Pathfinder Tales--Reaper's Eye

by Richard A. Knaak

  The cold eased slightly as she moved on, a potential sign that she had chosen wisely. With no hint of the pack behind her, she sheathed the sword and reloaded her crossbow. She could draw the blade at a moment’s notice, but the crossbow would now give her the advantage of distance.

  Farther back, the horse shrieked over and over. Each successive cry grew weaker. Shiera swallowed hard. She had demanded much from the horses, and now both had paid the price for her stubbornness.

  Silence overtook the canyon, that dread silence following an awful death. Shiera kept the crossbow ready, certain that some of the monstrous hunters would decide fighting over the carcass wasn’t worth the trouble with other meat afoot. She cautiously wended her way along the treacherous landscape as best she could, aware that the swarm could be right behind her at any second.

  When Shiera was far enough away, she pulled free the coin. It glowed faintly. The chill had reduced to a slight coolness. She took comfort in knowing she was heading the right direction, although what she would do when darkness—now imminent—came was a question for which she had no answer. True, her skills as a Pathfinder would help her in creating shelter and even locating some sort of food and water, but there remained the threat of the swarm, and other horrors of the Worldwound. Shiera still remained on the periphery of the accursed realm; things would only grow more dangerous as she continued deeper.

  Hours passed. She had to move cautiously, not only because of the potential threat of predators but also the increasingly unstable nature of her route. The rough, stony trail caused her to slip more than once. Only the fact that the coin continued to show she was heading the right direction kept her from simply stopping out of frustration.

  Even Daryus would have likely told her she was mad to keep going in the dark. If one was at all intelligent, one did not wander about the Worldwound at any time, much less the middle of the night. Yet, thus far, she had been fortunate—

  The rattle of stone as something wended its way toward Shiera from the direction of the wrong trail made her spin about and nearly fire the crossbow. She held back at the last moment, a good thing since there was no target in view. Still, she doubted what she had heard was another tiny lizard.

  More movement … but this time it came from ahead of her. Quietly cursing, Shiera turned around—

  And nearly dropped the crossbow.

  The wolf stood nearly as tall as her at the shoulder. Shiera had seen more than a few hounds and mastiffs, but even those sturdy canines could not compare in muscle and powerful jaws to the animal before her.

  The hound stood watching her intently. Shiera knew she should fire, but something inside made her hold back.

  Then, something made her glance to the unsettling wolf’s left. There, she beheld a second wolf identical to the first.

  Fire! Fire! a part of her mind insisted. Fire before they rip you to shreds!

  Yet, still she held back. As strong and deadly as this pair looked, Shiera felt no threat. Instead, she stood almost mesmerized by their staring eyes.

  Their great, cyclopean eyes.

  17

  DEATH IN THE DARK

  Not for the first time, Raffan peeked back at Harricka, who still sat unconscious and bound astride her mount.

  “Must she be with us? Can’t you just send her horse in the direction of Kenabres? I’ve heard the horses of the crusaders can bring their wounded masters great distances to where they can get aid.”

  “Those are just stories.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Daryus didn’t want to encourage such thoughts.

  “She’s going to die, anyway.”

  “No, she won’t.” Indeed, after checking on the captain during a previous pause, Daryus was relieved to see that Harricka had improved. He had been careful to bind her wounds well and his effort had paid off.

  Of course, that just meant he was helping her recover enough to go after him again.

  “We can’t continue dragging her around the Worldwound…”

  That was perhaps the only thing upon which they both agreed. Daryus had no intention of dragging Harricka through the accursed land, but neither would it have been wise to leave the captain where he had found her. Daryus knew a couple of fairly safe spots where Harricka would likely be found by other crusaders or, more likely, use her skill to quickly free herself.

  Naturally, he did not plan on trusting to the whims of fate as to whether she was discovered by her comrades before some animal or pitborn came across her. Well aware from his own experience as to Harricka’s skills, Daryus was certain that if he left the captain a dagger, that would be more than sufficient for her to take care of herself.

  “You’re only making this worse on yourself.”

  Daryus blinked, then looked at his former comrade. Harricka eyed him like a hawk. He wondered just how long she had been awake.

  “You would do best to save your strength,” he replied quietly.

  “I’ll have enough strength with which to deal with you, Daryus Gaunt. I promise you that.”

  Daryus grunted. Harricka had never been one for idle threats. When she swore she would follow through on something, she did.

  “This isn’t my doing,” Raffan piped up. “I know nothing about all this. I just hired this man for a job that he’s already complicated.”

  “You are inconsequential in this matter. Your crimes are meager compared to this villain’s offenses.”

  Daryus could not hold back. “I did what was right. I would do it again.”

  “Your lack of remorse only magnifies your crimes. You’ll either hang or lose your head. Which it will be is the only remaining question.”

  “Better to lose my life for good reasons than fail to be what the order once preached.”

  The captain spat. “They were pitborn.”

  “They were innocents. What we swore to protect. Other crusaders, even other members of our order, don’t see them as you do—”

  “Pitborn, Daryus. Pitborn. Hiding from the law, infiltrating human lands.”

