Authors: Ben Cassidy
Tomas passed right through where he had been standing. His dagger tore through the edge of Kendril’s cloak, barely missing his back.
Kendril whirled around, lifting his swords. “Tomas,” he roared, “what—?”
The other Ghostwalker came at him again, slashing his knife at Kendril’s face.
Kendril tripped backwards. He blocked the dagger attack with his sword.
Tomas twisted, stabbing in under Kendril’s guard.
Kendril slammed the hilt of his second sword down on Tomas’ outstretched hand, then kicked him back with his heavy boot.
Tomas fell backwards against the opposite wall of the cave. He shook his head, blinking his eyes.
Bronwyn dove for the pendant. She grabbed it up and rolled up to her knees in one smooth motion.
The pendant flared back to life.
Kendril started forward.
“
Kill him.”
Bronwyn repeated. A cruel smile was on her face. The pendant wasn’t turned towards Kendril.
It was turned towards Tomas.
Tomas blinked again. His face twisted in a snarl. He launched himself at Kendril.
Normally fighting a man with a single dagger while Kendril had both his short swords would have been simply laughable. But this was different. Kendril didn’t want to hurt Tomas, or kill him. But every move he could think of making in response to the man’s attack involved either killing him outright or inflicting serious harm.
For once in his life, Kendril was in a combat where he didn’t know what to do.
He dodged to one side.
Tomas’ dagger swiped through the air. It barely missed cutting across Kendril’s arm.
Kendril swore. He tried to find sure footing on the uneven floor of the chamber.
Bronwyn got to her feet. She gave Kendril a smirk, then dashed for the chamber’s exit.
Tomas came at Kendril again.
This was all wrong. The other Jombards were no doubt coming by now, and it would only take them seconds to get here. If Bronwyn got away, then Kendril would never catch her again.
But the mesmerized Tomas was between him and the witch.
Time seemed to slow for a moment. Kendril saw Tomas coming at him, the upraised dagger in his hand. He saw Bronwyn moving for the exit to the chamber. It was all happening slowly, dripping like molasses.
And then he saw what to do.
Kendril dropped his swords.
Tomas raised his dagger arm, ready to plunge it down into Kendril’s chest.
Kendril leapt forward. He slammed the edge of his forearm into Tomas’ dagger arm, blocking the attack, then bashed the fist of his hand into Tomas’ face.
For all his stealth and skill with the knife, Tomas was no trained fighter, at least not a fighter of Kendril’s caliber. The move took him off-guard, and he crashed backwards.
But Kendril didn’t stop.
He used the momentum from the attack to propel himself forward and throw himself at Bronwyn. He slammed into her and grabbed her with both arms. They crashed painfully to the floor of the cave, the rock jolting their bodies.
Bronwyn fought and kicked like a wildcat, struggling against Kendril’s tight embrace. She twisted, grunted and spat as she tried to get her arms loose.
Kendril squeezed harder. He managed to glance off to the side.
Tomas was on the ground, unmoving.
Kendril hoped to Eru that he hadn’t killed him.
“Get…
off
—” Bronwyn panted.
Kendril’s mind raced. The only way out of this room was through the chamber exit. Tomas was unconscious. At this rate he would have to carry Tomas and Bronwyn out.
Maybe Eru hadn’t cursed him with perpetual life after all.
Shouts and hammering footfalls echoed from the corridor back to the main cavern. They sounded disturbingly close.
Bronwyn twisted, kicking her legs. Her foot caught the lamp and knocked it over.
The sound of shattering glass filled the chamber, and the light fluttered out. Darkness plunged over both Kendril and Bronwyn as they struggled.
No, darkness was too vague a word. It was blackness, almost near-total blackness. Kendril felt as if someone had thrown a heavy blanket over his face. While his eyes were closed.
He could feel Bronwyn underneath him, hissing and fighting. The dagger was still in her hand, even though Kendril couldn’t see it anymore. He increased his grip on her slender wrist, trying to ensure that she didn’t get a chance to attack with it.
Kendril felt a sharp, stabbing lance of pain in his left wrist.
Bronwyn had pushed the dagger downwards, and it had cut into his wrist.
This day just couldn’t get any better.
