Ghostwalker (Book 1)

by Ben Cassidy

  So, with the instantaneous reasoning born from long years of fighting, Kendril leapt forward, and smashed the top of his head into Regvar’s face.

  The henchman stumbled back with a cry of pain, blood gushing from his broken nose. His sword swiped through empty air.

  That one second of hesitation was all Kendril needed.

  The Ghostwalker drew his short sword and swung it hard at the thug’s neck. The sharp blade tore though Regvar’s throat, almost severing his head completely. The man tumbled to the ground.

  Kendril was already moving.

  Without looking to see what damage he had caused, he rotated to look behind him, his second pistol at the ready.

  Another man was coming right at him, a sword held ready to attack. It was the same thug he had fought in the inn earlier, and he didn’t look too happy.

  Kendril blasted off a quick shot with his pistol, filling the night air with a sharp flash and stench of gunpowder. At the same moment he dropped to the ground.

  A crossbow bolt tore through the air where Kendril had been. He had no idea where it had come from.

  Queltin gripped his sword in both hands, bringing it down in a frenzied blow.

  Kendril artfully rolled to the side. The sword missed him and plowed into the ground. Pivoting, Kendril swiped his own blade at Queltin’s exposed knee.

  The henchman was too wily to be caught by such a trick. He dodged out of the way, then lurched his sword back for another strike. Two of the stitches on his cheek burst from the effort.

  Kendril leapt to his feet and blocked one blow from the swordsman, then another as Queltin came at him again. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man with a crossbow out in the street in front of the inn, waiting patiently for an open shot. By the back corner of the inn was another man, hurriedly reloading another crossbow.

  Kendril was caught in between. It was only a matter of time before he took a bolt in the back or the chest.

  Blazing cinders scattered down in all directions as part of the inn wall collapsed. A column of smoke and fire roared up and blocked the way to the front street. The inn was a raging inferno by now. The entire structure was ready to collapse.

  If Queltin sensed the danger, he didn’t seem to care. With blood streaming down his cheek from his reopened wound, he charged at Kendril again, his war cry lost in the roar of the flames.

  The intense heat searing his back, Kendril stepped forward to meet certain death.

  With a shuddering groan the front section of the inn collapsed, sending up a swirling cloud of sparks. Montrose took a few steps back as part of the porch caved in as well. His view of Queltin and the Ghostwalker was completely blocked. Had they been caught in the flames?

  He raced back down the street, splashing through a large puddle as he came to the front of the burning inn. Nothing could still be alive in there. Either the girl was dead, or she had somehow escaped.

  If she had gotten out of the inn, she couldn’t have gone very—

  Montrose stopped in his tracks. The stables. Of course. It was possible, given a little luck, that someone could have crawled from the back of the inn to the stables without being seen from across the street.

  Keeping clear of the showering spray of burning fragments and heat, Montrose turned to the left side of the inn.

  Only one way to find out for sure…

  Jade barely had time to leap to one side before the stable door came crashing open. Maklavir came in and shut the door quickly behind him.

  “Did you do it?” Jade asked.

  Maklavir grinned. “We’ll know in about fifteen seconds.”

  A burning timber crashed down. It barely missed the spot where Uther was standing. He jumped back, uttering a strangled curse.

  The whole inn was coming down, and he would go with it, if he wasn’t careful.

  Grabbing his half-loaded crossbow, he turned away from the two men fighting in front of him.

  Montrose was paying him well, but not that well.

  Kendril parried another blow. His sword vibrated from the impact.

  Queltin slashed his sword back again and barely missed the Ghostwalker’s chest. A muffled roar came from within the burning inn beside them as part of the second story floor collapsed.

  Sweat ran down Kendril’s face. The heat of the blaze was scorching the side of his face. He lashed out with a counterblow, then darted quickly off to one side.

  Queltin came at him again, oblivious to the growing danger around them.

  As he moved back, Kendril’s foot slipped on a wet patch of grass. With a sharp sense of panic he felt his entire leg slide out from beneath him. He hit the ground hard.

