Chapter 8
Jade stood up from where she was hiding as Kendril entered the kitchen. He moved quickly through the dark room towards the back door.
“What’s going on?” she asked, just as Maklavir appeared in the doorway as well.
“Change of plans,” said Kendril. He glanced carefully out the back door, his pistol held at the ready. For several moments he peered out into the night, then turned back inside. “Looks clear.”
Maklavir stumbled awkwardly through the dark kitchen, stifling an obscenity as he smashed his knee against a low cabinet. “You’re sure we can’t light just one candle?” he asked miserably.
“No,” replied the Ghostwalker sharply. He took hold of the table he had set in front of the back door, moving it carefully and quietly to one side. “And keep your voice down. Jade, I need you to watch the door.”
The girl gave a confused look. “I thought I was watching the door.”
“The front door,” Kendril clarified. He cleared the table away from the back door, peering outside once again. “Maklavir, get over here.”
“I’m trying,” said the diplomat calmly, piecing his way through the darkness. “I can’t see my bloody hand in front of my bloody face in here.”
Kendril leaned up against the wall. “Stables are about twenty yards away. We’ll have to crawl there.”
Maklavir stopped short. “Crawl? In the mud?”
Jade glanced in a confused fashion from Kendril to Maklavir. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on here?”
“We’re getting out, that’s what’s going on.” Kendril grabbed Maklavir, and pulled him against the wall on the other side of the door. “Maklavir here says he can blow through the stockade wall.”
“Blow through the wall?” Jade repeated dumbly. “With what, gunpowder?”
“Yes. Well,” said Maklavir hurriedly, “I might be able to. I won’t know for sure until I see the wall up close.”
Kendril snapped his head towards the diplomat. “Might? You told me it would be no problem.”
Maklavir peered nervously outside. “Yes, well you were talking about a suicidal attack. Besides, I don’t think it will be a problem. The sooner I can examine the wall the sooner I can tell for sure.”
“My,” said Jade with a smile, “it looks like you two have come up with a fantastic plan here.”
Kendril ignored her. He looked at Maklavir, jerking his thumb towards the back door.
“Get going.”
“Um, yes.” Maklavir tapped the hilt of his sword nervously. “I don’t suppose I could simply walk to the stable, and just duck down quite a bit?”
Kendril sighed heavily. “Maklavir, it’s mostly grass. Hardly any mud at all. Now would you please get going?”
The diplomat moved to the door, giving Kendril a cold glance. “This is a silk shirt I’m wearing. If any of my clothes get damaged, I’m holding you responsible.”
“Maklavir…”
Smoothing his shirt, Maklavir nodded. “All right, all right, I’m going.” He slipped out the door, falling onto his hands and knees after inspecting the wet grass carefully.
Kendril glanced back at the common room. He bit his lip, his mind quickly running through different options.
“All right,” he said after a moment. “I want you to follow Maklavir. Out the back and to the stable.”
Jade gave the Ghostwalker a surprised look. “What about you?”
Kendril moved quickly to the door leading back into the common room. “I’m going to stay here. If they make another move on the inn, I’ll try to hold them off.” He shrugged. “Hopefully they’ll think we’re all still in here.”
Jade nodded. “I see. Here, you’ll need this,” she said, holding out the pistol Kendril had given her earlier.
The Ghostwalker shook his head. “Keep it for now. We’re not out of the woods yet.” He paused for a moment. “Or into the woods, as the case may be.”
She shoved the pistol carefully back into her trouser belt. “So you just want me to wait in the stable?”
Kendril tried to see if he could spot Maklavir’s shape from where he stood, but it was too dark to see. “Yes. Assuming this crazy plan actually works, run for the wall as soon as it blows. Get out as fast as you can, and don’t look back. And get Simon, too. He might need to be calmed a bit. Loud noises tend to scare him.”
Jade took a deep breath. “All right. And we’ll meet you outside the wall?”
Kendril gave her a stern glance. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you. Just keep going.”
She looked at the man she had only known for less than two days, and felt a sudden pang of fear. “Promise me you will,” she said quickly, without even thinking.
Kendril was silent for a moment, as if taken by surprise.
“Just…just promise me you’ll come, okay?” she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed.
“Jade,” said Kendril in a low voice, “I’ll come. You have my word.” He smiled. “Besides, I want my mule back.”
“Everyone still in place?”
“Aye.” Regvar moved to the window, staring out between the wooden panes. “Derik and Calham are still at their posts.”
