Chapter 9
The blast caught Queltin completely by surprise.
He instinctively ducked, thinking for a moment that someone was firing a cannon behind him. But even as he turned his head, he knew the noise was too loud.
An entire section of the stockade wall had simply disintegrated, sending pieces of wood flying in all directions. A huge column of smoke was billowing out across the grass, stretching up into the dark sky.
Queltin suddenly realized he had let his guard down for a fraction of a second. He turned back to his opponent, but the Ghostwalker was already gone.
He whirled frantically, sword at the ready, but he couldn’t see the man anywhere. Choking smoke filled the air all around him, making it difficult to breathe. Queltin held the sword at the ready, backing up as he desperately attempted to find his enemy.
It was no use. There was too much smoke. He could barely—
With a lumbering crash the inn wall came smashing down, fire and burning debris raining down around him. The henchman glanced up just a split-second before flaming death enveloped him.
Queltin didn’t even have time to scream.
Montrose was striding towards the stables, reaching for his mace, when all of a sudden he found himself looking at the night sky. The stars were moving, he noticed. No, he thought, he was moving.
And then he hit the ground.
Splinters of shattered wood sprayed in all directions as Montrose came sliding to a stop, about twenty feet away from where he had been before. Blood ran down his neck from a cut. He tried to get to his feet, but fell backwards again, his ears still ringing from the noise.
When he finally managed to sit up, he gaped in astonishment.
Someone had blown a hole in the stockade wall.
Jade suddenly felt herself thrown against the stable door, as if a giant hand had hurled her. She fell to the floor, the pistol sliding out of her hands. The whole wooden building swayed under the force of the explosion, rocking back and forth for a moment. She heard the frantic sound of the animals braying and whinnying in terror.
Then, everything swirled into darkness.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the ground with a dull throbbing pain in her skull. She instantly reached up for the bandage on her head, but quickly withdrew her hand as she winced in pain.
A figure knelt down next to her. “Jade, are you all right?”
She nodded, trying to clear the dust from her mind. “Yeah, I think so. Just give me a moment.”
“Right. I’ll get the animals.” Maklavir leapt to his feet, then grabbed the bridle of his horse and tried to soothe the creature. He looked down at Jade. “I think I might have used a bit too much gunpowder. Still, all in all not too bad, wouldn’t y—”
The stable door flung open. A man with a loaded crossbow in his hand and a patch over one eye stepped inside. His boots crunched on the straw-covered ground.
“Well, well, well,” Montrose said with a sinister grin. “What have we here?”
Jade scrambled backwards and felt her back hit against a stall. She started to reach for her pistol, then realized that she had lost it in the explosion. A quick glance showed her that it was lying on the ground by the bounty hunter’s feet.
Maklavir raised his hands, dropping the horse’s bridle. “Why hello there,” he said in a light-hearted tone. “Just us stable hands back here. Anything we can help you with?”
Montrose swiveled the crossbow in the diplomat’s direction. “Shut up.” He glanced at Jade. “You’re coming with me. Get up.”
“Surely we can make some kind of arrangement,” said Maklavir quickly. He stepped from behind the stall, his hands still in the air. “Is there something you want?”
“I want her.” Montrose shifted his finger slightly on the finger of his crossbow. He looked at the girl again. “Get to your feet. Now.”
There was a sudden sharp click from behind the bounty hunter.
Montrose grunted. “About bloody time, Uther. Find Quel—” He turned, his words catching in his throat.
Kendril was two steps behind him, his face and clothes smeared with soot. He held a pistol three feet away from Montrose’s head.
“Drop it,” the Ghostwalker snarled.
Montrose dropped the crossbow with a thud to the ground.
Kendril leaned against the door, wiping sweat and ash from his forehead. “Maklavir?”
The diplomat stepped forward. “Yes?”
“Get Jade and get out of here as fast as you can.” He grabbed Montrose, the pistol still aimed at his head, and pulled him out into the night air, pushing him around to face the burning inn.
“One false move and I’ll blow your head off,” Kendril reiterated.
“I have no doubt,” Montrose commented dryly.
About twenty yards away Uther came limping up, his crossbow loaded and ready to fire.
“Tell him to drop it and stand back,” said Kendril.
Uther stopped uncertainly, his crossbow held at the ready. Part of the inn crumpled behind him, sending up a sudden flare of sparks.
Montrose said nothing.
Kendril jammed the pistol against the back of the bounty hunter’s neck. “Tell him.”
Montrose ground his teeth together. The hot barrel of the gun pressed into his skin. “Drop it, Uther.”
The henchman gave Kendril an enraged look, then carefully set the crossbow on the ground.
“Maklavir!” Kendril shouted over his shoulder.
“Coming,” came the reply. The diplomat appeared at the door, leading his horse. Jade appeared behind him, pulling Simon along. The pistol was in her free hand. The mule whined plaintively as he saw Kendril.
“Get going,” said the Ghostwalker, the gun still against Montrose’s neck. “I’ll catch up.”