Kendril snarled, and bit back a grunt of pain. He wasn’t about to give the witch the satisfaction. He pushed her dagger hand all the way to the cold stone floor and pinned her legs down with his heavy boots.
Bronwyn screamed in rage and frustration, wiggling to get out from under him.
More shouts in the harsh language of the Jombards sounded from the corridor. The sound of running had ceased.
The darkness was undoubtedly both a blessing and a curse. It was causing the Jombards to hesitate. No one liked running blindly into a pitch-black cave when there was no way of knowing who or what was inside.
Still, Kendril’s time was running short, and he didn’t have the seconds to waste wrestling with Bronwyn. It was time to end this.
He twisted to one side, still holding the woman’s dagger hand down, and pressed the side of his right arm hard into her neck.
Bronwyn grunted a curse. She grabbed at his arm. Her body rolled desperately underneath him.
Kendril closed his eyes, keeping his arm tight against her neck. He balled his hand into a fist.
Within seconds, Bronwyn’s struggles started to grow weaker. She moaned. Her dagger hand stopped pushing against him. Her legs stopped kicking.
Kendril bit his lip, trying to ignore the stabbing pain from his hand. He had banged his knee against the stone floor again, too, and it throbbed with pain.
Just a few more seconds
….
Bronwyn gave one last confused grunt, then went limp.
Kendril kept the pressure on her neck for a few more seconds, just to make sure she was really out. Then he rolled off her with a gasp. He felt the warm puddle of lamp oil as it soaked his trouser leg, and felt the pricks of broken glass.
An orange light flickered just out of sight around the bend. The near-darkness of the chamber lifted slightly, but it was still almost totally black.
The Jombards were still coming, and they were bringing light with them, probably torches from the fire.
That meant he had bought himself mere seconds.
Kendril closed his eyes, and mentally brought up a picture of the small chamber he was in. He had entered, fired his pistols, and dropped them to the cave floor. He could still smell the raw smell of gunpowder in the air. The firearms should be within feet of him.
The orange light from the chamber’s exit grew brighter. A barked command echoed down the tunnel.
Kendril scowled. He didn’t have much time. He scooted forward across the floor, patting his gloved hand in the darkness for his weapons.
To his side Bronwyn gave a low moan.
Even if Kendril had had something on hand to tie the woman up with, he didn’t have the seconds to waste. He could only hope that she would stay unconscious for the next few minutes.
Kendril’s hand landed on the warm barrel of his flintlock pistol. He grinned in the darkness, and scooped the weapon up. A quick exploration to either side revealed the other weapon.
Finally, something was going right.
The light at the tunnel brightened. Footsteps echoed down the stone passage. The Jombards were coming again.
Kendril reloaded the guns.
He had done it so many times before, both in the heat of battle and out of it, that he had often thought he could do it with his eyes shut. Now he essentially was. In the darkness he didn’t even try to see what he was doing, but moved by feel and habit.
The blazing torches came into view around the corner just as Kendril clicked the flint back on the second pistol. After the pitch-darkness of the cave the light was almost blinding.
Kendril stood and moved forward. He brought both pistols up.
There were four Jombards. Two held torches. All of them had weapons. They came forward cautiously, jabbering to each other as they went.
Kendril calmly aimed and shot the two in front.
The twin flashes of the pistol lit the cavern like lightning. The blasts were deafening in the confined space.
The two Jombards flew back into the darkness as if they had been struck by invisible fists.
Kendril shook the smoke from his pistols and stepped back towards where he had dropped his swords. For a moment he was out of view from the two other Jombards.
Cries of alarm and panic came from the tunnel.
Kendril smiled.
Good
. Chances were, with the torchlight directly in their eyes, the poor fools hadn’t even seen Kendril fully before he had fired at them. He holstered his pistols, and snatched up the swords from the ground.
The first Jombard came into the cave with a scream. He had a sword in one hand and a wooden club notched with iron spikes in the other.
Kendril barreled straight towards him.
The Jombard gave out a bellow of pure rage and swung his sword at Kendril’s head.
Kendril parried, and swiped with his second sword at the Jombard’s mid-section.
