No warning. Nothing but the sounds of the city stretching its limbs in preparation for a new day. Then Schneider jerked in the saddle. He didn't even cry out. Just toppled backwards with enough force to send him over the rump of his horse with the short fletched bolt of an arrow protruding from his left eye. Kall's horse shied before he even hit the ground and the bolt that would have taken him through the heart lodged just under it, slamming breath from his body. Yoko was screaming. Schneider's horse bucked into his. Another bolt hit him in the side and this time he saw the movement of a figure on the rooftop to his left.
Kiro was screaming at his men. Kall didn't hear what orders. He ignored the cries and the pain, and looked down once at Schneider, who wasn't moving, blood staining the left side of his face and his hair. Yoko and Arshes were scrambling towards him.
Movement on the rooftop again and he cried out furious words to a spell. The facade of the building exploded, sending shards of stone flying into the street. People screamed as they were bombarded with shards. The building seemed to sag in on itself. He was too full of incipient rage to care for the damage or the innocent lives spent. He could not at the moment think of anything other than finding and destroying the assassin who had dared attack them.
He took to the air, cloak billowing around him like dark, unfurling wings. Saw the collapsed roof of the building, and in the ally below, a figure stumbling away, frantically running as if the hounds of hell were on its heels. They might as well have been. It would have been a kinder fate. He spat a word and extended a hand. A wall of sharp edged ice reared up blocking the far end of the alley. The fleeing man cried out and veered sharply to the side, hurtling his weight against a door. It burst under the assault and the assassin escaped inside. There were startled screams from within, which was the only thing that made Kall-Su hesitate in blasting a second building to oblivion. He hovered for a moment, gauging that the man would flee out the opposite door to the next street. The front door of the building slammed open and a man stumbled out, shouldering his way though the morning crowd. People cried out angrily at the rough treatment. In the midst of so many people firing a spell down at his quarry would take more lives than that one. Almost -- almost it would be worth it. Schneider hadn't moved when he'd hit the ground. An arrow into the brain. Fatal for a normal man. Fatal for most abnormal ones. Schneider was beyond that -- but still ---
The assassin cut through another building and out onto the next crowded street. The market street, where people were already crowded so thick it was hard to follow the man's progress. He might loose him in that crowd. The man just might melt away into the anonymity of a busy trading day. That could not happen. Would not happen.
Kall-Su saw the brown clad shoulders, the long, unkempt hair and beard bobbing amongst a dozen other people. There was a clear space ahead, where a wagon sat in the midst of being unloaded. The street exploded with ice. It fountained up, engulfing the wagon, and snaking along the street to thrust upwards, forming a haphazard barricade. People were hurt. Slammed backwards at the sudden growth, or grazed by sharp stalagmites of ice. But it wasn't the type of ice that would engulf a living body. He was not so careless in his rage now to slaughter the people of his city. Panic swept the crowd. Screams of terror at the sudden apparition spread down the street. People stumbled over each other in their attempts to get away from the area. Kall-Su touched down in the middle of the street. He put up enough of a shield to keep from being knocked down and swept away with the frenzied migration of people. He knew where his prey was. Running away from the barricade along with everyone else. The man had a short cross bow in his hand. There was a bolt loaded. His attention was fixed behind him, towards the ice wall, as if he expected pursuit from that direction. He did not notice that it was before him until he was almost upon Kall-Su. Then his eyes widened and he whirled, fighting his way past the remnants of scattering people.
One foot froze to the ground. The ice crawled up his calf and stopped at his knee. He screamed in more panic than pain. The leg would be beyond pain, numbed by the cold. He twisted to glare in rage at Kall-Su. Lifted the cross bow and fired. The bolt shattered harmlessly against Kall's shield. An inarticulate cry of anger escaped the man's lips. His face was lined and scared from years of hard living and harsh weather. His clothing a patchwork of leather and furs. Not a man of this city. A man of the mountains. A bandit seeking vengeance.
