Witch Bane Page 7

  Sebastian stayed low and returned to his father’s side. “While I can’t be sure it’s for us, this is a trap.” He pointed to the row of homes, marking the windows where he’d seen the lookouts.

  “I saw.” Darius marked two more houses. “There was one there and there, as well, and who knows how many are stuffed inside.” He motioned over his shoulder with his eyes. “Our tail hasn’t moved since we stopped, so I don’t think he’s a part of this.”

  Sebastian nodded, his father echoing his earlier thought. “What now?”

  “It looks like we’re going hungry tonight.” Darius moved off low, circling away from the village, keeping a safe distance from where they believed their follower hid.

  Sebastian grumbled and followed after. Had they not been so close to the village they could have hunted for dinner, but with an obvious Red Guard ambush set up at Cammpras, they had no certainty as to how far the watch extended. They would have to travel well away from the village before it became safe enough for them to set up camp without fear of detection. It would be another long, uncomfortable night with the follower at their heels and the Red Guard on the hunt. Sebastian could feel his anger rising.

  They stayed low for a long way before Darius straightened and their movement sped up, the earliest part of the journey a tedious crawl. Even at speed, it was still many hours before his father brought them to a halt with a weary wave, under a dense overhang of interwoven branches. Sebastian came alongside him as Darius settled to the ground with a tired thump.

  “Our friend has edged closer,” Darius noted in a quiet voice. “Though whether it is from fear of the Red Guard or he grows bolder, I do not know.”

  Sebastian stretched, having noticed the same. “We need to do something about him before we’re too worn down. Another day or two of this, and we’ll be walking unconscious.”

  “I agree.” Darius gestured toward a mass of low-lying foliage that clustered at the base of one of the larger trees. “That looks like a good place to sleep.” He got to his feet and swept his cloak from his shoulders. “Good night.” He took no effort to keep his voice down.

  Darius slipped into the mass of greenery and lay down inside, pulling his cloak over top of him. Once he settled beneath the foliage, he was nearly invisible to Sebastian despite knowing exactly where his father lay. Sebastian grinned as he followed suit.

  He might not get much sleep tonight, but certain of what his father had in mind, morning would be the dawn of a brand new day. He could sleep tomorrow.

  Ten

  Sebastian’s rest was meager indeed. His father had let him sleep for but a short time before rousing him. His eyelids like stones, he eased out from beneath his cloak, trying not to make a sound. Darius met his gaze and signaled which way he should go. Sebastian nodded and drew in a slow, tired breath. He let his frustration and weariness bleed away as he centered his mind. After a few moments, he drew upon his will.

  His skin tingled as his magic came alive, albeit somewhat slowly. Grateful defensive spells came to him more naturally than offensive ones, he let it wash over him without resistance. Warmth bathed him in its embrace. With a wave his father didn’t react to, confirming that the shadows had draped him, Sebastian collected his sword and slipped through the covering foliage, doing his best to disturb them as little as possible. Once past the barrier of shrubs, he moved off into the trees and further into the woods, traveling in silence.

  The forest was dark, but Sebastian had no problem seeing. His magic dancing in his veins, he could see almost as well as if it were day, the darkness chased from his vision. He walked in a wide circle, first moving away from the camp where his father remained, then swinging about to move back in the general direction of it but from the other side. As he darted through the night, he listened for the man who’d been following them. A few moments later, he heard the tiniest of sounds a short distance ahead. He loosed his sword from its sheath and continued on, slowing his pace. He approached the spot where he’d heard the noise with his senses open and could hear the quiet crunch of humus pressed beneath a heavy boot. He could smell a subtle musk in the air, the remnant scent of smoke. Then at last, he could see someone and moved up behind.

  The man wore a tight fitting tunic that was tied tight about his wide waist, the darkness doing nothing to hide the muscled thickness of his back and shoulders. He held a short sword in each hand, using his left to ease aside the branches that hung in his path. He moved with the grace of a hunter on the prowl, crouched low yet moving forward with ease, ready to strike.

