Chapter 5
Jade was just sliding between the sheets of the bed when the door to her room was violently kicked open. She gave a startled cry and pulled the sheets up.
A man in a dark cloak entered the room, a pistol in one hand. As he moved quickly across the floorboards, Jade recognized the figure.
“Kendril? What--?”
The Ghostwalker made a motion for her to stay silent. He pushed himself up against the side of the window, then glanced outside at the stables and stockyard wall behind the inn. He grunted, then stuck the pistol back in his belt, turning from the window.
“Get dressed,” he said. “Now.”
She stared at him in shock, the bed sheet still pulled up to her neck. She opened her mouth to say something, but never got the chance.
Maklavir appeared at the door, sword in hand. He looked quickly from Kendril to Jade, then back to Kendril, and thrust his blade forward.
“If you try to harm her, you’ll have to go through me first!”
Kendril gave the diplomat a half-amused look, then pointed at Jade. “Be downstairs in two minutes.” He turned to Maklavir, who had a rather dumbfounded expression on his face. “Let’s go,” he said, pushing his way into the hallway. He closed the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
“I’ll say,” said Maklavir, struggling to replace the sword in its scabbard. “Just where have you been? And what in the Halls of Pelos were you doing, bursting into that poor girl’s room like that?” He followed Kendril down the staircase into the tavern.
The innkeeper was standing by the bar, listening to the frantic barmaid sputtering on. He looked up as they appeared.
“You!” he said, pointing at Kendril. “I told you I’d ‘ave no trouble in my inn!”
The barmaid retreated a few steps in fear.
The Ghostwalker reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes swept meticulously over the room.
Maklavir finally managed to replace his sword. “I think you’ve stirred things up here a bit, Kendril. Perhaps—”
He was cut off as Kendril suddenly drew one of his blades. He smashed Maklavir against the wall and pressed the cold steel against his neck. The diplomat struggled to breathe as Kendril pressed him against the wooden surface.
The barmaid screamed, then fled back into the kitchen.
“Tell me right now,” snarled Kendril. “are you with them? Are you?” Thunder rumbled overhead, louder than before.
The diplomat coughed, his hands held wide in surrender. “My good man,” he said, his voice surprisingly collected, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
Kendril pressed the razor sharp edge of the blade a millimeter closer. “Look me in the eyes,” he said, “and say that.”
Maklavir stared defiantly at the Ghostwalker. There was a heartbeat of silence before he spoke. “I’m here by myself. I assure you I don’t know who these others are that you’re speaking of. And,” he added, “I think you’re a raving madman. Now kindly remove this sword from my throat before you get blood on my cape.”
The Ghostwalker stared at him for a moment, snorted, and pushed away. He sheathed his short sword as quickly as he had drawn it.
Maklavir staggered back to his feet, rubbing his neck.
“What in Eru’s name is going on here?” he demanded. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Kendril shot a look at the stairs, then the front door again. The bartender and the tavern maid had disappeared into the kitchen. “Is anyone after you?”
Maklavir blinked. “Pardon?”
“Any jealous husbands, cheated card players? Anyone who would want you dead?”
The diplomat felt his mouth go dry. “Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”
Kendril turned back to the stairs. “Because someone is watching this place.”
Before Maklavir could respond, the kitchen door burst open. The innkeeper reappeared, an ancient-looking blunderbuss held in his hands. The tavern maid cowered behind him.
“Leave,” he said roughly, pointing the firearm at Kendril. He lifted his eyes in Maklavir’s direction. “And you. Both of you get out.”
Maklavir lifted his hands. “What a splendid idea. We were just thinking of taking a walk outside, weren’t we Kendril?”
“No one is leaving,” said Kendril in a steely voice. “Not until I say so.”
The innkeeper took a step forward, the barrel of the blunderbuss a few feet from Kendril’s face. “I’ll blow your head off if’n you don’t. I warned you, I did, about brawlin’ in here. I warned you. I won’t have no fights in my inn.”
A sudden creak at the top of the stairs caused all eyes to shift upwards.
