"But alas," the woman said, "you are no longer in Voramis. You stand on Malandrian soil, and in Malandria, you answer to our masters."
The Hunter's eyes darted about, searching for a way of escape. "What have I done to anger your masters?"
"Tales of the Bloody Hand and their grisly demise reached Malandria long ago. The Order of Midas knows the part you played, and would avoid sharing their fate. We are here to deliver their judgement." The woman stalked toward him, holding her weapon in a loose, familiar grip.
The Hunter felt a stab of panic, and his ruined left eye throbbed. Weaponless, wounded, and his body unable to heal itself, he knew facing all three at the same time could prove fatal.
Perhaps he could buy time enough to escape. "So why now? Why confront me at all when a bolt to the head would work?"
The woman smiled. "There is always that possibility."
Something rustled behind him. Whirling, the Hunter saw the tall, thin man leveling a crossbow at him.
"Apologies, Hunter." He pressed the trigger.
The Hunter reacted without thinking, flaring his cloak out wide and throwing himself to the side.
Pain ripped through his side. The bolt tore cloth and flesh, hurling him to the floor and carving a line of fire across his ribs. He threw himself into the fall, rolling to his feet in a low crouch, hand flashing toward the gutting knife.
The tall man opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. He looked down at the crossbow with a look of dumbfounded amazement. The woman's expression mirrored her brother's shock.
The Hunter growled. "You'll pay for that, you bastard!" He pushed the pain to the back of his mind, relishing the adrenaline coursing through him.
The woman whistled. "By the Keeper! You're fast, I'll have to give you that!"
"It seems your masters forgot to mention that I don't die easy," the Hunter snarled.
The tall, thin man smiled. "Oh, I daresay you speak the truth, good Hunter. Which is why they sent the three of us to deal with you."
He gave the thin man a feral smile. "Pray to whatever god you worship that the three of you are enough!" Trying to hide his pain, he straightened and shook his head. "The fact that you're facing me is foolishness itself. As I said, you'd be better served putting a bolt in my head from the rooftops."
The woman shrugged. "Perhaps, but this way we can kill you with our own hands and earn prestige for being the ones to kill the mighty Hunter." She toyed with the handle of her polearm. She looked all too comfortable with the weapon, and eager to use it.
The Hunter was forced to move to keep all three within his field of vision. Of the trio, he marked the tall man and the woman as the primary threats. The big brute moved slower and with hesitation, almost as if taking cues from the woman.
Warm wetness trickled down his side and soaked into the waist of his breeches. He cursed silently. Between the pain and loss of blood, he could ill-afford a prolonged skirmish.
He forced bravado he didn't feel. "Might I at least know the names of those who are about to kill me?"
The thin man stepped forward and dipped into a bow with a flourish of his slim sword. "We are the Savage Three!"
Chapter Eighteen
Dumfounded, the Hunter stared at the man. Then laughter burst from his lips. "Watcher's taint! Not a very terrifying name, is it?" He howled, doubling over in mirth.
The woman scowled. "Here in Malandria, the name of the Savage Three is spoken with fear and reverence."
The Hunter snorted, making no attempt to hide his amusement. "Perhaps, but why not try the Fearsome Family or the Brutal Brothers? Something a bit less on the nose."
"He mocks us?" The tall, thin man's voice grew nasal and shrill with anger. "Come sister, let us see how he laughs through a slit throat." He stepped forward, raising his sword.
"Roccus, wait!"
The voice, deep and rich, surprised the Hunter. It came from the third sibling, who had remained motionless until now.
Hesitation written in his expression, the brute turned to face his sister. "Are you certain you want to do this?" He turned to stare at his brother. "There's something about him…"
Roccus rolled his eyes and snapped. "Of course, Gratius! It's what we were hired to do."
Gratius clearly wanted to say more, but a glare from the woman shut him up. The Hunter locked gazes with the brute.
Curious…
Gratius's eyes flicked to the Hunter's right and he flinched almost imperceptibly. Acting on instinct, the Hunter twisted to the side. The woman's polearm—thrust at his ribs—carved a thin line of fire along his chest.
