Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2)

by Lucas Thorn

  “Ain’t sorry I got your eye,” she said evenly, feeling the man behind drift closer as he shifted on his feet. But the sword didn’t move. “Sorry I missed your brain. Weren’t my fault, though. Was a small target.”

  Neckless gave an amused snort. “Feisty cunt, ain’t she, Torak?”

  “Sure,” Torak spat in her face. “Feisty. Yeah. I get that. Well. This is what I think of feisty.”

  His fist powered through the dark. The blade at her throat prevented her from avoiding the blow so she was forced to accept the punch. Knuckles smashed into her cheek and glanced off her nose. Pain shot into her brain and the muscles in her shoulders knotted and twitched recklessly as she rocked sideways, held on her feet thanks to Neckless grabbing her roughly by the shoulder.

  She stayed slumped, though her eyes thinned to dangerous slits. Spat a thick stream of blood at Torak’s feet and sneered. “That’s it? Best you got?”

  He showed his training by not responding. Instead, leaned close. Almost touched her nose with his own as he stared deep into her eyes. Seemed to be trying to read her mind.

  She would have spat again, but couldn’t work her mouth. Her cheek already swelling. So she settled for glaring back at him.

  “I’ll show you what I’ve got,” he said calmly. Pressed the tip of Fulci’s Last Joke against her scar. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll show you everything. And then, when you’ve had it all, I’ll kill you. Neckless? You want to get my pack? I got a few things in there I think this bitch is gonna love.”

  “She’s dangerous,” Neckless said, unwilling to remove the blade from her throat. “Look at her. She’s a raghead, Torak. I let her go, and you’re asking for trouble. Don’t be a dickhead. Just stick her and be done. Cut her a little if you like. But don’t fuck with her. The Jukkala trained us, yeah? Remember that training now and don’t let her get to you. We ain’t got time for this shit. We need to find out what’s going on here. And we need to get out. Grimwood Creek, remember?”

  “Piss on Storr and his fucking timetables. We’ve got time,” the one-eyed man growled. “I want the hooks. I want to hang her up and peel her fucking skin off. I want to pluck out her eyes and I want to hear her fucking scream!”

  Neckless sighed. “Get them yourself. I ain’t letting her go. I like my blood on the inside.”

  “Fine.” Torak hobbled back into the shadows as the ground gave another tremor. This time it was louder. The sound of heavy steel being dragged over stone. Or a drill?

  It quickly subsided.

  “How long you been here, raghead?” Neckless asked casually, as though they were in an inn somewhere sharing beer.

  She grunted. “Half hour, maybe.”

  “Really? You took your time, then. Few hours for us. But we got lost. Got attacked on the road. Big bastard. With more chains than Torak, I reckon.”

  “I heard.”

  “Did you now?” he asked, not showing much interest. “Guess that thing made more noise than I thought.”

  “Weren’t that. Got it off some feller called Fenis.”

  “Fenis?” He sounded surprised. “He still alive?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “You killed him, then.”

  “I killed him. He hurt before he died, too.”

  Fenis didn’t rise to the bait. “Well. That sure is a shame. Saw his horse buy it. Figured him for a goner right there and then. Also figured you’d catch up if we didn’t make Grimwood quick enough.” His grip on the sword at her throat hadn’t wavered in the slightest even though she was sure he was struggling to keep his tone even. “Like I said, though. We got lost. Lost our horses to Draug. And Torak there couldn’t go much further today. Figured to hole up here for the night. Let him recover a little. Seeing you has done more for him than a thousand healers. Which is good, because we’ve got to hurry tomorrow. Late enough as it is. There’s a path cut into the cliff back there. Reckon it leads to the top. We’ll make a try for it in the morning. Half an hour, you say? You sure? Sounded like the Shadowed Halls opened half an hour ago. You know anything about it?”

  “If I did, you reckon I’d tell you?”

  “Not yet. But give Torak fifteen minutes, and I reckon you will.”

  “You don’t know me that well,” she said, but inside she was afraid. Could hear the clink of metal as Torak delved into his pack for his hooks. Heard chains in there, too and decided she was getting sick of hearing that sound.

