Julian Corvus had been a divisive leader from the start, but he was scary enough that no one spoke out against him, at least not directly. Vincent wasn't afraid of him, though. They had been something of rivals within the order for years, and Vincent saw him for what he really was—an unstable, volatile lunatic. Vincent never liked him and liked him even less now that he was in charge of the entirety of the Order of the Black Sun. This whole Purdue fiasco was just another thing to add to the pile of mounting evidence that Julian wasn't the right person to lead the Black Sun.
Thankfully, Torsten and Clive seemed to be in agreement with him. He was glad they weren't more of the brown nosing sycophants that treated the order's leader like he was some kind of a god. If the three of them were going to work well together, they would need to be on the same page, especially when it came to the internal politics of the order.
“So when we find him...who gets the first crack at him?” Clive asked like he was already trying to call dibs on their target.
“I imagine you think it should be you...” Torsten said wistfully.
“Only makes sense,” Clive laughed. “I could end it quicker than either of you. You could cut him with that Japanese sword of yours, Vincent. And you...you could stick him with a couple of those little arrows. But if we want this done as soon as possible, it will just take one quick swing of this ax to take his head clean off. That will helps us make sure he stays dead, just like Julian asked for.”
Vincent took a sip of his coffee. He had never liked coffee and never cared much for any amount of energy caffeine could give him, but drinking it was one guaranteed way to keep up appearances in a place like this. “I don't think it has anything to do with efficiency. I think you just want all of the glory for yourself.”
“I won't deny it,” Clive said with a wide toothy smirk. “Not that there's much glory to be had from executing some has-been billionaire explorer. It won't be something I'll be bragging about for long. Mostly, I just want to try out this old Viking ax they gave me. All of that about absorbing souls. Adding Purdue's soul to it might be fun.”
“Who knows if any of those fairy tales about these are even true,” Torsten said, tapping the bags beneath the table with his feet. “Could be a bunch of nonsense they fed us.”
“If they came from the deep vault, then there's no reason to doubt them,” Vincent said reasonably. “They don't just store old knick-knacks down in there. Elijah only tends to the most valuable of items, and many of those are valuable because they are capable of unnatural things.”
Clive glanced around the coffee shop hungrily, tapping the guitar case beside him. “We could always try out a test run. Just to be sure.”
Vincent knew what he was implying, and immediately shot down the idea. “We're not going to turn this place into a slaughterhouse. If we want to test them, then we'll test them on Purdue when we find him.”
Clive looked disappointed, like a child being denied something by his parents. “Fine. But are we at least getting close to him?”
Torsten pulled out his phone. The screen still displayed the marker of David Purdue's location. They were positive that their enemy didn't know that part of the curating process in the deep vaults was that they tagged all of the artifacts they stored with trackers just so they could ensure that they would never lose an item. Or in this case, if one was ever stolen from them, they could get it back with ease.
“We are,” Torsten said. “We could carry out the attack tonight if we wanted.”
“And do we want to?” Clive asked, practically lick his lips with anticipation.
Both Clive and Torsten looked to Vincent for a decision. He hadn't been named the leader of their squad, but it was assumed that he was. He wasn't sure how that happened. Perhaps it was because Clive was mostly a mad dog who needed someone holding the leash, while Torsten wasn't usually part of groups and wouldn't even know how to lead them. Vincent had an air of authority about him. They respected him far more than they respected each other. It was just as Julian hoped; Vincent was the glue that kept them from killing each other.
Julian did say that he wanted Purdue taken care of as quickly as possible. They'd found him, so they might as well go get the job done rather than dilly dally and wait for the right moment. They were armed to the teeth with weapons most people couldn't even imagine. They had the element of surprise. Sure, Purdue had his own powerful sword, and he was apparently a rather hard man to kill, but the odds were in their favor.
They had everything on their side. They might as well take advantage of it.
“Yes,” Vincent said. “We'll kill him tonight.”
Clive and Torsten finally shared the same glee.
And Vincent joined in with an excited smile.
Purdue lay on the motel room bed, staring up at the ceiling with his sheathed sword now resting across his stomach. He had spent days having the Scarlet Sword in his possession, and his mind was just now starting to think of the weapon as his. His sword. In a way, it really was, but of course, he hoped it wouldn't be for too much longer. It would be wonderful if he could get rid of it soon but until he heard from Sasha, he wasn't going to get any closer. He would just stay stuck in a room with his television, his sword, and his room service.
There was a knock on the door.
Purdue ordered food, just like he had been doing every night, from a sandwich shop down the street, but that had only been about ten minutes earlier. This was the fastest they had ever been with their deliveries. He wasn't going to complain—it was actually rather impressive—but it did strike him as a bit odd as he walked to open the door.
At this point, Purdue didn't care if they saw the sword in his hand. He'd held it each time he'd received his delivery and only got strange looks the first couple of times they came. By this point, they were used to him. Hell, he probably had a nickname among the employees as the “guy with the sword in the motel room” or “that Scotsman with the sword who keeps eating sandwiches.” They weren't going to mind him holding it tonight either, which he appreciated, since he didn't have much of a choice. Really, there wasn't a choice at all.
