He felt no satisfaction when the screaming began. Random violence was distasteful and lacked honor. Even killing to feed was a foolish act that raised suspicion and depleted the local food supply. But the hunter had retreated to hide among the townspeople, so the town itself must be otherwise occupied for him to pull her into the open and finish this conflict. The hunter had forced him to this slaughter.
The closer he drew to the tavern, the more people ran out of nearby buildings, and this puzzled him. Few mortals made their homes near the docks or as far south in the town as The Sea Lion. He saw armed men jumping off roofs to either save those on the ground or escape from a wolf that had found its way up.
Magiere, the spineless hunter, had set a trap, hiding behind simple townsfolk and laborers. The thought angered him.
No one noticed him as he strode purposefully toward the tavern. In fact, only when the dwelling was directly in his sight did one person even try to stop him. A young town guard was aiming a crossbow at a wolf across the street when he saw Rashed and started slightly. Instead of shooting at the wolf, he aimed at Rashed and fired.
At full strength and concentration, the Noble Dead simply caught the quarrel in mid-air and tossed it aside.
The young guard's eyes widened, and he ran away.
Rashed did not follow. Instead, he walked up to The Sea Lion, kicked a few boards at its base loose, and thrust the torch's head in among them. The tavern's wood was old and dry, and burst into flames. He quickly repeated this act on each side of the building, leaving the back until last, after which he threw the torch through the upper window of what he knew was her bedroom. Then he returned to the front to wait for Magiere. She was inside. He could feel her presence after so many close encounters. He watched the door and windows for any glimpse of her.
At first he saw nothing. Then a flicker of movement passed by the small window to the left of the front door. His eyes focused between the door and main window of the common room, one of its shutters torn off and lying on the ground.
Magiere stepped into plain view through the larger window.
He was not surprised by her sudden appearance, but rather by her composure. Hair pulled back and armor cleaned, her expression was calm. She appeared fresh and rested, not like someone who'd been fighting night after night. The fire was spreading and devouring the tavern, but neither that nor the battle in the streets affected her. Why didn't she run out?
They stood, staring at each other. She gripped her falchion in one hand and kept the other hand hidden behind her.
Without a word, she lifted her concealed hand. For a moment, Rashed could not see what she held through the fire's glare and the dark inside the tavern. A distinct shape dangled down from brown strands of hair clenched in her fist.
Teesha's head.
Leesil's body no longer functioned as he wished, and desperation ran out of him in sweat that chilled on his skin in the cool night air. He'd worked his way through the turmoil, trying to drive off beasts assaulting people in the street, and now found himself near the shore, with the docks to the north of him and the near side of the tavern just to the south. Everything had deteriorated into confusion. Then Karlin shouted at him.
The Sea Lion was on fire.
Two bodies with torn throats lay between him and the burning tavern. In his present condition, he could not help Magiere fight, even if he could get to her. Staying on his feet was becoming more difficult with each passing moment.
Leesil looked frantically around, but saw no one he could call to assist with putting out the fire. Of the few people still standing, most were running or fighting for their lives. Should he try to organize some semblance of a retreat? If so, how?
From around the back of the tavern came Chap, lunging hard with legs bent as he used shoulders and haunches to struggle forward as quickly as he could. Cloth was clamped between his teeth as he dragged something across the ground away from the fire.
If Chap had come from the tavern, then Magiere was still inside. Why wasn't the dog in there helping her?
"Chap," Leesil called. "Here, boy."
Leesil dropped the empty crossbow and leaned against the buildings as he struggled forward.
A building-and-a-half away from the tavern now, Chap spotted Leesil and stopped, letting go of his burden. The dog then ran back and forth and around whatever he'd been dragging, barking loudly and unwilling to leave it. When Leesil reached Chap's side, he understood.
Rose's half-conscious form lay on the ground. This was why Chap had left Magiere's side.
"It's all right," he said.
Crouching down, he caught himself from falling with one hand on the ground. Rose lifted her head, face tear streaked.
"Leesil!" she cried, reaching out her hands.
That was good. If she could still talk and move, then whatever had happened, it had likely not caused her any lasting harm. He doubted he could get to Magiere, and the townsfolk were now beyond his help. But he could save Rose.
The dog whined and licked his face. Rose crawled to her feet and grabbed his neck, hanging on tightly. Her slight weight hurt his ribs and back.
"Can you walk?" he panted. "I can't carry you."
She seemed confused, then nodded in comprehension. "Yes, I can."
"Take me to the stable, to the other children," he said.
For one so young and frightened, she grasped his meaning quickly. Leading him by the hand, she hurried toward the stable, moving faster than he could and attempting to pull him along. Chap ranged alongside, ears pricked up at the sights and sounds of people fighting off wolves somewhere down the side streets. The night grew darker as they moved farther from the burning tavern. Leesil ignored everything but the need to keep moving. When they reached the stable door, he managed to jerk it open and then froze.
Two large wolves-one dusty black and the other gray-loped about inside, sniffing and pawing through the floor straw, searching for a way to get to what they smelled below. The children. Both of them lifted their heads and two sets of yellow eyes locked on the new arrivals.
The black wolf snarled, and Chap charged. Furred bodies collided.
"Rose, get up on the hay!" Leesil shouted, casting around for anything to use as a weapon. Every pitchfork and shovel had been cleaned out by the townsfolk earlier that day.
Rose scrambled as high as she could up the loose pile of hay strewn around two stacked bales. Chap and the black wolf rolled across the wooden floor like coiling snakes.
Leesil saw the gray wolf's sharp fangs and tensing muscles as it lunged two steps toward him and attacked. Fear and instinct took over, driving his actions.
One arm shot up to guard his head and throat, as his other swung down hard to his side in a flicking Motion. The strap that held his stiletto in place snapped free and the hilt dropped into his hand. The wolf's teeth snapped closed around his raised arm.
When the animal's forepaws hit his chest, he felt his broken ribs stab deeper into his body, stopping his breath. He let the wolf's weight topple them both to the floor.
The impact sent another shock of pain through his body.
In the same fluid movement with which he'd once pinned Brenden to the tavern floor, he rolled with the wolf's weight, pushing its jaws upward with his forearm to trap its head against the floor. With the last inertia of his roll, he rammed the stiletto down through the animal's eye.
There was a crunch as the blade tip broke through bone and passed into the skull. The furred body spasmed once, then ceased moving. Leesil flopped over to the floor and tried to get air back into his lungs again.
Chap snapped and battered with his paws again and again at the other wolf, the two of them twisting and turning about each other. Leesil tried to move, to help, but nothing happened. His breath came in short sucking gasps that hurt so badly he wanted to stop breathing altogether.