Montrose nodded. “Good. Now let’s get moving. Queltin, soak those rags, and be quick about it. Regvar, find some flints. Make sure they spark.”
“Right boss.” The second henchman began rummaging through the supplies on the shelf. “Got some.”
There were four liquor bottles all together, taken off the shelf behind the store counter. Queltin and Regvar had lined them up carefully on the ground.
Montrose took a step back, watching Queltin carefully as he soaked four white rags in the alcohol, then stuffed one into the top of each bottle.
“All right,” he said quietly. “You both know the drill. Any questions?”
Both henchmen were silent.
“Good,” the one-eyed bounty hunter grunted. “Let’s get to it, then.”
The horse was right where Maklavir had left him, chomping quietly on some hay. Maklavir had won the animal in a game of chance about a year before, and the steed had served him faithfully ever since.
“How are you doing, Veritas?” he whispered, walking carefully across the straw-covered ground towards the beast. The horse whinnied quietly in response. He quickly checked the saddlebag, and removed several small pouches, all tied tightly with string. Smiling, he turned.
There was a man standing there, pistol in hand.
Maklavir dropped the pouches in surprise and reached frantically for his sword. He tripped backwards onto the ground, losing his grip on the hilt of his weapon.
There was a soft giggle. “It’s me, Maklavir,” came the voice.
The diplomat gave a sigh of relief. “Ah, Jade. Talin’s ashes, you nearly scared the life out of me. Where’s Kendril?”
She knelt down next to him, brushing some of the straw off his shoulders. “Back in the inn. He told me to come out here with you.” She picked up one of the pouches of gunpowder, eyeing it uncertainly. “Do you really think this will work?”
Maklavir rose to his feet, picking pieces of straw off his clothes. “There’s only one way to find out.”
The four men splashed through the muddy street, trying to move as quickly and quietly as they could. Regvar and Queltin were in front, both clutching a bottle in each hand, a rag sticking out the top. Behind them Montrose and Uther followed close behind, their crossbows trained at the front door of the inn.
Without a word Regvar and Queltin both broke off to the right, skirting the front of the inn and ducking out of sight of the door and the windows. Queltin stopped at the corner of the inn, while Regvar continued running along the side towards the back. Montrose and Uther remained in the middle of the street, each watching the tavern in front of them for any signs of life.
Setting one bottle down in the mud, Queltin pulled out his flint, and began striking it, his back turned to the cold b
reeze. After a few moments he lifted a bottle in one hand, the rag beginning to burn brightly.
Montrose smiled to himself. This time they wouldn’t fail.
Kendril leaned against the entryway between the kitchen and the common room, trying to watch both the front and the back doors at the same time. If the men outside had seen either Jade or Maklavir move to the stable, they had certainly not done anything about it yet.
He chewed on his lower lip, tapping his fingers repetitively on the door jam. He hated waiting like this. The men across the street would strike again, he knew. It was only a matter of time. He just hoped—
A sudden movement caught his attention, centering his vision on the front door. A light bobbed up the stone steps outside, then turned in the air, almost like someone was holding a candle or lantern of some kind--
Kendril hurled himself to one side as a flaming bottle tumbled in through the front door. It crashed and exploded against a table, splashing burning liquid onto the chairs and floor nearby.
The door to the pantry flung open as Kendril leapt over the bar, ducking low behind a table. The innkeeper stared out in dismay, his eyes wide with horror.
“My inn!” he cried, his hands covering his face. “They’re burning my inn!”
The fire had already begun to burn up one of the sidewalls, and smoke was quickly filling the common room.
Kendril gritted his teeth. He couldn’t put this out. It was too intense. He waved his pistol towards the front door. “Get out!” he yelled over the crackling of the flames.
The innkeeper stepped into the room, staring at the fire as though in shock. “My inn, my inn!” he kept repeating over and over.
The tavern maid came out of the pantry, and quickly caught the man by his arm. “Jorath!” she shouted, tugging him towards the door. “Jorath, please! We have to go!”
Kendril turned to the kitchen door, but just as he did so he caught sight of a man at the inn’s back door. He lifted his pistol, but was already too late.
Another burning bottle flew into the kitchen and shattered on the counter that Maklavir had been hiding behind before. Burning liquid spewed everywhere.
Kendril ducked back into the common room and watched as the tavern maid finally managed to pull the innkeeper out the front door. The fire was blazing out of control now, and smoke was already starting to sting his eyes. Coughing, Kendril began moving around the bar just as another bottle came crashing through a window into the common room, adding to the inferno.
