Book 2 Dead Man's Hand: The Knights of the Golden Dragon

by Troy Reaves

  Boremac risked a glance over his shoulder, noting he did not hear Sgaina following up the wall. He had barely started to turn his head downward when he felt a sharp jab in his leg. “Climb.” One word and he knew she was just under him, waiting to yank him off the wall if he idled too long, he assumed. Boremac did not want to test that thought and picked up his pace.

  Boremac came within the last few stones beneath the window and stopped abruptly, risking that Sgaina would throw him off the wall and watch him smack into the flagstones below. He heard voices.

  “Goodnight, my Lady.”

  “Goodnight. Please douse the torch at the door as you go. I might read a bit and keep the candle for company for the time being.”

  “Is there anything else you require, my Lady?”

  “No. Sleep well. I will see you in the morning at the usual time.”

  “As you wish, my Lady.”

  A door was opened and shut tight just after the light coming out of the window went almost completely dark.

  Boremac was glad the target was at least alone now but the lady of the house’s voice had given him pause. It was familiar despite the echoes of its passage through the window and the corruption of a steady breeze. He fumbled through his memory, trying to place it, but could not.

  Boremac waited only for a moment, grabbing at the windowsill and readying himself to make a quick kill. He tested Sgaina’s patience briefly before jumping lightly into the room a few steps from the window in the direction of the flickering candlelight. Boremac went cold and stopped dead, staring at the woman before him. She was clothed in a thin cotton nightgown that was clinging to her just enough to highlight her form. The candle before her on the table at the bedside showed him every detail of her body and he knew her immediately even though her back was to him. Her long hair and her sinuous neck had been pictured in his mind many times. Boremac knew every soft curve of this woman. “Jasmine.”

  She began to turn to face him as he whispered her name. She never had a chance. Sgaina was halfway to her with her dagger at the ready even as Jasmine gently moved to greet her assassin. Boremac drew both his daggers reflexively even though he knew he was too late. Sgaina slammed into Jasmine’s back, using her knees to drive Jasmine forward across the bed and drove the black serrated dagger deeply into her neck. Boremac never even saw Jasmine’s face, only the gout of blood that poured from her, staining her gown and bed. Sgaina leaned back to avoid the flood of life pouring out of the wound, viciously tearing her blade from her victim. Boremac knew he had to strike now or die.

  He never had the chance. Boremac made a move to surge forward and take Sgaina from the back only to feel a hand grip his shoulder, stopping him short. “Run…” Shamshir whispered gently in his ear and yanked him backward toward the window. She seemed to fly across the room with her feet out in front of her, striking Sgaina in the back and causing the three women to land in a tangle on the bed. Boremac’s instincts took over, knowing he could not save them, either of them, and hoping that when Sgaina killed Shamshir, she would be as efficient as she had with Jasmine. Shamshir had sacrificed herself to give him the time he needed and Boremac was not about to waste it by not escaping.

  ***

  “Coward.” Boremac had been running for three days with one thought in his mind. “You should have died to avenge her if that is what it took. Damn coward. They will hunt you. She will hunt you. Should have died there instead of running.” Boremac picked at his wounded soul relentlessly. He had watched the woman he had cared for and wanted for so long be slain only to have the first woman he thought he could have loved save his life by giving hers.

  Now he was up a tree, watching for the pack of assassins that he was sure were coming to slay him. He had not seen Sgaina among them, but that did not mean she was not there. Boremac thought maybe that she had sent others to retrieve him while she mourned the death of Shamshir. Shamshir had been dear to Sgaina, not close enough to keep her from killing her friend but dear enough to feel bad about it. She was probably lighting candles and thinking of ways to torture Boremac suitably. He knew enough about her to come to that conclusion.

  Boremac slid his prized card from the sleeve of his leathers, deftly drawing the Death card and staring at it intently. He placed the card in the crook of a nearby branch and drew one of his blades. Boremac sliced each of his palms deeply in turn before making his pledge to Death. “I have lost everything, which means I have nothing left to lose. I will kill her, Shamshir and Jasmine. I will avenge you both if it is the last thing I do.” He sealed the blood pact with his own blood, pressing his hands together, and slid the card back into its hiding place. It was a promise he intended to keep.

  The End?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This author is dedicated to the all the insanity the world has to offer. If you are enjoying every bit half as much as the author then you are missing half the fun. What can be said that has not been said by countless others each in their own way? The author never knew the potential behind a fevered imagination and the joy of creating a world. Limited by logic and the belief that making things do something interesting was nearly impossible, because we all have a different view of the exact same thing, he found a path others found useful in writing and it worked. Boremac refused to fit into the standard box, he kept jumping around it yelling while the author wrote the first book of his series, until one day Troy gave up. “Here, Boremac, tell me what you think and what you would do in this situation since you refuse to be a smart ass rogue cut out!”

  “Hold my beer and watch this…” Boremac grinned and took control of the little old leather clad rogue Troy had envisioned. The rest is history.Even the “writer” who was in charge was amused and dismayed as Boremac did whatever he thought he wanted regardless of whether it was appropriate. Gregor kept the lead in the first book but Boremac almost stole that too.

  Finally the author would like to share the best review he ever got with all of you who bothered to read this far.

  Was an OK story bit same old sort but not bad nothing new or really unexpected.

  Thing that let this down in my opinion is religion in book way too strong and made me uncomfortable and feel like was religious cult trying to get me to join their religion.

  This was perfect. Truly perfect for pointing out that everyone has a brilliant perception that is unique to each and every one of us. Personal opinion is a gift and we all have our thoughts that color our reality. Peace.