  Queltin came towards him, and lifted his sword for a killing blow.

  Montrose cleared the back of the inn, seeing the dark shape of the stables in the flickering glare of the fire. The towering stockade wall was just behind it. He raised his crossbow as a sudden shape came running towards him from his right.

  “Don’t shoot!” the man cried. “It’s Uther.”

  Montrose lowered his weapon, pointing back behind the inn. “The stables. Let’s move.”

  “That’s funny,” said Maklavir thoughtfully. “It should have gone off by now. Perhaps I was counting wrong.”

  “Maybe we should—“ Jade’s voice stopped mid-sentence. She was peering out of the crack in the stable door once again.

  Maklavir quickly straightened. “What’s wrong?”

  Jade recoiled from the door, desperately reaching for the pistol in her belt. “It’s him! The man in the inn. He’s—”

  Her words were suddenly drowned out by the roar of a huge explosion.

  Chapter 9

  The blast caught Queltin completely by surprise.

  He instinctively ducked, thinking for a moment that someone was firing a cannon behind him. But even as he turned his head, he knew the noise was too loud.

  An entire section of the stockade wall had simply disintegrated, sending pieces of wood flying in all directions. A huge column of smoke was billowing out across the grass, stretching up into the dark sky.

  Queltin suddenly realized he had let his guard down for a fraction of a second. He turned back to his opponent, but the Ghostwalker was already gone.

  He whirled frantically, sword at the ready, but he couldn’t see the man anywhere. Choking smoke filled the air all around him, making it difficult to breathe. Queltin held the sword at the ready, backing up as he desperately attempted to find his enemy.

  It was no use. There was too much smoke. He could barely—

  With a lumbering crash the inn wall came smashing down, fire and burning debris raining down around him. The henchman glanced up just a split-second before flaming death enveloped him.

  Queltin didn’t even have time to scream.

  Montrose was striding towards the stables, reaching for his mace, when all of a sudden he found himself looking at the night sky. The stars were moving, he noticed. No, he thought, he was moving.

  And then he hit the ground.

  Splinters of shattered wood sprayed in all directions as Montrose came sliding to a stop, about twenty feet away from where he had been before. Blood ran down his neck from a cut. He tried to get to his feet, but fell backwards again, his ears still ringing from the noise.

  When he finally managed to sit up, he gaped in astonishment.

  Someone had blown a hole in the stockade wall.

  Jade suddenly felt herself thrown against the stable door, as if a giant hand had hurled her. She fell to the floor, the pistol sliding out of her hands. The whole wooden building swayed under the force of the explosion, rocking back and forth for a moment. She heard the frantic sound of the animals braying and whinnying in terror.

  Then, everything swirled into darkness.

  When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the ground with a dull throbbing pain in her skull. She instantly reached up for the bandage on her head, but quickly withdrew her hand as she winced in pain.

/>   A figure knelt down next to her. “Jade, are you all right?”

  She nodded, trying to clear the dust from her mind. “Yeah, I think so. Just give me a moment.”

  “Right. I’ll get the animals.” Maklavir leapt to his feet, then grabbed the bridle of his horse and tried to soothe the creature. He looked down at Jade. “I think I might have used a bit too much gunpowder. Still, all in all not too bad, wouldn’t y—”

  The stable door flung open. A man with a loaded crossbow in his hand and a patch over one eye stepped inside. His boots crunched on the straw-covered ground.

  “Well, well, well,” Montrose said with a sinister grin. “What have we here?”

  Jade scrambled backwards and felt her back hit against a stall. She started to reach for her pistol, then realized that she had lost it in the explosion. A quick glance showed her that it was lying on the ground by the bounty hunter’s feet.

  Maklavir raised his hands, dropping the horse’s bridle. “Why hello there,” he said in a light-hearted tone. “Just us stable hands back here. Anything we can help you with?”

  Montrose swiveled the crossbow in the diplomat’s direction. “Shut up.” He glanced at Jade. “You’re coming with me. Get up.”

