Darkness Weaves (6 page)

Off they galloped, leaving the dead to watch silently the lightning-flecked heavens.

They had ridden perhaps an hour with no sign of pursuit. Twice more they had to break their course to bypass army posts, and Kane cursed the delay this entailed. Imel watched landmarks carefully, and concluded that they had only about another mile to travel before they could leave the main road and cut through an expanse of forest to reach the cove.
He was about to ride forward to tell Kane, who had moved slightly ahead, when the red-bearded man signaled a halt. Essen was returning from point at a gallop, and Kane wondered what the scout had learned.

A burst of lightning lit the landscape in a brief, sharp glare. In that split second of light, Kane caught sight of the large, dark-red blotch that soaked Essen's tunic--and the wind carried to his sensitive nostrils the odor of blood.

"No man wounded like that rides that well!" muttered Kane. His hand streaked for his dagger.

As his fingers closed on its hilt, the rider plunged into him. "Die--you treacherous hellspawn!" shrieked the man in Essen's tunic. His dagger flashed toward Kane's chest.

Clamping his knees against his mount's flank, Kane kept his balance as their horses collided. With a motion too quick to follow, he caught the descending arm with his left hand, halting the thrusting blade. The assailant screamed as Kane's inhuman grip snapped the bones in his wrist like brittle twigs--but the scream had hardly begun before it choked into a gurgle. Kane's other fist drove his own dagger deep into the man's belly and ripped upward in a disembowelling stroke.

The corpse fell heavily to the road, and the cloak was pulled back from his face. "That isn't Essen," observed one of the men sagaciously.

The horse on which the unknown attacker had ridden whinnied in wild pain. It rolled to its knees, then collapsed drunkenly upon the body of its rider. It kicked spasmodically for a moment and lay still. Its eyes were glazed in the lightning glare.

"His dagger cut the horse in falling," said Arbas, who had been closest to Kane.

Kane nodded. "Yes, a poisoned dagger--very pretty. They must have done for Essen, then sent this son of a bitch back for me on a suicide mission. By Tloluvin, the bastards really want me!"

He laughed bitterly. "One consolation, though. The Combine wouldn't have tried a stunt like this unless they're desperate. My guess is their soldiers at this end haven't had time to prepare for us yet."

"If they need time, we're giving them enough with stalling on our asses hem," Imel snapped. "We've like a mile to cover before we can leave the road. So let's get out of here!"

"Right--only this is going to be tense," Kane warned. "Maybe we'll be in the clear once we leave the road--but this dumb fool's friends are almost certainly waiting for us before then. So we'll have to take things slow and careful until then, or they'll get us all like they did Essen. Just pray to your gods that we can get past them before reinforcements arrive.

"So don't panic and run into something--spread out a little and watch close! Fortunately the trees are thinning out some, so there's not as much cover for them--but look sharp for anything that doesn't fit!"

They moved on slowly, feeling the gnawing terror of hunted creatures. Each moment they expected to hear the deadly hiss of an arrow. Never could a man be certain if he would draw a second breath before a hidden archer sealed his death. Muscles twitched under the painful strain. Flesh crawled in anticipation of an iron-fanged bite. Each shadow held a dozen crouching soldiers.

It was a very well-hidden ambush. Kane rode into it with almost no warning. However, the Combine soldiers were a little too widely dispersed, and too eager to strike. In the darkness and confusion, they were uncertain as to the number of Kane's men, perhaps. As it was, they failed to use their cover to maximum advantage and struck prematurely before their trap could close.

The tense silence of the night was abruptly slashed as the ambushers' arrows stabbed through the Pellinite ranks.

One arrow skidded across the top of Kane's shoulder, deflected by the chain mail he wore. "Split off into the woods!" he roared, thankful that someone had overrated his archery skill in attempting a difficult head shot. "Surround them and force the bastards into the road!" Kane thought it unlikely that his handful of men could surround anyone, but the attackers didn't know that.

One of his band was hit in the thigh, but otherwise the volley had somehow left them unscathed. Arrows shivered past them in the darkness as they instinctively sought cover. Desperately Kane spurred his mount from the road, bellowing for the others to follow.

