"What in the-" shouted one guard.
"We're under attack!" hollered the other.
No longer attached to the horses, the coach came to a rolling stop. The guard and driver jumped down, pulling their swords with a practiced flair.
"Surrender." The Claw got to his feet, his bladed gauntlets poised at his sides. "Or I'll be forced to kill you."
"I'd give you the same option," said the coach driver, "but it's too late for you. Whoever you are, you've chosen the wrong coach to rob."
The doors swung open and two more men, each with a pair of short swords, stepped out. Then the men on horseback rode around the carriage and took up positions behind the Claw, each pointing a loaded crossbow at him as they stopped.
"This is your last warning," said the king's assassin. "Drop your weapons and turn over your cargo. It's your only chance to live."
The driver chuckled. "You hear him, boys? We got him surrounded and outnumbered six to one, and he's the one giving us orders." The other guards didn't laugh.
The driver lunged, stabbing to his left then striking to his right. The attack forced the Claw back.
The Claw dropped to the ground and somersaulted backward. Curled into a ball, he heard the tell-tale twang of crossbows discharging, one right after the other. The first bolt thudded harmlessly into the ground in front of the driver, right where the Claw had been standing. The second, however, hit him square in the ribs, knocking the wind from his chest and sending him spinning sideways.
Getting to one knee, the Claw looked down at himself. There was no blood, no bolt sticking out of his skin. His whole left side throbbed in pain, and it hurt to breathe. Scanning the ground, he saw why-they were firing square-tipped bolts-wide, flat heads used to dent and ruin heavy armor, not pierce. These men were prepared to fight a unit of soldiers in plate mail. Instead they were fighting him, and they had just crushed one of his ribs.
They didn't give him much time to recover. Three men came at him at once, their swords darting from different directions. The Claw barely had time to bash them aside and skitter back. Getting to his feet, he favored his hurt ribs, trying to keep his left arm close to his body.
The driver and the other three swordsmen were closing in. The men on horseback were cranking their crossbows, getting ready for another volley. He suspected they wouldn't use the same bolts, and next time he wouldn't be as lucky.
The Claw took one more step back then launched himself into the oncoming guards. The first man slashed at him with his short swords. Catching one between both gauntlets, he twisted, breaking the sword in half. The other blade slipped harmlessly past as the guard lost his balance, tripping and falling to one knee.
The Claw growled at the sharp burning in his own side. It hurt, but the pain faded as he concentrated on the fight in front of him. Turning, he slit the guard's throat in a single swipe, dropping the man lifeless to the ground.
Two other men came at him, one from each side. Dropping into a crouch, he put all of his weight on his left leg, sweeping his right out. The move caught both men behind their knees. The guards tumbled, landing hard on their backs, spread eagle on the ground.
Slashing just below the cuff of their chain mail tunics, he gutted them both, spilling their innards-leaving them alive but helpless as he moved on to the next guard.
Darting underneath the first horse, the Claw slit the strap, and the saddle slipped off sideways. The rider grabbed at the reins, pulling to hold himself up, but it was no use. His feet tangled in the stirrups, and the man fell from his mount. The bolt he had been loading into his crossbow dropped from his hands, landing harmlessly on the dirt road.
The horse, unnerved at losing its rider, pranced and whinnied. The rider still held the reins, yanking the poor beast's face to the left. Skittering sideways, the mount stepped down on top of its fallen rider-right on his head, smashing it like a pumpkin.
The Claw rolled away, out from underneath the frantic horse. Getting to his feet, he watched as it reared back then took off at a run, dragging the limp body of its tangled rider with it down the road.
The other rider, fumbling with his crossbow, gave up on the endeavor, tossing it away and pulling his sword. He kicked his heels in and galloped toward the Claw at full speed. Twisting away from the attack, the Claw leaped into the air. Grabbing hold of the rider's shoulder, he pulled himself up onto the back of the horse. The blades of his gauntlet bit deep into the man's flesh, and the guard curled into a ball, dropping his sword and falling sideways off the horse.
Grabbing hold of the reins, the Claw climbed into the saddle and turned the mount around to face the carriage. A pair of eyes peered out of the upper compartment for a flash, then the curtains over the window were jerked shut. Of the guards, only the driver remained standing. He held his blade out before him, but it shook in his grip as he surveyed the carnage on the ground.
The Claw eased the horse forward, and the driver raised his hands in the air.
"I surrender."
"Drop your sword," said the Claw.
The driver nodded nervously and did as he was told.
"Now leave," said the Claw.
"L-leave?"
"Go back to the docks." The Claw rode up beside the driver, looking down at him through the dark holes in his mask. "And tell everyone there about what happened to you today. You tell them that the Elixir trade is finished in Erlkazar."
"Uh… uh, y-yes," stammered the driver. "Certainly. As you command."
"Go now. Before I change my mind."
The man turned and ran back toward the water and the seedy side of Llorbauth.
The Claw climbed off the horse and approached the carriage. The doors on the flying coach were still closed, and the curtains were pulled tight against the windows.
"In the name of the King Korox Morkann, I command you to exit the carriage."
Nothing moved.
The Claw cleared his throat. "You are to be taken to Llorbauth, where you will be tried for trafficking in black magic."
Still nothing.
"You saw what happened to your guards when they resisted. This is your last warning. Come out and surrender, or I will take you by force."
The latch clicked, but the door stayed shut for a long moment. Then, slowly, it creaked as it opened. It was dark inside with the curtains pulled tight, and though the door was open, the passenger didn't immediately appear.
The Claw was struck cold by a terrible thought. "Invisible," he muttered.
Leaping up onto the edge of the carriage, he reached his arm inside the coach, swiping around blindly. Nothing. Nothing.
Then his blades caught, and an earsplitting screech filled the car.
"Damn, damn, damn!" shouted a voice. "I'm cut! I'm bleeding!"
Then the air crackled, and the hair on the back of the Claw's neck stood on end. A bolt of blue-white energy shot out of the coach. The Claw barely had time to throw himself backward as the magical lightning whizzed past him and impacted the road. Rocks and dirt flew everywhere, covering the bodies of the fallen guards.
The Claw landed flat on his back, the front of his cloak singed. Jumping to his feet, he closed on the carriage, not stopping to brush the dirt from his chest. A hand shot out of the open door, pointing a wand at him with its shaky fist.
Not waiting for another blast, the Claw swung down with his right gauntlet, catching the wizard's hand under its razor-sharp blades and raking four deep gashes along his forearm. The man squealed like a stuck pig and dropped his wand as he clutched his bleeding arm.
Grabbing the wizard by the collar of his robe, the Claw dragged him out of the passenger compartment and dumped him onto the ground in front of the carriage.