  “Surely we can make some kind of arrangement,” said Maklavir quickly. He stepped from behind the stall, his hands still in the air. “Is there something you want?”

  “I want her.” Montrose shifted his finger slightly on the finger of his crossbow. He looked at the girl again. “Get to your feet. Now.”

  There was a sudden sharp click from behind the bounty hunter.

  Montrose grunted. “About bloody time, Uther. Find Quel—” He turned, his words catching in his throat.

  Kendril was two steps behind him, his face and clothes smeared with soot. He held a pistol three feet away from Montrose’s head.

  “Drop it,” the Ghostwalker snarled.

  Montrose dropped the crossbow with a thud to the ground.

  Kendril leaned against the door, wiping sweat and ash from his forehead. “Maklavir?”

  The diplomat stepped forward. “Yes?”

  “Get Jade and get out of here as fast as you can.” He grabbed Montrose, the pistol still aimed at his head, and pulled him out into the night air, pushing him around to face the burning inn.

  “One false move and I’ll blow your head off,” Kendril reiterated.

  “I have no doubt,” Montrose commented dryly.

  About twenty yards away Uther came limping up, his crossbow loaded and ready to fire.

  “Tell him to drop it and stand back,” said Kendril.

  Uther stopped uncertainly, his crossbow held at the ready. Part of the inn crumpled behind him, sending up a sudden flare of sparks.

  Montrose said nothing.

  Kendril jammed the pistol against the back of the bounty hunter’s neck. “Tell him.”

  Montrose ground his teeth together. The hot barrel of the gun pressed into his skin. “Drop it, Uther.”

  The henchman gave Kendril an enraged look, then carefully set the crossbow on the ground.

  “Maklavir!” Kendril shouted over his shoulder.

  “Coming,” came the reply. The diplomat appeared at the door, leading his horse. Jade appeared behind him, pulling Simon along. The pistol was in her free hand. The mule whined plaintively as he saw Kendril.

  “Get going,” said the Ghostwalker, the gun still against Montrose’s neck. “I’ll catch up.”

  Jade glanced at Montrose nervously. “But—”

  “Just go,” said Kendril, his eyes watching Uther carefully. “I’ve got things covered here.”

  Maklavir drew his sword, glancing in the direction of the inn. “Hurry, Jade. We don’t have much time.”

  The young woman gave Kendril one last parting look, then quickly followed Maklavir to the smoking hole in the stockade, pulling Simon quickly behind her. The mule tugged obstinately on his bridle, braying and looking back at his master.

  Kendril watched carefully until both Jade and Maklavir disappeared into the shadows of the forest beyond the wall. He tightened his grip on the pistol as he saw two other men come running around the side of the inn. One had a musket, and the other a sword in his hand.

  Montrose glanced over without moving his head. It was Calham and Derik, the two men he had posted at the gates. They had come running after they saw the explosion. They stopped warily about twenty feet behind Uther, and looked uncertainly at Montrose.

  “Well,” said the bounty hunter slowly, the barrel of the pistol still pressed against his neck, “I would say it’s your move, Ghostwalker. Are you going to kill me?”

  “I will if you don’t shut up,” snapped Kendril. His eyes darted toward the hole in the stockade wall. He needed to give Maklavir and Jade as much time as possible.

  Uther tensed slightly, his hand moving slightly towards the crossbow.

  Montrose gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  Kendril shoved the barrel of the pistol into Montrose’s neck so hard that the bounty hunter grunted.

  “Tell your man to drop that musket.”

  Montrose licked his lips. “I have a better idea. How about we talk this over, one civilized human being to another?”

  “I don’t think we have anything to talk over. Tell your man to drop his gun.”

  “Or what?” said Montrose. “You’ll kill me? If you intended to do that, I think you would have shot me already. I’m the only bargaining chip you have, and not a very good one at that. If you kill me, I guarantee you that these fine gentlemen will kill you.”

