Ghostwalker (Book 1)

by Ben Cassidy

  Jade glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, it’s late. I should probably go to bed.” Her eyes drifted to the tavern door. “I wonder where Kendril has gone? I thought he’d be back by now.”

  Maklavir shrugged. “You did mention that he was planning on parting ways with you. Perhaps he’s already left.”

  Jade nodded sadly, looking back at the finely dressed man sitting across from her. “Perhaps. I was kind of hoping to…well, to have his company tomorrow. I still can’t remember anything.” She sighed, rubbing her temples.

  “I certainly wouldn’t dream of leaving a lady like yourself all alone in such a place,” Maklavir said with a smile. “I would be happy to accompany you as long and as far as is necessary.”

  The beautiful girl’s face brightened. “Thank you, Maklavir. That’s very kind.”

  His eyes twinkled briefly. “It would be delinquent of me to do otherwise. Go ahead and head off to bed, if you like. I’ll meet you here for breakfast in the morning.”

  Jade stood, then bent over and gave Maklavir a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you again. For being such a gentleman.” She gave him one last parting smile, then headed up the stairs.

  Maklavir watched her disappear, then kicked his legs up on a nearby chair, chuckling quietly to himself. The common room was empty now. The tavern maid had disappeared. The fire was slowly burning itself out. He yawned, staring at the last dying embers.

  It was about time for him to retire for the evening himself, he thought.

  A cry from the kitchen suddenly broke into his thoughts. The tavern maid was shouting something, and there was a clattering of pans.

  Maklavir jerked his head towards the kitchen door behind the bar. A second later it burst open, and Kendril strode through, his hood and cloak soaked with rain.

  The tavern maid followed after him, angrily pointing back towards the kitchen. “The back door is not for guests!” she said angrily. “Only the front!”

  Kendril ignored her, flinging his hood back. He glanced quickly around the room.

  “Didn’t expect to see you again,” Maklavir said in a cool voice.

  “Where’s Jade?” Kendril said brusquely. His eyes continued to scan the room, especially the direction of the front door.

  Maklavir nodded towards the stairs. “Gone to bed. Just a few minutes ago. Why? Is some—”

  Without another word Kendril yanked a pistol out from beneath his cloak, cocked it, and made for the stairs.

  The tavern maid gasped at the sight of the weapon and fled back towards the kitchen.

  Maklavir didn’t move for a moment, his mind trying to digest the scene before him. Then, as Kendril neared the top of the stairs, he cursed under his breath and sprang awkwardly to his feet, kicking over the chair he had been resting on.

  Putting one hand to his sword hilt, he ran toward the staircase.

  “So you’re just going to wait?”

  Montrose took a long pull on his pipe. “Yes. I’m just going to wait.”

  They were in one of the Outpost’s many small trading shops. The owner of the store was upstairs, lying tied up in his bed. One of Montrose’s thugs had broken in earlier, after closing hours, and bound the poor merchant at knifepoint. Now the place was serving as a kind of headquarters for Montrose and his gang. The one-eyed leader himself sat on a rocking chair, facing a window that looked out onto the street. Reginald stood nearby, looking out another window. Directly across the street from them was The Laughing Dragon. Rain battered loudly on the roof above, and pounded the muddy street and wooden walkways outside. A sudden silent flash of lightning lit up the street, revealing an empty and desolate sea of mud.

  Reginald turned, walking to the store’s front counter. Four of Montrose’s men, whose names Reginald couldn’t remember, lounged about in wooden chairs behind their leader. Empty jars of molasses were on the floor by their feet, as well as the remains of a leg of ham and several loaves of bread. Montrose had strictly forbidden any of them to touch the liquor in the store, or even to light a candle. So far they had grudgingly obeyed.

