Fate’s face was tight with concentration as he focussed on his opponent, but his eyes widened as he saw the Tutor moving in for the kill.
‘No!’ he cried. ‘I want him alive.’
With a twist of the wrist, the Tutor changed the angle of his attack to strike with the flat of his blade. The man’s legs went wobbly and he collapsed to the floor.
Silence returned to the street while in the distance a dog barked into the night, but no one appeared to have noticed the fight that had taken place in this more sparsely populated part of the city. Two men lay dead with a third groaning as he hovered on the edge of consciousness.
‘What should we do about these two?’ asked the Tutor, but Fate just shrugged.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s not uncommon for mercenaries to die fighting in the street.’
‘And what about this one?’ he asked as the dazed man started to come round.
‘He’s dead,’ said Fate. ‘He just doesn’t know it yet.’
‘Are you just going to slit his throat?’ asked the demon hunter, and Fate’s gaze did not flinch as he jerked his chin towards the man.
‘Don’t you recognise him?’ he asked, and now the Tutor could see that one of the man’s teeth was glinting in the lamplight. It was Gold Tooth.
‘This man took pleasure in beating an innocent girl,’ said Fate. ‘He also forced Motina’s mouth open so they could give her the potion that would have killed both her and us. He’s going to die, but he’s going to help us get to Alonso before he does.’
Hauling Gold Tooth to his feet, they bound his hands, put a dagger to his side, and marched him off into the night. By the time they reached the river, the man had recovered sufficiently to try and wheedle his way out of his predicament.
‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he cried as they stumbled down the grassy bank towards the river. ‘I was only doing what Master Alonso told me to.’
‘Did he tell you to beat a defenceless girl?’ asked the Tutor as he pushed the man through the thorn bushes surrounding the storm drain.
‘That was just a bit of fun,’ said the man as if this light-hearted reply might help his situation. He was wrong.
‘And did he tell you to kill us?’ asked Fate.
‘Only if the hunchback failed,’ said the man. ‘And only if we could do it without anyone seeing. But I wouldn’t do it again,’ he added as if he suddenly realised that he might have spoken out of turn.
‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ said Fate, and the man gave a hiss of pain as Fate made a small cut on the man’s arm with the blade of his black dragon-handled dagger.
The man recoiled, struggling against his bonds, but the Tutor held him fast as Fate reached into his robes and took out a small vial of liquid. ‘Do you know what this is?’ The man shook his head. ‘It’s an antidote,’ said Fate.
‘An antidote to what?’ asked the man.
‘To the poison on the blade of this dagger.’ The sorcerer held up his black dragon-handled dagger. ‘The smallest cut from this weapon is enough to kill a man.’ The man’s eyes grew wide as he stared down at the cut on his arm. ‘A stab wound will kill you in seconds,’ Fate went on. ‘But a small cut is different. A big man like you might survive for an hour or more if the cut isn’t too large. But even a small cut will lead to death unless you can drink this antidote before you pass out.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ asked the man, his face beading with sweat as if he could already feel the effects of the poison. ‘I’ll do anything… just name it.’
Fate remembered the fear in Motina’s face as she recalled how she had been forced to swallow the potion. He remembered the shame in her eyes when she told them what she had done. And he remembered her small frame contorted with agony as the power of the theriac stone purged the harmful potion from her body.
‘I want you to return to Alonso,’ said Fate with no trace of mercy in his dark eyes. ‘I want you to tell him that we are wounded and bleeding and waiting for a boat to carry us out of the city. Tell him we’re hiding out in the storm drain where his men were looking for Luca.’
The man was nodding frantically.
‘And who knows,’ Fate went on. ‘If you get back quickly enough, there might still be time for the antidote to work.’ He held up the small bottle and the man nodded some more. ‘Cut him free.’
With a slice of his dagger, the Tutor cut the man’s bonds and he stumbled away from the two intimidating men that had just let him go.
‘Don’t dally,’ said Fate. ‘You wouldn’t want to collapse and die before you can get back for the cure.’
Fear, hatred and desperation flashed in the man’s eyes.
