Ghostwalker (Book 1) (20 page)

Taking a deep breath, Jade grabbed him gently and pulled him with protesting muscles as close to the fire as she could get him.

He moaned slightly, but nothing else.

She leaned back against the log, trying to absorb as much warmth into her quaking body as she could.

What could she do now? There was a horse here, at least. She could take it, if she moved quickly, before the owner came back. Perhaps she could get Kendril to a town, or even back to the Outpost. Someone might be able to help him there. But she needed to move fast.

But somehow, she couldn’t get her body to move. She was completely exhausted, and the fire felt too good. Somehow getting Kendril up on the horse at all seemed like an insurmountable task. She could try to go alone, and bring help. But Kendril would doubtless be dead by then.

Jade closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the fire against her drenched clothes. Just a few seconds. She just needed a few seconds more to rest…

A sudden crunch from behind her brought her back to her senses. She sprang to her feet, and whirled around.

Her breath caught in her throat.

There, not more than ten paces away, was the one-eyed bounty hunter, his mace in his hands.

Jade turned, but stopped short as she caught sight of another man emerging from the opposite side of the campsite, a loaded crossbow in his hands.

“Hello, sweetmeat,” said Montrose. His one good eye twinkled sinisterly. “Remember me?”

Chapter 14

Calham let out a stifled curse as he tripped over a hidden rock on the road. He gave it a vengeful kick that sent it flying.

The mule was right at the edge of the woods, braying loudly and looking around in a confused manner.

Calham moved off the trail, stepping softly through the wet grass toward the trees.

The blasted animal had been carrying on for more than an hour now, and Calham had finally had enough. He had left Derik back at the old mill with a newly fashioned splint on his leg, along with the Ghostwalker’s long rifle and short sword they had taken from the bridge. At first Calham had been content to sit next to their fire and dry off, but the mule’s incessant bleating had slowly driven him crazy. Now he was determined to grab the beast, and end the ceaseless racket one way or another.

Besides, he had a suspicion that the saddlebags on the animal’s back might hold even more of the Ghostwalker’s valuables.

The mule stared at Calham and brayed again.

The mercenary slowed his approach, his eyes riveted on the large saddlebags and pack on the beast’s back. The animal’s previous owner certainly had no more use of them. He was undoubtedly dead by now, most likely drowned.

Calham took a step to the side, crunching down on a small dandelion.

The mule flapped its ears and gave Calham a strange look, but didn’t move.

Calham stepped around a small boulder and reached out a hand.

There was a soft snort, but the mule still didn’t move.

Calham grinned. Stupid animal.

His hand shot out and grabbed the mule’s bridle before the creature could pull back. “Got you!” he sneered.

There was a sudden prick of cold metal against the side of his neck.

“I’d say,” came a voice to his right.

The blood draining from his face, Calham started to turn his head.

The sword pressed a fraction of an inch closer and stopped his movement.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” said the voice. “I have always striven to avoid getting blood on this fine blade, but there is a first time for everything.”

Calham gritted his teeth and dropped the bridle. “What do you want?”

“For you to get rid of your sword, first of all. Actually, you might as well just take the whole belt off. With your left hand, if you don’t mind. Oh, and keep your right where I can see it.”

Reluctantly, the mercenary undid his belt. His sword and knife dropped with a soft clunk to the ground. He raised his hands, trying to catch a glimpse of his assailant out of the corner of his vision.

“Now turn around.”

“What?”

The man stepped in front of Calham, giving his sword a little a wave. “Turn around,” he repeated, as if giving instructions to a particularly slow-witted child.

Calham obeyed, facing back towards the bridge with his hands still in the air. For a moment he considered trying to shout out a warning to Derik, but quickly decided against it. It would only mean his own death.

The point of the sword pressed against the back of his neck. “The man in black and the woman you were hunting,” the voice said, its tone suddenly losing some of its charm, “where are they?”

Calham licked his lips. Of course. This must be the second man that had been with the girl, the one Montrose hadn’t thought was much of a threat. The henchman turned his head ever so slightly.