The Hunter slammed his fist down on her hand, breaking her grip. The polearm clattered to the cobbled stones of the street. When the woman's eyes followed her weapon, the Hunter snapped his boot up into her stomach, driving the breath from her lungs.
He had no time to think. Gratius charged, swinging a massive, steel-studded fist toward his head. The Hunter ducked under the blow and, stepping closer, slammed his elbow into Gratius's ribs. Bones bent but refused to crack, and the hulking brute grunted in pain.
The Hunter slipped behind the big man, using his imposing bulk to block the third sibling's attack. He kicked the back of Gratius's knee, hard, eliciting another cry of pain. The big man wobbled, giving the Hunter a moment to breathe.
Then Roccus was upon him, slim fencing blade carving the air in quick cuts and thrusts. It was all the Hunter could do to stay out of the path of the blade. The rapier darted in and out of his field of vision, moving almost too quickly for his one eye to follow, leaving shallow wounds in his face and neck.
The rapier darted toward his throat, and the Hunter threw up his forearm. The blade sank deep into the muscle above the elbow. He cried out in pain, then again as the man twisted the blade and pulled it free. Blood dripped down his arm, running from his hand in rivulets to stain the cobbled stone streets.
Only then did he remember the gutting knife. Pitiful, perhaps, but his only chance of survival.
"My, my," the tall man said, eyeing the small, curved blade with disdain. "It seems that we are to have a fight tonight. A truly fearsome weapon, indeed." The man's tone was light, but his eyes never left the Hunter's hand.
"I've killed better men than you with less than this!" False bravado, but perhaps it would buy him a momentary advantage.
The thin man snorted. "You truly do have a vaunted opinion of yourself, dear Hunter." He shook his head and saluted the Hunter with the rapier. "At least I will be able to boast that Roccus of the Savage Three defeated the legendary killer of Voramis."
"Perhaps, but I'm not dead yet." A smile spread slowly on his lips—the snarl of a predator staring at its prey.
Roccus's eyes flicked to his left, and the Hunter threw himself forward. Pain flared along his back, but the blow—no doubt meant to be fatal—only grazed him.
Caught unaware by the Hunter's lunge, Roccus nonetheless reacted quickly. His thrust pierced the Hunter's shoulder—far too close to the large vein in his neck for comfort. Ignoring the pain, the Hunter leapt back, pulling the rapier free of his shoulder. A fresh trickle of blood stained the front of his tunic. He retreated down the street, moving to keep all three within his limited field of vision.
The demon screamed in his mind. 'Kill them, before they kill you!'
The Hunter ignored the voice. "Not so easy to kill, am I? Perhaps now you will consider disobeying your masters' orders, just this once."
"We cannot," the woman said. She had retrieved her bladed polearm and held it at the ready. "We fear them far more than we could fear you." Resignation filled her voice, mixed with a grim determination.
"Are you so afraid of these wizards that you would die rather than fail to carry out their commands?"
Gratius had found his feet. He moved into position behind his brother, wincing with every step.
Roccus shrugged. "You can only kill our bodies, but these wizards can steal our very souls!"
The thought c
hilled the Hunter. He knew the feeling all too well.
Then the words struck him. His mind raced. Could these wizards have found a weapon like Soulhunger? Impossible! Soulhunger was supposed to be the last of the demon blades.
Yet that assumption had proven false in the past. He'd encountered another in the Serenii tunnels under Voramis—the First's blade. Could there be more hidden from the world?
A throbbing in his left eye pushed the thoughts from his mind. At a serious disadvantage, he needed all of his attention just to survive. Only his fast reflexes had saved him. That and the fact that his assailants had been spread out. His chances were slim now that he faced them head on.
The Hunter gripped the gutting knife tighter, flexing his fingers. "So be it. Come on then."
Roccus advanced first, Gratius and the woman flanking him. The Hunter was trapped, his escape cut off. With surreptitious movements, he slipped his left hand beneath his cloak to seize the hidden crossbow bolt.