‘Alonso’ll kill me if I betray him,’ he said as his gold tooth glinted in the darkness.
‘Not if he dies tonight,’ said Fate.
‘You’ll never kill Alonso,’ the man snorted. ‘You’ll never get past Torvik.’
‘Alonso’s bodyguard,’ said Fate.
‘He’s a freak,’ said the man. ‘A father once came looking for his daughter… one of Alonso’s girls,’ he added with disturbing ambiguity. ‘He drew a sword on Alonso, but Torvik merely grabbed the blade and put a hand to the man’s chest.’ He paused, staring into space as he remembered the scene. ‘He set the man’s heart on fire… right there in his chest. We could see it glowing through his ribs.’ The man raised his eyes to look back at Fate. ‘I’m dead if I betray Alonso.’
‘And you’re dead if you don’t,’
‘Some choice,’ said the man bitterly.
‘It’s more of a choice than you gave my housekeeper.’
‘This is crazy!’ said the man. ‘All this for a few dead girls and a crippled old crone.’
Clenching his jaw, the Tutor started forward, but Fate put out a hand to stop him.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked the man who still seemed reluctant to leave.
‘Dizzy,’ said the man.
‘Then I’d hurry if I were you,’ said Fate as he held up the small vial of liquid.
Finally, the man realised that he had no choice. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could almost feel his chest getting tight and his heart beating faster from the effects of poison.
‘Fine!’ he snapped. ‘I’ll do it,’ and with a last baleful glance he turned away from the storm drain and disappeared into the night.
‘Do you think Alonso will come?’ asked the Tutor.
‘Yes,’ said Fate. ‘It’s nighttime, in a secluded location, and we’re both “wounded and bleeding”. He’ll be cautious, but yes, he will come.’
‘And what about Lord Medici?’ asked the Tutor. ‘I wasn’t joking when I said he would kill half the city to find you.’
‘I know,’ said Fate.
‘And he’ll have extra security at the mansion once he marks you for dead.’
‘No he won’t,’ said Fate. ‘Mere guards won’t protect him from a notorious sorcerer like me, so he will call on the protection of the Juoda Pakta.’
‘The dark sisters?’
‘Precisely,’ said Fate. ‘By midday tomorrow Lord Medici will have the protection of thirteen dark witches.’
‘So, how the hell will we get to him?’ asked the Tutor, but Fate just smiled.
‘One depraved nobleman at a time, my friend’ said Fate. ‘You just focus on how you’re going to defeat a man who can set fire to your heart while it’s still alive and beating in your chest.’
‘I’d rather tackle an entitled brat like Alonso,’ said the demon hunter.
‘No,’ said Fate. ‘Alonso is mine.’
33
The Hunt Resumes
As Fate and the Tutor waited for Alonso and his mystic bodyguard, a deadly shadow was prowling the streets of Guile. The dog-like form of the manitu was still wandering the streets of the city, keeping to the shadows as it tried to discern its purpose. The human sample inside of it was not strong enough to allow it to home in on its prey and so it drifted aimlessly.
Onl
y when it reached the walls of the city did it have the sense that it was going too far; that its target lay somewhere behind in the twisting warren of streets. From the tall tenements in the Second Quarter to the crowded slums of the Third it wandered. But eventually, it began to move towards the more affluent areas of the Fourth Quarter; a part of the city where a wealthy widow had once died in her sleep, leaving the house and all her estate to her only son, a troubled young man with a fleshy cherubic face.
Standing on a bridge over the Norward Canal, the Manitu hunched its shoulders and lowered its head. Somewhere in its chest, the trace of its target matched the scent of something on the air. The trace was weak and hidden away, but finally it was strong enough to hunt.
34
Hobson’s Choice
The night was dark and the black expanse of the river shimmered with the light from distant street lamps. Fate and the Tutor were waiting on the patch of open ground in front of the storm drain. The two men were looking down at the object Fate had taken from the black bowl in the basement room of Blackfell House. It was a sphere of milky white glass about the size of a hen’s egg. The object was illuminated by the faint glow of Fate’s firefly charm which hovered about six inches above the sorcerer’s hands.
