Dark Lord Pt 4
DARK LORD
Chapter 4: "Deals and Death"
By Greywolf the Wanderer
(Sindadraug Rana’)
greywolf@ufl.edu
Greywolf sheathed his sword.
" How bad is it, assassin?" he asked kneeling.
"Bloodpick.....my name is Bloodpick....and.....it's mortal, I am afraid", he choked out in reply.
"Hang on" Greywolf urged, as he reached into his pouch.
"Save yourself, Elf.......Viper and Nightblade will not be as easy a prey as I. They....they have no problems with killing Elves.....Ishtar's tits, they would...they would kill their own mothers for the right price....uhhhhnnnn!" the assassin choked, coughing up blood.
"I'd like to say it is nice to meet you, Bloodpick, and for someone who has qualms about killing Elves, you came pretty damned close! My name is Greywolf", he replied, as he pulled the Dragonshard out of the pouch. "Now hold absolutely still..."
*********
Viper felt the amulet around his neck throb. Magic! Someone or something was casting a very powerful magical spell and it was someplace very close by. Pulling the amulet from around his neck he held it out so that he could read the face of it. No matter which direction that he held the amulet, it's face displayed a stylized arrow pointing in the same direction. West! Where there was magic, there was probably an Elf. And he suspected that it was the Elf that he was hunting. Turning his horse, he spurred on searching for a westerly pass. He also loaded his crossbow.
*********
Greywolf put the warm, red crystal back into it's pouch. He had been in time, for the Healing/restoration spell had worked. Though he would be weak for several hours, the assassin known simply as Bloodpick would survive. The assassin tried to rise, but Greywolf halted his movement.
"You are too weak right now, Bloodpick...You need to rest."
"You should have let me die, Greywolf. I can't go back to Falgar without your head....and I would not take your head, even if I could. You saved my life", he lamented. "Why?".
"I do not know, Bloodpick. Something about what you said made me think" he grinned. "So why don't you come with me? Of course, you would have to take up a new line of work."
"You would trust a man who had orders to slay you?" the assassin asked, somewhat bewildered.
"Who said anything about trust? Nay, I trust you as far as I can throw ya. I know where ya stand, and I've got my eyes upon ya. I only worry about the ones I cannot see", Greywolf chided.
Now it was Bloodpick's turn to grin. "How does body guard sound?"
"It is a good start", Greywolf laughed. Bloodpick joined him.
*********
Sound carried strangely in these canyons, thought Nightblade. He could have sworn that he had heard the sounds of a sword fight on the wind. Of course, the way that sounds bounced around in these canyons it was impossible to tell from which direction the sounds emanated from. Still, it did bear some investigation. Maybe one of his companions had hit pay-dirt. Maybe they could go home now.
He had ridden to a spot where the canyon walls appeared to be less steep. Figuring he could climb up to take a look-see, he dismounted. He untied a coil of rope from his Caladaranian Saddle, and attached a small grappling hook to the end. He also grabbed his Bow and quiver. The moonlight would give him ample light for a shot, should one materialize. As long as it was not some moonlight conjured demon. Arrows did not do very much to demons, other than irking them to the point of multitudes of blasphemies.
Standing out from the walls of the canyon, he swung the grappling hook in a gradually increasing circle, until it gathered enough momentum that Nightblade judged would propel it to the top. His first guess was a bit short, but on his second toss, he was rewarded with a set hook. Attaching his gear to his battle harness, he took the rope into his hands, and began his long climb up.
*********
Thunder boomed off in the distance. Greywolf looked up at the sky, and saw thick, lightning laced clouds, blowing in from the Northwest. he whistled.
"It is going to rain, like a tanked up stag, pissin' on a flat rock. We need to work these horses up to higher ground, and the shelter of a cave. Come follow, I know a place not far from here that will shelter us from this storm. Hell, we might even risk a fire. Hot meal sounds good to me, how about you?"
" My stomach growls like your namesake. I am right behind you." Greywolf did not know why he should be at ease with this assassin, but he was. Odin knows that they could not be trusted in general, but this one seemed different.
They mounted up and headed back to the last fork in the canyon. Greywolf led them up the east branch for about a mile. There, they came upon a narrow trail, picking it's way precariously up the face of the loosely rock-strewn slope.
"Hades!", Bloodpick scowled. "Your sire's background would have to indicate a history of mating with mountain goats to negotiate that pittance of a trail".
"I thought that you assassins only used sure-footed mounts", Greywolf said wryly.
"I guess I'll find out. Falgar supplied me with this horse. That hocus-pocus gem of yours have any magic in it to prevent us from falling?" the converted assassin answered.
"Nope".
"Great! Well all right, then".
