Diablo: The Black Road. Mel Odom
you!” the woman said. She came around on him, swinging her balled fist at the end of her right arm.
Without moving more than his arm, Raithen caught the woman’s fist in one hand. She jerked backward, kicking at his crotch. Turning his leg and hip, the pirate captain caught the kick against his thigh. Then he moved his shoulders, backhanding her across the face.
Propelled by the force of the blow, the woman stumbled across the room and smacked against the wall. Dizzy, her eyes rolling back up into her head for a moment, she sank down splay-legged to her rump.
Raithen sucked at the cut on the back of his hand that her teeth had caused. The pain made him feel more alive, and seeing her helpless before him made him feel more in control. His neck still throbbed, but the humiliation was shared now even though the woman didn’t know it.
“I’ll kill you,” the woman said in a hoarse voice. “I swear by the Light and all that’s holy that if you do not kill me, I will find a way to kill you.” She wiped at her bleeding mouth with her hand, tracking crimson over her fingers.
Raithen grinned. “Damn me for a fool, but you do me well, wench. Spoken like you’d looked deep inside my own heart.” He gazed down at her. “See? Now, most people would think you were only talking. Running your mouth to play yourself up, to make yourself feel maybe a little braver. But I look into your eyes, and I know you’re speaking the truth.”
“If I live,” the woman said, “you’ll need to look over your shoulder every day for the rest of your life. Because if I ever find you, I will kill you.”
Still grinning, feeling better about life in general and surprised at how it had all come about, Raithen nodded. “I know you will, woman. And if I was an overconfident braggart like a certain old priest, let’s say, I’d probably make the mistake of humbling you, then leaving you alive. Most people you could probably terrify and never have to worry about.”
The woman pushed herself to her feet in open rebellion.
“But you and me, woman,” Raithen went on, “we’re different. People judge us like we were nothing, that everything we say is just pomp and doggerel. They don’t understand that once we start hating them and plotting for them to fall, we’re only waiting for them to show a weakness we can exploit.” He paused. “Just like you’ll suffer through every indignity I pass on your way to break you, and then remain strong enough to try to kill me.”
She stood and faced him, blood smearing her chin.
Raithen smiled at her again, and this time the effort was warm and genuine. “I want to thank you for that, for squaring my beam and trimming my sails. Reminds me of the true course I have to follow in this endeavor. No matter how many scraps Loremaster Buyard Cholik tosses my way, I’m no hound to be chasing bones and suffering ill use at his hands.” He crossed to her.
This time she didn’t flinch away from him. Her eyes peered at him as if she were looking through him.
“You have my thanks, woman.” Raithen bent, moving his lips to meet hers.
Moving with speed and determination that she hadn’t been showing, the woman sank her teeth into the pirate captain’s throat, chewing toward his jugular.
FOUR
Darrick drove his feet against the rocky ledge, aware of the dizzying sight of the fogbound river lying below. Here and there, moonlight kissed the surface, leaving bright diamonds in its wake. His breath whistled at the back of his throat, coming hard and fast. Knowing that Mat and the other sailors were already clambering up the rope cheered Darrick a little. Plunging through the darkness and maybe into a small party of pirates encamped along the cliff wasn’t a pleasant prospect.
He carried his knife in his hand but left his cutlass in its scabbard at his side. The heavy blade thumped against his thigh. Covering his face with his empty hand and arm, he managed to keep the fir and spruce branches from his eyes. Other branches struck his face and left welts.
The big pirate followed a game trail through the short forest of conifers, but he left it in a rush, plunging through a wall of overgrown brush and disappearing.
Darrick redoubled his efforts, almost overrunning his own abilities after the long, demanding climb up the mountainside. Black spots swam in his vision and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.
If the pirates discovered them, Darrick knew he and his group of warriors had little chance of reaching Lonesome Star out in the Gulf of Westmarch before the pirate ships overtook them. At the very least, they’d be killed out of hand, perhaps along with the young boy who had been taken captive.
Darrick reached the spot where the pirate had lunged through the brush and threw himself after the man. Almost disoriented in the darkness of the forest, he lost his bearings for a moment. He glanced up automatically, but the thick tree canopy blocked sight of the stars, so he couldn’t set himself straight. Relying on his hearing, tracking the bigger man’s passage through the brush, Darrick kept running.
Without warning, something exploded from the darkness. There was just enough ambient light for Darrick to get an impression of large leathery wings, glistening black eyes, and shiny white teeth that came at him. At least a dozen of the bats descended on him, outraged at the pirate’s passing. Their harsh squeals were near deafening in the enclosed space, and their sharp teeth lit fiery trails along his flesh for an instant.
Darrick lashed out with his knife and never broke stride. The grimsable bats were noted for their pack-hunting abilities and often tracked down small game. Though he’d never seen it himself, Darrick had heard that flocks of the blood-drinking predators had even brought down full-grown men and stripped the flesh from their bones.
Only a short distance ahead, with the bats searching without success behind him, Darrick tripped over a fallen tree and went sprawling. He rolled with it, maintaining his hard-fisted grasp on the knife. The cutlass smashed against his hip with bruising force. Then he was up again, alert to the shift in direction his quarry had taken.
Breath burning the back of his throat, Darrick raced through the forest. His heart triphammered inside his chest, and his hearing was laced with the dulled roaring of blood in his ears. He caught a tree with his free hand and brought himself around in a sharp turn as the bark tore loose from the trunk.
The big pirate wasn’t faring well, either. His breathing was ragged and hoarse, and there was no measured cadence left to it.
Given time, Darrick knew he could run the man to ground. But he was almost out of time. Even now he could see the flickering yellow light of a campfire glimmering in the darkness through the branches of the fir and spruce trees.
The pirate burst free of the forest and ran for the campfire.
Trap? Darrick wondered. Or desperation? Could be he’s more afraid of Captain Raithen’s rage than he is that I might overtake him. Even the Westmarch captains showed harsh discipline. Darrick bore scars from whips in the past as he’d fought and shoved his way up through the ranks. The officers had never dished out anything more than he could bear, and one day some of those captains would regret the punishments they’d doled out to him.
Without hesitating, knowing he had no choice about trying to stop the man, Darrick charged from the forest, summoning his last bit of energy. If there were more men than the one surviving pirate, he knew he was done for. He leaned into his running stride, coming close to going beyond his own control.
The campfire was set at the bottom of a low promontory. The twisting flames scrawled harsh shadows against the hollow of the promontory. Above it, only a short distance out of easy reach, the small cauldron of pitch blend that was the intended signal pot hung from a trio of crossed branches set into the ground.
Darrick knew the signal pot was in clear view of the next post up the river. Once the pirate ignited the pitch blend, there was no way to stop the signal.