Brunner the Bounty Hunter

by C. L. Werner

  The confused guards hesitated, allowing the other soldier to close upon them before another fact registered in their minds—the man approaching them held a sword in his hands. Far too late, the two sentries began to raise their spears. Brunner’s stolen sword split the belly of one before he had even begun to point his own weapon forward. The man shouted in agony, falling away to clutch at his mortal injury.

  The other guard fared slightly better, stabbing at Brunner with his spear. But the guard’s reflexes were still slow, his reactions dulled by the abrupt intrusion into his midnight snooze, and the thrust passed harmlessly to one side of the bounty hunter. Safely past the stabbing point of the man-at-arms’s spear, Brunner lashed out with his blade, the sharp edge of the sword crunching down into the side of the soldier’s neck. A gargling scream rasped from the maimed man, and he too fell to the floor beside his dying comrade.

  Brunner studied his handiwork for a moment. Armed with his own equipment, he’d have been able to dispatch the two men-at-arms much more swiftly, sending a bolt into each of them before they’d even registered the opening of the secret passage. The bounty hunter did not avoid combat, but he preferred to save it for occasions when there was a price attached to his opponent. Men who had no value were better disposed of from a safe distance.

  ‘Sloppy,’ the gruff voice of Ulgrin grated upon Brunner’s ears. The bounty hunter turned to observe his companions emerging from the hidden passage. Ithilweil looked upon the two dying soldiers, her strange eyes subdued by a covering of pity. She shook her head, then strode toward the doorway the two dying men had given their lives to protect.

  Brunner watched with interest as the elf extended her hand, the delicate fingers lightly touching the cold bronze handle. Behind him, he could hear Ulgrin snort with contempt. ‘If she thinks that door isn’t locked, then she really is an idiot.’ Ithilweil paid the dwarf’s jibe no mind, concentrating upon the door. Faintly, Brunner could hear her speaking in a strange, somehow musical language. Though he could not understand the words, the bounty hunter knew that there was magic within them, drawing power into the elf maid’s fingers. Soon, the sound of groaning metal could be heard above the whispered incantation of the enchantress. With no further warning, the heavy bronze handle, and the iron lock to which it was fixed, fell from the door, clattering upon the stone floor.

  Where they had been fitted to the door, Brunner could see that the wood was charred and blackened. A faint mist of steam rose from the swiftly cooling lock.

  Ithilweil indulged in a smug smile, directing the expression back at Ulgrin before pushing the door inward. The dwarf grumbled into his beard, pushing Gobineau ahead of him as Brunner followed the elf into Marimund’s chambers.

  ‘Any damn fool can pick a lock with sorcery,’ the dwarf spat under his breath, his hold upon his axe a trifle firmer than it had been before the elf witch had displayed her magic. The dwarf was even more sullen when he saw the nature of the duc’s room. There was a modest degree of wealth displayed in the furnishings and appointments that graced the chamber, but hardly anything that would impress someone who had walked through the halls of dwarf kings. Since deciding that Brunner’s true motivation in coming here was to loot Marimund’s wealth, Ulgrin had built up an image in his mind that might have impoverished an Arabyan sultan.

  The dwarf’s eyes narrowed, however, as a new thought came to him. Perhaps Marimund didn’t like to flaunt his wealth? Maybe he kept it hidden, a small chest filled with gold coins, or a jewellery box overflowing with diamonds… Ulgrin stabbed a finger at Gobineau.

  ‘Stand right there!’ the dwarf commanded Gobineau, pointing at a spot almost at the centre of the room. ‘Move and I’ll chop your legs off and feed them to you!’ he added when the thief opened his mouth to protest.

  Ulgrin saw Brunner and Ithilweil striding toward a large table set against the wall, their eyes focused upon the clutter of objects strewn upon it. The dwarf smiled. Even the most slovenly of noblemen was not going to leave valuables in such disarray. He left the bounty hunter and the elf to their foolishness, dropping into a crouch and peering under the duc’s bed, hoping to discover a hidden strongbox.