Weaving rapidly through the trees, they crashed into the Combine cavalry patrol. Kane felt a surge of relief as he judged the soldiers numbered less than ten, with only a few armed with bows. No wonder their old-maid's caution--this was only a vanguard of the larger force Kane was certain must be moving toward them. The surprise of Kane's break for the sea after months of inaction, while it was generally assumed he must have fled or been killed--and not knowing the size of Kane's band--worked against the Combine patrol. Now, battle cries ringing, the cavalrymen galloped headlong from their ambush to meet their enemy hand-to-hand.

"Keep them apart! Don't let them form a charge!" yelled Kane, still not daring to, believe that the main body of cavalry was yet to enter the combat. He lunged to parry the slash of the first soldier to meet him. Furiously they traded blows--the long curved blade of the cavalryman dancing nimbly back from Kane's massive broadsword. Then Kane hewed one mighty stroke against the other's saber that drove down the narrow blade, smashed its guard aside, and chopped through the arm that held it. The horseman had scarce time to realize his wound, before Kane's return slashed through his ribs.

Whirling about, Kane just met the charge of another horseman on his opposite flank. The swordsman was good--Arbas's opinion of the Combine's cavalry was well justified--and it took all Kane's effort to cope with the lighter blade. And now another cavalryman galloped up on Kane's other side--facing him with death from two sides at once.

Seeing his new danger, Kane swiftly reached for the battle-axe at hand on his saddle. Instead of attacking Kane's unprotected flank, the newcomer discovered too late--as had so many before him--that Kane could use his right arm with almost the proficiency of his left. Risking all on one effort, Kane slung the heavy axe around in one awful blow that no sword or shield could turn. The assailant was hurled from his horse, his chest a torn ruin.

The momentary diversion proved nearly fatal to Kane. Wrenched off balance by the heavy axe, it was all he could do to deflect a quick thrust from his other opponent. Knocked aside at the final instant, the blade still slipped under Kane's guard to smash agonizingly into his side. The mail held true and stopped the edge, but its force drove the chain links cutting and bruising into his flesh. Kane snarled in pain and relentlessly forced the other back. The soldier's guard faltered under the strain, and Kane disabled him with a cut to the shoulder. As the Lartroxian frantically sought to raise his crippled sword arm, Kane thrust his blade through his unprotected abdomen.

Sending his steed hurtling over the dead, Kane recovered his axe and turned to the battle behind him. Three of the Pellinites were down, including the man who had been hit during the ambush. Three of the cavalrymen survived. One was engaged in a ringing interchange with Imel, who was bleeding from two minor cuts on his arm and other shoulder. As Kane watched, Imel dispatched the man with a sudden thrust to his heart. Arbas was occupied with another of the horsemen in a cat-like duel, but was slowly getting the upper hand, The other Pellinite fought gamely with the remaining cavalryman in an uncertain match that Imel decided by charging the unsuspecting soldier from behind and running him through.

With a sudden burst of desperate energy, the surviving soldier of the Combine forced Arbas back in his saddle, then plunged his blade into the neck of the assassin's horse. Trumpeting in pain, the horse crumpled, throwing Arbas heavily to the ground. Landing clear of the horse's flailing body, Arbas lay dazed by the impact. He groped dully for his fallen sword. The soldier hurtled madly upon him, leaning from his saddle to deliver the decapitating blow.

Kane's arm snapped forward. His flashing axe clove through the soldier's helmet and skull to bury its razor edge in his chest.

Recovering quickly, Arbas lurched to his feet and seized the bridle of the riderless horse. Sword in hand, he swung into the gore-spattered saddle. "Thanks! Are we even yet?"

"I'm one up on you at least," grunted Kane dourly "Four of us left? Better than we deserve. We may still make it--if we don't run into any more trouble. Let's get out of here--Arbas, leave the bastard's ears on his head!"

The assassin reluctantly abandoned his trophy. With a pounding of hooves the victors vanished into the darkness as rain began to fall. Pushing their tired mounts to the fullest, they raced for the trail that led to the cove. Trees flashed monotonously by in the drizzle, and mist grew deeper with the approach of dawn. It seemed impossible that they would not miss the turn-off.

Then Imel shouted, "There it is! That's it just ahead!" Triumphantly he pointed to where an almost indistinct trail left the roadway. "We're in the clear!" He laughed. Spirits rising with escape in sight at last, the fugitives dashed for the trail.