“Them? Eru only knows. They went over the bridge, into the river.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “Both of them?”

“Yeah.” Calham turned his head back to the grassy slope that led down to the mill and the bridge. A cloud moved in the sky, uncovering the fingernail of a moon above. “The one in black is dead by now. He was shot in the gut. I saw it myself. As for the woman, I doubt she’ll make it very far.”
The point of the sword faltered. “Your leader went after her?”

Calham tensed his muscles, bringing his hands down just slightly. “Yeah. And when he returns, he’ll skin you alive. And then—”

With a crunch Maklavir brought the hilt of his sword down on the mercenary’s head.

The man crumpled in an unconscious heap to the ground.

Simon gave a loud snort.

Maklavir returned his sword to its scabbard. “You’re quite welcome,” he told the mule. “Frankly, he was getting on my nerves as well.” He looked down the slope towards the bridge.

“Well,” he sighed, “one down and one to go.”

Montrose looked down at Kendril’s inert form by the fire, then gave the young woman in front of him a jagged smile.

“Looks like your friend won’t be helping you out this time, love. Now it’s just you and me.”

Jade knelt swiftly and whipped back Kendril’s cloak, then grasped the hilt of his second sword and pulled it loose. She backed away, holding the sword out in front of her.

Montrose stepped over a large branch and twirled his mace by the strap wrapped around his wrist. “Well, well. Going to fight your way out of this, are you?” He gave an evil chuckle. “I certainly hope you do better than last time. I’d certainly hate to dent that pretty head of yours again.”

Jade swallowed, the sword gleaming dully in the firelight. “Who are you?” she asked, trying hard to keep the desperation out of her voice. “What do you want with me?”

Montrose motioned for Uther to put down his crossbow. The henchman did, and drew his sword. “Want? I just want you to come with me. We can do it the easy way, or the hard way. All the same to me.”

“Let’s try the hard way,” said Jade, surprising herself by her own words. She swept out her sword at the startled henchman.

Uther parried the blow. Their blades latched for a moment, then spun around in a tight circle.

Jade stepped forward into another blow. She hammered Uther’s blade and forced him back. The sword felt awkward in her hands.

 Uther lifted his sword.

Jade prepared to block the coming attack.

A sudden movement out of the corner of her vision caught her attention, but too late.

Montrose swung his mace at her, and struck her sword with a reverberating clang. The blade flew out of her hands and landed near the fireplace.

The bounty hunter grabbed her by the arm, his mace at the ready. “Nice try,” he grunted.

Jade tried to pull back, but instantly her head was filled with a terrifying vision.

She was standing by a carriage, on a road in the forest. One of the wheels on the coach was torn completely off the frame, with no sign of the horses. A dead body lay to the side, a man in some kind of white uniform with an arrow in his back. Screams and shouts filled the air. And then, in front of her, standing with the mace ready to strike, was the one-eyed man, his hand on her arm--

“Grab her,” came Montrose’s voice, shaking Jade from the memory.

Uther’s arms grappled her from behind and pinned Jade’s arms to her side.

She struggled, but the henchman only tightened his grip. His unshaven chin rubbed against the back of her neck.

“I hate to damage the merchandise,” said Montrose, “but I think I should quiet you down a bit.” He lifted his free hand and clenched it into a fist. “Say goodnight, beautiful.”

He was about to strike when a hand grabbed his foot, pulling him backwards. Montrose lost his balance and tumbled with a curse to the ground.

Jade stared in disbelief.

It was Kendril.

The Ghostwalker was on his hands and knees, the sword Jade had dropped held loosely in one hand.

Montrose scrambled to get to his feet.

Kendril reared up and slugged him in the face while he was still halfway there. The bounty hunter flew backwards.

Jade could see that the blow had hurt Kendril even more than Montrose. The young man collapsed in agony, his face flinching in pain.

“Kendril!” she shouted. She tried desperately to get loose of the henchman’s grip. The man held on even tighter.

Montrose rose to his feet and wiped some blood away from the corner of his mouth. He spat onto the ground, then smiled at Kendril.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you Ghostwalker?”