The barbarian jumped back. He howled as he stepped across the broken glass of the lantern.
A second Jombard came into the cave, holding a torch in one hand and an axe in the other.
Kendril turned. He blocked another clumsy attack and then slashed his sword across the first Jombard’s face.
The man screamed. He dropped the club and clapped his hand to his bleeding face.
Kendril pivoted just in time to deflect a hasty attack from the second Jombard.
The barbarian snarled, then came at Kendril again, using the blazing torch like a weapon.
Kendril dodged back. He kicked the battered lantern out of his way.
The torch weaved back and forth. The brilliant flame burned Kendril’s eyes. He barely managed to beat off an attack from the man’s axe.
The first Jombard came at Kendril from the side with a scream of pure rage. Blood stained half his face and his shoulder as well.
Kendril dove, skating around the edge of the stabbing longsword. He let the Jombard’s momentum carry him past, then finished the man off with a savage thrust to his neck.
The Jombard collapsed in a heap to the floor.
The second Jombard jabbed his torch straight at Kendril’s face.
Kendril darted out of the way, then struck with his second blade at the Jombard’s arm. He felt the sword connect and cut deeply.
The barbarian screamed. He dropped his torch.
Keeping his wits about him, Kendril leapt back.
The floor exploded in a pool of liquid flame, hissing to life from where the fallen torch had fallen in the lantern oil.
The Jombard gave a cry and fell back. His bare feet were burning, and he stamped them wildly on the ground to put out the fire.
Kendril crossed quickly around the blaze, carefully to keep his own boots and trousers away from the dancing flames.
The Jombard was so busy trying to put out the fire that he never saw Kendril’s blade until it was too late.
There was no time for a celebration. Kendril dashed over to Bronwyn, and dragged the unconscious woman away from the flames. Part of her robe had started to catch fire. Kendril stamped it out with his boot.
He hadn’t gone through all this just to watch Bronwyn burn to death.
Kendril looked up, but was relieved to see that Tomas’ fallen form was well clear of the fire. Hopefully when the Ghostwalker woke up he would finally be free of Bronwyn’s spell.
The oil fire put out a choking black smoke that was quickly filling the small chamber. It was already seeping out into the open corridor, however, and from there Kendril guessed it would dissipate harmlessly out into the open air. Tomas and Bronwyn were both low to the ground, so they should be fine for now.
Kendril coughed. His eyes burned from the mix of gunpowder and oil smoke, but he couldn’t stop now.
He flipped Bronwyn over onto her stomach, pulling her arms behind her back.
She moaned again, but didn’t move.
Kendril tore off the sash around her waist, then began to tie her wrists together.
“
Ghostwalker
,” a voice hissed from across the room.
Kendril shot to his feet, surprised.
A Jombard stood just inside the doorway. He was well-built, his chest and arms muscled and solid. He wore something around his neck, a leather strap from which some kind of wooden tube or vial hung. A wolf-skin was thrown over his shoulders and up over his head. He stared at Kendril with wild eyes. Oddly enough, he held no weapons at all.
Kendril readied his own weapons and gave a smile. “Just you?” he said, knowing the Jombard probably couldn’t understand him. “All right, then. Bring it.”
The fire had blazed down, but it still simmered, filling the cavern with a dull red light and reeking clouds of black smoke that clung to the ceiling.
The Jombard tore the vial and strap from his neck. “The Great Fang comes,” the man said. His words were broken and heavily accented. “Fire, death come you.”
Kendril gave his swords a twirl. The blades hummed through the air. “Trust me, it’s not the first time I’ve faced down fire or death.”
The Jombard pulled the top off the wooden flask. He tipped it back and drank the contents.
“I’ve had about enough of this,” Kendril said. He moved forward.
The Jombard lurched, grabbing at his stomach. He bent almost double, crying out in ghastly pain.
Kendril stopped, genuinely confused.
“Blood of the Great Fang,” the Jombard gasped. “The Wolf god comes.”
Kendril felt an inexplicable chill crawl up his spine. The Jombard’s voice had grown suddenly deeper, with an almost inhuman tinge to it. It sounded like the growl of an animal.
The Jombard roared. The bellow was bestial, primal. He raised himself up to his full height.