  Reginald turned back to the window. “She could get away.” Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

  The bounty hunter blew a smoke ring. “She won’t. First of all, I’ve got a man covering each gate. Second, she doesn’t know we’re here, so she has absolutely no reason to leave in the middle of the night, especially in weather like this. Third, I can see the inn quite clearly from right here, and I seriously doubt she could get out without me seeing. And finally,” he turned, his one good eye gleaming darkly, “quit talking, or I’ll cut out your tongue and use it for a wall hanging.”

  Reginald ignored the man. He looked out the other window. “Bloody rain.”

  Montrose said nothing, but simply puffed quietly on his pipe.

  A door opened in the back of the store, and the men behind Montrose instantly leapt to their feet, readying their weapons. They quickly relaxed, however, when they saw that it was one of their own number.

  “I talked with one of the stable boys,” the thug said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “The girl’s there, all right, staying in the last room on the left side, by the window. There’s some fancy gent staying there too, but aside from that it’s just the innkeeper and the wench.”

  Montrose didn’t turn his head, but continued to gaze out the window. Smoke curled up from his pipe. “What about the trapper?”

  The thug shrugged. “He left, earlier today. Hasn’t been back since.”

  “He’s gone for help!” Reginald hissed.

  “Without the girl?” Montrose grunted. “I doubt it. Besides, where would he go? It’s more than three days ride in any direction to the nearest town.”

  Sir Reginald frowned. “So now what?”

  “Now,” said Montrose slowly, putting his watch back in his pocket, “we wait.”

  Chapter 5

  Jade was just sliding between the sheets of the bed when the door to her room was violently kicked open. She gave a startled cry and pulled the sheets up.

  A man in a dark cloak entered the room, a pistol in one hand. As he moved quickly across the floorboards, Jade recognized the figure.

  “Kendril? What--?”

  The Ghostwalker made a motion for her to stay silent. He pushed himself up against the side of the window, then glanced outside at the stables and stockyard wall behind the inn. He grunted, then stuck the pistol back in his belt, turning from the window.

  “Get dressed,” he said. “Now.”

  She stared at him in shock, the bed sheet still pulled up to her neck. She opened her mouth to say something, but never got the chance.

  Maklavir appeared at the door, sword in hand. He looked quickly from Kendril to Jade, then back to Kendril, and thrust his blade forward.

  “If you try to harm her, you’ll have to go through me first!”

  Kendril gave the diplomat a half-amused look, then pointed at Jade. “Be downstairs in two minutes.” He turned to Maklavir, who had a rather dumbfounded expression on his face. “Let’s go,” he said, pushing his way into the hallway. He closed the door behind him. “We need to talk.”

  “I’ll say,” said Maklavir, struggling to replace the sword in its scabbard. “Just where have you been? And what in the Halls of Pelos were you doing, bursting into that poor girl’s room like that?” He followed Kendril down the staircase into the tavern.

  The innkeeper was standing by the bar, listening to the frantic barmaid sputtering on. He looked up as they appeared.

  “You!” he said, pointing at Kendril. “I told you I’d ‘ave no trouble in my inn!”

  The barmaid retreated a few steps in fear.

  The Ghostwalker reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes swept meticulously over the room.

  Maklavir finally managed to replace his sword. “I think you’ve stirred things up here a bit, Kendril. Perhaps—”

  He was cut off as Kendril suddenly drew one of his blades. He smashed Maklavir against
the wall and pressed the cold steel against his neck. The diplomat struggled to breathe as Kendril pressed him against the wooden surface.

  The barmaid screamed, then fled back into the kitchen.

  “Tell me right now,” snarled Kendril. “are you with them? Are you?” Thunder rumbled overhead, louder than before.

  The diplomat coughed, his hands held wide in surrender. “My good man,” he said, his voice surprisingly collected, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Kendril pressed the razor sharp edge of the blade a millimeter closer. “Look me in the eyes,” he said, “and say that.”

  Maklavir stared defiantly at the Ghostwalker. There was a heartbeat of silence before he spoke. “I’m here by myself. I assure you I don’t know who these others are that you’re speaking of. And,” he added, “I think you’re a raving madman. Now kindly remove this sword from my throat before you get blood on my cape.”

