‘Come on, Wolf,’ he snarled, dragging his friend upright and throwing an arm around his shoulders to stop him from sinking back down again. The two Highlanders half ran, half stumbled back to the others. Jerek snorted in agony every time his wounded leg struck the turf. Most men would never have made it up from the ground after taking two quarrels from near point-blank range, but Jerek was the hardest bastard Kayne knew in a world full of hard bastards.
Sasha was gritting her teeth and aiming hopelessly down at the swarm of men climbing the chasm. The miners weren’t trained fighters, but they didn’t need to be. Not when they outnumbered the tiny group twenty to one. You didn’t survive those odds.
Vicard suddenly bustled forwards, or at least limped at an impressive pace. He held a bundle of what looked like thick red tubes in his hands.
Kayne felt a tiny shiver of fear run up his spine. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked carefully.
‘Saving the day,’ the alchemist replied. ‘Isaac, pass me some flint.’ The manservant immediately obliged and Vicard withdrew a small knife from his belt. He looked up at the rest of the group. Sweat beaded on his brow. ‘When I say get down,’ he said, ‘you get down. Understand?’ He placed the knife blade against the tangle of cords poking out of the tubes and struck the flint several times. It took a few attempts, but eventually the sparks caught and one of the wicks began to burn down.
‘Five… four… three… two… get the fuck down!’ The alchemist hurled the bundle at the path and dived for cover just as the first miners arrived on the scene. Brodar Kayne pushed Jerek gently to the ground and then threw himself down next to him, covering his ears with his hands.
The world turned red.
An indeterminate amount of time passed before he risked opening an eye a fraction. The rumbling had finally subsided, though the cloud of dust floating above the wreckage of the Rift continued to mushroom above them. He glanced at Jerek. His friend had gone pale and his breathing was shallow, but he was still conscious. Vicard climbed to his feet and began dusting himself down. Sasha and Isaac stared at the scene with horror on their faces.
Brodar Kayne got up and peered over the edge of the chasm. The southern side had partially collapsed in on itself, raining thousands of tons of rock down on the unfortunate miners below. None could have survived that avalanche. Shit, he thought, and not for the first time that day. The plan had been to put a halt to the mining operation and destroy whatever equipment they could find, not cause a full-blown massacre.
‘Vicard. What the hell was that?’ growled Sasha, her large eyes full of anger. ‘Those were innocent men. Men just doing their jobs.’
Vicard flicked at a patch of dirt on his shoulder and shook his head. ‘I didn’t have any choice in the matter. We would have been killed. And you would have suffered even worse things.’
‘There’s nothing worse than being dead,’ Sasha replied. She walked over to where Jerek lay. ‘How’s he doing?’ she asked.
Kayne closed his eyes for a moment. Things hadn’t exactly gone as planned. The chances were that they’d get a whole lot worse. ‘He’s bad. Lost a lot of blood.’
Isaac knelt down and examined the Highlander. ‘None of the major vessels are punctured. He might still have a chance. Vicard, can I have your knife?’
The alchemist tossed his small blade over to the manservant and hobbled over to Kayne. ‘I want my powder back,’ he whined. ‘Fair’s fair. I saved your life.’
‘Take your bloody pouch,’ he growled back, throwing it at the alchemist’s feet. Vicard retrieved it and then went to stand alone. He pulled the flap back and raised it almost reverently to his nose.
‘Those explosives were worth twenty gold spires,’ he said. He inhaled deeply from the bag. His face became slack and then broke into that stupid smile. ‘You have no idea how much of this stuff twenty spires could afford. I tell you, I could be sitting on a whole mountain of hashka. The best money can buy. I-’
There was a blur behind him and suddenly the alchemist gasped. A barely audible whine escaped from his lips and for a moment he stood there swaying, blood leaking from his mouth. Then he toppled forwards onto his face. The hilt of a dagger was buried in his back.
‘Right through the spine,’ said the baby-faced killer who had appeared from behind Vicard. He smiled in satisfaction, revealing a perfect set of pearly-white teeth. The assassin flicked a blond curl away from his blue eyes and drew another dagger from his belt.
Brodar Kayne saw the glow around the man’s feet and tensed. Those boots. Magic. Bastard’s an Augmentor. He took a deep breath and stepped forwards. ‘Takes some courage to stab a man in the back. Why don’t you take off those boots you’re wearing and face me like a real warrior?’
The Augmentor smiled again, as if he found the thought terribly amusing. He picked casually at his nails with his dagger. His hands were perfectly manicured, like those of a noblewoman. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ he said eventually. ‘Look at you. So old I doubt you can get your prick up, and yet you bluster like a man thirty years your junior. There’s nothing quite as sad as an ageing savage.’
Bastard. Clever bastard. His hands tightened on his greatsword. Isaac rose from where he had been kneeling beside Jerek. Sasha was surreptitiously reaching under her cloak for her crossbow. He gave them an urgent shake of the head. A moment passed, and then their hands inched back away from their weapons.
‘Tell you what, old man,’ said the Augmentor in a conversational tone. ‘Give me some sport and I promise I’ll make the deaths of those two quick. I’m not like Garmond or Thurbal. They’d make the girl scream something fierce.’ He gave a rueful chuckle. ‘That’s hardly fitting behaviour for a gentleman like me. One has certain standards to maintain.’
Kayne narrowed his eyes. ‘Best we get to it then,’ he said. He raised his greatsword and waited.
There was the faint sensation of a breeze prickling his skin and suddenly the Augmentor was directly before him, dagger stabbing at his neck. At the last possible instant the old barbarian threw back his head, and the blade scored a shallow flesh wound. He brought his greatsword swinging around to cleave the bastard in two, only to slash at empty air. The Augmentor was back where he had been before, a full thirty feet away. Kayne felt blood trickle down his neck and dribble onto his chest.
‘Not bad, grandfather,’ said the smiling killer. He raised one hand in a mock salute. ‘Let’s see you evade this one.’
There was another blur, and before Kayne had time to react the Augmentor’s dagger was plunging into his stomach. He felt his hide shirt give way, the burning hot sensation of cold steel tearing into his guts. ‘Urgh,’ he grunted. The cherubic face in front of him flashed another white smile and then it was gone. The Augmentor reappeared twenty feet to his right.
He sucked in air as he felt the warm blood flooding his breeches. Fire burned in his stomach. He risked a glance down at the steel buried there. Nausea threatened to unman him. Look at your opponent. Look at him.
The Augmentor casually drew yet another dagger. This one was cruelly hooked, a weapon intended to catch and tear at flesh. The killer smiled at him once more, but just before he did so his eyes flicked to a spot on the barbarian’s chest.
Suddenly Brodar Kayne understood.
‘What are you waiting for?’ he gasped. ‘Come at me.’ He took a deep breath, saw the muscles twitch in the Augmentor’s arms…
In that same instant he dropped to one knee, brought his greatsword arcing around. He felt the slight rush of air, the thud of his sword connecting with flesh. A dagger clattered out of the air above his head and hit him on the shoulder before tumbling to the ground. Ten feet away, his would-be killer appeared. He had a confused expression on his cherubic face.