Road of the Patriarch ts-3

by Robert Anthony Salvatore

  He looked back at the floor—one set of tracks.

  With grace and speed that mocked his large form, Olwen leaped forward and spun, bringing his two-handed axe across for a strike that the surprised sneak couldn't begin to block. Satisfaction surged through the ranger as his perfectly-balanced, enchanted blade swiped cleanly through the air with no defense coming. It drove hard into the sneak's chest; there was no way for the fool to defend!

  * * * * *

  Off to the side of the portal where Olwen had abruptly and aggressively entered, in the shadows of another corridor, Artemis Entreri watched with little amusement as the ranger's weapon blew apart the chest of the mummy Entreri had propped next to the opening.

  The weapon went right through, as Entreri had planned, to slice the securing rope set behind the perserved corpse, before finally ringing off the stone.

  Across from the mummy, on the other side of the intruder, a glaive, released by the severing of the rope, swung down.

  Entreri figured he had a kill, and that there was no turning back because of it.

  But the burly intruder surprised him, for as soon as the ring of stone sounded, almost as soon as he had cut through the rope, the man was moving, and fast, diving into a sidelong roll. He tumbled deeper into the room, just ahead of the swinging glaive, and came back to his feet with such balance and grace that he was up and crouched before Entreri had even fully exited the side corridor.

  And even though Entreri moved with unmatched silence, Olwen apparently heard him, or sensed him, for he leaped about, axe swiping across, and it was all Entreri could do to flip Charon's Claw up and over to avoid getting it torn from his hand.

  Olwen cut his swing short, re-angling the axe with uncanny strength and coordination, then stabbing straight out with it, its pointed crown jabbing for the assassin's throat.

  Entreri let his legs buckle at the knees, falling back as Olwen came on. He finally got Charon's Claw out before him, forcing the ranger to halt, but by that point he was so overbalanced that he couldn't hope to hold his ground. He just twisted and let himself fall instead, his dagger hand planting against the ground.

  Olwen's roar signaled another charge, but Entreri was already moving, using those planted knuckles as a pivot and throwing himself out to the left over his secured hand, twisting and tucking his shoulder to turn a sidelong roll into a head-over somersault. He was up and turning before Olwen could close, coming around much as the ranger had done in dodging the glaive trap, with Charon's Claw humming through the air before him as he spun.

  "Oh, but you're a clever killer, aren't you?" Olwen asked.

  "Isn't that the difference between the killer and the deceased?"

  "And Mariabronne wasn't so clever?"

  "Mariabronne?" Entreri echoed, caught by surprise.

  "Don't you feed your lies to my ears," Olwen said. "You saw the threat of the man—the honest man."

  He finished with a sudden leap forward, his axe slicing the air in a downward diagonal chop, right to left. Olwen let go with his top hand, his right hand, as the axe swung down, and he didn't slow its momentum at all, turning his left arm over to bring it sailing back up, catching it again in his right with a reversed grip, then executing a cross-handed chop the other way.

  Entreri couldn't begin to parry that powerful strike, so he simply backed out of reach. He planted his back foot securely as the axe came past, thinking to dart in behind it. As Olwen let go with his left hand, the axe swinging out to the right, his right hand gripping it at mid-handle, Entreri saw his opening. With the shortened grip, Olwen couldn't hope to stop him.

  Artemis Entreri got his first taste of the true powers of the Bloodstone Lands then, the powers of the friends of King Gareth.

  Olwen sent his right arm to full extension to the right, and loosened his grip on the axe so that it slid out to full extension. The ranger's freed left hand grabbed up a hand axe set in his belt, just behind his left hip, and as Entreri came on, a flick of Olwen's wrist sent the smaller weapon spinning out.

  Entreri ducked and threw Charon's Claw up desperately, just nicking the spinning hand axe, defeating its deadly spin if not entirely its angle. He still got clipped, across the side of his head, but at least the weapon hadn't planted in his face!

  Worse for Entreri, though, was Olwen's mighty one-handed chop, his powerful axe soaring back across with frightening speed and strength.

  The only defense for Entreri was to go under that blow, turning as he went to absorb the impact.

