"Don't you dare," said Roxanne. "I can't go through all this again. My nerves won't stand it. Why did you do it, Stefan?"
"It's not enough just to live," said Medley. "You have to have something to live for. Something, or someone. For a while I had politics, and when I grew tired of that, I found Adamant. He needed me, made me feel important and valued; made me his friend. But even at its best I was just living someone else's life, following someone else's lead.
"And then I met you, and you gave my life meaning. I was so happy with you. You were all the things that had been missing from my life. You made me feel that I mattered, that I was someone in my own right, not just someone else's shadow. And then you told me it was all a lie, and walked out of my life forever. I can't go back to being what I was, Roxanne. I'd rather die than do that. I love you, and if what we had was just a lie, then I prefer that lie to reality. Even if I have to die to keep it. "
"No one ever felt that way for me before," said Roxanne slowly. "I'm going to have to think about that. But I promise you this, Stefan; I'll stay with you for as long as you need me. I'm not sure why, but you're important to me, too."
Medley looked at her for a long moment. "If this is; just another game you're playing, a way to get more information out of me, I don't mind. Just tell me what you want to know, and I'll tell you. But don't pretend you care for me if you don't. Please. I can't go through that again."
"Forget all that," said Roxanne. "Hardcastle can go stuff himself. Things will be different from now on."
"I love you," said Medley. "How do you feel about me?"
"Damned if I know," said Roxanne.
Hawk was tired, and his arm and back muscles ached from too much use and too little rest. During the past hour he'd been through half the dives in the Steppes, looking for a lead on Fisher. No one knew anything, no matter how forcefully he put the question. Eventually he came to the reluctant belief that they were telling the truth. And that only left one place to look. Brimstone Hall. Hardcastle's home.
He stood outside the great iron gates, and stared past the two nervous men-at-arms on duty. The old Hall looked quiet and almost deserted, with lights showing at only a few windows. Somewhere in there he'd find what he was looking for; someone or something that would put him on the right trail.
The two men-at-arms looked at each other uncertainly, but said nothing. They recognized Hawk, and knew what he was capable of. They hadn't missed the fresh blood dripping from the axe in his right hand. Hawk ignored them, concentrating on the Hall. Hardcastle and his people would be out on the streets now, so the chances were good he'd only have to face a skeleton staff. Maybe he'd get really lucky and find Isobel locked away in some cellar here. He remembered the way she'd looked as she'd been dragged away, bloody and unconscious, and the slow cold rage began to build in him again. He shifted his gaze to the two men-at-arms, and they stirred uneasily.
"Open the gates," said Hawk.
"Hardcastle isn't here," said one of the men. "Everyone's out."
"Somebody will talk to me."
"Not to you. Captain Hawk. We have our orders. You're not to be allowed entrance under any circumstances. As far as you're concerned, everyone's out and always will be."
"Open the gates," said Hawk.
"Get lost," said the other. "You've no business here."
Hawk hit him low, well below the belt. He doubled up and fell writhing to the ground. The other man-at-arms backed quickly away. Hawk pushed the gates open, stepped over the man on the ground, and entered the grounds of Brimstone Hall. The man-at-arms left standing took one look at Hawk's face and turned and ran for the Hall. Hawk went after him at a steady walk. No point in hurrying. No one was going anywhere.
He heard the approach of soft, padding feet, and looked round to see three huge dogs charging silently towards him. Hawk studied them carefully. Hardcastle's dogs were supposed to be man-killers and man-eaters, but they looked ordinary enough to Hawk. He took a bag of powder from his belt, opened it, held his breath, and threw the powder into the air right in front of the dogs. The dogs skidded to a halt, sniffed suspiciously at the air, and then sat down suddenly with big sloppy grins on their faces. Hawk waited a moment to be sure the dust had done its job, then walked cautiously past them. Two of the dogs ignored him completely, and the third rolled over on its back so that Hawk could rub its belly. Hawk smiled slightly, careful not to breathe till he was well past the dogs. He'd known the second bag of dust he'd found in Dannielle's room would come in handy.