  Neckless brushed his hand down her spine, tracing the length of her torso to press his palm against her ass. Was breathing hot as he used the sword to pull her closer.

  Her eyes thinned to slits as she choked down the need to twist around and rip his head off his shoulders. Patience, she told herself.

  Wait for it.

  “Would love to get to know you more,” he said. “Raste told us you’d do anything for a copper piece. Told us a few stories. That true? You’d do anything? I get a lot of stress, you know? It’s my shoulders mostly. And my back hurts like fuck. This job ain’t getting easier, with everyone and everything trying to kill you. Know what I mean? And we ain’t hit a town with decent pussy for months. I could really use some relief. If you hadn’t pissed Torak off so much, I reckon we could’ve been friends. For a while, anyway.”

  “Careful what you wish for, Neckless,” she breathed. “It ain’t over yet. Still got plenty of time to get real close. Close enough to break your heart.”

  “Don’t think about it, raghead. I’ve got you plumb. You ain’t getting out of this. You’re gonna pay for what you did to Torak. And Fenis, too. That’s a sure thing. Just wanted you to know I think it’s a waste of a perfectly good ass is all.”

  He removed his hand from her as Torak drifted out of the darkness.

  She caught her breath.

  He’d stripped down to the waist, Fulci’s Last Joke tucked into his waistband, and carried a chain in each hand. Dozens of sharp little hooks dangled from random links. At the end of the chain a bigger, more wicked, hook gleamed even in the dark. Hooks made to pierce flesh. More hooks dangling from his belt. Some were delicate. Others thick and cruelly barbed.

  All lacked the look of weapons.

  They were, she realised in mounting terror, tools created to inflict the grossest agonies. She made to step back, but Neckless held her firmly where she was.

  “So, raghead. Are you reading to scream?” Torak’s face was a sadistic mask of twisted lust and raw evil.

  “Fuck you, pinhead.” Her muscles bunched into barbed steel balls. Writhing painfully under her skin as she tried to see a way out. But Neckless held her tight.

  Torak hefted the chains. Inched closer, relishing her fear. “You’ll feel more pain than I have, bitch. I’m gonna pull the screams from your body like notes from a lute.”

  “Reckon that sure ain’t music to her ears,” Neckless giggled.

  “If that’s the way you want to play it, I heard of a few Bels you can ring,” she said, feeling hysteria rise like a giddy wave in the back of her brain.

  Then flinched as Torak took another step forward, his macabre grin peeled back across his teeth. He savoured the taste of her fear and she hated him more for making her feel so afraid she wanted to throw up.

  Thought Neckless licked the nape of her neck. A quick flick of tongue that sent ripples down her shoulders. She sucked a breath.

  One more step and those hooks would sink into her flesh. She felt a scream ready to birth in the back of her throat. Opened her mouth.

  And a thunderous explosion tore through the night, ripping the scream from her throat and crushing it in a cacophony of roaring noise.

  At first, she thought Chukshene had attempted a rescue. But the sound was from outside, deep in the heart of the cliffs. It roared as though the
rock itself was shouting defiance to the sky.

  The tower, rocked by the sudden noise, shuddered violently. Chunks of stone coughed loose. Several heavy blocks fell from above and the stairwell outside endured a hail of rubble. Overhead, the wooden beams groaned as they were wrenched and warped in their sockets.

  The elf froze.

  Torak threw his arms up as a few fist-sized chunks of ceiling dropped in front of him. Stumbled backward, still weakened by pain and blood loss.

  Neckless shifted, trying to judge whether it was Nysta or the falling rubble which was the greater threat. Couldn’t see much through the gloom and descending puffs of dust.

  The blade moved.

  Not by much. Maybe only half an inch. But it was enough.

  Enough for the elf to pounce on the only chance she figured she’d get.

  Pivoting, she slammed her boot down on his instep. Aimed for his knee, but missed. Instead, grazed his shin. Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that Neckless jerked his leg away in pain even as he tried to slash her throat with the short sword.