"You will die!! Just like the dark wizard!!" The bandit cried, spittle flying from his lips. The frozen leg shattered. The man's eyes went wide and he teetered on one leg, before he crashed to the ground, screaming, clutching at the jagged edge of his knee. Strangled gasps went up from the people cowering along the side of the street. They hid in booths and tents, staring out with wide, stunned eyes.
Kall-Su ignored them, eyes narrowed, fixed unerringly on his prey. The man was trying to pull another bolt from a pouch at his side. The fingers of that hand stiffened and froze, shattering one by one. The blight continued up his arm, until that too cracked and shattered between shoulder and elbow. Piece by piece he fell apart. His screams were nothing but shock and pain filled terror now. Blood pooled on the street around him, pumping the life from his body. But not as fast as Kall-Su wrenched it from him. It would not do for the man to die on his own before Kall had the chance to finish it.
It did not occur to him, until there were nothing but shards of frozen flesh on the street that this man might have told him where his compatriots were. That the bolts that had taken Schneider and himself had been too close together to have been fired from a single archer.
He heard his name whispered from the people on the street. Slowly turned his head and saw a collected visage of fear on the faces. Justified fear. He left the remnants of the archer on the street and rose into the sky.
Yoko couldn't think. Couldn't formulate coherent thought to fight away the panic, so reflex action took over. Rushie was bleeding all over her. So much blood that it soaked her tunic and slicked her hands. The brown feathers of the bolt's fletching were spattered with it. She could not stand to look at it. A riderless horse shied into her, throwing her off balance. People were still screaming in the street in the aftermath of the explosion that had taken out the building across the street.
Rushie wasn't moving. She couldn't think.
"Yoko!! Yoko!!" Arshes Nei shoved roughly at her shoulder, forcing her attention away from the ghastly wound. She blinked up, moon eyed and terrified.
"We've got to get the bolt out. He can't begin to heal himself with it there."
She stared, dumbstruck that he could heal an arrow through his head. But, goddess, he'd come back from back from worse. Though if Arshes was so certain, why did she look so pale and frightened?
"Hold his head." The half elf commanded, wrapping her fingers around the four inches of shaft that protruded from his eye socket. Reflex took over. Yoko drew a breath and held his head firmly between her hands, forcing herself not to look away as Arshes tensed, then yanked the bolt out. Blood spurted with it and what looked nauseatingly like flecks of brain. They'd done more harm than good with that, the barbed end of the bolt having ripped already torn flesh on its path out. Yoko sobbed and leaned over him, concentrating all of her healing power on trying to repair damage that was beyond her capacity to deal with. He wasn't breathing. She could not sense the beat of his heart. She felt like her own was about to explode from the sheer ache that trembled within it.
"Help me get him to the castle." Arshes was yelling. Yoko realized she wasn't talking to her, but to the few remaining guards that mulled nervously about them. The rest were gone. Gara was gone. Kall-Su had disappeared.
Two of the men bent to lift Rushie between them. Yoko rose with them, her hands still on him, infusing every bit of healing force she could muster into his body. Arshes paced on the other side. They got inside the gates and half way across the yard, before heat began to radiate from Rushie. It went from an onrush of warmth to a sudden and violent wash of energy that blew them all backwards. Yoko tumbled to a halt, throwing her arms up to shield her face from light and blaring torridity. She could barely see him in the midst of the blare, his body arched and rigid where the guardsmen had lost their hold on him. If she had felt nothing from him before, it welled forth now. Mindless, crackling power that sent out errant little fingers to strike cobblestone, the trough by the gates, a discarded metal helm, the roof of the guardhouse by the gates. Servants that had come out into the yard to see what the commotion was cried out and ran for cover. Guards tried to be more valiant, but had little choice as the flares of energy grew worse. Yoko erected a shield. Ground her teeth and crouched behind it when what she really wanted to do was get closer enough to Rushie.
A horse was hit by a strike of white hot energy and crashed down, screaming and thrashing. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the yard. Goddess. Something had to be done. She rose, still maintaining her shield and circled him to join Arshes who crouched ten feet away from him on the other side. The half elf's shields were by far more powerful and Yoko let her own down as she stepped within the boundaries of Arshes' protection.
