The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood (54 page)

The Kirin looked much as Dalian remembered him, though it was strange actually to see him after so many weeks in pursuit. He was tantalizingly close, but the Thief Taker was realistic enough to know that simply getting out of the chair would not be sufficient. The Kirin was a mess and he still had leg restraints and steel bars between him and freedom, not to mention the guards that would no doubt be patrolling within the dungeon.

‘Rham Jas,’ whispered Nanon through the bars.

The Kirin’s head was held back tightly by a leather restraint, but he heard the voice and turned to the window. He was panting heavily and clenching his remaining fist against the arm of the chair.

‘It’s Nanon.’ The forest-dweller was unemotional, but his fingers moved rapidly against the bars and displayed great agitation.

‘I don’t need help,’ growled Rham Jas. His voice sounded like rocks grating together and he spat the words through quivering lips.

The assassin then twisted his mid-section and slammed the bloodied stump of his left arm into the flaming brazier at his side. The knife pierced his forearm and emerged through the flesh pointing upwards. An agonized roar came from the Kirin’s mouth. Then he used all his remaining strength to wrench the knife out of the fire, twisting his forearm and using it as leverage. The smell of burning flesh filled Dalian’s nostrils as Rham Jas pulled the knife from the brazier, arming himself in the most painful way imaginable.

The assassin threw his head back, bracing himself against his restraints and grunting rapidly. He moved the stump of his arm up to the headrest of the inching chair and used the protruding blade to cut the leather restraint. The pain showed clearly on his face and Dalian could barely conceive of the strength of mind and body Rham Jas was displaying.

‘He’s going to bleed to death,’ said the wind claw.

‘Just watch,’ responded Nanon impassively.

The Kirin flexed his neck and shrugged off the newly cut restraints. He freed his other arm with the knife held in his bloodied stump and bit his lip hard to keep himself from screaming out in pain. Then Dalian gasped as he saw the wound begin to heal. The assassin had caused considerable additional damage in the process of acquiring the knife, but the jagged cut mark along his forearm was now disappearing.

Once his hand was free, Rham Jas removed the knife from the stump and bent over, panting heavily. He gripped his forearm as the flesh quickly knitted together over the wound.

‘How can he do that?’ the wind claw asked, incredulous at the assassin’s healing ability.

‘He’s a dark-blood,’ replied Nanon. ‘I’ll explain when we get him out of there.’ The forest-dweller looked down at the bars and assessed their strength. ‘Hm, you might want to turn away, Karesian man. I’m about to do something you won’t like.’

Dalian kept his eyes firmly on Nanon.

‘Suit yourself,’ said the forest-dweller.

At first, the Thief Taker wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Before he’d had time to guess what Nanon was about to do, a large, thick-bodied snake appeared where the forest-dweller had been. Dalian gasped and leapt backwards as the green and black reptile began to wrap its large coils round the prison bars.

‘I will fear nothing but Jaa,’ he muttered.

The snake turned towards him and tilted its head, its forked tongue flicking at the air and its thick body tightening round the steel bars. Dalian locked eyes with the snake and saw that, though the forest-dweller had changed his shape, his eyes were still the same. The Thief Taker knew nothing of substance about the risen men and was overawed by Nanon’s strange, magical abilities.

‘The Kirin is free,’ shouted a voice from within, drawing Dalian’s eyes away from the snake and back to the cell.

Through the barred cell door, a few feet from where Rham Jas was cutting his leg restraints, a watchman stood. The man of Ro looked nauseous but was professional enough to try and raise the alarm. He shouted repeatedly down the corridor to alert the other guards.

The snake saw this too and began to constrict the bars, tightening its huge body and causing the mortar to crack. Rham Jas finished freeing himself and, as the watchman fumbled with the keys to the cell door, sprang to his feet and let out a tortured scream. His severed arm and dislocated shoulder left him with a grotesque, misshapen appearance, but he managed to barge the metal inching chair towards the door and brace it under the heavy steel handle. He straightened and, with an audible snap, pushed his shoulder back into its socket. Struggling to remain conscious, he shuffled towards the barred window.

‘Get men to the outside trough,’ shouted a Karesian voice from within the dungeon.

Dalian drew his scimitar and, getting as close to the snake as he dared, jammed the blade into the crumbling stone. Nanon continued to constrict and the bars were now buckling together as an opening began to appear. With Dalian’s help, two of the steel bars were wrenched out of the stone, and the snake bent the others to a point where they could easily be twisted aside.