Jade was standing uncertainly at the top of the staircase, her eyes wide at the scene below.
“Kendril--?” she said hesitantly.
In a movement quicker than the eye could follow, the Ghostwalker grabbed the barrel of the blunderbuss and jerked it up towards the ceiling. In the next fraction of a second he tore the weapon out of the surprised innkeeper’s hands, then flipped it around so that it was pointing right back at the man’s face.
The innkeeper went deathly pale. “D—Don’t k—kill me,” he stammered, lifting his hands slowly. “Please. I—”
“Shut up,” Kendril said irritably. “No one’s going to kill you. Just sit down against the wall.” He gestured at the tavern maid with the gun. “You too.” They quickly complied.
“Shall I search them for valuables?” Maklavir queried dryly.
Jade hurried down the staircase. “Kendril, what on earth are you doing?”
The Ghostwalker turned, laying the blunderbuss down on the bar. “We’ve got a problem,” he said. “There are nine men outside, and they mean trouble.”
The young woman stopped short at the bottom of the stairs. “What?”
Kendril pulled out one of his pistols, and quickly began to check the firing mechanism. “Nine men. Two of them were already here. The other seven came into town about two hours ago.”
Jade sank into a chair by the dying fire, one hand on her bandaged wound.
Maklavir gazed at the girl with some concern. “Then perhaps we should leave.”
Kendril looked up from the gun, and gave both Maklavir and Jade a look that sent chills down their spines. “We can’t,” he said in a low voice. “They’ve killed the sentries at both gates, and they’re watching this place right now. I only managed to get in here by crawling on my belly from the stables to the back door, and I’m still not sure they didn’t see me.” He slapped back the lock on the pistol with a sharp click. “We’re trapped.”
The tavern maid gave a whimpering cry and folded her arms over her head. The innkeeper simply stared at Kendril in dumbfounded disbelief.
Maklavir tried to swallow, but found he could not. “What do they want?” he asked, his voice still measured.
“I don’t know,” said Kendril. He finished checking his first pistol, then pulled out another. He looked over at Jade, who was staring at the floorboards. “I was hoping Jade might help us out with that.”
The woman looked up, her face a mask of confusion and fear. “What, me? I don’t know, Kendril, I—” she buried her face in her hands. “I still can’t remember anything…”
Maklavir placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Jade.” He glared at Kendril. “How do you know it’s her they’re after, anyway? It might be you, for all we know.”
Kendril looked up from his pistol. “What? A nice guy like me?” He glanced over at the two tavern workers, who were still sitting against the far wall. The tavern maid was weeping softly. “Relax,” Kendril said gruffly. “I’m not going to hurt either of you. But no one can leave right now. If the men watching this place see it, we’re done for.”
Maklavir sat down in a chair next to Jade, his hand still on her shoulder. “If they’re after one of us, then why haven’t they made their move?”
Kendril crosse
d to the window, edging up against the wall and peering carefully between the cracks in the curtains. “I don’t know. My guess is that they’re waiting until later. They’ve been quiet so far, and I think they want to keep it that way. No one else has even noticed the sentries are dead, as far as I can tell.” He moved the curtain slightly with his finger and peered out. “They think we don’t know they’re here. As far as they’re concerned, they have all night to make their move.”
Maklavir shivered. “I see.” He rubbed Jade’s shoulder. “What exactly do you propose we do?”
Kendril scowled. He looked at Jade, then the innkeeper and the tavern maid, then back to the front door. “I’m not exactly sure. They have all the exits covered, and the whole place is being watched.” A rumble of thunder sounded loudly overhead, and the rain seemed to suddenly increase in tempo.
“Can we try to make it to one of the gates?” asked Maklavir hopefully. “Sneak out without being seen, perhaps, and overpower the guard?”
The Ghostwalker shook his head. “I doubt it. I barely made it in the back door by myself. All of us trying to make it without being seen would be near impossible.”