"He's healing himself?" Yoko was not completely certain that was a factual statement.
"Something is." Arshes agreed.
"Is there anything we can do to -- make it less violent?"
Arshes looked at her grimly. "I don't know. I can't recall him ever having an arrow through the brain before. I would imagine its rather disconcerting."
Someone cried out in pain, clipped by a stray bolt. Yoko winced. "Can you shield me if I try to get closer?"
"Probably." Arshes admitted. "I'd rather let him deal with it on his own."
"Well I would too, if it weren't so damned destructive. Just help me, please."
The half elf shrugged and stepped forward. Through the heat and the energy until Yoko could get her hands -- albeit flesh separated by Arshes shielding -- on him. She tried to slip the healing fingers of her own magic through the power enveloping him, but her magic was not strong enough to pierce it. So she wrapped her arms around his rigid torso and pleaded for him to wake up.
"Its not working." Arshes pulled at her shoulder, looking a little strained now at protecting them both. "Come away and let it run its course."
Then without warning it ceased. Just evaporated like water in the desert and he went limp in her arms. She frantically pushed his hair back to see the wound. Blood still covered his face, but his lid was whole under the gore.
"Come on, help us with him." Arshes cried to the hesitant guards. She and Yoko had him almost up between them when the men came to lend their strength and get him up the steps and inside the hall. He came awake when they were debating on getting him upstairs. Just let out an inarticulate cry and began thrashing. He caught Yoko on the side of the face with a fist and the guards dared not try and restrain him, so Arshes threw herself atop him and did her best to bare him to the floor. It wasn't hard. There was nothing quite sane in his eyes. The one was bloodshot and dilated. Power was building. Defensive, reflexive power to banish what his disorientated mind could not process. Which at the moment, considering they'd just ripped an arrow out of his head along with bits and pieces of his brain, was probably everything. He could take this castle down if he was allowed to lash out unchecked.
"Darshe. Darshe. Its me." Arshes was crying, trying to keep her grip on him. Yoko struggled to her knees, and crawled over. Saw Keitlan and a group of her girls gathering about.
"Get out." She cried. "Go outside where its safe." As if it were safe outside where assassins lurked in the shadows. She pressed herself against his arm, adding her weight and her voice to Arshes.
Keitlan wasn't paying heed to her advice, although a few of the girls had run outside. Most stayed stubbornly to the hall. She saw Lily and Setha behind the housemistress, all of them wide eyed and concerned. Stupid not to run with a wounded and confused sorcerer in their midst.
"Stop it, Rushie!!" she screamed, sounding a bit hysterical herself. "Stop it!!" She drew back her fist and hit him, startling Arshes to no ends. The half elf looked up at her in shock. Her knuckles hurt from the blow. She hit him again.
"What are you doing?" Arshes yelled at her.
"Trying to get through his thick skull." She yelled back, nose to nose with the other woman.
"Didn't that arrow do the job for you?"
"What? Would you have him destroy this castle?"
"I wouldn't hit him when he was wounded."
"Hah. Maybe that was your mistake. If you had a little backbone he'd have never run all over you in the first place."
Arshes gasped in outrage. Tears streaked both their faces. Somewhere along the way he'd stopped struggling against them. Yoko felt his fingers grasp her waist.
"God -- stop yelling." He muttered.
"Oh, Rushie." She cried, wrapping her arms about him, pressing her face to his, regardless of blood. Arshes pushed back, anger fading to be replaced by uncertainty. He caught her wrist before she could retreat and met her eyes over Yoko's head.
"Its okay. I forgive you."
Stupid man, Yoko thought. As if he had anything to forgive, but it was okay, because Arshes let out a little whimper and threw herself against his other side and Yoko shifted away this once to let him wrap his arms about her, because this was something they both needed to mend.
