Ghostwalker (Book 1) (9 page)

She knew his face.

Maklavir had just managed to get his sword back in his scabbard when he heard Jade cry out from the front room. Without thinking he pulled the blade loose once more, then turned towards the door behind him. For a second he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the back door that still hung ajar at the far end of the kitchen.

Those two weren’t coming back any time soon. And Jade was obviously in trouble.

Swallowing his fear and better sense, Maklavir made for the common room.

Kendril was starting to suspect he might be in a bad spot.

The man with the sword was fairly decent, and the other one with the knife was making things doubly difficult. And now there was a third one with a crossbow. If it hadn’t been for Jade he would probably be wearing the bolt as a chest ornament right now.

Either way, this fight had been going on for far too long.

With a lightning quick move, Kendril feinted to the swordsman’s right, then spun and slashed for the right side of his face. A ragged scream and the sound of a sword clattering to the ground told him his blow had been on target.

Without looking to see the extent of the injury, Kendril whirled once more, dancing back as the knife-man stabbed forward and cleaved empty air.

In one deft move, Kendril caught the man’s outstretched arm under his own right arm and yanked him forward. At the same moment he reversed the sword in his left hand and stabbed it between his right arm and side, and underneath the thug’s outstretched arm.

With a certain degree of satisfaction Kendril felt the blade bite deep into the man’s side. He withdrew the sword, flipping it back aright in his hand before the stricken man could even give a strangled cry. The man collapsed to the ground, his knife skidding towards the fireplace.

It had all taken less than a second and a half.

It was the girl, and there was no doubt she recognized him. She was dressed in a man’s clothes. The green dress gone.

Clever
, he thought,
if only she had kept her mouth closed
.

Montrose stepped forward, his eyes riveted on the young woman behind the bar. He was just raising his mace when someone burst through the door behind the bar, a sword in his hand.

For a split second the bounty hunter smiled, thinking the men he had sent around the back of the inn had finally arrived. Just as quickly, however, he realized that the man who had just entered the room wasn’t one of his henchmen.

Whoever he was, he would die right now. Montrose yanked the crossbow up, the second arrow of his double-layered crossbow still unfired.

The man with the sword stopped cold, staring at the crossbow aiming straight at him.

“Oh dear,” he said.

Montrose tensed his finger on the trigger of his weapon.

Just before he could fire, a chair flew out of the darkness and smashed into his side. His crossbow jerked off target. The weapon fired and the bolt hurtled forwards.

The man with the sword gave a cry and tumbled back into the kitchen.

Montrose thudded against the wall, and was still trying to get a fix on what was happening when a short sword came swinging out of the darkness at him. Only years of experience enabled him to dodge the blow that should have taken his head off. He crashed back against a table, cursed loudly and blocked another blow with his mace. His enemy’s blade rang loudly from the parry.

Pausing for a half-second, Montrose glimpsed the man who was attacking him. He was wearing a long black cloak, black leather gauntlets, with a short sword in each hand and a face like a demon.

It was the man’s face that made Montrose hesitate. It was a face that held no fear and no restraint of any kind. There was no sanity in it.

In one startlingly clear instant he realized that he had underestimated the situation badly. He
would
get the girl, but not like this. He had to regroup his men, rethink his plan, and try to salvage what he could of this mess.

Montrose made his way back to the front door, blocking blow after the blow from the battle-crazed man in front of him. He stumbled backwards out the inn door, then tripped down the stone steps of the tavern and fell onto his back in the muddy street. For a brief, terrifying moment he thought his attacker might follow him, but he saw a dark whirl of the man’s cloak just inside the door as his opponent turned back into the inn.

Scrambling to his feet, Montrose spat angrily onto the ground.

Queltin knelt nearby, cursing softly as he pressed a dirty rag, dark with blood, against the right side of his face. His cheek was cut from top to bottom.

The two men he had sent around to the back of the inn were standing awkwardly by, looking rather sheepish.