  Raffan gave the duo a confused look, but wisely kept quiet this time. Harricka continued to glare at Daryus, who finally gave up trying to convince her and turned his thoughts back to how to safely rid himself of his former comrade. He would have to make certain she was bound well enough, but still able to escape after a suitable time. If the captain freed herself too soon, she would be right on his trail.

  Realizing that his thoughts were coming full circle without any progress made, Daryus focused on getting the party moving. His trained eye caught telltale glimpses of recent activity heading in the same direction as the trio, which to Daryus could only mean he was still following the route taken by Shiera and her captors.

  He still doubted that Galifar and his thugs were aware just how dangerous the Worldwound could be. Often there were stories of travelers crossing the edge of the ominous realm without any trouble whatsoever. What those stories didn’t mention was that many of those supposed close calls had actually taken place far from the true border of the Worldwound—many civilians did not know exactly where the benighted land truly started, thinking themselves bold explorers while still well within the crusader-maintained buffer zone. And then of course there was the fact that such stories naturally skewed toward success—for the unsuccessful rarely survived to tell about it.

  Making a calculation, Daryus said to Raffan, “We ride for another hour, then halt for the night.”

  “But there will still be more than another hour of light! Almost two!”

  “Any deeper tonight and we risk ourselves. If we stay where I say, we’ll make good time the next day and reach another potentially safe area.”

  The younger man looked unconvinced. Daryus would have dearly loved to continue on himself, if only to catch up to Shiera. Still, he knew better than to give in to such considerations. The Worldwound would not allow for mistakes in judgment.

  “Listen to him, young fool,” Harricka muttered. “He knows the Worldwound better than most. H
e might as well be a pitborn himself. He loves them enough.”

  “Harricka—”

  She stopped talking, but only because she had said what she had wanted to say.

  Raffan frowned, then nodded. “As you say, then.”

  His acquiescence did nothing to make Daryus feel more comfortable. The trio rode on without speaking for quite some time. While Daryus had to take the lead, he made certain that Harricka was always near enough to keep an eye on. He had done his best to make certain that even she would not be able to free herself, but knew she might yet have some trick up her sleeve.

  It was for that reason that when Harricka first signaled him with a low, brief cough, Daryus at first ignored her. Only when she persisted did he slow his mount enough so that they were side by side.

  “I say this because it is my duty to bring you to justice, not let some other fate befall you,” she whispered. “We are followed.”

  “You’re just now noticing? They’ve been after us for more than an hour. You’re getting old, Harricka.”

  Her brow arched. “I see. I don’t think they’re crusaders.”

  “No. I imagine that they’re pitborn.”

  “Former friends of yours?”

  “Assassins, unless I miss my guess. You probably found traces of them in Kenabres.” Daryus had expected the two surviving pitborn to follow his trail, but was surprised at how efficient they had been.

  “Them?” For the first time, Harricka’s eyes radiated a disdain for someone other than Daryus. “A disgrace to discover they infiltrated the city! I will see that heads roll … after theirs do.”

  “They may have a different notion in mind. These are no ordinary saboteurs.”

  “Give me my sword and I’ll deal with them.”

  Daryus allowed himself a slight humorless smile. “Before or after you use it on me?”

  “That would depend on circumstances.”

  She meant that, he knew. Even though there might have been some minute chance that he would have considered her request, Harricka had stayed true to herself and told Daryus exactly what she would do. Daryus admired her single-mindedness, even if it made his troubles greater.

  A glance passed between them, silent agreement that Raffan need not know what was going on. The man would only tip their hand.

  The assassins stayed far behind and out of sight. Daryus called for a halt just as planned, but now did so with one eye ever behind them. He caught no hint of either pitborn, but knew that the pair were wending their way closer with every second.

  A blithely ignorant Raffan settled down while Daryus set up camp. Harricka watched with some amusement as the former crusader did the work. Daryus had no doubt she was sizing him up, ready to exploit any weakness he showed.

  The preparation of food also fell to Daryus, but, in this case, Harricka, her unfortunate comrades, and even the dead pitborn provided the fare. Daryus had gathered everything he could from all the saddlebags. They had food for at least four days—five if he managed to leave Harricka behind soon.

  “They’re near,” she whispered as he finished feeding her.

  Daryus did not doubt her. While his own senses were highly attuned—and generally better than that of most men—his need to also pay attention to his captive meant he could not entirely focus on the surrounding terrain.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Give me my sword.”

  “Will you use it only against the assassins?”

  She said nothing.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Daryus reached to his belt and drew his dagger. Making certain that Raffan was not looking, he tossed the dagger near—but not too near—Harricka.

  The captain gave a brief grimace. Daryus ignored her, instead concentrating on searching for the relatively invisible fourth member of their party.

  Of Toy, there was no sight. He had ridden quietly behind Daryus for most of the journey, not willing to risk discovery by the crusader officer. If Harricka recognized the weasel for what he actually was—the former tool of an evil witch—that would make Toy as big a target to her as Daryus was.