The courtyard was in a shambles. A wagon near the wall was in flames. There was the smoking carcass of a horse. The guard tower had a chunk out of the side of it. Guards ran here and there, manning the walls and delving into the city. Servants clustered outside the main doors, talking fearfully among themselves. The lot of them turned and stared with wide, bewildered eyes when Kall-Su sat down in the yard. They scattered to make a path for him up the stairs. The doors were flung wide. He saw Arshes and Yoko kneeling on the floor beside Schneider and had a moment's fear of the worst before he moved, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Yoko moved to help him and he shook off her hands. He saw Kall before the others did. His face was bloody and terrible.
"Did you get the son of a bitch?"
Kall took a breath and step forward. "Yes. One of them."
"Our missing bandits?"
"Yes." Another step. He tasted copper in his mouth and staggered a little to one side.
"Goddess." Yoko cried. "You're wounded, too."
He'd forgotten about the bolts embedded in his body. He'd been too focused on the anger. He looked down and saw the stubby fletch of one bolt protruding from his ribs and another just above his hip. He felt faint at the sight of them. His thinking went fuzzy for a moment and one knee collapsed out from under him. He went down to hands and knees at Schneider's feet, then pitched to his side when Yoko put her hands on him, trying to ascertain where the bolts were. Schneider leaned over him, a grim, humorless smile on his lips.
"Well, wasn't this a fucking wonderful day?" Then he moved his hand down Kall's shoulder and laid it next to the bolt. "They've got to come out."
"Fine. Do it."
Schneider didn't hesitate. Just grasped the shaft and jerked it out. It hurt like hell. Kall-Su almost didn't feel the second one ripped from his body. Just shut his eyes and pressed his face against Schneider's outflung leg and let somebody wash his body with healing magic. Fates knew his own healing reflexes were unpredictable enough unless life was on the line.
"I'm going to help them search the other archer down." Arshes Nei's voice, fading as she moved away.
The hurt abated. Breathing he had not even realized was difficult eased. He sighed and opened his eyes. Yoko helped him sit up. He was still a little sore, the afterimages of wounds that were no longer there. Schneider's doing then, because Yoko's healing was not so all encompassing. Servants were filling the hall, guards were creeping in from the yard to make sure matters were in hand. He felt foolish sitting on the floor between Schneider's sprawled legs with Yoko hovering over the both of them. He could not quite manage to make himself stand up. Schneider seemed comfortable enough.
"Did you find out anything from the assassin?" Yoko asked hesitantly. He stared at her, then away. Yes, he knew the man could scream to the last. He knew the people of Sta-Veron would never forget that casual display of power. That brutal execution in the middle of market street. The terror in their eyes had been as exacting as that in the eyes of his victim.
"My Lord?" Keitlan's voice intruded. "Let us get the both of you off the floor and to your chambers." He looked up at her and caught sight of the pale face of Lily behind her. Wide, worried eyes under the fall of hair. And a hint of horror. For a brief moment her eyes met his, locked there as if some force held their gaze, then she broke free of it and melted into the ring of servants.
He pressed his lips together angrily, rising without anyone's aid. The feel of cooling blood on his tunic and down his pants leg was clammy and repulsive.
"Was anyone else hit?" He asked, wanting no innocent lives taken because he had been careless enough not to tell Kiro about the bandits and their number on the road in the first place.
"No, milord." One of the guardsmen said. "Only the two of you."
The wizard that had killed Helo Vran's first brother and the one that had taken his second. At least the bandits were careful in their targets. For now. One hoped Kiro and Gara had tracked down the other archer.
The bandit archer did not even know he was being followed. Gara had picked up his trail four blocks from the scene of the attack. Had slipped from shadow to shadow in the wake of the grizzled, grinning assassin. The man thought he had escaped. He thought he had been successful in his mission. He might have been for all Gara knew. Schneider was down and Kall-Su had taken hits, Gara had not wasted time hanging around to find out the end results of that. Kall, he figured was all right, from the burst of magic that had leveled the building the second archer had used as his vantage.