  His spare hand grappled with her shoulder, but was torn free as she used all her force to reverse her pivot. Whipping around to bring an elbow smashing into his face.

  Triumph surged in her blood as his nose shattered beneath the blow. He dropped to one knee, arm swinging back for a weak thrust aimed at her guts. Should have impaled her, but she stepped into the attack with frightening speed and aimed a ruthless kick at his balls. The kick contained every ounce of fury she could summon as she remembered his hand on her back. He squealed like a pig as a satisfying crunch powered up her thigh.

  The sword spun from his grasp. Glittered in the light like a diamond before being lost to the shadows.

  She snatched his hair and pulled his head back as he’d done to her. Sneered into his stunned face and growled; “Called me a whore, Neckless. Reckon I’ll have to let that go, on account of I can’t fight what I did in the past. Ain’t much ashamed of it. Did what I needed to do. Like now. Which means you’re gonna die happy.” She put her hand on A Flaw in the Glass, preparing to draw and bury it deep in his chest. “Because I really need to do you now.”

  She made to kill him, but froze as Torak screamed behind her.

  A scream of hate.

  The elf heard the rattle of thin chain and then something flashed past her cheek. Realised he’d thrown the hook.

  Spitting a curse, she twisted to face the enraged Musa who jerked hard on the chain so it returned hungrily toward his hand like a whip. Wheeling in horror, she was too late to avoid the heavy hook.

  It sank deep into the back of her left shoulder with a ferocious thunk and an arcing spray of blood. Smaller hooks tore at her jacket and marked her flesh.

  She couldn’t hold the shriek of pain as the one-eyed elf gave a savage tug on the chain to bring her sprawling at his feet on her hands and knees. He raised his hand, gripping the other hook. Prepared to bring it down. To gouge into her throat. Tear her life away. Howled in evil glee; “Ah, raghead. Ain’t you a catch?”

  Something inside her moved.

  Her head snapped up. Eyes glittering in pain and fear. But beneath that, rage flared so bright Torak froze. His indecision lasted for just a second. A second which split itself as her hand streaked toward his waist. With a yelp, he tried to dance backward while hauling desperately on the chain as though it were a leash.

  She felt the handle almost leap eagerly into her fist.

  And roared in pain and fury as she shouldered into him, tearing Fulci’s Last Joke from his belt and dragging the blade up his abdomen in one brutal movement. Felt a rush of warmth as a torrent of blood exploded from his belly. They screamed together in shared hate and agony.

  His fingers dropped the hook and clawed at her face.

  Trying to shove her aside.

  Just seconds from death, Torak put up a struggle. A struggle which didn’t last long as his blood gushed free. He dropped to the ground, hands only then trying to undo the damage. Desperate to hold his intestines in.

  A losing battle with the wreckage of his body, and the final spark of life inside him knew it. So he let go. Watched his guts slither out like a busted sackful of eels. The chains and hook glistened repulsively amid the Musa’s steaming entrails.

  The elf called Nysta drew her mouth back into a brutal grin. Ignored the gore as she squatted close to drill his gaze with a glare he could see even in the dark.

  Fulci’s Last Joke quivered in her hand like a steel-fanged adder.

  The tower continued to shake as the earth ground its stone teeth. Echoing the chains of Torak, heavier chains rasped under the thunderous rumble. Working at whatever hideous mechanism was still working.

  Also, the sound of heavy stones and dislodged mortar tumbling down onto the level above. Torn from the ancient walls and crumbling roof. Dust clouded the air and the wooden beams began to bend too much beneath the shifting weight.

  She figured she had to be quick if she wanted to see the two mercenaries dead by her hand. She glanced quickly to where Neckless lay on his side, still clutching his balls.

  But he was recovering, and one hand sought the comfort of his sword. He wouldn’t find it, she knew.

  Which meant she had time to deal with Torak first.

  Despite the pain spearing into the elf’s brain, she reached over her shoulder and grimaced as she pulled the hook free. Dropped it onto his torn stomach with a grunt.