One of them stared dumbly at the tavern. “We was outnumbered, boss. They had…they was
organized
. We couldn’t do nothing, there was too many—”

“No,” cut in Montrose savagely. “Not outnumbered.
Outsmarted
. And outfought.” He glanced up the street. People were beginning to peer from out of windows, and some were slamming shutters closed. He already knew they wouldn’t interfere. The trappers and hunters in this town had learned long ago to mind their own business.

Montrose turned to the inn, staring bitterly at its black shape. “You in the tavern, listen up! You’re surrounded, and there’s no way out of this place. Give us the girl, or we’ll kill all of you.” With that he wiped the mud off his face and glanced over at his men.

Uther was dutifully watching the street with his crossbow held at the ready. Queltin was trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his face.

“Get back to the porch and keep an eye on the street and the tavern,” Montrose said to Uther as he passed him. “Shoot anyone who tries to escape.”

With that he and the other henchman turned back to the store, with one or two nervous glances over their shoulder.

“Maklavir!”

Jade rushed to the open kitchen door, seeing the diplomat sprawled on the floor just inside the doorway. His sword lay on the ground by the bar.

She quickly knelt by him. “Are you all right?”

The finely dressed man swore loudly. “Don’t touch me!” he shouted in a frantic tone. “Stay back!”

Jade felt her stomach flip. “Are you hit?”

“Hit?” Maklavir cursed again, moving carefully and awkwardly across the floor. “I’ll say I’ve been hit.” He stretched out his hand gingerly towards the kitchen door, reaching for a crossbow bolt that was pinning the edge of his purple cape to the wood. Biting his lip until it turned white, he yanked the projectile loose. His cape fluttered to the ground.

“Blast!” he cried, tossing the arrow aside. “Blast and double blast!”

Jade put a hand to her heart. “Thank Eru it was just your cape.”

Maklavir pivoted his head in her direction. “
Just
the cape?
Just the cape
? Do you have
any
idea how much this cape is worth? Better if he had shot me in the leg or arm. At least
that
would heal.” He pulled himself to his feet, stretching out his cape to survey the damage. “I paid top coin for this in Archangel. Look at that tear. Ruined. Utterly ruined.” He gave a small moan and tossed the cape aside.

Hiding a smile, Jade stood as well. “I’m sorry, Maklavir.”

Kendril walked up on the other side of the bar, sliding his last sword into its scabbard. “I thought I told you to watch the back door,” he said.

Maklavir leaned over, and retrieved his own sword. “Jade was in danger. Besides, I chased the blaggarts off. I doubt they’ll be back for a while.”

“Oh, they’ll be back,” said Kendril, turning his head to look at the open front door. “You can count on it.”

Chapter 7

“Where’s Danforth?”

Queltin winced as he shifted his head. “I—I don’t know,” he said uncertainly. “He was right beside me, in the tavern—”

“Then he’s dead,” said Montrose matter-of-factly. He stuck his unlit pipe in his mouth, chewing furiously at the end. “That makes two.” He muttered a curse, his eyes watching the inn through the store window.

Sir Reginald paced back and forth by the store counter, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “That’s it. I have to leave, and leave quickly. I can’t be seen with the likes of you, and I certainly can’t be seen by
her
.” He stopped, straining to see out the window into the darkness. He could only make out the shape of Uther, who was outside on the porch keeping watch, his crossbow at the ready. “Your whole plan has gone to hell, Montrose. Talin’s ashes! What happened, anyway?”

“I’m still trying to figure that one out myself. The girl’s still inside, though. I saw her myself.”

Reginald grimaced as he watched Queltin pull away his dirty rag, revealing the bloody wound on his face.

Regvar, another of the henchman, leaned in close with a lantern, holding a needle and thread in one hand.

Queltin took a quick draught from a bottle of whiskey. “Do it quick,” he said.

Sir Reginald quickly turned his head as Regvar began to sew up the wound. “So what went wrong? Does she have help?”

“Oh, she has help all right, but it isn’t the Guard.” Montrose continued to stare out the window, deep in thought. “I can’t quite figure it out.”