Two archers, one of either side of the road. Gara had pin pointed them almost the second the first arrow had hit. Seen the one disappear in the wreckage of the building and the other slip away in the confusion. Kiro and his men were like dogs on the hunt, rushing through the streets with no stealth or anonymity. Easy to hear coming. Easy to hid from if one were adept at concealment. A mountain bandit would be. But not from a master of the arts.
Gara hoped the man would lead him to the rest of the bandits that had managed to stay behind when their party was ousted. But he entered a tavern after ditching the cross bow in an alley and planted himself at a table by himself, seemingly content to sit and drink the morning away. No one came to join him. Not stupid these men. Not willing to foolishly endanger themselves by meeting up after so brazen an attempt at the life of this city's lord. Damned smart to take out Schneider first. A simple, mundane and entirely efficient way of doing it. If it worked, Gara would be surprised. Schneider had the tendency to snap back from atrocious things perpetrated upon his body.
So a smart bandit wouldn't make a mistake and lead Gara to his compatriots and Gara hadn't the desire to wait all day in the hopes the man would willingly make a mistake. He walked into the bar from the front door. Only a few patrons were here so early in the morning. It was too far away from the palace for word of the assassination attempt to have stirred the men to speculative conversation. No one looked at him. The bandit didn't even look up from his mug of ale. He leaned a hand on the table beside the archer and said softly.
"Good shot with Schneider, but you fucked up royally with Kall-Su."
The man didn't even look back at him. Just grabbed for a long knife in his boot and swung about with it. Gara caught the wrist, twisted it cruelly and slammed it down upon the edge of the table. Bones cracked. The knife left nerveless fingers. He flung the man around and slammed an elbow into his jaw. The other patrons had risen from their tables, startled at the sudden flare of violence in their midst. The bandit was heavy, but slow, more adept at slaughter townsfolk and killing from a distance than combating a well trained warrior. Gara grabbed a handful of greasy hair and smashed the man's face into the table top. That took the fight out of him, enough for Gara to man handle him up and towards the door. The other patrons didn't say a word, just stared in shock as he left.
He shoved the bandit into the adjoining alley, kicked him to the ground into a pile of empty crates. The man glared balefully up at him, eyes darting about the dingy alley, looking for anything that would give him an advantage.
"Easy or hard?" Gara asked, looming over him.
"Fuck you, running dog."
"No, no, no. That's not how it works." His foot shot out, caught the man's knee and shattered it. The bandit howled like the dog he'd called Gara, clutching the injured leg. "How it works is you tell me where the rest of your men are and I see to it that you die quickly and painlessly. Maybe even with a little bit of honor."
"My only honor is thwarting you." Spittle flew from the bandit's lips, hitting Gara's pants leg. He looked down in distaste.
"Wrong again. Hard it is, I guess."
When he'd finished, the bandit had lost all pretense of stubborn vindictiveness. Gara thought he had been truthful in the frantic babbling that had spewed from his bloodied lips. He wiped the blade of the Murasume clean as he walked from the alley, marking it to send Kiro's men back to retrieve the body. Two more in the city, waiting for the chance to commit mischief. They would not get it.
He was walking down the street when Arshes Nei came down from the sky at him, her face filled with grim intent. The look worried him.
He asked before she could venture the information. "Schneider?"
"Alive. Did you find him?"
"I did. He was kind enough to tell me where his friends are staying. Would you care to make a visit?"
She nodded once, silently, never one for a witty rejoinder. They walked towards the outer eastern rim of the city. A poor section of town. As close to slums as Sta-Veron got, with shanty houses built close together and narrow streets that were in need of repair. People were beginning to become aware that something was not quite right within the walls of the city. The guards were out in force and whispers were beginning to spread. Gara heard a boy, out of breath from running, tell a group of loitering men that the Ice Lord had murdered a man in the middle of market. There was no mention of bandits or assassins. He frowned and grabbed that same boys arm, asking.
"Where is Sholaki the Bookmaker's shop?" The boy thrust his jaw out belligerently, angry at the rough treatment, then his eyes took in Arshes Nei behind Gara, her long, sharp ears and the pommels of the greatswords they both wore at their backs. He pointed up the street and stuttered out directions. Gara nodded, then bent his head to suggest.