  The Ghostwalker stared at him for a moment, snorted, and pushed away. He sheathed his short sword as quickly as he had drawn it.

  Maklavir staggered back to his feet, rubbing his neck.

  “What in Eru’s name is going on here?” he demanded. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  Kendril shot a look at the stairs, then the front door again. The bartender and the tavern maid had disappeared into the kitchen. “Is anyone after you?”

  Maklavir blinked. “Pardon?”

  “Any jealous husbands, cheated card players? Anyone who would want you dead?”

  The diplomat felt his mouth go dry. “Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

  Kendril turned back to the stairs. “Because someone is watching this place.”

  Before Maklavir could respond, the kitchen door burst open. The innkeeper reappeared, an ancient-looking blunderbuss held in his hands. The tavern maid cowered behind him.

  “Leave,” he said roughly, pointing the firearm at Kendril. He lifted his eyes in Maklavir’s direction. “And you. Both of you get out.”

  Maklavir lifted his hands. “What a splendid idea. We were just thinking of taking a walk outside, weren’t we Kendril?”

  “No one is leaving,” said Kendril in a steely voice. “Not until I say so.”

  The innkeeper took a step forward, the barrel of the blunderbuss a few feet from Kendril’s face. “I’ll blow your head off if’n you don’t. I warned you, I did, about brawlin’ in here. I warned you. I won’t have no fights in my inn.”

  A sudden creak at the top of the stairs caused all eyes to shift upwards.

  Jade was standing uncertainly at the top of the staircase, her eyes wide at the scene below.

  “Kendril--?” she said hesitantly.

  In a movement quicker than the eye could follow, the Ghostwalker grabbed the barrel of the blunderbuss and jerked it up towards the ceiling. In the next fraction of a second he tore the weapon out of the surprised innkeeper’s hands, then flipped it around so that it was pointing right back at the man’s face.

  The innkeeper went deathly pale. “D—Don’t k—kill me,” he stammered, lifting his hands slowly. “Please. I—”

  “Shut up,” Kendril said irritably. “No one’s going to kill you. Just sit down against the wall.” He gestured at the tavern maid with the gun. “You too.” They quickly complied.

  “Shall I search them for valuables?” Maklavir queried dryly.

  Jade hurried down the staircase. “Kendril, what on earth are you doing?”

  The Ghostwalker turned, laying the blunderbuss down on the bar. “We’ve got a problem,” he said. “There are nine men outside, and they mean trouble.”

  The young woman stopped short at the bottom of the stairs. “What?”

  Kendril pulled out one of his pistols, and quickly began to check the firing mechanism. “Nine men. Two of them were already here. The other seven came into town about two hours ago.”

  Jade sank into a chair by the dying fire, one hand on her bandaged wound.

  Maklavir gazed at the girl with some concern. “Then perhaps we should leave.”

  Kendril looked up from the gun, and gave both Maklavir and Jade a look that sent chills down their spines. “We can’t,” he said in a low voice. “They’ve killed the sentries at both gates, and they’re watching this place right now. I only managed to get in here by crawling on my belly from the stables to the back door, and I’m still not sure they didn’t see me.” He slapped back the lock on the pistol with a sharp click. “We’re trapped.”

  The tavern maid gave a whimpering cry and folded her arms over her head. The innkeeper simply stared at Kendril in dumbfounded disbelief.

  Maklavir tried to swallow, but found he could not. “What do they want?” he asked, his voice still measured.

  “I don’t know,” said Kendril. He finished checking his first pistol, then pulled out another. He looked over at Jade, who was staring at the floorboards. “I was hoping Jade might help us out with that.”

  The woman looked up, her face a mask of confusion and fear. “What, me? I don’t know, Kendril, I—” she buried her face in her hands. “I still can’t remember anything…”

  Maklavir placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Jade.” He glared at Kendril. “How do you know it’s her they’re after, anyway? It might be you, for all we know.”