Rham Jas was dragging his feet heavily across the cell and using his remaining strength to stay upright. As he moved, his eyes began to roll back and, before he had reached the window, the assassin fell forwards. He had used up every ounce of fortitude he possessed and would need to be helped out of the cell.

Dalian didn’t hesitate. He ducked down and swung through the window, landing deftly on the stone floor next to the unconscious Kirin. Opposite him, wind claws were trying to gain entrance. Rham Jas had blocked the door well and the Karesians would need time to bash through the metal inching chair. He pulled the wiry assassin upright. Rham Jas was well muscled, with little fat, and his taut body was covered in sweat and dried blood. Nanon had resumed his normal form and was braced against the side of the trough, reaching down to the assassin.

‘Pass him up,’ he said. ‘We need to move quickly.’

Dalian wrapped his arms round the Kirin’s waist and lifted him into the air. ‘There will be guards on the street in a minute or two,’ he grunted, as Nanon grasped the assassin’s remaining hand and pulled him up into the feeding trough.

‘We need some horses,’ replied the forest-dweller.

‘Why don’t you just turn into one?’ said Dalian, leaping up after Rham Jas and grabbing the lip of the window.

‘It’s the Thief Taker,’ shouted a wind claw from the cell door. ‘Jaa demands his death.’ Dalian was seized with the urge to return and kill the insolent traitor, but wisdom overrode his anger and he hauled himself out of the window.

‘Karesian man, hurry up,’ snapped Nanon. The Thief Taker emerged at the bottom of the feeding trough to find his companion dragging the Kirin up the bare stone.

‘We can’t escape the city,’ said Dalian, helping to haul the unconscious assassin out on to the grass that encircled the hill. The road was still dark and no wind claws were immediately visible, but he knew they would be running towards them with murderous intent. Also, lurking somewhere within the dungeon, was Isabel the Seductress. She would never allow the Kirin to escape if it were within her power to prevent it. Dalian felt a shiver travel up his spine at the prospect of matching his strength against the witch’s.

Nanon slung Rham Jas over his shoulder, taking the weight with ease. ‘You kill anyone that tries to stop us. I’ll find some horses,’ he said, darting into the street.

Two wind claws were approaching from the dungeon. On the grassy bank opposite, the forger from Tiris was awake now and looking incredulously at the unconscious Kirin.

‘Horses at the back of the tavern.’ Dalian pointed towards the terrace where he’d been sitting earlier. ‘Be swift, grey-skin.’

‘Grab the forger before we leave,’ shot back Nanon.

‘Do we need him? He can barely sit upright.’ He saw little value in taking the Ro criminal with them.

‘Just grab him,’ said the forest-dweller, with authority in his voice.

Nanon hefted the assassin into a stable position and sprinted towards the light. The two wind claws saw the running figure and shouted words of alarm. Sounds of armoured feet came from around the base of the dungeon.

Once in the middle of the street, Dalian paused. Several wind claws and watchmen were converging on his position. He let the forest-dweller get ahead of him, amazed at the speed Nanon could maintain with an unconscious body over his shoulder.

‘Kill the Thief Taker,’ barked a voice from his left.

It was gratifying that these men considered him the more pressing fugitive, that they were more concerned about killing him than recapturing the assassin. That would likely change as soon as Isabel the Seductress appeared to redirect her troops, but for now Dalian proved an excellent distraction.

‘Kill me if you can, boys,’ he challenged, standing brazenly in the middle of the road. ‘Jaa demands it.’

The first two wind claws were upon him simultaneously and both attacked from high up. It was a simple manoeuvre to duck out of the way and kill one of them with a blind-side cut to the neck. He kicked the second man in the groin and followed up with a powerful thrust through his visor, sending blood over the cobbles. Two watchmen loaded crossbows and took aim. Dalian ducked back into the feeding trough and heard the bolts thud into stone. With a glance round the corner, he rushed the men of Leith. One tried to parry with his crossbow, while the other fumbled to load a fresh bolt into his weapon. Dalian severed the first man’s head and ran the second man through, shearing his chain-mail armour with a high-pitched grating sound.

‘This is too easy, lord,’ he said to Jaa. ‘A challenge would be welcome.’

