Chapter 17: Reason for murder (2/2)

Glen

Reason for murder

Part II

 

 

“THERE! IT JUMPED FROM THE TOP!” A hysteric sounding woman screamed at the top of her lungs, a breath before cold steel opened up Glen’s face, who snapped into action jerking away instinctively -almost breaking his own neck in the process- to avoid the worst of the damage.

Most of it at least.

He’d managed to turn the recoil into a miraculous backwards jump, surely worth a place amidst the greatest feats ever performed, dodge-masters of the Thieves Guild included.

The former thief had swung violently with his sword in that same breath but missed and realized when he came to a stop, the assassin’s blade had slashed away the lower part of his left ear.

“That’s freakin’ impossible,” The pink haired archer responded to Zola’s outburst while drawing her bowstring, ready to nail anything that popped out of the growing shadows. She sounded extremely worried and probably rightly so, as the flat top of the structure was standing at least twenty meters off the ground.

“CASSARA. GET THE ARCHER!” Dante thundered, himself not in the best of moods.

While all this was happening Glen felt the blood running down his neck semi-paralyzed. His ear was throbbing and he’d lost hearing from that side. Zestari flipped her swords expertly one after the other, tip of her tongue wetting her lower lip.

“I want that sword,” She taunted, eyes flickering sideways at the sound of an arrow zipping over their heads. The pink-haired girl cried out in disbelief as her loaded arrow was smashed in pieces, the arrowhead that had caused it missing her right eye for a hair.

A strangely melodic but familiar voice was heard speaking in broken common tongue.

“Leave now. Or perish.”

 

 

Glen turned his head and caught sight of Lith standing at the pyramid’s base, orange eyes… wait, didn’t she had another… glowing once alike a predator’s, watching calmly as Cassara charged her sword in hand, closing the distance between them fast. The female fighter was twice her size.

“WATCH OUT LAD!” Emerson barked snapping him out of his shock and he moved without looking, one step then another roll to his right, knees scrapping the paved ground before stopping on his two feet, his left hand now holding the sculpted handle of the ancient dagger.

“My, my…” Zestari taunted from where he was but a second before. “Another weapon. On top of un-knightly skills. Tell me your secrets boy.”

Glen, blood or sweat trickling down his ribs, his face burning like it was on fire and hurting ear hammering his brain, tried to swallow but realized he couldn’t. His throat felt like the inside of a burned piece of wood. He blinked to keep his blurring eyes focused at least, but Zestari being a cunning bitch attacked seizing the opening. She faked a right hand slash, again fast as a leopard, but Glen saw through it and moved to parry with his dagger.

Or so he thought.

For starters, Zestari went for his head this time wrong-footing him again.

Next, the slash had turned into a lethal thrust aiming for his eyes but Glen, who had gotten fooled again apparently, instead of instinctually dodging backwards per usual and die, stepped to the side instead.

Which wasn’t the move he’d intended to do.

Glen didn’t know the move.

Lastly, the exotic dagger he’d initially envisioned parrying down to block her faint, went up on its own bloody volition and with a simple turn of his synergizing torso neutralized the assassin’s attack.

Leaving her own side open for a strike.

It was like dancing on your teacher’s feet.

Glen used his longsword like a scythe without dwelling on it. It was a messy diagonal cut, delivered inwards with the wrong stance, which Zestari should’ve seen coming from a mile away; had she not underestimated her young opponent so.

A fool can kill you.

Still she recoiled from the blade aiming for her ribcage and mostly pulled it off, which was in itself worthy of lavish praise. But mostly isn’t what one wants when dealing with well-sharpened sword cuts. The longsword caught her retreating leg above the knee and bit it deep. Blood splattered down as she howled through gritted teeth, her leg buckling when she landed from her own desperate dodge.

“Argh,” She hissed clasping at the bleeding cut, face strained and eyes bloodshot. “How in Ora’s black heart…”

“I’ve no clue,” Glen replied dumbfounded, staring at the ancient dagger in his hand. Was this thing vibrating? “Just started training really.”

 

 

Zestari dropped one of her shortswords down and stumbled forward clenching her jaw. One long curl had freed itself and danced over her sweaty strained face, as she attempted a clumsy wide slash Glen easily avoided using his longer blade.

