Soulbinder (Book 3) (17 page)

The Ghostwalker, whoever he had been, was gone. Not that she was surprised. He had been as clumsy as a lame deer. It was amazing he had made it as far as he had. Most likely he had fallen to his death.

Of course, the fact that a Ghostwalker was in Vorten at all was bad. The fact that he had caught her by surprise was even worse. How many others were there with him?

And more importantly, how much did they know?

She was already moving, prancing down the last snow-covered rooftop. She neared the edge, and fell to her knees as she glanced over the side.

A small city square lay below her, no more than fifty yards across. Several glow-globes stood around the perimeter, causing the snow to glisten white on the cobblestones in their light. At this time of night the square was deserted.

Deserted, that is, except for a black carriage parked on the far side. Black drapes hung over each of the doors, blocking whatever crest or symbol was painted on the side.

The assassin gave a half-smile, then jumped.

She turned once in the air before landing in the snow below, her black cloak billowing out behind her like wings. She paused only a moment after her landing, adjusting her half mask casually with one hand.

Then she rose to her feet, moving swiftly through the snow towards the carriage.

She was halfway there when she heard the sound of hoofs from her right, muffled in the snow.

She whirled around and reached a hand towards her belt.

A horse and a pony careened into the square and pulled up to a panting halt. The riders, a bearded man and a red-haired woman carrying a bow, stared down at her for a moment in surprise.

The man reached for the handle of his rapier.

The red-haired woman went for an arrow at same moment.

They were both too slow.

In a fraction of a second the assassin transferred the throwing blades that were stored in her belt to her hands, then flicked both wrists forward.

Without looking to see what the result was, she dashed towards the carriage.

Joseph had his sword half-drawn when he saw the dull flash of the blades coming towards him, spinning through the air like deadly silver hornets.

He shouted out a warning to Kara as he lurched back on his horse, causing his mount to kick up its front legs.

He felt at least two or three of the small projectiles hit the front of his poor beast, which screamed in pain and terror. Joseph tried desperately to disentangle his legs from the stirrups as the beast fell to the side, its body thrashing as it did.

Joseph tensed his body, feeling his leg pull free at the last possible moment.

He rolled off through the snow, one hand still on his rapier.

His horse turned over completely, its legs kicking in the air as blood gushed from its neck.

Joseph dove off to one side, narrowly avoiding the crashing bulk of the wounded animal. He got to one knee, and ripped the rapier free from its scabbard.

The black-clad assassin was almost to the carriage, moving swiftly across the square.

Joseph started forward when he saw Kara’s pony out of the corner of his eye, galloping back towards the street they had come from.

Feeling a sudden catch in his throat, he glanced behind him.

Kara lay in the snow on her back, struggling to get back up to a sitting position. Her right hand had dropped her bow, and was clutching at her left arm.

“Kara!” Joseph shouted, feeling his grip loosen on the rapier.

Her hand closed on the small metal blade sticking out of her arm. “I’m all right!” she gasped. With one quick jerk she pulled the blade out. She flung the blood-stained object into the snow and clamped her free hand down over the wound. “Quickly, Joseph!”

The scout turned, his feet flying over the snow-covered cobblestones of the square. He felt a sudden fury rise up inside of him, the anger swelling with each pounding step he took.

The black-clad assassin already had the door to the carriage half-open. Her head snapped back momentarily towards Joseph.

He caught a brief glimpse of the white mask covering half her face, making her look like some kind of unearthly demon. In the same moment he saw the driver on top of the carriage pull out a short-barreled blunderbuss from behind the seat, cocking back the lock and bringing it to his shoulder.

Joseph bent down as he ran, drawing the double-bladed knife he always kept tucked into his boot. As he straightened up he sent the blade flying forwards.

The metal flashed in the white light of the glow-globes.

The driver of the carriage lurched back and shouted in pain. He pitched the blunderbuss up into the air.