Kendril took an uncertain step back. The flames were blocking the front door. He turned to the kitchen, but stopped cold at the entrance. Fire was already dancing madly across the kitchen cabinets.
He was trapped.
“I got him,” called Uther as he tracked the second of two people who had just emerged from the inn. A moment later he fired crossbow. The shot pegged the man squarely in the throat and knocked him back against the stone steps of the inn.
The woman screamed, falling onto the dying man’s body.
“Get her,” snarled Montrose.
Queltin appeared out of the shadows, his sword in hand. He grabbed the woman by her hair, yanking her roughly out into the street.
Montrose strode over. Uther hurriedly reloaded the crossbow behind him.
The woman could only scream shrilly as Montrose jerked her head around, then spat onto the ground.
“It’s not her,” he said, pushing the tavern maid back to the ground. He turned back to the henchman behind him. “Uther, get around and help Regvar cover the back. I don’t want anyone getting out.”
Still fumbling with his crossbow, Uther dashed for the rear of the inn. Fire was blazing brightly through the front window, and smoke was pouring out the open front door.
Queltin pulled the woman up by her hair, swinging back his sword to strike at her neck. The woman gave out a shrill scream, pulling at the arm that held her hair.
Montrose glanced over.“Queltin!” he snarled. “Let her go.”
Almost reluctantly, the henchman let go of her hair and lowered his sword.
The woman fell down into the mud, then tottered to her feet. She ran off down the street.
Lifting his crossbow again, Montrose turned back to the inn.
“What’s going on?”
Jade looked out through the stable door, which was open just a crack. She gasped. “The inn’s on fire!”
“Wonderful,” said Maklavir sarcastically as he tied a matchcord to one of the powder bags. “It’s absolutely absurd to expect me to work under these kind of conditions.”
“There’s a man, too. He has his back to us. It looks like he’s watching the inn.” Jade turned, looking anxiously at the diplomat behind her. “Kendril’s still in there! We need to help him, Maklavir.”
He snorted, flicking one last piece of straw off his shirtsleeve. “Somehow I doubt that Kendril is in any need of help from either of us. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a wall to blow up.”
The fire, he had to admit, was a pretty good idea. Why storm a building when you can just get everyone inside to come out to you? If they didn’t, of course, they’d all burn to death, but that saved the trouble of killing them. And Kendril had no doubt that both exits of the inn were covered. Even if he risked the flames to get out, he would no doubt be shot down as soon as he made it outside.
Which left him, all things considered, in a pretty rough spot.
Kendril turned from the kitchen, coughing from the smoke that was filling the common room. Flames danced crazily over the wooden floor, and fire was crawling rapidly up the walls. The chairs and tables were a raging furnace. As soon as the support beams caught fire, the whole second story of the inn would come crashing down. It was just a matter of time.
The Ghostwalker frantically swept his eyes over the roaring inferno, trying desperately to think of a way out. His eyes caught sight of the staircase. The railing was starting to burn, but otherwise it looked intact.
His decision made in the space of a heartbeat, Kendril leapt over the bar.
For the second time that evening Maklavir found himself crawling across the ground, and he found it no more pleasant than his first experience. He had left his cape with Jade, along with the animals. Not that it particularly mattered. He would no doubt be dead in the space of two minutes. Then again, he was a gambling man at heart. Say three.
Wincing at the prospect of what his clothes must look like at this point, Maklavir flipped over onto his back, lifting one of the pouches filled with gunpowder and inserting it carefully into the crack between two logs in the stockade wall. He pushed it firmly but carefully with his fingers, making sure it was wedged in place, then made sure that the matchcord was properly attached. He pushed himself further down the length of the wall, risking a look back to see what was going on.
There were two men now, both no more than fifteen yards away. Thankfully they both had their backs to him, and hadn’t seemed to have spotted him yet. That was a small miracle. Their attention seemed to be riveted on the inn. Of course, if either of them turned around they would no doubt see him, and probably the one with the crossbow would shoot him dead.
Hard to miss at fifteen yards.
Maklavir stopped again, pressing yet another powder pouch into the stockade wall. Well, this was certainly going better than he had expected. Perhaps he really would get out of this alive after all. Someday, no doubt years from now, he would look back on this moment and laugh. Well, perhaps not laugh, but—
One of the two men turned their head in Maklavir’s direction. The diplomat froze instantly, the blood running cold in his veins.