  A few brief footprints in the dusty soil revealed the direction the weasel had gone. Toy hunted his own food and hunted it well. Daryus gave up on the creature. He would have to finish with the assassins himself.

  Darkness came. He checked on the captain, found the dagger untouched, and returned to the fire.

  Where would I be? Daryus asked himself the question as he pretended to settle down for the evening. Where would I be if I were an assassin here?

  The area did not allow for anything larger than a small snake to sneak up on the group. Yet Daryus remained aware that the assassins had access to magic thanks to the witch.

  Thinking of that, he rose. Raffan already slept, but Harricka’s eyes remained open. In fact, they had never left Daryus’s once.

  He bent over as if to test her bonds. They still felt quite snug.

  As he straightened again, Daryus made certain to kick the dagger closer.

  Something shot out of the darkness.

  Had it not been for his half-elven eyesight, Daryus would have never even seen the dart. The wicked missile shot past his ear and continued on beyond the campsite.

  Daryus drew his sword.

  Three more darts came at him, two from his left, the other from the original direction.

  He deflected two with his sword, then twisted out of the path of the third. As he expected, four more darts closed on him, two from each direction.

  He flung himself to the side, avoiding two of the darts. The sword deflected another.

  The fourth hit his shoulder.

  Cursing, Daryus grabbed at the dart. To his relief, it had not penetrated his leather.

  Rolling over, he turned to Harricka with the intention of freeing her after all.

  A pile of severed ropes was the only sign left of her.

  Now aware that he had three potential threats with which to deal, Daryus twisted around into a crouching position. No more darts came his direction, but Daryus did not see that as any positive note. The darts had been more of a test by the assassins, a way of seeing just what limits their target had out here. The real attack would be swifter, more sure.

  He quickly looked over his shoulder at where Raffan still slept, the young man oblivious to the danger around him. Daryus would have liked to have left Raffan slumbering, but dared not trust that the assassins sought him alone.

  Keeping alert, Daryus headed for the other man. He did not call out, not even quietly, preferring that Raffan remain still. Daryus was fairly certain that if he woke the younger man before he reached him, Raffan would jump up and make himself an easier target.

  Silence reigned over the campsite as he moved. Daryus listened for any sound, the slightest hint of movement that would be the only thing presaging the assassins’ work.

  To his surprise and growing concern, he made it all the way to Raffan without any trouble. Keeping his eye on the area surrounding them, Daryus gently shook Raffan by the shoulder.

  The other man did not wake.

  Daryus quickly looked down.

  A small dart stuck out of Raffan’s neck.

  The whirling blade nearly took off Daryus’s head. He managed to evade death only by falling atop Raffan, who still breathed regularly. Even then, Daryus felt a trickle of blood slipping down his neck toward his shoulder.

  Without looking, he swung his sword up. The clang of metal against metal echoed through the darkness as Daryus just barely managed to keep the sword above him from doing what the flying blade had not. The pitborn looming over him—the one with the broken nose—said nothing, instead drawing a smaller dagger with his other hand.

  Grabbing Raffan with his free hand, Daryus rolled both of them away from the assassin. Ending the tumble atop the drugged man, the former crusader slashed at his attacker.

  The pitborn countered his attack, then jabbed with the dagger. Daryus noticed his foe favored the small blad
e more than would have made sense, which meant it probably had some drug or poison on the end.

  As he dueled with the pitborn, several things disturbed Daryus. First and foremost was where the other assassin might be at this moment. Beyond that was what Harricka was up to while this was going on. Not for a moment did he think she had abandoned the area, but neither did he expect the captain to aid him. Harricka was just as likely to let the assassins come within an inch of killing Daryus before she intervened.

  The pitborn smiled grimly as he thrust. Something else about the horned figure bothered Daryus, but it took him a few precious moments to realize what it was. Unlike his initial encounter with the pitborn, this time the assassin made no use of the masking artifact. Daryus wondered why, since in the unpredictable illumination of the campfire, it could have given the demonspawn a very distinct advantage.

  Too late, Daryus understood why. The assassin was only another distraction.

  He tried to bring his sword behind him, but it was too late. The powerful arm of the second assassin wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air.

  “Where is the damned creature? Speak!” grated the second pitborn.

  Daryus wondered how he was supposed to answer without any air. He eyed the first assassin, now approaching. The only reason the second one had not immediately slain Daryus had been because they still needed to find Toy. The moment they had the weasel, Daryus would be a dead man.

  That was, of course, assuming he intended to simply stand still.

  However, before he could act, a missile struck the first assassin in the shoulder. The pitborn cried out as he reached up for Daryus’s own dagger.

  The arm cutting off Daryus’s breath suddenly pulled away. The act was accompanied by a choking sound.

  Harricka Morn had finally entered the fray.

  The dagger her only weapon, the captain now fought to maintain her own chokehold on the taller pitborn. Daryus would have helped her, but despite the dagger to the collarbone, the first assassin seemed hardly slowed. Sheathing the dagger, he pulled Daryus’s smaller blade free, then tossed it aside.