He headed for the Hall. Everything seemed quiet. He'd almost reached the main door when it suddenly swung open before him, and five men-at-arms in full chain mail spilled out to block his path. Hawk smiled at them, and held his bloody axe so they could see it clearly.
"Where is she?" he said softly. "Where's Hardcastle keeping my wife?"
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," said the foremost man-at-arms. "I'm Brond. I speak for Hardcastle in his absence, and he doesn't want to speak to you. You'd better leave now. You're already in a lot of trouble."
"Last chance," said Hawk. "Where's my wife?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," said Brond. He half-turned away and addressed the other men. "Throw him out. Don't be gentle about it. Show the man what happens when he messes with his betters."
Hawk slammed his axe into Brond's side. The heavy steel head punched clean through Brond's chain mail, and buried itself in his rib cage. Brond stood and stared at it for a moment, unable to believe what had happened, then fell to his knees, blood starting from his mouth. Hawk jerked his axe free, and the four remaining men-at-arms jumped him. The first to reach Hawk went down screaming in a flurry of blood and guts as Hawk's axe opened him up across the belly.
The other three tried to surround Hawk, but his axe swept back and forth, keeping them at arm's length. They surged around him, darting in and jumping back, like dogs trying to bring down a bear. Hawk smiled at them coldly, calculating the odds. The men-at-arms were good, but he was better. He could take them. It was only a matter of time. And then four more men-at-arms came running out of the main door, and Hawk knew he was in trouble. With Fisher to watch his back, he'd have taken them on without a second thought, but fighting on his own the odds were murder. Nevertheless he was damned if he'd back down. Fisher needed him. Besides, he'd faced worse odds in his time. He took a firm hold on his axe and threw himself at his nearest opponent.
And then suddenly there was another figure, fighting at his side; tall and lithe and very deadly. Two men-at-arms fell to the newcomer's blade in as many seconds. Hawk cut down a third and suddenly the men-at-arms scattered and ran for their lives. Hawk slowly lowered his axe, and turned to face Roxanne. For a long moment they stood looking at each other, and then Roxanne lowered her sword.
"All right," said Hawk. "What's going on?"
"We've come to help," said Medley, approaching the two of them cautiously. "We know where your wife is. We can take you right to her."
"Why the hell should I trust you?" said Hawk. "You both work for Hardcastle."
"Not anymore," said Roxanne. "He broke his contract with me."
"And I never worked for him," said Medley flatly.
"Besides," said Roxanne. "Without our help you haven't a hope of finding and rescuing your wife."
Hawk smiled slightly. "That's a good reason."
He hesitated, and then put away his axe. Roxanne sheathed her sword, and the three of them walked back through the grounds to the main gates. They had to go slowly so that Medley could keep up with them. Hawk looked at him more closely.
"You don't look too good, Medley. Are you sure you're up to this?"
"He's been ill," said Roxanne quickly. "He's fine now."
Hawk looked at them both, and then let the matter drop. There was obviously a story there, but it could wait. "How did you find me?" he asked finally.
Medley smiled. "You seem to have spent the last hour or so cutting a path right through the seedier
half of the High Steppes. AH we had to do was follow the path of blood and bodies."
"You haven't said what you expect to get out of this," said Hawk.
"The dropping of any and all charges against us," said Medley. "A clean slate."
"All right," said Hawk. "You help me rescue Isobel, and I'll come through for you. But if I even suspect you're trying to set me up, I'll kill you both. Deal?"
"How could we refuse?" said Medley.
"Deal," said Roxanne.
Pike had been stuck in the safe house for over an hour, and the ale had run out. He couldn't send out for more because they weren't supposed to draw attention to themselves. He leaned his chair back against the wall and looked thoughtfully at the locked door that stood between him and Captain Isobel Fisher. The beautiful, arrogant Captain. Not so arrogant now, though. Pike smiled at the thought. And let his hand drop to the key ring at his belt. Hardcastle's orders had been quite specific about delivering her alive, but no one had said anything about intact;
Pike looked around him. Six of his men were playing dice and arguing about the side bets. Two more were doing running repairs on their chain mail. The rest were scattered around the house, acting as lookouts. All in all, the house was thoroughly secure, and no one would miss him if he took a little break. He called quietly to Da Silva, and the mercenary left the dice game and came over to join him.