Had it been two minutes, then, or three?
The second floor hallway was filled with smoke, but it hardly mattered. Kendril always made it a point to check out his surroundings, and he had been upstairs before. The room he had rented—had it been just earlier that afternoon? It seemed so much longer ago now. In any event, the room he had rented was th
e third door on the left, the one at the end of the hall. And at the very end of the hall, looking out the east side of the inn, was a window.
And that window was going to save Kendril’s life. Or be the death of him. Either way, he thought as he ran down the hall, it certainly beat burning to death.
He struck the window with his left shoulder, and felt the glass shatter out into the night.
“Hey,” said Uther suddenly, tapping Regvar on the shoulder. “What’s that, back behind us?”
“What’s what?” asked Regvar, turning to look.
A sudden shattering noise from the side of the inn caused them both to turn. For a second, they stood there in stupefied silence, then Regvar swore loudly.
“They’re getting out the windows. Come on!”
The question wasn’t really whether the fall would hurt. Any drop from the second floor of a building was going to hurt. The real question was how badly it would hurt, and whether any bones would be broken.
Kendril hit the ground with a roll, trying to absorb as much of the shock as possible. Shards of glass littered the grass around him as he slid to a stop down a slight slope, rolling three times before he came to rest. He stood quickly, one hand reaching for the pistol he had holstered.
Remarkably, it didn’t feel like any of his bones had snapped. Even more remarkably, he couldn’t feel the sharp burn of any cuts yet, either. In front of him was the large shape of the inn. He was looking straight up at its east side, smoke and flames pouring out of every possible opening. .
A sharp cry spun his attention to the right. A man came running around the back of the inn, a basket-hilt sword in his hand. As soon as he saw Kendril, his face twisted into a snarl, and he launched himself forward.
With his other hand reaching for his second pistol, Kendril brought the first up to fire.
He only hoped that Maklavir could actually blow a hole in the wall.
Otherwise, they were all as good as dead…
Montrose heard the shattering of glass, even over the flames and cracking timbers of the inn. It sounded as if it had come from over to the right. He took a few quick sidesteps in that direction, while still keeping one eye on the front door of the inn.
Queltin gave him a questioning look.
Montrose saw someone getting to their feet by the side of the inn. By the light of the flames he could see the figure wore a black cloak.
“It’s him!” he called to Queltin. He swung his crossbow around, bringing it up to his cheek.
For reasons that Maklavir was still having problems fathoming, he was very much still alive.
Not that he was complaining, mind. He had always preferred the prospect of living to that of a painful death. The two men who he thought would be his executors had been distracted by something along the eastern side of the inn, and both had vanished out of sight.
It was the chance Maklavir had needed. Fortune had apparently dealt him the cards he needed, and he wasn’t about to toss them away.
He got to his feet and shoved another powder bag into the crack between the logs, about a foot above his head. Only two or three more and then there was nothing left but to light the fuse.
And hope the gunpowder wasn’t too damp from the rain, of course—
Jade tugged the two bridles she held in her left hand, bringing Kendril’s mule and Maklavir’s horse close to the stable door. In her other hand she held the pistol, which she was beginning to hope and pray she wouldn’t have to use.
It was almost impossible to see what was happening outside through the open crack of the door. She had lost sight of Maklavir, and she couldn’t see Kendril, either.
Veritas whinnied nervously, pulling back on his bridle.
Jade stuck the pistol in her belt, rubbing the horse soothingly on the neck to calm him. The smell of smoke was starting to panic the animal.
Truth be told, it was starting to panic her, too.
Kendril’s pistol thundered, but his shot was too hurried to be accurate. The bullet went wild and punched into the side of the inn.
Regvar bared his teeth, bringing his heavy blade down at the Ghostwalker.
Kendril twisted to one side and dropped his spent pistol to the ground. He reached for one of his short swords with his free hand.
Regvar slashed through empty air, losing his balance slightly, then made another sweeping strike.
Kendril blundered backwards. His other hand came up with his second pistol, but not in time.
The sword was going to cleave his head in two, and if he stepped back, it would just be worse.
So, with the instantaneous reasoning born from long years of fighting, Kendril leapt forward, and smashed the top of his head into Regvar’s face.
The henchman stumbled back with a cry of pain, blood gushing from his broken nose. His sword swiped through empty air.
That one second of hesitation was all Kendril needed.