"Don't spread rumors, boy."
The bookmaker had rooms above his shop that he let out. The bookmaker supposedly had black-market dealings with bandits to the north. Shelter and weapons had to be supplied by someone within the limits of the city, since the bandits had been stripped of their own steel at the gates. Gara would have preferred to wait and watch and see who came and who went from the premises, to get a feel for his prey, but Arshes was not so patient or so reserved in her thirst for vengeance. He started veering off towards the other side of the street with every intention of sitting up surveillance from the shadows, and she split from him and stalked towards the shop of the bookmaker.
Gara gaped and swore and trotted to catch up with her. "If we barge in and they're not here, then we've lost any chance of finding them." He advised her. She gave him the arched brow look of a sorceress who had never learned the meaning of the word caution, much less circumspection.
"Fine." He said and kicked in the door before stepping back and ushering her in. It slammed against the wall with a rattling of thin, haphazardly attached panels. A pale, balding man looked up from a table inside. The walls were lined with paper marks, there were cages along the floor that held a variety of game birds used for fighting. A muscular dog on a chain growled in a corner. The place stank like the pits of hell from poultry, canine and human excrement.
"What's with the door?" the man demanded, rising from the table where he had bookwork and marks scattered. Arshes drew her sword and strode forward, the blade under the flabby chin before the man had the chance to backpedaled away.
"Where are they?"
"What -- who are you? I'll have the city guard after you for this."
"Where are they, you vermin?" she repeated the question with slow, deliberate words.
"Personally, I'd answer the lady." Gara suggested amicably, content to play the good guy to her villain. A little streak of energy radiated the length of her sword. The bookmaker's eyes widened in fear.
"Wh--who?"
"The northern bandits that you give shelter to? The ones who will die because of the monstrous affront they have made this day." she hissed.
The man's eyes widened. Oh, he knew. Gara could see it in his face. But the fear in his eyes was at more than the arcane sword under his chin. This was a man in the midst of a crisis. There was the slight creak of floor boards above. A little curl of dust fell down from the ceiling. Gara glanced up and smiled. He drew the Murasume and laid it across his shoulder.
"I think I'll take a look upstairs. You don't mind, do you? Glad to hear it."
He was past the table and up the narrow stairs at the back of the room. He heard Arshes push the bookmaker against the table and move to follow him. Upstairs was one big loft. Bare floors with a few cots against the walls and crates and boxes taking up the rest of the space. There was one window and a man was in the midst of crawling out it.
"No." Arshes cried from behind him and a bolt lanced out of her outflung fingers and caught the fleeing man square in the back. It singed the hair on Gara's arm it passed so close. The man let out an aborted cry and toppled out of the window in a much quicker than he had probably planned. Another man stood against the wall, very still, very intent. His hands were pressed together, his lips moving in the silent words of a chant. Not like any of the other bandits Gara had seen. His skin was leathery and brown. His face broad and flat, forehead sloping sharply backwards into lank, inky black hair. His eyes were dead as night. So black even pupils could not be discerned. He looked --- uncivilized. That was the closest Gara could come to describing him. He made the bandits seem absolutely domesticated. There were tattoos on his cheeks and forehead. Rune signs that slipped up the arms of his sleeves and peeked out from the backs of his hands. A nomad. He couldn't say how he knew it, but he did. This was one of the elusive nomads that everyone was so spooked about, nestled within the backstreets of Kall-Su's city. And he was in the midst of casting a spell.
The air hummed around them, and rather suddenly the floor turned rubbery beneath their feet. Or their legs went weak, one or the other. Arshes let out a startled, angry squawk and dropped to one knee. Gara cursed and staggered against a crate, flinging out the Murasume and calling forth a blaze of power. Force rippled towards the nomad. The man held up both hands and the runes on his face seemed to glow. The energy of Gara's strike forked around him, blasting sections from the wall on both sides.