  “I’ve taken on your men before.”

  “So you have,” said the bounty hunter. “You seem to be quite a talented swordsman. I could use a man of your ability. Perhaps we could come to some kind of arrangement.”

  Kendril smirked, his gaze shifting quickly back and forth between the armed men in front of him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m perfectly serious. Whatever she’s paying you, I’ll beat. Name your price.”

  Kendril kept his eyes locked on the men in front of him. “She’s not paying me anything.”

  Montrose chuckled darkly. “Oh, I see. So you’re just helping the poor girl out of the kindness of your heart, eh?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Everyone wants something.” Montrose turned his head slightly, looking at Kendril out of the corner of his eye. “Even you, I’ll bet.”

  “I’m not for sale,” Kendril replied sharply. “And keep your head forward, or I’ll blow it off.”

  Montrose turned his head back towards the glare of the fire. “You seem a reasonably intelligent man. How far do you think you’ll get with her and that clown she’s with? We’re three days from the nearest town, and that’s by the main road. Wandering through the woods will take even longer. You can’t seriously think that you’ll make it.”

  “I seem to be doing fine so far.”

  The bounty hunter gave a sinister chuckle. “What, just because you’ve killed some of my men? You’ve gotten lucky, Ghostwalker. This is a battle you can’t win.”

  Kendril’s lip curled up into a snarl. “Care to bet?”

  Montrose’s voice dropped a notch. “Walk away. I won’t stop you. It’s your last chance of making it out of this alive. Stay with the girl, and I’ll kill you myself.”

  Kendril shoved Montrose in the direction of the smoking hole in the wall. The pistol hovered by his head. “You can try.”

  The three henchmen spread out. Uther grabbed his crossbow from the ground. They kept pace with the Ghostwalker and his hostage, spreading out across the rain-soaked grass. The inn continued to smolder behind them.

  “So you’re going after her?” Montrose shook his head bitterly. “You’re a fool then, and a dead man.”

  Kendril paused before the smoking ruin of the stockade wall. He was careful to keep Montrose between himself and the henchmen. “We’ll see.”

  He kicked Montrose forwa
rd, then dove through the shattered opening behind him into the underbrush.

  Montrose cursed as he fell on his stomach, then quickly rose to his feet and reached for his mace that hung from his belt.

  Derik’s musket thundered away, the musket ball whistling off into the darkness of the forest.

  A fleeting shadow was all Montrose had time to glimpse through the blasted stockade before Kendril’s form vanished entirely into the blackness outside the Outpost wall.

  Uther ran up next to Montrose and lifted his unfired crossbow.

  “Don’t bother,” said Montrose, waving Uther to put the weapon down. “It’s pitch black out there.” He felt suddenly weary. “We need to regroup.”

  Uther reluctantly lowered his weapon. “Regvar’s dead,” he said in an agitated tone, “and last I saw of Queltin he was over by where the wall collapsed.”

  Montrose turned, wiping the sweat off his face. “I know.”

  “We can’t keep doing this,” said Uther. “That man’s a demon. He’s already killed four men.”

  Montrose spun on the thug, his face turning red. “And what do you suggest, Uther? We let them go?” He moved his face close to his henchman’s. “I’ve never backed out of a contract yet, and I’m not about to start now. There’s too much riding on this to stop.”

  Derik shuffled uncomfortably. “Maybe Uther is right, boss. We could all end up dead if—”

  “None of us is going to die,” Montrose cut in. He looked at his remaining men, glancing from face to face. “If you leave now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your lives. Think about it, gentlemen. There may be fewer of us now, but that means a greater share of the pay off. And,” he added, watching his men’s faces carefully, “our bounty has been doubled.”

  The men gaped at him as their minds quickly did the math.

  Uther rubbed his nose, deep in thought. “That’s enough to make us all rich men,” he said in astonishment.

  “Very rich men,” said Montrose. “Now let’s hurry up. We don’t have long until morning.”

  Calham blinked. “You’re not thinking of tracking them at night?”