Jade glanced at Montrose nervously. “But—”
“Just go,” said Kendril, his eyes watching Uther carefully. “I’ve got things covered here.”
Maklavir drew his sword, glancing in the direction of the inn. “Hurry, Jade. We don’t have much time.”
The young woman gave Kendril one last parting look, then quickly followed Maklavir to the smoking hole in the stockade, pulling Simon quickly behind her. The mule tugged obstinately on his bridle, braying and looking back at his master.
Kendril watched carefully until both Jade and Maklavir disappeared into the shadows of the forest beyond the wall. He tightened his grip on the pistol as he saw two other men come running around the side of the inn. One had a musket, and the other a sword in his hand.
Montrose glanced over without moving his head. It was Calham and Derik, the two men he had posted at the gates. They had come running after they saw the explosion. They stopped warily about twenty feet behind Uther, and looked uncertainly at Montrose.
“Well,” said the bounty hunter slowly, the barrel of the pistol still pressed against his neck, “I would say it’s your move, Ghostwalker. Are you going to kill me?”
“I will if you don’t shut up,” snapped Kendril. His eyes darted toward the hole in the stockade wall. He needed to give Maklavir and Jade as much time as possible.
Uther tensed slightly, his hand moving slightly towards the crossbow.
Montrose gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Kendril shoved the barrel of the pistol into Montrose’s neck so hard that the bounty hunter grunted.
“Tell your man to drop that musket.”
Montrose licked his lips. “I have a better idea. How about we talk this over, one civilized human being to another?”
“I don’t think we have anything to talk over. Tell your man to drop his gun.”
“Or what?” said Montrose. “You’ll kill me? If you intended to do that, I think you would have shot me already. I’m the only bargaining chip you have, and not a very good one at that. If you kill me, I guarantee you that these fine gentlemen will kill you.”
“I’ve taken on you
r men before.”
“So you have,” said the bounty hunter. “You seem to be quite a talented swordsman. I could use a man of your ability. Perhaps we could come to some kind of arrangement.”
Kendril smirked, his gaze shifting quickly back and forth between the armed men in front of him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m perfectly serious. Whatever she’s paying you, I’ll beat. Name your price.”
Kendril kept his eyes locked on the men in front of him. “She’s not paying me anything.”
Montrose chuckled darkly. “Oh, I see. So you’re just helping the poor girl out of the kindness of your heart, eh?”
“That’s right.”
“Everyone wants something.” Montrose turned his head slightly, looking at Kendril out of the corner of his eye. “Even you, I’ll bet.”
“I’m not for sale,” Kendril replied sharply. “And keep your head forward, or I’ll blow it off.”
Montrose turned his head back towards the glare of the fire. “You seem a reasonably intelligent man. How far do you think you’ll get with her and that clown she’s with? We’re three days from the nearest town, and that’s by the main road. Wandering through the woods will take even longer. You can’t seriously think that you’ll make it.”
“I seem to be doing fine so far.”
The bounty hunter gave a sinister chuckle. “What, just because you’ve killed some of my men? You’ve gotten lucky, Ghostwalker. This is a battle you can’t win.”
Kendril’s lip curled up into a snarl. “Care to bet?”
Montrose’s voice dropped a notch. “Walk away. I won’t stop you. It’s your last chance of making it out of this alive. Stay with the girl, and I’ll kill you myself.”
Kendril shoved Montrose in the direction of the smoking hole in the wall. The pistol hovered by his head. “You can try.”
The three henchmen spread out. Uther grabbed his crossbow from the ground. They kept pace with the Ghostwalker and his hostage, spreading out across the rain-soaked grass. The inn continued to smolder behind them.
“So you’re going after her?” Montrose shook his head bitterly. “You’re a fool then, and a dead man.”
Kendril paused before the smoking ruin of the stockade wall. He was careful to keep Montrose between himself and the henchmen. “We’ll see.”
He kicked Montrose forward, then dove through the shattered opening behind him into the underbrush.
Montrose cursed as he fell on his stomach, then quickly rose to his feet and reached for his mace that hung from his belt.
Derik’s musket thundered away, the musket ball whistling off into the darkness of the forest.
A fleeting shadow was all Montrose had time to glimpse through the blasted stockade before Kendril’s form vanished entirely into the blackness outside the Outpost wall.
Uther ran up next to Montrose and lifted his unfired crossbow.
“Don’t bother,” said Montrose, waving Uther to put the weapon down. “It’s pitch black out there.” He felt suddenly weary. “We need to regroup.”
Uther reluctantly lowered his weapon. “Regvar’s dead,” he said in an agitated tone, “and last I saw of Queltin he was over by where the wall collapsed.”
Montrose turned, wiping the sweat off his face. “I know.”
“We can’t keep doing this,” said Uther. “That man’s a demon. He’s already killed four men.”