He pulled the door open without even looking in the eye hole. “That was bloody quick--”
The people standing in the doorway weren't the usual delivery boy. There were three of them, and they all looked at him like they had just won the lottery, like he was some trophy that they were going to mount on their walls.
Immediately, Purdue knew that they weren't from the sandwich shop. They were from a far less delicious place. They were more assassins from the Order of the Black Sun, ready to finish the job that Victor Moore started. They were all holding weapons, but none of the guns that Purdue would usually expect from people trying to kill him. Like Victor before them, they were holding weapons that weren't usually used nowadays. One had a bow in his hands. Another had a katana. And the third, the biggest one, had a large battle ax resting along his shoulder line behind his head.
Purdue instinctively backed away, throwing the door shut and raising the Scarlet Sword defensively. No sooner had the door slammed, than it was thrown back open by a kick. The three men entered the room. They circled Purdue like they were a pack of hungry predators ready to pounce on their next meal. They were ravenous, and the archaic weapons they were holding seemed just as thirsty for blood—his blood.
“Can I help you?” Purdue asked casually, but his fingers closed tightly around the hilt of the Scarlet Sword.
“You can, Purdue,” the larger hulking mass of a man said. He had a battle ax in his hands and given his size, he probably knew how to swing it. “You can get down on your knees and start praying.”
Purdue took a cautious step back. “I've never been the kind of man to pray, and something tells me you lot aren't the kind to do it either, aye?”
“Not especially,” the shorter, raven haired man said. “You have caused the Order of the Black Sun a lot of trouble, you know.”
“I'm aware. You all made that v
ery clear when you failed to kill me. Quite a few times now.”
“Julian Corvus wants to correct that mistake. We're here to make sure things are put back to how they should be.”
“Your friend tried to do the same thing.” Purdue managed a little laugh and drew his cursed sword, letting it gleam in his hand. “It didn't turn out well for him.”
None of them seemed intimidated. They looked excited, like they were the opposing team in a sports match. They wanted this challenge, and they were ready for it.
“That man you took that sword from wasn't my friend,” the darker haired man said. “He was my brother...and Victor was a fool for letting himself be disarmed by some spoiled rich boy like you. He was careless, always has been. Still...he was my brother. We're going to make sure you hurt for this...but we're also going to make sure we get this job right this time.”
They each took a step in, shrinking the triangle that they made around Purdue. Purdue's knuckles were white from holding the Scarlet Sword so tightly. He could feel the power of the blade running through his muscles. He felt like he could take them all on, but maybe it wasn't worth the risk. He didn't know what their own weapons could do. If they were anything like the Scarlet Sword, then they could be too dangerous to contend with.
The smartest option might be to make a break for it. If they followed, he might be able to separate them and take them down one by one. They would be easier to fight isolated than having to contend with all of them at once.
As they closed in, he went for the spot that would be easiest to break through—the lankier man with the bow and arrows. Purdue swung at him, and his opponent barely had time to block with the length of the bow. With their weapons clashed, Purdue kicked the man hard, and the archer was knocked onto his back. Before the other two had a chance to bear down on him, Purdue used the new opening he created in the triangle to jump over the archer and dash away. It was still incredible how much energy and speed the sword granted him. He could probably beat most world famous sprinters in a dash now, as long as he was holding the Scarlet Sword.
As he ran out of the building, he glanced back and saw the two men pursuing him but already falling behind. The archer he had kicked had risen onto one knee and was aiming an arrow in his direction. There was no way he would be able to make that shot, especially once Purdue took a hard turn around the corner of the building out of sight.
He would lose them in no time with his heightened physical abilities. Their weapons didn't seem to have the same blessings as the Scarlet Sword did, but they probably didn't have the curse either. Normally, he would have traded that curse away for not being able to run as fast, but in this case, he was grateful for everything his sword gave him.
Purdue glanced back again to see how far back they were. When he looked back, though, he saw a sight that he never imagined he would see.
An arrow was whizzing through the air behind him, having curved around the building, and was close behind, following him. As fast as he was, the arrow moved at an impossible trajectory and planted itself into the back of his leg. Purdue let out a cry and stumbled hard onto his stomach on the sidewalk. Pain shot through him as the arrow lodged itself into his body.
It was impossible. There was no way that shot could have hit its mark. He was around a corner and far away. Arrows didn't fly through the air like that. They fired in a straight trajectory. They didn't bend and shift depending on the obstacles in their way.
It was ludicrous...or was it? Some would say the power of the Scarlet Sword was impossible too, but it wasn't. If that bow came from the same stockpile of artifacts that the Scarlet Sword did, then it probably wasn't any normal sort of weapon. Actually, why would any of them bring old weapons like they had instead of guns unless there was something more to them? Of course there was; he was a moron for thinking otherwise.
The Black Sun wanted him dead, and they knew he had the Scarlet Sword. Of course they would arm their next batch of assassins with special weapons that could take on the Scarlet Sword. That bow could apparently fire an arrow and always hit its mark. Who knew what that big ax and the other man's katana could do? He'd probably find out soon enough, especially since he could see them approaching. The arrow in his leg had given them time to catch up.