  For any other fighter, it would have been no more than a desperate and defensive turn, but Entreri improvised, flipping his weapons as he went. His left arm caught Charon's Claw, and his right hand deftly snagged and redirected his jeweled dagger. Even as he slowed the axe, Entreri was into the counter, stabbing ahead for Olwen's ample belly.

  But Olwen's free hand came across to slap hard against Entreri's leading forearm, forcing the thrusting dagger to the side as the ranger turned away from the strike. With both his weapons to Olwen's right, and with the ranger turning, balanced, behind his shoulder, Entreri had no choice but to press forward even more forcefully, diving into a headlong roll and again coming to his feet in a sudden defensive spin.

  He picked off another soaring hand axe, barely registering the silvery flickers of the blade, and he could hardly believe that Olwen had managed to square himself, pull another weapon and throw it with such deadly precision and fluidity.

  "Akin to catching the greased piglet, I see," Olwen taunted.

  "Which rarely gets caught, and oft makes a fool of the pursuers."

  Olwen smiled confidently as he walked to the side, his battle-axe swinging easily at his right side, and retrieved the first hand axe he had thrown. "Oh, it takes a while to catch it," he said. "But the greater truth is that the piglet never wins."

  "Those who rely on certainties are certain to be disappointed."

  Olwen gave a belly laugh, and waved his hands at Entreri in an invitation. "Come along then, murdering dog, King Artemis the Stupid. Disappoint me."

  Entreri stared at the man for a short while, watched him drop into a balanced defensive crouch, setting his axes, battle- and hand-, in fine position and with a comfort that showed he was not unused to two-handed fighting. The ranger apparently believed that Entreri had killed Mariabronne, a crime for which he was innocent.

  He thought to protest that very point. He thought, fleetingly, of calming the fine warrior with—uncharacteristically—the truth.

  But to what end? Entreri had to wonder. Jarlaxle had proclaimed him as King Artemis the First, a usurper of lands Gareth claimed as his own. That crime carried the same sentence the man was trying to exact, no doubt.

  So what was the point?

  Entreri glanced at his own weapon, the red blade of Charon's Claw, the glimmering jewels of a dagger that had gotten him through a thousand battles on the streets of Calimport and beyond.

  "Oh, come on, then," his opponent teased. "I'm expecting more out of a king."

  With a resigned shrug, an admission yet again that it was all just a silly and insanely random game, an admission and acceptance that, though he was for once being misjudged, there had been more than a few occasions when Olwen's verdict would have been quite fair, Artemis Entreri advanced.

  * * * * *

  The sounds of battle echoed up the corridors to the foyer, where Master Kane stood before the perplexing array of tunnel openings. Because of the design of the place, with all the tunnels curving the same way, there was no way for the monk to accurately discern which opening would lead him to the fight. Even the battle sounds clattered out of all the openings uniformly, as if they were joined by cross channels.

  "You should have marked it, Olwen," he mumbled, shaking his head.

  Kane tried to gauge the angle of the curve and the distance of the battle sounds. He moved to the second opening from the right. He paused for a moment, until he realized that his hesitation wouldn't grant him any more insight or an
y better guess. He reached into a pouch, produced a candle, and dropped it on the floor, marking the opening.

  Down he ran, silently and swiftly.

  * * * * *

  Entreri thrust with his sword and Olwen's hand axe descended quickly to deflect it. The assassin retracted the blade, feinted with his dagger, and thrust again with the longer weapon. Olwen had to twist aside and bring his larger axe across from his right.

  And again, Entreri retracted fast and shifted as if to bring his left foot forward and thrust with the dagger, which was again in his left hand. The ranger stopped in his twist and tried to re-align himself to the right, but Entreri came on with another thrust of Charon's Claw.

  He thought the fight at its end—against a lesser opponent, it surely would have been—but then the assassin realized that Olwen had anticipated that very move, and that the ranger's twist back to the right had been no more than a feint of his own, one designed to line him up for a throw.

  The hand axe spun at Entreri, and only the assassin's great agility allowed him to snap his jeweled dagger up fast enough to tip it up high as he ducked. Entreri kept his feet moving as he did, reshuffling fast so that as he went down low under the spinning missile, he also was able to dart forward, once again leading with Charon's Claw.