  Sebastian calculated his direction with a glance. Without a doubt, he was heading toward the bushes where his father lay in wait.

  Sebastian drew closer and noticed the man had streaks of white in his hair, their brightness standing out against the blackened rest. Recognition hit and Sebastian felt a hint of anger warm his cheeks. He sped his pace again, timing his movement to catch the man as soon as he reached the tiny clearing a short distance before his father’s hiding place.

  Though he knew he should sneak up on him, slit the man’s throat and leave him to bleed out, Sebastian wanted answers. He let his will drop. The shroud of shifting shadows that concealed him broke apart and drifted away, clearing like fog in the light of day.

  “Come to see us off again, Jonas?”

  The man spun about, his eyes wide. His startled gaze locked onto Sebastian’s glare, and he raised his swords before him. He settled an instant later, adjusting his footing to meet Sebastian’s advance. His eyes scanned the trees.

  “I knew there was more to you than you than you let on, but I didn’t think you were a murderer. What were you planning?” Sebastian moved even closer, stepping between the trees into the clearing.

  Jonas shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, boy. You gotta believe that.” He didn’t try to deny it had been him who tried to set the hut ablaze back at Deliton.

  “Do I?” Sebastian inched forward. “I don’t have a lot of faith in a man who would dress up as Red Guard, using the armor of the soldiers I killed to save his people, I might add, and attempt to burn me and my father out.” He laughed. “Doesn’t seem like a welcoming gesture.”

  Jonas’s eyes darted about and Sebastian watched him close. The man was readying to bolt.

  “It’s about more than you, warlock.” Jonas glanced left and shifted his weight, suddenly running right.

  Sebastian spotted the feint immediately. He leapt forward and swung his sword, its silvery death cleaving the air ahead of Jonas. The man stumbled to keep from falling into it and spun about, weapons readied. His hands were steady, but his frantic gaze was everywhere.

  “The next one kills you,” Sebastian told him. “Why are you following us?”

  Jonas faced him. There was obvious fear in his eyes, but from the way they shifted about, as though searching for something, Sebastian didn’t believe he was the one causing it. Jonas said nothing.

  “Fair enough.”

  Sebastian lashed out, his sword arcing toward Jonas’s neck. The old warrior moved to parry but blocked only air. His eyes narrowed as Sebastian snapped his wrist about. The direction of the attack changed almost too fast to follow and the edge of the quicksilver blade cut a red groove on the inside of Jonas’s forearm.

  Before Jonas’s scream could leave his throat, a near identical wound split open his other arm. Both swords tumbled from his numb hands as his voice finally broke from his mouth. It was cut short when Sebastian kicked him square in the chest. The blow knocked the breath from Jonas’ lungs with a loud whoosh and he flew backward, his windmilling arms shedding drops of blood in a speckled trail behind him. He hit the ground hard, sliding a few feet across the moist humus until his back slammed into a tree trunk. His head lolled and his eyes spun in their sockets. He rolled to his side, his face slumping against the soft earth.

  “You should have answered my question,” Sebastian said as he stalked forward.

  A quiet groan oozed from Jonas’s lips,
a line of spittle trailing wet down his chin. He tried to get his arms beneath him, but Sebastian reached him before he could. He grasped Jonas by the throat and lifted his head, pressing the back of it against the tree. He held his sword just inches from his cheek.

  “Why are you following us?” Sebastian stared into the man’s eyes, knowing Jonas was likely too stunned to realize he’d been asked a question, let alone answer it coherently. Sebastian shook him, hoping to bring him to his senses. As the man’s eyes whirled blankly, Sebastian spied a shadowed reflection in them.

  He shoved Jonas down and ducked, spinning away just as something cleaved the bark from the tree right where his head had been. Sebastian darted through the foliage and around a thick tree trunk, coming to stand just outside the clearing. The shadow pulled its sword from the tree with an easy twist and turned to face him, a second long blade in his other hand.