‘Are you sure that’ll work?’ asked the Tutor.
‘No,’ said Fate. ‘But it might give us a chance if Alonso brings more guards.’
‘Just how bright is it?’ asked the Tutor.
‘It’ll blind you for a day if you look directly at it.’
‘Where the hell do you get this stuff?’
‘The Sutākirā assassins use them as diversions,’ said Fate. ‘I found four in the belt pouches of an assassin who failed in his mission.’
The Tutor arched an eyebrow. He did not need to ask who the assassin’s target might have been. Glancing back towards the storm drain, he changed the subject. ‘I’m still not sure about including the others.’
‘They want to help,’ said Fate, but the Tutor was not convinced.
After sending Alonso’s man on his way, Fate and the Tutor had met Samuel and the others in the storm drain, telling them how Alonso had tried to kill them and what they planned to do about it. Samuel had agreed to help, but Weasel and Cradlop were also keen to do something.
‘But this is dangerous,’ insisted the Tutor.
‘They’ll only come out if we have things under control,’ said Fate. ‘And the darkness gives us the advantage. Now hush… Someone’s coming.’
He tucked the firefly charm in a pocket as the sound of someone approaching along the riverbank grew louder. The area in front of the storm drain was surrounded by a fringe of blackthorn and, peering through the bushes, they could see a figure with a dim lantern hurrying along the bank towards them.
‘It’s him,’ said the Tutor, ‘the one with the gold tooth, and he looks a little shaky on his feet.’
Fate said nothing, only pursing his lips as the man pushed through the thorn bushes to speak with them.
‘I did it!’ he gasped. ‘I told Alonso.’
‘Is he coming?’ asked the Tutor.
‘He is,’ said Gold Tooth. ‘With two of his men and the Don’Sha’Vir.’
‘Which way?’ asked Fate.
‘That way,’ said the man, pointing back the way he had come. ‘They’ll be here soon. Please, I need the antidote now.’
Fate retrieved the small bottle from his robes. ‘How long do we have?’ he asked.
‘About ten minutes,’ said the man. ‘I ran on ahead while they were getting ready.’ He held his hand out to Fate. ‘Please,’ he begged. ‘I did what you asked; now I need to get away before they see me.’
The Tutor’s brow was furrowed with suspicion. He did not trust the man and he was surprised when Fate held out the antidote.
‘Very well,’ said the sorcerer. ‘Drink that and be gone with you.’
Edging forward, Gold Tooth took the bottle from Fate. Backing away into the thorn bushes, he broke the wax seal and there was a quiet pop as he removed the tiny cork. Putting the bottle to his lips, he drank it down before tossing the empty bottle aside. He retreated further, and there was just enough light to see that his lips were parted in a gold-toothed smile.
‘You’re dead!’ he sneered. ‘No one defies the Medicis… the both of you are dead.’
Hardly had he finished speaking when two more lanterns blossomed in the darkness revealing the presence of six armed guards, while behind them stood two more figures. It was Alonso and his bodyguard bathed in the faint light of magical energy that was centred around the Don’Sha’Vir’s hand.
‘I think Gold Tooth has double-crossed us,’ said the Tutor.
‘Of course he has,’ said Fate as the treacherous man emerged onto the grassy riverbank beyond the thorn bushes.
‘Now!’ he cried. ‘Take them now!’ He pointed towards the storm drain then his face creased with pain as he clutched his stomach and collapsed to his knees.
‘I guess the antidote came too late,’ said the demon hunter.
‘No,’ said Fate as he cocked his crossbow and drew his sword. ‘The dagger that cut him is only toxic to things of demonic origin, whereas the poison he just drank will kill a man in seconds.’
The Tutor stared at him in the darkness. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re a frightening man?’
‘It has been said,’ replied Fate and the two men readied themselves as Medici’s guards moved in. The six guards came on slowly, fanning out as they pushed their way through the bushes. Their lanterns lit up the immediate area but failed to penetrate the cave-like mouth of the storm drain. As they came closer, Fate raised his crossbow while the Tutor gripped one of his steel pointed throwing stars.