  Olwen blocked it, but Entreri stepped right behind that parry—or so he thought—and thrust with the dagger.

  For Olwen had to have parried with his larger axe, the assassin had believed, and so confusion enveloped him as his dagger thrust came up short, as Olwen, more squared to him than he had thought possible, managed to slide back a stride.

  As it untangled, Entreri noted that the man had pulled a second hand axe, and that it, and not the larger weapon, had defeated his low thrust.

  And he was too far forward and too low, his blades hitting nothing but air, and with Olwen recoiled, his large axe up high and back. Forward it came in a sudden and devastating rush.

  Entreri fell flat to the floor, wincing as the air cracked above him. He planted his hands and shoved up with all his strength, and with a perfect tuck, tugging his legs back under him, he came up straight, his weapons circling in a cross down low before him and rising fast and precisely. The lifting Charon's Claw caught Olwen's following chop with the hand axe, the red blade locking under the curved axe head, and Entreri drove the ranger's arm up and out. Entreri dropped his left arm lower, to belt height, and thrust forth the dagger, pushing the ranger back, and forcing the man to drop his larger axe low to block.

  That thrust only set up the real move, though, as Entreri hopped up and to the right, gathering leverage. With the better angle, he rolled Charon's Claw right over Olwen's small axe and stabbed it down, twisting the ranger's arm.

  Olwen surprised him, by dropping the axe and punching out, clipping Entreri's chin.

  He staggered back a step, but recovered quickly—and a good thing he did, for on came Olwen, chopping wildly with his battle-axe. Down it rushed, and around, a sudden backhand followed by another lightning-fast strike. Metal rang against metal, clanging and screeching as the axe head ran the length of Entreri's blades in rapid succession. And in the midst of that barrage, Olwen produced yet another hand axe and added to the fury, both hands chopping.

  Entreri fought furiously to keep up, deflecting and parrying. For many moments, he found no opportunities to offer any sort of a counter, no openings for any strikes at all. It was all instinct, all a blur of movement—sword, dagger, and axes whipping to and fro.

  And if Olwen was growing at all weary, he certainly didn't show it.

  * * * * *

  As he exited the tunnel where he had entered, Kane turned the candle to the side, so that it was parallel to the tunnel opening, a sign for Emelyn or anyone else who came in that he had explored the passage and was no longer within. He placed a second candle on the ground at the entrance to the next corridor in line, its wick pointing into the descending darkness, clearly marking his trail for his friend, who knew how to read his signals.

  He set off more speedily, both because he understood the general layout of the tunnel, given the other, and because he was certain that it was the one that would take him to Olwen and the fight.

  And judging from the frenetic pace of the ringing metal, the tempo of that battle had increased greatly.

  * * * * *

  He knew the instant his red-bladed sword cut nothing but air that he had missed the parry, but without a split second's thought about it, without the hesitation of fear or dismay, Entreri followed with a perfect evasive maneuver, turning his hips toward the left, opposite the incoming axe strike, and thrusting his waist back.

  He got clipped—there was no avoiding it—on his right, leading hip, Olwen's fine battle-axe tearing through the assassin's leather padding, through his flesh, and painfully cracking against his bone.

  A wince was all Entreri allowed himself, for Olwen came on, sensing the kill.

  Entreri cut a wild swing, from far out to his right and across with his mighty sword. Olwen, predictably, put his axe in line to easily defeat it. But the desperation on Entreri's face, and echoed by his seemingly off-balance swing, only heightened the feint, and the assassin dropped his swing short and used the momentum, instead of as a base to strike at Olwen, to spin himself to the side.

  He sprinted off, limping indeed from his wound, but refusing to give in to the waves of burning pain emanating from his torn hip.

  "You've nowhere to run!" Olwen chided, and he came in fast pursuit as Entreri sprinted for the doorway, where the glaive hung, its pendulum swing played out.

  Entreri shoved the glaive out to the left and rushed past—or seemed to, but he pulled up short, spun, and whipped Charon's Claw in a downward strike. He called upon the magic of the blade as he did, releasing a trailing opaque wall of black ash that hung in the air.