The weapon discharged, blasting out with a roar of light and flame that lit the whole street for a brief instant.

A window in the building behind the carriage shattered completely. Parts of the nearby wall smoked where shot tore into it.

Joseph kept running. He moved his rapier up into attack position.

The driver of the carriage let out a string of obscenities. He yanked the throwing knife from his shoulder and hurled it aside.

The woman leapt towards Joseph’s right. She drew a thin, cruelly curved long knife out in each of her hands. The half of her face that was visible stared at Joseph expressionlessly. Her two long knives twirled.

Against his better judgment, Joseph risked a glance back at Kara.

The red-headed thief was sitting up in the snow, trying unsuccessfully to notch an arrow to her bow with her wounded arm. She saw him looking back at her, and her face blanched with concern.

“
Joseph
!”

He whirled back to his front, and cursed himself for his momentary distraction. His head had only been turned for a fraction of a second.

Only a fraction of a second, and the assassin had already crossed the distance between them.

Her blades slashed towards his chest and stomach.

Surprised by the rapidity of her attack, Joseph reeled back. He blocked two of her blows in quick succession with his rapier.

She ducked effortlessly under his riposte, snaking aside with amazing agility.

Joseph dodged back another step to avoid the tip of one of her knives, and almost lost his footing on the slick cobblestones.

The assassin spun around, her brown ponytail flying through the air. She bent close to the snow-covered ground, and lashed out a leg.

Joseph couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the attack.

It smashed into his knees, and sent him toppling him down into the snow. His rapier went flying and fell almost an arm’s length away.

The assassin was already back on her feet, using the momentum of her spin to straighten herself out again. She came in fast, giving her knives another twirl.

Even as he watched his own death approach, Joseph found himself stupidly amazed. This assassin fought and moved like no one he had ever seen before. Her movements were planned, exact, yet fluid and graceful like a dancer’s.

She was better than him, better even than Kendril.

He reached for the rapier, already knowing he would never get to it in time.

The assassin slid in and kicked the blade well out of his reach. She skipped back, and brought one of her long knives down for the killing blow.

Joseph could only watch.

A sharp
crack
filled the air, and simultaneously a tuft of snow exploded next to the assassin’s leg.

Her head jerked up, and stared at the rooftops behind them.

Joseph thought he saw the briefest trace of a mocking smile on her half face, then she jumped back towards the carriage.

Joseph dove through the snow and grabbed for the hilt of his rapier. He risked a look up at the rooftops behind him.

There, standing right on the edge with a smoking pistol in one hand, was Kendril.

The next time he went for a rooftop chase, Kendril decided, he was definitely bringing the rifle.

His pistols were finely crafted dueling firearms, but even they couldn’t hope to be very accurate at sniping range. The hurried shot he had taken at the assassin below had been designed more to distract and scare her than actually harm her.

Actually, he had been impressed that the bullet had landed as close to her as it had.

Joseph, for the time being, was safe.

Galla’s killer, however, was getting away.

The assassin throw open the door to the black carriage. She shouted up at the driver and dove inside.

Still holding his wounded arm, the man on top of the carriage gave the reins a quick lash.

The horses jolted forward. The carriage began to move, heading towards the street at the northern end of the square.

Kendril didn’t think. He didn’t have time to. Joseph and Kara were both down and off their mounts. If the carriage made it out of the square, Kendril knew, they would lose the assassin for good.

Turning to his left, the Ghostwalker started bolting across the edge of the icicle-encrusted roof. He glanced down at the speeding carriage below him.

Windows were beginning to open up around the square, and a few heads poked out to investigate the sounds of fighting.

Kendril paid them no heed.

He reached the end of the roof, and glimpsed another about ten feet below him.

The carriage rattled forward on his right. It was almost to the side street.

Kendril leaped, praying to Eru in one quick breath that he wouldn’t simply go straight through the roof below him.

