A Thirst for Vengeance (The Ashes Saga, Volume 1) (23 page)

Blackstone had a two-handed sword in his hands. I had no idea where he’d gotten it. But, he was using it as well as one of his throwing blades. The sword met each one of Three-Grin’s attacks strike for strike.

It was an even fight. The small cut on Blackstone’s leg did not slow his movement. He thrust his sword up to defend Three-Grin’s attacks, then launched a series of his own.

Three-Grin was a head taller than Blackstone. He’d ripped off his shirt sometime in the commotion, and I could see the thick, heavy muscle covering his body like armor. I would have thought the extra bulk would make him slow, but he danced on his feet just as easily as Blackstone.

The two men came at each other and separated. They came at each other and separated. The ring of steel against steel filled the room. Even though Three-Grin had two weapons, I saw him favoring the one in his right hand. He used it to launch his attacks. The one in his left only served to counter Blackstone’s strikes.

Blades flashed through the air in a violent flurry. I had no idea that a man with a sword as big as Blackstone’s could move so fast. He’d never taught me to use a proper sized weapon. All I had from him were my knives.

Three-Grin swung at Blackstone’s head. The two-handed sword came up to parry the blow. Blackstone twisted his wrists, and the blade sliced downward, toward Three-Grin’s shoulder.

The saber in Three-Grin’s left hand came up to stop it inches away from his flesh. For a fraction of a second, Blackstone’s large sword caught in the arc of Three-Grin’s blade. As he moved to pull back, the second saber darted out and bit him in the side.

Blackstone grunted. That was the extent of his reaction. He twisted out of Three-Grin’s reach. When his back turned to me I saw the damage Three-Grin had done.

There was a line of red running across Blackstone’s oblique. It was not deep, but it was long. Already, the blood had started staining the cloth around it.

Three-Grin laughed and lunged again. Blackstone sidestepped the blow, driving his sword in a downward arc to send Three-Grin staggering. While he’d defended himself well, I saw him stumble a little as he turned around.

The second wound was slowing him.

Three-Grin spun back. Sensing his opponent weakened, he barreled toward him with full force. He used both his sabers to attack. They flickered, ducked, and twisted through the air, moving so fast that I could not even keep track.

Somehow, Blackstone repelled every single one.

From the length of my description you might get the impression that I’d been standing there, doing nothing, for a matter of minutes. That would be false. In truth, less than ten heartbeats had passed.

I knew I had to help. This was my chance to get my revenge against Three-Grin. This,
now
, was my opportunity. Here, in the Arena. Not in the tavern. Somehow, it felt more poetic to kill the man who defined my childhood in the place he’d sent me to die.

My legs moved without my brain telling them to. My knife slid into my hand. I ran straight into the heart of the battle.

There was no uncertainty holding me back.
This
is what I was here to do.
This
is why I had raced to Blackstone. I ran, and when I was within striking distance, I jumped.

My movement caught Blackstone’s eye. “Dagan, no!” he screamed. But, it was too late. I was already in the air.

I landed against Three-Grin’s back. Triumph flared to life inside me. I felt my blade sink into his thick skin.
This
is what I had failed to do when I tried to save Alicia.
This
was the moment I’d been dreaming of since.

My joy, however, was short-lived.

Three-Grin roared and spun around. The force of his spin threw me off him. I crashed painfully into the chest. Pain exploded beneath my armpit, and I thought I might have broken a rib. I paid the sensation no mind as I stuffed it into the ball at the back of my mind.

Then I watched, horrified, as Three-Grin reached back and pulled out my knife without so much as a grimace.

He smiled viciously at me. “You think you can kill me?” he roared. He fended off Blackstone’s next attack without looking his way. “You think you can kill one touched by Xune?”

His eyes shone with madness. Blackstone swung a side-sweep through the air, aimed toward Three-Grin’s neck. The larger man lifted one forearm to block it. Blackstone’s blade sank into Three-Grin’s arm and stopped at the bone.