  Alone in the centre of the room, Gobineau’s eyes strayed from one bounty hunter to the other, then gazed longingly at the door which connected to the hallway beyond. Now knowing about the hidden passage, the rogue was confident he’d be able to elude Marimund’s guards were he to gain his liberty. The real problem lay in getting some distance between himself and the two bounty killers. The dwarf might be distracted with his hunt for hidden valuables, but the sour glances he directed at Gobineau told the outlaw that he was far from forgotten. He decided that he wouldn’t forget about two thousand gold crowns either, no matter how high his hopes to better his fortune.

  The rogue pursed his lips, watching and waiting. An opportunity might yet reveal itself if he was observant and patient. And perhaps a little lucky, Ranald willing.

  Brunner fastened the weapon belt about his waist, sliding the familiar length of Drakesmalice into its sheath. There were few things the bounty hunter placed any value upon, but the famous sword of the barons von Drakenburg was one of them. With the sword back in his possession, the gnawing sense of unease and loss that had afflicted him since Ithilweil had released him from the dungeons left him. He felt whole once more, complete. He began to wrap another weapon belt about his body, this one holding the array of knives he employed in his bloody vocation, the heavy weight of the Headsman, a massive butchering knife with a serrated edge, resting against his right hip. His prized repeating crossbow and blackpowder pistol were also among the objects scattered upon the table, and their recovery brought a grim smile to Brunner’s harsh features. Marimund would regret not killing him when he had the chance. Brunner would make certain of that before he saw the last of Mousillon. His hands closed about the carved spike of wood he had purchased from an impoverished Sigmarite priest in the Tilean port city of Miragliano nearly a year past. Perhaps he’d attend to the vampire knight Corbus as well, if the opportunity presented itself.

  While Brunner occupied himself reclaiming his weapons, Ithilweil lifted the Fell Fang from the table, feeling a great surge of relief well up within her. The dread artefact was safe now, out of the reach of fools who did not understand its power, and even greater fools who might be mad enough to use it. The elf took the carved ivory covering, slipping it back over the Fell Fang, concealing the ancient tooth once more. There would be much more to do now. The bounty hunter would need to get her out of the filthy human city. She was certain that she could prey upon the debt he owed her for his own release to at least get her that far.

  After that, things were more nebulous. She would have to find a way to get back to her own people, for the Fell Fang’s potential for destruction and ruin would only be fully averted once it was safely locked away within one of the vaults beneath the Tower of Sorcery in Ulthuan. There was a small colony of her people in the city of Marienburg, far to the north. She would have to try for that and wait for the next ship to return her to her native land. The bounty hunter might be less agreeable about accompanying her that far; she might very well need to engage others to protect her on the long road to Marienburg. That was a problem she would deal with when the time arrived. For now, she should allow herself to enjoy the successful acquisition of the Fell Fang before it was too late.

  If it wasn’t already too late. The thought sent a chill of dread coursing through the elf, purging her of the relief that had filled her only moments before. What if Marimund had been toying with the thing in his examination of it? The fool might have accidentally awakened powers he knew nothing about. If the dragon that had been bound to the Fell Fang were still alive, it would be ancient, older even than the vaunted Empire and the kingdom of Bretonnia and all the other realms which the humans pompously called ‘the Old World’. Dragons were things that did not diminish with time, but continued to grow in might and power until death at last stilled their fiery he
arts. The monster bound to the Fell Fang would be a thing of such power, more like a living storm than a mortal creature. And if that fool Marimund had been playing with the Fang, if he had awakened the beast, it might even now be flying for this castle. Even now, wings of doom might be descending from the night sky to crush the city into ash and cinder.

  So lost in these morbid thoughts of dread was Ithilweil, that she did not notice the path her steps took her as she backed away from the table. Her slender shape strayed close to where Ulgrin had ordered Gobineau to stand. The rogue watched her approach with baited breath, seeing an opportunity about to present itself. The outlaw’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the object the elf held in her hands, the same object he had come here to try and sell to Marimund. The Fell Fang. Perhaps there really was power within the object, Gobineau decided, if both a crazed wizard and an elf witch coveted the thing with such recklessness as to risk their lives to gain it.

  The rogue changed his plan even as he moved forward to implement it. After all, why should he escape without taking something with him to redress the trials he had been subjected to? Gobineau was certain now that there was a very real power encased within the ivory cylinder. He was not certain how, but he would use that power, use it to establish himself in the luxury that was his due, some place far from jealous husbands and bloodthirsty bounty killers.