No sooner had they reached it than shouts and the clamour of many riders reached their ears. Bursting into view and bearing rapidly down upon them was a force of fifty or more cavalry. The trap had closed--reinforcements had gathered. The Combine's indefatigable hunters had finally caught up with their prey. Clearly only speed could snatch them from death's touch now.

Kane snarled in rage. "May their wives and daughters rot with pox--the bastards have sighted us! Lead on to your craft, Imel. And ride for your life!"

The headlong flight was a panic-ridden nightmare to Imel. Hoping desperately that he would not blunder off the trail in the darkness, he plummeted through the dripping forest. Branches heavy with wet foliage overhung the path, forcing him to bend low against his weary mount's froth-spattered neck. Night-prowling forest beasts started from the path ahead and fled crashing through the underbrush. It seemed inevitable that a clutching root, a sudden trunk or branch would end the ride in plunging disaster.

The trees had thinned out barely enough to permit their rushing passage, and in the darkness this sparse cover prevented their pursuers from getting any exact idea as to their course. This alone saved them at first--and made it possible to stretch a scant head start into a respectable lead as the minutes flew by.

The horses were ready to give out, when the trees suddenly vanished altogether, and they streaked out of the forest onto a wide gravel beach. The rain-wet stones glistened in the lightning blasts. With relief Imel discerned his ship waiting a few hundred yards offshore.

"A boat! A boat! Where's the rowboat?" he yelled, gazing frenziedly through the rain and grey mist. "I ordered them to have the rowboat at ready!"

"There!" called Kane. He pointed to where several sailors were running toward them from a beached rowboat.

"Thank Onthe! They did as I ordered!" gasped Imel jubilantly. He raced toward them, shouting, "Cast off! Cast off! Double wages to each of you for this--but damn you, cast off!"

Doggedly clinging to his kit, Kane leaped to the beach and sent his mount pelting off into the mist. Imel had picked his horses well, or they could never have made it. In mad haste they piled into the rowboat and put out from shore.

Scarcely had the boat cleared the surf when the Combine cavalry streamed out of the woods and onto the beach. The released mounts had momentarily confused them in the night. Straining mightily, the rowers pulled over the cove toward the ship, taking them out of range of the hail of arrows and curses that followed from the shore. The pouring rain served as cover, and none of the missiles reached its target.

"Goodbye, dear friends--and thanks for your most courteous hospitality!" shouted Kane and laughed derisively. "Someday I'll return to repay you in kind!"

Curses of baffled rage answered him from the mist-cloaked beach--along with floundering splashes as a few reckless ones attempted to swim after them. But the Pellinite craft was set to sail, and the Lartroxians were helpless to stop them.

Kane wiped the froth and spray from his beard and flowing red hair. He grinned at Arbas. "Well, then, so you have decided to come along after all. It seems that expediency remains your god."

"An assassin's services are in demand in any realm," shrugged Arbas philosophically.

Arbas carefully adjusted the telescope for the tenth time and squinted through the brass tube with determined concentration. Kane watched him with amusement. "Damn it, Kane!" he muttered in annoyance. "I still can't even find their frigging sails in this charlatan's toy!"

He lowered the telescope and regarded it with a frown, the powerful muscles of his lean arms twitching in eagerness to crumple the frail instrument.

"Don't!" interceded Kane in anticipation of the other's whim. "That little toy required weeks of painstaking craftsmanship to turn out, and I think friend Imel values it more highly than the jewellery he loads himself down with."

Arbas snorted and closed the telescope with callous irreverence. "Right. Our well-dressed friend likes his pretty toys. Sure don't want to piss him off. No, wouldn't want that!"

"I don't think you like Imel," Kane remarked. Arbas grinned at some pleasant thought. "No. No, I just don't appreciate the finer things, I guess."

"I don't think Imel likes you very much, either."

The assassin raised the telescope once again. He worked its sectioned tube smartly. "No. Don't think Imel appreciates the finer things, either."

"You propose a quandary."

"It's a natural talent." Arbas pressed his lips together and sighted through the lens resolutely. "Ah--think maybe I just caught a glimpse there. Yeah, the Combine of Southern Lartroxia lost its greatest philosopher when Arbas left the dusty path of scholarship for the alleys of Nostoblet."