That seemed to drive Three-Grin further into the pits of insanity. Blackstone tried to jerk his sword out, but Three-Grin twisted his arm and wretched it out of Blackstone’s hands. Then, laughing, he swiped at Blackstone’s exposed chest.

I cried out as the saber hit home. It cut a wide, deep gash from Blackstone’s shoulder down to his navel.

Blackstone staggered, and fell.

Three-Grin threw his head back and laughed. It was a sound familiar to me from the dark dungeons. The crude noise filled my ears, mixing with the crackling flames all around me.

Three-Grin stepped toward me. My eyes darted around the room. The fire was starting to overtake the space. It had expanded from the outer hallway. Flames licked at the walls. Black smoke billowed to the ceiling. The heat in the room was immense.

I scrambled back, desperately trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
How
could Three-Grin have withstood my attack? I should have pierced his lung! Blackstone’s sword still dangled from his arm, lodged right into the marrow of his bone. None of it slowed him.

Who
was he?

My boot slipped as I tried to get up. I looked down, and saw blood leaking down my leg. I must have torn the stitches open.

Three-Grin reached me. He was a monstrous man. Right at that moment, he seemed larger than a mountain. The scars on his cheeks somehow came alive under those crazed eyes.

He pointed his saber at me. I looked at him and knew fear. I had failed.

He pushed the tip of his weapon into my shoulder. It was not enough to draw blood. But I felt the pressure nonetheless. He was toying with me.

Fire raged around us.

Three-Grin knelt down to my level. He looked at me through dark, glassy eyes.

They were the eyes of a madman.

“I remember you,” he said. I wanted to squirm away, but he had me pinned like a bug. I breathed hard through gritted teeth. “You’re the one adopted by my whore wife.”

“By
Alicia
,” I hissed, saying her name. “Who you killed!”

Three-Grin laughed. “She died because of you, boy. I should have known to kill you there. But Xune told me not to. He spoke to me, and said that you would make a great warrior in the Arena.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Blackstone staggering to his feet. He wavered as he stood.

“Your God is a lie,” I spat at Three-Grin.

Three-Grin shook his head side to side madly. “Oh, really?” he said. “Tell me, then, why he grants
me
powers, and he brings to maggots like you… only
death
?”

Three-Grin pressed down on the blade. It slid into my shoulder.

I screamed. I did not scream because of the pain. I’d wrapped up the feeling to that part of my body the moment the saber touched me. I screamed because it was what Three-Grin wanted to hear. I screamed because I hoped it would give me time to think of
something
I could do.

Three-Grin rose, leaving the blade impaled in my shoulder. Behind him, Blackstone was getting closer. Blood soaked the front of his shirt. I was amazed he was still alive.

“Remember this?” Three-Grin laughed. He drew his leg back and kicked my side. I felt another rib crack. “Remember all the times I did this in the dungeons? Remember all the sacrifices I made to mighty Xune?”

His voice took on a crazed inflection as the kicks intensified. “Remember all the times you watched, hiding in that piss-stained corner of yours, as I killed the ones you knew? Remember my words, for they are the words of the Lord:
Xune sees all. Xune knows all. And Xune punishes all SINNERS
!”

He aimed a kick at my head. It caught me above the ear. My vision splintered and my hearing rang. I could see two of everything. Suddenly, the fire around us seemed so much worse.

Three-Grin stopped and grunted, seeming to notice the sword sticking out of his arm for the first time. He grabbed the blade, palm wrapped around the sharp edge, and pulled it out. It clattered to the floor.

Three-Grin showed me his hand. Blood poured down from a long cut across the middle. “Does this frighten you, boy?” he screamed. “Does my blood make you scared?” He laughed again, and then smeared the blood all over his face.

His laughter took on a maniacal quality.

He flipped his second saber over in his hand. His eyes bored into me. “And now,” he said. “You die.”

“No.” Blackstone’s voice. “You do, Three-Grin.”

Blackstone swung the discarded long sword at Three-Grin’s unprotected neck.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

Three-Grin twisted to block the attack. He moved faster than a striking cobra. Blackstone’s sword rang off the curved metal edge of the saber inches from his neck. Three-Grin pivoted to his knees, jerked the second saber out of my shoulder, and thrust it deep into Blackstone’s middle.