  Dressed entirely in black, his attacker was thick about the torso, the obvious heft of armor protecting his vitals. Corded muscles defined his arms and legs as he came forward with sinewy ease. Only the bluish gleam of the eyes, which peered from the concealing mask, broke up the monotony of darkness. Sebastian met the shadow’s gaze and saw what lurked within. It gave him pause.

  This was no mercenary for hire, no soldier who played at assassination. What stood before him was a true killer; one of the art.

  Sebastian willed his magic to life, summoning the entirety of it, for this was no peasant resistance member drawing down before him. He was in for a fight. Deep down he felt a tingle of anticipation, a twinge of raw excitement. This is what he’d trained his whole life for, what his father had endlessly drilled him to do. He hoped he was as ready as he’d always believed.

  “You’ve made an enemy of the wrong man,” he said, tightening the reins on his voice to keep it steady.

  The shadow laughed, the voice doused in a lilting melody.

  Sebastian groaned at the sound. “I should have known you were a woman. One of the witches’ pets, I presume?”

  She laughed again. “The Pet, I’m afraid…for you, at least.” Her amusement sparkled in her eyes. “My name is Shade, though you’ll not have the occasion to use it beyond the moment. And you are?”

  He waggled a finger at her. “I’m not as easy as that. If you want answers, you’ll have to romance me a little.” He set his sword before him, her gaze sliding to it for just an instant before it snapped back to his.

  “A Quicksilver blade. How…archaic.” She shifted her swords to catch the light, blue stars shining within the obsidian. “Was it an inheritance from your great grandfather, or his, perhaps?”

  He examined her swords and recognized the dark luster of Relan steel, the metal magicked to hold a razor’s edge forever. Even hammered thin, as it was in her blades, the Relan was durable, its steel known for resisting rust and wear long after its owner had gone to dust. Sebastian knew of such swords, thanks to his father incessant lessons.

  “You’ve a serpent’s tongue beneath that mask you wear, assassin, but ancient sword in hand and my back turned to you when you arrived, and yet still, here I stand. It would seem your tongue speaks for more than just your mouth, and it speaks poorly of your skills.”

  Shade lowered her stance. The humor had soured in the blue of her eyes. “I did not come for you, warlock, but be certain, the Council will reward me quite handsomely for ridding the world of yet one more abomination, especially one so crass.” Her swords rang together as she came forward.

  Sebastian loosed his will and the green of his protective shield sprung up around him. There was no doubt the woman was faster, her two swords skewing that advantage even further into her favor, so he moved to counter her momentum. He attacked. Sebastian knew he couldn’t let her dictate the pace.

  Caught half into her step, Shade pivoted to parry, their swords clashing. She used both blades for cover as she darted away, her advance halted. Sebastian did not give her time to readjust and take the lead. He went after her, using his reach to keep her at arm’s length. The silvered tip of his sword flicked at her eyes, then her throat. She shifted to block each attempt, her own swords held close to her body to speed her defense. He kept at her, stepping in low but winging his strikes high, willing his magic to reinforce his shield on the side that faced her. A sliver of a smile touched his lips as he watched each blow ring out against her Relan blades, specks of gray dotting the black. The quicksilver wore even upon the unnatural steel.

  Shade fell back under the assault and Sebastian was sure he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. He pounced. His blows random, making sure he didn’t fall into a discernable rhythm, he closed on her. She drew back even further, staying in tight, but offering no offense. He had her on the run.

  His smile stretched his cheeks as he thrust at her. She batted at his blade as he spun it in his wrist; a feint. His true strike hurtled toward her cheek. Shade rolled her head to the side, just enough for the edge of his sword to whistle past without drawing blood.

  Her crystalline laugh broke from beneath her mask…

  …and then there were three of her.

  Sebastian blinked, his sword stayed for but a heartbeat. The pause nearly cost him his life.