Kendril tried to raise himself on his right arm, but it buckled and he collapsed again. The sword fell from his hand.

Montrose took a step forward, and kicked it well out of the Ghostwalker’s reach.

Jade squirmed even more, but her arms were securely pinned.

“Hold her,” ordered Montrose with a glance over at Uther. He looked back at the wounded man in front of him. “I told you if you stayed with the girl I would kill you. I even gave you a chance to go. You should have listened to me when you had the chance.”

He gave Kendril a sudden kick in his wounded side.

The Ghostwalker doubled up, gasping in pain.

 Jade lurched forward with a cry. Tears clouded her vision.

Montrose circled around the wounded man, his mace bobbing up and down in his hand. “Not so tough now, are you?’ he chuckled.

“Please,” Jade begged. Hot tears begin to run down her face. “Please, I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t kill him.”

The one-eyed man looked over at her. “You’re not in much of a position to bargain for anything, love.”

“I’ll come with you quietly,” she sobbed, the back of her throat burning. “Please, tell me what to do. Anything you want.”

Montrose put the tip of his boot under Kendril’s shoulder and flipped the man over onto his back. The Ghostwalker was unconscious.

“Please,” said Jade again, her whole body going limp in Uther’s grasp. “Please.”

The bounty hunter’s eye flickered darkly. “Sorry, sweetmeat. I’m afraid we’re way past that now.”

He raised his mace.

Derik was just starting to bite into a stale loaf of bread when a figure appeared on the road, leading the mule behind. Derik shook his head and shifted his aching leg from where he sat against the mill wall.

It looked like Calham had caught that blasted mule after all. Derik could only hope it had been worth it.

“So,” the henchman said, swallowing the dry chunk of bread in his mouth, “did the beast give you much trouble?”

“Not too much at all,” came an unfamiliar voice. “I have him right here on the back of the mule.”

Derik threw the bread away and went for the sword by his side.

Maklavir strode into the firelight and pointed his own sword at the hapless man.

“I admit that I’m not much of a swordsman,” said Maklavir airily, “but I suspect that even I would be able to take on a man with a broken leg.”

Derik hesitated for a moment, the hilt of his sword in his hand. Then, with a sour look, he dropped the blade.

“That’s better,” said Maklavir with a smile. The mule behind him trotted into the camp, and Derik could see Calham stretched unconscious over the back.

“What do you want?” Derik asked.

His smile never fading, Maklavir pressed the tip of his blade against the thug’s neck.

“Your boots,” he said.

Jade closed her eyes at the last moment and turned her head away from the scene in front of her. Her last image was of Montrose bringing the mace down in a killing blow.

But what came next was not what she expected. There was a sudden low whistling sound, and then the bounty hunter screamed in pain.

Jade opened her eyes and stared in astonishment.

The one-eyed man had dropped his mace and was holding his right arm, cursing in pain. A throwing knife was embedded through the flesh of his forearm. Blood was already streaming down his hand.

“Unhand the woman,” came a quiet but determined voice from one side of the camp.

Jade looked over, her eyes wide.

A man stood at the edge of the makeshift campsite, a gleaming rapier held in his hand. He wore a simple brown shirt with tan pants, and hardy mud-covered boots. A red bandana was wrapped around his neck, and a wide-brimmed hat was on his head. His hair and beard were a dirty blonde. His eyes sparkled blue in the firelight. All his clothes looked stained and worn by the elements, as if he had spent much of his time outdoors.

Uther immediately let go of Jade, throwing her to the ground and fumbling for his sword.

“I wouldn’t,” the bearded man warned, his rapier held at the ready.

“Kill him!” screamed Montrose as he tried to remove the knife from his arm.

The henchman jumped forward and slashed his sword through the air.

The bearded man caught the blow calmly on the edge of his rapier, then twisted it expertly off to the side.

Uther recovered his balance and came in again. He aimed a wild swipe at his adversary’s head.

The bearded man easily deflected the blow again, moving as if he was at fencing practice. He gave his rapier a sharp downward turn.