I screamed. “NO!”

At the same time, an enormous groan sounded from above us. I had only half a second to register it and leap back as a massive, burning wooden beam crashed from the ceiling onto the spot where I’d just been. The room shook on impact.

I staggered to my feet. I had to steady myself for a moment as my vision wobbled.

I saw two legs sticking out from under the beam. Three-Grin’s legs.

They weren’t moving.

I ran toward it, coughing in the smoke. The beam had fallen right on top of Three-Grin’s body. It had broken his back!

I found Blackstone among the flames. He was kneeling down, clutching his stomach, but he was still alive.

The fire was starting to consume the entire room. Heat beat at me from every angle. Flames danced across the beam as I searched for a way to get across.

Blackstone’s eyes shot up. He saw me. “Dagan,” he choked. “Run.”

Another beam groaned and crashed behind me.

“No!” I cried. “No! I won’t leave you!” I staggered toward a gap in the flames, but they hissed and filled it just as I got there.

Heavy smoke thickened the room. I could barely breathe. I could not see Blackstone anymore. The fire raged unabated all around me.

“Dagan!” he called out from beyond the flames. “You have to run.”

“No!”

“
RUN
!”

The command in his voice shook me. Another burning beam collapsed behind me. My head whipped back. I saw the last exit, still accessible. It wouldn’t be for long. The doorway was burning. The pillars around it looked like they would give at any second.

A knife flew across my vision. It fell before it could reach the wall. Blackstone’s amulet—the one he always wore around his neck—was fastened to the hilt.

“Run,” his voice wavered.

I knelt down, clutched the amulet, and ran.

Chapter Thirty-One

“I could not save him,” Dagan muttered. “I could not get him out.”

Earl took an uncomfortable swig of ale, and grimaced when he found the cup empty. He put it down as gently as he could, careful not to make a sound.

He had never seen Dagan so shaken. Clearly, reliving the tale had brought some very painful memories back to the surface.

“What about the gold?” Patch ventured.

Earl hissed at him and made a curt gesture with one hand. “Give him a moment’s peace, boy!” he scolded.

The man in the hood shook his head. “No,” he said. “No. Patch is right. That was long ago. I cannot mourn for the dead. Telling the story…” his hands gripped the table. Earl tried to ignore the thin tendrils of smoke that rose from beneath Dagan’s fingertips. “…brought me back. I was there again. I saw Three-Grin’s mangled body under the post. I saw Blackstone on the other side. He was so close… the width of this table… but I could not… get to him.”

Earl hesitated, then made up his mind and acted before he could change it. He reached across the table and put a hand on Dagan’s shoulder.

“That was a hard loss,” he said. “You couldn’t have saved him.”

Dagan tilted his head up. “You’re wrong,” he whispered. “I could have. If I hadn’t stopped to free the slaves, Blackstone would still be alive. I’d have been there earlier. And Xune knows, the remainder of my life would have been very different.”

“What happened to them?” Patch asked cautiously. “The slaves, I mean?”

Dagan barked a crude laugh. “What do you think? A few got out. Most were caught in the explosions. They didn’t know which way to go. The ones that survived did not last long on the streets.”

“Oh,” Patch said, looking down.

“I told you before that this is not a tale of glory or redemption. It is the history of my life, as I have lived it. Trust me, Patch. Life is not a fairy tale.”

Earl nodded his agreement. Dagan stirred, and Earl’s courage failed him.

By gods,
he thought,
I’m trying to comfort the Blind Assassin.

With that, he withdrew his hand.

A strong wind howled outside. It was the kind of wind that gave children fright. But in those dark times, fear gripped grown men, too, for they knew the truth of the Things that came with the wind.

A gale blew the tavern door open. Everyone jumped at the crash.

Everyone, that is, except for the hooded man. He kept his eyes down, hidden in the shadows of his hood.

He knew that death would come tonight.

But it was not here yet.

THE END

...to be continued.