“You can leave,” said Jade suddenly. All eyes turned to her. She brushed back her hair, her eyes filled with resolve. “You can all leave, right now. It’s me they want, not you. I’m sure of it. I’ll stay here. Please,” she said after a short pause, “it’s your only chance. I don’t want to be responsible for anything happening to any of you.”
Maklavir shook his head. “We don’t know that it’s you they want. For that matter, we don’t know what they want at all.”
“It’s me. It has to be.” She glanced at Kendril. “You think so, too, don’t you Kendril?”
The Ghostwalker said nothing, but quickly looked away.
Jade sighed. “Please, I’m asking all of you. Leave me here. It’s the only way.”
“Absolutely not,” said Maklavir. “I know the situation seems grim, but I have no intention of abandoning you to these thugs. Not without a fight, at least.”
Kendril smiled. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
The men were tense. Reginald could feel it, like a static charge in the air. They no longer sat, but stood uneasily by the door, fingering weapons and glancing periodically out the windows. Only Montrose remained seated in his rocking chair, chewing thoughtfully on his now unlit pipe. Outside the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the thunder and lightning were drifting further away. It looked like the worst of the storm was over.
Montrose pulled out his pocket watch once more, just as he had done half a dozen times in the last half hour or so.
“Eleven twenty-three,” he said quietly.
A few of the thugs dared a peek out the window. Even through the falling rain, it was obvious that candles were still flickering in the common room of the inn across the street.
Reginald sat down in one of the wooden chairs, swishing his cape to one side. “You understand she is not to be injured?”
Montrose nodded, his eyes looking out the window. “We’ll keep her alive.”
“And keep your hands off her. That goes double for your men.”
The bounty hunter grinned. “Don’t worry, Sir Reginald. We won’t so much as touch a hair on her head.”
“This is completely insane.”
Kendril checked the latch on one of the windows by the front door of the tavern. Outside the rain had slowed to a drizzle.
“How so?”
Maklavir gaped at the Ghostwalker. “How so? There are nine men out there, Kendril. You can’t possibly think we can fight them all at once. It’s madness.”
Kendril shifted to the door, and checked the lock carefully. “If they don’t know we’re on to them, then we have a chance.”
The diplomat shook his head in exasperation. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m perfectly serious.” Kendril turned away from the door, then moved quickly back to the bar. He glanced over at the flickering candles along his way, frowning. He jerked his head in the direction of the bartender and the tavern maid, who were still crouched obediently against the wall. “What time do you close the inn?”
The innkeeper seemed surprised by the question. “Uh…around eleven thirty, I guess.”
Kendril scowled as he looked at the clock resting on the fireplace mantle. “Right.” He turned back to the innkeeper and tavern maid. “You have a cellar or basement?”
The bartender nodded his head towards the door set against the right wall. “Just the pantry, but—“
“Good.” Kendril gestured towards the door. “Both of you get in there, and keep your heads down. No matter what you hear, don’t come out if you want to live.”
The two nodded their understanding, then quickly scrambled for the pantry door. It clicked shut behind them.
Maklavir got up from his chair, glancing at the clock himself. “For pity’s sake, try to think this through logically, Kendril.”
“I have.” The Ghostwalker picked up the blunderbuss. “Are you in or out?”
The diplomat blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Kendril held the blunderbuss out to him. “In or out? It’s this or the pantry. Your choice.”
Maklavir looked with vague disgust at the weapon. He swallowed, thinking quickly. “We could try to parley,” he said with the first note of desperation in his voice.
Kendril shook his head. “We have nothing to bargain with. Unless you want to give them Jade. Besides, I don’t think these guys are interested in talking.”
Maklavir took a step back. “We still might be acting prematurely. They might be after someone or something else entirely. It may not be us—”
“They’re watching the inn right now. We’re the only ones here. They’re coming tonight, Maklavir.”
“You don’t know that for sure—“
“Wake up, Maklavir!” Kendril snapped. “They’ve already killed two guards. Why in the Halls of Pelos would they wait?”