"This had better be good. Pike; I was winning."
"You can cheat at dice any time. I've got a more pleasurable game in mine."
Da Silva looked at the locked door, and frowned. "Wondered how long it would take for you to get the itch for her. Forget it. Pike. That's Captain Fisher in there. We can't afford to take any chances with her."
"Come on," said Pike. "She's just a woman. We can handle her between us. Are you game?"
"I'm game if you are." Da Silva smiled suddenly. "Who gets first shot?"
"Toss you for it."
"My coin or yours?"
"Mine."
Pike took a silver mark from his purse, and handed it to Da Silva, who examined both sides carefully before returning it. Pike flipped the coin and caught it deftly before slapping it flat on his arm. Da Silva called heads, and then swore when Pike revealed the coin. Pike grinned and put it away. Da Silva glanced at the other mercenaries.
"What about the others?" he said quietly.
"What about them?" said Pike. "Let them find their own women."
Da Silva looked at the locked door and licked his lips thoughtfully. "We're going to have to be very careful with her, Pike. If we give her a chance, she'll cut our throats with our own knives."
"So we won't give her a chance. Will you stop worrying? First, she's already had a hell of a beating. That should have taken some of the starch out of her. And secondly, I tied her up hand and foot while she was unconscious, remember? She's in no position to give us any trouble. So, I untie her feet, and then you hold her steady while I give her a good time. Afterwards, we swop over. Right?"
"Right." Da Silva grinned broadly. "You always did know how to show your friends a good time, Pike."
They walked purposefully towards the locked door. A few of the other mercenaries looked in their direction, but nobody said anything. Pike unlocked the door, and took a lamp off the wall. He grinned once at Da Silva, and then the two of them went to see Captain Fisher.
The room had no windows or other light, and Fisher screwed up her eyes at the sudden glare. She'd been awake for some time, but alone in the dark she had no way of telling how much time had passed. Her head ached fiercely, and she knew she was lucky not to have a concussion. There were cramps in her arms from being tied behind her, and her hands were numb because the ropes at her wrists were too tight. Her ankles were hobbled and there was no sign of her sword. All in all, she'd been in better condition.
She struggled to sit upright, and looked at the two men standing by the door. They closed it carefully behind them, and from the way they looked at her, she had a good idea of what they had in mind. A sudden horror gripped her, and she had to grit her teeth to stop her mouth from trembling. She'd faced death before, been hurt so many times she'd lost count of the scars, but this was different.
She'd thought about rape, she supposed every woman had, but she'd never really thought it would happen to her. Not to her, not to Captain of the Guard Fisher; the warrior. She was too strong, too good with a sword, too determined to protect herself for anything like that to happen to her. Only now her sword was gone, the strength had been knocked out of her, and determination on its own wasn't going to be enough to protect her; She bit down firmly, on her growing panic. She had to keep her wits about her, and watch for a chance to thwart them. If all else failed, there was always revenge.
Pike put the lamp into a niche high up on the wall. He could feel Fisher watching him. He moved unhurriedly towards her. Her eyes were steady, but just a bit too wide. He grinned, knelt down beside her, and put one hand on her thigh. In spite of herself, Fisher shrank away from his touch.
"No need to worry, Captain," said Pike, giving her thigh a little squeeze, just hard enough to let her feel the strength in his hand. "My friend and I won't hurt you, as long as you behave yourself. No. You just be nice and cooperative and show us a nice time, and you don't have to get hurt at all. Of course, if you're determined to be unpleasant about it, my friend Da Silva here knows some real nasty tricks with a skinning knife. Isn't that right. Da Silva?"
"Right." Da Silva laughed as Fisher's eyes darted to him and then away again.
"I'm a Captain of the Guard,'" said Fisher. "If anything happens to me, you'll be in real trouble."