More watchmen appeared, rushing from both directions, but they were uncoordinated and were merely responding to the loud alarm bell that was ringing an insistent peal from the dungeon.

‘You, Glenwood,’ he barked at the forger. ‘I’m on your side... some help would be nice.’

‘Who the fuck are you?’ demanded the criminal, rubbing his eyes and nervously grasping his longsword.

‘I am Dalian Thief Taker, greatest of the wind claws. Get your cowardly arse over here and stand.’ Dalian emphasized the point by engaging three watchmen. He sidestepped a clumsy downward attack and sliced the man at the knee, severing his leg. He then whirled round to open the second man’s stomach and barrel the third to the ground. They weren’t used to fighting a killer of Dalian’s skill, but he knew that he couldn’t maintain this level of exertion for long. His muscles were beginning to ache and sweat rolled down his face.

‘Glenwood, here. Now,’ repeated the Thief Taker, with a sharp intake of breath.

‘How do you know my name?’ shouted the forger.

‘We talk later... we fight now.’

Glenwood was approaching hesitantly. He had drawn his sword but was clearly reluctant to use it. Something about his grip made the old Karesian think the forger was no skilled swordsman.

‘Cover my back,’ grunted Dalian, feeling exhaustion in his tired old limbs.

‘Er, from the five watchmen? You must be joking,’ responded Glenwood. Wind claws and watchmen ran towards them, with a bulky Black cleric behind them.

‘Forget the old man, find that Kirin,’ shouted the churchman.

Summoning his remaining strength, Dalian grabbed Glenwood. ‘Time to go.’

They ran across the street, towards the shadows that flanked the tavern. A few steps behind them ran a dozen watchmen and the Black cleric. Dalian kept hold of Glenwood’s arm as he headed for the rear of the dark building. The forger was of no particular help, confining himself to shouting at the Thief Taker to hurry up. The sound of horses was audible ahead of them as the two men darted through the undergrowth, emerging into the stables at the rear of the tavern.

‘You should probably be leaving now,’ said Nanon from astride a horse. The forest-dweller was still smiling as he pulled Rham Jas across the pommel and threw a set of reins to Dalian. ‘You and Glenwood, take this horse... I’ll catch you up.’ Nanon swung out of the saddle and patted Dalian on the back.

‘They’re two steps behind us, grey-skin,’ said the Karesian. ‘Come with us.’

Nanon shook his head. ‘I need to collect something first. Ride south until you see the Fell. I’ll meet you there at the tree line. Go now.’

Glenwood had already pulled himself into the saddle of the first horse. The forger looked at the unconscious, mostly naked, body of the Kirin assassin with amazement and looked nauseous. Shouted words came from the front of the tavern and Dalian realized there was no time to argue. He maintained eye-contact with the forest-dweller and quickly stowed his weapons.

‘Keep your head down, grey-skin,’ he said, mounting the horse. He turned to the forger. ‘Ride fast!’

Dalian didn’t look back. The wind claws shouted after him, and they would surely mount some kind of pursuit, but the two men and the unconscious assassin would have a good head start. Travelling south, riding in an erratic pattern round the hills of Leith, Dalian broke his horse into a dead run and tried to slow his own breathing. For now, they were safe and clear.

* * *

Dalian awoke to the sound of screaming. Rham Jas had regained consciousness shortly after they’d left the city and, aside from requesting some clothing, had done little except weep and stare at the stump of his left arm. Glenwood had not been much more talkative, though the forger from Tiris had at least contributed when it came to making a fire and standing on watch. They were travelling through the grassy scrublands in the foothills of the Claws and were several days from Leith.

The screaming was from the Kirin. Dalian rubbed sleep from his eyes and glanced across the burning embers of their nightly fire to see Rham Jas grunting in pain and holding his left forearm.

‘I will need to get some sleep, you know,’ muttered Dalian, sitting up from his position against a tree. ‘And the screaming is not conducive to restful slumber.’

Rham Jas turned to look at him and held up the stump. ‘It’s growing back.’

Dalian blinked the better to see in the darkness, and gasped. The bloodied stump was slowly extending. As Dalian watched, the flesh was flowing over the charred skin and slowly knitting itself back into some semblance of an arm. Disturbingly, the arm looked somewhat bark-like for a moment, before it took on the swarthy skin tone common to Kirin men.