“Where’s Reeves?” She hissed, pain turning to anger.

“Dead.”

Probably still buried. He’d slacked a bit with the stones towards the end.

“How do you know? What was he to you?”

Glen grimaced trying to decide on a quick attack strategy that didn’t involve him getting cut again. A curse interrupted his brief pause. The man with the axe had gotten a kick in the face that had sent him reeling again and Emerson turned to defend against the enraged attack of the burly swordsman, Glen didn’t yet know the name of.

“Kirk stand back dammit!” Dante –not a scratch on him- yelled, answering him that, then offering a bit more troubling news. “He’s poisoned, not long for this world.”

Kirk roared, for some reason all sense lost, eyes wild and foaming at the mouth and charged the poisoned knight anyway. Emerson, part of an arrow wedged in his chest armor, moved in to intercept and deflected the sword away with his vambrace, the blade biting hard enough to send sparks fly. An almost casual looking parry, he’d attempted a thousand times in the past for all Glen knew, then flipped his own sword end-over-end, butt pointing towards Kirk’s face, the blade parallel to his forearm from the outside.

Dante cried a desperate warning, but it was too late. In the same well-practiced manner Emerson rode the momentum and run the whole length of his blade against Kirk’s unprotected throat. Skin against steel.

Steel won.

Blood gushed out, some of it catching the armoured knight as he stepped away from his flailing opponent, flipping his sword again to bring its business end towards the stunned leader of the Gallant Dogs company. At the edge of his vision Glen saw the bloody-faced Northman getting up.

“Damn you,” Dante muttered. “For forcing this.”

“Do it,” Zestari ordered gathering herself for another attack. “Finish him off.”

Glen wiped some of the blood off his neck feeling light headed and not particularly eager to fight her again. Sure he sort of had an advantage now with her being crippled and all, but all she needed was a bit of luck and basic skill to gut him like a pig. The woman had more than enough skill and Glen surely had emptied his luck tank by now.

Or so he thought.

“IT’S A FREAKIN’ OLD CUNT!” Jinx shrieked from where she’d hidden in the pandemonium that’d ensued, after she had her arrow shot out of her hands. Glen had completely missed her firing the arrow that’d struck the knight at the start of their fight. It wasn’t clear to him, if the small girl was injured as well, or just scared of the now unseen Lith. “Fuck it. Ain’t fightin’ a Zilan in the open!” Jinx decided throwing her arms up exasperated.

“What?” Dante barked, face scrunching in a grimace of disgust for his mounting problems. “Have you lost your wits? Whisper, snap out of it!” Jinx jumped behind a broken column at the side of the ancient street instead of answering.

The leader of the Gallant Dogs took a step back to search for the elusive female demon himself, head snapping energetically right and left, until he finally spotted her next to their horses; longbow trained on them, taut bowstring pulled back to its limits. Lith, face slightly amused at the nose-less girl’s words and totally unbothered of the effort required to keep her bow perfectly still, raised a thin mocking eyebrow in greeting.

Then released.

The arrow zipped over the head of a panicky stooping Dante, flew half an arm away from a stunned gawking Glen and smacked the sneakily-lunging Zestari on the right side of her chest punching through thin leather armor. Her effort came to an abrupt end, before she was shoved violently back.

“Gah…’ Zestari muttered spitting blood all over, staring in disbelief at the fletching that’d sprouted out of her right breast, before her injured leg buckled again, this time bringing her down.

 

 

“Shit,” Dante said seeing their employer collapsed on her back, slowly bleeding away. “Stand back!” He ordered the frowning Northman. The man paused, face and beard covered in blood, broken nose leaking like a rusty faucet.

“Reckon ye wanna talk again?” Emerson asked not sounding too good himself, Glen thought kicking the shortsword away from the fallen woman. She stared at him with hateful eyes and tried successfully to push herself on her knees using elbows and sheer determination.

“We have a contract Blackwood!” She hissed spitting blood down her jaw. “All you have to do is kill the kid, the knight’s done for.”