  Even as he finished the swing, the assassin simply let go of the sword and charged out to his left, opposite the glaive. His footsteps covered by the clanging of Charon's Claw on the stone floor, Entreri rolled around the wall, judging, rightly, that the visual display of glaive and ash would confound Olwen, albeit briefly. Indeed, the ranger sent his left arm out wide to interrupt the recoil of the glaive, and he pulled up short, astonishment on his face, to see the ash wall before him.

  But he couldn't stop completely, and certainly didn't want to become entangled with the cumbersome glaive anyway, so he roared and rushed forward, bursting through the ash veil and into the tunnel.

  And he froze, for no enemy stood before him.

  A fine and sharp dagger came about to rest on Olwen's throat. A free hand tugged at his thick shock of black hair, yanking his head back, opening his throat fully for an easy kill.

  "If I were you, I'd keep my arms out wide and drop my weapons to the floor," Entreri whispered in Olwen's ear.

  When the ranger hesitated, Entreri tugged his hair again and pressed a bit more with his jeweled dagger, drawing a line of blood, and when Olwen still hesitated, Entreri showed him the truth of his doom, his utter obliteration, by calling upon the vampiric powers of the dagger to steal a bit of Olwen's soul.

  The battle-axe hit the floor, followed by the hand axe.

  "You multiply your crimes," came a calm voice from behind.

  Entreri tugged Olwen around and pressed him through the ash and past the glaive, back into the room, to face Kane, who stood at the other open exit. The monk appeared quite relaxed, fully at peace with his arms hanging at his sides, his hands empty.

  "The only crime I committed was to dare step out of Gareth's gutter," the assassin retorted.

  "If that is true, then why are we in battle?"

  "I defend myself."

  "And your kingdom?"

  Entreri narrowed his eyes at that and did not respond.

  "You hold your blade at the throat of a goodly man, a hero throughout the Bloodstone Lands," Kane remarked.

  "Who tried to kill me, and would have gladly cut me in half had I allowed
it."

  Kane shrugged as if it didn't really matter. "A misunderstanding. Be reasonable now. Allow your actions to speak clearly for you when you face the justice of King Gareth, as you surely must."

  "Or I walk away…" Entreri started to say, but he paused as a second figure came into view, ambling down the corridor to stand beside Kane. Emelyn the Gray huffed and puffed and snorted all sorts of halting and sputtering protests at the unseemly sight before him.

  "Or I walk away with this man," Entreri reiterated. "Without obstruction, and release him when I am free of the misjudgements of Gareth Dragonsbane and his agitated followers."

  The wizard sputtered again and started forward, only to be intercepted by an outstretched arm from Kane. That only slightly deterred Emelyn, though, for he began waving his arms.

  "I will reduce you to ash!" the wizard declared.

  Entreri gave a crooked grin and willed his dagger to drink, just a bit.

  "Stop!" Olwen bellowed, his eyes wide with terror, and indeed, that gave Emelyn and Kane pause. Olwen had faced death many times, of course, had faced a demon lord beside them, but never had they seen their friend so unhinged.

  "You will not survive this," Emelyn promised Entreri.

  Beside him, Kane lowered his arms and closed his eyes. A blue gemstone on a ring he wore flickered briefly.

  "Enough!" Entreri warned, and he ducked aside, pulling Olwen with him, as a spectral hand appeared in the air beside him. "My first pain is his last breath," the assassin promised.

  Kane opened his eyes and brought his hands up in a gesture of apparent concession.

  The spectral hand swept down, lightly brushing Entreri but feeling as nothing more than a slight breeze as it dissipated to nothingness.

  Entreri breathed heavily, a bit confused. He didn't want to play his hand; killing Olwen, of course, left him with no bargaining power. He tugged the man's head for good measure, drawing a pained groan.

  "Turn and lead me out," Entreri instructed.

  Emelyn did begin to turn, but he paused halfway, his gaze—and subsequently, Entreri's—going to the monk, for Kane stood perfectly still, his eyes closed, his lips moving slightly, as if in incantation.