“Well you’d better figure it out fast.” Reginald turned, then quickly averted his eyes as they fell again briefly on the gruesome scene in the corner. Queltin had yet to make even the slightest sound as his wound was sewn up.

Montrose stared silently out the window a few moments more, then looked over at Reginald. “Well, I suppose you’ll be off, now. I’ll help you saddle your horse.” He began to move towards the back of the store.

Reginald seemed slightly taken aback. “Uh, thanks.” He gave one last quick glance at the operation going on behind him, shuddered, and followed the bounty hunter out the back door.

Outside the night air was quiet and fresh after the recently fallen rain. Reginald’s horse was still tied up near the rear of the building. Montrose brought it over.

“There’s a Ghostwalker with her,” he said as he handed the reins to the nobleman.

Reginald stared at the bounty hunter. “What?”

“A Ghostwalker.” Montrose repeated.

Reginald shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

Montrose fixed the nobleman with a steely glare. “Are you calling me a liar? Or worse, stupid? I know what I saw. The man in there was wearing a hooded black cloak. I went into that place with five men. Two of them are dead. That was no trapper.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Reginald clutched the bridle of his horse, his mind racing. “No sense at all. How could someone have found her this quickly?”

“Funny. I was just about to ask
you
that.” Montrose gave Reginald an unnerving stare. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me,
Reggie
.”

“No, no, I’ve kept nothing from you. I swear—”

“Nothing, eh? So you want me to believe that this Ghostwalker just happened to be in the inn when we went in?
Waiting
for us?”

Reginald thought furiously. “It has to be a coincidence. If the Ghostwalkers were onto us, they’d have a dozen of their cultists here, not just one. Not to mention the Guard.” He soothed his horse, who was starting to stamp impatiently. “At any rate, he’s only one man, Ghostwalker or not. Surely you can take care of him.”

“Don’t worry about
my
end of the deal,” Montrose snapped. “I’ll have the girl when and where we agreed. I’d worry about
your
end. The price for this little kidnapping of yours just doubled.”

Reginald’s mouth dropped open. “
Doubled
? Are you mad?”

“It’s either that or I walk out of this town right now, along with what’s left of my men.”

“This wasn’t part of our deal,” hissed Reginald, still holding the horse’s bridle with one hand.

“The
Ghostwalker
wasn’t part of the deal, either,” Montrose shot back. “As long as he’s with her, things are a lot harder for me.”

The nobleman vaulted onto the horse, pulling the animal into place. “Fine,” he said in a cold voice. “Double it is. Just have the girl at the right time and the right place.” He trotted a few steps past the bounty hunter, staring down at the man in the darkness. “And don’t mess up again, Montrose.” With that he kicked his horse sharply, galloping off towards the western gate.

Montrose watched the nobleman go. He stuck his pipe angrily between his teeth once more, still unlit.

He didn’t know how this Ghostwalker had gotten involved with the girl, or what he knew of this whole affair. But he would make the man pay for the deaths of Harold and Danforth.

Now he just needed a plan.

Kendril filled the pewter mug in his hand to the brim with ale, then shut off the tap and took a long drink.

“I say, do you really think this is a good time to get inebriated?” Maklavir sat down at one of the tables, eyeing the front door nervously.

Kendril walked around the side of the bar, the mug in his hand. “We’re outnumbered by a vicious gang of thugs, trapped like rats in this inn, and probably won’t live to see morning. Sounds like the perfect time to get inebriated to me.” He sat down at another table, facing the door and windows that looked out onto the street.

Jade couldn’t take her eyes off the dark shape on the ground that she knew to be the body of the man Kendril had killed. The Ghostwalker had turned over a table to block the lower half of the front door to the tavern and act as a primitive barricade, so she couldn’t quite see the body of the henchman out on the porch, but she knew it was there all the same. Kendril had positioned another makeshift barricade across the back door.

“Shouldn’t we close the door?” she asked rather timidly.

Kendril set the mug down on the table, then calmly dumped both his pistols on the surface before him. He picked up the first one, and quickly and efficiently began to reload it. “No. We’ve lost the element of surprise. We need to see them when they come again.”