Dante nodded but no one was eager to attack. Emerson seemed to be fading away, Glen didn’t want to fight in the first place and Dante and his mercenaries were pretty banged up. Or dead. Lith was the only one untouched and Glen couldn’t get a read on her.

Other than that she had a new arrow trained on… well, all of them really.

“How much is it?” Emerson asked in a tired voice.

Huh?

Dante though seemed to get, what the knight was selling.

“Twenty five. Gold.”

Emerson nodded, everyone listening now in bargaining mode. It happened so fast Glen had trouble grasping what was going on.

“Lad’s good for it.”

“Huh?” Glen gasped his thoughts.

Dante shook his head.

“I lost two o’ mine,” He haggled shamelessly.

“Lost me squire and reckon I’m plaguin’ dying,” Emerson countered, the first part bothering him more than the second.

“You… SON OF A WHORE!” Zestari cried out, teeth all bloody and face taunt, but no one paid her any attention.

“Jinx?” Dante asked over her protests.

“Yeah. I have a cureall.” The girl quipped, appearing behind her cover. Adding thoughtfully. “It’s expensive.”

That little shit just lied! Glen thought enraged.

“Thirty,” Emerson said with finality. “The lad will pay you.”

What lad?

“You’re all… dead! You hear… me, curse you!” Zestari growled fresh blood running down the sides of her mouth.

“Gold Eagles?” Dante insisted.

“Aye.”

“Wait…” Glen started, but Dante seemed pleased enough.

‘Then we have a deal,” He announced sounding like a seasoned merchant and sheathed his longsword. “This has gone far enough.”

Glen noticed the captain was also totally unscathed from their scrap.

 

 

“I have to touch ye firmly, to pull it,” Jinx insisted in what was apparently her nurse voice, over a furious-looking Zola. “It might take me a while so don’t be too alarmed. Just close your pretty eyes.”

“Get your damn claw away!” Zola snapped trying to kick her between the legs but failing.

“It was an accident.” Jinx replied, too pretentious even for Glen to believe her. He had a cloth pressed on the side his head to stem the flow of blood, but it wasn’t working that great and it did fuck-all for the pain. Or his hearing. Emerson approached him a little green in the face, dark circles under his eyes, but even so, looking better than most of them. A miracle surely, considering he’d drunk a whole bottle of what Glen believed was seasoned piss. In the best of circumstances. The weird girl had called it ‘muh medicine.”

As if that wasn’t bloody suspicious!

“How’s the cut?” The knight asked not seeming particularly worried.

“Think I lost half-an-ear,” Glen said sullenly. “Not to mention, almost having another mouth where my left cheek was.”

“Latter’s good,” The knight replied.

“How so?” Glen asked not seeing it that way.

“Ye look too fresh. A scar helps in a fight.”

“Uhm. While missing an ear doesn’t. Right?” Glen probed sarcastically.

“I have no clue,” Emerson replied scratching his beard. “But it makes for a shitty moniker.”

“Right,” Glen murmured, watching Dante and Soren looting the two siblings. Lith had shot four arrows into Cassara some-fuckin-how and Kirk just couldn’t let go of it according to Dante. Glen couldn’t fault the dead fighter. A sister worth’s more than a dog.

Probably.

“Stupid to die from an arrow,” Soren said completely missing the point.

And the number of arrows.

“Had he listened to me, he’d be alive now,” Dante insisted hindsight backing him up, while pilfering the man’s sword and belt and throwing them in a large bag he carried.

Emerson nudged him with an elbow, forcing him away from their conversation.

“You can’t leave her here,” He said pointing at the still alive Zestari, although Glen thought, he very well could. She was staring their way with such intense hatred, Glen quickly looked away.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Fine.

“She won’t make it.”

“She killed Reeves… your father.” Emerson stared in his eyes meaningfully.

Yeah, forgot about that. Ye patronizing old turd.

Glen sighed.

“Can’t leave her for the animals’ lad. It’s your responsibility.”

Zestari caught up to their intension.

“You want revenge boy?”

“You killed his father Witch,” Emerson said before he’d a chance to smooth things over.