  Managed, somehow, to keep her voice steady as she said; “Heard you were real hungry to see me, Torak. Can’t say I’m hooked on the idea. Fact is, I don’t like it at all. So let’s agree you won’t try looking me up again?”

  Dazed and dying, but clinging to any offer of life, the one-eyed elf stared at her in hope. Managed a slight nod.

  “Good,” she said grimly. “Glad we see eye to eye. Won’t kill you now for trying to kill me. But I reckon you still owe me something and, seeing as we ain’t got much time, I’m of a mind to collect. Seems I screwed up the first time with you, Torak. Didn’t mean to half-blind you. See, when I meant I wanted an eye for an eye for my husband’s murder, I meant your life. Want you to know, this ain’t for me. It’s for him.”

  Fulci’s Last Joke struck hard, diving through Torak’s blinking eye as easily as a stick through water. It drove into his brain and took that final spark of life with a wet crunch and a lone spasm.

  “Torak!” Neckless screamed, finally wobbling to his knees as more rubble rained down around him. Clutched his mashed face with his right hand, blood streaming between his fingers. His left hand snatched awkwardly at a dagger sheathed on his right hip. Managed to almost draw the blade, but the guard caught on his belt so only a sliver of steel reflected the shallow gulps of light.

  The roof gasped as the thick wooden beams splintered under the weight of too much stone.

  “Shit,” she breathed, realising what was happening. Dove for the doorway, narrowly avoiding a heavy chunk of stone the size of her head. It shattered where she’d been crouching, sending shards of rock skittering across the floor.

  Neckless snatched awkwardly at her as she slid past, still tugging at the knife trapped in its sheath. “I’ll kill you, you fucking Tainted bitch!”

  She flipped as she rolled, hand moving with blinding speed. Bamboo Bones snickered in the air. Delved through the sudden eruption of dust and gloom even as stone rained down from above. She heard him shriek in pain, then an avalanche of rubble obscured his body from view.

  Choking and writhing in fresh waves of pain from her damaged shoulder, the elf dragged herself to her feet and waved clouds of dust from her face as she sought to ensure she’d killed the other elf. Saw only a mound of debris which had surely crushed the life from him even if he’d survived the blade.

  The rumbling ceased as abruptly as it had begun, leaving her staring at the wreckage in silence. Waiting to see if more of the tower would collapse. Waiting to see
if Neckless emerged from the rubble.

  But nothing moved, and nothing would.

  A thin line of blood dribbled loose. She watched it form a quiet puddle.

  Touched her fingers to the latest hole in her back and felt the shy throb of blood squeezing out of her body. Figured she was lucky it hadn’t driven into the bone. The tough wyrmskin had prevented most of it from piercing flesh and saved her from a wound which might have rendered her arm useless.

  But the bruises were spreading, opening like bloody flowers under her skin. Her eyes closed and she wanted to slump to the ground. Wanted to rest there. Just for a minute.

  Close her eyes, maybe.

  Just take a few moments to breathe.

  But she had to keep awake. If she slept now, she wasn’t sure she’d wake. So she chewed hard on her lip, and forced herself to move. Hunched and limping, dragged herself back toward the stairwell.

  Leaned hard against the wall and left a thick trail of red as she headed back down.

  Step by agonising step. Nerves gorged on pain.

  Looked back only once. This to aim a bloodstained globule of spit at the room which had nearly claimed her life.

  The elf’s thoughts were of Neckless and the anxious weight of his belief that someone was always trying to kill him. “Reckon you had too much on your mind, feller,” she murmured, managing a crooked smirk. “Shouldn’t let it all get on top of you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The elf was almost on her knees by the time she made it back to the room in which Chukshene lay snoring, his head pillowed on his grimoire. Felt a brief spark of irritation on seeing him. But recognised the kind of exhaustion that had driven him far beyond a deep sleep and into something which was more akin to a coma.

  She figured to let him sleep. Shouldered the old door closed and crawled toward the corner closest to the warlock. Buckled against the wall.

  Stifled a low animal sob of pain in the back of her throat.