*
Salb walked into the hovel he called home and began throwing his things into a sack. Before long, someone would be here looking for him and he knew he needed to be far away from town. Kreeth had better pay him and pay him good the next time they met. He had done as the man asked. He had made problems for the three snots—that much was sure. Across his face, a smile stretched the skin around his mouth so tightly that his lips hurt. He had always wanted to kill someone, always wanted to know what it felt like. There had really been nothing to it.
Noting at all.
All in all, Salb couldn’t see what the big deal was. He felt something easing within his chest, as if a burden he had worn all his life were being lifted. How many times had he wanted to run a knife through someone’s neck but held off out of fear? But now—now Salb nearly felt giddy. Too bad it had been the feeb and not Sartor or Maldies. Soon he would take care of that now that the burden was lifted.
So deeply locked in thought was Salb that he didn’t hear the intruder sneak up behind him until it was too late, and he spun around in time for a fist to crash into his face like a steel tip of a mace.
Salb hit the floor hard and scrabbled backward, away from his assailant. Bode emerged from the shadows, looking down at him with fury in his eyes.
“Where did you come from?” Salb blurted out.
“I followed you,” Bode said flatly. “I saw what you did.”
“So?” Salb demanded, letting heat creep into his voice. “I just did what we both know you’d like to do!”
Bode said nothing. His expression was unreadable. He looked down at him, and after a moment said, ”I ought to keep right on beating you. So, you were paid to stop me.” It wasn’t a question.
“It was Kreeth. He wanted me to do it. When he found out you’d been asking around about the Vandin camp, he came to me—told me he might need me to do some other things for him, that you might go snooping up there.”
“Who tipped him off? Who?” Bode demanded.
“Your father!” Salb shouted.
“I’m only going to ask you this one time,” Bode said, making a point of popping his knuckles as he did so. “What was Kreeth afraid I would find?”
“I don’t know!” Salb told him. “I really don’t!”
“Get out of my sight,” Salb,” Bode growled menacingly. “Get out of town and don’t ever come back.”
Salb picked up his bag, giving Bode a wide berth as he passed him.
Outside, the clouds overhead bled red around the setting sun. Salb moved swiftly off of the road onto a trail only he knew about. He knew a place where no one would bother him while he waited,
As he walked and made his plans, the soft impress of a foot caused him to spin around with his knife ready. “Bode—” he began as a firm hand grabbed his wrist and twisted it until sharp pain forced him to drop his small weapon.
His assailant’s voice was haggard. “Wrong Grimmel.”
Salb was incredulous. “I thought you were in the Pit.”
“Just got out.”
Salb backed away from Bode’s father. His hair was unkempt and his clothes nearly rags. His wrists bore livid marks where irons had been fastened around them. “How?!” he stammered.
“I have friends.”
Salb eyed his knife, where it lay on the ground several feet away, calculating how quickly he could get to it.
“Pick it up,” Ravel commanded.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, keeping his body turned towards the man. “You look sick.”
Ravel coughed. “It will pass.”
“Well what do you want with me?” Salb demanded. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
Ravel laughed dryly. His hollow eyes held a feverish light. “I have work for us to do.”
This was the last thing Salb expected. “Work?”
“Work.”
“It pays?” Salb asked. “Because I need money.”
“Our boss will pay us well—pay both of us to deal with the people we hate.” The insistence burned in Ravel’s voice with white-hot intensity.
“What about Bode? What about your son?”
“What about him?” Ravel asked icily. Somewhere in the distance a howl pierced the evening sky. “We have to be going,” Ravel said, captivated by something in the plaintive and hungry wail. His eyes burned with a predatory light as he said reverently, “They’re calling for us.”
The Dread Lords Rising Page 39