The guardsman’s free hand beat at Bahzell, but the hradani’s grip was an iron manacle upon his sword hand. He couldn’t even open his fingers to drop the weapon, and Bahzell Bahnakson’s cold, merciless smile was the last thing his bulging eyes ever saw as his crushed windpipe strangled him to death.
Bahzell held the body until it stopped twitching, dragged it back into the library, and lowered it to the carpet. Steel rasped as he drew his own sword, and then he went down the hall with the deadly tread of a dire cat.
The carved door was locked, and Bahzell raised a booted foot. He drove it forward, and the door crashed open as its lock disintegrated.
It wasn’t a woman who’d been screaming; it was a boy-naked, no more than twelve, bound to a stone table, his chest already a bloody ruin of oozing cuts-and a silk clad man leapt back with a startled cry as his door flew wide.
“What in Carnad-?! ” he snapped, whirling towards the intrusion, but the oath died in his throat and his eyes went huge. He stared at Bahzell in disbelief, then dropped his razor-edged knife, and his hands flickered.
Something tore at Bahzell, twisting deep in his brain, but he barely felt its pain, and the wordless snarl of a hunting beast quivered in his throat. He bounded through the door and kicked it shut behind him, and Baron Dunsahnta paled as his spell of compulsion failed. He spat a phrase in High Kontovaran, hands moving again, but the force of Bahzell’s Rage filled the very air. The baron had never encountered its like-never imagined anything like it-and the terrible power of the curse of the hradani lashed at him. Not even a full adept could have adjusted for its impact, for the way it twisted and reverberated in the energy fields about him, and the baron was little more than a journeyman. The bolt of power which should have struck Bahzell down flashed up from the baron’s hands in a dazzling burst of light that accomplished absolutely nothing, and then that huge sword whistled at him.
Baron Dunsahnta screamed as the flat of the blade crashed into his left arm. Bone splintered, hurling him to the floor, and a boot slammed down on his right elbow. He shrieked again as more bone broke, then wailed in terror as a hand gripped his robe and snatched him up. Brown eyes, harder than stone and colder than death itself, stared into his, and he writhed in agony and strangling panic as the mouth below those eyes smiled.
“Now then,” a voice that was inhuman in every sense of the word said coldly, almost caressingly, “I’m thinking it’s time we had a little chat.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Brandark stared out into the night, trying to hide his concern. Bahzell had been gone too long, but he’d heard no alarms, and one thing was certain: his friend would never be taken quietly, whatever happened. So-
“And a good evening to you, Brandark,” a deep voice said, and the Bloody Sword leapt a full inch into the air. His sword was in his hand by the time he landed, and he whirled with a curse.
“Fiendark seize you, don’t do that!” he gasped at the huge shadow which had filtered from the night and heard Tothas’ soft, sibilant endorsement, but both of them crowded forward to seize the Horse Stealer’s shoulders-only to pause as they saw the small, cloth-wrapped body he held.
Bahzell ignored them and bent over the boy in his arms. The youngster shook like a terrified leaf, and his eyes were huge with fear and pain, but a smile trembled on his mouth when the hradani nodded to him.
“There now, didn’t I say we’d be making it out?” The boy managed a tiny answering nod. “So I did, and now we’ll take you where it’s safe. You’ve my word.”
The boy closed his eyes and pressed his face into the Horse Stealer’s armored chest, and Bahzell’s huge, gentle hands held him close.
“My Lady?” Tothas demanded, and slumped as Bahzell shook his head.
“Buck up, man. We’d never much hope of finding her here, but now I’ve a notion where I should be looking.”
“You do?” Tothas looked back up eagerly, and the hradani nodded.
“Aye. But first we’ve a lad to get safe back to The Brown Horse, and then it’s time we were making some plans.”
The landlord was less than pleased to see them back-until he recognized his own nephew in Bahzell’s arms. The healer was still there, watching over Rekah, and the innkeeper snatched the boy up and hurried upstairs with him while Bahzell turned to his friends once more in the taproom.
“You know where to find My Lady?” Tothas demanded urgently.
“In a manner of speaking.” Bahzell swallowed a huge gulp of ale, and only Brandark recognized the dark core of sickness, the remembered hunger of the Rage, in his eyes. “Look you, Tothas, we knew they’d not waste time, and so they haven’t. Lady Zarantha is on her way to Jashân, but they daren’t risk the roads lest someone see them, so it’s cross-country they’ve taken her.”
Tothas stared at him, mouth working with fear for his mistress, then nodded sharply.
“How many of them?” Brandark asked, and Bahzell frowned.
“Aye, well, there’s the bad news. They’ve two wizards with ’em, and ten of the baron’s men, which would be bad enough, I’m thinking, but there’s ten dog brothers, as well.”
“Dog brothers?” Brandark repeated, and cursed at Bahzell’s nod. “Phrobus take it, will we never be done with those scum?”
“Not just yet, any road,” Bahzell replied, “and they’re to meet with still more men along the way.”
“Where?” Tothas asked sharply.
“As to that, the baron didn’t know. But where they started from’s another thing, and even a blind Horse Stealer could follow a score of horses!”
“Then let’s be on our way!”
“Wait, now.” Bahzell’s powerful hand pushed the Spearman gently back into his chair, and he shook his head. “Think, man. Even such as I need light to see by. And-” his voice deepened, and his grip on Tothas’ shoulder tightened “-it’s not ‘we’ must be on our way, but only Brandark and me.”
“What?! ” Tothas’ face went white, and he shook his head violently. “She’s my lady , Bahzell! I’ve watched over her since she could walk!”
“Aye, and you’ll die in a week in weather like this.” Tothas flinched, but the hradani went on with brutal honesty. “Or, worse, you’ll slow us. I know you’d die for her, but out there in the cold and wet, with no roof and like as not no fire, it’s die for nothing you would. Leave this to us.”
Tothas stared at him, mouth tragic, then closed his eyes while tears trickled down his wasted face, and Bahzell squeezed his shoulder hard.
“Will you trust us with her life, sword brother?” he asked softly, and the armsman nodded brokenly.
“As with my own honor,” he whispered.
“Thank you.” Bahzell squeezed his shoulder once more, then sat back and smiled sadly. “And before you come all over useless feeling, Tothas, it’s in my mind you’ll have enough on your plate as it is.”
“What?” Tothas blinked in confusion, and Bahzell shook his head.
“There’s Rekah upstairs. She’ll need you-aye, and the boy, too. It’s marked for more of the baron’s blood magic he was, and I’m thinking there’s some would be happier if neither he nor Rekah told what happened to them.”
“The baron?” Brandark asked sharply, and, despite himself, Tothas shivered at Bahzell’s smile.
“Oh, no, not the baron,” the Horse Stealer said. Brandark grunted in approval, and Bahzell went on. “But it’s naught but a matter of time before one of his men gets up the guts to poke his head into his chambers and find him. There’s not many will weep for him, and both his wizard friends are away with Lady Zarantha, but this village will be like a hornet’s nest come morning. And that, Tothas, is where I’m thinking you come in.”
“How?” Tothas asked, but his voice said he already knew.