“He’s dead then,” Zestari said sounding pleased, and for the first time, content. A strange thing really, since despite her managing to tie up her knee cut while no one was looking; that arrow wound seemed deadly. “You best walk away. Forget… about revenge. People will come after you, if… you don’t.”

“These here people, weren’t that interested.”

“My sister. She’ll come after you…find you. He will… even if she can’t. Selussa will never… let go. Too many know… of this. Step away… boy. Run, while you still… can.”

Blood trickled down the sides of her mouth. Less than before, Glen noticed.

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“You are not helping yourself.” He said standing over her. “Can you promise me, we’ll forget about this?” He asked lowering his voice. The woman was too injured to survive another day, without medical attention. She might not make it, even if she found someone willing to help her. Red foam had appeared at the side of her lips now and where the shaft moved in the wound. Glen didn’t want to kill her. He hadn’t killed anyone before and had no intention to start in this forsaken place. He’d no reason for it, despite what the knight thought.

Her eyes, a polished black slowly filled with wonder, which he found strange. Then it changed to what appeared to be understanding.

A chill run down his spine.

“You’re not… angry,” Zestary coughed feebly. “Never… were. Is why… I couldn’t get a read on you.”

“You’re wrong,” He countered, but it came out weak.

“She found… bodies. Washed ashore… days after. Selussa wrote, someone… got away,” Zestari continued, the words coming out more difficult now but with more purpose. Glen glanced towards the knight and noticed him frowning. Standing as he was further back, it wasn’t as easy to make out what she was saying. “Ye found him… there,” Zestari added, face almost white now, along all that red. “It’s not yours.”

 

“What was that?” Emerson asked, his interest piqued.

Glen remembered the bolt zipping over his head.

The woman had no crossbow on her.

Not the same girl, he thought.

I want the shield, island boy.

Glen smelled the sea again.

Salt in his mouth.

Green rotten flesh ‘n white bones.

The corpse smiled because it knew.

Luthos, you dickless bastard.

“You… will not kill me,” Zestari said triumphantly with the last of her strength.

 

 

A Wyvern stirred.

 

 

Glen punched upwards with his hand and buried the dagger -that had materialized there somehow- where her still half-opened mouth was. The black blade slipped under her front teeth, pierced through the palate, severing her tongue in the process and ended up halfway into her brain.

Black blood burned his fingers.

He heard Zola cry out in pain, the broken shaft pushed out at last, right before he stooped and puked his guts out next to Zestari’s lifeless body.

 

 

When you steal for a living, you learn to notice stuff.

The sooner you start -and no one starts earlier than a kid whose mother died at childbirth and his father had a real wife on the side to even bother searching for him- then the better you become.

At noticing.

Glen had walked like an automaton to the edge of the ancient road and sat down on a rock next to one of the many pillars, his back turned to their now quiet camp. Unseen in the darkness, but for the strong moonlight. The pillar was too big in diameter to hug with his arms. Not that he wanted to. He wanted a drink, wine if possible or ale, to wash his mouth from the bile. Numb himself to oblivion.

Some things you don’t want to notice.

Or admit.

Truth was, he’d lost control of his actions back there. He shouldn’t have won that fight or kill the woman without reason. He was neither a fighter of note, nor a murderer.

A petty thief that had come upon a fortune.

Yes.

Not a cold blooded killer.

He stared at the stained dagger. The black blade caught a touch of light where the blood had washed away, but didn’t quiver like before. Was it all in his head?

Not without reason.

“Keep your thoughts a secret,” A melodic voice said.

Lithoniela plopped down cross-legged across from him, fixing carefully around her a dark cape she was now wearing. Glen had seen the garment before. The short swords too.

“Everyone got something,” The Zilan explained gold eyes shining like stars for a moment. “I like it, but for the blood. But even that fades away.”

“I… ah.”

Glen started then stopped.

“There was no other road,” She said in her exotic accent.

Protect the lie.

Glen wiped the blooded blade on his pants subconsciously.

“You can understand our words.”

Everybody lies, he thought the words offering him little solace.

“For a time,” Lith replied surprising him. “I’ve been silent for… years now. So I’ve forgotten most of it,” She showed him her sharp teeth, in the facsimile of a smile. “But watching you Sinya Nore, some words came back.”