“Something wrong, Purdue!?” The dark haired leader holding the katana called as they were growing closer. “Everything alright?”
Purdue managed to climb to his feet. Normally, that arrow would have crippled any movement for the foreseeable future but the power of the Scarlet Sword seemed to be providing him enough strength to overcome the injury. He took hold of the arrow and ripped it out of his leg. He could worry about stitching up the hole it made later. Right now, he just needed to get away. These opponents were even more dangerous than he expected.
The behemoth of the three, with his long sandy hair and the battle ax in his arms, came barreling toward him like a runaway freight train. It was too late for Purdue to fall back, so he decided to stand his ground, despite the pain searing through his leg. He raised the Scarlet Sword into a defensive position, remembering the videos he'd seen, and waited for the giant to come down upon him.
The man swung his ax in a vertical slice, and Purdue raised his sword to meet him. The two distinct blades clashed, and Purdue felt the force of the blow nearly throw him off his feet, but the power from the Scarlet Sword gave him strength enough to withstand it. He was much smaller than his opponent, but his weapon made him almost an equal in raw strength.
“What the--?” the man muttered as he looked with wide eyes at his match. He probably expected to be able to smash right through Purdue. Instead, Purdue was reminded of the old expression about unstoppable forces and immovable objects.
Purdue broke free from the bind and swung his sword at the man who batted it away with his ax. The two fought furiously for a few seconds, though it felt like hours as Purdue narrowly avoided the wide blade of the ax taking his head off. Even with the energy coursing through him, it was taking everything he had not to be killed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the assassin with the bow knocking another arrow. It would probably be just as hard to avoid as the last one.
Purdue dodged another ax swing before knocking the big man stumbling to his side. He needed to divide his attention, and right now, that arrow seemed like the bigger concern.
“You're not half bad,” the leader—Victor Moore's brother—said as he approached with his katana. He raised a hand, signaling his archer ally to hold. “Julian warned us that the Scarlet Sword was a powerful weapon, and seeing as how you haven't been crushed by Clive...I'd say you should be thanking that sword for that.”
“You're not wrong,” Purdue said, pointing his sword at him.
The big man—Clive, he'd been called—got to his feet, looking frustrated. “I got to him first, Vincent.”
“If we're being technical...” Vincent Moore started, glancing back at the waiting archer. “...Torsten got to him first. Got him right in the leg with an arrow. Couldn't have felt good, could it, Purdue?”
Purdue shrugged, trying to act like his injury didn't bother him. “It was an impressive shot. A regular Legolas, that one.”
Vincent snickered. “If he lets loose another arrow, it will probably even be more impressive than the last. Why are you resisting us so much?”
“It might have something to do with the fact that you're trying to kill me.”
“It's only fair,” Vincent argued. “You can't just go ruining the plans of a powerful group and expect to keep getting away with it.”
“They already killed me...unsuccessfully...but I'd say that they already had their chance. Go back and tell Julian that he already failed and to just let me go about my business.”
“I can't do that,” Vincent said. “And there's the matter of my brother--”
“Your brother said a total of like six words to me before he tried to kill me. And I didn't even kill your brother. This sword did. If you want vengeanc
e so bad, I'd be happy to give the sword over to you, but only after I get this curse off my back.”
“And give me the curse without you having to die?” Vincent started laughing. “Yes, I'm sure you would love that. As it stands, though, you are our mission, and we're going to carry it out. It's been interesting, but we really should hurry this along.”
Vincent opened his hand and waved a signal to Torsten far behind him. Purdue watched as the bowed assassin released the arrow in the bowstring. The bolt flew through the air at incredible speed. Purdue knew running wouldn't do him much good—not when that arrow could maneuver its way around buildings. It was like a heat-seeking missile that would track him down. That must have been because of the bow he was using. It was like the Scarlet Sword and presumably these other old weapons. If Purdue couldn't run from it, he'd have to face it head on. Maybe he could swat it out of the air before it got to him, or put something in its way that it couldn't avoid.
Thankfully that potential obstacle came right to him.
“No!” Clive roared. “I won't let that little shit take my kill!”
Vincent reached out to stop him, but it was too late. Clive charge at Purdue like a mad bull. The arrow was nearly on him, but Clive got to him first, becoming a perfect wall to use between Purdue and the incoming shaft. Purdue dodged a frantic ax swing, stepping to his side until Clive was a living shield against the arrow.
The arrow changed course mid-air and tried to go around the lumbering man, but Purdue moved so that it came at him again, before jumping out of the way in time. Clive let out a roar, ready to split Purdue in two with his battle ax, but the arrow's frantic trajectory found itself trying to go right through Clive's head. It planted itself through the back of his skull, and the enormous man fell silent. He collapsed hard onto the street, dead from friendly fire. The tip of the arrow that killed him was peeking through his face, pushing through like it was still trying to reach its actual intended target.
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 10 Page 25