‘Say the word,’ said the Tutor as the guards moved into the clearing.
‘Now!’ said Fate.
The crossbow bolt and the throwing star flew out, but neither was aimed to kill. Instead, the projectiles targeted the two lanterns. Fate’s crossbow bolt punched through the glass bulb of one lantern, extinguishing the flame and causing the guard holding it to jerk back his arm in alarm. The second lantern swung wildly as the Tutor’s throwing star bit into the bearer’s arm. The unexpected attack made the guards pause and then they watched as Fate lofted the milky white sphere into the air. The ball of white glass did not appear threatening and yet the guards tensed as it fell towards the hard-packed earth.
‘Eyes!’ cried Fate as the sphere hit the ground and shattered to release a blinding white light.
Even though he had turned away and covered his eyes, the Tutor could still see the bright flare of light. It lasted only a second, but that was enough to blind the Medici guards. That was when Fate and the Tutor attacked, and they were not alone.
Stunned and dazed by the exploding sphere, the Medici guards stumbled blindly as Fate and the Tutor moved in. The plan was to get them into the storm drain before Alonso realised what was happening. Rushing up to one guard, Fate put a dagger to the man’s throat.
‘Walk!’ he hissed, pressing his dagger harder as the man started to resist.
Beside him, the Tutor arched back to avoid the sword of another guard who had managed to close his eyes in time to avoid the worst of the blinding effects. Still a little stunned, the guard swung his weapon in wild arcs until the Tutor disarmed him and punched him in the stomach before grabbing his collar and dragging him into the cave.
At the same time, another figure emerged from the storm drain, a figure with broad shoulders, short legs and long powerful arms. It was Cradlop, and the powerful troglodyte quickly grabbed two guards and dragged them bodily into the cave where Weasel was waiting with a handful of leather cords to tie up the befuddled guards.
In no time at all, the six Medici guards were bound and gagged, squinting and groaning as they tried to expunge the flaring blob of darkness that was now seared onto the retina of their eyes. One of them gave a muffled cry of warning, but then quickly stopped as Weasel cuffed him around
the side of the head.
‘Keep quiet, you oaf!’ he hissed.
Cradlop was also crouched nearby, his arms outstretched as he restrained two of the guards with his powerful hands. Fate turned to the Tutor.
‘Allow one of them to speak,’ said the sorcerer as he prepared to leave the storm drain. ‘Try to draw Alonso in, but give me time to get into position.’
‘Be careful of the Don’Sha’Vir,’ said the Tutor.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Fate with a smile. ‘I’m leaving the lethal bodyguard to you. We just need to make sure that Alonso doesn’t escape,’
‘Then be quick,’ said the Tutor.
Reaching into a pocket, he drew out one of the blue light-crystals that Fate had given him earlier. Then, without another word, Fate dimmed the firefly charm as he snuck out of the storm drain and curved round to the right. His aim was to climb up the bank, circle around and come at Alonso from behind.
Barely a minute passed before they heard Alonso’s voice.
‘Dorsan,’ he called out. ‘Have you got them? Dorsan, are you there?’
One of the guards reacted to his name being called and the Tutor put his dagger to the man’s throat before removing his gag.
‘Tell him to wait,’ whispered the Tutor putting a dangerous amount of pressure on the sharp edge of his dagger.
‘Just a minute, my Lord,’ cried the man. ‘We just need to make sure they’re dead.’
The Tutor gave the man a nod and relaxed his dagger as Weasel replaced the man’s gag.
The Tutor checked to make sure the guards were securely tied then tensed as he heard footsteps as someone approached the fringe of thorn bushes. He turned to Weasel.
‘Get ready to run,’ he told the boy. ‘If things go badly then you and Cradlop flee back into the caves.’
Weasel’s shoulders slumped but he dipped his head in a reluctant gesture of assent.
The Tutor rose to his feet, drew his sword and walked out of the cave, the soft light of the crystal casting a blue highlight on his black clothes and armour. Even his dark Southern Isles skin took on an ethereal glow that matched the blue of his eyes.
Decimus Fate and the Butcher of Guile: (Decimus Fate - Book 2) Page 18