The tall, thin man moved with impressive speed. His rapier darted through the air, flicking in and out like the tongue of a viper. The Hunter's impaired vision made it difficult to follow the blade's deadly weaving. He backpedaled, twisting to avoid a thrust, but Roccus' blade carved a gash into his side. The smirk on the tall man's face grew at the Hunter's visible pain.
Roccus fought with precision. He snapped the thin sword easily, cutting wicked arcs around the Hunter. Perfectly balanced, moving with the short, mincing steps of a Royal Court fencer, he kept up no matter how far the Hunter retreated. It was all the Hunter could do to avoid being impaled. The gutting knife offered little in the way of defense or offense against the longer, lighter blade. Within minutes, Roccus had laid open his forehead, forearm, thigh, and hand; shallow wounds all, but painful nonetheless.
He blocked a thrust at his good eye, searching in desperation for an opening in Roccus's guard. A dim part of his mind screamed at him to find Gratius, who had slipped from his field of vision.
I have to even the odds, and quick.
Roccus stepped into a perfectly timed thrust. But instead of retreating, the Hunter moved forward and to the right. He grunted at the fire burning along his left side. The pain didn't stop him from burying the gutting knife in Roccus's forearm.
Roccus's screams pierced the night. His eyes went wide, and his grip on the sword weakened. Snarling, baring his teeth, the Hunter pushed the knife deeper. Roccus's fingers spasmed as steel parted nerves. A fresh wave of blood spouted from his hand, and he screamed again.
The Hunter's fist silenced his cries.
Even as Roccus wobbled, the Hunter whirled. The woman stood with a look of shocked surprise on her face. Mouth open, she watched blood gout from Roccus's arm. The Hunter sprinted toward her. Heavy footfalls pounded behind him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the woman. He slowed only long enough to scoop up the rapier. Gratius could wait—she was his main concern.
The woman snapped back to life at the sight of the Hunter. She thrust the polearm at his stomach, and only a flourish of his dark cloak saved him. He wrapped the blade in folds of cloth, trapping it, and lashed out with a punch to her face.
She would not be as easy as her brother. With almost contemptuous ease, she slipped beneath the blow, twisted her weapon free of his cloak, and danced out of reach with a mocking smile.
"Surprised, Hunter? Not every day you meet a woman who can fight."
Celicia's face flashed in his mind's eye. Sir Danna's followed a moment later. He smiled and shrugged.
Gratius reached them and took up a position behind his sister, forcing the Hunter to retreat further. The hulking brute studied him through narrowed eyes. The Hunter returned the scrutiny, marveling at the huge man's grace. It reminded him of Tane—the Third. He had almost been more dangerous than the First.
Yes, this Gratius is definitely one to be feared. If he wasn't so reticent to fight…
The Hunter's wounds stung like a thousand hot needles. Pain echoed in every movement, and his left eye throbbed.
I have to end this, and soon!
"Well, then? What are you waiting for? Come on then!"
Gratius hesitated. "Kalia," he rumbled, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Roccus is—"
"Roccus will live," she barked. "We have a task to carry out, or can you not remember that?"
The big man's face reddened. Clenching his fists, he stepped toward the Hunter, anger burning in his eyes.
Kalia attacked, too impatient to wait for her brother. The bladed polearm spun through the darkness in long, graceful arcs. She struck at the Hunter with both ends of the weapon, weaving a complex pattern that forced him to retreat. Thrusting, slicing, slashing, she moved with unnatural grace and precision.
The Hunter had no time to marvel at Kalia's skill. He fought a desperate battle, trying to avoid the flashing weapon. His one eye couldn't match the polearm's speed. His finely-honed reflexes saved his life a half-dozen times, but he soon bled from more places than he could count.
The slim rapier bent beneath Kalia's onslaught. The sword would break under a solid blow, forcing him to deflect rather than parry. Gratius hovered behind Kalia, trying to find an opening in her whirling offense. Only quick footwork kept the woman between himself and the hulking brute. He grunted with every blow, panting for breath. Stinging sweat trickled into his wounds.
With a growl of rage, the Hunter threw himself forward. He dropped low to avoid a downward slash of the blade, but his perception was off. The blade carved a line of fire down his back, eliciting a cry of pain. The scent of blood hung thick in the air—his blood.