"Goddamnit!!" Gara cried. The nomad put his fingers together again and the runes on his hands pulsed. Of a sudden the floor was crawling with blue, ridge backed snakes. Serpent hisses filled the air. Arshes screamed and rocketed right off the floor, launching a bolt attack at the nomad shaman. Gara sliced around his legs at the serpents, having no notion whether the things were real or illusion and having no desire to be bitten either way. Magic snakes could kill as effectively as real ones.
"Gep Vedor!!" Arshes cried and Gara almost called out for her to stop, having no desire to be so close to ground zero of a lightening ball spell. It was too late anyway. It formed about three feet before her and barreled down onto the nomad, who frantically waved his hands to try and block it. He almost did, but the building around him was not so resilient and crumbled. The ceiling collapsed and the floor gave way. The nomad was caught in the slide and Gara found himself helplessly sliding afterwards, amidst crates, and squirming snakes. Arshes caught him under the armpits, heaving him up, protecting him with her shield as chunks of roof crashed down. She swept them down to the street, intent on finding the nomad and finishing this little duel. But the fall had done it for her. He lay sprawled under a section of wall, neck twisted at an unnatural angle, black eyes wide in death. The bandit that had tried to escape lay a few feet from him, charred from her initial lightening strike.
"Well." Gara said, eyeing the debris warily for signs of snakes. They seemed to have disappeared. "That was to the point."
People were rushing towards the disturbance. The bookmaker was crawling out from under the sagging frame of his door, moaning and bleeding. He had sheltered them. At least Kiro might question him and discover something. It was better than nothing.
"Was that a nomad?" Arshes asked.
"That's my guess."
"They have magic. And not a flavor I'm familiar with."
"Me either. What would life be without these little inconveniences to make it interesting?" He said cheerfully.
She looked at him deadpan, her ears twitching. Not particularly happy.
"Oh, well." He shrugged, sliding the Murasume back into its sheath. "Look at it this way. Not a whole hell of a lot else can happen to top today's list of calamities and disasters."
She frowned. She didn't look like she believed him.
The old man was stooped and bent, his large hands veined and splotched with age. He might have been sixty. It was hard to tell from the planes of his face. A strong face once, but now twisted and ravaged by the stress of time or harsh living. His hair was gray streaked brown and tied at the nape of his neck in a tail. But his eyes were sharp and intelligent.
His eyes frightened the merchant who stopped his caravan at the behest of the lone traveler. What harm was an old man alone, traveling along the western trade route towards the north? None the merchant thought, until he saw those intense eyes. Then he wondered if he should not have just passed by when the man waved them down. But the old traveler had gold and plenty of it and asked only for a place in the caravan.
You travel to the north to trade your goods, do you not? The old man had asked.
Yes. To the capital itself. Sta-Veron. The trade is good this time of year, even with the troubles between north and south.
The old man's eyes had glittered. The forests of the western mountains were an infinite backdrop beyond the road. The merchant wondered where the old man had come from? What city was close enough for such a man to have walked from? Keladedra sat fifty leagues to the south on the other side of the mountains, but that was the closest city to this desolate section of road. The old man might have hailed from there, with all the gold he carried.
Why are you walking alone?
Because God no longer walks with me. The old man had laughed at that. A mad, frightening laughter that almost made the merchant forget about gold. But greed won out. Greed and something else, something that tickled at the back of his mind and made him feel pity for a lone traveler. That made him open his heart and offer the protection of his caravan to the old man.
What do you seek in Sta-Veron? The merchant asked, when the traveler was settled in the wagon beside him. The intense eyes locked on his. Even with the haggard lines, his face was mesmerizing. There was something alluring and enticing about him. A man that had a power to his voice and the very aura of his presence.
Retribution. He said and the merchant hardly understood that. But he forgot it had ever been said a moment later, his eyes glazed, his mind blank. Then he collected himself and thoughts of trade and profits filled his mind. There was a goodly distance to cover before they crossed the thawed passes that led to the north. If a man wasn't careful, the journey might not prove profitable.