*********
Nightblade was halfway up the cliff face by the time the growing storm finally obscured the moon. "Thor's Balls", he cursed, as he was plunged into almost total darkness. Feeling his way up the rope, his already slow progress became snail paced. He was going to be really put out if one of the other assassins found the Elf before he did. With each foot that he crept up the rope, he found that the urge to kill was increasing it's control over his being. Hell, he would like to kill anyone to relieve the tension that he was feeling. Most of his hits in the past had been well planned, carefully thought out killings, handled under his terms, under situations that were of his choosing. Not like this. He was not trained to find people in the mountains. He was trained to kill people. With the coming of the first drops of rain he lost his grip on the slippery rope, and fell back ten feet before he could catch himself. This did nothing to brighten his already dark mood, stimulating a new outburst of oaths against Gods long forgotten. Hanging there against the face of the cliff, swinging in the gusting wind of the rainstorm, he vowed to find the source of the sword fight noises, and kill the responsible party or parties, if for nothing else, his own peace of mind.
*********
The rain was coming down in bucketful's by the time Greywolf and Bloodpick reached the hidden entrance to the cave. The surrounding canyons were being lit up by the sporadic bolts of lightning the occasionally criss-crossed the sky, showering the scenery with an eerie greenish glow. Both of them were drenched to the skin.
The cave opening was about fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide, with a faded tarp hanging from the top of the opening, and extending to the floor, obscuring the inner secrets that the opening contained. Pulling it aside, Greywolf led his horse in on foot, as Bloodpick did the same. The wind was really blowing now, causing the entrance tarp to dance across the mouth of the cave like a drunken Pixie. Greywolf fumbled around in the darkness until he was able to light up a small oil lamp that was hanging from the ceiling of the cave.
"Damn tinderbox. It leaks like a sieve. Wet flint and steel ain't worth a damn for fire staring on a night like this.......There is some wood back near the end of the cave there, as well as some provisions in that old chest over there. The Rangers keep this place well stocked".
Bloodpick tethered the horses. "Are you sure it is safe to have a fire in here?" he asked.
"The cave entrance is invisible from the canyon floor. I think we will be all right. I mean, the only way we could be seen is if someone were directly across the canyon from us, at about the same height. Chances of that on a night like to night are pretty slim, I should think. There is some wood over there, isn't there?" he questioned.
"Oh yeah, a regular pile", Bloodpicked joked. "How big a fire do you want?"
"Sizable enough for stew", Greywolf chuckled. "Wait until you see the contents of that chest".
The chest was filled, good as his word, with dried meat and vegetables of all varieties. There was also a sizable cistern of water located in a side chamber, which looked as if it had been used to sleep several people. Producing a large pot from a dark cranny, Greywolf set to work. In no time he had an aromatic stew boiling over a nice little cook fire.
" Care for some wine, Wolf?" Bloodpick asked, producing a skin of wine from his saddle. "You don't mind me calling you Wolf do you?"
"Believe me, I've been called much worse. Recently too. Pop the cork", Greywolf grinned, as he stirred the delicious smelling concoction that was bubbling in the pot.
*********
Nightblade thought he saw it again. A tiny flicker of light, more of a suggestion than a light, really, further down the cliff wall opposite of his position. He figured that there must be a cave of some-sort there, with a cover across it's entrance. Clever. He carefully judged the range, and confirmed that it was well within the capabilities of his longbow. His clothing stuck to him like glue, now, and the rain was falling so hard that visibility was the consistency of Momma Knakney's pea soup. He carefully moved down the face of the cliff that he had been standing on. An overhead out crop of rock offered a little shelter from the rain. He removed his bow from his harness and took off the oil-cloth cover. Stringing it, he nocked an arrow and settled back against the rock face and waited for the fates to bring him opportunity.
` *********
Greywolf was fast asleep. Bloodpick thought he would give him a few hours, then catch a nap himself. He was dog tired, but he was not sleepy. He had much to reflect upon, for the events of the last few hours had changed him dramatically. He felt alive for the first time in a long time, as if a heavy load had been lifted from him. He went up to the entrance and peered out into the storm, holding the entrance cover to the side. He could see nothing through the rain. He was wondering when it would let up, when the arrow dipped in poison pierced his eye. Then, he thought no more.
*********
Greywolf awoke with a start, noticing immediately that it was unearthly quiet. Looking around, he saw Bloodpick lying by the entrance of the cave, an ugly arrow sticking out of his right eye. Cursing to himself he stealthily drew his short-sword and crept to the entrance of the cave. He stopped short as he saw a hand grab the side of the tarp and began to pull it aside. Flipping the short sword around in the air he deftly caught the blade end and threw it like a dagger toward the center of the opening tarp at about chest height. The spinning blade punched through the rotting canvass and stopped, hilt showing at about four feet off the ground. There was a startled scream and the man behind the tarp collapsed, taking the rotted cover with him to the rain-soaked ground. Greywolf leapt forward with a freshly pulled dagger in his hand.
It was an un-needed precaution. The assassin was dead.
"That leaves only one", he muttered darkly to himself.
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