  Six obsidian swords arced toward him from different directions, their blurred trails overlapping. He shifted to defend against those in the center but found only air. A flash of agony told him which of the blades were true, a crimson gash opening between the ribs on his left side. His pain was mirrored an instant later, the tip of Shade’s sword biting into his right hip, carving a coin-sized hunk of meat away. He cursed as he staggered back, his distraction having weakened his shield. He imagined the damage she’d have done had it not been there at all.

  “You nearly had me there, warlock.” She gave a subtle nod of her head as the other Shade’s misted to dust and faded away. “I applaud the skill of the swordmaster who shaped your arm, but he failed you in the most important of lessons: You lack discipline.” She took a short step closer, her weapons like serpents coiled before her. “I have your measure now.”

  Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, his ribs on fire. He could feel the warmth of his blood as it moistened his side. Icy pain skewered his hip as he adjusted his stance. She was right, but for all the things his father had been unable to teach him, courage and tenacity had not been among them. Sebastian pushed aside his pain, clearing his mind. A cool numbness settled over him as drew himself up to meet Shade’s approach.

  “You presume I thought you worth my full effort, assassin.” He smiled, giving her a wink. “Perhaps it is I that now has the measure of you.”

  The flutter of her swords paused for just an instant before they resumed their dance. “You bluff well, but the dice have yet to be cast. Let’s see where they fall.” She leapt forward.

  His sword caught the first of her blows and he shifted sideways, letting the second cleave air. He felt the wind of its passage as he pivoted away from her to gain space. It had been too close, but he’d no time to dwell on it. Shade closed once more, sharpened death seeking his heart. Instinct took over and he deflected her strikes, slipping aside to look for an opening that didn’t appear. Though he recognized her pattern, she was too quick. Were he to risk a counter, her blade would find his flesh. If that didn’t kill him, the blow after would.

  His shield flickered with angry sparks while her swords clipped its edges, the blades growing steadily closer. The pain at his side was also growing, edging beyond his ability to mute its sharpness. He could feel the wound oozing at every movement, the gash tearing further as though it were a seam unraveling. He, too, would soon unravel.

  Sebastian’s thoughts sluggish, he fell for a feint he recognized a blink of an eye too late. Her sword split his shield and carved a fiery line down his chest and across his abdomen, the buckle of his belt reflecting the blow before it could go any lower. He leapt away but his legs lacked the strength, and he stumbled. The ground filled his vision as he spun. He struck it hard. I
t took everything he had to hold onto his sword, but he kept it, clutched tight in aching fingers. He rolled to find Shade standing over him, the tips of her swords hovering but inches from him, one at his eye, the other his heart.

  The twang of his father’s crossbow sounded like a choir of angels to Sebastian’s ears. The blue of Shade’s eyes withered under the black as she spun to be away, but he reveled in the sound. To hear its song was to be too late to defend against it.

  Shade stumbled as a feathered bolt appeared in her shoulder, a misty cloud of crimson exploding in a halo. She spun about and stared at its source. Sebastian saw her eyes go wide right before a growl slipped free of her black mask. Her voice still rumbling, she turned and ran. Before the crossbow sang again, she was among the trees, one more shadow amidst the millions.

  Sebastian rolled his eyes to where the bolt had come and spied his father coming toward him. Darius held his crossbow high as he scanned the woods, his advance seeming to take forever. At last he came and knelt beside Sebastian, a strong hand on his arm.

  “Can you walk?”

  Sebastian hadn’t thought about it. He shrugged and felt pain well up as though he’d stoked a fire. He grimaced and let his father help him to his feet, sheathing his sword out of habit. His head swam and his thoughts were sluggish, blurred and fleeting. Through the whitened spots that flickered before his sight, he looked to his ribs, his father supporting him. His side was red with his blood, its stain all the way to his boot. He looked away from the puckered, black-lipped smile cut into his flesh and let his father take his weight. Darius stared at him through a mask of stone.

  “What took you so long?” Sebastian’s voice cracked at the question.

  “I followed our friend when he ran; needed to see which way he went. I thought you’d hold her off longer.”

  “She cheated.”

  Darius smirked. “How many times must I tell you, boy? There is no cheating, only alive and dead.”