Maklavir played his last card. “We could try to get help,” he said. “There are others here in town. Perhaps—”
“We can’t get out of this inn without being seen. And even if we could, no one here would help us. They’re all just drifters, mostly hunters and trappers. They’ll lie low and save their own skins.” He thrust the gun forward once again. “You said before you wouldn’t give Jade up without a fight. So here we are. What are you going to do, Maklavir?”
The diplomat hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixated on the blunderbuss. Then, very slowly, he reached out and took the weapon.
“I’m in.”
Kendril nodded. “Good man. There are two entrances to this place, one in the front and one in the back. I think I can cover things out here, but I need you to guard the rear.”
Maklavir nodded slowly. “Tell me what to do.”
Kendril vaulted over the counter, flinging open the door to the kitchen. “Keep this door open, and watch the back door, through there.” He pointed at it through the rows of pots and pans. He looked Maklavir in the eyes. “Whatever happens, and no matter what you hear out here, don’t take your eyes off that door for even a second, understand?”
The diplomat nodded silently. “I understand. What then?”
“If anyone comes through, shoot them. Don’t wait to see who it is, and don’t hesitate. Just fire.”
“I see,” said the diplomat nervously. “I should warn you, I’m not much of a marksman.”
“You don’t have to be. This blunderbuss will hit anything standing in front of you. Don’t worry about aiming. And don’t even think of shooting into the front room. You’ll hit me along with anyone else.”
Maklavir peered nervously into the darkened kitchen. “And what happens if the first shot doesn’t stop them?”
Kendril sighed. “Then use that sword you’ve got attached to your belt.”
“Ah, yes.” Maklavir tugged at his goatee nervously. “About that. To be honest, I’m afraid
that I’m really not much of a swordsman. Actually, the weapon is largely decorative.”
Kendril’s eyes narrowed. “All right, then make sure you don’t miss with the blunderbuss.” He glanced into the dark kitchen. “I suggest hiding behind that cabinet, there. Probably your best cover.”
“And where should I be?” Jade’s voice came suddenly from the stairway landing. Both Kendril and Maklavir glanced up.
The green dress was gone. In its place she was wearing a pair of worn trousers, a blue shirt, and a large vest. On her head was a broad-brimmed black hat, with a yellow feather sticking jauntily from the top. A pair of well-traveled boots was on her feet.
She smiled, giving a mock pose. “I found these in the closet upstairs. So what do you think?”
Maklavir smiled. “Not bad. New look, I take it?”
“Tuck your hair in,” said Kendril, “and try to keep the hat pulled down low.”
Jade came carefully down the stairs. “Do you really think this will fool anyone?”
Kendril walked quickly around the edge of the bar. “Probably not. But in the dark, it might be enough to confuse them, especially if they’re looking for a woman in a dress.”
The young woman walked over to one of the tables. “So where should I be?”
Kendril blew out one of the candles, giving the clock on the mantle another glance. “The pantry. That door, over there.”
“Absolutely not.” Jade walked over and blew out two more candles. The room grew dark, lit only slightly by the dying glows of the fire.
“This isn’t a debate,” said Kendril roughly. “Get into the pantry, and stay there until I tell you things are safe.”
“I’m not going to hide out while you two risk your lives up here.” Jade took off her hat, pushing her hair up into a bundle and then putting it carefully back on again. “I’m staying whether you like it or not.” She glared at Kendril defiantly. “Now where do you want me to be?”
Maklavir leaned in through the open kitchen door. “Best to just give in, Kendril. I’ve found that arguing with a woman is a rather pointless endeavor.”
Kendril frowned. “All right. Get behind the bar.”
Jade crossed her arms. “I told you I wasn’t going to hide—”
The Ghostwalker moved swiftly to the bar himself. “If you want to stand out in the middle of the room and make yourself a better target, go right ahead. As for me, I’m getting behind the bar.” He dropped behind the counter, resting his back against a large barrel.
For a moment Jade looked indecisive, then she walked around the counter, and plopped down beside Kendril.
“So,” said Maklavir’s whispered voice from the darkness of the kitchen. “What do we do now?”
Kendril closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the bar. “We wait.”
****