The Ghostwalker drew his short sword and swung it hard at the thug’s neck. The sharp blade tore though Regvar’s throat, almost severing his head completely. The man tumbled to the ground.
Kendril was already moving.
Without looking to see what damage he had caused, he rotated to look behind him, his second pistol at the ready.
Another man was coming right at him, a sword held ready to attack. It was the same thug he had fought in the inn earlier, and he didn’t look too happy.
Kendril blasted off a quick shot with his pistol, filling the night air with a sharp flash and stench of gunpowder. At the same moment he dropped to the ground.
A crossbow bolt tore through the air where Kendril had been. He had no idea where it had come from.
Queltin gripped his sword in both hands, bringing it down in a frenzied blow.
Kendril artfully rolled to the side. The sword missed him and plowed into the ground. Pivoting, Kendril swiped his own blade at Queltin’s exposed knee.
The henchman was too wily to be caught by such a trick. He dodged out of the way, then lurched his sword back for another strike. Two of the stitches on his cheek burst from the effort.
Kendril leapt to his feet and blocked one blow from the swordsman, then another as Queltin came at him again. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man with a crossbow out in the street in front of the inn, waiting patiently for an open shot. By the back corner of the inn was another man, hurriedly reloading another crossbow.
Kendril was caught in between. It was only a matter of time before he took a bolt in the back or the chest.
Blazing cinders scattered down in all directions as part of the inn wall collapsed. A column of smoke and fire roared up and blocked the way to the front street. The inn was a raging inferno by now. The entire structure was ready to collapse.
If Queltin sensed the danger, he didn’t seem to care. With blood streaming down his cheek from his reopened wound, he charged at Kendril again, his war cry lost in the roar of the flames.
The intense heat searing his back, Kendril stepped forward to meet certain death.
With a shuddering groan the front section of the inn collapsed, sending up a swirling cloud of sparks. Montrose took a few steps back as part of the porch caved in as well. His view of Queltin and the Ghostwalker was completely blocked. Had they been caught in the flames?
He raced back down the street, splashing through a large puddle as he came to the front of the burning inn. Nothing could still be alive in there. Either the girl was dead, or she had somehow escaped.
If she had gotten out of the inn, she couldn’t have gone very—
Montrose stopped in his tracks. The stables. Of course. It was possible, given a little luck, that someone could have crawled from the back of the inn to the stables without being seen from across the street.
Keeping clear of the showering spray of burning fragments and heat, Montrose turned to the left side of the inn.
Only one way to find out for sure…
Jade barely h
ad time to leap to one side before the stable door came crashing open. Maklavir came in and shut the door quickly behind him.
“Did you do it?” Jade asked.
Maklavir grinned. “We’ll know in about fifteen seconds.”
A burning timber crashed down. It barely missed the spot where Uther was standing. He jumped back, uttering a strangled curse.
The whole inn was coming down, and he would go with it, if he wasn’t careful.
Grabbing his half-loaded crossbow, he turned away from the two men fighting in front of him.
Montrose was paying him well, but not that well.
Kendril parried another blow. His sword vibrated from the impact.
Queltin slashed his sword back again and barely missed the Ghostwalker’s chest. A muffled roar came from within the burning inn beside them as part of the second story floor collapsed.
Sweat ran down Kendril’s face. The heat of the blaze was scorching the side of his face. He lashed out with a counterblow, then darted quickly off to one side.
Queltin came at him again, oblivious to the growing danger around them.
As he moved back, Kendril’s foot slipped on a wet patch of grass. With a sharp sense of panic he felt his entire leg slide out from beneath him. He hit the ground hard.
Queltin came towards him, and lifted his sword for a killing blow.
Montrose cleared the back of the inn, seeing the dark shape of the stables in the flickering glare of the fire. The towering stockade wall was just behind it. He raised his crossbow as a sudden shape came running towards him from his right.
“Don’t shoot!” the man cried. “It’s Uther.”
Montrose lowered his weapon, pointing back behind the inn. “The stables. Let’s move.”
“That’s funny,” said Maklavir thoughtfully. “It should have gone off by now. Perhaps I was counting wrong.”
“Maybe we should—“ Jade’s voice stopped mid-sentence. She was peering out of the crack in the stable door once again.
Maklavir quickly straightened. “What’s wrong?”
Jade recoiled from the door, desperately reaching for the pistol in her belt. “It’s him! The man in the inn. He’s—”
Her words were suddenly drowned out by the roar of a huge explosion.
****