Montrose spun on the thug, his face turning red. “And what do you suggest, Uther? We let them go?” He moved his face close to his henchman’s. “I’ve never backed out of a contract yet, and I’m not about to start now. There’s too much riding on this to stop.”
Derik shuffled uncomfortably. “Maybe Uther is right, boss. We could all end up dead if—”
“None of us is going to die,” Montrose cut in. He looked at his remaining men, glancing from face to face. “If you leave now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your lives. Think about it, gentlemen. There may be fewer of us now, but that means a greater share of the pay off. And,” he added, watching his men’s faces carefully, “our bounty has been doubled.”
The men gaped at him as their minds quickly did the math.
Uther rubbed his nose, deep in thought. “That’s enough to make us all rich men,” he said in astonishment.
“Very rich men,” said Montrose. “Now let’s hurry up. We don’t have long until morning.”
Calham blinked. “You’re not thinking of tracking them at night?”
“We don’t have to,” said Montrose with a cruel smile. “This time, we’ll let them come to us.”
The pistol was empty.
It had been, actually, the entire time that Kendril had been holding it to the bounty hunter’s head. Between the swordfight and the collapsing inn, he hadn’t had time to reload either of his guns. But it didn’t really matter now. His bluff had worked, and he was still alive.
That was all that mattered.
Branches whipped wildly across the Ghostwalker’s face as he plunged ahead into darkness, the pistol still clenched tightly in his right hand. He tried to stay low, glancing back over his shoulder once or twice. The glow from the burning inn behind him was becoming more and more difficult to see.
He was just turning to look into the blackness in front of him when he collided head on with someone in the darkness and knocked them both to the ground.
“Kendril?” came Maklavir’s sputtering voice after a moment. “Is that you?”
Spitting a twig out of his mouth, Kendril rolled over. Damp leaves were plastered to his cape and trousers.
“Yes, it’s me. Where’s Jade?”
“Over here,” came the young woman’s voice. From behind her Kendril heard Simon give a happy snort. “Are you all right?”
The Ghostwalker got to his feet, brushing the foliage off his clothes. “Yeah. What in the halls of Pelos are you two doing waiting here? I told you to get going, not stand around in the middle of the forest.”
Kendril sensed more than saw Maklavir shrug in the gloom.
“We figured you’d never find us if we wandered too far. You can’t see your hand in front of your face out here.”
Kendril brushed by the diplomat, grabbing Simon’s bridle. “Well if I can find you, so can that bounty hunter. Let’s get moving.”
The three of them started forwards into the darkness, their feet crunching on leaves and branches as they went. Somewhere nearby an owl hooted forlornly in the trees.
“So what do we do now?” Jade whispered as they walked.
“Well,” said Kendril with a glance behind him, “assuming we’re not eaten by wolves, I’d say we should try to make for the next town.”
“And what then?” Jade rubbed the mule’s nose absently. “We don’t even know who we’re running from, Kendril. How do we know which direction is safe?” She shook her head viciously. “If only I could remember something…”
“One thing is for sure,” came Maklavir’s voice, “we can’t go far through the forest like this, especially at night. Poor Veritas almost broke his leg at that last incline.” He pushed a wet branch away from his face. “For all we know we’re going in circles out here.”
Kendril rubbed his gloved hand across his face. “For once, Maklavir, I agree with you. Thirty more minutes, and then we stop. That should be far enough into these woods to be safe.” He looked up at the branches above their heads. “They’ll be after us again at first light, though. We need to be ready to move out before then.”
Maklavir stepped carefully around a moss-covered log. “You’re sure they’ll keep coming? Maybe they’ve had enough.”
“Oh, they’ll keep coming all right.” Kendril shook some raindrops from his hood. “This leader of theirs is as determined as they come.”
“So where do we go?” Maklavir asked, an edge of frustration in his voice. “They’re undoubtedly mounted. We only have one horse and a mule. How exactly are we supposed to outrun them?”
“We can
’t,” said Kendril. “We can only elude them. They may be faster, but they don’t know where we are or where we’re going. If we can make it to a good-sized town, then we can try to get some help from the local authorities. Until then, we’re on our own.”
“Sounds like jolly good fun,” said Maklavir sarcastically. He took a deep breath. “Right, so which way do we go, then, east or west?”
“North,” said Kendril, staring ahead into the darkness. “That way we’ll stay off the main road.” He glanced through the gloom at the diplomat. “North of here is mostly marshlands, if I remember correctly. Might be a good place to lose some unwanted company.”
“Or gain even more. Aren’t the marshlands crawling with bandits?”
The Ghostwalker shrugged. “Right now I’d take the chance of bandits over the certainty of those bounty hunters.” He stopped and patted Simon on the muzzle. The beast grunted affectionately.
“This looks like a good enough spot. We’ll camp here, and get moving again in the morning when we can see what we’re doing.”
Maklavir tried to stifle a yawn, but was unsuccessful. “It’s been a long night.”
Kendril nodded, his eyes grim.
“It will be an even longer day.”
****