"That's out there," said Pike. "Things like that don't matter in here. In here, there's just you and us."
"My husband will track me down. You've heard of Hawk, haven't you?"
"Sure," said Pike. "We're waiting for him. He's good, but so are we. And there are a lot more of us than there is of him."
Fisher thought frantically. There was the sound of truth and confidence in his voice, and that frightened her more than anything. They didn't just want her, they wanted Hawk as well.
"All right," she said finally, her voice not quite as steady as she would have liked. "I won't fight you. Just; don't hurt me. Why not untie me? I could be more; cooperative then."
Pike's hand lashed out, slapping her viciously across the face. Her head rang from the force of the blow. She could feel blood running down her chin from her crushed mouth. She gritted her teeth against the pain and the dizziness. She'd been hurt worse in her time, but this kind of cold and casual violence was new to her, and all the more intimidating because of her utter helplessness.
"That's for thinking we're stupid," said Pike. "If I untie your hands, I'm a dead man. You're not going to get that chance. Captain."
He drew a knife from his boot, and Fisher tensed, but he only used it to cut the ropes binding her ankles together. Da Silva moved quickly in to hold her ankles while Pike put away his knife. Fisher's heart speeded up, and her breathing became ragged and uneven. Pike put a hand on her breast and pushed her so that she fell onto her back. He began to undo his trousers. Fisher struggled to sit upright again, as though that could somehow put off the inevitable. Pike laughed. He leaned forward and grabbed her hair, tilting her head back. He held her head steady as he put his face down to kiss her.
Fisher sank her teeth into his lower lip. Her teeth met, and she jerked her head back, taking most of Pike's lip with her. Blood ran from his mouth, and for a moment the pain and shock held him rigid. Fisher spat out the lip and snapped her head forward in a savage butt to Pike's face. There was the flat, definitive sound of his nose breaking, and he fell backward against Da Silva, sending him sprawling. Fisher scrambled to her feet while Da Silva pushed Pike aside and struggled up onto his knees. Fisher stepped forward and kicked Da Silva squarely in the groin, putting all her weight behind it. Da Silva's breath caught in his throat before he could scream, and he fell forward
onto the floor, clutching at the awful pain between his legs. Pike was rolling back and forth on the floor with both his hands at his face, unable to think straight for the pain. Fisher kicked him solidly in the head until he stopped moving.
She heard movement behind her, and turned quickly to find Da Silva was back on his feet again. He was crouched around his pain, but he had a knife in his hand, and his eyes were cold and angry. Fisher backed away, and Da Silva went after her. He feinted at her with his knife, but she saw it for what it was, stepped quickly inside his reach while he was off balance, and kicked him in the knee. Da Silva fell forward as his leg collapsed under him, and Fisher's knee came up and caught him squarely on the chin. Da Silva's head snapped back, and he fell limply to the floor and lay still.
Fisher leaned back against the cold stone wall, shaking violently. Her head ached so badly she could barely think, but she knew she couldn't stop and rest. If the other mercenaries had heard anything of the fight, they might decide to see what was happening. And she was in no condition to take on anyone else. She took a deep breath and held it, and some of her shakes went away. She got down on her knees and groped around on the floor until she found the knife Da Silva had dropped. All she had to do now was cut the bonds at her wrists, which were knotted in the middle of her back where she couldn't see them, then work out a plan that would get her out of here without having to take on however many other mercenaries were waiting in the next room. Fisher smiled sourly, and concentrated on cutting the ropes and not her arms. One thing at a time.
The narrow street was almost completely dark, with only a single street lamp shedding pale golden light across the decaying, stunted houses. The parties and parades had passed them by, and nothing disturbed the street's sullen quiet. In the shadows, Hawk and Roxanne drew their weapons, while Medley kept a careful watch on the safe house. The shutters were all closed and there was no sign of any life. Hawk studied the house for some time, and scowled unhappily.
"Are you sure this is the right place? Where the hell are the lookouts?"
Winner Takes All h&f-1 Page 19