His feet smashed into the wooden shingles. Clumps of snow and ice erupted from the impact. The noise seemed almost as loud as a gunshot, and echoed across the square.

The roof, however, held under his weight.

He scrambled to his feet, dashing across the lower roof towards its edge.

The carriage was already rumbling by, the horses pulling it faster than Kendril could ever hope to run.

He only had one chance, one brief moment of intersection before the carriage was gone for good.

Kendril ran to the edge of the roof.

The carriage passed by below him. Its top was only a few feet below where he stood.

Without slowing, he reached the end of the roof.

Then he jumped.

His feet struck the top of the carriage squarely in the center, and tore through the firm layer of fabric that covered the top.

Kendril tumbled down inside, and smashed into one of the seats as he fell.

He instantly launched himself forward, grabbing at the woman next to him.

If Kendril’s entrance into the carriage had surprised the assassin at all, she certainly didn’t show it.

She reacted immediately, blocking his awkward blow and leaning back on the seat to kick him.

Kendril pressed his back against the forward seat and tried to press her as far back as he could.

He didn’t even try to draw one of his swords. Being in the back of the carriage was like fighting in a closet. There was hardly room to breathe, much less swing a weapon.

He dodged a strike from one of her elbows, and struck out with a fist that met nothing but cushioned seat.

The assassin wormed away, then kneed him in the side as she reached for a dagger on her belt.

Kendril gasped in pain and twisted to one side himself as he snatched at her arm, trying to keep her from drawing the weapon.

The carriage hit a rut in the road and threw both of the grappling passengers hard into the side door.

Kendril kept his grip tight on the woman’s arm all the while, struggling against her as she tried to pull her knife free. His free hand grabbed the belt around her waist for one moment.

And then, before Kendril even knew what was happening, she ducked down, snapped expertly to the side, and kicked him hard with both her legs.

He felt his back hit the carriage door.

With one hit too many, the door cracked open and Kendril went flying out into the street.

The snow cushioned his fall, but he still hit hard, rolling until he collided with the wall of a building.

He tottered to his feet and reached for a pistol, but it was already too late.

The carriage disappeared around a bend and was gone.

Kendril wiped the wet snow from his face, and used the moment to catch his breath. He rubbed his side where he had been kicked, staring down the darkened street in the direction the carriage had gone.

“Kendril! Are you alright?” Joseph came pounding up behind him, his rapier back in his hand.

He nodded. “Fine. Nothing hurt but my pride.” He turned his head back towards his friend. “How’s Kara?”

“She took a throwing blade in the arm. It doesn’t look too serious. She’s collecting the horses right now.”

“Good,” said Kendril. He started back down the street, shaking flakes of snow off his arm. “Time for us to get out of here before we draw any more attention. We have work to do.”

Joseph arched an eyebrow as he returned his rapier to its sheath. “Work? I don’t see what there is we can do. Galla is dead, and we’ve just lost his killer.” He shuddered briefly against the cold. “Seems like a dead end to me.”

“Not quite.” Kendril stopped and held out a gloved fist. He relaxed his fingers, and the pendant with the dark red jewel fell out, dangling in his grip.

The Ghostwalker gave a triumphant smile. “We have this.”

Chapter 11

“Stop squirming.” Joseph dabbed lightly at the wound with the wet cloth, squinting to see in the light of the fireplace.

“It hurts,” Kara replied.

“It’s
supposed
to hurt.” Joseph leaned back, and dropped the cloth back onto the bed. “At least for now. That should help prevent any infection.” He fumbled in his bag, and pulled out another small bottle. “And this should numb up the area enough for me to start stitching.”

Kara gave a heavy sigh, looking away at the door. “It’s just a little wound, Joseph. You’re making too much of a fuss.”

“Just hold still,” the scout commanded. He took her slender arm and dabbed the salve over the cut. “You let me do this right and it will heal in half the time.”

The thief smiled. “Those magical herbs of yours?”