  Gobineau caught Ithilweil by the wrist, spinning her lithe body around so that his arm wrapped about her throat. The sudden movement caught the elf completely off guard, so absorbed was she by her own thoughts of dread. Her reaction, however, was far swifter than Gobineau had allowed for, a boot smashing into his calf with a strength the outlaw would never have imagined within so lightly built a person. The elf spun away from the clutching brigand as he crumpled painfully to one knee. But as she did so, Gobineau twisted the hand holding her wrist. Ithilweil grimaced in pain and the Fell Fang clattered to the floor. Before she could recover, the rogue had regained his prize.

  Gobineau twisted the hidden catch, satisfying himself that the hidden relic was still safe within its vessel. Looking up, the bandit shuddered. His sudden assault on the elf had drawn quite a deal of attention. The looks in the eyes of Brunner and Ulgrin Baleaxe were as murderous as any the rogue had ever seen. He began to raise his hands in a gesture of submission, fearing that he was only a few seconds from having the unpleasant experience of either the dwarfs massive axe or Brunner’s recently recovered sword bisecting his face.

  ‘Stop him from using the Fang!’ Ithilweil shouted, momentarily drawing the attention of the two bounty hunters.

  Gobineau’s thoughts raced. Use the Fang? And exactly how by all the Dark Gods was he supposed to do that? Still, there was no mistaking the terror in the elf witch’s eyes. Gobineau noticed that he’d been lifting his hands when she had shouted and that the one holding the artefact was poised near his own face. A sudden thought occurred to the outlaw.

  ‘That’s right!’ Gobineau called out in what he hoped was a threatening tone. ‘Take one step toward me and we’re all in trouble!’ He set the hollowed out bone against his lower lip, bringing another gasp from Ithilweil. It seemed that his guess might have been right after all. He really must remember to tithe a bit of his next haul to Ranald to thank the mischievous god of thieves for the turn his luck had taken.

  Unfortunately, Brunner and Ulgrin did not seem to be sharing the elf’s fright. The two bounty hunters passed a look between them, then began to circle around their prey. Gobineau swallowed nervously. Hadn’t Brunner said something about ‘alive’ not meaning ‘unharmed’? The rogue inhaled sharply, the breath rasping against the surface of the Fang. Ithilweil winced in tandem to the bandit’s breath.

  ‘Don’t antagonise him!’ she cried. ‘If he sounds the Fang, we will all die! He’ll call up a monster that will bring this whole castle crashing down about our ears!’ The already pale skin of the elf was now the pallor of alabaster as the warmth drained from her flesh, cringing within her fear.

  ‘She’s right! I’ll do it!’ Gobineau called out, trying to add as much support for whatever nonsense the elf was shrieking as he could. ‘You two had better step back,’ Gobineau warned when it became obvious that the bounty hunters weren’t listening. Brunner’s icy eyes glared into the rogue’s own.

  ‘Do as he says!’ pleaded Ithilweil. To Gobineau’s amazement, Brunner took a step backward. The outlaw felt a smile warming on his face.

  ‘That’s better,’ he crowed. ‘Now lower your weapons,’ he added with a hopeful note. To his relief, Brunner slammed his sword back into its scabbard.

  Ulgrin looked at his partner, the dwarf’s eyes wide with disbelief. ‘Since when do we take orders from some hussy tall-ear?’ the dwarf demanded.

  ‘We don’t,’ Brunner replied, removing his pistol from its holster. Ulgrin laughed grimly as the bounty hunter pointed the intimidating weapon at Gobineau. ‘I just decided I didn’t really feel like doing any more work today.’

  ‘How do you know it’s still loaded?’ Gobineau protested feebly.

  ‘How do you know it’s not?’ the bounty hunter retorted, his voice as cheerless as an open grave. The outlaw sighed loudly, glancing about the room around him, trying to find some way to salvage the situation. To his left, Ulgrin glared at him, the edge of his monstrous axe gleaming wickedly. To his right, a much more composed, though still visibly shaken, Ithilweil was beginning to step nearer.