  Kendril looked up from his pistol. “What? A nice guy like me?” He glanced over at the two tavern workers, who were still sitting against the far wall. The tavern maid was weeping softly. “Relax,” Kendril said gruffly. “I’m not going to hurt either of you. But no one can leave right now. If the men watching this place see it, we’re done for.”

  Maklavir sat down in a chair next to Jade, his hand still on her shoulder. “If they’re after one of us, then why haven’t they made their move?”

  Kendril crossed to the window, edging up against the wall and peering carefully between the cracks in the curtains. “I don’t know. My guess is that they’re waiting until later. They’ve been quiet so far, and I think they want to keep it that way. No one else has even noticed the sentries are dead, as far as I can tell.” He moved the curtain slightly with his finger and peered out. “They think we don’t know they’re here. As far as they’re concerned, they have all night to make their move.”

  Maklavir shivered. “I see.” He rubbed Jade’s shoulder. “What exactly do you propose we do?”

  Kendril scowled. He looked at Jade, then the innkeeper and the tavern maid, then back to the front door. “I’m not exactly sure. They have all the exits covered, and the whole place is being watched.” A rumble of thunder sounded loudly overhead, and the rain seemed to suddenly increase in tempo.

  “Can we try to make it to one of the gates?” asked Maklavir hopefully. “Sneak out without being seen, perhaps, and overpower the guard?”

  The Ghostwalker shook his head. “I doubt it. I barely made it in the back door by myself. All of us trying to make it without being seen would be near impossible.”

  “You can leave,” said Jade suddenly. All eyes turned to her. She brushed back her hair, her eyes filled with resolve. “You can all leave, right now. It’s me they want, not you. I’m sure of it. I’ll stay here. Please,” she said after a short pause, “it’s your only chance. I don’t want to be responsible for anything happening to any of you.”

  Maklavir shook his head. “We don’t know that it’s you they want. For that matter, we don’t know what they want at all.”

  “It’s me. It has to be.” She glanced at Kendril. “You think so, too, don’t you Kendril?”

  The Ghostwalker said nothing, but quickly looked away.

  Jade sighed. “Please, I’m asking all of you. Leave me here. It’s the only way.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Maklavir. “I know the situation seems grim, but I have no intention of abandoning you to these thugs. Not without a fight, at least.”

  Kendril smiled. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  The men were
tense. Reginald could feel it, like a static charge in the air. They no longer sat, but stood uneasily by the door, fingering weapons and glancing periodically out the windows. Only Montrose remained seated in his rocking chair, chewing thoughtfully on his now unlit pipe. Outside the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the thunder and lightning were drifting further away. It looked like the worst of the storm was over.

  Montrose pulled out his pocket watch once more, just as he had done half a dozen times in the last half hour or so.

  “Eleven twenty-three,” he said quietly.

  A few of the thugs dared a peek out the window. Even through the falling rain, it was obvious that candles were still flickering in the common room of the inn across the street.

  Reginald sat down in one of the wooden chairs, swishing his cape to one side. “You understand she is not to be injured?”

  Montrose nodded, his eyes looking out the window. “We’ll keep her alive.”

  “And keep your hands off her. That goes double for your men.”

  The bounty hunter grinned. “Don’t worry, Sir Reginald. We won’t so much as touch a hair on her head.”

  “This is completely insane.”

  Kendril checked the latch on one of the windows by the front door of the tavern. Outside the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

  “How so?”

  Maklavir gaped at the Ghostwalker. “How so? There are nine men out there, Kendril. You can’t possibly think we can fight them all at once. It’s madness.”

  Kendril shifted to the door, and checked the lock carefully. “If they don’t know we’re on to them, then we have a chance.”

  The diplomat shook his head in exasperation. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m perfectly serious.” Kendril turned away from the door, then moved quickly back to the bar. He glanced over at the flickering candles along his way, frowning. He jerked his head in the direction of the bartender and the tavern maid, who were still crouched obediently against the wall. “What time do you close the inn?”