But his movement placed him inside Kalia's guard. His left arm snaked around the head of the polearm and pulled it tight against his side. The rapier in his right hand darted like a viper toward Kalia's leg. Razor-sharp steel sliced through flesh with ease, not deep enough to hit bone, but severing an artery.
Blood spurted from the wound, staining the Hunter's tunic. Kalia cried out, her voice pitched high with pain. Dropping her polearm, she clapped both hands to the wound and slumped to the floor. A coppery tang filled the air.
"Kalia!" Gratius caught his sister's body before it hit the floor. He pressed his hands into the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. His heavy gloves were soaked through in seconds. He stared up at the Hunter, worry and fear filling his eyes. But his fear was not for himself.
The big man tried to divide his attention between the Hunter and his sister, but his concern for Kalia won out. He all but turned his back on the Hunter, heedless of the threat to himself. It was clear he had only one thought: to stop his sister from bleeding to death. Gratius threw off his spiked gloves, removed his tunic, and pressed it into her leg.
The Hunter edged around the brute, watching his delicate ministrations, marveling at his impressive musculature.
The way he is built, he looks born to be a fighter. Yet see how gentle he is.
The Hunter had seen the hesitation in the big man's expression throughout the fight. The man's appearance and personality were at stark odds. Gratius all but ignored the Hunter.
He has no desire to fight me. That much had been plain from the beginning. If I don't miss my guess, he has no wish to fight at all.
He could almost picture the man's past. Huge, immensely strong, and fiercely loyal to his siblings, he had no doubt followed in their steps as an assassin. Not out of a desire to kill, but out of the need to protect them.
The demon shouted in his mind. 'If you value your life, kill them before they kill you!'
No. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't.
"Gratius."
The big man ignored him, his eyes locked on his sister's face. Her skin had taken on a sickly pallor in the dim light of the deserted street.
"Gratius," he said again, a tone of command in his voice. "Look at me."
Gratius turned his face up to the Hunter. Brow furrowed, jaw clenched, defiance written in his expression, he returned the Hunter's stare without fear.
&nbs
p; "If she isn't tended to immediately, she will die. Your brother, too."
Gratius's fist clenched and he squared his shoulders. Clearly, he was prepared to fight—to the death, if need be—if it meant he could save his brother and sister.
'Yes! Kill him now!' The demon's eager excitement set his eye throbbing.
"Go, and take them with you."
The big man's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. "But m-my masters—"
The Hunter cut him off with a savage swipe of his hand. "Tell your masters I want nothing to do with them. If I am left in peace, I will do nothing to interfere with their rule over the city. But if they get in my way, I will bring their deepest fears to life. I will carve my way through them as I did in Voramis. They shall be as the Bloody Hand, a name soon forgotten by history."
'No! You must kill them!'
The Hunter gritted his teeth to block out the demon's protests. "Do you understand?" the Hunter growled.
Gratius nodded. "Yes, I understand."
"Then go, and don't look back." The Hunter threw Roccus's rapier at the big man's feet to make the point clear.
Gratius moved quickly, binding Kalia's wound with another strip of cloth. He cradled her unmoving body in one huge arm. Roccus groaned as Gratius slung him over his shoulder.
With a nod, the hulking man slipped down the street and disappeared into the night.
Chapter Nineteen
Anger seethed in the voice in his thoughts. 'Fool! You let them live! Have you already forgotten what happened the last time you failed to heed my warnings?'
I have not forgotten.
'You were nearly killed! Thrown off a cliff and left to die.'
Yet here I stand. The choice is mine, demon, not yours. You promised me silence in return for death. I have killed for you, so leave me alone. The Hunter massaged his throbbing temples.
'You killed, but that was days ago. I told you I would return, and—'
Silence! The Hunter's anger roared to life. The rush of battle had started to wear off. Every part of his body ached, and his wounds burned. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week. You will honor your bargain and remain silent. I am in control, not you. I do what I will.
The Last Bucelarii Book 2: Lament of the Fallen Page 22
