longoss took hold of his attacker’s testicles and squeezed, causing the man’s eyes to widen as he screamed out in pain.
A flash of iron and a feminine scream ended the man’s pain forever, before Coppin pulled Longoss off the man. Looking up at her blood-spattered face Longoss saw Coppin’s eyes widen a split second before she threw herself to the side, taking him with her. A shout of rage and then metal on cobbles rang out as soon as Coppin’s weight pulled Longoss from where he’d been. He turned swiftly to see Rapeel climbing back to his feet, a filthy axe in each hand.
‘You’re mine, Longoss!’ the street-assassin shouted. ‘And then I’ll shaft the green bitch until she begs me to kill her too.’
Longoss spun and covered Coppin as a deep roar reached them from off to the side, followed by a rush of liquid fire that engulfed the dual-axe wielding street-assassin a moment after he charged them both. The resulting scream brought their heads back round as Rapeel dropped his axes and flung his arms about, his face contorted through the agony Sears’ fiery breath had brought him. He stumbled backwards then, before disappearing down the hole to the sewers below.
Longoss looked around quickly, rolling over and pushing himself to his feet as Coppin looked to Sears. The big man’s chest heaved as the light from his eyes slowly began to fade. The bodies of the street-assassins littered the floor, one of them being pulled at by a large rat wearing a chain collar.
Looking the opposite way to Coppin and Sears, Longoss took a deep breath and then let it out heavily. ‘Hold that rage Sears, we’re far from done yet.’
Both Sears and Coppin turned to look the same way as Longoss, whose eyes were set on the new arrivals; a line of true assassins stretched across the street.
‘By the shitting gods of all that’s something pissin’ witty…’ Sears’ voice trailed off as he thought of Biviano. Where are ye old friend? We need ye now more than ever.
Longoss took a couple of steps back, his eyes not leaving the line of assassins as he crouched, tucked his eating knife into his boot and picked up the hafted-axe lying next to him.
Seems they really have offered me up as a mark to all.
Risking a quick glance behind to his companions, Longoss’ eyes widened further as he saw another gang of young street-assassins dropping down from the rooftops behind them. Sears met Longoss’ eyes and nodded, taking Coppin by the arm and turning her to face the approaching youths, whilst Longoss stood and turned back towards the line of men and women in the opposite direction. Sliding his hands up and down the haft of the stinking axe he now held, he tested its weight and balance. The former assassin rolled his shoulders and head, his neck clicking as he stretched out his muscles; aches and pains suddenly forgotten.
With a thought of Elleth and, surprising himself, a final thought of Coppin, Longoss took a deep breath and lifted his head high. He walked towards the assassins with an air of such cold, calm confidence it seemed to radiate from his body. His usually assumed ungainliness was left behind to reveal the incredibly intimidating warrior he truly was. His head eventually dropped as he looked up through the tops of his eyes, a snarl pulling at the side of his bloodied, gold filled mouth.
‘Ye wanted me, ye Black Guild bastards, ye’ve fucking got me!’ Longoss’ deep voice carried easily to the men and women facing him.
Gold teeth flashed as more than one assassin took a step back.
***
‘Quickly!’ Errolas’ horse panted as he asked it to go faster. He was accelerating away from the others now as he headed for the Woodmoat as fast as his steed could carry him. Fal, Correia, Severun and Gleave were following him, digging their heels in and urging their horses on.
‘What of the others?’ Fal shouted, as another explosion briefly cast elongated shadows that stretched out ahead of the group.
‘Starks and Mearson are looking after Sav,’ Severun shouted back. ‘His arrow was repelled and hit him in the shoulder. The balloon must have a rebound charm of some sort. We had no way of knowing.’
‘But there were explosions in the trees as we left?’ Fal had to shout louder as his horse rounded a lone tree, before coming back to the group on the other side.
‘Grenados,’ Gleave replied from the horse now alongside Fal’s. ‘All the balloons have them – gnome invention for mining, put to other uses by our lot.’
‘They’ll be alright, don’t worry about that now.’ Correia looked behind. ‘The balloon’s following us and that’s what we wanted, now hurry. Let’s just hope Errolas’ kin don’t finish us off.’
Errolas had pushed further ahead as the group raced on towards the growing black smudge of the Woodmoat. Fal turned and saw the burning light of the balloon as it rose slightly, following them. It had no chance of catching them whilst their horses ran flat out, but the animals were tired, they'd been pushed for hours that day and Fal feared one of them might fall in the dark. Errolas was getting smaller as he closed in on the Woodmoat and as Fal looked back again, h
is worse fear came true.
‘Shi—’ Gleave’s horse tripped and fell, throwing him over its head to roll and land in a heap on the ground. Fal pulled hard on the reigns, as did Correia and Severun. Correia cursed and turned her horse to come back to the fallen rider. Once there she hopped down to join Fal as he tried to lift Gleave, the horse whinnying painfully in the background.
‘Argh… don’t!’ Gleave grabbed handfuls of grass as he lay back. ‘My leg…’
‘Broken,’ Fal said as Correia crouched besides them.
‘Wimp.’ She flashed a smile at Gleave, until she looked up towards the fast approaching balloon in the night sky.
Gleave cried out painfully as Correia prodded the leg. ‘You bloody well fall off a horse at the worst—’
Gleave shouted several curses at the woman.
‘Alright, alright, stop moaning. We need to get you on a horse,’ Correia said as Severun dismounted.
‘Broken leg,’ Fal said to the wizard.
Severun winced. ‘I can’t do anything for that. We need to hurry though.’ Gleave’s horse whinnied again and Severun quickly ran over to it. The sound of a sword being drawn preceded the horse whinnying for the last time.
‘Is there nothing you can do to the balloon?’ Correia looked hopefully to the wizard as he ran back over to them. ‘Gleave’s not moving anywhere. He said his back feels funny?’
Severun closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Nothing, not with a rebound spell like that; It’ll have been reinforced time and time again by the balloon’s battle mage, and I’ve exhausted my powers for a while with the fight at Beresford. That last burst of energy from the trees took it out of me.’