  Gobineau imagined she might be planning on replaying the little scene that had initiated the stand off, and he didn’t think his chances of overcoming the elf were terribly good. Before him, the infamous Brunner had a pistol pointed at his face.

  ‘Khaine’s black blood,’ Gobineau cursed as he exhaled into the Fell Fang. Whatever monster the magic artefact was going to conjure up, it couldn’t be any worse than what he was already facing. The outlaw screwed his eyes shut, expecting a sound of thunder, an explosive display of sorcery as some daemonic horror manifested itself in answer to the Fang’s summons. Instead there was only silence. Opening his eyes again, Gobineau saw the elf witch shaking, leaning against a chair to prevent herself from falling, such was the lack of strength in her limbs. Not exactly some hellspawned abomination with claws and fangs, but he wasn’t going to complain. Turning to regard the bounty hunters, however, Gobineau learned that his desperate gamble had not been universal in its effects.

  ‘I don’t think they’ll mind if he’s missing his hands when we turn him in,’ Ulgrin growled, stepping forward. Once again, Gobineau found his eyes focusing on the wickedly sharp edge of the dwarfs gigantic axe.

  No doubt about it. The next time he passed a shrine to Ranald, he was going to set fire to it.

  Even as the two bounty hunters began to close on him, Gobineau’s luck reasserted itself. Without warning, the door to Marimund’s room exploded inward, propelled by some tremendous force. All eyes turned to the doorway to see the red-armoured figure of Sir Corbus standing in the corridor. The knight’s face no longer resembled anything human, eyes blazing with wrath, gash-like mouth parted in a feral snarl, wolf-like fangs exposed. The knight held his sword in his hand, but it seemed to all observing him that he was more likely to rip them apart with his bare hands than remember to use his weapon.

  ‘Traitor witch!’ Corbus roared. ‘Is this how you return the protection and support your lord has given you! Freeing his prisoners and robbing his rooms!’ A trickle of bloody froth oozed from the corner of the knight’s mouth as he spat his accusations at Ithilweil. ‘I’ll strip the skin from your flesh and toss the screaming carcass to the rats for your faithlessness, slattern!’

  So intent was Corbus on the objects of his ire, the figures of Gobineau, Brunner and Ithilweil, that he had paid scant notice of the room’s other occupant. Ulgrin listened to the vampire’s hissed maledictions, his own anger boiling up within the dwarf.

  With a savage cry, Ulgrin lunged at the red knight, swinging his axe in a gleaming arc of destruction.

  ‘B
y the gods of my ancestors!’ Ulgrin bellowed. ‘I’ve had enough of this city!’ The blade of the axe struck Corbus’s breastplate with all the strength the dwarf’s brawny frame could muster. The metal shrieked as it split under the cleaving edge and the axe chewed into the flesh beneath. ‘You’re not going to stop me from getting out of here!’ Ulgrin ripped his axe free, leaving a great gash in Corbus’s chest, torn flesh and fragments of bone clinging to the weapon as it was withdrawn. The vampire’s face contorted in an expression of still greater fury, but before Corbus could react, the axe slammed into his body once more, knocking the knight to the floor. Ulgrin stood above the snarling creature, chopping into the prone vampire as though hacking at a log.

  ‘Killer frogs!’ Ulgrin cursed, chopping into the vampire’s chest again. ‘Cannibal madmen!’ Again, the axe was ripped free. ‘Acres of quicksand!’ Once more the axe rent the knight’s breastplate. Ulgrin leaned forward to howl into the vampire’s face. ‘I’ve done enough work to earn ten times what this scum is fetching and I’ll be damned if I’ll just hand him over to some preening, posturing manling knight!’

  Ulgrin stared into the knight’s eyes, waiting to see the life fade from them. With the carnage he had visited upon the warrior as the dwarf vented his frustrations, Ulgrin was certain that he would not have long to wait. Instead, the knight’s eyes blazed into pools of crimson fire and his mouth opened in a grisly snarl. The knight’s right hand came sweeping upward, striking the dwarf with a strength that would shame a full grown ox. Three hundred pounds of armoured dwarf sailed across the room, pulverising the glass curio cabinet as Ulgrin landed.