“I don’t…”

“New People,” Lith explained, her eyes dancing towards the sky. “My mother used the first tongue, when she was angry.”

“What does Zilan mean?”

“Strong breeze amidst the trees, or Evil Spirit.”

“Which of the two…”

Lith put her hand on his chest to stop him firing more questions. Her fingers were really long and Glen could feel her nails tracing the thin material of his shirt.

 

his blood-raiders forced to walk on land

till he used a lover’s soft hand

 

A memory came, but quickly faded away.

“I will find you a decent leather vest.”

Glen nodded mesmerized.

“That’s… thanks.”

“You’ll need proper armor. Can’t fight in a coat.”

Ah.

“I will pay for it. For an armor. Apparently I have a lot of coin.”

Lith took her hand away.

“As I said. Keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Sorry.”

The Zilan got up and stared at their campsite, now well-lit by a big fire.

“We need to move in the morning,” She said.

“I haven’t decided yet… anyway, we have some time,” Glen replied getting up himself, feeling a little better, but for the dull constant pain on his ear and face.

Everything else hurt him less.

“No you don’t,” She said. “Come, we need to take care of the wound.”

“Thanks. Hey, what do you mean, we don’t have time?” Glen asked as he followed her long strides.

“You’ve a missive to deliver.”

“Wait. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Untrue,” Lith said. “The blood on your blade leads us to Castalor.”

The female steered him towards the big campfire, but stopped a couple of meters away seeing Jinx had taken the first watch. The small-bodied ranger greeted them with a small bow of her pink head.

“Stay… your distance Gish,” Lith ordered her in broken common.

“Yes Mistress,” Jinx replied mockingly, without batting an eyelash. “You’ll not see me near.”

He couldn’t tell, if she was serious or condescending. It seemed she was, but Glen could’ve been mistaken. Their exchange left him a strange feeling of foreboding. Many things did these past days, it seemed. Like everything around him was made out of many layers and he was slowly peeling them off, one at a time.

 

 

You notice other things, Glen thought moments later, as the female started working on his cuts.

Eyes that change colors.

A dagger that knows all tongues.

A touch of luck.

The hint of Magic.

Little things, you slowly learn.

Like for instance;

To fully wear another man’s skin

One must search till he finds,

unearth a myriad foul things,

hidden in his soul and other places.

Even a reason for murder.

 

 

“What?” A troubled Glen asked some time later, sitting at the edge of the campfire, a safe distance away from their new allies. Or was it, employees?

“Been talking to the lads,” Emerson said, dancing shades created by the flames hiding his wretched face. The poison had made a number of him in the end.

“About what?”

“They buried their own,” The knight said solemnly. The carnage the last thing Glen wanted to remember. “The siblings. Asked them to take care of her. But they won’t do it by themselves. Not for her. Still I insisted. Can’t leave her for the vultures.”

Zestari.

Glen sighed, a shake returning in his right hand. He tried to stop it with his left and failing that, hid it inside his longcoat.

“No. That’s terrible,” He croaked his agreement.

“Aye. Thought you’d want to give a hand. It’s the decent thing to do.”

After you killed her.

“I don’t think… I’m too banged up right now.”

Emerson nodded not looking at him.

“Makes sense. I will take care of it lad. You rest up now.”

“Did… they say anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Ah, it don’t matter.”

The knight pressed his lips in a tight line. Seemed as if he wanted to say something more, but then he decided against it and moved away. Glen breathed a sigh of relief. His body hurt him enough to want nothing more than a good night’s sleep. He even closed his eyes to attempt it right then and there.

But try as he could during the night, he hadn’t managed it. His mind was worrying. Over the strangers they shared a camp with, his gold coins now secured under his arse, but common knowledge. Lith who was touched by magic and the perilous future ahead.

Perilous because it was built on lies and deception.

He forced his eyes open after a while, hands wrapped around the dagger giving him comfort as the hours ticked away, partly because of all of the above that much is true. But mainly out of fear he’d see the blade ruining her mouth again; the way blood poured out painting his hands a brilliant rubicund and the fleeting shocked look the woman gave him just a tiny horrible instant…

Before life left her.

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